Sour Wolf and Big Mouth

Thank God for 3 AM

It was early morning in Beacon Hills, three am according to Derek's alarm clock. The werewolf had been staring at the clock, watching each minute tick by slowly. Derek growled before getting up. It was obvious he wasn't going to get any sleep anytime soon. He sat up and stretched, sighing. He got out of his bed and made his way to his backyard. Derek checked to make sure he was alone before shifting to his wolf, a large black furred male. Derek huffed as he checked the boundaries of his territory before returning to his house, only to find a gangly limb drunk. The young man reeked of alcohol, making the wolf turn his head away with a growl. The sound made the boy turn around. He seemed no older than 20, with large whiskey brown eyes and moles dotting his pale skin. "Doggy!" He slurred before reaching for Derek. Derek's eyes widened and he tried to back away but he was caught. "Dogs ar' 'he best." The young adult mumbled as he pet Derek clumsily. Derek tried to push him away. What kind of person sees a wolf and pets it?! The drunken boy mumbled something about being sick before he threw up by Derek's paws. The wolf jumped back, his ears flat as he waited for the stranger to finish. The younger male only rolled over, away from the vomit. Derek cautiously approached him. The male smiled at him crookedly with a red flush along his high cheekbones. He reached out and before Derek could react, he was cuddled against a lean chest. The young man rested his cheek against Derek's head. Derek caught the underlying scent of sadness and loneliness underneath all the liquor. The younger male nuzzled him before sighing. "Y're a nice doggy." Derek tried to glare at the boy but his position made it hard. Both boy and wolf stayed cuddled against one another in Derek's backyard for a solid fifteen minutes before the human passed out, his mouth opened as he started to drool. Derek finally managed to wiggle free from the death grip, shaking his fur off to rid himself of the boy's scent. However, the smell of medication, liquor and nutmeg still clung to Derek's skin as he shifted. Derek gently nudged the boy but got no reaction other than a snore. Derek groaned before picking up the slim male and taking him to his couch. He wrapped the slightly shorter male in a blanket, making sure he was comfortable. Derek made his way back to his bed and flopped down on the mattress, not bothering to put on clothes.

The next morning, Derek woke up to the sounds of groaning in his living room. The older male got up with a small growl before pulling on pajama pants. He walked out to find the young man from the night before holding his head. "Dude, where am I?" Derek closed all the blinds, being merciful to the guy's clear discomfort. "In my house. You wound up in my backyard." The younger blinked at him. "Oh shit, how drunk was I?" He asked. "Pretty drunk." Derek responded as he crossed his arms. "Oh please tell me we didn't....not that you're ugly or anything." He mumbled as he shifted under Derek's glare. "We didn't." The man sighed, slumping against the couch. "Okay, I'll trust you. I only remember walking through the woods and a big black dog. He looked like a Shepard or some breed of big dog." He held out his bony hands to emphasize his point. Derek gave him a deadpanned look. Some kind of Shepard? Drunk or not, anyone should be able to recognize a wolf. The younger male blushed and looked away. "Anyway, I'm Stiles." He held out his hand. Derek only glared at his hand. "What the hell is a Stiles?" Stiles only laughed, pulling his hand back. "Yo, what's for breakfast? I'm hungry dude!" He jumped off the couch and went to raid Derek's kitchen. "Don't call me dude!" Derek roared as he followed Stiles to make sure he would still have a kitchen and food.

So part two maybe....

Possibly....

Let's see