Twenty minutes later, boredom proved to be his downfall as he waddled over to Derek. He caught the older man glance up, a smirk still etched on his face

"Whatchya reading?" he asked, taking the book from Derek's hands.

He didn't fight to keep it in his grasp; which drastically reduced the possibility that it could have been erotica or something. Derek seemed so anti-technology that it wouldn't have surprised him. But instead, unshockingly, was a good old fashioned western. Right down to the small-town, the horse and the swashbuckling hero swooping in to save the day.

"Really?"

"What?" Derek asked, snatching his book back. He dog-eared the page and tucked it away into his jacket. "It's a good book."

"It's a western."

"Your point…?"

"Who even reads westerns?"

"I do."

Well obviously. "Seriously. Could you be more cliché?"

"Well since you're the expert, why don't you tell me?"

"You could be. If you started talking about how absence makes the heart grow fonder and you wanted to dance an Irish jig and to top it all off you started quoting from Gone with the Wind then yeah."

"Should I?" Derek asked, evidently very amused.

"Should you what? I'd like to see you dance an Irish jig!"

"Then you should learn how," Derek replied, getting to his feet. He tweaked Stiles' nose, walking around him. "Never pass up a new experience Stiles, they enrich the mind."

"Who says things like that?"

"Rhett Butler," Derek replied, reaching into the fridge and pulling out a bottle of water. "I thought you would have gotten that reference."

Stiles paused. "Well… I have seen it. Yes. I remember more important lines, such as "no, I don't think I'll kiss you, although you need kissing badly. That's what's wrong with you. You should be kissed and often, and by someone who knows how."

With the way Derek was watching him, Stiles felt a blush creeping up to his cheeks and he prayed desperately for it to go away. He was not interested in the sourwolf. If only his emotions and his body could get the same message, things might be a little easier.

"Maybe that's your problem," Stiles said aloud, pulling his pants back on when Derek turned away to grab a dish or something -the blanket still draped over him. "Well, not a problem, that's not the right word. Like… maybe that's why you're so moody and withdrawn and quiet all the time." Shut up his brain yelled at him. His mouth didn't listen. "Maybe you just need some kisses and love from someone who -"

"If I need kisses, I hardly think I'm the only one," Derek drawled. "You chatter forever on and on, I don't see how you could ever make time for more than talking." And the words might have been a little harsh, but there were traces of amusement in the werewolf's eyes and Stiles felt himself relax at the same time he felt his ego stir at the jibe.

"At least I got a kiss within the last six months."

"Who says I didn't?"

Stiles opened his mouth and promptly closed it again.

"Exactly."

"You're never with people!" Stiles protested. "You are not a people person Derek. I don't see…"

"I go out to establishments and I meet respectable, normal people. I buy them drinks, I listen to their problems, I nod, I touch their hand, their thigh, their cheek and they're putty, Stiles. They want to forget. I… It's brief, it's quick, there are no emotions and no complications and it's over and that's that."

Stiles frowned. That was not the way things were supposed to work. Sex was about connecting with a person. Kisses and hugs too on a smaller level. "When was the last time you got a hug?" he demanded.

Derek blinked, the surprise followed by the calculation was more than satisfactory proof to Stiles as he walked over to the werewolf and threw his arms around the guy. Instantly, Derek stiffened.

"W-what are you-?"

"Shh," Stiles ordered.

"But -"

"Shh."

And so Derek fell silent, standing in the middle of his kitchen with a seventeen year old boy hugging him. Stiles didn't mind. He waited for Derek to relax. He would wait however long it took because this "I don't like people" spiel sent people to the hospital. Wolves were social creatures right? Well people were too. And if Derek kept this up, he would be starving himself of a very important life-fulfilling aspect. He just didn't know it yet. And Stiles was determined to teach him.

Stiles held on until he felt Derek relax -it was just marginally noticeable in his shoulders, almost as though he had exhaled and a small amount of tension drained away. His arms didn't twitch, didn't even shift to move and hug Stiles back -but that was okay. They could build up to it later. He dropped his arms and stepped back, flashing a grin up at Derek.

"I will physically maim you the next time you touch me," he stated, leveling a glare at Stiles.

"Nah, you like me too much. And you need me anyways, for this exercise." He wasn't sure if he wanted it over sooner or later. Or how much influence his likeability had over Derek. Considering that he was still alive and unharmed, he was going to take that as being a step in the right direction.

When Derek just shook his head and turned away, Stiles quickly grabbed his discarded shirt and pulled it back on. He heaved a great dramatic sigh, tossing the bundled up blanket back on the couch.

"You know," Derek said wickedly. "I don't recall saying you could wear those."

"You didn't say I couldn't either," he countered quickly. "Besides, I'm bored. There's nothing to do -can I go outside at least?

"Not alone. You might run or get lost."

Which was a thrilling option. Stiles shook his head, slipped on his shoes and a spare coat -now that he was wearing it, it was obviously Derek's -and shouldn't he have known that earlier? Derek pulled on his boots, following Stiles regardless of the lack of an invitation or permission. Well there were ways to deal with that -not that he wanted to be lost in the woods alone, there could always be a werewolf out there or something -Stiles snickered to himself.

Stiles kept his pace to match the werewolf's, noting that after a few minutes of silence and nature, how relaxed Derek was. He still looked like he could spring to action any second, but he was… calm. The snow was melting through to his socks and he knew he couldn't be out much longer so he took what could possibly be his only opportunity to do this. He bent down, pretending he had to adjust his shoes, making sure Derek wasn't paying him any attention as he started to make a snowball.

He ignored how the coldness bit into his skin as he hurled the bal straight into Derek's back. He didn't wait for the angry snarl as he laughed, leaping behind the nearest tree and hearing a nearby wet thunk as the snowball splattered against the tree trunk. Stiles knelt carefully, grabbing another snowball before carefully peeking out from behind the tree only to see Derek standing right in front of him. He grabbed the older man's shirt, shoving the snowball against the exposed v of his skin and had the satisfaction of hearing his gasp as the snow melted. He darted back around to another tree, scooping up another snowball in his numb hand before darting out, looking for Derek.

The freezing cold blast of snow in the middle of his back told him he'd been hit and he threw blindly over his shoulder, grinning when he heard Derek curse under his breath. He quickly made another snowball, resting back against the tree as he listened for Derek's approach. Instead he was welcomed with a dump of snow on his head courtesy of a well-aimed snowball.

"Screw you Derek!" he yelled, laughing as he wiped the snow off with the back of his hand.

He darted out, quickly, scanning the foot prints before hiding behind another tree. He dropped his old snowball, quickly making another one, tossing to his left hand as he wiped his right down, trying to get some feeling back before he ran out. Derek was in the process of moving towards his hideout and Stiles cut across the side with a desperate lunge, before shoving the ball down the back of his shirt.

And the next thing Stiles knew, he was being tackled down into the snow and Derek was packing the snow over him as though he were laying on a beach in Florida or something. He yelped as the snow under him started to melt, soaking through his clothes just as the snow on top did the same.

"Surrender?" Derek asked, smirking.

"I s-s-surrender!" he yelped, struggling to sit up.

He broke out of his snow casing with Derek's help and was surprised to find that Derek kept his grip on his arm as he hauled him back towards the cabin.

"S-sh-should've dressed for the weather," he gasped out. "T-tell me next time wh-when I should."

"Let's get you warm first," he replied patiently as he tugged Stiles inside, pushing him towards the fireplace as he shut the door. "Clothes off," he added, walking into the bathroom.

Stiles numbly tugged his shirt off, and then fumbled with his jeans button just as Derek returned with a fresh, plush towel which he threw at Stiles. He gave up on getting his jeans off, latching onto the towel instead as the warmth from the fire soothed him. The dampness was far too annoying and he glanced over at Derek only to see him walking downstairs with Stiles' shirt -and when did he even take that…? He shucked his wet jeans off as quick as he could, wrapping the towel around his covered waist before trying to warm some life into his hands again.

When Derek came back up, he was shirtless and Stiles forced himself to look away and not ogle the perfect specimen of a muscular body. Derek grabbed his jeans and walked back downstairs.

"Cover up with the blanket, it'll help," he added before disappearing downstairs.

Stiles took Derek's advice, draping the blanket back around him before sitting in front of the fire. Derek came back upstairs, going to his room and grabbing another shirt. Plain, white, very boring and very Derek and he stood beside Stiles in front of the fireplace.

"That was fun!" Stiles informed with him with a grin.

"You could get frostbite."

"It's not even that cold out!" he responded, shocked.

Derek sighed, shifting slightly. "I suppose."

"It was fun. You had fun. Just admit it."

"No," Derek smirked, glancing at him.

Stiles scoffed, rolling his eyes. "You have to actually have something around here to do, don't you?"

"I don't think so…"

"How do you not know what you have around here? It's not very big."

Derek frowned thoughtfully. He paused, "Well… this… this is my first time out here since…"

"Oh," Stiles supplied helpfully. He knew what Derek meant -the first time since the fire. So this was a family cabin. He looked at the fireplace, turning back to look at Derek who's eyes were on the fire.

He shrugged. "There could be something that…Laura or I missed."

"I can snoop?"

Derek nodded, his eyes still on the fire. Ten minutes later, Stiles was still searching through the drawers and closets when Derek called up indistinctly. He pulled away from the spare room closet, heading towards the basement where he met Derek who was coming up with a basket of laundry. He handed over Stiles' shirt and jeans, continuing onto his room. Stiles went back to the spare room, quickly changing into his warm clothes, glad to not be waddling around in a towel and blanket again.

Twenty minutes later he came back, holding a dust covered game of Monopoly he had founded tucked back in a closet. Monopoly was way better than anything he had expected. He took the lid off carefully, sitting down, and spreading the map out.

"Found something," he added, glancing at Derek. "You mind playing?"

Derek was quiet for a moment, and Stiles wondered how many old memories he had just unburied and thrown out in front of him. Slowly, Derek sat down across from Stiles and took the car piece. He smiled a little bitterly and glanced at Stiles. He nodded and Stiles flashed him a grin, looking through the old manual before doling out the cash. Derek watched him closely.

"Been awhile since you played?" Stiles asked as he took the dog piece with a cheeky grin.

"Years," Derek said honestly.

Stiles read the rules out to him, just to be clear, laying the rule sheet between the two of them before he rolled the dice. They played the entire game away, an intense sort of energy settling over them, interrupted by the odd laugh or two from Stiles' until their energy picked back up again. Within three hours Derek was dominating the board, several hotels placed and taking ownership of property after property. Stiles would maintain that it was based solely on luck -that Derek never once landed on his property while he was trapped every single time between Derek's money-grabbing hotels until he was bankrupt. The silver car rolled on down prettily to it's last stop, Derek flashing an arrogant smirk over at Stiles.

"Well. You have no money left. Just admit your defeat."

"No way!" Stiles protested. "It isn't over until I'm bankrupt."

"You have five dollars left."

"You could still land on one of my pieces."

"I own the next five spaces," Derek retorted.

"No," Stiles said determinedly as he rolled again. He could have an amazing comeback or something. He flinched. Five.

Almost painedly, he pushed his little puppy over to the purple space with the foreboding three-tier hotel.

"Bank-rupt," Derek popped the p, boredly holding his hand out.

Stiles paused, passing the five to Derek's hand. "Can I strip for cash?"

XD so how many times did Stiles touch Derek after his threat?

Special thanks to Puckurt for where this chapter is heading. If I could PM you, I would thank you for this idea. It's so perfect. I hope you like where it goes... ;)

Well... I missed an important detail hence the editing of this chapter. Previously, Stiles was only wearing a towel and a blanket. He's now fully dressed. ^_^;

And thanks to all of you for the faves and the follows and the reviews! :)