Things get a bit heavy in this chapter with references to death. And then later one in the chapter things get a little heated. You've been warned! Enjoy. I have a tumblr btw, come say Hi!

Derek pulled along the curb in front of Stiles' house. It was still new enough that it felt strange that he didn't have to sneak around all the time. That the sheriff, no matter what Stiles said he'd never call his father Mr. Stilinski, knew of their friendship and was okay with it. Or seemed okay with it.

Derek started for the door and became aware of the fact that there were two heartbeats inside the house, not one. He focused his hearing and found that they both were standing in the living room; with a deep breath Derek identified the mouth watering scent of pizza. Maybe Stiles knew the delivery guy.

He raised his hand to knock on the door and stopped when the door suddenly swing open, revealing the occupant of the additional heartbeat.

Scott stood in Stiles' doorway, his nose wrinkled and the smell of irritation pouring off of him. He turned and glared at Stiles who'd come up behind him.

Stiles quickly reached out and grabbed at Derek's jacket, tugging him to come into the house. Grimacing Derek clenched his mouth shut and reluctantly he let himself be pulled into hostile territory.

Stiles latched onto Scott and with a kick to the door, maneuvered both of them into the living room. Derek was pushed until he was sitting on the couch alongside Scott while Stiles stood nervously in front of them, wringing his hands.

Derek rolled his eyes, "Any day now." He couldn't help becoming irritated by the entire situation.

Stiles stopped and wiped his hands on his jeans. "You two need to talk." He waved his hands around with such a force that Derek thought he was going to hit something on the wall and break it. "Scott you need to tell Derek what you told me and Derek, please just give Scott a chance to finish." He turned and walked up to his room, "don't break anything!"

Derek couldn't stop his claws from sprouting from his hands. Listen! To Scott! When did Scott listen to him, or even give him a chance to explain anything? He was so sick and tired of being led around!

"I'm sorry."

The words broke through Derek's stream of thought and his head snapped to look at Scott in disbelief. He narrowed his eyes and nodded sharply, for Scott to continue.

Scott avoided his glance, but continued, "I didn't think about what the games could mean to you. I see that now." Scott stopped.

Derek could smell hurt, hesitation and sadness clinging to Scott's body and it was rising along with a hint of embarrassment.

"You remind me of my father, before he left my mother." Scott finally spit out.

Derek felt the bottom of his stomach turnover. As far as he knew Scott's father was a dead beat father who abandoned his wife and child. As much as Derek had sometimes wanted to leave all the problems of Beacon Hill behind, he'd never done that.

"Like, you actually look like him a little," Scott leaned forward and put his hands in his head. "It's more than that. It's the way you talk to me, the way you talk to the others. Like how I'm suppose to know how to do something and when I don't, you get this look in your eyes. It's the same look he used to get after mom would buy my medicine and he didn't have enough for his next beer."

Derek wanted to rail and shout because he wasn't anything like that. He tilted his head back on the couch and closed his eyes. He didn't want to hear anymore.

"I know that you're not him though. You had tons of reasons and chances to leave, but you're still here." Scott sat up.

Derek looked over and found Scott staring at him, his mouth turned down and his eyes red.

"I'm sorry. It's not your fault. Sometimes though, can you just. I just don't understand you sometimes." Scott ran a hand over his mouth, "I'm sorry I feel this way."

They sat in silence; Scott continuing to stare at him, waiting for answers that Derek didn't know how to give. Why was it so hard to articulate sometimes?

He could smell Scott's sorrow slowly starting to fade as irritation took its place.

"Why aren't you saying anything?"

Derek sat up straight, he wanted to say things. Needed to tell Scott how wrong he was about Derek, how some of this was Scott's fault for being so presumptuous. How if for just one fucking moment Scott actually listened to anything Derek tried to tell him in the past, then maybe they wouldn't need to talk so much because Scott would be able to smell the sorrow, the determination, the longing that Derek knew lingered around him like the stench of dirty socks.

Then again he'd probably also figure out what Derek and Stiles were doing at nights as well.

Scott stood and started walking towards the staircase and Derek knew at the moment he needed to say something or everything they'd been working towards would be lost and it would once again be his fault.

Derek sucked air in and managed to spit out, "My brother would be your age right now."

Scott stopped and turned.

"Don't do that," Derek said, "it's easier when you're not looking at me. Turn back around...please." He waited while Scott turned.

Derek sunk into his memories, he didn't owe Scott anything...but if it would help.

"I saved all summer to buy the new Nintendo DS. And when I finally had enough money I made sure to wrap all the older games I never played with and my old handheld up. To give to him. He looked up to me, always trying to outrun me or out eat me when we had pancakes." Derek's voice grew soft, because he found that he couldn't picture what James looked like. All their faces had faded with time. It stung.

"I'm sorry for the way you were turned, Scott. I've said it before, the bite is a gift and I've never believed otherwise. I know you never wanted it, but my brother did."

Derek heard the hitch in Scott's breathing. "Your brother wasn't...a werewolf?"

Derek closed his eyes and clenched his fists even harder. Why didn't Scott ever listen to what he was told? "No, not all in our pack were werewolves. But that didn't make us any less close to them, or make them any less important. Or listen to my mother and less."

"I loved my mother because she was my mother and as my alpha she was to be obeyed. You have to remember that I grew up being a werewolf, that the humans around me grew up with weres in the family, so sometimes I can't explain things to you because I just don't know how." Derek could feel his claws ripping into the flesh on his palms.

He didn't want to keep talking, keep ripping his heart open like this. For a kid who had scoffed at his offers of pack before. Which to him meant family. It hurt.

"Okay." Scott said from the stairs.

Derek could taste salt in the air and he breathed in deeper and knew that Scott had cried for him. Had cried for James, which was more than Derek had allowed himself to do. In the end, he still felt like he had murdered his baby brother, even thought he hadn't set the fire himself.

Derek rolled his eyes, because what did okay even mean? He wasn't the only one who needed to work on communication.

"I'm going to go get Stiles and then we are going to eat pizza and watch some crappy movie that he's picked out. I know this isn't over and that we'll both probably still make mistakes, but I'm glad we could talk."

Derek thought about it and realized that this could have gone very differently. "I'm glad too."

Scott jumped on the bottom stair, "Maybe next time we'll be able to look at each other when we talk."

Derek snorted, he doubted it. He stood as Scott bound up the stairs and stretched his neck, feeling it pop. His whole back was sore, tension turning it into a massive knot. Rubbing his neck, he turned and stared at Stiles as he led Scott back down the stairs.

Suddenly fascinated with the slenderness of Stiles' neck he then took inventory of the moles on Stiles' face, suddenly wanting to trace them with his tongue.

"So Derek!" Scott said loudly.

Derek snapped to look at Scott and cleared his throat. He refused to look guilty because he found Stiles attractive. Derek smirked a bit; it was about time that Scott got a bit of his own medicine. The overwhelming stench of lust was powerful when he and Allison were together.

Stiles brought the pizza over to the living room table and he sat in the middle of the couch, leaving Derek and Scott to sit on either side of him.

The pizza was consumed and Scott had been right, Stiles made them watch some horrible old movie that was old enough to have been on VHS tape. Mid way through the movie, the sheriff had come home and gone up to his room after arguing with Stiles about having three slices of pizza.

And then the movie was over and Derek found himself waiting to sneak into Stiles' bed later that night. He thought about everything that had happened and was mostly satisfied with the talk that he and Scott had. It wouldn't solve everything over night but Derek felt that maybe they'd come to a bit of an understanding.

And it also felt good that Scott knew about him and Stiles and hadn't brought that into conversation because Derek wouldn't honestly know what to say. What was even better was the fact that Stiles didn't pressure him in front of Scott to do anything. It made him feel appreciated. Something he hadn't felt in a long time.

The familiar sound of Stiles' heart speeding up made Derek smile as he crept under the covers that Stiles had held open for him. He buried his face into Stiles neck and felt his body relax once he'd inhaled the scent of sleepy musk, grass and detergent with an underlying hint of chemicals, no doubt from Stiles medication.

"I'm trying," Derek whispered into Stiles' ear. "And I know that you're trying. It's like you're walking side by side with me and you have no idea how that makes me feel."

Stiles rolled over and pushed his head under Derek's chin, "I am."

Derek loved that Stiles hands and a leg started sliding over him as Stiles made himself comfortable before they slept. He'd missed this closeness.

His heart started unexpectedly racing as Stiles finger tips brushed teasingly under his shirt a few times. When Stiles long fingers brushed his stomach, Derek couldn't help but suck in air, heat racing wherever Stiles brushed. The tantalizingly slow movement of Stiles hand immobilized him in a way that Derek craved more. He wanted Stiles to take control of this part of their relationship.

Derek had been so out of control for such a long time and every time that Stiles took control it brought a sense of satisfaction to him.

He moaned softly as Stiles fingers slipped under his boxers and pressed down. The blood rushed to his groin and the pressure continued and Derek pressed his head back into the pillow.

He wanted Stiles to go further, to touch him. Derek needed Stiles to go further, but he seemed somehow entranced by his pubic hair. Combing it with his fingers, pressing and tugging on it, Derek was semi erect by these actions and Stiles hadn't even touched him yet.

He thrust his hips upwards, begging Stiles silently to touch him as his breathing puffed out of his mouth path shallowly.

Stiles' fingers stopped and lay still.

Derek waited; tense against what Stiles would do next.

Until he realized that Stiles had stopped and gone back to sleep.

Biting back a curse, Derek tugged Stiles hand out from under his boxers and laid it on his stomach. He closed his eyes and willed his body to calm down, laughing silently as he did so. Stiles was completely ridiculous sometimes.

Leave me some love! :D