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    Summary

    Something inside Derek snaps. No, not snaps—clicks into place.

    He snarls, "That's my line, little pig."

    Shit.

    Stiles blinks, twice. Three times. "I—what?" and for once, he’s flailing at Derek's reference.

    "If you're the little pig," Derek leans down over the chair and further into Stiles’s space, his predator eyes flicking deftly across each of Stiles's delicate features. "Then what does that make me?"

    Realisation crosses sharp yet soft bone structure and Stiles answers, slowly.

    "You're the big…"

    Derek moves impossibly closer.

    "Bad…"

    Like a goddamn virus.

    "Wolf."

    OR

    Derek keeps his distance from Stiles, regardless of how he feels about him. It's better that way—better for Stiles.

    So when Stiles has had enough of pretending there is nothing between them, just how much longer can Derek's wolf be tamed?
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    EDIT: NOW INCLUDES MY ARTWORK!
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