Whaoo, so yes, I am alive people.

And I'm actually going to commit to finish this, maybe even by Valentine's Day if I'm lucky, because I just finished my first ever Doctor Who fic, so now I think I can take on the world.

Okay. Perhaps not. But you get the gist.

Hope you enjoy it!

"Scott. No."

"Stiles. Yes."

"I can't afford it."

"I'll pay half."

Stiles huffed. Scott insisted on getting another take-away to add onto the Chinese and Indian they'd already had that week. "Fine. But we're getting Hawaiian."

"Pepperami."

"Hawaiian no pineapple."

"Done." Stiles' head flopped onto his desk.

"Why must you do this to me, Scott?"

His best friend sighed and rolled his eyes. "Hmm, let me think. I'm trying to be a nice friend? Help you overcome your humiliation?" Stiles glared. "Okay, so that was probably the wrong thing to say..." He paused. "Hey, Stiles, how about we go and get a drink first?" Stiles sighed again but nodded and flopped out of his chair, grabbing his helmet at the last moment.

Outside of his house was the wrecked Jeep, having been mangled by some yobs weeks earlier. And when Stiles said mangled, he meant mangled – normally he didn't mind driving with a few scratches and a bit of mud, but it was difficult to start with two missing tires, half a bonnet and three smashed windows, not to mention the word 'COCK' scratched into the back of it. What was worse was that he couldn't afford repairs yet – in fact, the only thing he could afford was the bike which cockily sat in front of him as if to say, 'Bet you wish you had me a long time ago.' Stiles rested a fond hand on the left head light of his Jeep, the only thing not to have been smashed to pieces. "We'll get you up and running again soon," he promised the car, as he did at least once a day. In the mean time, he had the smaller box of death to ride around town.

Scott graciously offered to pay at the diner. Stiles, two weeks after his first visit, was beginning to get used to the smell and was thinking so when Scott slid in opposite him in one of the booths. "Water?" Stiles scoffed. "You skint bastard." Shrugging, Scott just gave a wicked grin. "How's Allison?" Stiles asked. "I haven't seen her in a while."

"She's, uh, good," Scott said, winking. Stiles wrinkled his nose.

"TMI, dude."

"You asked."

"Yeah, about how she is, not how she is."

Feigning realisation, Scott let out a wail of surprise. "Dude, you should've said. Yeah, she's good. Just bogged down with homework. And her dad still doesn't like me."

"I think he likes your bike less than he likes you," Stiles commented truthfully. He took a sip of the water – even that tasted gross here.

The door, which had been opened now and again, now almost threw itself against the wall. A figure sauntered in, one Stiles instantly recognised as Derek Hale, and whispered so to Scott. "So?" his friend asked back.

"My pen," Stiles hissed. "Should I go and ask him about it?"

"What? Dude, no. Don't do it. Let's just go." Scott almost had to force Stiles out of the door, he was so keen on hanging back to talk to Derek, but he just about managed it, sitting Stiles on his bike with a grumpy expression.

"I was only going to ask."

"And I wasn't going to let you." Scott raised his eyebrows. "I just did you a favour."

Stiles put on his helmet and stuck the key in the ignition, still irritated at Scott but probably thinking he was right. He was just getting Derek out of his mind when a voice behind him made him jump. "Stiles."

Whirling around, Stiles almost fell off his bike – the second time in Hale's presence – when Scott grabbed his handlebars. "Oh, uh, hey there, Derek."

Derek inclined to him with his jaw. "Did you find your pen?" Tapping his shirt pockets, Stiles drew it out proudly.

"Yeah. Uh, thanks, for, uh, leaving it." Derek's eyes flashed, and Stiles' continuing thanks fell silent in his throat.

"Don't go losing it again," were Hale's final words, before he turned around and swung onto his bike, speeding off quickly and kicking gritty dust into Stiles' eyes. Tears streaming down his cheeks, he turned to Scott, who looked alarmed at his sobbing best friend.

"What was that?" Stiles asked. Scott, who seemed relieved Stiles wasn't actually crying, just shrugged and leant forwards on his bike.

Stiles was making his way home from Scott's house after pizza when it happened. Something unknown ran out in front of him. In a panic, Stiles swerved to the right, into the grassy bank, and the tree seemed to jump into his path. His vision blurred, he could just about see a shape move towards him, breathing heavily, when his hearing went and the ground came up to meet him.

Ooh, cliff hanger! R&R's appreciated!

And I'd just like to say a quick thanks to kat4543 who PM'd me about this and therefore reminded me it existed and I should probably get back to writing it. This one's for you!