Derek closed his eyes, this couldn't end well. His mother did see photography, and art in general, as a waste of time even as a hobby so there was no way that she would like what Stiles was about to say.

And Derek was absolutely not looking forward to telling her about his latest change of career.

"I'm an artist," Stiles stated with his chin high, a clear challenge in his whole posture.

"So you are kept by Derek." Cora almost yelled as if he had admitted something with that. "Is he paying you to play his boyfriend as well? Is that what's going on here? Derek?"

Suddenly Derek was in the focus of attention and he had absolutely no idea what to say.

"Did you hire him to play your boyfriend?" She asked again. "Is this some sick joke? Is this your way to get back at Mom and Dad? They just wanted the best for you but no, you knew better. You ran off to New York to do your art and find yourself or whatever. And what did it get you? A shitty job, a shitty apartment and a shitty ex."

"Cora!" Peter bellowed.

"You're just jealous that Laura and I got somewhere in life!"

"Not everybody has an apple pie life," Stiles yelled back. "And guess what? Not everybody wants an apple pie life."

For a second Derek wasn't sure if Stiles had used the safe-word on purpose or if he'd just slipped up but then he noticed the iron grip Stiles had on the steel ring on his wheel while he gestured wildly with his free hand.

"We're leaving." Derek threw his napkin next to his half-eaten plate and stood. He just knew that whatever he would say next he would regret later. Or maybe not but it would break something between him and his family that wouldn't be easy to repair. So Derek gritted his teeth and stalked out of the room.

Stiles moved back from the table, did an abrupt one-eighty and was at the door even before him.

"Derek, wait." His mother called after him but he didn't turn around.

The last thing he heard was Lucy asking why they were leaving and why they had been yelling and Cora muttering something about where to get a professional photographer last minute but nobody was trying to hold them back.

"You okay?" Derek asked and put his hand between Stiles' shoulder blades the second they were out of the front door.

"Just get me out of here." Stiles turned his chair so Derek could help him down the stairs. This time Derek didn't care if somebody was watching them, he just wanted to leave.

While Stiles was struggling to get his chair into the car, he was literally shaking with anger, Peter came out of the house.

"What a lovely evening." He said, his voice dripping with sarcasm.

Stiles snorted at that and Derek just shook his head. If it hadn't been so personal it would have been funny.

"Cora and my sister had no right to say those things," Peter said.

"Understatement." Stiles waved in the general direction of the house. The front windows were dark and there was no way to tell if somebody was behind the curtains, watching them. But Derek would bet money that there was.

"Are you going to tell us that they didn't mean it and that they will get their heads out of their asses eventually?" Stiles asked.

"No." Peter shook his head. He was leaning against the car, his eyes on the house. "They meant it, every word. And they wanted to hurt you, both of you."

"What do you want?" Stiles asked.

"I want to let you know that not the whole family is against you," Peter said surprisingly honest and straightforward. "The kids love you, Stiles, and Josh is on your side as well. He has found Derek's website a while ago and he's following him on Instagram. He knew about the chair and that Derek is trying to make a living out of his photography. He knew and he just accepted it."

"So we have the shady uncle, two kids and a moody teenager on our side." Stiles recapped. "Awesome."

Peter gave him a feral grin, pushed himself off the car and with his hands in his pockets he walked back to the house.

"No offense but your family is crazy," Stiles muttered and closed the door.

Derek hurried around the car and got into the driver's seat.

"There's a reason I live in New York." Derek reminded him. "Do you want to go home?"

The sheriff would be home by now and Derek wasn't sure about Melissa and if he was honest, he wasn't really in the mood to see more people right now.

The Hale house disappeared behind the trees and he breathed a little easier.

"Not really," Stiles answered his question with a delay. "But I have no idea where else to go."

"I might know a place." This felt way too much like when he'd been a teenager, the times when he'd gotten into an argument with his parents. He had to get away for a while then too. He just hoped that it still existed.

They hadn't eaten much over the so-called dinner and even if Derek wasn't that hungry at the moment he was pretty sure that it would change soon and Stiles was a stress eater anyway. So he made a little detour to get them covered with burgers, curly fries, and milkshakes.

"Where are we going?" Stiles asked, already molesting the straw of his shake.

"When I still lived with my family I needed a place to get away from time to time," Derek explained.

They were in a dead part of the town, a left-over from a short period of a thriving industry. And there it was, exactly like he remembered it.

"We are going to get killed out here," Stiles muttered after a look around but he did get out of the car and followed Derek into the abandoned train depot.

They were lucky. There was no homeless guy sleeping in a random corner, the blankets and other things Derek had left here years ago were still hidden where he'd left them and the blankets only smelt slightly moldy.

They set up shop in the same train cabin Derek had used when he'd come here alone. He had to carry Stiles the last bit because it was an almost knee high step into the cabin but there was surprisingly little stuff lying around the depot, Stiles had no problems navigating the place.

"I like it," Stiles commented and took the burger Derek offered him. By now the food wasn't really hot any longer but that was kind of part of the experience.

For a while, they just sat there on cracked upholstery with their moldy blankets and lukewarm food. It was good.

Slowly the tension seeped out of him and if the way Stiles' legs start to follow the pull of gravity again it was the same for him.

"I'm not sure if I want to stay for the wedding." Derek balled up the wrapper and put it aside. He would take their trash with them when they left, it felt wrong to litter this place with greasy wrappers and empty milkshake cups.

"Me neither," Stiles admitted. He leaned back until his head rested against the blind window. "It's still a few days, let's not decide that now."

"Probably for the better." Right now Derek was tempted to just drive back to New York.

Derek had always been alone when he'd come here and he'd really liked the silence. It had helped him think. With Stiles here, it felt strange and oddly familiar at the same time.

"So." Stiles drew out the word. Silence never sat right with him for too long. "When you came here, did you just sit here and brood or what were you doing?"

"Thinking, most of the time," Derek admitted. "Sometimes I brought a book or my homework."

"Where did you stash your porn?" He looked around, trying to peek under the seats, in search for said stash.

Derek glared at him but then he pointed at the seat to his left.

"Under there but I didn't leave it here."

"When you left Beacon Hills you came here to get your porn?" Stiles grinned at him but then he gave the blanket over his lap a suspicious look. "Are there come strains on this thing?"

"It's possible." Derek shrugged. There were way more questionable strains on that blanket.

"I can picture it." Stiles closed his eyes to emphasize the picturing part. "You, here alone, blowing off some steam."

"I didn't do it that often." Derek deflected but he had to shift a little to adjust himself in his jeans. The thought that Stiles was picturing him, jerking off, was hot.

Stiles rolled his head on the window and cracked open an eye to look at him.

"I'm kind of in the mood to climb into your lap and let you fuck me." He said. "Dirty, fast and angry."

They had never done it that way around. Usually, Derek liked to bottom but from time to time …

"You sure?" Derek sat up a little straighter.

"Yeah." Stiles licked his lips and pushed himself closer. "Fuck me."

"Do you have lube?"

"I have spit," Stiles told him, already struggling to get out of his jeans. "I'm in for a good spit roasting."

"No way." Derek put his hand on top of Stiles' to stop him. "When was the last time you bottomed?" For sure not in the last few weeks. Derek had been the one who had worn a butt plug for a whole day sometimes, he had been the one who got fucked on a regular base. Stiles never missed a chance to stuff him with his cock and as many fingers as possible. Derek would take Stiles' cock right here without a second thought, he didn't need much prep and he would be more than fine with spit for lube. But not Stiles.

"I want it to burn." Stiles pushed his hands away and opened his fly.

"It's not just going to burn, it's going to hurt. You might tear." No way was he going to risk that.

"I'm not going to tear."

"How much do you actually feel down there?" Derek had his suspicions about that. Maybe Stiles needed it to hurt to feel anything and Derek wasn't sure how he felt about that idea.

"Enough." Stiles assured him and when he noticed Derek's skeptical expression, he added: "Enough to enjoy it and enough to know if something is wrong. Satisfied?"

"Not really."

"Me neither but I will be once you're done pounding my ass."

Derek didn't hold him back when Stiles reached for his jeans and then he sank into the wet heat of Stiles' mouth.

"We could stick to blowjobs." Derek offered and let his head fall back until it hit the window with a dull thud. It had been his own hand when he'd come here, a blowjob was definitely a step up. With Stiles' skilled mouth on him, he wouldn't last long.

But Stiles had nothing of that. He just made sure that Derek's shaft was all wet and sloppy.

"Help me over." He demanded in a tone that was hard to resist. Even if he was at the receiving end this time, there was no doubt who was in charge here.

Then Stiles was straddling him, the tip of Derek's cock nudging his entrance and there was no way that it would fit easily. But if anything Stiles was determined.

He took a breath and pushed down. Derek felt his cock breaching the tight ring of muscles and he had to force himself to not buck up into that delicious tightness.

Stiles keened and then he bit down on the meat of Derek's neck but he didn't stop. Inch by inch he worked his way down Derek's length until he was fully seated.

"You okay?" Derek asked, catching his breath. Stiles was so tight.

"Give me a sec." Stiles mouthed over the spot he'd bitten and didn't move for a long moment. Then he braced himself on Derek's shoulders and used that to push himself up. Slow at first but he gained momentum quickly.

"Fuck me." He demanded and Derek did.