"Go order me a caramel macchiato," Erica demanded. "Oh! And a blackberry muffin!"

"Why don't I just get you a five pound bag of sugar and a spoon?" Derek grumbled, squeezing past her to get out of his seat and head towards the counter. It was way too early and the coffee shop was too crowded for his tastes, and the reason he was there wasn't helping his attitude any either.

The curvy blonde just grinned, aware that he couldn't say no to any request she put to him, no matter how much of a bad mood he was in. And he wouldn't - not after everything she and her husband Boyd had done for him in the last three months. They had been invaluable in half a dozen ways, beloved friends and a source of pack when his own was so far away. Comfort, stability, not just for him but for the boys, who needed it so badly.

Waiting in line in the front of the coffee shop, Derek felt the heavy weight of responsibility come down on his shoulders again, the crushing fear that he wasn't doing the right thing. It had been his constant nightmare ever since he'd moved down to Beacon hills from Colorado, that this wasn't what was best for the triplets. Probably not for him either, but it was the only thing he could think of, the only way he knew to keep them… safe. Swallowing hard around the knot in his throat, he placed Erica's order and headed back towards the booth near the window, this time sliding in across from her instead of at her side.

"Remind me why I'm here again?" he sighed heavily, scrubbing one hand down over his eyes.

"Relax," Erica replied, flipping open the manila file folder on the table top in front of her. "Please? We're early, so you've got a few minutes to get your grumpy face under control."

Looking up from where he was idly tossing a creamer cup back and forth between his hands, Derek glared at the top of her curly golden hair and his eyes flashed a jeweled blue.

"That's the one," she muttered, pointing a finger at him without even bothering to glance at his face. "Seriously, I don't want you scaring off another applicant."

"That wasn't my fault!" he growled indignantly, slouching back in the booth and crossing his arms over his chest.

He and Erica had interviewed five people so far, all women, but as soon as they'd had two minutes to run their eyes over him the whole thing had gone out the window. The three teenagers he could almost forgive, but the two house moms going through their mid-life crises he could not. Erica would have given one or two of them a chance but he'd shot that down, a shiver tripping along his spine at the thought of having any of them in his house, watching his kids. It must have shown on his face too, because as the interview had progressed they had all gone from smiles and flirtation to a nervous, withdrawn anxiety, and had practically run out the door upon dismissal, casting mixed looks of fear and lust at him over their shoulders.

"It was your fault," Erica deadpanned.

"Then why am I even here?" he snapped. "You wrote the ad without my help, you can do this too."

"Because, Derek," she explained in a voice that clearly said she shouldn't have to be doing just that. "You know I love the boys, but I can't handle them full time any more. And I'm…" Here she paused, a sad little frown on her face, and guilt flared in her scent. "I'm sorry about that, but…"

"Erica," he interrupted, reaching across the table to squeeze her fingers, "God, I'm not… I'm not mad. You know that right?" Cupping her chin in his hand, he lifted her face to meet her eyes, soft and anxious with guilt and worry. "I promise," he urged. "And I get it, believe me. You and Boyd have your own kids, your own life - one that you put on hold for me when I needed you. But we both knew that couldn't last forever, true? You'd go nuts taking care of all five of those kids every day by yourself, hell, anybody would. And now you're starting a new job..."

At the mention of her recent acceptance as a writer for a well-known werewolf mommy-blog Derek finally got a smile out of her, and the confidence that usually glowed around her came flooding back.

"Still," she replied softly, closing the file in front of her, "I know this is hard for you. Finding someone you can trust to take care of them… I know how hard it is for me."

"And that's why we're here," he sighed, leaning back in his seat again.

"Exactly. I wrote a pretty good ad if I do say so myself, and everyone who's replied meets those requirements, but we both know you're going to want more than that, so…"

"I can't help it Erica," he mumbled, slumping his shoulders. "After everything we've been through, everything…" He frowned and looked away out the window, his throat tightening again. "It has to feel right. Has to feel safe."

"And safe isn't some high school cheerleader more interested in playing with you than your kids."

Derek rolled his eyes. "No," he replied flatly. "It's definitely not."

"And I get that," Erica replied, scooting out of the booth as her name was called from somewhere behind the counter. "Really. But Derek…"

Derek abruptly regretted having gotten up to follow her as she linked her arm through his, pulling him in close to her side, even if it was nice - the nearness and the physical contact he'd missed so much lately since leaving his pack.

"It's ok to look, you know?"

"And have to arrest myself for statutory?" he asked. "No thanks."

"That's not what I meant and you know it," she scolded gently, bumping him with her shoulder as they slipped into line to pick up her coffee. "Going on a date once in a while wouldn't kill you."

Derek huffed a silent, derisive sort of laugh, causing Erica to blush heavily.

"Bad choice of words," she admitted quietly. "But at least you can talk about it now, right? That has to mean something. Maybe going out…"

"I'm all right," he promised. "We're doing well, or as well as we can be I guess. But the kids are still adjusting to all of this, and I'm just… not looking right now, ok? And definitely not for teeny-boppers or empty-nest moms."

"Fine," Erica chuckled. "I'll let it go. Besides, we've got someone a little different lined up today. Twenty-two, home for the summer from college. He's studying social work and mythology…"

"A guy?" Derek asked, cocking an eyebrow.

"Is that a problem?" Erica asked, breezily enough because she knew it wasn't.

"Just… different," Derek replied. "Did he pass the background check?"

"With flying colors. This is our last chance Derek, and I think he'll be a good fit. I mean, he lives in town, has a clean driving record... His name's Stiles, I think he's actually…"

"What the hell is a Stiles?" he interrupted. It was a weird name, but he was sure he'd heard it somewhere before…

"Oh, hey, that's me!" a voice chirped, and Derek looked up to see the last person standing between them and the counter swinging around, a to-go cup of black coffee in his hand. "I'm a Sti…. Wait, Deputy Derek?!"

"Oh my God, you two know each other?" Erica grinned.

Derek just stared, apparently unable to find his tongue. It was the kid, the one from the station, the Sheriff's kid. The one he'd crashed into and then snarled at, annoyed and confused by the way his wolf had immediately reacted to the boy, snuffling after the clean sweat that had soaked his hair and his shirt, devoured the flush that lit his cheekbones and dripped down the column of his throat beneath his collar. He looked calmer today - less frazzled, less smug. He was dressed in a pair of khakis and a navy button-down, the sleeves rolled up over his forearms, but there was still a crackling sort of energy to him, a strong, clean scent that tickled in his chest.

"Um, yeah," the boy answered watching Derek nervously as he turned to Erica and offered her his hand. "We bumped in to each other at the station a few days ago. I'm Stiles… Stilinski. And you must be Mrs. Deputy Derek."

Erica finally released Derek's arm to return the handshake, all smiles as she laughed and shook her head. "Erica Boyd," she corrected. "Derek's a good friend of my husband and me. It's nice to meet you Stiles." Reaching around the young man to grab her coffee and muffin from the counter, she gestured towards their window booth. "Shall we?" Aiming a less than discreet kick at Derek's ankles, she led Stiles back to the booth, leaving him to trail along behind.

"So Stiles," Erica began, opening up the file folder she'd left on the table and taking a sip of her macchiato as Stiles slipped in across from her, "You're background check and your driving record came back clean; that's wasn't your dad's doing was it?"

Derek's eyes went wide as he slid in next to her, shocked by her forwardness, but Stiles just laughed, a full, pleasant sound that was calming on his nerves, still jangled by the surprise encounter.

"Nah," he answered easily. "Beacon Hills is in good hands; their Sheriff isn't one for falsifying records."

Erica smiled back but Derek felt frozen, unsure why he couldn't seem to shake himself out of his shock. He sat silent as stone on the red vinyl bench, his hands gripping his thighs beneath the edge of the table, and his silence seemed to be taking its toll. Erica was glaring at him, waiting for him to speak, and Stiles was turning his coffee cup nervously between his hands, opening and closing his mouth as though he weren't sure if he should speak at all.

Derek had just made up his mind to let the quiet reign when the young man across from him swallowed, frowned, and looked up to meet his eyes.

"Look, if this is weird I can go," he said finally, jerking a thumb back over his shoulder at the door. "I mean, my dad's your boss; that's gotta be weird."

"No!" Erica yelped beside him, practically lunging across the table. "It's fine, really."

Neither Derek nor Stiles spared her a glance.

They were too busy locked in their own little staring match.

And that was something different for him. Something that his wolf took great interest in. He wasn't used to his gaze being held so strongly – he maintained a fairly high position within his mother's pack, and so Stiles' steady amber contemplation was challenging in a way that put a spark of excitement in his belly. It reminded him of the rare glass of honeyed aconite-whiskey he indulged in, deep and warm but with a strong bite hiding underneath it, and it made him wonder… The others had shied from his cold dismissal but so far Stiles hadn't, and in a perverse little push Derek flashed his eyes, eager to note the boy's reaction.

It wasn't the one he expected.

Stiles cocked an eyebrow, smirked before lifting his coffee cup and taking a sip, grimacing and reaching for a packet of sugar.

"Should probably apologize before I go," he said casually, tearing open the little pink package and swirling the cup around. "Didn't mean to freak you out the other day."

Derek frowned, opened his mouth to protest but Stiles cut him off.

"Dude, you looked like a man headed for the firing squad." He paused, his cup halfway to his mouth and grinned. "Hah! Firing squad. Anyway. I've got some sway down at the station, true. Happens when you grow up there. But I don't have that much. My dad's not gonna fire you just for threatening to throw me in a holding cell. Hell, he'd probably promote you if you managed to pull it off."

"You threatened your boss's son?" Erica hissed.

"What? No!" Derek protested indignantly before turning on Stiles with a scowl. "And don't call me dude! If you've got the power to get me hired, you can get me fired too!"

"Please," Stiles snorted, taking another sip of his coffee before apparently giving up on it and pushing it away. "I just told you, that's not going to happen." Placing his hands flat on the table, he moved to stand, sliding from the bench to his feet. "You'll see. It's a pretty good group down there."

"Stiles wait!" Erica pleaded, placing her hand on Derek's shoulder and shoving as though she wanted out of the booth, wanted to be able to grab the kid and hold him back. "Please? We'd still like to do the interview, and you're kind of our last hope here."

Surprise flitted over the boy's face but he masked it quickly, aiming a look at Derek that clearly asked the question. Huffing, he frowned but waved a hand all the same, watching silently as he sank back down into the booth, folding his hands together on the table.

"Kinda showing your hand there," he said calmly, looking between the two of them, but Erica just shrugged.

"I won't say we're desperate," she answered simply. "But we're kind of desperate."

"Your kids then?" he asked, his eyes flicking over to Derek again and running over his Deputy's uniform. "And you're here to, what? Scare the new nanny?"

"They're my kids," Derek snarled, and he could feel his teeth sharpen in his mouth.

It was a touchy subject - sue him.

Stiles didn't respond, just nodded, tapping the middle fingers of his right hand against the table top.

"Like I said, my husband and I are friends of the family," Erica said, clearly attempting to smooth the tension between them. "I've been watching the boys for the last few weeks, but I'm starting a new job soon, so I'm helping Derek find a sitter. If you get the job I'll be helping you get situated as well, show you a few of the ropes. And I'll be working from home, so I'm an easy emergency contact if you ever need any help."

"Should I be anticipating a lot of emergencies?" he asked.

Erica's mouth quirked but Derek thought it was a good question, one that hadn't been asked yet by any of the other applicants.

"That depends," Erica replied. "Tell us a little bit about yourself. What kind of experience do you have with kids and werewolves?"

"Well," Stiles began, settling back into his seat. "I do have a lot of experience with kids. I used to watch my younger cousins a lot, and I'm getting my degree in social work, so I'm doing the academic stuff. We're also required to do field work and service learning projects, so I've worked with kids in schools and in hospitals, anywhere from six months to thirteen years old. You have my letters of recommendation?"

"I do," Erica replied, shuffling some papers before sliding the file over in front of Derek. He hadn't read any of it yet, trusting her to do the preliminary legwork in his stead, but he was still intrigued.

"Why social work?" he asked, sure that it was unusual for a young man's major even though he'd never gotten the chance to go to college himself. "Not a job that a lot of guys go in for."

Stiles chewed on his lip for a minute, apparently debating whether or not to answer, and it put Derek on alert.

"I'm not a perv, if that's what you're worried about," Stiles finally answered back before tapping his hand against his chest. "No lie, right?"

Derek frowned but shook his head. His heartbeat hadn't skipped a note.

"My mom was a social worker," the young man blurted suddenly, and his cheeks flushed as he looked down at the tabletop. "She helped a lot of kids, so…"

Derek noticed the past tense but didn't quite understand it. The Sheriff still wore a wedding ring, but the scent of sorrow was hanging heavy in the air around him. Erica noticed it too, and was quick to steer the conversation forward.

"Any experience with werewolves in particular?" she asked, and Stiles immediately brightened, a grin lighting him up.

"Yeah, definitely," he smiled. "My best friend, Scott, he's a werewolf. He was turned by a rogue alpha in high school, so of course he didn't have a pack. I pretty much did all the work." Here he snickered, running his thumb along the edge of his lower lip - a movement Derek's eyes followed intently. "I did a ton of research, one of my many hidden talents, and basically taught him how to be a werewolf. I remember, this one time, I spent the day pelting him with lacrosse balls to teach him how to control his…"

Trailing off, his eyes went wide as he paled, throwing up his hands.

"Not that I would ever…"

Erica was laughing but Derek just watched him grimly, his face dark until Stiles swallowed and began bouncing his knee under the table.

"Derek, stop it," Erica scolded, smacking him in the ribs.

"Anyway," Stiles continued. "I learned a lot from him, from helping him. We've picked up some friends along the way too – one of them lives in town, Isaac Lahey?"

"Oh, we've met Isaac!" Erica smiled, and Derek nodded.

He'd come across the young beta on a run just a few days after moving in, and they'd spoken a few times since, gravitating towards each other as wolves without pack were wont to do. Stiles nodded, tapped his fingers on the table and continued.

"So I've got my own car. Um… I'm a pretty good cook, so I'm cool with the shopping and stuff. No plans for the summer, so I can do mornings or nights, whatever you need. And I'm clear for August… you need help with a family reunion right?"

"Road trip," Derek corrected, heaviness flooding his chest as he thought about the ordeal scheduled at the end of his summer. "It's… hours up to Colorado, and flying's out, so we're driving. The pack is all coming in, and it's loud and crazy and pretty musc just a mess, so I need another pair of eyes."

"That's not a problem," Stiles said, looking contemplative. "I could do that."

"Sounds like you'd be a pretty good match," Erica said confidently. "Do you have any questions for us?"

"Yeah, one." Stiles frowned, chewing his lip again, and Derek could hear his heart pick up. "Where's mom?"

Derek felt like ice water had been poured into his lungs, locking up his airways and sending a shiver down his spine. His hands had tightened around the edges of the table and he knew his eyes were glowing but he couldn't pull it back, any more than he could pull back the low growl that was somehow clawing its way out of his chest. Erica was looking at him anxiously, hissing his name but he ignored her, spitting out his answer through clenched teeth.

"She's not in the picture," he snarled. "Understood?"

"Easy dude," Stiles responded in a low, smooth voice, his spiking pulse belying the force behind his calm tone. "I'm not asking to be a dick, ok? Sheriff's kid here. I just need to know what kind of contact she's allowed to have."

"None," Erica answered for him, stomping the spike of her heel into his boot and giving him another five seconds to get himself under control. "Derek has full custody and a restraining order against the boys' mother. She's not allowed within five hundred yards of the kids, ok?"

"Got it. Picture?"

"Not necessary," Derek growled, eyes still bright blue. "She's in prison, and that's not about to change."

"Heavy," he said seriously. "Anything else I should know?"

"We haven't scared you off?" Erica asked warily.

"Shit happens," Stiles replied diplomatically. "And I get that you don't really want to talk about it, but if anything changes… just don't leave me out of the loop yeah? I like to know who my bad guys are."

And that, that simple statement of acceptance, had all the anger flooding out of him. This kid, who he hadn't even hired yet, was already taking possession of Derek's past mistakes, already standing up as a shield between his kids and the shadows that haunted their steps. None of the others had given even the slightest signs that they might come to eventually care for his boys, none of them had ever even gotten so far as this. Erica was saying something to Stiles but Derek couldn't hear anything but a dull ringing in his ears. Shaking his head minutely, he pushed down the wolf inside him, shook the strange warmth that had settled along his spine and dragged himself back to awareness, just in time to hear Erica issuing the invitation that would set the rest of Derek's summer into motion.

"… come over tomorrow and meet the kids?"

"That'd be awesome!" Stiles replied, and his excitement was as evident in his voice as in the wide grin splitting his face. "I mean, I'm going to have a ton more questions, so that'll be perfect."

Taking the file back from Derek, Erica pulled out a notecard that she'd apparently prepared ahead of time and slid it across the table.

"Here's mine and Derek's number, our email addresses, and directions to the house," she explained, pushing Derek out of the booth and getting to her feet to shake Stiles' hand. "We'll see you at two!"

"Absolutely, I'll be there! Thanks again Erica, it was nice meeting you." Shooting Derek a smile, he aimed a pair of finger guns his way. "Later Deputy Derek!" he grinned, clicking his tongue, and then he was gone, pushing out the door of the coffee shop and climbing into a heavy blue jeep before roaring off down the street.

Derek exhaled for what felt like the first time in hours, suddenly drained outside of the oddly-electrifying presence of the other man. He was… alert, and intelligent, and unafraid. Honest. And he seemed to have a good heart. More than that, his wolf was attracted to the boy, the scent of him and the way he flushed.

It made his stomach turn.

"So that's a Stiles," Erica said at his side, the both of them still staring out the window after the boy's exit. "I like him.

Derek wasn't so sure.