Short. Not great, but I like it well enough :) Sorry for any mistakes, I'm tired and don't feel like looking over it.

Stiles gazed out the window, marveling at the vast expanse of white covering the ground and roof of the school building. Still more fell from the sky, and it was all he could do not to press his nose against the glass like a giddy child.

"Mr. Stilinski, if you would please remove yourself from the window, class started several minutes ago."

Stiles shot a glance behind him, grinning at the sour look on Mr. Harris' face, and the amused stares of his class mates.

"Oh come on, how often is it that we get snow?" he asked, smirk still spread across his face.

"Stiles, come on man," Scott started, trying not to laugh, "we can play in the snow later."

With an exaggerated sigh, he reluctantly headed back to his seat, plopping into it with an even louder sigh and earning an eyeroll from his favorite teacher and a giggle from Allison two seats behind him.

Naturally, as Mr. Harris began to teach, Stiles gradually zoned out, averting his attention back to small white specks floating from the sky and - wait was that a black Camaro shining harshly against the soft color of snow? Damn, it was. Stiles turned slightly, sliding down in his chair to nudge Scott lightly with his foot.

Scott whipped his head around, seeming to sense the prescence of the Alpha as soon as Stiles made to alert him of it. Derek had stepped outside of the car in the time Stiles had turned his head, and was now standing starkly against the snow in all his black-leather-glory.

His breath came out in short puffs and he had to take a calloused hand out of the pocket of his leather jacket before crooking a finger, a silent demand not only for Scott, but Stiles also.

"What does sourwolf want now?" Stiles murmured. Scott shrugged in response before raising his hand.

"Mr. McCall, do you have a question?"

"Uh, yeah. Can I use the bathroom?" A few snickers were heard from the back of the classroom.

"Make it quick," he responded, watching as Scott swiftly exited the room.

"Uh, I have to go too!" Stiles called a little too urgently.

"I suppose Mr. McCall needs someone to hold his hand?"

"You'd be surprised," Stiles half joked, already to the door.

Mr. Harris shook his head, knowing in his gut they wouldn't be back.

"What do you want Derek?" Scott said by way of greeting. The question had no malice in it, however. It had been awhile, and the whole Kanima thing had blown over. Jackson had settled uneasily into Derek's broken pack, for now.

"Pack meeting," he replied gruffly.

"And you're telling me this because?" Scott asked, crossing his arms and shifting his weight to the other foot.

"You're pack," Derek said, flicking his gaze briefly towards Stiles, including him in the statement.

"We're in school," Scott protested weakly.

"That's never stopped you before," Derek said. And was that a hint of a...smile?

"I call shotgun!" Stiles cried, leaping into Derek's Camaro. If they took his jeep, people might notice. He still threw an apologetic look toward the precious vehicle. Scott, defeated, slid into the back seat.

All trace of the maybe smile had disappeared from his face as Derek settled comfortably into the driver's seat and started the car. They rode slowly out of the parking lot, hoping nobody would notice the thrum of the engine in an otherwise silent area.

As they drove further and further away, the car picked up speed. Nobody thought anything of it until the car started to slide. Derek slowed down significantly.

"Not used to all this damn snow," he muttered, going around a corner with extra care.

"I think it's great," Stiles shrugged from the passenger seat.

"In what way is this great?" Derek asked, taking a hand off the wheel to gesture at their surroundings.

"I don't. It's just quiet. Peaceful."

"Not when you speak."

"You know what? I'm in a good mood today and you, Mr. Sourwolf are not going to ruin it," Stiles said matter-of-factly.

Derek was in the middle of a rebuttal when Scott sharply inhaled.

"What the hell is that?"

Derek focused back on the road in time to see two figures dart across the road directly in front of them. He slammed on the brakes, only to have the car slide forward erratically.

Derek immediately threw an arm over Stiles, instinctually protecting the weaker human. He felt Scott crash against the back of his seat, heard the crunching of bones that would soon knit themselves back together.

He grabbed Stiles' shirt, yanking him closer and turning to protect his small body with his own, much larger frame. When the car finally stopped, they were all in a rather awkward positon.

Laying down on the back seat, clutching his injured side as he healed, Scott had a perfect view of Stiles, half way out of his seat, eyes clenched shut and hands fisted desperately in Derek's shirt. Derek was leaning over him, one hand on his hip to keep him in place and the other on the back of his head, pushing his face into his shoulder so as to shield him.

They stayed like that, both too surprised to move, until Scott groaned in the back seat. Both sprang into action, Stiles to comfort his best friend as he healed, and Derek to see what it was that had nearly made them wreck.

The two figures were still there, crouched in the middle of the road. He recognized their scents, even before they stood and made their way toward him.

"Erica. Boyd!" he called, rushing to them.

He caught Erica just as she fell. The smell of their blood washed over him, making him scrunch his nose in disdain.

"Derek," Erica whispered hoarsely, "we're done being Omegas."

He nodded, not needing an explanation. He knew they would be back, knew they weren't strong enough to go Omega. Even Scott had to lurk at the edges of his pack, however reluctant he was to officially join it.

"Derek?" Stiles' voice sounded behind him. He had stepped out of the car and was walking hurriedly toward them.

As he kneeled down next to Erica, slinging one of her bruised arms around his shoulders and leading her to the car, Derek noticed how careful he was not to make eye contact. It was an ambarrassing reminder of the provocative position they'd found themselves in moments ago. If Derek was the type to blush, he would have.

"I'll meet you there," Boyd said uneasily, and was gone before Derek turned around.

"Isaac. We've got an interesting turn of events," Derek said as he walked through the door of what was once his home.

"Yeah, we know. Big guy is passed out on the floor over there," Jackson said, jerking his thumb toward where Isaac was crouched beside Boyd, a hand on his chest and a worried expression etched across his features.

Scott set Erica gently down beside him, and both Betas quickly set to work, taking as much pain from them as they could.

Derek looked them silently over, sighing in relief as he saw their wounds slowly closing. It had nothing to do with the Alpha Pack then. Most likely they had wandered into a Hunter's trap a good distance from Beacon Hills.

The pack had a steady alliance with the Argents for the time being, so it couldn't have been them. He glanced behind him, remembering Stiles. When the two made eye contact, he gave him a tight lipped smile.

"I'll drive you home. This may be a little too pack for you," he said.

Stiles, instead of arguing like Derek assumed he would, nodded wearily and let himself be guided back out the door, throwing a lingering glance back at Erica.


Derek pulled over at least a block from Stiles' house, knowing that the Sherrif probably wasn't there, but not wanting to take the chance regardless. They sat in silence for a moment before Derek turned to him.

"You okay?"

"Yeah, just not what I expected you know?"

Another drawn out moment of silence.

"You're worried about her." A statement, not a question. Stiles looked up, startled.

"Yeah. I mean, I'm worried about both of them. Boyd was almost in worse shape than Erica.

Derek nodded, and some kind of knot in the pit of his stomach loosened.

"What about you?"

"What do you mean?"

"Aren't you worried?"

Derek glanced up, a sudden vulnerability in his wary gaze.

"Of course. They're my pack," he said, running a hand through his hair. "I can't believe I let this happen," he groaned, hitting the steering wheel with an open palm.

After several seconds, Stiles very tentatively reached out, sliding a hand onto Derek's leg in what he hoped was a comforting gesture. Closing his eyes, Derek leaned back and let one of his hands close over Stiles' small one.

"Stiles," he breathed against his will, running a thumb across delicate knuckles. The grip on his leg tightened, and Stiles' heart beat jumped. Derek knew if he was going to do this, it was now or never.

Slowly, making sure it was what the younger boy wanted, he leaned over, pressing their foreheads together. When Stiles didn't move away, Derek hesitantly let a hand trail up to cup his jaw, angling his face the way he needed it to be.

He placed feather light kisses along his collar bone and up his neck. He traced Stiles' jaw line with a hint of fang, smirking at the gasp that escaped Stiles' mouth. Finally, he tilted his head further back, and leaned completely over him, pressing urgent kisses to soft lips.

Stiles reached up, fisting his hand into Derek's hair and yanking him closer. Derek's head was swimming, it felt so good - and then he realized what he was doing, and who exactly he was holding in his arms.

He pulled back abruptly, breaking the kiss as quickly as he started it. They both sat there, breathing heavily.

"Derek-" Stiles started.

"Out."

"But-"

"Out!" Derek roared, eyes flashing red.

Stiles scrambled out of the car, nearly tripping as he sprinted down the block.

Derek, even more upset than before, peeled away, trying hard not to think about what just happened.


A week since it all went down, and Erica and Boyd are right back in school. Stiles envied them in an exasperated You're-A-Show-Off kind of way. The two wolves had been inseperable in a way that made the pack think they had gone through a terrifying ordeal together.

This had been what Stiles was focusing on to keep himself from thinking about that.

Derek hadn't been in touch with any of the pack exempt for Issac, who kept giving him questioning looks. To be honest, Stiles had no clue how he felt about any of it. He knew that he had liked kissing Derek and, given the opportunity, he would do it again.

What he didn't understand was why Derek had initiated the kiss, and then acted like he hadn't wanted it. Maybe he had been imagining that Derek had wanted it. What if Stiles had jumped him and his sick little mind convinced him Derek had started it?

"Stiles?" Scott asked, waving a hand in front of his face and interrupting his self doubt.

"Huh?" he answered stuidly.

"You haven't eaten anything. Are you alright man?"

Stiles glanced down at his untouched food, then back up at his best friend, plastering on his best reassuring smile.

"I'm fine bro. Hey, did Allison get her hair done?"

Scott peeked over his shoulder, catching said brunette's gaze. She smiled and waved, which was enough to keep Scott occupied for the rest of the period.

'Too easy,' Stiles smiled to himself.


Stiles' engine thrummed loudly against the still air surrounding the Hale house. He got out of his beloved jeep and walked a few feet toward the remains, boots crunching in the snow.

"Derek, I know you're here. We need to talk," he said to the seemingly empty house. Silence radiated around him, drumming into his skull.

He turned, prepared to leave, to find Derek leaning against his jeep. Stiles didn't have to be a werewolf to notice the way Derek's eyes roamed over him before coming back up to meet his eyes.

He tilted his head in such a wolfish way Stiles wanted to laugh. But this was serious shit.

"About the other day..." he started.

"Which day?" the Alpha interrupted.

Stiles blinked. "Are you serious? The day we - I mean...the last time we saw eachother."

"Oh. That day."

An uncomfortable silence ensued.

"Seriously Derek. What the hell happened?"

"I don't know."

"Yes you do! We kissed. I want to know why," he shouted.

Derek only stared with a peculiar expression on his face. "Stiles, I don't have time for this," Derek sighed, turning to walk away. The next events happened in quick succession.

Stiles bent down, picked up a handful of snow, packed it into a tight ball, and launched it at the retreating back of the Alpha.

Derek froze, hunching his shoulders as the cold substance slipped under his jacket and down his back. He whirled around, eyes red.

"Shit," Stiles whispered.

He barely had time to step back before Derek was on him, fangs bared and claws extended. He hit him like a freight train, sending them both sprawling onto the cold ground.

The weight of Derek's body on top of his own squeezed the breath out of him. When Derek growled close to his ear, it sent shocks through his system. Naturally, he fought to get away, but Derek had his arms pinned above his head and his legs were stuck under Derek's weight.

After several moments of struggling, some animalistic instinct told him to submit. His body went slack in Derek's hold, eyes averted, and he craned his neck to expose the tender flesh of his throat.

Derek's hold on him seemed to loosen and, timidly, rested his head in the crook of Stiles' neck.

"Stiles, I'm sorry. I know this must be confusing for you," he whispered.

"Damn right it is! First you kiss me, then you attack me...and...now..."

"I know. God, Stiles I know. I'm just as confused as you are."

"Then let's figure this out."

"Okay," Derek said, leaning back to sit on his haunches.

"Well, first let's-" Stiles started, only to be cut off when Derek suddenly leaned forward, crushing their lips together.

"What was that for?" Stiles gasped when Derek came up for air.

"To figure out if the first kiss was out of desperation," he explained bluntly. He leaned forward again, catching Stiles' bottom lip with his teeth and tugging until he issued a moan.

"And that?"

"To let you know it wasn't."

Stiles grinned, propping himself up on his elbows to meet Derek's mouth, which obligingly opened at the flick of his tongue. Derek tipped back, pulling Stiles with him so that he straddled his hips as the kiss deepened.

Their hands were everywhere at once, stroking each other's cheeks, running over chests, tangling themselves into hair and clenching shirts. Neither really minded that the snow was seeping into their clothes. Stiles broke the kiss, breathing heavily, and rested his forehead against Derek's.

"Hey Derek?"

"What?"

"I liked that."

"Me too."

They laid against each other until their breathing slowed, and then they were silent, just gazing into each other's eyes.

And that's how the pack found them.

"I knew it!" Erica shouted.