411 on the DL

The house was dark when they stepped inside, Stiles cautiously making his way further into the house, careful not to trip over cables or tools. They'd started in the inside of the house two weeks ago, and now it was basically a shell. There were a few pieces of dry board secured to the wall that separated the hall from the den, that Stiles had insisted on putting up the previous evening before Derek had kicked him out for the weekend.

The way Derek had practically frog marched him out if the house made Stiles wonder if perhaps he'd had a date. A thought he'd reluctantly admit he found discomforting.

The smell of damp and rot was gone, aired out now the walls were removed and old floorboards were replaced. Stiles squinted when the room suddenly flooded with light and he rubbed the ball of his hands into the sockets, "Jesus man, warn a guy." He grunted, blinking away the spots in his vision.

When he could finally see clearly again, Stiles looked around, frowning at the sleeping bag in the corner, "Maybe we should have started with the bedrooms." He smirked, fixing Derek with a teasing look, "Can't imagine your date was impressed." He scoffed.

Derek frowns at him, "What date?"

"I assumed you had one last night, and that's why you kicked me out." He gave a small dismissive shrug and tipped over an empty bucket, before lowering himself down onto it.

"I didn't have a date." Derek grunted, hovering by the empty fireplace, arms folded, "I was out looking for Erica and Boyd."

Stiles eyes wider and he sat up, alert, "Have you heard from them?" He demanded.

Shaking his head, Derek sighed, "No. - But I found Boyd's cell out near the lake three days ago."

"What were you doing by the lake? No one goes up there, not since that chemical spill back in 09."

Derek tilted his head, brow raised, "Werewolf." he pointed out, "What were you doing out there?"

Stiles buried his hands deep into the pockets of his hoodie and dropped his gaze to the wooden boards, the toe of his sneaker kicking at the edge of the toolbox, "I had a fight with Scott." he confessed, "I just needed to run, you know?" he looked up through his lashes, "Get rid of the anger."

Derek stared at him for a long moment, and Stiles shifted awkwardly on the bucket, counting the seconds till the question was asked. Again.

To Stiles surprise, Derek didn't demand to know what he was, but rather turned away from him. He marched over to the cooler in the corner. Stiles licked at his lips as Derek bent over, retrieving two cans of soda.

On his third day, Stiles had been surprised when Derek carried out the blue cooler, threw off the lid and handed him his favorite soda, and a BLT. Stiles had stood there for a few silent seconds just staring at it before Derek thrust it at him. They'd sat on dirt in a comfortable silence and ate, like it was normal. Two weeks later, they'd headed to the diner for burgers and curly fries.

Stiles to the soda and smiled up at the older man, "Thanks." he muttered, looking down at the can, "I'm human."

Derek grunted disbelievingly but didn't argue, making himself comfortable on the sleeping bag, watching him.

"I am. Mostly. Like I mean, I'm more human than you." Stiles exhaled a long tired sigh, getting to his feet to pace nervously around the room, "I'm just…" he dragged a hand through his hair, surprised by just how much it had grown out over the last few months, "My mom," he started again, turning to fix Derek with an uncertain stare, "She wasn't…normal, like she was human, kinda… god this is…" he shook his head,

"Okay, so it's like this, my mom, she's… she was, a genetically enhanced human."

Derek lifted a disbelieving brow, "What?"

"And I'm a second generation genetically enhanced human. An X6, Mom; she was an X5."

There was a frustrated grunt coming from the sleeping bag, "Stiles."

"Okay, okay. Once upon a time…" Derek growled, but Stiles ignored him, "a scientist named Sanderman started a project to create the perfect soldier, it was called Manticore. It took them almost a decade of failed attempts, but eventually they made the X5s. These transgenics were basically a genetic pick and mix of the best DNA, both human and animal. They're faster, stronger, smarter than normal humans. They have greater speed, heightened senses, and can kick ass like Bruce Lee, in fact I think they might be Bruce Lee," he smirked, lifting his hand, "A little bit. - Just imagine werewolves without the teeth, claws and 70s sideburns."

Derek glowered at him and Stiles laughed. The laughter died quickly, and Stiles returned to his explanation. "In 1995, my Mom, along with a few others, escaped from Manticore's top secret facility. They'd been planning it for months because she was pregnant, with me." Stiles took a moment to gage Derek's reaction and found the werewolf stone-faced.

He swallowed thickly as he realized what he was doing, revealing a secret he's sworn to keep till his death. He'd promised his Mom as she'd lain there dying, that he'd never tell a soul what she was. What he was. And now here he stood, spilling the beans to Derek of all people.

Derek Hale, who'd done nothing but try to intimidate and scare him off for almost year.

Derek Hale, who had lied to Scott about a cure for the bite.

Derek Hale, who'd saved him from Jackson, only to end up needing saving in return.

Derek Hale, who'd gotten his text and hurried to help despite all the shit he and Scott had put him through.

He was telling him everything.

Stiles staggered back over to the bucket and sat with a thump, his gaze locking on the floor in front of him, hands beginning to tremble and heart racing so fast he could feel it throughout his body. He watched the can vibrate in his grasp, head whirling.

"Stiles?" Derek called loudly, and the teenager looked up, eyes widening with surprise. As if he'd forgotten he wasn't alone.

Stiles inhaled sharply, chest heaving as he exhaled, tears filling his eyes. The guilt a weight on his shoulders and heart, almost crushing him. He'd kept that secret for so long. 16 years he'd kept it, never telling anyone, carrying the load alone. Never trusting anyone but his mom and dad. Now she was gone, and his dad, well he just tried to forget and pretend everything was normal.

"It's okay Stiles." Derek said quietly, "You don't have…"

The teenager fixed Derek with an almost desperate look, the dam exploding inside him, "Yeah," he gasped, "I do. I've been carrying this around all my life Derek! Unable to tell a soul for fear…" he choked off, "I need to tell someone."

Derek pressed his lips into a line and nodded, resting back against the wooden frame of the living room. "Okay."

Stiles took a few deep breaths, flexing his trembling hands. "She almost died escaping that place," he began again, breathless and quiet, "She was shot by the guards, it was winter, and she was pregnant," he shook his head, "But she kept going, for me. - She made it to the highway and hitchhiked through four states, escape and evade," he clarified in a matter-of-fact tone, "before she was picked up by a deputy on his way back from visiting family in Colorado."

"Your dad?"

Stiles nodded, "Yeah. The way they tell it, it was love at first sight." he huffed a sad laugh, "They stopped off in Vegas on the way and tied the knot. I was born that following April."

"Does he…"

Stiles looked down at his watch. It was 2 am, but he didn't care, his dad wasn't due off shift until 6, so there was no one to worry if he wasn't home. "Yeah, he knows about her, and about me. He didn't care," he sobered, turning his head to stare at the plastic sheeting, "he used to say that he didn't care. That I was his son, no matter what my DNA said, but then mom died and…" he swiped angrily at his eyes, rubbing his fingers into the sockets, and forcing the conversation away from his father, "I have everything she had, including the military style training. As soon as I was old enough to walk she was teaching me to fight, to protect myself, because one day…one day they were going to come for us, and I'd need to be ready, so she said."

Derek stared at him, and Stiles could see the way he stiffened at the prospect of another threat,

"Don't worry man, it was 16 years ago."

"That won't stop them looking Stiles."

Stiles couldn't help but smile as the hint of concern in Derek's voice, then he realized it was likely concern for them, the werewolves, rather than for Stiles himself, and the smile instantly vanished. "Don't worry, Derek," he replied sharply, "The good thing about having a husband working for the sheriff's office, is it give him lots of resources to fake your death. - As fair as the world is concerned my mom died 15 years ago on the side of a road, along with her unborn child."

Derek didn't look convinced, and Stiles sighed, rubbing at his hair and getting up, "And if anyone did turn up asking questions, my dad, the sheriff, would be the first to know. - We have an escape plan, if that ever happens."

"An escape plan?" Derek asked curiously.

"Yeah, so you don't have to worry about me putting you all in danger Derek, the second there's even a sniff of Manticore, we're out of here."

There was a long tense silence as Stiles and Derek stared at each other, Derek's lips pressed into a tight line, before he asked, "What about the seizures?"

Stiles straightened defensively, chest heaving, then he dropped his eyes to his shaking hands, forcing away the panic that the mere thought caused him. "While they were great at making human killing machines, they kind of fucked up along the way." he grunted angrily, "I guess they didn't much care about the small stuff, as long as the X5s could rip a man's heart out of his chest and leap over tanks. The seizures are caused by a lack of serotonin. At Manticore, Mom was given a daily dose of tryptophan to keep them under control. - Luckily tryptophan can be found in nature as well as brought over the counter, so she was able to keep it under control." Stiles licked at his lips, throat working around the tears that were threatening to silence him completely.

"We didn't know I'd inherit the seizures until after my mom died, likely because my diet changed due to Dad working all the time. We were living off junk food for six months before I had my first seizure. Then I collapsed at the station, Dad knew instantly what it was, and forced a pint of milk down my throat," Stiles looked up, "for the tryptophan. - After that, I was on the pills. Twice a day, every day, for the rest of my life." he sighed. "I guess it could be worse, huh? I mean, I could need dialysis or something equally expensive."

Derek didn't reply.

"So, there you are. That's me. That's what I am. Human but not human."

Derek watched him, and Stiles watched right back. The only sounds in the room was that of their breathing, and the buzz of the halogen light.

"I'll drive you home." Derek said, quietly at long last, getting to his feet.

Stiles stared up at him, "That's it?"

Derek nodded.

"And now what?"

"Now I take you home, I just said that."

"I mean," Stiles waved his hand between them and around the house.

Derek frowned, "What?"

"Are you going to tell…"

"No!" Derek cut him off angrily. "I don't go around spreading rumors about people, Stiles."

Stiles flinched at the condemnation, the reminder that Derek had spent almost a year suspected of killing his own sister and others because of him and Scott.

"Because if anyone know the kind of damaged can be caused if the wrong people discover you're different, its me."

Stiles exhaled a long-relieved sigh, finally standing. "Thanks Derek."

Derek shrugged, heading for the door.

_(*-*)_/

Getting his head around the idea that Stiles Stilinski, King of the Klutz, was some kind of fucking super soldier was going to take a long time, that was for sure. After all it was so ridiculous. So insane. So…. not Stiles.

And yet….

Stiles was far more intelligent and focused compared to his peers. He had instincts and stamina that rivaled that of a werewolf. He'd held Derek's dead weight up in a swimming pool for hours without complaint, well much complaint, or tiring.

Derek shook his head and dragged a hand throw his hair. He should have known. Should have realized sooner that Stiles was something more than human. The signs had all been there, but he'd ignored them, too focused on Peter and Scott, and Jackson. On being an Alpha and building a pack. God he was an idiot. No wonder his pack had fallen apart the way it had. How could he lead when he was blind to the blatantly obvious.

"It's not your fault you didn't know." Stiles suddenly announced from the passenger seat, "I spent my entire life hiding what I am. I'm very good at it."

Derek's head snapped around to stare at him, "What?"

Stiles smirked, narrowing his eyes and pressing two fingers to his temple, "You are worried you're an idiot for not realizing I'm a superhero."

Derek glowered, and the car swerved as he avoided a car at the last minute. "You read minds too?" he gasped, eyes flickering between the road and the teenager.

Stiles laughed, really laughed. Deep and happy. "No, idiot, I just know you better than you might think." he settled back against the leather seat shaking his head and grinning like the Cheshire cat. "It would be damn stupid to give super soldiers mind reading abilities anyway," Stiles dismissed with a wave of his hand, "They'd be able to know when their superiors were fucking them over and might hold a coup, which kind of happened with my mom," he acknowledged thoughtfully, "but not because she read their minds, rather they just worked it out with logic." he turned to fix Derek with a faux serious stare, "Logic is a far more powerful weapon, Jim."

"Spock never said that," Derek retaliated, fingers tight around the steering wheel.

"And you'd know that how, exactly?" Stiles smirked, "What are you a trekkie, Sourwolf?"

Derek pressed his lips together and refused to answer, which only confirmed Stiles suspicions and made the teenager laugh more rigorously.

They drove through town in silence, Stiles sliding down in the seat as they passed the Sheriff's station. When Derek pulled onto Stiles street, the young man insisted he drop him off away from the house.

"Nosy neighbors," Stiles sighed, "a teenager's worst enemy."

"You think they're bad," he nodded to the street, "try being a teenager in a house of werewolves."

Stiles huffed, amused. "I can imagine."

They sat in silence, staring out at the street. Derek's fingers tapped out a silent rhythm on the steering wheel. Time dragged on, Stiles making no move to climb out of the car, and Derek found he wasn't particularly put out by it.

Over the past few weeks, Derek had become strangely used to Stiles' constant presence. So much so in fact that he'd found himself looking forward to each day, at least until the weekend came around and Stiles spent time with Scott and his father. Then it was back to being just him. Him and an empty house that reminded him he was alone, and a failure as an Alpha.

He had Isaac of course, but it was becoming clearer by the day that the teenager wasn't happy, either because he missed his pack mates, or as Derek suspected, was finding better mentors.

Derek couldn't help but grind his teeth at the thought Isaac would rather spend time with Scott, be trained, be supported by Scott than his own alpha. What did that say about the kind of alpha Derek was?

"You okay?" Stiles asked, startling him out of his self-flagellation.

"Fine." he grunted, looking at Stiles briefly before sighing. "What happened with Scott?" he asked, for no good reason. It wasn't even any of his business.

"What?" Stiles frowned.

"You said you were running because you had a fight with Scott."

"Oh," Stiles exhaled, slumping against the leather, "Yeah."

"You don't have to tell me," Derek said quickly, "It's none of my business. I'll see you…"

"He was giving me a hard time for hanging out with you."

Derek's shoulders slumped, "I'm sorry." he muttered, "I can finish the rest of the house…"

"What?" Stiles interrupted sharply, sitting up and staring at him.

Derek looked at him regretfully, "If helping me is causing problems between you and Scott…"

"Scott is causing problems between me and Scott." Stiles snapped, "He's being an asshole because he doesn't like you, because he has trauma, but you know what, he doesn't get to tell me who I can and can't be friends with. I'm not his fucking lap dog, waiting around for him to find the time to hang out with me. If he gets to have other friends, so do I."

Derek stared at the teenager, heart racing. It had been a long time since anyone had considered him a friend and it sent a wave of warmth through him.

"That is, unless you're tired of me hanging around." Stiles asked, looking uncertain and…pleading. "I'd under…"

"No." Derek cut him off, "I like…" he swallowed, inhaling deeply, "I could do with the help."

Stiles stared at him, eyes a little sad and Derek felt his stomach churn painfully. Stiles had just called him a friend, and how had he replied?You're a convenience. Nice Derek. Laura would be so proud.

"That's good." Stiles muttered eventually, "Well I'll see you Monday." he twisted his body to open the door.

Derek reacted without even thinking, reaching out to gripped Stiles shoulder, stalling him. The teenager turned his head, looking from the hand to Derek, his lip curling subtly. "I huh…. - Thanks." he said finally, taking a slow deep breath, "For…. trusting me."

Stiles stared at him, eyes locked. The car grew quiet as the grave, and almost as suffocating. Derek yanked his hand away from Stiles shoulder, breaking whatever spell had begun to weave its way around them.

"Back at ya, big guy." Stiles nodded, smiling softly at him. "See you Monday." then he was gone.

Derek sat watching Stiles marching up the street and turn into his front yard before starting the car. As he drove past he found Stiles waiting on the front stoop, waving at him. Derek lifted his hand and returned the gesture.

_(*-*)_/

Surprisingly things went back to normal after their conversation. Stiles turned up Monday morning, same time as always, in the same ratty clothes, nervously expecting things to be weird between him and Derek, only to find the werewolf had already started on the back living room wall. Derek looked over as he'd strolled into the house, nodded at the pile of plaster board and nail gun and grunted, "Try not to shoot yourself in the foot."

Stiles narrowed his eyes at the man, wishing he'd never told him about that. "I told you that in confidence, man." Stiles grumbled, heading over to the machine.

"Doesn't mean I can't bring it up, just that I can't tell anyone else." Derek reasoned loudly over the pow pow of his own gun.

Stiles shot him daggers and wondered if shooting Derek in the back would be all that bad, considering he was a werewolf and could heal. That said, Derek would likely attempt to shoot him in return. Stiles' lips curved at the vision in his mind of him out running Derek's shots, speeding between rooms while Derek growled angrily.

"Are you just going to stand there all day?"

Shaking his head, the smile still fixed to his face, Stiles slid on the protective goggles and started work.

Four hours later the room was done, and he and Derek were sat in the middle of the new walls, sharing lunch.

"Have you found anything else?"

Derek looked up from his sandwich and shook his head, "No."

Stiles sighed regretfully, "Where else have you looked?"

There were a few seconds of silence and then Derek scrambled to his feet, heading over to one of the large crates in the corner he must have moved in over the weekend. Lifting the lid, Derek pulled something out and brought it back to Stiles. Derek shoved his sandwich and sofa out of the way and unrolled the sheet of paper.

Stiles stared down at the map, eyes darting across the grid, only a hand full of which had red crosses through them. Stiles leant forward, eyes flickering between the lines.

"This is where I found the phone." Derek pointed to a square that covered the far end of the lake. There was a path of marked square that lead from the house to the lake, each with thick red lines through them. "By the time I found it," he sighed, "any sigh of them was gone."

Stiles hummed thoughtfully, "Maybe they just left town."

Derek looked up through his lashes skeptically and Stiles sighed, "I'm just saying," he defended, "they could have headed to the lake to avoid the Argent's after they were let go and spent a few nights and them slipped away."

Derek released a long tired sigh, "That's what Isaac thinks too," he shook his head dismissively, "but Boyd wouldn't leave his phone," Derek insisted firmly, "It's the only line of contact with his sister," he fetched the cell from his duffle bag, tossing it to Stiles, who stared down at it.

It was an old Samsung SGH-E700. They'd been popular back in the early 2000s, seeming futuristic and cool. Stiles remembered seeing Boyd with it, had heard Jackson berating him for not getting something more up to date. Saying he must be really poor if he couldn't even afford a new cell phone.

Derek sat back down beside him. "His mom gave it to him, so she could call him from her job at the diner and the hospital, to check up on him and his sister."

All the pieces slid into place and he winced inwardly. "His sister went missing back in what? 03?"

"04." Derek muttered, picking at his sandwich but making no move to eat any more. "They were at the ice rink, Boyd wanted to leave, but Alicia refused to go, they had a fight and Boyd stormed off. - He sat in the stands reading a comic book, but when he looked up a few minutes later, she was gone."

"They've never found her." Stiles whispered sadly, staring down at the cell phone. "Yeah, I remember. Dad," he swallowed, "He took it bad, I have a vague memory of Mom telling me about it. She used it as a lesson, warning me that even the most public places were still dangerous."

"My mom tried to find her, but the pack couldn't pick up her scent. She never quite got over it," he chewed at the inside of his lip, "She used to say, that as Alpha, her responsibly wasn't just to the pack, but to the town."

Stiles rubbed his thumb over the phone, thoughtfully. "Is that why Boyd took the bite?" Stiles suddenly asked, surprised it had taken him this long to figure out his old classmate's motivation.

He knew why both Isaac and Erica had taken it. It was pretty obvious really, with Isaac's abusive father and Erica's epilepsy, but he'd never quite gotten what Boyd got from the bite. Until now.

Derek looked at him, nodding. "Erica told him about...everything. She said I might be able to help. When he came asking for the bite, I wasn't sure, I told him we were werewolves, not bloodhounds," Derek smiled sadly, "But he insisted, and..." He glanced up guiltily, "I... wanted a pack, so..." Derek shrugged.

"You needed the power, so you bit him." Stiles stated matter-of-factly, his ton holding only the smallest hint of judgement.

"It wasn't about power, not solely." Derek sighed, "An alpha without a pack is a danger to all those around him. They go...crazy,"

Stiles scoffed, "Are you say Peter was sane before he became an alpha, because..."

"Peter was a manipulative bastard, but it was the fire and the coma that broke him. However, becoming an Alpha makes matters so much worse."

"Worse?" Stiles huffed, "He killed five people, how much worse could it get?"

"The whole town." Derek replied flatly.

Stiles stared sat him, eyes wide. "You're kidding me, right?"

Derek shook his head regretfully, "A small town in New Mexico was practically decimated five years ago by a packless alpha. Before Argent stepped in." he took a long sip of his soda, now warm, " I didn't want that to happen to me, but I did just attack three teenagers in the dark, I'm not Peter." he insisted firmly, "I found two kids whose lives were in danger and needed saving and gave them a choice. Gave them an option. - Boyd came to me."

Stiles stared at him, heart beating hard against his ribs, and he nodded. "Yeah."

They fell silent, the map forgotten between them, Boyd's phone still in his hand, growing warm with his body heat.

"I can help, if you want?" Stiles muttered quietly, not meeting Derek's gaze.

"Why?"

Stiles glowered, "They were my friends too," at Derek disbelieving look Stiles huffed out a correction, "Okay, so we weren't, you know, friend friends but I liked them, if they're in trouble I want to help."

Derek watched him for a long few seconds, causing Stiles to fidget awkwardly. "What about Scott?" He asked.

Stiles exhaled a tired sigh, "I already told you, Scott doesn't dictate my life man. Besides, he's always busy now with either working or studying."

Something flickered across Derek's face briefly, so quick Stiles almost missed it, "In that case," he nodded, "I'd appreciate the help."

In silent agreement, the pair tossed away the remains of their lunch and got back to work. When the sky began to turn a burnt orange, Stiles headed home for a shower and some clean clothes. When he returned to the house a few hours later, darkness had fallen, and Derek was patiently waiting on the porch steps for him. Together they headed out onto the preserve hunting for any sign of the missing pack members.

_(*-*)_/

By the time the last week of the summer vacation rolled around, the house was almost complete. Stepping back Derek looked up at it with a mixture of pride and sadness. The structural damage had meant he'd been forced to rip down the upper floors and regin again, leaving the house looking almost unrecognizable. He'd added an extra floor, and changed the layout some, not wanting the constant reminder of what he'd lost. His bedroom was now on the third floor instead of the second as it had been growing up. There were six other bedrooms, and two bathrooms, and has Derek racked his gaze over the exterior he couldn't help but wonder if they'd ever actually house anyone else.

In the month they'd been looking for Erica and Boyd, they'd found nothing. Not a single sign. It was as if they'd vanished off the face of the planet, which made Derek incredibly nervous.

"We did good." Stiles hummed proudly, "It looks great."

Derek nodded, turning to look at the teenager beside him, "Yeah. Thanks for helping."

Stiles shrugged, smiling. "My pleasure Sourwolf. I actually enjoyed it, it was nice to have something to focus on."

"To keep your mind of Scott." Derek remarked, turning back to stare at their hard work.

Things with Stiles and Scott hadn't improved. While Stiles was spending all his time with Derek, either renovating the house, or searching for Erica and Boyd, Scott was working two jobs. Derek knew it was hard for Stiles, they'd been friends for years now, and it was always a struggle when such friendships disintegrated, especially without reason. Derek had seen the hurt look on Stiles face when they'd headed to the diner after a hard day's work and they'd seen Scott, Isaac and Danny sharing a pizza. Stiles had stood outside, looking through the window with a pained expression on his face that had ripped through Derek's chest like a hunter's blade. Then Stiles had turned on his heels and marched off. As far as Derek was aware, he and Scott had barely spoken since.

Stiles stiffened beside him, and ignoring the mention of his ex-best friend, "So, when are you moving in?"

"I've been living here since I put the new floorboards down in the den." Derek reminded him.

Stiles rolled his eyes, "I know, I meant..."

Derek took a breath as he realized what Stiles was asking. It wasn't when was he moving in, but rather when was Isaac moving in.

Isaac had taken up residence at the McCall home without any real discussion, it kind of just happened. Derek had moved into the house, so he could start work on the house early and work late, and it was close to the preserve, so he could continue his search. Isaac hadn't wanted to live on a building sight and had insisted on staying at the deport. However, when he'd turned up one Saturday to help Derek with the first floor, smelling of Scott and Melissa, Derek had known where he was sleeping.

Much like Stiles reaction to Scott and Isaac's growing friendship, Derek felt a sting of jealousy, betrayal and rejection, "I don't know," Derek replied, "we haven't discussed it."

Stiles sighed, nodding and burying his hands into his hoodie pockets. "I'm actually dreading going back," he added after a long pause, "I'm genuinely considering home schooling."

"Maybe you should talk to him," Derek muttered, his own hands slipping into the pockets of his stained and ripped grey sweat pants, "wave a white flag."

Stiles glowered angrily, "I'm not apologizing!"

Derek rolled his eyes and sighed, "I'm not saying apologize. I'm saying call a truce and try to rebuild your friendship."

Stiles grunted, "He doesn't want my friendship, he's got Isaac and Danny now." He sounded bitter and Derek couldn't completely blame him, it took two to keep a friendship going.

Not that Derek would know, he'd only had one real friend in his life, and he hadn't spoken to Clay since moving back to Beacon Hills. - He figured he was a bad friend too.

"Just because they're friends Stiles, doesn't mean Scott can't be friends with you." He turned his head, fixing the teenager with a hard look, "I know you're not that childish."

Stiles met his gaze rebelliously, "Want makes you think that? My dad and half the town would disagree."

"Because I've spent almost every day with you for two months." He replied matter-of-factly. "Be the better person Stiles, unless you want to spend the next two years sitting alone at lunch."

Stiles huffed indignantly, "Hey, I can make other friends. I don't need school. I'll just sit with..." He trailed off thoughtfully, mouth hanging open, at a loss.

Derek smirked, satisfied he'd made his point.

"Asshole." Stiles grunted out beside him.

Derek ignored it, "How about I treat you to a final lunch?"

"Final?" Stiles frowned, "What, that's it? You've gotten what you want and now your dumping me?" He accused, scandalized, but Derek could hear the seriousness beneath.

Derek stared at him, eyes soft with gratitude and what he hoped was reassurance, "Yeah, summer flings don't mean a thing."

Stiles gaped at him for a long moment before bursting into laughter, "Grease? The mighty Alpha, Derek Hale just quoted Grease," he panted between words and laughter, "oh god, I wish I'd had a camera, that's priceless man. Wait till I tell Scott, he can't hate a guy who quotes Grease, that's just wrong."

Derek glared at him, jaw clenched, and eyes narrowed, "When your quite finished," he growled, eyes flashing red in warning.

It only made Stiles laugh harder, and he doubled over, hands on his knees panting for breath. He looked as if he'd run a marathon.

"Now who's the asshole," Derek grunted, turning to head for the Camaro, "buy your own damn lunch."

Stiles jogged after him, "Come on Sourwolf, there's nothing to be ashamed of," he choked back a fresh string of laughter, "Grease is a classic. I mean, it could be worse, you could like Grease 2." One look at Derek's face, his mouth opening to argue, had Stiles roaring with laughter again, as he climbed into the sleek black car.


A/N: I hope this answered all the questions as to who Stiles is. I know some readers aren't familiar with Dark Angel, so I apologize for the terminology. If you have any questions, I'll happily answer them, as long as it isn't going to reveal spoilers, (unless you want spoilers, in which case you can PM me or message me via my Tumblr,

As always, feedback would be most welcome.