Derek walked into the kitchen and sighed heavily, apparently his new favorite thing to do now that he was dealing with a brand new werewolf. He ran his hand through his mussed hair, reminding him that his sleep the night before hadn't been at all restful. He'd spent his evening in the woods by the burnt out relic of their former home, the place he always went when he needed to think.

Peter walked in behind him only a few minutes later, making a beeline straight for the coffee maker, like he always did. His hair was sticking up in every direction, the sight making Derek smile, despite the conversation he was about to have.

"You've been up and you didn't make coffee?" Peter insisted. "I thought I raised you better than that."

Derek smirked. "I just got in. Didn't you notice my clothes? Same as last night."

Peter turned slowly and looked him up and down, blinking rapidly and then rubbing his eyes. "Oh. Well, where have you been? Did you have a date?"

Derek rolled his eyes as Peter turned his attention back to the coffee maker and pushed all the necessary buttons to make it brew what he always referred to as the magic liquid that made him sane.

Derek snorted. "No. I didn't have a date."

He leaned against the wall nearest him, crossing his arms over his chest and refusing to offer more. He didn't want to ask this at all, but especially not of Peter. He knew how important it was, and he knew the answer. Or he hoped he did.

"Can I, uh, talk to you about something?" he asked timidly. "Serious."

Peter nodded, but didn't turn back around. He grabbed a cup from the shelf and shoved it underneath the spout, willing the machine to go faster.

"You certainly sound more broody than normal," Peter teased. "Shoot."

Derek took a deep, steadying breath, unsure of where to begin. "I'm, uh, just gonna ask. And if it isn't you, I don't want you to get mad at me. Okay?"

But he wondered how practical that was. He was basically accusing Peter of committing a pretty serious crime. And even if the rest of the world might not see it as one, it was to them.

"Scott McCall was bitten. He's a senior on my lacrosse team," he said, swallowing hard when he saw Peter's shoulders tense. "It was just a few nights ago, I think, and nothing crazy has happened, but I need to know if it was you."

Peter turned slowly, pushing off the counter and revealing a prominent frown on his face as his hands began to curl into fists. He pressed them into the tile at the top of the island between them, his eyes flashing red for the briefest of seconds.

When he spoke, he was calm and measured. Like always. "You think I bit an innocent kid and left him alone?" he asked softly. "Christ, Derek. Do you really think that little of me?"

Derek shook his head quickly, stepping forward and uncrossing his arms. "No. No, Peter, I don't. Really," he declared. "Look, it's just... it wasn't that long before the full moon and neither of us has been entirely in control of ourselves since the fire. I thought maybe... maybe it got away from you or something. Or you didn't realize it happened. You and I both know there are no other werewolves in Beacon Hills. That leaves two options."

He motioned between himself and Peter, continuing before his uncle could misinterpret his motivations behind the line of questioning. He felt horrible enough already. He didn't want to add miscommunication to their list of problems.

"The other packs close enough haven't touched us since it happened, even though we're so weak, so I don't think it was them."

Peter stared ahead for a moment before rolling his neck to the side, cracking it and then his knuckles. When he was finished, he shut his eyes and then opened them again, revealing they were still his normal, human icy blue color.

He slowly straightened back up to his full height, took a deep breath like Derek had done before Peter had entered the room, and looked him squarely in the eyes.

"Okay," he began, "I can understand where you're coming from. I can. But, Derek, I would hope you know that if I made a mistake that big, and that's a big one, I would say something to you. Because I'm not under the impression I can't make them, okay? I know what my responsibilities here are."

"Yeah, I know," Derek muttered, hanging his head.

"I'm not trying to make you feel guilty," Peter countered. "Just show me a little more faith than that. Because if it was you, I know you would come to me and own up to it. Right?" Derek nodded. "And because you're my nephew and I love you, I would never think that low of you either."

Derek wanted to hate him for pulling the family card, but he knew it applied. Even if it made sense in every universe for him to ask, in this one, where Peter had raised him and shown him nothing but love, it was out of line.

He saw that now.

"And I would help you figure it out," Peter added.

And just like that, he was fifteen again. His anger was fiery and instant. He slammed his fist on the counter, knowing his eyes were flashing blue without having to look in a mirror.

"I'm sorry, okay?" he yelled. "I'm sorry."

Peter blinked slowly, watching him and letting him work it out for himself like he always did.

"You've been talking about strengthening the pack for a long time," Derek said, much softer than before. "And I know you put that off because of me. Because you were taking care of me. I know how much you've sacrificed. I was just... I don't know... worried suppressing it for that long might have..."

"You thought I might have come to the end of my rope and just turned someone who didn't ask," Peter completed for him. "I get it, Derek. I do. It makes sense. I'm sorry I got mad at you, okay?"

They stood in silence, staring each other down, unsure of where to go from there. Finally, Peter uncrossed his arms and turned back to the coffee maker, grabbing his cup.

"Look, let's start over," Peter offered. "I didn't bite him. You didn't bite him. But we still gotta figure this out. Where is he now?"

As he turned back to Derek, he took a cautious sip of his steaming cup and waited for Derek to answer.

"They're on their way over," he answered.

Peter perked an eyebrow. "They? I thought you said it was one."

"It is," Derek said. "He's coming with Stiles, his best friend. Scott doesn't have a car. And Stiles was the one who actually figured it out."

He ended his sentence with a shrug, but he knew what Peter was going to say next. He was trying to play it off, though. He knew Scott coming without Stiles wasn't an option, and the sooner Peter got on board with that, the better.

"He figured it out? That's kind of a... problem, don't you think, Derek? The whole humans shouldn't know thing. Remember?"

"He's fine," Derek insisted. "He's super smart. But don't tell him I said that. I'll totally deny it if you do."

Peter chuckled and took another sip. "Your secret is safe. I'll make breakfast and we can talk this over. Why don't you shower? I can smell you from over here."

Derek rolled his eyes like he always did when Peter insisted it wasn't his supernatural powers involved that made that possible. But he turned to leave regardless. He did need a shower, for starters.

"Love you, Derek!" Peter replied obnoxiously loud as Derek walked toward his room.

"Yeah, yeah," he mumbled, a smile on his face. "Love you too."