I'm baaaaaack! Yay! Okay, so, here is the actual chapter five (still not beta'd, therefore, all mistakes are mine). There is no Scott in this chapter, so maybe next chapter will be a Scott-centric chapter.

Oh, I realized I should probably warn you: Derek is most likely going to come off OOC. I'm trying? But since I am following the movie as much as I can, there's only so much I can do. Alright, I believe that's it. Onward!

"I am sorry. About. Being here," Derek said haltingly.

Stiles glanced at Derek from the kitchen, where he was getting a glass of water for Derek. "Whatcha mean?" he asked. He filled up the glass with tap water and walked back into the living room, handing Derek the glass.

Derek accepted the glass and took a sip, closing his eyes. He sighed. "I'm supposed to be Scott's older brother, and yet here I am. Drunk. Used to Scott taking me in for the night so I don't drive." He sighed again. "Scott also told me that I need to practice apologizing when I'm at fault, apparently, so. I'm sorry, again." He threw back the rest of the water in one gulp.

Stiles stifled a laugh. And a moan, watching Derek's Adam's apple work. Of course. Of course, of course, of course—he had to switch houses with someone who had sex on legs for a brother. A brother who consistently stayed over when he got drunk. Who was a really hot drunk. Though Stiles didn't even know what kind of body Derek had, as he had yet to take off his coat. But the imagination was a wonderful thing.

Shaking his head, Derek opened his eyes. "You weren't sleeping when I showed up, were you?"

I was about to try, Stiles thought. He said, "No, no, I was, um, packing. I've got a noon flight tomorrow, back home."

Derek's whole face seemed to scrunch together, his eyebrows meeting up. "When did you get here?"

"Oh, um." Stiles blew air out of his mouth, glancing at a watch-less wrist. "About six hours ago." Derek's face registered surprise, with a bit of repentance. He opened his mouth to say something, probably another apology, when Stiles beat him to it. "It's not. It's not England or anything. It's me. I haven't been myself, I'm not quite myself right now. I came here on a whim, a completely stupid whim. Honestly, I've never thought about anything less. It's very. Very unlike me." He paused, realizing he was rambling again.

Danny had complained about the rambling constantly. It was something Stiles couldn't help. He rambled since he learned how to talk. His mind seemed to jump quickly, and when he was talking it just became worse. The adderall helped, sure, but doses ran out eventually (meaning, after eight hours). If he wasn't doing things of absolute importance, he also tended to skip doses; when he was working, he would double up. He never took more than he needed, Stiles had learned that the hard way back in high school after countless all nighters.

But Derek wasn't looking at Stiles like he'd grown another head. He seemed to be able to follow along just fine, even with his alcohol addled brain. Or his alcohol addled brain made him just not care s much to try to follow along. Either way, Stiles calmed down some. "Do you. Do you want some more water?" Stiles asked, reaching out for Derek's glass.

Derek glanced down at the glass in his hand as if just noticing for the first time that he had emptied it. "Oh. Yes. Thank you." He handed the glass over. "Uh. Damn. I'm sorry, but I've completely blanked on your name."

Stiles fought back the twinge of annoyance he felt at that (The dude's drunk, he can't be blamed.) and said, "Stiles. Weird nickname, remember?"

Derek nodded. "Right. Stiles. So," his voice trailed off when Stiles handed him his now refilled glass.

Walking back into the kitchen to get his own glass, Stiles prompted, "So?"

"Are you married?" Derek asked bluntly. Stiles froze, one hand on the sink. He heard Derek groan. "Sorry, I'm sorry. I'm not. I don't do small talk. Anymore."

"Right." Stiles walked back into the living room and sat across from Derek. "But, um, no, I'm not married. Almost did get married, though, when Prop 8 overturned, but no. Wait, do you know what Prop 8 is?" he added. "Oh, shit, yeah. I'm, uh, I'm gay. Just so. Just so you know, dude, I mean I guess I understand if that's...a problem, though no offense, but I think you're a giant dou—um. I mean. Crap." Stiles began drinking his water, wishing it was vodka, or at least that he could drown himself with it. He outed himself and then continued to ramble, and then almost indirectly called Derek a douche.

Which, if it was weird for him that Stiles was gay, then he was, but that wasn't the point.

There was a slight uptick to the corners of Derek's lips. "I know what Proposition 8 is, Stiles."

Stiles waited, but that was all Derek seemed to have to say on the matter. He opened his mouth, but quickly closed it, having no idea what to say. He changed the subject. "So, are you staying?"

"If you wouldn't mind."

"I, yeah, yeah, no, I mean. Sorry." He huffed a laugh. "It's fine, I don't mind. Let me...let me get you a blanket." Stiles stood up and stalled, having no idea where anything was. He mentally berated himself for only taking a quick tour of the bedroom and kitchen, just to be a nitpicky asshole. He glanced at Derek.

"In the cupboard, on top of the Scrabble," he said, pointing.

Stiles nodded and followed Derek's instructions. He pulled out a blanket and pillow, which he then handed to Derek. Who had the look of someone who was internally debating something. "You're allowed to ask me questions, you know," Stiles said, in an attempt to get that look off of Derek's face.

"So why is it that you aren't, um, quite yourself right now?" Derek asked, accepting the pillow and blanket. He set those on the couch, then, before removing his coat.

Stiles began to pray to every deity ever, because as in shape as Danny had been, he wasn't Derek levels of in shape. He was still wearing a long sleeve so Stiles couldn't actually see the muscles, but he could make them out. He tried to focus on the fact that Derek had asked him a question, rather than Derek's arms. "Oh. I broke up with someone, yesterday. And for once, I guess I was feeling that I didn't want to be alone over the holidays. I figured if I was somewhere else, well, then I wouldn't realize that I was alone." He paused. "Then I got here and never felt more alone in my life. Big surprise, right?" Shaking his head, Stiles sighed. "Bet you're glad you knocked on this door."

"I am, actually," Derek said, glancing at Stiles' lips.

Wait.

Yes, he totally had. Derek had totally glanced at his lips. So Stiles licked them, catching Derek glancing at them again. "Yeah, well, uh, sorry and goodnight," he said. And no, his voice was not slightly higher, it most definitely was not.

Derek actually smiled slightly, and said, "Sweet dreams," leaning forward and kissing Stiles. Before Stiles could reciprocate, or even think about reciprocating, Derek was pulling back in shock. "I. Um."

"Do you think you could..." Stiles smiled and laughed. "Um. Would you mind...trying that again?"

Derek quirked an eyebrow before slowly leaning forward again. He brushed his lips against Stiles' lightly, before pulling back again.

Stiles made a face.

"Bad?" Derek asked.

Biting his lip, Stiles sat down on the couch, Derek following after him. "More of...weird," he settled on. "I don't. I don't kiss random strangers often. And I didn't even know you swung this way. Wow. Okay." He turned to face Derek. "Let me try this." Stiles leaned forward, wrapping a hand around Derek's neck. He kissed him, keeping his eyes open the whole time.

Stiles pulled back. "Damn. Okay. Maybe if I actually closed my eyes this time." Slowly, he let his eyes fall closed, feeling Derek frame his face. He opened his lips a touch, prepared to make this kiss work, when instead, he felt Derek kiss his eyes. Which felt...good. Weird, yeah, just a bit, but it also felt really good. He heard himself moan before Derek's lips finally met his. Stiles began kissing back, finally, but there was something on his mind and he just had to say it. He pulled back again.

"You know, given that I'm in a bit of a personal crisis and I find myself in a total stranger's home—in a town that I can't actually remember the name of—and considering that you showed up and you are, God, insanely good-looking and really drunk, so drunk that you probably won't remember me anyway...I'm thinking..." Stiles trailed off, biting his lip. "I'm thinking that we should have sex."

Going by Derek's completely gobsmacked expression, that was the exact opposite of what he expected Stiles to say.

"If you want, of course," Stiles added.

"Is that—" Derek began before breaking off to clear his throat. "Is that a trick question?"

"I'm actually serious, I mean. This whole knowing-I'll-never-see-you-again thing is, like, really exciting. I'm not gonna lie. And this is what vacations are supposed to be. You're supposed to vacate your life, do the unexpected. And you are..." Stiles grabbed Derek's tie, a tie he didn't even realize Derek had been wearing, slightly pulling on it. "You are most definitely unexpected."

There was a grin playing on Derek's lips. "You know, this all sounded wonderful until I became the cabana boy."

Stiles laughed and surged forward, pressing his lips to Derek's again. "Funny, too," he mumbled against Derek's lips. He felt Derek lick into his mouth and moaned. Stiles quickly pulled back again, Derek following after. "Oh, also, I should warn you," Stiles said, looking down. "I'm not. I'm not very good at this."

"This being...?"

Biting his lip, Stiles said, "Sex." He waved away Derek's initial protest ("Now, that cannot be true."), continuing: "The guy that I lived with, he, uh, mentioned it once or twice. No one forgets a comment like that, and so I just feel the need to warn you." He nodded, finished, and pulled Derek to him, kissing with fervor, before pulling back again. "I mean, how bad could I be? Sex is pretty basic, right?" He watched Derek nod along and frowned. "I'm talking you out of this, aren't I? I. I talk a lot, I'm sorry."

Derek cradled Stiles cheek, shaking his head. "No, it's. It's actually endearing. You talk a lot now, you'll probably talk a lot in bed. Always a plus." He opened his mouth to say something else, but Stiles latched his lips onto him before he could. Stiles bite Derek's bottom lip, pulling on it as he pulled back.

He stood up, keeping a light grip on Derek's tie. He pulled on it a bit, saying, "I think we should go upstairs now." Stiles let go of the tie, dashing upstairs, laughing as he heard Derek's footfalls after him.

xXx

Stiles was never good at the morning after.

Okay, truth time: he never had one night stands, period.

He was sure he could, if he wanted, but he'd been in a relationship with Danny for most of his adult life and because he wasn't a cheating asshole, a one night stand was a thing that just didn't happen to Stiles. And so, he felt incredibly awkward, waking up with Derek's arm across his chest, his face tucked into Stiles' neck.

Oh yeah, and Stiles was totally right: Danny's level of in shape was nowhere near how in shape Derek was. It made Stiles wonder what exactly he did for a job, if he was a personal trainer of some sort.

Stiles extricated himself from Derek's arm and the bed, stumbling around the room to grab his boxers and pajama bottoms. He didn't know where his shirt had gotten to, which made him grin in the memory of last night. He stumbled downstairs, getting himself some water before he messed with the coffee maker. Which he couldn't, for the life of him, get to work. He nearly dumped his water on the stupid machine before he heard Derek's voice. "You, um. Do you need help? With that?"

"Oh, uh, yea-yeah. If you don't mind." Stiles stepped back, trying not to notice that Derek was shirtless too. But he could see those beautiful back muscles, and a tattoo that he hadn't noticed last night. "You have a tattoo?" he asked when Derek turned around, the coffee maker working.

Derek nodded distractedly, checking the pockets of his jacket. "Sorry, I lost my contacts last night, so." He paused, grabbing a pair of glasses out of one of his pockets. He put them on and grinned at Stiles.

Who wanted to shoot himself.

Because come fucking on. Why did he have to meet probably the most fucking gorgeous man in a country he didn't live in, especially since he would be going back home that day.

There weren't any Dereks in L.A. because anyone who at least looked like him was a pretentious douchebag who would never give Stiles the time of day, even if he was the one who edited the trailer for their new movie.

The point was that Derek shouldn't have been allowed to look that good in glasses. Because no. Stiles didn't look that good in his glasses (that he almost never ever wore, thank you very much).

"Right, my tattoo," Derek said, startling Stiles out of his revere about Derek's attractiveness. "I got it back in high school. It was a really shady parlor, but my parents wouldn't give me permission. Gave Scott blackmail material for years."

"What's it mean?"

"Different things to different people. My birth mom had one, too, and I guess I thought it would give me a connection to her, but." Derek shrugged.

Stiles thought of a handful of questions he'd love to ask ("Birth mom?" "Did she die?" "Is she not Scott's mom?" "How related are you two?" "Did you know her, if she died?" "Did she leave?"), but getting to know Derek was not part of his plan. In fact, he needed to try to distance himself as soon as possible—and try to convince himself that Derek really wasn't that attractive. And also didn't make the most wonderful noises during sex.

Shit.

Derek gripped the chair in front of him. "So, Stiles, I just—"

"No, just. Listen." Stiles paused, preparing. "You don't have to worry about a thing here. Okay?"

Derek cocked his head, confused, and said, "Okay," dragging the word out.

"I mean, it was great meeting you and everything."

"Definitely." Derek paused, and Stiles could tell that there was something else he wanted to say. "For the record, your ex is, in my opinion, extremely mistaken about you."

Stiles laughed. "Yeah, well, you were drunk."

"Not that drunk."

"Well due to the fact that your shirt seems to be missing too, I beg to differ."

Derek glanced down at his chest, as if he hadn't realized he was shirtless. "Oh, no, I was planning on taking a shower."

Stiles most definitely did not begin to picture that. He also didn't think about asking, "Do you want me to join you?" because that would be weird. And overstepping. He told Derek not to worry about this. Stiles would not become one of those obsessive one night stands who thought that just by pushing they could make more happen.

Before Stiles could say anything, though, a ring sounded through the kitchen. They both glanced at the table, Stiles grabbing the phone after Derek said, "Oh, that's mine."

Stiles glanced at the screen and said, "Laura," before he realized what he was doing. He handed the phone off before putting a hand to his face. "I'm sorry, I didn't mean to look. Sorry."

Derek canceled the call. "I'll just. I'll call her back. Listen," he began, "I'm think I'm going to go take my shower and then I have to go. But. I know you're leaving and are absolutely not interested in getting involved. But, just so you know, things in my life are...complicated, right now." He paused, taking a breath. "Even if you were staying, I can guarantee that you wouldn't—"

And Stiles had to interrupt him. "You really don't have to do this," he said. Because it was true. He may not have taken part in many one night stands, but he'd seen movies (of course); he knew how people rejected others. Derek's explanation of how "his life was complicated" and that Stiles "wouldn't want to get involved" were classics. Stiles sighed. "Look, I'm sort of a mess in this area myself. And, anyway, we hardly know each other, right?"

"Well, I wouldn't say that, but I just want to assure you that you're better off. I'm—"

"Okay." Stiles folded his arms across his chest, leaning back against the counter. The easiest way to avoid this was to just agree. Come off as cool and calm about the whole, while in all actuality, all Stiles wanted to do was lick Derek's abs (again) and join him in the shower for a second round.

But Derek refused to be moved. "I just. I want to be sure. That you are okay because somehow I." He sighed. "I find that I tend to hurt everyone, whether I mean to or not, just by being myself and..."

Stiles gave Derek a small smile. "Dude. I'm not going to fall in love with you, okay? I promise." Which, while not a complete lie, Stiles felt like maybe it could become one.

Derek's eyebrows raised to his hairline. "Oh. Okay. Nicely put, then, I guess."

Stiles wanted to say something, comment on how Derek was giving him mixed signals and he just didn't know what signal to act on. But he stayed silent.

Derek nodded and turned around to go back upstairs. Then he paused. Turned back around. "Well, you probably won't be hearing from me again. But. What if I wanted to call you?"

And just like that, a meteor crashed into the kitchen.

Okay, not really.

But Stiles would have felt less shocked if it had.

"Right. Sorry. Not the right thing to say at all," Derek said, taking Stiles' silence as a rejection. "However, if your flight's canceled or for some reason you decide to stay, I'm having dinner with friends at the bar just in town. And you're. You're welcome to show up. If you want." He nodded one last time and then made his way upstairs.

Stiles stood there, so very, very, very confused.

Poor Stiles, bb.

Okay, I'm hoping to get chapter six out Thursday, but don't hold me to it? If you want to annoy me, go to my tumblr at adelaidebabe. We can also freak out about the new episodes of Teen Wolf! Thanks for reading!