My Heart's in San Francisco
by AgentAlexKrycek

Pairing: Stiles/Derek (Sterek)
Rating: M (NC-18) M/M Slash

This is my entry into the "Stiles is a BAMF" category. After graduation and that whole Alpha Pack episode, Stiles disappears leaving Beacon Hills forever (?). He does it to protect himself and his Dad, but leaves a broken-hearted Alpha & wolf pack behind. Established relationship. Legal aged characters.

Disclaimer: The characters of the television show "Teen Wolf" are the property of Matt Davis and have been used here for entertainment purposes only. No copyright infringement is intended. This story previously appeared on the Terma Red & The Black site under a different pairing. I loved this story to much and wanted to update it. It's my idea after all! Stop reading here if you don't have a sense of humor, or dislike M4M sex.
Timeframe: After graduation and Stiles' 18th Birthday
Feedback: Feedback is eagerly sought, but please be gentle and constructive. Thanks.

Derek Hale hadn't decided if he liked San Francisco yet. He was only in town for a couple of days to blow off some steam and, in all fairness, hadn't really seen very much of the city by the bay. It was worlds away from the much smaller Beacon Hills, which was exactly what he needed in the mood he was in. The two cities weren't separated by too many miles, but they might has well have been on separate planets. It reminded him of New York City, if NYC had gotten more things right. He'd left his car at the hotel, to avoid parking problems and fees in the congested city. 'It really is beautiful,' he thought as he left the Palace of Fine Arts and told a cab driver to take him to the Fog City Diner. Only after the driver was gone, did he realize there was a long line to get in. His eyes went upwards in frustration, and he found his answer blinking at him. Just across the street was the Hyatt Regency with its revolving restaurant perched on top. 'Might as well trade one tourist trap for another,' he thought, as he walked over to the pyramid-shaped hotel.

The atrium was impressive, but nothing compared to the glass elevator ride to the top from where one could see the spectacular city skyline, Alcatraz, the bay, the Golden Gate Bridge, and the San Francisco Bay Bridge to Angel Island. On the way to the top, Derek couldn't shake a feeling of dread. The cause came to him in a flash and he laughed at himself. These were the same elevators used in the old movie "The Towering Inferno."

Dinner wasn't the greatest, but Derek realized he was really paying for the view. So he ordered a couple more drinks so that he could make the circle a few more times. By the time he got back on the elevator for the trip down, he was feeling pretty good. Who said a werewolf couldn't get drunk? Fight the enhanced immune system, and anything was possible. He needed to be drunk tonight. He needed to dull the pain. The doorman hailed him a cab and opened the door for him. Derek Hale wasn't sure how much to tip for 10-seconds of kindness, so he just handed the man a couple of bucks. He turned to the cabby and said, "Take me somewhere that's popular on a Friday night," and let the man do his job.

The cab cut up Market Street as fast as it could go with stoplights every hundred feet. Just when Derek was starting to get annoyed at the stop-and-go travel, they made a sharp left into the South of Market Area. The area made Hale wonder if his doors were locked and his life insurance premium was paid. There had been lots of homeless people on Market, but this area looked even more abandoned and dangerous. If he didn't have that werewolf card in his back pocket, he might actually be worried. Just when he was sure that he was being taken somewhere to be robbed and left for dead, the cab pulled over. Hale had been expecting a nightclub, but all he could see was a long line of people, a spotlight, and a couple of bouncers.

The bouncers would have been a fine addition to his pack. Muscle like that was always in great demand. Derek paid the driver and gave him a large tip as well. The tip must have made the driver happy, because he honked the horn and gave a 'thumbs up' to the younger of the two bouncers. "Tell him that Tony said you were cool, you won't have to wait in line with the rest of the cattle..."

Derek stepped onto the sidewalk, and suddenly felt very uncomfortable, as a hundred eyes looked him over to see if he was anybody. He caught the indifferent and jaded eye of the bouncer and repeated Tony's message. The message got him past jaded, and the bouncer just mumbled, "You're not really dressed for tonight there cowboy..." The other bouncer, attracted by the chance to show some muscle, came over. "That suit's Armani, Bryce. He's okay."

"Great! Another fucking lawyer," Bryce mumbled under his breath. "They think they own the whole fucking city."

"They do, Bryce," said his partner. To Derek, he asked, "ID Sir?"

Derek flashed his ID, happy to clear up the fact that he wasn't a lawyer. Nothing normally surprised these two security men, and Derek Hale got a slight rise when he saw their reaction to the Beacon Hills Police Department badge in his wallet as he retrieved his driver's license. The badge and gun were presents from Sheriff John Stilinski, who wanted Derek to have other options to wolfing-out. Because, he had explained, sometimes shifting caused more questions and problems than it fixed. It was easy for Derek to look upon the man as a father figure. John had turned out to be a great friend and ally after learning about everything going on in his town. But now seeing him just caused painful memories for Derek. Actually, the last time they had talked, John was the one who had suggested this impromptu trip to San Francisco. Giving the ID back to him, the older and smarter bouncer asked, "Long way from home… You aren't packing tonight are you?"

Derek always carried a gun now when in an unfamiliar location or territory. He lied and shook his head 'no', and turned to go inside only to be stopped again. Bryce gave him his best patient smile and said, "That will be $40 dollars, sir." Derek was sure that the distance his mouth had dropped open marked him permanently as an out-of-towner.

He paid and went inside. It took a couple of moments for his eyes to adjust to the lighting, or lack thereof, inside. He had assumed that it was a single club he was going into, what he found were several bars around a huge dance floor. The entire space had been a warehouse that had been totally refitted to suit its new purpose. He scanned the place trying not to look too much like a tourist. He finally selected one of the theme bars to order a drink from. Tony had lived up to his word, this place was packed! It was an eclectic group of the famous, the beautiful, the weird, and the eccentric. It was one of those places where anything goes. Drug use was just barely hidden, and he wished he was in his regular jeans and leather jacket and not in his suit and tie.

He was off-duty tonight, his responsibilities and cares far away. It had been months since he had just gone out to have a good time, ever since Stiles had left with not so much as a word of explanation, just when everything was going so well between the two of them. Fucking Stiles! This was long overdue. He pushed the thought far from his mind. He wasn't going to go there tonight. He loosened his tie, pulled up to the bar and ordered a Long Island Iced Tea. Drink in hand, he wondered towards the crowded dance floor. If he had felt out-of-place at the bar, he felt out-of-date looking out at the dance floor. The floor split into several levels. The music was so loud that it hurt his chest. The spotlights, lasers, and fog machine made the place look like the set of a science fiction movie. Derek half expected little gray aliens to appear from the thick mist. Dancers writhed all over each other in various stages of undress. Sweat-covered gym-addicted men danced with clones of themselves, women with women, and once in a while, there was a man dancing with a woman.

The music was strangely familiar, and it took Derek a few moments to realize that it was a remix of an old disco standard. He smiled at the memory.

"One night in a disco on the outskirts of 'Frisco, I was cruising…

He could only pick a few words out in the driving beat.

…. The place was so boring filled with out-of-towners touring, I knew that it wasn't my thing… I really wasn't caring, but I felt my eyes staring at a guy who stuck out in the crowd… He had the kind of body that would shame Adonis and a face that would make any man cry... "

Derek Hale braced his back against a column and watched the show. A couple of drinks later, the show was even more entertaining. He hadn't ventured out on the dance floor yet. A couple of the bars' more adventuresome patrons had cruised him lewdly and lasciviously; a couple more had come over to stand by his column, only to leave in frustration when he hadn't paid them the slightest attention. Something had already captured his complete attraction.

Derek's eyes were glued to the dance floor, actually, to someone on the dance floor. Every few minutes the spotlights would highlight one of the couples on one of the risers. Derek was transfixed. His heart was leaping in his chest and he kept rubbing his eyes. His eyes couldn't be telling him the truth, but the truth was out there! He tried to pick-up a scent, but it was impossible in the crowded and mist-filled club.

The young couple was undeniably beautiful. Their movements seemed choreographed to the driving music. The woman was svelte, dark and exotic; but it was the young man that had captured Derek's attention. He knew those movements, he knew that body... Intimately. The dancer was dressed in a pair of skintight kid leather pants, jacket, and an expensive looking shirt that looked like a cross between silk and suede. The shirt was a perfect contrast for his beautiful caramel-colored eyes. The haircut was new and obviously expensive. Every few minutes, the dancer would toss the hair from his eyes or push it away with a free hand. If this wasn't Stiles Stilinski, it was his freaking clone. All the feelings that he had been suppressing for the past months, exploded to the surface. It took everything in him not to wolf-out right then and there. Derek Hale didn't care. He had to find out who this young man was. He had a lot of things that had been left unsaid to the fucking bastard that had broken his heart.

The woman had just pulled his leather jacket off and was using it like a rope to pull him closer. She moved like a cloud of smoke, ever shifting and changing—the very essence of unpredictability. Derek Hale was across the floor in just a few steps leaping up on the riser with ease. He grabbed the young man by his shirt and reared his fist back to deliver the blow that had been building in him for months. The grab had caught the young man off-balance and he began to fall backwards as the two locked eyes. Derek wished he had a camera to capture the look on that face as he prepared to knock him out.

"What the fuck, Dude?! Oh my god! I...don't bel...," was all the young man said as he fell backwards. The spotlight blinked out of existence, and with it went all of Derek's certainty. No longer able to see clearly, he paused.

Derek wasn't sure what happened next. He was prepared to punch the man in the face; he wanted to punch him, needed to punch him. Instead, he pulled his body close, wrapped his arm tightly around his head and planted a kiss on those beautiful lips that he had missed for so long. The young man struggled at first, then started to respond, just as Hale pulled away.

Derek released the shirt, shocked by what had just happened. He hadn't drunk that much, had he? The younger man slid to the floor. Derek Hale realized that they were now the center of attention in the huge structure. He could also see a couple of security people start to worm their way towards the strange unfolding scene. Derek turned to leave. He could hear the frantic voice of the exotic woman as he walked away.

"Nicky, Nicky, are you all right? Nicky, damn it, talk to me," she pleaded through an accent thick as the San Francisco fog.

Derek Hale had almost made it to the front door, when he felt a hand on his arm. "We have to talk, but not here." Nicky pulled him outside, and tossed his keys to the bouncer. "Bryce, could you get my car please?"

Derek Hale was impressed, he didn't know that Bryce could move that fast. Bryce didn't have far to go, the convertible was right in front of the club. The sports car was a study in black; low and fast, with a black leather interior to match. It reminded him of his old car, except much higher-end. "The alarm system is off and the top is down, just like you like it, Nick," Bryce said as he held the door open for the younger man. Bryce didn't hold Derek's door open, but then again, Derek Hale didn't give him a fifty-dollar tip either. "Thanks Nick, have a great night stud." 'Fifty dollars also bought manners and enthusiasm,' Derek thought snidely. He took a mental picture of Bryce's unhappy expression as the door closed. He had enough alcohol in his system that it all seemed very funny to him. He started to wonder just how he was going to explain his actions.

He wasn't prepared for the acceleration as the car blasted-out of the valet space. At first Derek thought that the man was pissed at him, but that thought left his mind when Nick looked over and smiled and squeezed his leg. "I know I'm speeding, but this area of town really makes me nervous. There's a gun in the glove compartment and another under the seat, Der, if anyone gets too close to the car."

"It really is you, Stiles, isn't it?" Derek asked.

"Yes, of course it's me!" Stiles replied impatiently. "I don't know how you found me, but I'm really glad you have. I've missed you everyday, every minute. I know that you have a million questions, and I'll try to answer them all, I promise." The car turned from the Embarcadero into the Marina District and Stiles visibly relaxed in the up-scale area. As the convertible cut though the Presidio, Derek Hale started to enjoy the ride. The streets were lined with trees and the breeze that was blowing off the ocean and through the eucalyptus trees was intoxicating in its own right. After a few miles, the trees broke and Derek Hale gasped in surprise. The towers of the Golden Gate Bridge soared high above him; they looked close enough to touch. He thought they were going to cross the bridge, but at the last moment the car veered away from the bridge and followed the shoreline in the opposite direction.

An incessant buzzing suddenly broke the stillness in the car. Stiles gave an apologetic look and excused himself as he reached for the cell phone.

"I really should get this, I'm sorry..." Casting a quick look at the caller's ID and the current time shown on the gold Movado on his wrist, he answered. Derek listened in on the one-sided conversation trying to learn as much as he could about Stiles' new life.

"Natasha, my darling! Some bodyguard, it took you almost twenty minutes to call! No, sorry, Hun, I'm actually on the Presidio right now. I'm sorry. I said I'm sorry. Yes, I know. I owe you big time. (Pause) I'm okay. Really! No, actually, he's right here with me. (Pulling the phone away from his ear) Ouch, quit yelling, 'Tash! Hey, I don't know that word, you'll have to teach that one to me later...Hold on, I'll ask him for you..."

Turning to Derek Hale, and loud enough to be heard through the phone, Stiles asked in his most innocent voice, "Excuse me sir, but are you a crazed psycho-pervert?" Derek's mouth fell open for the second time that night. "'Tash, he doesn't quite know how to answer that. No, I don't think I've lost my fucking mind. Hey, that's a good one! (to Derek) She says I should look for it while my head's up my ass! Hopefully, I may have something more fun up there real soon… Am NOT! Takes one to know one, babe! Yeah, yeah, if I wake up dead in the morning, you told me so… Okay. Okay, okay, I love you back. Tomorrow."

Stiles gave a slightly nervous laugh as he caught Derek's eyes as he cut the line. Derek realized at the very moment why it had been so hard to tell if this was really Stiles at the club. He had never seen Stiles like this. He was happy and relaxed and the effect made him even more attractive. The lack of stress had erased the years, making him look even younger than he already was.

The car entered a new neighborhood. Huge stone pillars announced the area as SeaCliff. This area made the Marina look like a low-rent neighborhood. Here the houses were huge and surrounded by walls. Some places, you couldn't even see the houses, just an elaborate gate that protected the occupants from the world outside. It was up to one of those gates that Stiles pulled up, after pressing a button on the dashboard, a gate slid quietly out of the way, allowing the car in.

The gate had offered no clue of what was inside, and what Derek Hale saw left him speechless. The house was low and abstract. Though new, it was obviously built by someone who had been heavily influenced by Frank Lloyd Wright. The primary materials were glass and black marble. Whereas the outside of the house was black and faded into the night, the inside was a blinding white. Whatever button Stiles had pressed, had not only opened the gate, but also turned on lights and opened the garage as well.

"Welcome to my world," Stiles said as they entered the living room. Like most of the houses in the Bay Area, it made the most of the available space. Built on several levels, it surrounded a central atrium. Natural stone, mirrors, glass, and plants mixed perfectly, giving the impression that the house had just evolved from the surrounding area. The few solid walls were a glaring gloss white. The bright illumination hurt his eyes at first. Vintage movie posters broke up the starkness, interjecting a vibrant splash of color. The furniture was leather, black, and looked sinfully comfortable.

Derek Hale was at a loss for words, so Stiles began.

"Things were getting too close to my Dad… I'd already lost my Mother; I couldn't bear to put him in danger. I'd already cost him his job; I didn't want his life to be next. Leaving you was the hardest thing I've ever had to do...," he stammered.

Derek Hale cut him off mid-sentence. Explanations could come later; right now he had more important business on his mind. He pushed Stiles back on the couch, covering him with his own body. This time, Stiles allowed himself to participate in the kiss. His arms pulled closer, as Derek carefully opened his shirt. "You can rip it if you want to, Derek, I have four more, the same color," Stiles begged. Derek Hale was tempted, but stopped short of rending the fabric. "Not tonight. Tonight, I'm going to be gentle with you," he whispered in his lover's ear. Pulling back, he gauged the reaction to what he had said in the golden eyes he knew so well. What he saw almost tore his soul. Love. 'So this is what love looks like,' he thought, as he plunged down to devour his long lost lover's lips.

A line of discarded clothing marked a trail, as the two wrestled towards a bedroom. On the landing where they had stopped in a naked tangle, Stiles grabbed Derek's face, locking their eyes together. "Fuck me, here, now! I need it! I need you so bad, Derek. Please don't make me wait any longer."

The simple plea inflamed him. Pushing Stiles down on the plush-carpeted stairs, he kissed a trail down Stiles' back. When he got to the ass that he knew so well, he had to stop and admire it. Though things were familiar, they were suddenly different. Stiles had obviously been spending all his free-time in a gym, and by the looks of it, a tanning salon as well. The slightest of tan lines left from a g-string was a huge turn-on. Like an arrow pointing him in the right direction, the white skin glowed in the dim lighting. He pushed his face between Stiles' cheeks. Stiles moaned hard and long. His hips ground into the stairway, taking on a will and purpose of their own. Derek listened as Stiles' pleas became a mantra. "Please Derek, do it! I need you so bad. Please, I want you to fuck my ass. Fuck me now."

Pulling away, Derek Hale surprised himself by saying 'no.' The word surprised Stiles as well, and he turned his head to see what was wrong. "Have I done something, said something to make you mad, Der? If I did, I'm sorry..." Stiles offered.

Derek gently placed his hand over Stiles mouth, and smiled. "I want you to make love to me first. I want you inside me right now."

Stiles was shocked speechless. He was almost always first on the bottom. It was a routine that they had fallen into, and like most routines, had never changed. Derek continued, "Nothing's wrong, just right now, I need this. I need to feel like I'm still a part of you. Do this for me, please."

Stiles didn't need to be begged. Standing slowly up, he pulled the older man into the master bedroom. Taking over where Derek had left off, his tongue mapped every inch of Hale's hot body. Then, grabbing some lube from a drawer in the bedside nightstand, he prepared himself to enter his lover. Derek tried to concentrate on the sound of the splashing water in the fountain that covered the corner of the room. The distraction only worked until he felt the head of Stiles' cock enter him. It had been a long time. Absence might make the heart grow fonder, but it doesn't make things easier on your ass. He pushed his face into the pillow and took it like a man. Stiles could sense his discomfort, and stopped. "Just tell me when you're ready babe," he purred in Derek's ear. "Don't worry. I'm not going to be able to last very long. It's been way too long for me and this feels way, way too good."

After a while Derek began to rock his hips, and Stiles quickly caught the cadence. It was a perfect match, as they both worked to bring the other pleasure. Derek reveled in the feeling as Stiles pistoned in and out of his body. He needed to recapture the feeling of being a part of Stiles' life and this physical connection was helping. 'Stiles was true to his word,' Derek thought as he felt the younger man getting close. He could feel the sweat from Stiles face drip onto his back as Stiles shot deep inside him, and something else, something he had never felt before. Tears. He could feel Stiles crying as he came deep inside him, as he said, "I love you so fucking much" in his ear.

Derek realized at that moment just what a hell hole Stiles' life must have become when he left Beacon Hills. He had been forced to leave everything and flee with just his wits and the clothes on his back. He had to have been terrified and alone. Stiles always put up such a brave front, but he needed his friends close by. This had to have been so hard on him. He always underestimated the young man's strength. His heart went out to him. He didn't care anymore about what Stiles had to do to survive. He was just glad that he was here and alright. The thought that the Alpha Pack had threatened to kill this young man sent a shiver down his spine. It caused his protective instincts to kick in.

Stiles held him, almost too tightly, until Derek Hale felt the wet cock slide from inside him. Turning, he gently kissed Stiles along one of the trails left by the fresh tears. Embarrassed, Stiles tried to turn his face away, only to have it gently turned back and kissed again. The two met eyes as silent communications passed between them. Pushing Derek onto his back, Stiles reached for the nightstand again. Straddling the body below him, Stiles lowered himself slowing onto Derek's large throbbing cock. It had been awhile, and Stiles had to take it slow. He didn't want to take it slow though, because it felt too good. He was physically connected again to the man he loved, and that was worth all the pain and discomfort.

Starting slowly, but building in speed and intensity, Stiles arched his slender body taking the stiff rod deep inside himself again and again. Derek leaned against the pillows and watched as Stiles rode him. Damn, he was beautiful. The muscles played hide-and-seek just under his skin as the two made love. Something new caught Derek attention. Gazing past Stiles, he caught their reflection in the floor to ceiling bedroom windows. The dim lighting in the room was just enough to turn the glass to mirror their reflections. It was the first time he had seen himself make love. He could see the two of them having sex and it was like an out-of-body experience. The sight took his breath away. He greedily monopolized the view for himself for a while until he let Stiles in on it. "Want to see something beautiful?" Derek asked as he turned Stiles' face towards the window. Stiles paused, the sweat running down his face, as he looked in the direction that Derek was indicating. "It's like starring in our own porn movie..." Derek went on.

"And what would you know about that now, Derek? I thought I was the one into porn." Stiles playfully joked back as he resumed his motions. Once in a while, he would steal a glance at the window and adjust his movements slightly. Just like when he was on the dance floor, he would brush his hair from his eyes or toss his head slightly. Derek Hale loved the boyish quality the new haircut gave him.

Though it killed him to do so, Derek Hale stopped Stiles. He had a sudden inspiration. If Alice could go through the looking glass, then so could they. He pulled Stiles to the window and slid the door open. Bracing Stiles against the glass and metal railing, he entered him fiercely from behind. Stiles had just a fleeting thought of the neighbors and how much, if anything, they were able to see. He was hoping that the neighbors were long asleep. Those were his last conscious thoughts as he gave himself up to the sensations pounding through his body. Their rhythm matched the soothing sounds of the crashing surf.

Pulling out, Derek turned Stiles around. He missed being able to look into his eyes. Suddenly lifting Stiles onto the railing, he was surprised when the look in those eyes was terror for just a second. Stiles had dug his nails into his back and his legs had instinctively wrapped themselves tightly around his back.

"Stiles, don't worry, I won't let you go, trust me," Derek Hale coaxed. "I won't ever let you go again…" he trailed off.

Risking a look behind him, Stiles smiled a nervous smile, and said, "You're the one who taught me to trust no one. But, I do trust you. You might even say that my life, my fate, is in your hands, Sourwolf."

As Derek entered him again in the new position, Stiles reluctantly released his arms, bending low and far across the railing. His ankles though kept a death grip behind Derek's back.

Stiles' words seemed very melodramatic and his current actions seemed reckless and risky. "Stiles get back up here, you're going to get wet," Derek Hale said a little annoyed. This had been his idea, so he couldn't get too perturbed. He was met with the sound of laughter from below. "Everything will be clear in the morning; maybe you'll know just how much I actually love you." Derek didn't know why Stiles had picked this time to start talking in riddles, but he was at the point of not caring anymore. Wrapping his arms around Stiles' back, Derek gave a huge pull. Gently lowering himself to his knees, Stiles' body followed him over to the safe side of the rail. The momentum of the move impaled him on Derek's cock, driving it to depths never felt before. Stiles cried out. Pinning him between the glass rail and himself, Derek lifted his partner's legs onto his shoulders. He lost himself in the hot, tight, smooth wetness that was Stiles. Pushing their lips together, he savagely kissed the younger man. He wasn't living up to his promise of being gentle, but then again, Stiles didn't seem to mind. Stiles moaned in pain and pleasure, as he let Derek take pleasure in his body. Derek could feel Stiles' cock, trapped between their two bodies, start to throb. He knew Stiles was getting close, and reveled at his recoup time. A few strokes later, he felt the hot sticky fluid shoot between them, and followed suit. With an animal-like moan/howl his emptied himself deep into the younger man. The orgasm was incredible. He felt like he was coming for hours. It always amazed him at how much better his orgasms were with Stiles, than by himself, or with anyone else for that matter. The two fell backwards into a sitting position on the balcony.

"Come to bed," Stiles said as he pulled Derek up. Falling on the bed, the two wrapped themselves in each other until sleep approached.

Derek Hale wasn't sure how much time he had left alone with Stiles, but assumed that it wasn't very much. Was there someone else that lived here? The house was much too large for one person. Stiles was a catch, obviously someone was also aware of and acted on that fact. He didn't want to leave, but felt that, under the present conditions, it would be more prudent. "I'll call a cab Stiles. Don't get up."

Stiles grabbed his arm, and held him. Through the curtain of sleep that was closing on him rapidly, Stiles said, "No, Derek, stay. I can't lose you again." Derek stroked his lover's hair until he was sure that Stiles was asleep. The sex had been incredible, but it always had been with Stiles. Derek wasn't sure why he couldn't sleep. Stiles wasn't having any problems. Finally he did sleep, but it was restless and filled with dreams he couldn't remember.

Finally, he got up and wondered restlessly throughout the house. He opened drawers and closets, hoping to find out more about his lover. In the closet, he smelled the sweaters and the leather jacket; the scent was overpowering and intoxicating. It was Stiles.

The first rays of sunrise were starting to light up the living room, as Derek Hale crossed to the other balcony. Trying to be quiet, he slowly slid the floor-to-ceiling glass door to one side. The door slid quietly though, with no indication that it had to weigh hundreds of pounds. Derek Hale stepped out onto the balcony and braced himself against the railing. The view was incredible.

A famous writer once wrote that the fog in San Francisco creeps in on cat's feet. What he forgot to add though, was though it may creep in on cat's feet, it then pounces and coughs up a huge hairy hairball of thick soup over the entire area. That part must not have sounded so poetic. The solid curtain of fog had just started to advance on the city by the bay. If the fog hadn't been there, Derek Hale would have been able to look out to sea—all the way to the Farrallon Islands off the coast. The cliff-side road they had taken the night before was in view as were the tops of the twin art-deco towers of the Golden Gate Bridge. The glass door had soundproofed the house, but now Derek Hale could hear the pounding of the surf far below. He could smell the eucalyptus trees that surrounded the house. He looked down and fought the urge to jump back into the house. The balcony, with no obvious means of support, shot out over nothing. Though the ocean had sounded close, it was actually several hundred feet straight down. The effect was totally unnerving. He realized why Stiles had looked so nervous and scared, and just how much trust he had put into Derek the night before. 'As soon as Stiles wakes up,' he thought, 'I'm going to kick his ass for taking such crazy chances.'

'Stiles, you've done well, no wonder you left me,' was the last thought that crossed his mind as he started to cry. He wasn't sure how much later, but he was relieved to feel Stiles wrap his arms around him. "Derek, you're freezing. Come back to bed, babe."

"I can't, Stiles, I'm sorry," Derek said weakly.

"What's wrong?" Stiles asked tipping Derek's face up to meet his.

"Who do you belong to, Stiles? Look at this place! Fuck! Who's my competition, and how can I ever even hope to compete?" Stiles started to laugh, until he saw tears had started down Derek's face again. He stopped short and held Derek's gaze for a long time before speaking. "He's very handsome and intelligent. Making love to him is the greatest joy you could imagine. He has strong ideals and convictions. He makes me feel safe and loved, though he can be moody, stubborn and single-minded at times..." Stiles began. The words cut Hale like a knife, each one plunging slightly deeper and twisting slightly.

"Aren't you forgetting 'rich'?" Derek Hale asked sarcastically. "Who's picking up the tab here?"

Now Stiles did laugh, his voice cutting into the early morning air. "Everything here has been bought and paid for, Derek..."

"Including you?" Derek Hale accused with more venom then he should have used.

"BY me. Derek, the man I was describing was you," Stiles said patiently. "This is all mine, well actually, it belongs to my alter ego, Nick. It also yours, if you want it. If you want to stay with me."

It was now Stiles' turn to wish that he could preserve this Kodak moment as he finally had the last word with Derek Hale. Derek just looked at his ex-lover, his mouth doing a great impression of a fish out of water.

"When I ran, I had certain things that I could sell and use," Stiles finally explained. "Information is one of the most important commodities out there. Someone who can manipulate a computer system or program is always in high demand, especially in this zip code. Bidders kill for it. I'd learned a lot from you and the pack. Of course, I had a good knowledge of the law and marksmanship from my Dad, but I'd also learned some hunter tricks from Allison and Chris. Thanks to the Bestiary, my research, and the experiences our pack had, I probably had more knowledge than anyone else on this side of the country. When I turned 18, my inheritance from my Mom also kicked in. You're not the only one with a trust fund Der. I also happened to know a couple of numbers to secret bank accounts formally belonging to the Alpha Pack. They were left in the rubble back in Beacon Hills. They obviously weren't going to need them any longer. Funny thing about numbered accounts, if you know the access codes you can transfer funds with no way to trace where they ever went...

"Turns out that all these skills are in very high demand. I'd help someone with a problem, and they'd recommend to others. After a while, I was getting work everywhere. I was even out of country for a while," Stiles continued, "but came back here. Ever since the 60's, everyone always runs to San Francisco to hide."

"I met Natasha here. She and her Russian grandmother have been like a new family to me. 'Tash is a dancer with the San Francisco Ballet and her Grandmother makes the best pirogues that you have ever tasted. No one here knows about my past life, except for the stuff I've told Natasha about you when she would worry about me being alone.

"Derek, if I had stayed with you—and I did want to stay with you, please never think otherwise," Stiles emphasized, "my life expectancy would have been shorter than a gallon of milk in a car on a hot summer day. Not a day has gone by that I haven't wanted to pick up the phone and call you, tell you where I am. But, I knew that if I did, I'd put my Dad and you in danger and blow all this. We spent so much time saving each other, it was becoming almost common-place. I didn't like the risks you'd take for me, and the chances you would take. I know you can heal, but I hated seeing you hurt. I no longer need to be saved. I may not be a werewolf, but I can take pretty good care of myself now. It's a good feeling. I went directly from being a child to being in a pack, I never got a chance to find out who I was ~ who I could be. I also found out something else. That I, that we, are meant to be together. You are the only one for me. I haven't been with anyone else since you. I still love you."

"Didn't you say something about coming back to bed...," Derek asked.

Derek awoke a couple of hours later, to the strange feeling that he was being watched.

Natasha gave him her best "cat ate the canary" smile. "What have you done to my Nicky, he looks so, ah, what is the word to use, whipped?"

From the far side of the bed came a muffled giggle and drowsy, "'Tash, leave him alone. This is the one. The one I told you about..."

The look in Natasha eyes changed as if someone had flicked a switch. "So you're the one that Nicky always talks about, this, what is it you call grumpy-wild-dog-who-eats-chickens-in-the-night?"

"Tasha, behave!" came loudly from across the bed.

"Damn it Nicolae, you never let me have any fun," she complained sulkily. "Hello Derek, I feel like I already know you. Don't get up, or I will get to know you MUCH better than I already do!" She giggled at her own joke. "Nicky, at least I don't chase your boyfriends out of the house with a loaded gun..."

Now Stiles really laughed. "And, when have you ever had a chance to chase a boyfriend out of here? You really should explain that story to him before you ruin my already bad rep."

Natasha turned to Derek, "Nicky has saved me from many a bad date. If I'm having a horrible time, I leave my door unlocked. If I'm having a good time the door is locked. Nicky has the 'jealous husband' routine down perfectly, you should see him in action!"

Stiles was howling by now. "Remember the last one! He made it all the way to his car before he realized he was naked! Man, that was a good one!"

"So you better feel pretty special, you wouldn't believe how many people have tried to break Saint Nicholas here out of his vow of celibacy," Natasha quipped. "I have to say, I feel a slight pang of jealousy. No, wait, yup, that's hunger, my mistake! Come on, I'll take you two lovebirds to breakfast."

Stay Tuned! ~ Same Wolf Time, Same Wolf Channel! This story gets much better, I promise. Sorry, but there's lots of set-up that has to be made, and lots of catching-up for lost time for our two young lovers. There's lots of action ahead with shootouts and kidnappings, and of course much more sex! There's also a funny trip through the infamous Castro for our favorite pair. In all, there are four chapters. Hope you'll stay along for the ride, it will be worth it! I will try to post a new chapter every Monday, faster if this turns out to be popular. Thanks for reading. And a HUGE "ThankYou" to all those who have made "Car Problems" so popular! Thousands of hits at last count! You guys are so AWESOME! I love you guys! Peace & Love.