A knock on the door woke him. Stiles slapped hands over his ears before letting out a whiney,
"What?"
"You know it's nearly 10 AM right?"
"Nearly 10?" Stiles demanded.
"Are you getting up or not?" Stiles thought about retorting that something had woken him up in the middle of the night but changed his mind at the last second. "Do you want breakfast?" Derek questioned next. Stiles' stomach, ever ready for food, gave a growl.
"Yeah," he admitted.
"Then get out of bed and make some." Stiles rolled his eyes. He should have seen that coming.
"Yeah thanks." One good thing about going to bed dressed, all Stiles had to do was roll out. Derek's eyebrows jerked up when he pulled the door open and tried to step out, blocked by Derek's body. "You mind?" Stiles questioned, rubbing at his chin and wondering how bad his morning breath was. Judging by Derek's expression, it was pretty bad. Derek half gestured to the bathroom before turning and stomping down the stairs. Stiles rolled his eyes quickly. He hadn't even done anything.

There was a certain vindication in using Derek's toothbrush and Stiles was smiling as he walked into the kitchen, until he saw Derek bite into a strip of bacon raw. He retched and covered his mouth with both hands. "Oh my god what are you doing?" Derek spared him a glance before rolling it along his fingertips and tossing it into his mouth. Stiles retched again, closing his eyes. Raw squirrel wasn't far off. Who knew. "That is so wrong," he exhaled, "so wrong."
"I always burn it," Derek said, as if the answer was simple.
"So you just don't cook it?" Stiles turned for the fridge almost desperately. He wasn't sure which sin was worse. Burnt bacon or raw bacon.
"You're the only one complaining."
"I'm the only one who knows," Stiles corrected, yanking open the fridge door, "there is a difference." He grabbed the gallon of milk and turned cautiously. "A huge difference," he emphasized. Derek rolled his eyes. "Did you get Pop-Tarts?" he questioned, a smile pulling at his lips just at the thought.
"Did I get Pop-whats?" Derek demanded, brow furrowing. Stiles' face fell.
"You are so ancient," he complained again. "You know I can't eat raw bacon right? I could die."
"Can't you cook?" Stiles debated if toaster skills counted. Probably not.
"Do you even own a skillet?" he questioned instead.
"There's one in the garage…I think."
"How do you live? Oh my god you don't even have a microwave." He took a step back and let his head fall against the fridge. "What do you eat? Seriously?"
"I don't generally stay in." Stiles unscrewed the cap of the milk before taking a swig. Derek winced and crossed his arms over his chest.
"I hate to say this," Stiles muttered, running the back of his hand over his mouth, "but we need to go shopping."

Shockingly, Derek didn't argue. At all. Instead he pulled a cell phone from his back pocket and dialed, still looking at Stiles.
"Hey Sarah," he said pleasantly, lips half smiling, "can you cover my class for today?" Stiles stared at him as he took another swig of milk, tongue sweeping out to catch a rivulet that had escaped. Derek grimaced and turned away. "No, no," he said, "I'm fine. Just had some…things come up." He paused, evidently listening. "Thursday? Sure." Another pause. Derek laughed and Stiles nearly dropped the milk. "Yeah, sounds good. Thanks Sarah." He hung up and turned around. Stiles tried to look busy capping the milk.
"You teach?" Stiles questioned. Derek rolled his eyes. Obviously. "What do you teach on Sundays?"
"Tai Chi." Stiles' jaw dropped.
"What?"
"It's a form of exercise."
"I know what it is," Stiles huffed, "I just can't…you teach Tai Chi? What is this?"
"No one else wanted to take it," Derek said, rolling his eyes again.
"Yeah but you're so…" he curled the fingers on his free hand mid air, "rawr all the time. I can't see you being a teacher."
"Thanks for the input. Are we going shopping?" Stiles pushed off the fridge and replaced the milk before turning back to Derek and mock bowing.
"Apologies Sensei. I am ready now." That earned him a glare that was close to Flan and Stiles had to stifle his chuckle.
"Don't you have three plates of food to devour first?"
"Ooh can we get breakfast at the diner?"
"No," Derek said immediately. Stiles frowned.
"Why not? We can't cook here…"
"It's not a good idea cupcake." Stiles rolled his eyes.
"Why?"
"I'm not sitting you down and explaining to you how everything works around here. Are you eating before we leave or not?"
"You don't even have a skillet!" Stiles exhaled, running a hand over his hair.
"I'll go find it," Derek spat.

Stiles was terribly tempted to let him go. Instead he blew out a sigh.
"Just forget it," he said, "we can hit a drive-thru on the way to Walla Walla."
"We're not going to Walla Walla," Derek returned.
"Why?"
"Because I'm driving and I said so."
"Oh you just reek of maturity don't you?"
"I don't reek of anything, unlike you."
"Wasn't the whole point of the scenting thing for me to reek of you? So if I reek you certainly reek." Derek's jaw clenched and for just a second Stiles thought he was going to fire back. Instead he said,
"Get in the car." Stiles was tempted to mock bow again but he knew he shouldn't push his luck. Derek already seemed…off this morning. He turned through the kitchen doorway and crossed the living room, yelping when Derek caught his shoulder at the door and leaned in. There was a long drag of breath against the back of his neck and Stiles froze perfectly. It was another long moment before Derek released him. "Guess you do reek of me," he exhaled simply. Stiles couldn't help a tiny shiver.
"Glad it wasn't for nothing," he managed; tongue only tangling in his teeth for a second. He pulled open the door, glad of the blinding sunlight. After a few blinks he saw the approaching figures of Ross and Shane. Stiles' stomach dropped.
"Mr. Stilinski," Ross smiled, folding his hands in front of him.
"Hi," Stiles managed, looking to Shane as he stopped just behind Ross. Shane wasn't looking at him though. He was either looking at Derek or staring off into space.
"Mr. Hale," Ross continued, "Mr. Turner has informed me of the occurrence yesterday. How would you like to deal with it?"
"I wasn't aware it needed dealt with," Derek responded. Stiles knew just by his tone he did not want to see Derek's expression.
"We can issue a restraint," Ross offered. Stiles' stomach dropped further. That did not sound good. Shane looked pained for a second and then it was gone.

"Wait, wait," Stiles broke in. "Is this about the sweatshirt? Seriously?"
"I'm afraid it's a bit more than that Mr. Stilinski."
"He was just being nice to me," Stiles argued. He didn't want to mention the fact that if Derek had been around Stiles wouldn't have been out in the first place, but if he had to he would. "If you're going to punish him you have to punish me too." If Ross was surprised by the statement he didn't show it.
"Stiles don't," Shane murmured, glancing to him briefly.
"You gave me a sweatshirt. I didn't have to accept it."
"You were unaware of the implications Mr. Stilinski." Stiles scoffed, wishing his hair was long enough to pull on.
"No one should be punished for being nice. He was just trying to look out for me. If anything you guys should be thanking him. What happens if I end up sick in bed with pneumonia? Derek's going to bring me chicken noodle soup? I doubt it!"
"You would be taken to the infirmary, of course," Ross murmured, smiling again.
"Oh well wouldn't that just be fantastic then? Then Derek could just go off and pretend he never even claimed me and I would be tucked away somewhere behind a curtain. Wouldn't everyone just be thrilled?" Stiles had to stop for air and he suddenly realized how tense all three wolves were around him. He'd probably just crossed all sorts of lines dealing with their laws or traditions or whatever they even had. "Okay so I probably shouldn't have said that," he admitted rapidly. "But just…don't punish Shane. He was being nice. Tell me what to do and I'll do it just don't punish him."
"I'm afraid the decision belongs to Mr. Hale." All the fight drained out of Stiles at that. Derek wasn't going to do him any favors, especially right now. His shoulders sagged and he sighed. When Shane glanced to him, one shoulder twitching in what might have been a shrug Stiles bit at his cheek before mumbling,
"I'm sorry." He was. He'd never meant to get Shane in trouble. This was all hideously unfair.

"Tell me nothing was happening," Derek said slowly, "just tell me that. Tell me you were purely worried about his health and we're done here."
"Nothing was happening," Shane murmured carefully. Stiles smiled for a split second, freezing as Derek snarled and Ross winced.
"A week Ramsey."
"Wait what?" Stiles questioned, neck craning as he looked to Derek. Derek was definitely in Baked Alaska and Stiles flinched when Derek grabbed him. There wasn't even a chance to say anything to Shane or Ross as he was dragged in the direction of Derek's car. "He said nothing was happening!" Stiles tried to protest.
"He lied," Derek snarled, shoving him against the passenger door.
"What…" Shane lied? "Does he…like me?" Stiles questioned slowly, totally unaware of the effect the words would have.
"Get in the goddamn car, right now!" Stiles scrambled to obey, heart hammering doubly in his chest. He only managed one more glance to Shane as they left. His fists were clenched at his sides as he looked down to his feet, one of Ross' hands on his shoulder. Something in Stiles' chest wriggled uncomfortably and he threw himself into the seat before crossing his arms.
"You didn't have to do that," he gritted, "what the hell is a restraint anyways?"
"Buckle up," Derek bit out in response.
"You don't even like me!" Stiles protested as he lifted one hand and buckled in with short, jerky motions. Derek didn't respond to that at all and Stiles huffed before crossing his arms again.

Stiles couldn't leave it at that. Words were tugging at his lips and burning on his tongue and he just couldn't keep them in. "I can't believe you're doing this," he exhaled. "He was helping me. Even if there was something there aren't you supposed to be self sacrificing and realize he was looking out for me? Instead of this alpha male bullshit?"
"This is not up for discussion." Stiles gritted his teeth and groaned.
"You are absolutely unbelievable!" Derek slammed on the breaks so suddenly the entire car groaned.
"I have to mark my territory. Had I wanted to be unnecessarily cruel I could have demanded a battle for rights."
"A what?" Stiles demanded.
"A battle for rights. For the claim over you. They rarely end without a death." He glanced to Derek before rolling his eyes.
"Shane's like twice the size of you. Don't try to tell me you would win that battle and you're doing him a favor."
"Shane can't kill anyone. He isn't capable."
"And you are?" Stiles questioned shakily, suddenly breathless. Derek turned away and the car started moving again. Stiles supposed he didn't actually need a verbal response. He let his head fall to the window with a quick 'clunk' and tried not to think. There was no way for him to know if Derek was telling him the truth. Then again Derek didn't seem to care whether he was upsetting Stiles so there really wasn't much of a reason to lie. Plus it sort of sounded like the type of thing that would happen with werewolves. If he was telling the truth… Stiles sighed. If he was telling the truth maybe it wasn't so bad? He needed someone who knew what was going on that he could trust. Problem was the only wolf that fit that description was Shane. Stiles had the feeling they wouldn't be seeing too much of each other. There were still so many things buzzing around in his brain. But there were no answers so they just circled and circled. Why did Derek have to mark territory he didn't even want? How did that make sense? And how big of a deal was it that Shane had lent him a hoodie? What was that even about? Did Shane want some sort of claim on him? What was he after? Would the settlement really let Derek challenge Shane to a battle to the death? Over Stiles? Would they actually let Derek kill him? Maybe Derek was just saying that to sound good? How was Stiles supposed to know?

"It's done," Derek said when they pulled to a stop. Stiles realized he had no idea where they were. "You'd better just get over it." He climbed out of the car and Stiles was surprised when he didn't slam the door. He took a few moments before following. The words weren't exactly a comfort but Stiles supposed that Derek didn't have to say anything at all. But why was he even trying to defend him? It wasn't as if Derek had done him any favors. Stiles glanced to a Wal-Mart and rolled his eyes. Okay so he'd gone shopping. He'd bought food; limited food, Stiles reminded himself, and underwear. A soft whistle had him pausing and he turned back to Derek. "Where you think you're going?"
"The…store?" Stiles asked, pointing vaguely towards the Wal-Mart.
"Uh-uh," Derek said, tilting his head the opposite direction. Across the street there was a small strip of stores. Stiles supposed it was a bit far to walk to Wal-Mart so he turned and followed after Derek once again. "Less people." Stiles was shocked that he was explaining without even a question and he looked to Derek, who was walking slow enough to fall in beside him. Derek was watching his feet, hands shoved into his jacket pockets. Was his odd behavior like…supposed to be an apology? Stiles felt like he was supposed to say something so he did.
"What would you do if I told someone you kidnapped me?" Derek shot a glance to him and seemed to measure him a moment before looking back down.
"Wing it I guess."
"You'd just wing it?" One shoulder lifted briefly.
"It's not like I've done this before. And Ross is giving us both extra leeway anyways. Normally leaving the settlement is not…as," he seemed to struggle with his words then, "it's not common. Especially with new mates." Stiles felt himself flush at the term and he didn't know if Derek looked back to him because he was suddenly the one that had to look away.
"Why is he giving us extra leeway then?"
"Let's go in here," Derek muttered, falling back a step and pulling open a door. That still wasn't open for discussion then. Stiles nodded and went through the door, trying to make it look as if that had been his plan all along.

Derek's hand landed on the small of his back and Stiles jumped as Derek guided him into the tiny furniture store. If Stiles wasn't so distracted by Derek's body heat and how close he was he might have wondered why they were in a furniture store. Instead he just felt his heart pumping harder in his chest as he tried not to react. "You're not going to try and run are you?" Derek whispered into his ear. Did he sound worried? He had good reason to be worried but Stiles had to remind himself of the fact.
"You're faster than me and stronger than me, not to mention you live in a top secret settlement full of creatures that could tear me limb from limb. So the short answer is no I'm not and you can stop touching me now." Derek's hand dropped away and he vanished without another word between them. Stiles had only made it through a section of lamps before sighing. What was he supposed to be looking for? Were they looking for anything? They? Were they looking for anything? Stiles fell more than sat in a plush leather chair. When had he and Derek become they? That was not right. That was so not right. Stiles wasn't sure how long he sat there, utterly stunned by the thought his own brain had created. He felt betrayed yet again. Eventually he forced himself back to his feet, half because the clerk was glaring at him over his glasses as he read a magazine and half because he had no idea where Derek was. In the back of the store there was a set of bunk beds and a futon. Stiles paused at the futon and thought back to last night. The thump after the yell. Had Derek fallen off the couch? They- Derek Stiles struggled to correct himself, Derek should just buy a futon and take his bed back. It was ridiculous for him to move to the couch. He was bigger than Stiles anyways.
"You ready?" Derek questioned and Stiles jumped again.
"Why don't you buy a futon?" he blurted, shoving his hands in his back pockets.
"A futon?" Derek repeated slowly.
"Yeah," Stiles sank onto the huge blue cushion, "looks like a sofa, folds down to a bed." He let his arm trail over the back of it. "Has to be more comfortable than the couch."
"Sure," Derek agreed, jaw clenching, "good idea." Derek turned to wave over the clerk and Stiles tried to fit his mouth back into his face.

When Stiles received yet another glare from the clerk he scrambled back off the futon and stood next to Derek. Derek was making a purchase and he looked scary, obviously the best protection.
"Is this…young man with you?" the clerk questioned.
"Yes," Derek answered simply, looking unimpressed. The clerk forced a smile.
"Fantastic."
"We'll take one of these." The clerk scrambled to obey and for some reason Stiles felt rather pleased with himself. At least he recognized that when Derek wasn't angry at him he could be a very good human shield. Derek turned for the front of the store and Stiles was quick to follow. It was several minutes before the clerk appeared, wheeling out a giant box on a flatbed cart. He pulled it to a stop by the cash register, taking a moment to tug on his shirt before stepping to the machine. He punched a few keys before glancing to Derek and then back to the keys under his hands.
"$192.60." Derek slid his wallet out and handed over a silver card wordlessly. The cashier seemed to grow more nervous by the passing second and by the time he offered a slip of paper for Derek to sign his smile was pained. Derek replaced his card and grabbed the box, lifting it easily. Stiles hurried to get the door even though he was sure Derek didn't need his help. Derek carried the futon back to the car and put in the backseat, finishing before Stiles had figured out how he'd unlocked it with his hands full. He turned to find Stiles watching him, Derek quickly diverting his eyes.
"We still need a skillet and paint."
"Paint?" Stiles questioned.
"Yeah." Stiles rolled his eyes quickly.
"For what?"
"Living room," Derek muttered as he passed him.

They barely talked the rest of the morning. It was still awkward between them because Stiles didn't know how he felt. He didn't know how he was supposed to feel. He nearly thanked Derek for buying him breakfast but cut off at the last second, biting into his tongue and glancing down as Derek looked to him, as if he'd known Stiles wanted to say something. After breakfast they went to a hardware store and picked up a set of pans and cans of paint. A light blue at Stiles' suggestion. He'd mumbled something about matching the futon, struggling desperately not to flush at the real reason he'd gravitated towards the blues. Derek went two shades lighter and they had the color just like that. Stiles didn't even realize until everything was in the trunk that he'd thought of them as they again. It was becoming a real problem. He sighed and ran a hand over his face.
"You seem less…twitchy," Derek said slowly. Stiles flicked a glance to him without moving, gritting his teeth as muscles in his free hand jumped.
"I'm not like that all the time. Just sometimes."
"What about your medication?" Stiles shrugged and folded his arms across his chest.
"I probably slept through the worst of the withdrawals." His hand wouldn't stop twitching and he really wished Derek hadn't brought it up. It only happened more when he thought about it.
"So you're okay?" Stiles turned slightly to look at him then. That was awfully blunt.
"Pretty much…yeah." Derek nodded shortly.
"Okay." Derek moved around the driver's side and Stiles walked around the other side, climbing in. Derek glanced to him and it took a moment for Stiles to realize he was looking behind him, not at him. Derek crept out of the parking spot before flipping around and turning into the parking lot of Wal-Mart. He parked before looking to Stiles again. "No funny stuff right?" Stiles rolled his eyes in response.
"If I tell you it's not worth putting my father in danger will you stop asking me that?" Derek blinked a few times, apparently needing more than that. "Look three months I get to go home, nobody gets hurt. I try to escape now, I'd need help obviously, and I'm assuming that while I might be safe as your mate the people that helped me would not be. I'm not willing to put my father at risk. He's all I have left." Stiles was mostly sure he hadn't meant to say the last bit out loud. "Plus you all know where I live," he added hastily, "so I wouldn't even be able to go home now would I?" This seemed to satisfy Derek because he climbed out of the car, waiting at the back of it for Stiles. He stepped closer and pulled up Stiles' hood, hands dropping away immediately.
"Then let's just walk around and make sure we didn't forget anything, yes?" Stiles nodded. Once again he wondered if this was some attempt at either bribery or apology.

It was amazing how fast the cart filled up. Of course a toaster and a microwave took up most of the space. Stiles also grabbed a thick hoodie off the clearance rack after finding socks. He was surprised when they stopped in the section with comforters and sheets.
"Oh right," he mumbled to himself. Of course Derek knew he needed one, he'd seen Stiles sleeping fully clothed last night. Not to mention he was already pale as death. Stiles rolled his eyes as he grabbed one of the bagged comforters. They moved through the food section and Stiles tried to be good but he grabbed four kinds of Pop-Tarts and several frozen pizzas. He was heavily tempted to make a dog comment as they passed the pet section but Stiles managed to stop himself. They went to the hardware section and Stiles grabbed drop cloths and painter's tape. "You've got trays and rollers right?" Derek shook his head. Stiles frowned before moving for rollers, trays, and paint brushes. "Anything else?" Derek glanced to the cart, which was overflowing now, his eyebrows moving up,
"I can't think of anything."
"Sweet," Stiles exhaled, "let's go." Their cartful ended up being nearly $400 but Derek didn't seem fazed by it. "That was expensive," he mumbled as they pushed the cart to the car.
"Don't worry about it," Derek said, "I'm holding you captive. It's the least I can do."
"Well…thanks then." There was a brief pause.
"You're welcome."
"Cool," Stiles said lamely, because he felt like he should say something again.
"You want to stop for lunch?" Derek questioned as they loaded the trunk, artfully fitting some things in the backseat as well.
"Um yes."
"Where does it all go?" Derek questioned, pausing at his door and looking at Stiles over the roof of his car. Stiles put on a thoughtful expression and patted his stomach with both hands.
"Maybe I'm not human." Derek's lips twitched. He shook his head slightly before getting in.

They'd barely settled into the table before the waitress hurried over.
"Mr. Hale!" she gushed, "I've never seen you out of class before! This is so exciting! How are you? Oh my goodness who is this? Your little brother?" Stiles burst out laughing. He couldn't help it. The waitress, a slip of a woman, blonde hair pulled high on her head, makeup too heavy and perfume too thick, was practically in Derek's lap and he looked absolutely horrified. She paused then, hands in front of her awkwardly as she pulled at her fingers and glanced to Stiles. After another moment of silence she began gnawing on her bottom lip, bright pink lip gloss and all.
"Chloe," he exhaled slowly, "I'm fine. That's Stiles." He offered no further explanation and Stiles immediately began constructing a story in his head.
"Oh! Um…Stiles?"
"Derek's grandmother is in my nana's knitting circle," Stiles offered, grinning at her. She smiled widely, displaying lip gloss stuck to her teeth.
"Oh that's fantastic! You never talk about your family," she said, turning back to Derek.
"Yes well," Derek began, glaring at Stiles, "I like to keep business and pleasure separate."
"Pleasure? You flatter me Dare."
"That um, that makes sense," Chloe said, now actively struggling to get her notepad out of her apron. "Maybe I should take your drink orders?" she questioned, finally freeing it.
"Jack on the rocks," Stiles said, folding his hands on the table and looking to her expectantly. Chloe pursed her lips and Derek cut in.
"For me," he gritted, "a coke or his nana will have my head." Stiles would have pouted if he wasn't so busy trying to remember how to breathe.

As soon as Chloe turned to leave they leaned forward.
"They call you Mr. Hale?" Stiles nearly choked. "How is this real?"
"Behave yourself," Derek snarled in response. "She's in two of my classes!" Stiles giggled, biting his lips in an effort to stop.
"Well she would be she's obviously in love with you!" Derek rolled his eyes and sat back.
"As much as I try to discourage crushes there are always a stubborn few who continue to take the class." Stiles giggled again, covering his mouth as Chloe approached. She set down their drinks and smiled at Derek.
"Were you ready to order?"
"We'll need a few minutes," Derek said, not looking away from Stiles who was still giggling.
"This is too much," Stiles panted, dabbing at his eyes. "They probably love all your brooding mysteriousness and your stubble. They get lost in your eyes don't they? Oh my god they totally want your tai in their chi." Derek winced at that, lifting his glass and downing the amber fluid in one swallow. "They want to become one with you." He broke off in another fit of giggles and Derek lifted a menu to slap him with it.
"Figure out what you want to eat or we're leaving."
"Cut me some slack," Stiles gasped, "you teaching Tai Chi is like me competitively playing chess."
"Competitively eating I might believe," Derek muttered, crossing his arms.
"Actually if I could sit still chess wouldn't be such a problem. Maybe I should have said weightlifting?"
"I teach boxing and kickboxing too, for your information." Stiles took several deep breaths, waiting until he was semi calm to speak again.
"Now that I can see," he allowed, wiping at his eyes before picking up the menu.
"I am so glad you approve," Derek muttered dryly.

Derek kicked Stiles under the table the moment he opened his mouth to order so Stiles refrained from making the joke sitting on his lips.
"Lasagna," he let out, wincing.
"Good choice," Chloe said, nodding as she wrote. "And for you Mr. Hale?"
"I'll have a burger with everything, rare."
"Fries okay with that?" He nodded, glancing to Stiles who was taking a sip of coke. Stiles lifted an eyebrow but Derek didn't acknowledge him. "Did you want another drink?" Chloe questioned next.
"I'll switch to water thank you Chloe." She smiled brightly, tucking away her notepad and picking up the small glass before leaving.
"Mr. Hale," Stiles mocked, "I prefer Sensei."
"I don't," Derek glowered.
"Of course you don't you're no fun." Derek rolled his eyes.
"And your definition of fun is?"
"Not you."
"Stunning logic."
"I know," Stiles smiled. Derek rolled his eyes again and fell silent. Stiles spent the remainder of the time waiting for food staring wistfully at a little girl who had a placemat with mazes on it. He spent a few minutes mourning both crayons and his childhood before their food finally arrived. Chloe was nearly calm by that point, still smiling broadly. Stiles dug his fork into his steaming pasta as a distraction. He stole a few fries off Derek's plate as they ate and Derek smiled as if he'd expected it. By the end of the meal Stiles was full of good food and feeling pretty okay. The ride back didn't seem very long at all.

A/N: I feel like this chapter was fillerish… Sorry. I am going to try and explain some things…next chapter. I just haven't figured out exactly how Stiles is going to get the information. But I am working on it.

I also might write a little extra drabble where Derek bought the underwear for Stiles..but it will be very short and has to be written when I am less tired. I'll be posting on tumblr if I do write it though.

I'll let you guys know.

(Still haven't responded to reviews I know..bad Amber. But..just…so busy. Ugh. If I catch a break I will do it!)