Out Of Milk

3

Weekends were a time for Stiles to hang out with Scott – only this weekend (like every other weekend for the past month) Scott was hanging out with Alison.

His dad was working (again) and Stiles was faced (again) with another weekend of sitting at home and watching TV. Only… that's not what happened.

"Breakfast is looking a little lean this morning."

"Shut up. We're out of eggs."

"I could go to the store and get more."

"Stiles, I've seen you in a store, you'd come back with chocolate eggs and think you were being smart." Derek said, handing him a bowl of fruit loops. "We'll go after this." Derek paused. "But we're taking my car."

Derek raced out of town in his black muscle car, shades on – black leather jacket. Stiles, who had grabbed his checked shirt and red hoodie as he followed the wolf out the door felt completely inferior sitting in the passenger seat beside him.

"You okay?"

"Yeah."

"I need to do a few things before we get the food in."

"Sure." Stiles said, shifting his position in the seat. "Where are we going?"

"Well, I need to get to the bank, sort a few things out. Paperwork."

"Cool." Stiles said, looking out of the window as they left Beacon Hills. Strange to think that if he'd been driving out of town in Derek's car a month ago he'd be pretty sure the Alpha would be taking him somewhere to kill him – not to sit in an office and listen to him talk about money.

"You sure you're okay?"

"Yeah."

"Okay." Derek said, although he didn't sound too convinced.

Dude was a millionaire. A Squillionare. A Bazzilionaire. He'd been living in the spare room of the Stilinski household for a month and the whole time he'd been rolling in cash. Stiles sat in the office as Derek's bank manager explained to Derek that the money was still there, should he wish to make any purchases. Explained that if Derek needed anything (anything at all) just to call – day or night. Someone would be there.

They walked out of the building, Derek putting back on his shades as they stepped out onto the busy street.

"Dude, you're fucking loaded."

"Looks like it."

"You're living in our spare room and you could buy our house a million times." Stiles couldn't help but feel a little bitter. His dad struggled on his wage, and Stiles was an expensive kid – the cost of his meds alone could keep him fed for a year.

"It only just came through." Derek said, giving him an odd look as they walked. "The insurance company wouldn't pay out. You're dad helped me a lot with the police reports, from the fire."

"That's a lot of money for a life insurance policy." Stiles said, scuffing his feet as he walked. They hadn't gotten anything when his mom died – it all went to pay for her medical bills.

"There were 11 people in the house." Derek said, and Stiles felt like the worst kind of bastard. He stopped and looked up at Derek.

"I'm sorry. I just…" He tried to find the words. "I just… my dad… we…"

"I know." Derek said, and put his hand on his shoulder. Stiles smiled, grateful and comforted, although he knew that he should be the one doing the comforting.

They walked through the busy Saturday crowds - no one gave them a second look, even though Stiles knew they much make an odd looking pair, One brooding drug dealer and a skinny pale kid in a red hoodie.