Things We Never Saw Coming

War and Peace

**SOO Sorry about not updating, guys!! Just finished my midterms this week, and I forgot that I hadn't posted the new chapter D: Here's more sexy times to make up for it XD**

Friday, 10pm 

Stiles felt good. Like, really good. There was a new bounce in his step, and he was significantly more fun to be around than he had been before. It wasn’t just because he could finally stare at Derek without trying to hide it—though being able to do that was a hundred times more satisfying now that he knew Derek was doing the same thing to him—that had him happy. Things were going right for the first time in… well, it had been a while since things had gone right for Stiles. But now that he was finally in a good place, he wasn’t about to let it go. Not for anything.

 Lydia’s elbow digging into his ribs broke him out of his daydreams. “Ow! What do you want, Lydia?”

 “That kid who gave you his number is back,” she said, gesturing to the other end of the bar. Sure enough, Matt was sitting there with a beer in his hand, trying to casually glance over to where Stiles was. “And your boyfriend left this for you.” She handed him a napkin with a scribbled note on it and rolled her eyes. “You have a ten minute break.” 

 “Ten minutes?” Stiles demanded indignantly. “You and Jackson are in there for like an hour—“

 “Yeah, but I’m not serving Creepy Pete over there another five vodka martinis without someone to clean up the mess when I break his nose. And trust me, I will if he touches me with his salami hands again. Ten minutes.” She shooed him off and returned to work.

 Stiles sighed and scanned the note from Derek. It was a simple message: Storage room ASAP. Derek just loved to be super specific in his notes. Welcome to the wondrous world of work time booty calls, Stiles. He slipped out from behind the bar and into the “Employees Only” part of the club. The storage room door was open, and he could hear Derek pacing within. He stuck his head in the room and knocked. “Napkin note,” he said. “Classy.”

 Derek looked up at him and frowned. “You really going to criticize my methods now?” he asked. “Seriously?”

 Stiles rolled his eyes. “One day you’ll understand my sense of humor,” he grumbled, and closed the door of the storage room behind him. “I’ve got a ten minute break. You?”

 Derek shrugged. “I don’t know, maybe eight minutes? The really drunk crowd’s just getting here, so I can’t leave Boyd out there on his own for too long.”

 Stiles ran his tongue across his lips as he thought. Derek eyed him hungrily, a muscle in his neck twitching impatiently. Stiles shrugged. “What’s that look fo—“ he began, but the crushing force of Derek’s lips against his own wiped his mind of all coherent thoughts. He stumbled backwards as Derek pushed him, driving him into the metal shelves that lined the walls of the room. Bottles jiggled noisily as Stiles grabbed hold of one of the shelves to steady himself. His mind was a frantic mess of trying to focus on staying upright and wondering if Coach Finstock would fire him if he caught him using the storage room as sexy times HQ. It was at that moment that Stiles realized that he didn’t care. He let go of the shelf and wrapped his arms around Derek’s neck. Derek made a sound that was halfway between a purr and a growl, and Stiles found that his feet were no longer touching the ground. He wrapped his legs around Derek—that’s what you’re supposed to do in situations like this, right? He was just making things up as he went along at this point—and let himself be pinned up against the shelves. Derek seemed to hum with satisfaction. Point for Stiles.

 Someone knocked loudly on the door to the storage room, followed by Erica’s shrill voice. “Derek, you need to come quickly. There’s a fight, and Boyd can’t handle it by himself. Please, before he does something... stupid.”

 Derek closed his eyes and sighed. “Break time’s over,” he grumbled, opening his eyes and letting Stiles regain his footing. He said nothing else as he opened the door to the storage room and followed a frightened looking Erica back out to the club. Stiles sighed, checked his reflection in the mirror on the back of the door, and trudged reluctantly back to the bar.

 “Hey Stiles,” Matt said. Okay, he seriously needed to stop being creepy. He’d been on the other end of the bar when Stiles had left.

 “Hi, Matt,” Stiles replied with reluctance, wiping down the counter. His eyes followed Derek, who had two members of the fight detained within the hold of one of his arms while he grabbed another one by his hoodie. Mmmm…

 Matt followed his gaze and frowned. “Oh.” He looked back at Stiles. “Is he your…?”

 Stiles nodded, his eyes still fixed on Derek. “Yep.” He sighed and looked back at Matt, who was staring at him in a way that was really, really stalkerish. “What?”

 Matt shook his head. “It’s none of my business,” he said in a way that made it clear he had a secret he was dying to share. “I just wonder if you know him as well as you think you do.”

 “What’s that supposed to mean?”

 Matt’s eyes locked on him again, and Stiles was reminded of a reptile in the way he tilted his head to the side. Creepy… “You know his house burned down, right?”

 “Everyone knows about that, Matt. But Derek was just a kid—he had nothing to do with it.”

 Matt took another sip of his beer. “True,” he said slowly. “But he’s got quite a lot to do with the attempted murder he was never charged for.” 

 Stiles’ head whipped up. “What?”

 “Come on, Stiles. Don’t be so naïve. He went after the person he thought was the arsonist—a woman he’d been dating. She denied his accusations, and he tried to kill her. She went insane because of what happened to her.” He finished off his beer and took a five dollar bill out of his wallet. He put it on the counter in front of Stiles. “He’s not the person you think he is. If you want proof, come to the hospital.”

 Stiles watched him disappear into the crowd, dread clutching at his stomach with an iron fist. Derek almost killed a woman? That wasn’t the Derek he knew. It wasn’t… it wasn’t possible… or was it?