Thanks so much for all the feedback! I really love it. And I hope this chapter... pleases you all. Haha. I would hate to cut off the end into an author's note this time around, so I've moved it up here so as to be less distracting. ) Enjoy.

And please, review. If there's anything you want to see happen, or some scene you think will fit -I want to know what you guys think. :)

Derek smirked, "I think that's a personal decision…"

Stiles glared at him. "For Monopoly money."

"Personally… I think doing it for cash would get you further."

"Oh! You know what I meant!" he huffed. "I'm not giving up until I beat you!"

"So I just give you what I think you've earned?" Derek asked, clearly amused.

"Something like that," Stiles shot back. "Deal?"

"Alright, alright. Strip away if it means that much to you." He shook his head, a smile tugging at the corners of his mouth.

Stiles took a steadying breath, thinking back to all the movies he had seen. He slowly pulled his shirt up and off, not really soaking up the moment, his nerves and the amusement in Derek's eyes fueling him to yank the material off quicker than he would have done. Sitting shirtless across from an equally shirtless Derek only made things more daunting.

Wordlessly Derek handed over a one hundred dollar bill from the bank and Stiles grinned. If this was all stripping was about -he was definitely the best stripper anyone had ever seen. The game picked up after that, Stiles relaxing despite his shirtless state and he found that the soft crackling fire was soothing to his ears and his body -despite the lack of material, he was quite comfortable.

The hundred dollars he earned didn't last him long. Two turns later and Stiles was getting back to his feet, leaning back against the couch as he bobbed his head along to an imaginary jazz beat, slowly sliding each sock down and off. Derek tossed him two fifties, and Stiles caught him shaking his head. Well they hadn't even gotten to the best part… He would so win this. A few more turns and everything could turn in his favor.

"Booyah!" he yelled out in delight when his puppy landed on the space, earning him the rewards that had been pooling all game.

Eight turns later and another hour gone, Stiles was grudgingly getting back to his feet. Derek was a lot poorer than he had been, their hotels were about even but if Stiles started mortgaging them off, he would be handing the game over to Derek. He rose to the imaginary jazzy beat that flickered to his mind, wiggling his hips as he straightened. He slowly undid his pants, feeling his face flame up, he ignored it as he swayed his hips seductively to the music. Derek was watching him, too transfixed to look away and Stiles knew he had the game in his pocket. Slowly he worked his jeans down past one hip, smiling triumphantly despite himself as he kept up with the beat. He dragged the next movement out as he slid his pants down lower -

"Take it all!" Derek exclaimed, looking away. "Take it all; please stop."

Stiles grinned, happily collecting up Derek's money and adding it to his own. His stripping skills were by far superior and so breathtaking, that even the mighty Derek Hale couldn't control his desires. Just what that meant exactly, Stiles wasn't sure. He stopped counting his money to pull his pants back up more comfortably, chancing a glance at the older man.

He was kneeling over, facing away from Stiles, shaking his head. He swore he could see his mouth moving and after a moment he got the distinct impression he was repeating "Thank God". Irritation bubbled up.

"Derek?"

"Y-yes?"

"This doesn't feel like a win," he told him suspiciously.

"Oh it is. It's definitely a win. You won."

"Ha! So my stripping skills are the most awesome thing you've ever seen, aren't they?"

Derek burst out laughing. "No! Don't ever do it again. Don't drop out of school and keep in your clothes. Stay."

Stiles scowled at him darkly. "I won this round Derek Hale. You can make dinner, if you're gonna be like that."

Derek nodded, swallowing his chuckles back as he walked into the kitchen. Stiles shot a glare at his back when he wasn't looking. He was still the winner. Superb or horrific stripping skills aside -he was the clear winner. He mocked Derek under his breath as he put the money and the pieces away.

"I'd like to see you do better," he muttered.

By the time Stiles had packed the game away and tucked it back above the closet stand, Derek had finished cooking dinner. A part of him was expecting it would consist of steak and vegetables again, but he could honestly say he was surprised when he saw the tortillas ready to be made. The hamburger was lightly seasoned and there was neatly sliced lettuce, tomatoes and cheese waiting to be selected. There was sour cream and salsa sitting on the side and Stiles double-checked the due dates before looking over to Derek.

Either the man had been planning on kidnapping Stiles and picked out a handful of meals he could feed him, or he went out camping here a lot. Stiles was personally more fond of the first choice as he put together his tortilla, watching Derek's skills critically. Maybe Stiles wasn't the best stripper, but at least he could make a tortilla that would stay put together. With a smirk, he ignored the way Derek folded his together that required him to keep both hands on it or it would fall apart. Stiles layered lettuce, cheese and tomato on his tortilla with a side of salsa before sitting down to eat.

A few tortillas later, and they were off doing dishes, Stiles elbowing Derek out of the way. Last time he had been so insistent on doing them himself. He heard the exasperated sigh from the older man as he set about washing the dishes triumphantly. Stiles liked to believe that he had reclaimed some of his dignity after the stripping display with that move. It couldn't have been that bad anyways. And at least it was only Derek around… not anyone else… and it wasn't like Derek was chatty enough that he would go around telling everyone anyway.

Stiles frowned at the soapy water. He kind of missed them. Scott was probably going out of his mind with worry. At least Danny knew he was okay, he might try to talk Scott out of doing anything stupid. His father knew he was okay too, at least there was that but he highly suspected that by the time he got back at this point that his father would be putting him on lock down with a guard at the door at all times considering the whole Gerard incident not long ago.

"You know, you can't keep me here indefinitely," he said, scrubbing the salsa stain from the plate. "I still have to go to school. You're lucky I've only missed one day of class or my dad would have your ass back in jail."

"Only if he found out it was me," Derek said amusedly, taking the dry dishes and putting them away.

Stiles reached over to try and get Derek to move out of his way, but the werewolf merely batted his hand aside and continued what he was doing.

"If school matters that much to you, I can take you back," Derek added reluctantly. "I know I was never half as interested as you seem to be."

Stiles laughed. "No, it's my dad who's interested in it. But I mean it isn't like it's not important or anything, you know? Need an education to get somewhere in life."

Stiles glanced at Derek from the corner of his eye, catching the uneasy shrug of the older man.

"I mean it doesn't look like Scott's going to make it that far, but hey, it could happen. I hope it happens. His mom wouldn't let him fail out or drop-out and neither would I and I'm sure if things got that bad, Allison would start to pitch in -and Scott can't possibly ignore her or anything…"

"What will you do when you graduate?" Derek asked, piercing him with a curious, intense look.

"I-I don't know?" Stiles said offhandedly.

He could see everyone else so clearly in their careers: Danny as a computer genius; Lydia as a world-renowned chemist; Scott as an assistant in a veterinary clinic; Jackson as some small-time sports player; and Allison, Allison would been a kindergarten teacher. Stiles didn't know where he would fit in there. Lydia would get out of Beacon Hills and farther away than anyone else might manage. Scott and Allison would probably never leave here -this was home to them.

Was it home to Stiles too, he wondered? Yes, it was, so long as his father was still here and his friends. Of course. But he could see no definitive place in this town for him. No career or anything. He was forever a hyperactive teenager to the farthest that he could imagine. He could pretend to be a number of things, see himself in those positions but never with the same certainty as how he saw his friends.

"What do you even do?" Stiles asked as he drained the sink. "Other than hang around here and creep people out?"

"I used to work in a restaurant, Laura was part of it. It was just.. a temporary thing," he said evasively.

And Stiles grinned, because he could see that. Derek as the angry, unsociable, sullen cook in a little restaurant some place, bossing everyone around. Probably everyone but his sister, she was probably in a management position or something which gave her enough power to boss him around instead. Maybe they had been in New York or some other big city, miles and miles away from this little town where their family had been murdered and their home burned down.

"Did you have something more permanent in mind?" Stiles asked, as he dried off his hands.

"Yes…" Derek murmured and Stiles recognized the pain in his voice and the far-away look in his eyes as he remembered something.

So he did the only thing he could think of. "It's your turn to strip!" he announced.

Comfort was one thing. Comforting Derek Hale was another entirely, and with his tense posture and that look in his eyes, the last thing Hale wanted was comfort. But distraction was something Stiles could manage. Sometimes it was the best thing. If Derek was going to cry about it later and analyze his feelings or go running off into the woods, howling at the moon, then he would want to do it alone. Stiles couldn't name how many times he had wanted to be alone and how people were near -and he couldn't even name how many times he was alone when he wanted people around. Sometimes for how distracting they could be, sometimes just because they were there.

"Excuse me?" Derek said blandly, his eyes on Stiles, wide with shock, both brows raised.

"If you're the master of judging stripping, you show me where I went wrong and how to do it right," he demanded.

Derek snorted, shaking his head. "Where didn't you go wrong?"

Stiles just looked at him blankly.

"You went wrong everywhere," Derek added. "And why do you want to learn how to strip?"

"So next time I don't humiliate myself," he replied.

Derek hid a smile. "No plans on being a stripper then?"

"No!"

He may not know what he wanted to be, but it definitely wasn't that. Although he might make substantial money, it was neither a glorious occupation and it also came with a lot of dangers. But stripping was useful when trying to seduce someone or attempting to be sexy and if his attempt was even half as hilarious as Derek seemed to think, then Mr. I-Know-Everything could teach him himself.

Derek seemed to sigh, shaking his head. "If anyone hears about this, I am so going to rip your head off -with my teeth." He bared his pearly whites for emphasis as he walked around the kitchen table, shaking his head. He took a moment to take his socks off, stretching slightly as he took his stance. It looked more like he was getting ready for battle than anything else.

"So here's what your version of stripping looked like…"

Derek practically ripped the shirt from his head, a wicked grin on his face even as he swayed his hips together in small clumsy movements that looked more like a chicken waddle -and he didn't even make it any further because he was laughing at the memory of Stiles' attempt. He felt shame flicker to life, infusing his cheeks with a red blush.

Derek pulled his shirt back on, flashing a grin at Stiles. Personally, Stiles preferred the image he had going on in his mind of how epic he had been. It was a good image, complete with abs and a seductive/sultry jazz song in the background. It also had well timed, drawn out movements that matched the big jazzy beats. His stripping looked a lot more like that to him -the image of a drunk man at a wedding, flailing and stripping away to the chicken dance came to mind for how horrendous his own attempt had been.

On the bright side, he could only get better.

On an even brighter side, now it was Derek's turn to actually strip. Not just tease with yanking his shirt off -he'd seen the man half naked quite a bit by now. Derek pulled his shirt back on, glancing at Stiles with his usual smirk -but somehow it seemed entirely different from any other one that Derek had given him before. Maybe it was his eyes? They were lit up with light, dancing with humor and there was… something hidden there that Stiles couldn't put a name on.

Slowly, Derek slid half of his shirt up, over his abs and up to his pectorals. He looked over at Stiles, directly making eye contact before slowly, so, so slowly pulling his shirt off. And then it was the way his hands lingered at his jeans, his hips gyrating to a beat only Derek could hear -one that was quickly becoming palpable to Stiles. With an abruptly swift move, Derek undid the zipper, and started to edge his pants down. Suddenly, Stiles was painfully -painfully- aware of just how hot it was in the little cabin, just how close Derek was to him and just how few clothes the werewolf would be wearing in a few delicious seconds.

Stiles swallowed hard, his eyes traveling up the exposed torso of the werewolf, to the way Derek was grinning, to the smugness in his eyes as he worked his pants down lower, lower…the gray of his underwear peeking through, the teasing dark curls of pubic hair standing out in contrast and then -

Derek stopped, his jeans no lower than his hips. "You get the idea?" he asked, amusement in his eyes.

Stiles nodded, trying to fight his blush back, turning away quickly so he could pretend that he wasn't staring or ogling the man and then his legs quickly led him to the privacy of a bathroom. Which, considering the hearing of a werewolf, was suddenly not-so-private at all… Being a teenager had to be the universe's almighty curse on all teenage boys, Stiles thought to himself, biting his lip as he turned the tap on. It was a really cruel joke and sometime when the world wasn't upside down on it's head, Stiles might understand it but for now he needed to find some solution that wouldn't result in him walking out of the bathroom and into an alpha who had just overheard him jacking off. No. Nope.