"Stiles, I have an idea." Scott reached over and grabbed Stiles' arm as he drove, and Stiles perked his right eyebrow. When his friend looked as if he had been just told the secret of life, he couldn't help but be interested. That and Stiles didn't really want to go to 'The Den', which apparently didn't exist on Google maps. It just had one old webpage with advertisements from 2003 and a single address that had a street name on it neither Scott or Stiles had ever heard of. It was pitch black out, so Stiles had his doubts about them finding this mysterious location.

"You want him to leave you alone right?" Scott lifted his phone and shook it, grinning like an over-eager puppy. "...get it?"

"...you lost me." Stiles said, glancing at his phone as he turned a corner, tapping his fingers on the wheel. Scott pointed at his phone again, and then slapped his knee.

"Dude! I can't believe you're not sharing the same brain wave as me right now. You must be really distracted." He shook his phone between his pointer finger and thumb, then said, "Remember the ringtone war of 2012?"

Stiles looked as if he was thinking really hard, and then said slowly, "...yeah? Sort of?"

"We stole each other's phones whenever we could and changed our ringtones to embarrass the hell out of each other! We hid them in each other's bags and then they'd go off during class. That was probably the best year of my life. Mrs. Jackson confiscated our phones like ten times."

"Oh yeah! We almost drove Coach crazy! Ah, tenth grade," Stiles grinned as he reminisced. "I have to admit, I still think I won."

"You only won because my mom made us sign a treaty," Scott bit his lower lip, crossing his arms over his chest. "It got really dark."

"Hey, you know how much I hate that pedo bear song and you put it on my phone so it went off during a test. You deserved every bad song you got after that." Scott couldn't keep himself from giggling as he leaned against a window. "It started off real innocent. Trololo, heya guy. Then you put pedo bear into it and I was like, bullshit, I'm not holding back now."

"Gunther," Scott objected with the artist's name, "I was in a really crowded restroom when my phone went off. And I couldn't find it in my bag so I skipped peeing and had to hold it all first hour, dude. You know how embarrassing that was? My phone was singing about touching people's ding ding dongs for a solid two minutes. In the bathroom."

"I have to admit, that year really inspired me to organize my backpack," Stiles admitted as he gloated in his previous victory. "Remember the song that ended it?"

"Something about manwhore, I remember that. Because that's the song my mom took my phone away at a restaurant and told me if we didn't stop, she'd never take me anywhere again." They both shared a laugh, and Stiles gestured at Scott's phone.

"So what does that have to do with Derek?"

"You can annoy anyone, Stiles. Why not make him want to stay away?"

Stiles contemplated this for a moment, and then realized his true potential. Why wasn't he using this tactic? "That's right," He said, looking at Scott in disbelief. "Why didn't I think of that? I could drive this whole family crazy. I mean, my dad's almost disowned me a few times, I'm sure I can do it to a group of stalkerish strangers. Wait- is that the place?"

They both looked at an old warehouse that looked abandoned. Even the metal was tarnished on the exterior, but the place was huge and made out of brick.

"If that's the place, we're gonna die," Scott commented. He squinted as he looked out the window, grimacing as they stopped in the empty parking lot.

"Well, I'm bringing my jacket. It's cold out and they have boarded up windows." He reached in the back seat, and Scott gave him a skeptical look.

"Are we really going in there? Stiles, that looks like something out of a horror movie." Scott looked terrified at the prospect of entering this creepy place, which made Stiles frown. He didn't want Scott to wimp out because he knew he would too.

"We might as well check it out. That's the location we got. We're going to it. I mean, right over there is a bunch of restaurants, I'm sure if we scream we'll have someone nearby. It's still downtown."

"If you say," Scott said as he got out of the jeep, hopping down.

Stiles hit the lock and then slipped out, and landed on his feet. "Make sure you have your phone. And I brought this pocket knife, just in case they try zip tying us."

"Good idea." Scott stuffed his hands in his green jacket pockets, and then said thoughtfully, "This is probably the least smart thing we've done. Ever."

Stiles nodded and started towards the warehouse, looking around for a door. It looked like it was an old car garage, made of brick and metal. They went around it once, and then came upon a doorway that looked like it descended into some sort of cellar. Stiles looked at Scott, and then back at the door.

"We're going to die." Stiles affirmed Scott's previous statement, then started off around the side of the building again back towards where they parked.

"Hey, Stiles! Wait, look. Someone made a sign on a blackboard. It's right there," He pointed so Stiles could focus on the sign written in chalk - 'Beer Trap' with a bear trap crudely drawn with a bottle of alcohol stuck in it. They slowly made their way towards the door, and Stiles looked at the thick metal door. He glanced at Scott and mouthed 'you open it'. Scott shook his head and bowed towards the door as if he was letting Stiles go first out of politeness. Stiles flipped off Scott, then reached out and opened the door. It creaked open with an eerie wavering sound.

It was almost as dark as it was outside as it was inside. The lights were dim, hanging low over a pool table and few tables. The bar didn't have anyone at it. "Um, this is creepy," Stiles muttered, and Scott gave him a concerned look as they let the door shut behind them. There was a jukebox in the background playing Nine Inch Nails, the Perfect Drug.

"We should probably leave," Stiles said as he looked at Scott. "I have a really bad feeling about this." Scott exchanged a knowing look with Stiles, and then they started to turn.

"Can I help you two?" An overweight but buff man came out from the back room, leaning on the counter. Stiles turned to look at him, and then shook his head promptly.

"Uh, no, we were...waiting. Yeah, waiting. For someone. To play pool. But they're obviously not here, so we're going to just leave."

"The Hales, right?" The man said with a grunt, turning to grab two glasses off the shelf. "You're underage, so I'm getting you sparkling water." Scott hesitated before he headed towards a table, and Stiles gave him an irritated look and mouthed 'we were leaving' and Scott pointed at the guy and mouthed, 'free drinks'. Stiles couldn't believe his friend's need to get something free just to make his time worthwhile. Sometimes it was okay - this was not the moment it was okay. He walked over to the table and leaned over, whispering in Scott's ear.

"Scott, this place looks really seedy, we need to leave like right now. If my dad catches me here he'll ground me so long I'll be going to college when I'm fifty." The bartender glanced over in their direction, but continued filling the glasses. Scott motioned for Stiles to sit.

"Stiles, it's one night. Besides, if we say no to this place, imagine the next location they'll pick." Stiles glared at Scott, but couldn't argue against his reasoning. The next outing would probably be playing marco polo in the graveyard.

"Fine. But ten minutes, and if they're not here, I wanna leave." The bartender set the drinks down on the table loudly, making Stiles jump. He threw down some wrapped straws and then walked back to the back room again without so much as another word. Stiles grabbed the straw, and tore off the top of it, then blew the bottom half at Scott's face. Scott grabbed his straw and tried to do the same, but the butt of the wrapper didn't go off the straw more than halfway. He made a disappointed noise as he pulled it off and bunched it up, tossing it at Stiles' head. Stiles whacked it away moodily, and then looked at his drink. "I bet they stand us up. They make us go somewhere really creepy and then they stand us up. This was your idea by the way, I was perfectly content ignoring all of them. We're probably going to end up in pieces in their basement by the end of tonight."

"We've got a knife. You can take them on," Scott said as he patted his own arm. "I've been lifting more weights in gym, I'm up for a brawl. I promise Stiles, you get hit, I get hit. I'll protect you."

"Yeah, may I remind you that the older guy lifted me with one hand like I was made out of styrofoam. They're freakishly strong." Stiles grumbled under his breath, stabbing his drink with his straw. "They're all on steroids."

"I wonder what their gang name is. You think it's the just 'the Hales'?" Scott whispered, then his eyes got big. "Oh, I got it. They're the leather-jacket gang."

"How about, 'the pricks that are probably not coming because they're a bunch of assholes who need lives other than picking on people half their age'?" Stiles suggested, sipping the drink. Scott shook his head and frowned.

"No, way too long." Scott leaned back in his chair. That was when they heard laughing from the back room, and both of the boys watched as the back room door swung open, and Peter came out.

"I really thought I had that one in the bag. I owe you a twenty Derek." He stepped to the side, letting Derek through. The bartender smiled, leaning on the door.

"Thanks Al. Pay me, Peter." Derek held out his hand, and Peter rolled his eyes as he took out his wallet, handing him a folded twenty.

Stiles stared at them for a moment, then stood up from the table. "Wait, you were back there this entire time?" He asked, then glared at the money Derek was pocketing. "Did you make a bet on us?"

"I was convinced you'd leave in the first five minutes," Peter said with a sweet damning smile, and then added, "Didn't happen. Although I think Al shouldn't have supplied you with drinks. By the way, it's poison."

Scott spat out his drink on the table, and the three guys roared with laughter. Stiles motioned for them to go to the pool table.

"I'm going to beat you at pool and then me and Scott are leaving. Because you guys are assholes. No, wait. I'm not leaving. I'm staying all night. Al, is it? Get me a beer."

"You're underage, no."

Stiles paused, then said, "Al, get me another glass of sparkling water. You people. Teams, me and Scott, you," he pointed at Derek, then gestured at Peter. "And your goon."

"Did you just call me a goon?" Peter raised his eyebrows.

"Yes, I called you a goon." He beckoned them over again, and then picked up a pool stick, grabbing the blue chalk octagon to rub the end. "You're both going down. I hope you like the feeling of losing."

"What, have you watched a youtube video on how to play?" Peter said sarcastically as they picked up their sticks from the wall holder. Derek stared at Stiles for a moment, acknowledging how irritated he was with a small smile. Scott noticed it right away. He walked by Derek, bumping him as he chalked his stick, so the blue chalk got on his hand and his jacket. Derek gave Scott a glare as Scott walked away with an innocent shrug.

"My dad's the Sheriff. Do you know how many hours I played pool after school growing up? There's a pool table in the break room in the station. I'm also getting an A in physics, which makes me a double threat. Go ahead. Start."

Peter gave Stiles an obviously fake scared look as he chuckled, then leaned against the table as he hit the cue ball. The white ball hit the triangle of fifteen, and the balls ricocheted off the sides of the padding. With how much force Peter hit it with, two solid colors, the two and six, went right into pockets. He gestured to a striped ball sitting in front of a corner pocket and said with a gracious tone, "Look, Stiles. I set it up for you."

"I don't need help," Stiles stretched his fingers, and then picked up his stick and hit the cue ball. It hit a striped ball and it sent it to the corner edge of a pocket, hitting the other striped ball inside. Scott grinned, clapping Stiles on the back. Stiles waved him off. "I didn't get the other one in, it's not that good. They're ahead. We're at one, they're at two." He whispered to Scott, and Scott whispered back.

"Dude, it's okay. We'll catch up."

Stiles watched as Derek studied the table, walking around to the other side, then pacing to the other. With one swift movement, he sent the ball flying over a striped ball, hitting a bunch of solids and sending three into pockets of different directions. Scott's mouth fell open as he looked at Stiles, and then back at the table, not sure if he saw that correctly. Derek came up from bending, looking at Stiles' shocked face, and he winked.

Determined to get at least two balls pocketed so they were still in the running, Scott circled the table and hit the cue ball. He wasn't as refined with his pool skills however, and the striped balls simply rolled off and hit the padding, scattering them further apart and pocketing the cue ball. Peter chuckled and it irritated Stiles so much that he knew the other was getting under his skin.

Peter looked at his options, then grabbed the cue ball out of the pocket and held it up. "This is just too easy." He said out loud. He placed the cue ball down, and then did something that Stiles didn't expect - he shot the cue ball by putting the pool stick behind his back, which caused both leftover solid balls to roll into the corner pocket. Fortunately for Stiles, the cue ball fell in too. "Damn."

"Yeah, maybe if you didn't try showing off you wouldn't have pocketed the cue ball." Stiles said with venom in his voice, retrieving the ball out of the pocket. He was fully aware all the Hales needed now was the eight ball in the pocket, and he and Scott had approximately six left. As long as he didn't pocket the cue, he was convinced he could set it up so they had difficulty putting the eight ball in a hole. He finally rested the white ball on the table, and then leaned down and hit it. The curve of his hit was perfect- it sent the ball spinning towards a bunch of striped balls. Three went into the pocket.

"Well, that was easy wasn't it? We've cleared the top for you." Peter said out loud, grinning at Stiles' glare. Derek looked at the assortment, then shot the cue ball right at the padding, which caused it to bounce three times before it hit the eight ball into the pocket, missing all of the leftover stripes. Stiles slammed the stick on the table in shock, and Al yelled from across the room.

"Hey! Don't break the billiard! You scratch it I'll scratch you!" He gave a pointed leer at Stiles, and Stiles took the stick and shelved it.

"Giving up already? No round two?" Peter asked, feigning curiosity. Derek smirked and shook his head, walking over to shelve his stick as well. He patted Stiles on the shoulder.

"Good game." He said reassuringly, and Stiles shook his head as his hand sneakily ran over Derek's pocket, grabbing his smart phone from it as the other went to put his stick up on the rack. He quickly disposed it in his own pocket. "Why don't we just sit around and talk?"

"Good idea. They won't have to suffer losing again," Peter added, and Stiles flipped him off. Amused, Peter pulled out a chair and sat in it, leaning on the table. Scott frowned as he moved to the table.

"It's okay Stiles, we'll get them next time."

"What I don't get is how you managed to know every single one of those moves, and pull them off like mechanically. How can you have that good of hand-eye coordination? It wasn't human." Stiles said as he sat down, giving them both a suspicious look. At his comment, Derek looked a bit unnerved, but he turned to Peter and Peter simply shrugged.

"You're a sore loser." Peter explained halfheartedly.

"I'm not. I lose a lot, and sometimes I'm the reason we lose an entire lacrosse game. I know when people are cheating though, and that- something wasn't right." He lowered his voice. "You're both on steroids, aren't you?"

Peter looked at Derek, and then Derek shook his head no, his eyes narrowed.

"...why would you have to look at him. I feel like you're hiding something from me that's probably vital to why you've pulled me into this whole thing." Stiles stated as he looked at Scott. "Am I reading this wrong?"

"No, they look like they're hiding something. I was actually just sitting here hoping it's not guns." Scott admitted truthfully, frowning.

"See, it wasn't just me. What is it. Why do you keep looking at each other and making suspiciously under-descriptive comments?" Stiles delved into his sudden investigative spirit, and leaned on the table, both hands flat on it. "Speaking of things that are completely confusing, I don't have a dog. Why did Mrs. Walcott tell me I smelled like a dog? I wear men's Dove deodorant, which is a really good antiperspirant but it says nothing on the label of having extract of dog in it. I read it a few days ago, I would know. You know how many words I googled? A lot. Someone's out there looking at my cache going, 'is he trying to make his own deodorant?' Because that's all it is, for at least thirty entries on my history." Stiles leaned back in his seat, watching their expressions change from moderately entertained to slight panic masked by an obvious anger at the sudden inquisition.

Scott leaned over and whispered to Stiles, "Stiles, maybe you shouldn't ask." He looked more confused than anything, since Stiles hadn't mentioned any of this to him.

"No, Scott. They're hiding something. And I'm sick of being paranoid about everything in this town. You know how many strange looks I've gotten since I met him?" He pointed at Derek. "A lot. A lot of strange looks. And I'm pretty sure someone smelled me in an elevator at the mall yesterday. It was not cool."

"Look, can't we leave some things a mystery?" Peter said finally, offering the alternative like it was the best option. "You don't want to get involved. Once you go past the point of no return, we'll have to kill you after we tell you."

"Peter," Derek cautioned, giving him an irate glare.

"I'm just being honest here. The boy just shared some of his hygiene history with us, at least we can be forward with what's going on." The older male looked Stiles in the eyes, his gaze penetrating. "You don't want to know."

Even though in the pit of his stomach, Stiles could feel he was already regretting what he would say next, he still proceeded. With a sincere, straightforward tone he replied, "Yes. Yes, I do want to know."

"We're not going to tell you, Stiles. Some things are meant to be kept secret in a pack." Derek said sternly, but made a bothered sigh as Peter chuckled.

"Brilliant," Peter said as he got up from the table, clearly Derek had said something he didn't want to be said. "We'll be going now. Al, we'll pay you later for the boys. They have somewhere to go."

"No, no we don't, we just got here." Stiles insisted, but Peter put his finger over his own lips, signalling Stiles to shut it. Derek got up and followed Peter out the door, and gave Stiles a look over his shoulder before the door slammed. "Scott, what did he say."

"Um, I wasn't listening that close - something about secrets? Packs?"

"Pack? Like a pack of cigarettes? Or a pack of animals?" Stiles said, brow furrowed as he mused over it. "Let's go, I need my computer." He headed towards the door, not noticing Al staring at him as he left. Scott trailed behind him in the parking lot, almost right on his heels.

"About our plan to annoy him, Stiles..." Scott said, bringing up their previous conversation. "I think you have to master how annoyed they make you first."

"Oh, I'll annoy them." Stiles said as he hopped in the jeep, and then took the stolen phone from his pocket and showed Scott. Scott let out a hoot as he clapped. "And I'm going to figure out what they're hiding at the same time."

"I can't believe you swiped his phone! Dude! Awesome!" Scott looked at the phone. "What if he has a passcode on it?"

"I'll figure it out when I get home. There's a way to get it open I'm sure." He started up the car, and then looked at the sky. "Oh, hey. Look, full moon."

"Looks cool," Scott commented idly after gazing out the front window, then he reached over to take the stolen phone from Stiles to look at it. "Man, he needs a new case. Look how horrible this looks. There's like claw marks in the rubber."

Stiles gave the phone a sideways glance. "If you think that's bad, you should see the baby's carrier. These people don't take care of their stuff." He suddenly realized something and slammed his hand on the wheel as the car rolled along. "I just remembered Al didn't give me my second drink. Son of a..."