Stiles unpacked the first box and sighed, looking around at his empty apartment. After the mania of graduating from Beacon Hills High School, the stillness was starting to get to him. Not that it was silent…Manhattan was anything but silent. Sirens were constantly wailing, people on the street were yelling, shouting, laughing or cursing at all hours. The neighborhood was in the process of urban renewal from a distinctly shady history. Neighborhood watch fliers hung everywhere, and one had even been slipped under his door two seconds after he shut it after himself. The apartment was reasonably priced, though the security and deposit ate up most of his savings. He flatly refused to allow his father to give him any money, and the Sheriff flatly refused to let Stiles sell his beloved Jeep which was now sitting in the Stilinski garage for the foreseeable future. His new job began on Monday at the Urban Gazette, a little paper that was mostly advertisements as well as some community news, weather and celebrity gossip. Stiles had been put in charge of two columns; one was an advice column while the other would include any human interest stories Stiles felt like writing about.

'The Empty Apartment' could be the first one he wrote…if his Mac weren't still in the boxes. Stiles sighed and got back to work.

Later, he sat out on his sixth floor fire escape with a box of Cheezits (his dinner until the first paycheck cleared) with a lovely can of warm RC Cola (his fridge had the cooling powers of a giant paperweight). The full moon rode high in the sky, working together with the light pollution to obliterate even the brightest stars. His trusty binoculars were of no help finding them either. Back in Beacon Hills, especially in the Preserve away from town proper, the night sky was packed with pinpoints of light. The lack only served to accentuate his loneliness…it was a reminder about how far away he was from everything he knew.

Some movement drew his attention.

The building was a huge square (much like Stiles, Lydia would have said) with an open courtyard in the middle. In one of the apartment windows across the way, he could see a man bursting through his door and frantically locking it behind him. To Stiles' amazement, the man tore his clothes off his ridiculously muscled body. Feeling only slightly ashamed, Stiles picked up his binoculars to get a better peek.

The man moved a tall book case away from the wall to reveal a hole in the drywall and exposing the bricks beneath. Three manacle clamps were fixed at shoulder height, the larger middle set slightly higher than the others. As Stiles watched with fascination, the man put his back against the wall and fit his neck into the large clamp. His wrists went into the two smaller ones. Stiles swept the binoculars down the sculpted body slowly, drawn against his will to the man's shockingly large equipment before noticing that there were ankle clamps as well. The man punched in a code into a keypad in the wall just within reach of his fingers, and all of the clamps snicked shut. He breathed a great sigh of relief then.

Was this some kind of bizarre solo S & M thing? His father was right; there were all types in New York.

Stiles gave the man's perfect body the once-over a final time before sighing regretfully. Too bad he was a freak, Stiles might have taken a chance and asked him out to dinner.

He made to climb back in through his window when his eye was caught yet again. He stared into the window, his mouth open in shock. No, that could not be happening…

He snatched up the binoculars and gave a short scream.

The man had turned into a monster. Worse yet, when Stiles shouted, the man's bestial face snapped toward the sound and eyes that bled crimson light focused on him. The beast strained against the manacles, jaws snapping and snarling in vain. It sniffed wildly as if trying to catch Stiles' scent. Stiles screamed again and bolted into his own window before pulling the iron grating closed and locking it after. He slammed the window down and fled to his front door to make sure all 6 locks were secured and then barricaded himself into his bedroom.

Why did he ever refuse his father's offer to get him a gun for protection? What the hell was that thing?

His mind supplied a word he'd had almost no occasion to use throughout the course of his rather boring and uneventful life, and he didn't need the moonlight pouring into the bedroom to confirm it.

He was living in the same apartment building as a freaking werewolf.

He didn't have many options. The police would never believe him, even if he could get them to the guy's apartment, and he might be putting their lives in danger if he did. Stiles had been kept awake countless nights wondering if his father would be killed in the line of duty, and he had no desire to put another kid's dad in danger. Besides…if the guy was locking himself up, it meant he didn't want to hurt anybody, right? The big question was what would he do with Stiles once he turned human again? How would he feel about someone knowing his secret? He might feel obligated to silence him, a feat that his friends, teachers and father had so far failed to achieve. He knew without doubt the man would be coming for him in the morning. He would easily be able to work out which apartment was his and come pounding at his door. Stiles could always leave, but the guy would likely be able to track him like a bloodhound. It was time to do some Internet research.

Four hours later, Stiles was an authority on lycanthropy. He spent some additional time locating any shops that might be open and that would have what he needed. This being New York, he found an all-night shop that sold 'a variety of mystic wares for the modern practitioner of Wicca' and called to ask if they had what he needed. They did, and even offered delivery services as well. An hour later there was a knock on the door and Stiles reached through the gap allowed by the chain to snatch a package from a sleepy looking Goth girl in the hall. Stiles threw some bills at her and slammed the door shut, barely hearing her shout of 'Blessed Be!' as she collected her money and walked away.

Stiles opened the bottle of Mountain Ash and circled the perimeter of his apartment with it. If what the research said was true, this would keep out any unwanted furry visitors. Only when the task was done would Stiles pull off his clothes and allow himself to fall into an exhausted sleep on his bed. Predictably, he dreamt of being chased through the forest by snarling naked men though if the Sandman intended this as a nightmare, it was having the opposite effect. Stiles woke up spot-welded to his sheets and pulled free with an annoyed yip. He jumped in the shower and washed as quickly as possible when there was another knock on his door. He rinsed off and wrapped a towel around his waist before peeping though the eyepiece. No one was in the hall. Stiles unlocked and opened the door and peeked carefully up and down the hall. No one was there. Puzzled, he closed and locked the door and tossed his towel to the floor. He walked into his bedroom to find something clean to wear. He glanced at the window and shrieked. The guy from last night, now dressed in jeans and a leather jacket, was staring in at him. He had taped a note to the window. It read 'How do YOU like it?' in huge letters. Below, written in in smaller letters was a request to meet at the local Starbucks at noon as well as a phone number. The guy smirked at him and then vanished from the fire escape. Stiles took his clothes and ran into the bathroom to get dressed. When he was done, he went to the window and noticed a sticky note that was not there before.

It read: 'By the way…I'm impressed.'

{}{}{}{}

Stiles got no work done that morning at the paper. He just kept staring at the note in his hands and wondering what to do about it. The guy seemed harmless enough, in human form anyway. Besides, it would be a public place and the opportunity of a lifetime for the journalist in him.

12 O'clock found him sitting at the Starbucks, fretting nervously at the fact that he was about to meet a werewolf for the very first time. When the guy walked in, Stiles was already blitzing from drinking three high octane coffees in a row. The guy flowed into the booth across from him, causing Stiles to yelp. Several customers gave him amused glances.

The guy gave him a sharklike grin with his perfect teeth. Hazel eyes under thick eyebrows regarded him amusedly.

"I'm Derek Hale," he said, as if that explained everything.

"S-s-Stiles, Stiles Stilinski."

The dark eyebrows drew together. "Is that really a name?"

"I don't know, are you really a werewolf?"

The eyebrows shot up.

"A little louder there, Stiles. I don't think that hot dog vendor across the street heard you."

Stiles flushed. "Sorry, kneejerk reaction when people goof on my name."

"I wasn't making fun, I'd just never heard it before."

Stiles had no answer, so they spent a few minutes just staring at each other. Derek turned his head and ordered a coffee from the attendant.

"Did you tell anyone?" Derek asked conversationally.

"No. But don't think that means you can disappear me without consequences. My father's a Sheriff." Ha! Let's see what he thinks of that! The fact that said Sheriff was on the other side of the country was a factoid Derek didn't need to know.

"Disappear you? Why would I want to do that?"

Stiles shrugged. "Because I know what you are…your secret identity or whatever."

"I change exactly once a month against my will…and even that will stop once I find a good anchor. The last time I changed on purpose was to stop someone from mugging me. It's not exactly the biggest part of who I am."

Stiles snorted at the words 'biggest part'.

Derek rolled his eyes. "Are we 12 years old, little Stiles?"

Stiles puffed out his chest. "I'm not little!"

"No, you aren't…I noticed that this morning."

"Now who's 12 years old?"

"Ok, now that we've established that we're both well-equipped, what are we going to do about this?"

The attendant, who had just brought Derek's coffee over, snickered and walked away while Stiles gaped. "I don't even know you! I'm not that easy!"

Now it was Derek's turn to gape. "I meant about my secret."

"Oh…well, as long as you don't try to hurt me or anything, I guess I won't tell anyone."

Derek seemed to be listening intently to something. "Okay, I believe you. I won't try to hurt you. But why were you spying on me?"

"Er…well I didn't mean to. I was out on the fire escape because I'm new here and was feeling pretty…well…isolated," Stiles didn't want to say 'alone'. "I just needed to feel like I was around people. It's different here. There are no stars, not like at home. That's what the binoculars were for…but I couldn't even see any stars…just the moon. Well that's what I was doing when I saw you come into your apartment and rip your clothes off and chain yourself to a wall. Sorry, don't think there are many who wouldn't find that…interesting."

"Yeah…guess it was my fault. The train was stopped on my way home from work. I usually get back well in time on my bad nights and make sure all the curtains are closed…but that night I cut it really close. Did it…scare you?" Derek looked away. His face lost its confident look, leaving him with a tired and defeated expression.

"Yeah, it did. I even surrounded my apartment with Mountain Ash to keep you out."

Derek winced. "I felt it. You're an amazing guy…the Ash does nothing without a Spark in the user…but there was no way I could break through your barrier. Not that I would have tried or anything…how did you know about that? You a werewolf expert or something?"

"Nah, googled it. Didn't know about the Spark thing though."

"Goddamned Internet…" Derek muttered. "Well, would you at least let me make it up to you for scaring the crap out of you? Coffee's on me. I have to run, let me know by noon tomorrow if you want to meet up." Derek stood up and tossed some bills on the table and walked out. Stiles stared after him before looking down at his cold coffee. A rapping at the window behind him made him shriek. Stiles turned to see Derek running off and a sticky pasted to the window: 'Two for flinching!'

Stiles was so distracted at work that his editor, Brynn Westlake had to snap her fingers in front of his eyes to get his attention. When he looked up and saw his fiery-haired (and fiery-eyed) boss, he yelped and fell out of his chair. This made her smile; she enjoyed having that effect on people, especially men.

"I want the advice column on my desk in half an hour. I want to make sure you're not telling people to do anything stupid. I'll send it back to you for editing and it needs to go to copy before you leave. It will be posted online tonight and in print tomorrow."

Stiles nodded and looked back at the pile of letters and printed emails on his desk, many of which had come in this morning. Part of his job would be to sort through them to find ones that would be interesting to readers without offending them.

Dear Stiles;

A lesbian couple just moved across the street from me. I don't want this neighborhood going to the dogs. What can I do to make this a decent neighborhood for right-minded, upstanding American citizens?

Signed, The Watcher at the Window

"You could have it worse, lady…you could have had werewolves move in." Stiles muttered. He frowned the, ashamed of himself. Derek might be a werewolf, but he seemed to be a regular guy (if a little obnoxious). Stiles had no cause to be prejudicial. Smiling, he thought of an appropriate response

'Dear Watcher: How can you improve the neighborhood? Easy; just move! Also, stop looking in windows. You might see something that will change your world.'

Stiles looked at the next one.

'Dear Stiles;

I'm new here and feel like I'm completely alone. I know it's a big city, but I felt more connected when I was in my small hometown. What can I do to meet people? Not exactly a clubber here.

Signed, Far from the Madding Crowds

Wow, some of these letters were hitting close to home.

Dear Madding;

I'm dealing with the same thing. In my hometown, when someone new moved in we welcomed them with a little party. In New York, maybe you could do it and let your neighbors get to know you. You might find some kindred spirits. Best of luck, and be sensible about which neighbors you invite.

One more should do it for today's edition. He wasn't being allotted that much space yet for his column. He picked up the top email which had only just come in.

Dear Stiles,

I caught this hot guy peeking in my window while I was naked. At first I was angry, but now…I think I'm pretty attracted to him. How can I let him know without him thinking I'm a nut? I'm not even sure he'd be responsive. By the way, I'm a guy.

Signed, Desperately Seeking S.

Hot blood slammed into Stiles' face. Was Derek serious? Did he think this was the way to keep Stiles' ultra-sensitive freak alarm from going off?

Dear Desperate;

You both sound like weirdos. Why not avoid the inevitable trainwreck and meet people the normal way? A word of advice...try closing your curtains next time.

Stiles put the text into the proper format, printed it, checked it for spelling and dropped it on Brynn's desk. Ten minutes later, she paged him to her office. He sat down in front of her nervously. This would be the first time he would be critiqued on his official work.

"Your response to 'Watcher at the Window' is brilliant, worthy of 'Dear Abby'. Surprised to find such an open mind from a small town native, but it fits right in with the New York City groove. 'Far from the Madding Crowd' is good too, I just hope whoever this is doesn't live next door to a serial killer. The only one I'm not happy with is 'Desperately Seeking S.' Sure, the way they met is unconventional, but it could turn out to be the love story of a lifetime that could really attract readers. You have no idea how much people love to read about that magical couple that was always meant to be…kind of like Sam Winchester and Castiel on that television show. Change it up, and encourage this guy to pursue it and also to write back. See if you can get a weekly therapy session going. Also, I've decided to bump you up to half a page for your column, and the other half for your human interest series which will debut next week. Good start, now get lost."

Stiles left, knowing it was useless to argue. He sat in front of his cubicle and redid his response to 'Desperate'.

Dear Desperate; Try to learn some more about the guy before you make any major decisions. Without knowing your voyeur, I can't help you with your decision. Dinner in a nice crowded place sounds like a good idea. If he's not interested, he will definitely let you know. If he is, then it was meant to be. Write again and let me know how it goes.

Brynn approved the rewrite and asked how he was settling in. When he told her about the Cheezits dinner, she immediately wrote out a small advance check so he could do some food shopping. She made it out to Cash, and let him go early before the banks closed.

An hour later and he was wheeling a cart laden with a variety of cold cuts, bread and condiments along with ice for the fridge to keep them cold. He was just picking out his favorite sodas in the beverage aisle when his cart clanged against another.

Of course, it was a smiling Derek.

"Wow, did you track me here by smell Fido? This obsession is unhealthy," Stiles snarked at him, still annoyed over the advice column. Derek seemed to be invading every aspect of his life.

Derek's smile faded. "First, I don't appreciate dog jokes. Saying that to the wrong werewolf will get your throat ripped out. Second, I live in the same building that you do and have shopped here for years. Believe it or not, I wasn't looking for you and I sure as hell don't obsess over you every second. You want me to leave you alone? Fine, you're alone. Enjoy yourself."

Derek stormed off after flashing Stiles a crimson-glare and leaving Stiles staring open-mouthed after him. Those last five words had a chilling effect on him.

"Derek! Hey, Derek! Wait up! It's just…" Stiles trailed off. If he accused Derek of being 'Desperate' from his advice column and he was wrong about it, Derek would call him a conceited egotistical asshole. While the letter certainly matched their situation, it was probably not the first or last time something like that had happened in a city this size. He would wait to ask the werewolf about it when he was in a friendlier frame of mind. But that meant apologizing and pursuing a friendship with someone with a dangerous condition. Should he take the risk and do it? Stiles wished he had an advice column to write to.

Looking at Derek's handsome (and angry) face, Stiles decided to go for it. This was New York City…everything was freaking dangerous.

"Look, I'm sorry about the dumb joke. I didn't mean to offend you. We just started off…(Stiles searched for the right word, quickly discarding 'wrong' and 'weird') …oddly."

The scowl disappeared, but the eyebrows were still too close together.

"Yeah, we did, I can't argue with that." Derek took a deep breath and let his eyebrows return to their usual hangouts. "God, I'm no good at this. How about dinner after work tomorrow? I promise it won't be odd."

Stiles flailed in surprise, nearly knocking over a stack of soda bottles. Had Derek already read the online column? He had to be 'Desperate!' "Huh? Dinner? Am I going to be the main course?"

Derek gave him a not-so-subtle once-over. "Maybe, though not in the way you think. I know this great upscale place in Greenwich Village."

Stiles flushed again. "Well, I can't afford anyplace like that…" Derek made to interrupt, but Stiles overrode him. "…and I know you'll probably offer to pay, but I'm not comfortable with that. How about I just make dinner in my apartment?"

"Will that be an issue? Your fridge is broken."

"How on earth did you know…" Stiles had images of Derek prowling around his apartment after he went to work. But how could he have gotten past the Ash?

Derek tapped his nose. "I could smell it from the fire escape…also I think something died in one of your walls."

"Gross. Ok…well I can just go shopping right before. I have some ice too that should last a while. I want it to be a surprise, so let me finish up and I'll see you tomorrow after work."

"Alright, at least let me bring some wine. White or red?"

Stiles was thinking that a werewolf might appreciate a steak dinner.

"Red…definitely red."

Derek flashed a grin at him that Stiles was rapidly coming to enjoy seeing on his face. They said their goodbyes and Stiles strolled off to the meat section to blow the rest of his advance money.

{}{}{}{}

The next day, Stiles was informed that his advice column had received over a thousand hits, and not a few people had logged appreciative comments. Many were eagerly awaiting 'Desperate's' next letter. 'Watcher' sent him an expletive-filled reply while 'Madding' thanked him for sound advice.

A new note from 'Desperate' came in after lunch when he was about to send the day's letters in to Brynn.

Dear Stiles;

I did what you advised and I am having dinner with S. tomorrow. He agreed, but he gets spooked easily like he's worried I'll do something weird. He likes to remind me of how we met. How can I put him at ease? I really want this to go somewhere. Sorry to keep asking for help like this.

Stiles thought about how he should reply. He felt more and more sure that this was Derek, but if it wasn't Derek it didn't seem fair to jeopardize someone else's chance at a relationship.

Dear 'Desperate'

Just don't go overboard. Take things slowly. It sounds like he needs to feel a little more in control of things, and playing your hand too strongly WILL scare him away. As you get to know each other, it will become more obvious how to proceed. Let me know how the dinner goes…and don't forget to bring the wine.

That last phrase ought to let Derek know (if this WAS Derek) that Stiles was onto him and maybe he would stop with the letter writing.

He also got an idea for his human interest story which he thought he could work into a serial, tentatively titled 'Modern relationships in a Modern world, the personal journey of an intrepid adventurer in unfamiliar territory.'

He got in a few pages of notes before it was time to quit. Stiles caught the train home to get to work on dinner.

He had mostly unpacked by now and set up the IKEA furniture, his television and video game systems and DVDs, his stereo and knick-knacks. He hadn't gotten to his books yet, and the open boxes sat in front of his empty bookshelf, but it was too late to do anything now.

The steaks were set to marinade (a bath of Worcestshire Sauce, salt, seasoned salt, pepper and additional spices) after Stiles had stabbed it a few dozen times with a fork. After putting them on the broiler, he made his special home-fried potatoes (garlic powder and seasoned salt) and was just finishing up the salad (Romaine lettuce, Craisins, Raspberry vinaigrette dressing, chopped walnuts, crumbled blue cheese and chopped pear) when the doorbell rang. Its harsh cry made him jump and he barely saved the salad from a fatal fall. Forcing himself to remain calm, he took off his apron (it read 'Kiss the Cook'…Derek might just take him up on it) and answered the door.

Derek stood there, his perfect beard trimmed to perfection and dressed in casual but expensive looking clothes. He held an old looking bottle of wine in an ice-filled engraved bucket and two crystal goblets in his hands.

"I bet you thought I'd forget the wine," he said by way of greeting. Stiles stuck out a hand for Derek to shake, then realized that the werewolf's hands were full and instead just waved the awkward hand inward. Derek stayed out in the hall looking pointedly down at the dark line of powdered ash that still lay across his threshold. Derek wasn't even in the door and Stiles already wanted to die of embarrassment.

"One minute." He ran and got his Mini-Vac and sucked up the offending Ash from the doorway. "God, I am so sorry, I forgot all about it…"

Derek waved a hand. "It's nothing." He stepped inside and closed his eyes as he inhaled the aromas of the delicious food. "That smells amazing. You know, the way to a werewolf's heart is through his stomach.

"I figured that," Stiles grinned at him. "Hey, how did you know that I would even be…I mean I never really admitted…"

Derek smirked and tapped his nose again. Stiles flushed brightly. Werewolves had a totally unfair advantage in the dating world. Derek uncorked the wine bottle to let it breathe (thank God he brought his own opener; Stiles didn't yet have one) and took off his jacket. The werewolf was wearing a mild cologne that mixed incredibly with his natural scent and the leather jacket. Two totally unfair advantages.

Stiles put some biscuits in the oven and served the salad. The potatoes were done and the steaks just needed a few minutes more, and there would be a store-bought Tiramisu and hazelnut coffee for dessert.

"Wow, Stiles…I'm not a fan of salad, but this is pretty good." Derek devoured it quickly while Stiles rushed to catch up.

Stiles beamed at Derek's praise. "I always had to try to get my Dad to eat healthy…he hates salads more than anyone, but he likes these. Hold on, the biscuits are done."

He pulled out the aromatic buttermilk biscuits and then realized with horror that he'd forgotten to get butter.

"Er…about the biscuits…"

Derek stood up. "Be right back." He jogged off to his own apartment and was back in a few minutes.

"Oh, thanks…damn, so much for the perfect dinner!"

Derek gave him a serious look. "It is perfect. Stop worrying and let's eat."

Stiles took Derek's steak out first, correctly guessing that Derek liked it rarer than Stiles. Biscuits and potatoes were devoured with relish, and Derek poured the wine while Stiles set down the steaks.

"Hale Vineyards? Wow, that's a hundred years old!"

"My family has a lot of diverse businesses all over the world. The vineyards are in France."

Stiles took a sip. He was no wine connoisseur, but it was delicious and went right to his head. He gulped the rest down.

"Easy there, tiger. That's potent stuff. You might already be legally forbidden from driving." Derek drank his down and poured them a second glass. They drank slowly while finishing their steaks. They decided to have dessert and coffee later and finished the bottle while Stiles talked about his upbringing in Beacon Hills and the friends he had left behind and the mother who died when he was young. Derek filled him in on his own fascinating history…he was from a clan of born werewolves that had come over from Europe with the early settlers, and Stiles wished he could have been allowed to write down what it was like growing up in a family with such an amazing secret. Born wolves were unable to change until they hit puberty, so Derek had to put up with his older siblings besting him at every sport until he came into his own birthright. They had to be very careful to conceal themselves from the notice of Hunters who were sometimes rabid about killing any supernatural creature they found. Derek mentioned his quest to find the perfect anchor, which was different for every werewolf so that he could control his change even when the moon was full and bright. Finally, he described how difficult it was to have any kind of social or romantic life. Werewolves as a species were pretty rare, and though the Alphas had the ability to recruit members with a bite, this was a dangerous proposition. An adult bitten would have none of the learned control of the born wolves and usually had to be trained for years before they could be allowed out in human society. Even then, sometimes the Turned would wind up using their abilities in ways that were…unpleasant. Derek refused to elaborate, turning the conversation back over to Stiles and asking him about his dating history.

Stiles was hesitant. "Hmm…well, that's a little personal, but you have shared a lot with me so…"

"I already know you're bi…so am I."

"In theory, maybe. In practice…I'm more asexual."

Derek's eyes widened. "You mean you're a…"

"God, don't say the V-word."

Derek seemed stunned by this revelation. Stiles filled in the gap in the conversation.

"I was in love with this one girl Lydia, for years. She used to look at me like…like I was…" Stiles couldn't say the word. He tried hard not to let anyone know how damaged his self-esteem had become from years of rejection.

"Then I had a crush on this guy, not nearly as heavy as I had for Lydia but still strong…and they started dating. Jackson…he was the guy…I think he knew I had feelings for him. It became like a big joke to them, and they rubbed it in my face every chance they got. They told everybody, and even my friends started to pity me. When Jackson and Lydia started sending me pictures of them dancing at parties or boating on his yacht…well, it got to be too much and that's why I moved out here. To start over, start fresh."

Derek's mouth was open, and he looked pretty angry.

"What…assholes…I don't know you that well, but I already think you're…" Derek stopped himself.

"What? You think I'm what?" Stiles was bursting with curiosity.

"You don't know what you are? I never met a hot guy that didn't know he was hot."

Stiles laughed. "I'm hot? Oh, come on."

"Hot doesn't begin to describe what you are. I wish you were one of us…then you could hear that I'm telling the truth. There's something I need to tell you, Stiles."

"What?" Stiles felt the wine-induced good humor drain out of him. Derek looked almost grim.

"Werewolves are…dual creatures. We use the wolf's powers when we need to, but it is a separate consciousness that takes over on the full moon. For werewolves who date other werewolves, it's so much easier because the wolves recognize each other and…let's just say they almost always approve…and make it easier for the human halves to have a normal relationship. When a werewolf dates a human, well…take you and me. I know when I like someone, but my wolf is really picky since there isn't a wolf inside the human for it to…bond with. If I want to date someone human, both halves have to feel the attraction. There are a few people that the wolf would allow, but for whom I feel no attraction. Then there are people that I want to have a relationship with, but my wolf rejects."

"Wow…can you just…ignore your wolf and date who you want?"

"I did that, once. It ended very badly."

Stiles thought he would say more, but he only finished his wine and stood up.

"I should go. I had a really nice time with you Stiles."

The wine had jacked up Stiles' impulsivity by a factor of ten. He grabbed Derek's hand in his own and squeezed.

"Derek, please tell me what happened."

Derek looked in his eyes for a few minutes and sat down again.

He put his face in his hands, as if he could not bear to look at Stiles while he made this confession.

"Her name was Kate. I liked her…she was beautiful, intelligent, confident and talented. Over time, I fell completely in love with her. The wolf…well, it hated her on sight. Not indifference, which is pretty common…this was pure raging fury. I couldn't see her for any of the days before and after the moon for fear I would change and try to harm her. It never reacted to anyone that way before. I fought against myself for months to keep it going, but without an anchor it was hard to keep the wolf completely in line. One day she asked me what was wrong, and I told her. I told her everything. We drank, and she must have put something in my glass…"

Derek broke off, and Stiles was startled to see that he was crying. Instinctively, he moved his chair next to the other man and hugged him tight. Derek leaned his face into Stiles' shoulder. Derek had never before seemed so vulnerable and fragile. It was hard to imagine that part of him was a killing machine.

"Derek, you don't have to say anymore, I'm so sorry I asked you to keep going…"

Derek recovered himself slowly and pulled back from Stiles. "No…it's okay. It feels pretty good to talk to someone about it. I think I needed that."

Derek wiped at his eyes with a napkin before continuing in a more normal tone of voice.

"Kate drugged me…she was a Hunter, one of those that kill my kind. She got her team together, and they went after my family. They burned our house…they got both my parents, and one of my sisters. Another survived, along with an uncle. The Hunters were destroyed, and the Alpha mantle fell to me since I was next in line. Kate had intended to bring me back to her masters to study, and torture, maybe even to experiment on. My sister and uncle found me and got me out of there, but when they heard what I'd done…"

"Did they disown you? Throw you out of the family or clan or Pack or whatever? Sorry if I'm using the wrong words."

"That was the irony. They couldn't throw me out. I was the Alpha. Without me, they become weaker. They could have killed me and taken it for themselves, but they would never do that. Instead, they were forced to bow in respect to someone that caused the destruction of a family that had survived for hundreds of years. So I left them. My uncle runs the businesses, my sister travels to maintain them, and every few months we meet to reaffirm the bonds that make us a Pack."

"I'm sorry…God Derek, I am so sorry," Stiles hugged him again and stroked the broad muscular back.

They stood up, and when Stiles wobbled on his feet and Derek swayed on his, they both realized how drunk they were. Stiles took him by the hand and led him to the bedroom where he began peeling off Derek's clothes.

"Uh, isn't this a bit soon?" A ghost of Derek's former humor crossed his face.

"Don't be silly. You are staying here with me tonight, there is no way I am letting you be alone after hearing all of that. You'd probably just wallow in misery and wreck your apartment or do something dangerous."

Stiles stripped down to his boxers and gasped when Derek stripped down to nothing and got in beside him.

"Sorry, can't sleep with anything on." He rolled on his side and faced the wall and Stiles could not tell if he was sleeping or not.

Stiles sighed and whipped off his own boxers (they had already seen each other naked after all) before crawling under the blanket with Derek. There was definitely nothing happening tonight, but Stiles had already decided he very much wanted Derek as a boyfriend, had maybe even to begin to fall in love with him a little. But before he could let himself, he had to ask the most important question of all.

"Derek?" he whispered, knowing the werewolf would hear him if he were awake. Derek made no move, made no sound. Stiles asked his question anyway.

"What does your wolf think of me?"

A minute passed by, then two. The wine was hitting Stiles pretty hard by now, and he felt sleep beginning to take him.

Then: "He likes you Stiles. From the moment he saw you on the fire escape, staring in at him under the light of the full moon. You have nothing to fear from him. He wants you…we both do."

A slow smile that was he was powerless to stop spread across the young reporter's face. He molded himself to the strong back in front of him, pressing himself into Derek as if they were just the right puzzle pieces, like Yin and Yang. In the middle of the night they both rolled over, still deeply asleep. Derek's powerful arm pulled Stiles into a tight grip, and Derek made a low growling sound in his throat as his wolf staked its claim.

{}{}{}{}

Stiles woke up the next morning inhaling the Derek's scent of cologne, light sweat and a slight animal musk, the combination of which sent his hormones into overdrive. With difficulty, he was able to free himself from Derek's vise-like grip. The werewolf woke up however and stared groggily at Stiles as he bent over to retrieve his boxers. Derek gave an actual wolf whistle at the sight.

"No…don't put those on," he grumbled.

Stiles looked down at them. "Um, it's embarrassing to walk around like this…especially if you are too. I never learned to control 'little Stiles'.

"He's not so little. Besides, if you're looking at me, I would hope he'd be excited. Please…I just want to keep looking at you."

Now Stiles grumbled, but gave in. He went quickly around the apartment making sure all of the curtains were closed and then went into the kitchen to start breakfast.

"You can shower if you want to," Stiles called.

"After breakfast…and with you," Derek called back.

Stiles smirked again. He actually had Derek, a GQ supermodel type begging to look at his body. Embarrassment was starting to turn into an ego-boost, and the effect of years of Jackson's and Lydia's taunts began to wash away. Derek wandered in and sat down, openly staring at Stiles with predictable physical reactions for both of them. Derek got up and began collecting last night's dishes and washing them in the sink. Stiles dried and put them away, but took a moment to swat Derek on the butt with the dishtowel.

"Harder, next time." Derek muttered. The next swat was not the only thing that got harder.

The nudity became less weird as Stiles stopped thinking about it. He did wear the apron while he cooked Derek some bacon and eggs, but Derek whipped it off of him as soon as they were done.

They ate at a leisurely pace since Stiles did not have to be at work for another three hours. After, they brushed their teeth side by side and hopped in the shower where they took extra care to scrub each other squeaky clean. This led to a heavy make-out session and soapy-body-grinding. As high as Stiles was on lust hormones, he resisted the temptation to take it further. He truly wanted to get to know Derek, and he felt that a rush into the carnal side of things might derail a more permanent bond. Derek made no effort to push things, letting Stiles decide the pace. It made Stiles feel good that Derek thought he was worth waiting for.

At last, showered and clean, the two reluctantly got dressed to leave and start their days.

They stood in the open doorway, Derek looking deep into Stiles' eyes with Stiles slowly learning to meet that gaze unflinchingly. Another lengthy kiss, and they broke apart.

"Thank you for dinner…and breakfast."

"Sorry we didn't get a chance to have dessert." Stiles smirked at him.

"We can have dessert next time," Derek winked at him.

"Am I going to be your dessert?" Stiles asked in mockery of an earlier conversation.

"Yes," Derek said simply. "And I'll be yours. I have a place in upstate New York…it's a private place…pool, hot tub…high walls to block out prying eyes…I'd like you to come up there with me."

"Um, I…" Stiles stammered.

"Think about it. No pressure." Derek turned and walked away leaving Stiles staring after him.