"We need to talk."

Four simple words but when combined they created the most terrifying sentence in the world. Stiles nodded mutely. He dropped his lacrosse gear on the floor with a thump and sat down warily on the edge of his bed. Derek held up the article on mating. Stiles' eyes darted to his desk and back to Derek again.

Were his eyes always that green? Stiles wondered.

"You get all of your information from Google?" Derek asked.

Stiles dropped his eyes and shrugged. He suddenly couldn't think of what to do with his hands. Stiles crossed his arms, then leaned back on them. He curled one leg beneath himself and then put both feet on the floor.

"Stiles. Relax."

Stiles blinked. He looked at Derek wide-eyed as the tension seemed to slide out of his body.

"Whoa … that was ... weird. How – wait, are you using some sort of freaky mind control werewolf thing?"

Derek rolled his eyes. "It's the bond forming between us ... I can project emotions to you." "Neat trick," Stiles' said with a sigh as his shoulders relaxed. "Way better than Adderall."

Derek looked at Stiles and shook his head in disbelief. "I still can't believe you're my mate."

Stiles bristled with a hurt look. "What the hell does that mean?"

Derek's eyes widened and he shook his head. "No … I didn't mean – fuck. I'm screwing this up …" Derek frowned at the carpet.

Stiles got up and sat down in front of Derek, legs crossed. "Start over and pretend you're explaining it to a high school kid who's barely made it to second base."

Derek looked at him. "You're kidding."

"Really? You're gonna sit there and judge me on my lack of sexual encounters?" Stiles replied.

Derek sighed again and ran a hand over his face. "I just meant ... you aren't exactly what I expected in my true mate."

"Um, yeah ... and you – well, not to put too fine a point on it, but you are a lot more ... male than I expected in my – actually, you know I never really thought about my true mate because humans don't have those!" Stiles said exasperated. He let his head fall forward into his hands. "Oh my god, what is going on? I'm not a werewolf!"

"I know, Stiles. It doesn't matter ... or didn't you read the article?" Derek held up the paper mockingly.

Stiles snatched it out of his hand. "Well excuse me ... I didn't happen to see a copy of "Now That You've Found Your Werewolf Mate" at Barnes and Noble! You know, you guys are pretty secretive."

"Gee, I wonder why," Derek retorted.

"Why me?" Stiles asked softly.

Derek swallowed and made a decision. He leaned forward and gently cupped Stiles' cheek with one hand. When shocked amber eyes looked at him, Derek found himself captivated again like the first day in the woods. He could scent the self-doubt beginning to form. Enough of that.

"I don't know why, Stiles ... does it really matter?"

"Dude ... I'm not even gay ..." Stiles said.

"That's a human word ... a human label ... werewolves are different – it doesn't matter that you're male. It just matters that you're you." Derek explained.

Stiles heard what Derek was saying but it was becoming hard to concentrate. Nothing to do with the delicious leather and cinnamon scent. Or the green eyes that he wanted to study in extensive detail. Nope. Unconsciously, Stiles leaned forward as he'd done in the cruiser. He had to get closer ... had to get more of that smell ... had to fall into that gaze …

"Stiles."

Derek's firm voice made Stiles shake his head and pull back. The haze didn't depart completely but it lessened somewhat. "What ... was that?"

"It's the blood call," Derek growled. Stiles suddenly noticed that Derek had released him and was gripping his own thigh tightly … claws extended.

"What are you doing?!" Stiles said, the fog departing. For some reason, his heart was racing even more than usual and he wanted to stop the bleeding … or bandage it … or something.

"Stiles!"

"What!" Stiles said, frantic now.

"Look at me, Stiles," Derek commanded before his mate could work himself into a panic.

Stiles shivered and did as the werewolf asked. He knew his will was being subverted by something he didn't understand, but Stiles couldn't bring himself to care as he met Derek's green eyes.

"What ... what's happening to me?" Stiles asked. He hated the tremor in his voice.

Derek swallowed hard thinking maybe looking directly into Stiles' eyes wasn't the smartest plan. "I told you ... it's the blood call. My wolf ... it wants ... " Derek leaned forward, inhaling the pleasant sunshine scent that signified Stiles. "You smell ... so good ... Stiles ..."

Stiles whimpered softly as Derek moved closer until his nose was against the side of Stiles' neck. He couldn't believe how turned on he was and how much he wanted to keep smelling the spiced leather scent of his mate. Derek ... his ... mate ...

Stiles groaned when Derek's tongue flicked out and brushed against his throat. The growl that rumbled out of Derek jerked another groan out of Stiles. He gradually sank down until he was flat on his back with Derek over him. Stiles shivered. He wanted ... something. All the dreams, all the confusion, all the need was focused on Derek right now. He wanted Derek ... he wanted for Derek to claim him but he didn't know why he wanted that ... he didn't know why he wasn't trying to pull away.

Stiles' mind was spinning ... he barely knew Derek Hale. He'd only just learned of the existence of werewolves – and seeing what it was doing to his best friend didn't exactly make him want to sign up. Well, until now ... right now if Derek asked him, Stiles thought he might say yes ... he might say yes to being bitten.

Derek was slowly moving down Stiles' body, sniffing and occasionally rubbing his face against the boy's torso. He pushed up Stiles' shirt, loving the sound the teen made – not quite a plea but close. He leaned down and kissed along the curve of Stiles ribcage, tasting the skin of his mate. It was more than intoxicating ... it was heaven. Derek couldn't believe that this slender but muscular body belonged to the one he would spend his life protecting and providing for ... he just could not believe this boy was his mate. Stiles was so very ... young.

Derek reared back with a pained whine. He moved back until he was pressed against the wall beneath the window. He heaved in large gulps of air and wiped the back of his hand across his mouth. Stiles, disoriented and alarmed, struggled to sit up.

"D-D-Derek ... what – did I do something wrong?" Stiles asked, confused.

Derek's wolf was howling. Claimclaimclaimtaketakematematemate

He shook his head sharply. "No ... Stiles ... not you ... I can't – I can't do that to you - "

Stiles frowned. "Wait ... you're not seriously giving me the 'you're too young and innocent' speech, are you?"

Derek grimaced and fought to get his body back under control. Stiles, however, was not having that ... he had no wolf, but his entire being was thrumming with a desire he'd never experienced in his short life. Werewolves roaming the woods ... hell, an entire pack running down the middle of the street ... no longer mattered. They could have located ten dead bodies on the Hale property and at this moment Stiles did not think he would care. He scrambled up and managed to press his lips against Derek's in what had to be the sloppiest, least coordinated kiss in recorded history.

Derek knew he should have shoved Stiles off his lap when the boy straddled him in order to plant a kiss. He should have done several things but the only thing on his mind at that moment was the softness of Stiles' lips and the desperation behind the action. Derek understood desperation. He took Stiles' head in both hands and promptly devoured the teen's mouth. Stiles opened to him and Derek began to taste what he'd longed for since that fateful day on the preserve.

"What the hell is going on here?!" Sheriff Stilinski's voice tore through the soft whimpers and groans emerging between the two.

Derek all but threw Stiles off him. He tried very hard not to see the hurt look ... again. Nevertheless, Stiles stood and put himself between Derek and his dad.

"Dad! Dad ... wait! He's not – he didn't -" Stiles stammered.

The sheriff ignored his son and stalked around him to confront Derek. "He's sixteen, Hale – sixteen. Do you want to tell me why the fuck you are in my son's bedroom in the middle of the night ... kissing him? What else did you do, you sick -"

Derek dropped his eyes much as Stiles had done earlier. He said nothing. Stiles, however, was as vocal as ever.

"Dad! Will you listen? Derek didn't do anything ... its not what it looks like – well, I mean it was but it didn't mean anything. I mean ... it meant something but it's not ... he didn't ... do anything!"

"He did something, alright – he picked the wrong kid. You come near him again ... you so much as breathe in his direction and I will rain all manner of hell down on you. Am I clear?!"

Stiles dad said low and dangerous. Derek nodded sullenly. "Get the hell out. Now."

"DAD!" Stiles cried.

The sheriff rounded on his son. "You and I are going to have a very long talk, Stiles." When he turned back, Derek was gone. "Did he – did he seriously just jump out the window?"

Stiles ran to the window and peered out into the night not expecting to see much. Then he saw them – two luminous blue dots staring back at him from the darkness. Derek. His dad did not see them, thankfully, when he pulled his son back into the bedroom and shut the window. Stiles had never seen his father so angry.

"Dad ... he didn't ... nothing happened."

Stiles' father held up a hand. "Not. Another. Word." He pointed to Stiles' bed. "You are going to go to bed and we are going to talk about this tomorrow."

Stiles exhaled loudly. "Fine."

He jerked when his father was suddenly gripping his shoulders and pulling them until they were face to face. His eyes nearly crossed trying to see his dad's face.

"You will listen to me ... I don't care what the hell Derek Hale told you, Stiles. You are not to be around him any more. You will go to school, practice and you will come home," Stiles' father said angrily. "The next time he steps foot in this house, I will have him arrested. And I'll make sure he doesn't walk. Got it?"

"Got it," Stiles replied shakily.

"Go to bed, Stiles."


After a night of watching the moonlight move shadows across his ceiling, Stiles felt his heart jump into his throat when there was the faintest scratch against the glass. Getting out of bed, he made his way as silently as he could to open the window. Derek was there and then he was climbing into Stiles' room.

"Derek!" Stiles hissed. "My dad -"

"He's asleep," Derek assured Stiles.

Stiles leaned in to kiss Derek again only to find hands holding him back. "Uh, Derek?"

"Stiles, I can't ... it should never have gone that far," Derek whispered sadly.

"I'm old enough -"

"No," Derek interrupted. "No you're not, Stiles. I can't – I can't be away from you but I can wait until you're eighteen."

"Eighteen?!"

Derek pressed his hand against Stiles' mouth and listened for a change in the sheriff's heartbeat but it remained steady in sleep. He growled softly and looked at the teen.

"Stiles ... this ... it can be managed and controlled just like the changes Scott's going through," Derek said softly.

"But ... the article ... it said ..."

"I know what it said. It won't be easy but it can be done. I won't steal this part of your life, Stiles. When you're eighteen, you can decide for yourself. Until then, I can't – I can't claim you no matter how much I want to."

"So that's it? You just go on with your little werewolf drama and what? Poor little Stiles just has to deal?" he was angry now. Very angry. "Why the hell did you come over here? Why'd you have to make me feel that link if you were only going to tell me I'm too young?" I'm so tired of people deciding what's best for me."

"Stiles -"

"I wish I'd never gone into those woods, Derek. I wish I'd never met you. Get the fuck out." Stiles snarled.

"Wait ... I didn't - "

"Take your fucking werewolf ass out of my house or I will yell and bring my dad in here – he just might shoot first," Stiles warned.

Derek fell silent and studied Stiles' eyes one last time before he was out the window and gone. Stiles closed and locked the window before closing the curtains over it.

If he slept with his face pressed against the shirt that held Derek's scent from their encounter, no one needed to know but him and the moon. And when the mournful howls of a wolf reached him in the night, no one was around to see the tears.