Archive of Our Own ^beta

The second Ms. Newman walks into the history classroom – eyes lit up with excitement and a barely contained smile on her face – Stiles just knows she's about to tell them something he is going to hate with a fiery passion.

"Everyone settle down," Ms. Newman says, clapping her hands together. "I have an announcement."

Stiles hears several grumbles that match his own uneasiness, but for once it only takes a few seconds for the class to go quiet. He glances over at Scott, and the grimace he sends Stiles clearly says this is going to suck. It's the little moments like these that remind him why they're best friends.

"It's mid October," Ms. Newman continues, "and every year my seniors – that would be you guys, in case you've forgotten – must do a project which will count for half of your final semester grade in this class. Yes, I said half. These will be partnered projects, no you won't be allowed to choose your own partner, and you will have to do a joint presentation at the end of the semester. All projects must include a five page, typed report – twelve point, single spaced – and some sort of visual representation. You may choose any subject as long as you relate it to history, obviously, and I advise you to be creative. You won't be allowed to work on these in class, which is one reason why I'm giving you two months to finish. Use your time wisely."

She pauses, and Stiles can almost feel the abject horror flowing through the room. Or maybe that's just his own horror, because holy god.

And he had liked Ms. Newman.

Her smile widens, and it's obvious she's enjoying the reactions she's getting. "Does anyone have any questions?"

Stiles shoots his hand up.

"No, Mr. Stilinski, trading partners is not allowed. You will work with who I've assigned you with, or you will receive a zero."

Stiles drops his hand, shoulders falling. Something tells him he's not going to be lucky enough to get to work with Scott or Allison or Lydia, and those are the only friends he has in this class.

"Any other questions?"

Stiles raises his hand again.

Ms. Newman sighs. "Yes, Stiles?"

"What if you and your partner can't agree on a subject?"

"Then write down all of your ideas and pull one out of a hat. Anyone else?"

"Rude," Stiles mutters under his breath.

No one else seems to have any questions, so Ms. Newman nods and picks up a clipboard. "I'm going to call out partners, and then we'll be starting our unit on Ancient Rome."

She starts listing off names, and Stiles sends a mournful glance to Scott, who just shrugs helplessly. Sighing heavily, Stiles slumps down in his seat and bites at his thumbnail. Maybe they'll luck out; maybe Ms. Newman will be nice enough to pair up friends –

"Allison Argent and Vernon Boyd."

Crap. One down. She goes through a few more names, and then -

"Lydia Martin and Erica Reyes."

That's two, shit.

"Scott McCall –"

Say Stiles, say Stiles –

"– and Isaac Lahey."

Well fuck.

Stiles scowls down at his history textbook and tries not to glare at his teacher. She lists off more pairings, and then –

"Stiles Stilinski and Cora Hale."

Oh god, what.

Stiles looks over at Scott with wide eyes, and he knows his expression probably mirrors the one on his best friend's face.

Dude, Scott mouths.

Stiles just shakes his head and swallows. Cora Hale is his partner. Cora Hale, who single-handedly beat everyone at dodge ball in sixth grade. Cora Hale, who held a football player inches off the ground and threatened to bash his face in if he didn't stop bullying one of the freshmen. Cora Hale, whom even Harris doesn't insult.

Slumping further down into his seat, Stiles runs one hand over his hair and chances a backwards glance to the last desk in the corner next to the window. Cora has her chin propped on one hand and she's doodling in her notebook with the other, looking utterly bored. He stares for a moment, wondering if she even heard Ms. Newman's announcement, but then she looks up and immediately catches his eye, grinning sharply at him.

Shit, fuck. Stiles snaps his head back around to the front, trying to look casual as he bites down on one knuckle, heart pounding erratically. He can still remember the ball-shaped bruise on his ass after that sixth-grade dodge ball game. Every time he had tried to sit down for the next week, his dad had ended up laughing hysterically.

The rest of class goes by in a haze, Stiles' concentration shot to hell and back. He resists looking at Cora again, and when the bell rings he's grabbing his stuff and booking it without even waiting for Scott. They all have lunch next anyway, so they'll catch up. He stops by his locker to exchange his books for the ones he'll need that afternoon and then heads to the cafeteria. He knows he'll have to talk to Cora eventually, but right now he wants to drown his terror in food.

Scott, Allison, and Lydia are all at their regular table when he gets there, dropping his backpack and sliding into one of the empty chairs.

"Dude, Cora Hale," Scott says the second Stiles sets his tray down, because Scott gets it. "What if she decides to kill you in your sleep or something?"

Stiles shudders. "Promise me you'll throw a party in my honor. Make sure there's curly fries for everyone."

"I promise," Scott says solemnly, eyes wide and hand coming up to settle over his heart.

"Be honest." Lydia puts her phone away and reaches over to steal one of Stiles' fries. "Is being partnered with Cora Hale for this project going to cause another situation? Because if it is I feel the need to warn her."

Stiles scowls. "No. Wait, what kind of situation are we talking about?"

Lydia gives him a flat look, gesturing between the two of them. "A situation, Stiles. It wasn't pretty in sophomore year, and it would be even less pretty now."

"That is completely unfair." Stiles picks up one of his fries and points it at her. "I was fifteen, and I'd had a crush on you for years already. I've grown, okay?"

Lydia looks doubtful but she just reaches across the table for another fry. Stiles glares at her and pulls his tray closer, which earns him a smirk and the loss of two more fries.

"It kind of sucks that none of us got paired together," Allison says, frowning.

"I think that's the point," Scott says. "Nobody got paired with any of their friends. It's like a social experiment combined with a history project."

Lydia scoffs. "Well, whatever the reasoning, I'd better not get anything less than a perfect score."

Cora suddenly drops down into the seat next to Stiles, making him jump.

"Jesus Christ. Do you enjoy scaring the shit out of people?"

Cora snorts and holds out her hand. "Give me your phone."

"What, why?" Stiles eyes her as though she'll reach over and bite him, and not in the fun way.

"We need to exchange numbers, dumbass," Cora says, rolling her eyes. "I'm not going to break it."

Stiles scowls but digs in his pocket for his phone, unlocking it and handing it over with no small amount of trepidation. Cora types in a few things and then he hears a faint buzzing coming from her backpack. She reaches down and pulls her own phone out, handing his back, and then types on hers. His phone buzzes in his hand and he looks down to see a text from Cora, already added to his contacts.

"I sent you my address," she says, standing and pushing her phone into her pocket. "You're coming for dinner tomorrow, and we'll work on the project after. Six o'clock, don't be late."

She walks away and Stiles is left staring after her, dumbfounded. Finally, he turns to Scott with wide eyes. "If they eat me for dinner, don't forget your promise."

"Curly fries and milkshakes?"

"You know me so well."

*

The following evening finds Stiles pulling up in front of a huge house in the middle of the fucking woods. It's like something out of a horror movie, and if it weren't for the half-dozen or so young children running around he would probably be hightailing it home right about now. As it is, he parks the Jeep behind a sleek looking black Camaro and runs one hand through his hair before opening the door and climbing out.

"You actually came," a voice says behind him, making Stiles jump. He turns to see Cora grinning at him, thumbs hooked in her belt loops. "I had wondered, honestly."

"Yeah, well." Stiles straightens his shirt and tries not to show how nervous he is. "It was show up and die or not show up and die twice because you and my dad would both kill me for being rude."

Cora rolls her eyes and grabs his arm, pulling him toward the house. "I don't know why you're so scared of me, I've never once threatened you."

"I'm not scared of you," Stiles protests, and when Cora just gives him a look he scowls back. "Is your family anything like you? Because we could totally do this at my house, it seems like it would be a lot quieter."

Cora stops walking and narrows her eyes. "Are you saying you don't like my family?"

"What? No! I didn't say that, I swear, your family is probably awesome –"

"Probably?"

Stiles snaps his mouth shut and shoves both hands into his pockets. "Well, it's not like I've actually met them yet."

"Cora, stop terrorizing the poor boy and come introduce him."

Stiles looks over to see a woman who seems to be in her mid-twenties standing on the porch. She looks a lot like Cora, with dark hair and slightly paler eyes, and he guesses they must be sisters.

"Oh please," Cora says, crossing her arms over her chest. "Like you're not planning on doing the same thing."

The woman grins, and it's so predatory it causes Stiles to send a longing glance at his Jeep. Alas, Cora takes his arm again and drags him the rest of the way to the house and up the stone steps to the porch.

"Laura, this is Stiles Stilinski, my assigned partner for the dumb ass history project Ms. Newman is making us do. Stiles, this is my sister Laura."

"Nice to meet you," Stiles manages weakly, and Laura's grin grows.

"Oh, you're just adorable," she says, and Stiles flushes. "Tell me, Stiles – do you have a girlfriend?"

"Um." Stiles blinks. "No?"

Laura nods, ignoring how the word comes out more like a question, and gives him a sly look. "What about a boyfriend?"

Stiles laughs nervously. "Uh, no, not one of those either, unfortunately."

Laura grins in obvious delight and hooks her arm through Stiles', leading him the rest of the way into the house. "Don't worry, Stiles, everyone new to the Hales starts off with abject terror. You'll get used to us soon enough."

"I'm here to do a history project," Stiles points out weakly, and hears Cora snort behind him.

"Of course you are." Laura pats his arm, and Stiles suddenly feels like he's walked straight into a wolf's den. "Which means you'll be around more often than not."

There are a lot more Hales than Stiles thought, and he desperately tries to remember everyone's name as Laura drags him around the house introducing him. He almost wants to point out that Cora should probably be the one to do that since technically he's her guest, but judging by the slightly bored expression on her face as she follows them she doesn't really care, so he keeps his mouth shut.

"Welcome, Stiles," Talia Hale says once Laura has pulled him into the kitchen. "Laura, let him go, he's completely overwhelmed."

"It's fine," Stiles says. "I mean, I'm used to just me and my dad so yeah, kind of, but not in a bad way."

Talia smiles at him, amusement clear in her eyes. "Well, feel free to make yourself at home. And please call me Talia, all of my children's friends do."

"Uh, okay," Stiles says, and hears both Cora and Laura snicker.

"Hush, you two." Talia points her finger at both of them. "Cora, go set the table. Laura, round up the little ones and make them wash up. Stiles, have a seat, dinner will be ready in about fifteen minutes."

Stiles swallows back a terrified noise at being left alone with Cora's mother, but he does as he's told and sits in one of the high-backed stools at the huge island in the middle of the kitchen.

"Relax," Talia says, turning to take a pan of chicken out of the oven. "We're not going to eat you."

Stiles can't help the short burst of laughter he lets out at that, and feels some of the tension in his shoulders melt away. "Sorry," he says sheepishly. "Cora can be kind of intense at school, and I wasn't sure – I mean, I'm really awkward, you can ignore at least half of the things I say."

Talia shakes her head, a small smile on her face. "Don't worry, we're all at least a little bit awkward."

Stiles makes a noncommittal noise, because he's pretty sure none of the Hales are anywhere close to as awkward as he's been known to be. He's trying to think of something else to say that won't make him seem like a complete asshole, but before he can, somebody he hasn't been introduced to yet walks into the kitchen and his mouth goes dry.

Stiles has already figured out that the Hales are all too hot for words, but this guy beats all of them hands down. He's got black hair and green-hazel-something eyes and stubble and a fucking jaw line that Stiles wants to bite after only two seconds. There's something vaguely familiar about him, too, something that brushes at the back of Stiles' mind, but he can't pull it forward enough to turn it into a full thought.

"Hey, Mom, have you seen my new jacket?" the guy says, and there's a deep scowl on his face, eyebrows drawn down angrily. "It was in my room and I'm pretty sure Laura stole it, I can smell –"

"Derek," Talia interrupts, and gives him a pointed look before nodding toward Stiles.

Derek looks over at him and blinks, eyes going wide with what almost looks like shock. After a moment his expression shifts into something that seems like forced neutrality, and he raises both eyebrows. "Did Cora bring home another stray?"

"Uh," Stiles says, completely lost and unsure if he should be offended. "Pretty sure I'm not a dog, so I'm going with no."

Derek narrows his eyes but before he can say anything Talia clears her throat. "Derek, this is Stiles. He's Cora's partner for a history project they have to do."

"Oh. Yeah, Cora told me about that." Derek's glare lessens only slightly, and Stiles narrows his own eyes in return. "I had to do it, too. Half your semester grade, right?"

Stiles hesitates for a moment before nodding. "Yeah."

Derek snorts and his glare finally disappears, only to be replaced with a smirk. "Good luck with that." He turns back to Talia, effectively dismissing Stiles. "My jacket? I know Laura took it."

"Then go talk to Laura," Talia says, calm and even. "You're both adults, so handle it like adults."

Derek almost looks like he wants to argue, but instead he just makes a low, frustrated sound and leaves the kitchen in an obvious huff, throwing Stiles one last unreadable glance as he goes. Talia chuckles under her breath and shakes her head.

"Stiles, dear, would you mind taking the salad into the dining room?"

"Yeah, of course," Stiles says, and picks up the big bowl Talia gestures to. The dining room is just off the kitchen, and as Stiles pushes through the swinging door he thinks he hears Talia tell Laura to give Derek his jacket back, but that can't be right because Laura isn't anywhere near the kitchen. Stiles glances behind him as the door swings closed, sees nobody other than Talia, and shakes his head at himself.

Dinner is chaotic; that's the only word for it. The large table is full of people from one end to the other, and unsurprisingly Stiles ends up sitting between Cora and Laura. Far more unexpected is when Derek slides into the seat opposite, and a man Laura had called Uncle Peter takes the one next to him.

"Welcome to the family, Stiles," Peter says, and the smile on his face is the most creeptastic thing Stiles has ever seen. "Just so you know, it isn't always like this around here. Fridays are our big family dinner nights. Although, privacy can be… an issue, even when alone."

Cora rolls her eyes and shoves a bowl of green beans in Peter's face. "Stop being weird."

"Uh." Stiles automatically takes the platter of chicken Laura hands him. "I'm just here for a history project Cora and I have to do."

"Oh, really?" Peter's eyes light up with something Stiles wouldn't exactly call excitement. "Did you know that our Derek here has a degree in History? I mean, it's only a bachelor's degree, but he did finish it in three years –"

"I'm not helping them," Derek says. "And shut up, you know I'm taking a year off before I go back for my masters."

Cora gives him a frustrated look before saying to Peter, "I've already asked him. He's being a stubborn asshole about it."

"Cora, language," Talia calls from the front of the table. Stiles frowns, glancing at her and then at the half-dozen or so loud people between them.

"If by 'asked' you mean 'pestered obnoxiously until I had to bodily remove you from my room and slam the door in your face', then yes, you did." Derek grins sharply at her. "I had to do this project on my own, and so do you."

Next to Stiles, Laura scoffs. "Derek, please stop acting like you're an actual adult. We all know that isn't true."

"I'm twenty-one. I'm pretty sure that's classified as an adult."

"Then stop being so immature and at least offer some assistance if they need it. You do have a history degree, the least you can do is put it to some use."

Derek's eyes narrow, fingers tightening around his fork.

"Actually," Stiles says, and they both turn to look at him. "No, thanks."

Derek blinks. "No thanks?"

"Yeah." Stiles shrugs. "We won't need your help, even with your big bad history degree."

There's silence for a long moment, and then Laura starts to cackle in pure glee while Peter gives him a speculative look.

Derek seems completely thrown for a second before raising both eyebrows in obvious disbelief. "I'm not sure if Cora told you, but history is her worst subject."

"Eff you," Cora says, but it's easy and she doesn't sound too bothered by Derek's statement.

"Maybe it is," Stiles agrees, and picks up his roll to tear a bite off. "But I've got a hundred average in Ms. Newman's class, so I don't think it'll be a problem."

Laura lets out a choked noise and laughs harder.

"A hundred –" Derek breaks off and scowls, stabbing at his green beans.

"Are you serious?" Cora asks, and now she sounds as gleeful as Laura.

Stiles blinks, completely lost. "Uh, yeah? It's still pretty early in the year, though."

"Derek only managed a ninety-eight in her class," Peter says, and smiles sharply at his nephew. "He's always held a grudge."

"Oh." Stiles bites down on his bottom lip; it's probably rude to feel so smug about that, but he can't quite bring himself to care. "Well, a ninety-eight isn't that bad."

Cora bursts into hard, snorting giggles, and Stiles is pretty sure Laura is having trouble breathing at this point. The glare Derek sends him makes him glad laser vision isn't actually a thing, because he's pretty sure he'd be an instant pile of ash if it was.

"Oh, yes," Peter says, smiling that creepy smile again. "You will fit in quite nicely."

Stiles rolls his eyes. "History project," he mutters, and hears Peter snort.

Derek ignores him for the rest of dinner, opting instead to bicker with Laura about his precious leather jacket. Stiles doesn't care; if some guy he's barely met wants to get pissy because Stiles is making a higher grade in a high school subject than he did, then that's not his problem.

Afterwards, Cora doesn't even give him a chance to offer to help clean up, sending him out to his Jeep to grab his History book and the notebook he'd brought with him and then dragging him upstairs to her room.

"It'll be quieter in here," she says, sitting cross-legged on her bed and reaching for her backpack. "It can get pretty loud downstairs, with all the kids trying to out-scream each other and everyone else yelling at them to keep it down."

She grins and Stiles gets the feeling that she doesn't actually mind the noise all that much. "Okay," he says, dropping down into her desk chair and opening his notebook. "So I guess we should decide what to do this project on. Do you have any ideas?"

"Not really." Cora shrugs. "Derek wasn't lying when he said history isn't my best subject. He normally helps me with homework and stuff, but he said Ms. Newman would know if he helped with something like this."

"She probably would," Stiles concedes, however reluctantly. "Is he normally that much of an ass?"

Cora grins. "Sometimes, but only when he's really annoyed or surprised by something."

"So if we threw him a surprise party he'd just glare grumpily at everyone the whole time? Maybe try to make someone spontaneously combust with the force of his sexy-scary gaze?"

There's a low banging and a muffled curse on the other side of the wall behind Stiles, making him jump and glance over his shoulder.

Cora starts laughing. "Something like that," she manages after a few seconds. "Alright, come on, project. You said you were good at history, so is there anything you really want to do?"

Stiles shrugs, holding his open notebook out to her. "I made a list of things that sounded interesting, but nothing specific jumped out at me. You can choose if you want to. It's the research part I like most, anyway; I once wrote a paper on the history of male circumcision because I got caught in a downward spiral of clicking random Wikipedia links."

Cora gives him the same odd look he always gets when he mentions that particular paper, and he just grins at her in return. Shaking her head, she takes the notebook and starts reading over the long list of random subjects he wrote down the night before. When she gets to the bottom, her eyebrows raise in obvious surprise.

"Dude, werewolves?"

There's another thumping bang on the other side of the wall, but Stiles ignores it this time. "Yeah, I really like mythology and stuff, so I thought it might be kind of fun to do something about the history of werewolves – like, how their mythology is perceived throughout history all over the world."

"Why werewolves?" Cora asks, and her expression seems caught between wariness and excited curiosity. "Why not vampires or, uh, faeries or something?"

Stiles shrugs. "I don't know, I like werewolves. We could do something else if you wanted to, though."

Cora's door opens before she can say anything, and Derek leans in to scowl at her. "Really, Cora? Werewolves?"

Stiles blinks.

"Relax, Derek." Cora rolls her eyes. "He said 'werewolf mythology throughout history' not 'werewolf history'."

"There's a difference?" Stiles asks, and Derek glares at him while Cora just looks amused.

"You can't do your project on that," Derek says flatly, flicking his gaze back to her. "You know you can't."

Cora narrows her eyes. "Hey, Stiles?"

"Yeah?"

"I think I'd like to do werewolf mythology for our project."

"Werewolf mythology it is." Stiles takes the notebook back and flips to a clean page.

"Cora –" Derek starts, but then he and Cora both freeze, turning their heads slightly.

After a moment Cora grins triumphantly and lets out a loud, "Ha!"

Derek growls – actually growls, what the fuck – and slams the door as he leaves.

"So," Stiles says after a moment. "That wasn't weird at all."

Cora shrugs. "We're a weird family."

"Do you actually want to do our project on werewolf mythology or was that just to annoy your brother?"

"Yeah, totally," Cora says, and gets up to grab her laptop from the desk where Stiles is sitting. "This is something I might be able to actually pull my weight on."

Stiles has no idea what that means, but a lot of things haven't made any sense since he arrived at the Hale house, so he lets it go. They spend the next few hours on Cora's laptop, researching the different origins of the werewolf myth for several different cultures. When he finally leaves around ten, Stiles thinks this whole thing might not be as bad as he was expecting.

*

"I'm telling you, Scott, the guy is a complete asshole."

"So you've said." Scott pulls open one of the glass doors to the Beacon Hills Cinema, letting Stiles pass through before following. "At least five times."

Stiles scowls, dodging a group of loud pre-teens. "It's just – everyone else was so nice, you know? A lot nicer than I expected. Even Uncle Peter, who was weird as fuck. So what's Derek's problem? I didn't fucking do anything to him."

"Maybe he's just, you know, an asshole in general?"

"I don't know. Cora said he usually helps her with her history homework since he's got a degree, and that doesn't sound like someone who's an asshole to everybody."

Scott sighs and grabs Stiles' elbow, halting him in place. "Stiles. Why do you care?" Stiles gives him a blank stare, and Scott rolls his eyes. "You've had twenty minutes of interaction with the guy at most but you've been talking about how much of an asshole he is for the past hour and a half. You don't normally care when people are assholes to you, because you're just an asshole back and that's that."

"I think we've said the word asshole too much, it's starting to lose its meaning."

Scott groans and punches him in the arm. "Seriously, dude. Either shut up about this Derek guy or admit that you want him to like you."

"Why would I want him to like me?" Stiles asks, indignant. "He was rude and called me a stray and got insulted and pissed off when I said we wouldn't need his help with the project – help he had already refused, by the way – and then he tried to tell us we couldn't choose werewolves as our topic. It doesn't matter that he's hot and has a leather jacket and apparently drives that sweet Camaro I parked behind last night. He's an asshole."

Scott stares at him. "Do you even hear yourself?"

"Yes, actually. I'm saying it doesn't matter how physically attracted I am to him, his personality sucks. Now are we going to go watch a movie or are we going to keep talking about Derek?"

Scott rolls his eyes so hard Stiles thinks they might actually fall right out of his head. "Whatever, dude. Let's just get some snacks and get to the movie before it starts."

Except when they reach the front of the line leading to the counter, Derek himself is on the other side, in the black uniform t-shirt all employees wear. Stiles stares at him in complete bafflement. "You work here?"

Derek sighs, like it's some kind of torture to even acknowledge him. "Yes, Stiles, I work here. I've worked here for the past four months."

Derek remembers his name. What the fuck. "Four months?" Stiles repeats. "But we're in here all the time, why haven't I seen you?"

"Maybe you just weren't paying attention," Derek says, and it comes out tight and pained and kind of annoyed.

Stiles frowns; this must be why he vaguely recognized Derek the night before, and he's more than a little put out with himself for not really seeing him until now. How did he not notice the incredibly hot guy who has apparently been right in front of his face for four months?

"Um," Scott says, eyes darting between the two of them in clear confusion. "Stiles, we're kind of holding up the line."

Derek's eyes flick behind them at the reminder and then he starts moving. "Two Cokes, two large popcorns with extra butter, three Reese's, two Whoppers, and some Skittles?"

Stiles stares in astonishment. "Whoa."

"Dude," Scott says, grinning. "You have our order memorized?"

The tips of Derek's ears turn pink but he flashes Scott a return smile as he fills their cups. "That would be a lot harder to do if you ever ordered anything different."

Stiles frowns, his heart sinking slightly in disappointment. So it really is just him Derek doesn't like, for whatever reason. That shouldn't hurt as much as it does, considering this is only the second time they've exchanged words, but Stiles has to look away as Derek finishes putting their stuff together and rings it up.

They pay and Stiles gathers up his half of their movie treats, says, "Thanks, Derek," and ignores Scott's widening eyes as he turns and heads for the guy who will take the tickets they bought at the door.

Scott hurries after him. "That's Derek?"

"Yep," Stiles says shortly, and they each do a familiar balancing act as they hand over their tickets and are let through into the main hallway with all the individual theater doors. "I guess he really is just an asshole to me. Can't say I blame him; I'm fully aware that some people can't handle this much awesome."

"Dude," Scott says, looking at him like he's insane. "He has our order memorized."

"Yes, which he informed you of after getting annoyed at me just for talking to him."

"You're an idiot," Scott says. After a pause he adds, "Are you jealous?"

Stiles glares at him. "Jealous of what? Need I remind you, I barely know him. If he wants to blush and smile and flirt with a guy who's already got a girlfriend, then who am I to stop him?"

"You think he was flirting with me?" Scott says, incredulous. "Dude, you're like my brother, but I've got to tell you – you've reached stupid levels of oblivious."

Stiles tries to be insulted, but he just can't manage it. Scott doesn't have a truly mean bone in his body, and Stiles can never hold anything against him. "Look, whatever, can we please just go watch this movie and forget all about Derek's weird hate-boner for me?"

Scott's face does something funny that Stiles can't interpret. "I don't think it's – you know what, never mind. I think I hear the previews playing."

They manage to trip their way into the correct theater without dropping anything, and for the next two and a half hours Stiles does his best to lose himself in someone else's fictional problems.

*

At lunch on Monday, Stiles, Scott, Allison, and Lydia are joined by Cora, Isaac, Boyd, and Erica.

Stiles stares at them for a long, confused moment, but then he realizes that the four of them seem to be just as close as Stiles and his little group. "So is this going to become a thing?"

Cora shrugs. "Why not? We're all doing these projects with each other, so we'll all be spending a lot of time together. Makes sense to me."

Stiles glances around the table; Scott and Allison are already deep in some sort of discussion with Isaac, and Boyd is sitting quietly next to Erica, the two of them holding hands as she and Lydia talk about things Stiles probably doesn't give two shits about.

"Okay," he says, and Cora looks amused.

"So Derek said you and Scott went to the movies on Saturday and you actually talked to him this time."

What.

"Uh," Stiles says. "Yeah, he said he's been working there for four months already, but I'm not sure I believe him. I'm pretty sure I would have noticed someone like that."

Cora raises both eyebrows. "Someone like what?"

There's laughter in her voice and Stiles honestly hadn't meant to say that. He flushes, reaching for his water. "Nothing, I didn't mean anything by that. Just that I was surprised to see him."

"Uh-huh," Cora says, and bites into her apple. "Did you get any more research done this weekend?"

Stiles shakes his head, grateful for the change in subject. "Not really. What about you?"

"A little, but nothing like what we managed to find on Friday." Cora's eyes narrow slightly, and she gives him a considering look. "Why don't we each see what we can pull up this week, and meet again at my house on Friday?"

Stiles hesitates. He had liked Cora's family, and despite the noise level they had actually gotten quite a bit done once they'd separated themselves from it. Except Peter had called it 'family dinner nights' which implied the whole family was always there on Fridays, which meant that Derek would be there.

"Maybe we could do it at my house this time? On Saturday, since Fridays are your family night. We can order pizza or something."

Cora almost looks like she wants to argue, but after a moment she nods. "Just so we're clear, you're not trying to trick me into a date or something?"

"What? No," Stiles says, almost knocking his water bottle down as he does a small, contained flail. "I mean, I'm not blind, you're gorgeous, but I'm not interested in you like that. Jesus Christ, don't kill me."

Cora laughs. "Alright, calm down, I believe you. Text me your address before this weekend. Is six-thirty okay?"

"Yeah, six-thirty is good," Stiles says, and doesn't bother to keep the relief out of his voice. The more he can avoid Derek, the better.

*

Fifteen minutes before Cora is supposed to get there, Stiles grabs his history book, his notebook, and his laptop and takes them all downstairs. They could probably study in his room, but he really doesn't want his dad to get the wrong idea, so living room it is. After dumping his stuff on the coffee table he heads for the kitchen, unsurprised to find his dad sitting at the table with a cup of coffee and a few files spread out in front of him.

"Hey, Dad, what's up?"

John glances up, looking at him over the top of his glasses. "Just looking over something a friend of mine out of state sent me. Is it dinner time already?"

"Yep, we're going to order pizza." Stiles drops down in the seat opposite and reaches for the nearest paper, immediately jerking his hand back when John smacks it. "Oh, come on!"

"No," John says, taking off his glasses. "Did you say pizza?"

Stiles glares, rubbing the back of his hand. "Yeah, I did, though now I'm reconsidering letting you have any with actual meat on it."

"You were going to willingly let me have pizza with meat? What's the occasion?"

"No occasion." Stiles shrugs. "My partner for the history project Ms. Newman is making us do is coming over to work on it, and I thought it would be easier to just order pizza than try to cook anything."

John raises both eyebrows. "You're doing a partnered project without Scott?"

"Assigned partners, no way around it."

"Ah."

"Cora's okay, though," Stiles says. "I'm only about seventy-five percent terrified of her now, which is a marked improvement."

John shakes his head, looking far more amused than Stiles feels the situation warrants. "Son, do we need to have a talk?"

Stiles eyes him suspiciously. "Talk? About what?"

"About the fact that the last girl you were 'terrified' of you swore up and down you were going to marry. Should we have, you know, a talk?"

"No." Stiles points a warning finger at him. "We do not need to have any sort of talk like that, ever. Okay?"

"Are you sure? Because if I end up with grandkids before you're twenty-five –"

"Oh my god!" Stiles waves his hands at his dad, and he knows he's flushed all the way to his hairline. "I don't like Cora like that. She's just a friend."

John doesn't look entirely convinced. "Okay, well. I know you're eighteen, but just in case –"

Stiles closes his eyes and plugs his ears with his fingers. "I can't hear you, lalalalalalalalala –"

"Stiles."

He squints out through half-closed eyes to see his dad with his arms crossed, giving him a flat, unimpressed look. Stiles sighs and drops his hands. "Always use a condom, every time with no exceptions. Both parties must be completely sober and full consent must be willingly given. And yes, I know how to put on a condom." He winces. "In theory."

John looks like he wants to say something else to that, but before he can there's a knock on the door. He shakes his head and stands, patting Stiles on the shoulder as he passes. Stiles takes a deep breath and counts to five before following.

He's only a few steps behind when John swings the door open – and stumbles over his own feet when he sees Derek standing beside Cora on the other side. He manages not to fall flat on his face, but his dad still glances at him in exasperation. Cora looks like she's fighting back a smirk, and Derek's cheeks are a faint pink color.

"Uh, hey." Stiles clears his throat, his heart suddenly pounding. There's no way they heard that conversation, right? "Dad, this is Cora and her brother Derek. And, uh, this is my dad, Sheriff Stilinski."

"Nice to meet you." John steps aside to let Cora in before reaching to briefly shake Derek's hand. "Stiles didn't say you were coming too."

"I'm not staying," Derek says, glancing at Stiles before quickly looking back at John. He shoves both hands into the pockets of his leather jacket. "I, uh, I work down at the movie theater and I'm covering for someone for a few hours tonight. I just thought I'd drop Cora off and pick her back up, since it's on the way. It was kind of a last minute thing."

"Well that's nice of you," John says, sounding approving. "No wonder Stiles was so surprised to see you."

Stiles only realizes he's been staring at Derek when he shifts his gaze to glare at his dad instead.

Derek clears his throat, and Stiles' attention snaps back to him. "I should get going –"

"Of course, don't let us make you late," John says, waving him off.

Derek nods. "Bye, Stiles," he says, quiet, and Stiles is so surprised all he can do is wave pathetically.

John shuts the door and cuts off Stiles' view of Derek's retreating back. "Stiles."

Stiles blinks, looking over to see his dad fighting back a smile. "Yeah?"

"I think we had the wrong talk," John says, clapping him on the shoulder, and there's a burst of laughter from the living room. Oh god, Stiles is going to die.

"Oh my god, you are the worst."

John chuckles. "Go get started on your project, I'll order the pizza."

Stiles narrows his eyes, but when John just raises his eyebrows and looks significantly between Stiles and the door, he lets it go. "Fine, but don't go overboard, okay?"

"Whatever you say, son."

Cora is waiting in the living room, having already taken off her jacket and made herself at home on the couch. She gives Stiles a wicked grin when he walks in, but he ignores her as he sits down and opens his laptop, pulling up the pages he had bookmarked over the week.

Stiles clears his throat, not looking at her. "I hope you like lots of meat on your pizza, because my dad's doing the ordering."

"That's fine." Cora sets her own laptop down next to Stiles', and leans forward to boot it up. "Did you find anything interesting?"

"A few things. Mostly stuff about Ovid and religion and King Lycaon. There's a lot of conflicting information out there. What about you?"

"I tried," Cora says, shrugging. "But I kept getting frustrated at all the bullshit."

Stiles frowns, pulling up one of the pages he had found most helpful. "It's kind of all bullshit, though, isn't it?"

Cora hums, and Stiles can't tell if it's in agreement or disagreement. "Maybe."

He glances over at her, but she's staring at her computer screen like it'll disappear if she looks away. "Okay, well. I guess you should tell me what you think is bullshit so we're on the same page here. We both have to agree with what goes into this project."

Cora grins sharply at him. "Show me what you've found, and I'll tell you my opinion."

The pizza arrives soon after, and they devour an entire one between them as they go through Stiles' project bookmarks. As it turns out, Cora thinks almost everything is bullshit.

"This is ridiculous," Stiles finally says, throwing down the last bit of crust from his half of the pizza. "I bookmarked over a hundred pages, and you're telling me that all but five of them are completely wrong about the mythology of werewolves?"

"More or less." Cora picks a mushroom off her last slice and drops it into her mouth.

Stiles stares at her. "That doesn't even make any sense. Some of these are like, legitimate historical sites."

"Legitimate to humans maybe."

Stiles throws his hands up. "I don't know what the hell that's supposed to mean, but I think you've actually managed to fry my brain over the past three and a half hours, so I'm just going to let it go."

Cora laughs, and then pauses to tilt her head, glancing toward the door. "Derek's here," she says cheerfully, and picks up her can of Coke to finish it off.

"What," Stiles says, and then hears the faint sound of a car door slamming. "Wait a minute, how –"

A knock on the door interrupts him, and Stiles ends up gaping as Cora stands and grabs her jacket.

"Walk me to the door," she says, picking up her laptop. "It's polite."

Stiles doesn't argue, just stands and trails behind her. She swings the door open before he can reach it, stepping out beside a waiting Derek.

"We're having a small Halloween party on Thursday," Cora says. "I know it's a school night but our parents said we could, since Halloween parties are just better when they're actually on Halloween. I've already told Isaac, Erica, and Boyd to invite Scott, Allison and Lydia, so it won't just be a bunch of people you don't know."

She takes off toward the car before Stiles can answer, leaving him and Derek alone on the porch. He hesitates; it sounds like fun, and his dad is working that night anyway, but school night parties don't usually end up the greatest for him.

"You should come," Derek says, and it actually sounds like he kind of means it.

Stiles glances behind him to make sure his dad isn't within hearing range, and then turns back with a nod. "Yeah, totally."

Derek actually smiles at him, a quirk of his mouth that does something really horrible to Stiles' insides.

"Great," Derek says, and it comes out on a breath. "It starts around eight, I think."

Stiles nods. "Okay. I'll, uh, see you then."

Derek nods, smile widening a little before he turns and almost jumps down the few steps to the walkway. Stiles slowly shuts the door and then stands there staring at it, heart going a mile a minute, until he hears Derek's car start and drive off down the road.

"What the hell just happened?" he mutters under his breath.

John clears his throat behind Stiles, making him jump and spin around. He's staring at Stiles with open amusement, and crosses his arms over his chest.

"Really?"

Stiles winces. "I have no idea what you're talking about."

"Uh-huh," John says, expression as doubtful as his tone. "I'm talking about googly eyes you were making at your project partner's older brother. Emphasis on the 'older'."

"I wasn't – I'm not – crap."

"Don't tell me you're just now realizing it."

"No! Yes? Maybe, I don't know!"

John snorts. "Exactly how old is he?"

Stiles groans and rubs at his forehead with his thumb. "Twenty-one."

"That's not bad. Three years is acceptable, I guess."

"Eighteen!" Stiles reminds him a little wildly, despite desperately not wanting to have another awkward, embarrassing conversation with his dad. "I am legally allowed to make adult decisions for myself!"

John ignores him, unsurprisingly. "And he works down at the Beacon Hills Cinema? What about college?"

Stiles makes a frustrated noise but answers anyway. "He's already got a bachelor's. I think he said something about taking a year off before going back."

"Hm," John says.

Stiles sighs and shakes his head, shoulders slumping. "Dad, stop. So I might have a tiny, inappropriate crush on him, but he's not even remotely interested in me. There's no need for an interrogation."

John gives him an incredulous look. "Son, I don't know if you noticed, but he wasn't wearing his uniform shirt tonight."

Stiles blinks. "What?"

"I've been to the movies plenty of times, kiddo. All the Beacon Hills Cinema employees wear a black t-shirt with a small logo on the front and a bigger one on the back. Right?"

"Yeah?"

"Derek was wearing a green Henley." Stiles stares at him blankly and John sighs. "You're smart enough to figure this out on your own, Mr. Eighteen-Year-Old-Adult. I'm going to bed."

Stiles watches as his dad turns and climbs the stairs, calling out a goodnight when he reaches the top, and then he goes back into the living room to gather his stuff. His laptop is still open to one of the pages Cora had approved of, and Stiles groans as he shuts the lid with a snap. There's too much going on in his head and he just doesn't feel like dealing with any of it.

He takes his things upstairs, dumps his book and notebook on his desk, changes into his pajamas, and then reopens his laptop. He doesn't even bother to look at all the research still on his screen, closing all the tabs and opening a new one so he can pull up his favorite free porn site.

Orgasms are the best kind of escapism.

Twenty minutes later, when his pajama pants are shoved down to his knees and he's just come all over himself from watching a video of a dark-haired, scruffy, muscled guy pound into a slightly-smaller, brown-haired, freckled guy, Stiles thinks he might have a problem.

*

Cora tells them all that some sort of costume is required for the party, so Stiles goes out and buys a pair of black skinny jeans, a tight black t-shirt, a leather belt with silver studs on it, and a cheap pair of black boots. He lets Erica draw a few temporary tattoos on his arms at lunch, and borrows Lydia's eyeliner to complete the look.

It's not much as far as costumes go, and four years of playing lacrosse means his physique isn't exactly early-2000s emo-twink, but the last time he'd gone all out for Halloween he'd ended up dressed as a bunny rabbit in a toga. It hadn't been pretty.

The four of them decide to go together in Allison's car since she's the designated driver, so Stiles is waiting outside when they pull up to the curb and the back window rolls down.

"Get in, loser!" Lydia yells, and Stiles grins.

Scott turns to look at him from the passenger seat as Stiles slides into the back next to Lydia. "Dude, you look so weird like that."

"Good weird or bad weird?"

"Good weird," Allison and Lydia say at the same time as Allison pulls out on to the road.

Lydia grips his face in her hand, turning him every which way to examine the eyeliner. "Not bad, Stilinski. I had my doubts, but you actually managed to do a decent job."

"Thanks," Stiles says dryly, and swears never to tell her about the five times he poked himself in the eye.

It's going on eight-thirty by the time they get to the Hale house, and the party is in no way small. Stiles had wondered how many people would come to a party this far out, but apparently a house in the woods is the perfect set up for a Halloween party.

There's a shit ton of cars parked along the driveway, and people are flowing in and out of the house and milling around the yard. Music is blasting from somewhere, a strobe light is hooked up to the porch roof, and Stiles is pretty sure the line leading around the side of the house is to the kegs. Spider webs go all the way from the porch to the roof, covering several windows, one of which is half-open with a fake corpse hanging from it, blood spilling down the side of the house. There's even a little cemetery set up towards the left side of the house, right next to the edge of the woods, with what looks like zombie parts scattered throughout.

"Dude, this is awesome," Scott says as they all climb from the car. "So worth a school-day hangover."

"I'll remind you of that tomorrow," Allison says, hooking her arm through his and kissing his cheek.

"Come on." Lydia threads her own arm through Stiles', pulling him towards the house. "Show me this Derek guy."

"Wait, what?" Stiles says, digging his heels in. "Lydia, no."

"Yes." Lydia tugs hard enough to make him stumble. "He's the first person to truly capture your attention since you got over me. I have to meet him."

"Lydia," Stiles says, pleading even as he lets her drag him along. "This isn't necessary. I have so far managed to not completely humiliate myself in front of him, and I would like to keep it that way. Besides, he kind of hates me. Also he's Cora's brother, not some random guy I happened to meet."

Lydia scoffs. "Honey, you have no idea, do you?"

"Apparently not," Stiles mutters to himself, because Lydia has pulled him around the side of the house to the crowded backyard.

Laura is manning the kegs, dressed in what looks like a black cat costume and handing out drinks to whoever doesn't already have one. She waves cheerily when she sees Stiles, but her face falls a little when she notices Lydia. "Hey, Stiles," she says when they get close enough. She hands them both a drink, eyeing Lydia curiously. "Who's this?"

"My friend Lydia," Stiles answers, and downs half the beer in two big gulps. "She wants to meet Derek."

Laura's eyebrows shoot up. "Stay here," she tells Stiles, and then grabs Lydia and pulls her several feet away. Stiles scowls after them, and then glares at a girl who tries to edge around him to the keg. A few short moments later Laura and Lydia return, Lydia looking smug and Laura with the biggest shit eating grin Stiles has ever seen. Laura grabs his cup and tops it off before handing it back. "One is your limit, and if anyone asks, you didn't get it from me. Derek is somewhere inside, sulking because you weren't here at eight."

Stiles blinks at her. "What."

Lydia drags him away before she can respond, but from the way Laura is already filling cups for other people he doesn't think she would have answered anyway.

Finding Derek isn't as easy as just going inside, as it turns out. The house is packed, and the only reason Stiles doesn't lose Lydia is because she doesn't let his arm go. They walk around for close to an hour, and he hasn't seen Scott and Allison since they arrived. A lot of kids from school are there, and even more people that Stiles doesn't recognize. They're probably friends of Derek's and Laura's, though he has no way of knowing for sure.

Somehow Stiles ends up with a cup full of punch from the kitchen, and it definitely has something stronger than beer in it. By the time he finishes it he's got a pleasant buzz going, and they still haven't found Derek.

"Can we give up now?" Stiles asks, almost yelling directly in Lydia's ear to be heard over the noise level. "This is a party, and all we're doing is walking around."

Lydia rolls her eyes. "Ugh, fine. But don't for one second think I'm letting this go."

"Wouldn't dream of it."

Lydia grins at him and pats his cheek before disappearing into the crowd. Stiles sighs and makes his way back toward the kitchen; he needs more of that punch before it disappears.

His cup full and his head fuzzy just around the edges, Stiles wanders through the house. He's buzzed enough to dance a little when a good song comes on, but not drunk enough to really let loose. A few of the kids from school wave at him, and he waves back without really talking to any of them.

It's a fun party, but Stiles can't help being a little disappointed that he hasn't seen Derek yet. Maybe Derek was just being polite by saying he should come, and hadn't actually cared if Stiles showed up or not. That thought makes something in Stiles' stomach twist, and he sighs, throwing back the last swallow of his drink.

Maybe he should get more. Yeah, maybe – why the fuck not, right? He should definitely get more punch.

Of course, when he rounds the corner into the kitchen he slams straight into Derek. He stumbles back, nearly losing his balance, but Derek reaches out and grabs his arms before he can fall.

"Stiles?" Derek's eyes go wide as he takes in Stiles' costume. "Jesus Christ." It sounds kind of breathless for some reason.

Stiles blinks at him, then grins widely. "Oh, hey, Derek. I've been looking for you."

Derek's expression does something funny. "You have?"

"Yeah, my friend Lydia – she wants to meet you."

"Oh." Derek's voice goes odd, and he drops his hands. Stiles tries not to pout at the loss, and brings his cup up for another drink before remembering that it's empty and scowling at it. Derek snorts. "How many of those have you had?"

"What?" Stiles squints his eyes as Derek nods toward the cup. "Oh, uh. Two. And a beer."

Derek sighs and takes the cup, throwing it away before he grips Stiles' elbow with his hand. "Come on, let's get you some fresh air."

Stiles would argue – he wanted more punch – but Derek's hand is warm and he's volunteering to spend actual time with him, so he goes with it, letting himself be led out the back door. It's a lot cooler outside than in, and the chilly air hits him like a slap in the face.

"Shit." Stiles takes a deep breath and rubs one hand over his face. "That punch sort of sneaks up on you, doesn't it?"

Derek huffs out a laugh. "It definitely seemed strong enough to."

Stiles squints at him again, his brain too full of alcohol to even try to parse that one out. "You and Cora both talk in riddles. It's fucking annoying."

Derek ignores that. "Do you want to go for a walk?"

"Wow, that came out of nowhere." Stiles looks around at the crowd and then back to Derek. "Uh, yeah. Sure, let's go."

Derek almost visibly relaxes, and Stiles hadn't even realized he was tense. "Come on, I'll show you the graveyard. I don't think anybody's over there right now."

"How can you possibly know that," Stiles mutters, but Derek is already walking away so he just follows.

Derek's right, of course; aside from random dismembered zombie parts, the graveyard is empty.

"This is really cool," Stiles says, walking slowly through the gravestones and reading off the names. "I know it isn't a real cemetery since I didn't see it last time I was here, but it sure as hell seems like it. Props to whoever put it together."

"Thanks," Derek says, and shrugs when Stiles looks up at him. "Laura and Cora decorated the house; I did this. I wanted it to give off that sort of weird feeling you get from an old graveyard at night. People like to be scared when they know they're actually safe, so I thought it would add to the overall vibe of the night."

Stiles raises an eyebrow. "You know, I'm pretty sure that's the most you've said to me at one time since we met." He thinks Derek flushes, but it's hard to tell in the shadows of the trees. Stiles can, however, easily see his smirk.

"Maybe you make me nervous."

Stiles scoffs, though he can't help but grin as well. "Oh, really? Is that why you've been such an asshole to me?"

Derek shrugs, stepping closer. "You kind of took me by surprise. I wasn't expecting to see you in my home. Besides, if I'm an asshole, so are you."

"Oh, wow, dude. You are such a sweet talker. I'm a puddle of goo."

"Just telling it like it is."

Stiles laughs a little in disbelief, and the expression on Derek's face is one of wicked humor. "I don't know if I should be insulted or proud of myself."

"Go with insulted." Derek grins. "Less egotistical and makes for more interesting conversation."

"Well, in that case, fuck you." Derek makes a considering hum, and no, Stiles can't handle that, so he starts walking again. "Did you come up with all of these names, too?"

"No. They're, uh. They're names of family members who have passed away. Since Halloween is meant to be the one night a year the veil between the living and dead is at its thinnest, I thought it would be a nice way to include them in the fun."

Stiles thinks of his mom, and how she had always gone all out for Halloween and Christmas. The Nightmare Before Christmas had been her favorite movie because it included both holidays, and he smiles a little sadly as he brushes his fingers over one of the headstones.

"That's really nice. A little macabre, but also nice." He looks up and Derek is watching him curiously, but Stiles doesn't want any sympathy right now so he clears his throat. "So, what are you supposed to be?"

Derek blinks. "What?"

"Your costume." Stiles gestures to his dark jeans and black Henley, the sleeves pushed up to just under his elbows. "Everybody else is dressed up, why not you?"

Derek stares at him for a moment, like he's considering something, and then smirks. "I am, though."

"Really? Because it looks like you're just… you." That sounds kind of insulting, which isn't how Stiles meant it, so he starts to babble a little. "I mean, not that there's anything wrong with you, definitely not, I didn't mean it like that, you're - you're, uh -"

Derek's smirk has been growing as Stiles rambles. When he takes a step closer, Stiles automatically steps back in surprise, cutting himself off with a quiet oof as his shoulders hit a tree just on the edge of the forest surrounding the Hale house.

"Oh, I'm definitely something." Derek steps closer again, even though Stiles has nowhere else to go. They're almost touching now, Derek's converse less than inch from Stiles' boots. "I'm one of the most dangerous creatures to ever exist. I could rip your throat out with my teeth, or tear you open with my claws."

Stiles stares at him, shakes his head. Derek chuckles, a low and dangerous sound that sends a shiver down Stiles' spine and right to his dick, making him flush.

"A werewolf, Stiles." And he smiles, teeth far more sharp and dangerous looking in the moonlight than they had seemed before.

"Whoa." Stiles forgets his arousal for a moment, leaning forward for a better look. "Dude, those are so realistic. Can I touch? Have you been wearing them the whole time?"

Derek snorts, rolling his eyes. "No, you can't touch." His words come out a bit more slurred than they were before, like he's having to talk around the teeth, but that doesn't make any sense if he's been wearing them all night. He didn't sound this way a few minutes ago. "And sort of."

Stiles frowns, tilts his head as he studies them. "But –"

"What's your costume? I told you mine, it's only fair."

Stiles is thrown for a moment before pulling away to shrug. "Punk rocker. Doesn't matter which one, so take your pick."

"Punk rocker?" Derek steps back just far enough to drag his eyes down Stiles' body and then back up. Stiles flushes again, going hot all over as his arousal comes flooding back. "No, I don't think so."

"What? Dude, I so am. Black clothes, studded belt –"

But Derek is shaking his head. "No, no. See, if you had someone specific in mind then that might work, but since you don't then you're not nearly punk enough."

Stiles narrows his eyes. "I've got tattoos. Okay, they're fake tattoos, but Erica is an amazing artist and they look awesome."

Derek smirks, slow and teasing, and when he speaks again his voice comes out low. "Yeah, but you don't have any color in your hair."

Stiles' eyes go wide as Derek reaches out and runs his hand through Stiles' hair, curling his fingers and tugging slightly to pull Stiles' head back and expose his throat. Stiles can't stop the gasp that escapes him, or the way his whole body shivers.

"And you don't have any piercings."

Derek's hold on his hair doesn't loosen as he brings his free hand up to trace a finger over Stiles' eyebrow, down the ridge of his nose, over his bottom lip. Stiles' breath stutters out, and Derek's eyes flick up to his, wicked-looking even in the shadows.

"And I'll bet," Derek continues, stepping impossibly closer and pressing his body against Stiles', "that the tattoos don't go past your arms."

His free hand drops down to Stiles' waist, fingers finding their way under the hem of his t-shirt, and he leans in to brush his nose against Stiles' cheek. He growls softly at the place where Lydia had touched Stiles earlier, and then drags his nose down Stiles' jaw to his throat. Stiles' heart is pounding, brain completely offline from the combination of the alcohol he's drank and the blood currently rushing to his dick. Derek presses an open mouthed kiss to Stiles' pulse point, and those teeth are as sharp as they look as they drag gently over his skin.

Stiles whimpers, rolling his hips against Derek's. He knows Derek can probably feel how hard he is, but he can't seem to bring himself to care. The equally hard line of Derek's dick is pressing against his, and a soft moan vibrates deep in his throat.

Oh god, that's Derek's dick. And it's hard and touching his.

Kind of, anyway.

"Derek! I'm sorry, but we've got a problem. Get your ass over here now!"

They both jump at the sound of Laura's shout, Derek pulling back quickly, and for a moment it almost looks like his eyes are glowing yellow. Stiles blinks and it's gone; it must have been the light - or maybe the alcohol.

"Goddamn it," Derek mutters, releasing Stiles with a sigh and stepping away. "I have to go see what's wrong."

He sounds as reluctant as Stiles feels, but Stiles nods anyway and follows as Derek turns to walk back to the house. He tries to adjust himself as discreetly as possible, and really hopes his dick goes down soon. Fucking skinny jeans.

When they reach the backyard it's obvious that there's been a fight. Actually, no, there's still a fight in progress, but Laura is between the two very drunk boys, holding one of them back with one hand while the other brandishes a broken bottle at the two of them.

Derek swears and rushes forward, aiming for the guy with the bottle, and Stiles chokes on a shout when the guy swings around and slashes the bottle at Derek's forearm. A gash appears, blood gushing out, and Stiles winces because that's definitely going to need stitches, and maybe a tetanus shot. Except - the gash starts to close back up, and it's only a few seconds before it's gone, almost like it hadn't been there at all. Stiles blinks, staring for a moment in utter bewilderment at the blood left behind before shaking his head.

Fucking punch, making him see things.

Derek easily wrestles the guy under control and forces him to drop the bottle. Laura grabs both boys by the front of their shirts and drags them away, cursing at them loudly as they disappear around the corner. Derek scowls after them for a moment before running one hand through his hair and then tugging his shirt sleeves down. He glances over at Stiles and sees him watching.

"Are you okay?"

"Yeah, I'm fine," Stiles says, which is almost true. "I mean – I should probably go. It's getting late, and if the cops are called –"

Derek winces. "Yeah, I think we should probably clear everyone out and shut it down anyway. Do you have a ride? We promised our parents we wouldn't let anyone who's been drinking drive out of here, and we were supposed to try and keep underage drinking to a maximum of zero."

He gives Stiles a hard look, but Stiles shrugs unapologetically, making Derek roll his eyes.

"Oh please, don't act all high and mighty like you never drank before your twenty-first."

Derek huffs, but doesn't argue. "A ride, Stiles. Do you have one?"

"Yeah, I came with Scott, Allison, and Lydia, and Allison's our designated driver for the night. So I'm good, I just need to find them."

Derek nods. "Okay, uh -" He pauses and tilts his head. "I think they're in the living room with Cora."

Stiles wants to ask how he would know that, but he's starting to feel a little overwhelmed so he doesn't. "Great. I'll, um. I'll see you later?" Derek nods again, and Stiles gives him another small smile before turning to make his way towards the house. At the last second he stops and looks back. "By the way, you should probably check that punch. I think there was some sort of hallucinogenic in it."

He glances at Derek's arm and then back to his face. Derek has gone slightly pale, and he pulls at the cuff of his shirt sleeve.

"Yeah, I'll do that."

Stiles finds his friends in the living room just as Derek had said, with Cora, Erica, Isaac, and Boyd. As soon as he walks up to them Cora turns and grins at him.

"So I guess you found Derek?"

Stiles flushes. "Maybe. Are you guys ready to go?"

"Stiles!" Scott says, cheerful and slightly slurred. He wobbles and throws one arm around Stiles' shoulders. "This has been the best party. The best."

Stiles laughs, wrapping one arm around Scott's waist to help him stay standing. "Yeah, it's been an experience. But Derek and Laura just had to break up a fight, so I think it's time we head out."

"Oh." Scott looks down at his nearly empty cup, shrugs, and downs the last two swallows. "Okay, I'm ready."

"A fight?" Allison frowns, looking worried. "Was it bad? Was anyone hurt?"

"Nah, everyone's fine." Stiles adjusts his hold on an increasingly heavier Scott. "Seriously, can we go? I think Scott is falling asleep on me, and I'm not looking forward to tomorrow's hangover."

Allison sighs and steps up to Scott's other side, pulling his free arm around her shoulders. "Okay, come on. We're going to have to take him home first so you can help me get him up to bed."

Stiles calls out a bye as they make their way toward the door, and between the two of them he and Allison manage to get Scott to her car and dumped into the passenger seat. Allison buckles him in before going around to her side, and Stiles climbs in back with Lydia.

"Was Cora right, did you find Derek?" Lydia asks as Allison slowly makes her way down the driveway, trying not to hit anyone making their way to their own vehicles.

"Yeah, I did. I ran into him in the kitchen. Literally."

Lydia reaches out to gently run one hand through his hair. "So what happened?"

Stiles hums and closes his eyes, leaning his head back against the seat. "We took a walk through the little graveyard. We talked."

"And?"

"And I'm willing to concede that he might not be as much of an asshole as I originally thought."

Lydia sighs, sounding completely exasperated. "Did anything happen? Did he kiss you, at least?"

"No, he didn't kiss me."

"What? Why not?"

"Lydia, it's fine. We've had all of one decent, non-antagonistic conversation. Kissing is so far from being in the realm of possibilities it's almost funny."

Though apparently sexually-charged neck sniffing is okay.

"Whatever," Lydia says, scratching her fingers on his head. "You'll get there."

Stiles hopes she's right, so he just sighs and tries not to fall asleep before they reach Scott's house.

*

When he gets to school the next morning Cora is waiting for him at his locker. Stiles grunts a greeting at her and she steps aside so he can put in the combination. It takes him a few long moments before he can remember what it is; his head hurts like a motherfucker.

"Derek told me what happened last night. Are you okay?"

"I'm fine," Stiles says as his locker door finally pops open and he starts grabbing what he needs. "Aside from the hallucinogenic effects of the punch and the massive hangover that's happening right now."

Cora doesn't say anything for a moment, and Stiles glances over at her. She's looking at him with an unreadable expression. Finally she sighs. "Look, I'm grounded this weekend, and next weekend we're going out for Derek's birthday –"

"Derek's birthday is next weekend?"

"It's on the seventh, actually," Cora says. "Anyway, my point is that we won't be able to work on the project together for a couple of weeks."

"Oh." Stiles frowns, trying not to be disappointed. Cora's fun to hang out with, and right now she's his only link with Derek. "Maybe we could go to the library after school? Or text whatever we find? Face time it? I don't know, my head hurts."

Cora shakes her head, looking amused. "Grounded, Stiles. I don't know what that means for you, but for me it means straight home after school, no friends, no phone, no laptop."

"Oh, wow, that really sucks."

"We'll just have to work on it separately for a while, I guess. You can go over those sites I told you were okay, see what you find out."

Cora gives him a pointed look, but whatever she's trying to say goes right over Stiles' throbbing head.

"Yeah, sure, I'll definitely do that."

Cora sighs and rolls her eyes. "See you at lunch?"

"Hell yeah, today is pizza day."

Cora shakes her head again before disappearing into the crowd of students, and Stiles makes his way to first period English. He's unsurprised to find Scott slumped down in a seat at the back, furthest away from the big windows, his hoodie pulled over his head and his face buried in the crook of his arm.

Stiles pats him on the shoulder as he plops down in the seat beside him, and Scott lets out a pitiful moan, raising his head to blink blearily.

"Am I dead yet? Because I feel dead."

"Nope, sorry buddy," Stiles says. "You're just going to have to wait this one out."

"I think I'm still drunk." Scott rubs at his eyes, sliding down in his seat. "What the fuck was in that punch?"

"I have no idea, but whatever it was made me see shit."

Scott drops his hand and stares at him with wide eyes. "Seriously?"

"Yeah." Stiles frowns. "You didn't hallucinate anything?"

"No way. Dude, what did you see?"

Stiles shrugs, suddenly uncomfortable for some reason, and starts pulling what he needs from his backpack. "Nothing major. It's no big deal, don't worry about it."

Scott squints at him, and he doesn't look entirely convinced but he does look too wrecked to care. "If you say so. Hey, do you have a pen I can borrow?"

Stiles hands over one of his extras, grateful when Scott doesn't ask any more questions. Maybe it wasn't the punch itself but something in the punch that he had some sort of reaction to. It's the only explanation that makes any sense, even though Stiles has never had an allergic reaction to anything before.

Both he and Scott flinch when the classroom door shuts behind the teacher, and he decides to let it go until a day when his head doesn't feel like it's been bashed in.

*

Scott stays the weekend at Stiles' house, the two of them playing video games and eating as much junk food as they can, and then Stiles spends the first few days of the week trying to catch up on the homework he's been ignoring in favor of doing research for the history project.

After school on the seventh, Stiles goes to the little Hallmark card store in town and buys a birthday card for Derek. It had taken him all week to make the decision to acknowledge Derek's birthday in some way, and his stomach is in knots the whole time he's perusing the cards. They've only known each other for about three weeks, and so far Halloween is the only positive interaction they've had with each other.

Stiles has no idea what he's doing. He's attracted to Derek on a very physical level, but he doesn't know if he likes the person Derek actually is. He thinks he could – he enjoyed their little back and forth on Halloween, and he thinks Derek did as well. Not to mention the fact that the sexual attraction definitely seems to be mutual.

Stiles shivers, remembering the feel of Derek's mouth against his neck, and finally picks a card that has a cartoon cake and a stupid pun. Once he gets back out to his Jeep he writes on the inside:

A little birdie named Cora told me it was your birthday today.

I hope you have a happy one.

– Stiles

Below his name he writes out his phone number, and then panics about it for the next several minutes.

"Fuck," Stiles says out loud. He tucks the card into the envelope, writes Derek's name on the front, and tosses it into the passenger seat before starting the Jeep. He'll drive by the movie theater, and if Derek's Camaro is there he'll stop and leave the card; if it isn't then he'll go home and try to forget the way Derek's body felt pressed against his.

The Camaro is there, of course, and Stiles is both relieved and scared shitless. He swallows hard, heart pounding, and pulls his Jeep into the empty space beside the sleek black car. Refusing to let himself rethink it, he jumps out and puts the card beneath the driver's side windshield wiper, quickly climbs back in his Jeep, and tears out of there far too fast.

"You're such an idiot," he mutters to himself, but he doesn't go back.

*

Just after dinner, his phone chimes with an incoming text from a number he doesn't recognize. Heart in his throat, Stiles opens it.

thanks for the card

"Oh god," Stiles breathes out, and sends back a simple you're welcome.

He saves the number into his contacts, fingers shaking as he types out Derek's name. He's just finished when his phone chimes again with another text.

I know it's late, but are you busy?

"Oh god," Stiles says again, heart pounding.

nah, not really. what's up?

do you want to come grab a bite to eat with me?

Stiles makes a truly embarrassing noise and nearly drops his phone in his haste to answer.

I've actually just finished eating dinner, but we could totally do dessert if that's ok?

sounds great. meet me at Scoops in twenty?

I'll be there.

"Oh god," Stiles says for the third time, letting his phone fall to his bed as he jumps up. He stumbles his way out of his room and into the bathroom to brush his teeth, and then rushes back to his room to change his t-shirt and pull on a zip-up hoodie. His hands are shaking as he grabs his phone, wallet, and keys and shoves them in his pockets.

He takes the stairs two at a time, and when he reaches the bottom he calls out, "Bye, Dad, going out!"

"Wait a minute, Stiles –"

Stiles swears under his breath, pausing with his hand on the front door knob. "Yeah?"

John steps out of the kitchen, taking his glasses off to give Stiles a hard look. "It's late. Where are you going?"

For just a second Stiles considers lying, but he is an adult and if he does lie and his dad finds out then it will hurt the trust his dad has in him. "Uh, actually I'm going to meet Derek at Scoops."

"Derek, huh?" His dad's expression shifts into amusement. "The same Derek from two weekends ago?"

"Yeah, he – see, it's his birthday so I left him a card on his car with my number in it, and he texted me and asked if I'd like to go out tonight –"

John holds up one hand, making Stiles snap his mouth shut. "So he's twenty-two now?"

"Um, yeah. Yes."

His dad sighs. "I know you're eighteen and that's not a huge difference, and Derek seemed like a good guy, but -"

Stiles lets go of the doorknob to take a step closer to his dad. "Hey, you don't need to worry. You raised me to be able to take care of myself, and I'm not going to do anything I don't want to, or let anyone mistreat me. Which I don't think he will, for the record; I've met the Hales and they're pretty awesome. I don't think they'd tolerate bad behavior from anyone in their family." He doesn't mention Peter. "Please trust me on this?"

John's expression relaxes some and he shakes his head. "Okay. Okay, I will trust you to be an adult about this. Just - please be careful. If you see any red flags, anything at all that might seem like it could be an issue, promise me you won't ignore it just because you like this guy."

Stiles nods a little too enthusiastically, but he can't help it. He knows he doesn't actually need permission from his dad for this, but it's nice to have anyway. "I promise."

John gives him a firm look. "If this starts getting serious I'm going to want to have a proper father-to-boyfriend meeting."

"You mean interrogation."

"I mean meeting. And if I see any sort of indication that he's not treating you with respect, I swear to god –"

"Dad," Stiles interrupts, and then strides over to wrap his dad in a tight hug. "If he ends up being a jerk I'll totally let you kick his ass, no complaints."

John sighs and hugs him back. "I love you, kiddo."

"I love you, too." Stiles pulls back and grins. "Thanks for being a cool dad."

"Yeah, yeah." John waves him off. "Go on, you're going to be late."

Stiles doesn't need to be told twice. It's a fifteen minute drive into the part of town where Scoops – the only ice cream parlor in Beacon Hills – is located, and when he pulls into a parking spot he can see Derek waiting just outside the door. He's wearing jeans, another damned Henley – this one blue – and his leather jacket. Stiles takes a deep breath and jumps out of the Jeep, trying to keep his pace casual as he makes his way over.

"Hey."

Derek smiles, just a little uptick of his mouth, but he looks happy. "Hey. I'm glad you came."

"I'm glad you invited me."

Derek's smile widens and he gestures to the door. "Ice cream?"

"After you, birthday boy."

Derek rolls his eyes at that, but he goes first, holding the door open for Stiles to follow. "So I was thinking we could get a couple of cones and then walk over to that park nearby."

"Yeah, that sounds great."

Derek orders a mint chocolate chip, Stiles gets a rocky road, and Derek pays before Stiles can even begin to offer. The park is only two blocks away, and they walk slowly as they make their way over, Stiles trying his best not to stare as Derek eats his cone.

"So," Stiles says, shoving his free hand in his pocket as he licks up a line of melting chocolate. "Is this some sort of over-dramatic thank you for the birthday card?"

Derek hums, and when Stiles glances over he thinks Derek's cheeks might be flushed, but it's hard to tell in the combination of moonlight and streetlamps. Derek is also staring at his mouth, which makes Stiles' stomach clench in a really good way.

"Maybe a little," Derek says, and snaps his eyes to Stiles', looking kind of nervous. "Mostly I was just hoping it could be a date."

The clenching turns to full-blown butterflies, and Stiles can't stop the stupid grin that bursts over his face. "Date it is, then."

Derek grins back, and then clears his throat. "So, uh, to keep with today's theme, when is your birthday?"

"April eighth," Stiles says. "I'll be nineteen. Got held back in first grade before they realized I had ADHD. It's okay though, because the second time around is when I met Scott, and we've been like brothers ever since."

Derek nods. "And your dad doesn't have a problem with you seeing a college guy before you graduate?"

"It's fine." Stiles shrugs and takes a bite of his cone. "I'm eighteen, and it's not that big of an age gap. He trusts me." He gives Derek a wry grin and admits, "We had a whole conversation about it before I left the house."

Derek huffs out a laugh. "Good. I'm glad. I don't exactly want the county sheriff holding a grudge against me."

"Just don't break my heart and you'll be fine." Derek flushes and Stiles grins. "What about your parents? Would they have a problem with you seeing someone still in high school? Or are you too old to care and just do whatever you want?"

Derek's face does something weird, almost like he's wincing but trying not to laugh at the same time. "No, I'm pretty sure I'll never be too old to not listen to my parents, especially Mom. Our family is really close. But to answer your question, they're fine with it. They wouldn't be if you were any younger, though, and honestly, neither would I." His expression goes a little sheepish. "We also had a talk."

Stiles throws his head back and laughs. "Permission granted from all parties. I hope that means we're good to see where this goes."

"Yeah, me too," Derek says softly, and Stiles' butterflies make a return.

By the time they reach the park they've both finished with their cones, and Stiles really hopes he doesn't have any chocolate on his face. He sucks on his fingers to clean them, and is pretty sure he hears Derek make a quiet choking sound. Stiles glances over at him but Derek is looking away, out toward the empty swing set.

"Bet I can swing higher than you."

Derek snaps his gaze to Stiles and raises both eyebrows. "Are you challenging me? I should warn you, I was voted King of the Swings in fifth grade."

"Well, I was voted King in fourth grade and held the title two years running. Besides, you've got at least fifty pounds on me, and lighter totally goes higher."

Derek narrows his eyes. "You're on."

Stiles cackles and runs for the swing set, rubbing his hands together before taking a seat on one and grabbing onto the chains. Derek takes the one next to him, his face so seriously determined that Stiles kind of wants to kiss the hell out of him.

Or challenge him on something every day for the rest of forever, but that thought is more than a little scary so he sticks to the kissing one.

"Ready? On go."

He counts down from three and they both push off. It's slow at first, but pretty soon Stiles has gained some good momentum. When he's certain that he's reached his maximum height he closes his eyes and tilts his head back, enjoying the cool night air rushing over him. His mom used to bring him out here when he was little, before she got sick, and they would spend hours running around doing everything.

Stiles opens his eyes and looks over at Derek, only to see him looking back, expression something he can't place. He's not ready for that yet, so he grins and yells, "I win," before letting go and flying through the air. He lands on his feet but has to tuck into a roll, ending up on his back and laughing up at the stars.

After a moment he sits up and watches Derek, still on the swings. "Do a better jump than me and we'll call it even."

Derek must accept the new challenge, because on the next swing out he jumps into a wide arc. His body stays fluid, and when he lands on both feet he ends up in a graceful crouch instead of flailing around on the ground like Stiles had.

Stiles gapes. "Dude, that was awesome. How did you do that?"

Derek shrugs and stands, reaching down to help Stiles to his feet. "It kind of comes naturally."

Stiles snorts, but Derek hasn't let go of his hand so he isn't going to argue. "Well, whatever, I'm totally impressed. Which I'm guessing was your goal?"

Derek smirks. "So what does the winner get?"

"That was a tie, dude. I won height, you won jump."

"Sounds like we're both winners to me."

Stiles swallows, darts his tongue out to wet his lips. Derek is still holding his hand. "Then it should probably be something mutually beneficial."

"Exactly what I was thinking," Derek says, voice low. He pulls Stiles in by his hand, wrapping his free arm around Stiles' waist and pressing them together.

"Fuck," Stiles breathes, twisting the front of Derek's shirt in his fingers.

When Derek finally kisses him, everything in Stiles goes molten hot. He lets out a soft noise, arching even closer, and opens his mouth so Derek can lick inside. He tastes like mint chocolate chip ice cream and something Stiles can't even begin to describe, something that's just Derek, and the building heat rushes through his veins, pooling low in his belly.

Derek moans – a short, whimpery punch of noise – and Stiles is pretty sure this is the best moment of his life. After several minutes Derek pulls away, and Stiles gasps for air.

"Oh my god."

Derek hums in agreement, nosing along Stiles' jaw to his throat. He stays there as Stiles tries to remember how to breathe, alternating between open-mouthed kisses and dragging deep breaths in through his nose. They both cause Stiles to shiver, and he tilts his head back, baring his throat. Derek lets out a low, rumbling noise and Stiles makes a helpless sound at the vibrations.

"So, uh, is this a thing for you? The neck-sniffing?" Derek freezes, and Stiles tries not to panic, tightening his fingers where they're still tangled in Derek's shirt. "No, no, it's okay, I was just wondering. I mean, I like it. Really like it. So it's more than okay, actually."

Derek relaxes, licking up Stiles' throat to his jaw line. "Yeah, it's kind of a thing," he says, pulling back to look Stiles in the eye. He looks nervous. "It doesn't bother you?"

"God no." Stiles bites his lip, reaching up to drag a finger down Derek's nose to his mouth. "Not even a little."

Derek shudders, expression going painfully vulnerable for a moment, and then he leans forward to kiss Stiles again. It's slower this time, less heated, and Stiles feels an ache bloom in his chest. He doesn't want Derek to ever look like that again, and that's such an overwhelming thought that he has to pull back. He grins, untwisting his fingers from Derek's shirt, and wriggles away.

"Race you to the merry-go-round."

He doesn't give Derek time to respond, turning and taking off. The merry-go-round is all the way on the other side of the large park, and Stiles has to twist and turn around different pieces of playground equipment as he runs. He can hear Derek behind him, the dull, steady thump of his shoes on the ground, and Stiles suddenly feels like he's being chased. A shiver goes down his spine, but it isn't fear, it's excitement, and a burst of adrenaline has him speeding through the last few feet.

Stiles jumps onto the metal center of the merry-go-round with a wild laugh, throwing his arms up into the air in victory. He turns, expecting Derek to jump on right behind him, but instead Derek grabs onto a couple of the painted yellow bars and keeps running. The merry-go-round starts to turn, quickly gaining speed, and Stiles laughs again, planting his feet and holding onto to two of the bars so as not to lose his balance.

Finally, when they're spinning so fast everything is one big blur and Stiles is getting dizzy, Derek jumps on with him. He blinks at Derek's face and tries to glare at him, though he's pretty sure his eyes look ridiculous and unfocused.

"Fuck you, you let me win just so you could do that."

Derek grins, looking far too smug. "Maybe I did."

Stiles laughs breathlessly and holds on for dear life; Derek must be a really fast runner. When the merry-go-round finally starts to slow down, Stiles manages to ease himself to the bottom, sprawling between the two big handle bars he'd been holding on to. Derek sits in front of him, tangling their legs together.

"Do you have any plans for college?"

Stiles nods, playing with the drawstring on his hoodie. "Yeah, I'm going to UCLA."

Derek looks surprised for a second, and then cautiously hopeful. "How do you know for sure? Do you have any backup plans or anything?"

"Well, I would, but I've already been accepted through early admissions." Stiles grins, unable to stop himself from feeling smug. "I had a few backup applications ready if UCLA didn't accept me, but since they did and they're my first choice, I don't feel the need to use them."

Derek huffs, shaking his head. "I feel like I should have expected that."

"What about you? You said you were going back for your masters; where do you go?"

"Believe it or not, I go to UCLA."

Stiles feels his eyes widen. "No shit?"

"Yeah." Derek shrugs, a smile playing around his mouth. "Laura wanted me to go out of state to NYU like she did, but I couldn't stand to be that far away from my family. I needed somewhere close enough that I could keep in touch more easily, but also far enough away that I could be my own person for a while. Everybody needs that, I think."

Stiles nods; he knows exactly what Derek is talking about. "Yeah, my dad is all I have left. The thought of going so far I can't get to him within a day doesn't feel right."

"What, uh –" Derek hesitates, looking vaguely uncomfortable. "Can I ask what happened to your mom? You don't have to tell me."

Stiles swallows, glancing out at the slowing scenery before looking back at Derek. "It's okay. She had a form of dementia. She died when I was ten. It's been… really hard on me and my dad."

Derek nods, watching him closely. "That sucks. I can't imagine losing my mom, or any of my family."

Stiles is so stupidly grateful that Derek didn't say I'm sorry, and lets out a hard breath. "It really does."

"Right," Derek says, grimacing. "And now that I've made this date completely depressing –"

Stiles laughs. "No way, dude, don't worry about it. I miss her, every fucking day, but not talking about her makes it worse." The merry-go-round has finally slowed to a stop, and Stiles wriggles around until he's splayed out on his back, staring up at the stars. "She used to love the night sky. She gave me a telescope for my fifth birthday, and I've still got it. I can't name all the stars like she used to, but I still love to look at them. Especially the moon; she would say there was something magical about it, and I like to think maybe there is."

"There is," Derek says with quiet surety, and settles down next to Stiles, reaching to entwine their hands.

They're quiet for a while, and then Stiles turns his head to look at Derek. "Can we make out now?"

"Fuck yes," Derek breathes, and moves to climb on top of Stiles. "I thought I might have ruined it."

Stiles snorts. "I'm an eighteen year old virgin, I'm pretty much always horny."

"Jesus fucking –"

Derek crashes their mouths together in a hard, demanding kiss, one hand burying itself in Stiles' hair and the other sliding down his side to rest on Stiles' hip. Derek's weight presses into him, and part of Stiles wishes he was on something more comfortable than bumpy metal, but a much bigger part of him doesn't give a flying fuck.

He whines, opening his mouth for Derek's tongue and spreading his legs, allowing Derek to settle between them. He's already hard, and he can feel Derek's erection in the cradle of his hip. Derek gasps into his mouth, nipping at his bottom lip.

"Oh god, Stiles, you have no idea –"

"Kind of think I do," Stiles says, pushing his hips up, but Derek just shakes his head. He mouths down Stiles' jaw to the side of his neck, nosing at him before sucking the skin in between his teeth. "Oh fuck."

Derek sucks until Stiles is writhing, fingers clutching at Derek's jacket and short, broken-off sobs nearly choking him. It feels like electric currents are shooting straight down his spine to his dick, making it throb almost painfully, and his shoes scrabble on the slick metal of the merry-go-round as he tries to find purchase.

Derek finally releases him, licking gently at the spot while Stiles tries desperately to catch his breath. "You okay?"

"Am I – Jesus fucking Christ, Derek."

Derek smirks up at him. "Can I suck you off?"

What's left of Stiles' brain short circuits, and he stares at Derek for a moment. "Yes? I mean yes, yes, oh my god yes. Enthusiastic consent fully given."

Derek huffs a laugh and presses a quick kiss to Stiles' mouth. He pushes the sides of Stiles' open hoodie out of the way and then shoves his t-shirt up, the cold night air causing goosebumps to rise on Stiles' heated skin. Derek mouths at the line of hair that disappears into the waistband of his boxer-briefs and then sits up, reaching for the button on Stiles' jeans.

"I feel I should warn you," Stiles says, and Derek pauses, waiting. "I'm probably going to come in like, two seconds."

"It's fine," Derek says, popping the button free and pulling the zip down. "I'm not going to last much longer than that myself."

That spins Stiles' thoughts off in another direction entirely, because holy shit, Derek's dick. He wants to see it, and touch it, and taste it –

Derek curls his fingers around the top of both Stiles' jeans and underwear, pulling them down together. Stiles lifts his hips to help, swearing when his ass comes down on cold metal.

"Shit, wait," Derek says, and takes his jacket off. "Here, up again. You can lay on this."

"Are you sure?" Stiles asks, even as he does as he's told. Derek spreads it out so that Stiles settles back down on the body-warm inside. "Dude, this is your leather jacket. I don't want to get come all over it."

Derek grins wickedly. "You won't."

"Fuck," Stiles says, and he and Derek both look down at his hard dick. The cold hasn't done a damned thing to make it go down, and Stiles bites at his bottom lip.

Derek reaches down and wraps his hand tightly around the base. "I think you deserve more than two seconds."

Stiles laughs breathlessly, which quickly turns into a choked sounding moan when Derek leans down and sucks the head into his mouth. "Oh god, oh fuck."

He's gentler than he was on Stiles' neck, which Stiles is grateful for since he's so hard he thinks that might have hurt. Derek licks around the head, and then further down, taking him in bit by bit until his nose is pressed against his fingers and Stiles can feel the back of his throat.

He can barely breathe it feels so good. Soft, wet heat all the way around him, Derek's tongue moving along the underside, the fluttering of Derek's throat around the head.

Derek pulls back slowly, looking up at Stiles with a dark, heated gaze that makes him whimper. He slips his tongue into the slit on the tip, licking at it until Stiles is arching his back, fingers twisted in Derek's jacket underneath him, and then sucks him back down. He goes all the way to his fingers again, and Stiles throws one arm over his eyes, letting out a moan.

"Derek – Derek, please –"

Derek pulls back again, and then off, just long enough to catch his breath before diving back in. His pace is faster this time, taking Stiles in deep over and over, sometimes holding it until Stiles is swearing and desperately hitching his hips. He knows he probably shouldn't but fuck if he can help it, and Derek doesn't seem to mind.

Stiles loses track of time, thinks Derek's jaw has to be aching by now. His dick definitely is, throbbing and rock hard, Derek's hand just tight enough to hold back the orgasm that's been building since he first started. He fumbles down with his free hand, tangling his fingers in Derek's soft hair, and drops his arm from his eyes, blinking the blurriness away.

Derek is watching him, eyes half-lidded, mouth stretched around Stiles' dick.

"Oh god, I can't – I need –"

It's completely incoherent but Derek seems to understand, releasing the base of Stiles dick and bracing himself on the merry-go-round with both hands. He loosens his jaw, and that's all the permission Stiles needs to fuck up into his mouth, fingers tightening in Derek's hair. He goes further back than Derek had before, pushing his dick almost all the way in, and Derek groans. The vibrations hit Stiles like an electric shock, and his eyes roll back in his head as he comes, muscles tensing so hard he ends up holding Derek in place without meaning to.

"Fuck," Stiles gasps, forcing his fingers to let go of Derek's hair. "Shit, I'm sorry, I –"

Derek pulls back with a gasp, shaking his head, and lunges up, crashing his mouth to Stiles'. He's already swallowed Stiles' come down but Stiles can still taste it, sour on Derek's tongue, and sweeps his own over it with a whimper.

Derek shifts, bracing himself with one hand and shoving the other between them to fumble at his own fly, and Stiles reaches down to help him. "Fuck," Derek breathes as they both pull his dick out, heavy and hard.

"Let me, please," Stiles says, and Derek nods, letting go to lift his shirt out of the way. He looks down at where Stiles has his hand wrapped around him and shudders.

Stiles lets go long enough to lick generously at his palm, not wanting to rub at him dry, and slides his slick palm over the tip to gather the pre-come already leaking out. Derek is uncut, and so hard the foreskin is already stretched back, the tip almost completely uncovered.

"God, you're beautiful," Stiles says, and starts stroking, hard and fast.

Derek gasps, eyelids fluttering briefly before his gaze snaps back to his dick in Stiles' hand. It takes maybe a dozen strokes before he's coming hotly all over Stiles stomach. Derek whines, high in the back of his throat, and actually puts the end of his shirt between his teeth so he can reach down and drag his fingers through the mess, rubbing it into Stiles' skin.

"Fuck, that's hot," Stiles says, hand still wrapped loosely around Derek's dick.

Derek freezes, blinking like he's just realized what he's doing, and glances up at Stiles with a sheepish expression. His shirt falls from his mouth, and Stiles thinks he might be blushing.

"Sorry."

Stiles rolls his eyes. "Shut up, I said it was hot."

Derek shakes his head, lips quirking up into a small smile. His fingers start moving again, swirling through the tacky come. "I don't have anything to clean you up with."

Stiles makes a face, and then shrugs. He feels too good to care. "I'll do it when I get home."

Derek makes a small noise and then clears his throat, nodding. "You can probably let go of me now."

"Shit!" Stiles snatches his hand back from where it had still been holding Derek's softening dick, and feels his face heat. "Sorry."

"It's fine," Derek says, sounding amused. He reaches to fix his jeans and Stiles does the same, lifting his hips to pull everything back up. The come on his stomach isn't all the way dry yet, and he wrinkles his nose at the weird feeling. Derek reaches for his jacket while Stiles' hips are up, slipping it back on. "What time is it?"

Stiles sighs, not ready to leave their little pocket of horny warmth. He fumbles in his pocket for his phone and hits a button, lighting up the lock screen. "Ten-twenty," he says, unable to keep the disappointment from his tone. "I should probably get home. School tomorrow."

Derek nods, and leans down to kiss him slow and deep before moving to climb off the merry-go-round. "Come on, I'll walk you back to your Jeep."

Stiles shoves his phone back in his pocket and takes Derek's offered hand, letting himself be pulled up. His legs are still kind of shaky from his orgasm, but it helps to steady him when Derek tangles their fingers together.

The walk back to Scoops takes less time than Stiles remembers, and when his Jeep comes into view he can't stop his mouth from twisting down into a frown. Derek walks him all the way to the door, and then pushes him against it, pressing into him and kissing him softly.

"So, uh," Stiles says when Derek pulls away, fingers fiddling with the zip on Derek's jacket. There's a nervous fluttering in his stomach, and he can't help but wonder if maybe the sex was all Derek actually wanted. "We're going to do this again, right?"

"The date or the blow job?"

Derek sounds hesitant and unsure, and Stiles looks up into those gorgeous eyes and swallows back his fear. "Both. Definitely both, but especially the date."

Derek smiles, and there's such obvious relief in it that Stiles' heart skips. "Yeah, I'd like that."

"Great. That's – yeah, awesome." He can't help the stupid grin that stretches across his face.

Derek hums and leans forward to lick across the mark he'd made earlier, burying his nose behind Stiles' ear and breathing deep before stepping back. "You should go before I kidnap you and take you back to my den."

"Your den?" Stiles snorts, poking Derek in the chest. "I swear to god, you and Cora both say the weirdest shit."

"Den is weird but not the kidnapping?"

"It's not kidnapping if I go willingly. Happy birthday, or something."

Derek laughs and hauls him in for another quick kiss, reaching behind Stiles to open his Jeep door. "Go. I'll text you later."

"I'm going," Stiles grumbles, stealing one last kiss before climbing into the driver's seat and letting Derek slam the door shut. He pulls out his keys and cranks the engine, waiting until Derek has stepped out of the way before waving and backing out of the parking space.

There's a stupid grin on his face the whole ride home, and Stiles is pretty sure he looks ridiculous. He doesn't care; he's giddy and relaxed and possibly at the beginning of a new, real relationship, and he doesn't think there's anything that can bring him down right now.

When he gets home he yells a quick hello and goodnight to where his dad is waiting in the living room, and books it up the stairs. He grabs a pair of pajamas from his room and locks himself in the bathroom, wetting a washcloth to wipe down his stomach. If he takes an actual shower his dad will know exactly what when on, and it's going to be hard enough to try and hide the epic hickey on the side of his neck.

He knows he's an adult and that his dad isn't stupid, but that would be too awkward for Stiles to survive.

Once he's cleaned up and changed Stiles hurries back to his room, diving under the covers and arranging himself so that the side of his neck with the mark is facing away from the door. Sure enough, it's only a few minutes later that his dad knocks lightly and pokes his head in.

"So how did it go?"

"It was great," Stiles says honestly, grinning over at him. "We got some ice cream at Scoops and then walked down to that park Mom used to take me to. Played on the swings and the merry-go-round and talked."

John hums, eyeing him cautiously. "Are you going to go out again?"

Stiles nods, biting at his lip. "Yeah, we are. I mean, there's no details yet, but we both want to."

"Okay, well," John says, and quirks a smile at him. "I'm glad you had a good time."

"Thanks, Dad."

"Goodnight, kiddo."

"Night."

John closes the door and Stiles lets out a quiet breath. Now he just needs to figure out how to hide the hickey from his friends or he will never hear the end of it.

*

"Dude," Scott says the next morning, leaning on the locker next to Stiles'. "Why are you wearing a scarf?"

Stiles shrugs, focusing on getting his books out, but he knows he's blushing. "I felt like it?"

"But you don't own a scarf." Scott narrows his eyes, and before Stiles can stop him he reaches out and pulls it down just enough to expose Stiles' neck. "Holy shit! Is that a hickey?"

Stiles glares at him and yanks the scarf back in place. "Maybe."

Scott grins. "That is so a hickey. I've had enough from Allison to know."

"Too much information, dude."

"You're the one walking around with a bright red scarf around your neck. That is literally the most obvious way of telling people you've had your neck sucked on."

Stiles groans, slamming his locker door shut. "God, shut up. I don't have that many options, okay?"

"So who was it?" Scott falls in beside him as he starts toward English class. "Was it Derek? I bet ten bucks it was."

"I hate you so much."

Scott laughs. "I'm right! So what happened?"

Stiles tries to fight it but he can't help the stupid little grin that breaks free. "I gave him a birthday card yesterday, and he texted to ask me out. We went to Scoops, and then the park nearby."

"Dude, I'm so happy for you. Like, for real. It's about time someone realized how awesome you are."

"I take it back; I don't hate you at all."

At lunch, Cora drops down into the seat next to him and immediately wrinkles her nose. "Ugh, you reek."

"What?" Stiles says, completely baffled. "I showered this morning."

"That's not –" Cora breaks off, sighing like he's the most frustrating thing in the world. "Forget it. Have you done any more research?"

Stiles flushes. "Have you? You're always on my case to do research, but what are you doing? This is a partnered project."

"I'm trying to help you," Cora says through gritted teeth. "If only you'd stop being so stupidly stubborn."

"Oh my god!" Stiles throws up both hands. "I don't have any idea what you're talking about."

"That's the problem!"

Stiles gapes at her. Everyone else is quiet, and Scott, Allison, and Lydia look just as confused as Stiles feels. Across the table, Erica, Boyd, and Isaac are giving him pitying looks. Well, Isaac is giving his scarf a pitying look, but Stiles had kind of expected that from the amount of scarves Isaac wears.

Cora sighs, running one hand through her hair. "Forget it," she says again. "I'm just worried."

"We'll get it done," Stiles says, tugging absently at the ends of his scarf. "The project isn't due for more than a month."

Cora gives him the most exasperated look in existence, and then shakes her head. "Yeah, the project."

Stiles doesn't have any idea what else she could have meant, so he lets it go. He's come to accept that Cora's crypticness is just part of her personality.

*

Stiles kind of forgets about everything for the next couple of weeks, spending most of his free time texting Derek. He sends every stupid, random little fact that crosses his mind, Derek complains about annoyances from his shifts at the theater, and they both send pictures of things that catch their eye. They play twenty questions, Stiles talks more about his mom, and Derek tells him how close he used to be to his Uncle Peter before he realized how manipulative he could be.

It's good, really good, and even though there's a part of Stiles that's waiting for the other shoe to drop – his dad to change his mind, or, hell, for Derek to change his mind – mostly he's just enjoying it.

*

The first Saturday of Thanksgiving break, Stiles is startled awake by his phone chiming loudly. Groaning, he fumbles blindly for it and then blinks blearily at the group text sent by Cora.

movie night at my house. six pm.

Stiles checks the time, and it's barely past seven in the morning. "Ugh," he mutters and types back a barely coherent response. How anyone can be awake this early on a Saturday is beyond him.

He wakes up again a few hours later with his phone still in his hand and drool on his pillow. He spares a grateful thought that Derek can't see him before rolling out of bed and stumbling his way to the bathroom. A hot shower manages to wake him up, and he grabs his phone from his room before heading downstairs to find something to eat.

There's a series of confirmation texts about the movie night from everyone else, and after scrolling through them Stiles opens his texts to Derek and types out a new one.

hey, are you working tonight?

Stiles fixes himself a bowl of cereal and a cup of coffee, and has just sat down when Derek responds.

yeah, I've got the five to midnight shift. why?

Cora invited everyone over for a movie night tonight. just wanted to know if you'd be there.

are you busy now? we could hang out until I have to leave for work.

yeah, sure. what do you want to do?

I'll pick you up in half an hour.

Stiles raises an eyebrow because that's not exactly an answer, but he kind of likes the idea of a surprise date. He finishes his breakfast and then heads upstairs to brush his teeth and throw on clothes that aren't sweats and a ratty t-shirt. He's just typed out a text to his dad to let him know his plans for the day when the doorbell rings. A stupid grin bursts over his face, but he manages to work it down to a less ridiculous level by the time he pulls the door open.

"Hey." The word comes out kind of breathless, and Stiles clears his throat, flushing slightly.

Derek smiles. "You ready?"

"Uh, yeah. Yeah." Stiles tries to ignore his own awkwardness, double checking that he has his phone, keys, and wallet before stepping out onto the porch, pulling the door shut behind him. Except Derek doesn't move back and Stiles ends up pressed against him, chest to chest. "Um."

Derek's smile spreads into a grin, and then he raises one hand to rest against the back of Stiles' neck and brings their mouths together. Stiles makes a noise, eyes sliding closed as he presses closer, opening for Derek's tongue. His hands come up to rest on Derek's waist, under his jacket, and Stiles can already feel the heat of arousal spreading through him.

Derek pulls back far too soon, and Stiles has to swallow back a disappointed sound. He opens his eyes and flicks his tongue over his damp bottom lip, pulling it between his teeth, and a thrill goes through him when Derek stares.

"You know," Stiles starts, moving his fingers so that they're sliding up under Derek's shirt, "we could just stay here."

"Tempting." Derek tears his eyes away from Stiles' mouth, his own lips twitching. "Very tempting. But I don't want this entire relationship to be based on sex, so you're just going to have to deal with an actual date.”

Oh, well. Stiles can't really argue with that. "I don't think that will be too much of a hardship."

Derek's smile brightens his whole face, and Stiles feels his heart give an extra hard thump. He reluctantly removes his hands from beneath Derek's shirt and tangles their fingers together, tugging Derek off the porch and towards his Camaro.

"So, where are we going?"

"You'll see when we get there."

Stiles doesn't really know what he's expecting, but when they pull up to the mini-golf course on the edge of town, he can't help but give Derek a hard side eye.

"Mini golf?"

Derek looks amused. "You don't like mini golf?"

"Yeah, of course. It just seemed like you were planning some big, exciting thing."

"But mini golf is exciting," Derek says, just over-exaggerated enough that it's obvious he's teasing.

Stiles starts laughing; he honestly can't help it. "Maybe to a five year old. But Scott and I have mastered this course, dude. They even put our names up on the Beacon Hills Mini-Golf Champions board behind the main counter."

"Hm." There's a wicked glint in Derek’s eye that Stiles is pretty sure means danger, danger. "Did you ever read the other names that are up there?"

Stiles narrows his eyes. "You're a Champion, too, aren't you."

Derek gives him a shit-eating grin. "Overall high scorer three years in a row."

"Ha!" Stiles points at him. "Scott and I have shared that title for the past four years. Dude, this makes twice that I'm better than you at something. Do you really want to go there?"

To Stiles' surprise, Derek's grin grows even wider. "I bet I can beat you blindfolded."

Stiles blinks. "Blindfolded? Both of us?"

"Nope. Just me."

"Oh, you are so on."

The girl at the counter seems to recognize both of them, and smirks a tiny bit as she hands them each a club and a golf ball – Stiles' purple, Derek's orange. "Have fun," she says with a wink, and Stiles waggles his eyebrows at her for the hell of it.

Derek rolls his eyes and pulls him toward the entrance to the course. "Stop flirting with other people when you're on a date with me."

"Dude." Stiles laughs and pulls Derek in for a quick kiss. "I wouldn't do that. I'm just a ridiculous person."

Derek shakes his head, looking more amused than actually bothered, and when they reach the first hole he pulls a black cloth from his back pocket. "Would you do the honors?"

"I feel so important." Stiles places one hand over his heart as he takes the cloth with the other. "I will remember this moment forever. Mostly because it's the moment you give up any chance of beating me."

"Uh-huh," Derek says with a smirk, and sets up his ball on the little square at the beginning of the green.

Stiles grins widely as he moves to tie the blindfold over Derek's eyes. Just before pulling away, Stiles leans in and whispers directly into Derek's ear. "When this is over, I'm keeping the blindfold for later use."

Derek's breath catches, and Stiles bites down on his bottom lip to keep from laughing.

"Stop trying to distract me."

"I have no idea what you're talking about." Stiles ignores Derek's snort and pats the knot of cloth at the back of his head. "All right, you're all set."

He steps back, leaning one hand on his golf club as he waits for Derek to completely screw up the shot.

Except – except Derek pauses, tilts his head like he's listening for something, and then taps the golf ball in a direct hit. It goes straight down the green – the first hole is the easiest – and right into the little cup.

Stiles gapes, and Derek removes the blindfold to see where his ball went. He nods, and looks back at Stiles with the smuggest expression to ever exist.

Stiles narrows his eyes. "That was a lucky shot."

"If you say so." Derek grins and goes to get his ball. "Your turn."

Stiles gets his in one, too, because the first hole really is the easiest and he's played this course a countless number of times with Scott. They quickly move on to the second, and then the third and fourth and fifth. Each time, Stiles waits for Derek to set his ball up and then ties the blindfold around Derek's eyes, and each time Derek manages to get the ball into the little cup with only one shot.

Stiles does too, but he isn't blindfolded.

"Oh my god," Stiles says after Derek makes his ninth hole-in-one without being able to see what the hell he's doing. He reaches up and snatches the blindfold off, ignoring Derek's obvious amusement as he unties the knot and holds the damn thing up to his own eyes.

Nope, he can't see a fucking thing.

Derek is outright laughing at him now, and Stiles glares at him.

"How the hell are you doing this?"

Derek shrugs, but there's a smirk on his face. "Maybe I'm just that good."

"Are you kidding me?"

"You should take your shot, there's people waiting."

Stiles grumbles under his breath but sets up his ball and takes his shot. He manages to get it in one, but only barely, and for the first time he thinks he might not win after all.

At the twelfth hole Derek misses with his first shot and Stiles crows in victory. "Ha! I knew you had to screw up at some point."

Derek pushes the blindfold up far enough to see where his ball went, and shoots Stiles an amused look before going over to it. He tugs the cloth back into place over his eyes, and taps the ball right into the little cup.

"You know what? I don't even care," Stiles says, setting his own ball up and waiting for Derek to move out of the way.

It takes him three shots, and he glares so hard at the ball when it finally lands in the cup that he's almost surprised it doesn't explode into dust.

Derek claps a hand on his shoulder. "I'm pretty sure that puts me in the lead."

"Fuck you." Stiles stomps over and snatches his ball up. "We've still got six holes to go."

Derek gestures grandly toward the thirteenth hole. "After you, then."

By the time they reach the eighteenth and final hole, Stiles is losing so badly it makes him wince to look at the scorecard. Derek gets his stupid ball past the stupid windmill in one shot, and it takes Stiles four. It's never taken him that many before, and he sighs as his ball disappears into the opening, on its way back to wherever they go at the end.

"Ugh," Stiles says. "I hate you."

Derek chuckles and tangles their fingers together, tugging Stiles toward the doors leading back into the main building. "If I feed you will you forgive me?"

"Maybe." Stiles eyes him cautiously. "What kind of food are we talking about?"

"The good kind."

"That tells me nothing."

Derek just grins at him, and they turn their clubs in before heading out to the Camaro. Stiles might have lost spectacularly, but knowing that Derek doesn't want to end the date yet chases off any lingering annoyance.

"So, where are we going?" Stiles asks, buckling his seatbelt. When Derek just starts the engine and raises an eyebrow, he rolls his eyes. "Okay, well, I hope it's better than mini golf."

"I know you had fun."

"I will deny it forever and ever, until my dying breath."

Derek snorts but there's a smile tugging at his mouth, and Stiles has to turn away and stare out the window to hide his own grin.

They end up at the preserve.

"Um." Stiles ducks his head to stare out the front windshield at the tall trees surrounding them. "In case you didn't notice, this isn't exactly a restaurant."

"Yes, I'm aware." Derek presses the button that pops the trunk open and jumps out without saying anything else. Stiles scrambles to follow.

"Dude." Stiles grins at the actual straw basket Derek drags out from the trunk. "You packed us a picnic lunch?"

Derek shrugs, but the tips of his ears go bright pink. "It's not – I didn't have time to make anything, so it's mostly just leftovers from the family dinner last night."

"Oh my god, this is awesome." Stiles grabs the blanket that was folded neatly next to the basket and steps out of the way so Derek can close the trunk. "You're actually romantic as hell, aren't you?"

"Shut up," Derek mutters, flush spreading, and Stiles can't help but lean over and kiss his cheek.

"I like it. You're adorable."

Derek rolls his eyes at that, but he takes Stiles' hand and pulls him into the center of the clearing they're parked in. Stiles spreads the blanket out and plops down, reaching for the basket when Derek sets it next to him.

"Alright, let's see what you brought. Barbecue chicken, potato salad – ooh, are these candied carrots? Rolls – oh god, they're homemade aren't they – and mm, chocolate chip cookies. Dude, I so forgive you for the complete ass kicking you just gave me."

"Good to know I can always bribe you with food." Derek pulls out two bottles of Coke and hands one to Stiles.

"And sex." Stiles shoves aside the ice packs at the bottom of the basket to get to the plates and utensils. "Sex would work too."

Two seconds later, Stiles finds himself flat on his back, staring up at the wicked grin Derek is giving him.

"What will both get me?"

Stiles makes a noise in the back of his throat, hands coming up to slip under the hem of Derek's shirt. "Uh. I don't know exactly but it's probably good, so we should find out."

Derek kisses him hard, licking right inside Stiles' mouth, and Stiles groans loudly. He shifts his legs, letting them fall open around Derek's hips and bringing their groins flush together. His dick is already half hard, and when Derek bites down on his bottom lip it fills the rest of the way, pushing against the zipper on his jeans.

"Jesus fuck," Stiles gasps, moving his hands to try and push Derek's jacket off. It doesn't work, since Derek doesn't seem inclined to move, and Stiles gives up. "How the hell do you turn me on so fast?"

Derek whines, sucking quick little biting kisses down Stiles' throat. He doesn't answer, but Stiles wasn't really expecting one. Rolling his hips up, Stiles slides his hands down the back of Derek's jeans and underwear, gripping his ass. Derek gasps, hips stuttering, and Stiles can feel his hard dick pressing against his own.

"Oh god," Stiles moans, thrusting up, and Derek nips sharply at his jaw.

"Wait, wait." Derek balances himself on one hand and lifts up just enough to slide his other between them and open Stiles' fly. He tugs the material down enough to free Stiles' hard dick, and then does the same to himself.

"Fu –uck," Stiles breathes when Derek settles back down, their bare cocks sliding together. "Oh my god."

Derek's hands press down on Stiles' hips, holding him in place as he starts to snap his own. His whole body is covering Stiles', face buried against Stiles' neck, and Stiles' fingers scrabble along Derek's jacket, trying to find purchase. Derek's dick is hot and hard against his, the head catching just under Stiles' on every thrust. It's too dry, even with the pre-come both of them are leaking, but it's just the right side of painful. Stiles knows he's making all kinds of embarrassing noises but he can't bring himself to care.

Derek leans up and kisses him once, hard, their mouths parting on a hitching breath. Stiles stares up at Derek's half-lidded eyes, completely lost to the world around him, and Derek's thrusts go wild and messy.

"Fuck, I'm gonna –" Derek grits out, and then gasps, hips rocking down hard against Stiles.

For a split second it looks like his eyes flash yellow, but Stiles forgets about it the moment it happens because there's a hot wetness spreading over his dick that isn't his and fuck, fuck that's hot. He whines, rolling his hips up and sliding his dick through the mess.

”God,” Derek breathes, sounding almost dazed as he stares down at Stiles, watching him desperately thrust against Derek’s hip. “I think you like being covered in my come as much as I do. Does that turn you on, Stiles? Fuck, can I come on your face?”

Stiles’ orgasm hits him hard at those words, his back arching and a shout caught in his lungs as he comes between them.

Stiles goes boneless and Derek collapses on top of him, weight pinning Stiles to the ground. They stay that way until Stiles is having trouble pulling in a deep enough breath, and then Derek rolls off of him and reaches for the basket.

"Napkins," he says, and gives Stiles a handful of them.

Stiles wipes himself clean as best he can, tossing the napkins to the side and fixing his clothes. "Now I'm really starving."

Derek snorts, leaning down to give him a quick kiss before reaching for the food. "Good thing I brought plenty, then."

Stiles grins, skin still buzzing with his orgasm, and takes the plate Derek hands him. They eat lazily, leaving nothing but empty containers, and then suddenly it's four o'clock and Stiles is helping pack everything back up so Derek can take him home.

"I had a lot of fun today," Stiles says when they pull up to his house. "I don't really want it to end."

Derek smiles at him, that bright, happy smile that makes Stiles' breath catch. "Does that mean you'd be interested in a third date?"

"So interested," Stiles says, and Derek huffs a laugh before leaning in to give him a kiss. It lasts longer than it probably should, until Stiles finally pushes Derek away. "Dude, you're going to be late."

"I'll text you tomorrow," Derek says, and Stiles gets the hell out of the car so he won't give in to the urge to convince Derek to call in sick.

He takes another quick shower to get rid of the dried come the napkins didn't manage to get, and then texts Scott, Allison, and Lydia to see if they want a ride to the Hale house. They all do, so he double checks the fridge to make sure his dad has something to eat for dinner and heads out.

"Dude," Scott says when he climbs into the passenger seat. "Why do you look so happy?"

Stiles shrugs, but he can feel himself flush. "I had another date with Derek today. It was good."

"Awesome," Scott says, and holds his hand up for a fist bump.

They pick up Allison and Lydia, and it's just before six when Stiles parks the Jeep in the Hales' yard. Erica opens the door before any of them even have a chance to knock, and she immediately wrinkles her nose.

"Cora, you might want to plug your nose," she says, and then turns and makes her way towards the back of the house. "Isaac, come help me make popcorn."

"What was that about?" Allison asks, and Lydia shrugs.

"She does that kind of stuff all the time."

Stiles' brows draw down, and an odd feeling starts seeping up from the back of his mind. "Does she? I thought that was a weird Hale thing."

"Maybe it's contagious if you hang out with them too long," Scott jokes, and Allison gives him an indulgent smile while Lydia roll her eyes.

Cora pops her head around the side of the living room door. "Hey guys, come on in. I'm still trying to get this idiotic DVD player set up correctly, so it might be a few more minutes. I keep trying to get my parents to switch to streaming but they insist on staying in the dark ages. We've got a bunch of movies you can pick from, though." She disappears again, and they follow her inside.

"Let's watch The Notebook," Lydia suggests, dropping her purse and jacket onto an armchair. Stiles snags a prime seat on the couch directly in front of the big screen TV and starts going through the stack of DVD cases on the coffee table. There's a bunch of Marvel and DC movies, some dumb action stuff, a couple of comedies, lots of classic horror -

"Oh, hell no," Erica yells from the kitchen at the back of the house. "This is movie night, not date night. We're not watching some sappy, lovey-dovey shit."

Lydia scowls, and everybody starts bickering about which movie to watch first and whether or not romance is okay.

Except Stiles. Stiles is frozen, staring down at the cover to An American Werewolf in London, head spinning and eyes locked on the word Werewolf. It’s a word he’s seen a countless number of times over the past few weeks, so much so that it’s become almost meaningless. But all of a sudden, it doesn't feel meaningless.

The uneasiness from minutes ago returns a hundred-fold, flooding through him as it demands he finally fucking pay attention. And there’s no real reason for now to be the moment his brain catches on and kicks into gear - but it is, because nobody else seems to have noticed how Erica responded to a suggestion there's no reasonable way she could have clearly heard from all the way across this huge house.

It doesn't make any sense. A weird Hale thing; that's what he'd said to Lydia, because Cora does it all the time – reacts to things that logically she shouldn't have heard. Talia did it that first night Stiles came over. So had Derek. But Erica isn't a Hale, so why can she do it too?

Contagious, Scott had said, but that's not quite right. Lycanthropy wouldn't be contagious, someone couldn't just catch it - but it would be infectious, through a bite. That's what so much of the research he's done lately has claimed, not to mention every pop culture werewolf reference in existence.

No, Stiles thinks. It's not possible. But his brain has latched on to the idea, and it doesn't want to let go as so many things start clicking into place.

That first night at dinner, when Peter complained about privacy being an issue even when alone. Derek growling at Cora, getting upset that they were going to do a project on fucking werewolves when he wasn't even around to hear them talk about it. The odd way Derek and Cora always phrase things like they mean something else than what they're actually saying.

Derek jumping from the swing and landing on his feet like it was the most natural thing in the world. The massive mark he had put on Stiles' neck, and the way he'd rubbed his come into Stiles' skin. Those could easily be written off as kinks - but are they? Or are they some kind of instinctual claiming?

Halloween night comes back in a rush: sharp teeth on his throat, a flash of yellow eyes, a deep wound that had healed itself. Derek had told him flat out that he was a werewolf – I'm one of the most dangerous creatures to ever exist. I could rip your throat out with my teeth, or tear you open with my claws.

He had said it so lightly, like a joke, like it wasn't real, like it was something he was playing at, and Stiles had been too drunk to notice the deeper sincerity behind the words.

Earlier that very day, on their date, when Derek had come and for a moment his eyes had seemed to glow yellow.

"Are you okay?"

Stiles looks up to see Cora staring at him, expression concerned. He wonders if she can hear the way his heart is pounding like he's just ran ten miles. He bites back a hysterical laugh and carefully sets the DVD case on the coffee table. "Uh, yeah. Yeah, I'm fine. Just going through the movies."

Cora frowns, and her eyes flick down to the DVD case before swinging back up to him, widening. Stiles can't deal with that right now, so he focuses on the stack of movies, going through them one by one with hands he can't get to stop shaking, placing them all down on top of the one he suddenly wants to break.

Eventually something gets chosen and Cora puts it on, but damned if Stiles knows what. He's moved to the corner of the couch, and sits there in a haze of unfocused thoughts. He eats popcorn and pizza and drinks Coke and pretends to pay attention to the movie he can't name. Nobody except Cora seems to notice, as she's the only one who keeps glancing at him worriedly.

At some point he pulls his phone out and starts going through his texts with Derek.

what color are your eyes, really? are they green or hazel? usually, yes.

have you ever broken any bones? a few times. I can't remember specifics, though.

did you ever get into any fights when you were younger? do siblings count? Laura and I used to claw and bite at each other so bad mom spent a whole year ordering us apart. puberty was rough.

There are more, lots more. They're all vague references, things Stiles brushed off or didn't even notice. He feels sick to his stomach; how has he been so blind?

It's close to midnight when the others decide to call it a night. Stiles follows Scott, Allison, and Lydia out the door as they head for his Jeep, and when Cora tries to reach for his arm he sidesteps away, not meeting her eyes.

"Happy Thanksgiving," he calls over his shoulder, climbing into the driver's seat and slamming the door shut.

"That was fun," Allison says from the back as Stiles drives down the driveway. "We should do it again."

Lydia sniffs, crossing her arms. "I still don't understand what's so wrong with romance movies."

Stiles tunes them all out, dropping off Lydia first and then Allison, waiting in her driveway as Scott climbs into the front seat.

"Okay, spill," Scott says as Stiles turns the Jeep toward his house. "You've been acting weird all night."

"I don't know what you're talking about."

"Don't give me that shit. I know you too well, and something's wrong."

Stiles' fingers tighten on the steering wheel. "I don't know how to explain it without sounding crazy. I just – I think Derek's been keeping something from me. And Cora, too, maybe." He thinks about the way she called so much of the research he had done bullshit, and the information she had approved of and kept pestering him to look into. "Well, definitely, though I think she might have been trying to tell me in her own way."

"Like what?" Scott scowls. "Is it something huge, like he has a girlfriend? Or something stupid, like he paints his toenails?"

Stiles laughs, he can't help it, but it comes out slightly choked. "Dude. No, I don't think he has a girlfriend, but if I'm right then it could be pretty fucking huge."

Scott is quiet for a moment. "Maybe you should just ask him."

"I will." Stiles swallows. "I will, eventually. But I think I need to figure some stuff out first."

"If it's something bad you'll let me help beat him up, right?"

Stiles scoffs. "You couldn't beat up a butterfly."

"Why would I want to beat up a butterfly? They never hurt anyone."

"Anyway, I'm pretty sure it's not possible for us to beat up Derek Hale."

"We could try."

"You'd end up having an asthma attack and I'd be left to fend for myself. Badly."

"Not if I use my inhaler first. Preventive measures. Though I can't say much about your fighting abilities."

"Shut up, I'm better than you are."

Scott grins and reaches over to punch his arm. "Do you want me to come over?"

"Nah," Stiles says, sighing. "This isn't something I can avoid any longer."

He drops Scott off and then drives back to his own house. His dad is working so he's alone, and he goes through and double checks all the locks before going up to his room. It's well past midnight now, but he's not even remotely tired. The shocked haze from earlier has faded into a familiar buzz, and he sits down at his desk and opens his laptop. He pulls up the pages Cora had repeatedly told him to look at and takes a deep breath.

It's time to do some research.

*

The sound of an incoming text jars Stiles out of the page he was reading on pack hierarchy, and he blinks at the early morning light coming in through his window. If he had a hundred bucks he'd bet it all on Talia being the Hale family Alpha.

The text is from Derek. did you have fun last night?

Stiles stares at it for a long moment, trying to decide how to answer that. I don't remember much of it, to be honest. too distracted.

by what?

"Fuck," Stiles mutters.

just some stuff I’m trying to figure out. actually, I was up all night and am about to crash, so I think I'm going to cut my phone off for a while.

Derek's reply takes a few minutes, and Stiles can almost feel his hesitancy. okay. talk to you later?

yeah, sure thing

Stiles drops his phone on his desk and stares at it. He feels like an ass, but he's just not ready to talk about this yet. Exhaustion hits him all of a sudden, and he rubs one hand over his face before closing his laptop and climbing into bed, fully dressed.

Maybe it will all make more sense after some sleep.

*

It doesn't, not really, and it doesn't get any easier.

Stiles doesn't hear from Derek for the rest of Sunday, or throughout all of Monday, and he doesn't try to contact him, either. He's grateful he doesn't have school this week as he gets lost in a downward spiral of internet websites, deep ones he probably never would have found with Google – and damn it, he's good at Google – and part of him wonders why this stuff is even online in the first place.

Then again, maybe it was put up by someone like himself, who accidentally discovered that werewolves actually fucking existed and wanted to warn others.

There are several points where he thinks he's lost his fucking mind. Mythological creatures are just that – mythological. He fights computer animated versions of them on the internet, they can't possibly be real. Except some things just don't add up, and maybe the absolutely bonkers explanation really is the only one.

Or maybe he's getting sick like his mom did, and this is the first sign. That thought sends him running to the bathroom to vomit, and when he's done he sits back against the wall and cries.

*

At some point, Stiles gets pissed.

Really pissed.

More than that, though, he's hurt and mortified. Going on the assumption that he's not sick and werewolves really are real, then if all these websites are true the enhanced senses are more than the little bit he thought they were. Like, epic amounts of more.

Which means that Derek and Cora both – and everyone who had been at the Hale house that first night – could hear all of the things he thought he was mumbling to himself, or conversations that were meant to be private. The one he'd had with his dad the night Derek brought Cora over – the way Cora had smirked and Derek had looked embarrassed. They had heard that entire, humiliating thing.

And Derek. Derek had been able to smell the attraction Stiles had for him, right from the beginning.

That one hurts the most, Stiles thinks, because it makes him wonder if Derek was ever really interested in him or if he just thought Stiles would be easy.

And fuck, Cora had been able to smell the sex they'd had. That's what she had meant that day, when she'd told him he reeked.

Stiles flushes hot and slams his laptop shut. He's had enough for today.

*

On Wednesday, Derek finally texts him again.

hey, is everything okay?

Stiles stares at the message for a moment, and then closes it without answering.

*

Thursday is Thanksgiving, and Stiles and his dad invite Scott and Melissa over, like they do every year. Stiles is determined to have a good day, and opens the door with a wide grin.

"Please tell me that's pumpkin pie," he says, pointing at the pie plate Melissa is holding.

"Fresh from the oven." Melissa pulls it out of reach as he grabs for it. "I don't think so. You're not allowed to have any until after we eat and everyone else has had a slice."

"What? But –"

"Dude, you ate the whole thing last year," Scott says as Melissa edges by Stiles, taking the pie with her.

Stiles glares at him. "Traitor."

"Yeah, whatever." Scott grins, handing over a casserole dish. "Here, you can carry the macaroni and cheese."

Stiles sniffs, taking it. "Homemade?"

"Duh."

They follow Melissa into the kitchen, where she's already started helping John peel sweet potatoes. Stiles puts the macaroni and cheese on the stove, where the heat from the oven should keep it warm, and mournfully eyes the pumpkin pie on the counter.

"So, Stiles," Melissa says. "John tells me you're dating someone."

Stiles tenses, and then runs a hand through his hair to cover it. "Uh, yeah. Well, I mean, it's only been two dates so far, so… sort of?"

"And you're being careful, right? He's being nice?"

Stiles flushes. "Yeah, I am. And he is. Do you need our help with anything?"

John chuckles. "I think that's a hint, don't you?"

"Sounds like one." Melissa grins at him. "Go on, we've got this."

Scott follows him up to his room, shutting the door behind them. "Okay, what's going on?"

"When did you become so perceptive? It's annoying."

"I just know my best friend."

"Ugh." Stiles makes a face and starts setting up a movie on his laptop. "I don't know if Derek and I actually are dating."

"Why not? Does this have to do with that potentially huge thing?"

Stiles sighs and sits on the end of his bed. "Yeah. I'm not sure what to think, and I'm kind of really fucking pissed and humiliated, but at the same time I really like him. Like, a lot."

Scott sits next to him, frowning. "Have you talked to him about it yet?"

"No." Stiles winces. "I've maybe been ignoring him."

Scott gives him a flat, unimpressed look. "Stiles. You really need to talk to him. Like, as soon as possible."

Stiles groans and falls back on his bed. "Fuck, dude. Relationships are hard."

"Yeah." Scott grabs Stiles' laptop and finishes getting the movie ready. "But I think it can wait until tomorrow."

"That is a total contradiction to what you just said."

"Thanksgiving doesn't count. Thanksgiving is for family, food comas, and football, not fighting with significant others."

"Nice alliteration there."

Scott beams. "Thanks."

They get in a couple of movies before it's time to eat, and Stiles tries to forget about Derek and werewolves for a while. After stuffing himself beyond full he ends up moaning on the living room floor next to Scott, both of them clutching their stomachs pitifully while their parents drink coffee and watch the football game. Stiles doesn't know if Melissa is even interested in football, but she watches along and cheers with his dad, so Stiles figures it doesn't really matter.

Scott and Melissa don't leave until nine, and when the door closes behind them Stiles collapses onto the couch and blinks blearily at his dad.

"Is there any pie left?"

John snorts. "You haven't eaten enough already?"

"There's always room for pie."

John shakes his head but goes into the kitchen, reappearing a couple of minutes later with two small plates, each with a slice of pumpkin pie and a spoonful of whipped cream on top.

"Happy Thanksgiving, Dad," Stiles says, taking his.

"Happy Thanksgiving, son."

*

Stiles dubs Friday Thanksgiving Recovery Day. It's his dad's last day off before going back to work on Saturday, so they spend the day camped out in the living room, eating turkey sandwiches and watching random movies on Netflix.

It's a good day, aside from the aching hole in his chest.

*

On Saturday morning, Stiles is woken to his window sliding open with a sharp snap. He flails up out of a dead sleep, tumbling out of his bed and landing on the floor in a tangle of bed covers.

"Fuck," he wheezes, fighting his way out. Cora is standing next to his open window, arms crossed over her chest. She looks seriously pissed. He blinks up at her. "Did you come through my window?"

She bares her teeth in a silent snarl. "What the fuck do you think you're doing?"

Stiles is not awake enough for this. "Well, I was sleeping, until you scared the shit out of me by climbing through my window."

Cora stalks toward him and grabs onto his t-shirt, making him squeak as she easily hauls him to his feet. "Don't pretend you don't know what I'm talking about."

"Oh, oh really?" Stiles yanks away, though he doesn't go far. The anger from earlier in the week surges forward, waking him up the rest of the way. "You mean like you and Derek pretended not to be fucking werewolves?"

He's hit with just how crazy it sounds when he says it out loud.

Except Cora's eyes blaze bright yellow and she lets out a low growl, baring dangerously sharp teeth, and suddenly Stiles doesn't feel crazy anymore.

"Fuck you," Cora spits out, eyes fading back to brown but teeth staying far too pointy for Stiles' comfort. "It's not like we can just go around telling whoever we want what we are. Not only would people think we were insane, but we could get killed."

"Killed?" Stiles splutters in shock. That's a terrifying thought that hadn't even occurred to him, holy shit. "I don't want anybody to get killed! I just think I deserved to know I was getting involved with a mythological creature. That's a pretty huge fucking thing to not know about the person you're dating!"

"Why?" Cora laughs, but it comes out strained and hurt. "So you could break Derek's heart before even getting the chance to know him?"

Stiles throws his hands up. "That doesn't even make sense!"

"God, you're so stupid sometimes." Cora turns and takes two steps away before turning back. "Just because you didn't notice Derek until you came to our house doesn't mean he didn't notice you."

"That – what? What are you talking about?"

Cora glares fiercely. "I'm talking about the fucking movie theater! He told me and Laura – told us about this gorgeous, smart-mouthed guy that would come in with his friends all the time, and how you never once paid him a bit of attention so he left you alone. He didn't want to make you uncomfortable about having to see him there in case you weren't interested. He knew your name because he'd overheard your friends talking to you, so when we finally dragged it out of him I knew exactly who he meant. Why do you think I insisted you come to my house that first night? Or why I jumped at the chance to do werewolves for our project? I wanted to make my big brother happy – I had hoped that maybe you would be different and show him that it's okay to trust again. But now he's just miserable, because you turned out to be a gigantic fucking asshole."

Oh. Oh no. He doesn't know what she means by 'trust again', but the rest of her words make Stiles' stomach sink. He's painfully familiar with pining, and it never turns out well.

"I still don't understand why he didn't just tell me. Or why you didn't, for that matter. All it would have taken was showing me. Why give me all these hints, why play fucking games with me?"

"Our lives aren't a game!" Cora yells, and then her shoulders slump. "I already told you, we can't just go around spilling all of our secrets to everyone. It's dangerous. Mom gave us permission after meeting you, but said I couldn't tell you outright until Derek was ready. I knew he would take fucking forever so I tried to get you to figure it out on your own. I thought you were cool and would be okay with it, but I guess I was wrong."

Stiles can't help but flinch at that. "Cora - "

"No, I've said all that I can. I'll be in enough trouble if Mom finds out I came to talk to you on my own. If you want to know anything else, pull your head out of your ass and ask Derek."

She's out the window before he can say another word, and Stiles goes over to slam it shut just because he can. He's still kind of pissed, but now he feels massively guilty on top of it, not to mention scared that Derek will have realized that Stiles probably isn't who he thought he was. But if he's scared of Derek changing his mind, then what the hell is he doing refusing to talk to him?

"Fucking goddamn it."

Stiles grabs his phone and types out a quick text to Derek. can you come over? I think it's time we talked.

He doesn't wait for an answer, dropping his phone on his bed and heading for the bathroom. It's too early for Derek to be at work, so he'll either ignore Stiles or come over, and there's no point in stressing about it.

He absolutely stresses about it as he shaves and brushes his teeth and takes a hot shower, trying to use the time to think everything over and untangle some feelings. By the time he's done, the only thing he's completely sure about is that he wants Derek - all of him, including the wolf part. He just hopes that he didn't fuck it up too much and that Derek still wants him - the real him.

Stiles dries off, pulls on the clean sweats and t-shirt he brought in with him, and heads back to his room. When he opens his bedroom door Derek is standing in front of the window, leaning against the sill, and Stiles startles so hard he nearly brains himself on the wood.

"Jesus fucking – is this a werewolf thing or just a Hale thing?"

Derek blinks. "What."

"The window." Stiles waves at it, kicking his door shut behind him. "Cora climbed through earlier to yell at me."

"Oh."

Derek looks uncomfortable, his shoulders hunching up as he scowls. He's wearing a simple black t-shirt and jeans, no Henley or leather jacket, and his dark hair is more of a mess than usual. He's so beautiful Stiles could cry. He sighs instead, walking to the side of his bed to plop down, facing where Derek is still leaning against the window, looking like he's trying not to jump right back out again.

"So I think we have some things to talk about. Starting with the apology I owe you for ghosting you instead of being the adult I keep claiming I am. I'm sorry. That was shitty of me."

"It's okay," Derek says softly. "I understand."

Stiles scowls fiercely. "Yeah, no. We're going to unpack that later. Right now, I want to talk about the fact that not only are werewolves real, but you are one."

Derek swallows hard but meets his eyes and nods. "We are, and I am."

Stiles waits, but when Derek doesn't say anything more he huffs. "Come on, dude. Give me something here, because all I know is what I've read online, and that's not necessarily accurate."

Derek seems to hesitate for a second, but when he speaks he sounds resolved. "I don't know where to start. What do you want to know?"

Stiles lets out a slow breath. "Okay, well. How about with why you didn't tell me. That feels like the most important to me at the moment. I mean, how long were you planning on keeping it a secret?" His stomach sinks at a thought. "Were you ever going to say anything or just let me keep being in the dark about such an important part of who you are?"

Derek looks pained at that. "I didn't –" he starts, and breaks off to close his eyes. When he opens them again he looks sad, and Stiles hates it. "It's not that I was planning on keeping it from you forever, I did want to tell you, I just – fuck, Stiles, I was terrified! I didn't know how you would react, or what I would do if you ended up hating me or, or were scared of me - "

He breaks off, swallowing hard and staring down at his shoes, the same worn out Converse he was wearing on Halloween.

"I don't hate you," Stiles says softly but firmly. "And I'm not scared of you either. I just want to understand."

Derek raises his eyes to look at him, his expression so vulnerable Stiles wants nothing more than to get up and throw his arms around him and tell him everything will be okay. Instead, he forces himself to wait, digging his fingers into his bed sheets so he doesn't move. After a moment, Derek nods and continues.

"When I was fifteen I got my first real girlfriend. She was smart, and she figured it out, but she wasn't scared. She accepted it, and we were together until senior year. We broke up for other reasons, things that had nothing to do with me being a werewolf, but the whole thing distorted my perception of what people – humans – were okay with." He pauses again, grimacing, but keeps going a second later. "My first year of college, I started dating this guy, and after about six months I decided to tell him. And he freaked. He called me all kinds of names and he – he got a fucking restraining order, said I had threatened him. It became this huge thing, and Mom eventually had to step in and fix it."

"Fuck, Derek," Stiles breathes out, heart aching with a mix of guilt and pain. "And then I ignored you for a week when I did. I'm an even bigger asshole than I thought."

"It's fine. You didn't know."

"It's not fine, Derek, I -" Stiles breaks off with a short, humorless laugh, running one hand over his face. "I wish I had known. We could have avoided all of this."

Derek flinches hard, his breath hitching. "I'm sorry I didn't tell you." He sounds utterly defeated, like he's already accepted that Stiles won't want to have anything to do with him. "I haven't let myself get close enough to someone for them to figure it out since then. Not until you."

Stiles shakes his head. It's his turn for honesty. "At first, I thought I was losing my mind. Getting sick like my mom."

Derek's eyes go wide and he looks horrified, jerking forward like he wants to reach for him. "Stiles -"

Stiles cuts him off, not wanting to talk about his mom right now. "And then I thought it was a game."

Derek freezes, his brows drawing together. "A game? What do you mean?"

"You, being interested in me," Stiles admits, and fuck, that thought still hurts. "When I realized how much more enhanced your senses are compared to mine I knew you had overheard the things I've said and – and smelled it when I –"

"So you thought I was taking advantage of that," Derek finishes, face falling. "Fuck, Stiles, no. I swear that's not – I wouldn't do that."

"I know." Stiles bites at his bottom lip. "Or I know now, I guess. Cora – Cora told me that you saw me at the theater, while you were working, before I ever showed up as her partner for the history project. I'm not sure how you even noticed me to begin with, let alone remembered me enough to be interested."

Derek groans, flushing a deep red. "Goddamn it, Cora," he mutters, and then sighs. "I – yeah. It was my first day, and you and your friends came in. There was a lull in the crowds and I was about to take my break when you all came up to the counter. You never really looked at me, but you were laughing at something Allison had said and I couldn't take my eyes off you. I almost rang everything up wrong, you were so distracting. And then you kept coming in - with all of them, with just Scott, with your dad. I always noticed you, but you never seemed to pay much attention to me, so I didn't try talking to you. I didn't want you to think I was some kind of creep."

Stiles shakes his head, a small smile pulling at his mouth. "I don't think you're a creep." He pauses, swallows, meets Derek's cautious gaze. Big confession time. "But if you – if you've built me up in your head as someone different than who I really am, then I need to know now, before we get any deeper into this relationship. Because I'm actually falling pretty fucking hard for you, and I don't know if my heart could take you changing your mind down the road."

Derek's whole body jerks, and he stares at Stiles with wide, shocked eyes. "You're – what? Fuck, Stiles, I thought –"

Stiles feels like he can't breathe, but he forces the words out anyway. "Just be honest, okay? Please. If you've got certain expectations about me, then I can tell you right now I'm not going to meet them. I will disappoint you."

"Shut up," Derek breathes out, stumbling forward and falling to his knees in front of Stiles. His fingers dig into Stiles' thighs and the look on his face is so hopeful it makes Stiles' breath catch. "I could never be disappointed in you. You are so much better than I had ever imagined. You're funny and sarcastic and smart. You'll argue with me and prove me wrong and drive me crazy, but then you do things like talk about your mom with me, and how much your dad means to you, and challenge me to swinging competitions and kiss me like you're drowning. I'm falling so hard for you, Stiles. The real you that I've been getting to know over the past month."

"Fuck," Stiles says, throat closing up. "Fuck you."

He places his hand on the back of Derek's head and leans down, pulling him into a kiss, slipping his tongue between Derek's lips and drinking down the noise he makes. The kiss is edged with desperation, almost frantic in its intensity, and Stiles can't stop himself from whimpering helplessly.

Derek pulls back with a soft gasp, nipping at Stiles' bottom lip before resting their foreheads together. "Does this mean you're going to stop ignoring me now?"

Stiles can't help the breathless laugh that escapes. "Dude, you are going to get so sick of me. I have so many questions."

Derek grins, wide and beautiful. "Prove it. Ask me anything, and I'll tell you whatever you want to know."

"That sounds like a challenge, Derek. Is that a challenge?"

"Maybe it is. Are you going to accept?"

A thrill runs through Stiles, and he licks his lips. He doesn't even have to think about his first question. "I've been looking into some of the research Cora told me to, so let's start with this – is it true or false that werewolves can't carry any diseases?"

"True." It comes out soft, in a way that makes it obvious Derek thinks the question is about Stiles' mom. But it really, really isn't.

"So if you were to fuck me, we wouldn't have to use a condom? Since I've only ever done anything with you and you can't carry anything."

Derek draws in a sharp breath, eyes going dark as he takes a second to re-calibrate. "No, we wouldn't. If that's what you want."

"That's what I want." Stiles reaches for the hem of his t-shirt, pulling it over his head. His hands are shaking and his heart is pounding – what if Derek says no? "If that's what you want, too."

"Fuck yes, I want that. God, Stiles, yes."

"Good." Feeling more confident with Derek's consent, he grins wickedly, leaning forward until their noses are almost touching. "I want you to fuck me, and I want you to come inside me. Get your scent so deep it becomes a part of me."

Derek's eyes flash yellow and he growls, pushing forward to kiss Stiles hard and bruising, his hands gripping at Stiles' waist, just above his hips. He licks his way inside, hot and demanding, his stubble scraping against Stiles' skin. A desperate sort of noise echoes from the back of Stiles' throat, his dick throbbing as it quickly grows hard, and he starts pulling at Derek's t-shirt.

"Off," he mumbles into Derek's mouth, tugging again at Derek's shirt and then at the waistband of Derek's jeans. "These too. All of it. I want you naked, like, five minutes ago."

Derek laughs, breathless, and pulls back just far enough to do as he's told, yanking his shirt over his head and dropping it to the floor. He stands, toeing off his shoes and reaching for the fly on his jeans.

"Wait, hold on." Stiles moves to bat Derek's hands away. "Let me. I didn't get as good of a look as I wanted both times before."

Derek makes a choked noise, like he doesn't know if he wants to laugh or not. He gestures towards his crotch. "Have at it."

Stiles grins up at him and then flicks his eyes back down. Derek's dick is straining against the front of his jeans, long and thick even through the restricting material, and Stiles groans appreciatively. He works open the fly, not bothering to try and be graceful as he pulls down Derek's jeans and underwear. His mouth waters at the sight of the hard, heavy cock that pops out right in his face.

"Fuck, you're amazing," Stiles breathes, wrapping his fingers around the hard length. He strokes it a few times and then leans forward, licking his tongue over the exposed tip before wrapping his lips around it and sucking.

Derek gasps, hips jerking, and Stiles groans as more of Derek's dick slides into his mouth. Fingers tangle in his still-damp hair, Derek's grip firm but not too tight, and Stiles glances up to see him staring down at him with parted lips and dark eyes. He whimpers, palming at his own hard cock through his sweats, and does his best to take even more of Derek into his mouth. He's big, though, and Stiles has never done this before, so he can't get very far before his gag reflex kicks in and he chokes. Derek groans like Stiles has killed him, fingers tightening in Stiles' hair for a moment before he swears and loosens his grip again.

Stiles pulls back and drags in a breath, stroking him gently. "I'm definitely going to want to learn how to do that properly."

"That's – we can do that," Derek says, sounding strained. He doesn't remove his hand from Stiles' hair.

"Not today." Stiles looks back up at him. "I've wanted you to hold me down and fuck me stupid since I first saw you walk into the kitchen at your house."

Derek groans again, rolling his hips so that his dick slides through the circle of Stiles' hand. "Please tell me dirty talk is a thing you like."

Stiles gives him a wicked grin, rubbing his thumb over the head. "In theory. Virgin, remember? But I'd love for you to help me find out."

Derek's expression goes hungry, and he tightens his fingers in Stiles' hair again, tilting Stiles' head back and making him squeak as he lets go of Derek's dick to place both hands on the bed for balance. Derek leans down to press his mouth to Stiles' ear, and when he speaks, his voice has the same low, dangerous tone as it did on Halloween. "Are you going to be a good boy for me, Stiles?"

A shiver races down his spine and he draws in a sharp, startled gasp, his aching dick giving a hard twitch. "Fuck."

"That's not an answer."

Oh god, oh fuck. Stiles is going to overheat and die before they get to the actual fucking. Or come in his pants. "Yes," he breathes out, staring up into Derek's eyes and trying his best not to hump the air in front of him. "I will be so good for you."

Derek's smile is sharp, and he releases his grip on Stiles' hair. "Take the sweats off, and lie down on your back."

Stiles immediately adjusts himself on the bed, lifting his hips to push his sweats down and off before sprawling out. "So you like to be in charge?"

Derek watches him, kicking his jeans and underwear the rest of the way off. "I like a lot of things." He crawls onto the bed, eyes dark and predatory, and Stiles breaks out in goosebumps. "I like the scent of you." Derek buries his nose in Stiles' groin, right at the base of his aching cock, slowly drawing in a deep breath. "I like it when you smell like me - I want you to always smell like me." He mouths at Stiles' stomach, where he had come on him at the park and then worked it into his skin. "I like to leave my mark." He sucks on the skin of Stiles' hip, making Stiles whimper and jerk. "And I like to bite."

He nips at the same spot, teeth sharp.

"Ah, fuck," Stiles whines, hips jerking and dick giving another hard twitch. A bead of precome leaks from the head, and Derek swipes his tongue over it with a small sound of satisfaction. "Oh god."

Derek grins up at him, wicked and beautiful. "I like to fuck." He pushes Stiles' legs open and settles between them, his hard dick pressing against Stiles'. "I like you beneath me, willing and eager. I want to hear you beg for me to fill you up. I want to hold you down – " he captures Stiles' wrists in his hands, pinning them to the bed, "– and fuck you until you forget your own name."

Stiles heaves in a deep breath, closing his own hands into fists and straining against Derek's hold, testing. Derek smirks, not giving a single inch, and Stiles whines at just how turned on that makes him.

Derek leans down and whispers into Stiles' ear, "I also like to be fucked."

Stiles' eyes flutter closed and his mouth falls open. Derek keeps talking even as his hips start a slow roll, rubbing their dicks together at a tortuous pace.

"I want to feel you inside of me, filling me up. It would be so fucking good, Stiles, the way your dick would stretch me open, pushing in hard and deep. I could come from that, you know – I could come just from you fucking me, that's how much I like it."

"Derek," Stiles says, voice strained and tight. "I need you inside of me right now."

"Ah, ah." Derek drags his tongue over the skin just beneath Stiles' jaw and then gives a sharp nip, making Stiles hiss. "Ask me nicely."

"Please!" The plea bursts out of him, desperate and almost wild. Stiles is already wrecked and they've barely started. "Please, please, oh my god please –"

Derek kisses him, hard and messy, lips a bruising pressure against Stiles'. His tongue pushes in deep, sweeping through, and Stiles whimpers, opening his mouth to let Derek take what he wants.

"I've got you," Derek murmurs when he pulls back. "Lube?"

It takes Stiles a second to gather enough brain cells to answer. "Bedside table, top drawer."

Derek lets him go to reach for it, and the movement puts his chest right above Stiles' face. Stiles leans up and licks at a hard nipple, grinning when Derek jerks and swears. Derek sits back, lube bottle in hand, and flicks a finger over Stiles' nipple in retaliation. It shoots sparks all the way down to Stiles' dick, and he jerks his hips, gasping.

Derek looks smug for a moment, and then drops the bottle of lube next to Stiles’ hip. "I want to rim you, if that’s okay."

Stiles loses his breath for a second, a flush heating his face at the thought of Derek putting his mouth there. But it’s also something he’s wanted to try since he first discovered what it was. "Um, yes. Very yes, I’m so good with that."

Derek looks pleased, and taps the side of Stiles’ thigh. "On your stomach."

Stiles squirms around until he's lying on his front, thankfully managing not to accidentally kick Derek while doing so. At the last second he grabs one of his pillows and shoves it beneath his hips, flushing deeply when he glances back and sees Derek staring hungrily at his raised ass.

"Fuck, you're gorgeous," Derek says, palming Stiles' ass cheeks and spreading them open. "I can't wait to get inside you."

Stiles whimpers as Derek settles between his legs, face flaming hotter when he feels Derek’s breath on him. At the first soft brush of his tongue, Stiles can’t stop the long, low moan that echoes from the back of his throat. Derek makes an appreciative noise, and the next stroke is more firm, the tip of his tongue dipping inside before pulling back to trace around the tight furl of Stiles’ hole.

"Fuuuuuck." Stiles’ fingers twist in his sheets as he buries his face against them to muffle the unholy sound he makes. A sharp sting on his ass cheek has him yelping and lifting his head to glance back at Derek in disbelief. "Dude! Did you just bite my ass?"

Derek raises an eyebrow. "We're alone. I want to hear how good I'm making you feel."

"You have werewolf hearing."

"It's better when you're not trying to hide it." Derek smirks at him. "Didn't you say you were going to be good?"

Stiles glares a little but there's no heat behind it, and Derek gives him a smug grin before diving back in. This time Stiles keeps his face open, letting every sound spill free as Derek devours him. His tongue moves in firm strokes, dipping in and out of Stiles' hole, sending sparks of pleasure up his spine and right to his dick.

Stiles is pretty sure he's never been so hard in his life, and at some point he starts rocking his hips against the pillow beneath him, desperate for some relief for his aching cock.

Derek growls, and the vibration makes Stiles cry out, hips stuttering. Before he can come, though, Derek pulls away and yanks him up so that his ass is in the air and his dick is hanging hard and wet between his thighs. Stiles wails in frustration, reaching for his cock, but before he can touch it Derek grabs his hand and pins it to the bed.

"Derek - "

"Not yet." Derek trails soothing kisses along Stiles' spine. "Not until I'm inside you."

Stiles shudders, closing his eyes and taking several deep breaths. "You should hurry up and do that, then," he finally manages, voice strained.

Derek laughs softly, and releases Stiles' hand to reach for the bottle of lube. "Have you ever fingered yourself?"

Stiles glances behind himself to watch as Derek pours a generous amount onto his fingers. "Uh, yeah. All the time."

"Good," Derek murmurs, pressing the pad of one finger to Stiles' hole. "Ready?"

He nods, and Derek eases in, slow. Stiles moans, eyes fluttering shut as he hangs his head between his shoulders. His hole is relaxed and spit-slick from Derek's mouth, and the added lube helps the initial burn fade quickly. "More."

Derek doesn't argue with him this time, quickly adding a second finger and carefully pushing deep. His fingers brush over Stiles' prostate, something he himself has never been able to get the right angle for, and his whole body jerks as he cries out. He drops to his elbows, back arching, and Derek groans as he grazes over it a few more times.

"Gonna come if you keep doing that," Stiles warns, breathless.

Derek pulls back immediately, but quickly pushes in again with three fingers. "Okay?" he asks, voice strained.

The stretch now is a little more than what Stiles is used to, making him work to relax. "Yeah," he breathes after a few moments, Derek's slow, deep pumps edging past discomfort and into pleasure. He groans, rocking his hips back. "I'm good, come on, please - "

Derek carefully slides his fingers out. "Turn over, I want to see your beautiful face while I fuck you."

Stiles' cheeks heat but he grabs the pillow under his hips and tosses it to the side before shimmying around onto his back. His dick is so hard the head is flushed pink and wet with pre-come. Derek takes him in, gaze dark and hungry, and licks his lips.

"If you put your mouth on me I will lose it, Derek," Stiles warns.

Derek huffs a laugh, placing his hands on Stiles' knees and spreading his legs apart. "Don't worry, I want to feel your ass open up for my dick too much for that right now."

"Well hurry up then. My ass is waiting."

A snort is all he gets at that, but Derek picks up the lube bottle and coats his hard cock with more. He tosses it somewhere to be found later, and shifts forward to nudge the head of his dick against Stiles' hole. Pausing, he looks up to catch Stiles' eye, a question in his gaze, and Stiles nods in answer.

Derek pushes in, slow and careful, and Stiles draws in a sharp breath. It hurts, but not like he thought it would, and as the head pops past his rim, Stiles groans. Derek's eyes flick to his face but he doesn't stop, pressing his hips forward in small hitching movements as he works his way inside.

The burning pain of the stretch eases off the deeper Derek gets, until Stiles is panting out short whines at every thrust. When Derek is finally balls deep he pauses, both of his hands coming to rest on Stiles' hips.

"You okay?" he asks, and god, he sounds fucking wrecked.

"I am so fucking okay," Stiles says. His dick is still rock hard where it's lying on his stomach, pre-come trailing over his skin. "If you stop now I will kill you."

Derek laughs, the movement jarring them both and making them both groan. "Fuck, Stiles, you feel so good," he says, and starts rolling his hips.

Stiles had thought he was prepared, but his attempts to finger himself are nothing compared to the way Derek's big cock fills him so full. His lips part as the slow hitches of Derek's hips gradually morph into longer, sharper thrusts, opening him up until the friction of his movements shifts into a slick, easy slide.

Stiles moans, twisting his fingers in his sheets so he doesn't grab his aching dick, knowing he would come immediately if he did. "Oh my fucking god, Derek –"

"Wait." Derek pauses and carefully pulls out, but before Stiles can protest, he grabs Stiles' legs, pushing them back and wide. His ass is lifted off the bed, and when Derek plunges back inside, his hard length drives deeper than before. Stiles cries out, shaking at the wave of pleasure. "That's it, baby. There we go."

And then Derek starts to fuck, slamming in again and again and again and again, setting an almost brutal, animalistic pace. Stiles' eyes roll back, mouth falling open as he lets out a long, strangled moan. His fingers are still twisted in his sheets, clenched so hard his knuckles are turning white, a broken-off sob punched out of him with every one of Derek's pounding thrusts.

"Fuck," Derek whines. "Fuck, you're so perfect, I could do this forever –"

"Yes, fuck, oh my god don't stop, don't stop, don't you dare fucking stop –"

Derek groans, fingers bruising in their hold on the back of Stiles' thighs, squeezing tight as he pushes him open even further, almost folding him in half. He shifts forward, changing the angle so that he's driving down into Stiles' fucked open hole, his big cock so deep Stiles thinks he'll be able to feel it for days.

Stiles' entire body is thrumming, tingling heat pooling at the base of his spine and building to a peak. "Please, Derek, please, I need to come –"

"Fuck, yeah, come for me," Derek breathes, and that's all the permission Stiles needs to let go of the sheets and reach for his dick.

Three hard strokes and Stiles comes with a cry, thick, hot liquid spilling over his fingers and onto his stomach and chest. His whole body tenses, ass clenching around Derek's dick, drawing his orgasm out until he's whimpering and shaking. Derek fucks him through it, his balls slapping against Stiles' ass, too-sharp fingernails digging grooves into Stiles' skin.

Finally, Derek pushes in hard, as far as he can, and goes still. His eyes glow a bright yellow, and he growls around sharpened teeth, the sound shifting to a gasp as he empties himself deep inside of Stiles' ass. After several long moments, he drops Stiles' legs and settles between them, still buried deep and heedless of the mess Stiles made of himself.

Derek leans down and bites Stiles' shoulder, not hard enough to break skin but hard enough that Stiles knows he'll have a bruise. His spent dick twitches and he moans in approval. He loves the thought of Derek marking Stiles as his.

Derek licks at the spot and then pulls out slowly, gripping Stiles' hips to keep him in place. Stiles feels open and exposed, his hole fucked wide, and Derek swears softly as he stares down at where his come is already starting to leak out. He dips two fingers inside, making Stiles gasp.

"I think," Derek says, sounding completely wrecked as he plays with Stiles' stretched hole, tugging at the rim and then slipping three fingers in deep, "that one day I'm going to buy a plug, and I'm going to fuck you like this and then seal you up tight with it. And then do it again and again and again, until you're so full of my come and so stretched it starts to leak out anyway."

Stiles whines, wriggling his hips as his dick giving another valiant effort at recovery. "I am so okay with that."

Derek hums and finally pulls his fingers free, moving to lie down next to Stiles. Neither of them move to clean up, and Stiles is pretty sure he could easily fall asleep.

Instead, he turns his head to look at Derek. "If you were interested in me from seeing me at the theater, why did you pretend not to know who I was that day in the kitchen, when I came over for dinner?"

Derek shrugs, shifting so he can card his fingers through Stiles' hair. "I panicked. Cora hadn't told me who her partner was so I didn't know why you were there. I figured it was safer to pretend I didn't want to drag you up to my room and ravish you."

Stiles snorts. "Ravish?"

"Shut up."

"Can I see?"

Derek frowns, brows drawing together. "See what?"

"You." Stiles gestures to his face. "I mean, I kind of did on Halloween, but I was drunk and thought I was hallucinating. And your eyes like to flash yellow when you come, in case you didn't know." He grins.

Derek flushes and scoffs, but then his eyes shift from hazel to yellow, and he bares long, sharp teeth, much sharper than they were a few minutes ago. He pulls his hand from Stiles' hair and shows him the dangerous claws where fingernails used to be.

"Whoa," Stiles says, trying to take it all in. "Dude, that's so freaking cool."

"This is only a partial shift," Derek says, though he looks pleased. His voice comes out thicker with the teeth in the way. "I can show you the full if you want?"

Stiles eyes him warily. "Does it involve, like, a full-on transformation?"

Derek grins, and it looks weird around his teeth. "No, although my Mom can shift into an actual wolf. Most werewolves can't."

"Oh. Okay, then, show me."

Derek sits up and Stiles shuffles around until he's propped against the wall. He watches as Derek's face changes, hair sprouting along his jaw, and his forehead and bridge of his nose shift into something broader.

Stiles blinks. "Where did your eyebrows go?"

"I don't know." Derek shrugs. "Some werewolves have them in full shift, some don't."

"That's so weird."

"Are you done ogling me now?"

"Hell no. Have you seen yourself?"

Derek shifts back to human and rolls his eyes. "How long do we have until your dad gets home?"

"Hours," Stiles says. "Hours and hours."

"Good." Derek grabs his hand and yanks him forward, falling back at the same time. Stiles ends up sprawled on top of him, dick cradled in the space next to Derek's. "Let's see if we can find out what else you like."

"I like the way you think."

"I thought you might."

*

Later, when they're tangled together and both too exhausted to move, something occurs to Stiles.

"Oh my god. You totally cheated at mini golf!"

Derek freezes, and then laughs until he can't breathe.

*

John stares hard at Derek over the kitchen table.

Derek shuffles uncomfortably in his seat.

Stiles sighs. "Dad, come on. You promised you would be nice."

John shoots him a look. "This is nice, son."

Stiles holds both hands up in surrender, barely restraining from rolling his eyes.

"So. Twenty-two."

Derek nods. "Yes, sir."

"And you're using protection when the two of you have sex?"

"Oh my god," Stiles says, horrified.

"We're always safe, yes," Derek answers evenly, and now that he knows about the whole werewolf thing Stiles can appreciate the phrasing.

"And you've never done anything Stiles hasn't one-hundred percent been okay with?"

"Dad. Eighteen!"

John points at him in warning and Stiles snaps his mouth shut.

Derek sends him an amused look before answering his dad. "No, sir. I would never."

John watches him with narrowed eyes for a second before nodding. "Stiles tells me you're a student at UCLA, and you're going back next year."

"Yes, sir. I'll be getting my masters in history, and I'm thinking about going for a doctorate as well."

"Do you know what you're going to do with your degree once you have it?"

Derek grimaces at that. "Not exactly. I've thought about teaching, though."

"Did Stiles tell you he's going to UCLA as well?"

"Yes, sir."

"And what are your plans for the two of you being at the same school? I want him to live in the dorms for at least freshman year. He deserves to have that experience."

"I agree," Derek says, looking over at Stiles with a half smile. "That was some of the best times I had at college, and I don't want him to miss out on anything just because he'll have a boyfriend going in."

"So you plan on being together that long?"

Derek snaps his eyes back to John. "With all due respect, sir, I plan on being with Stiles for as long as he'll let me."

Stiles smiles, wide and bright.

"And what if, once he gets to school, he decides he doesn't want a boyfriend after all?"

Derek goes a little pale, and Stiles nudges his foot under the table, giving him a small smile and shake of his head when Derek glances at him. He relaxes some, but takes a deep breath and looks back at John. "Then I'll have to respect that."

John narrows his eyes, considering, and then nods. "Okay. Until further notice, you will be coming over for dinner with both of us twice a month so I can get to know you better than this one meeting will allow. And I would prefer there not be any overnight visits on school nights, regardless of where. And if at any point his grades start to slip, we may have to have a more serious talk, early college acceptance or not."

"Yes, sir. Understood."

"Stiles?"

"Got it," Stiles says, giving him a salute.

John rolls his eyes. "Alright, get out of here. You've got a movie night to get to."

"Thank you, sir," Derek says, standing and holding his hand out.

John stands and takes it. "Christ, son, just call me John. We might as well both get used to it."

Derek smiles, and Stiles can see him relax just the tiniest bit more. "I'll do my best."

Stiles gives his dad a tight hug before following Derek out to his Camaro and climbing into the passenger seat. "As mortifying as that was, I think it went about as well as could be expected."

"It definitely went better than I expected," Derek says, starting the car and turning in the direction of the Hale house. "I thought he was going to threaten to shoot me."

"I promised him we could have steak tomorrow night if he didn't."

"... Steak, huh?"

Stiles narrows his eyes. "Don't even think about it."

Derek's expression goes innocent. "About what?"

"About bribing my dad with heart attack food."

"I wasn't thinking that!"

"Uh-huh."

"Maybe just a steak every now and then."

Stiles sighs. "Okay, but only with my permission."

"That defeats the purpose of it, though."

"He doesn't have to know that I know."

Derek smiles, shaking his head.

When they reach the Hale house everyone else is already there, the living room a mess of junk food and scattered movies.

"Took you long enough," Scott says from where he's sharing a giant armchair with Allison. "I was starting to think your dad had arrested him."

"Nah, we lucked out this time." Stiles flops onto the couch, throwing his feet over Cora's lap. She glares and he grins at her. He'd apologized to her a soon as he could after working things out with Derek, and after some mild threats she'd allowed him back into her small circle of friends. Pack she had said, and that had given him lots of warm fuzzies. "I think it helped that we got an A on the history project without Derek helping."

Cora huffs in irritation. "I did most of the work, trying to get you to see what was right in front of your face."

"Uh, excuse you," Stiles says, indignant. "I'm the one who had to go through everything and separate the stuff we could actually use, while you just sat there complaining about inaccuracies."

Cora scowls. "It's not my fault people are idiots. And by people I mean you and Derek."

Lydia pauses her perusal of a random stack of DVDs. "Not that you're wrong," she says, gaze sharp as she takes them in, "but why are Derek and Stiles idiots?"

"We're not." Derek glares at Cora, poking at Stiles' shoulder until he sits up enough to let Derek slide in behind him. Stiles immediately flops back down with his head in Derek's lap, and grins at the mock-annoyed huff it earns him.

"No, just willfully oblivious," Isaac says from his sprawl on the floor, and Erica leans down from her seat next to Boyd to high five him.

"I'm so lost," Scott mutters. "Again."

Allison frowns, pulling her legs up and crossing them. "So am I. I've been getting the feeling for a while now that there's something going on we don't know about."

"There is," Lydia says, glaring around at all of them. "I've noticed too."

Stiles feels a sharp stab of guilt and looks up at Derek pleadingly. "Did you ask your mom?"

Derek smiles down at him, tugging gently on his hair. "I did, and after thoroughly questioning everyone she said it was okay."

"Yes!" Stiles throws both hands up in the air and then sits up. "Come on, do it now, I want to see."

Derek looks over at Cora, raising both eyebrows, and Cora grins.

"You first?"

Derek shakes his head. "I'll let you do the honors."

"Oh, this is going to be good," Erica says, and Boyd smirks as he pulls her over into his lap.

Cora stands and faces Scott, Allison, and Lydia. "Don't freak out, okay?"

She doesn't give them a chance to respond, shifting into her full beta form.

"Holy shit!" Scott jumps up and stumbles backwards, falling over an ottoman and landing in a heap on the floor. "What the hell?"

Allison and Lydia both stare in shock.

"Werewolves," Stiles says, and then cackles at all three of their expressions.

"Are you serious?" Scott's voice has gone high and he's looking back and forth between Cora and Stiles with wide eyes, still on the floor behind the ottoman. His gaze lands on Derek. "Are you – "

Derek snarls and flashes his eyes.

"Well this explains a lot," Lydia says, quickly shifting from shock to curiosity, just the way Stiles had expected her to.

Allison looks over at Erica, Boyd, and Isaac. "You, too?"

"Yep," Isaac says, tossing a piece of popcorn up and catching it in his mouth, teeth extended.

"Show off," Erica says, kicking at him. He growls at her, she snaps her teeth at him, and then they both start laughing.

"For the record," Derek says, glancing quickly at Allison and then to Lydia and Scott, "Mom requires a full year of training and pack integration before she gives anyone the bite."

Scott is staring at Stiles, eyes still wide but more excited than shocked now. "Dude," he breathes, and Stiles laughs wildly. "Werewolves."

"I know, right?"

"Can we pick a movie now?" Boyd asks, sounding bored. "This is supposed to be movie night."

"No romances," Cora says. She shifts back to human and plops down on the couch, throwing her feet up on Stiles' lap.

Lydia scowls. "One day you will all realize what you're missing out on."

"Nothing with sex in it, either," Isaac adds, glaring at Derek and Stiles.

Stiles blinks innocently at him. "It's not my fault you have an over sensitive nose. Besides, we are so not the only ones." He points accusingly to Erica and Boyd and then to Scott and Allison.

"Exactly," Isaac says, gesturing between all three couples. "I'm surrounded by it all the fucking time."

"So get a girlfriend," Lydia says, raising an eyebrow.

"Thank you so much for the advice," Isaac drawls with a sarcastic bite, and Erica reaches out to pet his hair as he mutters, "I don't want a girlfriend. Or a boyfriend."

Allison helps Scott up, pulling him into the big armchair with her. "Why don't we watch bad werewolf movies, and all of you in the know can point out what they got wrong."

"Most of them got everything wrong," Derek says, and Stiles snorts.

"Don't pretend you don't love those movies. Complaining about them is one of your favorite things to do."

Cora starts laughing and Derek flushes, glaring at him. Stiles just grins and pulls him into a kiss, ignoring the loud complaints.

Until Cora throws a pillow at them, and well, Stiles can't be expected to ignore a challenge like that.