"The sexual tension between Bergman and Bogart can be felt throughout the whole movie, up until Bergman's plane departs for America. The history of the characters creates both Rick Blaine's conviction to see Ilsa to safety and incentive to sabotage the whole ordeal to keep her for herself."

Derek saved the paragraph in Microsoft Word before glancing at his phone. It had been four hours and twenty-four, no twenty-five minutes since Derek had given his number to Stiles

Derek continued to type away at his paper. Twenty-seven minutes.

*BZZZZZZZZ*

Derek scrambled to grab his phone, knocking it off his desk and onto the floor.

*bzzzzzzzzzz*

"Hold on, hold on!" Derek muttered, throwing himself onto the floor and grabbing his phone.

"Hello?"

"Derek? Are you alone?"

Derek looked at his phone. 'Really Iceman?'

"Yes?"

"What do you mean 'Yes?' Either you are alone or you aren't."

"There is no one in my room, but there are people in my house. Happy?"

"No. I need your help."

Derek looked at his phone again. 'Really, Iceman?'

"All right then, what do you need help with?"

"Not over the phone, we need to meet up." Derek's heart skipped a beat.

"Um, okay. Where?"

"The Park, meet me later tonight."

"Okay Mr. Ambiguous, when tonight?" Derek said, instantly regretting the words that tumbled from his mouth. 'Stupid mouth, making me sound like an ass.'

Iceman growled ('REALLY Iceman?!') on the other end of the line. "Later means later jackass. Just be there after ten."

"Okay."

*bee-boop*

Derek looked at his phone, noting that the call had ended. "That douche hung up on me. Really Iceman?" Derek murmured to himself, still not understanding the strange turn of events that had befallen him.

Either the Iceman was in dire need of help, perhaps he was being hunted by the mob, or the KGB (Unlikely). Or maybe he was under surveillance from his creepy, religious zealot father (More likely). Or maybe he wanted to get to know Derek in a more intimate fashion (Keeping dreaming Hale).

I'm going out!" Derek yelled to his parents from the foyer, who were sitting in their living room, playing Settlers of Cataan.

"Bring back a portion of the money you are making hustling!" His father yelled back.

"Try not to die!" His mother also yelled, somewhat more serious than her husband.

"Don't you want to know where I am going?" Derek yelled.

"Not if it involves you selling your body to strange men!" His father yelled back.

Derek sighed. "I won't be back until really late, I think. I dunno the exact timing!"

There was a brief pause, wherein Laura took the opportunity to yell down the stairs from her room. "Whore!"

"Laura, don't belittle your brother, he can't help it if he is a lustful homosexual!" Martin yelled from the living room.

"Very true dear! Laura, stop being a prude and go make Andrea Dworkin cry!"

"Andrea Dworkin is dead mom! Besides, eww!" Laura shouted back.

"Derek, what time will you be home?" His father yelled back, apparently not paying attention to his son.

"I don't know?" Derek shot back.

"Well like your mother said, try not to die!"

"All right. Sterling parenting guys." Derek answered noncommittally. Derek could practically hear the shrugs coming from the other room.

There was another brief pause. "Whore!" Laura yelled back down the stairs.

"It takes one to know one!" Derek yelled back, before realizing that he could leave at any point in time. Without saying a word Derek waited for his sister to reply.

"For your information, Isaac and I are-"

"Copulating like rabbits on ecstasy, yes your father and I know dear." Susan yelled from the living room.

"MOM!" Laura shouted!

"LAURA!" Susan shouted back.

Derek quietly slipped out the front door, closing it with a soft *click*

The Beacon Hills Park was a sprawling mix of forested preserve and manicured greenery, all nestled roughly thirty minutes from Derek's house on foot. Fortunately, Derek had his immaculately clean Impala, resulting in an efficient five minute ride.

Derek parked his car in the small lot reserved for park visitors, noting that he was the only car in the lot. Iceman must still be at home, probably laughing his ass off at gullible Derek's expense.

*BZZZZZZZZZZ*

"Hello?"

"I'm at the gazebo, where are you?"

'One question answered.' "Um, I just parked?"

There was a brief pause in the conversation, culminating in a long and audible sigh from Stiles.

"All right, meet me here."

*Bee-Boop*

Derek shoved his phone back in his pocket before working his way to the Gazebo with purpose. The air was starting to get nippy, in the way that heralded the end of summer and the beginning of autumn. As Derek walked along the pathway towards the clearing he felt a growing sense of anxiety. 'Is it really a good idea to meet up with a demented meathead alone well past curfew? Your life isn't a shameless erotica Derek Hale: This isn't going to end with sexy times, more like gaybashingtimes mmmkay?'

Derek pushed the thoughts aside. Even if they ended up being true, he would take that risk. Stiles Stilinski had his pathway in life paved for him, and even though his dad had clout even Derek doubted that he could save his son from the law should he break it by committing true physical assault. Stiles, for all of his alpha male posturing, wasn't stupid enough to throw away full ride sports scholarships and a plethora of other opportunities just to fuck with someone else-

"Hale."

Derek turned to see Stiles rapidly approaching him.

"We need to talk." He said in a monotone voice, tinged with anxiety.

"All right. Let's start with the obvious, like why you dragged me out here to the middle of the park for the most fucked up meeting ever? Are you trying to sell me drugs?!"

The look on Stiles face was priceless, a mixture of confusion and irritation. "No, I didn't come here to sell you drugs. Really, Derek?"

Déjà vu, well if that wasn't eerie. Stiles did the same thing Derek did. Maybe that wasn't their only shared trait.

"Okay then, why did you want to talk to me? Why do you need my help?"

Stiles took a deep breath and exhaled slowly. "I need your help in the Cinema class. Your uncle is a fucking slave driver."

And there it was: The scary, horrifying truth. Stiles Stilinski put Derek Hale through a goat rodeo purely because he was embarrassed to ask for help from him. Derek felt that Stiles should go fuck himself.

Instead Derek laughed at him.

"You need my help with my uncle's class, and you couldn't have just asked me? What the hell Stiles?!"

Stiles looked a mixture of embarrassed and pissed at Derek. "You haven't earned the right to call me Stiles."

"You know, if you hadn't have turned into goddamned Deep Throat to ask for my help, that would have been the most ridiculous thing I would have heard tonight. But no, not only are you asking me for my help, you are doing it in the shittiest way possible. Unbelievable." Iceman just looked at him for a moment, anger slowly dissipating from his face. In the space of time between their next words Derek noticed the dark circles under Iceman's eyes; Derek also noticed the quiver of the man's lips and the way he looked at him.

"I'm going home now." Swiftly turned and strode off.

"NO! WAIT!" Stiles all but shouted, voice desperate and hoarse. Derek stopped mid-step and turned to face Stiles. "I'm sorry, I just have trouble…"

"With what exactly?" Derek asked

Stiles looked down, and actually kicked at the grass as if he were a child caught red handed in something he shouldn't have. "I have trouble… asking for help."

The two stared at each other before Stiles continued. "Look, I need this class in order to graduate. It should be simple, but your uncle is a ballbuster. I was just hoping…"

"That I could put in a good word for you? Make him go easy on Beacon Hill's golden boy?"

Stiles looked back at the ground, and Derek almost felt guilty for making the goliath look so pitiful. Almost. Then he remembered where he was.

"You are really smart. And you are good at explaining things, so I was hoping you could help me get through the class. I just need to pass it and… Please?" Derek had never seen the big man so… humbled? It was straight out of the Twilight Zone, this submissive behavior of Iceman's, the same captain of the Beacon Hills Hockey Team.

Stiles looked at Derek with those weary amber eyes, looking for a single word.

"Okay, I'll help you." Four simple words, and Stiles face lit up like a Christmas Tree.

"Under a couple of conditions though, I'm not tutoring your ass for free." Derek added.

Stiles face faded back into the same stony visage it had been earlier. "So long as it's nothing queer you've got a deal."

Derek nodded. Perhaps things were going to be okay from here on out.

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