Quick Note: Inspired by a post I saw on tumblr. This story is also on AO3. And obviously I don't own Teen Wolf, blah blah blah

Allison had caught him completely off guard, looking at him with those intense dark eyes of hers and a serious expression on her face. They didn't talk much, neither liking nor disliking the other, so her words were like a shock to his system, not just because they were directed at him, but because they seemed to suggest that she cared about his well-being. A strange thought, that.

"Derek, you really need to learn to go easy on yourself."

He blinked a few times, trying not to let his confusion show. He failed. They had only said hello to each other, did he seem so dreadfully morose that she felt compelled to say something. He didn't know what was happening.

"You focus too much on everyone else and how you affect their lives. You need to take some time to yourself, show yourself some love. Date yourself."

He opened his mouth to say something and then closed it when he realized he didn't know how to respond. His initial instinct was to be annoyed at the advice -how dare this human try to tell him what he should be doing with his life. But he kept that instinct in check. He had lost a lot and done some terrible things, but he was not the only person whose life had been touched by darkness. Allison may be a human, but she had her own share of heartache.

When he didn't say anything she just gave a shrug before moving to join Lydia who was waiting (impatiently if the foot tapping was any indication) by her car. Derek stood in the parking lot of the mall, where he had run into them after birthday shopping for Cora, and watched as they drove away, wrestling with the advice she had given him and why she had felt the need to give it.

While he's stood there, grasping a Macy's bag that held a new pair of boots for his sister, trying to make sense of the situation, his wolf hearing caught a strange snippet of conversation. He heard the words "werewolf" and "blood" and "I can't believe they blew up that high school" and after a panicked moment of thinking something terribly wrong had gone down at Beacon Hills High while he was out, he realized that they were discussing a movie. An entirely fictional, that-didn't-happen, your-pack-is-not-in-danger, movie.

It sounded good.

He dropped the bag into the backseat of his camaro and went back inside to buy a ticket.

Derek hadn't been to a movie theater in years, not since before Kate. Taking two hours out of the day had always seemed trivial, and it wasn't like he hadn't had anyone to go with. But Allison's words had been ringing in his head when he handed over a ten (why the hell were movie so expensive anyways? who could afford to do this regularly?) and got his ticket for the next showing.

He sat in the back, a massive tub of popcorn on his lap (also heinously expensive, he was going to go broke from this excursion), and watched as actors in realistic-looking (although not accurate) prosthetics played vengeful and tragic werewolves, fighting with vampires, and finally blowing up a school where they had trapped their bloodsucking enemies. It was meant to be dark and thrilling. Derek had to keep from laughing the whole time.

When he left the dark theater to find his car he felt better than he had in awhile. His head was swimming with images from the movie and he couldn't wait to tell Cora about it. She'd get a kick out of the bad one-liners.

It was the thought of Cora that shook him from his contented reverie. He was supposed to pick her up. A quick glance at the dashboard clock told him he had exactly 10 minutes to make a 20 minute trip to her judo class.

He pushed the camaro as hard as he could while not attracting police attention (he'd had more than enough of that for a lifetime) and pulled up five minutes late. Cora glared at him from where she waited on the sidewalk and he tried to look menacing in return but failed. His sister had that effect on him; she was fully capable of giving him I-will-kill-you-in-your-sleep glares and he in return always ended up looking sheepish in comparison. She rolled her eyes and got in.

"What were you doing, you're never late, I thought something might have happened to you!" she said, whapping him heavily on the arm. If he'd been human it would have hurt.

"Sorry," he replied, "I was at a movie."

Cora stared at him in surprise as he pulled away from the curb and headed back towards the loft.

"You... what?" she asked.

He shrugged. "I went to the movies. I was at the mall getting you a birthday gift and I heard these people talking about a movie they saw and it sounded good."

She blinked at him in silent confusion. Then her mouth widened into a smile.

"So what did you get me?" she asked, poking his leg. Now it was his turn to roll his eyes.

"You'll have to wait and see."

She turned to inspect the back seat, spotting the Macy's bag. Derek quickly moved his hand behind him to rearrange it so she couldn't see inside.

"Well," she said, looking forward again. "At least you went to a decent store. Tell me about the movie."

And he did, launching into an explanation of the storyline and telling her about his favourite scenes, laughing at the werewolf lore they had gotten wrong. Cora smiled with him and asked him questions and there was a light in her eyes while they talked that he hadn't seen there in a long time.

Derek went to sleep with Allison's words in his head.

"Date yourself."

It sounded pretty ridiculous, you couldn't date yourself. You dated other people. Well, if you were someone other than Derek Hale you dated other people. He made terrible relationship choices that tended to result in heartbreak and death. The thought was like a weight being dropped onto his chest and the smiles and laughter from the day disappeared under the pain of his failings.

He stared at the ceiling, trying to make his brain shut off so that he could get some sleep, trying to fight off the images of fire and blood. Dating other people had not done him any good. And after the latest fiasco with the English teacher he had resolved not to date again.

"Date yourself."

Going to the movies had been a good choice. He'd been late to get Cora but she had forgiven him quickly enough. That was something people usually did on a date. Following that line of thinking, he had in fact gone on a date with himself. And he didn't have to share the popcorn. He let the thought of buttery, salty popcorn and burning vampires lull him to sleep.

I was a week before he entertained the thought of another "date" with himself. The whole idea of it still sounded ridiculous. In that time he had fought with Scott and Isaac, had come under attack by an out-of-town hunter who had tried to lock him in a basement (people were very fond of holding him hostage, it was getting old), and locked his keys in his car. He was the only person that knew about that last one as he was telling everyone that someone had tried to steal his car and that was why the window was smashed in.

By the time the weekend had come around he was not in the mood to see anyone, especially not anyone from the pack. He cared about the other wolves, really he did, but he also wanted to kill them. Slowly and painfully.

"I'm going out with some friends for dinner, I'll probably be back late," called Cora from the front door, pulling on her shoes.

"With... friends?" Derek asked from his place by the window, as if the idea of friends was the most absurd thing he had ever heard.

She scowled at him. "Yes friends, I do have them you know."

"I didn't know."

She chucked a stray shoe at him, one of his sneakers, and he dodged it expertly, quirking an eyebrow at her. She glared some more before yanking the door open.

"Don't wait up," she said and disappeared, closing the door with a resounding click and leaving Derek alone in the loft.

He sighed. It wasn't that he cared that Cora was going out with friends (despite not knowing that she had made any), she was allowed to do whatever she wanted -he wasn't exactly in a position to parent her. But she was the one who usually cooked and Isaac had wiped the freezer clean of frozen pizza the last time he had been over, the bastard. Derek allowed himself a brief fantasy of strangling the beta with his designer scarf before returning to the issue at hand.

If he had been a normal person who wasn't trying to hide from hunters and unfriendly werewolves alike, he might have ordered in, but he didn't like the idea of giving out his address, even to a bad Chinese joint. He wished he was a normal person. He had told all his pack mates that the bite was a gift, and it could be, but at times like this is was a nuisance, especially when you were a Hale and most other werewolves hated you.

He recognized the dark path his thoughts were laying out before him and steered himself away from it. If he was going to be self-loathing he was at least going to do it on a full stomach.

"Date yourself."

The words floated into his head and he let them sit there for a few moments, mulling over all his food options, before he put his shoes on. He had to eat, so he might as well go somewhere and have a decent meal. It was certainly better any attempt at cooking he could make, as past experiences had already taught him that was generally a bad idea. And it wasn't a date, not with himself or anyone else. He was just fulfilling a basic need.

He shrugged on his leather jacket, shoved his wallet in his back pocket, and grabbed his keys. He was going out for dinner.

In retrospect, going out for dinner alone was a bad idea. The diner he had chosen wasn't very big but it was busy, and he was hyper-aware of all the stares he was getting. He wanted to believe it was just because he was sitting alone but he could hear the conversations going on around him and he knew it was more than that. It wasn't just that he was alone. It was that he was Derek Hale and he was alone.

"Isn't that the Hale kid? The one whose family died?"

"Didn't he kill is sister or something?"

"Why is he alone? He looks suspicious."

He clenched his jaw, trying to keep his eyes from flashing. Usually he appreciated the super-hearing that came along with being a werewolf, but at that moment he hated it. He'd always thought it was better to know what people thought than not know, but at that moment he wasn't sure that was true.

He stared blankly at the menu in front of him, gripping it tightly in his hands, but the words were blotched out by his anger. All he had wanted was food -a burger maybe and a root beer, perhaps some pie to-go. He was trying to forget that most days of the week he was a monster, that he had done monstrous things.

The waitress approached his table, a pretty teenage girl with long blond hair, a uniform she has clearly altered to show off more skin, and bright lipstick. She gave him a nervous look, shifting her feet. Derek could smell the anxiety coming off of her at having to approach him.

"What can I get you?" she asked, pulling a notepad from her apron.

He shut the menu roughly and set it on the table, flexing his hands in an attempt to keep his eyes from wolfing out.

"Nothing," he said, standing up and scaring the girl away from the table. He felt every pair of eyes on him as he left.

The guy behind the counter at the pizza joint also flashed him a few nervous looks, but he put up with it long enough to get his food and leave. When he got back to the loft he ate half of the large pizza (with everything on it -quite literally) in under ten minutes. One of the perks of being a werewolf was that you could eat your feelings and your body would never show any sign of it. Derek was certainly a testament to that.

By the time the first half of the pizza was gone most of his anger had worn off. It had been his own stupid fault for not realizing that he would obviously attract attention, especially by himself. Beacon Hills only knew him as an orphan who had lost his family to a fire (to arson to be precise) and the guy who had been suspected of murdering his own sister and several other people. The police had declared him innocent of course, but the damage had already been done. Once you'd been questioned for murder everyone was wary of you. Honestly, he couldn't really blame them.

He flicked the TV and channel-surfed for awhile until he stopped on an Angel marathon. Pulling the pizza box onto his lap he let himself sink into the cushions, letting reality slip away from him for awhile as he watched someone else deal with the bad guys.

When Cora came home an hour later she found the empty box discarded on the floor and her bother fast asleep on the couch, his long limbs draped over the sides unceremoniously. She turned the TV off and crept quietly up the stairs, careful not to wake him from his rare peaceful sleep.

He was out getting his now usual pizza order when he ran into Allison again.

"You look well."

He had known it was her when she came through the door of course, he was familiar with her scent, but he never knew what to say to her so he usually didn't make the attempt. But she had made an attempt so he turned to face her, hoping he looked friendly, especially since she had just said something nice to him

She gave him a small, careful smile, obviously trying to reassure him she was being sincere.

"Thanks," he said, trying to sound as grateful for the compliment as he felt. But before either of them could say more Lydia came through the door, babbling about homework, and the brief moment of kinship passed. He nodded a greeting to the redhead and was relieved when the guy at the counter handed him his food. It was when he had the door open and was about to step outside that he stopped, turning to face the two girls again, clearing his throat to get their attention.

"Uh, we're having a birthday party at the loft for Cora this Saturday."

Lydia raised a brow at him.

"You're both welcome to come."

Allison smiled at him again. "Thanks, we'd love to."

"We would?" Lydia asked incredulously and the brunette elbowed her in the arm.

"Feel free to bring whoever, just..."

"People who know," Allison finished and he nodded.

He left the pizza shop feeling surprisingly good and when he went home and put on M*A*SH reruns he actually found himself laughing at the TV.

The week leading up the party was quiet on the supernatural front. No new threat had come to town (Derek wasn't sure how much longer that could last though, they were definitely due for one), and there hadn't been any fights within the pack. Well, Scott had put Isaac in a headlock for flirting with Allison, but Derek suspected the beta had enjoyed it.

The ex-alpha had spent the relatively peaceful time watching movies and TV marathons, running through the woods by his old house, buying himself (another) leather jacket, and had taking at least two obscenely long showers, much to Cora's annoyance. Allison's words played through his head.

"Date yourself."

"You look well."

She wasn't as bad as he had thought, for a human anyways.

And she had passed the word on about the party and by the day-of, just about everybody he knew had called to confirm they were coming, and Isaac even came over to help put up the decorations while Cora watched. Apparently since it was her birthday it wouldn't be right of her to do any of the work herself. Derek expressed how he felt about that by wrapping her in streamers and rubbing balloons in her hair. That hadn't ended very well for him.

When the decorations were finished the dark loft looked like a completely different place. Derek's soft spot for his sister meant that he didn't skimp on anything. There were streamers and lights (the kind you put on Christmas trees that Derek thought looked silly hanging around the windows but Cora thought looked charming), balloons that Isaac had drawn demented looking wolf faces on, a cheesy "Happy Birthday" banner, and tons of food and booze. So much booze that Derek had looked like a damn alcoholic when he went to check out at the package store. He was convinced the cashier thought he was going to go home and drink himself to death.

He had thought about it on a few occasions but not once since Cora had come back into his life. He had a pack now, no matter how strange a group they were. Plus, he didn't think there was pizza in the afterlife.

Cora picked the music and played it loud while people arrived, the loft practically vibrating with hip-hop and electronica, none of which Derek was familiar with.

"Thanks for the invite," Scott said, coming up next to where the ex-alpha stood by the booze table.

He shrugged. "Cora wanted a party. And who else was I going to invite?"

Scott grinned. "Fair point. Hey, there any whiskey on that table?"

Derek handed him a bottle of Jack and watched as the younger werewolf poured at least two shots worth into a cup, topping it off with Coke.

"Aren't you drinking?" Scott asked, setting the soda bottle back down on the table and glancing at Derek's empty hands.

"I-" he started, ready to spout off an excuse about staying alert and being responsible, but he realized that he didn't want to be responsible. Not at the moment. It was his sister's birthday party. He didn't want to have to worry about being in control. Looking at the flushed faces of his pack mates (because even the humans were pack at this point) he realized they were happy and he wanted to be happy with them.

"I am," he said finally, grabbing the whiskey and pouring himself a generous amount. Scott grinned again and raised his drink to him in a salute before moving back towards Allison and Isaac. Derek took a swig of his drink and felt it burn a path down his throat. He felt good just knowing that he was drinking, that he was doing a completely normal thing, and it wasn't long before he was pouring more into his cup.

When they brought out the cake (a two layer chocolate monstrosity with his sister's name written on it in m&m's) everyone sang "Happy Birthday" loudly and off key and Derek found himself joining in, throwing an affectionate arm over Cora's shoulder while she groaned in embarrassment. They gorged themselves on food and Cora opened the boots he had gotten her (she loved them) and drank and danced.

Derek Hale danced.

He couldn't even remember the last time he had danced. Surely not since high school, and not in view of anyone else. But there he was amongst his pack, hips swaying, arms moving, and a small smile on his face as he tried to keep rhythm to club music Stiles had put on.

And Stiles could dance, Derek noticed, side-eyeing the brunette who was sashaying around the room with a drink in his hand, his skin flushed from alcohol. The human had always intrigued Derek, in a do-you-ever-shut-up and why-does-your-face-look-like-that kind of way. They hadn't exactly gotten along when they first met but things between them had gotten better. Derek only threatened to maim him once a week now. Not that he wanted to maim Stiles, not exactly.

He stopped moving and pinched the bridge of his nose, not believing where his thoughts had just been going. It had to be the alcohol and all the hormones that were being thrown around the room. Scott, Allison, and Isaac were practically oozing sex while they danced. He'd just had too much whiskey and was picking up on their energy.

He didn't realize that Stiles had danced his way over to him until it was too late to escape. The brunette bumped their cups together and grinned, still moving his hips slightly as he did. Derek wished he would stop.

"I have to hand it to you Sourwolf, you and your sister throw a pretty good party."

Derek raised a brow at him, letting the nickname slide."Thanks."

"Also, I didn't know you could dance," Stiles said, "you don't seem like the dancing type." His tone was teasing and it lifted something in Derek's chest.

"I know how to do a lot of things," the older man retorted, taking a sip of his drink.

This time Stiles raised his brows. "I bet." And with that he gave the werewolf a wink and danced his way to the food table.

Derek stood rooted to the spot, staring after him and fighting the urge to let his jaw drop. Had Stiles... had he just... flirted with him? Emotions waged within him: confusion, excitement, fear, longing, denial. But if he'd had any doubts about what had just happened he didn't after Stiles turned from stuffing his face with a cookie, gave him a huge smile, and rotated his hips suggestively to the music.

He was drunk, Derek told himself. He was drunk and had no idea what he was doing, because there's no way Stiles would flirt with him. Stiles was... well, he didn't think Stiles was straight (and Derek didn't really think he was straight either although he had certainly never voiced this to anyone), but the idea of Stiles being interested in him... He'd always thought of himself as damaged goods, a danger to people. But, well, he didn't feel like damaged goods. Not at that moment at least.

Tipping the last of the whiskey into his mouth he let the alcohol warm him and he started to dance again. Stiles had flirted with him, and whether it was because he was drunk or not Derek was going to find out.