A/N - Thank you all for sticking with me. : )

Stiles had misread countless situations over the course of his life. He made a habit of regularly overreacting to situations that really didn't need overreacting. He made it his goal to read so far into things that sometimes the big picture was completely lost.

Yes, Stiles' track record showed that whenever he thought something or suspected something, it probably wasn't so.

Stiles could think of eight different times that had led him to believe that him and Derek had something. That something could only be defined by venturing, and Stiles was fairly sure he was ready to do the exploring.

As his father had always said - once is an incident. Twice was a coincidence. And three times was a pattern.

So what did that make eight times? Yes, looking back, Stiles could see a definite pattern. Stiles Stilinski and Derek Hale totally had something.

And he'd be damned before he didn't try to figure out exactly what it was they had.

The First Time

"Lydia, I don't want you kissing him."

"Oh shut the hell up Jackson," Allison chimed, hands all over Scott's knee and eyes blown wide. "It's not like either of them are going to remember this in the morning! And if you actually have that little faith in your girlfriend, maybe you two really shouldn't be together!"

The group cheered. Scott had a stupid ass grin on his face that clearly stated my girlfriend is the shit and her logic is law and wow that hand on my knee is getting me HOT; to which absolutely nobody paid any attention to.

Erika and Boyd were practically fucking each other with their eyes. Erika had just landed on Boyd, successfully giving him the make out session of the night, and apparently lighting both of their sexual fires at the same time.

Stiles briefly wondered if it actually hurt to be bit like that in a place way down there, but he concluded that some thing's really weren't worth pondering over.

Issac was in total la la land. Like, eyes glazed over and rolling around his head with a smirk and slight bit of drool coming out la la land. Stiles suppressed a giggle. Isaac had just kissed Lydia, and he was pretty sure he'd just found out whom Isaac was crushing on.

Than again, Isaac's been in la la land since his turn with Scott, a round that had left everybody confused and two boys looking thoroughly pleased. Stiles was going to chalk it up to the (let's face it – deadly levels of) alcohol they had consumed. Cause if it wasn't the alcohol? Yeah, Stiles wasn't sure he wanted to have the oh-my-god-my-friends-are-queer-for-each-other freak-out.

Then again, Stiles doubted he needed to have any kind of freak-out. He was not going to remember any of this come the morning. Stiles could hold his liquor about as well as a bottle with a hole in it could. And given the parade of beer cans, wine bottles, margehritta mixes, and stains of tequila that filled the basement, Stiles was (for all intensive purposes) totally gone.

Well, totally gone pretty much described all of them, so Stiles couldn't feel that bad about it.

"And that's how it goes," Erika howled, "you spin, you land, you make the fuck out!"

Cat calls and cheers followed, though they were mostly dominated and led by Boyd.

Stiles knew what was going on. Mostly. He knew he was about to kiss Lydia. He was excited for that. But he had just finished kissing Erika, and he also liked that. Than again, he was surprised when he enjoyed kissing Scott and Jackson too.

He was pretty sure he was a little trashed right now. And a little horny.

"Rules are rules Lydia, get your pretty ass over here." Stiles was impressed with himself. That was pretty manly and dominating, which he'd hoped was a turn on.

What the group actually heard, though, was; "Ralees are Roolers Lids, get yours perrif ace heer!"

Which, whatever, Lydia started crawling forward so clearly the message still found it's way through the language barrier Stiles had going for him.

And then her lips were on his. And his back hit the floor. And she was on top of her. And his head was swimming. And he's pretty sure he heard Jackson growling. And he's pretty sure he heard a lot of whopping. And he's pretty sure Lydia whispered something in his ear. And he's pretty sure he just thought of a lot of sentences that started with and. And his head wasn't just swimming; it was practically doing the iron man.

And then Lydia was off of him. Stiles didn't sit up. It was comfortable. Maybe he'd pass out now. That might be nice. He actually was pretty tired.

The group pressed on with their game. He heard the signs of protest, some sloppy kissing, some girl on girl action and some boy on boy action. He groggily looked up when it was his turn. He wondered when Boyd and Erika had moved across the room onto the couch. He wondered why they thought it was appropriate to dry hump each other in front of everybody.

Stiles shrugged, decided he didn't care, and spun the bottle. Everybody booed when it landed in the middle of two spots, the currently vacated one's that Erika and Boyd had left.

"Well that's no fun," Stiles protested.

He was about to grab the bottle when a distraction came in the form of one Derek Hale. Whoops. Busted.

The tall, dark, handsome, mysterious, painfully tragic and illegally beautiful (what the fuck was running through Stiles' mind?!) alpha appeared at the doorway.

"Well…this is perfectly responsible of all of you."

Stiles was pretty sure that Derek was the most condescending person he'd ever met. And the guy was totally judging. But that was kind of understandable, seeing as they were all having fun and fun had obviously burned Derek's house down or done something equally as bad to get the two of them to be archenemies.

Oh. Wait. That kind of did happen. Stiles was suddenly very sympathetic toward Derek and mad at himself for participating in the evil fun.

A small part of him, the very small sober part of him that hid behind a waterfall of alcohol, regretted the fun-burned-Derek's-house-down train of thought.

"Derek!" Jackson piped up, bringing Stiles back to the real world. The new werewolf looked antsy, probably because he was the most to blame. The party was in his basement and most of this was his parents' unused and forgotten liquor.

"I was going to invite you, but you know...shit Lydia that feels good!"

And within seconds Jackson had Lydia pinned to the floor.

Derek's eyes widened. He looked pissed. No, he looked downright homicidal. He crossed the room and growled at all of them.

"Do you even know how much you've had to have drunk to get so fucking wasted?" Derek snapped, bending down and pulling Jackson off of Lydia. It was probably more for Lydia's safety, but Derek still infused a lot of anger in the act of throwing Jackson off; maintaining the mood-killing-mood Derek had going for them all.

"Derek, we were just," Scott began, because he's probably second at fault as Derek had pretty much made him second in command.

Derek's face shut him up.

And that's when Stiles realized where it was Derek was standing. He quickly fumbled into a standing position, started toward Derek, and proceeded to fall forward.

Derek caught him with ease. The growl and the look of anger told Stiles how thankful he should be that he digested about a gallon of liquid courage before attempting this.

"You're going to kiss me know."

"The fuck?" Derek growled, attempting to push Stiles away, but Stiles was Jelly and everybody knows that that's a werewolf's kryptonite.

"I spun the bottle and it landed on you. I'm sure you've played, kiss me." Stiles attempted to connect their mouths; Derek sidestepped.

"I'm not playing your stupid game."

"Jesus Derek, stop being a pussy and kiss him! You have as much fun as a rabbit does."

And okay, Scott, Stiles had thought, that made about as much sense as...nothing, Stiles had nothing to compare it too. How the hell did Scott now how much fun a rabbit had?

So not the point though. Main idea: Scott was helping Stiles achieve what he wanted, so Stiles had to agree.

"Yeah, don't be a rabbit you dumb rabbit!"

Stiles briefly wondered what the hell took over all of their minds. He didn't care. He thought he could see Derek's resolve weakening. Then again, he was pretty sure he saw a feathered Kanima in the corner of the room so he wasn't exactly sure if his senses could be trusted that much.

"Stiles. Get off."

"Correction, Stiles, get on!" Erika cheered. Oh yeah. Everybody had forgotten about the two of them.

"Unlike you, Erika, I am not a raging hormonal teenager that needs sexual contact to feel satisfied."

"Derek," Stiles murmured. He could feel the alpha tense. It was the most needy and breathless sounding Stiles had ever sounded. And yes, he had totally done it on purpose.

"Please…"

Derek growled, turned his eyes on Stiles, and quickly pressed their lips together.

But that was it. Stiles didn't even really realize what was happening before it was over. It was a soft pressure and than absolutely nothing. He pouted.

"What the hell was that?" Stiles asked, hands going around Derek's neck. His voice lost all breathlessness and insecurity. Drunk Stiles wanted his damn kiss and drunk Stiles was going to get it now.

"I'm not playing your games. I gave you a fucking kiss and that's exactly what you asked for. Now get off of me so I can beat Jackson the fuck up."

They both heard a whimper. No one paid Jackson any attention.

"No, that's not the game," Stiles drunkenly chastised. "What you gave me was a peck. Look around you. You see Erika and Boyd on the couch? You see Jackson and Lydia on the floor? I want you to kiss me like you're going to put your dick in me."

Oh. Stiles knew he was going to regret saying that in the morning. But he kind of liked being so lose and...slutty, and if anything, the look on Derek's face was so worth it.

But then his back hit the wall. And he had a wall of muscle pressed straight into his body and the hottest mouth ever pushing against his. He moaned. He couldn't help himself.

Stiles hand's slid up to Derek's hair, knotting in them and pulling him down more into his mouth. Derek's hands gripped Stiles sides, holding him steady and holy shit was he rocking him against the wall?

Stiles really did moan. "De-rek."

And he had been wrong before. That was the most needy and breathless his voice had ever sounded.

Derek growled. But it wasn't the usual warning growl Stiles had gotten used to. It was a this-is-mine-and-everybody-else-needs-to-back-the- fuck-off growl. That or I'm-really-enjoying-this growl. Stiles was okay with either option.

"This good?" Derek growled (yes, that same growl they just covered) as he hiked Stiles thigh up in his hand and pushing his groin more against Stiles'.

Then retreating.

Then pushing against him again.

Holy shit Stiles didn't know when a simple spin the bottle kiss had turned into a grind fest against the wall, but he absolutely loved it.

He was trying to say yes when he felt everything leave him. He opened his eyes and Derek was standing a few feet away, wiping at his mouth and blinking his eyes rapidly. They were red. His lips were swollen. Stiles touched his own, realizing his must look the same.

"Are you happy now? Fucking stupid ass game." Derek turned without another word, marching over to the stereo system and turning it off.

"For those who aren't already passed out...pass the fuck out. The parties over."

Stiles watched as he started picking up empty bottles and red solo cups from the floor, picking up a trash bag and using it to pretty much clean the basement.

Oh my god, he's amazing at kissing and he cleans up our messes. Why have I not realized what a fucking catch Derek fucking Hale was before?

Stiles watched him as he returned the basement to its prior- pre werewolf party condition. Well, he more stared at him. He was transfixed. He wanted that mouth, that body, again.

"Derek," he began. He had to stop because his throat all of a sudden hurt and he started coughing like crazy because of it.

"You're the most wasted, Stiles. How could you be the last to pass out?"

"Want you. Please. More."

"You don't want me Stiles. We both know that's the alcohol talking. Go to sleep."

Stiles really wanted to protest. Wanted to get the no his head was screaming out of his mouth. But, alas, he couldn't. Nobody wasted ever decides when he or she passes out. Stiles totally would not have chosen this moment too if he had had even an ounce of control.

It had made for a brutal morning. No, a brutal day. The werewolves (fuck them) had been fine. They woke up completely sober. Allison, Lydia, and Stiles weren't so lucky.

There was an upside to being a human though. Whereas alcohol totally corrupts a human's memory, it erases a werewolves'. Stiles was pretty sure he was the only one to recall the final kiss of the night.

He had kissed Derek Hale. He had totally forgotten what the actual kiss had felt like or consisted of, but fact was fact.

Derek Hale had kissed him, and Stiles was fairly sure he had said something about Derek's dick to get him to do it.

Every time Stiles had thought about it, his headache increased tenfold.

The first time Stiles saw Derek after that night was three days later. It was for a training session. Stiles was so god damn embarrassed and nervous.

But Derek was his normal self. He made absolutely no mention of anything that happened, and he was fairly sure the alpha had convinced himself that Stiles didn't remember anything and that he only did it because he was a stupid drunk teenager.

So Stiles let it slide.

This made him very grateful, actually, as he had sort of been lying to himself earlier. He did remember three things about the kiss. There had definitely been tongue, there had definitely been a wall, and there had definitely been some grinding.

So when Derek had shoved him against the wall a few training practices later and threatened to rip his legs off if he didn't take their training more seriously, he rejoiced.

He could definitely play the I-don't-remember-anything-because-I'm-such-a-slutt y-drunk role.

Just forget, right? He was drunk. He hadn't had control.

Once. Once was just an incident. That was all it was. That was all it had to be.

He was so wrong.

A/N - Thanks for reading! Please review if you have time. Second time's main plot is...drumroll...at a rock concert! Evil thugs get angry at Stiles. Who's there to save him? I think you all know. WHO'S EXCITED!?