FYI, I'm posting this also on AO3 (works/841237) with commentary from my side:)

Chapter 4

It's the day, two weeks and three knees weakening dinners later, when Stiles barely gets home from school when his phone rings and he knows the number, it's from the hospital. An armoured robbery in a local bank caused his dad is currently lying on an operation table and doctors are removing a bullet from his left arm. Stiles is back in the car before he even finishes the call. Scott's mum is awaiting him in front of the building and takes him by his arm without asking and leads into a waiting room where she sits him down and tells him to wait before the operation will end and that his dad is going to be okay, because it's a minor injury.

After they allow him to visit his dad's room, the man is still sleeping and Stiles takes a seat by his side while looking at his pale face.

He doesn't remember falling asleep before somebody clamps his mouth following with pressing down on his shoulder when he jumps on his seat and stares up into Peter's eyes. The room is dark and he looks around. His dad is still sleeping and looking calm. Peter releases his mouth and gives him a small paper and uses a light from his phone. It's from Scott's mum, saying that his dad woke up for once but fell asleep again and that Stiles should go home for the night.

"How did you get in?" He asks quietly and watches if his dad isn't waking up. Peter rolls his eyes on him. Stiles blames it for the sleepiness before he remembers Peter's spent here years and kept sneaking in and out for months.

"I'll take you home."

"No, I got here by my car," he replies and stands up.

"And I got here on my foot." Peter laconically responds, suddenly he runs away and Stiles is left alone when the door opens and a nurse comes in.

"Is he awake?" She asks and turns on a lamp by the door. Stiles blinks a few times and shakes his head. "I thought I've heard some talking."

"Yeah," Stiles scratches his neck, "I was talking to him," he says nervously and points to the bed, but shortly flicks his eyes at a bathroom door.

"Uh, okay," she says and stays still.

"I think I'll go home and come back in the morning?" On the end Stiles puts in a question, because he is not sure what to do and if can stay or go home.

"Yeah, he should be awake by then. He probably would stay one or two days in here, because he hit his head, too."

Stiles nods slowly and shuffles to the door. He is still confused from the whole situation.

"Don't you," the nurse is talking to him again. "Don't you want to buy a cup of coffee before you will go? You don't look vigilant enough for driving now." Stiles wants to laugh at the choice of her words, but just shakes his head and continues on his way out.

Finding Peter leaning against the driver's door isn't surprising at all.

"Your keys," he pulls out an arm, but Stiles smacks it away.

"Oh, sure. I remember very well the last time."

"Stiles," Peter growls his name and reaches for the keys again and he lets him take them before moving to the passenger's door with a loud sigh.

"Dude, you own me a foot rub for giving you my trust with my baby." He notices as Peter gives him a side look before starting the engine and swiftly leaving the empty parking lot.

The road home is quiet; he is leaning against the window with his forehead, blowing hot air on it and making circles with his finger over the fogged glass. Stiles gets fully awake when Peter parks in the drive way and wordlessly gets out of the car.

"Are you going to use the front door or would you prefer your favourite path?" Stiles bites down on his lip while getting out too and looks at Peter who is standing on the other side of the car.

"I wasn't planning on coming in at all," Peter answers and goes around the car to stand right in front of him when he closes the door and turns around. Stiles feels the cold metal getting to him through his hoo die when he steps back. "Aren't you sleepy?"

"I've slept for hours, not tired at all. Just worry about my dad. I won't fall asleep again now." Peter's body heat is right there and pressing him into the car even he's not touching him at all.

"You aren't even making whole sentences. That is supposed to convince me you're okay?"

"Maybe I need some distraction? I still have to think that if the bullet ended just a few inches to the right, it could be his heart and-"

Peter's arm appears on the car roof next to his head. He's watching Stiles with a bemused smirk and then blows a hot air against his mouth. Stiles allows himself to chuckle and leans his head back against the roof staring up at the night sky.

"The full moon is coming," he mutters as Peter's breathe tickles over his neck. "I always loved the night sky, you know? All the stars, I've spent so many nights just lying on the ground staring up and-"

His monologue is interrupted with a touch of teeth on his jaw. It reminds him the wolf inside of the man. And he has just bared his throat to him in an invitation. He moves his head down, but fingers in his hair immediately tug him back. He shouldn't to let them grow that much.

"You are very alluring tonight," Peter hums against his jaw and Stiles feels his stubble brushing against his neck. His body feels awfully manly against Stiles's tiny figure and he starts shivering uncontrollable. "If you can even guess what your fear does to me."

"No, no, no. Don't hurt me. Please," Stiles whispers and puts his hands on Peter's chest, pushing him back at bit.

"Shh, I wouldn't do that." With Peter's teeth this close to his skin, Stiles can barely talk as his throat is clenched. He's learnt Peter's words have their value and his assurance isn't anything the man wouldn't say if he didn't mean it.

"But then the question is what you would do to me."

"Hmm," Peter murmurs and Stiles can feel it against his skin. "I would like to give you a proposal."

"Yeah?"

"You are going to spend a few hours every week in my bed. I finally bought a new one."

"What? From a touch here or there you what to jump right-"

"No, it doesn't have to include me in, too," Peter lips just barely brushes against his skin before he loosens his hair and Stiles can fix his eyes with him.

"Is it a werewolf thing again?" Stiles sighs.

"Yes," Peter isn't hiding an amused sneer.

"Why did you take my shirt the other day anyway?"

"Smart boy," Peter appreciates him and points his finger into the air. "Let's say Derek pissed me off and I wanted to him to be upset from smelling you on me. It's not as effective as it's a permanent state now."

"What, you were wearing it?" Stiles gapes at him.

"No, not wearing. I wouldn't fit into your size."

Stiles chuckles. "Yeah, Derek said the same."

"Derek wore your clothes?"

"Uhm, yeah. He was staying at my place and had to borrow mine because his was all bloody and dirty. You know, werewo-"

"Why was he staying at your place?" Peter's hand moves on his neck once again and his thumb presses on his main vein. Stiles gulps and the pressure makes his heart beating faster.

"He was hiding from the police because they thought he killed his sister. Sounds familiar?" Stiles's hand is shaking when he grips on Peter's wrist and tugs the arm down. Stiles is amazed, after all he is getting jealous? "But he has never stayed over the night, as he was looking for the murderer."

They are measuring each other with their eyes until Peter finally nods and Stiles lets go on his arm and instead hooks his fingers on the pocket of the man's leather jacket.

"He has this thing for you, you know? To protect you even you are not his beta, but he never says anything to you."

"And you want me to roll over your sheets to piss him off? I thought this was a secret thing."

"Nothing between wolfs is a secret. And until I'm not bending you over the jeep with pants down your knees, he doesn't say anything. He has this opinion that fucking an underage is wrong."

Stiles wants to hysterically laugh off his words, but knowing that it's Derek, the alpha, that's holding Peter back from- from doing things to him, inappropriate things, which he probably wants to do… if Stiles understands his intentions well from the touching and his lately closeness. But Derek fighting for his innocence? How ridicules that sounds.

"I think, after how Kate manipulated him when he was one too, you can't be that surprised."

"Am I manipulating you?" Peter now places his open palm on Stiles's neck gently and brushes his thumb over his jaw. It feels extraordinary warm to Stiles who has never been this intimate with anybody and Peter's minty breath is tickling on his lips when he leans to him.

"Hell, yeah."

The mood between then quickly jumps on a different level and Stiles knows they are not going to talk about Derek again.

He relaxes his body against the jeep and opens his legs to give Peter a bigger space to lean in. They are so close from a real kiss he finds himself taking courage to initiate it on his own. His fingers tug on Peter's shirt and he's jittering nervously on his trembling legs.

"Do you think you know what are you doing?"

"Are you asking me if I know that this crap we're doing is pretty much illegal? I do understand that term, what are the motives for you, what is attracting me, the promise; and my lack of an experience."

"What would the sheriff say seeing you like this?"

"What would your fiancée say seeing you seducing a kid like me?" Stiles replies and he sees Peter's eyes narrowing when he pulls back. It was a low blow move from him, he knows, but mentioning Stiles's dad while his thigh is sliding between his legs wasn't his best choice either.

"A kid you say? Somebody could consider your response as justified enough, but not me. Your mind doesn't work as a normal kid's one does. You are not naïve as Isaac, or confused as Scott."

"But I really am, mostly. However, I can't afford to be reckless in your company."

Peter's teeth shine in the street light when he gives him a toothy grin. "Hmm, I haven't met a person as entertaining as you are in a while."

"Good, at least I know what keeps you to hang along. Entertainment."

Peter hums and his body presses more against Stiles. "I think you can find more than this one reason. You are the clever one."

"If I were clever, I would keep myself damn away from you."

"What about staying smart with me around?"

"Troublesome, but manageable?"

"Speaking of troubles, I think I'm going to leave you now." Stiles leans into the palm caressing his neck and slides his arms over Peter's back to hug him loosely.

"Just one more moment." He's considering if it would be okay to place his head on his shoulder, but then he just shrugs and does it anyway. He doesn't know what this exactly means in the werewolf's world when he brushes his lips over Peter's neck, but the man stiffens and then his body shoves against him with a new force and presses him against the Jeep.

"Uh," Stiles huffs and smiles against his neck. He experimentally licks the salty skin and receives a throaty moan from the man that assures him he's doing it right. Peter is pulling back and he whimpers at the lost when he tugs Stiles away by his hair, his arms are now firmly wrapped around Peter's waist keeping him from backing out.

"Stiles," he groans when he bucks his hips against Peter; playing with the werewolf won't be that hard after all.

"Yes?" He leans his head closer again and flatters with his eyelids. It has an opposite effect; Peter is raising his chin and looking to be back in his collected form again.

"Go home and get some rest. Tomorrow you will visit your dad and spend a few hours with him and then you'll arrive at Derek's apartment where you will spend the day with us. Derek and Isaac should be there. Your dad is going to be in the hospital for two more days."

Peter is back to his normal self-possessed voice and tightly grips Stiles's arms moving them away. He releases a whimper, but leaves his arms by his sides when Peter steps back.

"Whole day? I don't want to make Derek much upset. Fragile human, you know?"

"Leave Derek to me and do as I tell."

"Hey!" He shouts into the empty street as he's suddenly left alone, his body shivers with the cold. Rude he mutters under his breath and has to lean his head against the car again to collect himself before pushing off. He finds his keys still in the engine lock and slowly goes into the empty house.

ˇˇˇˇˇˇ

Seeing his dad so weak and helpless is hurting him and they talk a bit, the older man is telling him when their action went down and how he got shot. Stiles spends watching a football match with him on the small hospital TV for about an hour before the painkillers brings his dad back into a calm sleep and Stiles gives him a last glance before quietly sneaking out. He tells Scott's mum he will come back tomorrow after school and that should be a time they will release him. She asks him if he wants to come over for dinner and he denies and struggles with his words for a while before she lets him go with a worry expression.

Peter is sprawled over a sidewalk in front of the building and exposing his face to the sun. He doesn't bother to open his eyes when Stiles parks along the street and heavily sits next to him.

"Be careful not to burn your face. Again," he doesn't hold back the bitterness from visiting his dad and Peter slowly smirks before opening his eyes.

"I'm glad you are in a good mood."

Stiles finds a little stone that he throws at him and Peter's lips only twist more. They are sitting in a silence for a while looking around and enjoying the late spring sunny day.

"Is there any food? I didn't have lunch." He looks at Peter eventually.

"I'm too comfortable to serve you."

"God, I asked if you had any food. Not to bring me a bunny on a silver plate," Stiles groans and stumbles up on his feet before coming inside. The loft is dark and pleasurable cold and empty when he goes to check out the fridge. There are plenty of boxes with different kinds of leftovers and some pieces of vegetables and fruits stuck in the lower shelves.

"I would recommend you take out the box on the upper right." Stiles wishes not to jump when he hears Peter behind his back. He never notices him even it seems impossible not to hear his boots on the wooden floor. An arm sneaks along his side and fishes out an apple. Stiles is already looking into the upper right box. It's one portion of lasagnes and he realises how hungry he is. He moves to the microwave ignoring the man completely, but puts the meal on a plate before warming it up.

There is a finger on the top of his neck, hopefully a human nail that slowly copies the line of his spine before the machine will cling. He knows Peter's head is right behind his and he hears him every time he takes a huge bite.

"You can't even eat an apple without making it sound like a freaking murder?" He shakes him off his back.

"Stiles." Peter sounds sulky. "I know you are upset of your dad being in a hospital, but it's not your fault, so stop bothering about it."

"Like stop bothering you about it. Can you lay off my back for a while? Anywhere I move, you are there. I would tip you to be more of an asocial kind."

Peter lets him push himself off the kitchen unit, but follows him into the living room on a sofa. "It's not my choice; my wolf likes having you around."

"Oh, yeah? What bullshit is that? Are you talking with your wolf during the cold nights? Gossiping? It's all you who is doing it."

Peter shakes his head again. "It's like an instinct. I don't even notice my hands are moving until I hear your heart rising up the beat."

"Creepy." He sticks his tongue at him and continues in eating. It's weird that all his reactions he feels on his own, somebody can sense too. He's thinking if he can control it anyhow, but what he can only do is breathing regularly, keeping his expression blank and holding his hands firmly from shaking.

The warm food in his stomach is soothing his bruised soul and in the end he brushes his foot along Peter's legs. The man grips his ankles and firmly moves Stiles's legs into his lap. His expression doesn't change, like this is normal, this is something they do all the times. Peter leans his head back and closes his eyes. Stiles rolls his legs over his thighs and the grip on his ankle tightens.

"Why does your wolf like me?"

Peter hums and turns his face into Stiles's direction. "You're responsive."

"Responsive how?"

"You have been sending a mix of signals for a while that are… prepossessing."

"Seriously?" He makes a funny face. "Have you ever heard of flirting?" He grins at Peter and feels his cheeks burning as he rubs his legs again.

"I would rather call it courting."

"Courting? Which century are you living in?"

"There are things called traditions."

"Where is my bunny on a silver plate then?"

"Upstairs," Peter answers simply and looks at him again.

"Okay, I'm actually pretty really tired and-and… This couch doesn't look good; didn't you say you wanted me to roll over your sheets?"

"Do you want to lie down? There is a spare bed upstairs Isaac brought for him." Peter asks and slides his hand over Stiles's legs.

"Yeah, I guess. It's more comfortable, right?"

Peter doesn't answer, only raises his eyebrows. Stiles stands up on his feet and goes back into the kitchen to quickly wash the plate and for a case his chin too. As there isn't any mirror he can use.

Peter is awaiting him at the bottom of the spiral stairs, Stiles goes up ahead but stops on the top of the stairs to turn around and look down at him with his arms leaning on the banisters and blocking the way. Peter isn't masking his amusement as he continues going up and puts his hands on Stile's hips lifting him effortlessly of the ground. He leaves him no option than to wrap his legs around his waist and puts arms over his shoulder. The man manoeuvres them with his face pressed to Stiles's shoulder into an open room that doesn't contain anything but a tall wardrobe and a huge bed with blank sheets and a soft duvet. Peter doesn't unceremoniously throw him on it as Stiles expects, but puts him back on his feet. Stiles turns to a window leading into a backyard and stares out at the ugly gray buildings all around. He doesn't like this part of city.

Stiles turns back at the man who is observing him closely with his head tilted to the side and taking deep breaths through his nose. He's still not fully used to all the werewolves' habits and he would like at least once try it by himself what it is like. Peter takes his hand lifting it to his face and sniffs the inside of his wrist. Stiles blushes deeply at the odd gesture and he remembers the last time they were standing like this. He wants to pull his arm back, but instead he is tugged to the bed. Even it's about two months since Peter started sneaking into his room to 'hang out' they've never been together on a bed.

Because the bed itself is making it serious as shit.

He's lying on his side and kicking his shoes off his feet. Peter is hovering above him propped on his palm and watching him while his fingers are wandering over his face. He meets his eyes for a long moment, the longest in their brief history and he feels a relief when he doesn't see the catatonic stare that scares him, but a focused pair of lively blue eyes. The man's face is peaceful and incredibly handsome in the bright light that makes his chest to tighten and his knees jiggle with impatience. He bits on his lower lip and Peter's glance immediately moves on it, his own mouth curving into a small smile that looks to be genuine.

Stiles lifts his hand without taking his eyes from Peter's face and hooks one finger on the collar of the man's shirt. It's different from the last night when he was almost sure he was going to get his first kiss, and he misses the darkness a bit now. It's all real, who they are, displayed in the daylight, but in this moment, he doesn't feel a thrill of fear of the man and that is probably the reason why Peter finally lowers his head enough to let their lips touch.

They are dry and hot when pressed to his. They both are moving, slowly closing the space between them and bringing themselves chest to chest. It feels as Peter is pulling back and Stiles panics he's changed his mind and his hand buries into the man's hair holding him there. Peter's thumb is caressing Stiles's cheek as he licks his way into Stiles partly opened mouth when he moans from the surprise. He responds back and meets the tip with his, blushing from his inexperience and trying to coordinate his movements with Peter's.

It's his first kiss and he feels so splendidly excited he can't wait to get more. He actually whines when Peter pulls back for real and lays his head next to Stiles's. But the boy disagrees on ending it before he even starts getting on the rhythm and moves his head forward to find Peter's mouth again. He's opening his mouth and catching those lips between his, sucking on them and slightly using his teeth, making the other man to laugh silly. Peter's hand is cupping his face when he uses his other hand and firmly grips on Stiles's hip before he pushes his tongue into his mouth and Stiles tugs on his hair harder. His hand is scratching his neck, attempting to give Peter the same chilling as he feels rolling down his back.

Stiles is taking in deep breathes when they apart and feels a bit foggy as he is opening his eyes at Peter. He closes them a while later and he feels a short kiss, merely a peck on the corner of his mouth before the man is setting down by his side. Stiles slips lower and throwing his arm over his chest, he snuggles his face to his side. He's not thinking if it's right thing to do. Now, he's just a person whose body is firm and warm against his and he buries his face deeper.

But he can't hold himself down for long as his body vibrates with a want. He lifts himself again to look at Peter's composed face with closed eyes. It's a form of showing he trusts Stiles enough to lose his defence around him. He places a palm on Peter's chest and feels the muscles under it. How he has managed to keep his body in such an amazing shape while years in comma is a mystery, it has to be a werewolf thing again, and very unfair. Peter's shirt is crumpled and shoving a bit of his abdomen, mostly a path of dark hair running down to…ugh. Stiles's eyes are roaming lower and he has a sudden idea to copy the path with his hand and he slides his palm over Peter's chest, but then his eyes catch on something odd. On his right hip is a long scar that continues up under the shirt. He tugs on it and doesn't hold back a gasp when he sees the extent of the man's injuries over his side. Peter catches his wrist from moving more up and stares at him with a glooming pair of eyes changed into brighter blue colour than is his normal.

Stiles saw his scarred face in the hospital before, but he's been pretending it as a camouflage.

"Why do you still have them?" He asks and tries to take a look again.

"A reminder of the world I live in."

"It was Kate who- Not everybody is that evil."

"People hurt you when you expect it the least. We all knew he's been seeing with her, with a hunter. But those are not from the fire."

Uh. Then it's from his return after the Molotov cocktail flame that Stiles threw on him, too.

"May I?" He tugs on the hem again and Peter sighs, but takes his shirt off. He brings his arm to stroke it over Stiles's back and lies back down. Stiles waits until he closes his eyes again before moving his hand over his injured skin. It doesn't look ugly actually. Stiles copies the individual scars with his finger.

"I can erase them if you want, I did it with most of them," he says and the one under Stiles's finger disappears.

"No! No, I don't mind them," he assures him. "Little bit of sentimentality suits to anybody. And I like it. You know there are tribes in Africa and other places that esteem scarification as a process of decorating and beautifying the body."

Peter frowns but doesn't continue on healing his skin. It's odd how quickly he offered to get rid of them. Because, how could an attractive man as him get anxious about his appearance? God, he wants to lick them, because the more he's glazing over them, the more excited he gets. And then he thinks why not? and lowers down to press his mouth on one right under his shoulder. Peter's hand on his back stops moving and then runs to pull him back by his neck. He drags him and rolls them over. Stiles is suddenly lying on his back with Peter's mouth pressed to his throat and he gasps as his teeth brush his skin.

"Okay, okay, buddy," he tries to smooth him with his right hand tapping on his back. "We are grumpy about them." He gets back a low growl; Peter catches his wrists and places them above his head. Stiles's considering if he's going to get a panic attack when he is pressed to the mattress, but Peter's warm body is too hot and disturbing that he focuses more on him. While Peter fixes their eyes, his lips are shaking with a growl. Stiles carefully withdraws his legs from under him and loosely holds them by his sides and his arms aren't trying to escape from the man's hold anymore.

"Hey, wolfie, look at me, this is Stiles, helpless human," he's muttering and Peter slowly blinks. His eyes get back to his normal colour. "And you're obviously not in for surprises."

Peter raises his right hand and lets grown his claws, then runs his index finger over Stiles's face and neck until he reaches his shirt and in three cuts he rips it open.

"Oh my god," Stiles's breath gets a frenetic speed. "I got the point. And I liked this-"

His mouth is clamped by a palm and he whines. Peter only rolls his eyes and starts to tear the rest off his shoulders. Stiles tries to help by lifting his arms, but the man is very effective on his goal and moves back to kneel between Stiles's legs watching him as he throws the rest of the shirt on a floor.

"Much better," he opens his mouth after a torturing couple of seconds when Stiles's been looking at him in disbelief. "You should wear something that would appreciate those fine lines more." His both hands are sliding by Stiles's sides and gripping him around his thin waist. "I'm not saying I wouldn't prefer it in the natural appearance like this. But Derek and Isaac could be here soon and they would probably disagree."

"I don't have a spare shirt here and I better don't ask what happened to the one you took from me."

"I'll let you borrow one of mine if you ask nicely."

That impossible possessive demanding bastard…

"My dear, would be so kind?" He's biting on his tongue as he's fighting with the want to punch him. Or kiss him. He could go with that, too. And they go, with the kissing, fortunately. Peter is no longer gentle with him and roughly attacks his mouth, his hand is pressed on Stiles's neck and suppressing an air from his lungs when he's showing his supremacy and Stiles lets him to have it. Not because it is pragmatic to keep upset werewolves on his side, but giving out the power is addicting.

His body isn't at that one with him and struggles with the lack of oxygen. Peter releases him and he desperately gasps for an air staring up at him, the hand is still on his neck. Peter's eyes are cold and Stiles doesn't dare to wonder what is going through his mind. Instead he decides to apply his own weapons and in one moment he hooks his legs along the man's waist, one hand around his neck and the other places on his face. Peter doesn't yield easily, that's for sure, but Stiles applies more pressure and inch by inch he's tugging him lower until he can lift his head enough to press a kiss on the man's throat.

It has the affect he's been hoping for and he opens his mouth widely to suck on the sweaty skin and maybe his soft lips will get bruised later from his stubble, but now he can barely care. Peter whines, he actually whines above him and his hand buries into Stiles's hair. The other appears under his right knee when he's opening Stiles's legs more and rubbing their bodies against each other. Until then there was a microscopic gap between them, but Peter actually rolling his groin over his is reminding him how hard he is.

Stiles shoves his hips up, jovially as it can be understood as the basic movements between two bodies and he feverishly mouths on the man's neck going up to nibble his earlobe. His legs can't get spread more even Peter is frantically rubbing his thigh and lifting his leg up, his hand is getting dangerously near Stiles's erection and he absolutely wouldn't protest if he would continue further. It's driving him crazy, the taste under his tongue and the smell. It's not classic cologne from a drug store, but it's fresh, a mix of mint and spices, and he feels the primary need to taste. But he's not allowed, his mouth is empty and he lets out a whimper of a protest. He falls down on the blanket again and his arms clench around Peter's neck. They shortly fix their eyes before he simply titles his head up.

"You are…," Peter's breath tickles his neck, "I want to mark you."

"That means?" He lowers his eyes to look at him.

"Mark you mine, for everybody to see."

"Didn't you say they could smell it already?"

"It's not the same."

"Hey, but- but, my dad can't notice or what, you want to be introduced to him? My wolfie pal? I'm going to take care of him because he's certainly going to spend next week at home and hickeys aren't exactly-"

Peter's teeth simply sink into his neck and he groans in pain.

"Not nice, my wolfie pal," he snorts and struggles under him.

"I'll buy you a scarf. We're going shopping anyway," Peter mutters and his tongue licks the bruised skin.

"Are we?"

Peter pulls back to give him his 'stop questioning everything I do' look.

"Tomorrow morning. More gifts to come," he smiles and Stiles rolls his eyes.

"Seriously? Fine, I don't mind spoiling. But I hate shopping."

"You've never been sneaking into changing room together with me. I'll make it worth your time."

"That's… actually a tempting invitation. Who are you and where did you bury six feet under the other guy?"

"That's a secret," Peter says softly and his lips are on Stiles's again. They continue to explore this until now undiscovered ground until they hear a sharp squeak of metal as the door is tagged open. Stiles panics. Derek's home.