"Stiles. Stilessss. STILES"

He groaned, rolling over to his other side, unconsciously avoiding the stream of sunlight peeping through the curtain.

"Stiles, we have shit to do. Get up. Now. Or I'll push you off the bed."

Another groan, but this time, no movement. Alright, if that's how he wants to start the day, I'm down.

I grab his leg, which is gently dangling off the side of the mattress, and give it a hard yank. Within seconds, he's flying to the hardwood floor, taking the blanket and half the sheets with him. He looks around confused, trying to figure out what just happened. One moment he was in a cocoon of warmth, and now he's sitting at my feet, hair in a tumbleweed, looking at me like I've killed a baby.

"Derek! What the hell! I was having the best dream."

"Well, you can finish it later. Right now we have shit to do."

He pouted, shaking his head in dismissal.

"What time is it? This really couldn't wait another hour or two?"

"No. And its 11:30."

He sighed, freeing himself from the trap of linens and collecting himself to stand up.

"Fine, but I'm not carrying any more freaking wood today. I spent all night picking out splinters."

I chuckled, giving him an approving look.

"Its okay, junior lumberjack. No firewood today. We're gonna go out and hunt."

His eyes shot wide, the color draining from his face. A beautiful image, really.

"HUNT? Derek, I don't know if you have amnesia and forgot who I am, but I'm not really the murdery type, don't you think? I can't even kill bugs on my own. Its probably better if I stay here and... uh... bake some... bread."

I roll my eyes, not willing to argue and tell him that we don't even have any flour to make bread. I don't think he's ever baked in his entire life anyways. He'd probably burn the cabin down.

"Relax, okay? We're not hunting for animals. We're gonna go look for people."

"People? I thought you said it was safe. What have you been doing on your mysterious-grovely-cave man walks all this time? Picking flowers? Frolicking through the trees?"

He scoffed, wiping some now dry drool off his chin. He really needs to get that under control.

"It is. We're just doing a perimeter check. And you're coming with me. Two sets of eyes are better than one. Even if mine are superior in every way."

I smile at him, giving him a full show of my teeth, shifting my kanines out just slightly.

"Damnit. Fine."

"Alright. Bring more snacks."

...

We set out as soon as he had his shoes on, pockets stuffed with more granola bars. They crinkled in his pocket as he walked, reminding me of our interaction at the pond just a few nights ago. We hadn't spoken of it at all, dancing around it like it was a life and death situation. The room is suffocating with the size of the elephant we've both been ignoring.

I haven't told him why we're really out here. He has no idea about the foot prints, about my suspicions, or that someone could be watching us. I still have no proof. Nothing solid to go on other than my instinct, which is usually dead on. But Stiles needs evidence. Facts. It could still be a late season hunter, or a hiker, and until I have something that says otherwise, it won't mean anything to him.

I've had him at my side at all times since the visit to the pond. Never out of eyesight, safe under my supervision. I haven't even really slept, instead using those hours to watch him without him knowing. Mapping all his freckles, theorizing about his scars, noting every cut or scrape he may have gotten throughout the day. Its torture. I want to reach out, touch him. Pull his shirt up a little, trace my fingers along the soft grooves of his stomach. Brush my fingers through the fuzz that leads down to...

Focus.

I'm out here to make sure he's safe. To find trespassers who might mean us harm. Not daydream about his...

I shake my head, banishing the thoughts in an instant. Discipline has always been a strength of mine. With him though, I feel it falter more often than I'm comfortable admitting to myself.

We come to a particularly thick patch of bush, thorns and sticks poking out in every direction. There's no way around it. We have to get through it somehow.

"Stiles, did you bring the knife?"

He snaps his head towards me, breaking his stare from a butterfly that had landed on a rock by our feet.

"Uh- the what? The- oh yeah. The knife. Here its just uh-"

Fumbling around in his pockets for a moment, he seems to have forgotten it. All my thoughts of ravaging him moments before are definitely out the window right now. I told him to grab it. For someone so smart how can he be so forgetful? I should have-

"Ah hah. Here ya go."

He pulls it out of his jacket pocket, pointing it towards me by the blade.

I sigh, pulling my lips into a straight line as I reach to grab it.

"Thanks."

I grab it by the hilt, making sure to put extra emphasis on the way I grab it from him. Bless his heart.

He smirks proudly, not seeming to notice my irritation. If he has, he's not giving me the benefit of letting me know it. He's good at that.

I smile internally, a wave of calm washing over me. Sometimes I feel like I needed this, for more reasons than just escaping murderous hunters and creeping FBI agents. He grounds me, makes me remind myself to slow down just a little. Brings me back down to earth and... encourages me to heal. To check myself in with reality.

Turning to the trees, I carefully begin pulling the branches apart so that I can cut them away. They're a tangled mess, barbs and thorns sticking out from every inch. A few of them prick me, but nothing serious.

Cut. Snip. Snap.

What seems like an hour passes, but eventually, there's enough room to get to the other side. I'm covered in sweat despite the cold nip of the air, and I can feels Stiles' eyes on me the entire time. Its probably only really been twenty minutes, but every moment that I know he's watching feels like a lifetime.

"Alright, be careful, or you'll spend tonight picking out thorns instead of splinters."

He looks at me nervously, hesitating before moving forward a few steps. I hold the branches open for him, careful to make sure he doesn't get caught in the brush. It would be a hell of a time pulling him out of-

Shit. And... he's caught.

"Derek, uhhh... a little help... please?"

He looks at me sheepishly, the sun hitting his face and lighting his eyes up like pools of honey. I look down at him, almost pitying his lack of coordination. It would be cute if it didn't put him in danger literally all the time.

"Alright, hold still."

I evaluate the situation, finally realizing that his jacket has become stuck. He'll need to take it off so he can get out.

"Your jacket caught on the barbs. You need to slide it off your arms so you can get through. Let me help you."

I lean over him, trying to make sure no more of the branches hit us, and carefully begin pulling the sleeves down his biceps. We're inches away from each other, our breath mingling in the air between us. I can see the droplets of sweat sliding down his forehead.

He gingerly raises his arms, releasing them from the jacket. Goosebumps immediately raise on his skin. Its forty-five degrees out today at most.

I put an arm around him, guiding him out of the bush and creating a shield around him so he doesn't get scraped. He leans in slightly, allowing me to cover him enough to get free.

We stumble out of the growth, and we stand there for a moment, breathing, before we realize that I've still got my arms around him, his jacket secured in one hand, and his shoulder in the other. The realization hits both of us at the same moment, and I take a quick step back, looking down at the now embedded thorns in his clothes.

I clear my throat, daring to look up at him. "You'll need to pick these out if you don't wanna freeze to death."

His cheeks are filled with color, and I know its not from the cold air.

He takes a wobbly step toward me, taking the jacket from my hand, surveying the damage.

"Thanks..." he mumbles, avoiding eye contact.

I brush past him and begin walking away quickly, but he calls out from behind my shoulder before I can get more than a few steps away.

"Derek, I think there's something in the trees over here."

I turn to look at him, following his gaze to the patch of trees that have caught his attention.

Up high, above the path and in the thick pines, there's a tree stand.

...

"Get on my shoulders."

"What?!"

"I'm not going to drop you. Get on my shoulders."

"What, so you can carry me up there like some Twilight fantasy scene?"

"No, Stiles. You're going to try to reach that branch so you can get to the ladder. You won't be able to reach it from here. I'll climb up after you."

He sighs, looking at the ladder again, silently weighing his options.

"Well what if I just stay here and wait while you go up to check?"

No. Not happening. He's not leaving my sight, especially after what I've already found. Now a tree stand that wasn't here in all the years I've been here before? Absolutely not.

"Stiles. Get. On. My. Shoulders."

He blows out a deep breath, flailing his arms up and shaking his head.

"Jesus, alright. But if you drop me, I'm kicking your ass."

I smile, both of us knowing that would never happen.

Getting on my knees, he wraps his arms around my shoulders, locking his feet under my arms. I stand, feeling the muscles in my legs barely strain under the new weight. He's not that heavy, so this should go quickly.

He looks down at me, teetering slightly, struggling to find his balance. I grip his thighs tighter, trying to stabilize him. The muscles in his legs go weak, and I feel a short breath escape his lungs. He quickly regains his focus though, looking upwards to the branch just above his head.

"Okay, can you reach it? Do you need to get higher?"

He reaches, the tips of his fingers just brushing the bark. Not quite.

I sigh, readjusting him up on my shoulder a little higher. He wobbles, struggling to find his balance, so I grip into his thighs harder. His body immediately tenses up, no longer shifting side to side.

Well, I guess something good is happening here.

"Try again."

He reaches up once more, stretching as much as his body will go. This time, his hand manages to get a hold on the branch. He lifts his other arm, doing the same. Success.

"Alright, you have to pull yourself up now. Are you able to do that?"

He scowls down at me, scrunching his face in an insulted way.

"Listen, super wolf. Just because I couldn't reach the branch doesn't mean I can't get myself up the rest of the way. I'm not THAT weak."

He takes a deep breath, clenching his teeth together tightly as he starts to pull himself up. Slowly, ever so slowly, he lifts his chest to the branch, looping his arm around it and finally swinging his legs up to saddle it.

"See? Those logs really did something good for me, huh?"

I laugh, genuinely surprised that he managed to get himself up. He continues to shock me every day.

"Alright, now how are you gonna-"

With a running start, I jump and grab hold of the tree, unsheathing my claws for just a moment so I can sink them into the bark for extra grip. My legs swing up, and I use the momentum to let my body swing gracefully onto the branch next to him, landing with a soft thump.

"Ooookay. Never mind then."

I grin arrogantly, feeling my claws glide back to reveal my natural nails. That felt good.

"Alright, stay close to me. We're gonna go in there and check it out. See who might be hanging around. Whoever it is, they shouldn't be here."

Stiles quietly nodded as I began the ascent up the remaining branches. They were all much closer together now, making it much easier for him to climb on his own. I made sure to check behind me frequently, scared he might fall. Although, I wouldn't mind catching him.

We make it up in just a few minutes, small beads of sweat lining my forehead. Stiles is absolutely dying, wheezing and coughing behind me. I turn around and press a finger to my lips, giving him a serious look. If he's too loud, someone might hear us. There's been no sign of anyone yet, but I can't take any chances.

Reaching up, I pull myself over the last branch, peeking into the small slot on the wall next to the door, like a makeshift window. There's no movement, no lights. No sound. It seems like whoever is staying here has left for a bit, but we don't have a lot of time. They could come back at any moment.

I turn back to Stiles, waving him along as I crawl quietly into the small room. He follows, his movements nearly as silent as mine. Nearly.

"Keep an eye out for anything suspicious."

He nods, standing up straight as I take one last look down to make sure the coast is still clear. Nothing. We're good for now.

Once I'm satisfied, I stand next to him, noting that the stand has been built rather tall. It doesn't feel cramped, and is much deeper than I would have expected. Looking at it from the ground doesn't give you the full picture of its size. The room is built around the branches of the tree, encapsulating them. It must stay hidden by the thick brush, and the added fact that nobody is looking above them when they're hiking through thick terrain.

In one corner, a small stool and a side table sit with a stack of books. Journals. In the corner opposite, a sleeping bag and a small electric lantern. Some small cans of food and random personal items are strewn across the flooring. Next to the door... a bag.

I tap it with my foot, letting the contents spill out. This way, it will look more natural. Like an animal got in looking for food.

Among the contents are a lighter, some cigarettes, a wallet, and... another notebook. This one is more worn, the spine splitting and the pages frayed around the edges.

Flipping it open, a scrap falls out. I pick it up gently, careful not to crease it. Its... me. Its a picture of me.

"Stiles... look."

He's holding the wallet, looking at a plastic card. I hold up the picture, letting him take it in and think for a moment. He gives me a curious look, which quickly turns to realization.

It doesn't belong to me.

I've never seen it before in my life. I have no idea who would have taken it, or how they got it. But whoever is in possession of it now must know who I am, and therefore, must be looking for me.

Opening the notebook again, I begin to carefully read the entries. They're all dated, like a diary. Starting from the beginning of year, when the FBI opened an official investigation on me. The pages are filled with random thoughts, often only half finished. Sometimes only random words. Only a few catch my eye.

"Cabin." "Partner." "Hiding."

Stiles. My "partner". He must know about Stiles.

Fuck.

"We have to leave. Now."

Stiles looks at me, worry spread across every detail of his face.

"Okay, hold on. Let me just get a picture of this first."

He pulls his phone out of his pocket, quickly snapping a picture of the card in his hand. He had been looking at it the entire time we've been here.

"What is that?" I ask impatiently.

"A credit card."

A credit card? Why would someone come out to the woods with a credit card?

"There's no ID in this wallet. But this has a name on it. Maybe we can search it and see if anything comes up."

I nod. That might be the closest we can get to figuring out who this person is. For now.

"Derek, there's something in this sleeping bag."

I give it a glance, growing more and more impatient. We're in real danger here. If the intruder comes back, they could be waiting for us at the bottom, ready to ambush.

"It... it looks like a gun. Here, hold this."

I take the card from him, carefully sliding it back into the wallet, trying my hardest to make sure its in the same position that we found it. Stiles leans over the sleeping bag, gently pulling back the zipper.

Something small falls out. It hits the floor with a quiet thud. A bullet.

He picks it up tenderly, rolling it around between two fingers. His eyes scan every part of it, straining to see any detail in the dim light of the room.

"Derek... this is a custom bullet."

"Custom how?"

This bullet... its made with wolfsbane."

My eyes widen, breath hitching in my chest. That confirms every suspicion. Someone is out here. Someone is looking for us. Someone is looking for me.

We have to go. Now.

...

We spent more time than we should have putting everything back the way we found it. I just pray that I put the picture back in the right page.

When we hit the ground, there was still no sign of anyone there. The sun was beginning to set, so it could only be minutes before the assailant could return for the evening. Who knows where the fucker could be. Probably hunting. For me.

Stiles walked in front of me this time, completely allowing me to watch him with no protest. There were no footprints in the path, no trail. Nothing. Other than the tree hut, there had been no other signs of them all day.

I searched the surrounding forest during our trek back to the cabin tirelessly, noting every small movement, making sure no one was waiting for us.

When we finally did reach the cabin, I went in first, quickly clearing the tiny building before ushering Stiles in and locking the door. Now that we knew someone was here, searching for us, waiting for us to feel safe so they could attack... no precaution would be too much.

"What are we going to do?"

I look at Stiles inquisitively. The truth is, I have no idea. If someone knows we're here, then they could have tipped off the surrounding towns. They'd have officers searching, ready to arrest me the moment we step off this property.

But it couldn't be an officer. They wouldn't go through the trouble of building a scouting nest and staying there in the cold for weeks, waiting for an opportunity. If they were going to take me, they would have by now. They've been tracking me. This is more calculated.

This is a hunter.

"We're staying here tonight. At least until morning. Its not safe enough to leave right now. They could be hiding anywhere waiting for us to come out."

Stiles sighed, a wave of anxiety rushing through his body. I could hear his heart pick up speed, smell the change on his skin. But we didn't have a better choice, at least not right now.

"What are we gonna do if they try to break in? They have a gun. If they shoot you, I'm dead too. I won't be able to fend them off by myself."

I look at him for a long moment, a pang of sadness suddenly hitting somewhere deep in my chest. I did this. I put him in this position. He could be killed, or tortured, or put in prison for the rest of his life for harboring a fugitive.

"That's not going to happen. I won't let anything happen to us, Stiles."

He let his head sink down, his shoulders dropping along with it. It tore me apart to see him so hopeless. So stuck.

I cross the room, grabbing him by the collar of his jacket, shaking him gently.

"Stiles. Look at me. I will not let anybody hurt you. Okay?"

He looked at me with wide, worried eyes. I could see the anxiety pouring out of him.

And then I did it. I leaned down, pressing my mouth onto his, holding it there for a long moment.

His body stiffened under my grip, unmoving. I released him, immediately regretting my stupidity. This situation just went from bad to fucking worse, all because I me and my stupid feelings. I never should have-

"Okay"

Stiles looked at me and muttered just a little, dazed by the shock of my sudden affection. And then, barely a breath later, it was him. Kissing me deeply, frantically, like if he stopped, the life would drain from his body.

I hesitated for a moment, and then gave in fully to the lull of his tongue grazing my lip. I opened for him, letting his tongue wrestle with mine while we stood in the middle of the living room, not noticing the fire had gone out while we were gone. I didn't even notice. My body was on fire. Every inch of me, from head to toe, felt like it was being licked by flame.

After several long, breathless moments of this, he broke away, taking in a deep gulp of air. Looking up at me, his eyes were no longer clouded of worry. This time, they looked sure. There was certainty in his gaze.

Taking a step back, he squared his shoulder, giving me a weak smile, which lifted his rosy cheeks slightly to his eyes.

"Okay", I said, just above a whisper.

"Lets fucking get him."