Heat

Derek stood glaring at him, chest glistening with sweat in the sunlight, his torn pants barely clinging to his hips. The bulge of his erection obvious to everyone around them.

Stepping closer, he reached out, gripping Stiles arms and pulling him flush to his body with a low growl, "Hulk fuck."

"Fuck. Fuck. Fuck. " Stiles chanted, his back arching off the mattress.

He had always considered it weird how hot weather made him horny. Well, hornier than usual. If anything he'd expect the idea of two bodies moving together, sweat dripping off them, unappealing in the middle of a heat wave, yet here he was, blanketed by late summer heat, stretched out of his damp sheets, with his cock in his hand, and the image of a shirtless muscle bound Derek playing behind his closed eyelids, in the middle of the day.

Stiles' back hit the wall, Derek body hard and close, intent in his flashing green eyes as he ripped Stiles black latex bodysuit clean from his skin. Stiles gasped as the Hulk's large hand wrapped around his cock, stroking in rough angry motions.

He cried out, lower back and hips no longer touching the bed, as he came. Streaks of thick cum painting his sweaty chest and stomach. When he was spent, he let his soiled hand fall away from his overly sensitive dick. Blindly wiping the remains off on his damp bedsheet and listened to his heart beating loud and hard in his ears.

When he's finally back on earth Stiles feels a rush of guilt and embarrassment. It wasn't the first time he'd jacked off to thoughts of Derek, but somehow it felt creepy now they were friends.

Pushing himself up off the bed with a disgusted wince, he ripped the sheet, yanking it free of his mattress and rolling it into a tight ball before tossing it in the corner. With that done he padded down the hall to the bath for his second shower of the day.

His morning had been spent looking into the history of the museum, trying to find a link between it and the school, but had come up empty handed. Before it had been taken over by the town's historical society it had been a general store and before that a livery stables and blacksmith. There hadn't been anything particularly weird or supernatural about the place. It didn't lay on any fault lines or whatever. It seemed to have been picked at random, though Stiles knows that's not true. There's a reason, he just can't see what it is.

Frustrated and too hot to focus, Stiles had drifted back to his bed where he'd lain staring up at his ceiling, Derek easily drifting to the forefront of his thoughts, the fantasies swiftly following.

Stiles washed away the evidence of those fantasies and left his head fall forward, the cold water pounding against the back of his neck. A fresh daydream tried to encroach but Stiles determinedly pushed it to the back of his mind. He couldn't all his mind to be swallowed up by erotic, or even blissfully domestic, thoughts of Derek. Not if he was going to have to face him in a few hours.

He'd considered putting off telling his dad, but he feared it might prove a fatal error if he did. His dad needed to know what was out there. What was possibly behind these murders. So no matter how difficult it was going to be, he was going to do it, and Derek was going to be right there for show and tell.

_(*-*)_/

The day passed slowly. After Jackson had left, Isaac shut himself away in his room, music turned up loud, leaving Derek alone with no idea how he was meant to approach the situation brewing between the two teenagers. Especially when he couldn't even get his own love life on track. He contemplated going to see Peter to discuss the state of affairs with Lydia, just as he promised Stiles he would, but he was no more eager to talk to his uncle about that relationship as he was to talk to Jackson and Isaac, so instead he grabbed a shower, changed into the loosest shirt he had, dragged on a pair of basketball shorts and made himself a fresh jug of lemonade. Then he set himself up on the front porch and just watched the morning turn to afternoon.

As the minutes became hours, the heat became nearly unbearable and Derek was stripped down to just his shorts and was stretched out on the porch swing, eyes closed and mind wandering.

As it tended to do now, his mind only wandered to one place, Stiles. He replayed the events of the previous evening. The irrational anger he'd felt at Stiles drooling over a Hollywood actor. Yes, it had touched a nerve, Kate's attraction to his body and the way it made him feel, would always leave him feeling raw in ways he could never fully explain to anyone. – Not even Stiles. – But it had also been rooted in something far more simple. Something primal. Jealousy. There was a defensive voice in the back of his mind that wanted to know what was wrong with him. Why Stiles wasn't drooling over him, wasn't praising his body. It was ridiculous and pathetic, but it was how he'd felt.

Then they'd spoken, Stiles had apologized for something that wasn't really even his fault, and then they'd gone back inside and lost themselves in the movies. Neither of them speaking. – Okay, Stiles spoke. Stiles rarely shut up. Giving his commentary throughout the movies until he'd finally talked himself to sleep, and that's when his feet had migrated across the couch to Derek's lap, and Derek hadn't even realised. It had felt so natural that he'd just lowered his hand to rest on the teenager's bare ankle and let it infuse him with a sense of calm.

Then it had all changed. They'd gotten the phone call from Peter, found yet another body and when he'd driven Stiles home, they'd almost kissed. He'd looked into that worried brown eyes and he'd come so close to leaning over and pressing his lips to Stiles. And he knew, of course he knew, that Stiles had felt it too. It was loud and clear in the teenager's heartbeat, crisp and clean on his scent, but then Stiles had pulled away, breaking whatever spell that moment had created around them, and while Derek had felt humiliated and hurt, he'd returned home and realised that Stiles had done the right thing for both of them.

Letting the swing rock back and forth in the Indian Summer heat, Derek opened his eyes and stared up at the brilliant white wood of the porch roof and wiped at his damp forehead. In the last few hours, replaying not only the previous evening over in his head, but his whole life, Derek had come to a realisation. He couldn't keep avoiding the truth; he had feelings for Stiles, deep real feelings. It wasn't just a physical attraction; it was more substantial than that. What had captured Derek's attention right from the beginning wasn't Stiles body. - Because it was hard to judge what it was even like under all those layers, he smirked to himself. – It was his soul, as ridiculously sentimental and corny as that sounded.

There was a strength in Stiles that perfectly complimented and balanced Derek's own, while bolstering Derek's weaknesses, and together they worked as a stronger unit. It was just as his mother used to describe her relationship with his father. Ying and Yang.

Without even realizing it, Derek had been looking to emulate his parent's happy, strong relationship, but no one had ever seen beneath the mask. He'd almost found it with Paige, he thought. She'd seen past his bullshit, though not quite deep enough. Not until the end.

Shaking his head and swallowing at the lump that memories of her always conjured, Derek took a sip of his drink, nose wrinkling at the warmth of the lemonade. Throwing himself up onto his feet, he padded back into the house to get a fresh drink and take a few seconds to stand in front of the refrigerator and allow the cold air to play over his damp back and chest.

With a cold beer in hand, Derek headed back outside. Instead of returning to the swing, he made himself comfortable on the steps, his back pressed to the post as he stared at the tree line. Inhaling deeply, Derek closed his eyes and lifted the glass to his lips.

That desire, he thought in hindsight, was probably what had led him right into Kate's clutches too. She'd been everything he thought he wanted. Strong, confident. She'd seemed accepting of what he was, going as far as to encourage him to fully embrace the beast within, and he tried to live up to her idea of him, became harsher, colder. His 16-year-old self, made Jackson look like an angel in comparison. He'd been cocky before, but Kate had turned him into a person he didn't like to look back on.

But he'd never been able to go quite far enough for her, never quite allowed himself to fully let go of his soul. It made Derek shiver now, to wonder just what Kate had wanted him to become. Her strength had been all based on hatred and pain. Nothing like his mother.

As for Nick, in all honesty, the man hadn't even been a consideration, and by the time they'd met, Derek was a shell with no desire for anything, let alone love and a family of his own. His dream of a normal happy future had died with his parents, and he'd never imagined for a second that he'd find it again.

Then he'd returned to Beacon Hills, the place of his greatest shame, and there in a golden damp forest was his second chance.

Stiles fit so perfectly Derek could almost believe they'd been cut from the same cloth, and yes, he realized how ridiculous that sounded, but it felt true. Stiles never backed down, never stepped away, and never allowed Derek to disappear within himself. He pushed his way through every wall Derek put up, and stood firmly on the threshold refusing to be moved. He'd stopped Derek from drowning both figuratively and literally. He was everything Derek wanted and needed, his perfect counterweight.

There was just one problem, just one thing that stopped Derek from grabbing hold and never letting go.

While Derek had come to realise what he felt for Stiles was nowhere close to the twisted darkness Kate had wrapped him in, the fact that Stiles was still only 16 weight too heavily on Derek's shoulders to simply dismiss out of hand. – That said however, he couldn't ignore how he felt any longer, and he couldn't keep trying to move on with someone else. It wasn't fair on anyone, especially not Jennifer. She was a nice woman, she deserved to find someone who actually wanted her. She didn't deserve to be someone's convenient alternative.

As for Stiles, well, Derek would just have to hope the teenager felt the same way in a couple of years.

With his head finally clear, Derek finished the last of his beer and pushed himself up. He couldn't put making the call off any longer.

_(*-*)_/

Stiles spent the rest of his day planning out the conversation with his dad, over and over in his head. Working through different scenarios, many of which ending with his dad putting a bullet in Derek. That was something he really wanted to avoid, if at all possible. - Though it would make a great story for the grandkids. "And that was grandpa's reaction to discovering daddy was a werewolf."

Shaking his head, he shoved that thought violently away. Now was not the time to be getting distracted by his feelings for the alpha, he had a talk to deliver. With that in mind, Stiles pulled out all the information he'd been collecting on werewolves the last year, printed out diagrams and charts. He even set up his chessboard to help describe the current hierarchy. Derek's name proudly scrawled across a small strip of purple paper and attached to the King.

He looked down at the small white tab with his own name and looked at the pieces, unsure where to place himself. Did he even belong on the board? He wasn't a supernatural being like Derek, Scott and Lydia, and neither was he a hunter like Chris and Allison. So he had no idea where he fit, but despite that, he felt like he was meant to be there, somewhere.

Before he could make up his mind where to stick his name, he heard the front door and felt his heart leap into his throat. Getting to his feet, Stiles stuck the paper on the nearest piece to hand and reached for his cell. He opened up his messenger and quickly typed, while marching to the bedroom door. In hindsight, it would probably have been better if he'd arranged for Derek to be there before his dad got home, to avoid having to wait.

Dad's home. Come ASAP.

His dad was sat on the lounger, his eyes were closed and the buttons to his short sleeved work shirt were almost all undone. He looked flushed, tired and completely worn down, and Stiles felt another wave of guilt about the weight he would soon be adding to his father's shoulders. "Dad?" he greeted worriedly.

John waved his hand, "I'm fine Stiles." he replied, though his tone said the opposite.

Shoving his hands in his pockets, Stiles moved closer to the couch, "How was work?" he asked absurdly, because he knew how work was. It was hard and stressful, and he had yet another murder case hanging over his head.

"Tiring." His dad replied with a sigh, "How was your day?"

Stiles shrugged, even though his dad wasn't looking at him, "Hot." he scoffed, "Spent most of it in the shower."

"Hmm, that sounds like an excellent idea." Finally, John opened his eyes and pushed himself up off the lounger, dragging his languid body across the room, "I think I'll do that."

Stiles opened his mouth to stop him, only to slam it closed once more. His father taking a shower was actually an excellent idea. He'd be cooled, relaxed and hopefully more willing to hear the truth about their town and its residence. - Not to mention it would give Derek enough time to get there. "Great idea," he finally stammered out. "I'll order take out."

John narrowed his eyes at his son suspiciously, "Take out? What did you do?"

Stiles rolled his eyes and sighed, "Nothing, dad." at least not in the last 24 hours, he didn't add. "It's too hot to cook."

"Too hot? - For Salad?" John's brow raised and folded his arm over his chest.

"Do you really want salad after the day you've had?" Stiles smirked, "Wouldn't you rather have a nice burger and fries?"

"Okay, see now I know you're up to something." John straightened, his suspicious look turning to one of concern, with just a hint of fear.

Stiles flung up his hands, "I swear, I haven't done anything... wrong."

"But you've done...something?"

Lowering his hands and his head, Stiles sighed, "I want to talk to you about something. Something important, but I want you to be in a good mood before I do so you don't... shoot someone." When he looked up, he found his dad's eyes narrow and burning intensely into him.

"Is this about...Derek Hale?" he asked cautiously.

"Kinda," Stiles shrugged again, shoving his hands back into his pockets. There was something in the way his dad was looking at him, that sent a strange thrill through his chest, "Not like that though," he added, tone thick with regret. He pressed his lips into a thin line to hold back his desire to tag on 'not yet anyway'. "Just go take a shower, I'll order food and then we'll talk, okay?"

John stared at him for a long few seconds before exhaling tiredly and trudging off to the bathroom. Stiles dragged out his phone, shooting off another text to Derek before turning his attention to take out.

You have twenty minutes.

_(*-*)_/

Dad's home. Come ASAP

Derek stared down at the incoming message with an air of trepidation. His previous meetings with the Sheriff hadn't gone all that well, mostly because whenever they came face to face there was usually a body nearby, and Derek couldn't deny the man's mistrust was justified.

Hopefully though, after their conversation, that might improve. At least the Sheriff would understand what was going on, and why he was hanging around. Maybe, if he was lucky, they could build some kind of relationship. One of mutual respect. One that would make a future with Stiles far less stressful.

With that thought swimming around in his head, Derek grabbed his trainers and lowered himself on the steps to slip them on. "Isaac, we're going out!" he yelled, needing to get his voice over the music the teenager hadn't stopped listening to all day. "Isaac!" he repeated loudly.

"What?" Isaac yelled back over the banister, "I don't want to go out."

Tilting his head back, Derek met the boy's gaze and lifted an impatient brow. "I'm not leaving you in the house alone, so get your shoes on and get your ass in the car." he ordered firmly, voice trembling with a subtle growl.

Isaac stared down at him for a few seconds before huffing angrily and marching back into his room. Derek half expected the door to slam shut behind him, remembering Laura's tantrums. The screaming, the slamming. His mother's loud growl and red eyes. As a kid, he'd thought it was all so overly dramatic and uncalled for, now...oh, now he understood perfectly.

He was preparing to yelled some more when the music cut off, and a second later Isaac was stomping petulantly down the stairs. Derek couldn't help but smile. As ridiculous as it was, seeing Isaac behave like a normal moody teenager left a warm glow in his heart. The boy had been so broken when he'd found him, and then had tried to play the role of tough strong werewolf, so much so he'd almost lost himself beneath the mask. - But this was Isaac. The real Isaac. No longer cowering with fear, nor forcing himself to be strong. Just a normal teenager, with normal emotions.

"What are you grinning at?" Isaac grunted, frowning at him.

Derek shook his head, "Nothing." he huffed, stepping past the teenager and grabbing his wallet and car keys, then yanked open the front door and froze.

"D-Del."

"Cora?" he gasped, leaping forward to catch his sister as she crumpled. "Cora?"

Scooping her up, Derek carried her hurriedly into the den, settling her down on the couch and kneeling beside her. She was burning up, and her face was glistening with sweat. Beneath it Derek could see the bruise on her cheek and the cut to her lip. He swallowed convulsively and dragged his trembling hand through her hair.

"What's wrong with her?" Isaac asked from behind him.

Derek shook his head, "I... I don't know." he whispered, "I..."

"I'll call Stiles." Isaac announced hurriedly.

_(*-*)_/

Stiles paced the living room nervously, once again rehearsing just what he was going to say to his hand. When his phone rang on the coffee table, Stiles jerked in surprise and managed to trip over his own feet. Scrambling over to grab the phone, he frowned down at Isaac's name. Fear curled itself around his heart and he jabbed his finger violently down on the screen and lifted it to his ear. "Isaac? What's happened?"

"Cora's here?"

A cold shiver ran down his spine at the announcement. Shit. "Is Derek...?" He didn't get to finish his question as Isaac's worried voice cut across him.

"She doesn't look good. She's all beaten up and... She's not healing."

Double shit. "Derek?"

"He's with her."

"I'll be there as soon as I can." Stiles snapped, "Tell Derek I'm coming, and Isaac? Be careful." He hung up and hurried upstairs to his room, shoving his feet into his trainers. When he looked up it was to the sight of his dad appearing around the door.

"Stiles?"

"Sorry Dad, emergency. We'll have to postpone out talk, dinner's on the way." He said in a rush of breathless words as he hurried past his father.

"What emergency? Is it Scott?"

"No." Stiles called back, rushing to the stairs. He was stopped from flying down them by his dad's hand wrapping tightly around his bicep.

"Stiles, what's happening?"

He stared into his father's worried blue eyes and took a deep breath, his mind working a mile a minute. Cora was at the house and apparently sick, but she was obviously working for the person doing the murders, so why was she there? Was it a trap? Had she run away from the murderer? Did she know where Erica and Boyd were? She was the key to getting answers and from what Isaac had said, she wasn't doing so well.

And he needed to tell his dad. His dad needed to know what was going on in the town, but he needed to get to Derek's, but he didn't have a car, dammit, he'd have to run, in daylight and there was that mysterious biker still out there, still looking for him.

"Stiles!" His dad yelled, giving him a rough shake.

"I need you to drive me to Derek's place." Stiles snapped, vibrating impatiently.

"What?"

"The Hale house, you need to drive me there." he repeated, "Then I'll tell you everything."

There was a long minute of silence where Stiles was sure his dad was going to refuse, maybe even ground him, but instead and with a world weary sigh, his dad nodded, "Okay. Let's go."

_(*-*)_/

Tears burned at Derek's eyes as he watched his sister, her whole body was trembling as if cold but she was hot to the touch. "Cora." He whispered softly, his hand stroking over her hair. "It's Del, you're safe."

"Derek?" Isaac said behind him, and when he looked up the teenager was holding out a damp cloth. Smiling gratefully, Derek pressed the cold fabric to his sister's head. "Stiles is on his way." Isaac informed him.

A weight instantly lifted off his heart at the announcement and he nodded. "Thanks."

"D-Del?" Cora croaked out, voice weak. When her eyes fluttered open, the irises beneath were blue and Derek felt his stomach clench painfully.

"I'm here. You're safe."

"I…" she swallowed, her tongue poking out to wet her lips but it was clearly not helping.

"Isaac?" Derek turned but the beta was already disappearing into the kitchen, and he felt a fresh wave of gratitude. He turned back to his sister, "What happened, sweetheart?"

Cora's nose wrinkled at the pet name, "You were dead." She whispered after a long moment. "She said…" her voice broke and she began to cough viciously.

Isaac reappeared with perfect timing, holding out the glass. Derek took it with a muttered thank you and held it up to his sister's lips, "Sip it. Slowly." The cold water seemed to help ease the irritations in Cora's throat and she gasped breathlessly as she pushed his arm away. Lowering her back down, Derek set the glass on the table, when he turned back to his sister, her eyes were closed again.

_(*-*)_/

The second the patrol car pulled out outside, Stiles shoved open the door and leapt out, sprinting up to the house without so much as a word to his father. He knew the man would follow, if only out of curiosity.

He burst through the front door and around the archway that lead into the den to find Derek sat on the floor beside the couch. Stretched out on the cushions was an unconscious young woman that Stiles could only assume was Cora. Derek's head was resting on the edge of the couch, his hands wrapped around Cora's own. Slowly Stiles moved closer, shooting Isaac a reassuring smile.

Laying his hand on Derek's shoulder, the alpha looked up, eyes red-rimmed and filled with fear. "Hey." Stiles whispered, squeezing the man's shoulder lightly before turning to get a better look at Cora. "Have you called anyone?"

Derek shook his head, "Like who? I can't send her to the hospital."

"Stiles?"

He turned to see his dad hovering on the threshold of the room, brows pinched together with confusion and concern as he took in the situation. Stiles sighed, but didn't give his dad any explanations, instead he simply turned to Isaac and ordered, "Call Melissa, and Deaton."

Derek looked up at him, "What?"

"Clearly something's wrong with her, she's obviously not healing which means…"

"Stiles, what's going on here?"

Taking a deep breath, Stiles gave Derek's shoulder another reassuring squeeze, then turned. "Okay Dad, you might want to sit down for this." He squared his shoulders and gestured to the chair Isaac had vacated. Reluctantly Stiles stepped away from Derek and over to his dad, gently taking his arm and steering him to the chair, then he perched himself on the edge of the coffee table. "This is going to be hard for you to believe, but you have to trust me dad. Okay?"

John's gaze flickered over to where Derek hadn't moved from his sister's side, and he gritted his teeth, "What have you gotten yourself involved in Stiles?" He sighed, shaking his head.

With his dad settled, Stiles decided it would be better to just dive right in, so he did. He opened his mouth and simply let it all flow free. When it was done, his dad was sat staring at him with a look of bewilderment and disbelief. Isaac had returned and was leaning against the wall with his hands in the pockets of his jeans. Cora was still unconscious, sweat peppering her forehead, and Derek was frozen in the spot at her side, anxiously looking from her to Stiles.

"Okay, so…" John looked around the room, shifting awkwardly under the three pairs of watchful eyes. "Derek and Isaac are…werewolves?" he drew the word out like he was trying to speak a foreign language.

"Yes." Stiles nodded, looking over to the couch, "Derek's an Alpha, and Isaac's his beta." He said again, a little slower this time. "Along with Erica, Boyd and Jackson."

"But Jackson's a Kanima."

"Was a Kanima." Isaac said with a strange tightness to his voice that made Stiles frown and glance over questioningly to Derek.

The alpha's attention was too focused on his sister though, so Stiles turned back to regard his father. "He was a Kanima, but then Peter and Derek killed him and he came back to life as a werewolf."

His dad's eyes widened and Stiles flinched, maybe he should have left out the killing part. At least in regards to Derek. After a few seconds, his attention returned to Stiles. "And Kate Argent was a werewolf?"

"Hunter." Derek grunted softly from the couch.

"Amongst other things." Stiles added with a sneer, shooting Derek a sad regretful smile.

"Along with Allison and her father," Isaac said quickly, "I mean, hunters, not…." He looked briefly at Derek, then dropped his gaze.

"They're the good guys. Mostly." Stiles said. "Allison's mom was a psycho who tried to kill Scott, but Derek was there to save him, only she got bit in the process."

"So Allison's mom is…"

"Dead." Stiles sighed, "That's why they left."

"Probably from the bite." Derek grumbled, "Poetic justice, you could say."

"So the bite kills?" John frowned, looking over to Derek thoughtfully. "Is that what happened to Erica and Boyd."

Derek opened his mouth to defend himself, only for Stiles to silence him with a hand, "No. No," he repeated looking back to his father, "No, they're not dead, they're just missing is all. Right?" He insisted, looking from Derek to Isaac. Both werewolves gave a nod, and Stiles exhaled a long breath, "They're missing," he repeated to his father, "We've been looking for them for months, but there's no sign of them. We think the person committing these murders has them."

"The murders?"

Stiles nodded, "Someone, or something is killing people. Or more accurately, they're sacrificing them for some reason. I've been trying to figure out the link but…"

"Darach."

Stiles turned, "What?" he frowned, looking at Derek.

"It wasn't me," Derek muttered, looking down at his sister as she spoke again.

"Darach."

Stiles leapt to his feet, hurrying around the table to get to Cora's side. "Darach? Is that what's doing this?"

"Darach." Cora whispered breathlessly again, her body trembling.

Stiles looked to Derek, "Do you know what she's talking about?"

"Not a clue, I've never heard of it."

"I have."

They both turned to find Deaton stood in the doorway, back straight and features stern, "You know what it is?" Derek demanded, getting to his feet.

Deaton sighed, "Do you know what the word Druid means?"

"Wise oak." Stiles replied, standing slowly, "So this guys a druid? That makes sense. Three-fold death, just like the Linwood Man."

"No." Deaton shook his head, moving further into the room, "The Celtic druids were close to nature, they believed they kept it in balance. They were philosophers and scholars. They weren't serial killers."

"Yeah, well this one is." Stiles sighed, back straight as he stared down the veterinarian.

Deaton met Stiles hard look with cold disinterest, "Sometimes, if a druid went down the wrong path, the wise oak was sometimes said to have become a dark oak. A…"

"Darach." Stiles finished.

With an incline of his head, Deaton moved over to the couch, freezing as he stared down at the unconscious form of Cora. "Your sister?" he asked, looking up at Derek.

Derek nodded stiffly. "How'd you know?"

"I… - I remember seeing her around town, with your mother." He replied tightly, crouching down and pressing the back of his hand to her forehead. "She has a fever." He opened his bag, pulling out a small jar of dark powder and reached for the glass of water, pouring a little in and string it with a tongue compressor.

"What is that?" Derek demanded.

"Something that will hopefully bring down her temperature and help her begin to heal." Sliding his arm under Cora's neck, he lifted her and pressed the glass to her lips, "There you go, drink. Slowly."

Watching the worry and fear play over Derek's face was too much for Stiles, and he stepped closer, curling his hand around the man's wrist, offering him comfort and strength. But with a twist of Derek's arm, Stiles found his hand encompassed in the sweaty warmth of Derek's palm, and the teenager's heart leapt into his throat, and he instinctively tightened his hold and turned to watch Cora drink.


A/N: Sorry this chapter was a little shorter than usual. I hope it wasn't a letdown though, I can't wait to hear what you all have to say.