Author's Note: Thank you so much for all the reviews, guys! We got a few more than normal, so here is your reward ;-)

Song for the chapter: Little Talks by Of Monsters and Men (love this song, and love it for... Well, you'll see).

Little Talks

Amy was so embarrassed that she felt her chest burn painfully, almost as if she were experiencing some sort of heartburn. Here she was, in Derek's bedroom, standing toe-to-toe with him. What was most striking about the whole situation, however, was that he looked like he had just gotten out of the shower. I.e., he was shirtless. His glorious (and glistening) six-pack was literally inches from her touch.

Her mouth went dry immediately. "I – er – sorry, I – I didn't know that – I didn't know he was going to do that," she finally managed, after some difficulty.

He exhaled a ragged breath of irritation. "It's all right. It's not your fault."

A heavy silence descended upon them; the only sound was the blaring of Scott's sub-woofers, which rattled the very foundations of the house. The benefit of having a party in the woods was that they didn't have to worry about noise complaints from the neighbors. For a while, Amy and Derek's eyes remained locked, but eventually both had to look away. The whole thing was just incredibly awkward. He hastily procured a wife-beater and pulled it over his head; an immediate sense of relief washed over him. Amy couldn't say she shared his sentiments, but she certainly became less distracted.

"Why do you hate me?" she blurted out abruptly.

Derek softened his intense gaze, sitting at the edge of his bed and motioning for her to sit across from him. When she had, he could see that her eyes were swimming with hurt. The vague sense of guilt he'd been staving off for days finally materialized into something more concrete.

"I don't hate you," he said, his tone surprisingly mild.

"Yes, you do – you must. You've obviously been trying to avoid me, especially after… What… I… did."

"Look," he assured her, "It wasn't that. It's nothing you did. I just… I don't think it makes sense for anything else to... happen between us."

They were suddenly hit with the smell of pot creeping through the floorboards. While Amy didn't think anything of it, Derek shot to his feet and started downstairs mid-conversation. Startled by his reaction and unsure of what to do, she followed him.

Isaac met him at the foot of the stairs. "I told them not to," he insisted frantically. His voice was a far cry from what it had been when he was talking to Amy – he sounded almost panicked, and looked to his cousin for assistance. In a very short span of time, he'd gone from teasing Derek to imploring him.

The three walked around to the kitchen to see Stiles, Scott, and Jackson sharing a blunt.

"Out," Derek ordered rigidly. Isaac and Amy stood behind him. She cast her gaze to Isaac, who was staring at the smoke, transfixed. It dawned on her suddenly that he must have had a phobia of fire.

"What do you care," Jackson sneered. "We're not hurting anything."

"I won't tolerate anything burning in my house," Derek growled.

Scott and Stiles' eyes widened in realization, but Jackson was still unfazed. "What, like this little thing is going to start a fire?" He took a long drag; when the smoke flowed from his mouth, he said, "Don't be ridiculous."

"I said, out." Jackson was in superb shape, but so was Derek, and he was bigger – all bets were on him, if the two were to get into a fight.

"C'mon, dude, let's do what he says," Scott said. He took the joint from his hand and put it out in the sink. "Sorry," he apologized.

"Yeah, sorry man, I didn't even think…" Stiles trailed off.

Jackson snickered maliciously. "You guys are a bunch of pussies. Lydia!" he summoned her from the other room, "Come on, we're leaving!"

"Are you sure you're okay to drive?" Stiles questioned skeptically.

"I appreciate the concern, Stilinski," he didn't really sound like he did, but, to be fair, Stiles was primarily worried about Lydia… "but I'm fine." He then proceeded to storm out of the kitchen.

Scott and Stiles sent another rueful look to Isaac, but eventually filtered into the living room as well. Stiles kept his eyes fixed on Amy as he passed her in the doorway; he looked as if he wanted to say something, but refrained.

"Thanks," Isaac said quietly to Derek. He still looked faintly catatonic, but eventually joined the others.

Now alone with Derek in the kitchen, Amy suggested, "Do you want to talk outside? I could use some fresh air…"

He nodded curtly. He too wanted to escape the suffocating smell.

They were met with a wall of cool air as they walked towards the edge of the trees. The branches curled around them towards the sky, covered in new leaves. Derek's house escaped the light pollution that affected the more populated areas of Beacon Hills, so the stars shone brightly in the inky sky. It was a cloudless night.

The pair walked in silence for several minutes, enjoying the refreshing breeze and listening to crickets chirp and foliage crunch beneath their feet.

When Derek finally spoke, he said, "You shouldn't have been so persistent."

"Sorry?"

"With me."

The calm atmosphere was disrupted instantly and Amy felt indignation bubble in her stomach. "You gave me your number."

"I know. It was a mistake. I didn't think… I didn't mean… I was just kidding around. I shouldn't have done it. I regret it." From the way he struggled to express his thoughts, she could tell that there were a great many things he regretted. But she refused to accept that she was one of them.

She felt her temper flare up, made even more amplified by the four beers she'd consumed and the current state of her withering friendships.

Amy stopped walking and turned to face him. His sharp features were obscured by the darkness, but she could still make out a scowl on his face.

A decision had to be made on her part. Did she want to give up, or did she still think she could sway his aversions to her? She'd always considered herself a fighter. If this was really it, the least she could do was go out with a bang.

It was important to bear in mind that a girl only had so much self-control, and tensions were running high. Amy didn't know if she had latched onto Derek before or after she'd made said decision, but she supposed it didn't matter. And she certainly didn't know at what point she'd realized that he was responding.

It was incomprehensible to her; though it wasn't the first time they'd kissed, it was the first time he'd reacted. One minute he's telling her he regrets even meeting her and the next… this. Talk about mixed signals, I mean really!

However, such thoughts of how, why, or when were completely drowned in the fire of his lips against her lips, his tongue against her tongue, and his teeth against her skin. Goosebumps. Wherever he touched her there were goosebumps, and he touched her everywhere. His hands finally settled at her hips, beneath her blouse but above her tank top.

Her body had never reacted like this to anyone. She was shaking. Literally, shaking.

Her only stability came from the cold bark of a nearby tree (how had they gotten there, exactly?). And there was nothing. There was nothing in the world apart for him, apart for how he made her feel.

"Do you regret this," she hissed, her lips tickling his ear. The words spilled from her mouth before she knew what she was doing. All at once, her hands reached the front of his jeans and he ripped himself away like she had scalded him.

She had screwed up. Royally. But no, she wouldn't allow it; her nails, like talons, nearly tore the through the fabric of his flimsy shirt as she held him at a close distance.

"Don't you dare," she warned.

Blue met blue. But his eyes weren't blue, not exactly. She didn't know what color they were because, even in the moonlight, she had never seen anything else quite like them.

Roughly, before he had a chance to object, she closed the gap between their bodies. She channeled her anger, aggression, and frustration into confidence, and god did he like it. He liked it far too much.

She moved her deft hands to his lower back, forcing his hips forward into hers. This deceptively small adjustment elicited a gasp from Amy and a low growl from Derek. He buried the noise in the column of her throat and for a while they seemed to fit together perfectly.

She could have sworn she heard angels sing as his mouth worked on her neck. It was bliss, perfection. For a moment, she feared she'd died and gone to heaven as his hands traveled the length of her body, moving upwards from her thighs all the way to her long locks. Her clothes were invariably jostled in his wake, but it was her hair that was truly irreparable. He seemed to have some fixation with it, knotting his hands into the chocolate tresses at the base of her head. Or maybe he was just trying to make her more comfortable by giving her a pillow; he had forced her back to get much better acquainted with a tree than she had ever wanted.

But she was taking liberties, too. Derek's body felt as if it had been sculpted from marble, and his wife-beater concealed nothing. She felt every firm muscle in his upper body, and even a few that lay lower. She inhaled his scent; due to the fact that he'd bathed recently, it was incredibly pleasant – like cloves and soap.

But soon, her hands once again got a little too frisky for his liking. "Take it down a notch, Amy." She nearly swooned at the low pitch of his voice, the way he said her name! It was something else. Something beautiful, something otherworldly. The sound was almost enough to ease mind-numbing pain caused by the loss of his touch. Almost, but not quite.

"Still think you're corrupting an innocent?" she teased, breathless. She couldn't help but push the boundaries again. But this time, he reaction wasn't so negative.

He concealed a smile – not a smirk, a smile (the first one she had ever seen from him) – by tilting his head to the right. "Maybe not."

"Good," she purred. He still held her wrists in his hands; they noticed this simultaneously and he released her, to her great discontent.

"But Amy –" And god, her name again! It was music. It was enough to almost make her forget what she was about to say.

"No. No 'but's. Whatever bad experience you've had in the past, whatever you're trying to protect yourself from, whatever you're trying to protect me from is irrelevant."

He contemplated her words with a slight frown that didn't let her know whether she'd gotten through to him or not. "You should get back to your friends," he said finally, with conviction.

She supposed it was better than 'I can't see you again,' or 'This should have never happened' (both of which, frankly, would have been completely plausible responses), but she was still not pleased with his reaction.

"I don't want to go back in there," she grumbled. And it was true, she didn't. There was no reason for her to return to the party.

"…Why?"

"All my friends have moved on from me. There's no reason for me to go back." Maybe she was being dramatic, but she couldn't be bothered to care. She knew she would just feel jealous and hurt if she returned.

He cocked his head to the side, observing her with thinly veiled curiosity. "I'll take you home, then."

She never agreed, but nonetheless allowed him to guide her into the front seat of his Camaro (luckily, she had arrived in Allison's car). It was only twelve – by the time they got to her house, it would only be a couple minutes past her curfew. And she could easily fake being sober because by this point she was only slightly tipsy.

A solid five minutes into the ride: "You're confusing the hell out of me, you know."

His jaw tightening was the only indication that he'd heard her. He took his damn time responding, but ultimately replied, "I know."

"And?"

Agitation washed over his features. "What do you want me to say?"

"I want you to make a fucking decision."

He raised his eyebrows at the profanity only because he saw right through it – she was trying to sound older than she was, and that was the root of the problem.

"Look, it might be hard for you to understand, but I know how this is from your perspective. I've been there."

"Yeah? Well then you'll know that it sucks."

"I know. And I'm sorry for that, I am. But you have to understand that anything happening between the two of us would be stupid – not to mention irresponsible – on my part."

"And why is that?" she snapped waspishly.

"Because I'm way older."

She rolled her eyes and cursed herself immediately after because she knew it made her look like a petulant child. She was thankful that he had yet to tear his gaze away from the road in front of them. "I'm old enough to make my own decisions."

"That's what I thought when I was your age, too."

"You're not taking advantage of me."

"You've made it clear that you don't think so."

"It's not a matter of me 'thinking so' or not, it's a fact."

"That remains to be seen."

"Ugh, I don't know why you have to be so difficult! If this is about your ex, then you need to get over it, Derek! That was years ago! It's not the same situation!"

"You don't know the whole story," he growled, suddenly livid.

Amy instantly curtailed her rant. "Then what's the whole story?" she asked.

"Another time."

"No, tell me. You've made it clear that you don't want there to be another time, so at least have the courtesy to tell me why."

It took a bit more coaxing, but the word 'courtesy' seemed to strike a chord. Finally, he answered, "Kate… I didn't know it at the time, but she had dated my uncle, Peter. That fire at my house wasn't an accident, Amy. It was Kate."

"What?"

"She was just using me to get revenge on him for breaking up with her."

"What?"

"Yeah. I was an idiot."

"Why didn't you go to the police?" she demanded, overwhelmed by this news.

"There's no evidence. But I know that she did it. I just know. The two of them – they're both bat-shit crazy. That janitor that my uncle killed was an accomplice. He was trying to get revenge."

"I can't believe… She's just going to get away with it?"

He shrugged. "There's nothing I can do." Now it made sense why he was so angry all the time.

"Who's to say that she won't do something like that again? She can't be allowed to just carry on…"

"I'm not too worried. There's nothing else she can take from me."

"What about Isaac?"

His eyes flashed with fury. "Don't. Don't even mention him."

"It's a fair point," she insisted.

"If I so much as even suspect she has any intention of hurting my cousin, I'll kill her myself."

"Do you even know where she is?"

"She lives in the next town over. I'm not a complete idiot. I've been keeping tabs on her, making sure she doesn't come near me. Believe me, Amy, if I thought there was a way I could bring her to justice, I wouldn't hesitate to do it. But that's beside the point."

"Damn straight it is," she muttered. "Is this your way of telling me that you're using me to get revenge on my family? Because somehow I have a hard time buying that."

"Look," he sighed, "I'm just saying that you'd be better off with someone your own age. It's so much less complicated that way."

"But I mean, you can't tell me that what just happened should be… ignored."

"It should be."

"Okay, I meant to say can be."

It took him much longer to come up with a response for this one. He was racking his brain in search of reasons that they shouldn't see each other again, reasons she would understand. It was harder than it should have been.

She took advantage of the lull in conversation to add, "You can't deny that that was… great."

Yeah, he really couldn't. "That is irrelevant."

"Um, no, it's not," she objected. She flung her hand across the center console and rested in on his knee, gradually gliding it upwards. "Tell me," she breathed seductively, "that this is irrelevant."

Now, Derek was stubborn as hell, but he was still only human. This was the third time in an hour that she had made a move for his crotch, and he really didn't think he could withstand much more. She felt his quad muscle tense instantaneously under her touch. In fact, she saw every muscle in his entire body tense. Through clenched teeth, he ground out, "Stop." God-knows, stop, before I pull over right now and screw the living daylights out of you, was what he really meant.

She obliged. His posture told her all she needed to know: that he was just as affected by her was she was by him. "Now," she continued, feeling delightfully in command, "remember when you called me persistent? Well, that's not going to change. There's something basic between us, something that just works."

God, he hated that she was right. He really hated it. "What do you want from me?" he asked tiredly.

"I want you to give this a shot. If you just let go…"

If he had a dollar for every time someone told him to let go, he'd be a millionaire. No one knew, no one understood how impossible that was. How he fucked things up when he let go. Things like the Kate Incident happened when he let go.

Amy realized her misstep before he even had a chance to voice his resentment. "I know, I know. You just explained it to me, I know. But c'mon, do I seem like a threat to you? What are you so afraid of?" she asked softly.

What was he so afraid of? He couldn't really come up with a rational reason other than that he was too old for her, and he had already exhausted that excuse. And he also had to be honest with himself – he'd gotten past the age difference. Now? Now, it was just a matter of him not wanting to bend to her will.

They arrived where he typically dropped her off. He was positive that it wasn't actually her house, but didn't care enough to ask her about it and he could tell that she wasn't keen on giving him the details. He surmised that it probably had something to do with her parents, who she had avoided mentioning at all costs.

He caught her off guard when she heard the click of his door closing after she had already started to walk away. But she didn't turn around.

Despite all evidence to the contrary, he really didn't want to deny himself the satisfaction of "spending time" (a euphemism) with her. While she did occasionally irritate him, he found her to be infinitely more tolerable than other girls he had met for the simple fact that she was spunky. And he knew it was wrong, that she was only in high school, but if he liked her now, how might he feel about her in a couple of years? The way he saw it, she was possibly a good investment. Maybe it wouldn't be so horrible to at least give her a chance.

With these thoughts in mind, he grabbed her wrist and spun her into him. He captured her lips in his as they stood in the grass of one of her neighbor's lawns; they were invisible, on the periphery of the yellow glow cast by the streetlights. His sturdy arms encircled her waist, aiding her effort to minimize the inconvenience of their height difference.

Amy was shocked for a variety of reasons, the first being that, after all his sulking, Derek had initiated the kiss. Secondly, said kiss was far gentler than what they'd just shared.

Granted, everything leading up to this point had been rather rushed and frenzied and god-knows, the word steamy came to mind. But this? This was borderline romantic. She could practically hear victory trumpets ring out, because it struck her then that she had triumphed. She had gotten through to him.

When they separated (begrudgingly, on her part), she rested her forehead against his. She kept her eyes close, hoping, praying for the moment not to end.

His husky voice roused her from her daydream. "Fine," he conceded, "I'll give it a shot."

Amy's heart soared, and she could do nothing to stifle the formation of an enormous grin. "I promise you," she started, "you won't regret it." She then proceeded to give him a peck on the cheek and reluctantly slip from his grasp.

"I'll see you soon," she whispered. It wasn't a request, it was an order.

Author's Note: Soooo I'm going back to college tomorrow... Which means, updates won't be as frequent. I'M SORRY, GUYS. But hopefully this will tide you over for a little while at least. It was super long and full of Deramy, what more could you ask for? (kidding). Also, reviews may persuade me to get my ass in gear (wink wink nudge nudge), so PLEASE review. Thanks for reading, my loves!