Author's Note: This chapter marks a serious shift in tone from the first two chapters. It is how I think things would progress but it is not nearly as humorous as the first two chapters. If you don't care to keep reading feel free to quit here, the first two chapters can easily stand alone. Otherwise, enjoy the rest.

It was almost 4am when the headlights of the police car filled up the rear view mirror. Derek sighed and checked to make sure his jacket still had Stiles properly covered. He wished his shirt was not a soiled mess in the back seat and tried to think how best to handle the situation. When the officer tapped on the window Derek rolled it down calmly.

"Sheriff," Derek said passively as the older man leaned down toward him.

"Mr. Hale," Sheriff Stilinski nodded, eyeing Derek's bare torso with a skeptical air. "Mind if I ask what you're doing parked out here in the middle of the night?"

"I was just…" Derek began to answer.

"Grrr," came the sleepy voice from the passenger's seat, drawing the Sheriff's flashlight and attention. Derek closed his eyes and let out a deep breath, all hope of avoiding an awkward situation gone. The Sheriff stood up again, pinching the bridge of his nose with a weary look.

"Is that…" he began.

"Yeah," Derek answered, not looking at the Sheriff.

"And you…"

"Yep," Derek replied tersely. Sheriff Stilinski sighed.

"Are you starting to see why you should keep those activities in the bedroom rather than parked on the side of a public road?" he asked in the same tone he used to lecture his son.

"I'm starting to, yeah," Derek answered.

"I'm going to go back to my car now and I want you to start the engine and drive both of you to wherever it is you're living."

"Yes sir."

"And I don't want to have this conversation again, understand?"

"I understand, sir." The Sheriff shook his head and went back to the squad car. He glanced back at the Camaro when he reached his door, shook his head again, and got inside. Derek pulled the seatbelt across his chest and turned the key in the ignition. He drove quietly back to the boarded up gas station that was his current home, listening to the little noises Stiles was making in his sleep. He parked in what used to be the car wash so that his car wouldn't draw any more attention then grabbed Stiles and his clothes and carried the sleeping man inside.

When Stiles awoke he was laying comfortably on top of Derek with the alpha's arms wrapped tightly around his shoulders and waist and Derek's jacket acting as a mini blanket. He took a deep breath and felt Derek's hand shift up to gently stroke the short hair at the nape of his neck. Stiles turned his face toward the werewolf and smiled, Derek smiled back.

"Morning," Stiles said.

"Morning," Derek replied with a small chuckle. "Although it's technically afternoon."

"Yeah well, someone kept me up last night," Stiles replied, rolling off of Derek. He spotted his clothes draped over an empty shelf and started dressing. "How did things go after I nodded off? Anything?" He asked after he pulled on his shirt.

"No," Derek replied, getting to his feet. He walked over to Stiles and slipped his fingers into the younger man's belt loops, pulling him closer. "You were the highlight of my night." Stiles smiled at him and gave him a quick kiss before pulling away to find his shoes.

After he was fully dressed he stood in front of the counter and surveyed his surroundings. It still looked more or less like every gas station convenience store, with all the familiar fixtures. The shelves were mostly empty with only a few items here and there that Derek or his pack had set there. In one corner was a grungy looking mattress on which they'd been sleeping and behind the counter was a large duffle bag full of Derek's clothes. Stiles figured it wasn't any worse than any of the other places Derek had lived.

"I should probably get home, Dad might be worried," Stiles said, scratching the back of his head. Derek nodded. Stiles nodded back, as if he'd expected something Derek had failed to provide. He headed for the door but paused before he opened it.

"Hey Derek…" he started. Derek didn't answer, just stared at his back with a questioning look, waiting for Stiles to finish. The younger man let out a weary sigh, so much like his father. "Never mind," he finished, pushing at the door.

"Stiles?" Derek put a hand on his shoulder, drawing him back and turning him slightly. Stiles turned back toward him, shoving his hands in his pockets and staring at the floor.

"It's nothing. Something I was gonna ask you but…" he swallowed hard and kicked his foot out slightly. "It's stupid."

"You never leave a question unasked, especially the stupid ones," Derek said teasingly.

"There are lots of questions I don't ask," Stiles said, so quietly that a normal person couldn't have heard.

"What's wrong?" Derek asked, all teasing gone from his voice. But Stiles was relaxing now, the tension jumping out of his shoulders. He looked up at Derek, completely normal.

"I was just wondering where that thing might be hiding, but you don't know either. I'll have to do more research, see if I can dig up any other leads."

Derek couldn't always tell when Stiles was lying. Being the Sheriff's son had given him an ease with it that often kept his heartbeat in check. But Derek could tell he was lying now, could have even without his wolf senses. He dashed between Stiles and the door as he moved to leave again. Stiles looked surprised.

"You're lying, Stiles. Tell me what's wrong," Derek said firmly. He had his serious business look on and Stiles knew he wouldn't let it go.

"You know Scott never calls me on it when I lie to him like that," Stiles said with a resigned sigh. He took a few steps away from Derek and hoisted himself up on the counter.

"I'm not Scott," Derek replied sharply. Stiles let off a strangled laugh.

"I noticed. But I'd still rather you let this one slide."

"That's not gonna happen." Stiles nodded, his whole upper body bobbing slightly.

"I don't ask questions when the answer matters," Stiles said abruptly.

"What?" Derek asked. Stiles looked at him and Derek was struck by the honesty in his face.

"You know, the questions where the answer could change everything. Would Scott still be my friend if we'd met after he became a werewolf? Does Dad work so much because he can't stand to be around me?" He swallowed hard again. "Does anyone ever actually see me? The questions you're afraid to ask because there is no possible answer that wouldn't change everything. But at the same time you really need to ask someone, because you ask yourself again and again and become more and more afraid of the answers you come up with." Derek was staring at him with that searching look that made Stiles feel like he really was trying to understand him. He couldn't bear to look at that face so he looked down, found a hole in the plastic surface of the countertop and started picking at it.

"You've got a few, I think. It's one of the reasons I…" Stiles paused, shook his head. "I don't ask them though, because I think I know. Sometimes I can see it on people's faces. So I don't ask." There was silence while Derek took in everything Stiles had said and Stiles just sat, picking at the counter.

"None of those were questions for me," Derek said flatly after he had rolled everything around in his mind.

"No," Stiles answered, suddenly still. "None of those were Derek questions."

"So what did you want to ask me?" Derek asked. Stiles could hear in his tone that he wasn't leaving until he answered. He slid forward, off the counter, and leaned against it instead.

"More things than I'm ready to deal with right now," Stiles replied, glancing at Derek. That wasn't good enough, he could tell. "But I'll start with what happened last night."

"What about it?" Derek asked, suddenly defensive. Stiles sighed.

"What was that? Why did you… Was it just to shut me up? Because you haven't for a while and I was… convenient? What was that about?"

"What do you want it to be about?" Derek asked with the slightest edge to his voice.

"Nothing," Stiles said defeated, "Just sex, I want it to just be sex." He pushed away from the counter feeling raw and broken.

"What do you want from me, Stiles?" Derek demanded. Stiles looked up at him sharply, eyes fierce and intense and wet with tears.

"I want you to want me! I want to be more to you than the brat you're stuck with or the easy lay. I want you to tell me I matter! To tell me…"

"I love you," Derek finished. He said it flatly, almost skeptical. It wasn't a confession and they both knew it. This time Derek didn't try to stop him as he pushed past the werewolf and out the door, didn't go after him as he ran back into town, didn't move at all.

By the time Stiles got home he had managed to get his feelings under control. He wasn't quite sure why he'd let the conversation go so far, he was certain he could have rambled Derek into submission. The problem was he needed Derek, needed him more than he'd needed anyone since his mother died. Even so he would never have admitted to his feelings if Derek hadn't given him a thousand little signs to indicate it would be okay, that it might actually be mutual.

His dad wasn't home when he arrived for which Stiles was actually grateful. He wasn't ready for lies and disappointed looks and questions. Stiles decided the first thing to do was shower and change because even through his sweat the smell of Derek was all over him, torturing him with his own stupidity. Afterward he made a sandwich, picked a topic at random, and began the process of numbing himself through research.

By the time Stiles had to interact with another person (Scott on the phone) he had fully put himself back together. Once Stiles had learned to fight through and hide his panic attacks he'd known he could keep any feeling hidden from anyone. Hanging around with werewolves made this process more difficult but Stiles was up to the challenge, his confrontation with Derek notwithstanding. So over the course of the following week no one noticed that Stiles was in pain. Stiles also didn't see Derek that week, which made things a little easier, even if Stiles wasn't sure it was what he wanted.

Stiles didn't even flinch when he came upstairs one day and found Derek standing in front of his open window. Usually he jumped, even after it had happened often enough for him to get used to Derek's presence. Derek knew the missing reaction was a mark of their strained relationship and he ached for the fake physical reaction that indicated levity. Stiles didn't say anything; just fell into his desk chair, angling it slightly away from Derek. His hand reached for the mouse but he didn't open any programs or start on some task.

"I'm not ready to love anyone," Derek said flatly. Stiles sighed.

"You don't have to let me down easy Derek; I'm pretty used to rejection at this point."

"I mean it Stiles, I'm not ready. The last time…" Stiles could hear the hurt in his voice, "it didn't work out well." Stiles turned toward him.

"You mean Kate?" he asked calmly. Derek nodded. Stiles nodded back. "I get that Derek, maybe not completely, but I get it. I get that you thought you loved her and that she hurt you, I get that that feeling cost you everything." Stiles stood up, approached Derek. He took his face in his hands. "But I'm not her. I've never hurt you, never let you down. I've been there for you, will keep being there, no matter what. Why are you letting her ruin this?" Derek moved away from him tensely.

"I can't just jump into loving you! It isn't that easy." He stopped and looked back at Stiles from his position near the end of the bed. His eyes were sharp, angry, but questioning.

"I'm not asking you to jump. I just… You've been circling for years, is it too much to ask for you to start climbing in?"

"How?" Derek asked seriously, determination echoing in his eyes. Stiles turned and flopped across the bed, grabbing his head with both hands.

"I don't know, dating?" Stiles sighed.

"You want me to date you?" Derek asked, his tone disbelieving.

"Maybe!" Stiles shouted, rolling up into a sitting position and turning his body toward the werewolf. "I want you to give me permission to touch you, to kiss you. I want to be able to curl around you when you make that wounded face," he gestured at the window," and to hold you and tell you it's okay. I'm not asking you to love me or even necessarily admit that you care; I just want it to be okay for me to tell you I care, whenever I want." They just stared at each other for a while, both trying to read the other.

"Okay," Derek said finally.

"Okay!" Stiles repeated, nodding.