Haven

Where a murder of crows had failed, three dead virgins had succeeded. Beacon Hills High School was closed, which should have been excellent news, and honestly for most of the student body, it was. For Stiles however, it was terrible. Not because he was in desperate need for an education. Not because he wanted to be the recipient of Harris' insults, but rather because it meant he was unable to actively nose around the school looking for clues.

In fact, his father had insisted that he not leave the house, but frankly, they'd both known that he wasn't going to abide by that rule, and the moment his dad was out of the front door, he was calling Derek for a ride.

And without a complaint, Derek showed up. The moment his horn sounded outside, Stiles was down the stairs, book bag filled with all his notes on the murders, because he had a plan. They were going to catch this…whatever tonight. It wouldn't be enough to save the next victim, regretfully, but they could at least stop before anyone else was sacrificed. - Specifically, Erica and Boyd.

Before that though, Stiles had to talk to Scott. It wasn't going to be easy, not after almost three months of barely speaking, but it was necessary. If they didn't catch the guy tonight, then there was still an opening for a werewolf sacrifice. Which meant either Isaac, Jackson or Scott, and like hell was Stiles going to let that happen.

He climbed into the Camaro and dropped his heavy book back into the foot-well and slouched back into the seat, "Okay, let's get this over with." he sighed.

"You don't have to do this," Derek said, looking at him with sympathy, "I can go talk to him."

Stiles huffed a dry laugh, "Oh sure, nothing bad could possibly come from that." he sighed, "I'll be fine. He might not actually like me anymore, but he can't deny three dead virgins."

Derek pressed his lips together and started the engine, disbelievingly. And honestly, Stiles didn't believe it either, not really. Scott was stubborn, had become more stubborn over the past year, especially where Derek was concerned.

The ride to Scott's house didn't take long, and all too soon Derek was pulling up outside and switching off the engine. "You want me to come in?" Derek asked, gaze shifting past Stiles to stare at the house.

"Probably not a good idea." Stiles sighed, turning to follow the alpha's gaze to where Scott was stood at the window, staring out at the car. "We don't want this to blow up into a full fledge werewolf smackdown, I don't think Melissa can afford the damages," he smirked, "Just stay here."

Shoving open the car door, Stiles grabbed his bag of evidence. He gave Derek a final reassuring smile, pushed the door shut and then turned to head up to the house.

The front door opened before he even got to it, Scott stood on the threshold like some kind of gatekeeper. When Stiles reached him, he opened his mouth to joke about being the Key Master, only to slam it shut again. He took a breath before finally speaking. "We need to talk, Scott." the werewolf's gaze was fixed over Stiles shoulder at the Camaro. "It's important." he added pleadingly.

Scott looked at him, sighed and then stepped aside, allowing Stiles into a house that had almost been a second home since he was eight.

Stiles looked around, as if expecting the place to have changed in the past three months, but it was exactly how it had always been. The door closed with force behind him and he turned to see Scott stood there, hands in the pockets of his jeans and a tired look on his face. "So?" he muttered.

Licking his lips, Stiles swung his bag around, "The murders."

Scott sighed, "What about them."

"We think they're human sacrifices, virgin sacrifices to be precise." he ripped open the back pack and yanked out the pages, holding them out to Scott, who just stared at them, unmoving.

"We?"

"Ok, me. I think they're virgin sacrifices."

Scott rolled his eyes,

"I'm serious Scott, and when it's finished with the virgins, I think it's going to move on to something else, I think it's going to sacrifice werewolves."

That got Scott's attention at least, because the dismissive look vanished from his face, "What makes you say that?"

"Erica and Boyd being missing, Isaac almost getting kidnapped. I think it's part of some ritual or something, virgins and werewolves, maybe something else. The books say they that each ritual involves groups, virgins, warriors, healers, so on. It all depends on what the person doing the rite is trying to achieve."

"It could be a coincidence," Scott dismisses, but Stiles can see the worry in his eyes.

"One's an incident, two's a coincident, three's…."

"I know Stiles," Scott said, cutting him off, "three's a pattern." he sighed, "So what do you want me to do?"

Stiles stared at him, mouth gaping slightly, give a shit would be a start, he thinks, "The pack is on lockdown…"

"Pack?" Scott bristled, "So your part of Derek's pack now?"

Stiles held his breath, silently counting to ten. When he was calm he exhaled, "I just meant, that the werewolves, all of them, Jackson too, are on lockdown."

Scott's jaw clenched, "Meaning?"

"Meaning we stay together. No one is left alone, and we check in with Derek every few hours." the second that last part left his lips, Stiles knew he'd said the wrong thing. He should have said they were checking in with him, Scott would have, might have accepted that.

"I'm fine, Stiles." Scott said, handing out of his pockets and reaching for the door, yanking it open. "Whatever is behind this is clearly targeting Derek, seeing as they've taken Boyd and Erica, and tried to take Isaac. I'm not part of Derek's pack. - If anyone should be careful Stiles, it's you."

Stiles stared at his ex-best friend, lips pressed into a thin angry line. "This isn't about Derek." he insisted, though his head was rolling that possibility around, "And even if it were, this thing is killing people and likely coming after werewolves, four werewolves." Scott continues to stare at him. "and if it can't get to Isaac or Jackson, you're the last werewolf in town."

"There's Peter."

Stiles inhaled deeply, growing frustrated, "Dammit Scott, why can't you just work with me here. I know we're not friends anymore but that doesn't mean I want to see you tied to the street lamp with your throat cut and your head caved in! Just come with us, and wait out the night and…"

"You're right Stiles, we're not friends any more, and who's fault is that?"

"What?" Stiles mouth gaped open, "You're the one that walked out and stopped talking to me, and why? Because I was hanging out with Derek. Because I like Derek."

"I didn't see you trying to fix it."

"Fix it?" Stiles growled, "It wasn't down to me to fix anything Scott, I wasn't the one behaving like a jerk!"

Scott's eyes flickered gold, "I was not being a jerk," he growled back, "I was looking out for you, Derek can't be trusted."

Before, Stiles would have feigned nervousness and caution at those amber eyes, out of fear revealing too much of himself, but he was tired of pretended to be a weak and feeble human. Shoving his papers back into his backpack, Stiles flung it over his shoulder, and took a step forward. "Strange how he's the untrustworthy one considering what you've done the last year."

Scott's eyes widen, a mixture of surprise and…hurt, "Meaning?"

"That shit you pulled with Gerard Argent?"

"He threatened my mom, and Allison, what was I meant to do?"

Stiles couldn't help but huff out a laugh, "It's not that you did it, Scott. It's that you didn't tell us - You didn't tell me."

Scott stared at him, eyes narrowing, "As if you tell me everything."

Stiles stiffened at the meaning behind the words, his shoulders slumping. Breathing out a long breath, Stiles nodded, "You're right, and I've asked myself why every day. Why I can't tell you? And the fact is, Scott, I just…" his voice broke around the confession, "I just don't trust you." tears pooled in his eyes as he looked at his onetime friend, "And nothing you've done, or said, nothing has changed that."

Scott's spine straightened, defensively, "What have I done to make you think you can't trust me?" he demanded, "I've been there for you…"

Stiles shook his head, "No, Scott, you haven't. When Peter was running rampant through the town, I called you, over and over, but you never answered. When Derek and I were in the pool, fighting to stay alive, it took you how long to come looking for me? When I told you, not to go to that party, the night of your first full moon, did you listen? No. When I told you there was something off with Matt. - You kissed, Lydia, knowing I love her, you kissed her and then lied to me about it."

"Stiles that…"

He held up a hand, "And when Gerard Argent grabbed me after the game and took me back to his place," his throat tightened around the words, the tears finally slipping from between his lashes, "When I was in that basement being beaten and kicked, when I was thrown out of a moving car by one of his lackeys, where were you Scott? Where were you when I needed you?"

Scott stared, brown eyes glistening. "Derek didn't look for you either," he argued, "He was the one that insisted we…"

"Derek wasn't my best friend, Scott." Stiles whispered, moving towards the door. "You were."

"I…" Scott swallowed thickly, his gaze dropping to the floor, "Jackson was…"

Stiles sighed, stepping over the threshold and out into the warm sunshine, blinking back tears and leaving. Half way across the lawn, Stiles paused, turning, looking back at the other teenager, "Just be careful, okay," he said brokenly, "We might not be friends anymore Scott, but… I don't' want to see you dead." then he turned and headed for the Camaro.

Derek said nothing when Stiles clambered back into the passenger seat and slammed the car door, instead the alpha twisted the wheel and screeched away from the McCall house. Neither one spoke as they took the road out of town towards Derek's home. Stiles stared out of the window blindly, blinking back tears and trying to calm his anger, shaking out his hand to force away the tremor that had started. He couldn't believe Scott was being so damn stubborn, he was going to get himself killed. Why couldn't he just…accept that Derek was the alpha?

"I was looking out for you, Derek can't be trusted."

Stiles glanced to his left and stared at the man's profile. Stiles had to admit, he hadn't trusted Derek either, once, but then Derek had put himself between him and Peter, between him and Isaac, between him and Jackson, and between him and Matt. He'd trusted Stiles with his life and listened to him, respected him. - He'd come when Stiles had called and saved his life.

"He tried to look for you." Derek announced suddenly, tearing into Stiles thoughts and making him startled.

"What?"

"The night you were…taken by Gerard. He tried to look, him and Isaac, but Gerard covered your scent and…we were running out of time. We knew Gerard was up to something, we knew Jackson was a part of his plan, we had…"

Stiles exhaled an angry breath, twisting back to stare at the passing woodland, "But he stopped."

"Did he even try the house?" Stiles snapped, "I was right there, in the damn basement!"

"He'd have never gotten close to the house."

Stiles knew that Derek had a point, Scott and Allison weren't talking, but he also knew that Scott wouldn't have been shot on sight the way Derek or the others would have been. Mostly because he'd apparently been working with Gerard. So, the fact that he didn't even look, spoke volumes.

"I didn't check the house either," Derek said in a low voice, "for Erica and Boyd."

Stiles looked at the alpha, "You didn't even know Erica and Boyd had been taken," he reasoned, "You thought they'd left town. You couldn't have known to even look."

Derek blew out a breath, the muscle in his jaw twitching, "I should have known. I'm the alpha."

Shaking his head, Stiles couldn't stop the corner of his mouth curling up in a lopsided smile, "See, you're always hard on yourself."

"No, I'm just honest."

Stiles smirked, dragging the sleeve of his shirt across his face. "I wouldn't go that far. You've lied almost as much as I have." he chuckles.

They took the dirt road up to the house and Stiles eyes widened at the sight of a very familiar silver Volvo. "Lydia's here?" he frowned.

"As the school has been closed, I told her and Jackson to come to the house." Stiles stared at him, surprised. The Camaro pulled to a stop and Derek cut the engine, shifting under Stiles watchful gaze. "It's not a big deal."

"No." Stiles agreed softly.

Derek met his gaze for a long few seconds, before turning away and climbing out of the car. Stiles remained inside for a second or two more, trying to gather himself, confused by the way his heart had just skipped a beat. It wasn't as if he'd expect anything else from Derek, he was the alpha, and Stiles knew he was trying to make up for letting down Erica and Boyd. However, he'd come to know Derek, more than he'd ever expected considering their rather chaotic beginnings, and he knew this wasn't just duty or guilt, Derek genuinely cared about their safety. Cared about the towns safety.

"Are you coming inside, or do you plan on staying out here all day?" Derek asked from the front porch.

Stiles grinned, shoving open the door and hurrying after the werewolf.

Despite Isaac, Jackson and Lydia all being present in the house, when Stiles stepped inside he frowned at the empty den. The place looked deserted. "Where is everyone?" he asked, looking over to where Derek was shrugging out of his jacket and tossing it over the arm of the couch.

"Upstairs," he answered, nonplus, and took a seat on the comfortable couch.

Stiles looked at the staircase, then back to Derek, frowning. "Together?"

Derek rolled his eyes, "Isaac's in his room, and Jackson and Lydia are currently," he cringed, flushing slight and reaching for the remote, "in one of the others."

Lydia and Jackson were alone in one of the spare rooms. Together. And from the look on Derek's face, they weren't studying. Stiles cleared his throat, shuffling on his feet and determinedly not straining his hearing to listen. "I'm uh…" he thumbed over his shoulder, "gonna head down to the basement, okay?" he lifted his book-bag, just to make it clear why he was heading down into the study.

"Uh, sure." Derek nodded, shifting forward on the couch, as if to rise, but Stiles waved him off before vanishing down the hall to the kitchen.

_(*-*)_/

Derek sat in the den, staring at the TV. He wasn't watching, not really, rather he was listening to the movements around the house. Isaac's fingers moving over the keyboard of his laptop, the hum of music likely coming from the teenager's phone as he tried to drown out the sounds of the room down the hall. Derek tried not to listen to Jackson and Lydia, but there was the constant thump of their heartbeats, fast and excited. He should probably feel uncomfortable about the pair having sex in his house, and part of him did, but it also put him at ease. The normality of life. A life he'd lost almost a decade ago.

Focusing, Derek listened to the sound of pages being turned, of quiet mutterings and the movement of a pen. Closing his eyes, he let his head fall back against the couch and just listened to Stiles, ignoring the shame and guilt that was slowly clawing at his insides.

Over the past few months he'd tried to ignore it. Tried to push it aside, but the more time he spent with Stiles the stronger his feelings grew, and he hated himself for it. Stiles was the same age he'd been when Kate had dug her nails deep into his soul and begun to tear him apart, and it made him sick to think that he was the same.

"You're not Kate." Stiles had told him, and he wanted to believe that, but then Stiles… then there was Stiles. Pushing him, challenging him. Trusting him with a secret he didn't even trust Scott with.

The truth of the matter was, he'd felt a pull towards Stiles almost from the second they'd met. The moment he'd climbed into the patrol car and looked at him, excited and terrified, demanding answers, and no matter how much he'd tried to distance himself from the teenager, Stiles just kept…being there. Every time something happened, every time Derek needed him, he was there.

He wasn't foolish enough to believe that it was a conscious thing, that Stiles was going out of his way to install himself into Derek's life, but the universe seemed to want it. The someone up there, watching down on him, kept dropping Stiles into his life at just the right moment. Saving him.

Swallowing thickly, Derek shoved himself off the couch and headed to the kitchen. Yanking open the refrigerator he grabbed a bottle of water, then stared at the others. Stiles had been down there almost an hour, he was probably thirsty by now. Grabbing an extra bottle, Derek closed the refrigerator with his hip and headed for the basement.

He would never do anything about his feelings, of course. They were his cross to bear, weighing him down every day, but neither could he just ignore the teenager. Stiles needed a friend, and without Scott around, Derek felt a responsibility to be that shoulder to lean on. Especially when he was partially responsible for the destruction of Stiles and Scott's relationship.

The basement was lit with a stark white glow from the fluorescent light. Stiles sat at the large desk in the corner, head bowed over the books, lost in his own head, which was why he hadn't looked up when Derek first started down the stairs. Behind him, the wall that had once been blank stone, was now covered in maps and pieces of paper, along with coloured string. Squinting, Derek made out pictures of Erica, Boyd, and Isaac, as well as the three victims. There was a piece of paper with Cora's name on it, and another with a giant question mark and a messy barcode drawn along the bottom.

The desk was covered with the thick books he'd taken from Peter and scraps of paper with random things written across them. There was a highlighter hanging out of Stiles mouth and Derek couldn't help but feel a little spark of joy and amusement at the thought of Peter getting his ancient books back with streaks of yellow and orange dotted throughout them. – Though there was another part of him that felt a little angry that Stiles would blemish them.

Stepping up to the desk, Derek waited for Stiles to notice his presence. When he didn't so much as glance up from the pages, Derek cleared his throat.

Predictably, Stiles startled and almost knocked everything off the desk when his body spasmed in surprise. Derek would never understand how he could be so clumsy while having the genetic enhancements he's meant to have. Then again, his aunt Tamara hadn't been the most graceful of werewolves.

"Shit dude, get a bell!"

Derek lifted a brow, "I didn't think I'd need one, considering."

Stiles huffed out an unimpressed grunt and righted the papers his arm had tossed aside. "What are you doing down here? Has something happened?" he looked up again suddenly, panic in his eyes.

Derek shook his head, holding out the bottle. "Thought you might be thirsty, and…came to ask what you wanted for lunch?" Stiles stared at him, mouth gaping and confused, as if Derek had just asked him what he wanted to call their first child. "I'm ordering in, for all of us." He clarified, ignoring that thought.

"Oh, yeah, great. Pepperoni and green peppers, chilli fries and a coke." He grinned. "Thanks dude."

"Okay." Derek said, but didn't move to leave, instead looking down at Stiles work, "How's it going?"

Stiles sighed, leaning back in the leather chair, "It's not. I've got a ton of theories from devil worship to crazed escape lunatic, but nothing concrete. Nothing has been left at the crime scenes but for the bodies and…" he turned to stare at the maps, "It's not like they were even found at any particually special site, I mean it's the high school."

Derek frowned, "It wasn't always the high school though," he muttered thoughtfully. "The school was only build in the 40s right, what was there before?"

Stiles spun around to stare at him, "Shit, man, why didn't I think of that." He shook his head and got to his feet, "Dammit, I should have brought my laptop. Why the hell didn't I bring…"

"You could ask Isaac."

"Excellent!" Stiles nodded, sprinting for the stairs only to draw to a halt half way up,

Derek knew without asking what had caused Stiles to freeze so suddenly, and his chest clenched with empathy. "I'll…get him to bring it down."

Stiles turned to stare at him, "I… uh, thanks." He slowly made his way back down and over to the desk.

Derek left Stiles to his research once more and headed up to the first floor, wincing at the overpowering scent of sex that was wafting down the hall. Closing his eyes, he braced himself and headed for Isaac's room, knocking loudly. When there was no answer, Derek listened to make sure Isaac wasn't doing anything…compromising, and then pushed at the door. It caught after a few inches and he looked down to see a towel rolled up and pressed against the bottom. Ah, how he remembered having to do that, especially that weekend his parents went away with Cora to a pack gathering in the UK, and he was left with Laura. Laura and her new boyfriend. Worse three days of his life.

Isaac turned angrily, nose wrinkled, "Derek?" yanked the buds out of his ear and looked over at him from the bed, where he'd been reading.

"Firstly, I'm ordering pizza. Usual?"

Isaac nodded, "And the second?"

"Stiles needs your laptop."

Isaac sighed, nodding to the desk. "Sure,"

"Could you take it down to him. Unless you want to knock on Jackson's door and ask him what he wants?"

Isaac was off the bed before Derek had finished, grabbing the computer, sucking in and holding his breath and rushing past him. Derek grinned, shaking his head and pulled the door closed.

_(*-*)_/

Pizza arrived, and everyone piled into the kitchen to eat. Thankfully Lydia and Jackson had showered, though they still stank of sex, it wasn't half as bad at the bedroom itself. Derek was going to have to air that room out for a week. Isaac and Stiles strolled in talking animatedly, well, Stiles was talking, Isaac just pressed his lips together and listened.

"Pizza, awesome." Stiles grinned, hurrying over to snag as many slices of the pepperoni as he could, before falling into the seat at the other end of the table, smiling gratefully across at Derek, who'd taken the seat directly opposite. Isaac was more cautious in taking food, as he always was, despite Derek telling him to help himself, and took a chair close to Derek. Lydia and Jackson lounged in chairs next to each other in the middle of the table, Jackson's arm stretched possessively across the back of Lydia's chair.

"So, I found out what was on the land before the school." Stiles announced, looking down the table at Derek.

"And?" he replied, chewing a piece of ham from his Hawaiian pizza.

"A church." Stiles announced around a large bite.

Derek frowned, "Really?"

Stiles nodded, chewing vigorously, "Old Catholic church. It burnt down in the late 1900s and eventually the land was sold off in 1930. Beacon Hills High School opened on September 1st, 1941."

"You think these murders have to do with the church then?" Lydia asked.

Stiles shrugged, "It makes more sense than it being the school itself."

"So, what do we do?" Isaac asked.

Stiles leant forward, "Actually, I was thinking that we try and catch this guy."

Derek stared, brow raised, "And how do you want to do that exactly when we don't even know who it is."

"Are we going to use you as bait?" Jackson huffed, smirking at Stiles. He hissed in a pained breath and turned angry eyes on Lydia, "Hey!"

Stiles ignored them, fixing his gaze on Derek down the table and biting into another slice of pizza before answering, "Whoever is doing this has probably already picked their target, and there's no way for us to figure out who it's going to be. The killer, they're not even just taking kids from our school. Heather went to the private school across town. - Which means, the only way we're going to catch them, is if we stake out the school and wait for them to string up the next victim."

"You want us to just hang around the school waiting for a psycho to turn up with a dead body?" Jackson scoffed, shaking his head, "That's insane."

"It's our only option." Stiles insisted, glaring at the werewolf. "Unless you want to wait for the next round of sacrifices?" He stated coldly, eyes locked with Jackson's.

There were a few moments of tense angry silence before Derek cleared his throat. "Okay," he snapped, drawing everyone's attention. "We stake out the school tonight."

Stiles grinned smugly, "Excellent. Seeing as the first three victims where in the North, East and South of the school, I think the next body is going to be placed in the gym."

"Okay." Derek agreed, "The bodies have all been discovered at 00:00, right?" he looked at Lydia who reluctantly nodded. "In that case, we'll head out at 11pm."

"Do we really all have to be there?" Jackson asked warily.

"Strength in numbers." Derek said, "We don't know what this is, or how powerful it might be."

Jackson exhaled a put-upon sigh, and slumped in the chair, "Fine."

"Look," Derek growled, leaning forward on the chair, "You wanted this, I told you what it meant to take the bite. The responsibilities that came with becoming my beta. If you want to take your chances as an omega, then go ahead." He snapped angrily, eye flashing red.

"Scott's been doing alright on his own." Jackson argued.

Stiles gritted his teeth and focused on his plate, picking at the peppers, and he heard Derek take in a deep breath. Looking up, he saw the alpha struggle to control his anger, before he turned his now green, softer eyes back to Jackson.

"I'm not here to control you Jackson," Derek said after a few seconds, "That's not what an alpha is. My job is to protect you, and this town, but we can only survive if we're together. – Scott, he doesn't understand that because he didn't choose this, not like you, not like Isaac, Erica and Boyd, this was forced on him by Peter." He looked down the table at Stiles, a sad smile on his lips. "He's angry, and he doesn't trust me, with good reason, but that won't stop me looking out for him." He glanced around the table. "Or any of you." He settled his gaze back on Jackson.

Stiles sucked in a breath and stared at the alpha. Silence wrapped around him until the only thing he could hear was the hurried thump, thump of his heart. He watched Derek as the world carried on around him.

"Stiles?" Lydia snapped, shaking his shoulder.

"What?" Stiles blinked, turning to look at the girl, confused.

She glared, her unimpressed bitchface fixed into place, "I asked about Peter."

Stiles flushed, looking around the table as they all stared at him. Licking his lips, he settled his eyes on Derek for a moment, the man shrugging, before turning back to Lydia. "He's uh…" his gaze flickered over to Jackson, then back, "…he's not doing anything."

Jackson scoffed, angrily. "Sure."

"Okay, he's probably doing something because you know, its Peter, but…he's not responsible for your…thing."

"My thing?" Lydia said, indignant. "You mean me wandering through the streets naked."

Stiles fumbled with his pizza, "Uh, the thing is Lydia your kind of um, not exactly human."

"Excuse me?"

He looked up, tight smile on his face, "You're a banshee."

"What!" she snapped angrily, insulted.

Stiles hands flew up defensively, holding her at bay, "I mean, not in a bad way, like…I mean, sure its bad for some people but its not like in the movies you know, you're not a hag with wild hair, you have wonderful hair. Beautiful hair, and totally not a hag, but well it seems your grandmother was a banshee and you're a banshee, and what happened with Peter when you…that wasn't him, that was…well that was you."

Lydia stared at him, lips pressed into a thin line of frustration and restrained anger.

Stiles fumbled to his feet, "I'll get you the book." He scampered off to the basement, returning a few seconds later with the large volume. He handed it over to her cautiously, as if scared she might use it to beat him to death.

She didn't take it straight away, instead staring at it with the same fear and apprehension someone would show to being handed a grenade, which Stiles understood wholeheartedly, and so he waited, the book weighing next to nothing in his grip.

Finally, she reached for it, having to use both hands to lift it over the table. Her plate rattled against her glass of water when she shifted it out of the way to make space for the book. Stiles retook his seat, and looked nervously down the table to Derek, who met his gaze and nodded reassuringly.

While Lydia read up on banshees, the rest of them sat in an awkward silence. It felt like a family reunion dinner where half the family hated the other half, and Stiles rooted around in his head for something, anything to say. "I've got a new theory on why Coach hates Greenburg so much." Jackson and Isaac both look at him, brows raised, half interested, half exasperated, "Yeah, so what if Greenburg is Coach's secret love child."

Isaac almost choked on his soda, the force of a startled laugh causing the liquid to paint his plate and dribble down his nose. Jackson on the other hand was staring at Stiles like he was insane, but there was a tick at the corner of his mouth.

"What? It's plausible." Stiles argued, waving his hand, "He's overcompensating. Everyone knows that when you're that aggressively angry with someone its because you have some secret love for them." He couldn't help his gaze landing on Derek, who stared back at him with a deep frown, jaw tight. Stiles smirked, because it was either smirk or turn bright red and run for the basement.

Jackson's nose wrinkles, "Awe."

"What?" Stiles frowned, "How is the Coach being Greenberg's secret daddy gros…? – Awe, Jackson," he gagged,

"You started it!" Jackson argued, "Secret love,"

The table shook, and everyone's eyes shot around to Lydia. She looked down at the book, then at them, before pushing her chair back, "I'm taking this," she stated, leaving no room for argument.

"Uh, sure but…well it's not…my book."

Lydia lifted a perfectly curved brow and looked down the table at Derek, challenging him to refuse her. He didn't flinch, but rather met her hard look head on. "It's not mine either," he informed her dismissively, "It belongs to Peter."

There was a tense silence, a sharp intake of breath from Jackson, and then Lydia replied, "Fine." She wrapped both hands around the book and shuffled away from her seat and headed for the stairs.

Stiles listened to her taking the steps at a steady pace, and the soft whine of the bedroom door brackets. He looked to Jackson, who was sat staring after her, but didn't move to follow.

The tension was back, and Stiles hated it. He opened his mouth to make a joke only for Derek to cut across him. "Last night's hockey game is on TVO, if anyone is interested."

Stiles stared at Derek. Derek liked hockey?

Jackson looked at the alpha, and Stiles was sure he was going to make some kind of asshole comment about how hockey was for losers, and real men watch lacrosse, only to have his mind blown when the beta nodded, muttering, "Sounds good," getting to his feet. Isaac swiftly following suit.

"Stiles?" Derek asked.

"Uh, I've got some more reading to do."

Derek shook his head, getting to his feet and walking over to Stiles. "Don't you think you've done enough reading?" he asked, looking down at Stiles, "There's nothing else you can discover. – And hopefully after tonight, you won't need to."

Stiles stared at him, mouth gaping. "Uh, yeah, I guess." He looked at the table, "What about clean-up."

Derek shrugged, "I'll do it later. Come on." He nodded towards the den and Stiles reluctantly got to his feet, following him.


A/N: I know the later part of his chapter is mostly filler, but I thought it needed a little calm after the argument with Scott.