It was 4 o'clock and Stiles was cleaning his room. Recently, navigating over the mounds of clothes that decorated the floor had almost become a game for him, so he was reluctant to ruin it all when his father realized he had a blossoming hoarder on his hands and demanded Stiles clean.
Sorting clothes into two piles, bad smelling and good, Stiles blasted AWOL Nation and danced embarrassingly about the room. He hadn't meant for the mess to get so out of hand, but lately his room was where he spent all his time when he wasn't at school or running. Eventually the mess piled up. Through the loud music, Stiles heard banging on the front door downstairs. He frowned, "who could that be?"
Stiles made his way downstairs and looked through the peephole, immediately jumping back when he saw leather-clad Derek glaring back at him. What was he doing here? It took a second for him to compose himself before opening the door.
He cracked it open, "we don't want any mister," he said as seriously as possible.
Shaking his head Derek pushed the door in and made his way into the house, "very funny."
Stiles began laughing and allowed him into the house, but quickly quieted down when he realized how uncomfortable Derek looked standing in his hall.
"So?" Stiles said. This wasn't the first time Derek was in the Stilinski home. However the last time he was over he was a fugitive hiding from the police, so naturally he hid in the sheriff's son's room. This particular visit was unexpected, but Stiles found it was not unwelcomed. A part of him was actually happy to see the perpetually grumpy Alpha.
Derek began speaking but was cut short by Stiles, "wait," he said holding up both hands, "Let's go upstairs." Without waiting for a response, he made his way past Derek and ran up the stairs, his bare feet making more noise than was necessary on the way up. The invitation caught Derek off guard but he followed anyway.
Pausing just outside the door, Derek stared into the bedroom, "your room is disgusting, Stiles."
"I like to think of this as a no-judgment zone," Stiles replied waving his arms about dramatically.
"There's a difference between judging and stating a fact," he said as he took a cautious step into the room, he peered into a corner "is that broken glass?"
Stiles looked over, "I don't know, maybe. Here, sit!" He said while clearing a nearby chair by pushing a pile of textbooks onto the floor.
Derek looked at the chair, his eyes widening slightly at the fear of the unknown. Stiles rolled his eyes and pushed it towards him, "It won't bite."
"The fact that you have to assure me of that is a problem in itself," Derek mumbled as he grabbed the chair and sat down slowly.
Stiles watched the entire scene while holding back laughter. Turning his back on Derek, Stiles continued sorting his clothes.
"So what are you doing here?" he asked as he threw several socks into the bad pile.
Derek followed the socks with his eyes, "You haven't been around much lately."
"No," Stiles tone of voice had changed, hardened almost. He was being defensive without knowing why.
"I heard you were seeing a therapist."
Stiles paused in his sorting for only a moment before continuing, his voice sounded strained, "A counselor,"
"Right,"
"So?"
"So, what have you been telling her?"
Stiles turned around, his reddening face betraying his anger, "I'm sorry but who told you I was seeing a counselor?"
"That's not important,"
"The hell it isn't!" His voice rising. Who was Derek to come into is home and ask him these questions.
"Look, I just need to know if you've been telling her anything about the pack."
"You have some nerve. It's none of your damn business what I talk to her about, but if it's "pack secrets" you're worried about, don't. I'm not an idiot."
"I never said-"
"Honestly, unless I wanted to end up in the psych-ward I wouldn't tell her about werewolves or alphas or any of the other bullshit you guys are involved with."
Derek just stared at him. It was shocking, this unknown angry side of Stiles. Up until now, Derek was only used to happy and annoying Stiles.
"Right, sorry," Derek stood up, pushing the chair aside. It rolled and hit the wall making a loud noise in tense silence that filled the room after Stile's outburst. He turned to leave the room, suddenly regretting the impulsive decision to come by.
