A/N: So this is the first part. It's not beta'd, but I tried to proofread it the best I could at 2 in the morning. I don't know how many parts there's going to be, but I'm going to try to get the rest out before the new episode. I don't really know what else to say. Bon appétit?

Ever since Allison had become the head of the Argent family, vowed to kill Derek, and told Scott that if he stood in the way she wouldn't spare him, she had been distant. Scott didn't really seem to get it, but then, Stiles had known he wasn't the brightest penny in the pile.

Scott, not wanting to believe it was well and truly over, was avoiding Allison. He pretended that everything was okay while simultaneously refusing to acknowledge the girl beyond a wave or a smile that only earned him a pitying glance on her part. He refused to let her actually say the words, to admit between the both of them that what they had was finished.

But then the text came. Scott had pretended childishly that he hadn't got it, but Allison had begun completely ignoring him, refusing to meet his eyes or acknowledge that he was a living, breathing person and not an inanimate object. Scott had showed it to Stiles; it was nice, as far as break-up texts went.

Scott, I am sorry. I tried to do this in person, but you wouldn't let me. As long as you are a werewolf, I can't be with you. Since you can't do anything about it, since you will always be what you are, then we're over. Forever. Please don't call. It will be easier if you don't.

Scott hadn't called. But he'd held his phone, staring at it for hours on end, waiting for her to call. He wanted her to say that it had all been a mistake, but if she couldn't say that, then he just wanted to hear her voice again. Scott's mom had taken his phone away, thankfully, but his moping continued.

Stiles couldn't take it anymore. It was just so… sad. And nothing he could do would pull Scott out of his funk. After Scott's parents had gotten divorced, it had been difficult to cheer him up, but eventually Stiles' buffoonery made him normal again, if not happy. But now it was downright impossible. The were-boy had been so sure that he and Allison would make it. Hell, he had even mentioned marriage, and saying that after his parents' messy divorce? That was love right there.

So maybe a broken heart would take longer to mend. Stiles just had to live with that. But he also had to keep trying, because if he didn't, then who would? It's not like Scott had any other friends who were as devoted and as funny as Stiles.

But after a couple of days of failed attempts at distracting his best friend, Stiles need a well-deserved break. He needed to go home, sleep in his own bed and not on Scott's floor, and he needed to watch some TV because he was getting behind on his shows.

Stiles' dad was watching TV when he walked in, so he obviously couldn't do that right away. The sheriff asked a few questions—how was Scott, how was Stiles, how long was he going to be home before he went back over—and after answering him, Stiles decided to leave his father in peace. His badge had been reinstated, after the incident at the police station that he had been witness to, the same incident he promised to sweep under the rug. Now Sheriff Stilinski looked wrecked, from all his under-the-rug sweeping.

After eating some of the cold, crusty mac and cheese his dad had made for dinner (not exactly a wise health choice, but Stiles was willing to overlook it since he hadn't been here to provide his father alternatives), Stiles trudged upstairs, back pack and sleeping bag trailing behind him. All he wanted to do now was take a quick shower and then fall face-first into his sheets. He needed to regain his energy, because right now, his brain was dead. He was so far gone that not even his ADHD could cause him problems.

Any hope he had of having a relatively peaceful night were dashed against the plate glass window of irony as soon as Stiles flipped the light on to his room. He had left one werewolf, only to come home to another, who was currently on his bed, creeping in the dark. Yes, Derek Hale was sitting cross-legged on Stiles' bed, his eyes piercingly bright even with the light on.

"What are you doing here?" Stiles gasped, after shutting the door and folding back against it. He was really too tired for this. "Why is the universe working against me, and not against Allison? Why isn't she the one being drop-kicked down a flight of karma stairs?"

Derek merely blinked at him coldly, waiting for Stiles to get himself together, because he wasn't the empathetic type.

"Just, tell me what you're here for," Stiles said finally, cutting the dramatics to a minimum when he took into account his exhausted state. Derek would understand that his sarcasm wasn't at its peak. "It's going to be bad anyway, might as well throw it on the pile waiting to be torched."

"Peter's back. Lydia resurrected him. Jackson made a deal with Gerard Argent after his tether to Matt was broken. So now Peter's going to be coming after me, to reclaim his Alpha status, and Gerard's going to be coming after me, using the Kamina to destroy me and my pack."

Stiles stared open-mouthed at Derek. Even he hadn't been expecting that, and he had been expecting the absolute worst.

"How in the world am I supposed to help you with that? It's not like I have a magic wand that I can wave around to make this all go away. Although, that would be pretty-"

"I need you to be on my side, when the time comes," Derek said gruffly, apparently not in the mood either for Stiles' antics. "With Allison gone, there's no reason for Scott to be defiant any longer. Once he notices that you have given your allegiances to me, you will convince him to do the same."

"Why should I help you though? I think letting them kill you would be one problem off our backs."

Derek gritted his teeth, as if that statement had actually hurt. "How long will it be before Gerard convinces Allison to kill Scott?" he bit out. "How long will Scott last after Peter becomes Alpha? I'm not like Peter, in case you haven't noticed. He won't let people choose whether or not they want to be in his pack.

"And do you honestly think you're safe, in the middle of all this? You're the first person Gerard and Peter are going to get their hands on, once they realize how vulnerable you are with me gone and Scott otherwise occupied."

"Oh, so you're saying I'm a liability?" Stiles muttered.

"No, I'm saying you're not safe. I'm trying to protect you."

Stiles rolled his eyes. "Whatever, you just said you're going to use me to get Scott on your side."

"Yes, after I initiate you into my pack."

"What?" Stiles blanched. "Wait, you're going to give me the Bite, aren't you? Oh God, you're the Alpha now, you can totally do it."

Derek shook his head. He wasn't looking at Stiles now. He was looking anywhere else in the room, anywhere but at Stiles.

With Derek looking around, Stiles was compelled to do the same. He suddenly noticed the state of his room, how it was much messier than when he'd last left it. All of his clothes had been dragged out of his hamper and from his dresser, and were now on his bed. Derek was perched on top of them, like a creepy little hawk.

"What's with the clothes-hoarding there, buddy? You making a nest?"

Derek didn't look amused. Was he blushing? Maybe just a little?


If Stiles hadn't been dead in the head from trying restlessly to help Scott, he would have caught on sooner. Derek had tried to tell him, in his own drawn out, confusing, dancing around the subject way. He had shown concern for Stiles' safety, had creeped on Stiles, waiting for him to leave Scott's side, and he had collected Stiles' clothes around him, as if claiming them as his own, putting his scent all over them, marking them.

"Oh good God," Stiles said, with breathless horror. "You want to jump my bones, don't you? That's how you plan to initiate me. By making me your mate."