Authors Note: HEYO! XD Please tell me what you think, I would love to know XD Please review XD

ALSO Teen Wolf has stopped playing over here in England :'( so we only go up to season 2 – so the last thing I saw was that Jackson became a werewolf – meaning I don't know anything that's happened since D':

JUST SO YOU KNOW: Have no idea what Stiles' real name is, so I'm going along with what everyone else puts :)

Stiles

"You are such an idiot!" Derek growled, pacing in front of the door.

"Hey! Don't blame me!" I protested. "This is your fault too, Sourwolf."

He continued to pace, ignoring me. With a huff, I turned on my heels and walked into the kitchen of my house. It was Derek's fault too that we were both locked in my house. With no heating. Just the two of us. I mean, neither of us knew that a witch was in Beacon Hills. Neither of us knew that the witch would come after us. Neither of us knew that the witch could use a spell to make doors, walls and windows werewolf and tool proof. And it wasn't my fault that Derek couldn't identify the witch, which meant that it wasn't my fault that I didn't know that the witch was the girl that had moved in across the road and had performed the spell while I was talking to her, while doing research and Derek was up in my room because he came to nag me. Now, we had no chance of getting out. The heating had knocked out minutes after that. It was one of the coldest winters Beacon Hills had ever had, and people were having trouble with their heating, calling out for people to fix it for them. Of course, Derek and I couldn't do that. Plus, neither of us could go fix it ourselves, because of the damn spell! So, as you can see, not my fault. Thank God dad was out of town for a week!

I leant against the counter after I entered the kitchen, turning the kettle on to boil some water. Hot chocolate sounded good right now. My mom would always make me hot chocolate, when I was a little kid, when it was cold or I was ill or a holiday. Her hot chocolate was the best I had ever tasted. It was one of the many things I missed about her. Another was the fact that she was the only one who could really put up with me. With my ADHD, with my constant talking, with my excessive energy, with my...everything. She was the only one who looked past all that. Sure, my dad does too, but not like mom used to. I gave a small sad sigh, which was when I heard the pacing footfalls stop. I couldn't have cared any less at that moment, to be honest. When the thought of my mom popped into my head, I could let my mind drift for hours on end. Just thinking about all the things I remembered about her, all the things we did. It got to the point – when I was thirteen – where dad thought I was going to completely abandon reality and just live inside of my head, with 'mom'. He took me to see doctors and everything. But I could see why he was worried.

When the kettle finished boiling, the noise startled me slightly, taking me out of the memories back to reality. I turned, grabbing two mugs from the cupboard. I placed the cocoa in the mugs, adding milk and mixing to form a sort of past, before adding the water. I added whipped cream, extra chocolate and little marshmallows into the mugs. I grabbed the Batman mug – it had been mine for God knows how many years – taking a small sip of the burning fluid, and left the cat mug – a present from a distant cousin from years ago – for Derek. I knew that the Alpha didn't need the drink to keep warm, but it seemed mean leaving him out just because he ran a constant temperature.

I didn't realise Derek had joined me in the kitchen, until he reached for the other mug, cradling it in a hand, close to him.

"Thanks." he muttered, grumpily.

Derek

How could Stiles be so stupid?! He knew we were looking for a witch that had just come to town, so how could he not think to tell us he had a new neighbour?! Idiot! But that was one of the many things that made Stiles...well; it's what made him Stiles. It would be strange if he was any different.

Stiles ended up running around the house, trying to find as many blankets and duvets as he could to keep himself warm. Being a werewolf definitely had its perks. I, on the other hand, decided to just have a look around. Sure, I had been in Stiles house a lot since we met, but I only ever saw his bedroom when I came by to get him to do some research. So I was curious, who wouldn't be? Since I had already seen the kitchen and the hallway, I walked into the living room. It was a simple room, smaller than the one I had back at my home, but it was enough for the two that lived here. The living room consisted of: a sofa, an armchair, a coffee table, a TV, a small bookcase, a small cabinet, a lamp and various pictures. In all, it was very...homey. It was one of the things I missed most about my family. Not only had I lost them and the warm feeling of love, comfort and safety that I used to feel with them, but I had lost my home. My family were my home, and now they were gone. I sighed, sitting down carefully on the edge of one of the seats on the sofa.

The pictures around the room were few, but they were enough. Only three contained a woman – one was the woman and Stiles' father, another was the woman and a baby, and the last was the woman, Stiles' dad and a small boy who I assumed was Stiles. Stiles' mom. The woman had long, straight dark hair and startlingly bright blue eyes. She was slim and quite beautiful, her smile holding a slight mischievous edge to it. The smile was almost an exact copy of Stiles' – not that I knew what his smile looked like, of course...I mean, why would I...oh shut up.

I scanned the room again, this time my gaze landing on a book. It wasn't a normal reading book, though. It looked like a...photo album? It was sitting on the seat of the armchair. Usually, I would be able to just brush it off and ignore the book sitting there. But I couldn't, not this time. So, slowly, I stood up and walked over to the chair in the corner of the room, picking it up carefully before returning to where I was sitting beforehand. The cover of the album was a dark faded red with a simple gold pattern decorating the front. I flipped open the cover, the first page saying:

Genim Alexander Stilinski – August 26th 1995

Genim? Who the hell was Genim? What kind of a name is Genim? I didn't have to wonder who 'Genim' was for too long, though, since, when I flipped the page, it became all too obvious. The first picture was of Stiles' mom holding a small newborn baby – and when I saw small, I mean fucking tiny! – in a hospital bed. The caption underneath the picture of the smiling woman and the sleeping child, simply read:

August 26th 1995, Claudia and Genim – baby's first hug

Ok, so Genim was Stiles. Well, that solved the mystery of what Stiles' actual name was. I continued to flip through the book, many of the pictures staring just Stiles and his mom. A few had Stiles with his dad, or the three of them together, and others even had Stiles and a young Scott. I got to one picture, a short way into the book. This picture was of just Stiles. He was no more than seven years old, wearing a black and yellow Batman t-shirt and denim shorts, his hair the same style as it was now – thick and spiked up, nothing like the buzz cut he used to have. He was sitting on a swing, to the metal handles tight, in the garden gripping behind the house I was currently in, a plaster on his right knee. It looked like the clumsiness had always been with him. His head was bent slightly, as if shying away from the camera, smiling coyly. That didn't seem like the Stiles I knew. The caption read:

August 30th 2002, Genim – after being diagnosed with ADHD hyperactive-impulsive

Huh. Ok. I looked away from the caption and back to the picture itself. I couldn't help but smile slightly. Stiles still looked so much like his seven year old self, while others outgrew how they looked at that age. His ears still stuck out a little, the bags under his eyes were still there but were darker than they were back then. It was so easy to see seventeen year old Stiles in seven year old Stiles.

Stiles

Ok, so I had every duvet and blanket from my room, plus I had on two jumpers – my purple one, with my red one over the top. I should be enough. If not then I could always ambush my dad's room. I dragged the blankets downstairs, parts of them trailing behind me. Derek was probably sulking like he always was, staring out of a window and glaring at anything he saw. Typical. Trust me to develop a puppy crush on the Alpha.

When I reached the living room, I chucked everything I was holding onto the sofa, creating a little nest. It looked so warm, and I was freezing! Not lying here. It was then I started frowning. Something wasn't right. I glanced over to my dad's armchair and saw it was missing. How could a book go missing?! I started to panic. I straightened up and turned on my heels so fast, I nearly fell backwards. Then I saw it. Derek was indeed standing by the window. The photo album, that earlier was placed on my dad's armchair, held in his hands as he stared at it intently. Something started to bubble up inside of me, but I couldn't name it. Not right now.

"What the hell, Derek?!" I yelled.

I was amazed how I actually startled the Alpha, making him jump and spin round to face me. He calmed down once he saw it was me, but he didn't glare or threaten me. Derek simply looked from the photo album and back to me. I walked over to him without really realising what I was doing. I instantly grabbed the book out of his hands and slammed it shut, holding it protectively against my chest. I hadn't realised how loud the sound was in the silent house, until I saw the Alpha flinch, a look of pain flicking briefly across his face.

"This is private, dude!" I exclaimed, not bothering to keep my voice down. "You don't see me going through your stuff, do you? No! I can't believe you even looked at this! Fuck sake!"

"It's only pictures, Stiles." Derek replied, calmly.

"ONLY PICTURES! I THOUGHT YOU, OF ALL PEOPLE, WOULD UNDERSTAND, DEREK!" I screeched, seeing him flinch again. "Obviously I was wrong."

With that, I turned around and stormed out of my own living room. Once I was sure Derek wouldn't be able to see me, I sprinted towards and up the stairs, racing down the hall to the guest room, slamming the door shut and throwing myself onto the bed, where I curled up around the book that I was still holding tightly.

I didn't realise I had started crying until small broken noises ended up slipping from my mouth, my chest tightening and making it harder to breath. I gasped in chocked breathes, as tears flowed freely down my face. It was times like these when I really wanted and needed my mom. Needed to see her face. Hear her laugh. Hear her voice. Just...her. Life was cruel and it sucked, something I was way too familiar with. Just once, I wished something would go right.

Derek

Well, that was unexpected. Stiles had never gotten like that over anything before. But then, considering the pictures and the words written in the book, he never really had to before. 'I thought you, of all people, would understand', that was what he had said, well yelled. I did understand, and I hated myself for saying that they were only pictures. I didn't mean to say it, it was just a reflex. If I was being honest, I hid behind my anger, using it as a barrier between myself and others. I used it whenever I got close to anyone, which was why Stiles was normally on the receiving end. He was the only one out of the entire pack who actually got close enough to me to try and get me to open up, but I pushed him away with my anger before he got a chance. But now it had gone too far and I had upset him to the point where he was crying his heart out. I hadn't felt so guilty since the fire, or Laura's death. I had to fix it, but I couldn't go just yet. I had to let him cool down; otherwise he could hurt himself while he tried to hurt me. But seeing – correction, hearing – him like this was hurting me enough. He didn't need to do anything more than this.

I slumped to the floor, resting my back against the wall, my elbows resting on my knees. Burying my head in my hands, I growled quietly, mentally berating myself. I was such an idiot. My mom, if she was here, probably wouldn't hesitate to grab a spray bottle filled with water and squirt it in my face while saying 'no'. She used to do that to my dad. And to my uncle Peter. It was one of the funniest things to witness whilst growing up, and my sisters and I would always try to get the two in trouble on purpose. She would threaten the three of us with it too, but she never meant it. She loved us too much. I missed her.

So, of course Stiles would say that he thought I would understand. I knew what it was like to lose my mother. Knew what it was like to never see them again, especially when you needed them the most. People were always saying how every boy needs their dad, but they needed their mom too, just as much. Mom's were there to comfort their kids when things got bad, to tell them that the monsters in their closet or under the bed weren't real when they actually were, to do all the things most dad's found hard to do. Stiles knew that I knew this, and I knew I knew this, yet I acted like a complete jackass, a complete...well, a complete Sourwolf.

I had to fix this.

Stiles

I had no idea how long I had been sobbing in the guest room, and I had no idea when I had wriggled underneath the covers on the bed, but I had and my eyes and throat were sore. I sniffled pathetically, wiping at my red watery eyes with the back of my right hand. My breathing had evened out at some point and the noises that were slipping out of my mouth had stopped. Now, there was only silence, the distant sound of wind outside creating a high pitched noise as it rattled the windows slightly. Shivering, I buried myself further under the covers and pushing myself further into the mattress. As I curled in on myself more, I felt the edges of the book dig into me, the pain becoming unbearable as I left it. Soon, I couldn't take it anymore. I relaxed my grip, pulling the album away from me slightly to open it. The first thing I saw was my name – my full, real name – on the page, along with my birthday. I was about to turn the page when I heard a small soft knock at the door.

"Leave me alone, Derek." I replied, my voice raspy, tone dry.

But he didn't leave. He did the exact opposite and opened the door, stepping inside, before shutting the door gently. I didn't look over my shoulder though, I just glared at the wall in front of me, my eyes glancing down at the album sometimes and my gaze softening when I did.

"Here." Derek said.

There was no trace of annoyance or anger in his voice. In fact, the tone he was using was completely alien to me when it came to Derek. Curiously, I looked over myself shoulder. The Alpha held out a glass to me, no glare or anything. Slowly, I sat up, clutching to book to my chest again. Crossing my legs under the covers, I gingerly took the glass from Derek and took a sip from the water it contained. I didn't say anything to him as I drank, or when I put the empty glass into the table beside the bed. The table was a bit of a stretch away, since I was sitting so close to the wall, and the glass slipped off of the edge. But Derek caught it before it had a chance to fall too far, replacing it carefully on the flat surface.

"Thanks." I mumbled, staring intently at the duvet covers.

I sat back against the headboard and pillows, still clutching the book protectively. I didn't know when Derek started to move, but all of a sudden I felt the bed dip slightly and in my peripheral vision I saw Derek sitting next to me, back against the headboard and pillows like me, legs extended in front of him, crossed at the ankles. I shifted a little.

"Did you want something?" I asked, coldly.

Derek sighed.

"Look, Stiles." Derek told me, softly, in the same tone he had used earlier. "I'm sorry. I don't know why I said...it, but I didn't mean to. I didn't want to. Yes, I understand why you wouldn't want anyone looking through it, trust me I do. I reacted the same way when another wolf in New York, a small while before Laura came back here, found a few pictures of my family and was looking through them. If Laura hadn't been there, I would have ripped the little shit apart."

"Then why did you?" I whispered, my throat starting to burn again.

"Reflex. If someone starts to get close to me..."

"You make them pissed off at you?"

"Yeah..."

Derek sounded so awkward at this moment and, glancing to the side, I saw he looked the same. But there was sincerity in the way he spoke and looked. I knew the quirks everyone in the pack had when they were: lying, nervous, angry, upset, excited, etc. And Derek was picking at his jeans and biting his lip – his nervous quirk –, but he wasn't picking at his nails like he did when he was lying.

"I didn't...want to upset you, Stiles. I don't want to." Derek continued, quietly. "I actually...uh...quite like you, Stiles. And not just because your pack or as a friend."

That made me look at him properly, my head snapping up. My jaw locked, and my eyes twitched once, setting into a glare.

"Fuck off, Sourwolf." I spat, scrambling off of the bed with the album still in my hand.

Once I found my feet again, I stormed out of the spare room and across the hall to my own. I gently place the, now closed, album onto my desk by my computer, before stepping into the adjoined bathroom to chuck water on my face.

After scrubbing my face with a dry towel, I wandered back into my bedroom, only to find Derek standing in the middle of it.

"Look, I don't know who told you, though it was probably Scott, but do you really have to do that? Do this?" I asked, anger starting to build again. "Just leave me alone and don't joke about this. It's bad enough that..."

I didn't get to finish, since I was suddenly cut off by Derek's lips on mine and his arms wrapped tightly around my waist. Startled, I had no idea what to do. I just stood there, frozen in place, eyes wide. Derek's lips were soft yet rough, I don' know how it was possible, but they were. Even though I wasn't responding, that didn't make Derek stop what he was doing. After a few moments of standing there doing nothing, my eyes closed and I pushed forward with a small amount of pressure, my arms rising to wrap around his neck, my right hand fisting his hair. I could feel the small smile that was forming on Derek's lips as he dragged me closer. The surprise of it made me stumble and take in a quick breath, my mouth opening slightly as the air escaped. Derek took the chance to press his tongue through the gap and past my teeth, lightly brushing against my own. I didn't realise my eyes had closed until I started to lean into the Alpha, as we continued to – as one of my cousins would say – suck faces. It was dizzying thinking that I was kissing Derek Hale... But then again, that could have been the lack of oxygen.

As if he read my mind, Derek pulled back slightly, resting his forehead on mine, waiting for my eyes to open before speaking.

"I wouldn't joke about this, Stiles." Derek told me, calmly, softly.

The small smile was still there, and there was no sign of him picking at his nails. He was telling the truth. I could feel the heat rise to my cheeks as he continued to stare at me, still smiling. I knew that if I didn't do something, quick, that I would start talking, and that would not be helpful right now. So I leant forward and pressed my lips back to his

Derek

This wasn't going how I expected it to, but it was going in an alright direction. Sure, didn't really expect Stiles to tell me to 'fuck off' after telling him – while vaguely – that what I felt for him wasn't platonic, and I didn't expect him to say that he though Scott told me how he felt or that I was joking about this, but the result was worth it. I mean, seeing the hyperactive teen so quiet and staying still long was a miracle in itself, but being able to kiss him was an added extra.

I don't know when, but at some point we ended up on Stiles' bed. I was hovering over the mouthy teen, mouth still attached to his. I could feel how cold he was, even though he had a few layers of clothing on, but that was disappearing with the help of my own body temperature. Being a werewolf had many perks. Stiles' right hand was still buried in my hair, which, secretly, I liked... Yeah, I know, I'm too much like a dog, but I was born a werewolf and werewolves are related to dogs! After a few more moments, I pulled back, resting my head against Stiles' again, both of us breathing heavily.

"We... We should stop." I breathed out.

"Wha...why?" Stiles asked, panting, frowning a little.

"You're seventeen, Stiles. And your dad is the Sheriff."

"And what he doesn't know won't hurt him."

"Stiles..."

Stiles just placed his lips back to mine and bucked his hips up. So, it was completely not my fault that I saw red and ended up throwing caution to the wind, forgetting that moments ago I was protesting to where this was going to lead. He wanted it, I wanted it, no one was here. Stiles' dad definitely wouldn't find out.

Clothes started to be peeled off one by one. I was the first one to start stripping, since I didn't really want Stiles to freeze to death. But once I was down to my boxers, I started on him. Slowly, I took off both of the hoodies and the t-shirt Stiles was wearing all in one, not being patient enough to take them off one by one. He should just be glad that I didn't rip them all in half. Stiles shivered manically until I pressed my chest to his, attempting to heat him up. I didn't go any further until I was sure he was warm enough for me to move. Once I knew, I started to, slowly, kiss and bite my way down his: jaw, neck, shoulder and chest, until I reached the top of his jeans.

"You sure about this?" I asked, voice low.

Stiles nodded his head viciously, a small sound escaping his reddened lips as his eyes became half lidded. Smirking to myself, I set about ridding the teen of his jeans and boxers, leaving him fully exposed to the cold air – and me. Once there was nothing else left in my way, I shifted back on the bed slightly, before leaning down. Stiles' eyes widened, and I could see that his pupils were blown wide. I didn't even need to see his eyes to know he was aroused, the scent he was giving off and his stiff cock evidence enough. Chuckling quietly, I bent my head further forwards, licking the tip of his swollen dick. The moan that I received from it just encouraged me to carry on, taking the whole thing into my mouth in one go. The startles choke made me chuckle again, the vibrations causing him to moan again. This was going to be better than I thought. Not wasting any more time, I bobbed my head up and down slowly, my hands pushing Stile's hips down in the mattress.

"Come on, Sourwolf." Stiles groaned, trying to raise his hips, as both his hands gripped my hair tightly. "Do it like you mean it."

Who was I deny something like that. Keeping the same technique, I quickened the pace, humming when Stiles hit the back of my throat. It was only moments later that he was crying out his release, back arching and eyes clenching shut. As he started coming down from the high, I swallowed what was left in my mouth and moved higher. I returned my lips and teeth to his neck, not biting enough to turn him, but enough to mark him.

"Fuck, Sourwolf." Stiles gasped out, still cling desperately.

"That's the idea." I smirked against his neck.

"Well, hurry up then."

I didn't realise that Stiles had moved an arm until he was pressing something into my chest. Taking the object, I found that it was a bottle of lube. Grinning up at the teen, I raised an eyebrow, making a deep red colour spread across his cheeks and down his neck, looking a little shy. I kissed him again as I opened the bottle.

Seconds later, I had slicked my fingers and was sliding said fingers in and out of Stiles' hole one by one. He was fine until the second one, so I took it slower. Tears gathered at the corners of his eyes.

"Just try to relax." I told him, kissing him gently. "It won't hurt for long."

Soon, Stiles had relaxed and he had gotten used to three fingers. It was quite evident that he had gotten used to them by the way he was pushing back into them. So, after a few more minutes, just so I could see him beg and moan, when he had gotten close enough to the edge to be riding in pre-orgasm bliss again, I pulled my fingers out. Stiles gave me a very hot, very horny, very bothered look. I had to – literally – restrain myself from just attacking him.

"Why did you stop?" he asked, sounding very petulant.

I grinned, laughing lightly – which I hadn't done in years –, near enough ripping off my boxers. After using the lube on myself, and chucking the bottle away, I started to replace my cock where my fingers had just been, pushing in slowly. I could smell the pain and arousal that were seeping off of him, the latter the strongest. To take his mind off of the discomfort, I wrapped my hand around Stiles in my hand and started to stroke him as we both waited, kissing him again.

"Just try to relax." I breathed against his lips.

Fuck it was hard to talk...he was fucking tight! After a moment, Stiles pushed back, moaning slightly – my wolf seemed to love that sound, and so did I. Seeing no pain evident on his face. I slowly began thrusting in. I thrusted in and out, slowly at first, but couldn't keep that up for long. Stiles seemed fine with this arrangement, so that's what I stayed with. His walls clamped tight around my cock as I pumped in and out.

Finally, Stiles came, bringing me with him a few seconds after. My arms shaking, I pulled out – leaving Stiles to whimper a little –, collapsing on my side and stretching out next to Stiles, as he moved closer. I wrapped an arm around him as he rested his head on my chest and, without moving too much, I brought the bed covers around the pair of us, adding more warmth to the human teen.

"Believe me now?" I chuckled, breathlessly.

Stiles nodded, not saying a word.

"You ok?" I asked.

Another nod.

"Tired?" I inquired.

A yawn and a sleepy 'love you, Sourwolf' was all the answer I got before Stile's breathing evened out. Smiling, I placed a kiss to the top of his head.

"Love you too, Genim." I chuckled, before falling asleep myself.

And the rest, as they say, was history. Sweet, sweet, history.

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