Title: Shake on It

Pairing: Stiles/Derek – Slash, m/m

Show: Teen Wolf

Author's Note: This story doesn't fall anywhere specifically in the storyline.

Stiles moved around to the driver's side of the car, waiting. Nothing happened. He did not just go total badass to simply get ignored. And just when he thought he might have to bang heatedly on the driver's side window, it shifted down and a sliver of Derek's face appeared.

Stiles cocked his head to the side, annoyed. Leaning against the curve of the side of the car, Stiles stared resolutely into Derek's eyes.

"Derek," he said, and it was surprisingly painful, but he bit back the sting. "What are you doing here?"

"Go back inside," Derek said, and his voice was unfeeling.

Stiles was accustomed to this side of Derek and the man's cold exterior didn't put him off tonight. His thoughts did not falter on their objective. "Why are you here?" He said the words slowly, determinedly. This time he did not leave any room to suggest that he would accept anything but the answer to his question.

Derek bent his face away so that Stiles could no longer see it. And no answer came. The silence extended for a long time.

"Do not roll this window up," Stiles warned, getting the nasty feeling that Derek was still contemplating trying to dodge this encounter. "Because this is happening." He wagged his index finger rapidly between the two of them and immediately regretted the action. "I mean, this conversation is happening… between us," he corrected, trying to keep the vigor in his voice. "Because we're… obviously not going to happen…" And his voice became softer as he realized he was blathering about an insinuation that Derek probably didn't even realize had happened. So Stiles stopped talking and waited a good ten seconds before he brought his eyes back up to Derek's.

The man inside the car had been watching him. His eyes were not hardened at all when Stiles first caught them, but they quickly shifted back to their usual unpleasant scowl. But Stiles could have sworn he caught sadness there, in that moment when Derek didn't think he was being watched.

"Look," Stiles said, resting his forearms on the top of the car and leaning inwards, closer to the window. "Start giving me answers, or I will start making a scene. And," he drawled out the conjunction. "You wouldn't want my dad waking up and calling in reinforcements, do you?"

"Do you?" Derek shot back. "I would love to see you explain why you're out here talking to a fugitive at 2 in the morning," he stressed. "I think it's best for the both of us, if the sheriff stays out of this."

Stiles hadn't exactly thought that threat through. So? Threats weren't his forte.

"Okay," Stiles nodded. "Valid point." And Stiles realized that they had gotten off on another tangent and no freakin' answers had been exposed. "Why are you here?" he said for a third time.

"I was just driving through," Derek said, and he had the gall to appear frustrated by Stiles' nagging.

Stiles laughed bitterly, and loudly. He didn't exactly mean to but it just popped out and in reaction, Derek looked around uneasily. "You know, I might be easily manipulated and naïve," Stiles used the adjectives that Derek had so nicely given him previously. "But I'm not an idiot. So stop treating me like one."

"Shhh," Derek shushed him. "Look, fine, get in the car."

The doors automatically unlocked and Stiles found himself two full steps away from the camaro. He wanted to talk, yes, but to get inside the car… nope. Huh-uh.

"I think this distance is just fine," Stiles said, motioning widely between them.

"I'm not going to have this conversation out here," Derek said. "So, either get in the car or go back inside."

"I'm not—" Stiles started but stopped himself when Derek gave him a startled warning glare. Okay, case in point. It looked like this conversation wasn't going to go down without some raised voices. "Fine," Stiles whispered harshly.

He circled the front of the car and opened the passenger side door. He studied the armrest that held the console on it. He detected the lock and unlock buttons before slipping inside and shutting the door. And right when he did, it seemed drastically quieter around them. It was damn near suffocating. Suddenly, Stiles' confidence wilted and it became even clearer why getting inside the car was a poor decision.

"So…" His voiced expired instantly into the surrounding deadness.

"Your house is in my rounds," Derek answered. "Even in times of anticipated peace… sometimes I check on some people just to make sure everything is still… fine."

"Well, I'm alive. So you don't have to set up camp down the street," Stiles responded.

"It's not like a drive-by shooting, Stiles," Derek said.

"And why were you… hiding down near my neighbors?" Stiles asked.

"Well," Derek began sourly. "To avoid this. Exactly this. Look… I thought it might upset you."

Stiles gave off an exaggerated look of surprise. "Why would I be upset? I don't care where you are or what you're doing…"

"Yes, because you're obviously not upset right now," Derek murmured while Stiles continued to rant.

"Or who you're doing, for that matter either," Stiles finished hotly, crossing his arms tightly across his chest and shifting down further into the seat.

Derek's head snapped quickly to the side, his face turned towards Stiles. "Really? You really want to go there?" Derek said, letting his anger reveal itself for the first time.

"Oh, and look he does have emotions, everybody," Stiles said like he was making an announcement to an invisible crowd. "Shocking."

"What about you?" Derek asked. "Speaking of emotions. Despite your insistence, you're clearly upset right now."

"I don't care," Stiles adamantly claimed yet again.

"Well, good," Derek said. "Because I had to satiate my heat somehow… with someone."

"You don't think I don't already know that, haven't already realized that?" Stiles was yelling at this point, facing Derek and gesturing wildly in an effort to emphasize. "Trust me," his voice was poisonous. "I can't get the thought out of my head." He didn't mean to admit that, but this had been torturing him for months. And it just sort of happened, and the fact that it was literally to the worst person possible didn't help the urgently rising feeling of resentment and frustration that Stiles was swiftly being overwhelmed by. He knew Derek needed to seek out another partner to satisfy his heat… the knowledge gnawed aggressively at his brain. And the worst was at night, when it was all he could think about, and the only outlet for him was throwing a pillow across the room or some other futile attempt to silence his ever-present thoughts. He yearned for ignorance in this situation, but he was painfully aware.

He clenched his eyes closed. "Screw this," he said and his hand shot out for the door handle, but his attempt was unsuccessful. The handle merely buckled against the force of the pull from his hand, but the door did not respond. At the exact same moment, maybe an instant earlier, he heard the locks shift down as the doors were locked. Stiles' eyes went to the lock that had disappeared from view, sinking into its own hole, indicating that the door was now secured.

Stiles attempted the button on his side of the car, but he didn't have enough time to unlock the car and get to the handle before Derek had effectively put them back to square one.

"Stiles," Derek said, gripping both of Stiles' arms with an intense speed. He yanked the boy, not painfully, but roughly toward him. "Stop, for a minute, please."

"Der…" Stiles squirmed at first, but realized suddenly the close proximity of his and Derek's face. "…Rek…" he softly finished the man's name, as his eyes flashed down to the werewolf's lips.

This is how this whole thing had started anyway, right? Like, way back to the beginning. It had begun with a push here, a shove there… being slammed against the wall… being pinned… that moment hanging in the air, between them. There had always been a bit of violence with them.

Derek eyes followed the same action, and he released an unsteady breath.

Abruptly, everything that had been said and everything that still needed to be said fell away and didn't matter. Nothing mattered except for this overwhelming feeling in Stiles' chest that was so powerful, it hurt.

"Fuck it," Derek breathed, gripping the back of Stiles' head hard and dragging him forward.

Stiles let himself be taken, and when their lips met it was rough and needy. They both inhaled sharply through their noses, letting their hands take the parts that they had been deprived of for months. Forceful fistfuls of clothes were yanked as nails dug into skin, leaving deep red marks in their wake.

Stiles felt Derek's fingers brush up along the back of his neck, his fingernails scratching firmly in the process. He shivered and exhaled into Derek's mouth, the werewolf giving a soft growl in response.

This whole thing was actually a lot like fainting. It starts off with an overpowering and uncontrollable sensation, a draining feeling as the blood rushes from the brain and everything goes black. The eyes lose the ability to see as blackness literally creeps over, even though they are still wide open. With vision gone, the body fights, but its next. Unconsciousness takes over, quicker than one might think, and the body falls. The person isn't even aware that they are falling until the impact. When they hit the ground.

It takes less than a second for blood to start returning to the brain, and inescapably the person will begin to stir, come back to.

And that's where Stiles' was, waking back up.

He shoved Derek away, hard, and found himself with his back firmly pressed against the passenger side door. He stayed there, breathing heavily for a moment. "I can't—" he said, his voice breaking. He fumbled ungracefully to unlock his door and had managed to successfully throw it open when he felt tendrils of fingers against his shoulder. He sank his body away from the touch, escaping the grasp. He heard his name be called out, the sound following him as he rounded the car quickly, but he ignored it.

Unfortunately, that wasn't enough, because Derek easily intercepted his path only a few feet beyond the car. Derek stood firmly between Stiles and his house.

"Stiles, stop!" Derek said, trying again to clutch Stiles and just hold him still.

"Don't," Stiles said, pulling himself free again. "Just, stop grabbing me!" And the echo of his voice vibrated loudly through the silence of the street around them.

Derek retracted his hands, but kept them up, hanging in midair. His eyes shifted up and down the street uneasily, but he remained in Stiles' way. "Fine," he said. "But just talk to me."

And Stiles was officially dumbfounded, he halted his efforts to go inside and stared resolutely at Derek. "Me? Talk to you?" he asked incredulously. "I think if someone needs to talk to someone, you're the one that needs to do the talking, buddy." He hit Derek's chest with the back of his hand to punctuate his sentence. He moved past the werewolf, but felt the man follow, less than a step behind him.

"I don't have anything to say," Derek stressed firmly, still managing to keep his voice at a tolerable volume.

Stiles rounded on Derek, causing the man to almost run into him. He came within an inch or so of Derek's face. "Then why are you following me?"

"What do you want me to say?" Derek genuinely asked.

Stiles was tired of this run around. "Derek," he said, forcibly trying to calm himself. He closed his eyes in effort, taking a long, practiced inhale. "If you have nothing you want to say to me… then…" He opened his eyes for this part. "We're done here." He turned back around, not sure if he was being followed this time.

He reached all the way to his front door before his hand was caught from behind, stopping him from turning the door knob.

"Stiles," Derek whispered, so very close to Stiles' ear.

Despite everything, Stiles still felt the urge to lean back into the body that was mere inches behind him. But he fought it. "What?"

"I wasn't…" Derek began. "Doing rounds tonight."

No shit, Stiles thought. "What were you doing?" He stared unwavering at his front door, waiting.

"I…" Derek started but stopped. "I was…"

"Spit it out, Derek," Stiles snapped, letting his anger get the best of him again.

"I was," Derek repeated quicker. "Here for you," he finished slowly.

Okay…. "And?" Stiles asked.

Derek met him with silence and Stiles started to shake his head minutely as he began to realize how incapable it was to get Derek to tell the truth, to open up. He faced the werewolf, but kept his hand on the door knob behind him.

"What about last night?" Stiles asked. "And the other nights…? I heard your car then too. This isn't your first time here, is it?" He made it into a question even though it was rhetorical. "And what about Green, huh? You don't think I know about that, do you? But I do. Why do you still go there?"

Derek's eyes widened, as he was obviously surprised at how Stiles could possibly know such information.

Stiles' grip tightened around the door knob. "When you're ready to be honest with me, Derek… You can come find me." He shoved the handle down and the door gave way, with Stiles disappearing into the darkness of the house. Stiles' eyes caught Derek's for a brief second, before the door closed again.

Derek stood, staring at the cold, wooden surface that had replaced Stiles. And he kept standing, and standing, because he knew he had no right to protest.

**I have to admit I love writing angst Sterek, probably a little too much. That's why I am playing out the "make up" part so much. But, we all knew Derek would have to fight to get Stiles back and it's time, Derek, it's time.