Derek's attempt at shuffling ends up in disaster. He's not sure which of them starts laughing first, but it doesn't matter. It doesn't take long for either one of them to edge into a hysterical laughter that complete guts them both.

It's apparent to him then that neither one of them has been dealing with what happened in remotely the right way. He's not sure what the right way is, but Stiles abandoning his friends for a twenty-eight hour drive and breaking into hysterical laughter for no real reason definitely isn't the right way.

Neither is running, which is all Derek has done since the fire. He knows it, he hates it, and for the first time he's truly glad he asked Stiles to pick him up and not anyone else.

Out of those who would actually do it, Stiles is the one who understands Derek the most without even trying. And Stiles needed to get away for awhile just as much as Derek had, Derek did.

Things won't be the same between them after this. Derek knows this. They cannot be the same. Things have changed, are changing, won't stop changing.

They're sitting in a quiet, awkward silence when the overhead light suddenly flickers out, casting the room into complete dark.

"Seriously?" Stiles groans out. Derek reaches over to turn the bedside table lamp on but nothing happens. the power going out is the last thing they need.

"Do you want to see if the whole hotel is out? Or just to sit in the dark?" Stiles asks sarcastically.

"Shut up," Derek replies, heading toward the door. He pulls open the blinds, letting in the meager natural light.

All the work they had done shoveling the snow onto the path of the Jeep seemed to be counterproductive. There was a lot more snow in the parking lot and drifted up against the building and the vehicles.

Derek trudges through the snow towards the office, looking around briefly see if any other lights were out. The neon open vacancy sign in the office is dull, obviously without power.

"There's not much we can do about the power I'm afraid, the storm knocked it out. We're doing all we can but it might be a while. Are you and your... friend doing okay?"

"We're fine. Do you expect it to be out all night?"

"Well to be honest, yeah, most likely. We have a generator but it doesn't really seem to be working all that well right now. I'm guessing the owner didn't think to do the periodic tests to make sure the generators working. I am really not sure, sorry."

"Do you have any candles?" Stiles suddenly says. He hadn't realized that Stiles had followed him, but he isn't terribly surprised either. Derek isn't exactly at his best right now.

"I've got a few. I can give you one or two but I should really save the rest for the families with kids." Kat says, reaching under the desk she was sitting behind and pulling out two thick pillar candles. She hands them and a book of matches over, smiling up at them as she did.

They thank Kat and head back to their room.

It's mostly silent for what seems like hours, but Derek is aware that it hasn't been more than twenty minutes. It's not even the first time that day that Stiles has been still, but it continues to be strange.

Silence just seems to drag on when Stiles involved. Derek knows that Stiles is more than capable of being silent, he's seen Stiles silent in natural circumstances. Although sometimes silence fits Stiles, it seems most natural for the loud cacophony of words and movement to protrude from him-to be a part of him-a natural inclination of who he is.

"Derek?" Stiles' voice is quiet.

Derek doesn't know what to think about that, what do think about well, anything, that's happened in the hours since Stiles showed up in his jeep with a smile on his face that didn't quite meet his eyes, still doesn't.

"Stiles."

"Why did you ask me?"

"That's..." That's an excellent question. But it's not one that's quite so... easily answered.

Of everyone left in Beacon Hills, you were the one I knew would come is the answer that doesn't come.

"I don't know," is the answer that does.

"You're lying," Stiles says in response, as if he could read Derek like an open book.

He doesn't know how to reply to that, and almost doesn't bother responding at all.

"Does it matter?"

"I… guess not."

"Are we going to sit in silence the rest of the afternoon? 'Cuz seriously dude, I don't think I can handle that."

"It's almost sunset already, Stiles. And I'm impressed you lasted this long."

They return to cards not long afterwards, and its Stiles who shuffles them as they play. Derek doesn't even attempt to suggest doing it again, and Stiles doesn't offer the deck to him either.

They play goldfish, and then war and slapjack. The games are easy and fun-children's games-and totally not the kinds of games that anyone would expect them to sit and play, let alone together.

But it was nice. It was nice to sit in a place far removed from everything and to banter, joke, act like children. It was nice to not be an adult for awhile.

The storm got worse as the afternoon faded into night, and made the room even darker than it had been. It was getting colder, and Stiles had moved the cards to the bed where they were currently playing huddled in a mass of blankets.

Stiles lit the pink (overly fake floral) candle first, saving the vanilla one for later. It didn't light the room up much and they both knew they'd have to abandon the cards before long.

The sudden ringing of his phone didn't startle them as much as it could have, but Stiles still managed to jump a little.

"Hello?"

"My son still with you, Hale?"

"He's right here, sir," he answers, handing his phone to Stiles. Stiles gives him a funny look but takes it.

"Hello-Dad?"

"I assume you won't be back anytime soon, Stiles?"

"You didn't get my text?"

"Stiles."

"Got stuck in another storm. We didn't even get to leave the motel."

Derek tunes them out, taking the break in the game to layer back up to head outside. The snow is a thick and heavy blanket over everything, drifted up against the door. It's not very high, but Derek can tell by looking around that it's drifted worse against other rooms, especially the office.

He shuts the door without going outside, and takes the heavy coat back off.

"I got a few hours."

"Really?"

"Yeah. I slept some this afternoon too. Look, can we talk about this later?"

"As soon as you're home, kid. Love you."

"Love you too." Stiles hangs up Derek's phone and drops it on the bed. Derek walks back, watching Stiles and the way he flexes his hands tightly around the blankets a few times before he looks up.

"It's too dark to play anymore," is all Stiles says. Derek nods as he sits on the bed again. Stiles takes the time to gather the cards back up and slid them into the box.

They sit in silence for a few more minutes, neither of them looking at the other. It feels strange again, and Derek doesn't know how to fix it.

But Stiles apparently does.

"Do you know any stories? Like wolfy fairy tales or ghost stories? Because this is boring."

And if Derek snorts at that, that's his business.