"Between you you only have one wand and one of you barely knows how to handle it. The other one would never hurt me." Peter turned to Derek, giving him a kind, bright smile that Derek almost recognized. He'd seen it so many times in his childhood, when Peter was happy, laughing. But the eyes were wrong, the eyes were cold and calculating and sharp and dead.
Derek grabbed his wand from Stiles and shot off a stunning spell, perhaps a little more force behind it than strictly necessary. Then, he grabbed Stiles' wrist and pulled them out into the main thoroughfare. "Do you need to lean on me or do I need to carry you?" he asked.