Monday morning dawned bright and early with the blaring of Stiles' alarm at 7:00AM. His usual grunts and groans when he woke up were amplified by having to leave Derek's warmth once more.

"Up, up." Derek nudged him, already having been awake for ten minutes, he always got up early, usually working out for a few hours before he started his day.

With a groan Stiles rose from the bed, stretching before making his way to the bathroom, brushing his teeth as he started up the shower. He couldn't resist running into the bedroom, toothpaste dripping down his chin, and kissing Derek, who got it all over his face, the smile never leaving his face as he watched Stiles, wondering how it was possible for someone to be so cute but so sexy at the same time.

"Where's the nearest gym?" Derek asked as he stretched his arms above his head. Stiles absently mused that he would need to work out a lot to have such definition.

"Check this." Stiles threw his Mac onto the bed as he headed for the shower. Typing 'gym' into google maps, hundreds of points appeared on the local map of New York that appeared. He clicked through a few pages, trying to find somewhere that looked decent, getting more and more frustrated as he scrolled through the map to see hundreds more red dots appearing.

"Stiles! Come pick one of these." Derek pushed the laptop roughly away, the thin silver machine teetering dangerously close to the edge.

"Watch it!" Jumping onto the bed, Stiles pulled the Mac back, holding it close to his chest. "This is a precious, delicate machine. You have to treat it like it's your lover." He blushed as he remembered that he was Derek's lover, the memory of him trusting in and out of Stiles' mouth coming back to him.

"Shut up." Derek grinned, knowing what Stiles was thinking about.

"Here." Stiles peered at the screen, clicking the first dot that caught his eye. "David Barton Gym. Sounds nice." Stiles shrugged , looking through a few glossy photos of the place before handing it back to Derek, who quickly mapped out a route.

"What time do you finish?" He watched as Stiles rooted through his boxes for some sign of any clothes, not finding any and eventually throwing Derek's hoody on with nothing underneath, and jeans with no underwear.

"Three I think, I dunno. I have my first real class today, soon I'll be a master of film."

"You gotta clean those clothes." Derek gestured to the three black bags full of laundry he had piled up a few days ago, covering his arousal with a sheet as he thought about how easily Stiles could be stripped in just two pieces of clothing.

"I'll take them later. What are you gonna do, bum around all day?" He joked, transferring his phone, wallet, and keys from Grayson's tuxedo pants, which were rumpled on the floor, to his jeans. Asking his question made him wonder what Derek actually did. He had never done much in Beacon Hills except work out, fight, and hurt people – mainly Stiles.

"Work out. Walk. Read. I dunno." Derek shrugged, actually wondering himself what he would do now he had no outstanding vendettas to fulfil, no one to kill, scare, or maim, and no Stiles to hang out with. He got out of bed himself, glancing over at Stiles who was doing a lame dance around the kitchen, slipping bread into the toaster and boiling the kettle so they could have coffee, scooping some instant granules into two cups – he hadn't got around to buying a coffee maker yet. Fishing some black jogging bottoms and white t shirt from the backpack he had given Stiles clothes from yesterday, Derek headed into the bathroom.

Stiles could taste the toothpaste on his lips when he came out - face cleaned and clothes on - ten minutes later, leaning into Stiles for a kiss, who was absently scrolling through news pages on his phone while munching on a slice of dark, almost black toast between mouthfuls of lukewarm coffee. Packing one of Stiles hand towels into his bag without needing to ask and spraying deodorant under his arms, Derek glanced up nervously,

"Shall I meet you after or, something..." He didn't waver his eyes, but Stiles knew he was a little nervous about the answer.

"No I think we should spend a few days apart." Stiles continued to munch on his toast, not looking up, as if it was the most casual thing in the world, mentally wincing when he glanced up and saw Derek's slack jaw. "Kidding, god!" A smile broke his face open, unable to keep up the joke for more than a few seconds.

"You can't do that." A smile broke his face as he leaned over and kissed Stiles, ripping a piece off his toast and heading out to the gym. Derek walked slowly to Bleecker Playground, admiring the streets, the noise, the people. Cities weren't the best place for a wolf with extremely heightened senses, the noise could be unbearable if he let his guard down, but Derek's self control was legendary, and he had learnt long ago how to block out any noises he didn't want to hear. If he focused hard enough, he could still hear Stiles humming on the staircase of the apartment a block away, smiling to himself as he dodged commuters on 8th Avenue. The sidewalk outside 14th Street Station, halfway down the street, was jammed, so he took a left on West 15th Street, jogging down in the opposite direction to the light traffic, before heading down 7th Avenue, narrowly missing a cab and a huge red truck, their horns blaring. Considerations of stopping and giving them his classic wolf glare passed through his mind, but he was trying to change that attitude, deciding to just keep on jogging till he reached the gym. He needed to get a workout in, Stiles had been taking up his time lately, even when he wasn't with him he was thinking about him.

Just a few streets away, in similar fashion to Derek, Stiles was strolling along the pavement, throwing an apple up in the air and catching it as he hummed, wondering if Derek would meet some hot man at the gym and cheat on him, laughing to himself when he realised (or at least hoped with strong conviction) that it would never happen. Derek had made his feelings for Stiles very, very clear, and neither one of them wanted to do anything to jeopardise their relationship.

"Stiles!" Turning, he saw Emily running towards him, clearly she had ended up back at her apartment building after last night. She looked tired but good, her hair scraped back into a ponytail with Gucci sunglasses covering her bloodshot eyes, wearing some very expensive black leather pants and a thick black coat with the golden buttons done up haphazardly over a loose white shirt, an Hermes bag slung over her shoulder, college binder peeping out of the top.

"Thank God, I've been shouting you for hours." Grabbing his hand, she guided him over to a coffee cart. "I need caffeine if I'm gonna be able to survive today. Want one?"

"Sure."

"Two lattes, please." The sunglasses stuck on her face as she spoke made her feel pretentious, but she couldn't bare to face the light.

"You were pretty wrecked last night." Stiles commented as they continued their walk to NYU, sipping the searing hot coffees.

"I'm glad, at least I got Jason out of my life. I don't think that Brooks Brothers shirt will get the red cocktail stains out any time soon." Laughing to herself, she took Stiles' arm, thoughts of guilt flashing into her head for just a second before she buried them deep inside.

"Who do you have first?"

"Miles. History of Film." She winced as she realised she would be watching films for hours, probably having to keep her glasses on. "You?"

"Walker. Photography. Probably be a boring introduction lecture, though." He gave her a half smile, wishing he could just get into the nitty gritty of his courses instead of having to go through Registration week and the surely boring first few lectures.

"I'll meet you after this class and we can go get lunch." She squeezed his arm before heading to the elevators. "Watch it, asshole!" He heard her shout in the distance, looking around to see her holding her arms up as a student scrambled around on the ground picking up the books he had dropped when he walked right into her, Stiles smiled, remembering the similar way they had met.

His first lecture was packed. Taking a seat three rows from the pack and setting his backpack down next to him he looked around at the other students, a little disappointed that he wasn't in one of those huge, circular, multi tier rooms you see in the movies. The people around him seemed pretty normal, a few talking on their phones, a few doodling in pads, a few talking amongst themselves.

"Hi." A guy said as he slipped into the seat next to Stiles, one of the only ones left in the room. A wide smile broke his face open, the fringe that fell almost into his eyes bobbing as he shook Stiles' hand.

"I'm Stiles." He told him as he leaned over to get some paper from his bag.

"Max. Nice to meet you." They looked at each other for a few seconds, both feeling a little awkward. "My mom said I should just introduce myself, you know to get to know people, cos' I kind of have a hard time making friends."

"My dad said the same thing but I didn't actually dare do it." Stiles laughed, the mood lightening immediately.

"But I wanna make movies, so I kind of need some social skills to talk to actors and stuff." The guy shrugged his wide shoulders, the thin body beneath the white t shirt emblazoned with a black fist doing a little dance.

"I still dunno what I want to do." He confided, shrugging himself. He still had no idea why he picked Film Studies as his course, though the fact that he was off his Adderall at the time gave him a fleeting suspicion. He had been obsessed with film for the year before he applied for college, just when the wolf stuff settled down a little and he needed something to fill his days.

"What are you doing after class?" Max asked, his expression hopeful.

"Getting lunch with Emily, my friend." Stiles explained, looking away with a guilty feeling in his stomach, the guy clearly wanted friends. "Want to come?"

After eating lunch with Emily and Max, who had got along well enough, even though Max had looked a little weary of Emily, who reeked of money even more than usual today in all her designer clothes – mainly to take attention off how hungover she was – Stiles headed to his second and last lecture, which was apparently a screening of one of last years students movies to show the quality of work they should aspire too. Slipping into a seat on the fourth row he realised he was early, only a few students were sat in the room, most of them texting. His own phone was soon in his hands, quickly going to Derek's name and tapping out a text.

'Missing you' He typed, feeling cheesy, 'I finish in two and a half hours, meet me.' - 12:19PM. He had a question mark on the end, but after a second of thought he deleted it, remembering how Derek liked it when Stiles asserted some authority.

'Ill meet you in washington park. I'm buying you a TV.' - 12:21PM.Stiles smiled at the text, he knew it was weird for Derek to go out and buy him a TV, but hey he wasn't complaining, he did need one after all, and with the amount of time Derek had been spending at his place – and hopefully, he thought, the amount of time he would be there coming up – Derek could get a few things and have it not be weird.

'make sure its at least 40 inches, HD, with a sweet surround sound.' - 12:24PM. He sent the text, smiling at his own joke. The phone in his hands was quickly packed away, turning it to silent, as the lecturer marched into the room, hundreds of students following a few minutes later.

"After seeing this film, you will know what we expect from you." She began as the lights dimmed and the film started up.

The doors of Tisch were rammed as he snaked his way through crowds off fellow students after the long and boring lecture, he kind of wished he had Scott with him as he hopped down the few steps to the street, a huge binder under his arm which had been given out to all the students and detailed what they would be covering over the next year, with articles, reviews, and tips laced between the pages. He missed his best friend, Emily was great, and truthfully was much more a 'friend' than Scott had ever been, it was always Stiles doing the friend stuff, but Scott was his oldest and closest friend, no one could replace him. He wondered absently if he should invite him for a visit, he still hadn't told him about Derek, in fact he hadn't told anyone from home about Derek. As he walked into Washington Square Park, which was located at the epicentre of the NYU buildings, he laughed at the sight of Derek stood by a bench, an enormous brown box at his feet.

"That's not what I think it is, is it?" Stiles asked as he reached Derek, hoping it was what he thought.

"45 inches. HD. Surround sound." Derek gave him a smug smile.

"How did you carry it?" Stiles looked at the thing, his face twisted as he tried to work out how anyone could carry such a thing with their hands.

"Super wolf strength, remember?"

"Oh." He smiled at the realisation that Derek could probably lift a car, a TV was no problem for him. The two of them headed back towards Stiles' apartment, Derek holding the TV over his head as they walked, his breath completely even, face calm; the strangers looks of awe at his strength kind of gave Stiles a thrill, that was his man they were admiring. All his. Lugging the thing up the stairs presented no more difficulty for him than carrying it all the way home, Derek was still talking – well, as much as Derek talked – as if there was nothing in his arms. Stiles knew he was strong, but seeing it in action still gave him a thrill.

"You need a tonne more furniture..." Derek mused as he ripped open the box and started setting up the TV on the floor, because there was no stand for it.

"I have money for it, my dad gave me some, I just haven't been to buy anything yet."

"Wanna go?" Derek asked, threading wires from the plug back to the TV.

"What, you wanna go shopping?" Stiles asked in disbelief as he glanced through his binder emblazoned with The Maurice Kanbar Institute of Film, Television, & New Media – Undergraduate Information.

"It's not like we're clothes shopping. Never ask me to do that." Derek gave him a glare.

"Come on then." Grabbing his arm before he changed his mind, Stiles ran out of the door, making sure he had his credit card with him. It wasn't long after they stepped onto the street that Stiles saw a small, boutique type store selling unique furniture across the street. This was New York after all, you get get anything at any hour, anywhere in the city.

It was practically empty when they walked inside the dark, cosy store. The array of furniture was mainly tables and chairs or all manners, the things he needed most.

"How about this?" Stiles grazed his hand across the reddish/purple lacquered surface a Chinese-style kitchen stool. It didn't really go with his apartment, but he liked it.

"Whatever. It's your place." Derek told him as he looked at the price of a glass coffee table on dark wood legs.

"Well," Stiles walked in the opposite direction, trying to seem nonchalant, "you could, you know, stay with me. Until you find a place, or whatever..." he turned to face Derek from across a five foot bookcase made from classic novels all stuck together. "Cos' you haven't really left for like, the past three days or something, so why don't you just stay? There's no point in you paying for your hotel any more if you're gonna be at mine. I mean, I don't want you not to be there, if that's how that sounded. I do, so uh, that's why I'm asking."

"Stiles!" Derek growled, cutting off his ramblings. "Yeah, okay. Thanks." Stiles let out a sigh of relief at Derek's words, and at Derek's smile. He had been wondering all day if he should ask Derek to stay with him. Ideally he would like him to move in, but his instinct told him it was to soon to push him, so the excuse of waiting until he found an apartment seemed appropriate.

"You might not even like living with me, so this is like a test drive I guess." Stiles shrugged, feeling much happier.

"Stiles, I'm sure I'll like living with you." A frown creased Derek's face.

"Yeah but you get up early and I like sleeping late, and you go to the gym but I never do, and you eat properly and I only like toast, and you like crap music," Derek glared at him, a slight smile on his face, "and I like the best music anyone could imagine, and your some sort of clean freak who gets all my clothes up for me – even though you lived in a burnt down house so that's kind of weird – and I'm messy as hell..."

"Stop making issues were there aren't any." Derek said quietly to himself, testing out the Chinese stool Stiles had been looking at earlier while Stiles looked at a dark wood TV stand.

"And I'm probably gonna want Emily round and we'll get drunk, but your wolfiness stops you ever getting drunk..." Stiles continued reeling off his list of why they weren't compatible to live together, not really taking it seriously, just musing out loud as he glanced through more furniture.

"But if we live together," Derek interrupted him, coming behind him as they stood looking at full wall bookshelves, the cashier hidden from them, "we get to do this all day." Stiles' musings – which hadn't even stopped when Derek spoke – were cut off as Derek's lips pressed onto his, their heads instantly changing into the familiar positions they now knew so well, following their tested rhythm, both revelling in the feeling of each other.

"Yeah, that's kind of the best reason to live together." Stiles conceded with a huge smile.