"You Don't Know Me" || Derek Hale

42.

As Derek and I are waiting in Stiles' room, I speak. "This is a little weird," I comment quietly.

"What is?"

"Just... waiting in his room for him," I shrug. "You don't think it's a little weird?" He shrugs, and I chuckle. "Right."

Stiles walks into his room and over to his computer. "Hey, Stiles!" I hear his dad call out.

"Yo," Stiles starts as he turns around to see Derek and I standing in his room. "Derek."

Derek puts a finger to his lips and gestures toward the door. Stiles stands up and rushes over to his bedroom door. I roll my eyes. "What'd you say?"

"What? I said "Yo, Dad," Stiles responds.

"Listen, I've got something I've got to take care of, but I'm gonna be there tonight. I mean, your first game."

"My first game. Gosh, great. Awesome. Uh, good," Stiles nods. I groan quietly and shake my head.

"I'm very happy for you. And I'm really proud of you."

I can't help but smile to myself.

"Thanks. Me, too. I'm happy and proud of myself," Stiles states.

"So they're really gonna let you play, right?"

"Yeah, Dad. I'm first line," Stiles assures him.

"I'm very proud."

"Oh, me too. Again, I'm... Oh." I notice the door close slightly.

"See you there."

"Take it easy."

Jesus, he's the worst at acting natural.

He finally returns to the room and turns around as Derek pushes him against the door. "If you say one word...," Derek starts.

"What, you mean, like, "Hey, Dad, Derek Hale's in my room. Bring your gun?" Stiles responds.

I roll my eyes and pull Derek off him. "He won't," I assure Derek before looking at Stiles. "Right, Stiles?"

"Well, if I'm gonna be harboring his fugitive ass, it's my house, my rules," Stiles states.

I look over at Derek, and he slowly nods. Stiles walks over to his chair and falls back onto it. "Scott didn't get the necklace?" Derek asks.

"No. He's still working on it," Stiles answers. "But there's something else we can try."

"What?" I question.

"The night we were trapped at the school, Scott sent a text to Allison asking him to meet her there," Stiles starts.

"So?" Derek shrugs.

"So it wasn't Scott," Stiles states.

"Well, can you find out who sent it?"

"No, not me. But I think I know somebody who can."

~ ~ ~

As Derek is sitting in Stiles' extra chair, and I'm sitting on his bed, Danny speaks. "You want me to do what?"

"Trace a text," Stiles repeats.

"I came here to do lab work. That's what lab partners do," Danny points out.

"And we will, once you trace the text," Stiles nods.

"And what makes you think I know how?"

"I looked up your arrest report, so...," Stiles admits.

"I... I was 13. They dropped the charges," Danny defends.

"Whatever."

"No, we're doing lab work," Danny insists.

"Oh, my...," Stiles starts.

Danny pulls up a chair and sits next to him. He glances back at us before speaking. "Who's he again?"

"Um, my cousin... Miguel," Stiles lies.

Derek glances up at him, and I chew on my bottom lip to keep myself from laughing. "Is that blood on his shirt?"

"Yeah. Yes. Well, he gets these horrible nosebleeds," Stiles admits. "Hey, Miguel." Derek slowly looks up at him. "I thought I told you you could borrow one of my shirts."

I glance between them before speaking. "Come on," I say before taking his hand in mine and leading him over to Stiles' dresser. He pulls his shirt off and tosses it aside. I glance over at him and smirk to myself. I open his dresser drawer and start picking through the shirts. "Try this one."

He takes the shirt from me and examines it. "Um... Stiles?" Derek questions.

"Yes?" Stiles asks as he looks over at us.

"This... No fit," Derek states as he shows him that there's no stretchiness to the shirt.

"Then try something else on."

I take the shirt from him and keep digging through his shirts. "How about this one?" I suggest as I hold up the blue and orange striped shirt. He raises his brows. "Just try it."

He takes it from me and slides it on. "Hey, that one looks pretty good, huh?" Stiles comments. "What do you think, Danny?"

"Huh?" Danny hums.

"The shirt."

Derek turns around, and I examine the shirt.

Geez, him and Stiles definitely have different taste in clothes.

Danny sighs. "It's... It's not really his color."

"You know, you're totally right. I don't know what I was thinking," I shake my head.

Derek sighs before pulling the shirt off. I hand him another one, and he checks the stretchiness. I shrug my shoulders. "Stiles! None of these fit," Derek snaps.

"I'll need the ISP, the phone number, and the exact time of the text," Danny gives in.

I chuckle and turn toward Derek. "I think I prefer you in your normal clothes," I whisper. He glances over at me, and I lean forward and kiss his cheek.