PROMPT: Ok so we have an idea that werewolves can't get drunk but can they get high?.. Stiles makes hash brownies, Derek loves brownies so while Stiles is at school Derek finds the brownies and scoffs the lot...and Stiles comes home to find a totally off his head werewolf...

WARNINGS: drugs, cursing

Found this on LJ. I changed it up a little, though. Stiles didn't make the brownies - because, really, can you see Stiles messing with pot? - a slacker college-age cousin who is staying for the week made them. Derek has a sweet tooth…

I tried to keep it short... but it kind of got away from me a little... Hope you guys like it.

TAKES PLACE DURING THE TIME THAT DEREK IS HIDING AT STILES' HOUSE! Let's just pretend that it was for more than just a day…

Derek hovered by Stiles' door, listening, waiting. That stupid cousin of his, Gavan - really, what the hell kind of a name was that anyway? - was just about to pass out on the couch, and Derek was listening for his breathing to change, his heartbeat to slow, so that he could venture of the kid's bedroom and rustle up some grub in the kitchen. He was starving, his furiously growling stomach a testament to that.

Things had been a pain in the ass ever since Gavan had arrived. It was easy before, sleeping on Stiles' floor, hanging out in the house all day and doing whatever he wanted while Stiles was at school and the Sherriff was at work. He played on Stiles' computer a lot, watched movies, played on his game systems, ate whenever he pleased...

Now he had to tiptoe around the annoying older cousin of Stiles who, he was starting to believe, was even more annoying than Stiles was. Truthfully, though, Stiles was starting to grow on him. Much as he hated to admit it. Though, he would never let the kid know that.

Gavan was a dick. An asshole. An idiot and a lazy bully. The worst kind. Derek didn't see how he was even related to Stiles. They resembled slightly, but it seemed that Gavan had gotten all of the bad genes. He had Stiles' pale skin, but on him it just looked pasty and gross. He had the brown eyes, but they weren't wide and sweet and doe-like, they were squinty and mean and muddy. He had the slim build, but it wasn't lean and lithe and graceful, it was stick-skinny and bony and scarecrow-like. He had a big nose, and a thin mouth, and long floppy greasy hair. Derek despised him.

He liked to tease Stiles, too. Not in a brotherly, familial way, in a cruel way. It only made Derek hate him all the more. He had gotten glimpses of the guy in the crack of the door, while he was hiding behind it, or as he passed him in the hallway while Derek hid in the shadows. The dumbass was oblivious and completely unaware. Stiles' opposite in nearly every way.

So it really irritated Derek, really pissed him off, that he had to hide form the guy. It was different, hiding from the Sherriff. Mostly because the Sherriff was really only home late at night and early in the morning, and he never came into Stiles' room. Gavan, on the other hand, invaded Stiles' territory as soon as the kid was out the door. It raised his hackles. Derek suggested a key-lock for his door, and Stiles immediately took his advice. Gavan was pissed. Derek was satisfied. At least he wouldn't have to worry about the idiot coming into Stiles' room any more. At least he had one place in the house now where he could relax without being discovered.

Unfortunately, he could still hear and smell everything that Gavan did. Every. Disgusting. Thing

He dreadfully missed the days when he had the house to himself.

So, there he was, ear pressed to the door and waiting for Gavan to drift off so he could sneak into the kitchen and snatch something to eat. He seethed with anger. He had come to think of this as his house, too, and felt like Gavan was invading his territory. His own scent was everywhere, had slowly sunk into the house after him being there for almost two weeks now. Gavan's scent was slowly overwhelming it. At least, in the rest of the house it was. Stiles room still smelled like he and Stiles only. He enjoyed the combined scents, as odd as that was to him.

Finally, finally, Gavan was asleep. Derek twisted the switch on the door, unlocking it from the inside and opened it halfway, because it squeaked hideously if it was opened all the way. He tiptoed downstairs, avoiding the floorboards that he knew would make noise, past the sleeping idiot on the couch and into the bright kitchen. The lights were on in every room downstairs, and Derek growled. Stupid inconsiderate dumbass. He wasn't the one paying the electric bill. The fact that Derek even thought about that should have bothered him, but he didn't even notice it.

Derek went around and turned off all the lights except for the one on the living room before he got his food. The Sherriff might be hunting his ass, yeah, but, like Stiles said all the fucking time, he was only doing his job. He always heard them talking about money and mortgages and bills. He knew they couldn't afford all these lights on. He shouldn't have cared, and didn't know why he did. He went back into the kitchen, able to see fine with just the light filtering in from the living room.

Derek opened the fridge and scanned the contents. He grabbed a package of lunch meat. All Stiles ever bought was whole wheat bread, for his father's heart, and Derek hated the stuff, so he would eat the meat by itself. He opened the pantry and retrieved a box of cereal. It was Stiles favorite, and he knew it would annoy him if Derek ate it all. He liked it when Stiles got all annoyed and huffy. He would make sure to eat it all.

He wanted something sweet, too. As if on cue, he caught the scent of chocolate, and his mouth watered. Brownies! He loved brownies. Chocolate anything, really, but he really had a weak spot for brownies. He turned, slowly, as if in slow motion, and his gaze zeroed in on the plate of brownies sitting on the counter. His eyes flashed blue, as if he had spotted prey. How had he not noticed them before? He walked slowly toward them, as if worried he'd startle them, or they would escape.

"Hel-lo sweet sweet deliciousness," he muttered as he got close, sniffing the air, inhaling the yummy chocolate-y scent with a slackened face. The smell was heaven.

He picked up the whole plate, tucking the box of cereal and the lunchmeat under his arm. He was taking them all, and he doubted the idiot in the couch would even realize it. He was so stupid, he would probably just think that he had eaten them himself and forgotten.

He eye-fucked the brownies as he made his way upstairs. He pushed the door open with his foot, and kicked it closed, wincing slightly at the loud noise. Pausing, he listened intently to see if the useless lump on the couch had been awaken.

Nope. All clear.

He dumped the other stuff onto the desk and sat on Stiles' bed with the brownies in his lap. The smelled delicious, but had a strange underscent to them, like some kind of spice or herb he wasn't familiar with. He shrugged to himself. Whatever, brownies were brownies.

He began to scarf them down, hardly stopping to notice the odd texture. He started to feel a bit euphoric after the third one, but figured it was just because of the sugar rush.

Before he knew it, the whole plate was gone, there was chocolate smeared around his mouth and crumbs on the blanket, and he was laying back on the bed, giggling...

I

Stiles walked in through the front door a little bit warily. Gavan had texted him about fifteen minutes ago, saying he thought Stiles' house was haunted. Like, what the fuck? He couldn't help but wonder if it was just Derek messing with his cousin. The werewolf really didn't like the guy, as he had made perfectly clear. But Gavan hadn't elaborated, and had ignored Stiles' text when he had asked what he was talking about. He was such an asshole.

Stiles was so glad he was only staying for a couple of weeks. He was already dealing with one not-so-welcome houseguest, in the form of a grumpy snarly bossy werewolf. Now he had to deal with his stupid asshole cousin on top of it. Stiles had never liked Gavan. The two boys had never gotten along. Stiles usually made it a point to avoid him at any family functions. It had gotten easier, in the past few years since his mom died, since Gavan was a cousin from his mom's side, and they hadn't gotten invited to any of those family functions since her death.

So, when his dad had said Gavan was coming to stay for a week - because he had dropped out of college, and his parents were going on a trip, and they didn't trust him to be alone in their house for that long - Stiles was horrified. He actually resorted to getting on his knees and begging his dad to say no. But, according to his dad, Gavan had no place else to go. No other relatives were willing to take him in, even for two weeks. Which should have been a red flag right there. It seems the Sherriff didn't care, though. He thought maybe Gavan would respect him and be reluctant to break any laws, since he was staying with a Sherriff.

He was completely wrong, of course. But, no one ever listened to Stiles, not when it really mattered.

Gavan was passed out on the couch when Stiles came in. The living room reeked of weed and beer, and Sties coughed and hurried upstairs to escape the smell. The lazy fucker was always laying on the couch like the slacker he was. Stiles didn't think he had moved once since he had gotten there, unless it was to go to the kitchen and stuff his face, or to the bathroom. All he did was sit around all day and smoke weed and drink. He was twenty-three, so his dad couldn't say anything about the drinking, and Gavan always made sure to have the weed carefully hidden before the Sherriff got home.

Stiles slipped the key into the lock that Derek had so helpfully suggested, letting himself into his room. He tossed his backpack on the floor and closed the door, clicking the lock into place once more before he turned around...

And froze at the sight before him.

Derek was in his boxers, and he was hiding under Stiles' desk. His pants were folded neatly on the computer chair, but his shirt was tossed haphazardly on the bed. His eyes were big and wide and glowing blue. He seemed scared, but he relaxed when he saw that it was Stiles.

Stiles shook his head, perplexed, and scowled at Derek, his mouth hanging open in surprise.

"What are you doing?" he hissed, not really sure what was going on. Derek craned his neck, trying to look around him.

"Did you lock the door?" he whispered, and Stiles almost laughed at the tone of his voice. He nodded.

"Yeah... why?" His voice was slow as if he were talking to a child. Derek let out a relieved breath and slowly crawled out from underneath the desk.

"I was hiding from Gavan! I thought you were him and coming into he room and I didn't know if he had a key. I thought maybe he got yours or had one made, I don't know! Does he have one? Did you give him one? I don't want to be caught!" Derek was breathing hard as he finished speaking, eyes big and wide again. Stiles would have laughed, he really would have, if he weren't so damn confused.

"No, Derek, Gavan does not have a key! I promise. Now, what's wrong with you? You're acting like you're high or something." He shook his head as he kicked off his shoes and yanked his jacket off, then his T-shirt, leaving him in his undershirt. He pulled his belt off and tossed it on the pile of discarded clothes, getting comfortable after a long day in school.

He glanced up at Derek, who still hadn't replied, and was surprised to see his eyes glowing again. He was looking at Stiles like he was a yummy rabbit he wanted to hunt. He licked his lips, and Stiles got nervous.

"What the hell? Why are you looking at me that way? What is wrong with you today?" He knew he sounded slightly hysterical, but didn't think Derek would even notice, the way he was acting. Derek took a step toward him, and he took a step back.

"You smell good," Derek growled. Stiles gulped.

"Good, how? Good like food? Because I'm not food! I'm not a bunny or a deer or something! I'm a person, and you don't; eat people, right? Derek? Derek! Stop looking at me like that!" Stiles knew he was being a bit loud, and still sounding hysterical, but Gavan was passed out, so he didn't think he would be heard. And Derek kept advancing on him, and he kept backing away, until his back hit the door, and he had nowhere to go.

Derek leaned close and scented him. Stiles fought the urge to whimper.

"Seriously, man. What has gotten into you?" Stiles asked, voice shaking. Derek giggled. Really, he actually fucking, giggled!

"Ham, and all your cereal, and some really yummy brownies!" he said, and kept laughing. "They were so good! I want more! Go ask your dumb cousin if he'll make me more..."

Stiles just stared at Derek. He was laughing. And smiling. Two things Stiles had never seen Derek do for as long as he had known him. He had smirked, and snickered, but never anything like this. It was almost captivating. It completely transformed his face, made him seem younger.

Then what Derek had said sank in.

"Wait, what? You ate some of Gavan's brownies? Fuck!" He really was high, then. Stiles knew that any kind of brownies Gavan made were sure to be laced with something, he just hoped all it was only pot and not anything else. It would be just his luck to have an ecstasy-rolling Derek to take care of. That would be hell.

"You wanna?" Derek said, still giggling. Stiles cocked his head. What?

"Wanna what?" Stiles asked, a little afraid of the answer.

"You said, 'fuck!' so I said-"

"Yeah, yeah, I got it! I mean no! I don't! Augh! Shut up, would you?" Stiles was flustered and exasperated and annoyed. What the hell was he going to do with a stoned-out werewolf all day? He refused to even consider Derek's idea. Stop thinking about it! Get the damn images out of your head, Stiles! He is high on who knows what, he's not thinking straight, he isn't serious! Derek frowned, but he was still laughing. How odd.

"I was kidding, and, hey! I'm the one that tells you to shut up! Why are you telling me?" He seemed confused. Stiles rolled his eyes.

"Because I'm not the one who's high!" he snapped, though he was trying not to laugh. Derek only looked more confused.

"I'm high? Wait, what? How do you know? What did I take?" He seemed scared now, and Stiles groaned in frustration.

"Derek, try to keep up! You ate the brownies, right?" Derek nodded. "They were laced with something, buddy. Probably pot, but who knows what. Now, how many did you eat?" Derek stared off into space, fingers moving as he tried to count in his head. That wasn't a good sign. He finally shrugged.

"I dunno! A whole plate. How many is that?" Stiles groaned again. It was worse than he thought. No wonder Gavan thought they had ghosts. A whole plate of pot brownies had disappeared.

"Wait, did you say you ate all my cereal?" Derek giggled again. "Derek! What the hell?"

"I like it when you get all angry and huffy," Derek said, laughter dying away. Stiles didn't even ask what he meant. He wasn't sure he wanted to know. "By the way, I found all that porn on your computer," he smirked. "You're into some weird stuff, Stiles." Stiles turned beet red and started to splutter. "Animal porn? Really?" Derek asked, laughing. Stiles scowled.

"That was not porn! That was research for my biology class! And what were you doing snooping around on my computer?" Derek ignored him.

"What about the two girls in the pool? Or the three guys and the girl-"

"Okay! Okay! Shut up!" Stiles was red again. "What are you doing in you boxers, anyway?" he asked, to change the subject. Derek shrugged and flopped down into Stiles' bed.

"I was hot." You're still hot, Stiles thought as he watched Derek stretch out on his bed muscles rippling and shifting under smooth skin. Derek giggled, and that sound was really starting to amuse Stiles.

"I can smell that, you know..." Derek murmured, eyes closed as he took a deep breath in through his nose. Stiles shifted from foot to foot self-consciously. Derek couldn't mean what he thought he meant...

"S-smell what?"

"When you get turned on, or when you're thinking about sex. It happens every time I push you up against a wall or get too close..." Stiles spluttered again.

"I-I it has nothing to do with you! I'm a teenager! Everything turns me on!" Derek was laughing. "Shut up! It's not funny!"

"Yeah it is!" Derek kept laughing, and Stiles couldn't help but grin. He liked this side of Derek. He liked seeing him laughing and smiling, even if it was because he was high. Even if it was at his expense.

Derek finally stopped laughing, falling silent and staring up at the ceiling. Stiles wanted to go take a shower, but knew he couldn't leave Derek alone. He pushed Derek's jeans off the computer chair and plopped down on it backwards, folding his arms across the top of it.

"Gavan texted me, saying he thought the house was haunted," Stiles muttered, and Derek burst out laughing again.

"\What an idiot! Ugh he smells so bad, do you know that? And he masturbates like ten times a day!" he laughed again, but Stiles was horrified.

"Augh! God! I did not need to know that! That's disgusting!"

"Well, it's not like you don't do it in the shower, and at night when you think I'm sleeping..." Derek opened his eyes and lifted his head to look at Stiles, who had his head buried in his arms to hide his burning face. He had thought he was being so sneaky about it, too. Derek flopped back onto the bed with a grin on his face. They were both silent for awhile before Derek spoke again. "So... do you think ghosts are real, Stiles?"

Stiles picked his head up off his arms, surprised by the sudden randomness of the question. Derek had never talked so much the entire time Stiles had known him, and the stuff he kept coming out with was just so outrageous. But this, though... he sounded serous and pensive, and it was a question that Stiles had wondered himself before.

"I don't know..."

"Sometimes I hear stuff, when I'm alone in my house. I think I can hear screaming, voices, noises. I've had nightmares about fire..." Stiles didn't know what to say. He just looked at Derek's still body, laying on his bed with his feet on the floor. His eyes were closed again. His voice was curious and contemplative, not hurt or sad, like Stiles expected.

"Well, the dreams... those are probably normal, ya know?"

"Yeah, probably. Do you think your mom's a ghost?" Stiles froze for a second, trying to comprehend what Derek had just asked him. Then he sighed.

"No, I don't think so. She moved on. It was her time, and she didn't have any unfinished business."

"Do you think it was my family's time? Laura? Do you think it was her time?" Stiles didn't know what to say - again - so he didn't say anything. Derek didn't push him, he just sighed. Then he changed the subject. "Do you like brownies, Stiles?"

"Mmhmmm..." Stiles was having trouble following the rapid changes in topic. Yeah, ironic, right? That was usually other people's complaint when talking to him. But he wasn't used to it from anyone else!

"Brownies are amazing. I just love chocolate. Anything chocolate. But mostly brownies... and cake... and Hershey bars! Oh, Hershey bars... I want a Hershey bar... I'm hungry..." he trailed off with a wistful sigh. Stiles rolled his eyes.

"Shall I fetch you some food, wolf boy?" Stiles snarked. Derek sat up straight in bed quickly, smiling at the head rush it gave him.

"Would you? You would be so amazing if you did!" Who could say no to that? Stiles nodded with a smirk.

"Yeah, sure. What do you want?" Big mistake.

"A sandwich! With white bread... and provolone cheese, and lots of beef and turkey and ham, and lettuce, mayo, ketchup, and cheese, and... hmm... chips! I want chips too!" He looked at Stiles gleefully. Stiles facepalmed.

"We don't have any of that, and I'm not going to the store for you again this week. I didn't mean if you could have anything! What do you want from the kitchen?"

"Oh." Derek got a look on his face like he was deep in thought.

"Don't hurt yourself there, buddy," Stiles murmured, and went ignored.

"Ummmmmmmmmmm..." he drew out the sound until he was just humming. Stiles was beginning to think he had forgotten what he was supposed to be telling Stiles. "Oh yeah! Chicken nuggets! And potato chips! Ice cream and bananas and milk. Aaaaand... carrots, and tomatoes and lettuce... a, um, salad. And chocolate! And that's it... yeah, that's it..." Derek flopped back on the bed. Stiles sighed.

"Oh, that's it, huh? Are you sure? Because I could, like, you know, bring the whole kitchen in here for your convenience." Derek just laughed. Stiles shook his head in disgust, but he was grinning. He just couldn't get enough of that laugh.

So he left the room, carefully locking the door, and made his way downstairs. He wasn't surprised to see Gavan still passed out on the couch. He retrieved everything that Derek had asked for, except for the chocolate, because they didn't have any. He made a big bowl of salad and covered it in ranch. It was his favorite, and he didn't know what Derek liked, but he figured of he was high and had the munchies, he wouldn't even care.

He loaded everything onto a tray and carried it upstairs, setting it on the floor for a moment so he could unlock the door again. He wouldn't have even bothered with the lock, but Derek was being so paranoid about it he figured he shouldn't risk it.

As soon as the door was unlocked, he slipped his key back into his pocket and picked up the tray, pushing the door open with his foot, expecting Derek to still be lying on his bed. He wasn't. He came further into the room, and then he saw him. He was hiding under the desk again. Stiles rolled his eyes and set the tray of food down on his bed.

"It's just me, c'mon, seriously?"

Derek slowly crawled out from under the desk, eyes big again. He was clutching Stiles' dirty shirt in his hand, the one he had taken off when he'd gotten home from school. Stiles frowned as Derek went and sat down on the bed, making love to the food with his eyes, shirt clutched tightly in his grasp.

"Derek... why do you have my shirt?" Stiles was afraid to ask. There were so many things that made him afraid to ask about in the past half an hour since he had been home from school. He wondered how long the damn brownies were going to last, and hoped they wore off soon, what with Derek's high werewolf metabolism and all.

Derek looked at the shirt in his hand, as if he had forgotten it was there. Then, as Stiles watched in horror, he lifted the shirt to his face and inhaled.

"It smells good," he said with a teasing grin. Stiles was disgusted.

"Ugh, dude! I've been wearing in the shirt all day! What is wrong with you?" He crossed to the bed and grabbed the shirt, tugging on it and trying to pull it form Derek's grasp. He wouldn't let go. He used it to pull Stiles closer before he released the fabric, then he grabbed Stiles by the backs of his thighs and tugged him closer, pressing his face against Stiles' belly.

Stiles froze, going completely still as Derek snuffled and nuzzled at his abdomen.

"You smell good..." Derek growled. Stiles tried to keep his fear in control. He knew the stomach was a vulnerable part of the body, a soft prey area. He still thought Derek was thinking of him as food...

"Uuhmm.. y-you said that, already...' he tugged on the werewolf's arms, trying to dislodge himself from the kung-fu grip. "There's a whole tray of food there for you to chow on, so please don't eat me..." his voice wavered a little as Derek pushed his undershirt up with his nose so he could get to bare skin. Then he yelped at Derek nipped at his hipbone. Okay, that was it. He abruptly jerked away from the werewolf, using all of his strength, catching Derek off guard. He stumbled backward a few steps, eyes wide and scared, trying to control his fear. "Down boy!" he shrieked before he could think better of it. "I-I mean, uh, I'm not food! So no biting!" Derek looked confused, and a little dazed. Then he shrugged, as if he couldn't be bothered with Stiles' antics, and he went to town on the food.

Stiles let out a relived breath as he gathered up his dirty clothes and stuffed them in the hamper. He didn't want Derek sniffing them anymore. That was gross. He wondered if Derek had ever done that before, if Derek had ever thought of him as food before, and resolved to keep his dirty clothes picked up so that he wouldn't tempt the hungry werewolf. Oh, and he had to stop jacking off in his bed at night, too, and he had to delete his computer history...

Damn werewolf, making him rearrange his whole life for him. The bastard. He glance over at the werewolf in question and noticed that he was almost finished with the salad. He saw Stiles looking at him and grinned.

"I love ranch! How did you know it was my favorite?" he exclaimed. Stiles frowned and shrugged.

"I'm going to take a shower. Will you be okay for a few minutes?" Derek nodded and waved him away. Stiles didn't believe that for a minute. He fully expected to come back into the room to find Derek hiding under his desk again. He fished out a clean pair of boxers form his drawer and left the room, locking the door behind him.

I

His shower had taken a little longer than he had anticipated. He was using the hallway shower instead of the one on his bathroom. He wondered if Derek noticed. He was horny, okay? And it was weird and creepy for Derek to be able to smell what he was doing. He could never masturbate in his shower again, while Derek was there. Damn selfish werewolf had to ruin everything for him.

He also had to try harder to control himself when Derek decided to get all grumpy and handsy. He hadn't been sure if Derek could smell all the interesting things going on in his pants, but he had figured he couldn't, since he never said anything. Guess he had gotten his answer.

As he approached his door, he heard the music, and couldn't help running over to the railing to look downstairs and check on his cousin. Gavan was still sleeping. Good, that meant he hadn't heard the thoughtless racket that Derek was making. If his cousin had come up here to knock on his door while he was in the shower, then what would he have done?

He unlocked the door with a snarl on his face, ready to yell at Derek to be more careful. But, as soon as he walked in the door, Derek smirked at him.

"Just because you do it somewhere else doesn't mean I can't still smell it," he murmured, making Stiles gape and flush and stutter, pulling the towel around his shoulders closer around him in embarrassment. He was in his boxers, holding his dirty clothes in his hand. It was nothing unusual for him to walk into his room in only his boxers after a shower, he did it all the time. The unusual thing was the hungry way that Derek was looking at him, while he lay on his bed, playing with his phone. There was a pile of dirty dishes stacked precariously on top of each other sitting on the floor and-

Wait, he was playing with his phone!

"What the hell? What are you doing with my phone?" He stomped over and snatched the phone out of Derek's grasp, surprised when he actually let him. Derek just kept smirking at him, eyes heavy-lidded and sleepy-looking.

"Why are so many of your texts about me?" he said with a chuckle. Stiles just scowled at him.

"What are you talking about?"

"Well, I don't know who else you know who you would be referring to as "D"..." Stiles flushed again. He hated how easy it was for Derek to embarrass him. He just hoped that whatever was in those brownies made Derek black out and not remember anything when he woke up.

"I-er-well-um... Danny! They're about Danny!" he said triumphantly. Derek gave him a disbelieving look.

"Do you typically refer to Danny as 'The Big Bad Wolf'?" Stiles' mouth fell open. He had forgotten about that. He chose to ignore Derek... after staring at him gapingly for almost a minute.

He turned around and lowered the volume on his Ipod dock, then pulled some clothes out of his drawers. Whatever was on top. Which happened to be his pair of shredded jeans - that were so torn his dad wouldn't let him out of the house anymore wearing them - and an old worn out band t-shirt. As soon as he was dressed and turned back around to look at Derek, he was re-thinking the outfit. Probably too much skin, if Derek was looking at him like he was dinner again. That look was seriously starting to freak him out.

"Will you please stop looking at me like that?" He shrieked in a completely manly way.

"I've never seen you wear those pants before," Derek said, ignoring him. Stiles looked down at himself, then back at Derek.

"Yeah, that's because they're not fit to wear in public. But they're comfortable and soft and I can't bring myself to throw them away. Not planning in going anywhere today, apparently, with a stoned werewolf in my room..." Derek frowned.

"You don't have to stick around and take care of me if you have other plans, Stiles... go hang out with Scott or something..." Stiles scoffed and rolled his eyes.

"Hang out with Scott? Really? He's always with Allison lately. I'd prefer not to be a third wheel, you know? And since when do I ever have other plans that don't involve Scott? Face it, wolfie, you're stuck with me..." Derek grinned at him. Stiles could really get used to that look... too bad it was only a temporary side-effect of drug-laced brownies. He had wanted the brownies to wear off, before, but now he wanted them to last as long as possible. This side of Derek was really starting to grow on him.

Derek stood up suddenly, and Stiles tensed automatically, waiting to be pushed into a wall or threatened or... held onto and sniffed like he was food. But Derek just took a few steps across the room and plopped down in the computer chair. Then he started spinning in circles and giggling.

"Don't spin too fast, I don't want half-digested food all over my floor!" Stiles warned.

"I have a cast iron stomach, I won't throw up," Derek assured him between giggles. "I could eat week old road kill and-" He stopped talking suddenly and stared at the door, eyes wide.

"What?" Stiles asked, slightly alarmed. The door was locked, but Derek was staring at it as if the Alpha himself was about to come crashing through it.

"Don't you let him in here, Stiles! I hate him! I want to hurt him! Don't let him in here!" As if on cue, a pounding came on his door. Stiles jerked his head toward it, wincing as his neck spasmed at how fast he had moved. He slowly walked over to the door and unlocked it, cracking it open and peeking through the crack in the door. Gavan stood there looking as rumpled and lazy as ever.

"What?" he asked his cousin, annoyed at the intrusion. Gavan scowled, not used to Stiles snapping at him. But Stiles felt brave with Derek at his back... even if the werewolf was stoned off his ass. He knew Derek could kick Gavan's ass with one hand tied behind his back and blindfolded. He heard the squeaking of the chair, and he knew Derek was spinning again.

"Lemme use your computer, Genim," Gavan said, and Stiles nearly growled at him at the use of his first name. The werewolves must have been rubbing off on him.

"No. And I've told you not to call me that! It's Stiles!" He snarled, slamming the door in his face and clicking the lock into place. That didn't deter his cousin, who started pounding on his door and yelling at him. A deep rumbling growl filled the room, and Stiles turned to look at Derek. He had stopped spinning, and was staring at the door with glowing eyes. He was usually better with keeping control. The drugs must really have been fucking with him, because in addition to his chattiness and laughing, he had nearly lost control at least three times since Stiles had been home from school. "Chill, man, it's cool," Stiles murmured reassuringly, slowly approaching the angry werewolf.

"He's trying to invade our territory," Derek snarled, voice barely recognizable it was so deep and growling. But it wasn't the tone that took Stiles by surprise, it was the words. 'Our Territory?' he mouthed slowly. Is that how Derek saw it? Was the Stilinski house now part of his territory? Stiles' room in particular? The thought should have pissed Stiles off, should have made him angry that Derek was ingraining himself so deeply into his life. But it didn't, he wasn't. He was just curious and interested and felt like doing more research...

Gavan kept pounding on his door, and Derek kept growling. When Derek stood up, slowly advancing on the shaking door, Stiles knew he had to do something. He placed his hand on Derek's bare chest and shoved him, shocked when Derek actually fell back into the chair.

"Stay." He commanded, as if talking to a misbehaving dog. Derek didn't get mad at him though, like he usually did when Stiles treated him like a dog. He just glared at the door.

Stiles went and unlocked the door, after glancing at Derek to make sure his eyes weren't glowing any more, just in case. Good thing he checked, because as soon as he unlocked the door, it flew open and Gavan barged in. Derek was immediately on his feet again, a snarl on his face. Gavan looked shocked to see him there. Stiles was glad that Gavan was new to Beacon Hills, and wouldn't recognize Derek's face like a Beacon Hills native might have. To him, Derek would just look like a dark and dangerous guy in his underwear in his younger cousin's room... fuck my life...

Stiles glared at Gavan, holding out a hand to stop Derek before he could pounce on his cousin and tear his throat out. He was surprised, once more, when Derek actually let him hold him back.

"We're busy, Gavan! Go away and leave us alone!" Stiles snapped. He knew that sounded lame, but he didn't know what else to say. Gavan didn't have the foresight to listen to him, apparently. He stepped further into the room, scowling in a way that made him look pathetic next to one of Derek's furious glares.

"Who's this? Your boyfriend? Does the Sherriff know you're having sex with a thirty-year-old guy, eh Genim?" Gavan laughed mockingly, and Stiles seethed. Derek was not his boyfriend! He did not look thirty! They weren't having sex! And he was tired of being called Genim!

Before he could spit out a witty retort, Derek was barreling past him and slamming Gavan into the wall with a snarl.

"Shut your mouth and get out of Stiles' room you piece of shit," Derek growled. "You're stinking up the place with your filth, and I'm tired of looking at your ugly face." He pulled a spluttering Gavan off the wall and shoved him through the open doorway before slamming the door behind him and locking it once more.

"Derek!" Stiles yelped, not sure whether to thank him or tell him off. Derek shrugged and smirked.

"What? He was a dick and I was tired of him. Bet he won't bother you the rest of the time he's here." Derek waggled his eyebrows, and Stiles laughed. He was really going to miss this side of Derek. Maybe he would get the recipe for those brownies before his cousin left...

When he glanced up, Derek was making a disgusted face as he looked down at himself. Stiles frowned.

"What?"

"Ugh, now I have the fucker's smell all over me. Disgusting. I'm gonna go take a shower..." Stiles nodded absently as Derek went into the bathroom. If he could smell Gavan on him that strongly from just pushing him up against the wall for a couple seconds... Stiles smell must be all over him. He didn't seem to mind, though. He never acted all disgusted after he pushed Stiles up against a wall... and he seemed to do it a lot. He flashed back to a few minutes ago, Derek saying, "you smell good." Maybe he hadn't meant as food... Weird.

Stiles sprayed some of his good cologne in the air around the doorway, then went over and opened the window to air the room out. He didn't know if it was his imagination or what, but it seemed like he could smell the disgusting scent of his cousin, too. Like old food and greasy hair and unwashed clothes and body odor and the overwhelming smell of weed and beer.

Then he sat at his desk and opened his laptop and got to work erasing all his computer history, locking his 'favorites' so they were password protected, and then going back to his were-search. He was extremely curious about the whole scent-thing now, and the territory-thing; what it all meant and how it affected werewolves.

He was so immersed in his research that he didn't hear Derek come out of the bathroom. He felt a warm presence behind him a second before a drop of water landed on his shoulder, and he twisted around to look up at Derek, who was leaning over him to peer at the computer screen. He had a towel wrapped around his waist and knotted at the hip, but he was still dripping wet. Stiles gulped and tried to control his reaction, but from the way Derek laughed and grinned at him, he didn't think he had done a very good job. Stiles blushed again.

"What's so funny?" he grumbled. Derek shook his head and looked at him pointedly. Then he gestured toward the computer.

"Only half that stuff is right, you know. If you have questions, you could just ask and I'll tell you what I know..." Stiles was shocked.

"You will? Why? I mean, yeah, that's... Why? You never have before. Any questions I've ever had you just ignore me or tell me to shut up!" Derek frowned and looked contemplative.

"I do, huh? Maybe you shouldn't ask me any questions, then... I'm sure there's probably a reason I don't tell you anything... I just can't seem to remember right now." He laughed again, and the motion made his stomach muscles tighten and ripple.

"Will you put some clothes on!" Stiles shouted, standing up from the chair and crossing the room to escape Derek and his nakedness, turning his back to wait for Derek to dress. Derek just laughed again, but he heard Derek's drawer open.

Yes, Derek had a drawer. One drawer. He didn't have many clothes, but after the incident with Stiles getting him to strip for Danny, he had insisted on having his own drawer, and had brought all his clothes to Stiles' house. It turned out to be three pairs of jeans, five shirts, and assorted socks and underwear. Not much, but it was something. Stiles always snuck Derek's dirty clothes in with his own when he did laundry, just in case his dad might happen to notice. He shouldn't have even worried about it. His dad was oblivious, as always.

"You dressed yet?" he asked, back still turned. He heard a murmured assent and turned around. Derek was lying across his bed once more, eyes closed, in only his boxers again. "That's not dressed!"

"Still hot..." Derek muttered, sounding sleepy.

"Hey! Don't go to sleep on my bed!" Derek ignored him, and Stiles scowled. He crossed the room and pushed the wet towel off his computer chair before sitting in it and going back to his were-search. The room was silent for awhile.

"I'm hungry," Derek muttered, and Stiles whipped around to look at him in shock.

"How are you still hungry?" he exclaimed, waving his arms around for emphasis. Derek shrugged, still lying on the bed with his eyes closed.

"I dunno... I really want some chocolate..." Stiles rolled his eyes. Then he sighed, in an extremely put-upon way. Standing up, he went to his bed and reached over top of Derek, to the drawer in his headboard-shelf. He pulled out a half-eaten king-size chocolate bar and dropped it on Derek's chest. Derek had to have known it was there, had to have smelled it...

Derek sat up and snatched it off his chest. He looked at Stiles with a smile before he unwrapped it and starting devouring it.

"I knew you were hiding sweets from me," he murmured, words muffled by a mouthful of chocolate. Stiles rolled his eyes and went back to the computer. It wasn't long before Derek was finished with the chocolate and crossing the room to stand behind Stiles once more. He placed the wrapper on the desk next to the computer. There was still a couple of squares of chocolate in it, and Stiles took them and ate them as he clicked and typed.

"That site's crap," Derek murmured, seeming to be very close. Stiles glanced at him, wary of his proximity. "Try..." he reached an arm over each of Stiles' shoulders and typing out a url into the search bar. His head was above Stiles, and he could feel the simmering heat from the werewolf's body nearly pressed against him. When Derek pulled back, it was a relief and a disappointment. Derek pulled over the other chair and flopped down in it next to Stiles. He still looked sleepy and blissed-out, eyes heavy, a faint smile on his face. His hair was all messy from the shower and starting to dry that way, flattened in some spots and sticking up in others. It made him look kind of silly, and Stiles couldn't help but grin at him.

He turned back to the computer to investigate the site that Derek had directed him to. It was almost like an encyclopedia-type site. It had a wealth of information, and Stiles immediately favorited it.

"Is all this stuff true?" he asked, awed. How had he not found this site already? He had been looking for something like this for weeks now.

"Most of it, yeah..." Derek let his head fall back and closed his eyes. Stiles glanced over at him, a little worried about him. He wondered of the werewolf was just starting to come down from his high, or if it was something else that had been in the brownies.

The site was favorited. It was always something he could come back to later. So he shut off the laptop and closed it, then turned to look at Derek.

"You okay, man? You feel alright?" Derek didn't answer, and Stiles was about to poke him or something when his head snapped up and his eyes opened.

"Huh? What? You talkin' to me?" Stiles rolled his eyes.

"Who else would I be talking to?" Derek shrugged and laughed.

"I dunno... yourself? You talk to yourself a lot..." Derek let his head fall back again. Stiles sighed.

"Sooo... are you okay, Derek?" Stiles made sure he knew who he was talking to this time.

"Fine. Tired. Weird. But fine..." His voice sounded kind of dopey and half-asleep.

'Weird, how?" Stiles asked. Derek didn't answer him again. "You know, if you're tired, you could just got to sleep on my bed. As long as you get up when I'm ready to go to bed tonight..."

"Deal," Derek grunted, heaving himself out of the chair and flopping onto the bed with his face in Stiles' pillows.

It had been almost five hours since he had eaten the brownies. Two since Stiles had gotten home from school. Stiles had been wondering when he was going to crash. He was a little disappointed, knowing Derek would probably be back to his old pissy self once he woke up. He would miss Happy-Derek. Even with all the inappropriate sniffing and embarrassing comments.

He glanced over at Derek when he started to snore, laughing. Time to get some schoolwork done. He retrieved his book bag from its place by the door and spread his books and papers out all over the desk, getting to work.

I

Derek awoke hours later, surprised to see that it was dark outside. The scent of Stiles filled his nose, and he realized it was because his face was pressed into Stiles' pillows. He still felt a little strange, but was mostly sober. He was a kind of disappointed that he had slept it all off. He'd sort of wanted to be awake for that.

He craned his head, twisting his neck and shoulders to look around. Stiles was at his desk, head resting on his arms, breath and heartbeat even. He was asleep, and Derek felt a brief flash of guilt as he realized he was in Stiles' bed, preventing him from sleeping. He rolled over and climbed out of bed. Shivering at the draft.

Oh, yeah, he was in his boxers. He shook his head and scoffed, then went to his drawer and pulled out a pair of jeans, pulling them on. Poor Stiles. He had to deal with a crazy, overly-happy, horny Derek. He was just happy that, even blissed-out and high off his ass, he had managed not to come onto him too much, or try anything more forward than sniffing at him. The kid had just thought that he wanted to eat him. He snickered.

He went to Stiles and shook his shoulder, intending on waking him up and getting him into his bed. Stiles just mumbled something about ice cream and swatted at him.

"C'mon Stiles, get in your bed," Derek said, shaking him harder.

"Carry me, mommy," Stiles murmured, cuddling further into his arms, mouth open and drooling a little. Derek groaned in exasperation and shook Stiles even harder, shaking the chair and the desk in the process.

"Wake up!" he growled, but Stiles just made an annoyed noise and turned his head away. "Damn it Stiles... you better not remember this n the morning..." He leaned down and slipped his arm underneath Stiles' arm, lifting him. Stiles was boneless and slack, and his head flopped against Derek's shoulder, spattering drool on his clean shirt. Derek growled and dragged Stiles over to his bed. As he tried to toss him onto it, though, Stiles tightened his arm around the back of Derek's neck where it was slung, taking Derek by surprise and throwing him off balance, pulling both of them down onto the bed.

Derek tried to push Stiles off of him, but Stiles made a contended noise and snuggled closer to him, wrapping his arms around Derek's waist and snuggling against him. Derek froze, unsure what to do. He knew he should push the kid off of him and get out of there as quickly as possible, but he didn't really want to. He didn't know if it was a leftover side-effect from the drug-laced brownies, or what, but all he wanted to do was pull the boy closer and snuggle with him, inhale his scent and enjoy his warmth. So that's what he did. They were both fully dressed and on top of the blankets, there was nothing romantic or sexual about it!

He kept telling himself that, even as he nuzzled his face into the hollow of Stiles' neck and licked at the moist sheen of sweat below his ear. He found it easy to fall back asleep with Stiles next to him, halfway on top of him so that they would both fit in the tiny bed.

I

Stiles woke up with a sweltering heat on top of him, wondering why he was so hot. He just didn't want to open his eyes to find out. The morning sun was leaking through his bedroom window, trying to pierce through his eyelids, and he refused to let it. Then the sweltering lump groaned and pushed at him, and his eyes flew open in shock, squinting against the bright light.

Derek's face was inches away from his own, his arm across Stiles' chest and his leg draped over his hip. Stiles' cheek was pressed to Derek's collarbone. At least both of them were dressed, but Stiles couldn't remember how they had gotten like that. The last thing he remembered was doing schoolwork at his desk while Derek slept on his bed. The Adderall must have worn off and made him crash out. He just didn't know how he had gotten in bed with Derek.

He was lucky it was a Saturday and he didn't have to worry about school, because it was already almost noon.

He didn't know if he should push Derek off of him, shake him awake, or just lay there until he woke up. He was afraid of making the werewolf angry, especially while he was pinned underneath him like this. Derek was not a morning person, as he had been reminded on many occasions.

Wait... why was Derek dressed? Stiles knew for certain he had been wearing only boxers last night... Not that he was complaining! He really wasn't! He was happy Derek had clothes on! Ecstatic!

Because this would have been a lot more awkward if he hadn't, seeing as how Stiles' morning wood was pressed against the werewolf's thigh. He tried to wiggle away and twist around, but Derek just growled and pulled him close again. His back pressed up against Derek's front this time.

Stiles' eyes widened as he settled back against Derek. Seems like Derek was having a little morning problem, too, and it was poking Stiles in the ass now. He squeaked as Derek's face came in contact with the back of his neck, and he nuzzled against it. Derek's arm wrapped around him, hand pushing up under his shirt and trailing across his belly.

"D-Derek?" Stiles squeaked, trying to wiggle away again. Derek froze for an instant, and the next second he was pushing Stiles away and scrambling backwards. Stiles heard a thump and a curse and turned to look. Derek had fallen onto the floor trying to get away from him, and now he was glaring at him over the side of the bed. Stiles couldn't help it; he burst out laughing, even when Derek growled a warning at him. The werewolf's hair was a mess, flattened and sticking up all over the place. Stiles didn't think he had ever seen him so unkempt, even when he was dying in the vet's office and snarling at Stiles to cut off his arm. "How did I get in bed? And when did you put clothes on?" he asked when he could stop laughing for long enough.

Derek climbed to his feet, glaring and stony-faced. Stiles missed stoned-Derek.

"I guess I put clothes on and put you in bed when I woke up sometime last night..." Derek muttered as he scowled. Stiles snickered.

"Well, at least you put clothes on before you got in bed with me. Not that I mind- I mean, I mind but- Um, I wouldn't mind if- no, uh..."

"Shut up, Stiles," Derek growled, wandering into the bathroom without looking at the teenager again. Stiles groaned in exasperation at himself and flopped back onto the bed. He was usually so eloquent. Derek made him stutter like an idiot with fear and nerves.

Derek came out of the bathroom after a few moments, his hair not as crazy as it had been, sticking up almost like normal, except with no product in it. He still didn't look at Stiles as he slipped on his shoes and glanced around the room.

"Man, I thought you were gonna eat me yesterday..." Stiles babbled, laughing nervously. "You kept saying how I smelled good, and looking at me all wolf-y-like. Do you eat people? I mean I've wondered, but now I really think so. You know? Do you want to eat me...? Don't eat me..." Stiles trailed off, hiding his face in his pillow. He didn't see the faintly embarrassed look that crossed Derek's face.

"I don't eat people," Derek snipped, spitting the words out with his usual derision. "And if I did, I don't think you would taste very good." With that, Derek stalked over to Stiles' window, opening it and swinging out. Stiles lifted his head to watch him go, frowning.

"Well, you seem to think I smell good!" Stiles called, knowing Derek would hear him. "And taste and smell are connected! So I bet I would taste good, too!" Wait, why was he trying to convince a psychotic werewolf that he tasted good? "Never mind! You're right! I taste horrible!" He called as he got up from the bed and closed the window.

He didn't know where Derek was going, or why. He didn't have a job. They knew who the Alpha was, so he wasn't out searching for answers. What else would he have to do? Stiles figured he just didn't want to be around him after yesterday, the way he had embarrassed himself.

Stiles sighed as he watched the werewolf disappear into the trees across the street. He really was going to miss stoned-Derek. Even if the werewolf wanted to eat him. He needed to get that recipe from Gavan. Derek had confessed to a love of brownies, so he was sure he could trick him into eating another batch...

I tried to make this funny, but I don't think I did a very good job. Also, I just can't get away from the Sterek! If I make a sequal, which I may or may not, it will probably be even more Sterek-y, hehe…

Reviews are the bees knees, so if you like this fic, or don't like it, or have anything at all to say about it, please let me know! Would take place after Wolfsbane and before Co-Captain, I guess, if Derek had hidden at Stiles' for a little longer…