Author's Note: As always, thank you so much to all the reviewers! I can't tell you how much I appreciate the feedback! Also thank you to Silvereyed Queen for directing me to a great TW timeline!

I hope you all like this chapter, even though there's practically no Deramy. It's pretty much Sterica-centric (WHICH IS SO WEIRD FOR ME). I think this is the first chapter I've ever written for Teen Wolf where Amy doesn't appear at all (crayzayyy). There will probably be more chapters like this, but I'm not sure. The goal for this story is to have two parallel love stories kind of going on at the same time. Idk... it's not completely set to be like this, but it's a definite possibility.

Song for the chapter: Courtship Dating by Crystal Castles (alternatively, Mirror Error by The Faint for the parts with Erica).

Courtship Dating

"Kate" was more than just a name for Derek. It was a dynasty. It was a reminder of the darkest period in his life.

He tried to repress all of it. Everything. The feelings. The memories. Everything that had made him weak. He wasn't weak anymore. The only thing he needed to remember was that emotions had ruined his life.

Being caught off guard was no longer something that happened to him, so, naturally, Amy's display was unsettling. He was never surprised, not anymore. What did it mean? Nothing. It meant nothing. It was normal to be surprised by someone arbitrarily shoving her tongue down your throat at any given moment. He was surprised by her tenacity, impressed by it. That was all.

He didn't want to see her again. He didn't want to feel it again, to feel something again, anything again, anything besides the emptiness that gnawed at his chest. He didn't want to show her the danger in starting something you couldn't finish. He didn't want to bite those rosebud lips, to run his hands all over those lithe legs, to strip her of those skimpy shorts, to knot his hand into those chestnut locks, to – he stopped himself. He didn't want to want any of it, but he did. If he allowed his mind to roam any further, he might become acquainted with the meaning of starting something he couldn't finish.

He hated himself for being intrigued. He didn't think she had it in her to... do what she did. But he couldn't, he couldn't give in. Things became so much more appealing once they were forbidden...

oxOxo

Erica stared at her reflection in the mirror, despising what she saw. People told her she was beautiful all the time. She saw the boys watch her as she walked down the hallways. She knew they talked about her in the locker room. But that didn't change the fact that on the inside, she was still every nasty nickname she had ever been called. She was still that chubby and pizza-faced little girl that everyone made fun of. No amount of exercise or ProActive could change that.

The fact that Stiles had asked her out rattled her and sent her spiraling back into her pariah days. Of course he noticed her now, now that she was pretty and easy. She resented him for it, but that didn't change the fact that she still had a crush on him. "Stiles is such a nice guy," said everyone, said all the girls, said all the lacrosse players. No. No, he wasn't. Not to her. He was just like everyone else.

And then there was Isaac. Before it all, before the eyeliner and the anti-frizz hair products, he had been kind to her. However, their arrangement hadn't just been borne out of romance, but also out of a need for survival. High school was a perilous place, and their peers were cruel. By forming an alliance, the pair of misfits was able to raise their statuses in the social hierarchy.

Isaac was a strange case. He wasn't unpopular exactly, just quiet. But his family history had driven him to the outskirts of the social scene, and his uncle's arrest had brought on a wave of violent bullying.

The funny thing was, neither of them had been seeking popularity – mere acceptance would have been plenty. And true enough, Isaac hadn't been propelled to the state of infamy that Erica had. Isaac's only wish was to be left alone; he wanted the taunting and the beatings to stop, but that was all.

It's the middle of the summer, and Erica is running errands at the grocery store. She turns the corner too fast and crashes into a tall, lean figure. Cans from her shopping cart tumble to the floor in loud clangs. The person she's run into – a boy who, at first glance, seems to be about her age – crouches down to help her clean up the mess.

"I'm s-so sorry," she stammers wildly.

He lifts his messy-haired head to look at her, and Erica soon recognizes him as Isaac Lahey, one of her classmates.

"No problem," he laughs softly. "You look familiar… Do you go to BH?"

"Y-yeah, I'm going to be a senior."

His brow furrows because it then becomes clear that he really should know who she is. He's slightly embarrassed, but soon it dawns on him. "You're Erica, right? Erica Reyes?"

Her chocolate eyes light up, surprised that he knows who she is. He wasn't much higher than she was on the social ladder, but still. She was a wallflower. Mostly just the girls make fun of her, but Jackson occasionally chimes in. Maybe the lacrosse team mocked of her when she wasn't around. She wouldn't be surprised.

"Yeah. You're Isaac, right?"

He's not thrown that she knows him. Everyone knows him, especially after what his uncle did. After what happened to his family. He's a household name, just like his cousin. Derek managed to overshadow him in almost every way, but not this one. Neither had escaped the stigma of their uncle's sins and the tragedy that had befallen their family. "Yeah. You look… different," he comments.

That's an understatement. She looks hot. The sunlight and summer fashions had been extraordinarily beneficial to her.

She blushes because, although she knows she looks different, she hasn't yet grown into her new body. She's still shy and self-conscious. "Thanks?"

"I-I mean it in a good way," he says quickly. "You look… good…" They both blush and he looks incredibly uncomfortable. Hastily dropping the fallen cans into her cart, he picks up his shopping basket and says, "I'll – uh – see you around."

"I'd – I'd like that," she replies, shocking herself with her boldness.

Isaac pauses contemplatively. He would be a fool not to take this cue, and he knows it. "We should hang out some time," he suggests after a moment.

"T-that'd be cool."

"Here," he digs through the pockets of his khaki shorts, "What's your number?" He hands her his phone and her delicate fingers tremble as she types it in.

He gives her a crooked grin; his teeth are blindingly white. "See ya," he says as he heads off.

Her time with Isaac had been fun – transformative, even – but she wanted more. They had parted ways because she had a different agenda than he did, but they still remained friends. They owed each other everything they had accomplished in the past months and they knew one another better than anyone else. They were their only true friends.

Going on a date with Stiles was symbolic; it signified the final banishing of her insecurity. When she broke his heart, she could finally bury the ridiculing voices that haunted her.

oxOxo

Stiles didn't recall exactly how he'd managed to ask Erica out, just that he'd done it. Alcohol truly was liquid courage.

He didn't have much experience with dates. He'd been on a couple, but they were usually in groups – he avoided solo ones because he wasn't very smooth and grew awkward rapidly when outside the comfort of his friend-circle.

He imagined that Erica had been on many in the past school year. Probably way more than he'd been on in his entire life. But somehow, he wasn't worried. He didn't doubt that he was far different from any of the other guys she'd "interacted" with. And boy, did Stiles hope that the two of them would "interact." Lately, it seemed like everyone was getting some action except for him. Actually, now that he thought about it, it always seemed like everyone was getting some action except for him. The time had come to change that. Maybe he couldn't have Lydia. But he could still have fun.

He drove to Erica's at six-thirty. He parked his shoddy Jeep in her driveway and moseyed up to the front step, anxiously pressing his finger to the doorbell. Her mother answered; she was really short, with mousy hair and a plump figure.

"You must be Stiles," she greeted in a fairy's voice that didn't at all suit her appearance. She beamed at him, nearly dragging his gawky form into the house with an iron grip on his bicep. When she released him, he rolled his shoulder in an attempt to shake off the sensation of his muscles being crushed. "Erica will be down in just a minute, honey," she told him, "You can take a seat in the living room, if you like."

Obedient as always, Stiles followed her instructions and sat on the sofa in front of Erica's father.

"Uh, Hey there, Mr. Reyes, how's it goin'?" he babbled, pulling at the collar of his t-shirt. "I'm Stiles. Stiles Stilinski."

"You're the sheriff's son, I take it?" he remarked. "I understand you're here to take out my daughter?"

"Er yeahhh… That's former sheriff, actually, but yeah…"

The elder man crinkled his nose in an obvious show of distaste. "Oh yes, that slipped my mind. I assume those prior transgressions are far, far in the past, am I right?"

"Heh, of course," he laughed nervously.

"Have her back here by eleven, son," he said sternly.

"Sure thing, Mr. R."

Just then, the blonde goddess started down the staircase. Stiles willed himself not to gape, but he could do nothing to prevent his honey-colored eyes from glazing over at the sight. Her golden tresses caught the overhead lights, framing her lovely face like a halo.

"Oh my god," he muttered under his breath.

She smirked at his reaction, but refrained from saying anything inappropriate in the presence of her parents. "Ready to go?" she cooed.

He shot to his feet, his hands suddenly going clammy. "Yep," he stammered. She linked her arm through his, sending a rush of fire through his poor, hormonal body.

"See you later, Mom and Dad," she drawled.

Once outside the house, Stiles couldn't help but make up for lost time, letting his eyes soak in the view in the tragically dim streetlights. She was wearing a pair of black satin shorts and a v-neck tee, complete with leopard-print stilettos. He willed himself not to drool. Her accentuated chest was gloriously. She must have been wearing a push-up bra, which was both completely necessary and completely unnecessary.

"See something you like?" she teased.

"Huh? What? Oh yeah. Not just one thing, many things. Many, many things…"

Erica bit her glossed lower lip and tried to prevent her cheeks from going pink. "We should probably get going."

"Wh-yeah. Yeah, you're right. Here –" he scrambled to open the passenger-side door for her. Peering at him through the thick black lashes that framed her doe-eyes, she gracefully stepped into the Jeep. He shut the door behind her and shuffled around to the other side. His hands were shaking as he turned the key in the ignition.

"So, where are we going?" she asked, sounding bored.

"I – uh – I thought we could go to dinner somewhere?"

"… Sounds fine."

He gulped. "Good, good," he mumbled. God, what am I doing?

When they were sitting at their booth in a local café, Erica said, "So, you're planning on wining and dining me, huh?" Her irises, such a dark shade of brown that they appeared almost red, sparkled with mirth. She loved how ill at ease she made him. And here I was, thinking I wouldn't be nervous, he mused to himself.

"Unless you've got a fake, it's gonna just have to be dine. Sorry."

"Not a problem," she purred, "Seeing as I already know you under the influence, I think it'd be nice to talk to you sober." She smiled predatorily and Stiles had to acknowledge that those years of braces had paid off exponentially.

"Heh, yeah, hopefully I didn't say anything too – "

"You didn't," she cut him off.

He fidgeted in his seat, accidentally brushing his foot against hers underneath the table. A dark red blush threatened to overtake his face. "Sorry!" he blurted out quickly.

Still beneath the table, Erica ran her bejeweled hand over the length of Stiles' jean-covered thigh, traveling dangerously north. "Don't worry about it," she breathed.

His eyes nearly bugged out of his head and he shirked from her touch. You can't get a boner, you can't get a boner! he warned himself desperately.

"What's the matter?" she pouted, "Isn't this what you wanted?"

Stiles throat was completely parched, and he opened and closed his mouth several times before he was able to regain the ability to speak. "I – I – um – I just wanted to, y'know, get to know you and all that. We don't have to – uh – we don't have to move so fast… We don't have to do anything… like… that. If you don't want to, I mean. If you do – "

She curtailed his blathering with a melodious laugh. "Okay, okay, I get it," she said. "You're a virgin, aren't you?" Her tone stuck halfway between pity and curiosity. "That's cute."

He had no idea how to reply and his eyes darted around frantically. Dammit, you should have taken your Adderall, his brain scolded. "I never said that," he replied finally. He'd tried to make his voice deeper, but it just came off like he was doing a Batman impression.

"You didn't need to."

"I'll have you know, I have plenty of… experience," he protested.

"It doesn't count if it's with yourself," she quipped.

Again, Stiles floundered for words. "I never – I don't – it's completely normal to – ugh! There are plenty of girls who'd like to go out with me!"

"But not the ones you want – not Lydia." She couldn't help herself; the spite lacing her words was jolting.

His eyebrows knotted together. "You agreed to go out with me, didn't you? I didn't ask Lydia out, I asked you out."

"Please, that doesn't mean that you're over her. I find it hard to believe that you've forgotten about that self-absorbed little bitch."

He winced at her admonishment of Lydia, but bit back the urge to defend his former love. "Trust me, that's not going anywhere. I'm here. With you. I asked you out."

"You know, Stiles, I used to have the biggest crush on you. But you never noticed me. Not once. It was like I didn't even exist."

That hit him in the heart. He felt bad – he wasn't a douchebag, he really wasn't. He took great pains not to be like most of his peers, not to be like Jackson. To hear that he'd ignored her in the same way that Lydia had ignored him forced him to see things through an entirely new perspective. In all his years pining after the strawberry-blonde, he'd been blind to other girls. Maybe it was his own fault that he had so little experience. He'd rejected opportunities left and right without even knowing it.

"I – I'm sorry. I really am." His tone was overwhelmingly sincere, but Erica refused to abandon her scheme. She would show him. She would show him what he did to her. She would get revenge.

But first, she had to make him care about her. She smiled with her mouth, but it failed to reach her eyes. "It's fine. It's in the past."

"Just give me a chance," he pleaded, "I'm a good guy, honest. Ask anyone!"

If only you knew. "I prefer to make my own judgments."

He broke into a winning grin. "That's totally fine! My only request is that you give me sufficient time to prove myself."

"I suppose that can be arranged…"

oxOxo

Stiles brought Erica home at ten-thirty. After dinner, they walked down Main Street and grabbed some ice cream. One thing that he'd noticed about the blonde was that she was very touchy-feely. Even when she was talking about something completely innocent, she would touch his chest or shoulder. It made things exceedingly distracting.

When he shifted his Jeep into park on the street in front of her house, she didn't make any move to leave.

"So, um, I had a– a reallygreattimetonight," he said hurriedly, without looking at her.

"Me too," she droned seductively. "It was fun… Stiles? Stiles, look at me, hun."

At the sound of a pet name, he snapped his head in her direction. "What is it?"

She rested her hand in the space between his shoulder and jaw line and stroked the side of his face with her thumb. All the while, her dark eyes leered at him expectantly.

"Aren't you forgetting something?" She pursed her lips ever so slightly, as if to nudge him onto the right train of thought.

He licked his own lips twitchily. Okay, this is it. This is what you wanted all along, dude. You can't pussy out now. You just can't. She's giving you the green light, you'd be a COMPLETE idiot to ignore all the signals. I'll never forgive you if you don't go through with it, man, do you hear me? Never! You'll regret this for the rest of your life!

He scrounged together every ounce of bravery in his 147-pound form and took a deep breath. He leant forward and shut his eyes once Erica's fluttered closed, validating that he was taking the right course of action.

She couldn't help but smile into the kiss. It had been a long time coming, as far as she was concerned. She moved her left hand up to his face, placing the right one in the same position on the other side. Stiles' hand hovered at her hip, just barely touching the fabric of her shirt. He was so, so gentle. She tried to ignore how different kissing him was; she'd made out with nearly twenty plus guys, but none of them had ever treated her the way he did.

She slid her hand down, unbuckling his seatbelt and repositioning herself so that her whole body was facing him. She gave him a few more minutes of kissing to get him acclimated, before swinging one leg over his and sitting down on his lap.

Eyes wide as saucers, he opened his mouth (presumably to say something), but Erica covered it with hers. Whatever he'd words he'd meant to utter were completely lost in the passion of their warring tongues. She trailed her hot lips down to his neck, nipping at the skin in a way that was sure to leave a hickey. Stiles, reveling in the sensation, tilted his head upwards to give her better access as her long hair lapped against his skin. His eyes were glued shut and his hands were glued to her waist.

Without warning, she ground her hips into his and started working on the fly of his pants. The poor kid's eyes flew open and his hips bucked forward, against his control. The abruptness of the whole ordeal sent Erica reeling back into the steering wheel and caused her to set off the horn.

Stiles was positively mortified, which was evidenced in his expression. She was filled with a genuine laughter at the sight of it. "Relax," she giggled, "It's fine!"

"No, it's not fine! Oh my god. Are you all right? That didn't – you didn't – are you okay? Jesus Christ. Please tell me you're okay?"

"I'm totally fine," she assured him, still laughing. "But I think you've had enough for one night. I don't want to completely spoil your innocence just yet."

She then maneuvered herself off of him, back into the passenger's seat. Stiles' face was flushed, his eyes were glassy, and his lips were swollen and coated in a thin layer of her lipstick. His hair would have been ruffled, too, if it weren't so short. And then there was the slightly less obvious effect that lay (thankfully) cloaked by the shadows and darkness of the night.

She gave him one last chaste kiss before stepping out of the car.

"Call me," she said with a wink.

Author's Note: Okay, so that was pretty raunchy as far as anything else I've written goes. Let me know what you thought of Erica in this, pretty please!

I took out the epileptic part because there was really no way for me to have her be "cured" of it without the werewolf stuff. But in the show there's definitely this sort of desire for revenge on her classmates that she has, and I kind of wanted to transfer some of that to Stiles. I feel like she would be angry that he's only noticing her now, you know? Even if she does still have a crush on him.

And there was a little bit of Isaac in this, too! Their relationship will be explored further later on in the story. I love Stiles dearly, but despite the fact that the show is so desperate to paint him as the "nice guy," I feel like what he did to Erica kind of conflicts with that. BUT DON'T GET ME WRONG I FUCKING LOVE STILES MORE THAN LIFE ITSELF. Also I see Isaac as being a real sweetheart, deep down. Let me know what you thought of the characterizations!

The beginning would have been better place in the last chapter, but it was really long so I refrained. What do you think of Derek's train of thought? These last two chapters have been mad long, so tell me your opinions!