"Mrs. McCall." Deaton addressed her. "How is going at the moment?" He changed the topic so easily, like it was nothing more than an annoying fly that he gave up swatting at.

"Work is work. I'm sure you understand. Answer the question." Mrs. McCall narrowed her eyebrows at him, demanding her to be answered to. Deaton hesitated, looking at Scott, and opening his mouth a little. Stiles could practically see the wheels turning in Deaton's brain.

"Deaton!" Mrs. McCall raised her voice.

"Why don't…" Deaton slowly started, "we let this be a learning opportunity for Stiles to read the grimoire I gave to him?" Almost collectively, the group turned to stare at Stiles, and in that moment, he hated Deaton for not being direct with them. Sighing and readjusting himself, wincing as he did so, he stared blankly at Deaton, ignoring Derek's fingers resting on the inside of his wrist and draining the pain away. It felt good and almost like he was high, and he wanted to sleep, but he powered through.

"I'll have to look it up. I haven't gotten very far yet." Stiles picked up on a groan from Jackson and saw Lydia hit him. "Meet up tomorrow after school?"

"I have to work." Malia said, directing everyone's attention towards her. "I got a job? at the library?"

"That's awesome!" Kira excitedly replied. "Why didn't you tell us?"

"I don't know...just didn't seem important I guess."

"Of course it is." Lydia scoffed. "I'll help you pick out an outfit."

"Guys!" Jackson waved his hands. "Just got attacked? Remember?"

"We know." Lydia glared at him. "But we have to celebrate the good things too, not just constantly worry about the bad." There was a moment of silence before Scott cleared his throat. Stiles was getting progressively tired. He tried to pull his hand away, but he felt so weak it didn't do anything.

"I...go….okay?" Scott's voice went in and out. "Meetup…school. Derek's…"

"Sounds good." Stiles wanted to slur the words together and gave into closing his eyes. The last thing he heard as he fell into a deep sleep is a voice saying they'd take Stiles home.

Groaning, Stiles stretched, arching his back, and opened his eyes. Almost immediately he could tell he wasn't in his room. To start off, the walls weren't blue, and he could smell pancakes. His dad never cooks. Last time, the fire department had been called.

The room he was in though, was comfortable, with soft forest green walls and other earthly tones, and a modern theme. Probably Isaac no doubt. As much as Isaac tried to hide it, Stiles knew how much he liked to interior design and bake, just make food in general really.

Yawning, he threw the covers off of him and moved to sit up, letting out a small cry when a sharp pain came from his stomach. Grumbling to himself, Stiles looked around the room. Quite strangely, there was a chair pulled up next to the bed with a woven blanket tossed over the back. Before he could dwell on it, the door came flying open with a bang.

They stared at each other; Stiles with wide eyes and Derek frozen in a mid-run position. Stiles's mouth dropped open in shock and surprise. Derek looked like he was trying to find something to say, but was at a loss for words.

"Um…" Stiles hummed, trying desperately to break the silence, "new digs?"

"Ah…" Derek looked as awkward as Stiles felt, "just redecorated the loft. Thought a change would be good?" Derek stood up straight and looked around, avoiding Stiles's eyes.

"Sweet. Looks good man." Stiles commented, also avoiding eye contact. When it was starting to get awkward again, he blurted out what was on his mind. "Pancakes?" Derek looked at him and all of a sudden they were laughing. Maybe it was how squeaky Stiles's voice came out or just the situation in general. Five minutes later, when the laughter had subsided, Derek nodded.

"Pancakes are downstairs. There's maple syrup or raspberry syrup. Wasn't sure which one you'd be in the mood for. You're dad knows you're here, and he called you in for school." At the mention of his father, Stiles looked around for his phone, to find it charging on the nearby table.

"Thanks, Derek." It hurt to swallow.

"Yeah, no problem. Ah...your dad dropped off a duffel bag with some clothes and the shower is right down the hall if you want to clean up. And Melissa said your bandage is gonna need changing, just in case, and if you want, if you feel comfortable, I…" Derek was rambling.

"It's okay." Stiles said, rubbing the back of his neck. "If I need help, I'll call you."

"Good. Okay. All right then. I'll just, you know," Derek pointed behind him. "I'll just go wait in the kitchen, yeah." Derek grabbed the door handle and closed it hurriedly but made sure it didn't slam.

Letting out the breath he didn't realize he was holding, Stiles took several deep inhales and long exhales. He reached over and took his phone of the charger. Turning it on, he had several messages from his dad alone.

10:35pm

Derek called. Be safe.

5:27am

Calling you in. Sleep.

5:40am

Derek said you're still sleeping. I'm dropping off a bag of clothes.

5:42am

We will talk about your room.

6:30am

Starting my shift. Message when you wake up.

9:17am

Still not up? I'm eating subway. Being healthy *upset*

10:05am

I'm glad I called you in. Message me. I told Derek to make pancakes. He was up all night so be good.

Glancing at the time, he saw that it was only twenty or so minutes after the last message. He texted back as fast as his fingers allowed him to move.

10:27am

I'm up. Pancakes smell good. Subway is good (: Derek stayed up? Why? My room is fine, the floor just isn't visible.

Setting his phone back down, Stiles moved as slow as a sloth to the duffel bag, not wanting to irritate the scratch any more than he already had this morning. He pulled out a pair of pants and his batman t-shirt. His dad, while remembering underwear, forgot socks. Staring at the dresser near the window, he looked down at his cold feet before making a decision. Stiles walked across the room in four long strides. Like last year, Derek still kept his socks in the top drawer. Shifting through them, he paused. His face stared back at him with a wide smile, eyes twinkling in joy. He set down the pair of socks he had grabbed and picked up the picture frame.

It was of Derek and him, but for the life of him, he couldn't remember when the picture was taken or where. He was clearly laughing, and Derek was also wearing a smile. He wanted to stare at it longer, but the sudden fear and anxiety that he found something he wasn't supposed to see struck him, and he covered it back up with other socks. Picking the white pair of socks up from before, he closed the drawer and quickly got dressed. When he finished, he ran a hand through his unkempt hair, trying to tame it, while walking back over to where his phone was.

10:36am

Good to hear. We'll talk about cleanliness when you get back. You shouldn't have to ask that. Don't be a bother. Love you.

As he began typing out a response on how it didn't make any sense, his phone vibrated with more texts. The one from Scott read:

10:37am

Derik said ur awke. gd 2 hear bro! Meat l8r ur hse?

The spelling errors and text talk killed him on the inside but Stiles shook his head at the classic Scott.

The next was from Lydia.

10:37am

Dad said you woke up. Glad to hear. You worried everyone the way you passed out. Especially Derek. By the way, Derek doesn't like maple syrup… ;)

If what his dad was talking about didn't make sense, Lydia's text was in a different language completely. Derek was just the logical choice. None of them could afford to miss school. Mrs. McCall and his dad work. Derek is the odd one out. Shaking his head, ignoring the picture in the socks drawer, the staying up all night, the syrup...Stiles read the rest of the texts.

10:38am

:) Happy to hear you're up. -Isaac

10:27am

Morning -Malia

10:37am

I grabbed your homework. -Firefox

Letting a little chuckle out at Kira's nickname, he sent out a group text saying he was fine and he'll see everyone later. Then, the remembrance of taking a shower came to him and he felt stupid for already putting clean clothes on. Groaning in disappointment, Stiles went into the adjoining bathroom, making sure to grab a pair of towels out of the cabinet. Peeling off his clothes and starting up the shower, he waited till he saw steam rising from the top before hopping in. It was hot and his skin was starting to turn lobster red, but a part of him didn't care. He didn't move to change the temperature. The water hit his back at a light force and he was reminded of the terrible water pressure the loft had.

Stiles reached for the shampoo on the shower shelf, squirting a dollop of it into his hand before massaging it through his hair, his nails occasionally scraping against his scalp. Rinsing the soap out, Stiles ignored the uncomfortable bandage and let his thoughts wander as he went for the conditioner.

What was he supposed to think of Derek? Staying up late? The picture? Lydia's comment? His dad's? Rationally, Stiles knew what it meant but the logic in him warned back saying Derek was just the only option, that Derek didn't have the responsibility of school. That there was no hope for the rational part to win out.

Biting his lip, he finished rinsing his hair once more, turning off the shower as the conditioner drained out of his hair. Stepping out, he wrapped a towel around his waist. He ignored the cold air hitting his chest, and dried himself off, his hair with a hand towel. While not for its intended purpose, it works well with his short hair, though in all reality, it was long for him. Stiles looked at himself in the fogged up mirror.

Over the summer, his arm muscles had gotten more defined, and his abs were just starting to show. His shoulders widened too. As Lydia would say, he's grown into his body shape quite well. His favourite part though, is that he wasn't pale anymore. A nice, well-evened tan was spread across his chest and arms. Gone was the lanky, hyped-up freshman he once was, and in place was this man who actually looked like, well, a man. He noticed the resemblance of his mother too, with his bright amber eyes and restless dark brown hair. Sure, the scars of the past were still there, but now they were faded, and he was stronger than ever before.

A cough and a sharp knock broke him out of his admiration of himself.

"Yeah?" He called out, clearing his throat.

"Uh...I heard the shower stop. Pancakes are still warm. Do you want to change the bandage now or after food?" Derek's voice traveled through the door. Stiles hesitated, thinking about it.

"I'll eat first. Just let me get my shirt on."

"All right, sounds good." Stiles could practically hear Derek nod out the reply. His stomach grumbled, giving him a jumpstart to getting dressed. It was now how much he realized how hungry he truly was.

Walking downstairs, the pancake aroma grew stronger and he felt like he could eat a horse.

"Smells good." Stiles murmured out, Derek handing him a plate. Other than those few words, it was quiet, the two moving around each other like a dance. He thought about making a comment about needing to expand the kitchen so it's not as crowded, but the words died in his throat as Derek slid the bottle of maple syrup towards him. Stiles watched in scrutiny and disbelief as Derek poured a large quantity of raspberry syrup on his own. Lydia had been right. Of course.

Slowly grabbing the maple syrup, he looked up and down, multiple times, trying to catch Derek's reaction when he started pouring the syrup over his pancakes. It was quick, and Stiles almost missed it, but Derek's face pulled into a grimace. Smirking, Stiles cut through the three pancakes with his fork and stuffed it in his mouth. For a second, he forgot himself and moaned in delight about how good they tasted.

"These are fantastic!" He said as soon as he finished swallowing, breaking the silence and immediately going for another bite. Derek looked like he was going to say something but a small dinging noise interrupted them.

"Want coffee?" Derek asked, instead of what was on his mind. Stiles watched Derek walk calmly over to the machine. Smiling at Derek's turned back, Stiles reached over and moved one of Derek's two pancakes over to his plate.

"Sure, you have creamer?"

"Do you still like French Vanilla?" Derek asked, still pouring his own cup of coffee.

"Yes." Stiles felt his voice weaken at the response, and his throat clench up. This was too much. Too much domestic familiarity for him. Swallowing forcefully, he started eating the pancakes again, not looking up when Derek sat back down, placing a coffee mug in front of him. "Thanks." Stiles nodded, and for a moment, it was silent.

"Did you…" Derek's voice trailed off, causing Stiles to glance up at him. "Did you take my pancakes?"

"No…" Stiles dragged out the 'o' sound and took another bite. "Why would I do that?" He asked with his mouth full. Derek looked at him incredulously. "You drench yours in raspberry syrup." Stiles made a face. "A tragedy indeed."

"But you seem to like raspberry syrup," Derek raised his eyebrows," so maybe not so much a tragedy, and I drench my pancakes? You have a ocean of maple syrup on your plate."

"Ocean? Well you have," Stiles looked for something to say. "Well you have nothing on your plate." Reaching over, he snatched the last pancake. Sticking his tongue out at Derek, Stiles shoved a huge slice of it into his mouth, trying to maintain a serious face. It failed when Derek wiggled his ears. Stiles struggled to swallow while he was laughing, but when he finally did, Derek had joined in on the laughter. THrowing his head back, Stiles laughed loudly. "When did you figure out you could do that?"

"When I was a kid. Laura and I would challenge each other to do weird things. She could touch her elbows behind her back and bring them up over her head."

"Damn." Stiles whistled. "I can't even do that and I'm double jointed." All of a sudden Derek leaned forward, putting his thumb to Stiles's lips. It went deadly silent as Stiles's eyes widened and his entire body froze under the contact. Derek stopped whatever he was doing for a moment too, scared he went too far. The entirety of it was like a still life scene, as if someone had hit pause on life's remote control.

A loud thump startled them both and Derek instantly withdrew his hand.

"Raspberry syr—"

"Probably a bird—"

They talked in unison before stopping and just staring at each other.

"What?" Stiles asked.

"You have raspberry syrup sticking to your chin. I'm sorry. I wasn't thinking." Derek wanted to continue but Stiles waved him off.

"It's fine." Stiles murmured out, "I'll uh.. we need to change the bandage before the pups, the pack," he corrected himself, "get here. I'll clean up quickly." Derek stood up, taking Stiles's plate with him before turning and walking to the sink. Stiles himself got up and walked away, breathing for what seemed like the first time, as soon as he stepped out of the same room. Hurrying along, he bounded up the stairs, taking them two at a time, and walked straight into the bathroom, and opening the cabinets underneath the sink.

He had to move a few things around, but eventually he unveiled the creamy white box with the blood red cross on it. Straightening up, he pushed the cabinets closed with his foot, and reeled the light dial to the highest setting. Then, taking off his shirt with care, Stiles cleared his throat.

"I'm ready when you are. I'm gonna need some help." He spoke out loud, knowing Derek could hear him all the way in the kitchen. He wasn't sure how he knew that. Derek could've easily have turned on music the second he had left. But something in Stiles gave him the instinct that Derek was just waiting. He tried not to dwell on it as he heard footsteps coming up the spiraling staircase. A few moments later, Derek was in the open doorway.

"Ready?" Derek asked, stepping into the room, closer to Stiles. Stiles was at a loss for words and just nodded.

The whole matter didn't take very long, but Stiles willed it to go faster as he was beginning to become cold. Yet he had to remain still as Derek took the bandage off, in one swift movement. He hissed but he brushed off Derek's concerned expression. Looking down at it, the cut didn't look too bad, but it was deep. He willed himself to feel queasy. It should've just by looking at it, but nothing came. It was painful and looked disgusting, but he couldn't feel anything. Derek looked up and they stared at each other. Wordlessly, Stiles nodded, signalling it was all right to continue.

Right away, Derek pulled out some alcohol wipes and Stiles steeled himself for the stinging. But it never came. Looking down, he noticed Derek was leeching the pain from him, the black lines trailing up his arms in Derek's veins. However, he started to feel light headed, probably from exertion. Stiles closed his eyes, gripping onto the bathroom counter tightly. Faintly, he heard Derek say his name in a questioning manner, but Derek seemed so far away. He heard his name called again, and he quietly asked what was happening, but no answer came as he felt his body slump and Derek catching him.

Nothing but blackness.

When Stiles came to, Derek was holding his hand and trailing his fingers through Stiles's hair. He let out a sigh, refusing to open his eyes out of embarrassment. Derek paused in his movements, but didn't move away.

"I passed out, didn't I?" His voice was soft, and he began coughing. Derek pushed a water bottle into his hands, and Stiles sat up, gulping it. With half a bottle left, Stiles stopped. "I'm sorry." Stiles was confused and felt out of place but he was no longer dizzy, and his head was no longer in the clouds.

"How are you feeling?" There was so much sympathy in Derek's voice, Stiles didn't know how to respond at first.

"Better?"

"Was that an answer or a question?" Derek seemed unsure.

"Did you tell my dad?" Stiles blurted out, blatantly ignoring the questions. "He'll freak if he finds out, Derek." He attempted throwing the blankets off but Derek stopped him. For a second, he flailed about, trying to get away and out from the covers. When the movement stopped, and Stiles accepted he wasn't going anywhere, he laid still. Derek was hovering over him, somehow managing to be pulled onto the bed. Derek's arms were next to Stiles's head and Derek's legs were holding Stiles's in place. He let out a deep growl and Stiles just stared at the flashing gold eyes.

"Stiles." Derek's voice was deep, lower than it had been. "Stop freaking out and listen to me. Yes, you passed out. No, your dad doesn't know. It was only for a few minutes. And…" Derek glared as Stiles opened his mouth. "before you say anything else, you should take a look at that cut of yours." It was then just the sound of them breathing and Stiles noticed how close their faces were when he felt Derek's breath across his cheek. Another inch and they'd—Derek pulled off of him. "Call me if you need me." Walking out of the room, Derek closed the door behind him.

"Dammit." Stiles said, punching the mattress next to him. Derek probably could've smelled his arousal. "Fucking chemosignals." He swore. It dawned on him that that's probably why Derek left because Derek wasn't interesting and he recalled Scott saying it was a disgusting smell half the time. Remembering what was said though, he peeled the blanket off and stared at his stomach in complete shock.

It was gone. Completely gone. Awestruck, Stiles just stared his scarless stomach.

'Wait what?" Lydia looked at him, gaping. "That's ridiculous. Show me." She demanded, standing up, motioning with her hands for him to do the same. Rolling his eyes at her dramatics, he got off his high kitchen chair and lifted up his shirt with one hand. Watching her grin and cross her arms, he dropped it instantaneously and glared at her.

"You just wanted to see my without my shirt." He accused her.

"Can you blame me? You come back all tanned and handsome." She winked at him and swatted at Jackson when he rolled his eyes. "Besides, I know I'm not the only one appreciating the looks." Lydia said smugly. Her expression turned to serious. "It is a little concerning though that it's completely gone. And it's illogical."

"Do it again." Kira said, and when Scott opened his mouth in shock, she laughed. "I'm being serious. I didn't catch a good look at it the first time. And I want to be a nurse." She added on shyly. Smiling and giving out a dramatic sigh, Stiles lifted his shirt back up. "Is it okay if I…?" Kira motioned with her hands and Stiles nodded. Carefully, Kira prodded around the area where the cut should've been. "Does that hurt at all?"

"Nope. Nothing."

The door opened, dragging all their attention to it. Standing in the doorway was Danny, Liam, and an older gentleman. He had a sharp jawline that had stubble on it, and his hair was flipped up in the front, styled like Danny's. He was taller though by a couple of inches, and his clothes fit snugly against him. A shoulder tattoo peaked out from his shirt's collar line and sleeve. Stiles raked his eyes over the man's body, knowing that while he likes...him, he can definitely still appreciate the fine specimen that's standing in front of him.

"Guys," Danny's cheerful voice echoed in the loft. "Meet my brother Matt. Matt, meet the pack." There was a noise of protest from Stiles's right but he didn't turn his head to see who it was. "Relax." Danny put up his hands, and stepped into the apartment, Matt following him with a wide grin. "Matt grew up in a pack in Hawaii, the same one that Stiles's stayed with. It's all cool."

"It's good to finally meet all of you." Matt trailed his eyes over everyone, stopping on Stiles. When Matt sent him a wink, Stiles felt his cheeks flush and he turned away for a split second, letting his shirt fall back to normal. "I didn't know I'd be getting a show when I walked in."

"I take it you're gay." Lydia said smugly.

"Lydia!" Several voices cried out, but Matt just laughed.

"Yes, I am. How'd you guess?"

"My gaydar is never wrong." That got Matt to laugh again, and when he stopped, he walked up to Scott, straightening out his shirt from the wrinkles. Scott himself straightened himself out and leaned off of the couch.

"It's a pleasure to see you Alpha. The rumors and stories I hear about you, and your pack, are impressive. If not terrifying at times." Matt's charisma was enchanting, and Stiles could see Scott's ego soar through the compliment. The two shook hands, and the apprehensive tension in the air melted away. "And you must be Stiles." Matt turned to him, and Stiles nodded. "I've heard a lot about you too. How did you enjoy Hawaii? I hope Keanu didn't get you into too much trouble."

"The weather there was amazing and we didn't get into any mischief. Nothing you can prove at least." Feeling confident, Stiles winked back at Matt.

"That's good to hear. I'm glad the pack could help you with your nightmares. Oh, and Miranda wants you to send her an email? Not sure what it's about but she mentioned something about tattoos and a visit. She was all vague on the manner."

"I'll send her one later."

"Good! She'll love to hear from you. And I must apologise for interrupting your meeting. I tried telling Danny to wait, especially with the duergar problem, but I—"

"How the hell do you know about that?" Derek growled out, coming out of nowhere. Matt looked taken aback for a second but it quickly fell away to an easy-going expression.

"Mr. Hale! What an honour. I had no idea you'd be here. I met your sister, Laura, once and I—"

"Enough about me." Derek stepped closer to Matt, and slightly in front of Stiles. "How do you know about the duergar issue?" If Matt felt intimidated, it didn't show, and the smile never left his face.

"Mr. Hale, this isn't the first time a duergar issue has been around. While they are most commonly mistaken for brownies, with all the foolery they get up to, it's nothing too out of the ordinary."

"You seem to know a lot about them." Liam interrupted, causing Matt to turn away from Derek, missing the dirty look Derek shot towards him. "Have you ever met one?" Matt shook his head, and Liam looked deflated.

"I studied at UC Berkeley. They have a secret department underneath the school for studies of the supernatural, known as SOS. During the day I attended regular classes and got my bachelors in education last year, and at night, there were classes on creatures and all that fun jazz." Matt spoke so casually that Stiles couldn't help but feel envy for already graduating. But him, along with everyone in the room, was listening to Matt's mellow tenor voice. Out of the corner of his eye, Stiles saw Danny shake his head in amusement.

"What could you tell us about them?" Scott inquired.

"Nothing you guys don't already know. There's not many studies and works about them, but truthfully, that's one of the reasons I'm here." Matt piqued Lydia's interest. "I want to write the first novel on them. THey've surfaced before but usually they like to blend in, get normal jobs."

"What type?" Malia asked.

"Type of what?"

"Jobs. What type of jobs do they get?" She rephrased the question.

"May I sit down?" Malia nodded, and Matt sat down next to her on the end of the couch. Everyone else followed in suit, sitting on some flat surface or leaning against something. When he was comfortable, Matt continued. "Usually something that required heavy lifting. Like construction, but a few go into acting."

"Wait," Stiles made the group pause, "does that mean Tyrion Lannister from Game of Thrones is a duergar?"

"You'd have to ask him." Matt smirked, "but I have my suspicions."

"I thought you said there's not a lot known about them." Derek's protective voice jumped in on the conversation.

"There's no books written on them that are accurate to the dot, but there are some things known about them." Matt continued. "You guys are after rogues. When they come up here from their world—"

"Where exactly is 'their world'?" Jackson butted in, making quotation marks with his hands.

"Underground. Different dimension." Matt quickly answered. "It's not all figured out yet. When they come here, it's usually because they've committed a crime. Most of the time, whatever they've done, is indicated by a tattoo somewhere on their body. Most times out of not, it's on their face or hands." Stiles winced and tried not to feel disgusted. "What?" Matt asked, curious.

"The one I saw at the coffee shop had a skull tattoo with tentacles. The image that just popped into my brain wasn't a good one."

"I bet." Matt looked disgusted himself.

"Whoa, guys!" Scott jumped up from his sitting position. "Sorry to interrupt Matt." He gave Matt his classic puppy dog look and Matt waved his hand to show it was no big deal. "It's ten 'o clock. We have to get going."

"Shit." Stiles said. "My dad is probably up waiting for me. Derek, thanks for letting me stay here." Derek grumbled out an answer. Stiles hesitated in picking up his duffel bag, seeing if Derek would say more. He didn't.

"I'll walk you to your car." Matt volunteered. "Danny, I'll start up the truck. Key me?" Danny threw him a pair of keys and Matt caught it in one swift motion. "Nice toss bro."

Once outside the loft, they took the stairs down to the first floor, seeing as the elevator was still not fixed.

"Well this is my ride—" Stiles began, pointing at the blue jeep that's been with him for years, not bothering to figure out who brought it. Probably Scott.

"Are you and Derek—" Matt interceded, blurting out the question.

"What?" Stiles looked at him in shock. "I mean, at one time yes, but not this time. Not right now. We're on this break sort of thing? We got into a fight and yada yada. No, I just got hurt and he was the only logical choice. We're not dating." Matt studied him.

"But you want to be." Matt commented.

"True, but it doesn't matter. It won't happen again." Stiles brushed it off, and the seriousness disappear off of Matt's face and a small smile appeared.

"Do you want to go on a date with me then?" He asked.

"Yeah, I'd love to."