The car is filled with an almost claustrophobic quiet on the ride to pick up Derek. Laura makes a few aborted attempts at conversation but always seems to cut herself off before she can get the first syllable out. Stiles wants to leap in, to fill the void with nonsensical words, but the air in the car makes him stay quiet, feeling like Laura needs the time to think and process. He really doesn't think she deserves the time, since she is basically dragging him way from much needed research for a social call, but something in her tense expression allows it.

"I don't mean to be so intense sometimes," Laura finally sighs, her grip relaxing from her frigid hold around the steering wheel. "I just- a few weeks ago my mom told me that I'll inherit the Alpha title if something happens to her," Stiles grips his pants tight between his fingers but Laura doesn't seem to notice, "and she says it'll take a while for me to calm down. It's like, my wolf wanting to make a pack? But right now I just want to... I don't know, it's hard to explain."

"Control everything?" Stiles hedges.

Laura laughs. "Yeah. Something like that," she agrees and smiles at him.

Stiles feels like it should be his turn to apologize, but he really doesn't know what for. A coil of guilt is still firmly imbedded into his bones at Laura's offhanded comment earlier and it's almost choking him. It's all stupid, because it's not his fault the Hale's die, right? It's Kate. Kate Argent and her insane father and their quest to kill every werewolf and go against the code.

It's all her fault. Stiles didn't seduce a sixteen year old. Stiles didn't trap a family downstairs. Stiles didn't light the entire place on fire and watch them burn.

So why does he feel so disgusted with himself?

"It actually makes me feel more rebellious, too," Laura confides with a mischievous smirk as she turns into the parking lot.

Stiles just glares at her, "Rebellious. Is that what you'd call going against your alpha's orders and sneaking me out?"

"She didn't specifically say we couldn't talk to you, just not to ask you questions about the future and I haven't even brought it up once, Stiles. Honestly, it's like you want me to get in trouble."

Which... is true. Laura actually changed the subject pretty quickly when Stiles brought it up at Deaton's place. And it's not that Stiles wants her to get in trouble, it would just be easier if he didn't hang out with her. It was all fine and dandy knowing that Laura died, and while digging up her dead body gave him a few nightmares, it was still hard to connect that it was Derek's sister. But she's in his face now, she's brash and loud and bold and she likes to needle at him until he feels like slapping her. He's afraid he'll start to like her, and he can admit it to himself.

She tosses her phone in Stiles' direction and it lands in his lap. "Can you text Derek and tell him to get his butt out here? I have to go to the bathroom."

"Can't you just tell him while you're in there?" Stiles asks, but she's already walking away from the car and toward the school.

Stiles grumbles to himself as he fiddles with her phone, and then feels like he's been punched in the gut as he looks at the time. He got to Deaton's at four the other day. Had he really been sleeping for twelve hours? Stiles hadn't slept in like that since before his mom died. When his parents got him on his medication, he would always wake up at seven or eight and take his pill with his breakfast.

And Stiles promptly slaps his hand to his forehead with a groan. His medication. For his ADHD. That thing he has that makes it hard to focus? Stiles is going to find that demon and rip it in half, he swears to god. Of course he would get stranded back in time without his phone or wallet or even his fucking pills.

It explains why he ate so much earlier, too. Now that he's aware of it, Stiles can see that his leg hasn't stopped moving since he got in the car and the skin of his arms feels slightly itchy. Fuck. He's supposed to be researching, too. Even on his regular dosage it's hard to sit down and focus for long periods of time, and he usually skips taking a pill just to take two on the chosen day to sit down long enough.

How is he supposed to find out what happened to him now? He doesn't even know how long he's supposed to be back in time for, let alone what'll happen to him off his pills for more than a day. He's never been without them for too long ever since his mom had carefully implemented a system in him.

He'll just have to treat it like he normally would without his pills, Stiles guesses, and tries not to worry about it as he scrolls through Laura's contact list. He hasn't texted on a flip phone in forever, and he can't even find Derek in her contacts. There are weird names like 'Momma T' and 'PB&J', and Stiles wonders if it's some weird paranoid werwolf thing.

Stiles thinks it's just a Laura thing.

He continues tweaking around with her phone and there's not even a single 'D' name contact in the thing. Does Derek even have a phone? Is Laura just being a bitch and toying with him? Stiles tries to guess at Derek's nickname, and he has it narrowed down to "Big Bear", "Growly", and "The One With The Face" when two doors open.

"Names are important, Laura," Stiles says automatically as he snaps the phone closed.

"Oh, that's why!" Laura turns in her seat to say to Derek, and Stiles fights against the urge to do so. He's actually terrified of seeing Derek, and a bundle of nerves that he had been trying to ignore decides to spasm and he feels like he's going to throw up. It's still hard to accept that he's in the past, okay? Deaton looks pretty much normal, and yes, the Hale's are a new touch but he never really knew the Hales when they were alive and it's easy to pretend that they're just new people.

Seeing Derek, and a young Derek at that, would just cement it in to how truly fucked this situation is.

"I just assumed they didn't have phones in the future, or something. Do they have phones?" Laura turns back to him, "Or are you all just conversing telepathically."

Stiles rolls his eyes, "Yes, we still have phones. They all have touch screens though and full keyboards, and people usually, you know, make sure to use actual names before asking a stranger to use them."

Laura's nose twitches, "Sorry. You smell so much like pack that I just forgot, I guess?"

Stiles startles, "I smell like pack?"

In another part of his brain, Stiles wonders if Derek also had his phone full of ridiculous nicknames. What was Stiles'? Probably something mean like "Squirrel Kid" or "Annoying Human".

Laura gives him a look, the one that Cora would give him before saying she wanted to punch him in the face, "Of course you do. You smell like-"

A hand reaches out over the middle console and jars her shoulder, sending her forward into the steering wheel. There's a thick growl, one Stiles has heard so many times that he's not even scared of it at this point, and Laura snarls back quickly. Her eyes flash, and Stiles wouldn't be surprised if Derek's were out too.

He wonders if Derek's are blue or orange. Would it be rude to ask if he killed Paige already? It feels like it would be rude. He tries to remind himself that it would be a new wound, fresh and open, and not just a story told by Peter years later.

Derek was pretty good at handling Stiles being insensitive, though. He did forgive him for digging up Laura's body and getting him arrested for murdering her so maybe his younger self wouldn't rip his throat out over a simple question.

It seems like a bad foot to get started off on, though, so he decides to ask Laura or Deaton later.

After they're done with whatever weird, wolfy power play they were doing and Laura's back to putting her key in the ignition, Stiles asks, "Did you prove whatever point you wanted to? Can you take me back to Deaton's, now?"

Laura pouts, "You haven't even said anything to him! Come on, we're taking you out to lunch."

"Laura," A voice hisses from the back, and Stiles is shocked that it's- well, it's not completely different. It's familiar, in a way that feels off somehow. Derek never had a very deep voice, anyway, but this one is almost soft. It's not all growly and macho or anything, it's almost like he's- Stiles quickly turns in his seat, struck by a sudden desire to see him and know for sure.

God, he's hardly even sixteen. His face is soft and curved and he doesn't even have any peach fuzz, for fucks sake. There's absolutely no tension in his face, which is going to take a lot to get used to. He's never seen Derek so relaxed, and he supposes it's since the guy's family isn't dead or anything. His hair is wet, dripping water down the side of his face and he looks like a, well, a puppy.

He still looks like Derek, just not at all. All the pieces are there, and Stiles can easily see how he could be Derek or mistake for Derek, but it's just not him.

And Stiles feels even more lost than he did this morning.

He turns around in his seat quietly and puts his seat belt back on.

"Take me back to Deaton's." He orders, but his voice sounds weak and empty.

"Stiles-" Derek starts, and god, even his voice makes something in Stiles hurt. Stiles didn't realize how used he was to Derek saying his name. He never thought that it would ever sound foreign coming from him, like he's not even sure he's pronouncing it right.

Which.

Fuck.

Stiles doesn't want to think about this. He doesn't want to be here or around Derek or Laura or anyone. He wants to be home, fuck, how he desperately wants to be home. He misses his dad, and god he misses Derek and his pack.

"I can't do this, okay?" Stiles says, quickly, surprising both him and the Hales, "I can't sit here and pretend this is okay, alright? I don't belong here. I know I'm not supposed to be here because if I was then you would have said something to me. You wouldn't have kept me in the dark about this, and I'm fucking up the time line by even talking to you so please, Laura, just take me back to Deaton's so I can get home."

It's a weak excuse and he knows it, but he knows he has to be right. Derek would have hated him for not saving his family if he could. Derek would have resented him and he would never have trusted him again, not like he did. And Stiles is terrified of changing anything. He's almost shaking with how nauseated he is.

"Look, maybe you aren't supposed to be here, but you're here now and it's probably for a reason," Laura says easily, like it's just a fact of life that this is all going to be okay, "Staying in Alan's house isn't going to change anything, it's just going to be hiding from the problem-"

"I really don't think you understand just how okay I am with that."

Derek snorts form the backseat, as if to firmly cement in Stiles just how weird this situation is. Derek doesn't find him funny. It's a well known truth. Derek does not get amused by Stiles.

"This is so weird," Stiles says out loud, awed, and then he starts to laugh.

"Yeah," Derek agrees, which really just makes the laughing worse.

Laura puts the car in reverse and backs out of the parking lot, her head angled at Stiles, "So, lunch? Or are you going to have another mental breakdown?"

The question sobers him up and he sighs, resigned, "I'm probably going to have a few more before the day's over, but why the fuck not."

It's not like he can make it any worse, right? Then he'll go back to Deaton's and he won't let Laura drag him outside anymore. He won't be this risky again. It was a stupid mistake to come out today, and he's not going to do it again. He'll buckle down and research and then go home and everything will be fine.

Laura drives them to a diner that went out of business two years ago in Stiles' time. Something about finding rats in the kitchen, but Stiles is with werewolves so he totally trust in their sense of good food. Maybe he can go visit that coffee shop by the station that went out of business. He'd have to be careful and time it so he doesn't run into this dad, because if seeing Derek hurt this much then how much worse would it be to see his dad?

Or worse, himself?

Stiles doesn't even want to imagine meeting himself. He'd probably tell him something stupid like "invest in the iPod" or "don't go out looking for dead bodies, no, seriously, don't do it kid". Some weird, insignificant tips like that.

It's even worse seeing Derek outside of the car, because his shoulders are so... tiny. He's almost adorable, and even thinking that makes Stiles feel all weird and wrong. Derek's shoulders are supposed to be as wide as a mountain range, okay? He's supposed to look like he takes up an entire room just by standing in it. He's supposed to be able to fit the human on them in a fireman's carry in case of emergencies where they have to run away and the human gets hurt and maybe even sprains an ankle or something- the human really doesn't like to talk about it.

This Derek is lanky and tall, and he has muscles from swimming and basketball, but he obviously doesn't devote himself to a fitness regiment like he does in the future. Stiles kind of wonders if his Derek pushed himself to such punishing limits because that was what it was meant to be- a punishment.

Stiles carefully averts his eyes and lets Laura shuffle him into the diner and shove him in a booth.

"You have to have one of their milkshakes," Laura orders as she flips open a menu.

"Not all of us have werewolf metabolisms," Stiles mutters.

He never really ate here, since it was so far away from his house, and he and Scott would usually bike it over to the pizza place by his house instead, but his dad brought him here once or twice before Stiles got on his health kick. He can't really remember the taste, but he orders a root beer float with a side coke, fuck he needs the caffeine if he hopes to make it through the night, and a burger and fries. It's a safe bet.

After a waitress takes their order, Laura gets a milkshake and ribs and Derek gets a milkshake and the same burger Stiles gets, Laura raises her eyebrow, "Why'd you order two drinks?"

"I left my pills back in 2013, since this really wasn't a planned visit," Stiles frowns, "I have ADHD. It makes my brain react different to caffeine so instead of acting as an upper it brings me down," Stiles shrugs, "It's usually pretty manageable but it really sucks that I can't drink coffee without wanting to crash."

Derek makes a face, "One of my friends has that. Sorry, man."

Stiles snorts at the sheer weirdness of Derek Hale apologizing- and for something that's not even his fault, "It's not anything to be sorry about. I was born with it. It's not like I'm apologizing for you sprouting claws once a month."

Laura grins widely at Derek, who glares at her. She turns to Stiles and fixes him with a careful stare, and something about it is almost predatory, "So, Stiles, tell us more about yourself."

Stiles raises an eyebrow, "This is encroaching pretty close to that future topic you aren't allowed to touch, don't you think?"

Laura pouts and Derek nudges her with elbow. Derek doesn't look very comfortable in his seat at all, almost squirming, but Laura ignores him. "I just want to know more about my little bro's pack mate. Gotta give you the gold star approval before you get back home, right?"

From the look Derek's shooting her, Stiles really doesn't believe her for a second, but he can't find out what angle she's trying to work.

So, he shrugs instead of fighting it and says, "There's really not much to tell. Without all that supernatural crap, I'm pretty boring. I play lacrosse, play in a few online gaming communities, work on my magic. Wait, does the magic count as supernatural crap if it's my supernatural crap?"

Stiles makes a face as he considers this, and then the waitress is back with their food. Stiles readily digs into his burger and takes a long chug of his coke. He wishes he had an energy drink or something because that would work twelve times better. Maybe he can talk Deaton into picking some up? Fuck, why does this have to be so hard?

"You're magic?" Derek asks, incredulous.

Stiles makes a noise of hurt low in his throat, "What's that supposed to mean? 'You're magic'. Of course I'm magic. How the hell else do you think I would be able to travel through time?" Stiles turns to Laura, "Did you tell him anything about what I said?"

"The story was pretty long, in our defense." Laura defends with a sniff. The barbeque sauce from her ribs looks like blood if Stiles squints enough, and it does nothing to make her look as innocent as she's trying to be.

Stiles huffs out a whatever and carefully undoes the top buttons of the shirt Deaton left him. Derek's eyes widen at the exposed skin and looks ready to fling a menu on his chest to defend his honor or something, which is, again, laughable considering that Stiles has seen Derek without a shirt on a hundred times in his life.

"Relax," Stiles rolls his eyes and shrugs a shoulder out. Derek's eyes instantly lock on the tattoos that curve around his shoulder muscle and behind his neck. He also rolls up his right sleeve to show his locks and bindings rune, simply because it's one of his favorites and since it's separate it's easier to recognize for what it is.

Laura whistles low, "Those look a lot cooler when you aren't half dead."

Stiles smiles, proud, and says, "Thanks."

Derek's taken to playing with his fries, "I still don't think you're magic."

"Oh, so you can accept that I'm from six years in the future and you're my alpha and a bunch of horrible shit happens to you and your family but magic is just too much for you to process?"

"Yep."

"Future you is much more trusting in me and my awesome magic," Stiles sniffs.

Laura cackles, "Oh, I'm sure he is."

Derek looks uncomfortable, and glares at Laura, "There hasn't been a magic user around Beacon Hills in years and you know that, Laura."

Stiles mindlessly traces a pattern on his plate in the ketchup, with squiggles and diagonals that intertwine in a complicated pattern. It's a simple ward, one he's drawn over a hundred times. He could do it blindfolded if he really needed to.

He licks the ketchup off of his fingertips, still looking down at the plate, and lets off the tight clench he feels deep in his chest. It unravels, only slightly, nothing compared to the time his magic settled, and then looks up with a grin. Laura and Derek seem to have continued into a heated conversation with their eyebrows without him, but Stiles doesn't mind. He's used to werewolves being on different wave lengths sometimes.

He picks up the salt and pepper and starts dumping it over his plate, smiling wider at the Hales' expressions when it bunches at the top and slides down the sides of his barrier, almost like a snow globe.

"Protection ward. Keeps things out." Stiles clarifies, and puts the shakes back down. He sweeps at the speckles of salt then fell on his clothes and dump them on the floor.

Derek's face is twisted into a familiar scowl, and Stiles tries to ignore how much it hurts to see it, "That's pretty weak, man."

"Yeah, like I'm going to break out all my top tricks in the middle of a dinner. God, you don't change at all," Stiles mutters the last part to himself as he breaks the barrier and scoops up some ketchup on a fry.

Laura's grin is almost shark like, "'Rek here takes you to many diners, then?"

Stiles makes a face at Derek, "'Rek?"

"Like wreck?" Laura clarifies, and Stiles almost slaps himself as he remembers seeing it in her phone book, "You should have seen him his first full moon. He took down three entire trees before mom was able to get him under control."

"Oh, like you're any better. You were practically humping your boyfriends house trying to get at him last year."

Laura blushes a furious, bright red and promptly reaches out and snaps Derek's head onto the table.

Stiles laughs along with them, but he can't help but feel the scrape against his chest. Seeing Derek, laughing with his sister? Making fun of each other and imparting physical violence? It hurts. It's so hard to compare him to his own Derek, because he can actually see them. In their jaw, in their eyes, in their fucking hair. His Derek could laugh like this, if he let himself. If Kate hadn't burned his entire family, his Derek could be this happy and safe and carefree.

And he wants that. He wants his Derek to be this happy. Sure, there's a few begrudging smiles here and there, and Stiles can venture to say that Derek has grown at most content with his pack, but he's never smiled as brightly as this Derek.

Stiles tries to not think about how easily he could make that happen. He attacks his burger with a vengeance, trying to ignore the ache in his chest as Derek steals a rib from Laura.

Fuck, he is so screwed.