The song for this fic is Howling - You Wanted My Love

STILES' POV:

Saying my life the past year and a half had been easy would've been a lie. I left Beacon Hills behind with the notion I'd become an FBI agent that would make a difference. I left with a girlfriend who was states away. I left lonely.

Being lonely shouldn't have been an excuse for doing what I had done, but I didn't know how else to explain it.

And the only person that I could go to about it was the last person I would've imagined.

I walked on the bricked Downtown Mall of Charlottesville, Virginia as Thursday dragged into the evening. The Virginia heat wasn't something I was yet accustomed to yet only having been here a month. California heat was dry, but the eastern and southern heat was humid. It was a completely different heat that had the collar of my gray shirt darker than the rest of it.

My blackened sunglasses perched on the bridge of my nose. I felt eyes on me the second I stepped foot out of my apartment on Main St. above one of the ABC store.

I glanced at the Violet Crown theater for a few seconds to spot a tail across the way.

A car approached the road so I stopped for them to pass while I turned to the side to glance at my watch, I took note of who had stopped completely and who had passed.

Being nervous wouldn't take away from the fact that I was the Rabbit. I just had to figure out who my Trigger was. The Eyes could kiss my ass.

The musical stylings of locals gave the air a collective joy and diverse twang. The round homeless man with a Redskins coat around his waist that always asked me for money but never remembered me waved at me.

My hand pulled my wallet out to hand him a five dollar bill. "Take it easy today," I offered a half grin.

"Thanks, man." He snatched it. "I'll pay you back." He said even though we both knew his promise would fall empty.

I waved it off. "Nah, don't worry about it." I walked past the five vendors in the area and the fountain to get to The Juice Place.

A middle aged dark haired woman sat by the window when I walked in, her attention on a column on the second page.

"A Green Goodness, please."

Trina, the cashier with blonde dreadlocks grinned at me. "You never switch it up," She moved to add the ingredients to the blender after my card approved.

My shoulders shrugged. "I like what I like," I said in a light tone. I went to the counter with the basket of wide colorful straws and picked an orange one.

The grating sounds of the blender working cut through the air.

I took the moment to survey the bypassers outside. Before the Eyes could spot my stare I turned around. "Oh, I forgot to get my card punched." I reached for my wallet again to pull out the rewards card.

"You always do." She handed it back to me.

I glanced at the woman that sat by the window.

Her focus was on the newspaper in front of her, the rice bowl and smoothie in front of her untouched.

I turned back to Trina. "Have you guys been busy today?" I asked nonchalantly.

She handed me the smoothie. "Not really. You're the second customer in an hour."

"Maybe it'll pick up." I gave a hopeful grin. "Have a nice one."

"See ya."

I took a sip and looked to the left. The woman was still on the same column on the same page, her food untouched after Trina said she'd been here awhile, and her focus hadn't veered to me once. All of that told me what I needed to know.

The door chimed on my way out.

As I normally would, I headed for the big white tented Pavilion to sit a metal table with my drink. I propped my feet up on the table and sighed, the drink cold in my hand.

When I looked up I spotted Derek leaned against the railing a few feet away.

He looked up from his phone, his eyes covered in sunglasses as well.

My finger tapped on my straw to signal the status of our privacy.

He knew orange meant a no-go in our usual spot and to go to our backup, so he walked forward with his head in his phone.

This had turned into an SDR as soon as I walked out of my apartment, but what did I expect when I worked for the people I worked for?

I waited a few minutes to finish my drink. I tossed my cup into the trash can while I dropped my phone onto the ground so I could stash my gun behind the trashcan, the weeds would hide it from plain sight for the time being. Once I walked through the detectors at the door of Urban Outfitters, I greeted a worker on my way down to Men's.

Derek looked through the shirts against a wall.

I sifted through the jeans on the table behind him.

"You were followed this time," He whispered. "What does that mean?"

One of two options.

"Either my employer knows what I've been doing off book or Kashi suspects what we're up to," I whispered back, then scanned the room. The customers seemed invested in their potential purchases to notice us, all except a small group of UVa girls. Their fresh faces and student I.D.s that hung from their necks meant they were Freshmen. They glanced up at us in interest.

Derek moved to another wall of shirts. "Which one is more likely?"

I stared at his back for a moment. "Both."

He sighed. "When you asked me to help you out I didn't think it would get this messy, Stiles."

My hands teased a few hats on display. "You're the only person that I knew that I could trust with this."

He threw a look over his shoulder. "You mean I'm the only one with the connections you need."

"That too," I joined him to check out the shirts with a small grin on my lips. I looked at him. "You wouldn't have agreed to this if you didn't think you could help."

His brow rose above his sunglasses. "I agreed to this because you made a mistake trusting the wrong people."

I nodded. "A costly one, I know that."

We looked forward, then headed for another table display by the stairs.

"Have you made any progress with FP?" He tried on a different pair of sunglasses.

I crouched down to check out the clothes on the shelves below. "Not even a little bit. He still doesn't trust me, but he's Kashi's right hand, so he has to play nice unless instructed otherwise."

"If you don't get in with FP again he's going to suspect something's up. Maybe he already has." He discreetly nodded toward the woman from the The Juice Place that browsed the book section a few feet away.

I stood. "Meet at my place at seven."

He put his own sunglasses back on with a cough.

"Bring the beer." I told him before I started up the steps.

I managed to shake the tails on my way home, not because I outmaneuvered them, they just got so bored of watching me go from vendor to vendor and shop to shop that they gave up like I wanted them to.

Once back at my apartment I showered and changed into a black Henley and jeans.

I started on the dessert first. Who knew Derek Hale had a sweet tooth?

By the time I set the table for two there was a series of two knocks then four at my door. I still peeped through the hole to make sure it was Derek, then I opened it.

He had a light sheen of sweat on his skin when he rushed past me. "It's hot outside. Like really hot."

I chuckled. "I'm still getting used to it myself." I locked the door behind him.

"I don't know why you always ask me to bring beer when you literally live above an ABC."

"Because I know it gets to you, anymore questions," I looked at him as I took the bags from his hand to place them on the kitchen counter.

He leaned against the wall, drenched in every bit of unfair male dominance that I could never own. "I got tired of eating chicken every time we hang out."

A grin flitted across my face. "No one said you had to stay for dinner all those nights."

He shrugged. "Well, I've got to eat some place why not at yours."

I nodded with a smile as I took out the groceries. "Yeah, you do."

I didn't mind making him chicken or anything because he'd been the lifeline that I needed to get through the past month in a way none of my other friends or Lydia could, but that was by choice. For their safety, they had to be kept out of all of this.

"So how's Braeden?" I asked in between seasoning the meat.

He bent over in the fridge and pulled out the red velvet cake I made. "Sorry she ever met me by now."

"You didn't break up with her, did you? I thought you were going to go on that extended vacation you talked about once this was all over with?"

"Yeah," He cut into the cake. "Well, the moment I felt like I was being watched I knew I had to cut her out of my life." He looked at me. "She's important, but so is this."

I placed the meat into the pan, a noise of interest left my throat.

"What? You think I made a mistake ending it?"

My shoulder shrugged. "Yes and no." I washed my hands. "Trust me, I get wanting to keep the loved ones out of the picture, but Braeden out of anyone would've been an asset. She might not be there when this is all over with."

He folded his arms across his broad chest. "If she's not then I'll manage."

I shot him a look. "You're always so quick to dismiss the people closest to you. It's not healthy."

"You of all people know it's a part of the job and life. Besides, I haven't dismissed you." He grabbed a beer once he put the cake back.

"Yet," I pointed out. "Not like you haven't before."

He tipped the Three Notch'd beer back. "You and I used to have a different relationship."

My eyes met his. "And what relationship is that? The one where you beat me up and I stay out of your hair?"

He laughed. "Now you're getting it,"

Our life back in Beacon Hills seemed so simple now if you could believe it. Who would've thought I'd long for the days of hatching insane, unlikely plans to save everyone? That I'd miss the days of following everyone else around while they did the dirty work? That I'd miss the days of not being sure about Lydia's feelings for me. At least then I could convince myself that she didn't care about me that way so I could move on when the time came necessary. Now I had to lie to her constantly. She just returned my calls of a week of not talking because I hadn't told her I moved down here.

Derek sensed my mood shift, he leaned against the counter with a fresh beer in his hand offered to me.

I looked at him knowing that until this was all sorted out he'd likely be the only one that I could unload all of this on. Somewhere along the way, I became okay with that. He wasn't the stone cold man I used to think he was. He took a chance helping me and I know it wasn't because he cared about me.

I took the beer from him and have a few sips. "Good beer."

He nodded with a smile. "I'll bring you Natty Boh next time," He knew I wasn't a craft beer guy, not particularly anyway.

"Thanks," I said around the swig of beer in my mouth.

We looked at each other in a companionship we didn't have a month ago.

My phone buzzed from my back pocket. I sighed. "Sorry,"

He waved it off. "If it's Kashi you have to get it."

I opened the burner phone I always kept on my person.

Go to the Market St garage.

I put the phone back in my pocket and gave a wry laugh. "How about you finish cooking and I'll be back when I'm done and we can finish this pack of beer? You're not going to burn down the place, are you?"

He grabbed the cutting board and a knife. "I think I can manage."

Whenever we split ways lately I wanted to hug him or fist pump him or do something that showed I came to care about him, but it always felt wrong. That and I still think he'd punch me.

So I left him with a look, grabbed my blank black baseball cap, then strapped my gun to back of my pants, and headed toward the garage.

The sky had started to darken a bit, which would make this a little easier. This time there wasn't a box watching me. Taking my car would give the cameras too much information if they needed it.

When I arrived my phone buzzed.

To do what was required of me I had to put on a mask of nothingness to pull everything off. I wasn't a murderer, a thief, or a cheater, but I did what they asked of me. The consequences were too great if I disobeyed. I could still feel the blood of another recruit's wife as FP tightened the remotely controlled wire noose around her neck until it cut through her flesh. His cries of regret and horror rang through my head every night. I promised myself it wouldn't ever be me in that position. It wouldn't be Lydia or Scott or my Dad. So I did what they asked of me until Derek and I could find a way to take them down.

There's a present on the fourth floor in a Black Sedan 2015.

I took the stairs to avoid cameras through the front entrance, my head lowered so the hat would hide my face if necessary.

A few of the surrounding cars had left, with it being Thursday not too many people were out as it is.

I approached the car like it was my own, I felt for the keys that I didn't have to appease anyone watching.

The trunk unlocked and the car started by itself.

I opened it enough to see inside to avoid cameras picking it up.

The unconscious woman inside was heavily drugged and unresponsive. She was one of my coworkers from the bureau.

My phone buzzed.

Clean it up.

To check the area, I glanced around, then got into the Sedan and drove to the address in the GPS that lead me to a warehouse off of Pantops Mountain. The warehouse door opened up when I drove up and shut behind me. I opened the glove compartment to find the standard alcohol and wipes to clear my prints off of everything, bleach was too strong and would tip off anyone looking that the car had been recently cleaned. I slipped on the black latex gloves.

First, I tied the woman to the chair in the middle of the room, zip ties against her ankles and wrists. Then I vacuumed the car for any dead skin or hair I left behind.

Sharon stirred. She panicked once she realized she'd been drugged, kidnapped, and restrained. "What is this?" Her voice full of fear. "Who are you?"

I didn't answer her. She wasn't aware that I knew who she was. We never crossed paths at the office, but I knew everyone working there.

"Help!" She yelled. "Somebody help me!"

I placed the vacuum in its original spot after I cleaned it.

Her tears were as fake as crocodile tears.

I grabbed a chair, faced the back to her to watch her struggle free. "You comfortable, Sharon?"

She stilled. "You know me?" She pulled against them, but remained stuck. "Why are you doing this? What do you want?"

"What do I want?" I shrugged. "I don't want anything." I stared into her brown eyes knowing that they wouldn't look at anything for much longer. "The question is what do you want?"

Her eyes flitted around nervously to play her part of untrained civilian. "I just want to make it home for dinner with my wife and daughter." She cried.

I nodded, my head rested in my hand. "Pretending to be a lesbian to gain sympathy. Clever." I gave an impressed grin. "How's Bill doing in Finance? Last I heard he got a promotion."

She sobered up. "Let's cut the crap." She straightened up in the chair. "You're going to tell me how it is you got into this faction and who's running it."

My brow rose. "I am?"

"If you want help out of this, which I know you so desperately do." Her eyes stared into mine. "You weren't trained for this. You don't go into the FBI wanting to hurt people, wanting to constantly look over your shoulder, wanting to do someone else's dirty work. Your dad's the Sheriff of a small town in NorCal. You always wanted to be like him, protect everyone, serve justice, put the bad guys away. So why are you working with a terrorist organization?"

My right hand pulled the gun from my pants to rest on the back of the chair, it loosely aimed at her. "That's the problem with every patriot nowadays. They think because you have a different view of America, one that's not covered up by lies and half truths, that you're a terrorist."

Her disgust rang vibrant in her eyes. "Aren't you?" She raised a dark brow.

"If I was you'd never see it coming," My finger pulled the trigger.

Her head thumped back with the hit of the bullet.

My phone buzzed from the car. I went to it.

Good job. There's a furnace in the next room.

My jaw clenched.

I clipped the ties, carried her dead weight to the next room, then dumped her into the roaring furnace along with anything I touched. The little girl I knew she had sat in the forefront of my mind, the look on her face when she gets the news her mommy isn't coming home to tuck her in or hug her or make her feel safe ever again.

My jaw clenched again to rid myself of the emotions that approached. I cleaned up the area, pulled my phone out as soon as it buzzed.

Drive the car back to the garage. There's a seat cover and disposable mat in the console.

I placed everything where it needed to be placed, then backed out of the warehouse. The door opened for me once again. My gloved hands turned the wheel as I looked behind me, then drove off. I wanted so badly to lift the mood, but changing the radio would leave a clue if it was a station she didn't regularly listen to.

So I sat in silence on my drive back to the garage. Knowing they'd take care of the cameras and time stamps on the parking tickets I didn't worry about being caught for that. I worried how I was going to sleep tonight.

I went back down through the stairs, the mat and seat cover in the trash with the rest of the rubbing alcohol poured over to mask any DNA. I fixed my cap backwards so I wouldn't look so much like a crook, then ran to the other side of the street to catch the green and gold Trolley before it pulled off. I leaned against one of the makeshift walls behind the driver due to the lack of seats.

I briefly stared at the black woman driving to contemplate how this was enough for her. She looked overworked and exhausted. Why did she settle for this? Then again part of me thought maybe I could be content doing her job for the rest of my life if it meant I didn't do anything else that would secure my spot in Hell.

When my stop came up I pulled on the string and walked the short distance to my apartment across the street. I just needed the time to get myself together before I broke down on the street.

Derek had settled in on my black leather couch with an old game on. He looked over his shoulder at me.

I took the hat off, placed my gun in its usual spot, then peeled my shirt off in haste on my way to my room.

He followed me. "Do you want to talk about it?"

My hands rested on the counter, I couldn't look at him but I forced myself to look at reflection in the mirror. "I don't know how much longer I can do this,"

"Stiles,"

I felt the onslaught of hot tears, but I pushed them back.

"Look at me,"

My eyes drifted to his in the mirror.

"You can do this until we find you a way out. I know you can. You wouldn't have made it this far if you couldn't."

What did that say about me?

My eyes shut in shame.

He started the shower. "I'm here when you want to talk," He closed the door behind him.

A few tears slid down my face. I wiped them away, then stepped into the shower.

DEREK'S POV:

When Stiles initially contacted me for my help I wanted to turn him down, not because I was afraid, but because I had built a life outside of Beacon Hills and with Braeden, and I didn't want anything or anyone to disrupt that.

In the back of my mind I knew that Stiles would. He always had.

The thing about Stiles was that he didn't realize how much he meant to people, including me.

How he got himself mixed up in all of this was beyond me, but I could understand. In his line of work if someone recruits you off book you're interested and you can't say no because you don't know exactly what you're saying no to. The intrigue and threat to American security alone was enough to make an agent go through with the initiation.

He wouldn't tell me, but I deduced that he was in a dark place when he first got in. He still was. I wanted to contact Lydia, but he put trust in me that he hadn't put in her for a reason.

The only person that knew my whereabouts and why was Cora. If something did happen to me she'd know to step in and help where she was needed.

I stared at her last text.

Cora: So you're just in his apartment chilling, cooking, and waiting for him to come back? Why don't you just ask him out already?

I texted back.

Me: It's not that simple.

I grabbed two more beers from the fridge and sliced the cake. We could eat dinner anytime.

Cora: Make it that simple.

Me: I don't even know if he's attracted to guys.

Cora: He doesn't have to be, he just has to be attracted to you.

I pocketed my phone to think things over. Even if he was single and emotionally available after what he's been going through, I doubt Stiles would ever entertain a lewd thought about me or us or where we could go beyond what we were doing now.

He came out in a black sweatpants and a gray shirt, he'd been living in shades of gray lately so it kind of gave me sick amusement every time he wore the color.

He picked up the beer right away and sank down a foot away from me, his thick, wet hair slicked back. The slight hair that dotted his face caught my attention. When he turned his whiskey eyes on me they held a gratefulness that I hadn't seen up until this point.

"Stop being such a drama queen," I leaned forward for the remote to go to Netflix. I went to the Stand-Up Comedies and put on Chris D'Elia: Man On Fire. His first piece on here was hilarious. He had a pretty good sense of dark humor. "You need to laugh,"

"Laughing requires having to feel safe and happy." His gaze stayed on me.

I gave him a stern look. "I'm not going home until you laugh tonight."

A faint grin danced across his lips, but he wouldn't give it life. "It might be a long night." He held out his beer.

I taped mine to his. "What are friends for," My arm rested across the back of the couch behind him.

He stared at me, probably wondering himself how the transition had happened so smoothly, then put his focus on the TV.

Sooner or later Chris got him to crack when I couldn't. He loosened up, the beer helped.

"Mhh," He moaned around the piece of red velvet cake in his mouth.

My dick stirred at the sound.

He put another piece in his mouth.

I watched with low-lidded eyes.

He licked his lips, then found my gaze. "This was better than the last one."

I nodded with a grin take away from my growing erection. I held my beer against my lap.

Eventually he tilted his head back with the light snore I knew was coming. Poor thing was tired from all the lying, espionage, and events of today. I couldn't help but stare at his cute little moles.

The time came when I wanted to pass out. I cut the TV off and the lamp beside me. I was about to head out like I usually would when he shifted on the couch.

His head slid to my shoulder. He sleepily let out a sigh and continued to snooze.

I didn't have the heart to pull away or leave. So I stayed where I was and made myself comfortable until my own exhaustion pulled me under.

A/N: This is my first Sterek fic. Stydia is one of my OTP's, but I still ship Sterek. Even Steo a little (BUT THIAM). Anyway, I never thought I'd write a Sterek fic considering most of my fics that are Teen Wolf have Stydia. I've been writing more Thiam fics lately and this just came to me. It's very much inspired by Quantico. If you're not watching Quantico you should give it a looksy on Netflix. The show is set up so interestingly. I think I might play around with a few more Quantico esque fics. I considered making this Thiam instead of Sterek but I already have Howling which is Thiam and I could easily incorporate Quantico themes in that fic considering how it's set up. Anywho, PLEASE LEAVE A REVIEW BELOW TO LET ME KNOW YOUR THOUGHTS, IF YOU'D LIKE TO SEE MORE OF THIS, OR WHAT HAVE YOU. If I don't get feedback on this then it's likely I won't continue being that I have five other Teen Wolf fics I'm actively working on right now.