TRIGGER WARNING: This chapter contains descriptions and situations with both guns and needles. Please proceed with caution.

When we reached Sheriff Stilinski's office, Stiles let go of my hand and dashed over to the lockbox on the wall. I stood in the middle of the room, squinting around at the plaques and pictures that lined the walls. There was a slight smile on my face as I looked at one of Stiles and his father on the desk, but the smile vanished when Stiles opened his mouth.

"Oh no, no, no."

My head snapped up. "What is it?"

He stepped aside, jerking his thumb toward the box on the wall. The cover had been removed, now showing that the inside was completely vacant. No keys.

"Shit," I hissed, pressing a hand to my head. "So what does that mean? Did the Argents beat us here?"

"I don't know."

He ran to peek both ways out the door again. I went to follow, but paused, looking around the room with a different idea in mind. It was a police station after all, right?

I ran toward the wall, hands searching in the dark. I felt along the walls, along the shelves, until I finally skimmed something promising: hard, textured, black plastic. I gave a small knock to test the strength, but it was unyielding. Perfect.

I grabbed at the edges and tried to haul it off the shelf, and Stiles doubled back in confusion. "Sadie, come on! We gotta go!"

"Help me with this," I ordered.

He only hesitated for a second, then groaned and rushed to my side, helping me lower the heavy case to the ground. "Geez, what the hell is this?"

"Open it."

"Um, I can't? You see the front here? Two code locks. I don't know…"

"Yeah, and you 'didn't know' the code to the lockbox either. Look, if there's anything you can think of that would fit. Please try."

He held my gaze for a few seconds before sighing. "Okay. Okay, uh…hold on…"

He shifted the case toward him, plugging in a number and testing the lock. It didn't budge. He tried again. No luck. He scrolled the wheels a few more times and tired a few more codes, but nothing seemed to be working. He let out a noise of frustration and shook his head.

"Sadie, it's not gonna—"

"Stiles. Please."

He squeezed his eyes shut for a moment and took a deep breath. He let the air out in a long, slow stream, and spun through the numbers one more time. His thumbs moved to tug at the locks. And it clicked.

"Holy shit." Stiles gaped as the clasps flicked up, unlocking the case. "Holy shit, I—I got it…"

"You got it," I said with a grin.

I flipped the case open, holding my breath in fear that I'd picked the wrong one, but I wasn't disappointed. The inside was full of Styrofoam padding, revealing several handguns and magazines at the ready. I let my fingers ghost over the surface, selecting a gun and some ammo.

"Holy shit!" Stiles repeated. He waved his hands in front of him, jaw dropping. "I got it! That—that is so unsafe!"

I chuckled, loading the gun and standing up. I kept the barrel pointed at the ground as I walked to the door, checking down both ends of the hallway before glancing back at Stiles. "Come on, we should go."

Stiles stood up and brushed his hands on his jeans, jogging over to the door. I didn't miss the way his eyes scanned my body, just like Derek had done to the woman up front, his eyes lingering on the gun and then my face. I tucked my lips in, torn between embarrassment and pride.

"Focus, Stiles."

"W-w-what? I'm focused. What are you talking about? You focus."

I shook my head with a grin. "Stiles. Go."

He nodded reluctantly, checking the hallway for himself before leading the way.

"We'll go to the holding cells," he whispered over his shoulder. "Isaac's probably about to rip the door off anyway, and we need to get to him before the…oh…"

We rounded the corner and stopped short, face to face with yet another deputy. He was glaring at us both, clearly not pleased at all.

My stomach dropped. It hadn't even occurred to me that more than one officer would be at the station, but there'd been a murder the night before, and they had someone in custody. Of course it'd make sense that they'd brought more officers on duty. At least, it did make sense, until I caught sight of his injury.

"Oh, we were just, uh—"

"Stiles…"

He followed my eyes down to the man's leg. Suddenly, it was very clear that the man in front of us was not a deputy. And it was very clear what Allison had meant by "slow him down." The hunter's leg was soaked in blood, a broken arrow shaft protruding from his thigh. This time my stomach jumped up into my throat. She'd shot him. Allison had shot him in the leg to help us. And we'd run into him anyway.

"Oh shit."

The next thing I knew, Stiles grabbed my shoulder and hurled me to the ground. I barely managed to keep my hand on the gun, and I let out a small huff of pain as my chest collided with the floor, but the moment I heard the muffled noise of protest from behind me, even the mere thought of pain flew from my mind. I jumped to my feet, bringing the gun up to eye level and whirling around to face my target.

But it was already too late. The man had snatched Stiles and pulled him back. He had one hand clamped over his mouth, pinning him against his chest as he struggled. The other hand was holding a large, lethal-looking needle. My breath caught in my throat and I fought to keep my hands steady. I opened my mouth to yell for Derek, but the hunter was a step ahead.

He moved the needle closer to Stiles's neck. "Scream and he dies."

I narrowed my eyes, tightening my hands on the gun. "Move and I shoot."

"That's cute, kid, but you really don't know what you're up against."

Mt eyes glanced around the hall, from Stiles's fear-stricken face to the needle in the man's hand. I pursed my lips and took a gamble.

"Guess wolfbane injection's a little more discreet than blowing a teenager's head off, huh?"

It'd been an educated guess, but I wasn't disappointed. The man froze for a moment, just enough time for Stiles to stark kicking again, but the man's grip wasn't loose enough to allow for an escape.

"Hey!" I barked. "How—how do you think your boss is gonna feel when he finds out you wasted all your precious ammo on a human kid?"

He jerked Stiles's head back, exposing his throat and pressing the needle hard against his skin. "You think I won't just tear his neck open with this thing?"

"I think you underestimate my ability to take a headshot."

The man narrowed his eyes for a second. His hand edged away from Stiles's neck and for a moment, I thought I'd won the foothold I was looking for. For a moment.

"You? I don't think so, sweetheart."

My heart pounded back into motion, loud enough to sound in my ears as the man's confidence seeped back into his face.

"Uh oh. Looks like somebody knows you're a coward!"

I scrunched my eyes shut for a moment, trying to will the familiar, singsong voice out of my head.

"I'm not."

The man tightened his hold on Stiles and dragged him further down the hallway.

"I said don't move!" I hissed. "D-drop him or I shoot."

"Yeah? I think you're bluffing."

"Yikes. You're definitely bluffing, kiddo."

"Shut up, Kate."

The man continued to yank Stiles down the hall. I countered him, trying to maintain a non-threatening distance while still looking threatening enough to stop him from hurting Stiles. My eyes darted over the hunter from head to toe, looking for a target, but Stiles was still thrashing around. It was impossible to get a shot.

"Oh, please. You've got plenty of shots. If I remember correctly, you're pretty good at clipping the shoulder."

"Stop it!"

I blinked hard, narrowing my eyes at the man and trying to take a deep breath. My hands were already starting to shake.

"Come on, Sadie. Remember how easy it was last time? How good it felt? Just pretend you're looking at me. He's a monster, right? About to kill a harmless little kid? I mean, seriously, he could rip lover boy's jugular right open."

"Stop."

"Of course, that's a little too bloody, in my opinion. I'd probably go for a good ol' snap of the neck."

"Stop! Just stop it!"

"Mm, then make me, Sadie. Go be the knight in short shorts. Shoot him."

My fingers tightened on the trigger, moving the barrel in small increments as I tried to decide which shot to take. Kate was right; there were plenty of openings. The man was being sloppy, cocky because he thought he was just a little girl who couldn't shoot.

"Well, we both know that's not true. You shot me. Now shoot him."

No, he knew. He knew I was just a little girl who wouldn't shoot.

"Just a couple muscles in the finger. Shoot him."

I was beginning to hyperventilate. I couldn't do it.

"Shoot. Him. Now."

I clicked the safety back on the gun and jumped for the wall instead. I yanked down on the fire alarm, flooding the hallway with flashing red lights and the sound of sirens.

I heard the man grunt as Stiles kicked him in the shin, struggling to break free as they crossed the threshold into the holding cells. The hunter threw him to the ground, flipped the needle in his hand so he was wielding it like knife, and stepped on Stiles's shoulder to pin him down. The hunter glared at me, baring his teeth in anger and pain.

"I told you not to make any noise."

"You told me not to scream."

I glared back, my hand tightening on the gun again. Even if I couldn't shoot him, I could probably hit him with it. But something else caught my eye first: just behind the hunter was the wall of holding cells, all of them empty. One door was open, hanging crookedly with the hinges torn clean from the wall. That…wasn't good.

The hunter followed my eyes, turning around to find what was wrong. Stiles squirmed out from underneath the man's foot, and I leapt for him, dragging him out of the way just as all hell broke loose.

The man let out a hoarse cry as his body went flying to the left. I barely had time to register the hulking figure that was pinning him to the desk before they both went flying in the opposite direction, slamming into the wall.

Stiles scrambled the opposite way on his hands and knees, and I got back to my feet. I gripped the gun in my hands, steeling myself, trying to convince myself that I would be ready to use it if necessary—whether that meant shooting the hunter or Isaac.

The way things were going, it didn't look like the hunter would be a problem much longer. Isaac roared, clutching the man's forearm and squeezing until I swore I heard bones breaking from across the room. He cried out in pain, dropped the wolfsbane-filled syringe to the ground, but Isaac hardly seemed to notice. He laid a large hand over the hunter's face, his claws extended, and slammed his head into the wall. The man crumpled into a pile at Isaac's feet and the new werewolf let out a satisfied growl.

I jumped at the sound of breaking glass, my head snapping to the right. Derek had finally decided to join us. He ground his heel into the tile, destroying the syringe before looking up to stare evenly at Isaac. One threat was neutralized; now it was time to deal with the other.

Isaac turned slowly on the spot, claws still extended, growling lowly. Glowing, golden eyes locked on Stiles, who was currently cowering in the corner. Stiles choked, struggling to push him farther back…but he was trapped.

Isaac snarled, and I sprang into action.

"No!"

I sprinted into the middle of the room, planting myself between him and Stiles, but it didn't stop him. Isaac roared, pointed ears extended back, fangs bared and ready to bite. The only thing that remained of Isaac were those dirty blond curls that sometimes fell into his face. Unfortunately, that wasn't going to stop him from tearing me limb from limb.

Isaac lunged at me, his claws outstretched, and I was too caught up to care. I just closed my eyes and braced myself for impact. But the impact never came.

Another roar ripped through the air, shaking me to my core. I sounded like even the bars on the cells were rattling. I tore my eyes open, greeted by the black leather of Derek's jacket. I was standing in front of Stiles, and now Derek was standing in front of me. He snarled again, the kind of deep and powerful rumble that could only ever come from an Alpha.

The response was immediate. Isaac shrank back, falling to the ground and huddling in a ball with his arms over his head. I watched in fascination as the claws on his fingers retracted, the tips of his ears shrinking until they were smooth and rounded once more. When he finally peeked out from under his arm, it was to reveal the real Isaac, the Isaac I knew. His skin was glistening with sweat and his blue eyes darted around skittishly. His whole body shook like a leaf, and he ducked his head into his arms once more.

Stiles cleared his throat from the floor behind me. "H-how did you do that?"

Derek turned around, wearing a smug smile.

"I'm the Alpha," he explained, red eyes flashing once more. He looked down at me and the red seeped away, leaving nothing but concern. "Are you okay?"

I nodded shakily. "Yeah, just…just get him out of here."

"You," Derek barked, rounding back on Isaac. "Get up."

Isaac peeked up at his, paralyzed with fear. Derek waited about two seconds for a response, then marched over him and grabbed him by the back of the shirt. He hauled Isaac to his feet so roughly, the boy actually whimpered.

"Hey! Easy!"

I barked the order just as convincingly as Derek. He rolled his eyes at me, but loosened his grip. Isaac looked up at him with wide, frightened eyes, then back at me. He only held my gaze for a moment, then dropped his eyes to my boots, unable to look me in the eyes.

"Sadie, I am…I am so, so sorry. I didn't—I wouldn't—"

"Go with Derek, Isaac," I said, gently as I could. "Night's not over yet. Let's make sure no one else gets hurt."

He ducked his head even lower in shame, hiding his face behind his curls in a way that was so familiar, it was almost comforting. Derek clamped a hand on his shoulder and steered him out of the room, whisking him out of sight before I could think of anything else to say.

It was only in the silence that the sirens and their volume began to sink in. I closed my eyes to escape the flashing lights, the wailing alarm drilling at my ears until I could feel the pounding headache behind my eyes. I wiped a hand down my face and turned on the spot.

Stiles was still sitting on the ground behind me. His legs were bent awkwardly, his head pressed back against the plaster, skin slicked with almost as much sweat as Isaac's had been. He was panting as if he'd been the one transforming into a werewolf. His large, maple eyes stared up at me, almost bright orange in the flashing alarm lights.

I tried to take a deep breath to calm myself, but it came out weak and shaky, which only made me more nervous. Back to being alone with Stiles.

"Are you okay?" I asked, reaching out to help him to his feet.

"Hm?" He'd been looking at me the whole time, but his eyes widened as if he'd just noticed I was there. "Oh, uh…yeah. Thanks."

He slipped his hands into mine, grabbing my wrist so I could help him up. He hopped to his feet so enthusiastically, his chest almost bumped into mine. Our faces were inches apart. I instantly dropped his hand and stepped back. Like Isaac, I dropped my gaze to the floor, too weak to look him in the eye.

"So, um…what do we do now?"

"Not sure. But, uh, getting rid of the gun would probably be a good start."

I looked up at him with a start, then down at the firearm in my hand. I'd completely forgot I was holding it.

"Right. Gun. Um…"

I lifted it to my torso, trying as best as I could to wipe my fingerprints away with the hem of my blouse. I darted over to the unconscious hunter on the ground. I pressed the gun into his hands a few times, then placed it a few feet away and stood up. It wasn't a great plan, but it was a start.

"Okay," I sighed, resting my hands on my hips. "So some guy masquerading as a cop breaks into the station, steals a gun, and then tries to let a teenager out of the holding cell. Maybe he was gonna shoot him, maybe he was gonna kidnap him. Maybe he was a friend of Mr. Lahey and he jumped to conclusions and wanted revenge. Isaac fights back in self-defense and flees for his life. That's plausible, right?"

"Yeah, I guess," Stiles agreed. He paced closer to me, his hands in his pockets. "Let's just hope the guy wakes up with amnesia. Don't need him telling the Argents that we know so much about what's going on."

"…shit. Yeah, I—if Gerard didn't realize I knew before, he's definitely gonna know now. I just wasn't thinking, I—I saw him with the needle and he was dragging you and I just—"

"Panicked?" He nodded and walked a little closer. "Yeah, I noticed. You were, uh…a lot panicked. I mean, very panicked. Uncharacteristically panicked."

"Excuse me?" I raised an eyebrow at him. "Uncharacteristically panicked?"

"Yeah, well, you know. You're usually the one with the level head, but you uh…you just seemed…I don't know, you seemed worried, is all."

I glowered at him. "Stiles, of course I was worried. He could've killed you."

"So it was me. You were really nervous about my safety and my wellbeing and my life and—you know, just—really worried about me."

He stepped even closer, and I folded my arms over my chest. I was not at all liking the way this conversation was going.

"No, Stiles. You dying would just be a lot of paperwork, and frankly, I just don't have time for that."

I brushed past him, not exactly sure where I was going, but not at all ready to continue the conversation face to face. Stiles just followed me, hot on my heels.

"I mean, and you must've been really worried about me. There was the hunter and the needle and then Isaac was gonna attack me and you just ran out in front of me which was like crazy reckless! You know, I think jumping in front of a fully transformed werewolf is like—like a step above taking a bullet for someone, and you just—you ran out there and—"

"Fine!" I whirled around on the spot, inches away from him once more. "What do you want me say, Stiles?!"

"What? Sorry, I just—you know—it'd be nice if you could admit that you were worried about me."

"Okay, fine! I was worried about you!"

"Because you care about me?"

"God, Stiles—"

I made to turn for the door again, but this time, Stiles caught me by my wrists and tugged me right back.

"Sadie, it's okay! You know, if you wanna say that, you can say that! Or if you don't then—then that's fine! I'd just like to hear some kind of explanation, because you were really worried, and really panicked, and if you were more panicked because it was me, specifically, that was in danger, then that's totally understandable, and if you—"

"Just stop talking."

I knew what he was trying to do. He was trying to manipulate me. He was trying to push me over the edge. He was literally trying to annoy the words out of me, to confirm that we were more than friends, to tell him what we both already knew. He was pushing me farther and farther, waiting for me to snap, waiting for me to start screaming everything that I'd been holding back for months.

I knew what he was trying to do. And it still worked.

I grabbed Stiles by his plaid shirt and yanked him forward, crashing his lips into mine. It took him a second to catch up. I hadn't given him the response he was looking for, but he wasn't disappointed. Stiles tipped his head to the side, releasing my wrists so he could seize my waist and pull me closer, even closer than I already was. I slid my hands up his chest to wrap my arms around his neck as his lips began to move against mine.

Kissing Stiles was just incredible as it had been last time. I felt hyperaware of everything—his lips on mine, the small puffs of air as he struggled to breathe through his nose, his fingers digging into my hips, the way his short hair bristled under my fingertips as I ran my hands over his head. At the same time, I forgot everything. There were no wailing sirens. We hadn't just sprung a werewolf from jail. Werewolves didn't even exist. It was just me and Stiles, and I could remember for the life of me why I'd been avoiding him. Why would I put this off? Why would anyone delay something as…exhilarating as this?

Stiles slid his arms over my back, splaying his hands over my shirt, lacing his fingers in my hair. I pushed myself up against him, standing on my tiptoes to gain some kind of height advantage. I could feel him smirking into the kiss, and I was about to too…until someone cleared their throat in the doorway.

Stiles and I shot apart like repelling magnets held too close together. I patted down my hair, blinked rapidly, licked my lips, then immediately stopped when I remembered that Stiles had just been kissing them. I cautiously glanced up and felt my stomach drop down to my feet.

Sheriff Stilinski was standing at the entrance of the room, hands on his hips, his eyes squinting at the two of us in shock. His mouth moved feebly, but no words came out. He seemed completely and utterly speechless. The sheriff might've been surprised, but the two deputies flanking him seemed thoroughly amused.

I gulped as Stiles cleared his throat, looking around the room before raising a hand to point at the unconscious hunter in the corner.

"Uh…he did it…"

Slowly, I turned to glare at him and he shrugged. Lame as the answer was, it was enough to snap the sheriff out of his daze. He closed his mouth and pressed his lips into a thin line. He raised a finger to point at each of us, then jerked his thumb toward the hall.

"The two of you. My office. Now."

We both nodded, looking at each other instinctively. Stiles gestured toward the door.

"Ladies first."

I glared at him, jerking my head toward the sheriff.

"He's your dad!"

Stiles rolled his eyes, but preceded me out of the room. He dragged his feet as he trudged through the hall. I followed him with my head hung low, only barely aware of the Sheriff Stilinski ordering the officers to canvas the area while he had a word with his son.

We walked into the office, this time turning the lights on instead of fumbling around in the dark. Stiles and I stopped just inside the door, staring down at the gun case we'd opened. I had no idea how I'd been lucky enough to find it, but suddenly hoped they wouldn't be thoroughly investigating the break in. I might've wiped my prints off the gun, but Stiles had been the one to open the case.

"What the hell…?"

The sheriff walked up behind us, gaping at the case on the floor.

"Awesome," Stiles chuckled, but he didn't even make it a step before his father grabbed the back of his shirt.

"I don't think so. Both of you, sit down."

I bit my lip as Stiles and I shuffled over to Mr. Stilinski's desk. I cautiously perched myself on the edge of my chair, while Stiles flopped down into his seat, completely at home. The sheriff sat across from us, wiping his hands over his face.

"Would one of you like to explain to me what the hell you two were doing in the holding cells?"

Stiles cleared his throat. "Well, Dad, I thought that was pretty obvious."

He yelped as I kicked him in the shin, and Sheriff Stilinski glowered.

"Would one of you like to explain to me why you were in the holding cells?"

There were a few seconds of silence. I could practically smell the smoke as the wheels in Stiles's head turned, frantically trying to think of some excuse that would get us off the hook without getting us into trouble. But as fast as they were turning, he couldn't seem to think of anything remotely plausible.

"It was my fault."

"What?" Stiles and his father asked in unison. They glanced at each other and Stiles quickly ducked his head.

"I, um…Isaac…Isaac is my friend," I began, fingers playing in my lap. "He—he doesn't really have a lot, and I guess I feel…responsible for him. I found out about his dad this afternoon, and I kind of freaked out. I—I honestly don't think he killed his father, but Isaac was here and he was locked up and I know how nervous he gets around strangers and I thought about how afraid he must be so I—"

"Decided to try and free him?" the sheriff asked in outrage.

"No! No, of course not! I just…I wanted to talk to him. I wanted him to know that he wasn't alone. And I know that it was stupid, and Stiles was trying to talk me out of it, but when we got here, Isaac was already gone. Door open, some guy was on the ground and I…panicked…"

"Right!" Stiles jumped in. "Dad, I promise we didn't do anything. We were just gonna see him, and then he was gone, and Sadie was panicking, and I—I was comforting her!"

"Yeah. I got that part."

Stiles and I both slouched in our chairs. My face actually felt like it was on fire from all the blood rushing to my cheeks. Way to go, Sadie. Point for you. You and your impeccable, impeccable timing.

"Sadie," Sheriff Stilinski sighed, leaning forward on his desk, "I understand that you're worried about your friend. And while I understand your intentions, you can't just do things like this. Isaac was in custody for a reason, and that reason stands whether or not you think he's innocent. You can't just sneak into the station to say hi. These security measures are in place for a reason. It's a dangerous place. I mean, just imagine if you'd shown up a couple minutes earlier. That man had a gun. If you tried to help Isaac, you could have been shot. Either of you could have been! You understand?"

I kept my eyes low, nodding into my lap. "Are…are you gonna call my mom?"

"I'd sure as hell like to," he replied, leaning back in his chair and folding his arms over his chest. "But uh…I'm not sure if…maybe some parts of the story it's better she hears from you…"

Blush seared across my face once more. I could feel Stiles looking over at me, but I decided the scuffed tips of my boots were far more important.

"For now, I'm just going to ban you both from the station and—"

"Dad, you can't—that's just not safe. I mean, what if something happens or—"

"Fine, okay. I don't want either of you coming here unless there is something seriously wrong that you need to report."

"Dad, I still have to bring you dinner—"

"Fine! Just—just please don't do this again, okay? Either of you," he added, looking sternly at me. "Good. Now, I have to stick around to figure out what the hell happened here. Stiles, I want you to take Sadie home and then go straight back to the house. No…no…procrastinating…"

"Uh…yeah. Yes. You got it. Sure thing. I will. There—there will be no—"

"Stiles."

"Got it. I'm done."

"Good. Now, get out of here."

Stiles got to his feet, drumming his hands on his legs. "Okay, uh…see you at home."

I barely squeaked out a goodbye as I stood up from my chair. My fingers were still twisting and wringing each other in front of me, and I could seem to make them stop. I walked to the door, Stiles barely a handful of steps behind me, but the sheriff called us back.

"And guys?"

We paused, turning around to look at Stiles's father once more. His face was screwed up as he stared at the edge of his desk. Even his face seemed to be pink from second-hand embarrassment, but finally he looked up, a slight smile tugging at his lips.

"I'm uh…I'm glad."

I could practically feel the proud grin radiating off Stiles beside me. I quickly walked out of the room, one hand covering my face while I used the other to blindly throw open doors until I was safely back at the Jeep.

Then again, the Jeep wasn't exactly safe. In fact, the Jeep might've been worse. I sat rigid in the passenger seat as Stiles climbed in the driver's side. He glanced repeatedly between me and the steering wheel while I tried to focus on nothing but the windshield wiper. After a few seconds of torturous silence, Stiles started the car and pulled out onto the road.

Now that I wasn't kissing him, reason had come back to me. Of course I'd been putting this off. Of course I'd had a reason. I'd kissed him twice now and he still wasn't saying anything. Of course, I also wasn't saying anything. Were we destined to do this forever? Kiss and avoid, kiss and avoid. Just another thing that never got defined, an almost ripped to shreds by reality. Always teetering on the edge, but never making the jump.

But that wasn't true. I knew for a fact that Stiles had tried to say something more than once, and we kept getting interrupted. Any time we weren't interrupted, I was too scared to string together one coherent sentence. I knew I had to say something, but I had no idea where to start. Had putting it off made me any braver? Were we any closer than we'd been when I'd kissed him at Derek's house? Was I really that much of a coward?

We pulled up in front of the house. It was getting late, but the lights were still shining bright inside. Allison's car was still parked out front. That was something of a relief; she was waiting until I got home so Lydia would never be alone. I was going to be grilled the moment I walked through the door, by Lydia, by Allison, by my mother. God, she was gonna be so pissed I was coming home late—from the police precinct, no less—and after detention. I was so dead.

And yet, my head was too crowded to worry about all of that. All I could think about was the suffocating tension in the Jeep, which literally felt like it was squeezing the air out of my lungs.

I saw Stiles move out of the corner of my eye. I jumped back, but he was just reaching into the back for my bag. He passed it to me with a short nod, which I mirrored as I held the bag in my lap. I stared down at my hands. Stiles stared at the steering wheel. And we sat there. Not saying anything. We sat in complete silence until I just couldn't take it anymore.

"Um…"

Stiles's head snapped up to look at me, eyes wide.

I licked my lips, and shook my head slightly. "Thanks for driving me home."

"Oh. Yeah. No problem."

I waited another few seconds, but the tension just kept growing, filling up the car until it shoved me right out the door.

"Goodnight."

"Night."

I slid from the Jeep, shutting the door behind me and marching up the driveway. Stupid. Stupid, stupid, stupid. I was a coward. I was a stupid coward. How hard would it have been to say, "Maybe next time you could just ask to kiss me," or, "How about you buy me dinner first?" It didn't have to be some profound, heartfelt sap-fest. I just had to ask him out. That's all I had to do. And I hadn't. I'd run away again. And tomorrow morning I would hate myself just as much, and I would be just as afraid, and I would keep putting it off, again and again, until he got tired of waiting and moved on. Because I was an idiot. I was a stupid, idiotic, self-loathing, cowardly little—

"Sadie!"

I spun on the spot. Stiles had leapt from the Jeep, running around to stand at the end of the driveway. His hands were held out in front of him, clapping and shaking and brandishing them as he tried to form whatever words he was looking for. His mouth opened and closed. His eyes darted around the yard. Finally, he sighed, his arms falling to his sides.

"Are…are we seriously not gonna talk about this?"

"Talk about what?"

I scrunched up my face as soon as the words came out. Stupid, stupid, stupid…

"About what?!" Stiles laughed derisively, throwing his head back and taking a moment to look up and down the street. "How—how about the fact that—that you just kissed me senseless back at the station?!"

Despite the direness of the situation, I had to bite my lip to hide a smile. "…Senseless…?"

But Stiles pressed on, either too embarrassed to repeat himself or too worked up to notice I'd said anything. He was talking so fast I could barely understand him, desperate to get it out, and all the while walking up the driveway.

"I—I mean that's the second time you've kissed me and we still haven't talked about it! What—what am I supposed to do with that?! I'm going out of my freaking mind, okay? I know that you wanted to take care of Lydia and that's fine, I get it. And I know that you were worried about Isaac, and—and you had every right to be, because even if the Argents didn't kill him, he could've killed someone and I totally get that—that saving the townspeople and all that crap comes before personal stuff. I get that! But I—I need to talk about it. Okay?! I need to! I mean, is—is this it? Is it just—just some spur of the moment kind of thing? Just being relieved because we're alive after all the life-threatening crap that we go through? Because—cause…if that's it then…then okay. Then fine. If it's just an adrenaline rush and you want to use me to get it out of your system, then okay. I mean, I—I'm not complaining. Obviously. But…but you need to tell me, okay? Because…I can't keep this up without knowing what's going on. I can't—I don't want to get my hopes up that…that you're…"

He lapsed into silence, squeezing his eyes shut. He raised a hand to his head, rubbing the heel of his hand against his forehead in frustration.

"God, this is so hard," he groaned, beating himself over the head. "I keep—every time I try to—I keep screwing up, um…"

I stared at him, heat crawling up my neck. It was the third time I'd heard Stiles say that this week. He'd said it when Lydia escaped from the hospital, when he was trying to reassure me that he didn't think any less of me for shooting Kate. He'd said it earlier in the car, when he was berating me for blaming myself for everyone's problems. He was saying it now at the end of my driveway, trying desperately to explain what he wanted from me. He'd been practicing, over and over, trying to make the words perfect, just like I'd been doing in my head.

We were both frustrated. We were both nervous. Neither of us knew what to say. That was the fun of it, as Mrs. McCall had said.

"Do you feel like we're in danger now?"

Stiles looked up at me in confusion as I stepped closer. His head jerked back and forth, scanning my house and the yard and the street, looking for a threat.

"Um, no? I don't think so. Unless you know something I—"

I closed the distance between us, lifting my free hand to the back of his neck to pull his face to mine. I pressed my lips against his, just for a second; he didn't even have time to respond. I stepped back and ducked my head on instinct. But I'd hidden enough over the past month. I lifted my head, tucking a strand of hair behind my ear with a timid smile.

"What should we do about that?"

Stiles stood stock-still. His eyes were still closed, his lips still puckered, and his arms still hovering out to the side in shock. He stayed like that for a moment. I blushed as his tongue swept over his lips.

"Um…I'm…I'm not quite sure I got that. Could you try that again?"

"Stiles…"

"Okay, could you at least like, pinch me? Count your fingers or something? So I know I'm awake?"

"Stiles, just ask me out so I can say yes."

That certainly caught his attention. He peeked one eye open at me, still afraid to move the rest of his body. "Excuse me…?"

"Stiles, you haven't screwed up," I said earnestly. "At all. If anyone's screwed this up, it's me. I've been so freaked out for the last couple months that I…I almost feel like I let myself have one thing, the rest will just fall apart, because I can't keep it together. And that's not fair to you because—because I know you're trying, and I know that I keep screwing it up. So…I'm sorry and…if you want to try again…I'd really like to get it right."

Stiles sighed. His face was caught between a glare and a smile, annoyance and elation. I knew without translation how badly he wanted to lecture me for being down on myself, but he wasn't going to pass up his window of opportunity, not this time.

"Okay. Okay, then." He rubbed his hands together, blowing his cheeks up in preparation. "Fine. Sadie, would you…like to just…go out with me sometime? No werewolves, no law breaking, no life-threatening, just…just us."

I bit my lip as my smirk grew, spreading across my face into a wide, manic grin. "Yeah. I…I'd like that."

"Yeah?" Stiles's smile was growing too. "Y-yes?"

"Yes," I giggled. "I would love to go out with you sometime, Stiles."

He gaped at me for a few seconds before everything sank in. He bobbed his head, laughing, and rested his hands on his hips. "Yes! Okay! Um, good. That's…that's great, um…should I—I mean, I don't know—should we plan something now, or—"

"Why don't you think about it and call me?"

"Right! Yeah, no, I'll—I'll call you. Because I have your number. And cell phones are…good." He nodded to himself, swiping a hand over his hair and then gesturing out to me. "Uh…do—do we…? Do I kiss you goodnight or…?"

"How about you buy me dinner first?" I asked with a wink.

His face fell slack for a moment, and then his grin returned two-fold. "I will! Yeah, I'll…so I'll just…um…"

I tucked my lips in, a failed attempt to control my smile. My cheeks were already beginning to ache. I took a step back, heading for the house, and calling back in a singsong voice. "Goodnight, Stilinski!"

Stiles's grin softened, turning from one of excitement to that tender one that send the butterflies in my stomach into a rage. He stuffed his hands in his pockets, nodding.

"Yeah. Night, Bennet."

I beamed, then turned on my heel and made my way up to the house. I tried to time my breathing with my walking, stopping myself from sprinting or skipping or jumping, but I couldn't stop myself from hopping up the steps. When I reached the door, I chanced a glance behind me.

Stiles had walked around the Jeep to the driver's side. Assumedly, he thought that would be enough cover, but I could still see him just over the top of the car. It was enough to see his red plaid shirt jumping up and down, his fists pumping in the air in joy.

I leaned my back against the front door, folding my arms over my chest. "I can still see you, genius!"

The red plaid froze, and Stiles's head slowly peeked around the front of the car. "What? Doing what? I'm not doing anything."

"Right." I grinned, shaking my head. "Go home, Stiles."

"You…! You are already home. Never mind."

I rolled my eyes, taking a deep breath before I stepped inside and closed the door behind me. I turned to face the front hall, resting my head back on the door as I finally let my grin take over my whole face. Stiles did it. I did it. I had kissed Stiles. Stiles had asked me out. I was going to go on a date with Stiles. He was going to go on a date with me. Not with Lydia. He wanted to go out with me.

"Sadie? Is that you?"

I froze at the sound of my mom's voice. Right. Detention. Station. Dead.

I walked cautiously into the kitchen to find my mother sitting at the counter with a cup of tea, her arms crossed and her lips pressed into a tight line.

"Uh…hi…" I offered lamely.

"Yeah. Hi."

"…How are you?"

"How am I?" she repeated. "Hm, let me see. Well, my daughter is countless hours late coming home. She didn't call me to let me know where she was. Oh! And I got a call from her high school because she had to stay late for detention today! How would you say I'm doing?"

"Um…not very good…"

"Sadie," she sighed, putting her tea aside, "I honestly do not know what's going on. I mean, sure, every kid has their share of detentions. I wasn't an angel. But to not call and waltz in whenever you want? This isn't like you! What happened today?"

"Well, that depends…" I dropped my bag on the floor and leaned next to her on the counter. "Are you talking about the detention I got for punching Jackson in the face, the talk I just had with Sheriff Stilinski down at the station, or the fact that Stiles just asked me out and I said yes?"

Mom stared at me for a moment, her mouth hanging open and her eyebrows raised. I seemed to be getting that look from a lot of people today. Then she blinked hard, waved her hands in front of her and jumped to her feet, leaping at me in a hug that threatened to crush all of my ribs at once.

"Mom!" I yelped, but she was too busy jumping up and down. "Ow! Mom!"

"Sorry! Sorry!" She pulled back with a huge smile on her face. She forced it off for a moment to brandish a finger in my face. "Okay, you are totally not off the hook, but you are going to tell me everything! Hold on. I need a second cup of tea, and popcorn."

She kissed my forehead and darted around the counter, rushing to the cabinet for snacks.

"No, no, no! Wait for us!"

Lydia came barreling down the stairs, Allison right after her, Natalie bringing up the rear. All of them were beaming and giggling, tripping over each other in their rush to the kitchen. Lydia collided with me first. She seized me with a vice grip, and Allison jumped on top of us a second later.

"Lyd!" I squeaked. "You're okay!"

"Oh please, do not start that again," she scoffed, shoving me back to hold me at arm's length. The glare quickly gave way to more giggling. "Ugh, I am so proud of you! Ah! Finally sucking it up! But! I still want to hear the details first hand. I only got to watch from my window."

"W-what? You—you were listening?! How much did you hear?!"

"Nothing," Allison assured me with a knowing look. "We had the window closed and we knew we couldn't open it without getting caught."

"Pathetic," Lydia lamented. "We had the best seats in the house and we still got ripped off."

"It looked like quite a kiss though," Natalie commended with a sly smile.

Mom knocked several bowls out of the cabinet in her haste to turn around. "You kissed him?! Again?!"

"Mom," I said, my face heating up again. "It really wasn't—"

"Ah, ah, ah!" Lydia dragged me around the counter, pushing me into one of the stools at the breakfast bar. "We will be the judges of that. You are going to give us an extensive, play by play recap. Right now."

Natalie hurried to help my mom with the popcorn, and with Allison sitting on one side of me and Lydia on the other, I finally allowed myself to relax. I was exhausted, but the good kind of exhausted. We'd saved Isaac, no one had gotten hurt, and for now, it seemed like Lydia was in the clear as far as transforming into a werewolf. And after all of that, Stiles and I had finally gotten the chance to talk. We'd done it. For the moment, everything was okay.