A/N: Sorry it's been such a long wait, life got in the way. So I've given you an extra-long chapter to make up for it. I hope you enjoy it.


Shorties in Love

Stiles watched Ms Blake with narrowed eyes, following her every movement around the classroom. In the twenty-four hours since he'd discovered that his new English teacher was the woman Derek had been on two dates with, Stiles hadn't been able to stop thinking about her. Though not in the way many of the guys, and some of the girls in his class did.

When she'd first taken over from Mr Franklin, he'd been pretty indifferent to her. Though he hadn't liked that she'd cut off his only line of communication with Derek during class. Which was a perfectly reasonable reason to dislike the woman when said alpha had a tendency for getting himself into a ton of trouble and would ultimately need Stiles help getting out of it.

That was, of course, until two days ago when he'd discovered that she was the woman Derek had been secretly dating.

Okay, so it wasn't exactly a secret. Jackson knew. He'd seen them, and it wasn't as if Derek had been sneaking around. It was simply that neither he nor Derek talked about it. The one time Stiles had brought it up, Derek had evaded the question, and in all honesty, Stiles had been beyond grateful.

When he'd told Derek he should get out there and date again, he hadn't actually expected the man to do it. It wasn't that he hadn't meant it, he had, he'd just...well, he'd expected it to take a while. He'd expected Derek to mope around for a couple of years.

Only Derek had gone out and apparently met Ms Blake at the grocery store, because yes, Derek was the kind of guy who gets girls picking them up over the tinned beans, and now he was heading into his third date with the woman, and everyone knew what happened on the third date.

Sex, that's what. Sex happened on third dates. Derek was going to have sex. With her.

Stiles ground his teeth, his glare intensifying. So much so it was a miracle her head didn't just explode like in that old movie his babysitter had let him watch when he was ten.

And yes, okay, he knew he sounded jealous. Which, maybe he was. He's 16 after all. 16, hormonal, and so incredibly single.

And yes, lonely. Because seriously, how was it fair that Derek 'baggage' Hale was on his third date, while Stiles couldn't so much as get a first.

Tapping his pen angrily against his notes, Stiles turned to stare out the window, as he'd found himself doing more and more the last year. He watched the cloudless blue sky and let his mind wander where it wanted. - Which as it turned out was right back to Derek and his date.

It was just weird was all, right? Derek dating his teacher. The only way it would be weirder would be if Derek was his dad and...

A disgusted shiver went through him at the thought. No, no, no. That was just gross, Derek wasn't his parent, he was his friend.

His very good friend.

His very good friend who'd seen him naked.

Stiles shifted in his seat, suddenly very disconcerted by the reaction of his body. He stared down at his text book and wiggled, gritting his teeth as his dick twitched in the suddenly tight confines of his jeans.

Okay, yes Derek had seen him naked. Yes, Derek had carried his prone, naked body from the bathroom to his bedroom, laid him out on the mattress, covered him up and then sat there while he slept it off, but that was just Derek being - Derek. Cautious and a concerned adult, the guy probably hadn't even looked.

And if by some miracle he had looked, there was no way Derek would say or do anything, not after what Kate had done to him as a teenager. Derek was determined to learn from the past. The guy had practically had a meltdown after that ass slap, racked with guilt and shame for what he'd done, there was no way Derek would pursue anything with him, even if he wanted to.

With a heavy disgruntled sigh, Stiles slid down in his seat and hung his head for a moment, shaking it a little.

When the bell rang, signalling the end of class, Stiles wasted no time sliding out of his desk and grabbing his stuff, eyes flickering over to Lydia, watching as she piled her binder and books, and heaved them off the desk like wonder woman. When she turned, she smiled at him. Together they made their way to the door and Stiles waved his arm for her to go first, but was forced to step back as a couple of freshman rushed into the classroom, knocking into Lydia just outside, causing her to drop her stuff.

"Hey, watch it!" Stiles snapped at the two younger students, who looked back at him worriedly.

Shaking his head, Stiles hurried out and crouched, helping Lydia gather up her papers and books. As he lifted her notepad he stared at the doodles in the margin, brows knitting together. Turning it, he asked, "What's this?"

Lydia reached for the pad, "My notes." She sighed, rolling her eyes at the stupid question.

Stiles mirrored her reaction, shaking his head and pointing to the margin, "This?"

Lydia frowned down at it, shrugging, "I doodle when I'm bored."

They got to their feet and headed off towards their next class. Stiles reached out to grab the pad and flicked through the pages, ignoring Lydia's protests. "The same thing, over and over." He mused.

Snatching it back, Lydia glared at him, "I must have seen it somewhere," she shrugged again, "and it's stuck in my head. You know, like a song."

Stiles wasn't convinced. While it was plausible she'd seen the symbol in a book, - she had been reading a lot of old books lately, - Stiles instincts told him this was something else, something important. A vital clue. "Have you drawn anything else?" He asked, stopping her outside her class.

Lydia frowned up at him, shaking her head. "Why?"

"Miss Martin, Mr Stilinski, when you're quite ready?" Mr Godfrey grumbled impatiently.

Lydia sighed, turning away before Stiles could say anything more. Stiles pressed his lips into a thin line and followed after her, taking his usual seat four rows behind.

_(*-*)_/

The day dragged, as Friday's always did. There were tortoises that moved quicker that the final day of a school week. Which meant Stiles had a lot of time to think, both about his realization that he might have more than just friendly feelings for Derek, and about the fact that Lydia was apparently doodling Celtic symbols. - The crazy thing was that the second was far more disturbing. Was Lydia challenging her death magic mojo? A thick rope of anticipation tried itself around his chest, pulling tight. At least the pack was going to be together tonight. Well, everyone but Scott.

Stiles looked over his shoulder to his ex-best friend, sat alone in the corner. Isaac hadn't been in school since Wednesday, needing a few days to deal with his PTSD, and Stiles suspected the beta wasn't ready to have to deal with either of the twins, who they'd all concluded were likely responsible for Isaac being locked in Harris' closet, not that the pair had been in school either. Conspicuous by their absence.

Isaac also most likely didn't want to deal with Scott, and Stiles couldn't blame him. After everything Isaac had gone through, listening to Scott's bitter bitching about Derek was simply too much. It was why, despite fearing another sacrifice, Stiles had no intention of inviting Scott to the house for movie night. Not that he'd accept anyway. Frankly Stiles was just tired of having to defend himself or his decisions, especially to someone who was never going to listen. Never.

The best he could do, was warn Scott about the possible fresh sacrifice and hope that Lydia didn't find Scott's body next.

Tugging out his phone, he shot off a text, figuring the sooner the better, he swiftly typed out a message, Be careful tonight. I think there may be another sacrifice. He hit send and slid his cell back into his pocket and looked anxiously at the clock. Twenty minutes. He had twenty minutes before he could escape the school and hit the books, trying to figure out how Lydia's doodle was connected to the murders.

Stiles tapped his foot impatiently against the desk table and sighed, fingers beginning to beat out s steady rhythm. Da dum da dum. Da dum da dum. Then the silence was sliced through by the pleasant sound of freedom, and Stiles practically leapt out if his seat, grabbing his books and papers haphazardly.

Speeding out of the classroom, Stiles hurried to his locker, grabbed his bag and slammed the metal door shut. He paused by Lydia's locker as he passed, "I'll see you guys later at the house," he grinned, gaze flickering over to where Jackson was stood sorting through his locker. "Movie night." He gave them both an encouraging double thumbs up as he strolled backwards towards the exit. - Neither one looking particularly excited about the prospect of spending an evening watching old movies with him. - Or maybe it was spending time together that was the problem.

Stiles was still considering that, when he burst through the double doors, out into the too warm afternoon sunlight. A wide grin spread across his face at the sight of Derek parked up, patiently waiting for him, and as he jogged down the steps he felt his heart beating fast and unrelenting, excited at the prospect of being close to the alpha once again.

"Hey Sourwolf." Stiles greeted cheerfully, climbing into his usual seat. - Even when Isaac was with them, Stiles always sat shotgun, like it was a given.

"You're in a good mood," Derek observed, eyes narrowing at him suspiciously, "What did you do?"

Stiles gaped at him indignantly, "Why does everyone assume if I'm in a good mood it's because I've done something? Maybe, just maybe it's because its Friday, and I'm free to enjoy a movie night with my werewolf buddies, and a whole weekend to chill out, is that not enough?"

Derek stared at him, brow raised expectantly, "And?"

Stiles stared him down, lip curled up at the corner, "And..." I get to spend the whole evening with you. "...I may have a new lead on the virgin killer."

Derek let out a huff of amusement, "That's more like it." He grinned, starting the engine.

Fastening his belt, Stiles rolled his eyes, "Can we just grab from the drive thru today, I want to get back to the basement and look up what I found."

Derek nodded his agreement, "Which is?" He asked curiously.

"Lydia was drawing this Celtic symbol on her notebook, I know I've seen it in one of the books."

"So, " Derek dismissed with a shrug, "She's been reading those books a lot since you told her she was a banshee, maybe she just liked it or it got stuck in her head."

"That's what she said," Stiles grumbled, turning to fix the alpha with an impatient look, "but seriously, what are the chances?" When Derek open his mouth, Stiles cut across him, "You said you trusted my instincts, well my instincts say its connected."

Derek stared at him for a few seconds and nodded, "Alright."

They swung by the drive-thru, grabbing their usual before Derek drove them back to the house. Stiles was stuffing curtly fries into his mouth when Derek suddenly asked, "What happened with your father? He hasn't turned up at the house with a pitch fork and rifle, did you not tell him?"

Stiles sighed, the fry in his fingers falling back into the bag, "No." He muttered, chewing on the remains in his mouth, "Haven't found the time. He's always at work, and when he isn't and we're actually able to sit down and eat together, he looks so tired and stressed that I just can't bring myself to lay that on him too."

Derek nodded and Stiles rolled down the white paper bag and slumped, "And as hard as this will be to believe, I don't have a clue what I'm going to say." He shook his head, huffing out a dry humourless laugh.

Derek glanced over at him with a reassuring smile, "You'll tell him when you know he's ready to hear it."

"I don't think it's the kind of thing he'll ever be ready to hear."

There was a long silence, Stiles fussing with the bag, dragging his teeth against his lower lip. With a great sigh, he turned his head on the rest and watched Derek's profile, "How did todays search go?"

Derek exhaled a long tired sigh, "Same as last night." he shook his head, "Nothing." twisting his head he met Stiles gaze, "They're not in the area. - Maybe they did actually just leave." he muttered, turning back to the road with a pinched look on his face.

"What about the cell?" Stiles reminded him, "He wouldn't leave the cell."

"Maybe he dropped it," Derek shrugged dismissively, "and didn't notice. If they'd gotten far enough away, I doubt they would have come back and risked getting caught."

He had a point, Stiles knew. He'd thought the same thing at first, though he hadn't said anything. He'd decided Derek needed to come to that conclusion on his own. However, that was before a series of murders and Isaac's attempted kidnapping. Now, Stiles wasn't so sure. That said, maybe it would be better for Derek to accept the idea that Boyd and Erica had chosen to leave, especially when there was obviously no sign of them in the area.

Stiles chewed his lip thoughtfully, his eyes locked on Derek's tense and sad features. Letting him believe the pair had abandoned him wasn't any less painful, Stiles thought, than the idea that they'd been taken. Either Derek was so bad at being an alpha, which he'd fully admit to, that his pack had left him, or he'd failed to properly protect them. Neither opinion was going to make Derek feel better.

"They could be being held outside of the area," Derek said quietly, almost under his breath, and Stiles lip curled ever so slightly.

"It's possible."

They fell into a comfortable silence for the rest of the ride to the house, Stiles staring out the passenger window at the passing town. As they passed the sheriff's station, he didn't bother ducking down, there was no point really. His dad knew Derek gave him a ride to and from school, and while he wasn't happy about it, Stiles figured his dad had just accepted that his son was going to do his own thing, no matter what he said about it.

It hurt, though, knowing how badly his relationship with his dad had deteriorated over the past year. It hadn't been all that great since his mom had died, but the last year with all the secrets and the deaths that Stiles always seemed to be around, had made the gap between them, a canyon of lies and silence. So much so, that Stiles wondered if they'd ever had a proper father-son relationship again.

He remembered what his dad had said about his relationship with his own father, how they'd never gotten along. How he'd always seemed to be a disappointment. How his dad had never been proud of him? "History always repeats itself." Stiles muttered under his breath.

"What?" Derek frowned over at him.

Stiles shook his head, not looking at the man, "Nothing. I was talking to myself."

Derek didn't push, and the car was once again silent. When they pulled up to the house, Isaac was sat on the front porch with a glass of what looked to Stiles to be ice tea, his back pressed to the wooden beam, shirtless. It was amazing what becoming a werewolf does to your self-esteem. Stiles thought with a shake of his head. Once upon a time Isaac would never have been seen without a shirt, likely due to the bruises his father had undoubtedly inflicted.

Climbing out of the car almost before it had come to a full stop, Stiles grinned at the beta, "Please tell me there is more of that?" He gestured at the glass and Isaac grinned wickedly, lifting it to his lips as he shook his head. Stiles narrowed his eyes at the other teen, "Asshole." He grunted, "I have half a mind to..."

"There's a jug in the fridge," Derek interrupted from behind him, "It has your name on it."

Stiles turned to beam at the alpha, his eyes softening and his heart doing a double skip, "You made me my own ice tea?"

Derek grunted, shrugging dismissively and marching passed him to vanish into the house. Stiles stared after him, lips stretched into a wide grin.

"It's just ice tea dude." Isaac huffed with amusement, "It's not like he brought you an engagement ring."

Stiles' head snapped round, face going scarlet as his heart leapt into his throat, "Uh huh...what? I... Shut up asshole." He grunted, stomping up the stairs. He paused outside the open door, nervously chewing his lip. Derek would have heard Isaac's comment, would have heard the way Stiles heart had skipped. Shit.

Just grab your tea and hide downstairs. He told himself, heart racing.

"You just going to stand there?" Isaac scoffed, watching him over the rim of his glass.

Stiles grunted, twisting to shoot the teenager a disgruntled glare, flipping him off in the process. It was good though, in a way, to see Isaac recapturing his post bite confidence. It meant he was feeling settled again. That whatever Scott had been whispering in his ear was finally not being allowed to wallow and grow into a dark vine of mistrust and self-doubt.

Taking a deep breath, Stiles headed into the house, a mask of self-assuredness locked in place, even as his heart raced and skipped.

He found Derek in the kitchen, jacket tossed over one of the chairs, his back to Stiles as he did something at the sink. Dropping his bag on the kitchen table, Stiles marched over to the refrigerator and yanked it open, the glass bottles and jars chiming together. As promised there was a large jug with a label hanging from its handle, Stiles name in a familiar scrawl. He licked his lips and grinned into the fridge, his heart flipping over. It seemed to be doing that constantly, ever since his revelation during English class. Or maybe, he was just more aware of it now.

Either way, Stiles just stared at the gift, unable to bring himself to remove it. He had the sudden desire to take a photo of it, for prosperity, but he didn't want to face Derek's questions.

He could only imagine how Derek would react if he knew Stiles was growing a little too enamored of him. With all Derek's guilt and self-condemnation, Stiles knew the alpha would pull away, putting as much distance between them, in some kind of virtuous effort to protect Stiles from himself. – And it would be a thousand times worse, if Derek actually reciprocated.

"Stiles?" Derek called, worried.

Taking a breath and trying to reduce the glow of his smile so as not to give away his true feelings, Stiles turned, "Yep," he asked with a pop.

"Would you mind not using my refrigerator as a full body cool down device?"

Stiles grunted, "I was just trying to decide what I wanted to eat?"

"You mean on top of the burger and fries?" Derek glanced over to where Stiles had left the drive-thru bag.

Stiles followed his gaze and sighed, "I'm a growing boy with a fast metabolism." He shrugged, turning back and regretfully grabbing the jug. "Besides, you forget I've seen how you werewolves eat." He scoffed, carrying the ice tea over to the counter so he can retrieve a glass.

Derek huffed at him, "I can make you a sandwich."

Gritting his teeth at the movement of his heart, Stiles closed his eyes, praying that Derek wouldn't hear it. "Thanks dude." He replied as breezily as possible, "I'll be in the basement, researching. Let me know when the others get here." He didn't look at Derek, fearing what signs he'd unconsciously give off. Struggling to balance his ice tea, book bag and food, Stiles marched towards the basement door, Derek hurrying after him to pull it open for him.

_(*-*)_/

Derek needed a distraction, he decided as he watched Stiles shuffle cautiously down the basement stairs, the sound of his racing heart echoing in Derek's ears, his own quickly matching its rhythm.

Stiles had been acting odd from the second he'd climbed into the car. An overpowering scent of happiness and arousal. The moment Derek had smelt it; he'd felt a primitive serge of jealousy.

It wasn't unusual for Stiles to reek of arousal, he was a teenager, but it had been a while since it had been so strong that it had an involuntary effect on Derek. So he'd jumped to the most logical explanation, Stiles had set his cap at someone, as his grandmother used to say. Which hadn't been overly surprising. It would make sense that now Lydia was back with Jackson, that Stiles might look for companionship elsewhere.

He'd buried his jealousy deep down and had firmly reminded himself that it didn't matter to him anyway. Stiles was a friend. Just a friend. There was no chance at all for anything more, because, above all, Stiles was just a kid. Wise beyond his years maybe, despite his seeming immaturity, - though Derek had come to realize over the past year that that immaturity was sometimes a cover to distract others from seeing the real him. - he was a kid nonetheless, and like hell was Derek going to allow himself to become like Kate.

All that in mind, it twisted the knife deeper when they'd gotten back to the house and Derek realized that he was the object of Stiles sudden affections. He'd tried to brush it off at first, but when he'd heard the way Stiles' heart had skipped over itself at Isaac's teasing remark. Derek's own heart had done a variation of cartwheel that would be worthy of an Olympic medal.

He'd brushed it off and went around clearing an already tidy kitchen, when Stiles had eventually waltzed in and Derek was hit once again with happiness and arousal, only this time accompanied by embarrassment, nervousness and just a hint of sadness. Derek's desire began to war with his sense of honor and determination to keep his feelings for the teenager locked away. Determined not to become the kind of heartless cold predator Kate had been.

It was hard though, listening to the way Stiles body reacted to him was the worst kind of temptation, speaking to something deep inside him. Something he hadn't felt since...well since Paige.

He shook his head at the sudden memory and turned hurriedly away from the stairs, moving back over to the kitchen counter.

Desperate for a diversion, Derek began to rifle through the refrigerator and pantry, yanking out ingredients. Only when they were all set in front of him was he aware of what he was doing, and what his subconscious had decided he would make. His heart skipped at it, the memory of the last time he'd attempted to make his Grandmother's generations-old Cottage Pie. It had been a disaster, and he'd ended up a trembling mess, locked in his room until Doctor Rhodes could talk him down.

Derek looked down at his hands and pressed his lips into a thin line. They were trembling, and he could feel the anxiety creeping up. Closing his eyes, he took a deep breath, fighting to calm himself.

The first thing his senses locked on was the sound of heartbeats. Steady and calm, mostly. Close and comforting. Then the scent seeped in, curling around him like a warm blanket. So different from anything he'd ever smelt before. Unique, just like its owner.

Derek focused on it, allowing it to fully encompass him like a shield. He felt the anxiety ebb away. When he opened his eyes and looked down at the countertop he found himself ready to face the past.

_(*-*)_/

Stiles stared at the wall, the large map he'd tacked to the brick overcrowded with pictures and notes. It didn't make sense.

It hadn't taken him long to locate information about the symbol he'd seen scrawled all over Lydia's notes, and it had only solidified his belief that they're should have been four sacrifices. According to what he'd found, the symbol represented four aspects, elements, directions, seasons, - victims, all linked together by a fifth element.

And yet, they'd only been three sacrifices. Why?

Turning, Stiles stared down once again at the computer screen, his eyes flickering over the lines, then down to the chart at the bottom, hoping for something to explain the lack of a forth sacrifice. All the bodies were found in the same place, though at different corners of the school. North, East and South. All at the same time of year, late summer. They'd all taken place over the full moon. There was no reason he could find that there shouldn't have been a final sacrifice.

Stiles paced back and forth in front of the map, pen hanging from his mouth and head snapping left to right as he tried to sort things into some semblance of order.

North, East, South...West. He repeated over and over in his head, round and round until he felt like the words had lost all meaning. Pool, Parking Lot, Lacrosse Field... Why not the gym? It should have been the gym. What am I missing? He asked himself desperately, dragging his fingers through his hair.

A loud bang above him pulled him reluctantly out of his own head, and for the first time in over an hour Stiles became aware of the world around him, and with it the appealing scent of meat and onions. Almost instantly his stomach growled and he pressed his hand to it, tongue moving between his lips.

Looking over at the empty glass of ice tea and the untouched sandwich, he also became aware of the heat. A single bead of sweat rolled down his spine, and Stiles dragged his palm across the back of his neck.

With a final lingering glance at the wall, Stiles turned, hurriedly taking the stairs.

Despite the cooking food and the late summer weather, the kitchen was surprisingly cool, likely thanks to all the windows and doors being opened as wide as they could possibly go, and the fan whirling in the space between the kitchen and the den, spreading the cooler air around.

He scanned the room, frowning when he didn't find Derek stood at the counter or sat at the kitchen table. Closing his eyes, Stiles reached out, seeking out Derek's voice. Unsurprisingly he locked on it instantly.

Strolling casually, with the air of someone who'd spent too much time in the house that wasn't his own, Stiles yanked open the refrigerator door and stood savoring the blissfully cool air radiating out of the large black appliance.

When a shiver passed through him, Stiles opened his eyes and reached for a can of orange soda and let the door swing closed, giving it a gentle kick with his foot just to be sure it was fully sealed.

Derek was exactly where he expected to find him, stretched out on the porch swing, his head resting back against the arm, his eyes closed. Stiles stood by the steps, his shoulder pressed into the post with a soft smile spread across his face. The swing moved back and forth gently, barely noticeable unless you were watching, and Derek cradled what was by now undoubtedly a warm bottle of beer against his stomach, a small dark patch of fabric where the condensation had rolled down the length of glass to soak the man's Hensley.

Stiles felt his heart skip at the sight. A year ago, Stiles knew, Derek would never have let his defenses down like that, too wary of an attack. Fearing the Argents. - Especially Kate.

He couldn't deny it seemed weird. There was someone or something out there seemingly targeting him and the pack, and yet Derek looked at ease, lying there, without a care in the world.

There was a gentle unexpected gust of warm air and Stiles shivered. He didn't know which caught Derek's attention first, his scent or the nonsense he muttered as his body jerked. Either way, Derek's eyes snapped open and his head twisted to fix his suddenly alert eyes on the teenager.

"Sorry," Stiles whispered shaking his head, "I didn't mean to wake you. I just needed some air and to cool down. It's like a sauna down there." He smiled tightly, "Go back to sleep," he pushed himself off the post and waved Derek back down as the alpha shifted to sit up. "I..."

"I wasn't sleeping," Derek smiled, soft and reassuring. It made Stiles breath catch.

"Oh, well..."

Derek swung his legs down and stood, gesturing for Stiles to take his abandoned seat.

"You don't have to..."

Derek raised the bottle, "Just grabbing a fresh one." vanishing into the house.

Stiles hover there uncertainly for a few seconds, before shrugging and lowering himself down onto the polished wood, still warm from Derek's body. Biting at his lower lip he tugged at his jeans. He was still groping at his junk when Derek reappeared and Stiles snatched his hand away as if burnt.

The moment that followed was awkward, Stiles bit deeper into his lip as Derek simply stood there staring at him, a thick blanket of tension settling over the pair of them. The sweat on Stiles back seemed to worsen, and he was pretty sure it had little to do with the late summer weather.

The sound of a car door slamming burst the bubble and Derek gave a physical jolt, inhaling so deeply Stiles was surprised his lungs didn't explode. In the blink of an eye Derek was turning away from him to stare down at the approaching figure. Stiles reluctantly followed his gaze to find Jackson plodding his way towards the house, alone.

"Where's Lydia?" Stiles asked instantly, leaping off the swing.

Jackson's features darken with frustration, grunting out an answer, "Said she had too much school work. She said to tell you sorry." he didn't sound at all happy, or convinced.

Stiles had to agree, as excuses go, 'homework' was a pretty poor one, especially when you're using it on people who are in the same classes as you, and who know just how smart you are. So the question was, why? Why did Lydia need to lie to Jackson of all people?

"Oh, well..." Derek muttered, and Stiles turned to look at the disappointed look on his face. It seemed odd, considering Lydia wasn't a werewolf, thus wasn't really part of his pack, and yet... - Derek gave a shrug, "You don't have to stay, if you have other stuff to do."

Jackson looked up, eyes suddenly pleading in a way Stiles hadn't seen them before, "Uh," he looked from Derek to Stiles, then back, "I..." he attempted a nonchalant shrug, "I don't have anything better to do, Danny's on a date and well," he dropped his gaze, shoulders slumping.

"Isaac's in his room," Derek said ignoring whatever he was picking up from Jackson, "or you could hang out here with us?" he gestured to Stiles.

Jackson's eyes flickered between them once more, his brows and nose furrowing before he huffed out an amused laugh and shook his head, stomping past them and into the house. "I think I'll just chill out in my room until dinner's ready." He announced over his shoulder.

"Your room?" Stiles called from the open front door, watching as Jackson marched up the stairs. The teenager looked back down at him with a knowing grin and a wink that made Stiles heart flutter and his cheeks flame.

"It may as well be his," Derek huffed. Stiles turned back to the alpha, who'd retaken his seat on the swing, the man wrinkling his nose as he met Stiles questioning look, "It still stinks up there," he shook his head, "I've had the windows open for days and... I don't know what they were doing up there..."

Stiles hand shot up and he lowered his head, shaking it, "I don't want to know. I don't even want to think about it."

Derek fell silent and when Stiles looked up, it was to the sight of Derek slouching on the swing, pushing it gently back and forth with the heel of his barefoot. Stiles swallowed, surprised by how appealing a barefoot suddenly was.

"So, what's for dinner?" Stiles asked in a breathless rush of words, strolling quickly over to perch on the stoop, his back pressed to the post.

"Old family recipe." Derek replied, staring down at his foot as he took a sip of the beer, "Cottage Pie."

Stiles frowned, "Cottage pie? Is that like Shepherd's pie?"

Derek smiled, nodding. "Yeah, only with beef instead of lamb."

"Uh."

"It was my Grandmother's recipe." Derek clarified, meeting Stiles curious gaze. "She was English, my grandfather met her during the war."

Stiles grinned soppily, "Like something out of the movies." he gushed.

"Shut up."

"Sorry. How did they meet, did she know he was a werewolf before or after she married him, wait, was she a werewolf? Wait, did they get married or was this a living in sin deal?"

"I don't think I'll ever get used to how you can squeeze so many questions in to a single sentence." Derek huffed, rolling his eyes. "What makes you think he was a werewolf?" he lifted a questioning brow and Stiles flushed, "My grandmother was from a British pack, and my grandfather was a Colonel in the army. He found my mother injured in the woods by the base he'd been stationed at. She'd been shot by a hunter, and was...well, you remember how their bullets work. He carried her back to her family and they were able to save her. After that, he kept stopping by to visit her. According to my grandmother, he didn't seem to care that she was a werewolf, as if it was the most natural thing in the world." Derek smiled down at his foot. "By the time he was being shipped home to the US, they'd fallen in love and were expecting their first child."

"So they got married and lived happily ever after." Stiles huffed. When Derek remained silent, Stiles opened one eye and peered over at the alpha, "Didn't they?"

"Not at first." Derek shook his head, looking over at a sun-kissed Stiles,

Derek sat forward, his elbows resting on his knees as he cradled the bottle between his legs, "My grandfather's family weren't happy about the marriage, and when my grandmother lost two children at birth, they demanded my grandfather divorce her and marry someone else."

"Douchebags." Stiles snapped, "What complete fucking... But he refused right, I mean you're here so..."

Derek looked up, nodding. "They left Iowa and sort refuge with the Hales,"

Stiles lightened, grinning over at the alpha, "Is that how your mom and dad met?"

"Yeah, they grew up together. High school sweethearts. Prom king and queen, all that jazz."

"Awesome." Stiles grinned.

"And your grandfather never heard from his family again?"

Derek shook his head, "Never even spoke about them, I learnt it all from my grandmother after he died."

"When did he die?" Stiles asked, flushing when Derek shot him an amused look, "Sorry, none of my business, just pretend I never asked." he sniffed the air, "Is dinner ready yet?" stomach growling as if punctuating the question.

Lifting his nose, Derek nodded, "Smells like it." Getting to his feet, he led the way into the house, Stiles on his heels.

"Want me to set the table?" Without waiting for an answer, Stiles made his way over to the large sideboard. Derek had brought it from a thrift store on main street, and the fresh paint job looked as perfect as any bought brand new. Pulling open the cabinet doors, Stiles grabbed the plates, then yanked open the drawers to scoop out the cutlery, carrying the load over to the kitchen table.

Derek glanced over his shoulder at him, as he set the places, "There are place mats in the far right drawer.

Stiles frowned up at him, then hurried over to retrieve them. He paused with one hand clutching the place mats and the other gripping the drawer, debating whether to grab the tablecloth too, "Tablecloth?"

"Up to you," Derek replied distractedly.

Stiles twisted his head to see the alpha busy with straining vegetables, and sighed. He took a moment to stare down at the cloth, then shook his head, shoving the drawer closed and returning to the table.

"Isaac, Jackson, dinner!" Derek said with only a slight rise to his voice.

Within seconds the two werewolves were rushing into the kitchen, yanking out chairs, either side of the table, and taking a seat. As Stiles helped Derek carry over the food, he listened with only half an ear as Isaac and Jackson discussed school and lacrosse with a strange air of friendship that Stiles would heartily admit, made him nervous.

_(*-*)_/

Sitting down to a proper meal with Isaac, Jackson and Stiles, left a bitter taste in his mouth. He should have waited, he realized after the first bite. He should have kept the meal for when he got Erica and Boyd back, and maybe, if he were lucky, Cora. Then he'd really be able to soak in the joy that came from being surrounded by pack.

The brief thought of his sister reignited his worry once more. It had been weeks since the incident with Isaac at the hospital and Derek still hadn't managed to locate her. It was as if she'd vanished off the face of the earth. So much so he was even beginning to wonder if she'd been real in the first place.

Stiles had given him a copy of the police file, something Derek was sure the sheriff would be furious about, but he'd needed answers. Reading it over had been the hardest thing he'd done since attending the funerals.

The files, as it turned out, hadn't been particularly helpful. It was pretty clear, according to Stiles, that the facts had been manipulated, there were a ton of inconsistencies between police reports and those of the fire department. The medical examiner hadn't bothered doing a detailed investigation either, signing off on the deaths after mere hours.

"He'd probably been paid off," Stiles has said regretfully. "In fact I think pretty much everyone in town was, - Except my dad." He added resolutely.

By the time they'd done reading they were no closer to having answers, only more questions.

With no idea what had happened, or how to find his sister, Derek attempted to focus on the present. The meal passed with less tension than their first impromptu pack dinner, though Lydia's absence was felt. Derek couldn't help but wonder why the girl was keeping her distance. Was she merely struggling to cope with the truth of what she was, or was it more human reasons? Did she dislike him? Or was her relationship with Jackson going through more trouble? He knew both from Stiles, and his own observations, that they were what his grandmother would call turbulent.

After the food was gone, the plates practically licked clean, the three teenagers cleared the dishes, on Stiles not so subtle insistence, "The least we can do is clear up, right guys?" He shoved Derek in the direction of the den and told him to relax.

It took nearly an hour until he was joined by the others. An hour filled with the nerve-wrenching sound of clanking China and glass, and the sound of muffled arguments. Though you wouldn't know it to look at the three of them as they strolled casually into the den and took their various seats, Stiles hurriedly claiming the space next to Derek.

Shifting nervously, at the sudden closeness, Derek felt the fire sparking to life inside him. The fire he'd tried hard to keep as nothing more than smoldering embers. Turning his head, he stared at the vast gap beside the teenager, then looked expectantly at Stiles.

"What?" He frowned, once he noticed Derek watching him.

Derek gestured with his chin to the empty half of the couch, "I brought a large couch to avoid being cramped into a corner."

Stiles glanced over, then around the room to where Isaac had claimed the lounger, Jackson propping his back against its base.

"So what are we watching?" Jackson said, elbowing Isaac's leg out of his way, forcing the other beta to twist and swing his legs over the arm.

"Oh," Stiles huffed, and shuffled over until he was pressed against the armrest, his head perched in his hand.

Derek held back a shiver at the sudden lack of extra body heat and turned his attention to Jackson, who was staring at him expectantly. "Uh," he shrugged, "I don't...I didn't...whatever," he stuttered awkwardly, jerking his shoulder nonchalantly. When he'd made the decision to reclaim Friday movie night, he'd intended to continue the tradition and watch something old, preferably black and white. He'd gone to the video store and spent over an hour just marching up and down the classics section, until he started getting the stink eye from the clerk. He settled for grabbing It Happened One Night, as he'd missed seeing it with Nick, and Some Like It Hot, because Stiles needed educating. It wasn't until he was at the counter that it occurred to him that Jackson and Isaac might not appreciate watching his choices, and had hurried over to the new releases, snatching a few he thought they might like. "I just grabbed some at random." He nodded to the pile on the table.

Jackson shuffled over to investigate, "As long as it's not The Notebook, I'll be up for anything." He huffed, shuffling through the cases, reading them out loud, "Battleship? Really?" he looked over critically, " Everyone says it blows. "

"What did they expect, it's a classic B-movie. It's not exactly meant to be thought provoking." Stiles scoffed dismissively, his tone lacking its usual lightness.

"You've seen it? " Derek asked.

Stiles shrugged, not looking at the alpha, "I whiled away a couple of hours, what else?" he asked Jackson impatiently.

Derek frowned at Stiles dismissive tone, so much colder than it had been ten minutes earlier.

"Machine Gun Preacher?"

"It looked interesting," Derek shrugged. Truthfully, he'd started getting so agitated with himself, and the clerk's suspicious stare, that he'd just grabbed stuff at random and gotten the hell out of there. Next time, he was sending Isaac.

"Sam Childers (Gerard Butler), a former biker, decides to go to East Africa to help repair homes destroyed by civil war. - Seriously?" Jackson scowled over at the alpha, brow raised.

"Hey, don't go dissing Butler man, " Stiles grumbled, "That guys hot, I don't care how bad the movie is." He gave a low whistle and winked at the beta.

Derek cleared his throat as Jackson growled at Stiles and tossed the DVD aside, grabbing the next, probably hoping for a better choice, and finding himself disappointed, "What the hell, Derek, The Vow?" he snapped accusingly.

"I was expecting Lydia to be here, it looked like something she'd enjoy."

Jackson slouched, exhaling a long breath, "She thought it was alright," he muttered, "though not as good as The Notebook. Nothing is ever as good as The Notebook in her eyes. Damn Ryan Gosling."

Stiles snorted, "I know, ew right? Channing is way hotter."

Derek frowned down at the teenager, "Channing? Really?" he grunted, nose wrinkling.

Stiles turned his head to meet his gaze, "What can I say, I'm a sucker for a six pack."

All the air fled Derek's lungs while Stiles determinedly held his gaze. He suddenly felt like he was burning up from the inside, a fine layer of sweat coating his back and making the thin fabric of his Hensley stick to it. Dragging his tongue across his parched lips, Derek shoved himself off the couch, "Drinks." he announced, "I forgot the drinks, everyone wants a drink, right?" he rambled, ignoring the amused tilt of Stiles lips as he hurried into the kitchen.

The back door was still wide open, allowing the evening breeze to drift through the house, though it brought with it little relief from the evening's high temperature. Derek wandered over to it, bracing his hands on the wooden frame and drawing fresh oxygen into his lungs, trying to drive away the suffocating heat in his body. Closing his eyes, he let his head drop forward, lips pressed into a thin line. Stiles was torturing him, there was no doubt about it. He knew, he had to know, how Derek felt and was doing whatever he could to mess with his head. 'What can I say, I'm a sucker for a six pack.' He'd said it on purpose, fully aware Derek's own body was well defined.

He shivered suddenly, his heartbeat picking up with the memory of Kate. She'd liked his body too. 'Has much as I liked your body back then, Derek, I love it now.' - She'd dragged her nails painfully over his flesh, before dropping down to lick at his abs. She'd done that a lot while she'd held him captive. Taking advantage of his restraints to have her fun.

He cringed at the phantom touch clawing over his body, the damp heat on his neck, stomach and...

"Derek?"

He turned at the sound of his name, jerking away from the touch on his shoulder and almost tripping out of the kitchen door. "Stiles." he gasped, heart racing.

"Shit, sorry, dude, I didn't mean to startled you." he stared at Derek, brows pinched with concern. "Are you alright?"

Blinking and shaking his head, Derek shoved the memory back into the darkest corner of his mind. When the shadow of his past had gone, hidden away, he looked at the worried teenager in front of him, then over to where Isaac and Jackson stood in the doorway, both looking equally concerned.

"I'm fine," he tried to reassure, though the tremble in his voice spoke of the lie. "Did you choose a movie?" he plowed on, "Or were they all terrible choices? We don't have to..."

"21 Jump Street." Isaac interrupted, "We're just waiting for you."

Derek frowned, not recognizing the title, "Start without me." he smiled, waving them off, "I just need to get some air," at their continued worried looks, Derek smiled reassuringly and stepped out into the dark back yard.

He leant his full weight on the porch railing, his head hanging forward again as he inhaled deeply, silently ordering his heart to stop racing.

"Was it..." Stiles said quietly from behind him, and Derek squeezed his eyes shut tighter. "Whatever I said, I'm sorry."

Exhaling loudly, Derek shoved himself away from the railing, turning to meet the teenagers brown gaze, "You don't have to apologize." he insisted firmly, "You didn't..."

"I obviously did, dude," Stiles argued, cutting him off, "You practically ran out of the room." he reminded him, voice straining.

Leaning back, Derek folded his arms over his chest and tore his gaze away, dropping it to his bare feet, "It's not you," he said after a long pause, "it's me. It's this." he raised a finger to his head, tapping the side angrily, "It's...her."

Stiles stiffened, then deflated, "Fuck," he whispered, dragging his fingers through his ruffled mane.

"I..." Derek tried, but words abandoned him. How was he meant to explain his reaction to what Stiles had said without revealing his own feelings? Even if the teenager already knew, as Derek strongly suspected he did, it would ruin everything. "I guess I'm not as ready for this as I thought." he shrugged sadly.

Stiles stared at him, and for half as second Derek expected Stiles to call him out on the lie, but then he sighed, brown eyes flickering away from him and up to the moon. "Full moon probably isn't helping?"

Derek tilted his head back, "Yeah." he agreed. It was another lie, of course. He hadn't been a slave to the moons pull since he was a child. – Except for those few months after Paige.

They fell into silence, staring up at the sky. Derek listened; the movement of animals in the woods, the brush of the soft warm breeze in the trees above them, Isaac and Jackson talking in low voices, - clearly forgetting that he can hear every word.

The loudest noise though, and the most distracting, was that of Stiles heartbeat, racing almost in time with his own. He looked over at the teenager, finding him leaning back against the side of the house, his eyes fixed on the moon, though Derek could see the struggle beneath the surface as Stiles fought not to glance his way.

"You're missing the movie?" Derek muttered finally, breaking the comfortable silence.

Stiles shrugged, "I've seen it."

"Oh," Derek sighed, turning back to look out over the backyard, "Still, Channing Tatum."

"If you want me to leave you alone, you could just say," Stiles sighed remorsefully, pushing himself off the wall and turning to leave.

"I..." he took a deep breath, pushing away from the rail, "I haven't seen it." he announced, causing Stiles to pause. "I haven't really seen anything new in years"

Looking at him, Stiles smiled. "It'll certainly help me gage your humor levels, for future reference. - But only if you're ready."

Derek inhaled sharply, his chest tightening with the knowledge that Stiles was still worrying about him. "Yeah, but... I think we'll have to leave Some Like It Hot for another time."

The corner of Stiles lip curled, "Probably a good decision, I don't think Isaac or Jackson are ready for old black and white movies. They're not as sophisticated as me." he added loudly, winking back at him before stepping into the house.

Derek swallowed down his heart and followed. The idea of watching the movie, alone with Stiles, played in the back of his mind as he settled into the couch, the teenager a little closer, though still keeping his distance.


A/N: Before I go, I'd like to thank Jujukittychick for pointing out just how many mistakes and inconsistencies I'd made in the previous chapters, I've gone back, re-read and re-edited in places, and will promise to try harder in future.

While re-editing the previous chapters, I had to remove or correct a few small things. Stiles does not have an eidetic memory like I first said, (had to remove it because it clashed with something I said later in the fic) and couldn't remove without ruining future plot lines.

Also, it has been six months since Derek found Stiles in the bathroom (that event taking place before the summer break.)

And the date arranged with Jennifer in the previous chapter will be their third day, rather than their second as stated previously.

Thank you again Jujukittychick. Now I'm off to write the next chapter, hopefully it won't take as long.