A/N: Alright. I'm currently in the process of getting back into this fic, and I'm starting by fixing up the first two chapters. Obviously if you've read through it before you'll notice that this first chapter and the second one have been changed. So yeah, basically just expect that I'll actually be continuing this, even though there's such a delay from when I last worked on it. And once I get up the third chapter and am back on track I'll take this little comment-y thing down. xo (:

Chapter One - Rooted

The Pack is Back

It's been yet another summer of escaping, tanning, and scandalous hookups, but now all of that has come to a close and The Pack has finally been reunited here in the Upper East Side. Most of them have been back here for about a week now, but Stiles and Lydia Martin were just spotted arriving from Paris in the Stilinski's private jet this morning. They are supposedly'best friends' but honestly, what kind of friends go to Paris alone together for two months. We all know it's just a matter of time before the two of them go public. And the perfect time for breaking news being the Argent's annual charity ball!

With all of The Pack heading back to school tomorrow it means it's time for the party to kick off the year, which this A-List event has always been. This year the money is going towards abolishing puppy mills across the country. Invites will be nearly impossible to get, but luckily we have sources on the inside and promise to keep everyone on the out well informed. If you follow our twitter ( ENews) we'll make sure you get all of the details to you right as they're happening.

So keep your eyes peeled and your ears open, because this isn't Vagas, and what happens here is for all to hear.

"Paris, really?" Derek scoffed while he quit the browser and gently tossed is phone onto the counter he had been leaning against.

"What about Paris?" Laura called from the back room of the Deli where they both worked. It was right in the middle of the Upper East Side, and Derek would have given anything to quit, but the tips were fantastic and he was desperate for the money if he actually wanted to succeed in making it to Yale. The deli was Laura's full time job and she would help him pay for school as much as she could, but she also had to worry about rent on the small apartment they shared in Brooklyn. Therefore he was relying foremost on getting a scholarship and paying the rest with what he could scrape up himself.

"It's just the newest vacation spot for the one and only Stiles Stilinski," he said, turning around so he could see Laura through the door, "It's just so ridiculous. We're stuck here working our asses off all summer while him and The Pack get to run around across the world throwing around money like it means nothing."

Laura let out a gentle laugh at her brothers complaining, used to hearing it. She knew by now to just ignore him and not give any input on what he was saying. Instead she continued her work, putting a tray of pastries into the oven.

"And a charity to end puppy mills? I mean seriously, Lar? It's ridiculous. I get that it's an important issue and all, and there's nothing wrong with trying to stop them, but I doubt a huge sum of money is going to help. Besides, everyone knows that the event's just an excuse for them all to get wasted and act like they're more important than they'll ever be." He probably would have continued on, but was interrupted by the chime of the bells at the front of the shop, announcing that a customer had entered.

Stiles sat near the back of the hall and observed the room around him wile pushing the ice around his water with a straw. He and Lydia had been escorted right from their landing to his families weekly Sunday brunch. He had been away from them for the entire summer and had forgotten just how hectic they tended to be. He really wasn't in the mood to catch up with people that he barely knew though, so instead he sat (hopefully away from the view of most people) with Lydia.

"Did you hear, everyone's once again claiming that we're together," she rolled her eyes and took a sip from her champaign and orange juice, "as if I would ever give you a chance, you would be the worst boyfriend ever. I have no idea what everyone sees in you."

Stiles' mouth took up a genuine smile at that. Somehow even when he didn't know what he was feeling Lydia knew exactly what to say.

He finally looked up from his water and attempted to put on a convincing offended face, "Is that right? Because I just think you're jealous tha-" an ear-shattering crash from across the room interrupted him mid-sentence. The entire room went silent and looked in the direction of the noise. From the looks of it Jackson's mother had purposefully dropped her plate on the floor, the shattered remains of it extending across the room. Her eyes were currently shooting daggers (a look which Stiles found sharper than the shards of chinaware) at the waiter in front of her.

"You said this was a vegetarian crepe," she said between clenched teeth. "There was a piece of bacon in it! Bacon! The last time I checked, bacon comes from pigs. Which. Are not. Vegetarian!"

If the scene didn't make Stiles afraid for his own life (and that was even in the safety of the back corner of the hall- how were the people at the tables surrounding her not in hysterical tears?) he would have embraced the glorious opportunity handed to him and taken a picture of the woman. He was pretty sure he could see a vein pulsing on the side of her forehead. He almost wanted to laugh because, really? It was over a piece of bacon - who doesn't love bacon?

The waiter looked too stunned to speak, but luckily Melissa McCall rushed over to put a hand on her shoulder, gently guiding her to sit down at a table. Slowly everything returned to normal; the floor was cleaned immediately, a new, bacon-less crepe was delivered, and everyone resumed their mindless conversations.

After a few too minutes more of false conversation, people started to file out of the room, Stiles and Lydia being some of the first. They met up with Scott and Allison on their way out of the room, Jackson, Erica, Isaac, and Boyd already waiting outside of the building for them, having previously made plans to head back to Jackson's place after brunch. Well, one of his many places. Jackson's family owned the most successful real estate company in New York and had countless buildings to show for it. Jackson was given the keys to most of them, and they usually chose to waste days at a time in any one of his buildings because they were basically guaranteed to be alone. Over the past few years though, the group of friends found themselves staying in one particular building over the others. The apartment was styled with an eighteen hundreds feel to it, and it was a nice change from the cold, modern buildings that they all lived in. Instead it felt worn in; when they talked, it wasn't the usual noise of voices echoing around the barely touched room, they actually filled it with warmth. And even more than that, when all of them were there together it maybe even felt like home.

"So I have to say your mom royally flipping her shit was the highlight of my morning," Scott said from the love seat he was sitting on with Allison, her coral pink heels neatly placed on the floor beside them and her feet tucked underneath him. Everyone laughed with him except for Jackson who was shooting Scott a similar look to the one his mother had been wearing earlier. It was more teasing than anything, but somehow still terrifying.

"Ugh, come on, Jackson. You know he's right, you saw you're mom's face and it was amusing as hell. You think no one saw that corner of your mouth twitch when she started screaming... But. I. Did," Erica smirked, looking over at Jackson who finally broke and laughed along with them.

"I can't believe classes start again tomorrow," Isaac said offhandedly as the laughter died down.

"And it's our last year too," Allison bit her lip nervously. They all knew that they would get into whichever colleges they wanted so they really didn't have too much to worry about, but there was still the underlying fact that this was going to be their last year together. They had all been attending school together since they were young and it just felt wrong to know that it was all going to end so soon. Even though their friendship had somewhat been forced upon them due to their families being in the same social circle, they didn't know what they would do without one another. Their personalities clashed in the best ways and no matter what they went through, they always seemed to find their way back together.

"Well I say," Boyd started from where he was leaning against the windowsill that took up the majority of the wall, "that instead of getting all emotional now, we spend our last day of freedom getting completely shit faced."

Derek dragged himself into the Deli after school even though Monday's were usually pretty quiet. Laura would be working by herself and he figured that she could probably use some company. Besides, it was either do homework there, or do it alone at home with a box of chinese takeout as company. Laura wasn't at the front counter when he walked in, so he wandered into the back room where she was sitting, feet up on the counter with a newspaper in her hands. Dirty pans and half cooked pastries were scattered across the kitchen, different scents filling up the room. They didn't actually own the deli, but the owner made enough money from it to not really care what foods Laura chose to bake and sell. As long as customers continued to come they basically and free reign over the place. Laura took advantage of that and was constantly cooking anything she could think up on days when it wasn't hectic.

"Your day any good?" she asked to which Derek simply grunted in response and took a seat in a stool at the other end of the counter. He pulled out his advanced functions textbook and started working. They didn't technically have any homework to do after the first day, but there were grades that he needed to get and the only way that was going to happen was by putting in more effort than everyone around him.

"Here, you might find this interesting," Laura slid the paper across the counter to him, covering his work with it, "and you need to calm down, it's your first day back, you're not supposed to be studying yet." Derek would have made a retort about how he needs to get into Yale, but the paper sitting in front of him grabbed his attention. Bold letters across the front of the page read,'The New Side of Stilinski'. He quickly skimmed the article, words like nightclub and banned and The Pack standing out to him. He pushed the paper back when he was done and looked up at Laura.

"He punched someone in the face because they wouldn't let him into a club?" For some reason he needed to ask, to clarify that he hadn't just read wrong. Laura nodded in response though, and his mouth fell open slightly. After a moment of hesitation he snapped it shut and shrugged, not wanting to show that he was shocked, or that he even remotely cared. As he attempted to turn his focus back to his work though, he found his mind drifting. He had always assumed Stiles was an idiot based off of all of the articles he had read in the past, but never would Derek have thought that he was a complete dick. Clearly though, his expectations couldn't be met all of the time.

He was somewhere close to three-thousand percent done before first period was even over. It wasn't that people at school showed any difference to him; he was still a Stilinski, and just because he punched some asshole didn't change that for any of them. They would never actually say anything about what he did. Well at least they wouldn't say anything directly to him... Obviously people talked about it when he wasn't listening. He honestly couldn't be bothered with what anyone at school said when he wasn't paying attention though. He still stuck by what he did even if no one would understand why. So no, it didn't have have anything to do with being at school. Instead, it was the thoughts that continuously plagued his mind while he sat through hours of teachers going on about subjects that he couldn't care less about. Or really the conversation that ran through his head.

"The New Side of Stilinski, really Stiles? You've been back for all of one day and you're already starting this?"

Stiles walked down the stairs and looked over at his father who was hunched over the kitchen island, newspaper in one hand, a drink in the other.

"Well, I'm not exactly starting anything if I never finished in the first place, right?" His father glanced at him for a second before turning back to the article, disappointment spread across his face.

"I can't believe you punched a bouncer," he dropped the paper in defeat and pinched the bridge of his nose.

"Well, I mean if you're looking at the picture it shouldn't be all that hard to believe; are you sure you put on your glasses this morning?" His father just sighed in response. Stiles knew that his sarcasm wasn't helping in the slightest, but he really didn't know what to say. It's not like his dad would believe him if he attempted to explain the truth. So instead of trying to fix the situation he just grabbed a waffle from the extensive tray of food that their cook had brought that morning and left for school.

More than anything it was the look of pure disappointment that got to him. He could deal with people being angry at him, that was easy. But disappointment? That was harder. Usually he had a pretty solid relationship with his dad. Well, better than most of the people he knew. They actually enjoyed spending time together, and in a way they depended on one another. The two of them had gotten through a lot together and it would have been impossible not to be close after it all. They did do an amazing job of ignoring the painfully obvious things that they were both feeling and worrying about though, and Stiles could guarantee that the punch would never be mentioned again. Just how there was a silent agreement that Stiles wouldn't mention that his father was back to drinking before it was even twelve. They would just push it all to the side like they had so many other things. They would cover it up, seal the crack and hide the pain of it all. It wasn't exactly healthy, but it was the strategy that had worked for them thus far. It was the only way they knew how to deal with things.

But Stiles wasn't exactly ready to push aside the image of his father in the kitchen that morning. It brought him back to memories of the last time his father allowed his drinking to slip out of control. All of the cracks that he had covered and filled over time were starting to come to the surface again and it was too hard to control.

His friends could all tell that he was worn down, and for the most part they gave him space for space throughout the day. It could clearly be seen that they weren't going to last much longer, the concern they shared only increasing. As he was leaving his last class Jackson finally caught up to him, deciding that it was about time to say something.

"You seriously look like you could use a j right now, man," he walked along with Stiles through the frantic hall and out into the courtyard. There had been things he had been planning to put into his locker before leaving, but he needed to get out of the school before Lydia found him because she would seriously drag him along if that's what it took. "We're all heading over to my place now, c'mon. You need to loosen up."

Stiles shook his head and continued to walk, "I'm not really in the mood," he called over his shoulder. Instead of waiting around for Jackson to protest he just picked up his pace and took off in the first direction he saw. He still wasn't ready to go home, and didn't feel like putting on a fake smile with The Pack either. Just wandering was what he really needed.

It was easy for him to get lost in the sea of bodies. When he was surrounded like this Stiles could almost forget that people were constantly watching him and picking apart every little thing that he did. He blended in like this. He was just yet another person. Slowly he found the stress melting away from him and his mind became one with everything around him. His footsteps were just another set of footsteps, his breath was just the inhale and exhale of everyone around him, his heartbeat was in harmony with every beating heart. He was just as important and just as insignificant as the rest of the world. He was a speck. And as cold as it made him feel, the cold was comforting.

After what was probably hours but had only felt like a few minutes, Stiles' head was significantly more cleared and he was actually feeling like himself again, if not better, than he usually did. If getting away from everyone wasn't as difficult as it proved to be for him, he would have taken up walking nowhere in particular more often. He was interrupted from his thoughts though as his stomach clenched in pain. Right, food. The last thing he had eaten was the waffle that morning and he was starving. Turning around a corner he looked for the first store that would have something edible. To his right was a quaint looking deli called "Rose's Cuisine". He didn't even think twice about entering, his stomach guiding him through the door.

The usual chime rang through the shop and Laura looked up from sink where she was washing pans before turning over to her brother, "Can you get that, Derek? Kinda busy," he said, holding up her soapy hands as proof.

Derek sighed and pushed his work away from him, "Fine," he grunted and walked into the front of the store. "Welcome to Rose's Cuisine, how ca-" he stopped talking for a second as he met the eyes of the boy on the other side of the counter. Well that was just perfect, the rich asshole was actually standing in front of him. He quickly turned around to shoot Laura a glare through the door and saw her watching him with a far too innocent smile on her face, "Can I help you?" he tried again, turning back at Stiles.

"I really hope so? Um, I'm actually so starving right now it's insane. All I had to eat today was a waffle, that's really unusual for me. I'm pretty sure my average daily calorie intake could break world records. I have a feeling my metabolism is going to slow down one of these days and I will be so fucked, but I guess I'll just take advantage of it for as long as I can," Stiles said as he leaned his elbows against the counter. Derek raised an eyebrow at him, wondering if he was seeing something wrong. There was no way this was the same Stiles he had read about moments ago.

Derek simply pointed to the the the window of food that made up the counter, still trying to decipher what exactly was going on. "There's a bunch of stuff there, but if you want something else we can always make it for you." Stiles nodded and crouched down looking at all of the food in front of him, analyzing them as if his life depended on this one decision.

"Can I get that one, please?" he asked, pointing to a croissant that had chocolate and caramel glazed over it.

Derek nodded and grabbed it with a pair of tongs to place it in a paper bag. He punched it into the computer, "It's ugh, fifteen dolla-"

"Yeah, that's fine," Stiles said, pulling out his wallet. Derek resists the urge to roll his eyes, because of course it's fine. Obviously Stiles would order the most expensive croissant they had and not think twice about it. Derek handed the bag to him as he slid a fifty across the counter. He automatically opened the cash to get out change, but Stiles shook his head. Derek wanted to be pissed at him, almost wanted to give Stiles a punch of his own, but he couldn't bring himself to be anything but confused. He had just gotten a thirty-five dollar tip from whom he had come to the conclusion was the worlds largest ass.

"Don't worry about it," he smiled at Derek, "and thanks!" he added, opening the bag immediately and taking a bite of the croissant. Stiles froze for a second before looking back up at Derek. He quickly finished chewing on the piece he had in his mouth, "Shit!" Derek took in a deep breath, preparing himself for it. This was when his suspicions about Stiles were going to be proved correct.

"This is literally the best thing I have ever tasted in my life," Stiles didn't appear to notice as Derek's expression once again faltered, instead distracted by the task of inhaling the croissant. He bit on his lip for a second in contemplation before putting out his phone.

"What's your number?" Derek gaped at him, being surprised at every single turn of events. Was Stiles... hitting on him? Stiles' eyes widened as he saw Derek's reaction.

"Oh, shit! No, I didn't mean- I just- Well. Ugh. Fuck me. No, I don't mean fuck me, fuck me, I sorry," he took a deep breath, his cheeks somewhat flushed. He ran his left hand through his hair awkwardly before trying again, "My family does this brunch thing every Sunday. Last week Jackson's- Jackson is one of my friends- well his mom freaked out because someone gave her a meat crepe when it was supposed to be vegetarian. It was actually really amusing, she practically whipped her plate at the woman like she was trying to slaughter her and her entire extended family or something. And I so should not be telling you this story because it's probably going to make you afraid of the job which is the complete opposite of what I was hoping for... Anyway, we had to fire them because of it, but we're still supposed to put on brunch this Sunday, and we'll we need new caterers. Which I didn't even ask you if you do catering, I probably should have thought of that. Do you do catering, by the way?" Derek nodded, not really sure what else to say. "Ah! Awesome. So yeah, I was just thinking I could tell my dad about you guys and give you a call if he was interested," Stiles smiled, still holding his phone out.

Derek wasn't about to go and turn down business so he just shrugged and gave Stiles his number.

"Alright," Stiles shoved his phone back into his pocket, "I guess I'll see you around then..." he drifted off and Derek realized that he was asking for his name.

"Oh, Derek. I'm Derek."

"Right then. Derek the badass baker," Stiles said, nodding, "Kinda has a ring to it? I'm Stiles by the way. But I guess that you would kn- Wow okay I'm going to stop talking right now because finishing that sentence would make me a complete dick."

"It's fine, and I know. Thank's for stopping in."

The bell chimed once again as Stiles opened the door and began his walk back down the street. Derek continued to stand at the front counter, watching him leave instead of returning to the back. Right. So that confirmed any remaining suspicions that Derek may have had. There was no doubting that it was Stiles any more. Which just didn't make any sense. His understanding of who the guy was constantly jumped from one extreme to the other. Why did he seem like such a nice guy? Everything that he had read about him had been proved wrong. How the hell did that same polite guy that had been standing in front of him just seconds ago turn into the type of person to punch a bouncer who was just doing his job?

Derek shook his head. Sure, the people who came in often gave him tips and didn't ask for change, but it was never that much. The tip was more than double the cost of the croissant which was already ridiculously overpriced to begin with. Then again, he did have a basically endless supply of money so it wasn't like it meant anything to him. Never though had a customer said please and thank you to him in the past. He can't ever remember getting complimented on the food or actually having a conversation with someone unless it was regarding a complaint they had. Stiles was different. Different than he had assumed, and different than everyone who had come into the deli before him.

Or maybe he was just really good at first impressions.

Derek's phone vibrated in his pocket and he pulled it out, the screen reading that he had one new message. He unlocked his phone and read:

Sooo thanks again for becoming the literal god of baked goods.

(: