Stiles was standing waist deep in the murky brown water of the swamp, trying not to think of whatever was in there with him. The air around him crackled blue fire, dancing over his skin and lighting up the night like a beacon. Behind him, Runningwolf was chanting – masking the run-off of power and magic that Stiles was generating, hiding him from unfriendly senses.

"You know, you look a little like the Human Torch." Talon said from the dock – his cabin only a few feet away.

"Thanks." Stiles said through gritted teeth. "It was the look I was going for."

Talon laughed, an honest, open sound that reminded Stiles of home. "We need to get you some tights."

"I don't want involved in your kinky shit." Stiles hissed. The effort to keep himself together was causing sweat to form over his skin – despite the cold water. "Sunshine would never forgive me for stealing her man."

Talon laughed again, and in the distance, Stiles could hear something slither into the water. He really didn't want to be standing in the bayou waters with gators swishing around his legs. He looked to Runningwolf, still chanting.

"Dude, I swear to god, Talon's pet handbags are going to eat me."

Runningwolf stopped his chants to look at Stiles. "How do you feel?"

"Exhausted. Cold. Hot." Stiles muttered, looking at his hands and arms, blue fire still dancing over his skin. "Like I'm about to pass out."

"Good enough." He said, "This should be getting easier, Stiles."

"It's not."

Talon laughed as the fire flickered away and Stiles tried to pull his weak body out of the water. "I'm so glad you find my suffering an endless source of amusement." He said, although there was no malice in his tone.

"Come on, mighty Shaman. I'll give you a ride home."

"What's a pretty little kid like you doing in a place like this?" The biker asked. It wasn't the first time tonight. Stiles was used to ignoring them. Funnily enough, the drunk bikers knew better to hit on the Bears. It wasn't that Stiles minded being hit on, it was that he minded being hit on by the same type of guys. Drunk, overweight and always with the questionable hygiene.

"Just working," Stiles said, picking up the glasses. His watch glinted in the dull lighting, three days till the full moon. If there was one thing he didn't like – it was working near the full moon. People in this town got crazy – more crazy than normal, if that was even possible.

"That's a nice watch." The drunk slurred. "I bet you had to do a lot of nasty things for a watch like that." Stiles skin crawled. He knew exactly what this sleaze was suggesting.

He manage to roll his eyes as he walked away. Wren gave him a glance – and it just showed what a difference a year could make, because Stiles knew what the guy was thinking. A mixture of shared annoyance and frustration. No one ever hit on Wren, people actively tried to avoid him, but he didn't like it when people got up and personal with his friends.

"Long night." He muttered as he passed Stiles. As far as Stiles was aware, it was the first time Wren had ever spoken to him without being prompted. Dude could have given Derek lessons in lurking.

"Fridays always are."

Stiles was sitting on the step at the back of the bar, phone to his ear and a glass of water in his hand. Jackson was bitching again.

"It's not my fault if he can't hack it!"

"Yeah." Stiles agreed. He always agreed with Jackson, it made their conversations easier.

"If you can't stay away during your shift then you deserve to be replaced, right? I did that guy a favour."

"You did." Stiles said, taking a drink.

"Damn right I did. Fucking idiot. Anyway, break is over. Better get back to saving people."

"Bye, Jackson. Miss you."

"Whatever." Was his reply, followed by a quick "You too." Before the line went dead.

He sat in the café and drank his shake, occasionally taking a bite of his burger. Books were spread all around him, but the owner didn't mind that Stiles took up so much space. He was often the only person in the place at this time of night. His phone was on the table, silent for the first time in hours. Scott must have fallen asleep.

Stiles desperately needed to sleep too – he'd finished his shift and although he had no classes at UNO on a Sunday, he knew Runningwolf wanted to go over his lessons for the week. He had a midterm paper due – and he'd been struggling to keep up with the pace for weeks. He was stressed to the max, even his shakes, herbs, teas and potions did nothing to sort his constant headache. The planters outside the window were full of brightly coloured blooms – he wondered if he had hayfever.

Strange though – the only planter with flowers growing was the one right outside his usual spot.

Stiles cradled the phone on his shoulder as Isaac chatted away about his classes. He was doing pretty well, from all accounts, much better than Reever who was struggling recently; even with all the extra help Isaac was able to give her.

"I just don't think her heart is in it." He was saying. "I'm worried she just came here because of me."

"I'm sure she didn't." Stiles said. His head pounding, nearly a month of constant headaches was getting him down.

"What if she wanted to do something else and I just… didn't know? I worry about her. She's forgetful and really irritable, the other day she tripped."

"People trip," Stiles said, tone comforting. "I fall over all the time."

"You're not a werewolf. She shouldn't be tripping over her own feet. Shouldn't be sitting about dazed for hours at a time." Isaac whined. "What if she's sick?" He whimpered at the words as they left his mouth. Stiles could almost hear the Beta pale. "Oh my god! What if she's sick?"

"She's not sick." Stiles comforted. "She's fine."

His headache wasn't getting any better. He was starting to worry that maybe something was wrong – seriously wrong. He called Runningwolf, trying to keep his eyes closed against the glare from the screen.

"Stiles, it's a bit late for you to call."

"I'm really sorry, but I think something is wrong. My head is killing me. Like, really, killing me." Another stab of pain made him groan.

"I'll be there as soon as I can."

"The run-off isn't working." Runningwolf told him, wiping sweat from Stiles brow. "You must be generating some other kind of energy that isn't able to burn out."

"Like what?"

"I'm not sure." He admitted. "It's been a long time since someone like you needed training. You don't get a lot of Shaman anymore." Running wolf sighed. "They started becoming rarer when the forests…" He stopped, looking at Stiles strangely. "Your wolf – where does he live?"

"Beacon Hills. You know that."

"In the town?"

"No. He's got like huge plot of land in the woods." Stiles said, holding the crushed ice and mint leaf pack to his head. "It's in the middle of nowhere."

"In a forest?"

"Yeah." Stiles responded. "Why?"

"You're an earth Shaman. The run-off has been fire. No wonder you find it hard to keep control." Runningwolf slapped his head in a show of idiocy. "Run-off needs to be elemental." He stalked off then, leaving Stiles sitting in the middle of the couch. He could hear the opening and closing of books, muttering and grumbling, then suddenly – "Ah!"

Stiles stood in the small garden that Runningwolf used to grow his own herbs and vegetables. "Think about the ground, the earth. Focus on that the same way you do when you think of the fire."

Stiles nodded, closing his eyes and trying his best to change nearly a year of training his mind to think of flames. Runningwolf kept talking, a smooth, relaxing monologue.

Stiles felt his headache get worse, a throbbing, constant pain that made it difficult to think, and then – in a flash - it was gone. Totally gone. The breathe of relief felt like he'd been holding in too long. Stiles felt something soft and feathery brush his face. Snapping his eyes open, he looked around himself. The garden, which had been well maintained and neat before, was a mess. The grass was almost hip high; the sweet pea that had been clinging to the brick wall was so overgrown now that the leaves were brushing Stiles face. He could hardly see Runningwolf between the potted plants that had burst from the confines of their terracotta shells, spilling brown earth and white root, at least the height of a man.

"Well." Runningwolf said, not sounding displeased that Stiles had just wrecked his garden. "You'll never be able to stop time or move objects with your mind, but at least we know you'll never starve." He picked an overgrown leaf of mint – bigger than a dinner plate - and used it to fan himself.

"I'm pregnant."

"Congratulations." Stiles said, instantly.

"It's not good news!" Reever cried down the phone. "I'm only 19! I'm not old enough to be a mom!"

"You'll be a great mom." Stiles soothed. "A little baby Isaac running about? A little ginger Isaac?" The words had the instant effect of making Reever giggle down the line.

"God, how cute would a little Isaac be?"

"Beyond cute. Impossibly cute." Stiles said, wondering how well this news would go over with her parents, with Derek. Jesus, Isaac was going to die. "You know, no matter what happens, this is going to be the most spoiled kid in California, right?"

"Oh my god. My parents are going to kill me!"

The package was late. The package was never late. His monthly box of stuff from Derek was always on time. He was sitting on the steps of his dorm waiting for the mailman to arrive with his package, ignoring the sinking feeling that said maybe this month, Derek just hadn't bothered putting a box together for him. After all, he'd been doing it for over a year. He probably didn't think Stiles would miss it.

Because he was sitting waiting for the mailman, he saw the cab pull up. But because he was waiting for the mailman, he didn't pay too much attention to the guy that climbed out the cab. Not until he saw the black leather.

"Derek?" Stiles yelled, jumping to his feet and breaking into a flat out run. "Derek!"

Stiles didn't give a crap that people were milling around and he was acting like a chick in a really bad romantic movie, he flung himself at the wolf, wrapping his legs around Derek's waist and arms around his neck. Stiles knew he was a good inch and a half taller than Derek now, but the Alpha was still broader, still stronger, still sex on two legs. He didn't budge an inch when Stiles landed on him, just took his weight and sighed.

"I need to get my bag."

"Oh my God! Derek! You're here! You're really here!" Stiles squeaked, still hanging on like an overgrown monkey.

"Yes. And I really need to get my bag."

"Yeah. God! Okay!" Stiles said, remembering that they weren't alone and Derek wasn't super keen on PDA with people who weren't in his pack. Probably an Alpha thing. He put his feet on the ground and pulled back a few inches, grinning like an idiot. "I can't believe you're actually here." He repeated, as Derek paid the cab driver and pulled his bag out of the trunk. "Like, you're standing right here – I can't even tell you how happy I am to see you!"

"You don't mind?"

"Are you fucking kidding me?" Stiles laughed, wrapping his arms around Derek again, just for a moment. Just to remind him that he was real. "I've never been so happy to see you in my life."

"So this is my room." Stiles said, waving his hand about the tiny space. "I wasn't expecting anyone, so it's a bit of a mess."

Okay, so a bit of a mess was a slight understatement, with papers and books scattered all over the small room. Stiles felt Derek sigh. He hated when Stiles made a mess. "If you'd told me you were coming I would have cleaned. I promise." He said, picking up a stack of books and putting them back on the small shelf.

"If I'd told you I was coming it wouldn't have been a surprise."

"No." Stiles said, turning around to face his wolf. "It wouldn't have been half as good as seeing you get out that taxi."

"You didn't even recognise me."

"I was looking for the mail. Not…" He grinned. "A male."

Derek rolled his eyes at the lame joke, before pulling Stiles in closer. "You are wearing a lot of clothes."

"I can fix that." Stiles grinned, kissing Derek urgently. "I can fix that."

So some people wanted to see what it was like for Stiles in New Orleans! Here you go!

Next chapter will be Derek POV I think, as Stiles shows him the Town.

I had written some already, but then I looked back and didn't like it - so I'm going to work on that tomorrow. There will be some characters (like Wren) who are from the Darkhunter Books, so if you've not read them I will try to do as much explaining as possible in the notes. If you HAVE, then you are far too wonderful and we are obviously destined to be BBFS forever.

And you were all right about Tumblr. It has taken over my life.