A/N: Oh my God, you guys...! Thank you so much for all those lovely comments and faves and everything. I can't believe how much of a response this story gets, I'm overwhelmed :) In this chapter, you finally get what you all waited for – first actual meeting. Enjoy.

Chapters will be updated weekly. Special warnings would be at the bottom notes of the chapters when needed.

Summary: 'Derek glanced at Stiles, who's smile dissolved into a light frown. He moved his hands again, and Derek flicked his eyes back to Sheriff Stilinski, silently asking for help. The Sheriff took a few steps forwards. "Stiles is mute." He said.'

I own nothing.

Chapter 6

Don't let me darken your door.

It's not what I came here for.

No, it's not what I came here for.

The black Camaro was fleeting through Beacon Hills' streets, her driver barely paying any attention to the speed limit. Maybe, if he'd stopped to think about it, he'd find it ironic - breaking the law while driving to the sheriff's house. An address he almost had to force out of his little brother.

Scott didn't want to tell him, at first. He said it was not a decent hour to pay home visits to a boy he met at a party a week ago for barely half an hour, no matter how eager he was to see him and no matter how good that boy could kiss. Deep down, Derek knew he had a point, but it wasn't strong enough to stop him.

Derek took a sharp turn to the left. He ignored the protesting squeak the tires gave, stepping harder on the gas. A smile flicked on and off his face as he battled excitement and anxiety. He was nervous and impatient at the same time, painfully eager to see Stiles - he finally found out what his name was, thanks to Scott - and worried whether Stiles would like him or not.

He felt ridiculous. Stupid. His heart was racing and his whole body reacted like a teenaged girl having her first crush. It was an embarrassing and very foreign feeling for him, but he couldn't control it.

And it's not like it was unpleasant, a quiet voice admitted at the back of his mind.

Derek stopped abruptly in front of a nice looking, two-story house in one of the quieter neighborhoods. He parked at the sidewalk near the Stilinskis' household, turned off the Camaro's engin and sat in the car in silence, straightening his arms and placing his palms flat against the wheel. He took a few deep breaths to calm himself down, trying to build up the courage to go over there and knock on the door.

It was different than the party. Just by showing up on his front porch, Derek admitted hundred and one things - that Stiles wasn't just a whim, wasn't a hook-up, that he captured Derek's mind, that he couldn't think of anything else but those beautiful brown eyes and that sweet, sweet smile-

It took him another two minutes of inner battle before his hands dropped from their place on the wheel, and he snatched his keys out of their hole in resolve, quickly sliding out of the car and slamming the door shut. He locked the Camaro with a quiet double-beep, and then he just stood there, letting the cool evening air calm his senses and reareange his thoughts.

Baby steps.

He took a hesitant step forwards, not sure whether Scott was right or not. Was it too late to visit at this hour? Should he just wait until morning? Until the weekend, maybe? Derek wasn't even sure he could wait so long. Not now that he knew Stiles was right there.

He didn't even realize his feet were carrying him towards the few short steps at the entrance of the house, and suddenly he was facing the front door, staring at the wooden surface. There was some faint music echoing inside, and Derek recognized the song as 'Her Majesty' from the Abbey Road record he sold the town's Sheriff. He raised his hand slowly, and knocked three times fast, paused, and knocked again.

A dull thud and something crushing to the floor was heard from inside the house, as well as a muffled stream of hissed curses. Derek winced as an adult voice yelled, "Just a minute!" At Derek before he heard a little bit more of urgent action, and then the music stopped and the door opened wide with the Sheriff standing there in casual clothes, holding a towel to his bleeding hand. "Yes?" He asked, looking at Derek with a frown.

"Um, Sheriff," Derek addressed him formally. He wasn't sure what to do with his hands, so he simply shoved them into his jacket's pockets instead of just letting them dangle uselessly at his sides. The Sheriff arched both eyebrows, prompting Derek to continue. "You probably don't remember me-"

"Actually I do," Sheriff Stilinski said, something like a smile softening his defensive expression. "You are the one who helped me pick a record the other day."

Derek nodded, a bit surprised and somewhat pleased he made a positive impression on Sheriff Stilinski. It'd definitely gain some points in his favor with Stiles, right?

"Yeah," He agreed, then chewed at his inner lip. "Um, is- is Stiles home?" He asked hesitantly, watching the Sheriff's expression change again into something like suspicion.

"Why?" He asked, and it came out a little bit harsher than he meant. Derek's heartbeats picked up, nervousness washing over him in waves.

"I..." He started. How could he make it sound not-stalker-ish? How do you explain the father of your crush you were attracted to his son after a twenty-minutes meeting, without risking a bullet to the head? Derek hesitated, then took a calming, long deep breath and started over. "I met your son a few days ago," He said, voice sounding much more confident than he felt. "At the spring party."

"I have a feeling I'm not gonna like where this is going."

"Probably." Derek barked a nervous laugh. "I wanted, I wanted to talk to him? You know, ask him-"

"Ask him out?"

"What?" Derek stared at the Sheriff, baffled. He quickly caught himself, shifting from leg to leg in embarrassment. "Y-yeah." Did Stiles' father know about his son being queer? Derek was impressed. His own dad didn't know about him, and Derek hoped it'd stay this way for as long as possible. He wasn't sure Rafe would accept it so calmly, judging by recent events.

The Sheriff sighed, the hand holding the kitchen towel over his wound tightening. "I don't think it's such a good idea." He said. Something in his eyes made Derek very uncomfortable, as if there was something more.

"Sheriff, sir. Please - all I need is five minutes."

"...okay, fine." Sheriff Stilinski said reluctantly. "Come in."

Derek mumbled a quiet 'Thank you', following the Sheriff inside. He was left alone in the living room while Sheriff Stilinski went upstairs to fetch his son, allowing Derek a few minutes to collect himself and look around.

The house was smaller than it looked from the outside, but not by much. It was probably due to the fact the only visible inhabitants were messy males with no sense of order, although Derek could spot a bit of feminine touch. In the delicate curtains, the worn out flower-patterned pillows on couch, the specific shade of paint on the walls... It was warm and cozy. It reminded Derek of Melissa, and it felt like his mother. It felt like home.

It wasn't a minute later that the Sheriff was back with Stiles in toe, and the bright smile that spread on his round face the moment he saw Derek made him forget what he was thinking about only seconds ago. A matching smile grew on his lips, and the Sheriff cleared his throat, leaning against the living room's doorframe with the towel still wrapped around his bleeding hand.

Derek got the message, and took a tentative step closer to Stiles, watching his whiskey eyes go from excited to curious. "Um," He smiled sheepishly, unsure of how to do this. It was much harder with Stiles' father in the room, and Derek really wished he'd just go away and give them a few minutes in private. He wanted to say something clever, something charming, something that would make Stiles swoon.

"Hi."

Smooth, Hale. Very smooth.

Stiles snorted.

"Well I'm glad my nervousness amuses you," Derek smirked back.

"Three minutes." The Sheriff commented from his place by the door. "You better hurry."

"O-oh." Derek blinked. He had no idea he was counting him minutes. He better spit it out now before the Sheriff would drag him out by the collar. "Um, Stiles... Hi, yes. I was thinking, would you like to go out with me? Someday? One day?" He was rambling. Stopping himself before he said something even more embarrassing, he watched as Stiles smiled, then made a quick motion with his hand, his forefinger touching his lips once and sweeping forwards.

"He says, 'Yeah, sure.'" The Sheriff said dryly as Derek looked between them, confused.

"What? Why can't he say it himself?" Derek glanced at Stiles, who's smile dissolved into a light frown. He moved his hands again, and Derek flicked his eyes back to Sheriff Stilinski, silently asking for help. The Sheriff took a few steps forwards.

"Stiles is mute." He said and glanced at his son, and Derek blinked in confusion. "And he doesn't like it when people don't talk to him directly."

"How?"

"Just act like you did a few minutes ago, it was just fine. I'll interpret."

"But I can't understand what he's saying-"

"Stiles, calm down." The Sheriff frowned when Stiles' hand movements snapped and became wider and faster, irritation written all over his face. Derek winced mentally as the sheriff interpreted. "He says he's not deaf, and that you keep doing that, like he can't hear you, and it pisses him off and- okay, I'm not gonna tell him that...!" He told Stiles firmly, who was busy glaring daggers at Derek. Derek could only imagine what colorful names he was calling him that his father refused to translate.

"Stiles..." Derek tried weakly, not sure how to apologize.

"I think you better leave." Sheriff Stilinski said, placing a calming hand on his son's shoulder as Stiles gave a firm, short swipe of a strangely shaped fist and crossed his arms. "Stiles thinks so too."

Derek nodded, swallowing the lump of guilt that formed in his throat and now settled inside his chest, heavy and throbbing. He hated the hurt look in those beautiful whiskey eyes, the look that Stiles tried to hide but couldn't. Derek noticed that his bottom lip quivered so slightly it was almost invisible, and that was what made Derek retreat in shame. He mumbled a soft "Sorry...", and showed himself out, not daring to give Stiles another glance.

Idiot! You fucking stupid, dumb, MORON! Derek screamed inside his head as he walked stiffly out and closed the door. Once he was out the door he picked up his pace, practically running towards his car and slamming the door shut behind him, with such force he almost ripped it from it's place. The Camero gave a few irritated groans every time Derek slammed his fists against the dashboard repeatedly, then buried his face in his hands and rested his elbows on the wheel with a shuddered sigh.

He banged the back of his head against the padded seat, closing his eyes and taking a few deep breaths to calm himself down.

How could he be such an idiot? Derek couldn't believe the insensitivity he displayed there. He wasn't like that... he wasn't. Derek knew he wasn't. Then why did he act like a complete jackass, and treated Stiles like that? He was trying to charm him, but he ended up hurting his feelings and treating him like retarded child. Dammit...

That hurt look in his eyes was burnt into Derek's mind, and he could feel his stomach turning in shame and guilt.

"Fuck..." He whispered to the silent car, his eyes still closed.

He wasn't sure how long he sat there with a heavy heart, his guilt slowly and painfully eating at his gut. It was well past midnight, for sure, when Derek finally let out one final sigh, opened his eyes, started the car and drove away.

He didn't know that all the while, on the second floor of the Stilinski house, Stiles silently sat next to his window, and watched as the black, elegant Camaro vanished down the road. Away from him.

"...ott."

"Mmm."

"Scott."

"Leave me alone..." The teen mumbled as he turned around and buried himself farther into his pillow, drawing his blanket over his head.

"Scott...!" The hand on his shoulder wasn't mom's. It was larger and stronger, and it lacked the gentleness his mother usually woke him up with. Plus, it was still dark outside, and mom never woke him in the middle of the night unless he was sick.

So in conclusion - it was either that he was sick and no one bothered to tell him, or that it simply wasn't his mother.

"What..." Scott threw his blanket off his face, revealing screwed eyes and messy brown hair. He blinked repeatedly and his eyebrows came together in a sleepy frown, trying to make out the figure that was standing over his bed.

"Get up."

"Derek...?" Scott whispered in disbelief as he sat up and rubbed his eyes, throwing a quick glance at the red numbers on his glow-in-the-dark night watch. "Wha- are you crazy...?! It's the middle of the night!"

"Shh, keep your voice down." Derek whispered quickly, sitting down on the edge of Scott's bed.

"I would've, but some creeper just woke me up...!"

"Well, I have a good reason." Derek mumbled back, eyes not meeting Scott's.

"Wait, were you at Stil- oh my God." Scott whispered, puppy-brown eyes suddenly widening with realization as he stared at his older brother. "You screwed it up, huh?" He said sympathetically. Derek nodded.

"Why didn't you tell me he was mute?" Derek asked, and his voice sounded smaller than he intended. There was no accusation in his tone, only regret.

"I dunno..." Scott bit his lower lip. "I'm so used to it, it didn't seem important. Sorry..."

"Yeah."

"Was he, um, was he mad?" Scott scratched his arm, drawing his knees closer to his body under the blanket.

"More like... he was hurt. Really hurt. He tried to act like he was just pissed, but I could see it." Even in the dark room, Scott could see the wince of regret on Derek's face. "That's why I need your help, Scott."

"My help?"

"Yes." Derek said, placing a hand on his brother's knee. His eyes shone in the dark, eyebrows set in determination. "I want you to teach me how to sign."

A constant reminder of where I can find her,

A light that might give up the way,

Is all that I'm asking for,

Without her I'm lost.

But my love, don't fade away.

A/N: Warnings: Derek is acting like an ignorant dick towards Stiles' Mutism.

Song used: "Reminder" / Mumford and Sons.

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