He tried to mask his exhaustion with false cheer but the exhaustion was creeping into his attentiveness at school, his ability to focus and to do his homework at night. He was more jumpy than usual and didn't have the energy to keep his guard up. He didn't talk about it because he didn't want to use it as an excuse or a handicap. Luckily Isaac didn't breech the subject either.

Instead, whenever Stiles woke up, screaming or tangled in his sheets, Isaac would move over and hold Stiles until he fell asleep again. Neither boy talked about their nights, it wasn't something to talk about because they both understood each other without words. Isaac willingly gave out comfort and Stiles graciously and appreciatively took the comfort.

Derek was busy every night. He thought he had found a pattern or a link and he spent his nights pursuing them. Although Stiles oddly missed Derek's presence, he was able to keep his nightmares a secret; he didn't want to give Derek another excuse why he was a weak human.

Sometimes Derek was able to make it to dinner though. Stiles always wondered where Derek would eat. He didn't have a kitchen and he didn't look like he ate fast food all the time. Stiles continued to invite him over for dinner because he felt bad about Derek's situation. Derek didn't seem to mind the invitation either. Sometimes it would just be Isaac, Stiles and Derek, while other nights, his dad would also be able to come over. His dad was getting used to Derek and was even maybe a little bit pleasant toward him. It was starting to feel cozy, habitual, like a family.

VVVVV

Stiles was cooking sitr fry in his new wok when he heard a clatter from behind him.

"Aahh!" he shouted, pivoting and chopping his wooden spoon down, like a ninja.

Derek was frozen at the cabinet, four plates in his hands.

They looked blankly at each other for a moment, until Stiles shouted his protest.

"What the hell man? Why are you always sneaking up on me?" he waved his spoon around in the air to emphasize. "I mean, really? REALLY?"

It was probably his own damn fault though, increasingly sensitive to noise, startling at the smallest things. But he wasn't going to tell Derek that. Instead, he was going to mask his despair with his dashing wit and charm.

Derek only stared for a moment, blinked then resumed what he was doing. He pulled the plates down and gently put them in front of the chairs on the table.

"Wait a second," Stiles slashed the air with his spoon, "are you setting the table?" Disbelief was evident in his tone of voice.

"Yeah," responded Derek with a shrug.

"Oh. Oh, well, thanks,"

Stiles watched wordlessly as Derek crossed the room twice; the first time to pull down drinking glasses, and the second time to retrieve cutlery.

He swelled with something that felt like... something, he wasn't sure what, but it felt good.

He turned back to stir his veggies when he heard the oil and pop and fizz, hiding his smile.

"So, Derek, how are you?" his dad asked, trying to be polite.

"I'm well, thank you,"

"You guys seem to be training a lot for lacrosse. How does that seem to be going?" Stiles tensed, it sounded like he was being friendly but he was the sheriff, he always had an agenda. He griped his fork as his eyes darted between Derek and his dad.

"It's going well. They're really improving their agility and speed," Derek seemed completely at ease, completely unaware of what's going on, but knowing him, he probably was faking it. Derek always surprised Stiles at how well he could pretend. Pretend to be charming, pretend to be nice, pretend to be considerate. It always shocked him but there was no doubt, he was putting on a front to charm the pants off his dad.

"I see. And what have you been doing besides training my son and his friends?" that was a pointed question.

"Dad," Stiles whined, "What's with all the questions?" why did he have to interrogate him? It was hard enough to get Derek to hang out, outside of pack meetings, he hoped his dad didn't scare the alpha off.

"Nothing Stiles, I'm merely curious and trying to be friendly," he turned to Derek, "Do you have a job?"

"Uh, no sir, not right now. I'm still trying to get my finances in order,"

"For a whole year?"

"Actually, when I first returned to Beacon Hills, I was really busy with personal problems," Stiles cringed a little, mostly his fault about that, "Now, I'm still wrapping things up with the hospital from when Peter was there... and also tying loose ends with Laura's estate," Derek sounded casual but Stiles could see his whole body clench with tension, his hand on the table, fisting with white knuckles.

"Oh," Now everyone at the table felt guilty. Derek looked down at his food and began eating again. Stiles felt the uncontrollable urge to rub his hand over Derek's fist. Luckily, he was across the table with Isaac; good thing too, his dad might not ever let him out of the house or near Derek ever again if he had weird behavior like that, especially toward an older man.

The rest of dinner continued without a hitch. Dad was talking to Isaac about school while Stiles interrupted to add his input about teachers and assignments. Stiles tried to engage Derek in conversation but it was mostly Stiles talking, while Derek just sat there, only nodding occasionally.

After dinner, his dad went into the living room with a glass of whiskey. Stiles watched him go, crossing his arms over his chest, feeling sick; his dad was drinking tonight, it meant that he was extra stressed, maybe from his job but most likely because of Stiles. Stiles tried to think of a reason why his dad would be worried about him.

"It's okay, Stiles, he'll be alright," Stiles jumped, crying out. Isaac had moved to stand next to him.

"Er, sorry about that. You startled me," he confessed guiltily. Isaac's brow furrowed with concern. He put his hand on Stiles' forearm, rubbing it gently.

"I'm sorry, I didn't mean to startle you,"

Stiles released his tension with a heaving sigh.

"It's okay. I've... I've been jumpy lately," he explained.

"Why? Oh, wait. Is it because of-" Stiles cut him off with a look.

"No, it's nothing. Don't worry about it," he didn't want Isaac to mention it in front of Derek. The alpha was looking back and forth between them with suspicious eyes. They both shrugged innocently and turned to finish cleaning up the dishes. Derek continued to watch both of them.

Stiles walked Derek to the door, bidding him a, "have a good night, dude," but grabbed his sleeve before he went out the door. Before Derek could give him a dirty look for grabbing his jacket, Stiles slammed his body into Derek's, wrapping his arms around his middle. He could feel Derek stiffen, but in a moment, he was relaxing, swinging his arms up to hug Stiles back.

Stiles pressed his face into his shoulder which allowed Derek to bend his head forward and rub his face in Stiles' hair. He could feel Derek rub his cheek against his scalp. He turned his face and Derek rubbed his stubble across Stiles' cheek and jaw. It tickled but also started a burning flame of arousal deep in his belly. He tried to ignore the arousal as much as he could.

He tried to remember that this was just another werewolf thing. But it was curious because none of the other werewolves did it to him, only Derek. Maybe Derek was the only one to do it because he was the alpha? Stiles didn't know and at this moment, he didn't care.

He kept his arms wrapped around the man for a few moments and released him.

He pulled away and smiled, looking for the first time into Derek's eyes. There was an indescribable emotion on his face but it was gone when Isaac walked into the hall. When he saw them in an embrace, he politely turned away. The moment was broken though, Derek's mask slid into place. He said his good byes and left.

VVVVV

It was the weekend again and everyone was in the living room, the television was on but nobody seemed to be watching it. Everyone was moving around, switching seats, hanging out and getting snacks; soon Stiles found himself sitting next to Derek on the couch.

Stiles lazily leaned his head back then looked over at Derek.

"Derek? How come we haven't had any real big problems from the hunters yet? I mean, they've been in town for weeks but they haven't tried anything yet. Did they change their minds?" Derek turned to look at him, pausing to eye the creamy expanse of Stiles' neck, stretched out beside him.

"They probably have been watching us, waiting for the best time to kidnap you or attack us,"

"Well, gee, that's reassuring," he joked

"Do you want me to treat you like a child and keep it from you instead?"

"Uh, no, that would be way worse," he reasoned.

"Your smart Stiles," he warmed at the compliment, "I don't want to treat you like a child. I want my whole pack to know the situation so they are ready to act at any moment. I would be a bad alpha if I didn't tell you what's going on," everyone had their attention on Derek. It was one of his more expanded thoughts ever said aloud so it signified that it was important.

"Okay," he paused, then added, "thank you," he rolled his head to the side, pulling his limbs with him until he was curled up against Derek's side, his head on Derek's shoulder. Derek grumbled but Stiles felt his arm come around and hold him close even still. Stiles smiled secretly to himself.

He closed his eyes and listened to the murmurs around him. Minutes later, he was jostled as Isaac came to sit on his other side on the couch.

"Isaac!" he called. As he rolled over to face his curly friend, he felt Derek lift his arm. He leaned in close and nuzzled against Isaac's neck. Isaac started laughing, pulling his chin down.

"This is how you do it, right?" Stiles laughed, rubbing his cheek against Isaac's jaw. "This is what you guys always do, right? What's it called again? Oh yeah, scent marking," he giggled as Isaac tried to push him away, who was also laughing, "Isaac, I'm scent marking you!"

"Stop it, stop it," Isaac laughed but Stiles wasn't taking him seriously, he was laughing too much. He could see the others watching on with amusement, Erica and Scott laughing out right, Lydia grinning evilly, Allison giggling, Boyd smiling and Jackson looking like he was pained.

"Nooo, I want you to smell like me, That way, even when you're alone, you can think of me," Stiles felt Derek get up from the couch. Stiles heard Jackson make a choking sound.

"Stillinski! Too much information! I don't want to know what Isaac is doing with his free time," Jackson sneered.

"What? What did I say?" Stiles really didn't know what Jackson was talking about. Scott looked flustered, but still, Lydia looked down right evil, like she was plotting something.

"Um, er, yeah, Stiles you said you want him so smell like you... so when he's alone, he can think of you?" Scott informed nervously, as if he were asking a question.

"What? Dude! Why is your mind always in the gutter?" he was appalled, but couldn't blame them, sometimes his mind was only in the gutter too, especially around sourwolf, and turned to look at Isaac, "you knew what I meant right? I just want you to remember that we're bros," he explained.

"Yeah, I know," Isaac smiled, "don't worry about it,"

"Yeah, thanks," he lightly punched his arm, "of course you would get it. I just thought all you wolves like the scenting thing, you know, smelling like pack,"

"Dude, what are you talking about?" Scott looked bewildered.

"Oh, actually Derek explained it to me once," Isaac mentioned, "when you have a pack, smelling like pack calms our wolves,"

"Yeah, I get that," confirmed Boyd.

"Yeah, me too," Erica included, "whenever I smell Boyd, I get relaxed and comfortable,"

"That's because you're fucking him," Jackson retorted, snorting.

"No, jackass," she said quickly, then added, "well, maybe partly, but also the pack thing like Isaac said. Like if I sit next to Stiles at lunch, I can... smell him," they all knew how weird that sounded to someone who was not used to werewolves but they were definitely growing up, because none of them made a snarky remark or funny face at that, "and sometimes he smells like Isaac or Derek, and I get so comfortable and relaxed, because they are all like... home," she said 'home,' like she was surprised, startled that such a strong feeling could come from a smell.

They all sat around and thought about that for a minute until Stiles leaned in, sneakily rubbing his face in Isaac's neck. When he felt satisfied, he looked up at everyone.

"Who's next?" he received a chorus of laughter in response.

He sneakily moved around the room, kneeling and rubbing his face in everyone elses face and neck. He felt silly really, but he wanted to make sure everyone knew he was pack. Most squinted their eyes closed and tolerated it. Jackson recoiled so fast and dodged all his head weaves. He never got to scent Jackson. Erica was the complete opposite; when he knelt next to her, she pulled him down to the floor, dominating the scent marking. If he wasn't laughing so hard and if he didn't know Erica so well, he might have felt a little used.

Isaac abandoned the couch while Stiles was making rounds so when he returned to sit down, he was all alone on the couch.

He snuggled down on the cushions and pulled out his novel. He was trying to reread Catcher in the Rye, remembering he had liked the book when it was mandatory for school a couple of years ago, but finding it extremely boring now. The main character, Holden, seemed to mostly just complain about his life. Stiles knew now that Holden had it easy, he didn't have to deal with werewolves, wendigos, hags, giant Venus fly traps, hunters and strange herbs and poisons. Damn, Holden had it good and he has to shut the fuck up and get over his incredibly boring life.

He was at the scene where Holden was checking into the run down hotel when he felt the couch cushions sink. He looked up and Derek was back.

"Your turn," he grinned as he put down his book. He knelt on the cushion for leverage, leaning forward as Derek looked alarmed, recoiling just as Jackson had done.

"Now, Derek," he tsked, "hold still," he fisted Derek's shirt and leaned in really close, dragging his cheek across Derek's cheek. Steadying himself with a hand on Derek's shoulder, he rubbed his face along Derek's cheek, jaw and neck, taking his sweet, little, old time.

He didn't know what Derek was thinking because he was frozen in place. Finally he released a long breath and settled back into the cushions. Stiles made a delighted sound in this throat. He smoothed over the fabric that he had fisted, and gently rested his hands on Derek's shoulders to steady him from tipping forward.

He rubbed his face all over Derek's jaw, neck, shoulders and hair. Derek was making a low, humming noise in his throat, like he was purring. He had never heard a wolf purr..

"What's that noise your making?" he paused to ask.

"What noise?" the man asked, looking into his eyes with confusion. The noise curiously stopped.

"That noise that just stopped when you started talking,"

"Oh, that. It's nothing," Stiles rolled his eyes at Derek's answer.

"Oh come on Derek. You want me to trust you? You should try and trust me too," he emphasized, poking the werewolf in in the shoulder. Derek sighed while he looked away, then he looked down at his hands. He actually looked nervous, or uncomfortable. Stiles was about to tell him forget it when Derek spoke.

"It's a noise our wolves make when we are... content, or, uh, happy," Derek was looking everywhere but at Stiles.

"So you're wolf likes it when I scent you?" He was grinning.

"Yeah, it's a pack thing, you know, smelling like your pack," he moved his hands to explain then looked at Stiles. Stiles wanted to crack a joke about happy wolves but Derek looked almost vulnerable, sharing this information. He would leave it alone... for now.

"Okay, then I'll keep going," Derek seemed to like that plan because he lied back against the couch cushions and allowed Stiles to continue.

He didn't know how long he would have to do this to transfer his scent to Derek. For the other wolves, he did it almost jokingly since they had laughed at him, keeping his visit to each pack member short. Derek was different. He felt like he had to linger longer with Derek, really rub his scent onto him. He tried to reason with himself: maybe he lingered because Derek was the alpha and therefore, had the strongest scent, needing extra time to rub his own scent onto him. Stiles didn't really know his reason, but he wanted to make sure that Derek really smell like him. He didn't have a werewolf nose but after all the work he was doing, he must have rubbed off some of his scent by now.

His abdominal muscles began aching as they had to hold his torso up as he leaned forward. Stiles hesitated and thought about personal boundaries for a moment, but screw it, he had no personal boundaries. He swung his leg over and straddled Derek's lap, settling his weight over the other man's thighs. Derek's head jerked forward, nostrils flaring and eyes wide.

"What?" Stiles whined, "it was hard to hold myself up like that. I'm not made of muscle, you know, unlike you," his hands rested on Derek's shoulders.

"Get off," Derek said tersely.

"No, ," Stiles replied stubbornly.

"Get off, Stiles," Derek said again.

"No, I'm not done scent marking you," he pouted.

"Get off, or I'll throw you off," he threatened.

"Fine, do it," he challenged.

Derek growled deep in his throat, grabbing Stiles around the waist, who yelped in surprise, and hoisted him off his lap. He threw him onto the cushion beside him, being gentle enough that the toss wasn't jarring. Stiles didn't believe he would actually do it but at least he didn't toss him across the room.

"What did you do that for?!" he exclaimed, scrambling to sit up again.

"I told you to get off me and you didn't,"

"Why did you toss me?"

"You told me to,"

"I didn't think you were actually going to do it!"

"You have to start taking me seriously,"

"Did I scent you enough at least? Do you smell like me now?" he huffed in annoyance but wanted to know.

"I-" Derek had paused for a moment, nostrils wide. When he turned back to look at Stiles, his eyes were glinting, "yeah, I do," he affirmed.

"Yes!" Stiles fist pumped the air, he smiled, "now you can think of me when you're alone too," he could hear Jackson groan and he rolled his eyes, shouting, "you know you love it, Jackson!"

"In your dreams, Stillinski," he retorted back.

"Yeah," he joked, "in my dreams, you love me all night long, baby," Jackson grimaced in response, as if trying to rid the image from his mind. Gosh, it was so easy to tease Jackson, he always responded to the barbs. Stiles was grinning like a fool, laughing at the expense of Jackson, especially now he knew what Jackson was really all about. Turning to Derek to share his delight, he stopped short, smile faltering, when Derek had a seriously intense frown on his face.

His dreams were actually very different than his friends imagined. Instead of a cute, strawberry blonde goddess, he dreamed of a firm, muscular dark haired, green eyed man. He still pretended to like Lydia; he would smile at her, compliment her academics or her new look, but it was all out of habit. He didn't feel that way about her anymore. He wanted this dark haired man instead.

It felt different than how it felt with Lydia too. With Lydia, he was always speechless when around her. blown away with her beauty. He crushed on her from a distance, unnoticed. Some would say that it was more like an obsession, and now that he was a step back from it, it was like an obsession.

It was different with Derek. Derek actually took notice of him. They had conversations, well, sort of. And although Derek was stony, Stiles was getting to know his other side too, and he liked it.

The pack chose a movie and they all watched it, even Derek stayed, which was a nice change. Derek and Stiles sat next to each other for the whole movie and Stiles was good, keeping his hands to himself and not straddling him again. He would have wanted to straddle him but for other reasons, but not with the pack right there in the room. For now, he was content to just sit next to him and feel companionship.

VVVVV

Stiles woke to the sound of murmuring.

"How was it? Has everyone gone home?"

"Yes,"

Stiles was groggy, trying to wake up. Where was he? Who was that talking?

"Did everyone have a good time? It looks like Stiles was tired,"

"Yeah, we practiced in the yard for a while then Stiles made us dinner,"

"He sure is a good cook," that sounded like his dad.

"Yeah, he is," and that sounded like Derek, except with a softer tone.

"Let me help you move him off you," his dad suggested in a low voice. "He does this sometimes, fall asleep in weird places,"

What? And then he realized that he was curled up against Derek's body on the couch. He froze, trying to remember when he had curled back up against the man. He was silently freaking out.

"Oh, actually, I'm okay. I don't want to disturb him. I'll wake him up in a few minutes anyway because I'm going to head out,"

"Okay, if your sure you're okay,"

"Yes, thank you,"

He listened to his dad walk up the stairs and close his bedroom door.

"Stiles, you're heart is racing. breathe, what's wrong?" Derek said softly.

"What? How did you even know I was awake?" he asked, lifting his head from Derek's shoulder. Oh my god, his head was resting on Derek's shoulder? No wonder his dad had asked to move him.

Derek had a book in his hand and had closed it when Stiles lifted his head.

"You're breathing changed," he looked... concerned. It was an unfamiliar expression on his face. "But answer my question, what's wrong?" Derek's hand moved toward Stiles' face. He didn't know what he was going to do with the hand but Stiles recoiled as if he was slapped, his heart racing even faster. Derek's hand froze in response then moved it back to rest on his thigh.

"What's wrong?" he asked again, head bowed. Stiles couldn't see his face.

"Uh, er, I don't remember falling asleep during the movie." it was partial truth. Yes, he didn't remember falling asleep but the real reason why he was freaking out, was: why was Derek allowing him to curl up and lean against him as he slept? Derek had a conscious choice: let Stiles sleep on him and having to stay for a while, or let Stiles sleep on the couch by himself and Derek could leave when he wanted.

He understood that when Derek did sleep over, they did end up sleeping together, snuggling, but that was all unconscious choices. Letting Stiles sleep against you while you're awake and reading a book is a very obvious choice.

Derek looked unconvinced; he could probably tell he was lying.

"Don't lie to me Stiles, it's stupid," and yup, there it was.

"I didn't tell you because you're going to think it's stupid," Derek only raised his eyebrows, "Um, fine. Well, I just freaked out because you let me sleep against you and I thought maybe that when you realized how annoying I was being, you know, sleeping on you, you were going to hurt me or slam me against a wall, or something,"

"You're right, that was stupid,"

"Hey!" he looked away, down at his hands, anywhere besides looking at the handsome, but frowning, man sitting next to him, "It's a serious concern, you're stronger than you know, or maybe you do know, since you're a werewolf, but to an average human like me, you're really strong, and it hurts, so I'm always trying to avoid doing stupid stuff in front of you so I won't get slammed around," he took a breath and looked over at Derek. Derek was scowling which frightened him. Maybe he shouldn't have said anything about how Derek slams him around; he didn't want to get beat up tonight.

"Stiles, even though you're smart, you're pretty dumb sometimes,"

"What?" he tried to not look too hopeful.

"The movie was near the end and you fell asleep. Things like this can happen. It was fine," he sounded down right exasperated.

"Oh. But how come you didn't wake me or leave when the rest of the pack left?"

"Your dad wasn't home yet so I was going to stay until he got home," that sounded reasonable.

"So you just decided to pick up a book and read? Even though I was in your space?" That's what bothered him the most. It's fine if Derek wants to stay, but why did he let Stiles stay up in his space? Derek shrugged and looked a little bit embarrassed.

"You've been really tired recently so I wanted to let you sleep," It was obvious that Derek wasn't sharing everything.

"Uh, yeah, I've been stressed with school," Derek frowned at the obvious lie but let it go. They were both too tired anyways to argue anymore.

Derek leaned over and briefly rubbed his face in his hair. He pulled back after a moment and moved to push himself up to his feet.

That had certainly not seemed like enough time to transfer scents.

Stiles did his own leaning and rubbed his face along the other man's jaw. When Derek seemed to sigh with contentment, closing his eyes, Stiles knew he was doing it right.

Remembering what had happened earlier in the evening but not caring, he carefully and slowly moved to straddle Derek's lap. Like last time, Derek's head whipped forward.

"What are you doing?" He demanded.

"It's more comfortable," he tried to reason without whining.

"Fine," he grunted. Maybe he was allowing it because they were alone or maybe it was because Derek trusted him, but maybe also he was tired and just didn't care.

He worked his face across Derek's, trying not to get too much stubble rash. His hands were resting on Derek's neck, gently circling and massaging. He moved his head across Derek'd forehead and into his hair. He exhaled quietly in Derek's ear and in response, Derek almost silently groaned. He could feel Derek moving his hands to rest on Stiles' hips; they were a firm and reassuring presence.

Stiles dragged his lips across the man's cheek. Derek let out a strangled gasp and recoiled his head.

"I'm not going to hurt you, " Stiles murmured, leaning forward to nuzzle his cheek and neck again.

His skin felt like it was on fire, thousands of nerve endings burning and striking against skin contact. He felt like he was drowning and Derek's skin was his savior. He clung to him, murmuring nonsense and sighing with pleasure.

Running on instinct, Stiles pushed his hips into the man's lap as he ran his lips over Derek's jaw again, nipping his chin gently between his teeth.

"Stiles, " the werewolf growled.

He pulled back, for the first time coming out of his hot daze.

"Stiles, stop, " Derek sounded like he was choking. He looked wrecked, his hair was mused and his pupils were blown so wide that his green iris' were just thin slivers.

"Stiles," he repeated again. He sounded like he was drowning. He gripped Stiles' hip's tighter and pushed the boy down until he was still. He had been slowly humping Derek's lap without realizing it. Whoops.

He scampered off and moved all the way to the end of the couch, trying unsuccessfully to slow his frantic heart. He was so turned on.

"Um," for once he didn't know what to say, "er, sorry about that," his face felt hot when he realized how far he had gone, but also how much Derek let him do. When Derek didn't say anything, he tried to cover up his awkward silence.

"It, um, felt kinda like instinct? Like a wolf? Er, no, no, that's not what I meant," he hurried to say when Derek gave him a pointed look, " I just mean that it felt like the right thing to do. Come on, I'm a horny teenager, doesn't this happen to everyone? Er, what I mean is, ugh, I don't know," was Derek going to hate him forever? He felt like he was switching through his emotions so quickly, flustered, frustrated, angry, aroused, embarrassed. He didn't know which one to feel.

"Please don't hate me," he voiced his concern. He had started to hesitantly think of Derek as a friend and he didn't want to scare him off.

Derek ran his hand through his hair, smoothing it down. Stiles watched, remembering what it had felt like to do that but then he looked away, feeling guilty. Derek cleared his throat and looked at Stiles, but then looked away again, his own face turning pink.

"It's okay," Derek said, "i don't hate you,"

Derek busied himself with getting ready to go. Stiles totally did not watch Derek stretch. He followed him to the door and said good night. His heart fluttered when Derek looked him in the eyes to say good night.

Damn that man, making him feel all sorts of new things.

When he got in bed, he thought about this confounding man and all the trouble he caused Stiles. But also thought about his eyes, his sculpted back and hard planes of his chest. He rolled over and slide his hands into his pajama pants. He thought about Derek slamming him into the wall and doing other things besides threatening him. He thought about how it felt to sleep against his body. He imagined sitting in his lap and stroking his chest, kissing his jaw or licking his mouth open. When he climaxed, he quietly moaned the man's name, biting his lip so his dad wouldn't hear.

He still had nightmares.