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He was impressed. A little creeped at himself, but mostly impressed. No the creep won. Hands down. But an impression was left as he sifted through his computers files. About once a year he did this. Mostly for his computers health. He tended to click save more then was necessary. From pictures to articles. Both relevant and not. Severely not. I mean what even was a file named "Death/Sailor" doing on his laptop?
He double-clicked the file and immediately hit the back arrow to just move the entirety of it to the recycling bin which he had renamed Tartarus to remind him not to retrieve things that had been so banished. The entire file was fan-made fictions and comic strips for Deathnote and Sailor Moon and occasional crossovers and he needed it gone before he fell in the abyss and all of a sudden it was next week. It had happened last year and he wasn't proud of it. So he sent it into the depths of cyberspace and returned to his files.
As he sifted through the files he found a zipped one labeled "Queen of [broken] Hearts" and slapped a hand to his face. He should have deleted this one last time. He should have deleted it first - Better, he shouldn't have made it. But he had had a crush. An epic crush. Ten years was devotion and it had required documentation. Or so his teen brain had apparently decided. Against his better judgement he clicked the file and typed in the password, "cheshireduchess" because that's how he rolled.
It was scary. There were power points, and word docs, and paint-created pictures, and a lot of Google found flower arrangements. He remembered one particularly long weekend when his dad was at a police pow-wow and he'd broken into the liquor cabinet, gotten drunk and planned a wedding. He needed help. Though he's pretty sure there weren't therapists for this. There were prison cells and he seriously considered just handing himself over, because like he said, this was fucking terrifying.
He should just burn this. The whole machine. It would be safer. Danny can't restore a hard drive thats extra crispy. Could he? God he hoped not. There was a meeting tonight and his friends could literally smell fear. Maybe he could cancel? No, they'd get worried and show up. Derek would show up. And no one does worry quite like an Alpha Wolf. Factor in Stiles' particular relationship to said Alpha and shit got seriously non-fiction. So he'd go.
First he'd delete these files. One by one. Just to assuage the part of his brain that subscribed to the "The-Government-Is-Spying-On-Us" movement. As well as the "Lydia-is-all-knowing-and-Danny-makes-up-for-the-rest" part. Their friendship was seriously detrimental to any baddies. Add in a splash of Stiles researching ingenue and it made for one hell of a brain meld. Focus Stiles!
Every ten minutes he'd wipe the recycling and start refilling it once more. This was just plain wrong now. Completely, and utterly wrong. It should not take him two hours to delete one folder of files. Especially when said folder was his crush log. He was ashamed. Maybe he could channel this into a story about a lost cat or something and then a therapist would see him. But they would probably write a paper about his psychosis and then he'd get a disorder named after him. Lydia would know for sure then. She was too smart not to see right through the orange tabby ruse his brain was already fabricating. He wouldn't be able to move away and hide. The pack would be too good at finding him. Plus, hello, his dad was a cop. He wasn't hiding anywhere. Lydia would kill him. Boyd would kill him. Those two would probably just take turns torturing him. This wasn't okay. He needed to get rid of the evidence.
He finally clicked out and just dragged the remainder straight to Tartarus. He cleared the bin, and swept his computer. Twice. He then spent the better part of the next few hours scouring every single document in every single file for any other traces of his past obsession. When all was said and done he'd cleared seven more entire files and a rather impressive amount of scattered documents. His brain was exhausted. He needed a nap. He needed a weeks worth of naps...
~~~
Stile awoke groggy, and rolled to check the time. Not realizing how close he'd been to the edge of his bed he landed flat out on the floor. He groaned.
Sitting up he rubbed he eyes and was acquainted with a pair of tight black jeans that stemmed out of worn biker boots. His gaze traveled up his desk chair to Derek listing to the side. The wolf was completely out if he didn't jump even a little at Stiles' landing. Stiles stood and stretched glancing at the clock and seeing that he needn't worry about the meeting. It was 3 am. He'd missed it. He turned to the Alpha and grinned. Man was nothing but cute when he was relaxed like this. Too big in the shabby desk chair, obviously he'd come to check on him.
Stiles crept over and kissed his face. Dereks eyes flicked open and he inhaled through his nose. He quickly swept the room before setting his gaze on Stiles.
"Hiya." Stiles said quietly.
"Mmm.." Derek groaned and stretched a little in his seat, "Why did you miss the meeting?"
"I feared for my life." Stiles said easily sitting on the edge of his bed.
This got Dereks attention quickly and he jerked fully awake.
"What? Why?!"
"Woah there, tiger!" Stiles stood to set his hands firmly on Dereks shoulders, "Not like that! Not in the "Grrr... no more Stiles way" But in the Dear God Lydia is going to kill me and feed me to Boyd on one of their totally gooey dates what am I gonna do I am way too young to die I mean I have a boyfriend and friend friends and my dad and I..."
"STILES!"
"Sorry. I was cleaning my computer and I found some stuff. And I deleted it, but you know my brain. I went straight to how Danny could totally recover it and then he would know and then everyone would know. I mean everyone already knows, but this? This would super highlight it. I mean not even Scott had seen that. I made sure to get everything. It was like 10 in the morning when I started cleaning my computer, and four when I stopped. Then I needed a nap. Because my brain was exhausted and I forgot to set my alarm so I missed the pack meeting I'm so sorry!"
Derek stared blankly at his fidgeting boyfriend.
Stiles took a deep breath that came out in a rush and felt the blush covering his face, neck and chest.
"You didn't catch much of that did you?"
"No."
Derek let his head drop back before he rolled his neck and stood.
"I'm tired. Just go back to bed and we'll talk when there's sunlight." He said, kicking off his boots and setting his jacket and shirt on the recently vacated chair.
"How odd. You normally steal away into the night after my better rambles. I mean I completely understand, not even Scott or Dad can handle a concentrated dose of my crazy. I can't even sometimes and thats really bad. Maybe I do need a therapist. How much do they cost? Do think maybe Deaton with Yoda me? I could use it. A little mind Jedi-ing would do just the trick right..."
"Stiles." Dereks voice was slightly muffled into Stiles pillow.
"Right. Bed. Coming."
He stripped off to his boxers because Derek was secretly made of lava and he had long gotten sick of waking up with mild heat stroke. Crawling in with the man he wriggled until Derek caved to being his blanket. Which never took long. Stiles was persistent after all. He was just getting back to sleep when Derek spoke in his ear.
"You know Scott and Danny already displayed your Lydia files to the pack."
Stiles let out a strangled sound and would have flailed out of bed were it not for Derek snaking an arm around his torso and pinning him with his chest, entwining their legs.
"I hate you all."
"Mhmm.." Derek mumbled, nuzzling into Stiles' neck.
"Everything but Sour Wolf."