A.N. I don't own Teen Wolf or any of it's characters! Enjoy!

Stiles was, more than any other thing, bored. Bored of his room with it's pale green walls the color of rotting broccoli, bored of his endless routine of chores and card games, bored of being locked up like some animal. He was stir crazy and suffocating-the weeks inside starting to get to him. It wasn't much, honestly. With how far they were into the woods Stiles could have disappeared for hours without even trying. But he didn't want to completely break the rules, so instead he just stepped out into the backyard and sat under a tree.

It was an oak tree, he thought, fresh with new leaves and a birds nest or two. Just feeling the bark touch the back of his arms made him smile because finally it wasn't something cheaply manufactured for a dollar store. They were in a remote place and it wasn't like anyone would see him, right? He told himself it was just for a minute, just to remember what the sun felt like.

When Derek did finally find him, there was a flush to his cheeks and his pupils were blown wide, slightly crazed. Was Derek actually upset? Derek frowned at him but didn't yell or chastise him, to his surprise. Stiles couldn't understand the fear on Derek's face. That worry and concern couldn't really be just for him, could it? But it made sense, he reasoned, because if Derek lost a client he'd probably never get hired again. But, just for a second, Stiles let himself think it was more. Think, or maybe hope...

Derek was overwhelmed with relief when he finally found Stiles. So much so, that he was forced to realize how panicky he had actually become at the thought of Stiles being gone. He wasn't supposed to panic or get emotional dammit! He was supposed to be smart and protect the client-he was supposed to do his damn job and nothing more. But, when he saw Stiles' face- and particularly the smile on it as he looked up at the sun with his eyes closed-he suddenly felt as if he was drowning in the desire to touch him. Not sexually, or even romantically, just to have some sort of physical contact. Some kind of touch or connection. Just something, anything, to reassure him that Stiles was safe.

No matter how badly he wanted it, he didn't let himself do it. But, once he'd gruffly told Stiles never to do that again and to get back inside, he couldn't stop himself. He brushed their hands together, ever so slightly, in the doorway as if it was an accident. Even just that little tiny touch -though it wasn't enough-felt amazing, like grabbing onto an anchor and feeling the world become still around him. He was over-protective, even for a bodyguard, and he knew it. Honestly, though? He didn't care. He couldn't help it, even when he tried.

There was only one other time Derek could remember being that worried, though, for Stiles safety. Day two of their third safe house, he'd heard a thud and rushed down the stairs only to see Stiles on the ground with blood seeping between his fingers. His stomach plummeted. Even though Stiles smiled sheepishly up at him, he told himself the client was hurt. Head wounds always bleed a lot, huh? But all his mind ended up being able to hear was that Stiles was hurt-his Stiles. Wait his Stiles? That wasn't right and he shook his head at the memory because he knew it. Stiles wasn't his. He had to keep telling himself that.

But, even with his little adventure, Stiles was bored-so bored-and he managed to convince Derek that the only way to keep him in the house and quiet that night was to play a game. So, when they went upstairs that night, Stiles sat down on the bed beside Derek to play a new version of twenty questions. He made it up on the spot, actually, but the gist was simple. One person asked a question, and they both had to answer. Derek agreed surprisingly quickly-suspiciously quickly-but Stiles could guess that he was just hoping he would pass out soon and trying to keep him from running off again. Of course, he wouldn't have even considered it after the way Derek reacted last time but he didn't say that. What was the harm if it made Derek a little easier to convince? Nevertheless, Derek agreed.

It didn't take long for them to get into their pasts. Without even realizing it, he let Stiles catch the first hint of Kate-though he really wasn't planning on ever sharing that part of his life with anyone-but soon enough it wasn't a game as much as it was a deep conversation. To his surprise, Derek could feel himself emotionally present and vulnerable. He was scared, of course, or at least anxious but it was tolerable.

For some reason, he had this innate kind of trust in Stiles. Maybe it was the way Stiles lived life so honest and sincere and unafraid... Stiles, for being so talkative, was a surprisingly good listener and drank in every word he said in like a dying man's last cup of wine. When Derek finally hesitated long enough, Stiles smiled a bit at him.

"Thank you, Der." Derek tried to hide it-he tried so hard-but that nickname shot deep into his chest and stirred something in him. He wanted to hear it again, and again, and a hundred times more until it was the only name he was used to. But he didn't dare ask. It brought up a feeling he'd forgotten a long time ago... not lust, or desire, but a feeling kind of like home.

"Yeah, course…" Stiles laughed suddenly, startling him out of whatever kind of stupor he was in.

"Hey, Der, come sleep in the bed." Instantly Derek was shaking his head because, no matter how messed up his emotions were, he knew that wasn't right. You didn't share a bed with the client. But Stiles kept pushing…

"Come on! That floor is rock hard and I can see the knots in your back from it. Besides, its gonna be really cold tonight and we only have the one comforter, Der." Damn… that nickname. Stiles noticed his hesitation, undoubtedly, but that didn't deter him.

"I'd feel safer…" At that, Derek just sighed and relented. Partly because the floor really was uncomfortable, and partly because he wanted Stiles to feel safe. But definitely not at all because of how much he wanted to be that close to Stiles, to cuddle and hold him. He just wanted to be that… intimate. Not sexually, or even romantically, but as another human being. As the only person he'd been that close to since he was a kid. He just… it was so tempting.

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