I'm sorry this took so long to get out. I had a thousand versions of this chapter written down, and this what I came out with. I still don't have my own computer, so be patient in waiting for the next chapter. It shouldn't be too much longer. I just couldn't make you guys wait any longer for this chapter. I hope it isn't a disappointment to anyone.

Oh! You guys should check out LoveLorn Lupine's fic, A New Breed. She only has the first chapter posted, but it's really good. She's a close personal friend of mine, and she needs readers! Lol

SONGS: What Do You Do? - Papa Roach

To Be Loved... - Papa Roach

There were four bathrooms in the house, but somehow Stiles knew Derek was in his. He slipped silently through the open door of his room and closed it softly behind him, clicking the lock into place.

Derek was just coming out of the bathroom as Stiles turned around, and he tried not to look guilty. Derek looked suspicious anyway, and Stiles knew he probably hadn't succeeded.

The scent of lemon antibacterial soap hung in the air, wafting from the open bathroom door. Stiles stepped a little closer to Derek, eyes glued to his face.

"Hey."

Derek shut the bathroom door quietly behind him. He looked a little wary as he eyes Stiles, gaze flicking to the door, the window, and back again. As if he were noting the escape routes. Stiles fought not to smirk.

"Don't worry, door's locked," he murmured, lips twitching a bit. Derek's hands clenched into fists, then unclenched again. He took a breath.

"Stiles." He sounded like he was trying to be menacing, trying to warn him away. His jaw was clenched so tightly a muscle ticked.

"What's wrong?" Stiles asked softly. He wanted to move closer to Derek, to touch him, but he resisted the urge, staying close to the door.

"Nothing."

Stiles frowned. "You've been quiet..."

Derek scoffed. "Yeah, because I'm usually so talkative." His eyes flicked toward the door again, but Stiles was barring his escape. He just looked at him with that dark gaze, ignoring the sarcasm, eyes penetrating and intense. Derek stuck his hands in the pockets of the pants and tried not to fidget.

"Look, can we just..." He gestured toward the door before plunging his hands back into his pockets. Stiles didn't answer. He took a couple of steps closer. Derek resisted the urge to back away even though there was still plenty of distance between them. Even so, Derek could still feel that razor-sharp edge of energy that flowed between them at all times, could feel it strengthen the closer Stiles got to him. That connection that had been present from the moment Derek had sunk his teeth into Stiles' flesh.

Sometimes it was stronger than other times, sometimes he could barely feel it at all, and if he ignored it he could pretend it wasn't there. He had the same connection with the rest of his pack - they were all connected this way - but he had begun to realize, lately, that it was strongest with Stiles. When he'd first noticed it, he figured it was because he was just closer with Stiles, because Stiles was technically the first member of his pack. Over time, though, he came to realize that it wasn't the simple connection he had with any of the other pack, it was more like the link between Scott and Allison. The Mate Connection.

He didn't want to admit it, but it was undeniable.

Stiles could calm him down when no one else could.
Stiles always seemed so in tune with him; how he felt and where he was. He knew that he could feel Stiles in the same way, too, if he let himself.
Stiles knew it all, saw everything, knew the truth of him, and he didn't turn away.

He didn't know when he'd realized it for sure, but he knew it to be the truth. He knew that should have made him happy, but he couldn't help thinking that Stiles still didn't really know what he was getting himself into. He was only sixteen. The same age Derek had been when he was so sure he was in love with a woman six years older than him. So in love that it had blinded him, and cost him his whole life.

He didn't want Stiles to end up like him, because of him. He would never intentionally destroy Stiles' life, of course, but he couldn't help feeling like that's what would happen if they were together, whether he wanted it to or not. Derek didn't want to be that selfish again.

Stiles was still just standing there, looking at him. He stood utterly immobile, and Derek didn't know he could be so still. He could see the knowledge in Stiles' eyes, the awareness of how Derek was feeling, of what he had discovered within himself.

Derek just wanted to flee, to get away from the tension in the room and that look in Stiles' eyes and the feelings rushing through him. He felt like a caged animal. Like a cornered fox making it's last stand against the hounds.

He hated that image, that feeling like he was the prey, and he dismissed it from his head, determined not to let himself feel that way. He couldn't dismiss the feeling of wanting to flee, though, and it raged in him. He glanced toward the window again, fixated on it, stared at it, wanting to escape. He saw Stiles frown a little, from the corner of his eye.

"I think we should talk," Stiles muttered. Derek's heart pounded, threatening to burst out of his chest. Talking was the last thing he wanted to do.

"No. We're going back downstairs, Stiles. Move." He tried to make his voice sound commanding, knowing that Stiles would argue. It came out sounding a bit shaky, though, and he hated himself for it. Stiles scowled fiercely.

"No! I'm not going anywhere and neither are you!" His voice was hard and sharp, taking the same tone that Derek had tried to force. It was too commanding for Derek's liking. He gave Stiles a warning look. Stiles shifted his feet a little nervously, but didn't look away, didn't back down. Derek narrowed his eyes.

"Move out of my way," Derek said slowly, somehow managing to sound menacing this time. Stiles just ignored him. He took a deep breath and stepped a little closer. Once again, Derek resisted the urge to back away.

"Cut the shit, Der. I know what you're trying to do." His words were quiet and fiercely intense, and Derek itched to escape them. "You're trying to run away from me. AGAIN! Like you always do!" His voice rose, but he didn't seem to notice. His eyes were dark and searing. But he was right. Derek wanted to run away as fast as he could.

"Don't do this, Stiles." He wasn't ready to have this discussion, and he didn't think he ever would be. But Stiles was just too damn stubborn for his own good.

"Don't do what? Don't love you? Because it's a little fucking late for that!" Stiles snarled. Derek had to get away. From those words, and from that tone, and from the look on Stiles' face. He couldn't even look at Stiles.

"I'm not doing this right now," he growled, turning and starting for the window. Stiles stopped his short, grabbing his arm and pulling him back around.

"Then when, Derek? Huh? When?" His voice was quiet but livid, and Derek didn't like how angry he sounded. He wanted to escape the anger and the difficult questions and just be on his own for awhile. But Stiles had to make things difficult for him, of course, like he always did. Not that it wasn't exactly what he deserved.

"Let me go," he rasped, halfheartedly trying to pull his arm away. Stiles clung to him with an iron grip.

"Tell me you don't want me, that I'm not your mate, and I'll let you run as far away as you want, Derek. Just tell me that." He sounded pleading, as if he really did want Derek to tell him that, as if that was what he wanted, too.

Derek's jaw tightened again. He kept his eyes on the carpet under his feet, tried to focus, to calm his heartbeat. He needed to if he was going to lie.

"You're not my mate," he said firmly. Stiles looked at him for a moment, and he was sure he had succeeded.

"Liar." Stiles growled. Okay, maybe he hadn't succeeded. He sighed. "You think I can't hear your lie?" Stiles continued. "You think you can trick me? You taught me how to detect deception, remember that?"

He remembered. It was the same day he realized how attracted to Stiles he was, and how careful he needed to be so Stiles would never find out. How could he forget? He was just hoping that if he focused enough and spoke quickly enough, Stiles wouldn't be able to hear the skip in his heartbeat. Too bad it hadn't worked. With his obvious lie, he had basically admitted that Stiles was his mate.

"No, I don't remember," he lied again.

"Stop lying to me." Stiles voice was quiet, but still steely. "You told me you would never lie to me. Remember that? You said pack doesn't keep secrets from one another. What happened to that, Der?"

"I would have said anything you wanted to hear to gain your loyalty," Derek muttered, hating himself for the way his heartbeat didn't skip at all as he said it. He abruptly jerked his arm out of Stiles grasp, and it came away easily. He still couldn't look at Stiles. He could feel the surprise and the hurt that must be on his face. He could actually fucking feel it. The sensation was so strange. He never would have allowed Stiles to get so attached to him, back then, if he had known Stiles was meant to be his mate. And he would never have allowed himself to get so attached to Stiles either.

He had to get away, get some air and clear his head. The feeling of being caged and cornered threatened to overwhelm him again, and he moved toward the window once more, and again Stiles stopped him, stepping in front of him. He didn't look angry any more, just kind of sad... which was about a thousand time worse than the anger.

"Goddamn you, Stiles!" he snarled. He hated how Stiles made him feel. It was frustrating and exhilarating and terrifying, and he'd never felt it before, and he just wanted to get away from it. But Stiles wouldn't let him. He blocked his path, looked at him with those sad brown eyes, and that look reminded him of the dream he'd had that morning, making his escape even more desperate.

"Derek. Look at me." Stiles' voice was quiet and gentle, maybe a little shaky, but Derek may have been imagining that. He couldn't take the force of those sad brown eyes. He couldn't look at him. "Please..." Well, fuck. Who could argue with that? He slowly raised his head to meet Stiles' gaze. He didn't seem so sad any more. The determination was back, the stubbornness. "I know you think you're doing what's best for me, but by running away from me, you're hurting everyone. Can't you trust me enough to let me make my own decision? Don't I deserve that much? Every pack needs a good leader, and how can you be that leader when you're denying a part of yourself? Stop trying to control everything and let go." Derek shook his head, but didn't look away from Stiles' face. He knew Stiles was right, he just didn't want to accept it, didn't want to give in so easily. "Stop running, Der." Stiles stepped forward, brushed his thumb over Derek's cheekbone in a light caress. Derek flinched at the touch. "Stop denying me..."

Derek felt like he was losing control, like his stress and worry and fear were melting away. It was a pleasant experience and a shocking one. One he wasn't entirely sure he welcomed. Stiles' words made sense, and they almost made him feel stupid, like he had been acting this way, all this time, for no reason whatsoever. He knew there was a reason, a damned good one, but he just couldn't remember it at the moment. And somehow he didn't really care.

"I'm not going to let you run away anymore," Stiles murmured. "We can make this work, if you let it." Before Derek could reply or react, Stiles was leaning in and brushing their lips together in a slow stroke. Derek leapt guiltily, almost bumping their heads together, but Stiles stilled him, running his hands down his back as he stepped closer still, deepening the kiss.

Before they could go too much further - with them one kiss always led to more - Derek pulled away. Stiles looked a little disappointed as he regarded Derek, lips wet and open. Derek sighed, denying his urge to lean in and capture that tantalizing mouth with his own once again.

"Okay, Stiles," he breathed, almost wincing, as if the words pained him. "Okay, we can try this. But you have to promise that we'll take things slow. I need time to- ...we can't jump right into a serious relationship. I can't claim you yet..." Stiles was beaming, and Derek trailed off at the look on his face.

"Anything," Stiles breathed, sounding relieved as he stepped forward. "Anything you need, anything you want. We have all the time in the world. I'm not going anywhere..." Derek tightened his arms around Stiles and pulled him in close, burying his face in the boy's neck and inhaling his scent greedily. He was happy that Stiles was happy, but he felt like he was signing Stiles' death sentence. His past experiences told him that no good could come of this. When Stiles left him, it would kill him, but he was willing to put himself through that pain to make Stiles happy. To make himself happy for however long it lasted.

"You're going to stop going on dates, right?" he asked suddenly, pulling back a bit and looking into Stiles' face intently. Stiles grinned cheekily.

"Yeah. Why? Have you been jealous?" he teased. Derek frowned.

"Yes."

Stiles' smile turned more genuine. "That's good to know." He went silent again, resting his forehead on Derek's shoulder.

Derek's thoughts inexplicably went to his sister. The swirling red script of her tattoos. 'Carpe Diem' on her left forearm, 'Carpe Noctem' on her right. 'Seize the Day' and 'Seize the Night'. Live in the moment. That was his sister's life philosophy. He knew, if she were here now, that she would kick his ass into next Friday for the way he had been acting, and the way he had been treating Stiles. She would have liked Stiles. A lot. In certain ways, actually, Stiles and Laura were a lot alike.

"Derek..." Stiles muttered hesitantly, loathe to break the moment. Derek pulled back just enough to look into Stiles' face again, curiously, questioningly. "If you want to take things slow... we should probably get the hell out of my room and away from my bed," he grinned a little sheepishly. "Because all I can think about-"

"I got it," Derek said, interrupting him. In the back of his mind, Derek was thinking about the same thing, more or less, and if Stiles continued what he had been about to say, it would have put ideas in his head that he would have wanted to act on. Right. They were taking things slow. Even though that was the last fucking thing in the world that he wanted to do. What he wanted was to throw Stiles on his bed and fuck him deep into the mattress, mark his whole body, claim him and own him and make sure he knew it in every way possible.

He shuddered at the thought and stepped away from the boy regretfully. Stiles' nostrils flared and his eyes were dark, pupils blown wide. He knew exactly what Derek had been thinking, could smell his arousal in the air. He'd been thinking the same thing himself. They needed to get some distance between them, and get out of Stiles' bedroom, or there would be no going slow.

Stiles cleared his throat, stepped further away from Derek and rubbed the back of his neck a bit awkwardly. "Uh, well, we should probably head back downstairs then, you know...?" He didn't sound too happy about it. Derek nodded mutely. Seriously, they had to get away from the bed... "Nothing will kill the mood like watching Scott and Allison being all lovey-dovey." Stiles added with a smirk. Derek wholeheartedly agreed.

He was surprised that it was Stiles who was making the move to slow things down for once. He was respecting Derek's request. And Derek wished more than anything that he wasn't. The words were already said, and he couldn't take them back, but holy hell did he want to. His body told him to just go ahead and do it, but his head told him it wasn't such a good idea. He listened to his head, as usual. Stiles was already opening the door anyway, walking into the hallway, glancing back at Derek to see if he was coming.

As Stiles walked back downstairs, Derek at his back, he was getting the strangest feelings from Derek. Regret and desire, but also a strange acceptance. He could feel the ever-present fear and pain, but it was muted, not as important as other things. It made Stiles smile. At least they were making progress. It was a clearvictory...

"You reek of sex," Derek muttered, and Stiles stumbled on the stairs, almost toppling down them to the bottom before he caught himself on the railing. He slowly turned to look at Derek, surprised at the words.

"It's your fault!" he said. He was even more surprised to see a small smile playing at the edges of Derek's lips. He almost seemed as if he were teasing. He was teasing! The expression looked almost out of place on his normally stoic face.

Derek shook his head with a tiny chuckle and, still gaping, Stiles turned and continued down the stairs, more carefully this time. He was surprised to find the living room completely lifeless as he got to the bottom of the stairs. He sniffed at the air and Derek mimicked him. They glanced at eachother, reaching the same conclusion. The pack wasn't here, and hadn't been for some time. They had probably left soon after Stiles had gone upstairs to confront Derek, more than likely.

There was a piece of paper lying on the coffee table, the Sherriff's Department logo stamped on top. It was from the notepad in the kitchen and it hadn't been there before. Stiles stepped forward and picked it up. Derek came up behind him to read over his shoulder, and Stiles got goosebumps as he felt Derek's breath gusting against the side of his neck.

'Went to the house already,' the note read. 'Hope everything works out. Have fun and good luck!' It was written in Lydia's loopy, flowing script and it wasn't signed. Stiles frowned.

"Have fun and good luck?" Derek said. "What is that supposed to mean?" Stiles shrugged.

"No freakin' idea. Should we go ahead and go to the house, or..." he trailed off, dirty thoughts entering his mind, desire flaring up in him that was both his own and not his own. He gave Derek a hooded glance and the Alpha licked his lips in anticipation. They still had at least three good hours before sundown, which meant they didn't have to leave Stiles' house for at least an hour. He knew exactly how he wanted to spend that hour.

He opened his mouth, about to make a suggestion, but Derek turned and walked out of the room before he could speak. His mouth snapped shut and he frowned again, just standing there, not knowing whether to follow Derek or wait to see if he would come back. Just as he was about to follow, he heard footsteps and Derek came back into the living room with an armful of clothes. Their clothes from the night before, dry now.

He tossed Stiles his pants and shirt, then dropped his own pants. Right there in the living room. Pretending not to notice as Stiles jaw dropped in shock and he stared, open-mouthed. He managed to close his mouth with some difficulty, swallowing, trying to remind himself that, at the moment, Derek's nudity wasn't sexual. He was just changing his clothes for chrisake! But his body wouldn't listen to him.

"Goddamn raging teenage hormones," he muttered under his breath. Derek snickered, obviously hearing him, and Stiles flushed a bit as he turned around, putting his back to Derek as he dropped his own pants. He couldn't very well let Derek see the raging hard-on he had, now could he? Derek was across the room, or he would have been able to smell Stiles' arousal anyway.

The clothes reeked of wolf and sweat and the pack, a mixture of everyone's scents, after all their clothes tumbled around in the drier together. He pulled the clothing on and sighed, as it was blessedly hot and dry now. It wouldn't be for long, though, so he better enjoy it while it lasted. It was still raining outside. Even harder now, actually, as the day wound to a close. At least it wasn't the sharp freezing rain of Winter. It was warm Summer rain. To Stiles it was a signal that his birthday was coming up soon.

He felt Derek's gaze on him and turned around as he did up the fly of his jeans. When he glanced up at the Alpha, he got that arrogant, cocky grin that he loved so much.

"I shouldn't have told you I wanted to take things slow," Derek rumbled, stepping a little closer, a teasing note in his voice that Stiles liked a lot. Stiles heart started beating triple-time, and he swallowed a lump in his throat so that he could speak.

"Well, there's still time," he hoarsed. "We don't have to leave here for at least an hour..." He took a step closer as well, and he was close enough now that he could almost feel the heat from Derek's body. He could smell the Alpha's arousal, so he knew Derek could smell his. They just looked at eachother for a moment, then Derek leaned close suddenly, making Stiles' heart skip a beat.

"I would need much more than an hour." His voice was low and growling, teasing and tantalizing and full of dark promises. A shudder ran through Stiles, and he bit his lip hard to stop the embarrassingly needy whimper that threatened to spill out of his throat.

Derek cocked an eyebrow at him, and that arrogant, alluring grin turned into a slightly rueful smirk, and just like that he was back to himself again. "In other words, we should probably just head to the house now." With that said, he turned on his heel and stalked out of the living room. Stiles heard the front door open behind him, but didn't turn around yet. He took a deep breath and let it out in a big sigh, then he turned and followed Derek out of the house, flipping off lights as he went, leaving their discarded pants lying on the floor where they had taken them off.

He didn't know what had gotten into his serious, brooding Alpha, but he sure as hell liked it. Really, really liked it…

Hope you guys liked it. There was a much more emotional and angsty version of this chapter that I was going to post, but it didn't seem very in character to me, so this is the one that got posted. I like less angst anyway. They are still men, after all, lol.

Review if you love it! Or even if you don't. Tell me what's wrong with it. I love you guys you're awesome! Thanks for being so patient.