Thursday

It was disconcerting to say the least as he crawled out of his window and was forcefully pulled against a much more muscular body before he blacked out. And when he came to, he was in a very cushioned room. The floor was buried underneath what felt like thirty plush covered throw pillows. Throw pillows! Honestly, who even used throw pillows? They were completely useless. Although, Stiles was beginning to realize that they were actually kind of comfortable. There was also a pile of blankets haphazardly thrown on top of him; as he crawled out from his sweltering cave, the scent of bacon and onions reached his nose.

The room was moderately sized and half of the floor was just a sea of throw pillows and a mess of blankets. Off to the side, and out of the way of the door, on the dark hardwood floor was a tray. There was an omelet and some bacon on it, with a glass of orange juice to the side. Stiles got to his feet with a bit of a struggle, the floor slippery and uncertain between his socked feet and the cushions. It smelled surprisingly delicious.

"Derek!" he shouted. "What the hell, Derek?!"

The door slowly opened and his scruffy face appeared through the crack. "Yes?" he asked, his voice entirely nonchalant -as though he hadn't come knocking on his window at two in the morning before kidnapping him.

"Where am I?"

"My cabin," he stated bluntly.

"You have a -of course you do. Why the hell am I here?" He attempted to fix the older man with an unwavering and stern glare to help communicate just how he disapproved of this. Whatever this was.

"Teamwork."

Stiles stared at him blankly. "What?"

"I found a way to make the pack stronger," he explained, looking mighty proud of himself. Stiles narrowed his eyes; wherever this went, he was not going to like it. "They have to find you, by working together."

"You kidnapped me!"

"I left a note. You can go back when they find you."

"No! I don't want to stay here, I want to go home! Oh god, my dad!"

He knew it was coming. His palms started sweating and he was hit with a cold flash just before the panic slammed into him, first stealing the breath from his lungs and then bringing him to his knees. The tears came next as he tried to get his breath back, pins and needles digging into his stomach. His father could turn back to how he was after Mom died -he could do any number of things, thinking the worst about Stiles' kidnapping. He could feel the light-headedness of a faint on the way and he attempted to take a deep breath and get some control back. It wasn't easy; it never was.

By the time he had calmed down, he was only aware then that Derek was sitting behind him and rubbing his back soothingly. "I need to talk to my dad." He exhaled shakily, running a hand through his hair.

Wordlessly Derek handed him a phone; it wasn't his usual one or Stiles' own. Actually, Stiles would probably be lucky if Derek hadn't thrown his phone out to keep up the whole kidnapped-for-the-good-of-the-pack spiel. Or he might have used it to bait Scott, in which case he'd be lucky again if Scott didn't demolish it accidentally. Stiles dialed his father's cell phone, his heart flying into his throat as he heard the despairing mumbled "hello?" of his father.

"He-hey Dad. I'm okay, I'm really fine and safe and I need you to not worry. This is… It's just a joke, on Scott. I'm sorry, I just- I didn't think to tell you. And please, don't tell anyone? It's really important… I'm sorry, I kno- I love you, bye." He hung up quickly, feeling the tears sting his eyes. He exhaled shakily, turning to Derek and handing the phone back. "So how exactly are you going to avoid Scott realizing that you're part of this? Considering how hard you've fought to keep me alive, it would be suspicious if you didn't help out."

"I'm in Canada, following a lead." Derek grinned toothily.

Stiles reached over, tugging the tray of breakfast closer. A part of him was relied to see the fork and knife; he had the distinct impression that it would've been just very Derek like if he didn't use silverware. He took a very tentative bite of the cooled omelet -half expecting it to be burned or partially uncooked -and was surprised at the mouthful of fluffy eggs-mushroom-onion taste he got instead. He devoured the omelet first, followed by the bacon and the orange juice. Maybe he shouldn't have been so surprised that Derek could cook considering how long he'd been on his own -and that wasn't the fairest thing to say, was it? -but somehow it was hard to come to terms that the violent stoic werewolf didn't eat raw food. At least as far as Stiles knew. He might have to entirely re-evaluate this so he didn't offend the guy and get himself killed in the process.

"This is very important for the pack," Derek offered. "You're the glue keeping them together. And I need them to be at their best -for their survival, and therefore your own."

They stepped out of the room, Derek carrying the tray and dirty dishes out to the main room. It was again a moderately sized cabin, with a very rustic feel to it with the wooden log design to it. The kitchen was practically non-existent, two counters, three cupboards, a small stove, a sink and a dish rack. The dining room was just out of the way of the kitchen, two elegant chairs and one small hand-carved table, practically tripping over into the living room with the sofa and armchair gathered around the fireplace. How rustic. To the right of his room was a flight of stairs leading to the basement, and off from the kitchen he could see there was another bedroom and no doubt at the end of that hall was a bathroom. It was oddly small and quaint here.

"If we can break them from their uselessness, it will be better for everyone," Derek added, setting the tray and dishes into the sink. "The alphas will arrive any day now and we can't afford for anymore of their cursed screw-ups."

"This is all very Beauty and the Beast -next I suppose you'll offer me a library so I'll fall in love with you?"

For a moment, Stiles feared that he had gone too far. Derek could very easily rip his heart still-beating from Stiles' chest, he could also tear his throat out as he frequently threatened to do so. But then Derek was laughing and Stiles tried to laugh along too, to shake off the anxiety, while his body prepared to bolt if necessary.

"No, not at all," Derek stated, his laughter cutting off abruptly. "I do have a training room though."

And there of course was the Derek he was used to dealing with. The stoic werewolf warrior.

"I could teach you self-defense," he offered unexpectedly.

"You just want an excuse to touch my sexy body," he joked easily.

Derek's flat, vacant, expression was neither surprising nor expected. He shook his head, heading down to the basement, and Stiles followed after him. It held a few pieces of equipment; a set of weights and a treadmill, there was a punching bag and some gymnast mats to cushion their falls. As Stiles looked from the mats to his teacher, he realized that he was actually going to be fighting Derek for all intents and purposes. On second thought, this probably wasn't the smartest thing to agree to. But it would be invaluable later on, and the bruises would be worth it.

"I'll teach you how to get free of holds," he stated, holding his arm out. "Grab my wrist and watch what I do."

Stiles only hoped it wouldn't involve him being thrown across the room as he grabbed Derek's wrist. With a simple twist, Derek broke free of it and broke down the move into several small preparations for it before Stiles got his chance to try. And it was surprisingly easy. Derek showed him how to break free from three different holds in the same fashion before moving onto some offensive moves. They'd been at it for about three hours when Derek called it quits, and if Stiles didn't know any better he would have said that the werewolf was impressed. They'd worked up a good sweat and Stiles was doing his best to not let it show. Derek was barely winded, looking as unperturbed as he usually did.

"Good job," Derek acknowledged with a proud smile. "You're a fast learner."

Stiles stared at him, his emotions spiraling out of his control.

"What?" Derek demanded gruffly, staring down at him.

"You… like, you just smiled."

"And…?"

"You never smile. It's weird."

"There isn't much cause or it," Derek remarked, heading back upstairs.

Stiles followed him; his thoughts attempting to reassemble themselves helpfully, could only notice one small detail at the moment. Derek had a nice ass. Which was not at all helpful, as he felt his face flame with a burning blush. Couldn't someone less hot and more social have kidnapped him? This could become a very long stay indeed unless Scott proved himself more useful -and at the most Stiles was willing to guess it would take Scott three days to find him. Definitely longer than one day.

Derek headed for the kitchen, surveying their supplies critically. "Do you want steak?" he asked, as the fridge shut behind him.

"Do you have curly fries?"

Derek's only response was to raise one brow, as though waiting for a more serious response.

"Fine, if all you have is steak, we can have steak. But it's incredibly cliché."

"There's nothing wrong with steak," Derek replied.

"Of course not, but would it kill you to eat some vegetables?"

"I eat vegetables."

"I've never seen you eat vegetables. But I can cook for us, if you don't mind." At least cooking was something, something to keep him occupied other than Derek's well-built body and his very fine ass -oh and there went that blush. Trying to be casual about it, he turned away, running his hand through his hair.

"If you want… cook whatever you want," Derek said, his voice oddly cautious.

"I'm not going to poison you," Stiles snapped irritably, marching over to the kitchen. He cooked most of the time at home -kitchens were a familiar place and more than a little mind easing. Not that he wanted to do this for the rest of his life, but it wasn't so bad.

Stiles turned to the pantry he had seen Derek examining earlier and started pulling out ingredients. It was surprisingly well stocked and in the back of his mind he couldn't help but wonder if maybe Derek liked cooking too. He wasn't even aware of Derek walking away, or the shower starting up, until he was halfway through finishing the stir fry off when Derek walked past, clad in only a white towel and showing off his excellent physique. With a grumble, Stiles finishes off the toasted sesame seeds and starts serving dinner. Derek rejoined him a moment later, hair damp and wearing real clothes -Stiles noted with some dissatisfaction. He could be a jerk, but he was a good-hearted jerk and for all that he had kidnapped him Derek was a lot nicer to look at than the wood logs in this place. Derek sat down just as Stiles finished setting the silverware down. With the small size of the kitchen it was much easier to find everything.

"Smells good," Derek commented, smiling.

It really was weird to see Derek smile, but he couldn't exactly fault him for not smiling often enough considering everything. It felt like they hadn't had a single moment to catch their breath since Scott turned into a werewolf, really. And Derek's life had probably been out of control since his parents died and only nicely sorted itself before Laura was killed. A wave of sympathy flew through him again. Everything was completely out of control and if that other pack arrived as soon as Derek was expecting them to… well Stiles could understand why he had kidnapped him. It didn't mean he condoned it, not entirely, but he could understand why. It was important that they worked together. What was going to make it even harder was the fact that Scott wasn't part of Derek's pack, not willingly anyways and even with that they would have to find some way to work together.

They finished in silence, Stiles so wrapped up in his thoughts that he hadn't even realized they'd eaten in complete silence. Probably just as well, but silence was quite a nuisance often enough. He hated silences -they were so awkward, especially with Derek. He collected the dishes wordlessly, carrying them over to the sink before starting to wash them and Stiles hurried over to help out only to find that Derek used his body to effectively block him from doing so.

"You cooked, I clean," Derek informed him.

"This is the cleanest I've ever seen, I doubt your cleaning skills." Derek scowls menacingly. "You don't scare me," Stiles added smugly.

Derek hip-checked him gently -gently only in the sense that he used just enough force to move Stiles out of the way without flinging him halfway across the room -as he finished cleaning.

"Rude," Stiles huffed, frowning at him. When exactly had he stopped being afraid of Derek anyways? Oh yeah, because he needed him alive for Scott to be able to find him. And also because he was all bark and no bite (so far, and hopefully for the rest of their acquaintance).

"Oh go to bed," Derek retorted as he moved onto drying the dishes.

"No way! You're not my dad!"

Derek arched a brow. "No, I'm not. But I am the alpha." His eyes flash red.

Show-off, Stiles thought, rolling his eyes. "I'm aware."

There was a knock on the door that brought them all to silence. Derek whirled to face the door, setting the dish down, all of his senses on high alert. Stiles walked over, opening the door cautiously. Instead of it being his father or a police officer or even Scott -there stood Danny, shivering in the snowfall. (So Derek had his cabin up in the mountains somewhere, high enough there was actually snow here, Stiles noted).

"Danny?!"

"Stiles? What are you doing out here?"

"Oh, uh nothing, I'm just out here with Derek… hanging out." He gestures to Derek.

Derek at least attempted to look normal and relaxed. From beside Danny, Stiles noticed that there was someone else standing behind him on the steps as he brushed the snow off. Ah, probably Danny's boyfriend Caden -at least he hoped it was, because from what he had heard Caden sounded like a good guy.

"We weren't prepared for the weather," Caden said, almost apologetically as he looked up at Stiles.

"Derek?" Danny asked confusedly, staring intently at Derek. "I thought he was your cousin Miguel."

Shit… right. He'd forgotten about that. "W-well I didn't want anyone knowing I was dating an older guy -my dad would kill me!" he laughed nervously. "So that's why I told you he's my cousin Miguel, which he's not, he's my boyfriend and we're not related."

Stiles didn't have to turn around to know that Derek was glaring at his back; he could feel the murderous intent from where he was standing. Well, it was better than telling the truth. Oh hi Danny, yeah this is Derek Hale, no we don't know each other that well but he decided to kidnap me to teach Scott a lesson -hey, please don't tell my dad? Yeah. He noticed that both Danny and his boyfriend were shivering and he hurriedly moved aside.

"I'm going to talk to Derek for a minute, but please come in," he told them before turning and grabbing Derek's hand. He hauled him to back to the cushioned room he had woken up in. "We can't leave them out there to freeze, I would feel bad for Danny, he's practically a saint."

"And they would sleep where?" he demanded snippily. "Huh boyfriend?" He all but growled that last part.

"My room, and I could bunk with you, please Derek," he begged, throwing in puppy eyes.

"Fine," Derek said, his expression flat and closed off once again. "But you feed them and make sure they don't smell of you and make sure they don't tell anyone."

"I'll make sure they don't tell a soul, dear," he chuckled as he left the bedroom. Danny was just hanging their jackets up, smiling softly as Caden pulled back. They were pretty cute together, he had to admit. "Good news guys, you can stay here. But you can't tell anyone you saw me here."

"No problem," Caden said with a warm smile.

"I won't tell a soul," Danny agreed.