***STILES***

Hunter's in my dad's office showing him and Derek and Skylar and Parrish that video footage. I'm sure he's not telling anyone that I'm the one who actually found said footage. Well, to be precise, I'm the one who told Hunter where to find it, and so he did. For once, though, I'm glad with Hunter taking more credit. If Dad knew it was my idea, he'd probably dismiss the footage outright lest he be prejudiced to take it seriously because of his blood's involvement. Hunter doesn't have that kind of connection to him, so it's safer that way. Safer and less likely for Dad to feel some kind of conflict of interest.

Hell, I'm pretty sure his biggest conflict of interest re: Hunter is the fact that Hunter and I make out on a regular basis. As cool as he is with knowing I'm bi, I don't think Dad's cool with me dating an older guy. It won't be long till Hunter turns eighteen, and I'll be lagging a couple of years behind, and during that time, any hookups we do would be officially illegal in this state. Or would they be illegal now since we're both still underage?

I'm not about to ask my dad about this, of course. That'd be hella awkward, and I'd rather save my awkward for Hunter. He may not totally know the best ways to make me feel better, but he's learning, and that's what matters as far as I'm concerned.

At some point, I must have zoned out. I swear, one second I see Hunter in my dad's office, and the next, he's come back out into the main room and is cupping my face in his hands. "Stiles?" He gazes into my eyes, his shining with what look to me like tears. Or, at least, the threat of same. "Stiles, are you all right? You're looking pretty pale."

"Aren't I supposed to?" I did even before I got vamped up. Well, from time to time I was known to get a good summer tan, which I think I owed to my mom's Italian and Spanish blood more than anything else. Until I get werewolf-ized, though, those days are, sadly, dead and gone.

"Maybe," Hunter admits, "but you're not supposed to look like you're about to pass out. Bloody hell, when was the last time you ate?" He lets go of my face, then takes my hand and leads me out the door.

"Where are you going?" Scott, from his current perch by the door (alongside Jackson - I feel sorry for him), surveys us carefully.

"Hunter says he wants to feed me," I say with a shrug.

Scott eyeballs Jackson, who smirks knowingly. Then he says, "Don't drain the man dry, huh?"

I raise my eyebrows at him - and at Jackson, him and his nasty implications. "Drinking his blood might kill me, so...no, you don't gotta worry about any draining." I snap the boys a jaunty salute, and turn around to give one to Allison and Lydia as well. Ethan doesn't notice me at all - he's busy reading through some printout someone just ran off.

In what feels like no time at all, Hunter's brought me back to the loft. Luckily, by now we don't have to worry so much about the amount of sunshine coming through the big window. In any case, he has me lie on the couch and then moves it - all by himself - so it's angled away from the window.

"So if you're not gonna feed me blood," I ask, "what can I expect instead?"

"Tomato soup, if Derek has any."

"I don't think so. He's not a Campbell's kind of guy."

Without looking up, I hear Hunter's smile. "Raw red meat it is, then."

"Please, not raw-"

"I'm just kidding!" The fridge pops open with the squelching sound of its seal releasing. "Even Derek's not that nuts."

"I hope not. But if so, that'd explain a lot." I finally do look up and see Hunter laying out a bunch of Tupperwares on the counter. Huh. I guess thanks to Skylar's influence, he's living a little more of a domestic lifestyle. No more hermit in the woods. "Maybe that's why he's as buff as he is? I dunno."

"It might just be a werewolf thing," Hunter muses. "If only I were so fit."

"You're fit."

"Not like him. But you know what? I've got a few years yet before I'm as old and mature as he is now." He opens one of the Tupperwares and pretends to waft the smell towards me, even though, since the food's still fridge-cold, that smell won't transmit so efficiently. "Rice and beans? Huh? Huh?"

"Nuke it." He does, then brings the food to me on a plate. "Oh God, are you gonna spoon-feed me? That's a little too much, sweetheart."

"Spoon-feed yourself, in that case." He almost drops the plate in my lap, then sits next to me, crossing his arms and fuming. Or pretending to fume. Now I'm having trouble telling.

"Gladly, sir."

When I'm done eating, Hunter finally snaps out of his would-be funk and takes another good look into my eyes. "Finally, color in your cheeks."

"I think that might've been more to do with the spices in this food," I say. "What does Derek like to cook with?"

"How should I know? I barely eat his food," he says while finishing off his own plate of rice and beans.

"At least we'll have mutual bad breath when we kiss," I say. "That oughta cancel it out, right?"

He puts that theory to the test. "I'm not sure if that's how it works every time, but in this case...yeah, it does." He leans closer to me, his breath mingling with mine - and that's when I really smell it, not that it smells that bad. But still.

"I'll pretend I didn't just smell that either," he says almost perfectly in time with my own thoughts. Then his mouth joins with mine again, gently at first, before really crashing against me. His weight covers me, holds me down on the couch, and I feel myself tensing as if expecting to do more than just kiss and snuggle.

He clearly expects it too, because he's got his hands all over the small of my back. And at least one finger from each hand peeping my cheeks.

I slide one finger between our mouths so I can say what's come to mind, rather than rely on his telepathy letting the message through. "You better have a condom."

He makes a huge show of checking his wallet. "Crap. I think Skylar might've stolen them so she could use 'em with Derek."

"Don't you know you're not supposed to keep them in your wallet anyway?" Benefits of freshman-year health class. At least they weren't taught by Coach Finstock, who probably would've used them as excuses to go off on long rants about his own youthful bad choices.

"Well..." He looks up and over to the open door to Derek's bedroom.

"Not on his bed," I groan. "Please."

"This couch doesn't fit my frame," Hunter says with a rueful sigh. "Also, it'd be so much harder to keep clean."

"Point." I find myself laughing as I hop off the couch and lead the way to the bedroom. "But, you know, we don't gotta go all the way. I mean, there's a lot of stuff we haven't done yet."

"I know. That's actually what I had in mind." He picks me up bodily and lays me down on the bed again, then takes my shirt off so he can lay kisses all over me. His hand, meanwhile, reaches for my crotch.

He looks up to catch my eye, and I give him a nod. "Yes."

"And you'll do me after, right?" he asks.

"Whatever you do, I'll do."

"In that case," he says with a wry grin, "I'll do you a favor and not swallow."