The camera room was a small space beyond the sheriff's office that was mostly inhabited by tall file cabinets. The space that was left amidst the multitude of paper and manila folders was occupied by three computer monitors, several pieces of complicated looking equipment, a tangled web of cords, and a single empty roll-y chair. Derek, who insisted that he accompany Stiles despite being seen in the hallways by aforementioned cameras, squeezed in behind Stiles cramping himself in the small space until he was practically glued against Stiles' back.

"Dude," Stiles said, "dude move over."

"I can't."

"You so can—open the door it's going to get hot in here. Jesus, I don't do well in small spaces." Stiles took a breath and awkwardly shimmied into the chair. "Ugh, and can you not hover like that." He scratched the back of his neck. It just didn't help his growing fancy for Derek that he was all pressed up close and breathing the same air and shit. It just didn't help at all.

"Just calm down." Derek stretched over and pressed the space bar. The screens fired up and the first two revealed several different angles of the police station while the third was the recording controls. One of the partitioned areas was blacked out—presumably the camera that got fried from inside the guard post. They weren't going to see anything on that one. Derek stepped closer and bent down so his face was just next to Stiles'. "Click there, I think that will go to the playback."

Stiles found the playback and hit rewind. He saw him and Derek walking down the hall and then saw himself from the first time they were in the station, but after that everything was still. The number on the top reversed but nothing on the screen changed. The police station remained empty as the minutes played back. An hour passed and still nothing. Stiles chewed his lip, waiting for whatever it was to enter the screen. The thing had to pass by the front of the station to get to the side door and out to the back where the impound lot guard post rested. The minutes ticked back in triple speed and both Stiles and Derek waited with held breaths for the results. It was after about two hours of feed that something weird happened. The video glitched; color vibrated in lines all over the feed and obscured all the black and white footage.

"The hell?" Stiles asked. The footage shifted and after several minutes of this the screen suddenly came back into view only for them to see a station full of officers.

"Wait, play it from there," Derek said.

Stiles complied. The video paused and then started moving in real time.

"The audio," Derek said, moving his hand over Stiles' and clicking the audio button for him. He kept his hand there as the sound crunched out of the low speakers on the monitors.

Four officers sat in the main office; from this angle they could see the receptionist and part of the front doors.

"…Still no answer with any of the neighbors?" one of the four called.

"Negative! But the Sherriff said he was going to see the landlady. Also said no one has been home in any of the places he's been to."

"You think everyone is out Christmas shopping?"

"I don't know. I've been to the mall, it's pretty empty."

"That's unusual."

"You think people are just going out of town?"

At that point all heads turned toward the front and then the video glitched.

"Come on," Stiles murmured, moving his hand from under Derek's and playing it back again. It was the same deal.

Derek leaned further down, jaw just barely above Stiles' shoulder. "Just wait," he said, breath brushing against his cheek.

Stiles squashed the urge to shiver and instead just moved away the tiniest increment. Derek was acting weird all of the sudden. And it was weird. And uncomfortable. And unfortunately the tiniest bit arousing. Because now his mind was wondering what it'd feel like to have Derek's stubble rub against his skin. Dammit. Focus, Stiles. Focus. He rewound again. Same deal.

Derek's eyes narrowed as his other arm came to rest on the chair, fingers lightly grazing Stiles' shoulder. "Wait…turn up the volume."

Stiles did. He rewound again, just before the glitch. Color zapped on the screen and something creaked through the speakers—it was like a harsh whisper, or a loud gust of crackly wind. Neither Derek nor Stiles knew quite what it was, but it almost seemed like words. Stiles rewound and upped the volume again.

"I just…" he breathed.

Derek leaned forward, a look of deep focus on his face. The sounds started again.

"Ssss…..pp," Stiles whispered. "Seep? What?"

"Play it again."

He played it again.

Derek's eyes went far way as he concentrated. "Seep…seep—no, sleep. Sleep. It's saying 'sleep.'"

"What?" Stiles was incredulous.

Derek shook his head. "It's just saying 'sleep' over and over."

They watched the glitchy screen, hearing the scratchy murmur of sleep over and over as color vibrated.

"Where does it end?"

Stiles forwarded through the glitchy feed until it cleared up, leaving an empty station in its wake. He pressed play just in time to hear a dulled crash from the speaker.

"Whoa, what was that?"

Stiles shook his head and took it a minute or so back. The station was clear, all was silent, and then after a second—boom. A clear explosion. "It must have been the guard post. Hang on." He switched cameras until he found the one for the impound lot—a camera just above the open door inside the gates that had a clear view of the post. He took it back until he saw the fuzzy screen just like from inside the station.

"Dammit," Derek muttered. "We're not going to get a clear look at it—no wait stop there."

It was fast, but there was a clear moment on the recording. Stiles took it back. The guard was there and then the screen started fuzzing out. It was a few minutes and then the screen cleared up. The guard was slowly walking away—he was just walking off the screen. But the post was empty. Stiles and Derek waited a few agonizing moments before a large spark erupted from inside the post and then the screen glitched out—only to come back on a minute later to show a blown up outpost and a busted gate.

"What the hell?"

Derek was agape. "There was nothing there."

"Yes—I saw."

The two stayed in frozen positions in front of the screen, watching nothing happen. Both too shocked by nothing they didn't even rewind to double or triple check. It was clear—there was nothing there.

"I don't—"

"Me neither." Derek frowned.

Stiles blinked. "Well there's clearly something because whatever it was, it had to walk through doors—it couldn't just like apparate into places. Despite being obviously invisible."

"Obviously…apparate?"

Stiles turned his head to look at Derek—who was weirdly close—and gave him a raised brow. "Are you fucking kidding me?"

Derek held back a smile. "Erm."

"I swear to God, if you haven't—"

Derek raised a hand. "Okay, jeez, I'm just kidding. I've read all the books—and seen almost all the movies. No need to flay me."

"Good. What house?"

Derek raised a brow. "I don't know."

"Oh please, that website is up and running, literally everyone made an account to test what house they were in—officially. Don't fucking tell me you didn't steal your crazy-ass uncle's laptop for five minutes to find out."

Derek colored a bit. "I—"

"You've been living under a rock. When we find out what that thing is and kill it—the first thing we're going to do is find out what house you're in. Period."

Derek's face was bright red. "Uhm, I don't—"

"End of discussion. Now back up so I can get out."

"It's—"

Stiles waved his hands. Derek shuffled back, face still coloring and wide eyes staring at the floor. Stiles gave Derek his most judgmental look as he shuffled past him back into the hall. There was a mumbled sound behind him, so he turned around. "What?"

Derek looked everywhere but at Stiles. "I—did."

His eyebrows shot up into his hair. "What?"

Derek took a breath. "It's—you still want to—um—hang out and…stuff?" He looked like he was in so much pain from that admission.

Stiles let a smile creep on his face. "Uh, duh. We're friends, right? Besides, you have to be versed in popular culture—who else is going to help you?"

The tension released in Derek's shoulders. "I…thanks—I think?"

The smile turned into a full-on grin. Derek was so not good at this friendship thing. He couldn't even look him in the eye. And it looked like every instinct in him was fighting against even admitting he wanted to hang out with him. It was hilarious.

"But what was that earlier? You did what?"

Now Derek just looked embarrassed. "I took the goddamn test okay."

Stiles almost flung himself onto the nearest surface in a fit of laughter, but he held back. Not without consequence though, his smile was beginning to hurt and his eyes were blown wide. "What were the results?"

Derek gritted his teeth and gave him an epic eye roll that turned out to be more like a façade for the deep red embarrassment creeping on his face. "I got—Hufflepuff—don't fucking laugh."

Stiles breathed out very slowly, smile twitching on his face and fists gripping the hem of his sweater. Gold. His body shook in painfully small gasps as he tried to keep his laughter in check. He took several more steadying breaths as Derek's face turned increasingly more annoyed.

"Whooo, kayyy," he breathed, "Of course. Yes, Huf—flepuff is an awesome house. Pure awesome. Yeah."

Derek glared. "And what did you get?"

"Slytherin."

"Oh fuck you."

Stiles cackled. But then sobered up quickly. "Holy shit the thing is invisible!"

"You have the attention span of a rat."

"Well duh, Attention-Deficit here. But seriously, holy shit. How are we supposed to find it?"

"Take away its invisibility cloak—does it look like I've got a fucking clue?" Derek grabbed Stiles' wrist and tugged him back through the station. "Whatever it is, it's supernatural so there's got to be something in my uncle's laptop about an invisible creature that turns people into raisins, rips out their eyeballs, and leaves a trail of blue shit."

Stiles raised his brows. "Eloquent as always, Derek. And didn't you say that your crazy uncle likes to 'play games'? What does that even mean?"

Derek frowned. "It means he's going to want something in return."

Stiles grimaced. "Ew."

"If you're thinking what I think you're thinking—just no. No. Not like that."

They made out the door and Derek continued to steer him back to his Camaro. "How do you know what I'm thinking?" Stiles poked his arm. Derek twitched. "You can read my mind now?"

"Just get in the car."

Stiles stuck out his tongue, walked around the front of the car, and opened the passenger door with as much sass as he could muster. Derek just rolled his eyes. "No but seriously, it better not be anything gross."

Derek slipped in next to Stiles. "I have no idea what he's going to want."

"Or kinky."

"What?"

"It better not be anything gross or kinky."

Derek gave him a weird look. "I don't want to know what goes on in your head."

"No, you really don't."

Derek shook his head and started the engine.

"It's not anything kinky is it?"

"Stiles."

"Because—"

"Stiles."

Stiles put his hands up. "You're not even giving me a hint here."

"I just said I have no idea what he's going to want."

"You've got to have some idea."

Derek groaned as he reversed the car out of the police station.

Stiles tapped his fingers on the door. They sped down the long road, green lights all the way. "Where is crazy old uncle Pete anyway? I haven't seen him in forever."

"He's…still around."

Stiles fixed him with a glare. "Why do you have to be so cryptic? Why can't you just say the answer? Where is your uncle?"

Derek let out a breath. "I…don't know."

"Brilliant. Where the fuck are we even going then?"

"Back to my house. He likes to hang out there. But he disappears from time to time. Right now is one of his disappearing times."

Stiles nodded with a small smile. "See? That wasn't so hard, was it? And your little frowny face is not going to work on me. You think it's intimidating, but I'm beyond intimidation with you. Remember? You're just a big ball of yarn."

"You're…" Derek shook his head as he searched for the right word. "Insufferable." There was a hinting twitch of his lips though and his eyes darted onto Stiles' smug face with amusement. And there was a definite color to his cheeks that gave Stiles the nerve to lean close, wink, and say, "But you like it." And that was the moment that Stiles had to admit that maybe his little crush was a little stronger than he thought it was—because it clearly just took over his inhibitions and started running motor controls in his brain to blatantly flirt with Derek Motherfucking Hale. And worst of all the part in his brain screaming in panic was starting to be very, very small part. He wanted Derek. More than he was afraid of him. God fucking dammit. But it didn't prepare him for the next second.

Derek barked a laugh. "Apparen—no, no I don't."

Stiles' eyebrows shot up. "Excuse me? Did someone say 'Apparently'? Oh Derek, you don't have to hide your love. Being friends with a Stilinski means the hugs are free and they are awesome."

Derek snorted, eyes quickly scanning Stiles. "No thanks."

"Yeah okay, but the offer is a standing one."

Stiles settled back into his seat with a smug smile. Well that escalated quickly, a part in his mind chimed. It didn't escalate enough, another part argued. Stiles mentally told both sides to shut up. Derek didn't like him like that—he had to keep that in mind. He might have a very quickly escalating crush on the dude, but he couldn't let that get the better of his morals. He might like openly flirting with Derek, but he had to remember not to take things too far—or he might lose their budding friendship. Right. Friendship. It was probably the most important thing at the moment. Derek, despite all broodiness, was actually an okay guy to hang around with. And as it stood, Stiles didn't have many friends, so he couldn't afford to lose another. His smug smile settled back as he mentally chastised himself. Besides, he'd done this out-of-the-league crushing before and being forward never got him anywhere—not even to friendship. He wasn't going to make the same mistake twice.

Keep it cool, Stiles. Keep it cool.

Derek watched out of the corner of his eyes as several emotions crossed Stiles' face. He wasn't going to pretend like he knew what the hell was going on in that pretty little head. That would be a mistake. Because more than likely it would probably disturb him. But Derek had a part in him, a dark part probably, that wished to know what Stiles was thinking most of the time. Especially when Stiles was hanging around him. Okay, mostly he wanted to know what Stiles thought of him. One moment he'd be smiling and laughing and the next he'd be antagonistic as hell. Did he hate him? Did he like him? He offered hugs and to watch movies with him—out of pity? Out of friendship? Derek had a hard time believing that Stiles could like him—in any capacity. Derek was an asshole. What in the world was making Stiles continually agree to be around him? These questions were maddening to say the least. And as he watched the emotions cross Stiles' features, he became increasingly more paranoid that, as crazy and psychotic as it sounded, Stiles was going to drop him the second he and Scott reunited.

And sure, Stiles was rather insufferable—constantly challenging, constantly annoying, constantly pointing out the worst in him—but Derek had to admit that he found it humbling, and little bit comforting, to have someone constantly call him out on his shit. He didn't have to pretend to be anyone because it seemed like Stiles just accepted him. He didn't know if he liked him, but he knew that he accepted him. And Derek wasn't sure if he was ready to let that go.