When Derek stepped out of his car on his and Stiles' property, he wasn't surprised to feel the cold coming from his mate. And when he walked into the house, he wasn't surprised to hear Stiles banging things around in the kitchen, muttering to himself about stupid sour wolves. And he wasn't surprised to walk into the kitchen to see Stiles with his hands holding him up against the counter, body wracking with silent sobs.

"Stiles, you're crying," he said dumbly, not daring to move from the doorway.

Stiles spun around, anger adding to his sadness. Tears were still running down his cheeks and his eyes were red and puffy. "No shit Sherlock. I have perfect reason to cry. Not only did I find out a week ago that my husband, my mate cheated on me, but today I got to find out that you have seen that whore since."

"Stiles, please," Derek said, desperation oozing from his voice as he crossed the area that kept him and his mate apart. "I didn't sleep with her. She thought I was there to meet her to have sex and I thought we were having a pack meeting to talk about a possible alliance. Why else would I have brought you and the pups with me?"

Stiles turned around, focusing again on the sink. Derek could feel the anger ebb away into sadness, but knew his mate wasn't done speaking. "I'm not sure if I can trust you though."