Archive of Our Own

Stiles wasn’t exactly having the best day. He’d spent most of it arguing with lawyers before finally-after six agonizing months-signing the divorce papers. He had less than six dollars in his checking account. And he was late for dinner, which, knowing his dad, meant there was already an APB out on his car. A car that thanks to the best lawyer his money could buy now belonged to his ex husband.

He pulled up to the curb and parked behind Scott, not even bothering to take the keys out of the ignition after he shut the car off.

“I put an APB out on you,” the Sheriff said as Stiles got out of the car.

“I’m five minutes late dad,” Stiles said, feeling like he just got caught trying to sneak back in after curfew.

“More like thirty,” his dad said. “At least tell me you stopped at Serafino’s and picked up dessert.” The sheriff looked Stiles up and down and noted the distinct lack of a familiar pink box in Stiles’ hands.

“Sorry dad, completely forget,” Stiles said, ducking into the house and hoping his dad didn’t pick up on the lie. The truth was he’d stopped but he couldn’t make himself step foot inside. Hadn’t been able to since he'd come home for thanksgiving break his freshman year of college.

“They have the best cannoli,” the Sheriff groaned. “They make them fresh daily, you know.”

“Yeah dad, I know,” Stiles swallowed past the sudden tightness in his chest and pushed into the living room. “I did work there for two years in high school, remember. Also, you don’t need any cannoli. Melissa said your cholesterol was high at your last doctor’s appointment.”

“By like 5 points,” John grumbled.

“More like 30,” Melissa countered, and walked over to give Stiles a hug.

“Sorry I’m late,” Stiles offered, hugging her back.

“You’re fine,” Melissa assured him. “I just took dinner out of the oven.”

“Hey dude,” Scott nodded as he pulled out Allison’s chair. Stiles clapped him on the back, bending to drop a kiss on Allison’s cheek, before moving over to his side of the table.

Melissa served dinner and everyone paid their compliments to the chef.

Scott told everyone about a 5 year old who'd brought his hedgehog into the clinic to get checked out. It ended predictably with Scott visiting Melissa at the hospital to have 17 spines removed from his arm.

"How was your day Stiles?" Melissa asked, hoping to change the subject.

“I signed the papers this afternoon,” Stiles shrugged, looking up to gauge everyone's reactions. “So Andrew and I are officially divorced.”

“Oh, thank God,” Scott said.

“Scott!” Melissa scolded him.

“What?” Scott asked, confused. “Andrew was a douchebag and I don’t know why you even married the guy in the first place. I’m just happy he’s finally gone for good.”

Allison laid her hand over Scott’s to stop him from saying anything else and turned to Stiles. “What he means is we’re happy that you’re happy again. ‘Cause you weren’t for a while there.” She offered him a soft smile. “You are happy aren’t you?”

“I’m getting there,” Stiles assured her. For the first time since he served Andrew with the divorce papers six months ago he actually believed that.

“You know what you need?” Melissa asked, pointing her fork at him. “You need a date.”

Stiles barked out a laugh, choking on the bite of food he’d just put in his mouth. “The last thing I need is a date,” Stiles coughed, taking a big sip of his water. “What I need is a job.”

There was a loud peeping from outside and John frowned before getting up and going to the window. Everyone followed him over and they watched as two guys loaded Stiles' car up onto a flat bed.

“And a car,” Stiles sighed. Everyone turned to him confused. “Andrew got it in the divorce.”

“Douchebag,” Scott reiterated and clapped Stiles on his back in solidarity.

“To be fair, he bought it for me,” Stiles shrugged.

“Still,” his dad turned to him. “You want me to keep the APB out for a few days?”

“Thanks." Stiles smiled; his dad was the best.

They made their way back to the table and starting eating again. “I still don't understand how you've been here for six months and haven't found a job yet," his dad commented.

“Believe it or not, there’s not a lot of work out there for an Art History major with no qualifications. Especially one who hasn’t worked at all in almost six years,” Stiles said.

After they got married Andrew hadn’t wanted him to work. He hadn’t wanted Stiles to do a lot of things and at some point Stiles realized it was easier to give in than to fight about it. That was one of the main reasons they got divorced. It was fine at first but the novelty wore off pretty quickly. Stiles got tired of not fighting.

“Lydia said that Jackson was looking for someone to do some filing.” Allison offered.

“Seriously?” Stiles made a face, his appetite gone. “Jackson?”

“Beggars can’t be choosers,” John pointed out. “And, hey, I'm pretty sure you're qualified.”

“I do know the alphabet,” Stiles smiled. “But does it have to be Jackson?”

After everyone finished eating, Stiles offered to do the dishes. As a thank you, Melissa packed up the leftovers to send home with him.

"This is why I convinced dad to marry you," Stiles kissed her cheek and took the Tupperware. John dragged Stiles into a headlock and assured Melissa he hadn't needed much convincing.

"Did Scott and Allison leave already? I was gonna see if they'd give me a ride home." Stiles frowned.

"I had a better idea," John dragged Stiles toward into the garage and turned the light on. Stiles stopped in his tracks when he saw his old Jeep sitting next to his dad’s cruiser.

“I told you that you could sell it,” Stiles walked over to it, reaching a hand out and letting his fingers run over the hood.

Andrew had hated the Jeep. Hated the crappy gas mileage, the unreliability, the amount of money Stiles poured into it just to keep it running. It didn’t seem to matter to Andrew that the Jeep had been Stiles’ mom’s.

Andrew bought him a brand new Hybrid as a wedding present and Stiles didn’t know how to say no. At the time it seemed like a sweet gesture. So he’d given the Jeep to his dad and told him he could keep it or sell it. He didn’t realize until it was too late that the car was just another way for Andrew to control him. He hated that fucking car.

“I thought maybe one day you might want it back,” John shrugged. Stiles turned to face his dad, tears welling up in his eyes and threw his arms around him, holding on as tight as he could.

“Thanks,” Stiles whispered in his ear, and John patted his back a few times before pulling away.

“Besides, the guy at the mechanic’s shop said I’d only be able to get about five hundred bucks for it,” John shrugged. “And that was if I sold it as parts.” Stiles nudged his dad’s shoulder and climbed into the Jeep, sinking into the seat. “Keys are in the visor,” John said, patting the door as he closed it before walking back into the house.

The broken spring in the seat still poked into his back. The strange smell that Stiles noticed after his and Scott’s epic-spring-break-road-trip-adventure was still lingering. Looking at the backseat still reminded him of a summer he'd rather forget. One that had been full of long nights, harsh breathing, and sweat slick skin on skin. Stiles didn’t care.

::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::

Stiles walked into Whittemore Bail Bonds and smiled when he saw Danny sitting behind the front desk. “Stiles Stilinski, I heard you were back in town.” Danny leaned back in his seat and smiled, his dimples reminding Stiles why everyone had a crush on Danny in high school. “Don’t tell me you need bail? Let me guess, you got caught with your pants around your ankles, blowing some guy up at The Lookout. Again.”

“First of all, we didn’t get arrested, Deputy Carter let us off with a warning,” Stiles reminded Danny. “No way did he want to explain to my dad what he arrested me for. Second, if I recall, going to The Lookout was your idea. As was the blow job.”

“You didn’t exactly complain,” Danny pointed out. Stiles just shrugged. It had been Jackson’s wedding reception. Danny commented that college had been good to Stiles, then asked if he wanted to go somewhere else and “catch up”. Stiles wasn't gonna say no. “Plus I got a date with Deputy Carter out of that.”

“Huh,” Stiles leaned against the desk. “So that’s why nothing else ever happened between us,” Stiles said, not as upset by this new information as he thought he should be.

“Oh Stiles, that’s not why nothing else ever happened between us,” Danny indulged him. Stiles felt that tightness in his throat again. Danny sat up in the chair and coughed, breaking the tension. “So what can I do for you?”

“Allison mentioned that Jackson was looking for someone to do some filing?” Stiles said, grateful for the subject change.

“Not anymore,” Danny apologized.

“Seriously?” Stiles sagged against the desk defeated.

“We moved some old files into storage last week. It was only about two days work and you spent most of the time on your knees. If you’re gonna spend that kind of time on your knees, you can find something that pays better.” Danny smirked.

Stiles rolled his eyes and stood up. “Do you guys have anything? Part time? Freelance? I just…I need something to get me back on my feet.”

Danny stared at him for a second then sighed. “Maybe Jackson will let you do some skip tracing.” Stiles perked up at that. “I said maybe. Harris is out right now, appendicitis and someone’s gotta take his cases while he’s out of commission.” Danny got up and grabbed a package, passing it to Stiles.

“What’s the job, exactly?” Stiles asked opening the package and seeing a stack of files.

“FTA’s, Failure to Appear. They skipped out on bail, didn’t show up for their court date. It’s your job to find them and bring them in and, in return you get 10% of the bond.” Danny said. “It’s not much but it adds up.”

“You think Jackson will go for it?” Stiles asked hopefully.

::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::

“No,” Jackson said without looking up from his computer. “Absolutely not.”

“Come on Jackson, I thought we were friends,” Stiles said.

Jackson did look up at that. “We’re not,” he said before looking right back down.

“You wound me,” Stiles feigned a frown and Jackson rolled his eyes. “Come on, I need this.”

“We’re talking about criminals here, Stilinski – you can’t handle this,” Jackson said.

“Oh, please,” Stiles reached into the package and pulled out the files. “This guy was arrested for unpaid parking tickets,” he dropped the file on Jackson’s desk. “This guy, for passing bad checks.” He flipped through a few more files and froze. “Holy shit – Derek Hale skipped out on bail?”

“No!” Jackson lunged across the desk and tore the file out of Stiles’ hands. “I’m in for a half a million on him.”

Stiles’ eyes went huge. “That’s a fifty grand payout!”

“No, it’s not,” Jackson argued. “’Cause you’re not going anywhere near him. I’ll lose my money and Lydia will get pissed when he kills you.”

Stiles smirked and leaned back in his chair. “You do care.”

Jackson sighed. “You can take Harris’ non violent offenders, but don’t even think about going after Hale.”

“I need the money, Jackson,” Stiles stressed.

“No,” Jackson repeated, firmly.

“You groped me at your bachelor party,” Stiles said with narrowed eyes.

“I was drunk and I thought you were Lydia,” Jackson countered.

“Really?” Stiles asked. “If you thought I was Lydia then what were you looking for when you stuck your hand down my pants?” Jackson just glared and Stiles leaned back in his seat and crossed his arms over his chest.

“You know, I haven’t been back in town long but I did make it a point to stop by The Jungle and catch up with some old friends.”

Jackson’s jaw twitched at that. “What old friends?”

“The kind that like to dress up for a night out on the town,” Stiles said. He swore he could see sweat starting to bead on Jackson’s temples. “So they’re telling me about the new amateur Drag night every Tuesday. Isn't that the night you play poker with the guys? Anyway they convinced me to come check it out and I have to say, I had a good time. I was thinking about taking Lydia with me sometime – make a girls night of it.”

Jackson tossed the file across the desk and Stiles grabbed with a smile.

::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::

Stiles got in the Jeep and took a deep breath before opening Derek's file. He tried to prepare himself but it still felt like a punch to the gut.

“Fuck me,” Stiles breathed out, taking in Derek’s mug shot.

Derek had been cute at 18, but at 27 he was hot. The three day stubble did nothing to hide the sharp edges of his cheek bones. His shoulders were more broad and defined and the way his shirt stretched across his chest was almost obscene.

Half the school may have had a crush on Danny and his adorable dimples, but everyone in school had wanted Derek Hale. Stiles was no exception. Derek was the captain of the basketball team, led the baseball team to all-state as the pitcher, and wrote for the newspaper. He could and did have anyone he wanted – guy or girl.

People speculated by graduation he'd made his way through half the student body. Only…no one seemed to be able to keep him. Stiles didn’t even try; in fact he assumed that Derek hadn’t even known he existed. And then came summer after graduation.

Stiles was taking as many shifts at Serafino's as they’d give him. He was desperate to earn as much cash as he could before going away for college. Derek had shown up every day for two weeks straight. He’d order a coffee, black, and then sit and flirt with Stiles for most of his shift. Well Stiles had assumed Derek was flirting; he hadn't had a lot of experience in that area. Every day Stiles tried to talk him into something sweet to go along with his coffee and every day he declined. Until the day he finally gave in.

“Come on, our cannoli are the best in the city,” Stiles said. He piped fresh pastry cream into the still slightly warm cookie then dropped it on a plate and slid it across the counter to Derek. “We make them fresh daily.” Stiles licked a drop of pastry cream off his wrist, his eyes never leaving Derek's

Derek took the cannoli. Then he took Stiles virginity on the floor behind the counter after closing. They didn’t exactly part on good terms and Stiles hadn’t been able to eat a cannoli since. He was almost willing to give up the fifty grand just to be the one to throw his ass in jail. Almost.

::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::

“Derek,” Stiles called out, slamming his fist against the door to Derek’s loft. He pressed his ear up against the wood and didn’t hear any movement from inside. Stiles sighed and turned back to the stairs, pulling his phone out of his pocket.

“Tell me I can do this,” Stiles said when Lydia answered.

“Yeah, I’m gonna need more to go on before I do that,” Lydia answered back without skipping a beat. Stiles told her about his visit with Jackson and going after Derek.

“Did you actually think that a man wanted for murder was just going to be hanging out at his apartment and answering the door?” Lydia asked him.

Stiles was silent for a second too long before answering, “No?”

“Jesus,” Lydia groaned. “How the hell did you convince my husband to let you do this?”

“I may have threatened to take you to amateur drag night at Jungle,” Stiles said.

“I can’t believe he still thinks I don’t know about that,” Lydia said. “I'm the youngest woman ever to win a Field’s Medal and he thinks I’m don't notice glitter and cheap foundation on the pillowcase. Poker night my ass.”

Stiles snorted. He knew Lydia was more upset about the cheap foundation then the fact that her husband was secretly dressing in drag.

“Back to my problem, Lyds,” Stiles said.

“You might have to do some actual foot work on this,” Lydia said. “He’s not just gonna answer the door and let you slap a pair of cuffs on him, Stiles.”

He has before, Stiles stopped himself from saying. He tried and failed not to think about that night. Derek spread out on his bed, arms handcuffed to the headboard over his head as Stiles sunk down on Derek’s cock.

“Stiles,” Lydia said, her voice annoyed, indicating that she might have been trying to get his attention for a while.

“Yeah,” Stiles answered, his voice a bit shakier than it had been before as he made his way to the Jeep.

“Have you considered that maybe he didn’t do it? It just doesn’t seem like Derek, you know.” Lydia asked and Stiles scoffed.

“No, I don’t know, Lydia, I don’t know anything about Derek these days, but that’s not my problem. My job is to bring him in.” Stiles snapped.

“Look, I know he hurt you but—“

“Whoa, that has nothing to do with this. I just really need the money.” Stiles protested.

“Uh huh,” Lydia said, unconvinced.

A car pulled up outside the building and Stiles watched as someone familiar got out. “Lyds? What would Vernon Boyd be doing at Derek’s loft?”

“He is Derek’s partner,” Lydia offered.

“You know you seem to know quite a bit about Derek,” Stiles accused.

“Not everybody leaves town after college and never comes back,” Lydia snapped back at him. He knew that was still a sore spot with her and they'd have to talk about it sometime. But she was kind enough to let it drop for the moment.

“It’s a small town, Stiles, I see him around every now and then. He helped me once when I locked my keys in the car. He’s a good guy.”

“Yeah, he’s such a good guy my dad arrested him for murder," Stiles scoffed. He could tell Lydia was about to say something when Boyd reappeared at the head of the stairs again with a bag in his hands. “He’s coming back down with a duffle bag. You think it’s for Derek?”

“No, Stiles, I think he’s picking up his laundry,” Lydia snapped. “Yes, I think it’s for Derek.”

“Well, what do I do?” Stiles flailed as Boyd got back in his car and pulled away.

“Follow him!” Lydia said exasperated before hanging up.

::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::

Stiles kept himself a good distance behind Boyd as they drove through downtown. Eventually Boyd pulled the old abandoned subway station and stopped a few blocks away. Boyd went in with the duffle bag and came back a few minutes later empty handed before driving off.

Stiles took a deep breath and got out of the car, making his way to the station. He ducked inside and wrinkled his nose. The place was dark and musty and there was an old rusted subway car in the corner; it looked like the perfect place to hide out. Stiles was making his way over to check it out when he tripped over a stack of metal pipes and sent them crashing to the ground.

“No,” Stiles whispered, reaching out. Before he could do anything to there was a hand fisted into the front of his shirt and someone slammed his back into the wall.

“What do you want?” Derek growled in his ear.

“Jesus Christ, you almost gave me a heart attack,” Stiles yelped. The hand dropped from his chest just as suddenly as it appeared and Derek stepped back to look him over.

“Stiles Stilinski?” Derek asked incredulously. “What the hell are you doing here?”

“So the violence, that's new,” Stiles stepped away from the wall and rubbed the back of his head. “Can’t say I care for it.”

“Says the guy who ran me over with his Jeep,” Derek spit out.

“That was an accident,” Stiles protested.

“Accident my ass, you jumped the curb! Broke my leg in three places,” Derek glared.

“I didn’t say it wasn’t a happy accident,” Stiles snapped and Derek’s nostril’s flared as he walked away.

“I heard you moved back home after your divorce,” Derek sneered, grabbing his jacket and pulling it on.

“Yeah well, I heard you killed someone,” Stiles countered.

Derek froze and turned to face Stiles. “Yeah? And?” he pushed out through gritted teeth.

“And you skipped out on bail. You’re in violation of your bond agreement. I’m gonna need to you to come with me,” Stiles pressed on.

Derek laughed at that, a full body, head thrown back, laugh and Stiles swallowed hard at the sight. “Jackson sent you to bring me in?” He asked, grabbing the duffle bag.

“That’s funny?” Stiles asked, insulted.

“It’s hilarious. Trust me; I could use a good joke. Haven’t had much to laugh at in, well, years.” Derek admitted. Stiles’ comeback lodged in his throat as he thought about why Derek hadn’t laughed in years.

Stiles had been in his Sophomore year when a fire killed Derek’s whole family. He'd wanted to go to Derek, make sure he was ok, but wasn’t sure how well he’d be received. Especially considering he’d broken Derek’s leg just the year before. Then he thought about why he’d broken Derek’s leg, got mad again, and hurried after him.

“We can do this the easy way or the hard way,” Stiles called out to Derek as he followed him out of the station.

“Please, you don’t have a gun or cuffs or any backup,” Derek snorted. “Thanks for the laugh, though,” Derek stopped and turned back to Stiles. “You always were good at making me laugh.”

Stiles had to tell himself he was imagining the fond tone in Derek’s voice when he said that and pressed on. “This isn’t a joke, Derek.”

“Look, Stiles, I’m not going in. I can’t go in ok. Do you know what they do to cops in jail?” Derek asked. “And even if I was gonna go in, you’re the last person I’d ever let collect the money. You know why?”

“Please enlighten me,” Stiles said.

“’Cause you’re insane. You ran me over because you came back from college and got mad that I wasn’t sitting at home eating ice cream and pining after you.” Derek stormed away from him.

Stiles felt his jaw twitch, remembering the course of events much differently. He remembered Derek whispering plans about the future in Stiles skin the week before he left.

He remembered being sent to Serafino’s to pick up the Thanksgiving dinner pies and seeing Derek in the alley. He was leaning against the wall of the bakery, Stiles’ bakery, their bakery, with some woman’s tongue curling over the shell of his ear.

He remembered his foot slipping off the break and onto the gas. It had been an accident. He was 90% sure of that.

“It was an accident,” Stiles screamed. He hurried after Derek, rounding the nondescript car that Stiles assumed he stole. Derek moved to open the door and Stiles slammed it shut.

“You’re going down, Hale, I’m just gonna keep coming after you and you know how persistent I can be.” Derek huffed. “Trust me; you do not want me on your ass 24/7.”

Derek froze, the tense set of his shoulders relaxing slightly before he spun around and crowded Stiles up against the car.

“You know, I remember a time when all I wanted was you on my ass 24/7.” Derek practically purred and Stiles’s eyes went wide with the sudden change in attitude.

“I..ugh,” Stiles swallowed hard and Derek’s eyes followed the movement. “What?”

“You grew out your hair,” Derek said, a soft smile on his face. Stiles’ confused expression turned to one of hesitation as Derek pressed even closer. Derek's hand trailed up Stiles' arms to his neck, Derek's fingers slipping into Stiles hair. “There’s something to hold onto now,” Derek said, gripping Stiles’ hair and pulling lightly.

Stiles’ eyes closed at the sensation and he let out a shaky breath. Derek’s breath ghosted over Stiles’ lips his hand dipped into Stiles’ pocket. Derek dragged his knuckles down the outline of Stiles cock before his fingers closed around Stiles’ key ring. Stiles’ eyes shot open as Derek pulled the keys free and stepped back holding them up triumphantly.

“Fuck,” Stiles stumbled forward a bit as Derek stepped back. He reached out for the keys but Derek tossed them over his shoulder with a wink. His smile growing when he heard the clink as they dropped into the half full dumpster.

Stiles pushed around Derek to peer into the dumpster, praying that they’d just landed on top. His luck wasn’t that good. Stiles turned at the sound of tires slipping on gravel and just caught sight of Derek’s tail light as he turned the corner.

“Son of a bitch,” Stiles groaned, and then pulled himself up on the edge of the dumpster.

::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::

Danny looked up when Stiles dragged himself into the office and his nose wrinkled in disgust. “You smell like a dumpster.” Stiles groaned and collapsed into the chair across from the desk, the whole story spilling out of him.

“I can’t believe you fell for that,” Danny shook his head.

“Shut up, you would have fallen for it too.” Danny didn't deny it. “This is gonna be harder than I thought.”

“In more ways than one,” Danny said.

“You’re not helping,” Stiles said.

“I didn’t realize I was supposed to be helping,” Danny laughed and Stiles pouted at him. “Ok, fine.” He grabbed a piece of paper and jotted something down on it. “This is the number for one of our best recovery agents and if you shut up and listen she just might teach you something.” He held the paper out to Stiles who was making ‘gimmie’ motions with his fingers. Danny yanked the paper back at glared at Stiles. “But I’m only giving you this cause Jackson would flip his shit if he knew you got that close to Derek and let him walk away.”

Stiles grabbed the paper out of Danny’s hand and offered him a half hearted thanks before looking down. “Erica?”

::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::

Stiles went home and took a shower, and then another for good measure. When he finally felt clean he texted the number that Danny had given him – begging for any help that Erica was willing to give him. He’d gotten a simple response of The Diner, one hour. He took another shower just to be safe and then grabbed his keys and headed out.

When he walked in The Diner he froze, staring at the blonde in the booth at the back. “Erica Reyes?” he called out when she caught his eyes. “You’re Jackson’s best recovery agent?”

“I’m not Jackson’s anything,” Erica said as Stiles slipped in the booth across from her.

“Erica Reyes,” Stiles said again, looking at her more closely. It was hard to reconcile the blonde bombshell sitting across from him with the shy, girl that used to have seizures he knew in high school.

“Stilinski,” she leaned back in the booth and looked him over.

“You look…” he let himself trail off, unsure about how to finish that and walk away with his limbs intact.

“I know,” Erica just smiled. “It’s amazing what the right regimen of meds and good haircut will do for a girl.”

Stiles just shook his head, amazed at the way she could talk so nonchalantly about it. He remembered one time she’d had a seizure in the middle of the cafeteria. She’d wet her pants. A couple of guys filmed it and put it up on you tube. She didn’t come to school back to school for three weeks after that one.

“Look, no offense or anything,” Stiles said cautiously. “It’s just…you’re supposed to teach me how to be a bounty hunter?” The Erica Stiles remembered was a girl who couldn’t even climb a rock wall much less take down criminals.

“Laugh it up,” Erica said as the waitress poured a coffee for both of them. “But if I’d taken Hale’s case I’d be sitting on fifty grand right now.”

“Why didn’t you take Derek’s case?” Stiles asked.

“I’m trying to branch out, private security. Also it’s none of your business.” Erica smiled. “Plus the dudes crazy. Killing your own sister? I don’t want to go anywhere near that.”

“Wait, what?” Stiles sat up quickly. “Laura? That’s who he killed?”

“That’s what the file said,” Erica shrugged dumping sugar into her cup.

“No, that doesn’t make any sense. He’d never—“ Stiles shook his head. Laura was all he had left. The only one besides his Uncle Peter who survived the fire and no one would call what Peter did surviving. He had 2nd and 3rd degree over 50% of his body and had been in a catatonic state ever since. Laura was Derek’s family. Even before the fire she’d been his best friend. He’d never have laid a hand on her. Now Lydia’s insistence that Derek might be innocent made so much more sense.

“Look, it’s not our job to decide if someone’s guilty or innocent. We just bring them in. But between you and me, it doesn’t look good for him.” Erica said. “They had a huge fight at the bank; witnesses said they heard screaming and shit breaking. A week later she gets a text message from him at 2 am saying to meet him in the woods by the old Hale house. And she was shot with his off duty weapon.”

“How do you know all this?” Stiles asked confused – none of that had been in the file Jackson gave him.

“I read the case file,” Erica said as if this was obvious. “Didn’t you?” Stiles just ducked his head and Erica sighed. “Right, so we’re starting with the basics then. Rule number one: know your mark.” She leaned forward on the table, eyes boring into Stiles. “And what you need to know is this: you’re out of your league here. You need to realize that going in, if you want to stay alive. He’s a cop and he shot his own sister, so you know there’s nothing to stop him from shooting you.” Stiles swallowed and nodded and Erica narrowed her eyes. “Do you own a gun?”

“I’m guessing no is the wrong answer here,” Stiles said.

She grabbed her bag and climbed out of the booth then headed for the door. “You’re paying for the coffee,” she called over her shoulder. Stiles dropped a couple of bills on the table before following her out to the parking lot.

“So you’re gonna help me?” Stiles asked stopped next to a black Range Rover.

“If I don’t, you’ll still go after him and you’ll just end up getting yourself killed.” Erica sighed. “Get in the car.”

“Awesome,” Stiles said moving to the passenger side and climbing in. “I’ll be the Skywalker to your Yoda.”

“Rule number one: no more Star Wars,” Erica told him when they got in the car.

“I thought rule number one was ‘know your mark’,” Stiles asked confused and Erica leveled him with a flat look. “Ok, fine, no more Star Wars,” Stiles held up his hands in surrender. “How do you feel about Batman and Robin?”

Erica tilted her head as she started the car. “I’ve always been partial to Catwoman.”

Stiles smiled at her wide and open. “That’s cool. Means I get to be Batman.”

Erica laughed, sliding a pair of sunglasses on as she pulled out of the parking lot. “You are so not Batman.”

::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::

“He’s gonna be a badass recovery Agent,” Erica told the woman behind the counter while Stiles surveyed the guns in the display case.

“I can hear the mocking tone you know,” Stiles said before standing up.

“Not mocking,” Erica said, but the smirk on her face didn’t exactly match her words. “He’s going after Derek Hale.” Erica turned her attention back to the woman.

“Is that right?” She turned to Stiles, looking him and up and down with an appraising eye and smiled.

“Kate, right? Allison’s aunt?” Stiles asked. She narrowed her eyes at him. “I’m Stiles. Scott’s friend.”

“Stiles,” she drawled out his name, looking him up and down again but with completely different intent this time. “You grew up good.” She smiled, leaning on the counter.

“Thanks,” Stiles ducked his head, scratching the back of his neck self consciously.

“You ever handle a weapon before?” Kate asked. The emphasis she put on the word weapon made Stiles' cheeks flush in a way they hadn’t since he’d been in high school.

“Do video games count?” he joked, trying to break the tension.

“You’re cute,” Kate laughed and pushed off the counter, bending down to grab a gun out of the display case. “Smith and Wesson. Five shot.” Kate said.

“.38 Special,” Erica nodded her approval, taking the gun from Kate.

“Good for a beginner,” Kate said. “Easy to handle, easy to conceal.”

Erica passed the gun to Stiles and he tossed it from hand to hand, testing out the weight, getting a feel for it. It was a small snub nose revolver, light weight but substantial with a wooden grip. Erica’s attention seemed to drift to another gun in the cabinet and it didn’t go unnoticed by Kate either.

“Nice, right?” Kate bent down and pulled the gun out of the case and handed it to Erica. “Desert Eagle Mark XIX, just got it in.”

This gun was chrome, much bigger than the Smith and Wesson Stiles was holding. He watched as Erica pulled back the slide, released and reloaded the magazine then tested out the grip. He looked from his gun to Erica’s and frowned. “I like hers better.”

“Oh, honey,” Kate turned back to Stiles and smirked. “You can’t handle hers.” Stiles felt himself start to blush again and Kate laughed. “You want to try them out?”

::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::

Stiles stood back, watching as Erica tested out the Desert Eagle. Her stance was flawless, her clusters tight and precise. He couldn’t help but admire the slight pink in her cheeks when she finished. “Ok, your turn,” she said breathlessly.

“So it’s just like in video games right? Point and shoot?” Stiles lifted his gun, aiming it haphazardly in the direction of the target.

“Ok,” Erica reached out and grabbed his wrist, squeezing it until Stiles stopped moving. “Two hands on your weapon at all times and grip it tight, none of that soft hands bullshit.”

Stiles opened his mouth and Erica squeezed harder, feeling the bones grind slightly in her grip. “I swear to god if you say ‘that’s what she said’ I’m walking out.” Stiles winced, nodding. Erica released his wrist and grabbed his other hand, securing it around the handle and adjusting his grip.

She moved behind him and lifted his arms until the gun was almost at shoulder height. “Right leg back; keep your hips at a 45 degree angle.” She dropped her hands to his hips, twisting the in the right direction. Then kicked at the inside of his ankles until his feet where she wanted them.

“Like this?” Stiles asked and she nodded.

“Shoulders back don’t lock your elbows,” Erica said stepping up behind him and putting her hands over Stiles’ on the gun.

“Always keep your trigger finger off the trigger until you’re ready to shoot.” Erica’s breath puffed against his ear as she plastered herself along his back and guided his finger to hover over the trigger. “Use the sight to aim, safety off. Even out your breath, wait for an exhale and when you’re ready, squeeze, don’t pull.” She applied pressure to his trigger finger and the gun fired, the bullet hitting the target dead in the chest.

Erica stepped back and smirked when Stiles wobbled a little at the loss of her. “Think you can handle that?”

He looked at her over his shoulder, his mouth twitching a bit at the corner. He winked, turned back to the target, and emptied his gun into it. He took a step back, reloaded the gun and then got back almost into the exact stance that Erica had him in before. He took a few deep breaths and emptied the gun again before flipping the safety back on and setting the gun on the counter. He relaxed his stance and pulled off his glasses and earmuffs before turning to Erica.

“Let’s see how you did,” Erica stepped back into his cubicle and pressed the button to recall his target. Stiles just leaned back against the cubicle wall and offered her an easy grin. He saw her eyes widen as the target came into view and felt a smug sense of satisfaction as she took it in.

“Holy shit Stilinski, how the hell did you do this?” she reached out and grabbed the paper target, staring at the precise cluster of bullet holes around the heart and in the head.

“Sheriff’s kid,” he shrugged, pushing himself off the wall. “You really think I don’t know my way around a weapon?”

“Maybe you’re a little bit like Batman,” Erica conceded.

“Does that mean I can try your gun?” Stiles reached out for her gun.

“No,” Erica moved it out of his reach. “I’m gonna go pay for these.”

“No, hey, I know I’m a bit strapped for cash right now, but I’m not just gonna let you buy me a gun,” Stiles shook his head.

“Yeah you are. She’s not gonna sell it to you. You don’t have a permit,” Erica held out her hand and Stiles reluctantly dropped his gun in her palm.

::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::

Stiles climbed in the Jeep and leaned back, wincing as the butt of the gun dug into the small of his back. He sat forward and pulled it out of his waistband then leaned over and shoved it into the glove compartment.

His pulled out his phone and dialed a number. “Dude, you’ll never guess where I just was.” Stiles said when Scott answered. “At the shooting range.”

“Allison’s dad’s shooting range?” Scott asked confused.

“Yeah, I got a gun,” Stiles told him.

“No way Chris sold you a gun,” Scott scoffed. “He won’t even sell me a gun and I’m married to his daughter.”

“Ha no, it was Kate, her aunt. And technically she didn’t sell it to me,” Stiles admitted. “So don’t tell my dad.”

“Depends. Are you coming to dinner tonight?” Scott asked.

“Yeah I’ll be there soon,” Stiles started the Jeep and put it in reverse.

“Can I hold it?” Scott asked.

“Sure,” Stiles said reversing out of the parking space.

“Can I shoot it?” Scott pressed.

“Not a chance in hell,” Stiles laughed before hanging up.

::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::

Stiles pulled up outside of Boyd’s house and walked up to the front door. He’d called dispatch and they told him Boyd was off shift so Stiles knew he was home. He just had to figure out a way to convince Boyd to roll on his partner. Shouldn’t be too hard.

He’d barely knocked on the door when it was pulled open. Boyd took one look at him and shook his head. “No.” he moved to close the door and Stiles put a hand out to stop him.

“Come on Boyd, you’re a cop. You know how this works.” Stiles said. “He skipped bail; I have to bring him in.”

“I’m not telling you where my partner is.” Boyd crossed his arms over his chest.

“Your loyalty is admirable but it’s not like Derek’s doing you any favors. Jackson said you put up the bond, used your house as collateral. Derek doesn’t come in, you could lose it.” Stiles pointed out and Boyd huffed. “Look I’m just want to help him.”

Boyd raised an eyebrow. “The last time you saw him you ran him over with your Jeep and broke his leg.”

“That was an accident,” Stiles protested. He was 70% sure of that.

::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::

“So, how’s the filing going?” John asked just as Stiles shoved a large bite of food in his mouth. He raised his eyebrows as he chewed in question. “I heard from Margie at the Pack ‘N Sack you were working for Jackson now.”

“Oh yeah,” Stiles said taking a huge gulp of water. “But I’m not exactly doing the filling.” Stiles turned to Melissa. “These tamales are amazing Melissa. Is there any way I can get the recipe?”

Melissa raised an eyebrow. “The last time you tried to cook the fire department had to be called. Twice.”

“Wait a minute,” John said. “If you’re not filing what are you doing?”

“I’m an asset recovery specialist,” Stiles said.

“Asset recovery specialist?” Scott said confused. “I thought you said you were a bounty hunter?” Stiles turned to Scott eyes wide and groaned when he heard his dad’s fork hit the plate.

“Skip tracing, Stiles? Are you insane?” John asked him.

"Jackson’s only letting me go after lame cases like parking tickets and check fraud,” Stiles said trying to pacify his dad. “Non violent offenders.” John relaxed and picked up his fork again so Stiles pressed on. “Speaking of non violent offenders, what are the chances you might let me sneak a peek at Derek Hale’s case file?”

Stiles didn't really remember everything that happened next. There was a lot of yelling, a lot of forbidding, and an awful lot of over my dead body. Stiles reminded John he was an adult capable of making his own decisions. That he really needed the money and that Derek most likely, probably, wouldn’t hurt him. Considering he didn’t when they’d met earlier that day. Then there was even more yelling and Stiles kind of…tuned out after that. In the end he was pretty sure they just agreed to disagree.

“He’ll come around.” Melissa said as Stiles helped her clear off the table. “He’s just worried about you. For what it’s worth he doesn’t think Derek did it.”

“He doesn’t?” Stiles glanced over at Melissa. “How do you know that?”

“I’ve been married to your father for over ten years now, I know.” Melissa smiled. “Also, he likes to talk through cases out loud when he’s had a few drinks.”

“I remember,” Stiles said. He thought about when he was younger, doing his homework while his dad pored over case files. Sometimes he would mumble to himself as he worked through them.

“He says it doesn’t add up,” Melissa told him. “There’s too much evidence. That Derek is a good cop and he’d never be that sloppy.” Stiles snorted. “He was going over the file again tonight. Had it spread out all over the table. I had to pick it up so I could set out dinner. I dropped them on the desk in the study.” She stole a glance at Stiles who was smiling back over at her.

“You’re the best, Melissa,” Stiles said, leaning across the table and dropping a kiss to her cheek.

His dad was in the living room flipping through channels and Stiles spun around the corner and into the study. He stuffed the file under his shirt and slipped out the front door, climbing into the Jeep before he let out a deep breath. As soon as he opened the file someone pounded on the window and Stiles jumped. His head smacked into the roll bar before he turned to see Scott’s smiling face pressed up against the glass.

Stiles let out a breath and rolled the window down as he rubbed the back of his head. “What are you doing?” Scott smirked at him.

“Nothing,” Stiles groaned. “What are you doing?”

“You said I could hold it,” Scott reminded him.

“You know if I didn’t know what he was talking about I might think you were trying to steal my husband,” Allison said from behind Scott.

“He’s like my brother, Allison,” Stiles rolled his eyes.

“Come on, I want to hold it,” Scott said, ignoring the two of them, practically bouncing on the balls of his feet as Allison laughed.

“Really not helping, buddy,” Stiles said. He leaned over the passenger seat and pulling the gun out of the glove compartment. He turned to pass it to Scott and pulled it away at the last second. “Be careful. A gun is not a toy.”

“Duh.” Scott rolled his eyes and snatched it out of Stiles hand, spinning immediately and holding the gun out in a ridiculous ‘TV cop’ pose.

“Ok Stansky,” Stiles climbed out of the Jeep and clapped Scott on the shoulder. “Let’s take this to the backyard. People might get a bit antsy if they look out the window and see someone waving a gun around on the Sheriff’s front lawn.”

Scott nodded sagely and headed around the side of the house as Allison and Stiles followed. “Should he be playing with that?” Allison asked, her voice tight.

“He’s fine,” Stiles assured her. “The safety’s on and it’s not loaded.” They sat on the steps of the back porch and Stiles opened the file and flipped through it.

He bypassed the crime scene photos, not really wanting to see Laura like that. He preferred being able to remember her the way she’d been the last time he saw her. They’d only met a few times that summer, mainly in passing. But there was one night. Derek parents were away on a romantic weekend retreat. Derek and Stiles were taking advantage of having the house to themselves by watching a Master Chef marathon.

Laura stumbled in around midnight, a little more than tipsy, a little less than drunk, and plopped down between them. After five minutes she declared the show boring and the two of them extra boring then got up and walked away. A minute later she came back with a bottle, three shot glasses, and a deck of cards.

Laura was loud and open and free in a way that Derek hadn’t been, even back then. They sat on the floor in the dark, crowded around the coffee table and played one drunken game of Go Fish after another. That night Laura had shown Stiles a side of Derek he was pretty sure few people got to see. He smiled and laughed more freely that night than in all the time Stiles had known him. And when Laura had finally stumbled up to bed around 2 in the morning, he’d pressed Stiles down into the couch and kissed and touched more freely too.

If all Stiles knew about Derek had been that night, there would be nothing that could have convinced him Derek would be capable of killing his own sister.

“What’s it say?” Allison asked, pulling Stiles out of his head and bringing his attention back to the file.

“Ugh,” Stiles said, having a bit of trouble shaking off the memory of Derek’s soft touches. “They had a fight the week before she died. She was planning on selling the bank.” Stiles said surprised. “Derek didn’t want her to.”

“I can understand that,” Allison said. “Family business.”

Stiles smiled softly at Allison. She’d never wanted to go into the family business. In fact she wanted to stay as far away from weapons of any kind after her mother died when a gun misfired during a demonstration.

“He says she called him the day before she died. She found something in the bank's books but she wouldn’t say what. Just that she needed to find her Uncle’s old ledger.” Stiles read through the rest of the statement. “Derek’s pretty adamant that her death has something to do with whatever was going on at the bank. And if they find the ledger they can figure out what that is.”

“So what’s your next move?” Allison asked.

Stiles closed the file and took a deep breath. “The bank, I guess. If Derek thinks the answers are in the ledger, he’s looking for the ledger. Which means if I find the ledger, I can nail Derek.” Stiles paused and Allison raised her eyebrows at him. “Not nail Derek.”

“Ah huh,” Allison said skeptically.

“What?” Stiles protested. “He skipped bail and he’s worth fifty grand. That’s it.” Allison still looked skeptical. “What?”

“Nothing, I just can’t tell if you’re actually in this for the money or if that’s just a handy excuse to chase this guy down.” Allison told him.

“It’s the money Allison, definitely the money.” Stiles said.

“You keep telling yourself that.” Allison patted him on the back.

They looked out into the yard and watched as Scott ducked from tree to tree, humming the Mission Impossible theme song. Stiles leaned over, nudging Allison’s shoulder with his own. “You married him.”

“Yeah,” Allison sighed but her tone was fond. “I did.”

Scott dropped to the ground, rolling across the yard before popping back up. He aimed the gun at the bird house by the back fence before pulling the trigger. The bird house exploded into shards of wood splinters and Allison and Stiles were off the porch and at his side in seconds.

“I thought you said it wasn’t loaded,” Allison hissed at Stiles. She reached Scott first and started patting him down in a panic, arms, chest, neck to make sure he was ok.

“I also said the safety was on,” Stiles said a bit shaken up himself. He looked between the demolished bird house and Scott who seemed to be in shock.

“Did you guys hear that?” John called out from the back door and they all turned to him. Stiles grabbed the gun out of Scott’s hand and tucked it and the file into his waist band behind his back and covered it with his shirt.

“Hear what?” Stiles asked. He leaned his elbow on Scott’s shoulder, trying to act like they hadn’t just set off an illegal fire-arm in the Sheriff’s back yard.

John squinted at him. “I heard…I thought I heard a gunshot.”

Scott opened his mouth and Stiles dug his elbow into Scott’s collarbone to cut him off. “A gunshot!” Stiles did his best to convey shock and surprise. “Why-why-why would you think that?”

“Yeah,” Allison said, cutting her eyes to Stiles. “Who would be stupid enough to play with a loaded gun in the Sheriff’s neighborhood?”

“Are you sure you didn’t just fall asleep on the couch with Die Hard on?” Stiles offered.

“Die Hard’s not even on,” John said.

“Come on Dad,” Stiles scoffed. “Die Hard’s always on.”

John squinted at him and crossed his arms over his chest. “You’re being squirrely.”

“I don’t know the meaning of the word squirrely,” Stiles said and Scott swallowed a laugh so Stiles dug his elbow in again. This time Scott shoved him off and Stiles stumbled, catching himself just before face planting in the yard.

“You are the meaning of the word squirrely,” John huffed then turned and went back inside.

The three of them let out a collective sigh of relief then turned back to the ruins of the bird house and Stiles sighed. “Do you think he’s gonna notice?”

“Do you think there were birds in there?” Scott asked, horrified.

It took a while to convince Scott that the lack of feathers or blood meant the house was vacant when he destroyed it. They picked up as much of the wood as they could find and then went back inside. John had actually managed to find a channel that was playing Die Hard. Allison and Scott settled into the living room to watch but Stiles begged off.

Melissa dropped a kiss on his cheek and shoved a Tupperware with the rest of the tamales in his hands before he left, eager to get home. The weight of the file and the gun was a constant presence against his back; though he wasn’t exactly sure which one was heavier.

::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::

“Isaac?” Stiles asked.

The curly-haired blonde jumped at the sound of his name; and the files that he’d been juggling fell to the ground. Stiles stepped into Laura’s office and crouched down to help him pick them up. “Isaac Lahey,” Stiles said more confidently, holding out a stack of files.

“Yes, yeah sorry,” Isaac grabbed the files and finally looked up. “Stiles?”

“Hey man, I haven’t seen you for a while.” Stiles stood up and Isaac followed suit.

“Not since high school,” Isaac said. “Heard you went off to Berkley and got married.”

“I did,” Stiles said. “And now I’m back with a useless Art History degree and an even more useless ex-husband.”

“I’m sorry?” Isaac chuckled.

“Don’t be, he was a douche,” Stiles shrugged. “So you work here?”

“I’m…I was Laura’s assistant.” Isaac set the files down on the desk. “Before.”

“Yeah,” Stiles frowned. “That’s actually what I wanted to talk to you about. I’m looking for Derek. He skipped out on his bond.”

“I haven’t seen him since, well the fight,” Isaac said apologetically.

“So you were here then? When they fought?” Stiles asked and Isaac nodded. “What was it about?”

“Laura told him she wanted to sell the bank. He wasn’t happy. He kept talking about how their parents built this place and she couldn’t just throw it all away. She said he didn’t care so much about the family legacy when he decided to skip college.” Isaac said. “After that it kind of got personal so I went on my lunch break. When I got back Derek was gone and Laura was acting like nothing happened.”

“Laura told Derek that she’d found something in the books. Do you know what she was looking into?” Stiles asked.

Isaac shook his head. “Things were really busy with the sale. She had me pulling all sorts of paperwork for the audit.”

“Audit?” Stiles looked interested.

“Yeah, it’s a condition of the sale. They want a 30 year audit.” Isaac shrugged. “She’s had me down in the basement looking for the older files for the past month.”

“Did she ever ask you to look for a ledger?” Stiles asked. “An older one, her Uncle’s. It would have been from before the fire.”

“No,” Isaac shook his head slowly as he remembered something. “But someone else did ask me about Peter’s old ledger. After the funeral.”

“Derek?” Stiles perked up at this information.

“No, it was a member of the board.” Isaac squinted, thinking about it. “He came to me after the funeral, wanted to know if I knew whether Laura had found it, or why she was looking for it.”

“What did you tell him,” Stiles asked.

“The same thing I just told you; that Laura never even mentioned it to me,” Isaac shrugged.

“Do you remember the man’s name?” Stiles asked, and Isaac started to shake his head. “It’s important Isaac.”

“I don’t—Wait," Isaac walked over to Laura’s desk and sat down in front of the computer. “She had an appointment with him the day she died. He was holding up the Board’s approval of the sale. They argued about it.” Isaac smiled and turned the monitor towards Stiles, pointing at a slot in her calendar.

“Gerard Argent?” Stiles breathed out in surprise.

“Does that help?” Isaac asked hopefully.

“It does. Thanks,” Stiles nodded as he pulled out his phone and dialed a number. “Allison? Hey, I hate to ask you this, but do you think you can get me a meeting with your grandfather?”

::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::

“You must be Stiles.” Gerard opened the door before Stiles could even knock.

“Thanks for taking some time to meet with me, sir,” Stiles said holding out his hand. Gerard shook it, his eyes never leaving Stiles, his look calculating.

“My granddaughter - who hasn’t spoken to me in almost a year - calls and asks a favor. Who am I to refuse?” Gerard stepped aside to let Stiles in his office. “So what can I do for you?” He walked around behind his desk and sat, motioning for Stiles to do the same.

“I’m looking for Derek Hale,” Stiles said.

“Haven’t seen him,” Gerard said.

“Right, I actually wanted to talk to you about Laura,” Stiles said. “She told Derek she’d found something in the books at the bank.”

“Did she tell him what?” Gerard leaned back casually and Stiles narrowed his eyes. He knew when someone was trying to pretend they weren’t interested. He’d perfected that look after years of listening to his dad work through cases.

“No,” Stiles shook his head. “Just that she needed to find her Uncle Peter’s old ledger.” Stiles noticed Gerard’s fingers clench around the edge of the desk at the mention of the ledger. “Did she ever mention any of this to you?”

“Why would she have?” Gerard asked.

“You’re a member of the Board of Directors at the bank, aren’t you?” Stiles asked. “Laura’s assistant, Isaac, said you had a meeting with her the day she died. She didn’t mention it then?”

“That meeting was just to talk about the sale.” Gerard shook his head.

“Isaac said you argued,” Stiles offered. “That you were holding up the Boards approval of the sale.”

“Isaac said a lot of things,” Gerard leaned forward, reassessing Stiles. “Beacon Hills First National has been a family-owned bank for over fifty years. It’s a pillar of the community, one of the few locally owned businesses left in town. It’s an institution. And she wanted to bring in a faceless corporation in to take over. I was just trying to keep her from making a huge mistake.”

It all sounded good, fighting for the small businesses, for the community, but Stiles wasn’t buying it and Gerard could tell. “Look, I wish I could be more of a help but I’m late for another meeting.”

“Sure, of course, sorry to waste your time.” Stiles stood up and Gerard rounded the desk to walk him out of the office. Gerard locked the door behind them and headed for the door. “Just one more question. If she never mentioned the ledger to you, then why did you go to Isaac after the funeral and ask him about it?”

Gerard stopped walking and turned around. “You seem like a smart kid. Smart enough to know when things are better left alone. Laura’s death was a tragedy but it didn’t have anything to do with whatever she thinks she found at the bank. Derek killed her. His own sister. He obviously had more problems than anyone realized.”

“You almost sound like you care,” Stiles said trying to keep his tone light.

“It was a shame about his family. They were good people. And I can’t imagine what it would be like to lose everyone you loved.” He stared intently at Stiles. “Could you imagine that? To lose everyone you love in an unfortunate accident? What it would feel like? What it could do to a person?” Stiles didn’t respond, his jaw clenching at Gerard’s words. He was smart, but he wasn’t a kid, and he knew what Gerard was trying to do. He just didn’t know why. Yet.

“Like I said,” Stiles cleared his throat. “Sorry for wasting your time.” He had to clench his fists to keep his hands from shaking as Gerard walked away but no way was he going let Gerard know that he’d ruffled Stiles.

::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::

“Bounty Hunter!” Kate smiled as she walked into the room. Stiles took a deep breath to calm himself down as she made her way behind the front counter. “Come back to try something with a little more power?”

“Not today,” he tried to smile. “I’m on the job.”

“Right,” Kate nodded. “You catch Derek yet?”

“Not yet, but I’m getting there,” Stiles said.

“Did he really do it? Did he kill Laura?” Kate asked. The question was somber but the look in Kate’s eyes was bright and manic. She grabbed the large pendant hanging on her neck, a large medallion with a snarling wolf under a starburst surrounded by tiny arrows. She slid it back and forth on the chain and Stiles was momentarily mesmerized by the movement.

“It’s not really my job to decide that,” Stiles said. “I just bring them in.”

“I can see it, you know,” Kate said. “Him killing his sister.” Stiles opened his mouth to protest, possibly to defend him.

“Derek?” Stiles said instead, as he noticed the man himself slipping into the shop. Derek’s eyes went wide and he shook his head frantically before bringing a finger up to his lips, asking Stiles to be quiet. “I mean Derek? Really?” Stiles asked Kate.

There was a part of Stiles that wanted to call attention to him. Tell Kate. Call the cops. But another part of him knows that Gerard is hiding something and if anyone can figure out what it is, it was Derek. Plus there was no way he was gonna hand Derek over to someone else and miss out on his fifty grand. Stiles’ eyes darted between Derek and Kate rapidly and then he offered a little nod. Derek’s shoulders relaxed just a bit and he moved behind Kate until he got to Gerard’s office.

“Yeah, Derek,” Kate continued. “ He was always a little off. Even more so after the fire. It’s why I had to break up with him,” Kate shrugged.

“Wait, what?” Stiles finally turned his attention back to Kate. “You and Derek dated?

“Oh, yeah,” Kate smirked. Stiles glanced over her shoulder at Derek, who was now crouched in front of Gerard’s door, picking the lock. “Only a couple of months. But they were and intense couple of months, if you know what I mean?” He glanced back at Stiles, cutting his eyes between Stiles and Kate, the look on his face unreadable.

“Yeah,” Stiles said. The tightness in his chest was back and he had to look away as Derek slipped into Gerard’s office. “I know exactly what you mean.”

“Don’t get me wrong. The sex was fantastic. He really knows what he’s doing. But after the fire, he just stopped being fun.” Kate shrugged.

Stiles felt his jaw clench. He glanced over Kate’s shoulder and watched Derek through the large glass window. He was digging through Gerard’s desk, checking every book on his shelf, searching for anything that might tell him what happened to Laura. Of course he stopped being fun; he’d just lost his entire family in one fell swoop. But Stiles had to push down his anger when Kate started to turn toward the office.

“So was this what you meant when said something with a little more power?” Stiles moved down the display case and Kate followed. He nodded to a display of crossbows hanging on the wall behind the desk.

“You like?” Kate asked, looking over them before grabbing one and pulling it down. “It’s a Barnett Ghost 410. It’s got a Carbon Cross three-arrow quiver, a rope cocking device and a paper-sighted illuminated scope.” She handed it to Stiles and he grabbed it, nodding as if any of those words meant something to him. “Be careful with that. You break it, you buy it.”

“You do a lot of hunting?” Kate asked as he pretended to inspect it.

“Not really. Any. At all,” Stiles admitted, glancing over her shoulder as Gerard’s office door opened and Derek slipped out. “But this is my weapon of choice in the event of a zombie apocalypse.”

Derek was almost to the door when Kate started to turn. There’s no way she wouldn’t see him so Stiles did the only thing he could do.

“Is this thing just point and shoot?” Stiles asked, lifting the crossbow.

“No, wait—“ Just as he pulled the trigger Kate reached out and grabbed his elbow, forcing his shot wide. Kate, Derek, and Stiles were all frozen in shock as the arrow slammed into the panoramic glass window that separated the shop from the shooting range. The glass shattered on impact, exploding inward. Everyone in the shooting range turned, their weapons already drawn, and aimed them at Stiles.

He dropped the cross bow immediately and lifted his hands in the air. He turned to Kate who was frozen, staring at the spot where the glass used to be. Stiles glanced over her shoulder and Derek was still frozen in place too. Stiles managed to catch his eye and jerked his head to the door. Derek snapped out of his trance and nodded, slipping out of the door before anyone noticed he was there. Not that anyone would have noticed much of anything else but the pile of broken glass on the floor.

“I know,” Stiles breathed out as Kate turned her gaze on him. “I break it, I buy it.”

:::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::

Stiles eventually managed to get out of there almost an hour later, after assuring Kate and Allison’s dad that he would be more than happy to pay for the new glass, and the instillation fee, and whatever extra charges would be incurred considering it would have to be a rush job.

He was barely two feet out the door when some grabbed him by the elbow and pulled him into the alley beside the building. “Are you insane?” Derek asked shoving him against the wall.

“A thank you would be nice.” Stiles said, pushing Derek away and straightening up.

“For what? Being a menace to yourself and others?” Derek asked, raising his eyebrows.

“How about saving your ass?” Stiles slapped Derek’s chest with the back of his hand.

“I had it under control,” Derek growled.

“You broke into what’s essentially an armory. In broad daylight. With what looked like absolutely no plan.” Stiles said. “Yeah you had it totally under control.”

“Fine. But instead of calling the cops, you created a distraction to help me.” Derek smirked.

“If I’d called the cops I’d be out fifty grand right now.”

“You’re still out fifty grand.” Derek pointed out; raising his hands to indicate there weren’t any cuffs on him yet. Stiles reached for his back pocket and groaned when he realized his cuffs were in the car.

“What were you doing in there?” Stiles asked. “Looking for the ledger?”

“How do you know about the ledger?” Derek narrowed his eyes.

“I know things,” Stiles said. “What do you think’s in the ledger.”

“Stay out of this, Stiles,” Derek warned. “I mean it.”

“I’m already in this. So come on, you gotta give me something.” Stiles begged.

“Oh, I’ll give you something,” Derek stepped forward with a leer.

“Don’t flatter yourself,” Stiles pushed him away again, this time he couldn’t help the smile on his face. “Come on. You owe me.”

“Fine,” Derek crossed his arms over his chest. “You get one question.”

Stiles opened his mouth then immediately closed it, actually taking the time to think about what he wanted to ask. After a minute he looked at Derek. “What makes you think Gerard has it?”

“He came to me, after I got out on bail. He asked if I knew what Laura had found and what she’d told me. He tried to play it off as him just being a concerned board member but…” Derek shook his head. “I just know he’s involved in this.”

“How?”

“Gut instinct,” Derek admitted.

“That’s good enough for me,” Stiles nodded and turned to walk away.

“You didn’t ask if I was innocent,” Derek said.

“Huh?” Stiles turned back around.

“I gave you one question and you didn’t ask if I did it.” Derek swallowed hard. “If I killed Laura.”

“I didn’t have to,” Stiles shrugged.

Derek let out a breath and shook his head. “But you’re still gonna come after me?”

“Hey, I get paid whether you’re guilty or innocent.” Stiles shrugged and turned back to the parking lot.

“Catch me if you can,” Derek called after him.

“Oh, I think I can,” Stiles smirked, turning around again, but Derek was already gone.

::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::

“You were quiet at dinner.” Stiles jumped at the sound of his dad’s voice and looked over to see him leaning against the front door. He moved to hide Derek’s file and John scoffed. “Come on, I knew you had that when you were acting all squirrely in the back yard the other day.” John walked over and sat down next to Stiles on the bench.

“I wasn’t acting squirrely,” Stiles protested half heartedly.

John grabbed the file from Stiles and flipped it open. “I know you think I didn’t know about it, back then. But I did.”

“Know what?” Stiles asked.

“About your thing,” John looked over at Stiles. “With Derek.”

“It was high school, dad. I had a lot of things.” Stiles shrugged.

“No, you didn’t.” John said.

“No,” Stiles sighed. “I didn’t. But that was a long time ago and it has nothing to do with this.”

“Keep telling yourself that, kid,” John clapped him on the back. “You don’t even believe he did it but you’re still gonna go after him.”

“Melissa said you don’t think he did it either,” Stiles pointed out. “But you still arrested him.”

“I had to,” John said, and he sounded like he really did feel bad about it. “There was a lot of evidence.”

“Yeah well, fifty grand is a lot of money. It could change my life.” Stiles said.

They sat in silence with each other for a while. “He’s a good cop.”

“Yeah, I still don’t get how that happened.” Stiles turned to his dad.

The Sheriff snorted but Stiles still looked confused. “You really don’t know?”

“Know what?”

“When he first came to talk to me about joining the force, it was obvious he had something to prove. I just assumed it was about his parents.” John said.

“That makes sense,” Stiles nodded. “They were not happy when he decided he wasn’t going into the family business.”

“Except he graduated top of his class from the Academy and I got a chance to talk to them at the ceremony. I don’t think two parents could have been more proud of their kid then they were. Only he just kept pushing. And the more he pushed, the more it became apparent he wasn’t doing it just for them.” John glanced at Stiles.

“Then who?” Stiles frowned and John just raised an eyebrow. “Me?” Stiles voice practically cracked it went so high. “No, nope, that’s ridiculous. He’s the one who ended things.”

“He asked about you all the time: how you liked Berkley, if you were doing well in your classes, if you were seeing anyone.” The Sheriff chuckled. “I finally told him that if he wanted to know how you were he’d have to ask you himself. The boy was totally gone on you.”

“Yeah he was so gone he ignored all my calls and text messages and emails and when I came home for Thanksgiving break I see him making out with some random woman in an alley.” Stiles snorted and John frowned, confused.

“Random women in an—“ the confusion cleared from John’s face. “Right before Thanksgiving, he got pulled into a huge sting operation for Vice. Prostitution ring.”

“So the woman in the alley…” Stiles trailed off as he realized what happened.

“Wait,” The sheriff looked over at Stiles, comprehension drawing on his face. “Is that why you hit him with your car?”

“It was an accident,” Stiles protested on reflex. He was 50% sure of that.

John grabbed the file and stood up, shaking it in Stiles’ face. “You owe me cannoli the next time you come to dinner for this.”

::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::

Stiles stared at the coffee pot, willing for it to percolate faster. He hadn’t slept well the night before, obsessing over the implications of what his dad told him. And he didn’t have time for that. Didn’t have time to think about how he might have missed his chance with Derek.

Someone pounding on the door stopped him from going too far down the rabbit hole. He filled his mug with whatever was in the carafe and walked over to the door. Before he could answer it a piece of paper was slipped under the door and he bent down to pick it up. It was an eviction notice.

“Perfect,” Stiles said as his phone rang. He grabbed it off the table by the door and answered without checking the caller ID. “If this is a bill collector you’re gonna have to get in line.”

“You could learn a lesson from Laura Hale,” a distorted voice said. Stiles froze and pulled the phone away, seeing the number was blocked.

“Who is this?” Stiles asked. “How did you get this number?”

“She wouldn’t stop asking questions and we know where that got her,” the voice said. “Back off.”

::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::

“It means you’re getting close to something,” Erica told him. She double checked the clip before reloading her gun and holstering it. “It’s a good sign.”

“Well, whoever it is, they obviously don’t know me,” Stiles pushed off of the side her car and headed up the steps, Erica right behind him. “I mean, telling me to stop asking question is just gonna make me ask more.”

“Is there anything that could make you stop asking questions?” Erica scoffed. They stopped in front of the door to Derek’s loft and Erica crouched down, pulling a set of lock picking tools out of her back pocket.

Stiles tilted his head and though about it. “Fifty grand.” He watched as Erica expertly manipulated Derek’s lock. “Where do you learn how to do that?”

“You pick it up,” Erica shrugged. “Around.”

“Will you teach me?” Stiles crouched down next to her. He squinted, trying to see what exactly it was that she was doing.

“I don’t know,” Erica glanced over at him. “I’m not sure I want you to have that kind of knowledge.” Stiles was about to protest that he’d only use his powers for good, and not evil, when she let out a triumphant noise and pushed the door open.

They both stood up and Erica stepped back to let Stiles into the loft. “You’re not coming in?” he asked.

“Someone’s gotta watch your back,” Erica said, leaning against the wall, her eyes darting between the stairwell and the elevator.

Stiles walked inside and let out a deep breath. The loft was huge but sparsely furnished. Derek’s bed was tucked away in the corner, unmade, sheets rumpled. It looked soft and inviting and Stiles had to turn away when the tightness in his chest came back. There was a blue velvet couch in the middle of the room and messy desk in front of a huge wall of windows.

Stiles figured that would be the best place to start and made his way across the room. It was mainly bills, some paperwork from the long term facility where his uncle was living, and a few case files.

Stiles grabbed the files flipped through them. They were all robbery cases and at first glance, unrelated. They happened in different parts of town. The victims were all different: two families, one single girl, and one group of college kids. All four had different types of entry: two had their locks picked, one through a broken window, and one had the door kicked in.

Only two of the cases were Derek’s, but it looked like he’d found a connection anyway. Stiles saw that in each file he’d noted all four of the houses were monitored by the same alarm company. And, based on Derek’s notes in the margins, he’d made some inquires and found out they were all installed by the same technician.

Stiles sighed and tossed the files back on the desk. They didn’t tell him anything, except that Derek was a good cop. Which everyone had been trying to tell Stiles ever since he took this job. He wasn’t sure exactly what he’d hoped to find. A big map with a giant arrow that said Secret Hideout would have been helpful.

Stiles let out a breath and turned around to see the row of bookshelves along the back wall. Without any permission from his brain, his feet made their way over, dragging Stiles along after them like a reluctant toddler being pulled by one of those kiddie leashes. He stopped in front of the first shelf and reached out, his fingers dragging over the spines, his mind wandering back to the first time that he’d seen Derek’s room.

They’d crashed through the door, hands and mouths frantically exploring each other. Stiles wasn’t even sure how they made it to the bed, but he remembered being lowered onto the mattress before Derek’s body covered his. It wasn’t until much later, the both of them breathless and sated, Stiles sprawled across Derek’s sweat slick chest as Derek traced nonsense into Stiles skin, did he even bother to look around. His room was cleaner than Stiles expected of a teenage boy, cleaner than Stiles’ own for sure. There was basketball gear and baseball gear piled in the corner, a dresser and a desk. But it was the wall to wall, floor to ceiling bookshelves that caught Stiles attention.

He’d pulled himself up, crawled off the bed and across the room to inspect them. The mattress creaked behind him and he looked over his shoulder to see Derek watching him with a slightly guarded expression, as if waiting to see what Stiles would say. He just turned back around and finished his perusal. He’d hum every now and then when his eyes landed on something familiar, smile when he noticed something unexpected. The entire last section was dedicated to nothing but comic books.

“Marry me,” Stiles said before he could stop himself. He felt his cheeks heat up in embarrassment and he knew his neck was bright red. But by the amused huff Derek let out, it was somehow the right thing to say.

“Maybe we should start with dinner,” Derek offered and Stiles spun around at that, his eyebrows rising up to meet his hairline.

“Like a date?”

“Yeah like a date.”

“You don’t date,” Stiles protested.

“I date,” Derek argued back.

“Tell me the last date you went on,” Stiles crossed his arms over his chest. It probably would have been a more intimidating stance if he’d had clothes on. “And hanging out in a group doesn’t count. Neither does hooking up.” Derek’s mouth camped shut and he looked almost disgruntled. After a minute of what looked like a very intense internal debate Derek crawled off the bed and crowded Stiles up against the shelves.

“There’s a first time for everything,” he offered softly, his lips ghosting over Stiles’. Stiles could hear the slightest tremble in his voice and realized that he was actually nervous about what the answer would be.

“And you want that first time to be with me?” Stiles slid his nose across Derek’s cheek, dragged his lips around the curve of Derek’s jaw before sucking a kiss into the tender spot behind Derek’s ear.

“Yeah,” Derek breathed out, melting into Stiles.

Stiles pulled back so he could look Derek in the eye and smiled. “Yeah, ok.”

::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::

Stiles moved to walk away when a specific book caught his eye and he froze. He stepped closer to the shelf and pulled the book down, staring at the cover: 1001 Nights.

He let out a strangled laugh before he could stop himself. He remembered that book specifically. It had been a bad day, the anniversary of his mom’s death. He’d gone straight to Derek’s house from the cemetery, unable to bear the thought of going back to an empty house again that year. Derek hadn’t said anything, hadn’t asked him any questions, just pulled Stiles up to his room and laid him down on the bed before grabbing the book from the shelf and crawling in after him. He’d said his mom used to read it to him when he was sick or upset and then he started to read it to Stiles.

Derek read it for hours, until he was practically hoarse. Stiles’ head rested on his chest, the rumble of every word vibrating through him, lulling him to sleep. He’d woken up a few hours later, needing to get home before his dad’s shift ended. So he extracted himself from the tangle of limbs they’d found themselves in and grabbed a scrap of paper off Derek’s desk. He jotted down a quick note and slipped it in the between the pages of the book where Derek had left off then set the book on the bedside table before leaving.

They never talked about that night. It never seemed like the right time. Stiles didn’t even know how the book ended. He flipped it open and a scrap of paper fluttered to the ground. Stiles swallowed hard before bending over to pick it up. He stared confused at the familiar handwriting on the paper, his handwriting on the paper.

“You ok in there?” Erica called out from the doorway. Stiles stuffed the scrap of paper back in the book and slammed it shut, shoving it back on the shelf.

“Yeah,” Stiles called out. He hurried to the door, really needing to be somewhere else. He told himself that it didn’t mean anything, that people used random scraps of paper as bookmarks all the time.

Erica pushed off the wall when he stepped into the hall and closed the door behind him. “Find anything?”

“Nothing useful,” Stiles shook his head. Erica cursed under her breath as they made their way down the stairs and into the parking lot. They headed over to his Jeep and Erica looked at it critically.

“It’s not exactly inconspicuous, is it?” She asked. “I mean, everyone in town knows it’s yours.”

“I know,” Stiles smirked. He pulled the keys he’d grabbed off of Derek’s desk out of his pocket and waved them around.

“Nice. Let’s see what you got.” She grabbed the keys out of his hands and pushed the unlock button. A black Camaro in the back corner beeped once and they both turned to each other.

“No way.” Stiles snatched the keys back and walked over to the car, his fingers dancing along the immaculately clean paint job.

“Oh yeah,” Erica laughed. “This is much better.”

“Shh,” Stiles said. He stroked the hood of the car and draped himself over it. “Don’t worry baby, she doesn’t mean it.”

“You two need to be alone?” Erica asked.

“Maybe later,” Stiles sighed. He reluctantly pulled himself away.

“You’re ridiculous, Stilinski.” Erica shook her head as he got in the car and started it up.

::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::

Danny smiled when Stiles walked in the door. “Who’s Camaro?”

“Derek’s,” Stiles twirled the keys around his finger and winked.

“No shit,” Danny sat up straighter. “You have a death wish?”

“I have a plan,” Stiles said and Danny narrowed his gaze.

“Same difference.”

“In the meantime,” Stiles said, slapping the eviction notice down on Danny’s desk. “I’m getting nowhere with Derek and I need some cash. Fast.”

“You’re in luck.” Danny spun his chair around and grabbed a file, passing it to Stiles. “Got one that’s perfect for you.”

Stiles looked at the name on the file then back at Danny. “Coach Finstock got arrested? What for?”

“Open the file,” Danny smirked.

Stiles opened the file then immediately slammed it shut. “Oh—that’s an image I’m never gonna get out of my head.”

“All you gotta do is get him down to the station so he can re-schedule his hearing and get bonded out again.” Danny told him and Stiles sighed, opening the file again.

“That sounds easy enough.”

::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::

“Coach!” Stiles banged on the door. “Come on, open up!”

The door swung open and Stiles immediately averted his gaze. The coach was standing in front of him, bare ass naked, everything just swinging in the breeze. “Oh-Jeez.”

“Bilinski?” Finstock squinted at Stiles confused. “Didn’t you graduate like ten years ago?”

“I uh…it’s, Stilinski, by the way,” Stiles lifted up a hand to shield his eyes. “You missed your court date. I’m here to bring you in to reschedule.”

“ Yeah, whatever,” Finstock shrugged and took a step forward.

Stiles threw out an arm to stop him, his hand slapping against the Coach’s naked chest. “You want to maybe get dressed first?”

Finstock shrugged. “Not really.”

Stiles opened his mouth to insist then just deflated. “Fair enough.” He turned and motioned for the Coach to follow him.

“Nice ride,” Finstock whistled as Stiles attempted to get him in the Camaro without touching him, or looking at him. Stiles walked around to the other side and got in. He grabbed his phone and dialed the station as Finstock settled into the seat beside him, wriggling around to get comfortable. “Do you have to, rub yourself all—no, you know what, just keep doing what you’re doing.” Finstock winked at him and Stiles felt himself shudder. He rolled down the window to get a bit of extra air as someone picked up on the other end.

“Yeah, I got an FTA, requesting aid with the transfer of custody. ETA ten minutes.” Stiles started the car and pulled out of the parking lot. “Ok, thanks.” He hung up the phone and headed for the station.

“It shouldn’t take too long,” Stiles assured Finstock as he turned onto Main Street. “You can reschedule your court date and get bonded out again.”

“This whole thing is bogus, you know,” Finstock said. “I mean, since when is it illegal for a man to go au naturale in his own home?”

“You weren’t in your own home,” Stiles pointed out. “You were in a grocery store.”

Finstock shrugged. “Yeah well, sometimes it’s hard to remember.”

“That you’re naked?” Stiles asked, pulling to a stop at the red light.

“When you wear clothes all day, do you really think about the fact that you’re wearing clothes?” Finstock asked and Stiles opened his mouth then closed it again.

“I don’t think that’s really the same thing,” Stiles protested. “I mean, I don’t think I’d ever get in the shower fully clothed cause I just forgot I was wearing them?”

A horn honked behind Stiles and he looked up. “Light’s still red, asshole – where do you want me to go?” Stiles glanced in his rearview mirror and saw Derek slamming the door of a tan van a few cars behind him and stalking right for them.

“Oh, shit,” Stiles scrambled for the window button.

“This is my car,” Derek growled, grabbing on the edge of the window. “Are you nuts?”

“Why don’t you call the cops?” Stiles smirked as he rolled up the window. Derek held on as long as he could but eventually pulled away when he realized if he didn’t Stiles apparently had no problem trapping his hands in the window.

“This is my car,” Derek said again.

“It’s mine now,” Stiles said and Derek’s eyes flicked to the passenger seat.

“Coach?” Derek asked confused then his eyes widened. “Is he…is he naked?” Derek snapped his eyes back to Stiles who was trying not to laugh. “He better be wearing pants. You better be wearing pants!” Derek screamed.

“Lighten up son, fresh air is good for the boys,” Finstock said and Stiles wasn’t even trying to hold in his laughter anymore as Derek pounded on the window again.

“We’re headed to the police station now so if you wanted to follow us there, you could file a report and make my job a lot easier.” Stiles offered.

“Open the door,” Derek said. He grabbed for the door handle and pulled hard.

“I gotta go,” Stiles nodded at the streetlight which was green now. “It was great to see you though.”

“Open the door, Stiles,” Derek pulled at the handle even harder, but his fingers slipped off as Stiles drove away. Stiles watched in the rearview mirror as Derek cursed and kicked the light post. Then he stumbled back and cursed more as he hopped around on one foot.

When Stiles pulled into the loading zone at the station his dad was waiting outside. “You got Derek?” he asked when Stiles got out of the car, the shock evident in his voice.

“Not exactly,” Stiles huffed and John opened the passenger side door.

“Oh for—“ John turned his head away then glared at Stiles. “You could have warned me.” John motioned for a deputy to come get Finstock.

“And you could have sounded just a little bit less surprised when you thought I had Derek in here,” Stiles smirked.

“Speaking of Derek,” John looked pointedly at the car as he filled in the paperwork.

“I’m just borrowing it,” Stiles promised.

“Here,” John tore off the paper and handed it to Stiles. “Give this to Jackson; he’ll cut you a check.”

“Thanks,” Stiles slipped the receipt in his back pocket and walked back to the car.

“Don’t forget – you owe me cannoli. Dinner tonight.” Stiles waved him off as he pulled out his phone and sent a text to Erica before driving off.

::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::

“Here,” Erica said, pushing a familiar pink box across the table at Stiles as she slid into the booth opposite him. “You want to tell me why you can’t buy your own damn cannoli?”

“No,” Stiles shook his head. “But look at this,” he held up the check from Jackson for her to say. “My very first FTA.”

“Nice,” Erica smiled.

“You want something? I’m buying. But like, coffee, cause this is basically gonna cover just enough of my rent to get my landlord off my back. And pay for the cannoli.”

“Nah, the cannoli's on me.” Erica assured him. “You know, it’s gonna be harder to catch Hale.”

“Yeah I know,” Stiles groaned. “You couldn’t let me ride the high a while longer?”

“Sorry,” Erica laughed. “What is it with you and Hale anyway?” She asked as the waitress came up to refill Stiles’ coffee.

“Nothing,” Stiles shrugged his shoulder. “I sold him a cannoli in high school.”

The waitress looked down at Stiles and shook her head. “Sweetie, half of the people at Beacon Hills High sold Derek Hale their cannoli in high school.” She offered him a sad smile before walking away.

“You’re riding around town in his car hunting him down. Seems like a lot of trouble to go through for nothing.” Stiles glared at her. “Sold him a cannoli huh?” Erica looked over at the pink box.

“Shut up,” Stiles groaned and grabbed the box. “They’re not even for me.”

“Ah huh,” Erica smiled. Her phone beeped and she looked down at it. “Gotta go – duty calls.” She climbed out of the booth then stopped and looked down. Opening the pink box, she grabbed one of the cannoli and took a bite while smirking at Stiles. “For the road.”

“I hate you,” Stiles called after her and she laughed. She stopped at the door and turned back to him.

“You know he’s gonna try and steal his car back right?” Erica told him.

“I’m counting on it,” Stiles nodded.

::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::

Stiles pulled the Camaro into the parking lot of his complex, making sure to park it in plain view from the street. He popped the hood, humming to himself as he located the master fuse and pulled it out, a trick his dad taught him a long time ago. Stiles closed the hood and walked over to the entry way, making sure he had a clean line of sight to the Camaro before settling in for a wait.

An hour later his ass was asleep, he was bored out of his mind and it had just started to rain. Stiles pulled the hoodie up on his head and huddled tighter in on himself. His teeth had just started to chatter when his phone beeped. He pulled it out of his pocket with shaky hands and laughed at the text his dad sent.

Thanks for the cannoli. You still owe me a birdhouse.

He put the phone back in his pocket and pulled the hoodie tighter around him. He was about ready to give up and call it a night when a familiar car pulled up beside the Camaro. Boyd got out and Stiles groaned. Of course Derek wouldn’t have come himself. Stiles suddenly felt like an idiot for sitting out there so long.

When the Camaro didn’t start, Boyd got back in his car and left and Stiles went inside to his apartment. He stopped by his mailbox on the way up, nothing but bills, but Stiles smiled as he pulled the fuse out of his pocket and dropped it inside, locking the box back up. He was shivering as he stripped out of his wet clothes and stepped under a hot shower.

Stiles was just hitting his stride, belting out the second verse of Katie Perry’s Roar when the shower curtain was yanked off the rod. Stiles stumbled back, his feet slipping on the slick tub floor and he was two seconds away from becoming one of the 15,000 people who die a year from falling in the tub. A hand reached out and grabbed his arm, keeping him on his feet and Stiles turned, blinking through the water still dripping on his face.

“Derek?” Stiles asked confused. He felt a chill on his wrist as Derek slapped a cuff on him, pulling his arm above his head and clasping the other cuff on the shower rod.

“Keys. Master fuse. Give them to me now.” Derek demanded.

“Give me a towel,” Stiles pleaded.

“No,” Derek shook his head and crossed his arms over his shoulder.

“If you wanted to see me naked you should have just asked.” Stiles wiggled his eyebrows and Derek looked him up and down.

“Don’t flatter yourself.” Derek scoffed, throwing Stiles’ words from the day before back at him before walking away into Stiles’ apartment.

Stiles turned away, his cheeks flushing. He frowned when he got a better look at the handcuffs. “These are mine,” he yelled into the apartment. “My old ones.”

“Fond them in your bedside drawer,” Derek called back. “Just like old times.”

“I don’t have a key for these anymore,” Stiles told him, wincing as he heard what sounded like his silverware drawer being dumped onto his kitchen floor. He stretched for the knob to turn the water off but he couldn’t quite reach it.

“You know what I don’t get?” Derek asked him, from the sound of it, he was digging through Stiles’ pantry now. “How the hell a person eats like you do and looks like you look.”

“Why don’t you just come out and say it Derek?” Stiles smiled. He reached out as far as he could go and managed to move the shower head just enough so it wasn’t pouring on his face anymore.

“Say what?” Derek walked into the hallway holding an industrial size tub of cheese balls.

“You look great Stiles!” Stiles said. “Why, thank you, Derek.”

Derek glared and turned the tub over, emptying the cheese balls onto the carpet. “Not the cheese balls, Derek!” Stiles protested.

Derek looked into the now empty container then tossed it over his head. “No keys in there.” He walked back to the kitchen.

“Don’t even think about touching my Reeses!” Stiles yelled after him.

Derek walked back into the bathroom a minute later, an open bag of Reeses in his hand. He dug a few out and popped them into his mouth before pouring the rest of them out into the toilet. He looked up at Stiles and flushed.

“That was unca—“ Stiles’ voice trailed off into a high pitched scream as the water turned from luke-warm to ice cold. When he could breathe again he glared at Derek. “Uncalled for.”

Derek stepped closer, reaching past him to turn off the water then handed him the towel off the radiator. “Why did you steal my car?” Derek asked. Stiles wrapped the towel around himself as best he could with one hand.

“To draw you out,” He smirked. “And it worked.”

“You’re naked and shivering in a tub. You are not capable of drawing me out. Remember that.” Derek said as Stiles teeth started to clatter. “You know what? Keep the car.” Derek looked Stiles up and down. “But I’m taking the towel.” He reached out and grabbed the towel, yanking it off Stiles’ hips. Derek gave him one last look before he walked away, tossing the towel over his shoulder when he was out of the bathroom.

“You look great by the way,” Derek called on his way out and Stiles huffed.

His hand was starting to fall asleep and he was freezing. If he called his dad…yeah no way he was gonna call his dad. Scott would never let him live it down. There was only one person he could call who he knew would be able to get him out and not rib him about it. Too hard.

His phone was on the edge of the sink and stretching as far as he could, he managed to grip the bottom corner and pull. The phone fell into the sink and it was easy to grab it from there. He dialed a number and waited.

Erica picked up on the second ring. “Are you dying?”

“Not at the moment,” Stiles said.

“I’m hanging up,” Erica warned him.

“I’m naked,” Stiles blurted out. It was almost too quiet, and for a second Stiles thought maybe she actually hung up.

“I’m listening.”

::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::

“How did he get in?” Stiles asked. He clutched the towel that Erica had so graciously given him to his hips as she picked the lock on the cuffs.

“He picked the lock,” Erica shrugged.

“Of course he did,” Stiles sighed. Erica managed to unlock the cuffs and Stiles’s arm dropped to his side free.

“I’ll send a guy over in the morning to change the locks,” Erica offered and Stiles clambered out of the shower.

“And what do I do until then? I’ve got crazy people giving me threatening phone calls.” Stiles pointed out.

“You also have a gun you’re more than capable of using,” Erica said.

“Oh,” Stiles paused. “Yeah.”

Erica narrowed her eyes at him and crossed her arms over her chest. “You do still have the gun right?”

“I may or may not have left it in the Jeep,” Stiles bit his lip.

“The Jeep that’s still parked outside Derek’s loft?” Erica raised an eyebrow.

“That’s the one,” Stiles smiled.

“How the hell are you still alive?” Erica grumbled under her breath.

“Luck, mostly,” Stiles shrugged.

Erica rolled her eyes and held out her hands. “Give me your keys. I’ll go get the Jeep and drop it off.”

“I owe you Erica, seriously.” Stiles grabbed the keys to the Jeep from the bowl by the door and tossed them to her.

“I’m good,” Erica assured him. “Tonight you answered a question that sixteen year old me wasted half of high school wondering.”

“Yeah?” Stiles asked cautiously. “What’s that?”

“If the freckles are everywhere.” Erica glanced at his now towel covered crotch and Stiles hand tightened on the towel.

“Sixteen year old you wondered about my dick?” Stiles gaped at her.

“Don’t flatter yourself. Sixteen year old me thought about a lot of dicks.” Erica told him and walked to the door.

“You know, two people have seen me naked today and both of them had told me not to flatter myself. A guy’s gonna get a complex.” Stiles said when Erica opened the door. He glanced over her shoulder and saw Mrs. Meyers from across the hall look from Stiles to Erica to Stiles’ towel. “Good evening Mrs. Meyers.” She narrowed her eyes at him and went back in her apartment. Erica and Stiles could hear the deadbolt slide into place.

“Trust me. You’ve got nothing to worry about.” Erica winked at him and walked away.

::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::

“Isaac?” Stiles knocked on the door frame of Laura’s office. “You got a second?”

“I actually have more than that today.” Isaac looked up. “Come on in. I’m just packing up Laura’s personal things.”

“Did you find the ledger in any of that?” Stiles nodded to the stack of already packed boxes in the corner.

“No. Just some pictures. Knick knacks. Shoes. She left a lot of shoes here.” Isaac shook his head.

“Damn,” Stiles groaned. He dropped into the chair across from the desk.

“You know,” Isaac paused and looked over at Stiles. “It might be at her apartment. She took a lot of stuff home with her. Stuff I actually, really need to get back I just….I haven’t been able to bring myself to go over there yet.”

Stiles sat up straighter. “I’ll go get them for you if you want.” Stiles offered. “I can look for the ledger while I’m there.”

“You would do that?” Isaac peered over at him hopefully. “’Cause that would be great.”

“Sure,” Stiles smiled.

Isaac pulled a set of keys out of his pocket and took one off of the ring. He dropped it in Stiles hand and let out a relieved breath. “Thanks a lot.”

::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::

There was police tape across the door of Laura’s apartment. He unlocked the door with the key Isaac gave him and pushed it open. Stiles only hesitated a second before stepping inside.

The place was trashed. The furniture was overturned; drawers had been emptied out onto the floor. He took a deep breath and started to look through the mess, but he was pretty sure it was a lost cause. Stiles was willing to bet that if the ledger had ever been there, it wasn’t anymore.

He did manage to find the files Isaac needed, scattered all over the floor of her bedroom. He gathered them up and flipped through them. It was all just a bunch of random numbers as far as Stiles could tell, but Laura had made notes in the margins, in some form of shorthand he didn’t understand, so obviously it meant something to her.

He made a note to copy all of the files before giving them back to Isaac. Lydia could probably figure out what it all meant.

Stiles found an empty bankers box in the living room and piled all the files in it to take with him. He stepped out into the hallway, the box under his arm and came face to face with an older woman. She had a bat in her hand, and she was glaring at him.

“Put it back or I call the cops,” she threatened, lifting the baseball bat, and slapping it in the palm of her hand.

“Look,” Stiles said slowly. “I don’t know what you think is going on here, but I’m pretty sure you have the wrong idea.”

“I think you’re stealing from a dead girl,” the woman said, narrowing her eyes.

“No!” Stiles dropped the box to the floor and opened it. “It’s files, just files. Her assistant asked me to come pick them up for him.” Stiles dug in his pocket and pulled the key out, brandishing it in front of him like a shield. “I have a key!” The woman studied him for a minute longer then lowered the bat.

“They say her brother killed her,” The woman frowned.

“That’s what they say,” Stiles stood and picked up the box. “What do you think?”

“He used to come see her a lot. He’d help me carry my groceries up the stairs sometimes. Once he fixed my garbage disposal when the super was dragging his feet. He seemed nice enough.” She shrugged. “Then again, they always do.”

“Was he the one who broke in?” Stiles asked.

“I wasn’t here,” She shook her head, and then nodded across the hall. “Greenburg was though.”

“Thanks,” Stiles said. He walked over to the door across the hall and set the files on the ground so he could knock. It was opened, by a kid who couldn’t have been older than 20. He was still in his boxers, his hair was sticking up all over the place, and he stared out at Stiles through half hooded eyes. He looked as if he’d just woken up, and from the smell wafting out into the hallway, Stiles was betting he’d interrupted the guy mid wake and bake.

“Greenburg? I’m Stiles. I’m a bounty hunter looking for Derek Hale.” Stiles told him.

“No shit!” the guy’s eyes went wide. “A real live bounty hunter?”

“No shit,” Stiles nodded.

“That’s fucking awesome, man. Hard core.” Greenburg nodded sagely.

“Yeah. Totally hard core.” Stiles said. “I wanted to talk to you about Laura. Your neighbor.”

“She was awesome,” Greenburg said. “Never once called the cops on me. Unlike some neighbors,” he called over Stiles shoulder, glaring at the old lady who was still standing behind Stiles with the baseball bat. He looked back at Stiles and narrowed his eyes. “You’re not a cop are you?”

“No.” Stiles said slowly. “I’m a bounty hunter.”

“Cause you have to tell me if you’re a cop if I ask,” Greenburg told him.

“Actually that’s not true,” Stiles said. “Common misconception.”

“Really?” Greenburg asked, eyes wide. Stiles nodded. “Bummer.”

“Yeah,” Stiles agreed. “So, you were here the day Laura’s apartment was broken into, right?”

Greenburg nodded. “It was around like four. I remember ‘cause I’d just woken up.”

“Did you see who broke in?” Stiles asked hopefully.

“Oh yeah, totally.” Greenburg smiled. “It was the same guy she had that big fight with the day she died.”

Stiles dug his phone out of his pocket and pulled up a picture of Derek. “This guy?”

Greenburg looked down at the phone and shook his head. “The brother? No way. He’s got a key; he uses it to feed her cat sometimes. Why would he break in? It was the dude with half a face.”

“The dude with half a face?” Stiles deflated. “One more question. Did you wake and bake the day of the break in?”

“How did you know?” Greenburg asked, eyes wide.

“Gut feeling,” Stiles said. “Thanks, man.”

“Sure, no problem.”

::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::

Stiles dropped the box of files in the trunk of the Camero and walked over to the driver’s side. His hand hovered over the door handle, but something that Greenburg said was bothering him. He hadn’t seen a cat when he was at Derek’s loft, and Isaac said he hadn’t been able to bring himself to go over to Laura’s so he knew Isaac didn’t have it. Stiles groaned and shoved his keys in his pocket, dragging himself back up the stairs to Laura’s floor. He knocked on Greenburg’s door again until it swung open.

“Where’s the cat?” Stiles asked and Greenburg looked at him as if he’d never seen him before in his life. “Stiles. I was just here a minute ago. I asked you about your neighbor, Laura.” When there was still no hint of recognition in Greenburg’s eyes Stiles sighed. “The bounty hunter.”

“Oh yeah right,” Greenburg nodded.

“Where’s the cat?” Stiles asked. “You said Derek used to come and feed the cat sometimes. Did anyone come and pick it up after she died?”

“I think it’s still in there,” Greenburg shook his head.

“Has anyone been coming by to feed him?” Stiles asked.

“I haven’t seen anyone, dude.”

“All right. Thanks man.” Stiles said and turned back to Laura’s apartment. He let himself in again and looked around. “Here, kitty kitty kitty,” Stiles called out. “Come on, kitty.” He stood in the middle of the room and let out a breath. “This is ridiculous.” He said to the empty apartment before going to the kitchen and digging through the cabinets until he found a can of cat food.

The second he popped the lid, he heard an ear piercing, “MEOW” and a giant ball of white fur launched itself onto the counter in front of him. Stiles stepped back and watched with horror as the cat attacked the food, devouring it in seconds, then turning to him and demanding another.

“Ok,” Stiles turned around and grabbed another can out of the cabinet and opened it quickly, sliding it across the counter to the cat. He took his time with this one, delicately licking the can clean before sitting down and proceeding to clean his whiskers. “Ok then, I’m just gonna…” Stiles pushed himself off the counter and the cat immediately turned it’s gaze to him.

Stiles made sure to hold eye contact as he made his way across the apartment. He was pretty sure he’d read you were supposed to do that somewhere. He didn’t break the gaze until he turned around to open the door, but before he’d even grabbed the knob the cat was weaving through his legs, using his jeans as a scratching post.

“How did you—“ He looked back over his shoulder at the kitchen counter, all the way across the room, then back down at the cat. “Ok, that was impressive.” Stiles grabbed the knob and cat sat on his feet, looked up at him, and let out a sad little meow.

“What?” Stiles asked and the cat nudged the door with his head. “No, no, no, no.” Stiles said firmly. The cat stared back at him, slapped its tail against the floor one time, and then let out another meow. This one somehow even sadder than before.

“You do not play fair,” Stiles said before bending down and scooping up the cat. He walked back to the kitchen, found one of those re-usable grocery bags, and filled it up with as many cans of cat food as he could carry. Then he went in the bathroom and grabbed the container of cat litter that was under the sink.

For all the cat practically insisted that Stiles take it with him, the second they got out of the apartment he sure wanted to be anywhere but in Stiles’ arms. He struggled to lock the door while also keeping a hold of the litter, the bag of food, and the cat, who now had his very sharp claws lodged in Stiles’ shoulder.

When he finally got the lock to catch he turned around and once again found himself face to face with Laura’s neighbor. She’d forgone the bat this time but her eyes were just as judgmental as before. “Still not stealing,” Stiles said as he hoisted the litter higher up in his arms. “What was I supposed to do? Leave it all alone in there to starve?” She huffed but walked back to her apartment. “Yeah, no, don’t worry about it. I’ve totally got all this on my own.” Stiles called after her and she slammed the door on him.

Once the litter and cat food had been put in the trunk, and the cat had been lured into the car with yet another can of food and a makeshift bed fashioned from Stiles’ hoodie on the floor of the front seat, Stiles finally relaxed. “This is just for a few days, you understand?” Stiles told the cat. “Then I’m gonna bring you to my nice friend Scott. He’s a vet, and he’s gonna hold you until Derek can take you or figure something else out.” The cat looked up, tilted it’s head, blinked once, then went back to licking it’s paws. “Glad we’re on the same page.”

His phone rang before he could start the car and Danny’s name flashed on the screen. “Do you want to make a quick grand?”

“Do you even have to ask?” Stiles perked up.

“I’ll email you the file, but look, this one’s not gonna be as easy as the last one. I already put in a call to Erica for back-up. She said she’d meet you there.” Danny told him.

“You have that little faith in me?” Stiles asked.

“Do you even have to ask?” Danny laughed before hanging up.

::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::

Stiles pulled up outside the address Danny sent him and parked on the street in front of the house. He looked around but didn’t see Erica’s car anywhere, so he pulled up the file Danny had sent him. “Guy’s name is Lonnie Dodd. Arrested for auto theft. First offense.” Stiles scrolled down to the picture. “He doesn’t look so tough. I could take him.” The cat meowed and Stiles looked down at it. “What do you know? You’re a cat.”

Erica still hadn’t shown five minutes later so Stiles reached over to the glove compartment and pulled out his gun and handcuffs. He stuffed both of them into the small of his back and took a deep breath. He looked down at the cat, who now had its leg stretched over its head and was busy cleaning its—or rather herself. “So you’re a girl. Good to know. Ok, if I’m not back in five minutes…you just keep doing that.” Stiles said.

He stood outside, giving Erica one more minute before jogging up the walk. He knocked on the door and it was yanked open. Lonnie Dodd did not look pleased to see him. He was shirtless, sporting a three day stubble and looked like he’d just come off the tail end of a pretty big bender. “What?” He glared.

“I’m from Whittemore Bail Bonds. You’re in violation of your bond agreement and I’m gonna need to you to come in with me to reschedule your hearing.” Stiles tried to sound as professional as possible.

“Seriously?” Lonnie looked Stiles up and down then scoffed.

“Yeah.”

“Go to hell.” Lonnie moved to slam the door and Stiles turned, lodging his hip in the opening and keeping the door from closing.

“Ow,” Stiles groaned as the door slammed into the gun in the middle of the back. “I did not think that one through.” Lonnie looked down and Stiles’ eyes widened as he grabbed the gun from Stiles’ waist. “My gun!” Stiles cried out.

“My gun,” Lonnie said, shoving Stiles out of the door and slamming it closed.

Stiles moved to the window next to the front door and watched as Lonnie ran through the house toward the backyard. “Son of a bitch.” Stiles jumped off the porch and took off, rounding the back of the house just as Lonnie burst through the back door.

“Freeze!” A voice screamed and Stiles looked over Lonnie’s shoulder to see Erica standing at the other side of the yard with her gun drawn. “Why don’t you do us bother a favor and go put on a shirt cause no one wants to see that. And then we can head on down to the station.” Erica offered. She pulled her finger off the trigger and made a show of lowering the gun.

Stiles eyes went wide, “No he’s got my—“ Stiles was cut off as Lonnie drew Stiles gun and shot Erica dead in the middle of her chest. “Gun.” Stiles finished dumbfounded as Erica fell backwards and hit the ground. Hard.

Lonnie took off again and Stiles followed him, the image of Erica falling backward pushing him forward. He caught up to Lonnie pretty quickly and body checked him to the ground. Stiles dropped to straddle him, forcing his arms behind his back.

“Four years, All-State Lacrosse team asshole.” Stiles said as he slapped the cuffs on him.

“You spent all four of those years warming the bench, as I recall,” Erica said. She stumbled out from the back yard, the heel of her hand pressing against her chest where she’d been shot.

“He shot you.” Stiles said, shocked.

“Yeah, with your gun.” Erica walked over and picked up said gun from where it had fallen when Lonnie went down. She held it out to Stiles and he took it from her, ashamed, and tucked it back into his pants.

“But seriously, I watched him shoot you. Like, in the chest.” Stiles pointed out as if Erica hadn’t been there. She smiled and lifted her shirt, showing Stiles the Kevlar vest she was wearing underneath. She kept going; pulling the shirt up until Stiles saw where the bullet was lodged right above her heart.

“Shit,” Stiles leaned back and breathed out.

“Yeah,” Erica looked down at it. “It’s gonna bruise like a bitch.” She dropped her shirt and held out a hand. Stiles grabbed it and let her pull him up, and then she reached down and grabbed Lonnie by the elbow. “You should be more careful,” Erica said before yanking him up, hard. “Looks like you dislocated your shoulder when you fell.” He screamed out in pain as she twisted his arm and shoved him toward the Camaro. She stopped at the door and looked down into the car.

“Uh, Stiles?” Erica looked up at him and he walked over. Erica nodded at the passenger seat and Stiles looked down.

“Oh, my God,” Stiles yanked the door open and looked down at the cat, who was now curled in his hoodie asleep. “I wasn’t even gone five minutes…how…what?” Stiles stared at the passenger seat. It looked like someone had shoved the leather through a paper shredder. “Do you have anything to say for yourself?” Stiles asked. The cat lifted his head up and looked at Stiles. His left ear twitched once, and he yawned, before tucking his head back into the folds of Stiles hoodie and going back to sleep.

“Since when do you have a cat?” Erica asked him.

“It’s Laura’s,” Stiles fell against the side of the Camaro. “She was all alone in her apartment, starving to death, so I just…took her.”

Erica tilted her head and smiled. “He’s cute.”

“He’s evil.” Stiles breathed out.

“Look, are we gonna go sometime today? I got things to do.” Lonnie asked and without even looking Erica slammed his head into the roof of the Camaro. He screamed out in pain again and Erica tutted.

“Now look what you did.” She said as blood dripped out of his nose. “Yeah, I think you broke it.”

“You broke it, bitch,” Lonnie yelled and Erica slammed his head into the car again.

“You shot me,” Erica said, twisting his arm again for good measure, and Lonnie whimpered once before passing out from the pain. Erica stepped back as he crumpled to the ground and she and Stiles just stared at him for a second.

“He’s gonna get blood all over the leather,” Stiles sighed.

“That’s the least of your worries,” Erica snorted and Stiles groaned, rubbing a hand through his hair, pulling it lightly in frustration. “We could put him in the trunk.”

“It’s full of cat food and litter.” Stiles shook his head.

In the end they managed to maneuver him into the backseat and Stiles dropped him off at the station. His dad looked at the broken nose and dislocated shoulder, then at the cat who was now sitting proudly on the destroyed passenger seat, and just shook his head, handing Stiles the body receipt.

“Thanks,” Stiles mouthed, his phone up to his ear. “Lydia, she got shot with the gun she bought me.” He glanced over his shoulder to make sure his dad wasn’t around anymore and then climbed back in the car. “That’s all kinds of messed up. I mean how do you even apologize for something like that? Flowers?”

“Erica doesn’t seem like the type of woman who would appreciate flowers, does she?” Lydia asked.

“Noted.” Stiles said. “Maybe something more her style. Like a bouquet of bullets or something.” Lydia huffed and Stiles shook his head. “Look, I called you for a reason. I found these files at Laura’s. Old bank audits. Derek said she found something in them and there were all these notes in the margins but they don’t mean anything to me. I was hoping you might be able to make sense of them.”

“Bring it by and I’ll look it over.” Lydia said, already sounding bored but agreeing to do it anyway.

“You are a goddess and I owe you,” Stiles relaxed a bit.

“Just so you know, I am the type of girl who appreciates flowers.”

“Also noted.” Stiles smiled as he hung up the phone.

::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::

“Here you go.” Isaac looked up, and Stiles dropped the box on Laura’s desk

“You are a life saver,” Isaac grabbed the box and opened it up and glanced down at the files, letting out a relieved sigh. “Gerard has been all over my ass about these.”

“What does Gerard want with them?” Stiles asked.

“The Board put him in charge of the bank until all of this mess with Derek is resolved. He wanted all the files Laura had. I don’t know why. He’s put the sale on hold indefinitely, but it hasn’t stopped him from calling me every five minutes to ask if I’d found them yet.” Isaac closed the box and looked up at Stiles. “Did you find your ledger?”

“No,” Stiles shook his head. “And I am out of leads. I did find Laura’s cat though, and I was wondering—“

“I’m allergic,” Isaac offered Stiles a sad smile. “Sorry.”

“Yeah, don’t worry about it. I’ll figure something out.” Stiles brushed him off. “You should get those to Gerard and I am late for dinner with my dad.” Stiles said as he caught sight of the time.

“Right,” Isaac grabbed the box and stood up. “Thanks, again.”

::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::

Stiles walked into the precinct juggling the take out bags in one hand as he tried to answer his phone with the other. “Hey, hi,” Stiles spun around a deputy as he made his way back to his dad’s office.

“You went to Laura’s building earlier right?” Erica asked him. “You talk to someone named Greenburg?”

“Yeah, why?”

“Just heard on the police scanner, your guy took a nose dive out his window,” Erica said.

“Shit,” Stiles set the bags of food on the filing cabinet and leaned back against the door.

“Might have been an accident,” Erica offered.

“No,” Stiles said and the bottom dropped out of his stomach. “Somebody killed him.”

“Yeah well, it might have been punishment for talking to you. You gotta stay sharp, Batman. You got enemies you can’t see and you need to lay low.” Erica warned. Stiles closed his eyes and felt his lungs tightening up. “Are you listening to me?”

“Yeah, I gotta go, thanks.” Stiles hung up the phone and crouched down, sticking his head between his knees. This was getting out of hand. Making threatening phone calls to him was one thing; he could take care of himself. But now he was getting other people killed and he didn’t know how to handle that. All he wanted to do was go into his dad’s office and have him just…fix everything.

Except he couldn’t. He’d spent the last six years letting Andrew fix everything for him. This was his problem and he was going to solve it. Like an adult. He forced himself to take a deep breath, and then another, and then another until he was breathing normally. He stood up and grabbed the take out before pasting a smile on his face and pushing his dad’s door open.

“I have dinner,” Stiles dropped the bags and drinks on the Sheriff’s desk and plopped into the seat across from him. He loved the bi-weekly family dinners that Melissa instituted after they got married, but sometimes he kind of missed it just being him and his dad. So he’d started bringing dinner to the station when his dad had the night shift, just like he used to back in high school. And the two of them got to spend some quality time together.

“Great, I’m starving.” John pushed the files he’d been looking at to the side and grabbed for one of the bags. He unwrapped one of the burgers and took a huge bite. He chewed for a few seconds before he stopped and stared down at it. “What the hell is this?” He asked Stiles, forcing himself to swallow what was in his mouth.

“Veggie burger,” Stiles said with a smile.

“I asked for a hamburger,” John dropped the veggie burger onto the desk.

“Veggie is healthier. We’re being healthy.” Stiles took a bite of his own burger and offered his dad thumbs up.

John pulled a container out of the bag and opened it, expecting fries, and finding carrot and celery sticks instead. “Why are you trying to ruin my life?”

“I’m trying to extend your life. Would you just eat it? And tell me what’s going on back there.” Stiles nodded to the wall behind him which was covered in pictures, and articles, and police reports.

“No. I am not sharing confidential police work with you.”

“Since when?” Stiles snorted. “You did it all the time when I was in high school.”

“Oh you mean when you used to try and get me drunk and go through my case files?” John raised an eyebrow.

“Same difference,” Stiles brushed him off. “Come on, I can help.”

“No,” John said. He moved himself in Stiles’ line of sight.

“I can still see it,” Stiles stared at the wall.

“Don’t look,” John told him. “Avert your eyes.”

Stiles craned his neck so he could see around the Sheriff’s head. “I see arrows pointing at pictures.”

“Ok stop. Fine.” John said. He pushed the food aside and grabbed a set of files. “Over the past two months there’s been a string of murders. A bus driver killed in a home invasion,” John dropped the file on the desk. “A video store clerk killed in a robbery gone wrong,” he dropped another file on top of the first. “And two guys stabbed in two separate bar fight downtown.” He dropped the last two files on the stack. “None of them seem related.”

“But you think they’re connected?” Stiles wiped his hands and reached for the files. He skimmed the case wall and spotted an old newspaper article with a picture of a house on fire. “To the Hale House fire?” Stiles looked back at John confused. “I thought that was ruled an accident.”

“It was,” John said. “But something about it never felt right to me. I’ve been looking into it for a while but I didn’t catch a break until two months ago.” John tapped the file in Stiles’ hand.

“The bus driver?” Stiles flipped the file open.

“Before he was a bus driver, he was the Fire Marshall assigned to the Hale House fire.” John said. “And-“

“He was fired for falsifying reports?” Stiles looked up and John nodded.

“Two weeks later, the video store clerk was killed.”

“In a robbery,” Stiles said, flipping over to the video store clerk’s file.

“Or something that was staged to look like a robbery. Now this guy had a record, he was a convicted felon. Three guesses for what.” John said.

“Arson?” Stiles asked.

“Bingo,” John grabbed the last two files. “And these guys both had records a mile long, priors including – but not limited to – arson.”

Stiles flipped through all four files and then looked up at the wall. “Do you think this has anything to do with Laura’s death?”

“I don’t know,” John ran a hand through his hair. “I can’t find a connection and it doesn’t make any sense. If someone wanted to kill everyone involved in the Hale fire, why start with Laura?”

“Dad?” Stiles got up and walked over to the wall, his eyes glued on a drawing of a snarling wolf with a large starburst behind it and small arrows surrounding it. “What’s this?” He pulled the picture down.

“A few years ago a guy came into the station saying he killed 8 people. He was drunk and no one was really taking him seriously, but there was something about him.” John shook his head. “I took him into interrogation and he tells me that five years ago he met a lady in a bar. She was attractive and acted like she was interested in him. She plied him with a lot of drinks then started asking about his work.”

“What did he do?” Stiles asked.

“He was a high school chemistry teacher. He said they talked about what type of chemicals could melt away a bank vault, which ones could dissolve a body without leaving a trace.”

“And which ones could start a fire and make it look like an electrical accident.” Stiles said, catching on.

“Then a week later the Hale house burned down.” The sheriff finished. “But he couldn’t remember her name. He couldn’t even remember what she looked like. All he could remember was that she was wearing a pendant that looked like that.”

Stiles looked up at his dad, his face white. “The woman he told how to start the fire was wearing this pendant? He was sure of that?”

“Yeah, why?”

“Cause I’ve seen this before,” Stiles swallowed hard. “On Kate Argent.”

::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::

Stiles was exhausted by the time he made it back to his apartment. He was still trying to wrap his head around the idea that Kate Argent was responsible for the Hale fire. It didn’t make any sense. She’d been dating Derek at the time of the fire. Stiles just didn’t understand.

He’d finally managed to assure his dad that Kate had been wearing the exact same pendant just a few days before. Then they’d gone through everything again. The arson report, the four murders, but they still couldn’t find any link to Kate besides the pendant.

He rounded the corner, ready to fall into bed and forget this day had ever happened when he saw a lump in front of his door. The lump moaned and Stiles looked closer and saw a head of curly-blonde hair. “Isaac?” Stiles called out and the lump rolled over. Stiles caught sight of two black eyes and a split lip before he was rushing to Isaac’s side.

“What happened to you?” Stiles checked him over as gently as possible. The small whine Isaac let out when Stiles touched his wrist made him think it was sprained but not broken. The pain on his face every time he tried to take in a breath, however, told Stiles there were probably a few broken ribs. And the bleeding wound on the back of his head, combined with the distant, unfocused, look in his eyes, was a pretty obvious sign of a concussion.

Stiles pulled Isaac’s head into his lap and dug his phone out of his pocket then dialed 911. “Yeah, I need an ambulance. The White Horse Apartments on Jefferson. My friend was beaten up. He’s not breathing very well, he’s got a head wound, and I can’t get him to focus.” Stiles looked down as the dispatch officer explained the ambulance was on his way and Isaac’s eyes slid closed. “Come on I need you to keep your eyes open for me Isaac.”

His eyes fluttered open and he tried to focus. “Stiles?” Isaac croaked.

“Yeah, I’m right here,” Stiles said, straining to see if he could hear the sirens yet.

“Stop asking questions,” Isaac said and Stiles froze in horror, staring down at Isaac.

“What?”

“They weren’t sure you got the message,” Isaac babbled. “They wanted to make sure you got the message.”

“Jesus,” Stiles let out a breath and ran his fingers through his hair, gripping it and yanking.

“Did you get the message?” Isaac asked him hopefully.

Stiles nodded, his hands shaking as he brushed Isaac’s hair from his forehead. “I’m sorry, I’m so sorry.”

“It’s not your fault,” Isaac tried to tell him but Stiles just shook his head, because it was his fault.

::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::

It took ten minutes for the ambulance to get there. Ten minutes of Isaac’s blood soaking into his jeans. Ten minutes of Stiles teetering on the verge of a massive panic attack. The paramedics’ let Stiles ride along and he called his dad on the way to the hospital. He was the only one Stiles trusted.

Isaac was in with the doctors for three hours. Stiles had been right about the sprained wrist, the broken ribs and the concussion. He spent another forty five minutes with Stiles’ dad giving his statement. They’d jumped him from behind as he left the bank. He didn’t see any faces, did hear any names. All he could remember was the message for Stiles. They’d made sure he remembered the message for Stiles.

“You ok, son?” The Sheriff walked up to Stiles and held out a cup of coffee.

Stiles shook his head and took the cup but didn’t drink it. “This was my fault,” Stiles said squeezing his eyes shut tight. “It was a message for me.”

“You can’t think like that.”

“I don’t think dad, I know. They told him to make sure I got the message. They beat him up just for talking to me. They could have killed him. Like they killed Greenburg.” Stiles said hysterically.

“Greenburg…” John frowned wracking his brain. “The kid who jumped out of his window? That wasn’t about you, Stiles. He killed himself.

“No. They killed him. Because he talked to me.” Stiles shook his head.

“Who killed him? What are you talking about?” John asked.

“The Argents,” Stiles practically screamed. “Don’ t you see? It’s all related. Not just the murders – Laura – the fire, but Isaac, and Greenburg, and whatever’s going on at the bank. But I don’t…I can’t…” Stiles tried to suck in a breath.

His throat was tight and his lungs were on fire. His dad was calling his name but Stiles could barely hear it. Everything was muffled, like he was under water, and he couldn’t breathe.

He felt someone grab his wrist and then his fingers were being pried out of the fist he’d somehow curled them into. His palm was pressed against something and he could feel it rising and falling under his fingers. It was his dad’s chest; the movement was him breathing in and out. Stiles concentrated as hard as he could on that movement, and slowly the world came back into focus.

“That’s it,” he could hear his dad’s voice again and Stiles let out a shaky breath of relief. “Concentrate on my breathing, try and match it Stiles.” Stiles clutched at his dad’s chest desperately. “I got you son. Breathe with me.”

It took another couple of minutes for Stiles to get his breathing back to normal. He fell against the wall, his legs giving out as he sunk down to the floor, resting his forehead against his knees.

“Stiles?” John asked carefully.

“I’m fine,” Stiles breathed out. “It’s fine.”

“That was the opposite of fine,” John said.

“I know,” Stiles lifted his head and turned to look at his dad. “But I got it under control.”

The Sheriff looked like he wanted to say something, to protest, but he stopped himself. “You really think the Greenburg kid was murdered?”

“I really do,” Stiles nodded.

“Ok then, I’ll keep the case open.” John promised. “But if you’re right, then the people behind all of this are dangerous and they’re after you. I’m not gonna tell you to drop it cause I know better. Just…be careful?”

“I will,” Stiles assured him.

They released Isaac after another hour of observation. Scott and Allison were waiting in the lobby when Stiles wheeled him out.

“What’s going on?” Isaac asked when he caught sight of them.

“Well, you can’t go home alone dude, you have a concussion. And my place is probably the opposite of safe right now. So I called Scott.”

“I don’t want to put anyone out,” Isaac said shyly and Scott offered him his best 100 watt Scott McCall smile. Stiles was suddenly struck by how much he loved that his best friend just showed up and agreed to take Isaac in no questions asked.

“No worries dude,” Scott grabbed the wheelchair from Stiles and started to push him toward the exit.

::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::

Stiles trudged up the steps to his apartment for the second time that night. His legs felt like led and all his muscles burned with tension. It took three tries to get the key in the lock, but when it finally slid in, the door swung open.

Stiles froze, his hands slipped into his pocket, his fingers grazing the edge of his phone. He considered calling the cops but as he learned earlier that night, emergency response time to this part of town was ten minutes at least. And he was just so tired. He pulled his hand out of his pocket and grabbed the gun out of his waistband instead, fingers curling tightly around the grip as he pushed the door open further.

The lights were off and Stiles walked into the apartment gun raised out in front of him. There was no one in the living room but his heart was still beating out of his chest. He heard a squeak and spun to see Derek standing in his kitchen.

“What are you doing here?” Stiles didn’t lower the gun right away and Derek slowly lifted his hands into the air in surrender.

“I need your help.” Derek told him. Stiles arms started to shake but he still didn’t lower the gun. Derek stepped forward and reached out. His fingers curled around the barrel of the gun and he pulled it out of Stiles’ hands. Stiles let it go and collapsed in on himself. Derek set the gun on the kitchen table and turned back to Stiles.

“Are you…” Derek looked Stiles up and down. “Are you ok?”

“No,” Stiles shook his head.

“Is that blood?”

Stiles looked down and realized that his jeans and shirt were stained with Isaac’s blood. “It’s been a long day.”

Derek nodded, as if that was explanation enough for him and Stiles sagged in relief. He wasn’t exactly ready to tell Derek about his day yet. “You hungry?”

"I could eat,” Stiles smiled.

“Go get cleaned up and come sit down,” Derek told him. Stiles walked off to the bathroom as Derek turned back to the kitchen and opened the fridge.

He didn’t think he had the strength to take a shower, plus he still didn’t have a shower curtain, so he just washed his face and scrubbed the blood off of his hands. He changed into a loose pair of sweats and a soft worn t-shirt before making his way back out to the kitchen.

Stiles stood in the doorway for a second, watching as Derek moved around his kitchen. He pulled out utensils and dug through the cabinets for pans and dishes all while he stirred things and chopped things. Stiles hadn’t even known there was anything in his kitchen that could be stirred or chopped. Stiles eyes tracked Derek’s every move and it took him a second to realize Derek was humming softly to himself.

Stiles didn’t have to try very hard to imagine all of this happening in another time and place. Derek in his kitchen, maybe their kitchen, just making Stiles dinner. Just a normal night where Isaac hadn’t been beaten so bad he could barely breathe. Where someone wasn’t dead because of him.

“Stiles?” Derek called out, snapping Stiles out of another panic attack before it could even start. He clenched his fists and looked up, forcing a smile on his face. Derek smiled back and slid a plate in front of Stiles. “You still like omelets right? It’s all you really had in your fridge.”

“Yeah, it’s fine.” Stiles’ voice broke as he picked up the fork Derek gave him. He took a big bite and hummed, washing it down with the cup of coffee that appeared at his side. The coffee was hot and it scalded his tongue but it didn’t matter. He couldn’t taste anything anyway. “Thanks.”

Derek nodded and sat down in the seat across from Stiles, digging into his own plate. After a few minutes he realized Derek wasn’t eating anymore and Stiles looked up to see Derek staring at him.

“Is it that bad?” Derek asked. Stiles looked down at his plate where he’d been pushing his food around for the past few minutes.

“No it’s good. It’s—“ Stiles set the fork down and rand his hands over his face. “There’s something I need to tell you.”

“Ok,” Derek set his own fork down and pushed the plate away, giving Stiles his full attention.

“The fire that killed your family,” Stiles took a shuddery breath. “It wasn’t an accident.”

“I know,” Derek whispered and Stiles’ eyes went wide. “I don’t have any evidence but I’ve looked at the file and there’s something that’s just not…right. I still don’t know how or why or who—“

“It was Kate,” Stiles interrupted him and Derek’s head snapped up to meet Stiles’ gaze. “Kate Argent. She’s the one responsible.”

Derek shook his head in confusion. “That doesn’t…I don’t understand.”

Stiles took a deep breath and told him about the murders his dad was looking into. He told Derek about all the evidence they’d manage to put together. Stiles told him about the drunk who admitted to telling a pretty woman in a bar how to start a fire. He told him about the pendant before getting up and grabbing his jeans out of the bathroom. He dug around in the pocket, pulled out the slip of paper with the drawing, and slid it across the table to Derek.

Derek stared down at the drawing and picked it up with shaky hands. “She never took it off.” Derek said after a minute. “Ever. I asked her about it once but she just…smiled at me.” Derek crumpled the paper in his hands. “One of the reasons the fire was labeled an accident was because there was no forced entry. The alarm never went off. There was nothing to indicate that someone from outside gained entry into the house.”

“Derek…”

“It was me,” Derek looked up at Stiles, his eyes watering. “My mom never liked Kate, didn’t want me seeing her. Went so far as to forbid me.” Derek’s laugh was hallow. “I just snuck her into the house. I told her where we kept the spare key. I gave her the alarm code. I told her when everyone would be home and when they’d be gone. I wrapped them up in a bow and served them to her on a silver platter.”

“No,” Stiles reached out and grabbed Derek’s hand, giving it a reassuring squeeze. “Don’t. Don’t go down that rabbit hole Derek.” Derek looked up at Stiles, searching his face for something before nodding. “I still don’t understand why though. Why would she do it?”

“It’s got to be connected. All of it. The fire, Laura, whatever’s going on at the bank. I just wish I knew what Laura found. I need that ledger.” Derek growled in frustration then turned back to Stiles. “You help me find the ledger; I let you bring me in.”

Stiles leaned back in his seat. “Fifty grand changes my life.”

“So we have a deal?” Derek held out his hand and Stiles didn’t even hesitate before shaking it.

“Gerard doesn’t have it or he wouldn’t still be looking for it. I don’t think it’s at Laura’s but it was hard to tell. Someone else got there before me. The place was trashed.”

“You think they were looking for the ledger?” Derek asked and Stiles nodded. “Gerard maybe?”

“No,” Stiles said. “I talked to a neighbor. He said it was “the man with half a face”.” Derek’s brow furrowed in confusion. “He was as high as a kite and I brushed him off at first. And then a few hours after he talked to me he was tossed out of his apartment window. I’m thinking maybe he knew something someone didn’t want me know.” Stiles speared a large bit of his omelet and stuffed it in his mouth, his appetite suddenly back. “I gave my friend Lydia the files I took from Laura’s and if anyone can figure out what Laura found, it’s her.”

The cat chose that moment to jump up on the table and let Stiles know that he was not happy about being left alone for the past few hours.

Derek leaned back in his chair and frowned. “Is that Laura’s cat?”

Stiles swallowed the bite of food in his mouth and looked at Derek almost sheepishly. “Speaking of things I took from Laura’s.”

“Laura loved this cat,” Derek smiled and reached a hand out to pet her. The cat ignored him, licking her paws uninterested until Derek got too close. She reached out lightening fast, swiping at Derek’s hand, her claws drawing blood when Derek didn’t pull back fast enough. “And the cat hates me.”

“I think she hates everybody.” Stiles said, trying to make him feel better. The cat looked up at the sound of Stiles’ voice and walked across the table to him. She knocked the underside of Stiles chin with her head, letting out a loud purr as Stiles brought a hand up to scratch behind her ears.

Derek raised an eyebrow. “This means nothing. It’s just because I feed her.”

Stiles stood up and grabbed his and Derek’s plates. He carried them to the sink then dug through a cabinet and pulled out a can of cat food. The cat immediately jumped from the table to the counter top and dug into the food. Stiles walked over to the fridge and pulled out two beers, setting one in front of Derek on his way back to his seat.

“Thanks.” Derek said when Stiles sat down and Stiles looked up confused.

“For what?”

Derek made a face that could have meant anything like, thanks for the beer, or thanks for taking care of my sister’s cat, or thanks for not shooting me.

“Just…for everything,” Derek shrugged.

“I’m not doing it for you,” Stiles grabbed his beer and leaned back in his seat. “I’m doing it for the money.”

“We both know that’s not true.” Derek took a sip of his beer and leaned back, mirroring Stiles’ position.

Stiles rolled his eyes and set his beer on the table, running his finger over the lip. “It was just a summer Derek.”

“We both know that’s not true either,” Derek said with a cheeky grin.

“You look like hell by the way. I’ve been waiting to say that for a long time and mean it,” Derek let out a bark of laughter and Stiles stood up and downed the rest of his beer. “You can stay here tonight. We’ll figure out a plan in the morning.”

Derek finished his beer while Stiles dug through the hall closet for an extra blanket and pillow. When he turned around Derek had his back to Stiles as he stripped off his shirt. Stiles felt his mouth go dry and he clutched the blanket to his chest.

“The tattoo – that’s new,” Stiles said hoarsely.

Derek looked over his shoulder and smirked. He turned and stalked toward Stiles, stopping right in front of him. Stiles swallowed hard and Derek smiled even bigger before grabbing the blanket and pulling it out of Stiles’ hands.

Stiles stepped back and started pulling the pillows off the couch. “Look,” Stiles glanced over at Derek. “I didn’t get a chance to say….I’m sorry. About the fire, about Laura. I know you guys were close.”

“She loved you, you know.” Derek said after a second. “Thought you were the greatest thing that ever happened to me.”

“I always knew Laura was the smart one.” Stiles smiled sadly.

“You should have heard her tearing into me – asking why the hell I screwed things up with you so badly.”

“Why did you?” Stiles asked. He regretted the words the second they left his mouth. Even more when he saw the panicked look on Derek’s face.

The cat jumped onto the couch and meowed loudly, breaking the moment. “You know what? You should sleep. I’m gonna…” he grabbed the cat and to the bedroom, avoiding Derek’s gaze.

“Stiles,” Derek called out and Stiles turned around cautiously. “No one’s been this nice to me in a while.”

Stiles smiled softly and nodded before walking into his room and closing the door.

::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::

The smell of coffee was enough to pull Stiles out of a deep sleep but not enough to wake him completely. He felt something soft swat at his nose and he groaned. “Go away.” Something swatted his nose again and Stiles opened his eyes that time.

He blinked a few times before he was able to focus. The cat was sitting on his chest staring at him. It let out another meow and Stiles wiped his eyes. “So this is gonna be a thing?” Stiles asked, sitting up and dislodging the cat.

“She’s hungry,” Derek said from the doorway and Stiles turned to him. “I tried to feed her but she wouldn’t take any food from me.”

“Do I smell coffee?” Stiles scooped up the cat and dropped it to the floor. Derek walked over to the bed and held out the mug with a soft smile and Stiles grabbed for it greedily. Derek watched him as he took the first sip and Stiles couldn’t help but think about the first time Derek had brought him coffee in bed.

“I wasn’t sure how you took it,” Derek set the coffee mug on the bedside table and leaned down to give Stiles a soft, slow, kiss.

“Just sugar,” Stiles said against Derek’s lip then pulled back to grab the mug. “Lots of sugar. All the sugar.”

Derek laughed. “I’ll remember that for next time.” He took the mug from Stiles’ hand and Stiles let out a pathetic whine. Derek set the mug back on the side table and pushed Stiles back down onto the mattress.

“Black, 1,000 sugars,” Derek joked.

“Thanks,” Stiles ducked his head and climbed out of the bed. The cat was at his side immediately, winding through Stiles legs which didn’t make walking very easy. Stiles groaned and leaned down to pick her up. “What’s her name anyway?” Stiles asked Derek as he padded into the kitchen.

“Scheherazade.” Derek said and Stiles raised an eyebrow as he added more sugar to his coffee. “Laura usually called her Cher.”

“Yeah, I’m not gonna do that.” Stiles shook his head and set the cat down on the counter. “How about Zod? You like that?” Stiles tilted his head and she mirrored him. “Kneel before Zod,” Stiles said and her tail flicked once. “Yeah, that works.”

Stiles opened a fresh can of food and set it down in front of her. She sniffed it once then started to eat. Once Stiles was happy that she was happy he turned around. “So I’ve been thinking about the text you sent to Laura the night she died.”

“I didn’t send her a text the night she died,” Derek protested.

“I know. That’s what you said in your statement.”

“You read my statement?” Derek asked and Stiles just smiled. “Of course you read my statement.”

“The thing is, the police have Laura’s phone, and on that phone is a text message to her, from your phone around 2 am the night she died telling her to meet you in the woods.”

“That I never sent,” Derek said through clenched teeth.

“Exactly, but someone did. And I know someone who can figure out who.” Stiles said.

Derek shook his head. “I don’t want to bring anyone else in on this.”

“Believe me, the last thing I want to do is stick someone else in the line of fire, but this might be our only chance to figure out who’s setting you up.”

Derek clenched his jaw but nodded. “Make the call.” Stiles smiled and pulled out his phone.

::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::

“Danny!” Stiles smiled as he opened the door. “Come in.” He grabbed Danny’s arm and pulled him in the apartment.

“You’re acting even stranger than usual.” Danny said. “What was so urgent I had to come over right away? You know I have to be at work in like 20 minutes.”

“That’s cool. I only need 5,” Stiles ushered Danny into the living room and pushed him down on the couch.

“Are you gonna want any more coffee?” Derek asked, poking his head around the kitchen door frame.

“Nah, I’m good.” Stiles waved him off. “You remember Danny? He’s the guy I told you about.” Danny looked from Stiles to Derek and back again.

“You want coffee?” Derek asked.

“No,” Danny said slowly. “Thank you though.” Derek nodded and walked back to the kitchen.

“Is Derek Hale in your kitchen?” Danny hissed under his breath.

“No, of course not. Derek Hale is a wanted fugitive.” Stiles said. “That’s my cousin. Miguel.” Stiles heard Derek snort from the kitchen but ignored it.

“Right, well, your cousin looks a lot like Derek Hale,” Danny raised an eyebrow.

“Forget about him.” Stiles said. “I need a favor.”

“You mean besides me not telling Jackson that you’re shaking up with Derek Hale instead of bringing him in?” Danny asked.

“Yes,” Stiles nodded then frowned. “Also there is no shacking up.” Danny snorted. “I just need you to trace a text.”

“You need me to—no.” Danny shook his head. “What makes you think I can even do that?”

“Please I looked up your record when we were in high school.” Stiles scoffed.

“That’s supposed to be sealed!”

“My dad’s the Sheriff,” Stiles reminded him.

“Fine, if you read my file then you know if I even think about doing anything like that, it violates my probation.” Danny stood up to walk away and Stiles reached out and grabbed his arm.

“Come on Danny, do it for me?” Stiles pleaded.

“No,” Danny shook his head.

“Hey, mind if I grab a quick shower?” Derek walked into the room.

“Sure, but you’ll have to make it a bath. ‘Cause thanks to someone, I don’t have a shower curtain.” Stiles tipped his head over the back of the couch and Derek smirked.

Stiles turned back to Danny only to find Danny watching Derek’s ass as he walked to the bathroom. Stiles smirked slowly. “Hey Miguel.”

Derek froze and turned around to glare at Stiles. “You’ve been wearing that shirt for a while. You should give it to me and I’ll wash it for you.”

Derek looked at Stiles who was gesturing frantically to Danny with his eyes. Derek grunted and yanked his shirt off over his head. He tossed it angrily at Stiles. Stiles looked over at Danny who was staring at Derek’s bare chest.

“You may swing for the other team but you still play ball, don’t you Danny boy?” Stiles smirked.

“You’re a horrible person.” Danny said under his breath.

“I know, it keeps me up at night,” Stiles smirked and turned back to Derek. “The pants and underwear are probably pretty rank too dude,” Stiles suggested. Derek’s jaw clenched but he reached down and popped the button on his jeans. Stiles turned to Danny who swallowed hard, eyes still glued on Derek. Stiles turned back to Derek and felt his mouth go dry as Derek slowly pulled the zipper down. Stiles glanced up at Derek’s face, expecting to see his ever present scowl. Except he wasn’t scowling, he was staring straight at Stiles, smirking. His fingers dipped under his waist band and pushed them down.

Stiles didn’t want to look, to turn away or break Derek’s gaze, but he couldn’t help but glance down quickly at Danny’s sharp intake. Stiles’ fingers clenched on his thighs as Derek kicked the jeans off of his feet. He bent down to pick them up before tossing them at Stiles too.

“I don’t wear underwear,” Derek told them unnecessarily. He turned and walked into the bathroom, Danny and Stiles stared at Derek’s’ bare ass before the door slammed behind him.

“About that text.” Stiles asked, his throat scratchy.

“I’ll need the ISP, phone number, and the exact time of the text.” Danny said and Stiles jotted all the info down on a slip of paper and handed it to Danny. “I’ll let you know when I have something.”

“I owe you,” Stiles said.

“You really don’t,” Danny glanced back at the bathroom door. “You’re really not shacking up with him?”

“I’m really not.” Stiles shook his head.

“You are a stronger man than I.” Danny shook his head and walked out.

::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::

Stiles phone rang as he was dropping Derek’s clothes in the washing machine and he answered it on the second ring.

“What do you know about money laundering?” Lydia asked without preamble.

Stiles looked down at the detergent in his hand before dumping some in the washer. “I’m gonna go out on a limb and say they don’t use Tide?” Derek walked out of the bathroom, a towel wrapped around his waist.

Lydia snorted. “No. The smart ones use banks.”

“Someone was laundering money through Beacon Hills First National.” Stiles looked up at Derek, his eyes wide. “That’s what Laura found.” He pulled the phone away from his ear and put it on speaker.

“Yeah according to her notes, she was convinced it was someone at the bank. Based on the sheer scale of the operation I’m inclined to agree.”

“How big?” Stiles asked as Derek moved closer to hear.

“Millions,” Lydia said nonchalantly.

“Do you know who?” Derek asked. Lydia paused at the sound of Derek’s voice, but pushed on.

“No. There’s no way of knowing without the original ledger.”

“Peter’s ledger,” Derek and Stiles said together.

“You get me that ledger; I can tell you who it is.” Lydia told them.

“Yeah that’s easier said than done.” Stiles sighed. “No one knows where it is and we’re not the only ones looking for it.”

“Without the ledger there’s not much I can do, but if I had to guess I’d say it was the bank manager. He’d be the only one with the kind of access to create and maintain the dummy accounts. I’d start with him.

“Thanks Lydia, I owe you.” Stiles said.

“Roses are passé,” Lydia told him.

“Noted.” Stiles hung up the phone and looked at Derek. “Bank manager? Do you know him? Would he be capable of something like this?”

“Louis? He has been with the bank forever.” Derek said. “It’s possible.”

“But how does he connect to the Argents?” Stiles bit his lip.

“I don’t know.” Derek shook his head.

“We should go ask him.” Stiles said.

“We’re not gonna do anything.” Derek said. “I’ll go talk to him.”

“Really? What are you gonna do? You’re just gonna walk into the bank with your wanted fugitive face on and ask the bank manager if he’s laundering money?”

Derek huffed. “I don’t want you this.”

“We’ve talked about this before; I’m already in this Derek.” Stiles pointed out. “I’ve been in this.”

“This is different, Stiles. He’s dangerous.” Derek argued.

“He’s a bank manager,” Stiles scoffed.

“A bank manager who might be responsible for burning my entire family alive.” Derek snapped. “I can’t risk…”

“Derek,” Stiles said softly. He reached out, his fingers grazing Derek’s wrist but Derek pulled away before he could hold on.

There was a knock at the door and Derek turned to it alert. “Were you expecting someone else?” Stiles shook his head.

“Go into my room.” Stiles pushed him toward the room. “And maybe try and find some sweat pants to wear or something.”

Stiles opened the front door before the knocking could start back up again. He frowned. There was a man on the other side. He was wearing glasses and a sweater vest and there was a small sheen of sweat on his brow. “Hi,” Stiles said uncertainly.

“I want my flies back,” the man pushed past Stiles into the apartment.

“Come in, please,” Stiles mumbled under his breath and shut the door. “I’m sorry, who exactly are you?”

“Adrian Harris,” the man said. He was making his way slowly across the room. “I want my files back. The Hale skip – that’s mine. It’s my payday.”

“Well, Jackson gave it to me.”

“Because I was sick. But now I’m better.” Stiles looked at him skeptically. It looked like a strong wind could probably knock him down. “Just a tiny scar. No stitches. It was all laparoscopic. Amazing huh?” Stiles raised his eyebrows. “So here’s the deal. I’m taking Hale in.”

“Jackson’s not gonna care which of us brings him in, you know.” Stiles crossed his arms over his chest.

“I care.” Harris said. “I also couldn’t help but notice his Camaro in the parking lot outside.”

“Just trying to draw him out.” Stiles shrugged.

“Smart. How’s that working for you?” Harris sneered.

“Nothing yet. But I’m hopeful.”

“Well I’m asking you to step aside.” Harris said.

“Yeah, I can’t do that.” Stiles shook his head.

“I asked around about you. Fresh off a divorce – condolences – art history major who hasn’t held a job in almost six years. You’re not exactly qualified for this.” Harris pointed out.

“Then you’ve got nothing to worry about do you?” Stiles walked over to the door and opened it.

“Fine. I was just leaving.” Harris stood up and walked to the door. “You don’t stand a chance you know.” He said and Stiles rolled his eyes. “Everyone says so.” He walked out and Stiles slammed the door behind him.

“Asshole,” Stiles said as Derek walked out of the bedroom, thankfully dressed in some of Stiles’ old sweats.

“I think he stole your keys,” Derek pointed out as he moved to the back window that over looked the parking lot.

Stiles looked down at the table by the door and noticed Derek’s keys were missing. “Son of a bitch.” He hurried to the back window just in time to see Harris unlock the Camaro.

“God’s gonna get you for this,” Stiles called out.

Harris looked up at him and rolled his eyes. “Screw God,” He screamed before opening the door climbing in the car. Stiles heard the sound of the engine turning over a second before the car exploded.

Derek’s arms wrapped around Stiles waist and pulled him away from the window as the glass shattered from the shockwave. “Are you ok?” Derek stared at him.

“I’m fine,” Stiles sounded shocked. “They blew up our car.”

“Excuse me?” Derek glared. “Who’s car?”

“Your car,” Stiles said, laughing a little hysterically. At least he didn’t have to worry about how he was gonna tell Derek that Laura’s cat ruined his front seat. “You still want it back?”

::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::

The Sheriff looked out the window at the still smoking wreckage of the Camaro, then back at Stiles. “You’re telling me you think God blew up Adrian Harris because he was a dick?”

“It’s a distinct possibility,” Stiles rocked back and forth on his heels.

“You really think I’m gonna pretend this wasn’t meant for you,” John asked, eyebrow raised.

“I was hoping.”

“Damnit Stiles, this isn’t a game.” John snapped.

“I’m aware.” Stiles said, voice hard, and John sighed.

“We can get her with this, Stiles,” John told him. “She’s getting desperate. This was sloppy. We can probably trace the explosives back to the Argents. You can leave this to us.”

“Yeah, ok.” Stiles nodded.

“Stiles, I’m serious.”

“I hear you, dad. I’m totally all for letting the police do their thing.” Stiles held up his hands, offering John his best I surrender face.

The Sheriff narrowed his eyes but seemed satisfied for the moment. He pulled Stiles into an almost-too-tight embrace. Stiles hugged back, his chest tight. He knew what his dad was thinking ‘cause he’d been thinking it too. That could have been him. That should have been him. The Sheriff pulled away and coughed, then clapped Stiles on the back before walking out of the apartment.

“So, the bank manager.” Stiles turned around and Derek walked out of the bedroom. “We’re gonna go talk to him?”

“Didn’t you just say you’d let your dad handle this and stay out of it?” Derek asked.

“I lied.” Stiles said and Derek groaned. “They tried to blow me up. This is personal now. I’m solving the crap out of this case.”

Derek sighed, resigned. “I’m not gonna be able to talk you out of it, either, am I?”

“Nope,” Stiles shook his head with a cheeky smile.

“Fine, but we’re doing this my way.” Derek warned him.

“Yeah sure,” Stiles shrugged. “Whatever you say.”

“Take off your shirt,” Derek turned and walked into the bedroom and Stiles just stood there frozen for a moment until Derek returned with the duffle bag he’d grabbed out of his van before the cops got there. “Shirt.”

It took a second to realize that Derek hadn’t been propositioning him and he swallowed down his disappointment. They had important stuff to do anyway. “Not even a please?” Stiles tutted.

“Please,” Derek gritted out. When Stiles made no move to take off his shirt Derek rolled his eyes. “It’s strictly professional. It’s for a wire.” He opened the duffle bag and pulled a long thing wire out with a microphone attached to one end and recorder to the other.

“That’s ancient,” Stiles protested, even as he pulled his shirt off. “It has an actual wire. You know they make wireless ones small enough to fit on buttons now.”

“Yeah, well, it’s what I had access to.” Derek said, attaching a piece of tape to the microphone and stepping into Stiles’ personal space. “I’m kind of a wanted fugitive. I can’t exactly walk into the station and requisition a wire. This is our best option.”

Stiles rolled his eyes and Derek taped the mic to the center of his sternum. “Best option for what?” Stiles asked, trying to get his mind off of the familiar feel of Derek’s fingers on his skin.

“In case the bank manager starts talking,” Derek fingers trailed across Stiles’ chest. They lingered a bit across his ribs as Derek pulled the wire around his side and Stiles squirmed away. “Stand still.”

“Sorry. Ticklish.” Stiles could feel a blush starting to rise up his neck.

“I remember,” Derek taped the wire down Stiles back. He briefly dug his fingers into Stiles’ spine with a smile and Stiles let out a bark of laughter. It served to defuse the tension at least, and for that, Stiles was grateful.

“He’s not just gonna spill his master plan to me and confess everything, you know,” Stiles said and Derek chuckled as he tucked the recorder into Stiles back pocket.

“Yeah, well, it’s not just for recording.” Derek walked back around in front of Stiles to adjust the mic. “It’s so I can hear you. Know you’re safe.”

“Oh,” Stiles said, the tension back, and he nodded decisively. “Let’s do this, then.”

::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::

“Are you sure?” Derek asked when they were parked outside the bank in Stiles’ Jeep.

“For the millionth time, yes,” Stiles nodded.

“We need a code word in case you need back up.” Derek said.

“Seriously?” Stiles asked and Derek threw Stiles a look that seemed to be saying humor me. Stiles sighed and racked his brain for something. “Scheherazade.” He said finally and Derek smiled.

“Oh, by the way, one more thing.” Derek said and Stiles turned to him.

“Yeah?” Stiles asked. Derek reached out a hand, his fingers slid across Stiles cheek and tangled into the hair at the back of his neck. For a second, Stiles thought Derek was going to bring him in for a kiss. And then he pushed, hard, and Stiles’ nose slammed into the steering wheel.

Stiles cried out, grabbing his nose and tilting his head back as his entire face throbbed. “God, what the hell was—

“You know what that was for.” Derek glared at him. “Go,” he pointed at the bank and Stiles hesitated. “Go.” Derek said more forcibly and Stiles scrambled out of the car.

Stiles walked into the bank. His palms were sweating. The false bravado he’d put on for Derek and his dad was cracking under the very real possibility of confronting a money launderer who may have had a hand in burning eight people alive.

He took a deep breath and asked to see the manager. The bored girl at the front pointed him to the office in the back of the lobby and Stiles walked over. He raised a hand to knock, but froze when he saw a familiar face through the window. Kate Argent. Louis was nodding eagerly as Kate talked. She leaned over the desk, a finger trailing down his chest, twisting in his tie.

He walked out of the office a minute later and Stiles turned away, quickly, so as not to be seen. He grabbed a pamphlet - Making the most of your 401K – and flipped through it until Louis came back. Only…now he had a briefcase with him. Stiles watched through the window as Louis opened up the briefcase and spun it around to show Kate. It was full of money.

Kate smiled big, leaning in close to Louis. Her lips grazed the shell of his ear as she whispered something, and Louis closed his eyes, his body shuddering. She pulled away, her smile twisted when she saw the state Louis was in. She grabbed the briefcase from him and closed it.

Stiles felt a sudden surge of anger. He could imagine Kate doing the same thing to Derek. Smiling seductively, making him believe whatever she wanted him to believe. Getting him to give her everything she wanted. And using it to burn his entire world down. Stiles managed to contain himself as the door opened and he turned away again, hiding behind the pamphlet.

He heard Kate’s heels walk away from him and towards the exit. Stiles was torn. He knew the plan had been to talk to the bank manager – maybe even get him to let something slip and incriminate himself. But Stiles was willing to bet the briefcase Kate was carrying was filled with the laundered money. And his dad has always said the first rule of police work was to the follow the money. He probably hadn’t meant it so literally but Stiles had to work with what he was given.

“Change of plans.” Stiles whispered under his breath, knowing Derek could hear him through the wire. “Get the car ready.”

Derek had the Jeep waiting at the doors when Stiles walked out and he climbed in. “Follow the red Charger,” Stiles nodded over to where Kate was climbing into her car.

Derek nodded and put the car in gear. “What did you find out?”

“That I really need a 401K.” Stiles said and Derek glared. Stiles told Derek about Kate meeting with the bank manager and the briefcase full of money. They followed the car to the shooting range and parked as Kate went inside.

“So it’s probably not the best time or anything, but you never actually answered me yesterday.” Stiles turned to Derek. “About why you screwed things up between us so badly.”

Derek’s hand tightened on the wheel and he glanced over at Stiles before turning back to watch the door of the shooting range.

“Right.” Stiles swallowed and went back to watching the door and waiting for Kate. He had no idea why he even asked. He knew Derek wasn’t going to answer. Probably to stop himself from thinking about the last time they’d been in his Jeep together.

::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::

“We’re gonna get arrested,” Derek warned as Stiles climbed over the console and straddled Derek’s lap. Stiles just smirked and pulled the lever, pushing Derek and the passenger’s seat down. He leaned down and captured Derek’s lips in a kiss. For all his protesting Derek didn’t hesitate to kiss Stiles back, his hands dropping to Stiles’ hips and pulling him down further into his lap.

Stiles pulled his mouth away from Derek’s and sucked in a deep breath, moving his lips across Derek’s cheek and down to his neck. “My dad’s the Sheriff,” Stiles said, his words vibrating against Derek’s throat and he couldn’t help the moan that escaped him. “Trust me; no one wants to explain to him just what we were doing when they found us.”

“Yeah?” Derek chuckled. “And just what exactly would we be doing?” He pushed his hands up under Stiles’ shirt, his fingers trailed up the ridges of Stiles’ spine. Stiles squirmed a little, letting out a laugh, and looked down at Derek.

“Ticklish,” he explained. Stiles’ pupils were blown wide, his lips red and swollen, the barest hint of beard burn spattering across his cheeks and Derek couldn’t help but surge up and kiss him again, licking into mouth and clutching at his hips.

::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::

Stiles was startled out of his memory when the back door to the range opened and Kate came out. She walked past the Charger and climbed into the cab of a large truck before driving it out of the parking lot.

Derek and Stiles exchanged a glance before starting the car. They followed her out of town and towards the dock. She pulled into a slip and they stopped a little ways back as she got out and headed into a small building.

Stiles moved to grab the door handle but looked over his shoulder to see that Derek hadn’t moved yet. “I didn’t mean to.” He said and it took Stiles a second to realize he was answering the question Stiles asked earlier. Why he’d screwed things up between them so badly.

“But you still did it,” Stiles pointed out, his voice more shaky than he would have liked.

“I decided senior year that I didn’t want to go into banking. My parents weren’t exactly happy about it. We had a huge fight. It was really bad. They said they’d only pay for college if I went for finance. By then it was too late to get a scholarship and I didn’t qualify for student loans. But that was ok, cause I realized pretty quickly that college wasn’t for me anyway. My friends thought I was crazy, but I didn’t really see the big deal. Until that summer. Until you.” Derek turned to Stiles.

“All you could talk about was Berkley. And how amazing college was going to be and next to you I just…I felt like such a loser.” Derek’s shoulders were hunched up defensively and Stiles shook his head rapidly.

“I never thought that.” Stiles reassured him.

“I know. But I did. I couldn’t help but think about you off at school. Learning all these amazing things and meeting all these people who hadn’t thrown their lives away.”

“You didn’t—“ Stiles tried to protest but Derek cut him off.

“I couldn’t handle it. The idea that you’d find someone else. Someone who was a million times better for you than I was. Someone who’d be able to give you all the things I wouldn’t.” Derek swallowed hard and looked away. “So I decided it would be best to end it before it ever got that far.” Derek coughed and shook his head. “For what it’s worth, I’m sorry. That it ended the way it did.”

“Yeah,” Stiles nodded dumbly. “So am I.” He yanked open the door and walked across the slip to the truck. Derek hurried to catch up to him.

Stiles inspected the cab of the truck but there was nothing in there so they moved around the back and lifted the tailgate. Stiles grabbed onto the side and pulled himself into the bed of the truck. “Did you bring a flashlight?” He asked Derek who shook his head. Stiles dug his phone out of his pocket and pulled up an app, his camera flash bursting to life.

He passed the phone to Derek, who lifted it up, illuminating stacks of crates piled on top of each other. Derek walked over to the nearest one and grabbed the lid, prying it open. They both looked down into the crate in shock.

“Are those what I think they are?” Stiles stared down at the fully automatic assault rifles.

“Yeah,” Derek reached down and pulled one out to inspect it. “These are military grade.”

“Holy shit,” Stiles said as something caught his attention. “Is that a rocket launcher?” He moved to the back of the truck and turned to Derek in shock. “It is.”

The phone beeped with an incoming text and Derek looked down. “It’s Danny. He says he traced the text to a computer in the West Wing of Beacon Hills Memorial.”

“The hospital?” Stiles looked up, confused, to see Derek frowning as he nodded.

“That’s the long term care wing.” Derek said slowly. “Stiles, what did the witness call the guy who broke into Laura’s apartment.”

“The man with half a face,” Stiles answered looking through the rest of the crates. “There’s freaking grenades in here, Derek. Crates full of C4 and a shit ton of charges. I bet this is the same stuff they used on your car.” He glanced over at Derek, who had a strange look on his face.

“We gotta get out of here. I know who did it. Who killed Laura. Who laundered the money.” Derek turned the phone off and tossed it to Stiles.

“Well, isn’t that a shame,” A voice said from outside the truck and they both turned to see Kate Argent standing there. “I was rooting for you, Bounty Hunter.” Kate tilted her head to the side.

“Kate,” Derek growled.

“You think you’ve got it all figured out huh?” She asked him.

“I do,” Derek said through clenched teeth. “You got close to me to get to my family. You used me to kill them.” He moved toward her and Kate pulled a gun, aiming it for his head. When it looked like even that might not stop him, Kate spun the gun around and aimed it at Stiles. That gave Derek pause and he froze.

“Good boy,” Kate smirked. She pulled herself up into the back of the truck and stalked closer to him. “You’re right by the way. About the fire.” She brushed herself up against his side and leaned in to whisper in his ear. “But that’s not why I got close to you.”

Derek turned to her and glared and she took a step away from him. “We needed someone on the police force. Peter suggested you might be…pliable to our cause. But before I could broach the subject, your mom had to go snooping around the books. She figured it all out, threatened to turn us in. So obviously she needed to be taken care of. It was too bad. We could have been great together.”

“You’re insane,” Derek hissed.

“Maybe,” Kate shrugged.

“I don’t understand. What does your uncle have to do with…?” Stiles froze, realization hitting him. “He was caught in the fire. There were burns over 50% of his body. And face.” Stiles looked at Derek. “The man with half a face.”

“Well, I’ve been called worse.” A new voice called out as Peter Hale stepped up to the back of the truck. Kate spun around, gun at the ready but Peter lifted his own gun and managed to get off three shots before she could even pull the trigger. Her body crumpled to the floor of the truck and Stiles blinked in shock.

“Hello, nephew.” Peter smiled up at Derek.

Derek moved to step forward again but Peter raised the gun and stopped him in his tracks. “Right there is fine. In fact…” Peter turned his attention to Stiles. “Well, this one grew up good.” Peter leered at him.

“Ugh,” Stiles gagged. “I just threw up in my mouth a little.” Derek couldn’t help the snort that escaped his mouth.

“And you brought your own cuffs,” Peter said sounding pleased. He pulled himself up into the bed of the truck and walked over to Stiles. He reached into Stiles’ back pocket and slowly pulled the cuffs out. Stiles shivered in disgust at the contact and he swore he heard Derek growl. Peter dropped the cuffs into Stiles’ hand and nodded at Derek. “Cuff him to the rail.”

Stiles looked between Derek and Peter and Derek nodded. “It’s ok, Stiles.” Stiles walked over and slipped one of the cuffs around Derek’s wrist. “Please tell me you brought your gun.” Derek whispered when he moved closer to wrap the cuff around the rail on the side of the truck.

Stiles tilted his head back as he secured the other cuff around Derek’s other wrist. “I didn’t think I’d need it. I thought you had a gun.”

Derek rolled his eyes. “They took mine when I was arrested. And my off-duty…” Derek trailed off and looked over Stiles’ shoulder at Peter, then looked closer at the gun in his hand. “That’s my gun.” He said.

“Yes, it is.” Peter looked down at the weapon.

“How did you get it?”

“I stole it,” Peter admitted freely. “The last time you came to visit. Thought it might come in handy. And what do you know? It did.”

“You used it to kill Laura.” Derek was getting more angry by the minute.

“That was…unfortunate. But necessary.” Peter shrugged.

“Necessary?” Derek snapped. “How was killing your own niece necessary?”

“She was going to ruin everything.” Peter explained. “I had a plan. It was a good one too. I’d had seven years to perfect it after all, sitting in that hospital room, trapped inside my own head. No one was going to get hurt. Well except for the guys who started the fire, but come on, they deserved it. I just needed to get the ledger so I could get the account numbers and clean them out. Then I was going to skip town. I was biding my time when Laura decided to sell the bank. She started poking around the old audits and she figured it all out. She came to visit me, all upset. She said she was going to go to the Fed’s. They would have frozen the accounts and everything would have been ruined.”

“So it was you laundering the money. Not Louis.” Stiles said.

“Louis?” Peter snorted. “He’s an idiot. He only knew what he needed to know to do what Kate told him. Kate and Gerard sold the guns. I cleaned the money. It was the perfect partnership. Until Talia got suspicious and started going through the books. She didn’t trust me. My own sister.” Peter feigned hurt at the words.

“She figured it out?” Derek asked.

“She came to me. Wanted to give me a chance to turn myself in before she went to the cops.” Peter sneered.

“So instead you helped Kate burn my entire family alive?”

“I had nothing to do with that,” Peter thundered. “They were my family too Derek, and don’t forget they weren’t the only ones caught in the fire.” Peter turned his head to reveal the burn scars that covered half of his face.

“So what? Kate and Gerard decided to cut their losses. They had Louis, they didn’t need you anymore.” Stiles said and Peter turned to glare at him.

“Only he didn’t count on Laura selling the bank either. I set everything up to pass the yearly FDIC audits, but the accounts never would have held up under that kind of scrutiny.”

“Which was why he was so adamant about blocking the sale. He needed to buy time to clean out the accounts.” Stiles paused and frowned. “But he didn’t have the ledger, either, he was looking for it just like we were. Except…I saw Kate at the bank today. She got a briefcase full of money from Louis.”

“She found the ledger,” Derek said.

“She had it all along,” Peter corrected him. He walked over to Kate’s fallen body and bent down. His fingers curled around the wolf pendant and he pulled. The chain broke easily and Peter stood. He studied it for a second then pulled the top off the pendant to reveal a USB stick.

“That’s the ledger?” Stiles asked shocked.

“I thought a ledger was a book.” Derek frowned confused.

Peter turned to Derek and sneered. “What century are you living in?” Peter shoved the USB into his pocket and let out a breath. “Well this has been fun, but I’ve got business to attend to.” He bent down again and picked up Kate’s gun, tucking Derek’s into the back of his pants and aiming Kate’s at Derek’s head.

“So you’re just going to kill me? In cold blood?” Derek asked.

“No I’m not. Kate is.” Peter waved the gun. “She shoots you, you shoot her, and poor Stiles gets caught in the crossfire.” Peter’s finger moved to the trigger and Stiles didn’t think, just lunged, slamming into Peter from the side and the both of them went tumbling out of the back of the truck.

Kate’s gun flew out of Peter’s hand and Stiles scrambled after it. He looked over his shoulder to see Peter pulling Derek’s gun out of his pants, then aim it at Stiles and pull the trigger.

“Stiles!” Derek screamed from inside the truck and Stiles felt a sharp searing pain as his fingers curled around Kate’s gun.

He turned around and braced himself, raising the gun and pulling the trigger. The first bullet hit Peter square in the chest but Stiles didn’t stop. He just kept shooting until he’d emptied the clip into Peter and his body crumpled to the ground, lifeless.

Stiles dropped the now empty gun immediately, his hands shaking.

“Stiles!” Derek called out again. “Damnit – answer me.”

“I’m ok,” Stiles called out and pulled himself to his feet. Derek seemed to slump in relief when he saw that Stiles was ok. There was an intense burning in his back when he put weight on his left leg and he winced, looking over his shoulder to inspect himself. “He shot me!” Stiles called out. “In the ass.”

Derek let out a hysterical. “Too bad. It was a pretty nice ass.” Stiles surprised himself when the laughter erupted out of him.

“Peter?” Derek asked when he got himself back under control.

Stiles limped over to Peter’s body and kicked at his leg. He didn’t even twitch. “Dead.” Stiles swallowed.

“Good.” Derek said and lifted up his hands. “Uncuff me.”

“Yeah ok,” Stiles pulled himself up on the tailgate. He paused and looked over at Derek, a smile blooming on his face. “What?” Derek asked nervously. Stiles stepped over to Kate and reached down, he closed his eyes in disgust as he dug the keys out of her pocket and then stood back up. “Stiles? Don’t even think about it.” Stiles ignored Derek and walked over to the tailgate. He reached up, grabbed the handle, and pulled the door. “Stiles,” Derek said pulling against the cuffs in earnest now. Stiles jumped off the tailgate and closed the door all the way. “Open the door Stiles,” Derek yelled and Stiles flipped the latch, locking it.

Stiles glanced over at Peter’s body, and kicked him one more time for good measure, before he climbed into the cab and started the truck. He could still hear Derek banging on the wall of the truck and he pulled out his phone and dialed the station.

“Dispatch, please,” Stiles requested. He started the truck and put it in gear. “Yeah, I got a dead body, an FTA, and a bullet in my ass. I’m requesting aid with a transfer.” Stiles smirked as Derek screamed his name again. “I got Derek Hale.”

::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::

Stiles pulled the truck into the loading bay at the back of the station. It looked like every deputy had come out to greet him. He parked the truck and jumped down from the cab, wincing when his muscles pulled at his wound.

“Stiles,” The Sheriff walked up to the truck just as the back door of the truck shook.

“Here you go,” Stiles nodded to the truck. “Derek Hale. Not armed but very pissed off.” Stiles nodded at two of the deputies by the truck that it was ok to open it.

They pushed the door up and Derek, who’d apparently managed to get out of the cuffs, came barreling out and straight for Stiles. Three of the deputies stepped in to hold him back but he wasn’t going to let that deter him. “What the hell is wrong with you? Are you insane? Why would you lock me in a truck with a dead body?” He screamed in Stiles’ face.

“Fifty grand, that’s why.” Stiles rolled his eyes. “I only told you a thousand times. Also, you, handcuffed me to my shower rod. Naked.” The deputies laughed and the Sheriff sighed and averted his eyes. “Payback’s a bitch.”

Derek narrowed his eyes. “This is not over.”

“No?” Stiles smiled. “Can’t wait to see what you got.” The Sheriff nodded at the deputies and they pulled Derek away. “Enjoy your perp walk!” Stiles called out to him then turned to his dad. “For what it’s worth? Derek’s clean. Though you should probably keep him on ice for a while. Let him cool down. I don’t know why he’s so angry.”

Stiles pulled the wire out from under his shirt and passed it to his dad. “Peter Hale confessed to killing Laura and the other murders too. He was laundering money for Kate and Gerard, who I’m pretty sure, are black market arms dealers, by the way, if the guns in the back of the truck are any indication. They set the fire because Talia figured it all out. Laura figured it out too. She was going to go to the cops and he killed her to keep her quiet. He also killed Kate Argent. Her body’s in the back of the truck.” Stiles sighed.

“Where’s Peter?” John asked.

“Dead. Down by the docks. Slip 58.” Stiles swallowed. “He was gonna shoot Derek. I didn’t—“

“It’s ok son,” John clapped him on the back. “I’m gonna need you to give a statement.”

“Tomorrow?” Stiles asked hopefully. “My ass is killing me.”

“We’ve got an ambulance waiting.” John nodded at one of the paramedics who were standing by.

::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::

Erica helped Stiles into the apartment a few days later. “I could have just called my dad to come pick me up.”

“It’s fine,” Erica shrugged. “He’s pretty busy down at the station.”

That was an understatement. The Ledger, along with Laura’s files, were more than enough to implicate Peter. When they followed the money and realized just how big the Argent’s operation was, the ATF and the FBI had to be called in to deal with everything. Gerard had been brought in the day before but Chris was clean as far as they could tell.

When Allison visited him at the hospital she’d told him there was even evidence to suggest that her mom’s death might not have been so accidental after all. She’d found out about the guns and tried to go to the Feds but Gerard had gotten to her first, staged the accident to keep her quiet.

“Besides, you got shot. I can take a day off and pick you up from the hospital. I draw the line at sponge baths though.” Erica smiled as Stiles lowered himself onto the couch carefully.

The cat showed up suddenly, jumping into Stiles’ lap and staring at him for a second. She meowed, flicked her tail, and then spun around a few times before burrowing into Stiles lap. He supposed that was her way of saying she missed him.

“I even fed your cat while you were at the hospital.” Erica told him.

“How did you get in?” Stiles asked.

“Picked the lock.” Erica shrugged.

“Of course you did.” Stiles laughed then grunted when the movement pulled at his stitches. “Ugh. Getting shot is a bitch.” Stiles complained.

“Getting stabbed is worse,” Erica said and Stiles raised his eyebrows at her. “I’m just saying. Oh!” she dug around in her pocket and held out a check to him. “I stopped by Jackson’s on my way to the hospital and picked this up for you.”

Stiles reached out and grabbed the check. “Fifty grand.” Stiles said in awe.

“You did good.” Erica said proudly and Stiles beamed up at her. “Alright. I got stuff.” She grabbed her bag and walked to the door.

“Thanks.” Stiles said.

“Hey, we just might make a bad ass recovery agent out of you yet.” Erica opened the door. “Oh, by the way? Word on the street is Hale’s out of jail and looking for you. So, you know, use the deadbolt.”

“You’re hilarious,” Stiles deadpanned and she closed the door on her own laughter. Stiles waited a second before getting up off the couch and locking the dead bolt. He paused for a second then reached up and set the chain too. For good measure.

::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::

Derek didn’t come by that day. Or the next day. Or the next. Stiles had been down to the station a few times to give his statement. He knew Derek was back at work but they never seemed to be in the station at the same time. After about a month, Stiles figured Derek was actively avoiding him. Stiles was just starting to believe that maybe that was for the best when there was a knock at his door.

Stiles checked the peep hole and his heart almost stopped when he saw Derek Hale standing on the other side of his door. His hand hovered over the knob but he pulled back. He slid the chain in place first and then opened the door.

Derek looked up, frowning when he saw the chain. “Really?”

“It pays to be cautious,” Stiles said with a huff.

“I’m here on official business,” Derek told him but Stiles didn’t budge. “Scott ratted you out. I’ve been sent, by your dad, to collect the gun you bought from the Argents. Illegally.”

Stiles narrowed his eyes unsure and Derek sighed. “I brought you cannoli. As a peace offering.” He pulled a familiar pink box from behind his back and held it up.

“Wait here.” Stiles closed the door and walked to the kitchen. He pulled the gun out of the cookie jar and walked back to the door. He only hesitated a second this time before undoing the chain and opening the door. Stiles held the gun out to Derek – butt first.

“Take the gun, leave the cannoli.” Stiles told him.

“That’s not even the line,” Derek grumbled under his breath but grabbed the gun so Stiles could take the box from him. “You’re not gonna share?” Derek asked as Stiles moved to close the door. “They’re better when you share.”

::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::

“They’re better when you share, you know,” Stiles sat down across from Derek and looked down at the untouched cannoli on his plate. He’d been sitting there for the better part of two hours, not eating it, as the bakery slowly emptied out. Derek looked up at Stiles and smirked.

“Yeah?” He grabbed the cannoli and held it out to Stiles. Stiles didn’t hesitate before he leaned forward and took a small bite. His tongue darted out to catch a bit of pastry cream on the edge of his lip and Derek’s eyes narrowed in on the movement.

“You missed some,” Derek said, his voice low and dark. He set the cannoli down and leaned across the table, then brought a hand up and swiped his thumb across Stiles’ bottom lip. When Stiles swallowed hard Derek hooked his fingers behind Stiles’s jaw and pulled him in for a kiss.

It was pretty chaste as far as kisses went, just a soft slide of lips, the barest sweep of Derek’s tongue before he pulled away.

“You’re right.” Derek smirked at the dazed look on Stiles’ face. “That was better.”

::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::

“Stiles?” Derek asked uncertainly from the doorway and Stiles stepped back.

“Come on in. I’ll make some coffee.”

Stiles waited until the coffee was completely done percolating to pour their cups, puttering around the kitchen, getting out plates for the cannoli as Derek filled him in on the case.

“Oh, God.” Stiles moaned when he finally sat down and bit into the cannoli. “These are just as amazing as I remember.” He looked up to see Derek staring at him, his eyes glued on Stiles’ mouth. He licked his lips and Derek followed the movement. Stiles set the cannoli down on his plate and swallowed. Derek watched that too.

“My dad thinks you became a cop because of me.” Stiles broke the silence. Derek’s eyes shot up to Stiles’ and his expression was almost comical before he managed to get it under control.

“It wasn’t because of you.” Derek said then took a bite of his own cannoli so he didn’t have to say anything else.

Stiles just smiled bigger, not letting that deter him. “Right,” he snorted, “And I only went after you for the money.” He admitted before looking away.

The kitchen was eerily silent for a minute before Derek spoke again. “Maybe it was a little bit because of you.” He whispered.

Stiles looked up then. He couldn’t help the stupid grin that took over his whole face but it didn’t matter, ‘cause Derek’s smile was almost as big as his.

They finished their cannoli in silence but it wasn’t awkward, it was more…charged. Stiles grabbed their plates and moved to the sink to wash them just to have something to do with the nervous energy that seemed to be threatening to burst out of his skin.

He felt Derek come up behind him and a nose nudged the back of his ear. He gripped the edge of the sink and Derek pressed even closer when he didn’t protest.

“I missed you,” Derek whispered, his lips dragging up Stiles’ ear lobe and his legs almost gave out at that and he leaned back against Derek’s chest.

Stiles turned his head, letting Derek’s stubble drag across Stiles’ cheek before their lips caught, sliding against each other. Stiles pushed back against Derek, getting enough space between them so he could turn around. Derek immediately crowded him back up against the counter and they sank deeper into the kiss.

Stiles grabbed at Derek’s chest and his hands traveled up until his fingers were tangled in the hair at Derek’s neck. He pulled lightly, just barely breaking the kiss, their lips still brushing against each other. He rested his forehead against Derek’s as he tried to catch his breath. “I missed you too,” he whispered and felt the other man smile before pushing back in for another kiss.

This one was more insistent, more desperate. Derek’s teeth dragged across Stiles’ bottom lip before he soothed it over with his tongue. Stiles parted his lips and Derek licked into his mouth. He gripped Stiles’ thighs and lifted, setting him on the counter. Stiles wrapped his legs around Derek and arched into him, his hips stuttering against Derek’s and he let out a greedy whine.

Derek’s fingers grazed the top of Stiles’ jeans, dipping just a little under the waist band when the moment was broken by a loud, insistent Meow. Stiles pulled away from Derek reluctantly and they both turned to see Zod, sitting on the counter, glaring at them as if he was personally offended by their PDA.

“Oh, my God,” Stiles huffed out a laugh and dropped his head to Derek’s shoulder. “Did we just get cock blocked by my cat?”

“Your cat?” Derek raised an eyebrow and pulled back enough to look down at Stiles. “You’re keeping her?”

“I--” Stiles froze, as if he’d just realized what he’d said. “It’s just. I was talking to Scott and he said that older cats had a hard time finding homes cause people normally wanted kittens. Plus Zod’s got a very…distinct personality.” Derek scoffed as if that were the understatement of the century. “Isaac’s allergic and you said she hated you so I thought…is that ok?”

Derek looked over at the cat who was staring at him, on ear flattened against her head as licked her chops almost threateningly. He knew that if he reached out to her, she’d draw blood before he could even touch her. But the thought of still having a piece of Laura, of Stiles having a piece of Laura was nice.

“Yeah, that’s ok.” Derek assured Stiles before dropping a soft kiss to his lips. The cat made a sound that Derek would swear under oath was a growl and Stiles smiled against his lips before pulling away.

“Do you want to take this someone a bit more private?” Stiles looked up at Derek through his lashes and Derek wanted nothing more than to say yes. To pick him up and toss him over his shoulder and lock the both of them in Stiles’ bedroom for a week, only coming out to get food and feed the cat. But he wanted to do things right this time.

“Maybe we should start with dinner,” Derek offered and Stiles’ head shot up, a soft smile on his face.

“Like a date?”

“Yeah like a date.”

“You don’t date,” Stiles protested.

“I date,” Derek argued back.

“Tell me the last date you went on,”

“Ten years ago,” Derek admitted. “There was this guy. He was kind of amazing. And I screwed things up. I’d really like to not do that this time.” Derek took a deep breath. “So dinner? Tonight?”

“Yeah,” Stiles’ voice was soft. “I’d like that.”

“Good,” Derek pulled Stiles in for another kiss, this one almost like a promise of things to come. “But you’re buying. I heard you recently came into quite a bit of money.”

Stiles threw his head back and laughed, his whole body shaking with it. His eyes were bright, and his smile was so wide, Derek couldn’t help but lean forward and kiss him again. Stiles leaned into him and Derek was pretty sure he could kiss Stiles forever and never get tired of it. He allowed himself another minute before pulling back. Stiles whimpered and Derek forced himself to take a step back, because if he didn’t do right then, he wasn’t sure he’d be able to.

“I should really get back to work.” Derek said sadly, and Stiles nodded his head, a slow blush rising up his cheeks. He ducked his head and ran a hand over the back of his neck self consciously before he jumped down from the counter.

“So, I’ll pick you up at eight?” Stiles asked, and Derek raised an eyebrow. “You want to date, I will date the shit out of you. Also you don’t have a car.” Stiles pointed out.

“Actually,” Derek said as he walked to the door. “Before we get too far into this whole dating thing, there’s something I need to know.” He turned and at Stiles who looked nervous. “You ran over me on purpose, didn’t you?”

Stiles smiled brightly, shaking his head back and forth as he pulled Derek back in for one last kiss. “It was an accident,” he said against Derek’s lips. He was about 30% sure of that.