This just might be the worst day of my life.

Stiles grunted as his hip collided with the edge of the sink, a bruise threatening to bloom almost instantly as pain echoed under the skin. He healed it without a second thought, forgetting the dull agony as he shoved his toothbrush in his mouth with an almost violent movement and started running it over his teeth and eliminating the horrible taste lingering.

And then he bit his tongue.

"Damn it!" he hissed, spitting out the mouthful of foamy white paste. The pure colour was tinted red and he groaned, licking his lips and wincing at the sharp pain running through the muscle. "My fucking luck..."

Throwing the toothbrush to the side – dirty traitor – he gave up and scooped his hands under the running water, watching as the liquid gathered in the hollow his palms created. When it was overflowing, the water disappearing between the cracks in his fingers, he brought it to his lips and rinsed out his mouth, cleaning the wound before rubbing it against his teeth. It wasn't too bad, and with another absent minded grunt, he healed the injury.

He had a feeling it wouldn't be the last he was forced to get rid of the easy way today, anyway.

Leaving the bathroom behind him, he sprinted back down the hallway and towards his bedroom, throwing his failure of an alarm clock a glare. How had the damned thing managed to not start blaring at the ass crack of dawn like it did every day? Why, on today of all days did it decide to play the role of a martyr and spare him? If this had happened yesterday, he probably would've smiled and rolled over despite the dangerously high number on the clock, but today? Today, all he wanted to do was scream out in frustration and smash his head against the wall.

Because today he had a certain prick for first period.

Stiles moaned again as he hesitated for a few seconds in the centre of his room, eyes roaming over the expanse of empty space. He was still shirtless, his hip no longer a bright shade of purple and blue, and he was tempted to throw on the familiar shirt he'd stolen from his boyfriend yesterday. The smell alone would've been enough to make the day a little better, but the stupid thing was in the wash since he'd been dumb enough to spill some sauce on it yesterday. It wasn't his best moment, but he knew that if said boyfriend saw the stain, he wouldn't be his boyfriend anymore.

So the wash it was for the shirt, and a plaid monstrosity it was for him. Not that he was complaining; personally, he thought the red and black pattern was striking and made him look the part of red riding hood, but he knew it would only be a matter of time before someone complained. Mainly Lydia and her nose for disastrous fashion choices.

Oh man, she was going to be pissed when she saw him.

Stiles snorted out a small chuckle when he passed the mirror hiding in the corner of his room, eye catching the red plaid with its buttons undone and the grey shirt underneath. Yeah, it was going to be an interesting conversation in the very least. Realising he'd been staring for a few seconds too long, he hurried out of his bedroom, throwing a jacket over top as he cursed the moments paused under his breath. As late as he was, every second counted, and it was stupid for him to think that he had some time to spare.

"Okay, okay, maybe we can make it?" he murmured, throwing his body into the driver's seat of his faithful car. His thigh hit the gear stick, and invoked another pained sound from his lips, eyes squeezing closed as the pain thrummed. "Fuck me sideways."

The pain faded easily enough, and he breathed out heavily, shaking the haze away before straightening up with a swallowed groan. He could do this – he could get to school with time to spare, but only if he left now. Being even a second late was all the bastard Harris needed to throw his tired ass in detention, as he knew from personal experience, but he couldn't give the man that material.

He had to be on time.

"Let's do this," Stiles decided, straightening up as he started the engine. "We are going to get there on time," he started, pulling away from his home and starting out on the road. "We are going to be sitting in class before the final bell rings and we are going to be as sarcastic as humanly possible..."

The promise made him all the more determined and he glared at the road as he drove, fingers drumming against the steering wheel almost rhythmically, and he was almost proud of himself for carrying a beat. The pride faded fast enough though as he pulled up to the school building, and it plummeted down to his stomach when he faintly heard the ring of the school bell.

The final school bell.

He was late.

"Fuck," Stiles breathed out, slumping in his seat and resting his forehead against the steering wheel. He took his time from there on out, finding a good park and then carefully moving across the parking lot – he was hurting himself in the stupidest ways, so knowing him he was going to be run over as well – and up the stairs with a muted frown – he hated them on good days – before standing before the classroom.

Hell hath no fury like Harris when Stiles did something dickish. Honestly, the man thrived on the teenager doing stupid things and talking too loudly in class; he thrived on punishing the youth with an almost perverse enjoyment.

Knocking carefully on the door, he winced when it creaked open.

"Ah, Mister Stilinski, glad to see you've decided we're worthy of your presence," Harris droned, his hand still as he wrote neatly and precisely on the blackboard. "Actually no, I'm not glad. Disappointed is more an accurate way to describe it."

Stiles slipped through the door, shutting it behind him as he hiked up his school bag. "Trust me, I'm disappointed to see you too," he commented, voice an equally dull drone as he waited for the punishment to be dished out. "I was looking forward to a happy day."

A muscle in the older man's cheek twitched. "Get to your seat Stilinski," he commanded. "And detention after school."

"Detention with you?" Stiles drawled, anger sparking as he weaved between the desks. "Colour me surprised."

"Colour me annoyed. Detention tomorrow as well," Harris bit out, always needing to have the last word. When the youth remained silent after the announcement, he turned back to the board and started dragging the chalk across the surface. "Now, as I was saying – "

"Tomorrows Friday."

Harris looked ready to kill something when he turned around, eyes flashing behind his glasses as they locked in on their target. "Yes Stilinski, it is," he muttered angrily, teeth coming out to bite his lip in a show of annoyance.

Stiles clicked his tongue. "I have plans," he declared, tapping his pen against his closed text book. "Important ones, so I'm sure you'll understand when I say I have to cancel our date. It's not that I don't wanna see you... it's just that I don't wanna see you."

The whiskey eyed boy could almost feel the classes surprise at his unusual show of assholery, but damn it, he was having the worst of all bad days and he was not in the fucking mood to deal with the man's personal vendetta against him. At the front of the class, the teacher looked ready to burst, his eyes bulging slightly and his cheeks taking on a red tinge as he flushed in embarrassed anger.

"I suggest you go to the principal's office," Harris growled, his composure slipping ever so slightly as muffled chuckles echoed through the classroom. Normally people were laughing at the teenager, not the adult. "Before I cancel every last important date on your roster for the next month."

Stiles ground his teeth together, pushing to his feet with his bag in tow. "Think he'll accept; he was hitting on me as to why I'm at his office in the first place?" he challenged under his breath, grinning slightly when another muscle twitched in the man's cheek. "Oh it wasn't my fault sir; I was trying to fend off his unwelcomed advances."

He evacuated the classroom long before the man could even retaliate, running a hand across his eyes as the door shut with a final click. The anger burning in his chest was fading quickly, making room for regret and second hand embarrassment. There was no question about whether or not the event would be all over school by lunch time, and by acting out, he had signed his own death warrant.

And he'd thought the day couldn't get any worse...

Shouldering his bag, he started wandering down the hallway, refusing to look left or right or focus on anything but the ground under his feet. It had been easy enough so far to forget what had happened yesterday in the locker room, and last night in his head, but with no distractions around him; there was nowhere else for his mind to fall. Despite his desperate need to forget, his brain was content to remember.

He didn't know why his head wanted to remember the hunter on his trail, or the threat the man had made to his pack. Or even why it wanted to remember the haunting agony of having your skin torn from your flesh – but remember it did, in almost blinding clarity.

Letting out a shuddering breath, he leant against the nearest wall, not really caring that he was meant to be waiting outside a particular office with his heart in his throat. He had bigger things to worry about, like the potential threat of being skinned alive.

That trumped date with principal any day.

Stiles was gearing himself up to continue the walk of shame when his phone vibrated in his pocket, sending chills up his spine and forcing his heart to a standstill for a few frightening seconds. Frowning at his own reaction – who got scared of a text message? – he fished around until his fingers closed around the device, pulling it out with a muttered curse. "Derek?" he whispered in confusion, hesitating before opening the message with a quick flick of his thumb.

From – Sourwolf xx
Acting up in class now are we?

Stiles blinked in confusion, mind going back to the room he'd practically ran from as he tried to figure out how the man knew. It wasn't like there was a place for broodiness and leather jackets in a classroom and frankly he didn't even know – He cut the thought short as he closed his eyes with a sigh. Scott.

To – Sourwolf xx
Harris is an ass. I didn't say anything he didn't deserve.

Content with the message, Stiles stayed where he was, back pressed up against the wall as he waited for his answer. Derek was a slow typer, but he didn't doubt that the man was staring at his phone, just waiting for the damn thing to chime with the announcement of an incoming text. The conversation wouldn't be more than a few minutes, and he had enough time to spare some on his boyfriend.

When his cell vibrated in his hand, he almost smiled.

From – Sourwolf xx
What's wrong?

Stiles opened his mouth to shout that nothing was wrong before he realised it was a text and the stupid beast couldn't hear him. And also, if he was ready to scream at such a simple question, maybe something was wrong?

"And if the other mice find out – they die. If they come – they die."

Stiles flinched as the voice echoed from the walls of his skull, almost painful in their memory. Yes, something was definitely wrong, but was it something that his pack could fix? There was no doubt he was being watched right now. No doubt the man was scoping him out to ensure he stayed where he had to stay. The cat was keeping tabs on its little mouse to ensure the mouse was playing by the rules of the game.

Stiles would be fair game if he left his mouse hole now...

His fingers began to type out that yes, he was fine, and that he had to go because he had a date with the principal when something stopped him short. Derek, in all his beautiful broodiness, hadn't been angry when he'd found out he was housing a fox in his pack. If anything, the man had been happy to have him. And, he had been the one too... the one too...

The one to steal his first kiss...

Stiles closed his eyes, thumping his head back against the wall behind him. What was he doing? If he told Derek, if he told anyone, they'd be on the chopping block with him. He'd be sentencing them to die by being greedy with his own life.

His phone vibrated again.

From – Sourwolf xx
Stiles?

Staring down at the message made something in his chest clench, and he could almost imagine dark brows pulled tightly over hazel eyes. He could vividly picture in his head the way the alpha would be perched on the edge of his armchair, staring at his phone and telling himself that if he didn't get an answer in the next few minutes he was going to go knock some heads together.

He could picture Derek, moving on without him, because he'd lied. Again.

To – Sourwolf xx
We need to talk. Pick me up at back gate in ten. Don't be seen, okay?

Pushing away from the wall and looking up and down the hallway, Stiles clenched his jaw and started walking. He was going to be greedy and was going to keep the man he'd been wanting for over a year beside him. He wasn't going to hide behind the mask of protecting them anymore.

Derek was his alpha and he would protect him.

His fox had known that from the start, and he'd been an idiot to think he knew any better.

Checking over his shoulder for any witnesses, he moved towards the back entrance to the school on quiet feet. He'd only disappear for the remainder of the period, and if anyone asked, he'd spin some tale about getting some bad family related news that morning and needing some time to cool down. The sympathy alone would be enough to get him out of a serious punishment and, if he threw in a few tears, he might be able to avoid punishment altogether.

From – Sourwolf xx
I'm outside with four minutes to spare. You coming?

Stiles nodded and hurried along, opening the door with slow movements before checking outside. There were no obvious threats – students or teachers – and no subtle ones either – bodies hidden in the trees or cameras watching from rolled up car windows – so he snuck out, eyes drifting to the road to search for a familiar dark car. He spotted it within seconds and hurried forward, all but throwing his tired body in the passenger seat with a heaving chest.

Derek watched him silently for a few seconds before he took one hand away from the steering wheel and held it out in a wordless offering. Swallowing back the rising panic – he was doing the right thing here – he took it, lacing his fingers through calloused ones.

"Thanks," Stiles murmured thickly. "For coming."

The dark haired man shrugged the gratitude away, and squeezed pale fingers between his own. "It's okay," he answered quietly, eyes flowing over the younger body in a studious once over. "Why do we need to talk Stiles?"

Blinking, the teenager recognized the worried tone in the familiar voice and frowned. There was something desperately shy echoing the baritone, and it made his stomach drop in concern of his own, heart starting to work double time. The idiot almost sounded like those girls in the chick flicks, the ones who thought their boyfriend was about to break up with them and – Stiles' eyes dropped, taking in the linked fingers for what they really were.

A hopeful plea.

Did Derek seriously think he was going to dump him or something? Did he seriously think that? Stiles almost rolled his eyes and added a mental note that said he needed to change the man's name in his phone to stupid sourwolf xx

Because no, he wasn't getting rid of the kisses no matter what the broodster said.

Without a second thought, Stiles leant across the gap created by the gear stick and pressed his lips against stubble covered cheeks. He let them linger for a few seconds before he moved back, sighing into the silence and tipping his head back against the headrest. "He knows who I am."

Derek stiffened and the air took on a note of anger. "The Collector?"

Stiles nodded, his head lolling on his shoulders so he could met hazel eyes. "He confronted me yesterday in the locker room, said he was almost disappointed I'd made it so easy for him," he whispered, taking in the warm colour before red slowly began to take it over. "Compared us to a game of cat and mouse."

The wolf growled lowly. "Your life is not a game!" Derek snapped, nostrils flaring as he struggled to take in the air to fuel his anger. "And if this is a game like he claims, then I really hope he knows his not the cat in this version."

Chuckling mirthlessly, Stiles moved so he could rest his head against broad shoulders. Almost instantly he felt the tension there drain until the man slumped, an angled jaw pressing into his hair and a murmured prayer whispered against his skin. "He tried to compare you to a mouse too by the way," Stiles added with a small smile. "How's your pride holding up?"

A growl was his reply.

"Take that as an it's not holding up?" Stiles guessed, pressing his face further into the warmth. "He said if I told you, he'd kill you."

A hand snuck around his waist, and burnt a hole through his shirt. "He knows about us?" Derek asked, and every movement of his lips tickled the air by the teenager's temple, causing him to squirm even as he shook his head. "He doesn't? Good. Then why did he say me?"

"You're my alpha?" Stiles pointed out, frowning into leather. "It was a good threat, I mean, even I wasn't involved with you, it would've unsettled me and made me want to do anything to avoid it. Alpha has to live. You understand that desperation don't you?"

Derek nodded. "Of course I do," he muttered, blowing out a sigh that once again shifted the brown locks. "I wasn't always an alpha remember genius? I understand the desperation all too well. Now, what else did he say? Did he just tell you he knew who you were and left it at that? Or are we still waiting for an ultimatum?"

Stiles closed his eyes, relishing in the we that echoed between them. "No, I've already been given..." he swallowed. "Tomorrow night. I have to go to the clearing where he shot me. I have to meet him alone and oh god..."

As he choked on air, the other hand that belonged to his partner snuck around to grasp his skin as well, forcing him to remain plastered to the man's side and forced him to breath in the earthly scent of fall that clung to his skin. Derek murmured unintelligible words that didn't really make a lot of sense to the teenager, but coupled with the soothing warmth of hands trailing over his back, it had the desired response. His heart slowed, and his breathing came a little easier and with all the breath in his lungs he thanked whoever was on high for giving him this man.

This perfect man.

"Come on, let's go to the loft?" Derek offered, pulling back so he could stare into golden orbs. The youth wasn't sure what the man was looking for but apparently he found it, a smile tugging at his lips. "I might even have some curly fries."

The effort made Stiles smile and he pressed forward to kiss the man again, this time square on those smirking lips. "Thank you," he whispered, forcing his body back into his seat even as his lips tingled. "Thank you for everything you've done for me."

Derek blinked. "Thank you for staying," he replied softly.

The sentiment still lingering between them hovered as Derek started the car and pulled away from the curb, blending into the traffic like everybody else. The ease almost made Stiles worried, like it was too easy, but he firmly told himself that he was worrying over nothing because he was. He was still waiting for the arrow to pierce skin, just this time the skin wasn't his own.

Stiles closed his eyes. He wasn't going to let that happen; Derek wasn't getting away from him that easy.

The ride was quiet, each of them lost in their own thoughts but tethered to reality by their hands as they remained intertwined. Every scenario was running through the whiskey eyed teens mind, and most made his throat close up and his heart beat faster as fear gripped him. But every time the thoughts went too far, the hand in his own gave a firm squeeze and he was back in the calming reality that showed promise.

As they were pulling into a familiar neighbourhood, Stiles let his head loll to the side again, eyes taking in the man beside him. There was a steely determination painting the man's expression, and a fierce protectiveness that took his breath away. Absently, he ran the pad of his thumb over smooth knuckles, sighing out at the sensation of being safe.

"Come on," Derek's voice cut through the safety net and the teenager shot back into awareness. "We're here."

Nodding, Stiles hesitated when he realised he had to let go of the warm hand in his own. It was probably for the best, seeing as his own palm was sweaty, but it still made his chest clench uncomfortably when cool air washed over the empty hand. "What are we going to do?" he asked lightly, already moving towards the building he'd come to recognize as a second home.

Derek answered just as his phone vibrated in his pocket. "We're going to come up with a plan, like we always do," he promised as the teenager fished out his phone again.

From – Scotty
Dude, did you skip out? Harris is pissed as hell!

Stiles winced at the reminder of his 'date' and he quickly typed out a reply, only slowing slightly in his steps as he did so. His boyfriend – oh, that was never going to get old – was waiting for him, eyebrow cocked and he offered a quick smile as penance. "Scott," he said as explanation, throwing the phone back in his pocket.

To – Scotty
With Derek. Something came up. Tell you later, I promise, don't worry dude.

The reply was all he could think of, and he sent it with a small inkling of regret. He hoped the younger wolf believed him when he said he was going to tell him, but he could only make the promise and let the boy take it as he would.

But there was no more hiding – not from his family.

They were wandering into the loft when the answering text came through, and the sound was predicted by a horrific beeping from the nearby wall that caused them both to stop and stare.

"Okay, what the fuck was that?"

LINEBREAK

It is still Monday, so any complaints are going to be ignored ;)I'm still on track right now, my friends, and I hate to say this but there are only a few chapters left now...

But they're not going to be easy on you. I promise you that now.

Taila xx