Stiles was yelling at the red light to turn fucking green. He was glad he didn't have a passenger right now, so he could let his anger out freely. Actually, he didn't have any passengers yet, but a fuck ton of red lights and road works that all kept him from getting fast to Manhatten, were the most people would be waiting for a taxi right now.

On normal days, he found the job alright. Sure, the cab smelled funny and most of his passengers were crazy, but he liked driving through the city, not having to think about anything at all except maybe how to bypass the traffic jam during rush hour.

The light turned green at last and he took the left-hand turn without blinking. The Little Tree on his rearview mirror swung from side to side with the movement and the hawaiian bobble doll on the dashboard moved her hips in a fitting rhythm. The little, busty woman in a hula rock had been a gift from his best friend Scott. They may have not talked to each other in ages, since he had become some kind of spiritual leader of his super secret werewolf club Scott didn't have much time for him anymore, but he still considered him as one of his closest friends. Not that he had that many to begin with.

He stepped on the gas to gain speed, when suddenly a nasty bang came from the back of his car, the roof bulged in and the rear window shattered. Startled, he slammed his foot down on the break, the backside of his car breaking away and forcing the cab to drift into the oncoming traffic. He yanked the steering wheel around, just barely dodging a furiously honking SUV. The whole cab quaked as one tire bumped onto the sidewalk and then finally came to a halt.

Stiles let out a pant of breath, his heart still hammering in his chest. The little bobble doll rattled vigorously on his dashboard. He massaged his neck with both hands and then unbuckled his seatbelt. „I can't believe it", he said to himself, chuckling humorlessly. Grunting, he turned around in his seat and inspected the damage. The top of the car wasn't just bent in, but pierced through and the shards of the broken rear window were scattered around. „Any survivors?", he asked without expecting any answer from his backseat.

His heart jumped when suddenly a man came into view behind the passenger seat. He was starring at Stiles with big bright eyes, his face dazed and anxious. Stiles heart jumped once more, as he starred back at the stranger who had literally just fallen into his cab. The man was a living greek statue, his whole body ripped and every muscle well-defined. His tanned skin was glistening with sweat and streaks of dirt were painted across his face and body. Stiles watched in fascination, as the man's wounds healed right infront of his eyes and left nothing but dried blood, revealing that he must be werewolf. He was practicaly naked, except for the thick, white bandages covering all the important parts and straining against the mass of muscles in his arms and legs. His black hair was tousled wildly and Stiles felt the overwhelming urge to comb his fingers through it. Stubble covered his strong jaw and his full lips were slightly parted, revealing the cutest bunny teeth Stiles had ever seen. Over his dark eyes were thick, expressive eyebrows, raised in anticipation, but what really took his breath away was the honest and open expression on the man's face.

„Hi", Stiles breathed, smitten by his passenger. The adonis flinched back, his wary eyes not leaving Stiles. „You okay?"

A frown crossed the stranger's face, the furling of his bushy eyebrows making him look like a lost puppy, and if Stiles thought he had been stunned before, his heart was melting faster than the polar ice caps now. He couldn't help but smile, which seemed to persuade the man to trust him enough to start babbling in a strange language that Stiles didn't even recognized. He talked fast in a smooth voice, shortly turning around and pointing at a tattoo of three joined twirls on his back. Flailing his hands around, he continued talking gibberish, at one point punching the seat infront of him and startling Stiles, but the taxi driver's smile didn't falter and he leaned further in intriguied, trying to understand what the strange man wanted to tell him. Moving his arms by his sides, he mimicked running away, and then pointed his finger to the roof, depicting his fall by letting his fingers sketch out a line downwards.

„Nee el uh deendo. In gjel uh boom", he ended his story, illustrating a crash with his hands, and then looked expectantly at Stiles.

„Boom, yeah." Stiles nodded encouragingly. „I understand boom."

The werewolf pointed at the hole the back of the car he just had crashed through. „Bu duh boom."

„Big", Stiles helped him and smiled as the man tried voicing the word himself. „Yeah, big bada boom."

„Big. Bada big boom. Big! Boom!"

Stiles chuckled at the man's excitement. „Yeah, boom! Big bada boom!"

They chanted the words together until the stranger let out a soft laugh. Stiles watched him delighted and then huffed.

„You know, werewolf or not, you're lucky you're not dead."

The shout of an authoritative voice snapped them both out of their interaction and had them noticing the small group of uniformed man standing with raised weapons next to the car. Instantly, Stiles noticed the badges on their chest marking them as specialized in werewolf-related crimes, so called hunters. Stiles could never get along with that group of law-enforcement back in his days. Most of them were just buff dummies who liked to brag about the last time they had taken down a werewolf.

„This is a police control, please keep your hands on the wheel", the officer said firmly. „You have an unauthorized passenger in your vehicle. We are going to arrest him."

Slowly, Stiles turned to the front and did as he was told. „Sorry, bud. Looks like you gotta go with your friends."

„Ak duh."

„Do as they say."

„Ak duh", the man repeated, nervously looking around.

Stiles kept his look forward, his eyes avoiding the rearview mirror in which he could see the man getting more and more anxious „Sorry."

Slumping back in his seat, the man's face darkened, his eyebrows drawn low in defeat, as the hunters moved closer.

„Plase, help", he said in an unsure voice gazing pleadingly at the back of Stiles head.

„I have to get back to the garage and report the damage. If I'm lucky, they'll give me another hack and I can keep my job, but only if cooperate, do you understand?" He tried to show his sympathy through his voice, talking in an apologizing tone.

„Pla-, please." The man whispered. „Help."

Stiles took a look at him through his rearview mirror and his heart nearly shattered at the defestated look on the man's face. „I can't", he insisted, but his voice sounded uncertain even to himself.

One of the hunters had taken hold of the door handle and the frightened man shuffled along the backseat and pressed his back against the opposite door, getting as much space between himself and the officer as possible. Stiles watched the werewolf, the wheels in his head turning fastly. He didn't strike him as someone dangerous, especially not someone who would need six hunters to be arrested. Sure, he appeared dark and tough, his muscles alone telling people to not fuck with him, but he when the werewolf talked in this smooth voice of his, kittens were born and rainbows crossed the sky. The police wanted him because of a misunderstanding, a typical case of language barrier, and now the guy was terrified because he didn't even know what he did wrong. Well, no matter for what reason he was about to get arrested, Stiles instincts told him that he was actually a good fellow and he probably didn't deserve this treatment.

The officer opened the door and pointed his weapon inside, demanding of the man to slowly come outside. He turned his pleading eyes once more towards Stiles. „Help." Stiles sighed, but put the car into first gear. „Danny's gonna kill me", he muttered to himself and stomped the gas pedal down to the floor. The officer stumbled backwards, yelling angrily as the car shot forward. His colleagues had to jump out of the way to not get run over.

„This is so stupid." Promptly breaking the speed limit, he wriggled his way through the traffic, zigzaging between the other cars and then taking a sudden turn, the tires squeaking in a high pitch. The open door was flapping uncontrollably by the cars side until he cornered sharply into another street and it banged forcefully closed.

Confident to have gone rid of the hunters by now, Stiles slowed the cab down. „I think we're off the hook", he told his clearly relieved passenger. A silver car overtook them and a sign started to flash in it's rear window, telling him that it was the police and he should follow it.

„Well, to err is human. Hang on", he said unimpressed, pulling the handbreak and then taking a sharp u-turn. He speeded down the street, another car close on his heeals and the silver one quickly catching up again. The man started babbling again in that foreign language, his voice high and urgent, but Stiles couldn't understand a word.

„Look", he called back over his shoulder. „I only speak two languages, english and bad english!"

Veering around several corners, which had the man tumbling across the backseat, he directed the car onto smaller sidestreets. He drove slalom around the dumpsters and cars parked in the narrow street, then pulled into the entry of an underground parking structure. People had to jump out of the way, as he drove through it in full speed, taking sudden turns between the parked cars. His fare was shouting angrily on the backseat, which he had no right too in Stiles opinion, after all, he was saving the sucker's as.

„Now, don't get me wrong, I'm all for conversation, but maybe if you could shut up for a minute!"

With a satisfied grin, he watched as one of his chasers couldn't take the corner tightly enough and crashed into a pillar. The car parc's security guard furiously flipped Stiles the bird, as he dashed through the exit back onto the street. The silver car chased right after him, the blue emergency light flashing on the roof.

„What did you do to piss these guys off?", Stiles wondered louldy as he looked in the rearview mirror and watched the hunter leaning out of the window and aiming his gun at them. „I think they are really pissed off. Hold on!"

He slammed the brakes, the taxi's bumper and the silver car's shortly smashing against each other, forcing the silver car off the lane as the hunter tossed half way out off the car's window, and then before quickly gained speed again.

„I think we'll be safe for a while", he sighed triumphantly and drove back onto the lager main street.

A traffic light before him turned red and he halted behind another car to wait for it to change back to green. His fingers drummed against the steering wheel as he thought about what to do next. He knew a great place were he could hide the cab to gain a little bit more time before the cops could find them again. They couldn't drive around with a taxi that had just been turned into a cabriolet without attracting attention. And then they had to go to a lawyer, or even better, the embassy of whatever fucking country the good looking guy came from. Maybe he was brought here against his will, forced to work as a male hooker and now he was charged for prostitution. The skimpy outfit would support this theory.

Stiles was about to try to get any informations out of the man he had just safed, when he noticed bustled movements in the car infront of them. The windows were lowered down and hunters leaned out of both sides. Stiles cursed loudly as he saw the heavy weaponry in their hands. He ducked down just the moment the hunters started to fire. The bullets blew through the windshiel, shattering the glass and sending shards flying everywhere. The werewolf readopted his angry shouting, this time muffled by his arms thrown protectively over his head. Without looking up, Stiles changed the gear and drove forwards. The taxi bounced as they slammed into the back of the other car, still Stiles continued to push the hack forward and shoved the cops' car onto the crossroad. The shooting ceased and the police men started yelling, followed by a loud crash as another car crashed into their side. Without hesitating, Stiles sat up, put the car into reverse and drove away.

Taking a few detours, Stiles drove as quickly as possible to the best hidding place he could think of. He had been to the old warehouse before, when he had wanted to get rid of his e-waste and found that the owner of the recycling yard had gone out of business but didn't bother to clear out the depot.

He parked the car in the back of the depot between two high racks full of dusty CRT-monitors and pulled out his cellphone to google the closest embassy.

„We just gonna wait here for a little while until things quiet down, if you don't mind", he informed his passenger, while his fingers tapped at the phone's screen. He didn't get an answer and slowly Stiles noticed that actually no sound at all came from behind him. Alarmed, he turned around and saw the man sprawled over the backseat, lying worryingly still.

„Hey", Stiles tried to get a reaction, but he didn't move. „Shit."

Hastily opening his safety belt, Stiles climbed over his seat into the back of the car. He turned the man onto his back and let out a sigh of relief as he blinked his eyes open.

„You okay?"

The guy noded his head, but the pain and exhaustion clearly showed on his face.

„Alpha", he whispered weakly. „You don't need an alpha, you need a doctor", Stiles told him sternly.

The werewolf didn't seem to understand him. „McCall", he said so soft, Stiles could hardly hear him.

„What?", he asked confused.

„Alpha." He watched Stiles expectantly, then his eyes turned into the back off his head and he slumped unconcious back down on the seat.

For a moment, Stiles paniced. The police was searching for him while he was hidding in a dumpster with a comatose werewolf in his scrapped cab and all he had to work with was alpha?! Wait, did the handsome stranger say McCall? There was only one person he knew who went by the name McCall and conveniently he was an alpha!

Improvising, Stiles covered the hole in the back of the taxi as good as he could with cardboards. This would be so much easier if the goddamn werewolf and his superstrength could help me, he thougt, as he broke the rest of his windshield out of the frame with some firm kicks. The car still looked as if it belonged in a wrecking yard, but at least it didn't make the impression as if they had just been shot at.

When he finally arrived at Scott's apartement complex, the taxi parked out of sight in the backstreet, he was confronted with another problem. The musclebound werewolf was way to heavy to be easily carried. With his arms slung around the man's torso and his feet feet dragging on the floor behind, Stiles pulled him through the lobby into the elevator, thanking God that no one was there to witness what probably from the outside looked like the kidnapping of a drugged up dude. Panting heavily, he managed to reach Scott's door and knocked against it with his food, afraid to drop the man, if he'd hold him with just one arm.

Scott opened with his patented sunshine smile in place. It crumbled immediately as he saw Stiles carrying a passed out stranger and was replaced by a look of dissapointment.

„Dude, you can't just bring your drunken boyfriend here and expect me to take care of him just because this is a shelter for stranded werewolves."

Stiles put his foot in the door way, just as Scott was about to shut it infront of his nose. „He's not my boyfriend, he's my fare", he said irritated and squeezed past Scott inside the roomy flat. The main room was as messy as always, a bunch of books lying scattered around, empty boxes of take-away food were piled on the coffee table and foreign symbols were drawn at the walls. „And he's not drunk. He said he needed an alpha, mumbled your name. I thought you might know him."

„Okay", Scott huffed with his nose scrunched up. „But I don't know who he is."

Seeing Scott's confused thinky-face, Stiles explained fast, before his own patience wore off. „No one knows who he is, no phone, no ID, nothing. But he has this tattoo on his back." Grunting, he turned the man in his arms around and Scott stepped closer intrigued. He took one look at the symbol tattood into the man's skin, before his eyes buldged and snapped back to Stiles face.

„The penta-, penta- choron", he stammered as his gaze became unfocused. Fainting, he fell backwards and landed with a painful sounding thud on the ground.

Stiles looked at his passed out friend and then turned his eyes to the unconcious werewolf in his arms. Another sigh, it seemed like the thousandth today, puffed over his lips.

„Danny's gonna kill me."

With some effort, Stiles heaved the man onto the brown leather couch and then took care of Scott. He slumped his best friend into the worn armchair and softly patted his face. The boy didn't stirr, not even as Stiles began to call his name. Growing impatient, he lunched out and slapped him across the face.

„Hey! Scott! Wake up!"

Scott's eyes shot open and then squinted bewildered.

„Stiles, what are you doing here?"

„I brought the guy, remember?", he said with a nod towards the couch. „Mr. Muscle."

Coming back to his senses, Scott jumped up and walked over to the other werewolf.

„He's dropped in on me", Stiles continued to explain. „Speaking in this bizarre language."

„It's not bizzare!", Scott broke in as if Stiles had just declared that Batman was nothing but a lunatic playing dress up. „It's the devine language, the ancient language!"

„Yeah, okay", Stiles tried to appeal him and avoid a rant, but it seemed like Scott was just about to begin.

„Spoken by the werewolfs before they lived under humans. The wolf-" He broke off his passionate speech and stared at the man. „The wolf's a man."

„You noticed that, huh?", Stiles couldn't help but comment.

„Yeah", Scott answered happily, not noticing the sarcasm in Stiles voice.

„It's a miracle."

„A miracle he's not dead."

„We- we have not a moment to lose, wake him up", he stuttered again and turend to walk away, but on a second thought adressed Stiles again. „No, but- but gently! Because this man is mankinds most precious possession." Stiles scrutinized his babbling friend as if he had lost his mind. „He's perfect."

He turned around and dashed into another room, leaving Stiled alone with the mysterious man.

„Perfect", he huffed, reconsidering that he always thought he was the only bisexual in his circle of friends. But Scott was right, he was perfect. Infact, the man was so perfect, he seemed to have past this measurement and set a new, far higher bar for the word.

He leaned over the man and soflty stroke his cheek, the dark stubble tickling the back of his hand.

„Hey, Mister, wake up." The werewolf didn't stir and Stiles wondered how he was supposed to wake this sleeping beauty gently, when suddenly it striked him. He looked back over his shoulder to the door Scott had just disappeared through, licking his lips nervously. Satisfied to see that he was alone with the man, he leaned down, his heart's beat speeding up at the mere thought about what he was going to do. Tenderly he pressed his lips against the stranger's, enjoying their softness.

Suddenly he felt something pressed against his temple. For a second he turned completly rigit, before he opened his and slowly backed off, the weapon at his head following his movements.

„You're right! You're right, I shouldn't have done that", he tried to appease the just awoken werewolf holding him at gunpoint. His face lit up bright red in embarrassement. He didn't know what he had thought, this must have been one of his stupidest ideas ever. „I shouldn't have done that I, eh, it was wrong to I kiss you."

„Eto Akta Gamat!", the man spit through his gritted teeth, snarling at the back of his throat. He was half wolfed out, his eyes gleaming in an ominous red and his teeth growing dangerously sharp. The gun, Stiles had completely forgotten that he still had with him, was held in a sure grip in his hand.

„He told me to wake you gently", Stiles defended himself weakly, but the man didn't seem to understand his reassuring and angrily repeated the same words again.

„You're right, you're right! Yes", Stiles said fast, slightly worried about his own well-being, if he was honest. Even without the weapon, there were a hundred ways this buff werewolf could kill him, so he thought about the only nonverbal way he knew to calm a fuming werewolf down. Careful to not move to quickly, he leaned his head back and bared his throat.

For a short moment, the man watched him appraisingly, his gaze switching between Stiles vunerable neck and his brown eyes, before he took a wary step back. His eyes turned from a burnging red back to a soft green and his teeth changed back to the perfect line of pearl whites that could star in a toothpaste commercial, yet he still didn't lower the gun.

„You remember me from the cab", Stiles tired further to gain his trust again. „Remember? Bada boom? Big bada boom?"

„Boom", the man parroted, his doubt clear on his face.

„Boom! Big bada boom in the cab. Here look." Stiles reached into his jeans pocket and pulled out his business card, holding it out infront of him. „I drive a cab. This is me, Stiles Stilinski."

Eying the card as if it could harm him, the werewolf kept his defensive stand and then squinted at Stiles in suspicion.

„Stiles. Do you understand? Here", he said and reached out the card further to hand it to the man. „You take it. Go ahead. You can call me when you learned to speak english."

The man seemd torn, his eyes switching between Stiles and the small piece of paper in his hand. With cautious steps, he came closer, not letting the gun loose it's aim, and reached with his free hand for the card. Smiling playfully, Stiles pulled his hand back, just the moment the man's finger touched it and then hold it back infront of him. The man reached out again, but Stiles pulled back a second time, making the man growl in irritation.

„Just kidding", he interjected quickly, letting the the man finally snatch the card out of his hand. „I'm kidding. And you, uh- What is your name?" Instead of a reply, he got a quizzical stare. „Stiles", he repeated his own name, with his hand pointing towards himself and then waving it at the man expectantly. The hand holding the weapon started to relax slightly and after a short tim of hesitation, the man finally answered.

„Der Ek Salus Tri-Noctiluca Therion De Healh", he said in one breath.

Stiles needed a moment to process those words first. „Good. That- that whole thing's your name, huh? Do you have a, uh, shorter name? Not duhduh duhduh duhduhdu", he accompanied every syllable with moving his hands further apart, then, with a whizzle through his lips, brought them back together, only leaving a small space between them. „Short!"

The werewolf's eyebrows were drawn close in concentration, trying to find out what was asked of him. His unsure answer was just short of a whisper. „Der Ek."

„Derek!" Stiles face lighted up at being so good at overcoming their communicating issues and finally knowing the stranger's name. He was so bumped up, that he couldn't stop repeating their names like a bad imitation of Tarzan and Jane, when suddenly Scott bursted through the door, dressed in a dark, silken robe with the same twirled sign as Derek's tattoo embroided in shiny silver on the front. His beta Isaac followed him on his heels like the goddamn good puppy he always was.

At the sight of the two werewolfs, Derek let out a relieved sigh. The two stopped short as they saw the gun in his hand that was now pointed at them. Isaac's eyes bulged out in shock, but Scott regained his composure quickly and held out a small, round box with the same symbol carved into the wooden lid.

„Scott, are you sure she's a supreme being?"

„Absolutely sure", the alpha assured Isaac, his eyes fixed in glee on Derek.

„Old friends! Great", Stiles broke the tense moment and stepped forward to take the weapon out of Derek's hand, immidiately facing the barrel again and raising his hands in surrender. „Yeah, you're right. Listen", he turned to Scott. „Could you ask him if I could have my gun back, please?"

„Why do you have a gun?"

„Because I'm a cop."

„You're a taxidriver", Scott said unimpressed and then took Stiles by his arm. „Anyway, you were right to bring him here, because he's a werewolf in need and we can help him, but you're not and you can leave, because now he needs some rest because he's been on a long trip." Using his werewolf strenght, which Stiles found incredibly unfair, Scott pulled him towards the door.

„Yeah, I know, I was there when he landed", Stiles deadpanned.

A low whine could be heard from the main room, as Stiles was shoved out of the flat.

„Wait! Hey hey hey, wait! Scott!", he yelled before he could lock him out. „Listen, he said something that I didn't understand right. I didn't understand anything, actually, but what does Akta Gamat mean?"

Scott looked at his friend in confussion, but answered anyway. „Nekta- eh, never without my permission."

„That's what I thought", Stiles said to himself, as the door was thrown shut in his face.

The cab nearly collapsed before he arrived at home. „I shouldn't have kissed him", he mumbled to himself, still emberrassed to have been held at gunpoint for stealing a peck. Even if Scott hadn't thrown him out, he would never get a chance with the handsome man again. Hell, he still didn't know anything about the guy, except for his name, but Scott had been as happy as a kid at christmas. It was obvious that he knew more, but as always with his stupid werewolf club, he didn't tell Stiles anything about it.

Bugged that his best friend had once again left him out, he stamped into his flat in a foul mood. As if on cue, the phone started ringing and the cat greeted him with loud meows.

„Oh no, sorry", he said tiredly to the little furball. „I'm so sorry. I forgott your food! How about a nice Thai nosh to apologize, huh?" He walked over to the couch and fished the phone from the cushion. „Yeah! Yeah! Hold on!" Reading the caller ID, he gathered his secret superpower to bullshit his way out of trouble, which he had nurtured from a young age on.

„Danny!"

„Hey buddy...I'm waiting all day here. Where's the cab?" Danny's voice couldn't have sounded more irritated.

„Car's running fine, purring like a kitten", he told him a little too rushed.

„Fine?", Danny snapped. „What fine? I know you, Stiles. Fine isn't even in your vocabulary. Now come on, you can tell an old friend what happened. What, you tried to save the planet?"

„Listen-"

„You ran over a bike courier again, right? You ran over a goddamn bike courier!"

„Danny, I was on my way over to see you, when a big fair fell on my lap", Stiles told him in an even voice, trying to calm his fuming supervisor. „You know, one of these big fares you can't resist."

„Huh", Danny huffed in suspicion. „How big?"

Stiles couldn't help it as a broad smile slowly spread over his face. He ran a hand over his eyes and let himself drop down on his bed. With a deep breath he thought back to Derek, his beautiful body and his even more beautiful face. Absentmindedly, he stroke his free hand's fingertips over his belly, as he began to describe his „big fare" to his old friend.

„6 feet, green eyes. Muscles all over, great skin. You know... perfect."

„Uh huh, I see", Danny said a little less sour and obviously more interested in Stiles love life than tearing him a new one. „And this perfect fare, he got name?"

Stiles sighed dreamily and pillowed his head on his arm.

„Yeah. Derek."