He was sure to saunter with an air of carelessness towards the front door of the impressive house, badge shining and posture perfect as his boots slapped against the paving. The next few minutes, his words and body language included were going to be crucial – but he'd been going over the conversation in his head since that bitter ass coffee that morning.

There was no turning back now – he needed to do his bit. However small.

Lifting a hand, he rapped his knuckles against the front door patiently, turning to survey the area as he waited to be answered. The neighbourhood was quiet but there was, no doubt, nosy people already peeking through their curtains. He knew the surrounding houses well enough to know that much.

Behind him, the door swung open and a male form crowded the opening. "Sherriff?" Chris Argent seemed surprised to see the man, but hid it well under faux pleasantries. "To what do I owe the pleasure?"

John smiled back blandly. "You're not in trouble," he soothed mockingly, folding his arms against his chest. "I just wanted to remind you and your friend of some of the laws around here."

Chris hesitated. "My friend?"

"The blonde one," John waved away, acting like the knowledge was nothing. Like he didn't have the man's file on the passenger seat in his car and hadn't read it multiple times in the past hour alone. "I've been told he's been here on occasion."

The hunter nodded and offered up a cordial smile. "Doesn't mean we're friends," he answered tightly.

"Of course not," John tilted his head. "Anyway, I'm not here to discuss your social life – just the law. It's my job after all," he reminded the man, hoping to install some sort of unease. "I wanted to remind you both that hunting in this area is quite illegal."

Chris stilled. "Hunting?" he echoed.

"Yes, hunting."

"What makes you think we're hunting anything?" Chris asked next, hand tightening on the door. "It's not even the right season to be shooting anything – permit or not."

John nodded, turning to look over the neighbourhood again. "Yeah, that's about right," he sighed, facing the greying man again. "Just thought I should remind you. Some animals are illegal to hunt you know? Foxes, wolves... Goes against some sort of hunter's... what's the word I'm looking for here?"

"Code?" Chris offered quietly.

John snapped his fingers, smiling. "Yeah, code," he allowed. "It's not like the animals have done anything to you after all."

Chris nodded uselessly, eyes closing for a split second longer than a blink. He was silent for a few seconds, but the man hovering in the doorway didn't seem to care too much, chest thrumming in pride at successfully ruffling a few feathers. "Anyway, if you've been watching the news; I have a break-in to deal with. Too much paperwork involved with these things."

"Thank you for the warning," Chris voiced as the man walked away. "I'll be sure to warn my – my friend."

"Good."

Stiles snorted.

Stairs. There were always stairs.

"Dude, hurry up," Scott groaned, one hand waving in the air dramatically. When the boy made no move to follow him, he dropped onto the top step, propping up his head with his hand. "I know you hate the stairs, but seriously?"

Stiles only made another noise of annoyance, one foot lifting to hesitantly rest against the first step. He hated these stairs alright, even more after the other day, and the mere thought of climbing them right now made his legs ache. Well – his leg ache, because the other was already burning and throbbing up a storm.

"I don't hate stairs," Stiles voiced carefully, putting weight on the injured leg. "I loathe them. I despise them. With every fibre of my being and then some," he grumbled, wrinkling his nose against the pain that spurred to life in his thigh.

Scott only glared back with a perfected blank expression. "Yeah, like I said, you hate stairs," he droned, looking up at the countless other flights they would need to conquer before they'd be at their destination. "By the time we get up there, the pack meeting will already be over."

"Then what's the use of going up there at all?" Stiles questioned, adopting a cheeky grin. "I mean, if we finally get up there, only to have to walk back down? I vote we stay here. Use phones – no, better yet, morse code tapped out on the walls to communicate."

The next look he received was one his best friend had only learnt because it was used on him multiple times. The infamous; you're a fucking idiot look. Not even faltering under the withering look, he only continued to grin, reaching out to idly tap on the walls. He didn't know what exactly he was tapping out, but hey, his best friend was stupid enough to think he did.

"Wait, are you actually – Stiles, I swear that if you don't get moving; I'll carry you."

Blinking at the poor threat – was he meant to start climbing or something? – the dark haired teenager nodded in acceptance. Just as the other sighed in relief and gestured for them to start, Stiles held up both his arms. "Well?" he asked, resisting the urge to smile at the dumb look he received. "Don't make an offer and then not follow through man. It's bad sportsmanship."

"Why are we friends again?" Scott demanded blandly, staring at the twin hands reaching out for him.

Stiles rolled his eyes, waving his arms dramatically. "You mean to say; why have I stuck around so long?" he corrected absently, both brows slowly lifting. "I don't know – and whatever reason it is, is quickly fading the longer I wait."

Scott glared again.

"Fine!" Stiles groaned, shaking his head and beginning to trek up. "You are a horrible friend, I'll have you know. Saying things like that and getting my hopes up only to tear my heart from my chest and – and, that's blood. On the stairs. There's blood on the stairs and now I wanna go back down."

Scott spun, hair slapping against his chin with the action. Dude, you really need a haircut.

"What?" he exclaimed, jumping down a couple of stairs and staring down at the red drops on the floor. "Holy shi – it must be from the fox," Scott realised, looking up with wide eyes. "I didn't even notice this yesterday!"

Looking down, Stiles studied the brown dots on the concrete stairs, his stomach churning. He didn't need to be reminded of the painful memory so soon and his leg twinged at the sight, forcing his eyes back up. Grinding his teeth, he pushed onward, one trembling hand reaching out for the rail trailing the wall. "Really? That's nasty," he chuckled dryly, eyes falling to the floor and noting more dried plasma. "Oh good, there's more."

Scott was almost worried, throat moving in a tight swallow. "I didn't realise he'd lost so much blood yesterday..." he murmured, hesitating before looking to the boy beside him. "I know you don't wanna talk about it and all but – but have you two been in contact? Is he okay?"

Stiles actually faltered before answering, mouth opening uselessly. Was he okay? Sure, he was having a few dizzy spells if he stood up or turned too quickly, and yeah his leg still ached... "He's fine man. Healed up nicely or whatever," he muttered, waving a hand to dismiss the issue. "He said something about thanking you for that?"

Scott brightened up considerably. "Yeah, I patched him up," he announced smugly. "I used that kit you put together; remember the one with all the different Wolfsbane breeds and stuff?"

Instantly nodding, Stiles continued climbing, pointedly avoiding the occasional smudge of browning copper on the ground. "Yeah, I remember," he replied absently. "Anyway, what's up with today? We had a pack meeting like three days ago? I thought it was like a fortnightly thing, or if something important was happening – nothing against you guys but I have a life. And friends."

"Sure you do," Scott allowed, clapping him on the back. "Oh, we just talked yesterday, wanted to make sure everyone was filled in on the new plan and what not."

Feigning confusion, Stiles sent his best friend a look. "New plan?" he echoed.

Scott only reached up and tapped his nose, a grin tugging at his lips. "Derek will explain," he promised. "I ain't saying anything."

"Well you aren't saying proper grammar, that's for sure," Stiles murmured, sighing as he trailed behind his best friend. The blood trail was thickening, and in the back of his mind he foggily remembered how it was harder to climb once he'd reached such a height. How he'd stumbled more, and yelped louder as the steps became dauntingly high and awkward for his injured leg to manage.

Shaking his head, he smiled at the young wolf beside him as they finally reached the top, the metal door that served as entrance to the loft open and waiting. "Looks like you were expecting us," Stiles announced, strutting into the room with both hands raised.

"Looks like we were waiting on you," Derek corrected with narrowed eyes. "Something go wrong on the way up?"

Looking around, Stiles wrinkled his nose. "Nope, I just don't like stairs very much," he shrugged aside, mentally slapping himself when he hesitated before entering the apartment. "Or at all."

"Actually, did anyone else notice the blood trail foxy left?" Scott demanded, skirting around the dark haired male and moving towards his girlfriend. "It's all over the floor – all dried out and gross," he confessed, nodding his head in the direction of the door and the teenager still awkwardly standing there.

"What, really?" Isaac voiced, shifting closer. "I couldn't smell a thing!"

Stiles left them to it; deciding he'd already had enough of the conversation and sight to last him a life time. Not to mention the memories ready to haunt his nightmares from actually living it a few days before. Shaking away the shiver threatening to pass down his spine, he breathed gently to steady himself, legs carrying him across the loft and body dropping next to a familiar hulking form.

"I'm sorry," he muttered awkwardly, clearing his throat as an argument broke out between the younger shifters. "I should've told you from the start about dad – about the fox – but I was too scared. And... I shouldn't have lied to your face the other day..."

Beside him, Derek had stiffened. "It's okay," he grunted.

Stiles finally faced him, shaking his head wildly. "What? No, no it is not," he insisted. "You – I – I lied to you for months. I feel like a douche bag! Couldn't you, I don't know, yell at me or something?" he begged, eyes turning wide and imploring.

Red slowly leaked into green. "Stiles, I'm not angry at you – actually no, I am, but I owe it to you to accept your apology," Derek explained, frowning lightly and playing with the phone in his hands. "I should've shown you more trust and been more... gentle, and I shouldn't have stormed away like a child. It was rude and uncalled for, and I wanted to apologize."

"You..." Stiles blinked. "I forgive you?"

Derek sighed, the frown deepening. "You could at least sound like you mean it," he huffed, turning to face the centre of the room with a small pout.

"I'll only say it like I mean it if you forgive me," Stiles announced, brow cocked in challenge.

Derek shifted, upper body facing his companion. "Alright," he allowed, breathing through his nose before tugging at the sleeve of his dark shirt. "I forgive you, and I understand why you did it, okay? Happy now?"

Stiles pursed his lips. "Eh."

"You're forgetting something, Stiles."

The teenager lit up, whiskey eyes melting. "That's right, I am too!" he grinned, turning to flutter his eyelashes at the brooding man at his side. The brooding male that was wearing tight jeans and a leather jacket. "I'm forgetting the smooth jazz. Or was it the silk sheets?"

Oh my, Der-bear are you blushing?

"Stiles," Derek ground out, pink dusting sculpted cheek bones.

Rolling his eyes, he complied. "Yeah, yeah, I forgive you sourwolf, no sweat," he chuckled, wrinkling his nose again. "You're such a party pooper, you know that? But I must admit, you did come through – I'm liking the jacket, and the jeans although I might be able to appreciate those more when you stand up and walk away from me."

The look he was receiving was not only confused but embarrassed. "I'm not moving," Derek muttered, turning away with a small wince.

"You'll have to stand up sometime," Stiles whispered, leaning back against his seat with a content sigh. "And I'll be waiting ever so patiently. I've got nowhere to be and I used the bathroom before we came here."

Derek's smile was stunning. "But you didn't grab the curly fries that are waiting for you in the kitchen before you sat down."

"Curly what?"

Derek adopted a look of pure innocence, head lolling against the leather couch as he turned to stare at the gaping teenager. "Didn't I tell you?" he asked, pursing his lips in feigned thought. "Must have forgotten but I brought you some curly fries and they're currently waiting in the kitchen. Course they won't be there long, because soon one of the wolves were smell them and then poof," one hand lifted to flick the air. "No more curly fries."

Stiles cheek twitched.

The little... smiling... gorgeous shit.

It took him a few seconds to realise he was staring and Stiles tore his gaze away from laughing hazel eyes. "I don't remember asking for curly fries, not that I'm complaining, but I did ask for tight jeans and silk sheets for a reason you – "

"Wait!"

All eyes snapped to the curly headed teenager, eyebrows lifting as the boy held up both his hands in almost panic. "Isaac?" Derek murmured, laughter gone from his eyes and smile slipping from his lips.

"His bloods here... And his scent is leaving the loft – why the hell aren't we just following his scent track?" he exclaimed, inching to the edge of his seat. "We could find out where he lives and finally know who he is because someone won't tell us!"

All eyes now moved to pointedly stare at whiskey orbs.

"I – uh – maybe, maybe that's not the best idea?" Stiles offered in a breaking voice. "I mean, you know, let's just crash here or something and do some homework. Didn't you guys have a new plan or something to tell me? You know? Guys?" he squeaked, looking between them all.

Scott was smiling at him, lips upturned softly. "Stiles, we're not going to hurt him okay? The new plan was to protect him. We just wanna know who he is, and we're gonna find out on our own because you're not going to go against your word and tell us," he shrugged, nodding at the others before pushing to his feet. "Don't worry about it, we all got along pretty well without you. Now come on, I wanna know if it's Greenburg or not."

"It's not," Stiles grunted, looking down at his lap in annoyance. What the holy fuck was he meant to do now? The pack would get a taste for the new scent and slowly follow his trail back through the woods and to his house. Or, better yet, realise that scent they're following is strangely familiar.

The scent of spice and potato wafted under his nose. "Stiles, you coming?" Derek asked, waving the curly fries before his face. "We're not going to hurt him, and he's not going to be angry that you're with us okay? We can vouch for you."

He gently took the small paper bag from the older male, nodding shortly. "Yeah, whatever, let's go," he breathed.

This was going to end so badly, he just knew it. They were going to know – and while he'd been about to blurt it earlier today to his best friend, he wasn't ready. He changed his mind. The others were already crouching around the larger drops and puddles of blood, trying to pick up anything they could from that before moving down the stairs, leaving a panicking teenage fox to follow them.

Oh he was boned. So, so boned.

"You're heart beat is picking up," Boyd rumbled from the head of the small pack. "Is there something you need to be worried about Stiles?"

The whiskey eyed boy swallowed thickly, shaking his head as they emerged out into the early evening glow. He hadn't even started eating the food in his hands, stomach curling uneasily, and the lack of enthusiasm was earning him a few raised brows and curious glances.

"Did I get the wrong kind?"

Stiles blinked over at the frowning werewolf, head already moving to show him he hadn't. "No," he promised, attempting a smile. "No, they're perfect, thank you..."

Derek nodded before moving to take up the front line, nose working as they headed into the woods. Hesitantly, Stiles opened the bag and shoved a few chips into his mouth, habitually chewing and swallowing as he stumbled through the undergrowth. It was a struggle to not only keep up the steady pattern of eating and walking without a limp, but to also pretend he wasn't following the scent as well. He had to make sure his nostrils weren't flaring or he wasn't following the others because he knew where they were going. He had to pretend to falter in his path when they did, and only trail behind them hesitantly.

When the bag was empty he shoved it in his pocket, thankful that there was one less thing for him to concentrate on. They were wandering somewhat aimlessly at the moment, the thick scents of the forest hiding his own spicy smell and he was relieved. If they hadn't been so used to the smell they probably would've already been outside his house with matching frowns of confusion, but instead they were wearing them now; unsure as to why they were hesitating.

"I don't get it?" Isaac muttered, bending down to pick up a random leaf. "How come it's so damn hard to follow the scent track?" he demanded, shaking his head before straightening up.

Stiles didn't answer when some eyes flickered to his form, instead turning to overlook the forest with fake curiosity. They were bound to realise soon – that the scent was one they smelt every day. He was honestly shocked they hadn't already, but mixed with the rich dark chocolate he had in most of his hair and body products; they hadn't clicked that there was a heady spice clinging to his skin.

He gave them five minutes to figure it out.

It was nice to know though that the mind numbing scent of chocolate had thrown them off all this time. That it successfully hid the scent of fox and nature enough that while they were confused, they weren't already pointing fingers. The beauty products weren't exactly cheap after all and trying to live down the fact that he smelt like chocolate was proving difficult. But at least it was worth it.

"I feel like..." Isaac shook his head. "I know this smell."

Semi-worth it.

"Wait a minute," Scott murmured. "I'm the one who made the bet about how the fox met Stiles..."

Derek bent in half, breathing deeply through his nose as they all ignored the thinking teenager among them. "I know what you mean," he admitted, shaking his head and dislodging the scent in his nose. "I know this. I've smelt it before, but when?"

About half an hour ago when you were grinning at me on the couch, genius

Stiles shifted awkwardly, taking a few steps back as they each scented the air and then the ground where they knew the fox had walked. His five minutes were running out quicker than he liked. Sparing the woods behind him a quick glance, he tried to calculate how far he would get if he started sprinting now.

"But I'm the one who paid Derek..." Scott continued, hands lifting to draw idle sketches into the air.

"It's spicy," Erica wrinkled her nose. "But familiar – wait, we go to school with this guy right? And Derek, you recognize it, so you must smell it often enough too... You come into contact with this guy on a regular basis just like us!"

"You're right," Derek noted, eyes narrowing in suspicion. "Where the hell would I smell this though? You come into contact with this fox, so the scent could linger on you but not enough for this level of... familiarity. I live with this scent..."

"It kinda..." Isaac hesitated.

Derek gave the pup his full attention. "Isaac?" he questioned.

"Hey, you cheated me out of ten bucks!"

The curly headed wolf swallowed, one hand lifting awkwardly. "It just kinda..." he shrugged, fighting for words. "I don't know if it's just me, but it smells like Stiles and not the sweet smell he has from his body washes or whatever, but Stiles."

Derek's eyes widened and he turned; ready to question the human member of his pack only to gape at the woods. "Where did he go?" he demanded, taking a few steps forward. The paper bag was on the ground, the boy having dropped it before completing his disappearing act. "Where the hell did Stiles go? And how the hell did I not hear him leave?"

Scott took a step forward, looking around in confusion. "Where did he go?"

A loud chuckle made them turn to the apparently uncaring eldest member of their pack. Peter was picking at his nails with an air of boredom around him, lips upturned and eyes strangely knowing. "More importantly..." he murmured, grinning wider when everyone frowned.

"Why did he go?"

Oh dear, what has happened?! Is this the moment you've all be waiting for? Where the pack finally find out about Stiles' heritage?...

Or am I, the authoress, just pulling your leg?

Tune in next week to find out! Yeah, but you need to tune in one day later, cause this week's update is early as well, just like I said it would be. Hope you enjoy it, can't wait to hear what you guys think! See you next week...

Taila xx