"All right," Derek started, throwing the wrapper of his sandwich away. "You keep eating. I'll talk."

Stiles nodded once with curly fries still hanging out of his mouth, and then he looked to Scott to see if he was even paying attention. More often than not lately, he wasn't, which made him nervous. The only time that they'd hung out around Derek, he'd been their coach, and he didn't really take kindly to being ignored. Even if there was a good reason, like Scott's existential crisis.

"At some point, you'll need to walk me through exactly what's happened in the last few days, but that can wait," Derek offered. "No matter how you became a werewolf, and we need to figure that out too, you're one now and that's not the most pressing issue. First, we need to make sure you can handle this."

Scott tensed visibly beside Stiles and he reached out to touch his arm. "I get that this is hard for you, but you gotta stop freaking out every time someone says werewolf, okay? You've gotta get used to it at some point."

"Yeah," Scott said, swallowing hard and nodding. "Yeah, okay. I'll try."

He went back to staying focused on his sandwich again, clearly working to stay calm like he promised.

"Look, Scott. I know this is terrifying. It always is when you're bitten and not born," Derek commented.

"Born?" Stiles asked.

Derek nodded. "A werewolf's bite can turn a person. A scratch too, if it's deep enough. But werewolves can also be born to other werewolves. It's simple genetics. My family's been werewolves a long time, so I was born one."

"What do the eyes mean?" Stiles questioned, motioning toward Derek's face. "Scott's are, like, dark yellow or gold. Yours were blue earlier."

"You know, Stiles, I have a whole speech ready here, and you're kinda jumping ahead."

Stiles shrugged and shoved more of his curly fries into his mouth. "I have a natural curiosity. I just can't help myself."

Scott swallowed beside him. "It's okay. I was wondering that too, actually."

Derek ran his hand through his hair and then put his palms flat on the table. Stiles couldn't help it as he got nervous. He was rarely around people whose intentions he couldn't figure out, and with Derek that was always a problem. He kept most of himself hidden. A huge portion, it turned out.

"Okay, fine, we'll skip ahead," Derek conceded. "Eyes. Alphas, like my Uncle Peter, have red eyes. Betas have blue eyes. All other wolves have the yellow eyes." He put a finger up as Stiles opened his mouth again. "Before you ask, Stiles, the colors don't do anything except signify rank. Alphas are stronger than Betas, and Betas are stronger than all other werewolves."

"How do you become an Alpha or a Beta?" Stiles jumped in before Derek could stop him again.

"Born werewolves can be Alphas by blood. But anyone can become an Alpha if they kill one. But I don't recommend that. They're very hard to kill, and it's generally frowned on."

Stiles chuckled, but he couldn't tell if Derek was making a joke or not. His tone made it impossible to tell.

"We'll talk more about rules between werewolves later," he said. "But Betas are designated by the Alpha of a pack. If the Alpha dies for any reason, the Beta automatically becomes the Alpha, unless he was killed by an Omega. Then it sort of skips the Beta."

"And an Omega is the lone wolf, right? That's what you said earlier," Stiles pointed out.

"Yeah. It's not safe to be an Omega. That's why you really need to join our pack, Scott. I just have to talk to Peter first. It's technically his decision, since he's the Alpha."

Scott nodded, balling up the silver wrapper of his sandwich and grabbing another one. Stiles knew exactly what he was doing, but he had to know it wasn't going to work this time. It wasn't an uncomfortable family dinner with his dad once every few years. This was about his life.

"Eventually, your mouth isn't gonna be full and you'll have to talk, Scott," Derek smirked, reading Stiles' mind.

His chewing paused briefly, but then he shrugged and resumed without saying anything. Stiles rolled his eyes now over Scott's attitude, knowing he wasn't going to talk until he was good and ready.

"So, where do werewolves come from? Like originally?" Stiles asked through another mouthful of fries.

Derek turned to stare at Stiles, just as calmly as before, and then leaned back in his chair and crossed his arms casually over his chest.

"Your friend has much better manners than you," he remarked, nodding toward Scott.

Stiles swallowed and made a face at Derek, but didn't stop eating. He had heard that before, and clearly it didn't affect him like everyone else thought it should.

"Werewolves first came to be in Greece when King Lycaon killed his sons," Derek stated simply. "And then fed them to Zeus for dinner." Stiles' eyes got wider with each word as he swallowed and pushed the rest of his food away from him. "Zeus didn't like that and turned him into a werewolf."

"I, uh... I've read that one, but I didn't know if it was true," Stiles admitted.

Derek stared at him, ever stoic, before bursting out laughing. Stiles' eyes narrowed again, unimpressed with his attempt at being funny.

"I don't know if it's true or not, Stiles. It's probably a load of crap. I just wanted to mess with you."

"You're rude. You're a mean old werewolf and I don't approve. Scott, kick him out," Stiles argued, not meaning a word of it.

"What's the fun of keeping a human around in on all our secrets if I don't get to mess with him a little?" Derek asked, giving Stiles a wink.

Stiles waved his hand dismissively at the insinuation that this was all he was good for as Derek let a few more light chuckles escape his lips.

"Fine, fine," Stiles agreed. "Why don't you get to the part that's really important for Scott?"

Derek nodded. "Gladly." He paused, glanced at Scott, and waited for him to do anything other than concentrate on the sandwich in front of him like it was his job. "Are you feeling up to telling me exactly what happened that night and everything after?"

Scott reluctantly pushed his food away, and nodded slowly. "Yeah," he breathed. "Yeah, I can do that."

For the first time in days, Scott peeled back the layers of what had occurred and Stiles listened intently. He had been there for most of it, at least the stuff at the beginning, but there was plenty that was new to him. Mostly because Scott had been so stubborn about addressing and accepting any of it.

Stiles also watched Derek. He wanted to know everything he could about what was happening to his best friend, and while there were probably plenty of things he had overlooked, Derek would pick up on even the most innocuous detail.

When Scott finally finished, Derek looked at him and gave his best version of a reassuring smile, though it came off as more of a grimace. Stiles hated it, but he also found it oddly adorable.

Which made him hate it more.

"It sounds like you've gone through most of the changes already," he said decidedly. "Smell, sight, hearing. We can teach you how to manage most of that, but you haven't run out of school screaming, so you're ahead of the game, I think."

Stiles smiled and ducked his head, not wanting Derek to see that he found any humor in the situation. He was the only one allowed to use humor to deflect tension in this house.

"What else changes?" Scott finally asked. "When I transform, I mean. Just the fangs and fingernails?"

"Fangs, fingernails, and eyes," Derek confirmed. "It doesn't sound like much, but it's enough if the right person sees you. Like a hunter, for instance. That's why the most important thing right now is learning how to control it."

"I controlled it this weekend," Scott insisted.

Stiles scoffed before he could stop himself, and the way Scott's voice wavered made it obvious to anyone listening that he was completely uncertain. Stiles wasn't even sure Scott could truly remember either way.

"No, you got lucky this weekend, Scott," Derek corrected him. "And I'm glad you did, because the hunters won't feel the need to step in, but you can't rely on getting lucky every month. You need to master the change so you can use it. The compulsion to change is strongest at the full moon. It doesn't just disappear every other day."

Stiles could tell Scott was shutting down again, processing the information the only way he knew how. Which meant it was time for Stiles to step back in. A little number they had perfected over the years. And most people didn't think twice about it.

Stiles had a feeling that Derek wasn't going to fall into that 'most people' category, though, and he wasn't sure if that was a good or bad thing yet.

"So if there are hunters and stuff," he wondered out loud, "how have you managed to survive this long? To stay hidden?"

"Well, for one, we don't go around shouting about being werewolves," Derek replied pointedly.

Stiles deadpanned, "And?"

"And we don't transform in front of people. Like in bowling alleys," Derek insisted, pulling his eyes from Stiles' face to look in Scott's direction again. "Like complete idiots."

"It was an accident," Scott murmured.

Stiles ruffled at the insinuation, as if Derek was insulting him directly. "You're being a little harsh, don't ya think?" he asked, remaining as gentle as possible for Scott's benefit. "He's all brand new and stuff. He didn't know."

"He did know," Derek continued. "You told him. He was left to his own devices, which wouldn't have happened if it'd been me, and he wouldn't listen to you. Which, based on what you clearly know, was a lot of shit. Right?"

Stiles shrugged, refusing to side with Derek. "That can't happen again," he said.

"What about your uncle?" Stiles insisted. "He's the obvious candidate for changing Scott, right? So why did he leave Scott to his own devices?"

"I'll ask him, but I know he didn't do this. He wouldn't leave him alone. He wouldn't have even bitten him," Derek contended.

"But you're the only two werewolves in Beacon Hills," Stiles emphasized.

"As far as I know, which is a whole other set of problems if it turns out one of us didn't do it, Stiles."

He sighed and stood up, his body still as tense as it was in the parking lot when he was waiting for Scott to bolt. He was worried. Which worried Stiles.

"Listen, it's getting late," Derek added. "I'll go home, talk to Peter, and see what he knows. Come over for breakfast tomorrow and we'll make a plan before school starts."

Stiles nodded, wanting to accept, but knowing it wasn't technically an invitation for him. If anything, he was now officially Scott's plus one into the supernatural world. He was a guest.

"Scott, does that sound okay?" Derek prodded.

"Ye––yeah. That sounds okay," Scott muttered. "Thanks, Derek."

He didn't look up to meet his eyes as he talked, but when Derek rounded the table and put a hand on his shoulder and gave it a pat, he didn't flinch away either.

Progress.

"It's gonna be okay," Derek asserted quietly. "I know it's scary. But it's gonna be okay. I promise."

Scott nodded. "Thanks, Derek," Stiles repeated. "And, uh, thanks for paying for dinner."

Derek shrugged. "It's nothing. Gotta mark the occasion somehow. Arby's isn't what I would've done, but it's good enough, I guess."

He gave Stiles a wink over Scott's head before mouthing, 'Watch him'. Stiles, of course, nodded as Derek lingered for another second and then turned to leave, bathing them in silence as the front door shut behind them.

Stiles knew to wait to see if Scott would start talking first. He was the one with the big furry problem. He pulled his fries back toward him after a few excruciating minutes and popped a few in his mouth. It was rare that Stiles stayed quiet for anything, but he wanted Scott to be comfortable. Or as comfortable as he could be.

He would talk when he was ready.

"Are you, uh, gonna stay the night?" Scott asked, not looking at him either.

"Of course," Stiles remarked. "Especially if we have to be at Derek's that early."

He gave him a nod and then looked at Stiles out of the corner of his eye. "Just... ask it."

"Ask what?" Stiles said, playing dumb.

"Whatever it is you're dying to ask. You look like you're gonna explode."

He chuckled and wiped his hands on his pants a few times. "How are you, uh, doing with all this?"

Scott shook his head. "Um. I... don't really know, honestly."

"That's totally fair," Stiles assured him, tapping his finger against the table. "But Derek's right, you know. It's going to be okay. You're not alone in this. Even without your werewolf Yoda. I'm not going anywhere."

Scott looked up at him and smiled. "Thanks, Stiles."

"No problem, man."

Silence descended again, and Stiles found he wasn't as jittery as he'd been before. For just a minute, as he watched Scott put way too much ketchup on his plate for a third helping, everything felt normal.