Chapter Eight: Money, Money, Money!

In Stiles' opinion- wealth wasn't a thing you should judge people on, like- he has a diamond and you have a rock, who gives a shit, no judgement.

But it was an important thing. And it sucked, that fact- the pure and utter truth, that money was terrifyingly tied to your general survival in life.

The Stilinskis had never really been rich like the Whittemores or the Martins, but they had been comfortable- it just meant they had to wear Target brands rather that designer clothes and Stiles drove a crappy jeep rather than a Porsche like Jackson.

So, yeah- comfortable, with all the necessities and even most homely luxuries.

But, unfortunately…in the recent months- the bank had been getting a bit stubborn. And Stiles kind of knew they were right too. It was time to pay up on mum's hospital bills- which they'd been avoiding for years. What with his dad's low wage and the amount of repairs Stiles had been paying to his jeep since Scott got bitten.

Ugh.

Another unfortunate thing, though- was the fact that they didn't actually have any money to pay the hospital bills with- and it's not like they could take out a loan- considering the bills themselves were initially paid that way, and now they owed the bank. You can't just take out a loan to pay a loan- that would just put them in even more debt and end out costing them thousands…not that they didn't already owe the bank thousands.

Jesus.

So, along with cutting back on everything like food (they had to order TAKE OUT now- since it was cheaper…what was gonna happen to his dad's arteries?!), gas- now he had to walk everywhere, and basic shopping- Stiles also…God, Stiles also had to get a job.

Gross.

And since you couldn't actually get a job in Beacon Hills without having connections (A.K.A: Being friends with the boss- or boss' children), the only job Stiles could get was working at Café Beacon with his barista friend Jane- who'd pulled some strings for him.

God, Stiles had to work in costumer services.

Scott didn't see the problem, what with Stiles being sociable- but Stiles had tried to press upon him that he was actually only social…and actively non-hostile- to people he could tolerate. And small-town goers were some of the worst people in existence. Seriously, he grew up there- he knew the evil.

"Would you try making your smile look less like you're in pain- and more like sunshine?" Jane complained, elbowing Stiles in the ribs on the way past to make something on one of the numerous machines.

Stiles didn't know how to work anything so basically he just waited tables- or, as he was doing now- manned the front desk.

"But I am in pain- so much pain." Stiles stage-whispered, making sure none of the customers heard him…like last time- that had been awkward.

It was a full-house that afternoon- just after school on a Friday actually, and when Stiles rushed over for his shift- he was faced with dozens of teenagers, already placing orders for frappes and milkshakes and such.

Stiles hated after-school shift the most- mostly because it didn't smell as much like coffee, since a large majority decided they wanted to copy the movies and order milkshakes and sit around flirting.

Stiles loved the smell of coffee- it was one of the only perks to the job, and he hated the people who took it away from him.

Stiles groaned, and managed to sneak in a glare at a pair of loud girls- complaining about some guy called Adam hitting on them. Hey- if he got hit on, he'd be freaking flattered- and it was kind of obvious with how loud they were talking- that they wanted everyone to know just how awesome and hot they were.

"Oh my God- stop moping and go wait some tables." His co-worker Jimmy came up and handed him a notepad, taking his place in front of the counter.

"If you're sad at the counter- everyone can see you and it reflects badly on the café." Jimmy stated, and pushed him towards the tables, booths and couches- and by association teenagers.

Why, Jimmy, why would you do this?

Stiles sighed, accepting his doom, and squared his shoulders- getting ready to smile, recite and please.

He started by walking to the couch and table in the corner- full of freshmen- they were talking loudly and Stiles could tell that they were ready to order just from the way some of them glanced around the room every now and then- checking for service.

Stiles positioned himself at the edge of the table, "Hello- I'm Stiles and I'll be your waiter today- are you ready to order?"

And that's how it went, on and on and on.

"See ya Jane!" Stiles called once into the back, not really waiting for an answer as he grabbed his hoodie and freaking raced out the door- so happy be out of that hell-hole.

To think he used to enjoy that place!...Oh well, at least it paid pretty good.

Stiles' house was actually pretty far away from work- but he'd figured using up fuel would just waste more money- so walking was, even though irritating, a good option.

It was cold though, and by the time Stiles had walked two blocks his teeth were chattering- his body and mind tired from the earlier shift.

Oh well, it wasn't like there was anything he could do about it.

So he kept walking, freezing his ass off and wondering if, next time, he could get Scott to lend him his bike- just so it'd be easier to get home.

The streets were lit by overhanging lights, obviously- but even as Stiles walked- the afternoon light was getting darker and darker and he soon felt, you know…a bit unsafe?

But it wasn't like it was irrational or anything. Because in all fairness- Beacon Hills had to be the most fucking messed up town in existence- like, seriously- how hadn't people freaked out and moved away by now. People had been ritually sacrificed, like that was a pretty fair indicator that all was not well in this quaint little town. What were they waiting for? A fucking announcement?

Ah well, even if Stiles was feeling a bit edgy- the rational part of his brain told him that it was probably unlikely another weird supernatural creature was gonna come out and eat a waiter out in the open. Like, it would at least wait until he was all alone and, well- technically these streets were empty so he was alone, but that wasn't-

"Stiles!" a voice called out, interrupting his inner rationalisation of safety.

Huh- the voice sounded oddly familiar.

Stiles whipped around, almost falling down on his butt, since the sidewalk was cold and slippery.

There, sitting in his beautiful car- like seriously, that car was niiiiice-, window down, was Derek Hale- classic bitchface expression too.

"Yo' Derek!" Stiles saluted in greeting- the just as quickly- waved and turned around- wanting to get home before his balls fell off.

But almost as soon as he started walking, he heard Derek getting out of the car behind him- jogging to catch up…not that a werewolf really needed to do much to catch up to a human.

"Hey- stop." Derek grunted, walking next to Stiles and matching his pace.

Stiles kept walking. He needed to get home and go to bed- he was so freaking tired.

He couldn't deal with Hale tonight. Not his voice. Not his growls…and not his stupidly perfect face that was always either freaking frowning, or smirking.

So he kept walking.

"Stop." Okay- well, it wasn't like he could go anywhere when Derek was holding him in place by his shoulders. Huh- Stiles had noticed in the last few months, especially with the Darach thing…Derek actually wasn't afraid of physical contact any more.

Good for him…or something.

"Derek I gotta go home." Stiles whined, rolling his eyes- and with difficulty, glaring at Derek at the same time. What? He couldn't help it. The dude was naturally suspicious.

"Why are you walking alone in the cold- far away from your house?" Derek asked, leaning away and crossing his arms. The dude didn't sound angry- but you never know what emotion a person permits right before they slaughter an innocent plaid-fanatic teen.

"I'm walking home from work." Stiles made it sound like it was the most obvious thing in the world, rolling his eyes and looking at Derek like he was stupid.

Why did the dude care anyway? It wasn't like they'd ever actually spoken outside of the supernatural.

But…Stiles had often thought what it would actually be like if they did.

Turns out it's fucking annoying as Hell.

"You have a job?" Derek raised an eyebrow- and did that little 'I am better than thou' smirk he always used when he thought he was being funny.

"Yes Derek I have a job- I'm a waiter at Café Beacon. Now, I'm walking home- If you don't mind." Stiles stressed- annoyed. He had no time for werewolf bullshit tonight. The Friday shift had taken a lot out of him. He was cold, and tired- and Derek smelled nice. Wait that- the last one was a good thing…never mind.

Derek frowned, looking like he was trying to figure a puzzle out.

"Why aren't you driving home in your Jeep then? It's a long way to walk."…was that a question? Like, actually conversation? Not involving threats? Hallelujah! A miracle!

"I walk to save gas money." Stiles mumbled, looking down at his toes as he felt his cheeks heat in embarrassment.

It wasn't like he was ashamed of their situation, but he'd seen Derek's loft…that place had to have cost some serious dough. And Derek wasn't someone who wouldn't use this against him.

"I- so you're walking to save money?" Derek asked…he didn't sound mocking. Actually, he sounded quiet- uncomfortable, like he was in a crappy situation.

Stiles nodded, not feeling like getting angry- he was too tired.

"In the cold?"

Another nod.

"On your own?"

More nodding, yay!

Derek nodded himself, looking decisive.

"Yep, okay- you're coming with me." And at that- he gripped Stiles by the hood and dragged him towards the Camaro.

'Woh, woh, woh! Hey! I'll shout kidnap!" Stiles warned, and started fighting as Derek pulled him towards the car.

The dude just huffed and rolled his eyes.

"I'll- I- Scott'll kill you! And Dad! And…uh, I don't really know if banshees can, like, kill people or not- But Lyds will get Aiden to kill you! So you better let me go!"

All the while Stiles was complaining, Derek didn't really seem to mind- already having put the boy in the passenger seat and clicked on the seatbelt.

Stiles would've tried harder to fight, of course…but the dude was a freaking werewolf and in his case- mind was better than body. So, protesting was the better option.

"You know! Killing me will be totally bad for your soul!" Stiles reminded, as Derek hopped in and started up the engine.

"I mean- just look what it did to Peter- the dude is freaking creepy and-"

"Stiles, I'm not going to kill you." Derek sighed- not taking his eyes off of the road as he started to pull out and drive.

He's…not?

"Oh. Okay." Stiles mumbled- staring at Derek warily.

Derek sighed loudly, and quite dramatically.

"I'm taking you home- before you get hypothermia." He stated.

Ohhh!

That…actually made sense.

"Is this, like- some kind of plan to get all goody-goody with Scott, by- like, helping his best friend or something?" Stiles asked- confused.

Derek snorted and shook his head.

"I'm pretty sure Scott wouldn't fall for something as cheap as that. Besides- Scott's naturally trusting- if I wanted to be 'goody-goody' with him- I already would be." Derek was smirking.

"Uhh- then why aren't you? You know- true Alpha is a good connection to have and all." Stiles muttered, staring at Derek as he drove.

"I don't want to force a friendship Stiles. Besides, we already have an alliance of sorts- and that's all I ask for." Derek went silent, just watching the road.

Huh. Well, Stiles guessed Scott and Derek did kind of have and alliance…and him too. Whenever trouble arose- they always seemed to end out fighting it together anyway- no-matter the trust issues.

Stiles sat a while, watching the houses pass by and thought to himself about all the things they'd gone through together.

They stayed silent for a few moments- before Derek spoke again.

"Stiles?" He asked. His voice wasn't rough, or demanding- or heartbreakingly sad like all the voices Stiles was used to using. It was soft, almost wary.

"Yeah?" Stiles answered, using a lighter tone than one he'd usually use with Derek- sensing the topic they were going into was gonna be a serious one.

"Why did you get a job? And why are you worried about saving money on gas?"

That…that question was what Stiles was hoping to avoid with people like Derek.

He told Scott, Lydia, Allison, Isaac and the rest…but some of the kids at school would've picked on him for it…and he didn't know whether or not Derek would too.

It was Stiles' turn to sigh long and loud.

Whatever- if Derek picked on him- he'd just hire the twins to go and beat him up.

"I uh…My dad and I have to pay the bank back for mum's medical bills-" Derek eyebrows shot up, "And plus all of the jeep repairs that have happened the past year- and the fact that being a county sheriff doesn't actually pay much…we've had to…Uhh, cut back on some stuff. And I've had to get a job."

Stiles sunk down in the leather seat- waiting for the wolf's response.

"Is your mum in hospital somewhere?" Derek asked, sounding soft- but his hands were gripping the steering wheel tight.

Stiles cleared his throat- feeling a wave of grief and memories flood him- but pushed them down…considering the present company.

"N-no. She-she, ahh, died when I was eight…" Derek's face grew sad, accepting? Huh- Stiles really wouldn't have thought the dude would've cared.

"We just…had a lot of loans...you know, to pay for. So yeah." Stiles finished weakly- feeling like he was opening up too much. Like he should go back- zip his mouth shut. Reboot. Restart. Shut up.

Derek nodded sadly…and, not in the mean sarcastic way Peter would have either. Like- genuinely.

"I'm sorry." Derek stated softly, and Stiles found himself wondering how he ever thought this man was capable of harming him.

Huh...

Sageandmilk:

So, due to the comments:
Toby shall be back!
Odette and the fairies shall be back!
Yaaay!
But...not in this chapter :(