This starts before the series, it shows how Stiles and Derek really first met.

Stiles had just turned ten years old when he first met Derek Hale. It was barely two years before the tragic Hale house fire and only one year before Kate. Stiles' mother wasn't yet sick, his father wasn't yet Sheriff, and the boy had yet to develop the defense mechanism of being goofy to cover up all his festering insecurities.

It was a time where Derek and Stiles still had a reason to smile so widely their jaws ached. Before anyone started staring at them because their family was dead or their father was Sheriff. Before being smart meant being alone, before Scott, before bloodlines and battles. Before cleverness really meant anything. Before strength became the only reason they were alive.

They met before either had blood on their hands or guilt on their hearts.

They met in the dead of autumn, and they met by chance.

xXx

Stiles tugged absently at the maroon scarf his mother had given him, she'd wrapped it rather loosely around his neck right before he'd went out the door. She'd gently reminded him to keep a hold of it because it belonged to her when she was little and she didn't want him to catch a cold. He was still small, she'd said, he needed to bundle up a bit before going out into the chilled fall air. He had no gloves but his coat was on the side of thick, his moonboots kept his feet warm.

Stiles had dashed to the woods the moment he was down the street, shooting little excited looks back over his shoulder in the way only a child could when he was escaping his parents eyes. He was sure the neighbors would tell on him but for now he didn't care, at the moment he was free roam. The woods were so big and colorful this time of year, holding fairytale secrets that his ten year old heart longed for. He wanted to capture a fairy or catch a glimpse of a gnome, he wanted to discover a princess in a lake or a dagger in a tree. He wanted some type of adventure!

He went at a run through the trees, kicking up piles of gold and crimson leaves like they were weightless. He was a skinny thing, small like his mother had said, but with the potential to become quite tall and long limbed. He was pale and shy, already conscious of his features. His father promised that one day he'd grow into his big eyes and wide dimples, but he didn't believe him.

None of the girls ever talked to him, especially not Lydia, but he tried not to let it bother him.

Stiles wasn't sure how deep he was when he came across the stream but it had to be pretty far, he'd never seen this part before. Here the golden topped trees grew thick and tall, untouched like some parts of the harvested forest. He waded through ankle-high piles of leaves to get to the water, wrinkling his nose when he nearly fell into the bank. There was a drop, maybe a foot, where the forest floor gave way and the pebbled stream line started. Bracing his hand on a thick teenage tree, Stiles eased himself down until his boots met gravel.

He sighed, shuffling closer to the stream to see if he could catch a glimpse of any tiny fish in the stream. He squatted down next to the water, dropping his hand to allow his fingers to drag through the undertow. The water was cool and clean against his nails in a soft rush of nature. It was so pretty, the sunlight was trickling in through the tree canopy to dance across surface. Colors danced in the stream like an intricate piece of art.

Stiles was lost in a daydream about those same colors on the scales of a dragon when he heard it, the soft skitter of a small creature in the leaves followed by the thumps of feet. He tensed, almost too scared to turn around, but when the sounds came from right behind him he had to look. It could've been anything from a squirrel to a tiger, his young mind ran rampant when it came to all the animals that could tear hm apart. Gathering his courage, Stiles stood and whipped around to face the monster.

He cried out but quickly muffled it with his own hand. He had turned around just in time to see a boy shoot out from behind a tree, catching a brown rabbit in mid-jump. The boy was older than him with stark dark hair that spiked up in a wild mess. His teeth were blindingly white and his grin was huge, the leather jacket on his shoulders just a bit too big for him. He was holding the bunny up, high and proud, right before he caught a glimpse of Stiles himself.

The older boy's smile faltered, bright emerald eyes darting between the rabbit in his hands and Stiles' terrified expression. He gaped briefly, snapping his jaw shut when the animal made a high pitched sound.

"I..." the dark haired boy started off.

"Don't kill it" Stiles whispered, eyes locked on the sweet tan creature.

The rough boy frowned, "But-"

"It could be a momma" Stiles offered, lowering his hand to his side "It could have babies in a hole somewhere around here, and if she doesn't come back they'll die."

The other sighed heavily, thumbing at the creature's sides almost eagerly before releasing it. The rabbit ran away in leaps and bounds, disappearing beneath the golden thicket of leaves.

"I was going to take it home, you know" the boy watched it go mournfully "My mom wanted me to bring home some game for dinner. Now what the hell am I supposed to eat?"

"Well..." Stiles dug the heel of his boot deeper into the gravel "Would you rather kill one thing or a dozen? Bunnies have big litters, you know."

The boy actually looked back to him, "I'm not getting philosophical with a kid. What are you, five?"

"Ten" Stiles frowned "What are you? Fifty?"

The boy frowned back, "You little shit!"

Stiles gasped, the darker boy clamped his hand over his mouth in an imitation of what the other had done earlier.

"Sorry" the boy apologized.

" 'S okay" Stiles replied after a long moment "My dad says worse about work."

"You shouldn't have to hear stuff like that" the older boy wrapped an arm around one of the tree branches, letting it hold his weight as he leaned away "What's your name, kid?"

"Stiles."

White teeth flashed again in a grin, "That's not your real name, no way."

The younger one didn't reply, only dug his boots deeper into the stream bank.

"Well, I'm Derek" the rough boy reciprocated "What are you doing out here?"

"I'm just playing" Stiles hated how childish that sounded "My parents don't know where I'm at."

"Really?" Derek's dark brows shot up his forehead "That's really dumb of you."

The kid looked hurt.

"I-I mean" Derek fumbled over his words, hoping the boy didn't cry "You know, your parents will get worried if you get lost out here."

"No way, my dad would find me" Stiles threw out his chin, a sense of pride welling up in his little chest "He's in the Sheriff's department. He's gonna be in charge one day."

"Sure, kid."

Stiles looked him up and down, noting the mud drying on the man's black boots, "What are you doing here?"

"My brother and I are out hunting game for dinner" Derek thumbed behind him as if indicating the rest of the woods "I'm going to have to find something else now."

"You're hunting with your bare hands?" Stiles inquired, looking around for any signs of a weapon.

"I can handle it" Derek boasted, shrugging like it was no big deal "The game here isn't that fast. I saw my brother with a deer earlier, not sure if he's killed it yet but he's hot on it's trail."

"He must be super strong!" Stiles blurted out, imagining a bigger version of Derek with a cape and mask.

Derek wrinkled up his nose, a little spike of jealousy hitting him in the gut, "I'm just as strong."

"You're gonna take down a deer with just your hands?" Stiles gaped, holding up his own hands briefly to stare at them (baffled that someone could be that strong) before balling them into fists "Wow!"

Derek started talking about the predictable running path of deer and the boy tuned out. He crept closer and closer, trying to be nonchalant about it but failing. Derek was still leaning on the tree a foot above the bank, practically towering over the younger boy.

Eventually Stiles tuned back in, "I don't know how you got this far into the woods without someone spotting you."

"Huh?" Stiles looked up at him, Derek was smiling at him in a strangely fond way.

"You weren't listening to a word of that, huh?"

"I'm not really good at that" Stiles made a face "You know, listening."

"I can tell" Derek chuckled low in his throat, the boy blushed "This is our land, you know that right?"

"I'm sorry" the boy spun around, staring at everything with a new found wonder "I didn't know."

"Kids these days are so reckless" Derek said without thinking, rolling his eyes afterward "Great, I sound like my mom."

The older boy continued to talk about how children should be more careful in the wood but Stiles didn't care. He was way too busy watching Derek's mouth move. The man's smile was so handsome. Those teeth were blinding and sharp, catching the light when he tossed his head back to laugh. Those eyes of his were nice too, a bright emerald that cast a glow of their own. He'd never seen green eyes up close before. It took only a few moments of study for him to come to a conclusion. He liked Derek. He liked how he looked and the way he sounded, and if the light breeze against his face had anything to say about it – he liked the earthy way he smelled. Maybe it was the forest or the man himself but he didn't care, it was good.

"I like you" Stiles blurted out, saying exactly what was on his mind.

Derek was startled out of his speech, brow furrowing up for just a moment. After a moment he burst into a full on smile, dimples creasing his face in a completely endearing way.

"Wow, uh, thanks. I like you too, Stiles" Derek laughed again "You're cute kid. Strange, but cute."

Stiles remembered something just like this. It had been in his kitchen a little while ago, his dad had called his mom's dress cute in the same tone and way Derek had just called him cute. His mom had leaned up and kissed his dad for it, praising him for his thoughtfulness. He'd seemed really happy she'd done it, he'd smiled the same way Derek was smiling right now. Stiles wanted Derek to keep smiling that big.

Stiles stood up on tip-toe and pressed his mouth to the older boy's mid-sentence. Derek's mouth was warm and he made this funny yelpy sound when they kissed. He wasn't sure what to do so he only copied what his dad had done, he kept his eyes closed and pursed his lips a bit. It kind of felt like a movie kiss, warmth bloomed down through his chest into the pit of his stomach. It was chaste but their mouths were soft and young, accepting of the contact even without one of them knowing what was going on.

Derek didn't pull away but he was wide-eyed with shock. Stiles was the one to break it, pale cheeks now ruddy with a bit of embarrassment and fresh joy at the contact. The man smiled really big again, catching a big whiff of the younger boy's scent to find it enticing.

"Genim" Stiles sighed, eyes fluttering open again.

"What?" Derek faltered, unaware of how big he was smiling.

"My name is Genim" Stiles replied, flushing more as the man closely examined him "My mom named me."

Stiles watched the other's emerald eyes color a powder blue, glowing instead of darkening like he'd expected someone so strong to do. The hand that Derek didn't have wrapped around the tree branch fell to the collar of Stiles' shirt. He pulled the scarf to the side so his fingers could slip inside along the warm fabric, the pads of his digits resting against the line of the boy's jugular. For several long moments Derek simply felt the throb of the child's life, teeth scraping over his lower lip briefly to show the just of a fang.

Stiles missed it, he was lost in the sensation and humming to himself.

"Listen, Genim...you need to be more careful" Derek husked, the boy didn't move but goosebumps broke out across his skin "You could get hurt planting it on strangers like that. Why don't you go home?"

Stiles was enjoying the touch but he nodded anyway, wanting to please the older boy.

Derek sighed and reigned himself in, rolling his shoulders as he rose to a full stand. He carefully pushed the boy's scarf back into place so it covered the curve of his neck, hiding it from any potential predators. It took him a few tries to push his wolf down but he managed.

"Do you need help finding your way back?" Derek inquired lightly.

Stiles looked around again and realized (yet again) that he was farther out than he'd ever been, "Yeah. I ran way too far."

"No shit, kid" the dark haired man held out his hand "I'll take you."

Stiles smiled eagerly, grabbing the other's hand and holding tight. Together they started through the woods, kicking up leaves and twigs as they went. He felt a little too old to be led by the hand but Derek seemed content to do it and he wanted to make the older man happy. So Stiles kept up and kept his grip firm, ignoring the chill of the air on his nose.

"I want you to make me a promise, Stiles."

The boy perked up, "Sure!"

Derek looked down at him with another one of those big smiles, the ones Stiles already loved, "Don't go around kissing people like that until you're a bit older, okay?"

Stiles' brow furrowed up but he nodded, "Deal."

Silently, Stiles makes himself another promise. He swore right then and there to never kiss anyone but Derek. Because as much as he liked to see people happy, Derek was the only one he wanted to make smile that big.

xXx

It was nearly two years before Stiles heard the name Derek Hale again, and even then he hadn't been sure it was even the same man. It had occurred at breakfast when his mother was reading the paper aloud, stopping on the title of an article about a fire. It was an awfully big fire that had killed an awfully large amount of people, all with the tragic last name Hale. But the name Derek had triggered something within him and he'd spent the next hour crying like no twelve year old should, begging for info about the case.

His mother broke and told him the truth, revealing that Derek was fine but at least eight members of the Hale family were dead. Her tears started as his stopped, he'd been so relieved of Derek's life that he'd collapsed on the couch and pondered taking a nap.

That's when Stiles realized he hadn't even thought of kissing anyone else since that day, not even Lydia.

xXx

The second time they met they were showered in grief.

Stiles shuffled along in the long line of darkly clad mourners, keeping his wet eyes down and his hands shoved into his pockets. He had yet to outright cry but he was close, as red-rimmed and sniffly as he was it wouldn't take much. The funeral procession was a slow moving, sad parade of relatives and neighbors. Veils and suits as far as the eye could see, the clunk of shined shoes on asphalt their anthem of the day. A few feet in front of him, broad shouldered flatfoots carried the heavy burden of the polished oak coffin that held his mother. His father wasn't fairing well, heavy headed while he trailed behind. He was too young to look so world-weary.

At thirteen, Stiles realized he'd have to take care of his dad from then on.

At the grave side, the priest spoke in a level voice that carried throughout the cemetery. His words were kind but his face was lined with his own worries. He looked world-weary too.

Stiles blended into the crowd rather easily, taking a spot behind a few tall adults so eh didn't have to watch his mother disappear forever. The last time he'd seen his mother had been back at the hospital, drawn and pale from the cancer. Her grip had been surprisingly strong on his hand, her eyes as loving as ever as she pulled him close.

"Don't you dare remember this, sweetheart" she'd demanded unyieldingly "Don't you remember one minute of this."

He'd nodded along, too scared to lie and tell her it'd be okay, "I'll tell people you were strong, Mom."

That had made her weep.

The last time he'd seen his mother, she couldn't stop crying.

And now she was gone.

It felt like a great, gapping wound on his chest. Hot, pulsing, festering, and raw. It was in his heart but it was spreading, sapping his appetite and replacing it with a sour nausea. He kept rubbing his palm across his chest as if to soothe it but it was too deep to be pacified.

Stiles blinked the tears from his eyes and inhaled a stuttered breath, desperately fighting off the urge to sob as he tilted his head back. It was the first time he'd raised his eyes in almost an hour and the faint sunlight of the overcast sky was almost too much. Maybe if it was sunny he'd feel better...

Stiles caught the gaze of someone standing on the outskirts of the funeral.

Golden leaves, the taste of rain in the air.

Those eyes...he knew them.

"Keep a grip on the scarf, sweetheart."

He knew those eyes.

A rabbit caught and released.

Where had he seen those eyes?

"You're hunting with your bare hands?"

It was a man, no longer a boy. Raven hair, a rasp of beard, broad shoulders, and looking right at him.

"Listen, Genim...you need to be more careful. You could get hurt planting it on strangers like that. Why don't you go home?"

It couldn't be...

"Don't go around kissing people like that until you're a bit older, okay?"

Stiles clenched his eyes shut for a long moment and when he opened them, the man was gone.

"Derek?"

The name was warm on his tongue.

xXx

Later, with half an eye on his kid, Stan Stilinski accepted condolences. It was assembling line of "she was so full of life" and "I'm sorry for your lose", one right after the other in a flurry of shaken hands and weak smiles. They were all sincere and he was grateful but it was tolling. His responses were almost automatic after a certain point.

A firm hand clasped his, startling him out of his daze.

"Officer Stilinski. I'm sorry to hear about what happened."

The formal, public tone was carried in a deep voice of a young man.

"Uh, thank you, Mister...?"

"How's Stiles?"

Had anyone asked about his boy's wellbeing today? Not many if he had to think about it so hard.

"He's...a strong boy. He's coping."

The young man looked over to Stiles, a heartbreakingly tender look upon his face.

"Take care of him" it sounded almost like a plea "You've got a great kid, Officer Stilinski. He's going to need you now more than ever."

Stan wasn't sure if he should be offended or not.

"I'm sorry I can't stay, just..."the ravenette looked so sad "Be careful."

Stan cocked his head, "Aren't you the Hale boy?"

But the young man was already weaving through the crowd, disappearing.

Years later, when he was Sheriff and the world had settled into a sense of normalcy, Stan wouldn't remember Derek Hale being at his wife's funeral. But he would forever remember the boy with the sad eyes who worried about his son.

xXx

Derek wasn't sure why he was doing this. Of course, nowadays, he wasn't sure of much. He was nearly alone in the world and all he could think about was that pretty little kid with the pale skin and red scarf. What a sigh he'd made back then with those big hazel eyes and macabre imitation of a slit throat. Fueled on the adrenaline of the hunt, Derek could only see the scarf as blood and the boy was prey. And for a moment he'd almost done it.

Something had stopped him. His wolf had calmed at the boy's fresh scent and receded, refusing to see him as anymore than a youngling who needed protection. Even after the fire and that nasty bitch Kate, he still stopped in every once in a while to watch the boy grow. Unfortunately he'd seen the bad as well. He'd watched from the bushes and trees as Stiles' mom grew sick and his father's slip into a catatonic state of work and sleep. There had been a few scares where Derek had thought about stepping in, instances where Stan had picked up the bottle for a night and gotten mouthy. There was once Derek actually entered the house after hearing glass break but soon disappeared when he realized it was Stiles throwing the bottle down the stairs so his dad couldn't have anymore.

Stiles grew up so quickly within those few days after his mother's funeral. The wolf watched helplessly as Stiles threw up loud, goofy walls and hid behind them. Everyone called him brave but Derek knew the truth, he knew how badly the boy was hurting. How could he not? Stiles' mother had been the only one to understand him and love him for what he was, a smart kid with an attention issue needed someone like that.

Derek wanted to be that someone but he pushed down the urge to coddle.

At least...he would after tonight. After tonight he needed to get away for a while, to transform and run in the woods. He knew the wolf would help close the void his family's presence left behind. He hadn't been dealing with it, he would be the first to admit it, but he'd felt drawn to the boy and he couldn't just leave him. Not yet.

He just needed to see him, just for a moment, just to tell him he was sorry about his mom.

That's why Derek was sneaking all the Stilinski property, keeping to the shadows and his hood tucked up over his head. He unsheathed his claws and dug them into the siding, scaling the side of the house with ease. He got the boy's window open with one hand and pushed it up, swinging his leg over the sill and ducking inside.

It was dark but he could see the outlines of dressers, clothes strewn across the floor, a deck of playing cards collapsed on the desk, the sleek lines of a laptop, and finally the bulk of a bed. Derek eased in slowly, avoiding the cluster of toys and books on the floor. Some of the material looked too thick or too old for a pre-teen to read. Even after two years the boy was still strange.

Derek stood over the bed and ran his eyes over the swell of covers, lips turning up faintly at the way Stiles curled up into a ball. He sat down with care to keep the bed from moving too much, fingers lacing loosely in his lap.

"Stiles" Derek began, voice rough from misuse. Fuck, when was the last time he'd actually tried to talk to someone? The words he wanted to say suddenly felt heavy on his tongue.

"I'm leaving" Derek whispered, eyes straying to the bedspread as he thought over the new life he was trying to start "I'm not sure when...or if I'll be back. I won't be around anymore. And I know it feels like I've forgotten you...but I..."

Derek's throat tightened up, "I need to leave this town."

He raised his hand and let it hover in the air for a moment before settling it on the kid's hip.

"You're going to have to be fine, Stiles" Derek stated "Because if things go wrong...I won't be watching. I know you're a tough kid, everything will-"

A muffled sound cut him off. Derek tensed, worried that he'd been caught, and the body beneath his palm shifted just an inch.

"Stiles?" he dared not speak any higher than a whisper.

He got no reply, only more muted whines.

Feeling bold, Derek moved his hand up to the edge of the blanket and pulled it down. The boy was still asleep but his face was pinched up in pain, his cheeks wet with tears. His lips were mouthing the word mom over and over again like a prayer, trapped deep within the snare of his nightmare. And it was a nightmare if the sweat on his forehead and the stench of pain on him had anything to say about it.

This was the second time they kissed.

Derek leaned down and brushed his lips across the younger man's temple, his cheek, and finally his lips. He grabbed his hand and laced their fingers together, laying down on the bed beside him in hopes that contact would give him comfort. It was a desperate move but it worked, the boy's face smoothed out and he stopped his silent muttering. It took a few minutes but his heart beat dropped, his breath evened, and he slipped into a more comfortable sleep.

Derek bumped their foreheads, letting his own eyes fall closed. How many times had he imagined this? Sneaking into Stiles' window, proclaiming hid fondness, and settling into his life. Nothing strange, he was too old to think of this child in that way, but he wanted to be a apart of him. He wanted to see him grow up from beside him, be friends instead of distant acquaintances, talk to him, learn about him first hand instead of deducing from a distance.

He was officially that creepy stalker guy in all those cheap movies.

"I wish things were different" Derek admitted into the quiet of the night, face half hidden in shadow "For you...for us. I think we could've been friends."

But too many things had happened to tear them apart. For two years he couldn't find the time or the courage to seek the child out, teased mercilessly by his sister for the way he talked about the strange boy he'd met in the woods. Stiles had never ventured that far into the woods again, after that day he'd barely been able to catch his scent on the air let alone find the source. He'd tracked down the Stilinski house but that was as far as it had ever gotten.

Derek breathed in deep, taking in the way Stiles smelled once more. It was so simple. Clean, like wet grass, but there was a new tinge of ink. What if this was the last time he'd take in his scent? What if he never saw him again?

Derek decided not to leave right away, lingering in the boy's bed for hours to keep the nightmares away.

xXx

The next morning Stiles woke up, oblivious to what he'd just lost.

This isn't the end, but I'm going to leave this as a one-shot. I'm going to post little one-shots to a bigger universe as I watch Teen Wolf. So all the little moments I can change I'll write down. The one-shots will range from anything between 1-10 pages, you'll never know the length. I plan to go along with it through season 1 and maybe season 2. Follow the story (or better yet, me) and you'll get notified when the next installment is up.

This is called the Red Scarf 'Verse. You'll see it as RS 'Verse in the summaries.

I don't feel like making a new tumblr blog for this story but if I do, I'll tell you. Until then, you can catch quotes and related pics at my main blog emono-omae over on tumblr.