It's getting too cold for it, but Stiles still heads out to the park from time to time. The routine of school-home-work-home-school-home gets pretty dull, so even if he's not on any teams at school anymore, he still likes to head out sometimes. He'll have to bug Scott to come back out with him, now that he thinks about it.

He's starting to pack up his things when he hears the howl and immediately thinks of Derek. Sure, okay, maybe there are other wolves out there (a thought that should alarm him more than it does), but it's probably Derek - probably - so he does the only intelligent thing and heads out into the woods, fully prepared to wander like it's easy to find a single animal in acres of land. Derek's his friend, his alpha, and hey, once he stops being chickenshit, he's going to find a place to drag Derek to dinner and they might be kind of dating, so it's more than worth the time and minimal risk.

He doesn't have to go more than a few steps before he spots Derek a dozen yards or so down the treeline from where he is and he grins, trotting over in his sweats and sweatshirt, overpriced lacrosse gear forgotten in a backpack in the park. He raises his hand in a dopey wave as he starts to head over, smiling, but shuffles to a stop as he gets closer, clearly able to see the absolute forlorn expression in his body language.

"Hey alpha," he says sympathetically, coming over and sitting a couple feet away in front of him, lanky limbs crossed underneath him. "What's up?"