He was too emotionally spent to settle into sleep on the road back. Stiles thought that even with everything this was the worst part of it all. His own body betraying him without good reason. There were still some snacks on the console between them, a Mountain Dew and a half, but Stiles felt sort of queasy just thinking about them. If he threw up in the car Derek would probably make him ride in the trunk. The thought nearly made him smile. Derek didn't talk and Stiles didn't either. The silence felt heavy and weird but then again Stiles had a complete mental breakdown. He supposed if it didn't feel weird something would be seriously wrong. After an hour and a half he flicked the radio on. Derek's lips thinned but he didn't say anything. Stiles finally settled on classic rock, turned it down enough to be background noise, and leaned into the seat again.
"Thank god you don't like country," Derek said eventually.
"You're talking to me," Stiles noted, "not growling. I must have really freaked you out."
"I'm not good with people," Derek admitted after one of his trademark silences.
"Yeah well," Stiles snuck a glance at him before looking back out the window, "I'm not normally like that." Stiles wasn't normally like that. When he was upset he covered it up. He cracked a joke or just didn't talk at all. He didn't cry, he didn't break down, he didn't lose it. They lapsed into silence again and Stiles let his fingers drum on the arm rest to the beat of the music. It was finally enough to distract him.

He was disoriented when he woke up. It was dark and for the life of him Stiles couldn't remember falling asleep. At some point he must have though because now he was in a bed. He took a moment to desperately hope that a) everything was a dream or b) he'd at least woken up enough to stumble into bed and couldn't remember it. There was a sinking feeling that neither was true. He was in a small room with white walls, a white dresser in the far corner. There was a huge window to his right, a closed door opposite it on his left. He'd managed to twist the sheet around both legs and disentangled himself before getting out of bed. His sneakers were off, on the floor at the foot of the bed, but everything else was just as he'd left it. That drew a sigh of relief from Stiles' lips. Small miracles. He opened the door slowly, peeking out into the darkened hallway. He was guessing it was nighttime, beyond that he had no idea. There was a door to his left before the hall ended and Stiles headed for it, hoping for a bathroom. It was a bathroom, complete with a modern shower and a peach sink. Stiles froze in the doorway, doing a double take. There was still wallpaper in torn streaks on the walls, as if someone had tried to take it down by hand, and what was left was peach to match the sink, white lines crisscrossing it in a plaid pattern. He was surprised again looking to the floor and seeing dark blue tiles. He shook his head as he padded across them. This house, it had to be Derek's, was weird. He noticed drips of white paint on the side of the sink as he flushed the toilet, white droplets on the corner of it too. So Derek had painted his room white? Stiles shook his head again. The guy was weird and that was pretty much all Stiles knew about him. Maybe he shouldn't be surprised by this house.

His stomach rumbled painfully and he turned off the faucet before wiping his hands on his thighs and heading back down the hall. There was a thin staircase just past the bedroom and Stiles took a deep breath before descending. The first floor was unimpressive. The front door was at the base of the stairs, curtain covered windows to the right extending into the 'living room' which only contained a sofa. One sofa. No coffee table. No TV. Not even a lamp. Luckily Stiles had hit the switch by the door on the way past and could see into the kitchen. As expected, it was tiny. Cabinets were cut in half by a sink and window in the middle of the back wall. A fridge was to his left, unexpectedly it was giant. An ancient dinosaur of an appliance. To his right the wall was cut into to make room for the staircase. Beneath it was a door. Stiles guessed it led to a garage, which he was certainly not interested in right now. He turned around and sank down on the couch before drumming his fingers on his thigh. Evidently Derek wasn't here. Stiles wondered where he was as he tried to rectify this house with the building he'd first been in. This house was old and obviously neglected. The building he'd been in was clean and modern, complete with a camera system. Or maybe it didn't have one…maybe someone had simply followed him to give him his shoes. That was possible too. They were werewolves he reminded himself. Maybe they could track his scent. That was kind of creepy. It also made escape even more impossible. Was he even still thinking about escape? No. Surely not. He was miles and miles away from civilization. And he had managed to talk to his dad so he should know Stiles was okay. He sighed and ran a hand over his face. His stomach grumbled again and for a moment it was enough to calm his mind down to one stream of thought. Derek wasn't here. He needed food. Stiles pushed off the couch and headed back into the kitchen.

The fridge held a gallon of milk that was almost empty and what was left of his Mountain Dews. Stiles groaned before trying the freezer which was completely empty. Next were the cabinets. A few dishes, as in hardly any, and in the cabinets closest to the door were what was left of his stash and the bag of his clothes from Goodwill. Stiles groaned again. He wanted food. Real actual food. He wanted his dad's special chili that was hot enough to burn your teeth out of your mouth. As soon as he got home he was getting his dad to make it for him, whatever it took. As it was he groaned again and let his head smack into the cabinet door. Okay. He could figure this out. What the hell did Derek eat? Air? He nearly groaned again. It didn't matter what Derek ate. He could eat raw squirrel for all Stiles knew. Even the disgust that thought brought wasn't enough to quell his sudden hunger. Okay he could figure this out. He was in a settlement full of werewolves. Someone had to be willing to feed him. Maybe they had campfire cookouts or something. Didn't people do that out in the woods? He rolled his eyes quickly before grabbing the bag from Goodwill. He could at least put on some regular clothes first. Stripping out of the thin pants and t-shirt was a relief and Stiles replaced them with jeans, a t-shirt with a target on it, and a green plaid shirt. Of course it occurred to him then that he only had one pair of boxers, which he didn't recognize. He groaned. Not another shopping trip.
"Okay focus," he muttered to himself. He couldn't see a hamper so he balled the clothes he'd taken off up and left them at the foot of the bed. The bag with the rest of his clothes went on the bed and he pulled on his shoes before heading back downstairs.

There weren't any streetlights. Stiles supposed they could see in the dark too. He snorted quickly. They probably could. There was enough light coming from houses around him to see so Stiles started making his way back to the center of the settlement. Thunder rumbled overhead and Stiles walked a bit faster, half wondering where he was going. There seemed to be a lot more houses now that he was walking through the settlement on foot. Rain came out of nowhere and Stiles stopped wondering, he just ran. He only made it a few more feet before his eyes widened and he stopped suddenly in the pouring rain, staring at the diner. It was an actual diner. In a werewolf settlement. Thunder rumbled again and Stiles ran towards it. Two men inside, a slim brunette on a stool and a hulk of a blonde behind the counter, turned at his approach. Stiles resisted the urge to shake off and squeaked across the floor. "Okay," he breathed, "so I don't have money but I am willing to wash dishes for food." The huge blonde laughed loudly, flinging his rag over his shoulder.
"You're Hale's boy aren't you?" Stiles flushed at the identifier before nodding.
"Yeah I guess."
"Aiden," the blonde said, pointing to the other man, "I'm Shane. You don't need any money." Stiles grinned broadly.
"I don't? Fantastic." He swung onto a stool, which started spinning underneath his weight. "What do you have?" he questioned as he spun around. He made it a circuit and a half before grabbing the counter to stop. He waved at Aiden who was watching him with a thin smile. "Hi, I'm Stiles."

Shane set a menu down in front of Stiles which he ignored. "Do you have anything ready now?" he questioned, trying not to sound too eager.
"Hale feeding you?" Aiden questioned.
"I couldn't find any food in the house," Stiles explained with half a shrug. His knee started jerking as he looked back and forth between the men. "I'm really glad this diner is here though. God it smells really good in here too." Shane laughed again.
"Maybe I should have actually tried to claim you," he said, shaking his head. Stiles' knee went still as his jaw dropped.
"What?"
"In the woods," Shane explained easily, "I thought you might have been hurt so I stopped to check on you. But then Hale showed up and man was he pissed. I figured it was best to get gone."
"That was you?" Stiles demanded. Shane laughed again and Stiles smiled despite the strange conversation.
"That was me. I'm gonna grab you some chili, be right back."
"I'm gonna head out Shane," Aiden said, eyes flashing ocher. His lips were pressed thin and he slid from the stool and rushed out the door before Shane had responded.
"Is he okay?" Stiles asked, a shiver running over his skin.
"He'll be fine," Shane answered, smiling quickly as he turned for the kitchen door. "Be right back Stiles." Stiles heard Shane singing after a moment and smiled again before shaking his head. He couldn't help the thought. What if Shane had claimed him?

He was…happy. And nice to Stiles. Most importantly he was about to feed him. Stiles' stomach rumbled and he patted it quickly. The door swung open and Shane appeared again, grey fabric hanging off one shoulder, a tiny plate and cup cradled in one of his huge hands.
"Chili," Stiles exhaled, grinning as he watched the steam curl above the cup. Shane set it in front of him and pulled a spoon from behind the counter before setting it on the edge of the plate. He turned to the left and walked the length of the counter before rounding it.
"Here," he set the fabric over Stiles' shoulders. Stiles barely glanced at it before turning to his chili and picking up his spoon. He took a minute just to inhale; it smelled perfect, before finally digging in.
"Oh my god," he mumbled, mouth full. He fanned his free hand in front of his mouth, chewing even though it was too hot. "Ohnn, mm, so good. Oh my god. Can I live in the back," he shoved another spoonful in, "and eat the leftovers, sweet chili, please." Shane laughed.
"Come by any time you want. If I'm not out front I'm in the back room reading comics or sleeping."
"Are you serious," Stiles demanded, chili dribbling down his chin. He swiped at it, staring at Shane and trying to continue eating, nearly missing his mouth. Shane set some napkins down next to him.
"Yeah," he smiled again, "What do you want to actually eat? Burger? Fries? Spaghetti?"
"More food?" His mouth was full again. Stiles really needed to coordinate his hand and mouth better.
"You're a doused puppy," Shane offered, "I'd probably take a bullet for you right now." Stiles smiled again, barely remembering to close his mouth.
"I'll eat anything," he said before eating another bite.
"I can see that," Shane teased. "I'll get you more chili and then make something for you." He turned for the back again and Stiles looked down to see his cup of chili nearly empty.
"I love you," he called, scraping around the edge of the cup.

Between his second and his third cups of chili Stiles discovered it was a huge sweatshirt that Shane had put over him. Stiles pulled it tight and zipped the front, shoving the sleeves out of the way. He was wiping his face and cleaning up the counter when Shane set a burger and fries down in front of him.
"Figured chili and spaghetti were pretty similar," Shane offered with a shrug. "You thirsty?" he asked, smiling again. Stiles had already shoved three fries in his mouth so he nodded enthusiastically.
"Anything," he mumbled, grabbing another fry. Stiles was still hungry and he fantasized yet again about living in the back of the diner as he picked up the burger. He genuinely liked Shane and he'd known the guy for a grand total of twenty minutes. Shane rounded the counter again before setting a glass of dark soda down next to his plate. He sat, leaving a stool between them. Shane's torso was so massive another person couldn't possibly have fit between them. "So how come everybody calls Derek Hale?" Stiles questioned while his mouth was empty.
"He's kinda the black sheep here," Shane said with a quick shrug. "He's never tried to make friends so we don't really know too much about him."
"Great so he's like a werewolf hermit," Stiles sighed.
"Well you're welcome here Stiles."
"Seriously? Because I might just move in for three months." Shane laughed and Stiles chuckled too. "So wait why three months anyways?" he asked when he remembered Ross mentioning it.
"It's in time for the next mating run. If Derek doesn't make his claim on you permanent before then you two can separate."
"I guess that's something," Stiles sighed.

"Maybe things will work themselves out," Shane suggested. Stiles spiked an eyebrow before shooting him a sidelong glance.
"Are you secretly a unicorn?" Shane burst out laughing and Stiles could feel the vibration in the counter.
"Why would you say that?"
"Because you're legit the nicest person I've ever met."
"Thanks," Shane murmured. Stiles had to chuckle again.
"You would thank me just for telling the truth."
"Somebody pays you a compliment you say thank you, that's what my mom always said."
"She sounds really smart." Shane smiled before nodding.
"Half my comics were hers." Stiles let his burger drop back to the plate and grabbed a napkin, wiping his hands quickly. He turned towards Shane.
"Comics. I totally meant to ask about those. But…food. You can really cook, just by the way and I am beginning to think you should have claimed me."
"Yeah I've got tons of comics. You can come back tomorrow if you want." Stiles frowned at that.
"Tomorrow?" Shane tilted his head back and Stiles' eyes moved through the door to see Derek stalking towards it. Stiles winced quickly. "Crap he's already to Flan."
"Flan?"
"I'll have to explain later," Stiles sighed. He hopped off his stool, grabbing one more fry. Derek was to Baked Alaska by the time he yanked open the door and Stiles was starting to wonder if he had a glare past that as he jerked to a stop, shoes squelching.
"What are you doing?" he growled, eyes flashing blue as his nostrils flared. Stiles was fully prepared to launch into his story about needing food and being a growing teenage boy when he realized Derek wasn't even looking at him.

The stool creaked as Shane stood.
"No harm no foul Hale. He was cold." Derek growled. "Stiles," Shane said calmly, "my jacket please." Stiles flew into motion, yanking the zipper down and tugging it from his shoulders. "Just drop it to the floor," Shane instructed. Shivering again, more out of fear than from the temperature, Stiles let the fabric fall from his hands. Derek's eyes were glowing blue then and he stripped off his jacket before crossing to Stiles and putting it over his shoulders.
"Sorry?" Stiles whispered. Derek's hands clutched at his shoulders and his eyes flicked closed. His mouth pressed closed tightly and Stiles only noticed he wasn't breathing because of how perfectly still he was. After several moments Derek's eyes opened, the hazel color returned to normal.
"Let's go," he said very quietly. He took Stiles' hand and Stiles barely stopped himself from gasping at that. He closed his eyes quickly. It was just some wolf thing. Shane knew about it so it had to be. It was just instinctual, territorial bullshit. He followed along behind Derek, free hand holding onto the edges of the leather to keep it on him. If he dipped his nose into the collar a few times on the walk back he wouldn't admit it later. They were both drenched by the time they got back to Derek's house so Stiles was more than a little surprised when Derek didn't release his hand and in fact pulled him up the stairs without even turning a light on. He turned into the bedroom before closing the door behind them and flicking on the light. "Take off your clothes," he said before yanking his shirt off and tossing it to the floor.
"What?" Stiles squeaked, staring at him.
"I said take off your clothes," Derek snapped, "I can't have you running around stinking of another wolf."
"I'll t-take a shower," Stiles muttered, throat dry. Derek rolled his eyes.
"It doesn't work that way. Do you need help?" he added impatiently. Derek kicked off his shoes and then his hands were on the snap of his jeans. Stiles flushed before turning away, nearly falling over his pile of clothes from earlier.
"Oh my god are we having sex?" he demanded, breath catching in his chest.

"Of course not," Derek actually sounded offended at the idea. "I'll keep my boxers on just for you cupcake."
"So we're just like…cuddling?" There was a brief pause.
"Something like that I guess. I just need to get my scent into your skin." Stiles swallowed and nodded before moving his hands to the edges of Derek's jacket. He jumped when Derek's hands appeared to help him. "I'll be right back," he said, taking his jacket and leaving. Stiles dropped onto the bed and lifted his feet to pull off his shoes. He'd only managed one sock by the time Derek returned, without his jacket. "The slower you go the longer this takes," Derek said, one hand falling to a hip. Stiles had to force his eyes back off the ripples of muscle and thin trail of hair. God this was so awkward. His cheeks flushed and he yanked off his other sock, unsatisfied when throwing it only resulted in a tiny splat of sound.
"Why'd you call me cupcake?" he demanded, distracting himself from the fact that he was stripping out of his clothes.
"Flan, cupcake," Derek muttered, scratching the back of his head. Stiles had to look away again, chest tightening.
"You were listening?" The wet plaid was suddenly a lot heavier.
"I heard. I wasn't listening." It wasn't like Derek had a reason to be offended. He was the one who hadn't wanted Stiles. It wasn't Stiles' fault that Shane was the Allied Forces and Derek was the Axis of Evil. Actually Shane was more like a mix of the Hulk and Captain America. He was smiling until Derek snapped his fingers. "Seriously do you need help?" It sounded more like seriously are you mentally challenged but Stiles ignored that, pulling at the wet sleeves and finally managing to get them off his hands. He shoved the plaid shirt to the floor. "Come on stand up," Derek said, stepping closer.

Stiles swallowed again but managed the movement, yelping when Derek grasped the hem of his shirt and yanked up. He caught Stiles' chin in the collar and Stiles barely moved his arms up in time to stop the fabric from ripping.
"Maybe some warning," Stiles huffed, rubbing at his chin to soothe the sudden burn. Derek didn't respond, opening his jeans instead. Stiles jerked backwards, falling into the bed before wriggling away.
"Okay no. I can handle that." Derek crossed his arms and arched a dark brow. "You don't have to be so rude," Stiles informed him, slowly pushing his jeans off his hips. The drag of the soaked fabric was torturous. "You catch more flies with honey than vinegar."
"I have no desire to catch flies," Derek informed him dryly, rolling his hand in a 'continue' motion.
"Yeah well you're stuck with me so you might as well stop being a douche." He turned away, letting his feet fall to the floor and looking out the window. He could see the outline of Derek's silhouette there so he looked to the bottom of the window, only then noticing insulation peeking out. He wondered if Derek had put the window in himself as he lifted his hips from the edge of the mattress and finally shoved his jeans down to his knees. The bed dipped behind him as Derek climbed in and Stiles focused on getting his pants totally off before slowly looking over his shoulder.
"Come here," Derek sighed. It took an incredibly long time for Stiles to move. This was the first time Derek had really seen him without clothes. Stiles wasn't stupid, he knew he was nothing to look at. Too skinny. Too pale. Too many moles. The list went on. He tried not to notice the inherent differences in their bodies but it was impossible. Derek was broad and muscled and imposing and Stiles just looked like a cooked lasagna noodle next to him. He held his sigh in, hand picking at the sheet. Derek's hand caught his, stopping his progress. "It'll only slow it down." He couldn't stop an unhappy sound that slid out but nodded anyways.
"Yeah okay."

Once Stiles was actually laying next to Derek he nearly choked on the sigh of relief he'd been ready for. It wasn't any easier being next to him than it was moving closer to him. Derek's hand slid down his forearm slowly, rough palm drawing up gooseflesh in its wake. Stiles tried not to shudder and failed.
"Just try to stay calm," Derek breathed, leaning in even closer.
"Right I'll try not to run into the middle of town in nothing but boxers and screaming my lungs out."
"I didn't mean it like that," Derek informed him simply. His other hand reached out, pulling Stiles onto his side before running onto his back. Stiles arched closer without really meaning too, struggling for air when Derek's calf slid between his. Derek was still moving, pulling Stiles even closer before turning onto his side and then rearranging Stiles again. His hands continued even after that was done, skimming over every inch of skin available. He nudged at Stiles' chin and Stiles tilted his head back, shivering when Derek's breath ghosted over his skin. Finally Derek stilled. Stiles wasn't released as he was expecting. Instead Derek held him close just like that, bodies intertwined, the most tender part of Stiles' body right under Derek's jaw. Derek was incredibly warm and bored with waiting Stiles was just beginning to settle into sleep when Derek moved. He released Stiles and sat up before reaching for his jeans. "We shouldn't have to do it again until next week."
"Again?" Stiles demanded, drawing the sheet over himself in an effort to try and trap some heat.
"Do you want me to fuck you instead?" Derek questioned bluntly before pulling his shirt on. Stiles didn't want to stumble over his response so he said nothing. "That's what I thought," Derek muttered. "I got groceries. Your clothes are in the top drawer. I'll be on the couch." With that he picked up his shoes and left, closing the door behind him carefully. Stiles stared after him for an embarrassingly long time.

Eventually he got up to get dressed because it was cold in the room and there wasn't a blanket. Stiles was mostly sure that Derek didn't own one since he probably didn't need one. And there had been enough awkward interaction between them for the night. Along with his clothes there were two new packages of boxers, both small and medium. Stiles blushed before tearing into one of the packages and trading his damp boxers for new ones. So Derek had gone shopping for him. That was…nice. Maybe. Fully dressed Stiles got back in the bed and pulled a pillow into his arms, hugging it and sighing. He thought he should pick his clothes up and hang them up so they dried properly but at that point he was too tired. He stretched half out of the bed to flick the switch, flinging himself back in with a sigh of relief. He thought back to Shane and his promise of free food and comics, a smile fitting to his lips as he closed his eyes.

It was still dark when he woke.
"Laura!" Was that Derek? "Laur-" There was a thump from downstairs before some water ran. After a few moments it turned off and Stiles breathed again. His stomach was tight and he had to shake out his hands to get them to relax. Apparently Derek had a nightmare? Stiles supposed he shouldn't be surprised that werewolves could have them too. He rolled his eyes at himself before frowning again. But who was Laura? And why did Derek wake up screaming her name? His breathing cut off as he heard footsteps on the stairs and Stiles closed his eyes, turning away. The door swung open with only the slightest sound. No light leaked in and Stiles had to remind himself that Derek didn't need it. The door closed and footsteps went back down the stairs, quieter than before. Stiles chewed on his lip as he tried to think. Who was Laura?

A/N: Update a bit shorter than I wanted but you guys got to meet Shane! I love Shane. Ugh. Too much. And it's really late so I'm trying not to ramble.

Thank you all so much for your reviews. I will be trying to get to them! I really seriously am trying to get better..I'm just sort of mostly terminally shy. :3

Anyways, I'm going to try and keep myself writing. So hopefully updates won't be weeks apart.

Thanks again.