I am a merry wanderer of the night.

There's a certain...synergy to Stiles Stilinski's life. He's ignored, downtrodden and downplayed and shoved violently down against doors, walls, tables, and his own steering wheel. Stiles isn't looked at twice, never has been and he really doesn't expect to be.

So it's just a little weird when Jackson Whittemore of all people is leaning against his Jeep with a tray of hot beverages and a smile that Stiles is willing to admit looks like sunshine, on his face, for Stiles. "I didn't know what you had a taste for, so I got earl grey, coffee, vanilla latte, and something called a chai latte-"

"Um, hi, Stiles. As in I am Stiles and not Lydia."

Jackson rolled his eyes, smiled charmingly, and didn't snap at him. Stiles pinched himself surreptitiously and, yeah, that was going to bruise-fan-fucking-tastic, "I know, Stiles, I just…I wanted to do something nice." Stiles pinched himself again, harder, "So, take your pick."

"Um...chai…" Stiles answered as if the word was being dragged from him, going with what he didn't know in the hopes of it not being awful.

Jackson flashed an excited grin, and Stiles weighed the possibility of it being poisoned with the probability of what would happen to him if he were to get caught pouring it out. Jackson looked...hopeful, almost puppyish...just like how Scott looked when he looked at Allison. Stiles took a sip almost reflexively because that was freaking him the fuck out and death would be better than Jackson Whittemore looking at him like that.

"'S good." Stiles can't keep the surprise out of his voice, and Jackson smiles-beams, really-with pride and relief.

"Good! I've never tried...the girl at the counter told me it was good, I-"

"Yeah, it's good...um...I gotta get to school, and, like…" Jackson jerked as if realizing he was leaning against Stiles's Jeep only now.

"Oh, yeah, um...d'you want to...um...you should ride with me." Jackson's voice was way too light for it to actually be his usual dickitude, and Stiles felt his fight-or-flight reflex yanking at him.

"Thanks, but-"

"No, c'mon, it'll be fun." Jackson smiled again, grabbing Stiles's bag out of his hand and walking to his car. Stiles felt like he was about to have a panic attack.

"Stiles? Everything okay?" His dad called from the front door, and Stiles turned to him in relief.

"Jackson Whittemore's abducting me, so if I never come back, hunt him." Stiles told him, only slightly squeaky.

Jackson's car smelled of leather and Jackson's aftershave, and, wow, was that just...not what he wanted to smell. Leather made him think of Derek and the aftershave was potent and sharp and totally not what he wanted Scott to be able to smell on him later.

"So, uh...any reason you're...picking today to kidnap and kill me and dump my body in the woods somewhere?" Derek would be able to find him even if Scott couldn't, so Stiles had no compunctions about screaming loudly and insistently if it came to it in the forest. Derek...might help him. ...Maybe.

Jackson laughed, "I'm not. I just...you're really, really wonderful, and I...I should know you better. I want to know you better."

Stiles shrinks because it's his reaction to things like Jackson Whittemore being fond while talking of or to him, and he just kind of...totally stares in shock at Jackson's dickishly perfect face as he carefully and considerately drove-as if having the sheriff's son in the car with him really affected his driving.

"So, uh, what kind of music do you like?"

Stiles had never been so thankful to get out of a car in his life. And that included the time Derek got shot and started smelling like death...And then Jackson picked up his bag to carry it inside himself. "No, that's not-" Jackson just shot him a smile, and Stiles wondered when Mulder and Scully would show up. "Seriously, what is it, you became a wolf and decided to start being nice to me? Derek might actually figure out a way to kick you out of being a werewolf if he finds out you're being nice, he has a firm Hate-Stiles policy."

"I don't hate you." Erica purred silkily, blinking her big brown eyes up at him as she sauntered up, swinging her hips.

Beside her, Boyd looked confused as fuck. Stiles figured he looked much the same, and then Jackson and Erica started growling lowly at each other, just enough for Stiles to be able to feel the disturbance in the air instead of registering the sound. "Yeah, no, 'kay, thanks, bye!" Stiles blurted, grabbing his bag, careless of if it ripped, and running.

No ripping happened, but Scott looked damn near murderous.

This was not going to be Stiles's day, was it?

"What is going on with them?! They think they can try to scent you as being their territory-"

"Scott, I swear to god, if you don't go and make out with Allison right now and restore my faith in the balance of the world, I will shoot your ass with wolfsbane bullets." Stiles cut in, holding up his hands, "I don't know what the fuck is going on, but if you start trying to carry my books or buy me coffee or drive me to school, too, I will put your head through one of the lockers and call Derek on the fuck-nut crazy going on right now. Erica was flirting with me, Jackson's being...a pod person, this is not Jackson-you cannot be all up on this because one, you have Allison to pine for, and two, you and I have known each other since diapers, dude, I know way too much about you; you cannot unsee the things that I have seen when it comes to you. Just no."

"They can't-"

"Leaving." Stiles beelined for the chemistry room door-and got backed into it by Lydia Martin herself, hair gleaming, eyes smouldering, and hand tracing down his throat. "What the fucking fuck is going on?!"

Lydia's eyes were, like, sparkling, and that was really, really a look he wanted her to have when looking at him, but also, no, because there's something in the water. "I never noticed your eyes before...god, it's the perfect light, they're like amber...so beautiful." She sighed, and it sounded like a noise meant for the bedroom. Stiles felt his skin get hot. Really, really hot.

"Mr. Stilinski, detention!" Harris droned out, "Watch your mouth."

Lydia pouted, and her thumb swiped over his lower lip so fast he really hoped it was an accident-until she smirked at him from over her shoulder, sliding seductively into her seat. Stiles would've fallen over if Scott hadn't caught his arm, looking...stormy.

Really, really not his day.

Stiles could honestly say that he was never more grateful for Danny in his whole life than he was when Danny pulled him into the seat next to him, shooting Lydia and Scott weird looks. "What is going on?! Jackson's...I don't even know, and Lydia is acting weird and so is Scott-"

"I don't know, man, but if you're willing to get me out of this class when the bell goes without them or Erica getting to me first, I'll be eternally grateful."

Danny nodded, looking completely uneasy. Stiles just focussed up front and made himself breathe, ignoring everything, including the prickly feeling of being watched. He didn't want to look behind him and see Scott, Lydia, or anyone else acting this fucked up.

Stiles got the help of not only Danny, but Isaac and Boyd, too; the three of them swallowing him between them so entirely he felt like he was under the protection of the Secret Service. Scott was scowling like a mad man, and Stiles was only not-accosted by Lydia again because Danny was there running interference; neither Boyd nor Isaac seemed capable of stopping her. "I think we need to call Derek." Isaac muttered in a tight voice as he pouted at Erica's retreating form. His pack sister had hissed at him. Like a cat. Stiles felt he'd need to inform Derek of such un-wolfly behaviour.

"I think you're right." Stiles murmured back, watching abstractly as Danny Lydia-wrangled.

Trouble was, Derek was already striding up the corridor towards them, and the storm cloud Stiles always pictured around his head was just about real he looked so pissed off. "Isaac, Boyd!" Stiles even startled at the slap of Derek's voice, flinching. Derek cut a swathe through his body guards, his hand folding over Stiles's upper arm as his eyes shifted to Lydia, his lips curling back in a low growl at Lydia still struggling to get around Danny.

Lydia looked up at him with all the decorum of a debutante and snarled. Like an angry cat. Derek held firm, though, and Stiles watched in silent awe as Lydia slowly faltered until she flipped her hair in a red-gold wave that smacked Danny in the face and spun on her heel, strutting away. Derek's grip on Stiles's arm was loose enough not to hurt, but strong enough that there was no way Stiles was going to be able to break it. Hell, he could've taken a jack hammer to it, and Derek's fingers wouldn't've even budged.

"Derek, it's weird. Jackson, Lydia, Erica, and Scott are all acting really strange-" Isaac cut off as Derek began dragging Stiles down the hallway to a more deserted area of the corridor. Stiles flailed back hopefully, but neither Isaac nor Boyd were following to make sure wolfy didn't kill him, and Danny was utterly perplexed.

"I didn't do anything, I swear!" Stiles told him desperately, impacting softer than usual with the wall, though that could be the practice he had now with how to collide without getting hurt.

"I know you didn't." Derek's voice was a low, almost seductive purr, and then his mouth was on Stiles's, and, wow, Stiles had not been aware of how much he wanted to climb Derek like a very sexy tree until Derek's tongue was in his mouth and he was sucking on it. "'S just you…" Derek moaned, his fingers tracing teasingly over the little sliver of bare hip where Stiles's shirt had ridden up from his grip on its front.

Stiles shuddered, slumping down against the door for a moment, honestly no fight in him before he remembered what weirdness his life was being, "No. Derek, no. Let me go. Not you, too, I can't do this!" Stiles pressed the startled advantage to fight his way out of Derek's grip, taking off for the safety of Danny even if Derek's little betas couldn't prove against their big bad alpha. Danny didn't even call him on Derek being Miguel, just slung his arm around Stiles's shoulders, his hand a firm grip on Stiles's shoulder as they turned and very nearly ran from the scene, his eyes angry and hard.

"Stiles, are you alright?" Danny asked worriedly, looking down at him with concern and anger in his face, "That guy...you like him-"

"I just...I don't know what's...I…"

Danny held his hands up, palms out, "It's okay, I get it, just...just try to breathe, and it'll all be okay, I promise."

Stiles kind of wanted to hug Danny in that moment, and as if the mere thought summoned his desires, Allison appeared out of nowhere and wrapped her arms around him, hugging tight, "What the hell is going on, are you okay?"

"Something weird's happening." Danny supplied, and Stiles collapsed into almost hysterical laughter.

"That should be our new motto."

Allison pet his hair, looking concerned, "I don't know, I don't think it quite sums it all up."

"Doesn't encompass the gravity of the situation." Isaac agreed, Boyd trailing him, "Derek disappeared after threatening us to keep you safe."

"I'm going to have Thumper with his throat torn out on my back porch as a gift, aren't I?"

Isaac snorted, but both he and Boyd looked like they'd believe it. Collectively, they gathered in an even more unbreachable shell around Stiles, walking him to his locker. His locker which was covered in love hearts. And had a box of chocolates taped to it. And roses. His locker which was the starting point of a trail of rose petals leading towards the cafeteria.

"I know I don't want to know, but I kind of want to know…"

"I think that's the story of your entire existence, Stilinski." Isaac scoffed, and Stiles narrowed his eyes, scowling kind of ridiculously since they were both regularly scowled at by Derek, King of Glares.

Slowly, Stiles walked along the path with his bodyguards at his tail, the cafeteria doors opening before him, and Stiles knew he was dead or dreaming or there were hallucinogens involved, because Jackson was laying over an entire table in nothing by a bright red banana hammock and a whipped cream bikini top, complete with maraschino cherry nipples. Jackson caught sight of him and smiled what Stiles could only describe as a bedroom smile, "Hey, Stiles."

Stiles might've fallen to the floor if Allison and Danny hadn't been there, propping him up. "Oh my god…"

"Dessert first?" Jackson purred invitingly.

"Stiles, getting you the hell out of here would help if you could walk, honey." Allison chirped, Danny helping her drag Stiles away from the cafeteria doors, "Or do you want us to let you have dessert first?"

Stiles reacted as if tazed, his body jerking upright and twisting-right into Lydia's clutches as she planted a big, red kiss on his mouth.

Stiles felt nothing but shock and the urge to run-and, yeah, maybe he had more of a thing for Derek than he'd originally sussed out.

Registering a low snarl, Stiles broke away as Scott appeared, Allison trying to deal with both Lydia and Scott, Danny moving in to help before Stiles just up and ran, crashing into the lockers to avoid Erica and her candlelit classroom picnic, dodging into the locker rooms and throwing the lock on the doors and panting more from panic than he was from exertion.

Stiles collapsed against the doors, trying to stave off panic from the clusterfuck his life had apparently become.

Music was playing softly in the bowels of the locker room, and Stiles couldn't even summon surprise when Derek stepped into his line of sight, crouching down at his legs and looking at him with unreadably sad eyes. "You're going to give me your shirt and your jacket and turn on all the showers and just stay there. I'll make a false trail for Erica, Jackson and Scott, because a lock won't do much."

Stiles felt light-headed, like he was swaying even though he was sitting down, "Did your big-bad Alpha-ness…?" Stiles didn't even know how to finish that sentence, still didn't know what was going on. All he knew was that Derek wasn't actually molesting him, and there was a good chance Derek had already gotten past it, whatever it was.

Derek reached forwards and hauled Stiles to his feet, letting him lean against the door again. "You're an idiot, Stilinski." Derek muttered, leaning forwards and kissing his forehead, "Do what I told you; Isaac and Boyd will come for you when it's safe. Or would you rather it be that hacker?"

"D-Danny? No...I-I...It doesn't matter." Possession flashed in Derek's eyes, and a little anger, and Stiles really wanted to know what the fuck was going on, but Derek was stripping him suddenly, and it was all Stiles could do to summon the brain power to help get his shirt off without Derek getting frustrated and simply tearing. Derek backed him up against the cold metal of the door, kissing him long and hard and deep before disappearing through the second of the double doors, leaving Stiles desperate and flushed and panting slightly. "Damn fucking werewolves and...just-ngh!" Stiles wanted to scream, sexually frustrated and unimpressed with his knight in shining armour. Stiles trudged to the showers, doing as he was told and turning them all on, sitting at the very back, crouched against the far wall as he waited for Isaac to come and hopefully bring him clothing. His phone bleeped, a video message of Lydia and Erica cat-fighting over him with Jackson in the middle of it, Boyd trying to get his girlfriend to stop hysterically breaking up with him for Stiles and all his lovely attributes. It'd be wonderful if it weren't so torturous. Boyd ended up being the one sent, an hour before school ended, to get him, handing him a change of clothes-which consisted of his own jeans, but a shirt of Derek's, with Derek's scent all over it. "Extra insurance?"

"I don't know." Boyd rumbled, shrugging with his eyebrows. Stiles was impressed that he could shrug with his eyebrows, but that was Boyd.

"Please tell me you're taking me home."

"I am. Scott's been locked out. So've Isaac, Erica, Jackson, and I."

"Who set the mountain ash?" Stiles asked distractedly, trying not to be weirded out that Boyd was present for him dressing, even though that'd happened in this very locker room more than once.

"Deaton. He's going to research for you, and he's cleared it with Harris that you won't be in detention."


"Well, it was less Deaton and more Derek on that front. He scowled for about ten seconds, and Harris caved."

Stiles snorted, "That must've made him feel better, having someone actually fall prey to that scowl again."

Boyd was his usual effusive self as he drove Stiles to his house in the Camaro, grunting as Stiles wished him luck with Erica, hopping out and over the barrier.

What Stiles wasn't expecting was that Boyd listed Scott, Isaac, Erica, Jackson, and himself because Derek had let Deaton lock him in. Derek was waiting against his windowsill as Stiles walked in, his sharp, angular features less angry, but still tense. "Are you under the influence of the crazy-making whatever it is?"


Stiles nodded once, "Then I'll let you out now."


"No, okay? I don't want to test your limits to how long you can subvert this thing, I don't want to be your ginuea pig. I won't put myself in that position, I can't."

"Lydia kissed you today, and you ran from her. I know you don't want anything to do with this." Derek told him simply.

"I swear to god, if you try to bring up how you kissed me and I kissed you back, I'm going to let myself have a meltdown solely as an attempt to get you to leave."

"I could hear you panicking when Jackson came to get you this morning. I'm sorry that I kissed you like that." Derek told him carefully, and Stiles was almost tired enough to miss the trail of breadcrumbs.

"Like that?"

"I wanted to kiss you. I want to kiss you." Stiles had to look away, swallowing.

"When...When did you start wanting this?"

Derek took a step towards him, and Stiles could get a read on what was happening in his eyes. Something soft was shining in them, gentle and hesitant, "About the time I had a newly-turned werewolf and a very breakable human on my property looking for the potato's inhaler, and made myself walk away."

Stiles couldn't look in his eyes anymore or he'd go insane, "Don't you dare play me, Derek Hale." Derek took another step towards him, then a third, and Stiles could lean forward and be able to touch him now. Derek had big steps.

"I'm not." Derek murmured, the quiet almost vulnerable. "I'm telling you this because whatever it is that's affecting us towards you, it's making me give in to feelings I already had. I didn't want your first kiss to be with someone you think hates you." Stiles met him halfway, opening himself up for the kiss and letting himself enjoy it thoroughly. Derek's arms wrapped around him, strong and sure, and Stiles felt like he could fly he was so happy. "Did Jackson really sit naked in the cafeteria?" Derek asked, laughing with Stiles as they continued to pull each other in for kiss after kiss.

"There was a banana hammock and not much else." Stiles shudders and laughs at the memory, and Derek chuckles, throaty and deep.

"You hungry?" Stiles nodded slowly, the both of them still close enough to be sharing air, and Stiles kind of wanted to melt into Derek, he was past the point of hunger and on to lethargy that went towards the self-destructive.

"I kind of missed lunch, what with the banana hammock."

Derek nodded, he already knew, and kissed Stiles's pulse, just before his neck flowed out into his collarbone. "Let's go get you something." Stiles leaned into him, nodding distractedly as Derek carefully made a mark on his throat, fitting his arms around him.

"Why am I wearing your shirt?" Stiles asked breathlessly, "It's not for scent-hiding purposes, is it?"

"Because when you smell like me, you smell like mine, and the others shouldn't be able to get past that." Stiles pressed himself deeper in the circle of Derek's arms, brushing his nose down over the tendons in Derek's neck, inhaling. Leather, spices, and ozone filled his senses, the smell equal parts breathtaking and soothing.

"You need to keep kissing me."

"You need to eat." Derek shot back, pulling away a little. The stern quality to his features was kind of shot to hell by the fond softness, and Stiles smiled, laughing at it, at him, and at the fact that this was his life, seriously.

Stiles ordered pizza and pushed Derek down on his couch, making out with him ravenously, Derek's hands thrust up under his shirt and Derek's shirt caught just above his abs, Derek laughing at him when he tried and failed to tug it off entirely, not helping in the slightest.

"Let's save the nudity until after there's a delivery person with your pizza."

"But there will be more nudity?" Stiles had to confirm, because he'd cry if there wouldn't be.

"Yes, there will be more nudity." Derek was still laughing at him, but the promise of impending nudity was enough to get Stiles to forgive him.

"Good." Stiles approved, slumping against him slightly, the frantic pull gone out of him now that there was a raincheck on what he really wanted, "If you felt this before, how do you know you're being affected?"

"Because I wanted to do all this before. Now it's damn near a compulsion."

Stiles kissed him softly, his fingers trailing over the nape of his neck thoughtfully, "What happens when it's not a compulsion anymore?"

Derek hummed, "Well, I think we're going to re-purpose pushing you up against walls." Derek brushed his thumb over the notch of Stiles's collarbone.

Stiles shuddered, "That is promising. So very, very...promising…" He moaned, pushing against Derek's chest.

Derek shifted Stiles off of his lap when the door bell rang, paying for the pizza while Stiles tried to calm himself down. "There's a half-man, half-goat on your front porch, and he looks like Stanley Tucci." Stiles leapt off the couch to join Derek on the porch, staring at the satyr.

"Puck is the name." The satyr bowed, "And forgive me my delights, but it was just for a bit of fun that I infected your three friends as well as your mate." Puck shrugged, "And now that the fun is done, and you have yourself your Meant, I shall undo what's been done, and the madness will be spent." With a flourish, the satyr disappeared, and Derek almost made to run after him, but there was no trail to follow.

"Puck." Stiles squeaked, "Puck. Robin Goodfellow. Decided to play a prank on me."

Derek looked just as stunned as he did, "I feel like you attract supernatural beings to you like flies to honey."

"It's asking for trouble, isn't it?"

"Oh, yeah." Derek hopped back up the porch steps, "Wait...he said three friends, besides me."

"I'm not enchanted!" Scott yelled plaintively, "And if you hurt him, Derek, I will rip out your spleen!"

Stiles reached out calmly for Derek's hand and walked him back inside, ignoring Scott as he tried to get Stiles to break the barrier so he could properly threaten Derek.

Derek didn't need to be threatened, and Stiles had better plans to carry on with that in no way involved a werewolf territorial dispute over a measly little human with a talent for trouble. And, as it turned out, Derek was a very doting boyfriend. Especially since Puck didn't reverse what he'd done to Derek.

Lord, what fools these mortals be.

If we shaows have offended,
think but this, and all is mended:
That you have but slumbered here,
while these visions did appear.
And this weak and idle theme,
no more yielding but a dream.
Gentles, do not reprehend:
If you pardon, we will mend.
Else the Puck a liar call.
And so good night, unto you all.
Give me your hands,
if we be friends,
and Robin shall restore amends.