I already had this chapter in the works when I posted the last so I decided to finish this and post. This chapter actually made me a little sad towards the end.

Disclaimer: I own nothing!

Chapter 10: Regret and Admissions

"Stiles, Derek! You up here?" Scott called, tapping lightly on Derek's bedroom door, pushing into the small space. He found the pair sprawled across Derek's bed, books and comics open across their knees, Stiles glancing at one under his top comic every few seconds. "Hey, just wanted to make sure your family didn't sew you together or something equally crazy." He almost missed the fact that Stiles was wearing a pair of Derek's sweatpants, and they'd somehow exchanged shirts. "So, what happened after Laura took Malia and me home?"

The pair pointedly refused to look at each other. "We went to bed, and then Derek had an existential crisis this morning," Stiles said conversationally, snapping the book he'd been glancing at shut and readjusting a plain silver ring on a thick chain around his neck, tucking it beneath his shirt.

"I was not having an existential crisis," Derek snarled, shoving Stiles off the bed. Getting up, he went in search of a relatively clean pair of pants.

"Yes, you were. I came up here after talking to your mom and you were all wide-eyed and freaking out," Stiles quipped back, searching for his own pants.

Scott kicked them at his face with a laugh. "Danny's looking for you, said you weren't answering your phone, and Malia wants to know if you guys want to go play paintball. She invited the others, and even Lydia agreed."

"Uh, that might perhaps be because I lost my phone somewhere around three in the morning?" Stiles said, struggling to pull his pants over his still rather sore hips. He growled, jerking at the material.

"Maybe it's shoved up your ass like your head," Derek shot at him, stripping off his pants and pulling on the ones he'd found.

Sitting up and turning to Derek, he said with the straightest face he possessed, "There were things shoved up my ass last night, but we both know none of them were my phone or my head. I may be flexible, but not that flexible."

Derek's ears blushed an entirely new shade of red. If he'd been anywhere near Stiles, he would have demonstrated exactly how flexible Stiles could be, and not in any good way.

"Are we going to go, or not?" Scott suddenly cut in, discomfort washing over him, "Because Malia, Laura, and Cora are waiting downstairs, and I'm not looking to piss any of them off. I quite like my privates where they are."

Stiles turned a blinding smile onto his best friend. "So will the girlfriend you'll have in the next couple years, or year."

"Harry Potter's underpants, I'm leaving. It's too early for innuendo slinging," Scott said quickly, throwing in the metaphorical towel, and escaping from the room before anything more could be said.

"It's never too early for innuendo slinging!" Stiles shouted after him, falling sideways back to the floor as he leaned towards the door. "Wimp, can't handle my innuendo game."

"Stiles," Derek snapped sternly, standing over him.

"Yes?" Stiles asked sweetly, grinning too widely.

"Never say that again. It sounds stupid."

"Aw, come on! I'm being trendy!"

"Be trendy in some other way that's not stupid."

Sticking out his bottom lip in a childish pout, Stiles grumbled, "You're no fun."

Derek dropped to his knees beside Stiles, leaning over him with a smirk curling across his lips. "You weren't saying that last night."

With the raise of an eyebrow, Stiles propped himself up to meet Derek's mouth. "No, I wasn't," he agreed, grinning into the kiss. They were well on their way to having to find their clothes on the floor again when Cora's voice echoed to them from down the hallway.

"You guys are fucking disgusting! Stilinski, you have a boyfriend! Derek, stop being a home wreaker!" she screeched, breaking them apart with a hard roll of their eyes, "We can hear everything you two are doing, and if I have to hear someone's tongue being shoved down someone else's throat one more time, I'm going to vomit and then we're going to leave you to clean it up!"

"We're coming!" Derek shouted back irritably, pulling Stiles to his feet. He shoved his shoes on, then took off down the hall, taking the stairs three at a time to plow into Cora. They went rolling into the living room, snarling and snapping their teeth at each other like puppies.

"Yo, don't hurt each other! We haven't even started the game yet!" Laura shot at the pair.

Stiles descended the stairs quickly, grinning at everyone. Laura wrinkled her nose at him. "What's that nasty look for?" Stiles asked defensively.

"Nothing, but I'm going to spray you with the cologne I have in the car. I don't want two people smelling like my brother in such close proximity to me," Laura told him distastefully, jerking open the door and heading towards the car.

Stiles gaped after her, and even Scott's laugh barely registered in the back of his mind. "What the holy hell is wrong with this family?!" he shouted, darting after her.

…..

"What is it?" Danny murmured, nuzzling the top of Stiles' head as they watched the movie play across the white screen. They were parked in the middle at the drive-in theater sitting in the back of Danny's truck, a blanket draped around them. Stiles was pressed back into Danny's chest, absorbing every type of Danny's warmth. "You've been very quiet all night. Is something wrong?"

Stiles shifted off one of the many bruises he'd sustained throughout the day full of paintball games, trying to find a more comfortable position to sit. "I guess," he started slowly, "I'm feeling a bit guilty. A lot guilty. And sitting here with you like something didn't happen makes me feel all the more guilty. I'm sorry."

"You haven't told me what you did yet, so why are you apologizing?" Danny asked, picking at a spot of neon blue paint Stiles had missed while showering.

"Because it's despicable, and I don't want you to hate me even though you have every right to," Stiles muttered, hiking the blanket up against his nose.

Danny was silent for a moment, combing his fingers almost lovingly through Stiles' hair. He smiled softly. "You actually slept with him, didn't you?" he asked, resting his chin on Stiles' head so he couldn't turn to look at him. He wasn't angry, just sad for some reason.

Stiles still tried to twist around. "I'm really sorry. Please don't hate me. I know that cheaters are the worst, but I don't want you to see me like you see your ex. I'd try to make the excuse that I was drunk, but that's a really shitty excuse because you still know right from wrong when intoxicated, and I knew what I was doing. I'm so sorry."

Objectively, Danny knew he had the right to feel betrayed, to be angry, but he also knew that he'd been bringing this down upon himself when he'd decided to date Stiles. Manipulating people's emotions had to have a price, and he supposed that growing feeling for Stiles and then have them crushed was the price. "It's alright, Stiles, I don't see you like my ex and I don't hate you. I'm not angry."

"What? Really? Why? You should hate me. You should be screaming and possibly cursing me. You have every right to. Why aren't you?" Stiles twisted around in Danny's arms, scanning over his face. Realization dawned like a blow to the stomach. "Oh my god, you know it would happen. Why? How?!"

Danny, still smiling, placed a quick kiss across Stiles' lips. "Because you two share a bed nearly every night. It was bound to happen eventually with the way you two eye-fuck each other when even people are looking."

"Why didn't you try to stop it?"

"Because you sleep the best when Derek is in your bed," Danny sighed, staring over Stiles' shoulder at the Sheriff and Melissa McCall walking by. Stiles tracked them with little interest, hands gripping the front of Danny's shirt. "When you don't sleep, you look like hell, like you could drop dead from some unknown disease at any time. It hurts me to see you like that, that's why I let it go. I'm happier when you're healthy and happy."

Stiles bit his bottom lip. "I would… stop if you asked me to. I don't think I'd have the strength to let someone I cared about –you- sleep with another person. I would stop if you asked me."

Danny shook his head quickly. "Don't do that. I don't want you to go back to looking like you'd keel over. Just… keep the sex to a minimum… to zero if you two can swing it. Unless you two are up for a threesome, then we might negotiate."

Stiles gaped at Danny, eyes wide, mouth flopped open. "Seriously?" he squeaked.

Rolling his eyes, Danny pressed Stiles' mouth closed. "No, you dork. I don't want to intrude on your guys' –hopefully- nonexistent sex life as much as I don't want him intruding on ours."

"Oh," Stiles murmured, then grinned. "I'll tell Derek that we can't do stuff like that."

"We'll see how long that lasts," Danny said with a roll of his eyes.

Stiles pressed a kiss to Danny's mouth. "Have a little faith."

…..

Stiles was sitting at the kitchen table in the dark when his father walked through the front door. A bar of light cut across his face and the cookie sticking out of his mouth, but the Sheriff didn't see him. When the door shut, cutting off the light, Stiles said into the darkness, "So, I saw you and Scott's mom at the drive-in earlier. Care to explain why you're so late?" He flipped on an LED flashlight, illuminating the Sheriff's face.

"Shit!" the Sheriff groaned, rubbing at his forehead, "Stiles, what the hell are you doing? You nearly gave me a heart attack, and shut off the flashlight."

"I'm asking the questions," Stiles said sternly, but flicked the light towards the light switch.

"I didn't realize you and Danny had gone to the drive-in for your date," Stilinski said, flipping on the kitchen light. He grabbed a beer from the fridge before taking a seat and a cookie.

Stiles pursed his lips. "Avoiding the question. Useful tact, but it won't divert my focus."

"How was your date?" the Sheriff asked anyway, leaning back in his chair, watching his son.

Stiles had been sure to cover any hickeys he'd sustained from Danny and Derek, unlike his father who probably didn't even know of their little purple existence on his neck. "Good, very good, what about yours?" He smiled broadly.

"It wasn't… a date. It was an… outing," Stilinski said slowly, measuring his words, but he was getting flustered, and he couldn't rightly stop that.

"You mean foreplay," Stiles said simply. At the utter shock and internal screaming on his father's face, Stiles laughed. "Kidding, kidding, but honestly Dad, if you and Madame McCall are doing the do and dating, I'm okay with it. You should be happy, and she's an awesome person. It'd be great for Scott to actually be my brother."

"Whoa! Slow down there, Stiles! It was just one date," the Sheriff said quickly, ears coloring with a soft flush.

"Dad, I'm fifteen-years-old, not blind. I know you guys have been seeing each other longer than that," Stiles pointed out, "The house is clean, the cookies, Madame McCall's two and a half hour disappearance… should I go on? Honestly, has she been coming out here every weekend?"

The Sheriff groaned, running his hands down his face. "I don't have to explain myself to anyone, let alone my fifteen-year-old son."

Stiles simply raised an eyebrow at him.

"Fine, have it your way. Yes, we have been seeing each other. Yes, she's been coming out most weekends."

"Really?" Stiles asked, the other eyebrow joining the first, "That was just a wild guess. Wait, how has she been getting over here? She can't be flying each time, and a broomstick only goes so fast."

The Sheriff shook his head. "No, she's been practicing apparating. Still… uh, what is it called, spl- splashing? No. Slicing? No. Uh…"

"Splicing? You almost had it."

"Yeah, that. She still splices herself a lot. I still haven't scrubbed all of the blood out of the entryway carpet from last time." They were quiet, simply surveying each other. "Happy now?"

"Very. A cookie?" Stiles asked, offering his father the plate, one already shoved in his mouth.

The Sheriff reached over, taking a handful before Stiles could slap them out of his hand. "Thanks. So, your date with Danny."

Rolling his eyes, Stiles set the plate down. "I said a cookie, not a baker's dozen. And I already told you, it was fine. Jackson didn't try to interrupt us, like the first date we had, and I didn't get turned into a squirrel, like the last date we had."

"Someone turned you into a squirrel?"

Stiles waved his hand through the air nonchalantly. "Some Fifth Year pissed off that Lydia and then I wouldn't help him ace his O.W.L.s, or more rightly, screw him after studying. It's hard being rejected by two very attractive people younger than you in the same day. Contrary to popular belief, 'It won't suck itself,' is not a proper response to being rejected. Lydia almost turned the guy inside out when she learned that he went to me and pulled that shit. She was pissed. It was glorious."

"What kind of school did I send you to?" Stilinski said with just a dash of disbelief.

"A magical one with magical teenage hormones…" Stiles trailed off, worrying at a sleeve cuff. Finally, he blurted, "Dad, if someone cheats on you, do you think you should be pissed at them and break up with them? Or do you think it's possible to forgive them?"

"Did Danny cheat on you?" the Sheriff asked sharply.

"No…" Stiles mumbled, regret and shame pulling his eyes to his hands.

"Did you… cheat on Danny?"

"Yes…" Stiles whispered, voice growing smaller.

The Sheriff closed his eyes, and sighed deeply. "I thought I'd taught you better. If Danny isn't angry with you, I can't do anything about it, but I hope you know I am deeply disappointed in you." Standing, he took his beer and the plate of cookies, and headed for the living room.

"I know," Stiles muttered, staying in his seat and wishing simply that he could rewind the twenty-four hours and reverse what he'd done.

…..

Stiles trudged up to his bedroom, pushing open the door quietly. He slipped through the crack, pressing his back against the door and sliding down it once inside. "My dad hates me," he whispered, pressing his face into his knees. A sob shook his shoulders that he could just barely quiet.

"Stiles?" Derek's whispered suddenly from across the room, climbing through his open window, "Stiles, what's wrong? What happened?"

Lifting his head, Stiles watched through a sheen of tears as Derek moved towards him, the light of the nearly full moon playing across his form. His eyes glowed steel blue, scanning over him in the dark. "Derek," he whispered, chin quavering.

Dropping down in front of him, Derek ran a gentle hand over Stiles' cheek. "What happened? Why are you crying?" he asked, leaning closer.

Stiles bit his lower lip, staring at him. "I'm a terrible person," he whispered, eyes narrowed against the burning of his eyes, "And my father hates me. I don't want him to hate me, but I can't take back what I did. I don't know what to do."

"It's going to be alright, don't worry. I'm sure your father doesn't hate you. He loves you. You're his family," Derek tried to reason, pulling Stiles up and into his arms. He steered them towards the bed, pushing him down to sit.

Stiles shook his head. "You can love your family and not like them at all. You didn't see the look on his face."

"No, I didn't, but if there's one thing I am sure about, it's that your father could never hate you. There is nothing in this world that could make your father hate you."

"You don't know that."

"I do. You just have to trust me on this one, alright?" Derek told him, sitting on the bed beside him, "You should go to sleep. When you wake up in the morning, everything will have blown over. You just need to sleep."

Stiles stared at Derek, unable to stop the tears from slipping down his cheeks. He knew what he should do, but he could already feel his heart breaking. "Derek," he whispered, bringing the other's attention to him, "I think… I think you… I think you need to go."

Derek's eyebrows pulled together, confusion filling his blue eyes. "What? I don't understand. I thought…"

"No, Derek, I- I need you to leave. I can't- I don't want- You shouldn't be here. I'm sorry, but I need you to go," Stiles whispered, voice wavering.

"That… sounded like a lie. Stiles, why are you lying to me?" Derek asked, staring at him, hurt beginning to take over the confusion.

"I'm- I'm not! I'm not lying! I just need you to go!" Stiles sobbed, stumbling up and away from his bed, rubbing away the tears on his cheeks only for more to take their place.

"I don't understand," Derek said, standing and reaching for Stiles.

Stiles jerked away from him. "You don't have to. Leave. Just leave, okay."

Scowling, Derek turned on a heel, climbing out the window. "Fine, whatever, I don't need the truth, see what I care when you wake up screaming."

"Derek," Stiles started, reaching for him, regret forcing him forward.

"No, you want me to leave. I'm leaving. Have a nice summer," Derek growled and was gone.

Stiles dropped to his knees, staring at his window. As his sobs became harder, filling the room, and his father came rushing in, he heard the lonely cry of a wolf in the woods.

Well, that's a depressing turn of events that I didn't mean to happen. Yeah… so, see you next chapter. Hopefully it won't take me too long. One question though, do you guys want Allison to come in this upcoming year or in sixth year. I have plans for the both years because I'm not sure which to choose, but my original plan was for her to come in during sixth year.