Having woken up late, almost hit a tree whilst attempting to brush his teeth and drive at the same time and just barely made it to homeroom before the bell, Stiles was feeling a little more flustered than usual this morning. He caught a glimpse of his reflection in the biology room window and as his fingers worked over his bristled head, he remembered the reason he didn't grow his hair out was because the tousled locks completed his 'freshly rolled out of bed loser' look perfectly. Not like Scott, who never seem to brush his hair and yet looked perfect all the time. And Derek..

He shook his head firmly, knocking those thoughts out of his head. He felt vaguely pissed off at having no other male friends - did he consider Derek a friend? God, no - to compare himself to. He was tentatively touching the dark bags beneath his eyes when Scott's profile appeared behind him. He wondered if all werewolves had the ability to materialize out of thin air.

Scott clapped a hand gently on Stiles' back.

"Dude, you look terrible."

"I see you've been brushing up on your social skills," he muttered, sighing and planting his head down on the desk. Scott smirked and took a seat beside him as class begun.

"Did you get any sleep at all last night?"

"Shouldn't I be asking you that?" Stiles asked as he peeked out of one eye. Scott shrugged awkwardly. "Didn't you have a date with Allison?"

"Sure, but-"

"No, really, go in to vivid details. If I'm forced to live vicariously through you, then you have to-"

Scott stiffened and kicked Stiles underneath his desk as Allison entered the room. Stiles abruptly shut his trap and sank back in to his seat, trying to ignore the puppy-dog stare Scott was bestowing upon her. The forbidden lovers. Although he was happy for Scott, Stiles still couldn't help the stab of jealousy each time he noticed a fresh love-bite on his neck or a note secretly slipped in to his locker. The closest thing he had ever come to a love-bite was Derek offering to rip his throat out.

"...see Derek."

Stiles jerked, his eyes widening slightly. Scott was half-turned in his chair, staring at his best friend wearily.

"W-what?" Stiles' skin prickled with embarrassment. He'd never read about werewolves reading people's thoughts, but considering how often he was proved wrong by elements of the supernatural, Stiles couldn't be too sure.

"I said I arranged to meet Derek after school."

"Oh, right," Stiles blinked. "Wait, what? Why the hell do you want to meet with that psycho?"

"Well, if you had forgotten, there's a pack of Beta werewolves running around the school, just itching to blow their cover," Scott paused a moment and eyed his friend, noticing something was clearly on Stiles' mind. "You hadn't forgotten, had you?"

"No, no, it's just- look, if you want to see him, that's fine, but I'm not coming with you."

"And why not?" Scott looked at him blankly.

Of course someone like Scott wouldn't understand. The water didn't run deep with someone like him. Not like Stiles, who knew crushing pain and the lingering fear of death firsthand. The prospect of dying didn't seem to bother Scott on a daily basis, not in the way it rattled Stiles. Everywhere he turned, he could hear the splash of the water, the vague scent of chlorine, and the rasping of Derek's struggled breathing.

"Stiles!"

Stiles snapped back to attention.

"Yeah?"

"I'm asking you to come along, man. To tell you the truth, with that big weird lizard wandering around, I don't like the idea of you or Allison being alone."

Stiles felt disgusted at himself for feeling a wash of pride and love in his chest. He rolled his eyes, knowing perfectly well he was being manipulated by those chocolate puppy-dog eyes.

"Fine," he sighed. He stuck a pencil in his mouth and chewed irritably. "But you're buying me lunch."

Scott grinned and turned to face the blackboard, and for the rest of the period Stiles stared at the back of his head, his heart heavy with an unshakable sense of apprehension.

By six pm the school parking lot was more or less deserted, leaving only the teacher's cars, Stiles' jeep and the debris of browning leaves. It had already grown dark, with dusk fast approaching. Both Scott and Stiles were sitting in the jeep, Stiles with his hands resting on the steering wheel out of habit, and Scott in the backseat texting Allison on Stiles' phone. Stiles wished he could turn the radio on to drown out the repetitive tapping of buttons, but if he was honest with himself, he also wanted to drown out the little voice in his head that was telling him emphatically that this was a terrible idea.

What would he say to Derek when he saw him? He was too proud to mention that he'd spent the last two weeks sleep deprived because of the nightmares, or that every waking moment was spent thinking about Derek and wondering why now his heart didn't clench in fear at the idea of being close to him. Or why at night before he went to sleep, or in the shower, or in his car, his head that was usually filled with thoughts of flawless white skin and strawberry blonde hair, was instead clogged with visions of a muscular neck, piercing eyes and a hostile scowl?

Stiles was lost amongst his thoughts, staring absently out of the windshield. A light flickered on the dashboard, momentarily diverting his attention, and when he looked back that familiar profile was standing mere inches from his window, breathing opaque mist on the pane. Stiles jumped, mouthing a breathless 'oh my god' whilst the backseat springs creaked as Scott leaned forward. Stiles hastily rolled down the window, the colour drained from his face.

Derek arched one thick eyebrow, unamused.

"Derek, as always, it's horrifying to see you," Stiles muttered, still clenched.

Derek grunted noncommittally, his gaze already moving past him to Scott. Stiles felt the tug of irritation in his chest, but ignored it, testily squeezing the steering wheel.

Leaning over him, Scott exchanged fierce words with Derek, making a weak attempt in persuading him. From his close proximity, Stiles could see the hairs raise on Scott's neck, and tried to look away; but each direction his eyes turned, they always lead back to the dark shadow of a man, nonchalantly leaning against the hood of his car. Stiles, as usual, was excluded from the conversation, assigned to his role as human sidekick.

"Look, if you two want to slug it out, could you do it away from the jeep? This car falls apart at the slightest breeze."

Stiles frowned, sore at being ignored by both parties. He glanced up sullenly and froze. His heart sputtered in his chest. Beside him, Scott was still ranting about the dangers of allowing immature werewolves to wander about in school - Stiles had already tuned out to the sound of his voice - but Derek wasn't looking at him anymore. He was looking at Stiles. Looking through him. Those eyes blazed in the gloom, piercing blue orbs that flickered and trembled like the most tenacious of flames. Stiles lips parted and an involuntary gasp left him. That gaze positively stopped his heart.

In that moment, he knew Derek recognized the itching fear in his face, different from the indignant expression he always wore. Could he tell so easily that Stiles couldn't bear to even to look him in the eye? Was he angry? Could he smell it on him? Stiles trembled in horror.

"Stiles?" Scott was staring at him, tan skin illuminated by the blinking lights of the dashboard. Stiles clenched his jaw and abruptly opened the car door.

He stumbled out, leaves flinging up from his clumsy feet. Derek made no indication of movement but watched him stoically in intense silence. Stiles' skin crawled.

"Stiles!" Scott called as the skinny body stumbled towards the gaps in the trees.

"I - I just need some air!"

He vanished, swallowed by the obscurity of the woods.

"Something's wrong," Derek murmured, his eyes fixated on a point in the distance, his keen reflexes lending an agile tautness to his stance. Scott stared at him as Derek strode off in the same direction, waving an arm wildly.

"What are you talking about? Derek! Where are you going? Hey! I'm coming with-"

Derek turned, struck Scott with the similar stubborn, intent stare.

"Stay there. I'll get him."

Scott chose not to argue and sank back in to his seat. Even if Stiles called him out later, he'd made it pretty obvious he wanted to be alone. Something in the way Derek looked at him told him it was better to let him handle it.. whatever it was. Besides, Derek would protect him. Or so he'd like to think.

Scott sighed and settled in for a long wait.