Archive of Our Own ^beta

Chapter Text

 

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"Is that a dead body?" Scott shrieked in a frankly impressive falsetto, that Stiles would have been much less disturbed by if he wasn't in the middle of trying to drag what — to Scott's credit — did indeed look like a dead body through their front door.

"Of course not," Stiles hissed through clenched teeth. "Keep it down! Now help me before the neighbors notice! He's fucking heavy, alright?"

Heavier than Stiles could manage, in all honesty, but instead of rushing to his aid Scott merely stared with a horrified look on his face — as if it was actually entirely plausible for Stiles to be coming home one evening with a dead body in tow. Granted that weirder things had happened during the time they had been sharing an apartment, but Stiles still felt mildly insulted. It wasn't a dead body.

"It's an android, alright? I found him in a dumpster two blocks away and I really can't carry him further and—" Stiles cut off when his grip slipped. The heavy thump from the android hitting the floor made Stiles wince. Mrs. Bridger downstairs had definitely heard that. The entire hallway probably heard it.

"Well, shit." Perhaps Stiles should have planned this a little better.

The android was just lying there, face down, barely even past the threshold, and their neighbors were bound to come snooping any minute now. They couldn't have that. Someone would surely overreact and call the cops or something equally unfounded.

Stiles did not need another arrest that his dad would undoubtedly hear about within hours, thanks to the frankly astoundingly effective police gossip network. Never mind that he lived several hundred miles away. That one arrest — however brief — involving the college tech lab, a welding torch, three fire extinguishers, and a massive explosion was clearly more than enough for his dad's fragile heart to bear. Although Stiles took offense because he honestly hadn't been trying to set the school on fire. It was pure accident, caused by too many hours without sleep and an ungodly mix of Skittles, energy drinks, and Adderall.

Yeah, okay, so maybe Scott couldn't be blamed for his reaction, but he was in a serious risk of losing the title as Stiles' best friend if he didn't man up soon and help Stiles drag the limp — possibly stolen — android away from prying eyes. Priorities, for heaven's sake.

"Scott! A little help here!" Stiles barked, delighted to see that Scott finally snapped into action, rushing forwards to help Stiles drag the heavy android the last couple of feet, into the safety of their apartment.

Stiles let out a relieved sigh once those long legs were clear of the door and he could turn around, only to come face to face with Mrs. Bridger. Stiles swallowed a curse and quickly moved to stand in the doorway, hopefully covering what for all intents and purposes looked like an unconscious — possibly deceased — man on Stiles and Scott's hall floor. Thank God the elderly Mrs. Bridger was nearly blind.

"Everything alright there, dear? I heard this awfully loud noise." Her voice was soft and sweet, milking the stereotype of a kind, neighborly grandmother to its last drop. Stiles wasn't fooled though, oh no, he was on to the nosy little lady. Her hearing was sharp enough to shame a bat's, and she was always dying for some gossip.

"Yeah, totally. Absolutely fine," Stiles babbled, discreetly closing the door somewhat to hide the majority of the incriminating evidence that quite literally lay at their feet. "I just stumbled when I got in. Tired from work, you know?"

Stiles shrugged in what he hoped was a casual manner, but the glimmer in Mrs. Bridger's beady little eyes said that she didn't believe him. Time for a tactical evasive maneuver.

"Did I mention that Scott has a new girlfriend?"

It worked like a charm.

Mrs. Bridger's face lit up in delight and Stiles grinned despite the surprised and horrified little squeak from Scott. He would just have to take one for the team.

"Oh, sweetheart! Tell me all about her!" Mrs. Bridger cooed, waving for Scott to come closer. He did, if hesitantly, partly because he had to step over the still decked android and because despite her size, Mrs. Bridger had an iron grip that could snap an unsuspecting wrist in half if she so wanted.

"No, really, Mrs. Bridger, I don't want to waste your time with—"

Mrs. Bridger interrupted Scott's feeble attempt to avoid her razor sharp attention.

"Nonsense, my boy, come over for tea and tell me about this lovely girl!"

"Her name is Allison," Stiles supplied helpfully, while stepping aside to give Scott more room by the door, "and she's really smart. Beautiful and sweet too!"

Mrs. Bridger reached out, much faster than her age would suggest, and grabbed Scott's arm. Once she had her claws in you there was nothing to do but go with her and suffer through hours of agonizing chatter while sipping tea from leaf-thin cups and politely praising her collection of doilies.

Stiles grinned widely as Scott was dragged out of the apartment by the overly enthusiastic Mrs. Bridger, who was already waxing on about her late husband and their tumultuous relationship. Scott shot Stiles a wounded, betrayed look that Stiles replied to with a jaunty salute. Throwing Scott under the bus wasn't something Stiles had a habit of doing, but he couldn't deny that he was secretly pleased to have the apartment to himself. Scott would be fine.

Stiles quickly shut the door lest he give Mrs. Bridger enough time to decide that Stiles should also attend the improvised tea party, and as he leaned back against it his eyes fell on the android lying motionless on the floor. Stiles was giddy with excitement. He had never been this close to an android before. Not a live, active one.

Sure, he had seen and poked at some during engineering class at school — before he got kicked out for setting it on fire — but that couldn't measure up to this. Those had been works in progress, or outdated models given to the school for educational purposes. Those androids had been dismembered, broken pieces of exposed circuitry and wires, and nothing at all like the work of art at Stiles' feet. Because he truly was. This android was beautiful.

Stiles bit his lip in a vain attempt to curb his excitement, before he quickly set to work on dragging the android towards his room. The living room couch was undoubtedly closer, but by the look of the android Stiles would need most of his tools in order to kick it back online, and those were spread out across his workbench in his bedroom.

It was a struggle since the android was heavy not only because of the materials it was made of, but the sheer size of it as well. Stiles figured that it probably stood as tall as Stiles himself, but was broader along the shoulders and made of nothing but firm, hard muscle. The skin was still surprisingly soft and life-like — it was only the lack of moles and birthmarks and the too symmetrical spacing of the pores that made it stand out as android.

Stiles had no idea what model it was even if he made a point to always keep up to date with the newest releases, but if he was to guess it had to be a new one. A very new one. Like every other android this one looked just a bit too physically perfect to be real, but unlike them this one actually felt real. The skin and tissue gave a little under Stiles' fingertips, like human skin would. It was nothing like the thin layer of gelled plastic that had covered the androids at school. This one even felt warm to the touch, as if he wasn't actually made of metal, wires, and highly sophisticated but still artificial materials.

It almost made Stiles uneasy since it didn't feel like he was handling a robot, but an actual, live human being.

Stiles had never really known where to stand in the whole debate about androids and their levels of humanity. One part of his mind — the rational, cynical part — knew that they were nothing but machines, and machines didn't have feelings. But another — the starry-eyed geek within him — desperately wanted to believe that they could create life, and that it would actually become sentient. When handling this particular android the squealing fanboy part was definitely winning.

An excited chirp sounded from his workbench when Stiles kicked open the door to his room, and he gave the blinking little bot on the tabletop a wide grin.

"Hi, baby! Did you miss me?" he crooned over the limp head of the android, chuckling softly when SAMMI-B got stuck on a wrench in his haste to roll closer to the edge of the desk.

Stiles' strategically placed tools was meant just for that purpose, since SAMMI-B hadn't recovered from that time he fell off the table and banged one of his wheels. He was still tilting and wobbling a little drunkenly, despite Stiles' attempts to fix it. Then again, the fumbling was kind of adorable.

SAMMI-B gave another delighted chirp — clearly too stupid to understand why he wasn't getting any further — and Stiles shook his head at his bot's antics. It was a pathetic little thing, really, put together from spare parts Stiles had nicked from the shop he worked at and spent painstaking hours building. It was mostly worthless as anything besides a glorified penholder. Still, he didn't have the heart to tell SAMMI-B that, who was happily blinking his tiny LED-lights and rolling around in uncoordinated circles on Stiles' workbench. Stiles suspected that his bot was a bit of a retard.

With a mighty heave Stiles dragged the android the last couple of feet to his workbench, for now ignoring SAMMI-B's excited, attention seeking whirs and blips. The tiny bot would have to get used to not being the center of Stiles' attention eventually, and Scott clearly thought that Stiles was spoiling the little thing. Stiles, on the other hand, thought that he was a great bot-parent. Totally.

Stiles maneuvered the android as gently as he could, not wanting to break it somehow, but in lack of better options — or super strength, more correctly — he had to settle for propping him up against the wall next to the workbench. There was just no way Stiles would be able to lift all that dead weight high enough to get it on top of the actual desk. Not to mention that it was already occupied by a deranged little bot that zipped back and forth over the tabletop like an overenthusiastic, if a bit slow, puppy.

Stiles winced when SAMMI-B managed to overturn the flimsy plastic box containing various screws and bolts, and proceeded to spread them out over the desk with a series of happy hoots. Stiles really should do something about SAMMI-B's spatial recognition bugs.

"Hey, sweetums, don't get your wires in a bunch. Look what I brought! A friend!" Stiles gestured towards the motionless android and SAMMI-B — being the obedient little bot that he was — whirred closer and chirped in awe.

Not that SAMMI-B had actual eyes to see with. He was the bastardized lovechild of a toy car, a pinchbot, and a Roomba, and was equipped only with a motion sensor, dodgy voice recognition software, and a somewhat lacking understanding of space and depth. It was pathetic really, but he was Stiles', through and through, and he couldn't deny that he loved the little guy to bits.

Stiles smiled and reached out, holding his hand in front of the small bot. SAMMI-B chirped while gently closing the two prongs constituting his pinch arm, squeezing two of Stiles' fingers with a soft, purring whirr. SAMMI-B never seemed to misjudge distance when it came to hugs.

"Now, let's look at your new pal, shall we?"

SAMMI-B hooted his approval and Stiles took a step back to give the android a sweeping look, from head to toe.

He was clearly in bad shape. There were nicks, scrapes, and what could probably translate as the android equivalent of bruises on the skin — vague discolorations, probably caused by micro-leaks of the fluid imbedded in the skin cells — and the clothes were torn and dusty. Someone had clearly not cared too much about the fate of this particular android, which Stiles found somewhat baffling considering the high quality.

Stiles might have gotten kicked out before he got his degree in engineering and AI-programming but he could see clear as day that this was a high-end, expensive android. The mere fact that it was so life-like that it could easily pass for a human to the untrained eye was proof enough of that. Stiles hadn't even known that they had gotten this far in advancing the technology.

He crouched down in front of the android, studying the face closely. The features were sharp, somewhat angular, and it surprised him that there were what had to be intentional inconsistencies in the symmetry of the android's face. Usually they were even and flawless, which made them stand out as inhuman even when they tried not to. This one, on the other hand, had thicker eyebrows than what was common and a nose that actually looked quite characteristic, unlike the generic ones all the other models were designed with. Stiles was intrigued. This android was something special.

If Stiles hadn't known that it was an android, he would have thought that the guy was just resting, dark lashes resting peacefully against high, pale cheekbones. He looked like he was asleep. Well, except for the obvious lack of a pulse and the stillness of his wide chest. Androids only breathed when they were online, and this one clearly wasn't.

Whether he had been shut off before or after he took all the damage was difficult to say, but Stiles had a feeling that it was after. The android had probably been dumped because it was considered beyond saving, what with all the cuts and bruises it had. There was no telling if any of the underlying circuits and wires were broken too.

Stiles grinned and reached out, tilting the android's head up a little. The smooth skin on the android's cheek felt more human than Stiles liked to admit.

"You're lucky that I can't say no to a challenge, big guy," Stiles said with a cheeky grin.

The android, unsurprisingly, didn't answer.

SAMMI-B did though, hooting excitedly from atop the workbench. Stiles grinned at the tiny bot.

"We better get started on fixing him up, don't you think?"

Stiles chose to take SAMMI-B's revving tires as a sign of agreement.

When Scott finally returned from Mrs. Bridger's clutches, Stiles sat straddling the android's legs, biting back furious curses and rubbing his nearly numb fingers. While finding the android's main control panel had been easy — hidden just behind the left ear, amongst thick, surprisingly nice, black hair — it was far too delicate for Stiles' clumsy tools and had given him several shocks as he tried to find the necessary switches.

At least he didn't have to worry about recharging the android, since there seemed to be more than enough electricity flowing through the circuits.

"If you ever do that again I will withdraw your Internet privileges and change the WiFi-password," Scott threatened as he barged into Stiles' room, looking about as scary as a frustrated poodle. Stiles gave him a quick glance before looking back to the exposed circuits he was trying to figure out.

"You wouldn't."

"I totally would."

And he really would. He had done it before. Stiles had been beyond miserable, until he managed to hack into one of their neighbor's WiFi instead. He never told Scott about that, though, because he didn't want to burst Scott's bubble of actually having something to threaten Stiles with.

"I'm sorry, but Derek took priority," Stiles replied, frowning while gently pushing the android's head to the right, to give him a better view of what he was doing. He reached out, redirecting the small pocket flashlight SAMMI-B was clutching faithfully between his tiny pincers, offering what little help he could while still remaining safely on top of the workbench. Stiles absently patted the bot as it chirped proudly.

"Derek? Who's Derek?"

Stiles sighed, rolling his eyes at Scott's confusion.

"This is Derek." He gestured towards the android, whose face was still relaxed and motionless, despite the open hatch just behind his ear. It looked pretty morbid, truth be told, but Stiles tried not to think about it. Nor did he try to think about the fact that those slightly parted lips had proven to be surprisingly soft and pliant, when his fingers happened to slip and press against them.

"The android's name is Derek?" Scott asked dubiously, crouching down next to Stiles.

"Well, no. Not technically. His name is D33R3 according to his serial number." Stiles twisted a little, grabbing the androids lax hand before holding it up for Scott's consideration. The serial number was printed in neat, simple writing on the inside of the right wrist.

Scott raised an eyebrow.

"And you figured 'Derek' was a good idea?"

"Well, yeah." Stiles shrugged, gently placing Derek's hand back against the floor. "Sure beats a sequence of numbers and letters."

Scott snorted in amusement.

"You're not exactly known for your great naming skills, but I'll give you that one."

"Hey!" Stiles was offended. "I am great at naming things!"

"Oh please," Scott teased, "Surprisingly Annoying Miniature Machine I Built?"

Stiles slapped Scott's arm while SAMMI-B bopped excitedly from his perch on the high table. Insulting Stiles was one thing, but insulting his baby bot was unforgivable.

"You are not my best friend anymore," Stiles declared in a huff before turning back towards Derek. He had every intention of ignoring Scott until he went away, but unluckily for him, Scott always knew what to say to overcome Stiles' sulking episodes.

"So how's it going with Derek?"

Stiles sighed in defeat, looking forlornly at the android's still form.

"I don't know. I mean, I'm not an expert to begin with, but I've fixed the worst of the damage and triple-checked everything. I can't find any leaks or broken circuits. Everything that should be turned on is turned on, but he just won't start."

Scott tilted his head to the side. He, unlike Stiles, had never been particularly interested in engineering and androids. But it was virtually impossible not to get a little involved considering that he lived with Stiles, who liked to talk hours on end about the things that fascinated him.

"So perhaps it's the software then? Like... a bug or something?"

Which was exactly what Stiles had begun to suspect.

"Yeah, I think I need to run some diagnostics."

He still had the old AI-programming software he had bought a license for while studying. It was outdated and probably not compatible with such a new android model, but it was worth a shot. It wasn't like Stiles was good enough to write his own program. He could improvise and use what was on hand to create small miracles — SAMMI-B was proof of that — but to build his own program or android was way above his skill level.

Stiles rose from the floor with a slight groan, his knees protesting as he tried to straighten them out. SAMMI-B gave a couple of blinks, but faithfully held the flashlight directed at Derek's head. Stiles limped over to his bed to fetch his laptop.

"Stiles, don't forget that you have work tomorrow, alright?" Scott's voice was careful, as if he was afraid that he would get reprimanded for reminding Stiles of his responsibilities. And as much as Stiles wanted to snap something insulting, he knew Scott meant well.

"Yeah, yeah... I won't stay up all night," he promised, keeping his reply intentionally vague. It would have been easier to be enthusiastic about going to work if it had actually been something Stiles enjoyed doing.

"I know that you want to keep tinkering with the android, but we both know that lack of sleep isn't going to improve your ability to focus, and you really can't risk losing this job—"

"Yes, Scott! I know!" Stiles interrupted harshly, not that keen on hearing about his obvious failures.

He knew that it was his own fault that he got kicked out of school and ended up with a shit job at a repair shop, but that didn't mean that he wanted to talk about it. Or hear about it. Or even think about it. His teachers had told him that he had great potential — not a genius perhaps, but he was inventive, eager, and not afraid to take chances. But when one of his experiments derailed and resulted in serious damage to the school facilities, no one thought that his innovation was something to be encouraged anymore.

And Stiles could live with that, he could. He was still tinkering as a hobby — SAMMI-B was built long after Stiles got kicked out — but he didn't want to be reminded of what he was missing, and how far he could have gotten if he had been more careful.

He gripped his laptop so hard his knuckles cracked, but inevitably felt his shoulders slump in defeat.

"I'm sorry, Scott." It wasn't fair to take out his frustration on his best friend, who was only trying to look out for him. He turned around, meeting Scott's sad puppy eyes, feeling an even larger twinge of guilt at the wounded look on Scott's face. "I just— I've never seen an android like this before."

Scott looked at Derek, his gaze thoughtful.

"Neither have I," Scott admitted quietly. "I mean, I know even less than you do but he looks... so real. It's nothing like the commercials and billboards."

Stiles nodded while walking over to his workbench, placing the laptop on a safe distance from SAMMI-B's pincers. He turned back towards Scott while waiting for it to boot up.

"I honestly don't know where he comes from. I just found him in a dumpster." Stiles chuckled softly. "I thought it was a dead body too at first, until I got close enough."

Scott's smile was a little crooked, but friendly. It turned into unease a moment later.

"Do you really think it's a good idea to bring him here? I mean, he's clearly top of the line and really expensive — I can't imagine that his owner would want to get rid of him."

Stiles pursed his lips.

"Well, if he's broken then I guess they figured he was useless... and if not? Their loss." He shrugged effortlessly. He honestly didn't want to think about it. He knew that there was no such thing as finders keepers — not really — but he didn't want to give Derek up either. Stiles was already a little attached, and not only because it was his first real android.

Scott looked hesitant, but nodded eventually.

"Just promise me to be careful, okay? He might be defective. And I don't want you to get into trouble." Scott straightened and leveled Stiles with a stern look that was actually rather effective when it came to making Stiles feel a need to behave.

"Tell you what," Stiles began before turning to his laptop, clicking around until he found the correct program, "I'll start the diagnostics but after that I promise not to do anything else tonight. It will take hours anyway and it's not like I'll gain anything from watching the progress bar fill up."

Scott grinned, clearly relieved.

"Sounds awesome. How about we watch a movie?" Scott suggested, eyes bright and happy. Stiles wasn't nearly evil enough to say no to that.

"Sure thing. I'll just set this up, okay? Be out in a minute."

Scott bounced — literally bounced — out from Stiles' room, and Stiles scoffed as he bent down, gently grabbing Derek's right arm and rolling the long-sleeved Henley up to Derek's elbow. Stiles pushed two fingers against the soft skin just above the crook of Derek's arm, grimacing a little when the pressure made the skin part and reveal the data port. It looked quite disgusting, even if there was no blood — just a clean cut deep enough to reach what should have been bone, but in Derek's case was a mass of steel and wires.

Stiles fumbled for the cable he had connected to his laptop and carefully inserted it into the port, smiling encouragingly towards SAMMI-B, who had helpfully redirected the flashlight to shine on Derek's arm instead. How the bot managed to do that without actual eyesight or a command was beyond Stiles, but he was willing to accept it as a part of what made SAMMI-B into the best pen and flashlight holder in the history of pen and flashlight holders.

Once Derek was hooked up Stiles returned to his computer, clattering away while setting up the diagnostics he wanted the program to run. The mere fact that it actually recognized Derek's software was a bit of a miracle in itself, since it was probably way beyond what the program could handle. Stiles was not one to look a gift horse in the mouth, however, and simply finished off his preparations.

"You coming?" Scott shouted impatiently from the living room.

"One minute!" Stiles called back, just as he hit enter. The computer blipped in confirmation — which made SAMMI-B respond with a happy chirp, as he had a habit of doing whenever something spoke his limited language — while Stiles double checked that the program was running as planned.

Once he was sure everything was as it should be he turned to look at Derek again, taking a slow, steady breath.

He knew that this was a monumentally bad idea.

Just because he found an abandoned android didn't mean that it was actually thrown away. It could have been stolen or wandered off on its own. Someone might be out there right now, looking for it. And it wouldn't be pretty if they found him at Stiles'. But what else could he do? Just leaving him there seemed like an even worse idea. At least Stiles had every intention of fixing him up instead of stripping him of parts or something equally horrendous.

Stiles carefully moved closer, straddling Derek's legs once more before reaching out to shut the open panel on the side of Derek's head. It clicked into place and when Stiles ran his fingers over the seams he barely even felt that it was there. Derek was a true work of art.

He stabilized Derek's head with his hands, smiling softly at the still unmoving android.

"You hang in there, alright? I'm going to fix you right up. Good as new."

Stiles' thumb brushed over Derek's smooth cheek, and it was impossible to deny just how handsome he was — even for an android. Probably because he looked slightly flawed, as opposed to all the plastic, perfect androids that seemed to be so popular. No, Stiles definitely preferred Derek. He preferred originality. Stiles couldn't wait to see what Derek would look and sound like when he was online.

Stiles sighed longingly, tilting his head to the side. Derek's eyes remained closed, his expression peaceful and calm, and Stiles felt a slight clench in his chest. He looked so real. It would be so easy to forget that Derek was actually a machine, especially if he got to the point of walking and talking on his own. Stiles couldn't wait.

"I'll fix you, Derek. Don't worry."

Derek didn't answer. But, then again, Stiles hadn't expected him to.

 

Chapter Text

 

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It was a bit strange to wake up in the morning. Well, not the actual waking up — even if it was a struggle even on Stiles' good days — but the fact that when he flopped over on his stomach with a tired groan he could see Derek sitting slumped against the wall by the workbench, just like Stiles had left him. It was eerie, in a way, to have someone else in the room. Stiles wasn't used to that, and least of all a broken down android he wasn't sure if he could fix.

SAMMI-B was still plugged in, recharging over-night, and Stiles could hear the soft, whirring hum that was SAMMI-B's answer to a gentle snore. Stiles was careful not to move too suddenly when he pushed up from the bed, knowing that it might trigger SAMMI-B's motion sensors. It was better if the bot continued to sleep while Stiles was at work. It kept him calmer and less likely to disturb the neighbors with his hoots and blips.

Stiles padded over to the workbench, holding his breath when he saw the command window on the screen. The diagnostics were done and the program was politely asking him whether the wanted to view or download the report. Stiles knew that he couldn't do that now. He was a responsible adult. He had work. Scott was probably already on his way to the university and one of his morning classes, and Stiles didn't need a babysitter. He could maintain discipline without Scott's interference.

He rubbed his neck and glanced towards the slumped android. It would have to wait until he got back. Stiles took a deep breath and walked over, running his fingers through Derek's hair.

"Sorry, big guy. We'll continue this later," he mumbled softly before leaving the room and his blinking laptop. Even downloading the report would be too much of a temptation and Stiles knew better. Scott was right. Stiles couldn't afford to lose this job and disappoint his dad again. It took priority over Stiles' personal projects.

Stiles' heart still felt heavy with disappointment when he got ready for work, and couldn't help throwing one last longing look towards his room before he stepped out the front door.

Sometimes, Stiles' life sucked.

If he was a bit restless and eager and just short of demanding the bus driver to get to Stiles' stop faster, he thought that it was understandable. After having spent a day fixing toasters and iPods anyone would be looking forward to returning to their apartment and the high tech android waiting for them. Stiles was no exception.

He stumbled off the bus and ran towards his building, narrowly avoiding bumping into Mrs. Bridger in the doorway leading into the stairwell. He shouted an apology over his shoulder before dashing up the stairs, taking them two steps at a time. It was faster than waiting for the elevator.

Stiles fumbled with his keys but managed to get the door open soon enough, shedding his jacket with hasty, jerky movements. His heart was pounding on his way to his room, half expecting to find Derek gone.

He wasn't.

He was right where Stiles had left him, still hooked up to Stiles' laptop and motionless on the bedroom floor. Stiles let out a breath he didn't know he had been holding.

SAMMI-B chirped happily, his tiny tires squealing against the tabletop when the cord connecting him to the charging station didn't allow him to roll further. Stiles gave his bot a crooked smile before unplugging the little guy, to SAMMI-B's delight.

After having given SAMMI-B a pat Stiles pulled up his chair and sat down in front of his laptop. The report was still waiting for him and he let out a slow breath before opening it. SAMMI-B bumped against his elbow and Stiles automatically raised it until the tiny bot could roll in under it, settling in the space between Stiles' arms and the laptop. A soft, purring whir filled the air, but Stiles was already engrossed in the result of the diagnostics. SAMMI-B didn't seem to mind.

Half an hour later Stiles was frowning at the screen. As far as the program could tell, there seemed to be no faults in the coding or registry. Everything was working just fine. Granted that it might not be able to truly evaluate Derek's system considering the wide gulf in quality between the two, but Stiles had at least thought that he would find some red flags.

With a sigh he resigned himself to either going through the code manually — which would take days — or giving up. The latter wasn't really an option. He couldn't just leave Derek like this.

He still felt reluctant when he searched through the files and directories, eventually finding his way to Derek's system core. It was best to start there. But the mere sight of the rows upon rows of numbers and letters constituting Derek's code made Stiles groan. It would take forever.

Stiles bent forward and leaned his forehead against SAMMI-B's hard, sharp edges.

"What do you think, little guy? Is it worth it?" he asked the bot.

SAMMI-B cooed and flashed his lights in what seemed to be a random pattern. More than once Stiles had wondered whether it would be possible to teach SAMMI-B to communicate through Morse code, but he had never been able to figure out how to actualize it.

Stiles jumped in fright when his computer gave off a sudden beep, his eyes widening when he looked up to see his antivirus going haywire. Another beep, followed by a third, and Stiles felt ice settle in his gut as he watched the list of detected threats fill at an alarming rate.

"Shit!"

Stiles straightened, quickly trying to get on top of the situation. While he trusted the combined forces of his antivirus and his own patchy but still effective computer skills, this wasn't normal. It was an unorganized landslide of trojans, malware, viruses, and other threats Stiles had only ever heard of before. If he had been any less skilled his laptop would have been fried during the first wave.

It took him several seconds to realize where the flood came from, and he couldn't help turning in his chair and kicking the android's limp foot when he did. It was opening Derek's folders that had set it off. It all came from the android.

"Thanks a lot, asshole!" he hissed, ignoring SAMMI-B's worried whir in favor of trying to stave off the Laptop Apocalypse.

It took about thirty minutes of tense, breathless concentration before Stiles felt confident enough to relax. He kept running sweep upon sweep, carefully picking off the threats that lingered or tried to hide in various parts of his laptop's or Derek's system. It was tedious work and Stiles was cursing under his breath, to the extent that SAMMI-B rolled off to the other end of the workbench, either because he felt insulted or to show that he didn't appreciate Stiles' colorful vocabulary.

Stiles let out a sigh of relief when what he hoped was the last threat was handled. His forehead thunked against the tabletop when he slumped forward, boneless and probably worse for wear than his laptop. SAMMI-B hooted worriedly but Stiles ignored him, even when the tiny bot started pinching his arm to get his attention.

Derek was such an asshole. Or, well, maybe it wasn't Derek's fault that he was full of viruses. But Stiles had a hard time figuring out how an android could end up with so many, without it being intentional somehow. Half of the ones he had found weren't even compatible with the android's system, and had been activated only when a suitable one had been introduced — like Stiles' laptop. The flood had attacked not only Derek but the unit trying to fix him as well, dragging them both under.

Stiles felt something turn in his gut.

Was there such a thing as android suicide bombing? Because if there was, this was probably what it looked like. If Stiles hadn't been able to curb it, both Derek and the laptop would have been doomed. It was almost like a planned attack, to prevent Derek from coming back online again. Whether it was Derek's owner or Derek himself who set it up, well, that was a question Stiles' couldn't answer.

He felt uneasy as he studied Derek's motionless form. If it was Derek who had arranged it — which wasn't impossible — then there probably was a reason for it. Something that kept him from wanting to come back online. Was it then wise for Stiles to force him?

Stiles turned back to his laptop, chewing distractedly on his bottom lip. He hadn't expected this when he found Derek, even if he perhaps should have. Derek was far too valuable to just dump like that without reason, but perhaps he had orchestrated it himself. While some believed that the AI didn't support it, androids were definitely able to make own decisions based on the parameters and objectives they had been given. Derek could have chosen this for himself, if he believed it to be what was best.

A couple of taps on his keys lead Stiles back to Derek's folders. The AI-programming software had missed the viruses because they hadn't been interfering with the main coding, which was probably a way of avoiding detection, but they had still been what caused the malfunction of Derek's system. Or so Stiles assumed. He wasn't nearly good enough at this to know for sure.

Stiles frowned when he stumbled over a line of numbers and letters that seemed utterly misplaced. It wasn't a command or descriptive. It looked like a file, but it wasn't placed in Derek's main memory. That was odd.

Without thinking Stiles plugged in his flashdrive and went through the motions of transferring the file to it. If it was contaminated somehow, it might be limited to the flashdrive instead of wrecking Stiles' entire computer.

He held his breath, but nothing happened. It seemed to be a regular file. Well, a folder, actually, and Stiles watched the progress bar fill while scratching his chin. It was probably nothing, but Stiles had never heard of misplacing folders like that. Or perhaps it was hidden?

SAMMI-B pinched his arm and Stiles absently pushed the bot away with his elbow. He didn't have time for cuddling right now. The folder finished transferring and Stiles raised an eyebrow at the name.

"Deucalion," he read aloud. It sounded vaguely familiar, but he couldn't quite pinpoint why.

Another hard pinch from SAMMI-B made him yelp. The little guy was usually extremely careful not to do that. Stiles turned to glare at his disobedient bot.

"Hey, what's the big ide—" He fell abruptly silent when his gaze slipped past SAMMI-B and locked on to two brilliant blue orbs. Eyes. Glowing eyes.

"Jesus fucking Christ!"

Stiles flailed, his chair tipping over and sending him crashing to the floor. He scrambled to untangle himself from the mess, crawling backwards a foot or two, before he realized what he was seeing.

Derek was awake. Those were Derek's eyes.

Stiles swallowed, his throat almost painfully dry all of a sudden. Derek hadn't moved an inch, except what it took for him to straighten his head, his gaze fixed on Stiles, unreadable and blank. Perhaps that was to be expected. Derek had no idea where he was.

SAMMI-B's confused chirp was what brought Stiles back into action, when he was forced to dive forward and catch the tiny bot before he hit the floor in his search for Stiles. Derek didn't as much as blink, even when Stiles hurried to put SAMMI-B back on top of the workbench and boxed him in with various tools. SAMMI-B's hoot took on a distinctly indignant tone. Stiles ignored it.

Derek was still observing him when Stiles turned back towards him, standing on his knees next to Derek's feet, close enough to feel the press of one of them against his calf. Well, this was awkward.

Stiles cleared his throat and tried a casual grin, but he suspected that it looked more like a grimace.

"Uh... hi. I imagine that you're a bit confused right now. I am too, to be honest." Stiles wet his lips and sat down on his folded legs. "I'm Stiles. That there is SAMMI-B."

The bot chirped in greeting and Derek's gaze snapped to SAMMI-B for a second, before it returned to Stiles. Those glowing, blue eyes were mildly unsettling. He didn't even blink. The broad chest seemed to be moving, though, faking breaths the android had no real need for — it just made the humans around them feel more comfortable.

"I found you. In a dumpster," Stiles explained haltingly under Derek's unrelenting gaze. "And I figured that I should try and fix you up. I didn't... I didn't think that I would actually manage."

And had almost started considering not trying in the first place. If Derek didn't want to be online Stiles had no right to force him. It was difficult to tell whether Derek was upset or not, since he kept silent and remained blank and unresponsive. He didn't show any indication of having heard what Stiles was saying.

Stiles cleared his throat.

"Um... do you understand what I'm saying?"

A slight twitch in one of Derek's eyebrows.

"Yes."

Stiles nearly jumped at the sound of Derek's voice. He had somehow not expected him to answer. Then again, outright asking questions was always a good strategy since most androids had been programmed to instinctively answer them.

"You... are you okay?" Stiles felt stupid for asking, but he knew that his skills weren't nearly good enough to offer maintenance to an android of Derek's caliber. There could still be something wrong with him that Stiles had missed.

"Running system check," Derek stated in an almost bored monotone. That might not have been exactly what Stiles was looking for, but it was close enough.

He waited silently while Derek did whatever he needed to do. Stiles could see small twitches in his limbs every now and then — as if he was running through their functionality — but all in all, Derek remained silent and motionless, his glowing eyes staring out into nothingness.

It took about four minutes before Derek blinked, his eyes suddenly shutting off. Stiles had to blink himself before he realized that they hadn't shut off, per se, but the glow was gone. And just like that Derek looked perfectly human, his eyes a pale, bright hazel.

Stiles felt a little breathless.

"All systems up and running. No major complications. Performing background corrections and fixes."

Derek's voice wasn't quite as deep as Stiles would have thought, but he still liked it — even if the deadpan quality made Stiles feel a little defensive. It kind of felt like Derek was insulting him.

Stiles moved until he sat with his legs crossed, his thigh pressing against Derek's foot. Derek didn't seem to mind. Not that he had moved much since he came back online. He seemed perfectly content to sit there on the floor with his back against the wall.

"So you're okay?"

"Yes."

Stiles got the distinct feeling that Derek was lying, but he wasn't even sure if androids could lie.

"Can you move?"

Derek raised his hands in reply, opening and closing them twice to show his motor functions. Stiles nodded in approval before scratching his neck. How exactly did you ask an android if it was suicidal?

"Where am I?" Derek's voice was calm and precise.

The question took Stiles by surprise, but he smiled soon enough, leaning forward as he braced his elbows on his knees.

"In the apartment I share with my best friend Scott McCall. I'm Stiles — Stiles Stilinski."

Derek raised an eyebrow, as if to say that Stiles had already said that. It was odd seeing such a human expression on an android.

"I don't know where you came from so I can't help with that, but we're close to the art museum, if you know where that is?"

Derek paused for a moment before nodding. His gaze swept over the room, momentarily lingering on SAMMI-B, who was blinking his tiny lights in a decidedly insulted manner. He might also be jealous that Stiles was focusing on someone else for a change.

"Can I disconnect this?" Derek asked after a couple of seconds of silence.

Stiles blinked, staring in confusion until he noticed that Derek was pointing at the cable still attached to his arm.

"Oh! Right, of course! Just— just give me a second." Stiles struggled to his feet, righting his chair while he was at it. After a couple of quick clicks he motioned for Derek to go ahead and unhook the cable on his end.

Derek did so without as much as a flinch, holding it out for Stiles rather than just dropping it on the floor. Stiles pretended that his hand didn't shake when he accepted it. He couldn't help jumping when Derek got to his feet, though, completely without warning. His movements were very smooth and agile, despite his undeniably impressive size.

Okay. Yes. Stiles could deal with that. He totally could. And he was definitely not staring. Even if Derek's level and slightly impatient look seemed to suggest otherwise.

Derek was indeed as tall as Stiles, but with more muscle. Not that Stiles was anywhere near skinny, but Derek still made him feel small in comparison.

Stiles managed a sheepish grin.

"Sorry, I've just never been this close to a live android before. Especially not one that looks so much like a human."

Derek raised his eyebrow again, and for some reason that only made Stiles' grin widen.

"So what's your make and model?" Stiles couldn't deny that that was one of his most pressing questions. He really wanted to know who was capable of such a masterpiece.

"I don't know."

Stiles grin faded.

"What? How can you not know? Isn't that a part of your system core?"

Derek stared at Stiles during long, silent seconds.

"I don't have access to that information," was the reluctant reply Derek eventually gave.

Huh. That was more than a little odd, but Stiles pushed his disappointment aside, knowing that the answer wouldn't change even if he asked again. Better to steer the conversation towards happier subjects.

"Come on, let me show you the rest of the apartment."

Stiles had no idea whether Derek was actually staying or not — Stiles couldn't claim that he owned him after all — but Derek didn't seem to be in a hurry to leave, which was good enough for now. Besides, Stiles needed some time to figure out how to ask Derek about where he came from, the viruses, and the Deucalion folder. But all in due time. Stiles could be patient when he needed to.

Derek's expression remained vacant but he followed Stiles when he moved towards the door. Stiles lingered only long enough to pluck SAMMI-B from the workbench, knowing that the bot would wail forlornly after him if he didn't. SAMMI-B gave a series of blips and beeps and to his surprise, Stiles saw Derek glance at the tiny bot with a puzzled look.

He had half a mind to ask about it, but eventually pushed it aside in favor of the grand tour of Stiles and Scott's messy but homey apartment. Derek apparently opted for silence.

It wasn't until he said it out loud that Stiles realized that Derek wasn't Derek's actual name.

"Hey, Derek, could you hold SAMMI-B for me?"

Since the tour was over Stiles needed to start with dinner to have it ready for when Scott came home, and didn't dare to place the tiny bot on the counter. The little guy would find some way to hurt himself, Stiles just knew it.

SAMMI-B replied — as was his habit — but Derek just stared back without acknowledging the question. And why would he? He didn't even know he had been addressed.

"Oh. Right. Shit." Stiles chuckled in embarrassment. "Sorry about that. What's your name?"

Derek's head turned, just a little, but his gaze remained on Stiles. It looked like he wanted to recoil but didn't quite allow himself to.

"Who is Derek?" It was obvious that Derek wanted to avoid answering Stiles' question by asking one of his own, and he was well within his right to ask, Stiles supposed. He felt his cheeks burn while he rubbed the back of his neck with his free hand. Smooth. Real smooth. SAMMI-B seemed to chirp in agreement.

"It's just... what I called you. Before. I didn't know your name but your serial number..." Stiles trailed off while Derek raised his right hand, as if to look at the serial, but Stiles figured that no one knew it better than Derek himself.

"Leet speak," Derek stated simply. Stiles blinked in surprise, until he realized that an android could easily know things like that, what with their memory and almost spotless Internet access.

"Yeah, it felt appropriate." Stiles found himself grinning for some stupid reason, but Derek didn't seem to take offense to Stiles' dorkiness. That was a pleasant surprise.

"Derek is fine."

Stiles actually gaped.

"Come again?" he asked faintly, not sure if he had heard correctly. Derek — honest to God — rolled his eyes. Stiles had no idea that androids were actually equipped to do that.

"Derek is fine," Derek repeated dutifully, but his voice was sharper this time, almost reprimanding, as if Stiles was an idiot for not catching it the first time. Androids could apparently be quite sassy when they wanted to be. Imagine that.

"So... just like that your name is Derek now?" Stiles couldn't help sounding dubious. SAMMI-B's tires were spinning impatiently because as much as the little bot liked being carried around, he always got bored eventually.

Derek gave Stiles a deadpan look before holding out his hand, palm up. Stiles hesitated a moment before handing over SAMMI-B. It was his little baby, after all. SAMMI-B's tires revved, but Stiles kept a firm grip to keep him from launching off Derek's hand the first thing he did.

"Okay then, Derek," Stiles conceded, "please make sure that this little idiot doesn't crack himself open on the floor or anything equally hard."

Derek responded with a short but effective nod. Stiles tried to deny that his heart skipped a beat when Derek gripped SAMMI-B with his free hand and their fingers brushed. It was a stupid reaction — idiotic even — and Stiles was quick to let go.

"I'll be in the kitchen. You can come too if you like," he offered before turning on his heel.

He wasn't fleeing — it was a strategic retreat. There was a huge difference, most of all to Stiles' sense of pride. Stiles wasn't unsettled over the fact that he might be at least slightly attracted to an android. Nope. Not at all. Everything was fine.

And that was also why he was completely fine with Derek accepting the offer to join Stiles in the kitchen.

Derek hadn't said much during the tour and that didn't change. Stiles watched in the corner of his eye as Derek sat down at the kitchen table and placed SAMMI-B in front of himself. Stiles almost opened his mouth to warn Derek about letting go, since SAMMI-B would undoubtedly shoot off the moment he felt a flat surface under his tires, but Derek must already have realized that himself. He kept a firm grip on the bot until SAMMI-B was forced to admit defeat with a series of dejected, miserable hoots, his tires stilling.

Stiles smiled, but what surprised him was that he wasn't the only one. It was small and weak, to the point that Stiles would have missed it if he hadn't been looking closely, but Derek did smile.

Stiles turned back to his cooking, but his gears were turning. He didn't know much about android behavior but he was pretty certain that they weren't usually this morose. There was no other word for the look on Derek's face. That he was calm and quiet wasn't so strange — he was in a new environment with a complete stranger — but there were other circumstances that worried Stiles. Derek had obviously been abandoned and no matter the reason, it had to hurt, even for an android. The viruses complicated it further, because there was a risk that they had been intended as a suicide attempt. What had Derek gone through to make him resort to something so drastic?

Stiles worked on autopilot — zoning out SAMMI-B's various sounds — until he found that there was nothing else to do than wait for the pasta to finish boiling. Without anything to occupy himself with, his doubts and questions returned with a vengeance. He had to ask Derek about it. At least the viruses, considering that they had almost swallowed Stiles' computer too.

Stiles took a deep breath before turning around, stopping short at the sight that greeted him.

Derek was flicking a balled up piece of paper across the tabletop, and not a second later SAMMI-B was happily chasing after it with a shrieking chirp that could only be described as a squeal. Stiles' bot was squealing in delight. And as if that wasn't enough, SAMMI-B proceeded to snatch the paper ball with his tiny pincers before quickly rolling back towards Derek's hand, his lights blinking and flashing.

SAMMI-B dropped the ball next to Derek and hooted excitedly.

"Are you playing fetch with my retarded bot?" Stiles blurted out in pure shock.

"It keeps him occupied," Derek replied calmly, as if it wasn't strange at all that he was entertaining what was essentially a defective penholder.

Stiles tried to think of a suitable retort, but ended up opening and closing his mouth without anything coming out. This was beyond weird.

"Did you build him?"

The question was enough to snap Stiles back to his senses. He scoffed softly.

"Yeah, in case the shitty design and crappy programming didn't make it obvious."

Derek didn't offer any kind of reply to that, and Stiles couldn't exactly claim that he had expected him to. Derek didn't strike him as someone who would. Derek didn't strike him as the kind to talk at all, to tell the truth. He seemed awfully guarded, and not only because he was someplace foreign.

Stiles took a deep breath before walking over to the table. SAMMI-B was racing across it to fetch the paper ball again, and Stiles felt something in his chest clench.

"Hey, Derek..." Stiles gripped the back of one of the empty chairs, meeting Derek's gaze when the android looked up. "You know I have to ask about the viruses."

Derek's expression shuttered off and SAMMI-B chirped in confusion when his playmate became distracted. Derek clenched his jaw — another human gesture that left Stiles a little blindsided — but maintained eye contact.

"What about them?"

Stiles licked his bottom lip.

"Well, your reaction already answered who put them there. I—" Stiles hesitated for a beat "I won't ask why, because that's none of my business, but I need to know if it's something dangerous. I mean, something that might harm me or those I care about."

Derek ignored SAMMI-B's insistent tries to catch his attention by bumping against his hand. And Stiles ignored the fact that he had just gotten it confirmed that Derek had tried to commit the android equivalent of suicide. Fucking hell.

"Not unless you've told anyone about me."

That wasn't the reply Stiles wanted, but he was glad that he could shake his head.

"Only Scott, my roommate."

"Keep it that way." Derek was almost rude in how short his replies were, but Stiles let it slide considering the subject.

"Should you really be online then? Can't you be tracked?"

"My circuits for outgoing transmissions of that kind have been severed."

That sounded painful and Stiles couldn't help grimacing. He almost wanted to ask if it was recent, since it didn't sound like it. Was it something Derek's previous owner had done? But wouldn't that mean that Derek was virtually untraceable? Was that how Derek had gotten away?

"So... you're basically safe as long as whoever you're hiding from doesn't find you?" Because it was pretty obvious that Derek was fleeing from someone, possibly his former owner. Derek didn't look too happy about having it pointed out, though.

"Something like that," he replied through gritted teeth.

Stiles pulled out his chair and sat down, holding out his hands for SAMMI-B when the bot rushed to meet him. His fingers closed around the tiny bot's metal body, SAMMI-B hugging Stiles' thumb with a soft purr.

Stiles smiled crookedly before looking up at Derek, who seemed busy staring at the tabletop.

"So, do you want to stay?"

Derek's gaze snapped up, his eyes widening in surprise. Stiles' smile grew softer.

"What? You thought I was going to kick you out?" He shook his head. "I brought you in and fixed you up — technically against your will — so it's not more than right that you get to stay. It's not like I have to feed you."

Derek seemed to hesitate, a small wrinkle appearing between his eyebrows. He looked confused, as if he wasn't quite following what Stiles was saying. It made Stiles feel very self-conscious.

"Uh... you don't have to. I mean, I totally understand if you don't want to. Who would want to live with me? Well, besides Scott, but he's obviously not in his right mind, or just too kind to say anything." Stiles gestured wildly between them before pushing back his chair, clutching SAMMI-B in one hand. "I get it, I totally do. I'm an intrusive and intense person and I've already turned you back online without asking — which was no easy feat, I'll tell you that, you were pretty fucking thorough with those viruses — so I don't blame you."

He was babbling. He was totally babbling and felt pretty bad about it. But he had no idea what else to do. Androids were usually considered to be property, but what did that make Derek? Stiles wasn't his owner, that much was certain, but Derek seemed to have cut ties with his previous one. So where would he go now? Stiles didn't want to make it sound as if Derek had to stay with him, not against his will. Which naturally lead to the question if Derek even had an own will, what with being a machine and all. But it seemed like it. Stiles couldn't help treating him like he did. Derek seemed so real.

Stiles shot up from his chair and turned back to the stove with a confused, hooting SAMMI-B in hand. This was ridiculous. Stiles was acting like a complete moron.

"Do I get to give an actual answer?"

Stiles flinched at Derek's question, glancing over his shoulder before clearing his throat.

"Uh... yeah, of course." Stiles braced himself, hiding his unease by stirring the pasta. Perhaps a little too vigorously.

"I'd like to stay," Derek said, voice measured. Stiles turned to stare at him in surprise and Derek calmly added, "For the time being."

He looked sincere enough, even if Stiles had a feeling that there was something Derek wasn't telling him. He couldn't pinpoint what, though, and didn't want to argue. Derek just seemed strangely agreeable considering that Stiles was the one who had foiled his plans to self-destruct. Stiles had expected some kind of backlash from that, at the very least. Not that Derek seemed happy. He looked quite tense, actually, as if accepting a place to stay was some kind of weakness. Stiles didn't think so, but he didn't really understand the mind of an android either — and especially not one as complex as Derek.

"Okay. That's awesome." He nodded with a faint smile. "I don't think Scott will mind."

Derek looked at him for several long seconds, his gaze and expression completely unreadable, before nodding as well. And just like that it was settled.

When Stiles turned back to the pasta — SAMMI-B still in one hand — he had to pause a moment to process what had just happened. He blinked, twice even, but he still came to the same conclusion. He had just gotten himself another roommate — a roommate who also happened to be a high tech android with a definite dark past.

Damn. Stiles should probably look into getting a better life insurance sometime in the near future.

 

Chapter Text

 

---

 

Stiles' surprised shriek turned into a pained groan when his back hit the floor with a loud thump. He blinked dizzily, disoriented and confused where he lay twisted in his sheets, struggling feebly against the restraints.

"Breakfast," said a sharp, grumpy voice.

Stiles frowned before pulling himself up into sitting position, clinging to the sheets still on his bed in order to be able to look over the edge of it. Derek stood on the other side, arms crossed impatiently over his chest. Stiles' eyes narrowed suspiciously.

"Did you just push me out of bed? Because if you did I swear to God that I will reprogram you until you can only speak through various musical numbers," he threatened menacingly. Derek merely raised an unimpressed eyebrow. The bastard.

"You'll be late for work." And with that the snarky android turned on his heel, stopping briefly to pluck SAMMI-B from Stiles' workbench. SAMMI-B — the little traitor — chirped happily.

Stiles bit back a curse and settled for muttering insults under his breath.

"I'm pretty sure this constitutes as abuse of some kind!" he shouted at Derek's retreating back, but the android ignored it. Which only served to annoy Stiles even further.

But he did get up, even if he grumbled sullenly each step of the way.

Stiles had learned early on that living with Derek was as frustrating as it was interesting. No, wait, fuck that. It was more frustrating than anything. It wasn't that Stiles didn't like him, because he kind of did — so much that he sometimes wished that he didn't — but Derek was, to put it simply, infuriating. Three weeks was more than enough to come to that conclusion.

Derek was cranky, stubborn, and virtually impossible to communicate with on his bad days, which shouldn't even be possible since he was built to obey orders. Not that Stiles or Scott ever gave him orders. They both felt uncomfortable even thinking about it, and mostly left Derek to his own devices, because even if he was an asshole he wasn't evil. He never did anything to outright hurt them, even if he was plenty annoying and uncooperative. Stiles had never met anyone who could say so much with just a glare and a quirk of his eyebrows.

Which actually seemed to be Derek's standard way of talking. If he could avoid it, Derek didn't speak at all, which stood in stark contrast to Stiles, who could talk at length about anything. He had grown out of babbling, granted, but sometimes he started ranting just to piss Derek off — because it always did. It was a contest of theirs, Stiles figured, to see who would crack first.

But apart from his sparkling personality, Derek did actually offer some other things to their everyday life. Since he didn't sleep or eat he wasn't exactly high maintenance, and as such he had adopted the habit of preparing breakfast for Scott and Stiles. They hadn't asked him to — Derek took the initiative all on his own — but they had no intention of telling him to stop either. They didn't even mention it, in fact, since it was pretty obvious that it would probably piss Derek off. He didn't seem to like being called out on doing nice or helpful things.

Derek cleaned every now and then too, when Scott and Stiles were at school and work and not there to see him. It was probably just to keep himself occupied and all three of them pretended not to notice, but it was obvious that their apartment had never been quite as clean as it was under Derek's care. Which was quite endearing.

The only thing sweeter than Derek's passive aggressive way of taking care of Stiles and Scott, was how he treated SAMMI-B. The bot still favored Stiles over anyone else — because hey, if you couldn't trust your own children to love you then who would? — but SAMMI-B was kind of taken with Derek. In a mildly unsettling and possibly obsessive way.

SAMMI-B didn't search him out as he did with Stiles, but he talked a lot more with Derek. Or at Derek, more correctly, given the nature of SAMMI-B's language and the fact that no one really understood what he was saying. Still, he was chatty as ever, blinking and blipping and chirping, and at first Stiles thought that Derek wouldn't like it, until he caught them playing fetch again. And hide-and-seek. Granted that the latter hadn't exactly been planned on Derek's part, but he faithfully dug SAMMI-B out from under a pile of Scott's dirty clothes after the bot had disappeared all of a sudden, sending out small beeps every thirty seconds or so, to help Derek along. Stiles wasn't sure if it was wise of him to feel a happy, heartwarming clench in his chest when he saw it.

Bad, bad idea.

But Derek was surprisingly good with SAMMI-B, and they spent a lot of time together alone in the apartment while Scott and Stiles were out. Stiles wasn't sure if it was just his imagination, but he was pretty certain that Derek was teaching SAMMI-B things behind his back. Not bad things, of course, but things like a better judgment of distance and space — through vigorous practice, probably — and several voice commands Stiles sure as hell hadn't taught him. He wasn't sure what he felt about that. But he couldn't deny that it was rather adorable to watch the big and little guy get along so well.

Stiles was pretty certain that Derek preferred SAMMI-B over the two humans. On second thought, he seemed fine with Scott too. So, actually, what it came down to was that it was probably just Stiles he hated. And Stiles was fine with that. He could ignore the feeling of his chest being pried open every time Derek looked at him like he was pathetic or annoying or just in the way. It happened a lot. He had gotten used to it.

Derek treated Scott differently. It was obvious that out of the two, Derek liked Scott better. He never tossed Scott out of bed, never glared at him, and even spoke in a calmer, softer voice with him. Perhaps it was Stiles' own fault for being so loud and obnoxious, or perhaps it was because he was the one who had forced Derek back online. The kicker was that Stiles couldn't exactly say that Derek didn't have the right to be angry at him.

He wasn't sure if androids were supposed to hold grudges or even feel angry, but it didn't really matter. Derek clearly didn't like him either way. Stiles dealt with that as quietly and unnoticeably as possible, meaning that he didn't do a thing. He just swallowed it down and pretended that it was nothing. But he couldn't deny that it made him feel a little down that even an android — who were usually programmed to get along with everyone — didn't like him. Stiles was just that damned unlovable, apparently. But he assumed that was a skill too, in its own way.

Still, he didn't regret taking Derek in. The android made everyday things a lot easier and Scott — although doubtful at first — had come to like him too. Scott even used Derek as an instant search engine whenever he needed information about whatever it was that veterinarians studied. Derek replied patiently, if a little evenly, every time, and sometimes even asked questions to help Scott along.

Derek never asked questions about what Stiles was doing. He probably didn't want to know. Or didn't care. Possibly both.

And no, Stiles was not jealous.

Only, he was. He really, really was. He was jealous of SAMMI-B for being able to make Derek smile, and he was jealous of Scott for how much Derek seemed to like him. All Stiles had been able to manage was for Derek to promise to come to him if he needed charging, or if he ran into any troubles with his system. And even that had been like pulling teeth.

So, Stiles didn't talk much to Derek anymore. Oh, he definitely said things — all kinds of things — but he never actually talked. Never anything with substance or meaning. Not after the umpteenth time that Derek just ignored him or shot him down with nothing but a look. No matter what Scott thought and despite the number of electrical shocks Stiles had been submitted to during his tinkering, he actually did know when to take a hint.

Derek didn't like him. But at least he liked Stiles' best friend and retarded bot enough to put up with him. Small consolations.

All this meant that Stiles wasn't exactly surprised that Derek had found it necessary to literally push him out of bed that morning. Sure, Stiles was a little slow sometimes and had missed the bus twice since Derek moved in with them, but he didn't feel that it justified that kind of treatment. But perhaps it was part of some kind of slow, torturous revenge scheme that Derek was planning? Could androids be bullies?

Stiles shuffled out from his room, yawning widely on his way to the kitchen. Derek was on the living room couch, reading — something Stiles wanted to ask about but knew better than to try — with SAMMI-B next to him. Stiles swallowed down the bad taste in his mouth and gave SAMMI-B a tired wave, getting a lovely chirp in return. Trust the little guy to always make him feel better.

The slight elation from SAMMI-B's unconditional affection plummeted when he came into the kitchen, only to find the coffee machine empty. Stiles was in sore need of some coffee.

"Uh... Derek? Why is there no coffee?" He made sure not to sound angry or even accusing, his sleep deprived brain adding its own two cents by making him come off as confused and pathetic rather than hostile.

"Scott took some with him. He has a long day at school today," Derek called back from the living room, voice clipped and precise. As always when talking to Stiles.

"Oh..."

That explained it. And Scott hadn't thought to make more, while Derek probably didn't care enough about Stiles' caffeine intake to do it. Stiles closed his eyes and took a slow breath. It was way too early in the morning to feel this depressed. He glanced toward the kitchen table — where there was indeed breakfast waiting for him — but his stomach turned at the mere thought of actually eating anything.

He looked at his watch. He wouldn't miss the bus even if he stayed long enough to make more coffee, but something was itching under his skin and he just couldn't stand it. He needed to get out.

He left the kitchen and was halfway through putting on his jacket before he even thought to call out to Derek.

"I'm going to work."

He wasn't sure why he even bothered, really.

"Your bus doesn't leave until fifteen minutes from now," Derek declared in a monotone that still managed to be reprimanding somehow. Stiles was glad that they were in separate rooms, so he didn't have to see the deadpan look on Derek's face. As if it was completely expected that Stiles would misbehave.

"I'm walking," Stiles shot back, gritting his teeth.

"Breakfast—"

"I'm not hungry. Take care of SAMMI-B."

And with that he was out the door, but he was mature enough to close it carefully upon leaving. He wasn't a child, even if he felt pretty fucking pathetic. He shook his head at his own stupidity as he headed down the stairs.

So what if Derek didn't like him? It was no big deal. It was no different from how it had been with Lydia in high school, except that he hadn't been living with her and had to brace himself for rejection as soon as he stepped outside his room. Still, it shouldn't be this hard to manage. It wasn't the end of the world. Derek might not even be staying for that much longer.

Stiles straightened his spine and took a deep breath. He could do this. And if it hurt — to the point where he felt inclined to just curl up in bed and ignore the world entirely — well, he could handle that too. Derek hating him wasn't going to kill him, right?

Right.

It was obviously not a good day for Stiles. He did walk to work and got there on time — to his own surprise — but after that, things started deteriorating. Rapidly.

It began with the fact that the coffee at work wasn't nearly as good as Derek's, which Stiles tried not to get too fixated on. After that it moved on to tricky customers, a very agitated boss, one small fire in the staff room — not caused by Stiles, thank you very much — and a heap of shit to do. While being yelled at. Stiles had never been good at that. He didn't like when people yelled.

And as if that wasn't enough, a truck rammed straight into the side the bus on his way home.

Fuck his life.

Luckily enough for Stiles, he was thrown out of his seat and onto the hard metal floor rather than squished to a pulp. No one was, as a matter of fact, which he was infinitely grateful for. They all came out of it bruised and nicked from the shattered glass, but the injuries were minor, all things considered.

Stiles stayed long enough to get examined by some very polite and friendly first responders, but declined a visit to the hospital. Mostly because they determined that he had no broken bones, sprains, or any other injuries that might require more complex medical attention than some ice and a couple of band aids. He'd rather not pay a bill for something that he could take care of on his own.

So it was quite understandable if Stiles was a little weary and tired once he'd finally limped his way back home. The fact that the door was unlocked told him that Scott was already there, which meant that he had to be over two hours late. Great. And he had forgotten to check his phone in favor of putting one foot in front of the other. Scott was probably freaking out.

And sure enough, Stiles hadn't gotten further than unzipping his jacket — made difficult by the bandage wrapped around his cut fingers — before Scott was upon him.

"Stiles, where the heck have you bee—" Scott froze on the spot, staring with wide, horrified eyes. Stiles gave him a tired look and didn't even bother to put on a brave front. "Shit! What happened to you?" Scott sounded distraught, as if Stiles was dying at the very least.

"The bus got hit by a truck. I'm fine, Scott." Stiles hung up his jacket and when he turned back towards Scott, Derek was suddenly there too, looking furious for some reason. Stiles felt something dark and ugly coil in his chest.

"What?" he snapped defensively, before pushing past them both, even if he was pretty certain that Derek moved out of the way willingly. He was quite literally a big, heavy pile of metal and Stiles couldn't move him forcibly on a good day, let alone when he was aching from head to toe.

"Shouldn't you be at the hospital?" Scott asked, following closely behind as Stiles made a limping beeline for his room.

"No, it's fine. No broken bones. Just cuts and bruises and they're taken care of."

"But, Stiles, you could be in shock or something. My mom—"

"I'm fine, Scott!" Stiles exclaimed, whirling around to face his best, although admittedly annoying, friend. Stiles forced himself to speak softer as he continued, "They told me it was fine, okay? I don't need to go to a hospital."

Scott didn't seem convinced and Derek was hovering just behind him, still looking unreasonably pissed off. Which only served to make the dark lump inside Stiles fester and grow. What could he possibly have done this time? He hadn't even been home.

"What is it, Derek?" he asked acidly, not even bothering to hide how frustrated he felt. Stupid fucking android and his stupid vendetta.

"You missed dinner." Derek's voice was tight and sharp, and it sounded so much like an accusation that Stiles saw red.

"We saved you some—"

"I don't care about dinner!" Stiles barked, cutting Scott off mid-sentence. Scott blinked in surprise, looking wounded, but Stiles had already turned towards Derek. "I don't know what the fuck I did wrong, but I'm sorry, okay? I don't know why you're mad at me this time, and I think that you're being a little unfair for blaming me for missing dinner when I was in a fucking car accident. But I'm still sorry. For whatever I did."

Stiles sucked in a deep breath, completely ignoring the stricken look on Derek's face, as if he was actually surprised by the things Stiles was saying. Stiles was pretty sure he had never seen Derek wear such an expression before.

"And I realize that shouting isn't making anything better, but I am so fucking tired and I'm hurting all over and I just want to go to bed, okay? So just... please, not tonight? I can't deal with this tonight. I'll probably just burst out crying, and trust me when I say that it's not a pretty sight — ask Scott if you don't believe me. So just don't, okay?"

Stiles backed two steps, but when neither Scott nor Derek made to follow him he turned and disappeared into his room, shutting and locking the door. He could hear the muffled sound of SAMMI-B's confused little wail from somewhere on the other side, but forced himself to ignore it. Derek could take care of him.

Stiles squeezed his eyes shut and swallowed down the nausea and pain. Not all of it physical. Isolating himself was stupid, he knew that, and acting like a drama queen was downright pathetic, but he needed space to breathe. His day had been shit and he didn't want to spend the rest of it tiptoeing around Derek in an attempt to not anger him further. Stiles knew that he would just snap and say something he would regret later. This was better.

He carefully made his way over to his bed, shutting out the low, muttering voices on the other side of the door. He didn't want to know what Scott and Derek were saying about him.

So with one very heavy, aching, sigh he sank down on his bed and ran a hand through his hair. He wasn't even surprised when he heard the soft tink of glass shards hitting the floor as he did. He was probably still covered in them. He didn't give a damn.

A minute later he was curled up in his bed, earbuds firmly in place and music streaming into his ears. He felt himself relax, if only marginally. It didn't offer much relief, but that wasn't much of a surprise. Stiles felt pretty shitty overall.

He woke long before his alarm, not because he wanted to, but because his entire body felt sore and aching. It took him several minutes of careful exercises before he was able to move properly and even then he opted to remain in bed. Partly because of embarrassment, and partly out of anger.

While he couldn't be blamed for being upset, he was taking it to a whole new level by refusing to come out of his room the previous evening. Scott had tried several times but Stiles had either ignored him or sent him away. Not even SAMMI-B's forlorn, rhythmic thumping against the door when he tried to get in had swayed him. Stiles wanted to be alone and wallow in his misery.

Which was why he stayed in bed, watching the minutes crawl by on his alarm clock. If he timed it correctly, he could wait until the very last minute before rushing outside to catch his bus, knowing that Scott wouldn't stop him if it meant risking Stiles being late for work. Because Scott was undoubtedly waiting to ambush Stiles as soon as he left his room. Scott usually left earlier than Stiles, except on Wednesdays when he only had afternoon classes. Today was Wednesday, naturally.

But Stiles didn't want to talk. And he didn't want to see Derek. He didn't even want to see Scott if he could help it. He did want to see SAMMI-B, but the bot was probably with Derek so that was definitely out. No, fleeing like a coward seemed like the wisest decision.

The sound of someone ineffectively turning the door knob made Stiles frown and glance at the door over his shoulder. Oh, right. Derek usually didn't knock when he came in to make sure that Stiles was awake — he just barged in like he owned the place. And Stiles had never locked his door before.

There was an awkward pause and Stiles could imagine Derek standing there on the other side, glaring daggers at the door while trying to figure out how to proceed. It almost made Stiles laugh, but he held it back, knowing that it would transform into something sharp and ugly if he let it out.

The knock was so soft that Stiles barely heard it.

"Stiles?"

With a sharp pang Stiles realized that that might actually have been the first time Derek said his name. How could you live with someone for three weeks and never even say their name?

Stiles gritted his teeth and burrowed down under his comforter, determined not to respond. He wasn't coming out just yet. It was thirty minutes before his bus left. He had time. And Derek didn't make a second attempt to catch his attention.

Stiles might actually have managed to doze off there for a while, since it felt like just a couple of seconds before there was another knock on the door, but his clock told him that it had been fifteen minutes. This time it was obviously Scott's turn to try and coax Stiles into coming out.

"Stiles? Are you awake? You need to get up if you want to eat breakfast before work." Scott tried to sound casual, but Stiles could hear the underlying worry, clear as day.

A pathetic little chirp followed Scott's words. The bastard had brought SAMMI-B, and the tiny bot was giving off confused, lost beeps. Stiles gritted his teeth and told himself that SAMMI-B didn't know time like humans — he might have an internal clock, but he didn't measure it the same — so he had no idea how long Stiles had been gone. But that didn't change the fact that the little guy had apparently noticed Stiles' absence.

Stiles still refused to answer, now out of guilt rather than anger. He was acting like a child. A spoiled, silly child. Scott was just worried. He might even believe that Stiles had keeled over sometime during the night, given his habit of exaggerating. But Stiles had waited so long that he had no idea what to say even if he actually did come out. So he stayed. Scott gave up after another couple of attempts, and SAMMI-B hooted faintly.

Minutes ticked by. Stiles decided that he'd get up five minutes before his bus left. That would give him enough time to get dressed and run for the door.

Only Derek didn't seem to agree with that plan.

Two minutes before Stiles had decided to brave the outside world there was a series of loud bangs on the door, startling Stiles enough to make him jump.

"Stiles! If you don't come out within sixty seconds I will break down the door!"

That was literally the last thing Stiles had expected.

"What?" he croaked in confusion, flinching when another loud bang was heard. Stiles realized that it had to be Derek, pounding on the door with his palm. And that made it abundantly clear that Derek wouldn't have to try all that hard to rip it off its hinges, if he so felt like it. Most androids were a lot stronger than humans.

"Fifty-six seconds!" Derek barked. The bastard was actually counting. And sounded serious enough that Stiles didn't dare to risk it.

"Oh my God! Fine!" Stiles snapped before tossing the comforter aside and climbing out of bed with stiff, halting movements. He quickly pulled on a pair of jeans and swapped t-shirts, grinding his teeth all the while.

Derek was obviously still mad and Stiles' instinctive reaction was to get mad right back. He could hear Scott's low pleading, probably telling Derek to be careful because they really couldn't afford any kind of repairs right now.

Stiles stomped over to his door, unlocked it and walked out, forcing both Derek and Scott to take a step back.

"There. Twenty-one seconds left. Happy?" Stiles snarled, before heading straight for the front door.

Derek seemed just about ready to haul him back but Scott was the one who actually tried, unfortunately grabbing one of Stiles' countless bruises. He let go when Stiles hissed in pain, but it barely made Stiles break his stride.

"I need to catch my bus," he declared harshly, talking over whatever Scott was trying to say.

He made sure he had his keys, phone, and shoes, but didn't bother to pull on his jacket before he was already out the door, shutting it in Scott's face with a bang. Yes, Stiles was apparently a huge asshole. One who would have to plead for forgiveness when he came home that afternoon, but until then Stiles let his anger burn like hot coals in his gut. Derek was such an asshole.

And if Stiles took extra care when he picked a seat on the bus, trying to figure out where he was least likely to get hurt in the event of another accident, well, that was his business.

Stiles didn't hate his job, exactly, but it was tedious and boring on most days. He didn't mind meeting the customers — especially the ones who knew what they were talking about — but most were idiots who couldn't figure out how their printer worked, or the fact that you couldn't expect certain toasters to handle bagels. So most of the time Stiles just felt surrounded by idiots.

Being banged up from a traffic accident didn't improve his mood in the slightest, but he was wise enough not to take it out on his coworkers. One of them even offered him painkillers and brought him coffee from the small coffee shop down the street. Stiles would be forever grateful for that.

It also lightened his mood enough for him to send a text to Scott, apologizing for his behavior that morning. Scott had obviously been beside himself with worry, and forgave Stiles pretty much instantly — which Stiles knew he didn't deserve. They decided to talk and hug it out when they both got home that evening. Stiles made no such arrangements with Derek, because he wasn't stupid enough to voluntarily set himself up to get laughed and sneered at. Derek could go fuck himself.

Despite this, Stiles was in a slightly better mood once he got off work and, completely unsuspecting, ran straight into Derek as he stepped out onto the sidewalk. Literally. Why Derek was outside the store Stiles worked at was of less importance than the fact that Derek was there at all.

Ever since he came to live with them Derek had remained at the apartment — never even venturing outside the building — but hadn't seemed any worse for wear. Stiles suspected that he didn't want to risk being spotted by the wrong people, and Scott never seemed to question it. Perhaps because both Stiles and Derek had conveniently forgotten to tell him the full truth about Derek's shifty origins. Scott would only worry.

Now Stiles couldn't help staring, while Derek grabbed his arm to keep him from toppling over. Stiles looked around hastily, as if expecting to see a SWAT team bearing down on them any second.

"What are you doing here?" he hissed under his breath, more worried about Derek than anything else, considering how careful he had been up until that point.

Derek raised an eyebrow before releasing Stiles' arm, seemingly confident that Stiles could remain on his own two feet. Stiles wasn't as sure, but he'd do his best.

"You work here," Derek stated, as if it was obvious and explained everything. Which it didn't, no matter what Derek thought.

"Uh, yeah, I know that, because I'm the one working here. But what on earth are you—" Stiles paused, frowning. "Hang on, how do you even know where I work?"

Derek shrugged.

"I asked Scott."

Right. Of course. Stiles made sure to crush that small seed of hope that Derek actually cared. Scott had probably asked him to come, to make sure that Stiles got home okay. Stiles started gesturing spastically, finding some comfort in keeping his hands occupied.

"Well, he shouldn't have told you. I know that he's worried but I can handle—"

"Two weeks ago."

Stiles blinked, his hands stopping mid-motion.

"Come again?"

"I asked him two weeks ago," Derek replied dutifully. There was a soft frown on his face, as if he couldn't quite decide whether Stiles was deaf or stupid. Perhaps both. Stiles felt himself bristle, both due to the look and what Derek was saying. While it was nice to know that he hadn't asked just because of what had happened the past day, there was still an issue to be addressed here.

"Why did you ask him about where I work? Wouldn't it be more reasonable to ask me that, considering that it's my workplace?" Stiles felt insulted. Derek couldn't even talk to him about things directly involving Stiles? That was just mean.

"Because you get mad."

Stiles froze, staring in confusion — which wasn't helped at all by Derek grabbing his arm again and steering him out of the way of passing pedestrians. Stiles followed only because he was too shocked to do anything else.

"I don't... I get mad?" It sounded preposterous, but he couldn't figure out why Derek would lie to him. Androids were uncomplicated like that — or at least Stiles had thought so, before he met one particular android who seemed to be doing whatever the hell he liked.

Derek nodded.

"About work. About getting kicked out of school. About SAMMI-B's design and flaws. You're ashamed and get angry when they're mentioned." Derek's expression was the same kind of calm poker face as he always wore, and it was more infuriating than ever. "So I never asked. I didn't want to upset you. Scott handles questions better, so I ask him instead."

Stiles felt the air go out of him. He had no idea. Or, well, he might have suspected it — he knew that he could get snappy when it concerned certain subjects — but he hadn't thought that Derek would take it as a sign to back off completely.

"Is that why you've been mad at me?" he asked faintly, meeting Derek's gaze despite his own embarrassment. He'd rather hide or repeatedly bang his head against a wall.

Derek frowned, looking almost insulted.

"I'm not mad at you."

Okay, that was obviously a lie.

"But you barely talk to me! And you just glare whenever I try to start a conversation!"

"Because you don't actually say anything. I can tell that you only do it to annoy me," Derek argued, his voice taking on a sharp edge. Stiles couldn't exactly claim that Derek was wrong in that. Stiles had even started doing it intentionally.

"I figured it was better not to encourage your behavior," Derek continued more placidly.

Stiles wanted to snap that he wasn't a disobedient dog, but considering his actions, he knew that he'd come off as hypocritical. Who was to say who had started it? Had Stiles stopped making sense before Derek stopped answering? Or was it the other way around? Either way, it seemed like they had just been making things worse and worse.

"Then what about last night? You were totally pissed then," Stiles accused.

"Not at you," Derek replied with an eye roll. Stiles almost asked who the hell Derek had been mad at, but caught himself just in time. Derek had been angry because Stiles got hurt. Had Derek been worried?

Stiles wet his lips and pinched the bridge of his nose.

"Are you trying to tell me that this—" he gestured between them "—is all a misunderstanding? That we've been getting on each other's nerves for no reason at all?"

Derek seemed to consider this, probably running through the situations and specific instances they had clashed. It didn't take long for him to answer.

"It is very probable."

Stiles groaned and ran his hands through his hair. That was just so like him. He quickly lowered his hands and poked Derek in the middle of his chest, trying to ignore how hard Derek's muscles were. And it wasn't because he happened to have a steel skeleton.

"Okay, we are going to work on our communication skills, alright? We need to get better at mammal to mammal interaction."

"I'm not a mammal," Derek deadpanned almost immediately, earning himself a slap on his arm.

"You know what I mean! Jesus! You have got to be the snarkiest android in all of existence!"

To Stiles' immense surprise, Derek grinned. It was just a quick flash of smugness and show of white teeth, but it was enough to make Stiles' heart skip a beat. Stiles had ever seen Derek grin before. Not at Scott or SAMMI-B — not at anyone.

When he finally spoke Derek changed the subject entirely.

"You're going to miss your bus."

Stiles paused, weighting his options.

He knew that Derek was right and while Stiles really wanted to question Derek about a number of things, there was no guarantee that Derek would continue to be forthcoming. The change in subject might mean that Derek was done already. So Stiles chose to take the hint and drop it, at least for now.

Derek fell in step with him when he started walking towards the bus stop, and Stiles had to bite the inside of his cheek not to push further. Derek still hadn't told him why he was there in the first place. But that became pretty evident when the bus arrived and Derek calmly got on after Stiles. He was there to follow Stiles home, but on his own accord — not as a request from Scott.

Despite his momentary bafflement Stiles swiped his card and Derek pulled up his right sleeve, showing the bus driver his serial without batting an eyelash. Androids rode for free in company of their owners or keepers. Which Stiles wasn't, as far as he knew, but he could see the benefits of avoiding paying for Derek as well.

The bus driver looked surprised — probably because of Derek's undeniably non-android appearance — but waved them past soon enough. Stiles was slower to catch on and Derek steered him towards an empty space where they could stand on the crowded bus. Stiles grabbed one of the poles on reflex, and couldn't help blinking in surprise when Derek moved well into his personal space. He had certainly never done that before, and Stiles felt all kinds of flustered despite his admirable attempts not to.

It wasn't until the bus started rolling that Stiles realized that Derek had placed himself so that Stiles barely even jostled. They stood close enough that Stiles felt the warmth coming from Derek's body, but that only strengthened the feeling of security and stability.

"Do you realize that this morning was probably the first time you called me by my name?" he blurted out, desperate to fill his thoughts with something that wasn't Derek's firm body and close proximity.

"The third, actually," Derek replied with a raised eyebrow. "The first time was when you overslept the first time. The second was when SAMMI-B decided to play hide-and-seek. The third and fourth was this morning."

Stiles stared.

"Wow. You actually keep count. That's... uh... okay." He knew it wasn't anything special — Derek was an android and processed his memories in a completely different way than a human would — but it was still somewhat flattering that he even bothered to mention it.

"You've called me 'big guy' twelve times."

Stiles couldn't help his snort, or how he grinned when he met Derek's eyes. There was a distinct hint of amusement in that hazel gaze.

"Fourteen, actually. Twice before I got you back online," Stiles corrected.

Derek's hand gripped Stiles' hip, keeping him steady when the bus turned around a corner.

"Fourteen," Derek amended, nodding softly in confirmation.

Stiles felt like a completely dork. And he was not blushing. Nope. Not at all.

Only, he totally was.

 

Chapter Text

 

---

 

Living with Derek got marginally better after that. They still had their fair share of disagreements and both of them could pack a serious punch when it came to insults, but things seemed to calm down.

Stiles was still struggling with the curse of being attracted to an android — who might not even know what attraction was in the first place — but most days he could pretend that he wasn't. Not all androids were equipped to participate in sexual activities, and Stiles was so not going to walk up to Derek and ask him if he was one of those who were. Stiles liked to remain alive, thank you.

Life became somewhat of a routine after that, but Stiles found that he didn't mind. He hadn't felt this good since he got kicked out of school. Scott was still kind and considerate, SAMMI-B was flaky but adorable, and Derek, well, he was Derek, plain and simple.

On most days Stiles forgot that Derek wasn't a living, breathing human being. It wasn't just that he looked real, but he acted like it too. While he was stoic by nature, he still showed brief flashes of emotions and expressions that Stiles would never have thought an android was capable of. He had no idea who had programmed Derek, but they were obviously a freaking genius.

There were still occasions when it showed that Derek wasn't quite like them. He barely changed clothes since he didn't sweat or lose skin cells like a human — which was just as well, since they didn't have many that fit his muscular frame and Derek had refused to go shopping — and he was always awake. Sometimes there were two shining blue pinpricks following Stiles' progress as he shuffled around the apartment late at night. Derek's eyes usually only glowed when it was dark.

Then there was his habit of replying to most questions, even rhetorical ones, which Stiles found pretty hilarious. He teased Derek about it sometimes, but only used it against him when they were trading jibes. Which they were stupidly good at. It was actually quite unfair since Stiles had to match someone with a practically unlimited vocabulary, but if Scott was to be trusted Stiles was still in the lead when it came to inventive uses of said words. Because Derek clearly lacked imagination.

Derek was also someone who thought in straight lines rather than the intuitive leaps that were so common for Stiles. Derek believed in cause and effect, moving from point A to B without a pit stop at M, and sometimes had a hard time following Stiles' reasoning. Stiles wasn't even sure if it was an android thing as much as it was a Derek thing. He seemed to prefer to tackle things head on without unnecessary diversions or complications. Which might have been why he admitted to being quite frustrated by Stiles, whose very existence was a distraction of epic proportions.

They still managed pretty well. Stiles and Derek developed a habit of making dinner together, while Scott was responsible for the laundry and dishes. Every now and then, on random intervals, Derek would be waiting when Stiles got off work, with no other purpose than to keep him company during the bus ride back to the apartment. The small show of concern made Stiles giddy with excitement but he covered it by talking, almost nonstop. But he always made sure to make it count.

He told Derek about his dad, about Stiles and Scott's long friendship, about what he liked and didn't like, he told stories about SAMMI-B and awkward anecdotes from work. Derek remained characteristically silent most of the time, but Stiles could literally feel Derek's attention on him, intense and unwavering. Knowing that he was listening was more than enough.

Those bus rides soon became the highlight of Stiles' day.

Stiles completely forgot about how Derek came to live with them. He forgot all about the Deucalion folder on his flashdrive, and the fact that Derek had obviously been involved in some very shady things. Derek actually seemed to have forgotten as well, even if it wasn't possible for androids to forget anything unless it was deleted.

Perhaps he just chose not to think about it.

Before they knew it, Derek had been with them for over two months. At that point none of them seemed to remember that Derek was technically a possession — a machine meant to serve. The things he did for Scott and Stiles felt like care and concern, not a chore, because he did them because he wanted to. Stiles had stopped wondering whether Derek had a will of his own or not. He knew for a fact that Derek did, even if he couldn't quite understand the technology behind it.

But it was still obvious that there were a lot of things they didn't know about Derek. It was like being doused in cold water when Stiles finally realized just how careless he had been — how he should have persisted and asked Derek about the viruses and his suicide attempt.

Because Stiles had been right all along — Derek was definitely not like other androids.

Stiles was pretty certain that he could have continued to live in ignorance if it hadn't been for the pickpocket. His life wasn't very exciting after all, and he was rarely put in danger unless it was because of his own stupidity and curious nature, and Derek's interventions usually only consisted of sharp reprimands in those cases. There was no need to do more than that.

But then came the pickpocket. Derek literally went from relaxed android to deliverer of biblical vengeance in two seconds flat. Which was probably why Stiles didn't understand what was happening until it was too late.

They were walking on their way to the bus stop, Stiles chattering away and gesturing animatedly when someone bumped in to him. Stiles barely had time to see the guy's face in between his quick apology and turning back to Derek. Only Derek wasn't focusing on him anymore.

Stiles froze in horror when Derek whirled around and reached out, swift as a rattlesnake, grabbing the guy at the back of his neck. Before Stiles had time to express his surprise Derek used his grip to throw the guy ten feet, straight into the closest wall — as if he weighted nothing at all. The sound of the guy's back colliding with the brick made Stiles nauseous. He was pretty sure that he heard something crack, before the guy slumped to the ground like a lifeless doll.

Without blinking Derek twisted around. Stiles didn't have time to see more than a flash of red before Derek's fist connected with a second guy's cheek, sending him flying. Stiles hadn't even noticed the second one approach.

He was trying to grasp what was going on, but it wasn't until Derek stalked forward and reached out, grabbing the second guy's collar and yanking him off the ground, that Stiles caught up. Derek had time to pull his arm back, aiming for a blow that could potentially snap the guy's neck if he wasn't careful, before Stiles managed to make his throat work.

"Derek! STOP!" Stiles didn't even try to hide how frightened he was, his voice shrill — near cracking.

Derek froze immediately, mid-motion like a switch had been flipped, his entire body tense like a coiled spring. It took Derek a second or two before his head turned, eerily mechanical compared to how smooth and fluent his movements usually were, his gaze locking with Stiles'.

Derek's eyes were red. Bright, murderous red and so vacant that Stiles wasn't even sure who was looking back at him.

That couldn't be right. Derek's eyes were supposed to be blue. They glowed blue, not red.

The surprised gasps and murmur of the people around them forced Stiles to push aside his own doubts and hurry over to Derek, pulling ineffectively on his raised arm. Stiles couldn't even budge him.

"Derek, we have to go," Stiles whispered, nervously eyeing the people that had stopped to stare at the spectacle.

They looked horrified, and Stiles was pretty certain that he spotted several camera phones aimed in their direction. They were lucky that no one tried to intervene, but perhaps Derek's display of violence was enough to discourage even the bravest of the onlookers. Stiles hadn't even stopped to consider that Derek might have tried to hurt him as well, as soon as he got close.

Stiles jumped when Derek suddenly moved, but instead of acknowledging Stiles' request he turned and walked over to the guy lying crumpled next to the wall. Stiles held back a choked sound and hurried after — the crowd holding its breath — but Derek merely reached out, searching under the guy's jacket in order to retrieve Stiles' wallet.

He hadn't even noticed it was gone.

When Derek held it out to him, Stiles didn't take it at first, too stunned to react. Derek had done all this to stop a pickpocket. All that violence for something as stupid as Stiles' wallet. Sure, he had money and important cards in there, but it wasn't worth crippling someone over it.

Derek didn't seem to agree.

He was staring at Stiles with a terrifyingly blank look on his face, as if this wasn't anything out of the ordinary. But it was, it really, really was. No android was allowed to physically harm a human being to this extent, not even if their owners were in danger — their programming wouldn't allow it. Something was very, very wrong with Derek.

Stiles quickly pocketed his wallet and met Derek's still-red gaze. They definitely had to talk about this, but not here. Not now.

He grabbed Derek's hand, partly to reassure himself and partly to make sure that Derek didn't veer off again, before tugging him towards the edge of the wide empty circle that had been left for them on the sidewalk. The people parted under hushed whispers and wary looks. Stiles ignored them in favor of towing Derek away from the crowd, down the first side street he could find. No one stopped them, but he was pretty certain that the cops and ambulances were already on their way, and there was plenty of photographic evidence of what had gone down.

Stiles picked up the pace, Derek matching it without a word. Stiles' heart was thundering in his chest and he felt sick to his stomach. He still wasn't sure what had happened, except that there were obviously some parts of Derek's programming that they hadn't even glimpsed yet. And Stiles wasn't sure if he wanted to see more. Androids weren't supposed to hurt humans. They couldn't. But Derek had. He had mauled two guys in a matter of seconds, without even flinching.

Stiles squeezed Derek's hand, not surprised to find that Derek didn't return it. Derek seemed unusually docile, as a matter of fact, and Stiles chanced a glance over his shoulder. Derek's eyes were still red. Stiles quickly swallowed down his own fear and ducked inside a narrow alley, pulling Derek in after him. Derek was stiff as a board and when a woman walked past on the street his head snapped in her direction, glaring as if she was a threat of some kind. Stiles nervously licked his lips before tugging at Derek's shirt.

"Hey. Hey, Derek, look at me."

Derek obeyed but his movements were still off — mechanical and hollow, somehow. Stiles felt his heart clench.

"Hey..." he whispered, stepping closer. Derek didn't seem to mind, his gaze snapping to Stiles, as if he was the single most important being on earth. It should have been flattering, but only felt unsettling in light of recent events. Stiles seemed to be the only one Derek tolerated right now. "Derek, what's wrong? You're freaking me out, man. What's with the red eyes?"

"A threat was detected. Extermination mode was activated." If it hadn't been for the utter lack of emotion in Derek's voice, Stiles might have thought it was a joke.

"Ex— extermination mode?" He couldn't help choking on the word.

"Affirmative," Derek replied without a hint of remorse, his gaze empty. This clearly wasn't the Derek Stiles knew. This was a machine. Derek wasn't. This wasn't Derek. It couldn't be.

"You have... you have an extermination mode?" Stiles felt sick. Something seemed to be pushing its way up his throat. "And have you... have you killed people?"

"Affirmative. Extermination is my main objective."

Stiles felt that he couldn't be blamed for flinching, quickly taking a step back. Killing was Derek's main objective? Since when? Up until now Derek has barely even touched people if he could help it. Was this what the guy who had owned Derek before had forced him to do?

Derek's attempted suicide suddenly made a lot more sense.

Stiles cleared his throat and clenched his hands to keep them from shaking.

"Please tell me you can deactivate it. Please?"

"Deactivating," Derek responded without a second's pause, and next time he blinked his eyes were back to their usual hazel. Stiles held his breath.

If he had expected some kind of explosive reaction he didn't get one, but Derek did stiffen even further — which hadn't even seemed possible up until then. Derek was staring straight ahead and Stiles knew that he didn't just imagine the brief flash of panic he saw there. In the next second Stiles was forced to lunge forward and cling to Derek's arm to keep him from leaving.

"Oh no you don't!" Stiles snapped. It was bordering on idiotic to even touch Derek considering what he had just revealed, but Stiles chose to believe that Derek wouldn't hurt him. Not when it was Stiles he had tried to protect in the first place.

Derek's jaw tightened and he seemed incapable of meeting Stiles' eyes.

"Let go, Stiles."

"No." Stiles shook his head. Derek could definitely pry him off — or just keep walking until Stiles' grip slipped — but he seemed afraid to hurt him.

"Stiles, let go."

Stiles closed his eyes and leaned forward, until his face was pressed against Derek's shoulder.

"Nine and ten," he mumbled softly, feeling Derek twitch. Stiles looked up. "I'm not letting go."

Stiles had to struggle to keep his breathing even, but he wasn't afraid of Derek as much as he was afraid of what Derek could do. It barely made sense, even to his own ears, but Stiles knew that he couldn't let Derek leave. Something told him that he would never see Derek again if he did.

"Please, explain it to me," Stiles pleaded, his fingers clutching Derek's arm.

"No." Derek looked furious. "Not this."

"Is this what you've been hiding from me? That you're actually some kind of murder machine?"

Stiles might as well have slapped him. Derek's eyes seemed to shutter down, a cold, expressionless mask slipping in place. It was almost as terrifying as his extermination face.

Derek still answered, because he was incapable of not doing so.

"I tried to fix it."

"By killing yourself?" Stiles refused to let go and despite his anger Derek made no attempt to push him off, even if Stiles could feel Derek's muscles flex — as if he was barely keeping himself in check. "That's what the viruses were about? You tried to erase your own programming, and in case that didn't work you were prepared to just shut down completely?"

Derek didn't reply at first and Stiles took a chance, daring to react out with one hand, placing it on Derek's cheek in order to gently turn his head so that their gazes could meet. Derek complied, which was a bigger surprise than the anguish in his eyes.

"It's not voluntary," Derek bit out through clenched teeth. "It overrides all other commands. I can't stop it. Everything changes — my behavior, my speech pattern, my thoughts. And I can't deactivate it without being ordered to."

"Yeah, I noticed." Stiles took a deep breath, easing his grip somewhat, so that he could stand more comfortably. "But you still recognized me. Was I ever in danger?"

Derek didn't even hesitate before he shook his head, an urgent look in his eyes — as if he didn't want Stiles to believe that, even for a second.

"So you never lied to me? You won't hurt me or those I care about?"

Another firm shake. Stiles licked his bottom lip, choosing his words carefully.

"Is this what you were made for?"

"No. I might not know my maker, but it was my master who made the decision to add another layer to my programming. And I don't have the clearance to remove it."

Stiles felt a shiver go through him, but he couldn't quite decide whether it was a good or bad one. His fingers fiddled with a seam on Derek's jacket before he looked up.

"Maybe I can?"

Derek stilled, looking both surprised and vaguely hopeful.

"I mean, I'm no genius," Stiles hastened to add, "but I can at least have a look." He shrugged casually, as if it was no big deal, but he could tell that it was. To the both of them.

Derek nodded slowly while Stiles took a deep breath, trying to sort out his priorities. He had no intention of blaming Derek for what someone else had done to him, but he couldn't deny that he was unsettled. A part of him wanted to ask if this was how Derek would react to every threat he faced, but it would be a waste of time. Stiles already knew that the answer would be yes, because that was how androids worked.

Stiles had every right to feel angry, upset, and even betrayed, considering what Derek had been hiding from him, but he wasn't an idiot. He saw how little Derek wanted this. Derek had been eager to forget all about it, and it could probably have gone unnoticed for years if it hadn't been for pure chance. That the pickpocket chose Stiles instead of someone else. Stiles didn't have the heart to hate Derek for something he literally had no control over. Someone else had rewritten his programming and turned him into this — made him capable of hurting humans even though he shouldn't have been.

"Is this related to the Deucalion folder I found?" Stiles asked. Derek's confused frown forced him to elaborate. "It was hidden in your system. Or misplaced. I'm not entirely sure."

"I've never heard of it."

Stiles opened his mouth slowly.

"That's... probably bad, right?" Derek's grim look was answer enough. Stiles rubbed a hand over his face.

"Where did you find it?"

"I don't remember," Stiles answered truthfully, glaring at Derek's disapproving look. "Hey! Don't look at me like that! It was two months ago and I don't have your memory, alright? Why don't you search for it yourself?"

"That would take hours, Stiles, and you know it."

Stiles did. So he couldn't help chuckling before patting Derek's chest a little fondly.

"But, luckily enough for us, I happen to be a nosy fucker so I copied it to my flashdrive."

Derek's eyebrows rose, as if he couldn't believe that Stiles had done something useful. Asshole.

"You copied it?"

Stiles shrugged, pulling back his hand even if he wanted nothing more than to leave it where it was.

"Yeah. I thought it was odd and that it had something to do with why you weren't coming back online. But then you did and I kind of forgot about it, because it didn't seem important."

"But you still have it?"

Stiles nodded and yelped in surprise a second later, when Derek grabbed his hand and started walking again, pulling Stiles along. Stiles found his balance soon enough, and managed to catch up to Derek's pace after some stumbling.

"I need to see it," Derek explained before Stiles even have time to ask where the fire was.

He could understand Derek's urgency and chose not to complain about the less than gentle treatment. At least Derek's grip around his hand was firm and comforting. And Stiles might have enjoyed it in ways Derek hadn't intended.

Stiles had a lot to process — and some damage control to do depending on what the cops managed to get out of the shocked audience they had left behind — but for now he allowed Derek to steer them towards the apartment. After that he could start to worry.

It was almost embarrassingly anticlimactic when they got back to the apartment and Stiles opened the Deucalion folder, only to find several files that were either impossible to open or consisted of nothing but a wall of random numbers. SAMMI-B seemed pleased to have company at least, rolling back and forth next to Stiles' laptop with a complimentary light show.

Stiles sighed, his shoulders slumping in time with his eagerness.

"Perhaps they got damaged when I transferred them? Like, they're only meant to be on your system, not a computer's?" he suggested faintly, glancing at Derek who stood behind him. Derek's eyes travelled over the screen with lightning speed. Stiles almost became dizzy just looking at him.

"No." Derek shook his head. "It's supposed to look like that. I think it's written in code."

Stiles frowned, looking back at the unreadable document.

"Then was does it say?"

Stiles could practically hear Derek roll his eyes, even if that should have been physically impossible.

"I don't know, Stiles, since I don't have the key." Derek's voice was measured in that way that seemed to suggest that Stiles was being particularly annoying.

"Can't you figure it out or something? Aren't you androids supposed to be super smart?" Stiles tilted his head back until he could look at Derek, meeting his gaze. He looked quite funny upside-down.

Derek leaned forward and Stiles breath caught in his throat entirely without his consent. He was supposed to be wary of Derek, thanks to the whole 'extermination mode', but Stiles' libido took no note of that, apparently. It was only through some kind of miracle that he managed to keep a straight face.

"It's not what I was built for. While I might be able to process information faster than you, I have no experience in code breaking. You would have better luck if you found a mathematically and linguistically inclined human."

Stiles eyes widened, the thought hitting him even before Derek had finished talking.

"Lydia."

Derek blinked before pulling back, looking almost insulted. Stiles straightened in his chair with a hapless flail, trying to reach for his phone and keep SAMMI-B from rolling off the table at the same time. Derek was kind enough to catch the chirping bot, while Stiles dove for his phone.

Derek pushed SAMMI-B back and obstructed his path with various tools and junk lying on Stiles' desk. Stiles only half registered this since he was busy searching for Lydia's number in his phone book.

"Lydia! She— well, we're not friends exactly, more like acquaintances who went to high school together. I had like the hugest crush on her for years—" Stiles glanced up, only briefly noting the scowl on Derek's face before he continued to scroll through his contacts "—and we sort of kept in touch. She's, like, this brilliant mathematical genius, and while this isn't her specialty she might know who to ask, if she can't help us personally. She's fantastic. And brilliant. Did I mention brilliant?"

Stiles didn't give Derek time to answer before he was raising his phone to his ear, waiting for Lydia to pick up. Stiles did look his way, though, and was mildly surprised by the defensively crossed arms and obviously sulking expression.

"Who got your wires in a bunch?" he asked with a confused frown, which earned him an angry glare. Stiles rolled his eyes in response. If Derek wanted to be cranky then Stiles had no intention of humoring him.

Stiles forgot about Derek being immature a second later when Lydia picked up.

"What do you want?"

As far as greetings went, Stiles had heard better. But worse too, given his habit of being rather obnoxious.

"Hi to you too, Lydia. Sheesh." He shook his head but couldn't help smiling.

"Just spit it out, I don't have all day," she barged on, but despite her harsh words the tone was a lot softer than expected. Yeah, he had definitely grown on her — perhaps because he was no longer trying to woo her.

"Righty-o. I have a couple of documents that seem to be encrypted with some sort of numerical code. Do you think it's something you would be able to crack? Or know someone who might?" If Lydia herself couldn't, then one of her classmates had surely used their mathematical brilliance to explore that particular avenue.

"You do know that code breaking isn't exclusively about mathematics just because it happens to be numbers, right?" Lydia asked mockingly. Stiles chuckled.

"Well, if you can't then I'm sure that—"

"Of course I can," she snapped, clearly insulted. Stiles knew that she was too smart to be fooled by that, though, and actually felt a little proud over the fact that she apparently wanted to help him — because if Lydia didn't she certainly wouldn't. "Send them to me. You have my email."

Stiles grinned, giving Derek a thumbs up. The android didn't seem to share Stiles' enthusiasm for some reason, but Stiles decided not to explore that.

"Will do. And, uh... keep it quiet, okay?" Stiles added awkwardly. A silence lingered for a couple of seconds.

"Are you in trouble, Stiles?" Lydia's voice was careful but firm, demanding the truth. Stiles threw a quick glance towards Derek before shaking his head.

"No, not at all. Well, yet anyway. That's why I need those documents."

"Fine. You'll have them in two days," she replied with so much finality that Stiles knew better than to question the admittedly tight timeframe. Lydia was crazy smart — that was no secret — but Stiles wasn't sure if even she would manage in just two days. Still, it was better not to insult her.

"Thanks, Lydia, you're the best."

"Of course I am."

And with that she hung up. Stiles didn't even take offense because this was Lydia, after all. Instead he turned more fully towards Derek, smiling widely while flipping his phone in his hand.

"She'll help. She said that she'd be finished in two days." Stiles ran a hand through his hair. "So, while we're waiting for that we might as well get started on you, don't you think?"

It wasn't until Derek raised a questioning eyebrow that Stiles realized that there were several ways to interpret that sentence. He cleared his throat and vehemently denied that he was blushing.

"I mean, I was supposed to look over your programming," Stiles hurried to clarify. It was so painfully unsmooth that he nearly slammed his head against his desk in pure agony.

"If you say so." Derek expression was blank but his tone was teasing and Stiles wouldn't know what to do with that if it so came with a manual. Derek really should have a manual, and if he already did, someone should give Stiles a copy because this was just excruciating.

Stiles was saved from having to answer when Derek stepped closer, pulling up his sleeve. Stiles hurried to find the correct cable and connect it to his laptop, before handing the other end to Derek. He was pretty certain that Derek would prefer to insert it himself.

Derek accepted the cable and hooked himself up without a fuzz. Stiles couldn't help staring. It still looked strange to him, especially since he had gotten so used to consider Derek as more human than android.

A carefully raised eyebrow made Stiles snap back to the task at hand, and he turned back to his computer, fumbling for a couple of seconds before he remembered what he was supposed to do. Derek didn't comment. Neither did Stiles, because while he might be a little stupid he wasn't a complete idiot.

Stiles was left to work in silence for a couple of minutes, Derek hovering over his shoulder. Stiles tried his best not to let it affect his performance, but it was a little tricky considering how close Derek was. And what Stiles felt about Derek. Did he really have to stand that close? It was unnerving.

"There."

Stiles nearly jumped out of his skin, possibly because Derek said it close enough to his ear that Stiles felt Derek's breath against his cheek. Sure, it was because Derek had leaned forward to point at the screen, but it still made it awfully difficult for Stiles to focus.

As soon as he actually started reading what was before him he almost forgot about being nervous, though. The so called 'extermination mode' was as terrifying as it was beautiful. But mostly terrifying.

"Wow. That's... some fucked up shit." Stiles caught himself and glanced at Derek. "No offense."

"None taken."

Derek was studying his own code, bracing one hand on Stiles' shoulder as he leaned forward to scroll down. Stiles tried to remember why breathing was a vital bodily function, and if it was perhaps possible to manage without it.

"It's— ah... rather fool-proof," Stiles managed with some effort. "Since it's connected to basically every single one of your functions it would take days to remove it, and you'd probably be out of commission during those days, not to—"

"But it's possible?" Derek interrupted, something almost frightening burning in his eyes. Stiles opened his mouth but took a moment to formulate his answer.

"In theory. I don't feel quite confident enough about my skills to do it, unless you're absolutely desperate, but I could talk to some old classmates..." he trailed off, giving Derek some time to think it through. Stiles knew what the answer would be, though.

"If you trust them, ask them. If not, then you can do it." Derek sounded so certain — much more certain than Stiles felt — and he couldn't help squirming, glancing nervously at Derek. Stiles would fuck up. He wasn't nearly good enough to do something like that, not after having gotten kicked out before he even finished his degree.

"Derek, I'm not sure if you understand—" Stiles was cut off when Derek suddenly gripped Stiles' computer chair, turning it around so that Stiles had to face him. Derek was practically leaning over him, his hands firm on the chair's armrests.

"The severity? The complications that could arise? Trust me, Stiles, I'm willing to take the chance," Derek forced out, his voice thick with barely contained rage and a heartbreaking vulnerability.

"It's not that! I know that you are willing to risk it but I don't know if I am!" Stiles nearly shouted. "Because I know how delicate this shit is, okay? If I screw up — just one measly zero in the wrong place — and I could accidentally erase what makes you you. I could— I could kill you, Derek. I'm not good enough! I could fuck this up so bad, just like everything else I do!"

Stiles wasn't beyond pleading and he would if he had to. Derek maintained eye contact, his face grim and just shy of angry, but the longer he stared the softer his expression became.

"You won't," Derek stated simply, softly almost, as if Stiles was beyond fault. Stiles knew for a fact that he wasn't.

"You don't know that." Stiles crossed his arms over his chest, shoulders raised defensively. At least until Derek placed his hand on one, pushing it down again.

"I know that you would be extra careful, simply because you don't want anything to happen."

Stiles looked away, lips pressed into a thin line. He didn't want that kind of responsibility. He couldn't bear the thought of being the cause for erasing even a small part of Derek's personality, and they were talking about his entire programming. Both of them ignored SAMMI-B's confused little hoot, the bot no doubt wondering what was going on with all the raised voices.

"Stiles..."

It was the tone that made him face Derek again, that mix of urgency and gentleness. He had never heard Derek speak like that before — he hadn't even known that Derek could.

Derek's hand wandered higher, his fingers curling around Stiles' neck. While a part of Stiles wanted to ask what was going on, it was overridden by his need to remain absolutely motionless, just to make sure that the moment lasted longer. And then Derek leaned forward.

Stiles blinked in surprise and confusion when Derek's lips pressed against his — just a soft, simple touch that sent a sizzle down Stiles' spine. This couldn't be happening. Was he dreaming? He had to be. He couldn't help staring when Derek pulled back, looking calm and gathered as always.

"Wha—" Stiles croaked, licking his lips and swallowing before trying again. "What was that?"

He needed to make sure. Just in case he was imagining things.

"A kiss," Derek replied easily.

"Why would you..." Stiles didn't even know how to finish the sentence. He was completely speechless. Derek had kissed him. Derek had kissed him.

"Because I wanted to."

Stiles' gaze flickering down to Derek's lips, on its own accord.

"Ooookay..." he breathed out slowly. "I did not expect that."

To Stiles' surprise, Derek smiled — soft and kind of sweet.

"Do you want to try again, now that you do know what to expect?" There was definitely something teasing underneath the precise but gentle question.

And what a stupid question it was.

"Oh, hell yes. We should definitely do that again. It's a thing that needs to be happening, like, yesterday." Stiles reached out, his fingers curling around the collar of Derek's shirt. But instead of mashing their lips together he took the time to meet Derek's gaze, just to make sure that this wasn't some misguided attempt at bribery. He wanted honesty. If there was to be kissing it was going to be because they wanted it, not because Derek was trying to gain something.

Derek met it head on — as was his habit — and Stiles couldn't see any kind of lie in his eyes. Derek had really pretty eyes.

Stiles tugged Derek closer, still slow and somewhat careful, but Derek came easily, tilting his head just so and suddenly they were kissing again. Not that Stiles minded. He was definitely a fan of this development. He had never really considered whether kissing an android would be different from kissing a human, and now that he actually had the opportunity to compare, he was far too busy enjoying it to think that far. All he knew was that he liked it. A lot. It didn't feel strange at all.

Stiles wasn't sure if it was he or Derek who kept it chaste, but it was still everything but simple or fleeting. Stiles' lips tingled and his eyes remained closed in absolute bliss for several seconds, even after Derek had pulled back. That was probably the sweetest kiss Stiles had ever taken part in.

"My master kept the extermination mode activated for months at a time," Derek said quietly, in what wasn't quite a whisper, but hushed all the same. "I never noticed anything while it was active because I'm programmed only to follow orders when in that state. But whenever I needed maintenance or a reboot I would have a couple of minutes of clarity. During those minutes I could recall everything I had done, and how I had considered it to be wise at the time. I am... incapable of regretting it. My programming tells me that I did the right thing because I protected the main objective, but my mind — the part that gets shuffled aside and warped — knows that it's definitely not right. I'm literally torn in two."

Stiles had never heard Derek say so much in one instance before, and he felt his chest rip open at the almost vulnerable edge in Derek's voice. Derek was trying so hard to make things right, even when he wasn't responsible to the transgression in the first place. It wasn't his fault. And Stiles would be terribly selfish if he ruined Derek's hopes of freedom, just because he was feeling scared. Stiles didn't want to know what it felt like to be forced to kill.

Still, he took the time to make sure that it wasn't guilt or pity that drove him to give in. He was certain that Derek wouldn't appreciate that.

"I'll talk to them. And if they won't do it, I will," he promised with a slight nod. Derek's relief was almost palpable, even if his face was still far from expressive.

Stiles fingers brushed against the hollow of Derek's throat, then onwards to his collarbone. Stiles swallowed, glancing up to meet Derek's gaze.

"How did you get away?"

Derek gave a crooked smile.

"I downloaded and activated as many viruses and threats as I possibly could, during one of those instances where I actually had some sense left in me. Maintenance, after a particularly nasty fight." Which would explain the damaged state Derek had been in when Stiles first found him. Derek shrugged. "I broke down and when they couldn't fix it I got thrown out, I guess."

"Can androids disobey orders like that?" Stiles had to ask, mostly because he had no idea. He had never tried to order Derek to do anything, except perhaps today, when he made him stop beating the pickpockets. Derek huffed out a short laugh.

"I was never told not to do it."

Stiles grinned, his hand wandering into Derek's hair, just because he could. Derek didn't seem to mind, even when Stiles smoothed over the barely noticeable seams of his main control panel.

"You know, you are awfully fond of loopholes for being such a straightforward, uncomplicated guy," Stiles drawled teasingly, not even surprised when Derek rolled his eyes.

"It's finding the loopholes that's the complicated part, Stiles, not using them."

"And yet you do," Stiles said with a smirk.

Derek replied with a scowl.

"Just shut up."

And before Stiles even had time to utter a lame 'make me', Derek was kissing him again. Which, in all honesty, was far better than arguing anyway.

Derek cradled Stiles' head with both hands, deepening the kiss with frankly impressive finesse. Who knew androids were so good at kissing? Definitely not Stiles, but he didn't mind the first-hand demonstration.

Derek used his grip to pull Stiles to his feet, probably to give himself the opportunity to straighten, even if his muscles didn't get tired in the same way a human's would have after having spent so many minutes leaning forward. Stiles didn't mind either way, and went willingly and eagerly. His arms slipped around Derek's waist — mindful of the cable still connecting Derek to Stiles' computer — as he moved further into Derek's personal space, pressing against that lovely, firm body. Stiles could definitely get used to this.

An innocent, questioning chirp made Stiles snort — which was a rather unattractive thing to do while kissing someone — but Derek handled it with admirable grace. SAMMI-B chirped again, while bumping repeatedly against the wrench blocking his way, as if to ask what on earth they were doing.

Stiles couldn't help it — he burst out laughing.

"Oh my God," he wheezed, "I can't do anything when that stupid bot is watching."

"He can't see," Derek pointed out, but he sounded amused rather than insulted.

"No, not technically, but you can't tell me that it doesn't feel like we'd be corrupting his innocence."

Derek studied SAMMI-B for a second or two, before he sighed in defeat. Stiles burst out laughing again, resting his forehead against Derek's broad shoulder.

"I have a cockblocking bot. That's like... I don't even know how to deal with that."

"We'll find a way," Derek said, voice low and husky and all kinds of amazing. Stiles shivered, not daring to look up lest he wanted to show Derek just how much that tone affected him.

"I'll take that as a promise," Stiles managed to squeeze out, his heart beating inside his chest, both with eagerness and a fair share of nerves. Derek's hand rested at the small of his back, warm and comforting.

"You do that."

Stiles definitely would.

 

Chapter Text

 

---

 

Stiles didn't tell Derek about the police report filed concerning the altercation from the day before, but he suspected that Derek knew all the same. Even if the two men were a known pair of pickpockets, the police still considered Derek's actions to be unsettling enough to note it down. They would no doubt have put out a warrant for his arrest, if they had known who he was.

It had more to do with Derek being an android than it did with his actions, in all honesty, since the government went to great lengths to assure themselves that all those overpowered machines walking amongst them wasn't secretly planning a revolution. Stiles thought that they should all stop watching Terminator, and figure out how to fix the broken economy instead. Mostly because the programming just made them incapable of directly harming human beings. Androids could still chose not to intervene when it came to saving someone, which rendered the whole thing rather ineffective in the long run. There were known cases of androids purposefully making someone else harm their masters, while they watched. Those androids had quickly been put out of commission.

Still, Stiles was glad that despite the photographic evidence the police had managed to gain from the crowd, they couldn't pinpoint either him or Derek. Stiles was technically on record what with his arson arrest ages ago, but Stiles had made sure that a slight glitch in the police's system would make sure that his file never came up. Derek, on the other hand, wasn't there at all. Stiles had looked.

It had baffled him at first, since Derek had a serial number and should be in a database somewhere, at the very least the manufacturer's. But since not even Derek knew who had created him Stiles was pretty much fumbling around in the dark. Derek was a ghost. Stiles had no idea who had made him, who had owned him, and where he came from. There were no pictures, no registrations, and no way to trace him. Stiles was pretty certain that at least parts of it was the work of Derek's previous owner.

Stiles was beginning to see a rather disturbing pattern in the facts explaining Derek's existence, and if Stiles was to guess, Derek seemed to have been used as a bodyguard of sorts — made completely untraceable to avoid conflicts with the law. Derek didn't even seem to exist and had said himself that there was no way to locate him from an outside source. The mere thought of the havoc Derek could wreak on the world before anyone caught up with him was scary, especially with his tampered programming, but Stiles took comfort in the fact that Derek never, ever would. He was so much better than that.

Still, Stiles felt anxious about everything that was going on, and found himself going through the Deucalion folder more than once. It didn't give much until he started playing around with the files that seemed impossible to open. The file format was either unknown or associated with a program Stiles didn't have, on top of the files being encrypted.

So Stiles copied them — just to be safe — and tried every trick he had ever learned on unsealing and decrypting files. It almost came as a shock when he managed.

It wasn't much — just three images of rather poor quality. One seemed to be of what was obviously a man, but the grainy, partly destroyed pixels didn't exactly help matters when it came to identifying who. The second seemed to be the simplified blueprint of the bottom floor of a nameless, unidentifiable building. Meaning pretty fucking worthless.

The third, however, caught his eye, if only because he knew for sure that he recognized this one. It was a simple black shape — a small triangle with sharp, angular lines protruding from each corner until it resembled something akin to a three-legged spiral, but still not quite.

Stiles knew that logo.

"Derek! I found something!"

It was just after dinner and Scott was out with Allison on a movie date, leaving Stiles and Derek alone. Well, save for SAMMI-B, who still proved to be an even better cockblock than Scott would have been, had he actually known about the new development in Stiles and Derek's relationship. It was still tentative and somewhat cautious — not to mention strictly PG-13 — but it was getting somewhere, that was for sure.

Derek didn't seem hurried in the least, but Stiles was pretty certain that he arrived a lot faster than usual, carrying SAMMI-B in one hand. Leaving the tiny bot to his own devices was always a bad idea.

Stiles didn't even wait for Derek to ask what had him so excited before he pointed at the screen.

"This was one of the files in the Deucalion folder. After I changed the file type and ran it through some decryption programs, this was what I got."

"A triskelion," Derek stated, totally stealing Stiles' thunder. He huffed in annoyance while Derek secured SAMMI-B on Stiles' workbench, the bot being surprisingly obedient for once.

"Yeah, but not only that — it's the logo of one the more prestigious android manufacturers out there. Not the biggest, but known for their quality and high end merchandise."

"The Prometheus Corporation."

It was annoying how Derek already knew everything Stiles was going to say. It made him feel a lot less smart.

"Quite a fabulous name for a company that develops AI's and androids, if you ask me, what with the whole 'don't overreach in trying to improve human existence'-gig Prometheus had going for him. They're either batshit crazy or have balls of steel. I haven't yet decided if I think they're stupid, or if I respect the amount of fucks they don't seem to give."

"The point, Stiles," Derek demanded impatiently. Stiles had half a mind to complain but then remembered that Derek might refuse to continue with the whole kissing thing if he did, and therefore pressed a couple of keys, his web browser popping up, showing the Prometheus Corporation's webpage.

"The point is, my big and cranky android friend, is that they made a press release a couple of months back about a new prototype of androids they dubbed the Deucalion line. Probably because it's their little baby or something, you know with Deucalion being Prometheus' son and all that."

Derek leveled Stiles with a stern, deadpan look.

"I get it, Stiles."

"Wow. Tough crowd," Stiles whistled before turning back to his computer. "Either way, these androids are supposed to be super advanced, but not expected to be released to the public until, like, five years from now. At the earliest. They're still in the prototype and testing stage, but heaped full of technology they've been working on in secret for decades."

Derek clearly saw where Stiles was heading with this.

"You think I'm one of them."

Stiles turned, looking up at Derek who stood next to his chair, focusing on Stiles rather than the computer screen.

"Yeah, I do. The D in your serial has to stand for something, right? Perhaps it's Deucalion." Stiles gnawed a little on his bottom lip, throwing a quick glance at the article displayed on his laptop. "It would explain why I've never heard of an android looking as human as you do, and why you're not in any databases — your model isn't registered yet, except perhaps in Prometheus' internal database, which I don't exactly have access to." Stiles cleared his throat. "Legally, at least."

Derek regarded Stiles cautiously.

"But illegally?" His voice was careful, as if he was afraid that just mentioning the word would land Stiles in jail.

"Well, I could give it a shot..." Stiles trailed off, shrugging casually. Derek's lips pursed.

"Would you get in trouble?"

"If they caught me, yeah," Stiles admitted, knowing better than to lie, "but I promise to be extra careful."

Derek didn't seem convinced. Stiles sighed.

"Okay, fine, you want to be like that? Let me lay it out for you." Stiles gestured smoothly. "You said it wasn't your maker who put in the extermination mode, right? So if you're from the Deucalion line, and we assume they're legit and good people, then they're not the ones responsible for this mess. And—" he held up a finger to stop Derek's protests "—that means that they might be able to help, provided that we decide to trust them. They would know your code inside and out, and that includes how to correct it."

Derek seemed to consider this while he crossed his arms over his chest.

"But if they're working together with my Master, going to them would be unwise."

"It would quite literally be to seal your death sentence," Stiles muttered, trying to curb his anger. If he ever met Derek's owner he would make sure to punch the guy in the face — repeatedly. "Either way, it all comes down to two things. One is whether the Prometheus Corporation made you or not. Knowing that would help a great deal. The second is whether these guys — if they made you — willingly handed you over to the freak who reprogrammed you. I have a hard time believing that they would give away one of their expensive prototypes to a complete stranger, and I'm pretty sure they wouldn't endorse the recalibration you were given, either. It seems rather risky for a company of their size and reputation to allow something like that."

Stiles rubbed his chin, meeting Derek's gaze.

"The other alternative is that you were stolen, which would explain why you're so far under the radar. They're trying to avoid that Prometheus finds you again, because that's where you rightfully belong." Stiles straightened in his chair, even if it meant tilting his head back in order to maintain eye contact. "And, that means that they might actually be more inclined to help, since we can go to them and stress the fact that you've clearly been submitted to some unethical experiments."

Derek shook his head.

"There's no such thing as unethical experiments on an android and you know that."

Stiles didn't even dignify that with a verbal response. He just stared up at Derek, jaw clenched tight and righteous fury burning in his eyes. If there was one thing Stiles had learned since he got to know Derek, it was that line between what was constituted as a person versus a machine was a lot fuzzier than most believed.

So what if people said that androids and robots couldn't feel? If anyone were to tell Stiles that SAMMI-B didn't love him, Stiles wouldn't hesitate to break their teeth. Besides, love was just a word — a concept created by humans, for humans — that was as subjective as preferred pizza topping. No one knew what love really was or how it worked, only that humans were expected to strive for it. Androids were excluded on accounts of not being human, which made them incapable of experiencing it, but not even all humans knew how to feel and express love. They were still considered human.

Stiles didn't know if Derek loved him — he didn't know if Derek was capable of the flimsy, human definition of love — but no one could ever convince him that Derek's devotion and care was any less real just because Derek was created, not born. Or that it needed to be defined as love for it to matter. Most people never got to experience even half of the commitment Derek showed Stiles, and why on earth would the definition be of any importance? It wasn't the term that made the difference, but the thing itself.

And whatever it was that kept Derek at Stiles' side — duty, care, or perhaps it really was love — was still much purer than what most humans could ever achieve. And Stiles was never going to look down on that, or Derek's worth as a person.

"Say that again and I will punch you in the face," Stiles threatened, poking Derek's abs, mostly because it was the part of him that was easiest to reach.

Derek just stood there for a second, speechless and a little wide eyed, before he bent forward and placed a kiss on Stiles' lips. Stiles chose to take that as a good sign, humming softly in delight. He grabbed a hold of Derek, forcing him to stay close even when the kiss ended.

"Let me try this, Derek. We might finally find out where you come from, and what to do about your programming. I promise to be extra careful," he whispered with a smile, brushing his lips against Derek's. He was already getting addicted to it.

"Fine." Derek's tone was low and not entirely pleased, but at least he agreed.

Stiles rose from his chair, sneaking his arms around Derek's waist.

"And if it turns out that you are one of theirs, I can scope it out tomorrow. I checked their website and they have an office downtown, and—"

"Absolutely not," Derek barked, but he seemed to be pulling Stiles closer rather than pushing him away. Stiles raised an eyebrow.

"Really, Derek? I have no intention of announcing why I'm there, but they usually share information about their company — some that you might not find on their websites — during guided tours. And since tomorrow is Saturday, they have one scheduled. Android manufacturers are pretty keen on coming off as trustworthy, you know, so they always try to be open about what they're doing."

"That doesn't mean that they won't lie," Derek pointed out.

"True," Stiles agreed, "but they can't risk hurting me either, even if they through some miracle found out who I am and that you're living with me. It will be fine, Derek."

Stiles chose not to mention that if it turned out that they had found Derek's roots, it might include them taking Derek back. Away from Stiles. Because Stiles didn't own him and nor did he want to. He knew that he and Derek had a very unconventional relationship — even without counting the whole kissing business — and it wasn't one a major corporation would be likely to take into consideration. Derek clearly cost a lot of money, and even if he was worth a lot more to Stiles due to emotional reasons, he had no claim on Derek, except what he freely gave. But in society's eyes Derek was a possession, and he belonged somewhere else.

Derek sighed before giving Stiles a suffering look, as if he was being unnecessarily difficult.

"You can wait outside, if it makes you feel better," Stiles bargained, knowing that Derek couldn't exactly waltz in there with him. Derek pressed his lips together into a thin line. Stiles hurried to add, "And this is only if I actually find a trace of you in their database."

Derek seemed to want to say no on sheer stubbornness, but apparently knew better.

"Fine. But I don't like it," he grit out.

"And I do?" Stiles questioned, raising a judging eyebrow. Derek merely rolled his eyes and tugged Stiles in for another kiss, probably just to avoid having to answer. Stiles let him.

To Derek's dismay Stiles did find references to a D33R3 in the Prometheus Corporation's databases, but Stiles couldn't search further without risking to trip some alarms. He was decent enough with a computer, but a hugeass company like Prometheus probably employed people whose entire job description was to prevent intrusions of any kind, physical and cyber related.

The only information they got was that D33R3 was indeed one of the prototypes from the Deucalion line, but that it had been marked as out of commission almost a year ago. That was clearly not true, but it could also be a fancy way of saying 'whoops we fucked up', or alternatively that they had no idea where Derek was because he had gotten stolen.

Stiles found no details about who the main developer was nor any other useful specifics. He would have felt that it was a bit of a bust, if it hadn't been for the fact that they were one step closer to solving the puzzle with Derek and his heritage. Derek seemed mostly unsettled by the news, but it was a bit difficult to say for sure, considering his poker face.

Derek didn't argue when Stiles started making plans for the following day, even if he remained silent and sullen for most of the evening. At least until Stiles brought SAMMI-B and curled up next to Derek on the couch, the tiny bot sitting comfortably in Derek's lap. It was hard to say no to that, even if Derek had never seemed to be one for physical affection. But he never pushed Stiles away whenever he sought it, and that had to mean something.

Scott came home late that night, and Stiles couldn't be bothered to move from his comfortable position, practically sprawled on top of Derek. Stiles was playing silly games on his phone with SAMMI-B snoozing inside the big pocket on the front of his hoodie, while Derek read a book with Stiles' head pillowed against his chest. It wasn't a surprise that Scott stopped to just stare at them for a second, but he seemed to shrug it off soon enough to start waxing on about Allison instead.

Stiles listened with half an ear, but Derek was the one who offered the appropriate hums and questions when needed. He did it entirely without looking away from his book, and Stiles had to admit that he was actually pretty impressed by Derek's ability to do two things at the same time. Scott didn't seem to notice, too caught up in being a lovesick and adorable puppy.

After Stiles revealed that he and Derek would be out on adventures tomorrow, Scott saw it as a go-ahead to spend even more time with Allison. Stiles didn't argue, because it meant that Scott didn't think far enough to ask just exactly what Stiles and Derek would be doing. Stiles didn't want to lie if he could help it, and this way it was more a question of subtly withholding information instead of fabricating it. The difference might have been subtle but definitely noticeable, at least to Stiles.

Scott, Stiles, and SAMMI-B went to bed shortly thereafter. Stiles would have invited Derek to join him, if it hadn't been for the fact that it would be a little creepy and probably boring for Derek, on accounts of him not sleeping. It was better to leave him to his books in the living room.

Although Stiles did sneak a quick kiss after Scott had disappeared into his room, but that was another thing entirely. And that Derek hooked a hand behind Stiles' neck and refused to let him go until the kiss was deep, electric, and downright filthy. Stiles felt dizzy enough to wobble on his feet when he tried to get up from the couch afterwards. Derek looked particularly smug about that.

Stiles could definitely get used to this and tried not to think about what he might find tomorrow — and what it would mean for him and Derek. He would just have to cross that bridge when he got there.

Naturally, Lydia emailed Stiles just as they were getting ready to catch their bus the following day. Stiles had signed himself up for one of the guided tours that the Prometheus Corporation offered to the public, and in order to make it on time they couldn't stick around to read the decoded documents. Stiles briefly suggested that Derek could stay at the apartment and do it, but that earned him a look that seemed to suggest that Stiles was nothing short of an imbecile.

"Geez, overprotective much?" Stiles muttered under his breath as the downloaded the files onto his flashdrive. He made sure to keep everything related to Derek there, just to be on the safe side. He had even deleted the copies of the files he had managed to decrypt, urging Lydia to do the same.

It might be an unnecessary precaution, but Stiles wasn't taking any chances if it turned out that a company like Prometheus was involved. They definitely had the resources to make life a living hell for both Stiles and anyone even remotely related to him. Not to mention that they would take Derek.

Stiles unplugged the flashdrive, staring down at it as he held it in his palm.

He had no idea what he was doing and what it would lead to. He had postponed talking to his old classmates for now, focusing his efforts on this, but he knew that if they found any kind of proof of Prometheus being less than honest Derek would scrap the idea of them being able to help. And then Stiles or one of Stiles' former classmates from school would be forced to do the reprogramming. He wasn't looking forward to that.

And if it did turn out that Prometheus had sent Derek off to be experimented on, Stiles was pretty certain that staying in town was a really bad idea. Derek had managed to hide so far, but it was only a matter of time before the wrong people saw him. They would be powerless against the Prometheus Corporation, not only because they owned the legal rights to Derek.

All active androids were registered to humans or companies once they were bought, in an effort to keep track of them and in order to have a party that could be held legally responsible for any crimes the android committed, but up until that time they belonged to the manufacturer. Since Derek hadn't been bought the only mention of him would be in Prometheus' databases, and ownership would therefore be assigned to them in a court of law. Stiles had no sway whatsoever, and could technically be forced to pay some pretty hefty fines if anyone ever found out that he was harboring an unregistered android. That was a big no-no, which was one of the reasons that Scott had been so hesitant at the beginning.

Stiles was brought back from his thoughts when SAMMI-B — the sneaky little shit — delicately plucked the flashdrive right out of Stiles' palm, before hooting happily and quickly rolling towards the other end of the workbench.

"No! Bad bot!" Stiles reached out, almost managing to grab a hold of SAMMI-B's rear end, but the previously uncoordinated bot was getting disturbingly skilled under Derek's tutelage. "I don't have time to play fetch!"

With some effort Stiles managed to box SAMMI-B in and snatch the flashdrive from his pincers, placing his hands on his hips in an attempt to look stern. Never mind that SAMMI-B couldn't see.

"Bad, bad bot. This is very important, okay?" Stiles held up the flashdrive, his tone reprimanding in a way SAMMI-B seemed to recognize if his pathetic little beep was anything to go by. "It's not a plaything and you can't lose it, you hear me? Without this Derek and I won't find out where he comes from, so you can't—"

"Stiles, we'll be late," Derek called out impatiently. Stiles pursed his lips before placing the flashdrive on the workbench, close to the laptop but not out of SAMMI-B's reach. This might be a good time to test the little guy's restraint.

"Important." Stiles tapped the flashdrive, giving the tiny bot a firm, even stare. "Don't play with it. Don't break it. Don't lose it. You hear me, SAMMI-B?"

The bot beeped in what Stiles decided to take as confirmation, his lights blinking in a more subdued manner than usual. Stiles gave SAMMI-B a quick pat before he hurried from his room to join Derek in the hallway, ready to head off to the Prometheus Corporation's facility.

The bus ride there would have passed in silence if Stiles hadn't taken it upon himself to talk about everything and nothing that came to mind. Derek was grumpier than usual, though, and didn't show much interest in anything besides keeping an eye on the rest of the passengers, as if he expected one of them to lunge for Stiles at any given moment. It was ridiculous and Stiles would have taken Derek's hand to give it a reassuring squeeze if they hadn't been in public. Now he had to settle for a slightly reproachful look.

Once they arrived, Derek settled at a coffee shop across the street from the shiny, sleek building that housed the Prometheus Corporation's offices and one of their several R&D departments. With long sleeves to cover up his serial number Derek looked so human that no one would give him a second glance. Well, unless it was to admire the fact that he was amazingly gorgeous, but there wasn't much they could do about that. Then again, Derek looked as relaxed and approachable as a bristling wolf, so Stiles was fairly certain that no one would be stupid enough to approach him in an attempt to flirt.

Stiles gave Derek — who had settled by a table at the front of the shop, a book open before him — one last look before he strode into the fancy building, joining up with the rest of those who were scheduled for the tour.

It turned out that while Stiles learned a lot about the company, their policies and android manufacturing as a whole — all of which interested him to the point that he almost forgot why he was there in the first place — he couldn't exactly ask them flat out if they had lost one of their Deucalion prototypes. Nor did they get to see any of them, to Stiles' disappointment. He couldn't deny that the older models they were shown were still fascinating, though.

Which was why he lingered after the tour had officially ended, their guide leaving them in the showroom displaying examples of Prometheus' impressive creations. The woman had been very polite and helpful while herding them around the building, but also strictly professional, to the point where Stiles had decided to hold back the questions that were burning on his tongue. She looked like the kind of woman who could pick you apart with a single gaze, and Stiles didn't want to leave himself open for scrutiny by asking about the Deucalion line.

One of the other participants had, on the other hand, but their guide had only repeated what had already been said in the press release, so nothing new there.

Stiles stopped in front one of the androids on display. It was creepy how they just stood there, clearly offline, frozen in time but with their eyes wide open and staring out into nothingness. Stiles felt a roll of disgust. These androids, even if they were less sophisticated than Derek, still had a personality in there somewhere.

Stiles couldn't help wondering what their last thoughts had been, before their systems were shut off and they were sentenced to a life as showcase mannequins. The rational part of him knew that they neither saw nor heard anything while being offline, but it still hurt to think that they were just standing there, suspended in forced unawareness. It felt inhumane.

Stiles studied the android closer and while there was no immediate likeness to Derek, there was still something that seemed familiar. As if they were distantly related. Perhaps it was the bright eyes — blue, in this case — the bone structure, or the subtle hints of intentional flaws, all of which he recognized in Derek. It seemed almost like a signature.

"Which one caught your attention?"

Stiles nearly jumped out his skin at the sudden question, whirling around to stare at the man behind him. He cursed himself for being so skittish, while quickly taking in the sunglasses and white cane. The man was blind, which would explain why he asked instead of finding out himself.

"Uh..." Stiles glanced towards the sign bolted to the glass case surrounding the android. "P13T3."

"Ah. A fine choice." The man's voice carried a distinct and pleasant British accent that surprised Stiles somewhat. "The Phoebe line."

Stiles blinked, feeling his inner geek rear its eager head.

"Really? I thought all of those were destroyed considering the, well..."

"Mass hysteria?" the man finished, clearly amused. "The Phoebe line was one of the first models to embrace and fully utilize the concept of self-learning AI. Perhaps it was a mistake not to realize that without limiting that kind of freedom, even an innocent mind could easily turn sinister and hateful."

"That's putting it mildly," Stiles said, looking back at the android's expressionless face. Stiles could still remember that particular lecture at school, being told how most of the Phoebe androids had turned on their masters, some through astoundingly creative and manipulative schemes. "I'm surprised they're willing to display it so proudly."

"Failure offers as much, if not more, wisdom than victory and there is no shame in learning from your mistakes — quite the opposite. Hiding flaws only breeds mistrust and contempt, wouldn't you say?" The man sounded awfully philosophical and polite, but perhaps that was the accent talking. Stiles found himself smiling.

"Yeah, I guess you're right about that."

The man tilted his head to the side — even that managed to look surprisingly well-mannered.

"Would you mind helping me to the lift?"

Stiles could admit that he was a little surprised by the question, but his mom and dad had raised him right, that much was for sure.

"Not at all." He still had to fight back a flinch when the man placed his hand on Stiles' shoulder, so eerily precise that it was hard to believe that he was blind in the first place. Stiles pushed it down and started walking in a slow pace towards the elevator. The clack of the white cane against the stone floor echoed in the polished, bare room.

"Thank you, that is most kind." The man smiled. "So, what did you think of the tour?"

"I liked it."

But he still wasn't quite sure what he thought about the man he was currently leading towards the elevator. Stiles didn't feel unsettled, per se, but still wary. He couldn't remember seeing the guy during the actual tour.

"Are you a student?"

Stiles figured that it was best to go with the truth, just in case he had been caught on any surveillance cameras and someone, against all odds, decided to look him up.

"I was. I got kicked out when my innovative ideas yielded controversial results."

"Of the moral kind?" the man asked, his cane briefly sweeping over the miniature gap between the floor and elevator, but Stiles assumed it was still enough for him to notice. Stiles didn't want to come off as belittling by pointing it out when he didn't need to.

"Of the explosive kind," Stiles replied with a lopsided smile, and earned himself a small chuckle for his comment.

They stepped into the elevator, the man's hand slipping from Stiles' shoulder as they did.

"The bottom floor, please."

Stiles pushed the button before turning back towards the man. They were heading for the same floor and there was quite a few to go.

"What about you? What brings you here?" Stiles asked, trying not to sound too defensive, but he couldn't deny that all the questions were unnerving him somewhat. The elevator began its descent without a sound and barely even a jostle.

"I'm an enthusiast, I guess you could say," the man replied with a smile, his hands folded neatly on top of the white cane. "I like to keep myself as informed and up to date as possible, and these tours can be quite enlightening. Knowledge is power, after all."

In that case Stiles decided to take a chance.

"Same here. So I'm a little disappointed that we didn't get to hear more about the Deucalion line."

The man inclined his head, almost in a thoughtful manner.

"Oh? But isn't Themis the next release? About ten months from now, if I remember correctly."

"It might be, but it doesn't have the same technological advancements as Deucalion. Themis is more of an upgrade on the Metis model, right? Nothing significantly new, just improvements — which is all well and good of course — but still not as exciting or groundbreaking in the long run." Stiles was glad that he had read up on Prometheus' various models the previous evening, since he had admittedly forgotten some of it. "I think Deucalion will be a bigger achievement, when they do release it."

The smile he received was approving somehow, as if Stiles had passed a test he hadn't even known he was taking.

"An excellent point. I must admit that I agree."

Stiles couldn't help feeling a little proud, even if he knew that it was stupid.

"But I guess it's too early," Stiles said with a slight shrug. "They're still just prototypes."

"Indeed."

The elevator came to a soft halt after a brief silence and Stiles glanced towards the man as the doors opened. He seemed to sense Stiles' question even before he had time to voice it.

"Yes, if you would be so kind to show me to the reception."

The hand returned to Stiles' shoulder and he led them out of the elevator, blurting out the first thing that came into mind.

"Am I the only one who thinks that Prometheus is a pretty odd name for a company who builds androids?" Derek hadn't been even the slightest interested in discussing that, but a fellow enthusiast might be.

"Not at all. But he is the creator of man and known for his intelligence, and what are androids if not intelligently created men and women?"

"Prometheus is also the inspiration for Viktor Frankenstein, which I think says quite a great deal about whether or not you should aim to imitate the guy," Stiles pointed out, choosing not to answer the question. "Intelligence doesn't exclude idiocy or hubris — quite the opposite, when it comes to the latter — and to be a creator includes taking responsibility, but intelligence doesn't guarantee that you'll be kinder or more morally sound than the average man."

"Touché. Then perhaps it is meant as a warning and a reminder, never to strive too far in the search of scientific knowledge?" the man suggested, his cane clacking against the floor in an off-beat rhythm.

"Could be." Stiles grinned mischievously. "I'm beginning to suspect that it's just a big 'fuck you' to all the android haters out there."

The man chuckled while giving Stiles' shoulder a brief squeeze.

"Now that would be quite grand, wouldn't it?"

"I mean, just the fact that they managed to recover after the Phoebe line?" Stiles gestured animatedly, as he had a habit of doing sometimes. "People were crying out to have them shut down — I remember my teacher telling me that the very name of the company was actually one of the fanatics' arguments against them. That they were playing god when they're just human beings."

"It was indeed, and not entirely uncalled for, I suppose."

Stiles nodded enthusiastically.

"I mean, just look at the examples they have on display up there! Their features are so close to human that—" Stiles felt himself go cold, throwing a quick glance at his companion. His very blind companion, who couldn't know what the androids looked like.

The man didn't seem bothered, however, and merely smiled good-naturedly.

"Please, do go on. It's rare to find someone who dares to discuss this so openly."

Stiles cleared his throat, still awkward about his obvious slip.

"I just meant that we're getting real close, aren't we? The androids are practically human soon." Stiles knew this for a fact, but he couldn't exactly mention Derek to a complete stranger, not outright, anyway. He licked his lips. "And the Deucalion line? I think it's going to be something else entirely — something we've never seen before. I think they're going to be special."

The man was still smiling when they came to a halt next to the reception desk, Stiles briefly glancing towards the receptionist, who nodded at them both. The man's hand slipped off his shoulder again, and Stiles couldn't help feeling a little stupid for getting so worked up over things he no longer had any direct influence over. If he had become an android developer himself? Yes, definitely, but he got kicked out before that happened.

"The world must look quite brilliant through your eyes."

Stiles blinked, caught off guard by the comment.

"Uh... not really. I'm a cynic by nature, trust me, and still bitter about that whole getting kicked out of school thing. Or so I've been told." Stiles cleared his throat, tugging on his own sleeves. "Well, it's been fun but I have places to be. Things to take care of. Nice meeting you, though."

Stiles was just about ready to turn and leave — eager to get away from his own embarrassing behavior — when the man reached out a hand, a slim, neat-looking business card held between his fingers.

"If you ever feel like continuing our discussion, feel free to call," the man explained with a smile. Stiles hesitated before he accepted the card and pocketed it. He doubted that he would ever use it, but it would be rude to say so out loud.

"Thanks. Have a good day." Stiles nodded politely and the man did the same.

Stiles made sure to get away before he could get hold up again. Derek was probably anxious and agitated already — making it worse by being late was just mean.

Still, Stiles couldn't help throwing a quick glance over his shoulder, just in time to see a tall, dark haired woman join the blind man by the reception desk. Something seemed strange about that man, but he couldn't place what. Probably just his imagination.

Stiles shook his head and kept walking.

 

Chapter Text

 

---

 

"All I'm saying is that we can't know for sure that they're evil," Stiles argued as he walked into their apartment building, Derek holding the door open for him with a withering look.

"And we can't know that they're good either," Derek countered. Stiles rolled his eyes.

"They're a major corporation — of course they're not going to be good. You can barely even expect that out of your neighbors!" Stiles gestured towards the number of doors on the first floor, before following Derek towards the stairs. "But they are the experts on your system."

"I still don't want them to do it." Derek was mistrustful on his good days and paranoid on his bad ones, but Stiles guessed that he couldn't exactly blame him.

Stiles sighed, stomping a little harder than absolutely necessary as he climbed the stairs two steps behind Derek.

When he had met up with Derek at the coffee shop Stiles had explained what he had seen during the tour, but since none of it was of any use it had been a short conversation. While Stiles could have ranted about how awesome everything had been and how much he had learned, he knew that Derek wouldn't have the patience for it. Derek had been stiff and grouchy when Stiles got back, and he knew better than to push it.

Which was also why he didn't mention the blind man. Derek would probably get pissed off somehow, and they really didn't need him to go berserk in public. Again.

On their way home they had started arguing about what to do next. They didn't have to involve the Prometheus Corporation, and it was obvious that Derek preferred that option. Stiles could agree that it was risky — there was practically no way for them to find out where Prometheus stood when it came to Derek's previous owner and recalibration — but he was still reluctant. It wasn't an easy procedure to remove what essentially was an entire program in Derek's coding. So much could go wrong.

Still, he had promised.

"Fine, I'll talk to my friends." Stiles couldn't quite decide what was worse, though — seeing someone else, who might be less careful, do it, or be forced to reprogram Derek himself. Both options sucked.

Stiles reached the landing and turned around the corner, two steps behind Derek.

"But you do realize that—"

Stiles fell abruptly silent when Derek's hand landed on his chest, stopping him short. He blinked in surprise, looking at Derek, but a small, grim nod made Stiles' gaze travel further. A lump of fear settled in his gut when he saw what Derek was referring to.

The door leading into the apartment was open.

From what Stiles could see it hadn't been kicked in, but it must have been forced open somehow. Scott was out with Allison and wasn't due back until later that night, and even if they had returned home they wouldn't be careless enough to leave the door open.

Stiles wavered in indecision for a beat or two, not sure whether to reach for his phone and call the police, or rush towards the apartment to see if anything had been stolen.

"No one's there. They must have left already."

Stiles didn't question how Derek knew since androids had several ways to pinpoint things like that, but chose to take it as a go-ahead to survey the damage.

It was worse than Stiles had imagined.

Everything that could be torn out was. Books lay scattered on the floor, furniture were overturned, drawers pulled out, and the couch cushions seemed to have been cut open. It was a complete and utter mess, to the point where Stiles wouldn't have known that it was their apartment unless he hadn't recognized some of the things as his own. Stiles blinked in utter shock, unable to process what had happened. Derek had the advantage of having a computer for a brain, and did so much more smoothly.

"This wasn't a break-in." Derek's voice was low and dark — dangerous in a way that made Stiles' skin crawl — but he had to admit that he understood what Derek was referring to. Burglars wouldn't make this kind of mess and risk any noise that could alert neighbors. It was still in the middle of the day on a Saturday. The mere fact that Mrs. Bridger hadn't already called the cops was a miracle. Then again, she might have been out on her daily walk when it happened.

Stiles took a hesitant step forward, a lump in his throat while glass crunched under the soles of his shoes. They didn't have the money to replace all this. And what on earth had the intruders been looking for anyway?

"They seem to have taken everything even remotely technological." Derek was clearly better equipped to make inventory of what might be missing, and it was like time froze when Derek's words finally hit home. Everything remotely technological.

Stiles forgot how to breathe.

Panic blossomed in his chest as he ran towards his room. He had to climb an overturned chair and almost tripped on the thick dictionary that had been discarded on the floor, but he didn't care. All of that meant nothing compared to the crushing fear of what might be gone.

He didn't care about his iPod, the external hard drive full of movies and TV-shows, all his tiny technological gadgets, or even his laptop. All of that could be replaced, with enough time and money. He didn't even care about the prospect of losing his flashdrive with all the documents on Deucalion and Derek — they could find them again in Derek's system if they had to, and ask Lydia to translate them again if she'd had time to delete them from her computer. He cared about none of that, because there was only one thing in that entire apartment that was irreplaceable, and Stiles wasn't sure how he was supposed to survive losing it.

He skidded into his room, stumbling over the sheets strewn across the floor, together with books, tools, and all the little bits and pieces of machines and doodads that Stiles had collected. His desk was practically wiped clean. The laptop was gone, the flashdrive was gone, and some of his works in progress were gone. But none of that mattered.

SAMMI-B wasn't there.

Stiles could feel himself crumbling and had to lock his knees not to crash to the floor in a shaking heap. He couldn't breathe. His chest was just one big gaping hole and he couldn't breathe. His ribs ached under the strain of holding him together.

Derek was right behind him and Stiles didn't even have to say anything before Derek gave a surprisingly animalistic growl, promising death and destruction. It was protective and instinctual, clearly built into the very core of Derek's system.

Stiles' gaze snapped from object to object, trying to catch a glimpse of that familiar, stupid little bot. But there was none. He threw himself onto his knees, shoving the ripped sheets aside to look under the bed, desperation and denial fuelling his need to overturn every single inch of the already ruined apartment if he so had to. SAMMI-B couldn't be gone.

"SAM—" He couldn't even say it without his throat seizing up, the name coming out as nothing more than a harsh croak. The back of his throat and eyes stung.

He could hear Derek rifle through the mess next to Stiles' workbench. Stiles didn't need to look at his face to know that the same naked fear and desperation would be in Derek's eyes. Derek loved SAMMI-B just as much as Stiles did. The growl had been enough to prove that. Derek was protective by nature, and this was someone outright hurting someone he cared about. Derek was not going to be nice if he ever found out who had done this.

"SAM! Answer me!" Stiles' voice was harsh, ripped from his throat in sheer panic, his hands trembling as he started searching through the mess on the floor, even if a part of him knew that SAMMI-B wouldn't be there. "You stupid, pathetic little bot, answer me! You answer me right this instant or I will—"

Stiles sucked in a deep, whistling breath when he felt Derek's hand on his shoulder, the panic suddenly slamming into him with crushing finality. Stiles' hands shook.

"Stiles, you have to—"

"T-they took him," Stiles gasped for breath, tipping forward, wrapping his arms around his abdomen, as if to physically hold himself together. "They took him. Derek, they t-took my bot. I can't—" Stiles knew he was close to crying — felt it in the hitch in his breath and the quiver in his voice. "I just can't. They took him. They took him."

Derek was next to him, on his knees. Stiles felt Derek's hand on his shoulder, but other than that Derek seemed to be at loss. Androids probably never had to deal with panic attacks. Even Stiles had sort of forgotten what they felt like, since he hadn't had one in years.

"Stiles, you have to stop hyperventilating."

Stiles sobbed and tried to nod. He knew that. But how could he when SAMMI-B was gone? Stiles couldn't even imagine what it would be like to come home and not hear that happy chirp greet him every single day. He didn't want to.

"If you don't calm down my programming is going to misinterpret this as a threat." Derek's voice was tight with things Stiles didn't even try to decipher. But he could guess on frustration, helplessness, shame, and definitely a hint of apology. They didn't need Derek slipping into his murder mode on top of everything else.

Stiles tried to breathe normally, he really did, but it felt virtually impossible with all the grief and panic that was pushing down on him. SAMMI-B was gone. Someone had taken him. Someone had taken Stiles' defective, wonderful little bot and Stiles couldn't stop crying, because the little guy was probably confused and scared by then, if he was even still functioning. They might have broken him. Picked him apart and ruined what made him into Stiles' adorable little miracle.

Derek was vibrating with tension — some of it probably barely curbed rage and need to go after whoever took SAMMI-B — but he still managed to keep a grounding hand on the curve between Stiles' shoulder and neck.

"They took—" Stiles sucked in another sharp breath "—they took SAMMI-B."

Derek didn't reply but he did pull Stiles closer, and while a part of him didn't even feel it — Stiles was too numb to care — another sought the warmth and slight comfort it offered, however brief and ineffective.

"They took my baby." Stiles' voice gained strength, until it was an angry, wounded snarl, echoing in the trashed apartment. He wanted to murder someone. Anger was quickly drowning out the fear and grief, fierce, strong, and much safer. Anger was useful.

Stiles almost believed that it was his own mind — his wishful thinking — that supplied the distant, eager chirp he heard, until he noticed that Derek stiffened too.

Stiles held his breath, his heart beating loudly in his ears.

"SAMMI-B!" He didn't care that his yell might disturb the neighbors. If SAMMI-B was somewhere in the apartment, Stiles needed to find him.

At the replying hoot both Stiles and Derek were scrambling to their feet, Derek offering Stiles a stable, supporting hand until he regained his balance. Stiles was too caught up in the flare of hope to say thank you.

Stiles ran out into to the living room, looking around frantically and trying to catch a glimpse of his bot somewhere amongst the rubble. The beeps were muffled, but definitely coming from somewhere in the apartment.

"SAMMI-B? Where are you, baby? Come on, this is not the time for hide-and-seek." Stiles' voice was barely stable, cracking at every second word, but he got a responding series of chirps — innocent, happy, and so beautiful that Stiles wanted to cry. Well, more than he already had been.

Derek was the one who noticed the slight movement of something bumping against the books blocking the gap under one of the bookshelves. He was on his knees, pushing them aside, before Stiles even had time to react.

Stiles whimpered in relief when SAMMI-B came rolling out from under the bookshelf, his front wheel almost coming loose and his claw angled to the right, a little cracked and broken. He must have fallen off the workbench again — or intentionally driven over the edge — but Stiles couldn't berate him for that. The stupid, clumsy bot had been smart enough to hide under a bookshelf when someone went through the apartment and tore it to pieces.

Stiles sank to the floor and scooped him up in his arms, pressing the tiny metal body against his chest, feeling the comforting bite of all those sharp, hard angles. SAMMI-B was okay. A little banged up but okay. They hadn't taken him.

The bot chirped in confusion but also obvious delight, and Stiles couldn't help that he chuckled — or that it sounded more like a sob than anything else. He didn't struggle when Derek wrapped his arms around Stiles and pulled him close. It wasn't a panic attack this time — it was gasping, sobbing relief — but Stiles didn't mind the stability and security Derek offered.

Stiles curled himself around SAMMI-B, desperate to have him close, and Derek hugged Stiles in turn, managing to be oddly protective and soothing despite his obvious awkwardness. Stiles felt the harsh beats of his own heart echo in his ears but it settled soon enough, together with the fear and panic. SAMMI-B was purring softly against his chest and Derek's strong arms were a comforting weight around his shoulders and back.

A kiss was pressed against the top of Stiles' head and he felt himself smile, despite the tremble in his limbs and hitch in his breath. He pushed closer, seeking Derek's warmth. Neither of them said anything.

It wasn't until SAMMI-B started chirping and blinking several minutes later that Stiles even realized that they hadn't moved from their spot on the floor. His breathing had evened out and his tense muscles relaxed, and even if he knew that the mother of all headaches was approaching Stiles still didn't feel all that bad, all things considered.

"Hey, what's up, baby?" he asked SAMMI-B, just to hear the bot respond with a delighted hoot. Stiles should have thought of that in his panic. SAMMI-B was only programmed to respond to certain names and Sam wasn't one of them, so of course he hadn't answered when Stiles called for him. Stiles should probably make sure to add it, though, just to be safe.

He chuckled as SAMMI-B continued to blip, chirp, and whirr excitedly, but blinked in confusion when Derek started looking around, as if he was searching for something.

"Uh... Derek? What are you doing?"

Derek glanced up briefly before moving away, on his knees, pushing through the debris in front of the bookshelf. Before he had time to answer SAMMI-B started up again, blinking and hooting in a suddenly repetitive pattern. Derek nodded quickly, as if to confirm something, before he reached under the bookshelf SAMMI-B had been hiding under.

Stiles stared. And took a very slow, deep breath, looking from the tiny bot in his arms to the android currently busy searching for God knows what.

"You understand him." Stiles had tried to hold it back, wanting to gather his wits and formulate a question, but before he could it came out as a blurted accusation. Derek looked up, frowning.

"No, not— look, Stiles, it's complicated." Stiles stare was incentive enough, Derek stopping in his search to calmly, if a bit evenly, explain. "I've taught him some things. Short commands he can do to show what he wants. That one, the one he keeps repeating, is 'fetch'. So I'm fetching."

Stiles felt an odd kind of pinch in his chest. He wasn't sure if it was joy or jealousy.

"You... you've taught him how to communicate," he mumbled faintly, feeling a little short of breath. Stiles stared down at SAMMI-B, still clutched against his chest, his pinch arm crooked and barely functioning. "I didn't even know that was possible."

"That's because you never gave it a chance. You just decided that he was too stupid," Derek replied brusquely, and while it felt like a kick in the teeth, Stiles couldn't exactly object either. SAMMI-B didn't care about his own limitations — he was just happy to exist in the first place. No, Stiles was the one who had given up on his bot ever learning how to speak.

Suddenly, but still not entirely unexpectedly, Stiles wanted to cry. Again. That seemed to freak Derek right the fuck out. He was frowning, but there was an underlying streak of worry in his eyes.

"Listen, I'll show you later, okay? Just stop looking like... like that."

Stiles took offense to Derek's tone, glaring daggers.

"Hey! I just found out that my little baby can talk! I think I have the right to go a little misty eyed!" Derek was still rummaging around under the bookshelf while SAMMI-B hooted what might be encouragement. Stiles kept on babbling. "Okay, it's a little embarrassing that his first word might have been 'fetch' — or whatever you taught him first — but what could be more important than—"

As if on a cue Derek's expression changed, suggesting that he had actually found something under there. Stiles fell silent on pure reflex, blinking twice when Derek pulled out a small piece of black and blue plastic that Stiles definitely recognized.

"How about this?" Derek suggested, raising his eyebrow as he waved Stiles' flashdrive close enough that SAMMI-B apparently noticed what it was. The tiny bot started chirping and blinking proudly, and it took a second for Stiles to realize why.

"He kept it safe." He couldn't help sounding completely stunned while Derek just looked confused. Stiles cleared his throat, his finger wandering over SAMMI-B's busted pincer, smiling sadly when the bot tried to hug his finger but couldn't, and was left hooting despairingly. "I told him not to lose it, before we left for Prometheus. I said it was important." Stiles felt his voice waver. "He took it and hid when he thought someone was coming to take it, because I told him not to lose it."

SAMMI-B was whirring softly, clearly pleased with himself, and Stiles honestly didn't know what to do. His stupid, retarded little bot obviously wasn't stupid or retarded at all, and had just saved them hours — perhaps even days — of hard work on top of avoiding getting kidnapped, all on his own. He had probably grabbed the flashdrive at some point during the break-in and taken a dive from the workbench to find a better place to hide, almost breaking himself in the process.

"You did well, baby. You did so, so well," Stiles mumbled, smiling at SAMMI-B's proud chirp.

"Perhaps you should stop looking down on him?" Derek suggested bluntly, but he sounded as if he wanted to smile. "And yourself."

Stiles slapped his arm.

"Shush. I'm having a moment with my bot. Stop ruining it." He agreed, though. Stiles would never call SAMMI-B stupid again. He was a miracle, if anything.

Derek rolled his eyes.

"What about the apartment? Calling Scott? Calling the police?"

Okay, Stiles had to give him that — Derek had a point. As much as Stiles wanted to hide his head in the sand for a couple of more minutes, he had to face the real world sooner or later. Some really nasty shit was going down and he and Derek needed to get on top of it. At least SAMMI-B was still with them and not stolen along with so much else.

Stiles took a deep breath, looked up and met Derek's gaze. This was not going to be easy.

"Yeah, we better get started on that."

Derek got to his feet and held out his hand. Stiles took it, allowing Derek to pull him up. He was a little surprised by the kiss Derek gave him — long, deep, and reassuring, making Stiles' toes curl in satisfaction. Derek pulled back slowly, his thumb brushing against Stiles' cheek.

"We'll find out who did this." Derek sounded so certain, determination and vengeance burning in his eyes. Stiles could only nod mutely, a little taken by Derek's intensity. At least it made him feel safe. He sorely needed that, considering the state of the apartment.

This was going to be a long day.

Stiles was absolutely right — before it was all over he wanted nothing more than to curl up, preferably in Derek's arms with SAMMI-B, and just forget about everything.

Having to call Scott and ask him to interrupt his date with Allison because there had been a break-in was one of the least cheerful conversations he had ever had, and that included calling his dad to give him the details about Stiles' arson arrest. Scott had, understandably, been devastated. What hadn't been stolen had been ruined, or at least tossed around until it felt hopeless trying to sort it all out.

Scott arrived with Allison in tow, looking so lost and confused that Stiles couldn't help walking up and pulling him in for a tight embrace. Allison hugged them both before giving Derek a firm nod. She had been coming over frequently enough the past three weeks that they all knew each other fairly well, even if Derek was still somewhat reserved around her. Then again, he was around everyone, which Allison knew, so no one really took any notice of it anymore.

It was painful to slowly sift through everything, but eventually they came to the same conclusion Derek had — anything remotely technological had been stolen, as well as some notebooks. It was abundantly clear that whoever broke in had been looking for information, not money. Allison seemed to be coming to the same conclusion, if her thoughtful frown was anything to go by, and Stiles saw that his options were decreasing rapidly. This was in all likelihood about Derek — if not the Prometheus Corporation, then the bastard who thought that he owned him — and they needed to tell Scott about it.

A quick, hushed conversation later Derek agreed, if a bit reluctantly. But he, too, saw how bad this could get and Scott needed to be prepared, especially if this was but one attack of many. So they told him the truth about Derek's origins and the possibility of them having two separate parties gunning for them, and that it was impossible to know which of them was worse. They didn't mention the extermination mode, mostly because that, if anything, was still something as few people as possible should know about.

Scott, being the awesome, trusting person that he was, was upset for a grand total of fifteen minutes, before he calmed down and started looking at things rationally. Stiles was rather envious of Scott's kind nature, and his ability to forgive.

The first question was how on earth they had found them. Stiles was pretty certain that it had to do with the police report from the pickpocket incident, where both he and Derek had been caught on video. Even if Derek wasn't on file, all it took was for the wrong person to see the report and they would know that he was online again, and Stiles' little hack to keep his records from coming up only worked on the police databases. His picture could be found elsewhere, considering that he had both a driver's license and a passport, which in turn lead to his address.

Stiles gave Scott and Allison the censored version. Scott already knew about Derek keeping Stiles company on his way home from work, and it was easy to suggest that they had been spotted then instead. It sounded believable and both bought it. Not the mention that it's wasn't even a lie, not really.

It was obvious that Derek wanted to leave, despite his and Stiles' developing relationship, Derek's friendship with Scott, and SAMMI-B's attachment. It was to protect them, of course, because it was clearly not safe to be around him, but both Scott and Stiles refused. Stiles chose to take SAMMI-B's hoot as a protest as well. Derek was staying. Allison agreed that splitting up would be a bad idea, and even if she wasn't actively involved in the situation, Stiles would never ignore her opinion. She had turned out to be a very sharp, intuitive young woman and he respected and valued her insights.

Complications arose when it was time to call the cops. There was no doubt that they had to, but Derek couldn't be there when they arrived, what with him being an unregistered android and a person of interest in a very recent case of suspicious android activity. The argument that followed mainly consisted of Derek not wanting to leave them unprotected, while Stiles pointed out that Derek getting arrested wouldn't help anyone. The fact that Derek had nowhere else to go was also brought up.

Allison was the one who eventually jumped in, offering them a place to stay at her apartment. It wasn't big, she told them, but better than whatever they had. She had a point. It wasn't safe to stay in their trashed apartment, and not even Derek could argue against that.

It was decided that she and Derek would head over to her apartment and wait for Stiles and Scott to join them after they had dealt with the police. Derek looked beyond pissed, but his protests were ignored. Instead Stiles pushed SAMMI-B against Derek's chest and ordered him to look him over while Stiles was busy with the cops. Derek might not be able to repair him, but he was concerned enough about SAMMI-B's well-being to fulfill that request. He also had the flashdrive that they really needed to make sure made it out of the apartment without being seen by either the cops or Allison and Scott.

It didn't mean that he had to look happy about it, and he sure as hell didn't. Derek's lips were pressed together into a thin line and his brows furrowed. He seemed so angry that Stiles couldn't help leaning in and kissing him, trying to smooth out that worried frown. It wasn't likely that the burglars would return, so Stiles was fairly certain that Derek was being unnecessarily overprotective. Besides, kissing Derek was ridiculously nice.

It wasn't until Stiles pulled back that he realized that he had just kissed Derek in front of Scott, who still knew nothing about that development. Or, well, he obviously did now — rather difficult to miss, really — and judging on the look on Scott's face, he had so not seen it coming.

Allison cleared her throat and gestured for Derek to follow her to the door, definitely more subtle in her surprise. Derek hesitated, looking from Scott to Stiles and, as if to really make sure that Scott got the point, gave Stiles another kiss — this one much deeper. Stiles held back an embarrassing, half-choked sound and barely had time to catch up with the situation before Derek was pulling back with a smug look on his face. Androids could apparently be possessive. Who would have thought?

Scott looked awkward long after Allison, Derek, and SAMMI-B had left, weighting on his heels and rubbing the back of neck. Stiles wasn't even sure where to begin explaining his and Derek's relationship.

"So, uh... that's new..?" Scott sounded hesitant but not angry, which was a definite relief. Not that Stiles had thought that Scott would be rude and offensive about it.

Stiles cleared his throat and scratched his ear, looking down at the floor.

"Kinda new, yeah. It's not... well, you know..."

Scott didn't, if his confused puppy-head-tilt was anything to go by. Stiles felt himself blush.

"Don't make me say it, Scott," he nearly pleaded. Scott still looked confused and completely oblivious. Stiles groaned. "It's just very new, okay? As in not very, uh... intimate yet. And I'm honestly not sure if it ever will be since I don't know if Derek is even capable of—"

Stiles forced himself to cut off at Scott's choked, gurgling sound, which sounded a lot like he had just tried to swallow a golf ball. Scott waved his arms frantically.

"Okay! I get it! No details!" Despite his wide-eyed look Scott managed an exhale before bringing forth that sweet, kind smile of his, even if it was a little wobbly around the edges. "But I'm happy for you, if he makes you happy."

Stiles smiled back and nodded.

"He does. I still haven't really thought about the whole android versus human thing and how that would work out — practically, logistically, and all that and—" Stiles coughed at Scott's suffering look. "Right, no details. Point is that yes, I'm happy."

Scott sighed, but his smile was wide as he patted Stiles' shoulder before ruffling his hair.

"Trust you to fall for an android."

Stiles felt a slight catch in his chest, but covered it up as fast as he could. He hadn't really thought that far yet. Attraction, affection, and devotion, yes, but Stiles didn't want to label it. Not yet, possibly not ever. Stiles eyed Scott a little hesitantly.

"And you're okay with that? The android thing, I mean."

Scott looked surprised by the question, which Stiles thought was a little naïve of him. The debate concerning exactly what kind of relationship you could have to an android was just as widespread as the one concerning their free will. Many believed that you were taking advantage if you involved yourself with an android, while others thought that it was beneath humans to engage in any kind of emotionally or physically intimate relationship with what was essentially a machine.

Scott smiled, his arm slipping around Stiles' shoulders when he moved in closer.

"Okay, I'm not going to lie, it will take a while to get used to. But we've both been living with Derek for over two months now and I seriously keep forgetting that he's just not a very grumpy and stiff human." Scott hesitated a second, giving Stiles a thoughtful look. "So I get it, in a way. He's so real that he's... well, obviously real, despite..."

"Despite being an android," Stiles finished, nodding softly. Scott grinned.

"And dude, if there's one thing I know about Derek, it's that he does things his own way. You can't trick, manipulate, or force him into doing anything he doesn't want to do. And that kiss he gave you?" Scott grinned, squeezing Stiles' shoulder. "I'd say that's the real deal — android or not. Derek might be grumpy but he's not a liar. So I'm okay with it."

Stiles felt warmth bloom in his chest.

"Just like that?"

"Just like that," Scott agreed, bumping their heads together.

Stiles wondered how on earth he had managed to find himself such an awesome friend, but he knew for a fact that he wasn't letting go anytime soon. Scott was awesome.

But they had other things to focus on right now, more urgent things.

"Okay." Stiles breathed out, digging for his phone in his pocket. "Better get this show on the road."

Scott nodded, his expression turning serious and solemn. Time to call the cops and get this mess sorted out.

 

Chapter Text

 

 

---

 

Stiles groaned and buried his head in his pillow, trying to hide from the incessant blips and chirps that kept disturbing his sleep. SAMMI-B, the bastard, was not known for being considerate when he wanted attention.

"Your bot wants you to wake up," said a low, deep voice on Stiles' right. It was almost enough to pull him back to full consciousness, but only almost. Stiles rolled onto his side, bumping into something warm and firm that he decided to snuggle up against.

"What time is it?" he mumbled dazedly.

"Half past six."

Stiles huffed against what he realized was Derek's shoulder, rubbing his nose against the soft fabric of Derek's shirt.

"Before seven o'clock he's your bot, Derek."

There was a short pause and Stiles found himself smiling.

"Did you just quote The Lion King?" Derek asked incredulously.

Stiles' smile morphed into a grin, but he still refused to open his eyes.

"So what if I did?" Stiles challenged, curling closer to Derek. "I'm pretty sure we have shared custody over him by now."

Silence lingered, and for a moment Stiles thought that he had said something wrong, but it only took a couple of seconds before Stiles felt a hand wander through his hair, gentle and soothing. He hummed softly, shifting a little closer with a pleased sigh.

"Go back to sleep, Stiles."

A part of him wanted to argue — they were clearly having an important conversation here — but then he realized that sleep was what he had been aiming for all along. So after sneaking his hand up on Derek's chest, feeling the rise and fall of his ribcage, Stiles decided to do as Derek suggested. SAMMI-B was no longer hooting, but Stiles could hear the soft whirr of him purring. It was strangely hypnotic.

Before he knew it, Stiles was fast asleep.

It was difficult to say how long it took before he came to again, but when he did it was to the realization that he had thrown one of his legs over Derek's, keeping him pinned to the bed. That wasn't very nice considering that Derek didn't sleep and might have wanted to get up, but he didn't seem all that disappointed, a book held open before him.

Stiles yawned.

"Have you been reading all night while I've slept?" he asked, slurring slightly on the words. SAMMI-B chirped happily from where he rested on top of Derek's stomach, and Stiles patted the bot with a smile. Derek lowered his book, turning his head to look at Stiles.

"Yes."

Stiles grimaced, rubbing his nose against Derek's shoulder again while yawning widely.

"You didn't have to stay. I'm not exactly good company while I sleep."

A twitch at the corner of Derek's lips made Stiles' eyes narrow.

"What?" he asked, dreading the answer.

"You talk," Derek replied, giving him an amused look. "A lot. I stopped listening when you told me to prepare for the space chinchilla invasion, and buy all the bananas for your swimming pool."

Stiles wasn't sure whether to feel horrified or congratulate himself on his imagination — because Derek sure as hell didn't have enough to have made that up himself — and ended up snorting out an ugly laugh against Derek's shoulder. At least Derek hadn't been bored.

"It's fine. I can read here just as well as on the couch," Derek continued without prompting. Stiles had a feeling that it had more to do with the fact that Derek was hesitant to let both Stiles and SAMMI-B out of his sight. He wanted to keep them safe, and in Derek's mind that meant close-by.

Stiles smiled, reaching up to be able to rub his nose against Derek's cheek instead. Derek scoffed, but obligingly turned his head to give Stiles a brief but warm kiss.

"The other two are already up," Derek informed him and Stiles sighed, letting his head rest on Derek's shoulder. They were staying at Allison's, Stiles and Derek tucked away in the guest room — which said quite a lot about what Allison considered to be a small apartment — while she and Scott had stayed in hers.

Stiles and Scott had both been ready to crash when they finally came over after having talked to the cops, so any decision-making concerning the break-in and what they were supposed to do next had been postponed to the next day. Today. Stiles wanted to groan, burrow down next to Derek, and just forget about it all. But he knew he couldn't. Too much was at stake.

He traced SAMMI-B's still broken pincer, feeling a clench in his chest.

"They were looking for information about you..." he mumbled softly, almost afraid to say it out loud. Derek stiffened marginally but didn't say anything, so Stiles kept going. "But I'm not sure why."

This caught Derek's attention. He turned his head, frowning softly, which Stiles took as a sign to keep talking.

"I mean, if it was the Prometheus Corporation they knew that chances of you being there weren't high, since they had me signed up for one of their tours, and I wasn't likely to leave you alone at the apartment." Stiles pushed up to rest his weight on his elbow, looking down at Derek. "And why would they need information on you? It feels like they would just come and grab you, if they knew where you were."

"So you're saying it wasn't them."

Stiles pursed his lips.

"I'm saying it makes no sense for it to be them, but that still leaves that bastard owner of yours." Stiles raised his hand, tracing a line down Derek's nose. "That's the one who might scope us out before acting, especially if you were stolen. Better not risk making a big scene."

Derek raised an eyebrow.

"Then why trash the apartment?"

Stiles had to give him that. It wasn't very wise of the guy to let Stiles and Derek know that he and his possible cronies were closing in, but then again, they probably had enough resources to cover it up if they needed to.

"My guess is that they expected you to be there." Stiles licked his lips. "Probably both of us. And when we weren't, they chose to trash the place instead. Perhaps to threaten us."

The implication of what could have happened had they been there made Derek's eyes go dark, his jaw clenching in anger. Derek moved his arm until he could place a hand at the back of Stiles' neck and pull him down, tucking him close. Stiles could feel the desperation in it — Derek's frustration at what they were facing and how they had no idea how to fight back. Stiles buried his face against Derek's neck, grabbing SAMMI-B to keep the bot from falling off Derek as he twisted, just a little, to be closer to Stiles.

"It would be best if we left, right?" Stiles voice was low, muffled against Derek's skin. "Left town without telling anyone. Went into hiding."

"It probably would," Derek agreed, always one to answer even the difficult questions.

Stiles felt his throat seize up. He didn't want to go on the run. It wouldn't solve anything — just force them to look over their shoulders for the rest of their lives. But if Derek's owner was willing to trash Stiles and Scott's apartment without caring about the consequences and program an android so that it was capable of killing humans, well, then there was no telling what would happen if they stayed.

"Stiles, you don't have to—"

"Yes," Stiles interrupted, raising his head enough to meet Derek's gaze, "I fucking do, okay? I'm not letting you do this alone. I'm not going to throw you aside just because things get a little complicated. I won't do that. You deserve better than that." He glared at Derek, daring him to argue.

Derek didn't. He just sighed and ran his finger through Stiles' hair.

"I guess I never expected anything else from you."

Stiles smiled, but it was crooked and faint.

"We'll figure it out, Derek. I know we will."

Derek didn't call him out on the blatant lie. Probably because both of them wanted so desperately to believe it.

Stiles didn't dare to start looking at the files Lydia had translated until they were sure that Scott and Allison wouldn't overhear. There was no telling what they might find and Stiles had no intention of letting anything slip, especially since it might do more harm than good.

So when Scott and Allison decided to take a walk down to a nearby coffee shop — probably to talk things through since Scott had been understandably glum that morning — Stiles asked to borrow Allison's laptop. For a moment he wondered whether he would have to come up with some sort of lie as to why he wanted that, but she agreed without question, for which he was secretly relieved.

Stiles also made sure to call his dad, knowing that it was better that he heard from Stiles about the break-in rather than the rumor mill. His dad was naturally quite upset and worried, but Stiles assured him that no one had been hurt and that the police were on it. He also promised to consider borrowing money from his dad if they needed it to get back on their feet, but that was something Stiles didn't want to think about yet. He was still trying to pretend that it had never happened and that he wouldn't have to face it again, even if he knew that he would.

Instead he chose to focus his efforts on the mystery with the Deucalion folder. Allison's laptop was placed on the kitchen table and Derek hovered behind Stiles as he plugged in the flashdrive. SAMMI-B was rolling around in very uncoordinated circles on the tabletop on accounts of his injury. Stiles hadn't had the time to repair him yet, even if he had made sure to bring the necessary tools from the apartment after the cops had assured him that it was okay. Stiles would make sure to fix him up as soon as possible, but the decoded documents took priority right now.

Stiles wasn't really sure what to expect when he opened the file Lydia had marked as the first, and therefore frowned when it turned out to be a short note from her, urging him to take everything he had made her translate straight to the police, or she would do it for him. Stiles looked up at Derek, both unsettled and confused. Lydia was usually very calm and gathered but this — whatever the files contained — had rattled her.

"Open the next one," Derek said grimly.

Stiles did, after clearing his throat and trying to push down the unease squirming in his gut.

At first glance it didn't look like much. Stiles had expected horrific images of mass murders or something, but that was literally impossible since the code had only contained text, nothing else. But it turned out that the text itself was bad enough, once Stiles started reading. It still took him until the middle of the first page before he realized exactly what he was looking at.

"Is this..." he paused, not sure how to phrase it.

"It's a kill order." Derek's voice was flat, void of any kind of emotion.

Stiles felt a chill travel down his spine. He forced himself to swallow despite his suddenly dry throat, glancing up towards Derek, whose face was completely passive, revealing nothing.

"As in, um..."

"An assassination, Stiles." Derek didn't look at him. He just kept staring at the screen. "One I was expected to carry out."

Stiles couldn't help stiffening. He had sort of known that that was what would come next, but he couldn't help that it felt like a physical blow all the same. He closed his eyes, weighting his words carefully.

"So you were ordered to perform assassinations as well?"

"Yes."

Stiles took a deep breath and turned around in his chair, only to realize that Derek had taken a step back, to the point that he was almost out of Stiles' reach. His face was still blank but his posture rigid, and Stiles felt breathless from the ache in his chest.

"Hey, no, don't—" Stiles fell silent when Derek took another step back when Stiles tried to take his hand. He blinked, dread clawing in his throat. "Derek, it's okay, I'm not—"

"We both know you're lying, Stiles." Derek's voice was so cold and hard that Stiles had to stop a moment not to flinch. He breathed out slowly before meeting Derek's gaze.

"Alright. I won't lie." He straightened, gathering what little courage he had. "It's horrible. It's not okay. People getting murdered — on someone's orders, no less — is so fucked up I can't even begin to describe it. But I don't blame you." He held out his hand, urging Derek to take it, trying to convey how sincere he was. "Please, Derek. I'm not blaming you. It's just a lot to swallow."

Derek hesitated, a crack in his otherwise impenetrable mask, before he slowly took Stiles' hand. It brought a weak smile to Stiles' lips and he pulled until he could place a kiss on the back of Derek's hand, more as a comfort than anything else. Derek was still stiff and averted his gaze sooner than Stiles would have liked, but he wasn't going to push it.

"You said 'expected to carry out'. Does that mean that you didn't?" he asked instead, steering the conversation back to the matter at hand.

Derek moved a little closer, pushing SAMMI-B back onto the table when one of his wide circles took him too close to the edge — and what might very well be a fatal fall considering the shape he was in.

"All my memories of the actual assassinations were always erased after the mission was over. Security measure, I assume. I can tell you how many there were, but not who they were." Derek gave him a quick look and Stiles held back his question about exactly how many there had been. He didn't want to know, not really.

"Then how do you know this wasn't one of them?"

"Because I read further than you did." Derek leaned forward and pointed at the screen, drawing Stiles' attention to one specific sentence. Stiles felt his eyebrows shoot up when he read it.

"Wait, what?" He leaned forward, letting Derek's hand go in favor of scrolling down. He couldn't believe it. "It says that Deucalion is the target." He looked up at Derek. "How's that even possible? Deucalion is an android model. Are you supposed to kill your brothers and sisters?"

Derek rolled his eyes.

"No, Stiles, Deucalion is apparently a person, referred to as 'the target' in other parts of the document." Derek crossed his arms over his chest. "Read the next line as well."

Stiles did. And tried to wrap his head around it.

"So... Deucalion is a person — a man — working for the Prometheus Corporation, probably the founder of the Deucalion line by my educated guess, and you were ordered to take him out."

"But I obviously didn't, because we would have heard about it," Derek finished. Stiles found himself nodding in agreement. Something like that would undoubtedly have made the news, even if it wasn't commonly known who were the minds behind the Deucalion line.

"We still can't rule out that someone working on the Deucalion line gave you up. Perhaps someone wanting to get rid of their boss?" Stiles suggested.

"A very roundabout way of doing it," Derek replied.

"Still not impossible, since it would be difficult to trace it back to them. Perhaps you were the payment? Like, take out my boss for me by using this killer machine and once you're done you get to keep him?" Stiles winched when he realized what he had said and saw the way Derek's expression shuttered off. But before he had time to apologize Derek was talking.

"I don't think so. Why wait a year before doing it?"

Stiles bit the inside of his cheek, trying to figure out whether Derek even wanted him to apologize. He chose to stick to the subject instead.

"You think you were the one who hid the folder? You wanted to prevent them from deleting it, like the other assassinations?"

Derek seemed to consider this before he nodded.

"It's possible. I could have done it while I downloaded the viruses."

"You don't know?"

Derek shook his head.

"Since the files aren't where they're supposed to, I can't access them as proper memory files. I can't be sure."

Stiles looked back at the computer, opening the other documents Lydia had translated. They were shorter ones, explaining details about the man's life — his habits, his possible whereabouts. The blueprint Stiles had found was obviously one of the buildings the man frequented in. Whoever had gathered the intel had been thorough. Stiles could almost see the man's life play out before him, until he skimmed over a sentence that gave him pause.

"He's blind," Stiles blurted out, staring at the screen.

Derek seemed to wait for a continuation, but when none came he got impatient.

"And?"

Stiles swallowed, feeling a little lightheaded all of a sudden.

"The target. It says here that he's blind."

Derek clearly didn't get it, because Stiles had never told him about the blind man he had met over at the Prometheus Corporation — the man who hadn't actually been there during the tour, but still talked at length about their androids. Stiles quickly brought up the grainy photo he had been able to decrypt and determined as useless the day before. The quality was still so bad that Stiles wouldn't have been able to recognize the man if he hadn't been looking for the similarities, but when he did? He could definitely see it.

"I know him."

Derek visibly flinched.

"What?" His tone was sharp, alarmed. Stiles looked up at him, eyes wide.

"I've met him. I-I talked to him." He gestured towards the photo on the screen. "After the tour. He asked me what I thought about it and I helped him down to the lobby, but I—"

"Why didn't you tell me about this?" Derek sounded so, so angry and it was only because Stiles knew Derek that he understood that it wasn't him Derek was mad at. Derek was mad that he had missed something that could potentially be a threat.

"Because I didn't think it meant anything!" Stiles exclaimed, waving his arms to the point that SAMMI-B backed up with a confused blip. Stiles ignored him for now.

Derek looked murderous, his jaw tightly clenched.

"So you talked to him? The man I was supposed to murder?"

"Well, I didn't know that then, did I?" Stiles snapped. "And I'm pretty sure that neither did he!"

That gave them both a moment's pause. Lydia was right — they should take this to the police. Someone was apparently gunning for this man, and just because Derek hadn't done the deed didn't mean that someone else wouldn't be ordered to finish it.

Stiles cleared his throat, trying to smooth over the fact that both he and Derek were getting a little upset. It wouldn't do to have Allison's neighbors complaining about her causing a racket when she wasn't even to blame. He ran a hand through his hair, sighing as he slumped against the table.

"I just don't get this guy. What's wrong with him?"

"What guy?" Derek asked, making Stiles frown and look back up at him.

"Your owner. I mean, who the hell goes around reprogramming androids and ordering hits on people?"

It was Derek's turn to frown.

"My master is a woman."

Stiles' mouth fell open.

"But you—" he paused, going over the conversations they'd had concerning Derek's previous owner. Not once had Derek specified a gender, neither male nor female. It was just Stiles who had assumed it was a guy. "Wow. That's sexist of me."

Not that it changed anything in the long run.

"Alright, what's wrong with her, then?" Stiles amended. "I mean, first of all, reprogramming an android like she did to you? That takes skill, so if she didn't do it herself, she had to have some pretty good programmers at her disposal, and those cost a lot of money." Stiles absently patted SAMMI-B when the tiny bot rolled up to him and bumped his arm. "And second, what's with all the violence? What is she trying to achieve? Why kill the blind guy? She obviously already got away with stealing you, so killing him now only serves to expose her, doesn't it?"

Derek looked agitated.

"I don't know."

Stiles pushed back his own frustration, knowing that annoying Derek wasn't going to help. But there were still a couple of things he hadn't yet asked.

"Do you know her name? Anything that might help us find her?"

Derek shook his head and Stiles felt his shoulders slump. He had guessed as much, but there was nothing wrong in hoping. She had clearly done a good job at covering her tracks.

"So what we do know is that she's made you kill several people, possibly orchestrated the break-in at the apartment, and wants to go after a guy at the Prometheus Corporation." Stiles rubbed his chin. "It's possible that the break-in really was to just gather info. I mean, perhaps she wanted to know if I made you perform similar extracurricular activities?"

Just saying it made Stiles' skin crawl.

"But she didn't find anything," Derek continued, his gaze travelling over to SAMMI-B, who was purring contently under Stiles' hand. Stiles couldn't help smiling. No, she hadn't found a thing, because she was bested by a defective penholder. If Stiles ever met the woman he would make sure to point that out to her.

Stiles took a deep breath.

"So now what?" He looked at Derek. "Lydia's right, you know. We need to go to the police. There might not be any evidence against your owner, but we need to warn this Deucalion dude, just in case."

Derek seemed reluctant to agree, but eventually nodded. Stiles assumed that he didn't want more lives on his conscience.

"What do we tell them?"

Stiles froze, grimacing when he realized that they couldn't just walk up and explain how they got the information. Derek was still unregistered and wanted, not to mention that Stiles had been lucky that the cops from the other night hadn't happened to see his photo from the pickpocket files. He might not be as lucky the second time around.

Then again, there was another way to go about it.

Stiles scratched his neck before reaching a hand into his pocket, pulling out the card the blind man had given him. He snorted as he read the name on it — something he really should have done when he first got it. That would have saved them a lot of time.

"His business card actually says Deucalion." Stiles couldn't help sounding a little amused, holding it up for Derek to see. Derek, unsurprisingly, looked pissed. Stiles rolled his eyes. "Alright, so the guy gave me his card, I forgot to mention that too. Now will you stop looking like you want to murder me? This might actually help us, you realize that, right? I'll just call him and explain that someone is trying to kill him."

Derek pursed his lips.

"Because he will definitely believe that," he replied, words dripping with sarcasm.

"You've been around me for too long. You're learning sarcasm."

"I knew that long before I met you."

Stiles grinned.

"Yeah, but living with me perfected it," he stated proudly. He couldn't help it. Trying to win verbal battles against Derek was a favorite hobby of his. He should have known that he was celebrating his victory too early when Derek tilted his head to the side before leaning in, his lips close to Stiles' ear.

"Just like everything else about me."

The sound Stiles made could barely be called human, but he figured he was excused. No one would be able to handle having Derek whisper something like that to them without feeling a little breathless. Possibly close to fainting.

"Okay," Stiles squeaked, "you win."

Derek pulled back enough so that Stiles could see his smug grin, but Stiles wasn't even going to hold it against him. Because Derek didn't lie. That wasn't a lie. And it was as close to a love confession Stiles had gotten from anyone who wasn't related to him or Scott, and Scott's was purely platonic.

Stiles licked his lips, his breath trembling just as much as his smile. He wanted to say something — reciprocate — but before he had time to even gather his words, Derek leaned in for a kiss, effectively cutting off whatever Stiles had planned to say. It was okay, though. Pouring all of his emotions into that kiss was another way of showing just how much he appreciated Derek and the things he did — how he made Stiles feel and what they shared.

The kiss was deep but slow. Indulgent. It made Stiles forget about their worries, if only for a little while, and he let himself be swept away by it.

At least until SAMMI-B hooted impatiently, clearly not pleased to find himself forgotten and ignored. Stiles chuckled against Derek's lips before giving his cockblocking bot a pat. They would have to do something about that eventually, but now was clearly not the time. Allison and Scott would be coming back any minute.

"Are you going to call him?" Derek asked, leading them back to their initial topic. Stiles sighed, raising his hand to trace Derek's bottom lip with his finger.

"Probably, yeah. I have to try, at least."

"Or we could drop off the information anonymously at the station," Derek suggested. It was also a possibility, and Stiles nodded slowly.

"Yeah, maybe. I'll think about it."

Derek seemed to want to add that they didn't have that much time, not if they had to start planning fleeing the city. But he didn't and Stiles was grateful. He didn't want to start considering that, not yet. Not ever. But he might very well have to, but up until then he was going to live in denial. They might be able to find some other kind of solution to this. They just needed a little more time.

Stiles prayed that they had a little more time.

It didn't take long before Stiles decided that they might as well do both. If Deucalion didn't trust Stiles when he called him, then he would certainly listen to the police once they were given the evidence of someone wanting him dead. But the problem wasn't the decision, it was to execute it.

First of all because Stiles couldn't find a printer. Allison didn't have one and Stiles' had been stolen along with everything else even mildly technological in his apartment, as if he would actually store his data in his printer. They ended up knocking doors in Allison's building until they found a nice couple who let them use theirs. Stiles lied and said it was forms the police wanted them to fill out concerning the robbery, which got Scott and Allison off his back.

Because that was the other problem — they couldn't know about it. Stiles didn't even know where to start telling them about all the things Derek had been made to do. Granted that at least Scott would have been proud over them trying to prevent another death, but the less they knew, the better. He did make sure to text Lydia, though, telling her that they were going to the cops, just like she suggested. Stiles had briefly toyed with the idea of having her do it, but he quickly realized that it was best to avoid involving her further, for her own sake.

So once the papers were printed and put in an envelope Stiles suggested that he and Derek go out to buy them all pizzas for dinner, partly to thank Allison for letting them stay there, and partly just to have a reason to sneak out to the police station. Scott seemed hesitant — they clearly shouldn't be spending big at this stage — but eventually relented. Pizza was good for morale, simple as that.

Stiles found Derek in the living room, gazing at the photos hanging on one of Allison's walls. It was mostly her family and friends — a fairly new one with her and Scott at the very center — but also some urban cityscapes that Stiles bet she had taken herself. Derek seemed to be focusing on the family portrait. Stiles hadn't met the rest of the Argents, but Allison had talked about them and they seemed like fairly nice people, even if Stiles had to admit that Allison's mom seemed terrifying.

"Allison looks more like her aunt than her mom, doesn't she?" Stiles said, tilting his head to the side as he studied the Argents, Allison standing with her mom, dad, and aunt. Derek took a couple of seconds before he answered.

"I guess." Derek tore his gaze away from the photo. "We're leaving?"

Stiles nodded, slipping his hand into Derek's and pulling him towards the door. He threw a quick glance to make sure that Allison and Scott were out of earshot.

"We better hurry. The nearest station is a couple of blocks away from the pizza place, and if we take too long it will seem suspicious."

Derek nodded, his expression serious. At least Stiles hadn't been stupid enough to suggest that he go alone. Derek would have hit the roof at that.

They got ready and left after Stiles shouted a quick goodbye to Allison and Scott. Allison had given them directions to the closest pizza place and Stiles' phone could lead them to the police station from there. Instead of sitting around waiting for their order they took the opportunity to head out again, straight for the station, promising to be back in fifteen minutes to pick up the pizzas. Stiles knew they probably wouldn't make it even if they ran, but no one would die from slightly cold pizzas.

Derek looked tense and hostile, almost glaring at the people they passed on the street. Stiles knew that he was just worried and protective, but it was also pretty eye-catching.

"You really don't know how to be subtle, do you?"

Derek shot him a sharp look.

"You never notice me until I'm right behind you."

"That's different, Derek. That's sneaking. I mean not looking like you intend to murder everyone within a twenty feet radius." Stiles smiled crookedly, bumping their shoulders together. "Try to calm down, okay? At least so that people won't preemptively call the cops on us."

Derek rolled his eyes but his shoulders did drop a little, as if he was forcing himself to relax.

"We're only going to leave it in their mailbox, that's all."

"I know that," Derek replied tightly.

"And they're not going to arrest us."

Derek snorted, giving Stiles an exasperated look.

"With your talent for trouble I think—" Derek cut off, mid-sentence, freezing in place. Stiles stiffened, at first thinking that Derek had seen or heard something, but it only took a second for him to realize that Derek was literally frozen. He didn't move, staring blankly ahead.

"Derek?" Stiles stepped in close, framing Derek's face with his hands. "Derek! What's wrong? Answer me!"

Derek still didn't move. He didn't even react. He looked far too much like one of those showcase androids at the Prometheus Corporation, suspended in time. Stiles felt panic starting to curl in his gut. This couldn't be good. Did something short circuit? He had never gotten any indication from Derek that something was wrong, but this was clearly not natural, even for an android.

The thought had barely crossed Stiles' mind before a big black van screeched to a halt next to them on the street. Stiles' eyes widened, but before he had time to call for help or react in any way the doors slid open two guys much, much bigger than Stiles got out and reached for Derek — who still wasn't moving. Stiles reacted instinctively, trying to step between them.

"Hey! No! You can't—"

He should probably have seen the fist coming, but had no time to dodge it either way. He stumbled, hitting the asphalt on all fours with a wince. It didn't stop him from getting right back up again, knowing that Derek, for once, wouldn't put up any resistance. Derek was defenseless, malfunctioning somehow, and while he was heavy it was definitely not impossible to carry him if you were strong enough — which these people clearly were.

Stiles got close enough to grab one of the guy's arms, trying to keep them from pulling Derek into the van, but that only got him a punch to his solar plexus that left him gasping for breath.

Stiles' knees gave out and he barely had enough presence of mind to dodge the kick aimed at his head. It glanced off his shoulder instead, but sent him toppling backwards all the same. His head was spinning and even if he was struggling to regain control over his limbs it was obvious that it would be too late by then.

Stiles managed to look up, dizzily, just as the door of the van started sliding shut, but what caught his eye was the person he saw in the passenger seat window. Dark hair framed her face, and despite his own disoriented state he could tell that there was something not quite right about it. The upper lip was pulled up on one side, her cheek dented. Scars, he realized, as if she had been cut by something, deep enough to deform her face when it healed.

He didn't have time to study her closer. Their gazes met only briefly — triumph glittering in hers — before the van sped off, taking Derek with them. Stiles let out a whimpering sound at the back of his throat, but there wasn't much he could do. They were already gone.

And so was Derek.

 

Chapter Text

 

---

 

Stiles honestly didn't know what to do. He couldn't go after them, only having caught the first two letters on the license plate, and he couldn't call the cops because Derek wasn't his. There was nothing he could do.

He ended up stumbling back to Allison's apartment, completely forgetting the pizzas — they were clearly not his priority right now. He was shaking by the time he tripped into Allison's hall, breathless and vaguely disoriented. He wasn't sure if it was from the blows he had gotten or the panic he was feeling, but he could definitely feel the urgency thrum under his skin.

"Scott!"

Stiles could hear thundering footsteps a second later and practically slumped against Scott when he arrived, wide-eyed and confused.

"Stiles! What happened? Where's Derek?" Scott sounded alarmed, holding Stiles up when he didn't quite manage that himself. "Stiles, you're bleeding!"

Oh. Stiles hadn't noticed. He looked down at his scratched palms and hissed when Scott touched what was obviously a split in his lip.

"Shit! Be careful!" Stiles snapped with an angry glare, Scott looking suitably guilty.

"I'll get something to clean him up with," Allison declared, disappearing from where she had been standing behind Scott. Stiles winced when he accidentally licked his lip.

"No, wait, we don't have time," he babbled, grabbing Scott's arm. "They took Derek. His owner, I think. The bitch took Derek."

Scott was already dragging Stiles deeper into the apartment, which was the complete opposite of what Stiles wanted. They needed to find Derek. They couldn't leave him at her mercy, not when she obviously had some way to power him down remotely. That was the only explanation Stiles had managed to come up with for Derek's sudden malfunction, which was a little too convenient to be a coincidence.

"No, Scott, I don't want— we need to find Derek!" Stiles protested, struggling against Scott's grip.

"And we will!" Scott pushed him down on the couch, taking a seat next to Stiles, as if to stop him from bolting up again. Which Stiles was, in all honesty, definitely considering doing. "Tell us what happened first."

Okay, Scott had a point there. Stiles took a deep breath while Scott grabbed his arm, keeping him from rubbing his nose. Stiles blinked in confusion until he realized what that was about. Right. Blood.

"I-I just... we were walking along the street and he froze all of a sudden." Stiles shook his head, trying to pick his words carefully to make sure that he didn't let slip what they had actually been walking towards. It was more difficult than usual with his frazzled nerves. "I thought something had short circuited, but before I knew it there was this van stopping next to us and they just grabbed him and drove off."

Allison came back with some sort of washcloth and a small bowl of water. She sat down on the living room table in front of him and gently grabbed his chin to start cleaning away the blood. Stiles wasn't entirely sure what to feel about that but let her, even if it made it a little more difficult to talk.

"I tried to stop them but I failed, as you might have guessed."

"Why do you think it was his owner?" Scott asked, a worried wrinkle between his eyebrows.

Stiles flinched when Allison brushed against his split lip, but held back any noise he might have made. SAMMI-B was hooting from somewhere on the floor, obviously having noticed Stiles' return, but they didn't have time to focus on him at the moment.

"Because I saw her. Or, I saw someone. And who else would have a reason to steal Derek? No one is supposed to know about him, not to mention that something made Derek shut down, without any prompting from me."

"You think she did it remotely?" Allison asked as she moved on to Stiles' hands. He nodded.

"I've heard that you can have something like that installed in your androids, as some sort of safety measure. Derek might not even have known about it."

She looked thoughtful, her lips pressed into a thin line.

"License plate?"

Stiles shook his head.

"I just got the first two letters, still trying to recover from getting beaten to the ground." If he sounded bitter, he had the right to. That bitch had taken Derek. She had no more claim over him than Stiles did, but she had dared to look triumphant while stealing him back. Stiles didn't know how, but he was going to make her pay.

Allison fell silent while focusing on cleaning Stiles' palms, while he tried not to twitch at the slight sting it caused.

"I... uh... forgot the pizzas," he admitted after a moment of silence, not surprised to feel Scott's comforting hand on his shoulder.

"It's okay. I'll hurry over and fetch them now." Stiles opened his mouth to argue because they clearly didn't have time for that, but Scott talked right over him. "We still need to eat, Stiles, and you and Allison can try to figure out a way to track them down while I'm gone."

Fair enough. Stiles nodded mutely before glancing towards Allison, who gave him a tight but slightly reassuring smile. Scott got up from the couch, but made sure to pluck SAMMI-B from the floor and place him next to Stiles. The tiny bot chirped happily and Stiles had to bite the inside of his cheek to keep himself from uttering a wounded sound.

How long would it take before SAMMI-B noticed that Derek was gone? And what would he do when he did? They were practically inseparable by then, spending more time with each other than anyone else. And what if Derek never came back? Just how abandoned would SAMMI-B feel? Stiles didn't want to think about it. He refused to think about it.

So instead he lifted SAMMI-B into his lap, trying to distract him for the time being. It was all he could do. They were going to try to get Derek back, but there was no guarantee that they would manage, not without resources and information.

Shit. Why could things never be easy?

Stiles knew that it wasn't their fault that they couldn't figure out what to do, but that didn't stop him from getting frustrated and angry. After two hours SAMMI-B had started to seem suspicious at the obvious lack of Derek, and it didn't take long before he started looking for him. Stiles didn't know exactly what SAMMI-B was saying — Derek hadn't had the time to teach him what all the commands were — but he could tell that the bot was calling out for Derek, trying to find him in the apartment somewhere.

The tiny bot was rolling from room to room, letting out the same series of blips and chirps, and whenever he didn't get an answer there was a slow, disappointed whirr.

Stiles couldn't take it.

He caught up with SAMMI-B in the guest room and set about repairing him instead, or at least as well as he could without spare parts. Scott and Allison were going over what they knew and what they might be able to do, but it was the same thing they had been saying back and forth for hours. Without knowing who Derek's owner was, there was no way of finding them, since Derek was virtually untraceable and they had nothing else to go on. Stiles wanted to scream in frustration.

It was that feeling of being utterly helpless that made him pull out Deucalion's card, after he was done with SAMMI-B's repairs and the bot was purring softly under the attention. It was only a matter of time before SAMMI-B would start looking for Derek again, but for now he seemed calm. And happy to have his pinch arm fixed, which he demonstrated by squeezing Stiles' fingers.

Stiles knew that involving the Prometheus Corporation might be a bad idea. He was pretty certain that they weren't in league with the woman who stole Derek, but that didn't mean that they would let Derek stay with Stiles if they managed to get him back. Derek rightfully belonged to the Prometheus Corporation. Either way, Stiles would lose him.

But when it became a matter of leaving Derek in the hands of a murdering lunatic, or the company that had built him it wasn't that difficult of a choice. Anything would be better than the woman who had driven Derek to attempt suicide.

So Stiles closed the door to the guest room and pulled out his phone. SAMMI-B was tucked into the pocket of his hoodie and Stiles paced back and forth a couple of times before actually daring to dial the number on the card he had been given.

He had no idea what to say. It hit him with sudden clarity that this man had no idea who Stiles was, not really, and that he was suddenly calling about a missing android of theirs was going to sound preposterous to say the least.

The call connected.

"Yes?"

Stiles' mind went completely blank and he froze in place. Where to even begin?

"I need help," he blurted out without thinking, wincing when he realized just how confusing that had to be. That was not what he had planned to say.

"I beg your pardon?" Deucalion sounded confused alright, but still awfully polite.

"Shit. Sorry." Stiles took a deep breath, rubbing a hand over his face. "My name is Stiles. We met yesterday, after the tour over at Prometheus? You gave me your card."

"Ah. Yes, I remember." Deucalion seemed to be smiling now, judging on the tone of his voice. "What can I help you with, Stiles?"

Stiles closed his eyes. He could still back out. He could hang up and pretend that it was just a prank call. As soon as he told them that Derek had been living with him for over two months they could sue him for all kinds of things — stealing, just to name one. But he had to. There was no one else to turn to.

"It's about D33R3."

The silence was deafening. Stiles could literally hear his own heartbeat, thrumming away inside his ribcage. Stiles tried to ignore that his hands were shaking. He started to pace again.

"You seem to know a little more than you let on when we first met," Deucalion said after a moment, his voice a little sharper now, reprimanding almost. Understandable, if Stiles was to be honest.

"Yeah, I know, and it's a long, long story, but the root of it all is that he's in danger. I need to find him but I can't, not without help." Stiles braced himself. "Your help."

Stiles held his breath. He had no idea what to expect. He didn't know this man except for the short conversation they had shared in the elevator, and that wasn't nearly enough to build an accurate view of someone.

"I think you need to tell me the full story, Stiles." It was clearly a demand and Stiles felt his heart sink. "How about you come by first thing in the morning?"

Stiles wasn't sure if he wanted to — if he could wait until then — but he didn't have much choice. He would just have to hope that the bitch didn't take Derek and fled the city during the night. Stiles swallowed, slipping his hand into his pocket to grab a hold of SAMMI-B. His bot chirped happily.

"Alright," he agreed. He guessed he really did owe the man an explanation.

"Talk to the people in the reception. They will let you through."

Stiles placed a hand over his mouth to stifle the tiny, agonized sound that wanted to slip past his lips. He just wanted Derek back safely.

"Y-yeah," he managed eventually, kicking himself for letting his voice waver.

There was a slight pause, and it actually surprised him that Deucalion's voice was marginally softer next time he spoke.

"We will sort this out, Stiles, not to worry."

But Stiles did worry. He didn't know if he could really trust this Deucalion, and he knew that whatever he did, he was likely to lose Derek.

But there was nothing else he could do.

Stiles left a note for Scott and Allison the following morning, for once up before they were, stuffed SAMMI-B into the front pocket of his hoodie, and left for the Prometheus Corporation's office building. He was nervous, agitated, and hadn't slept much at all, and his only consolation was SAMMI-B's wondrous chirps at all the new things he got to experience.

Stiles had never taken SAMMI-B outside before, simply because he didn't know how his voice recognition software would react to the level of noise, but the tiny bot took it like a champ, eagerly responding to every honking car and beeping phone they passed. SAMMI-B was having the time of his life, meeting tons of new friends.

Stiles knew better than to leave SAMMI-B behind, since he was already upset about Derek disappearing. If Stiles left too, that would mean that Scott and Allison would have a hell of a time trying to calm him down. It was better for them all if he tagged along, even if Stiles kept getting weird glances from passersby, who only heard the noises but didn't actually see the bot safely tucked inside his pocket.

To his surprise he had no trouble getting past security once he arrived — a part of him had actually expected to get arrested as soon as he showed up — and one of the kind receptionists gave him instructions on where to go.

SAMMI-B loved riding in the elevator and seemed awfully disappointed when it stopped, on a much higher floor than the tour had taken Stiles during his last visit. He stepped out into a bright, airy room, with white painted columns supporting the ceiling and a breathtaking view of the city, spread out before them in the morning sun. The room was sparsely furnished except for a soft-looking gathering of couches and some stylish decorations here and there. Despite the sleek, modern look it was obviously some sort of hotshot meeting room — the kind of place where posh businessmen sat sipping brandies while deciding on the fate of the free world.

Stiles walked further into the room, a little hesitant, the floor so shiny that he could practically see his own reflection. SAMMI-B blipped, no doubt invigorated by the awesome adventure he was taking part in — never mind that he was still just riding around in Stiles' pocket.

Stiles drifted over to the windows that covered an entire wall, looking out at the sprawling city. Derek was hopefully out there somewhere, but it would be nearly impossible to find him, at least without help. Stiles couldn't do this on his own.

"Sorry to keep you waiting."

Stiles jumped, whirling around at the sudden voice some distance behind him. How a blind man could move so silently was beyond Stiles, but he tried to gather himself as quickly as possible.

"It's alright."

Deucalion closed the door he had entered through — one Stiles hadn't even noticed to begin with — and walked calmly over to the group of couches.

"Please, have a seat."

The politeness was actually beginning to get on Stiles' nerves, but he would never say so out loud. He was just impatient, eager to find Derek and get him away from that woman's poisonous clutches once and for all.

SAMMI-B's curious chirp made Deucalion pause in front of one of the couches, his head tilted questioningly to the side. Stiles coughed a little nervously while taking a seat, keeping the bot in his pocket for now.

"Uh... sorry, it's a pet bot of mine. He's harmless, though. He just gets whiny when I leave him alone for too long, so I had to bring him."

"Really? One you built?" Deucalion folded up his white cane after having sat down, sounding genuinely interested. It made Stiles a little baffled.

"Yeah. His name is SAMMI-B. But he doesn't do much besides hold pens and play fetch." Stiles felt a clench in his chest just mentioning it. Derek was the one who had taught SAMMI-B that.

"What does his name stand for?"

The question made Stiles blink. This wasn't what he was here for, but he didn't want to snap and come off as rude either. He had to play his cards right.

"Surprisingly Annoying Miniature Machine I Built," Stiles therefore replied dutifully. He wasn't sure how Deucalion could tell that the name had to mean something else, but didn't see a reason not to answer him.

"Well, at least you didn't name him after yourself," Deucalion offered with an amused smile. There was a lot of humor there — a tinge of self-awareness that was strangely comforting — and Stiles chuckled despite himself.

"Is your name really Deucalion?" He just had to ask, when they were at least tangentially on the subject. Deucalion smiled calmly, comfortable and at ease, hands folded in his lap.

"I have been known as such for so long that I can't quite remember."

Which wasn't an answer at all. Actually, it was definitely avoiding an answer. Still, Stiles let it slide. He wasn't there to do small talk. He decided to get down to business.

"So, I guess there are some things I should tell you, but I want to point out that I had no idea who you were when we first started talking. It was just a very, very unbelievable coincidence." Stiles licked his lips and Deucalion gestured for him to go on, obviously accepting Stiles' little disclaimer. "And I wasn't trying to hide anything, not really. We just wanted to find out where Derek came from, and that's why I took the tour."

Deucalion tilted his head to the side.

"I assume that 'Derek' is D33R3?"

Stiles cleared his throat, a little nervous. Derek had been created because of this man. Was it rude to rename their creations? But owners did that all the time with their androids after they had bought them. Granted that Stiles had never actually bought Derek.

"Uh... yeah, I sort of accidentally named him and he didn't seem to mind. I was just—"

"Perhaps you should start from the beginning?" Deucalion interrupted, polite but firm. Stiles shut his mouth so fast his teeth clacked. He needed to get a grip.

"Alright." Stiles took a deep breath. "Tell it from the beginning."

And so Stiles did.

He told Deucalion about finding Derek, repairing him, the viruses, Derek waking up, and briefly what had happened during the following two months. He left out the part where Stiles and Derek was a bit more intimate than common for human and android, but he had a feeling that the way he spoke about him — the tenderness in his own voice — gave it away. He stressed that they hadn't known where Derek belonged, except that he was obviously running from someone — someone who had erased his memories of his manufacturer and made it impossible to trace him.

Deucalion said nothing at all during this, which only made Stiles more nervous, but when he got to the point of explaining about the pickpocket it was obvious that he caught the man's attention. He seemed to stiffen, a slight frown visible despite the obscuring sunglasses.

Stiles continued, explaining about Derek's reprogramming, the break-in, the assassinations, and Derek's attempt to get away from it. His voice was shaking by the time he reached the point in his story where Derek had gotten kidnapped. And he made sure that Deucalion understood why they had been out on the streets in the first place.

"We don't know if she's still trying to have you killed, but we were trying to stop it when they took him," Stiles said, voice low and pained. "We didn't want to go to you directly, because we know that you're technically the one who owns him and— well..."

"You didn't want me to take him away," Deucalion finished, his tone calm and precise. Stiles nodded, only to realize that Deucalion of course didn't see that.

"Yeah. He... he likes it. Living with me and Scott, I mean, and he seemed to need it after what that woman did to him." Stiles ran a frustrated hand through his hair before patting SAMMI-B, who had been surprisingly obedient and quiet during the entire conversation, only blipping and hooting as soon as a name he recognized was mentioned. The bot purred softly when Stiles stroked his sharp, metallic edges. "We were going to remove the extermination program. He doesn't want it — he hates it — but they found us before that, and they took him."

Deucalion hummed thoughtfully and Stiles tried not to squirm.

"It is a troubling situation indeed."

That was the understatement of the year and Stiles had to hold back an urge to snarl something insulting. In the end he couldn't quite keep himself from it.

"You seem awfully calm to have just been told that someone wants you dead."

Deucalion shrugged softly.

"It's not the first time."

Stiles had no trouble believing that. He still wasn't entirely sure what he thought of this man.

"But it has never been quite this poetic before, trying to have me killed by one of my own creations. Almost as if by my own hand." Deucalion sounded thoughtful, if anything.

Before Stiles had time to ask what they were going to do about it, the door Deucalion had come through opened again and a dark haired woman stepped out. Stiles recognized her from the day before, but she seemed to pause when she saw him.

"I didn't know you were in a meeting," she said calmly, slightly apologetic. She gave Stiles a smile, but despite her kind expression he got the feeling that it was best not to anger her. It was something in the way she carried herself — the proud, firm set of her shoulders — that gave her a kind of authority that few could match. She was beautiful, if also vaguely terrifying.

"It was decided on very short notice. But please, join us." Deucalion gestured for her to sit down. "This concerns you as well, namely a tragically long-lost son of yours."

Stiles blinked and so did the woman, but she caught herself faster than he did, walking up to stand next to the group of couches.

"You found him?" she asked Stiles, her gaze sharp and unrelenting. He nearly recoiled from the intensity, trying feebly to gather his wits.

"Uh... if you mean D33R3, yeah." He licked his lips, not missing the relieved look on her face. Too bad he would have to ruin it. "But I lost him again."

She seemed to want to press him for more information, but Deucalion cleared his throat softly, making them both look over at him instead.

"Stiles, this is Talia Hale. She is one of the chief engineers involved in several of our android models. Talia, this is Stiles, who through some rather remarkable events ran in to our missing prototype. But, as he says, has unfortunately lost him again."

Ms. Hale took a seat, her posture regal even when sitting down. She took a slow breath before looking up at Stiles, her smile tinged with sadness.

"He was stolen over a year ago. The first couple of months we tried to track him down, obviously, and while we found the insider responsible for the security breach, we never managed to locate him or the person who stole him." Her voice was soft, oddly affectionate, as if she was indeed speaking about a long lost son. Stiles couldn't blame her — he probably sounded just the same, except less platonic.

Stiles cleared his throat.

"It was a woman. I don't know her name, but she has made him do so many horrible things. Derek never told me any details and I'm still trying to grasp some of it myself, but I know he never wanted it. But he couldn't find his way back either. They erased parts of his memory and cut off his transmitters."

Ms. Hale obviously listened to what Stiles was saying, and it was therefore somewhat confusing to see her smile widen. It didn't seem to be a smiling matter.

"You named him Derek?"

Stiles paused, mouth open, before he slowly shut it and nodded.

"He wouldn't tell me if he had any other name. But he seems to like it."

Ms. Hale nodded in what at least seemed to be approval, and Deucalion smoothly cut in.

"Perhaps we should focus on the issue at hand?" It was the only sign of urgency Deucalion had shown so far, but it actually served to calm Stiles' nerves somewhat. It was good to know that he wasn't the only one concerned. "Stiles, you said that you caught a glimpse of this woman?"

Stiles nodded before remembering to speak up as well, for Deucalion's benefit.

"Yeah. I mean, I saw a woman, and I'm just assuming it's her." Ms. Hale gave him an encouraging if a bit tight smile, and Stiles quickly continued. "She had long, dark hair, seemed to be late twenties or early thirties, but it was somewhat difficult to tell due to the scarring."

"Scarring?" Deucalion's tone gave Stiles pause. It wasn't surprise as much as sneaking suspicion.

"Uh, yeah. Her face seemed to have been cut or slashed at some point, twisting some of the features. It made it a little difficult to tell what she really looked like."

Ms. Hale sighed, closing her eyes in what Stiles was pretty sure was guilt, or at least sadness. Stiles blinked, looking between the other two.

"You know who she is?"

Deucalion hesitated briefly, which was actually scarier than Stiles thought it would be.

"We can't know for sure, but there is a woman who comes to mind."

Ms. Hale took over, her voice strong despite the regretful look on her face.

"Julia Baccari. Years ago, her home was invaded and many of her possessions stolen, and she was unlucky enough to be at home when it happened. The assailants beat her, cut her, and left her for dead. She barely survived."

Stiles shivered and couldn't help wondering if that was what would have happened to him, had he been at the apartment when it got vandalized.

"We were alerted of this shortly after it happened, while Ms. Baccari was still in the hospital, because there were things that didn't add up when the police started looking into the case." Ms. Hale shook her head softly. "Ms. Baccari owned an android — one of ours — and she was in the apartment when it happened. Of course she didn't intervene physically since that would go against her programming, but she didn't call for help either." Stiles met Ms. Hale's gaze, feeling a chill travel down his spine. "She had, according to Ms. Baccari's testimony, just stood there. Watching."

Stiles could only stare, feeling nausea burn at the back of his throat. He didn't even want to imagine what that had to have been like.

"Kali was one of the first reported cases of the Phoebe line's horrible side effect, even if it turned out that she wasn't the first to have committed a crime due to it," Deucalion explained wearily. "We immediately took the necessary precautions, and shortly thereafter it became apparent that not only Kali but several other androids were a direct threat to their owners." He sounded tired and there was no humor in his smile. "You obviously know the rest."

Everyone did. The Prometheus Corporation had called back every single one of the Phoebe androids and mass hysteria had followed. Stiles hadn't been lying when he said that he had no idea how the company had survived the following shitstorm, considering that it had involved several hefty lawsuits and a public outcry to have them shut down.

"We offered compensation to every single one of those who had owned a Phoebe android, but for those unlucky ones like Ms. Baccari, money understandably made no difference." Ms. Hale was clearly still mortified and full of guilt. Stiles was actually glad to see that. You had to be heartless not to be. "We ruined her life. Of course money wouldn't make that better."

Stiles gnawed on his bottom lip.

"How come you didn't stop? Making androids, I mean. I'm not sure if I would ever be able to look at one again, knowing I caused something like that." Stiles didn't care that he sounded harsh — these people could take it considering what they had done. Neither of them seemed to take offense, Ms. Hale exhaling slowly.

"I ask myself that, every single day. I imagine the answer differs from person to person, but mine is repentance. We can't change what we did, but it made us wiser. We know the dangers now — better than anyone — and we have been at the forefront of android safety ever since. We are making them better and safer while simultaneously trying to keep others from making the same mistake."

Stiles looked at Deucalion.

"And you?"

There was a slight smile on Deucalion's lips, but it was clearly not a happy one.

"Guilt. I was a foolish man, back then, who lost track of the path I had set out for myself." Deucalion shook his head. "I, too, know what it is like to be damaged beyond repair, at the hands of someone else." Deucalion gestured briefly towards his face, and Stiles realized that he was speaking about his blindness. "It was not accidental. In fact, it was planned in minute detail, to have me scarred for life. I can, to a certain degree, understand Ms. Baccari's need for revenge. I was awfully close to travelling down the same road that she is probably going down now."

"What stopped you?" Stiles asked, gripping SAMMI-B tightly inside his pocket. Deucalion's next smile held a certain amount of fondness.

"Words of wisdom from a dear friend, who saw it much clearer than I."

Stiles knew that he didn't imagine the way Deucalion tilted his head in Talia's direction, but neither of them gave anything away, their expressions remaining what they were. Stiles was still pretty sure she was the dear friend Deucalion was referring to.

"And then, of course, the first cases with the Phoebe androids. As angry as I was, I felt no joy in hearing that I had done to others what had been done to me, however unintentional." Deucalion sighed. "It was sheer arrogance — hubris, if you will — not to see the complications that could arise with the Phoebe line. And I intend to make sure it never happens again."

It might not forgive what they had done, but Stiles was clearly not the right person to judge. He had been lucky that no one had gotten hurt during his experiment at school, and he knew for a fact that he had never intended for it to go the way it had. It wasn't an excuse to say that their actions had a noble goal, but Stiles couldn't deny that he could relate, to a certain degree. They had only tried to make the world a better place.

He cleared his throat.

"So we think this Julia Baccari might have been the one who stole Derek?"

Deucalion seemed lost in his thoughts for a second before he returned to the present, nodding.

"It seems plausible. A scarred woman who has a vendetta against me, trying to have me murdered by one of my own creations. As far as revenge schemes goes, it is rather poetic."

"So you keep saying," Stiles said dryly. "Do you have any way of locating her?"

"With the appropriate resources you can find pretty much anyone," Deucalion replied, which was scary in so many ways that Stiles decided not to even think about it. He also chose not to point out that they obviously hadn't been able to find Derek before, but that had, in all fairness, been before they knew who was responsible. It was probably easier to track Ms. Baccari than Derek. Humans left other kinds of traces than androids did.

"I don't know what she intends to do with Derek, but we really need to get him back, before she ends up breaking him completely," Stiles said, voice low.

Deucalion tilted his head to the side.

"Bring him back to us or to you?"

Stiles faltered, opening his mouth to reply, but no sound came out. He glanced at Ms. Hale but her expression was unreadable, so no help there. Stiles knew that he couldn't demand anything out of these people. They were the ones who owned Derek, not Stiles. But that didn't mean that he wouldn't try.

"To me."

A smile seemed to be twitching at the corner of Deucalion's lips.

"Oh? So we are just supposed to hand over an android worth several thousands of dollars? One that was stolen from us, no less."

Stiles swallowed and forced his voice not to waver.

"Yeah. Because he's not the newest prototype anymore — not after a year — and he'll be more useful to you if he stays with me than if you take him back to one of your labs."

"How so?" Ms. Hale asked, crossing her arms over her chest in a gesture that had never quite seemed as frightening before.

"Because we'll be your guinea pigs. See how he handles actual interaction with real human beings. That's what you're after, right? An android so human it should be difficult to tell the difference?" Stiles waved his hands. He had no idea what he was saying, but making things up as he went along had always been one of his skills. "He's pretty much already settled in with me and my roommate, and you'll get to poke and prod and ask questions about how it all works out. It will be like beta testing."

They said nothing. Stiles squirmed, forcing himself to stop there, knowing that babbling probably wouldn't be in his favor right now. SAMMI-B chirped happily from inside his pocket and Stiles gave him an absent pat, waiting for the verdict.

Ms. Hale gave him a wide, pleased smile.

"You really care about him, don't you?"

Stiles nodded mutely, until he managed to find his voice again.

"Yeah, I really do. I mean, he's grumpy as fuck — if you excuse the language — but he's been with us for two months now. I don't own him, I know that much, and I've never ordered him to do anything. But he makes us breakfast and he keeps me company when I go home from work, and..." Stiles paused, pulling SAMMI-B from his pocket and placing the tiny bot on the low coffee table. SAMMI-B immediately hooted excitedly and rolled off to explore, but despite his wobbly wheel he never once went too close to the edges. "This is SAMMI-B. I built him out of a toy car and a Roomba, and I always thought he was stupid — but Derek didn't."

SAMMI-B chirped and rolled closer to Stiles, and for the first time Stiles allowed himself to admit that his bot might actually have been speaking all along. He had just been too blind to see it.

"Can you say 'Derek', baby?"

SAMMI-B chirped again, in the exact same sequence as before. It wasn't human words, not even close, but there was no denying that SAMMI-B knew exactly what he was saying.

"Derek," Stiles repeated, SAMMI-B doing the same, giving off the same noise a third time.

Stiles looked up at the other two.

"I didn't teach him that. Derek did. This tiny bot spent an hour searching for Derek yesterday, rolling from room to room calling out for him, because he couldn't find him. Because he missed him." Stiles could feel tears burn at the back of his eyelids, but he forced himself to keep going. "I know Derek is expensive and if you let me I'll gladly work on paying that back to you for the rest of my life, but I'm begging you — literally begging you — not to take him away. I'll do anything. SAMMI-B won't be the same without Derek, and I know for a fact that I won't and I just can't lose him. I'll do anything you ask, just let him stay."

Stiles was closing in on hysterical, and that might have been why Ms. Hale inched to the edge of her seat and reached out, taking Stiles' hand despite his nervous flinch.

"Stiles, breathe." She squeezed his hand, smiling warmly, and Stiles sucked in a deep breath. "Calm down, Stiles. It's alright. We won't."

If Deucalion seemed to disagree with Ms. Hale he sure didn't show it. Stiles dared to take another breath, feeling hope burn in his chest.

"Really?"

She smiled.

"Really."

She threw a quick look in Deucalion's direction and received a nod in reply. How on earth Deucalion even knew when to nod was beyond Stiles, but he wasn't going to question it. He was too busy clutching at the frail hope Ms. Hale's smile was giving him.

"We will obviously have to figure out some kind of arrangement, but you have a point. It would be more beneficial for us to see him with actual people than to have him in our labs, where we already have newer prototypes to work with," she said, squeezing his hand again. "Not to mention that he already seems quite attached. Uprooting an android, especially one as advanced as Derek, would be just as cruel as doing it to a human."

Stiles finally allowed himself to relax.

"Thank you," he whispered, his voice not carrying further than that. Ms. Hale nodded and Stiles was actually pretty okay with how maternal the fond look in her eyes was. If she considered Derek to be something close to a son, did that mean that she was Stiles' mother-in-law? That threw Stiles in for a loop for a while.

Deucalion made him return back to the present.

"We still have to find him, of course, but I think that will be rather easy."

Ms. Hale raised an eyebrow, still holding Stiles' hand in hers while SAMMI-B bumped into his other, until Stiles started patting him just to make sure that he didn't interrupt the conversation.

"What are you planning?" She sounded vaguely reprimanding, like a mother would to her unruly child. Deucalion chuckled softly, clearly amused rather than insulted.

"Well, she obviously doesn't know about Stiles coming to us — she would have been more careful to hide her face if she knew it was a possibility — and that means that she most likely won't change her plans either."

Stiles blinked, not sure if he was hearing what he thought he was hearing, but he obviously was judging on the disapproving look on Ms. Hale's face.

"You must be joking."

"Not at all." Deucalion shook his head. "She intends to have me killed — it would not be proper revenge without it — and she still believes that I have no clue. She will come to us."

Stiles instinctively wanted to protests because using someone as bait was always a bad idea, especially when an android was involved. He had seen Derek in action — he knew what Derek was capable of — but it was true that it would be easier to wait for Derek to come to them.

"And how do you intend to survive that?" Stiles asked dubiously. This was a really bad idea.

Deucalion shrugged.

"We will cross that bridge when we get there."

That didn't exactly make Stiles feel any better.

They were in such deep shit.

 

Chapter Text

 

---

 

Stiles couldn't help fidgeting where he stood, staring out at the blinking lights of the sprawling city. It was well after darkness had fallen, and while the view was magnificent Stiles just couldn't relax. It might have been because he was way out his depth and nowhere near his usual safety zone, or because they were waiting for something — anything — to happen, but had no idea what it would be.

"You are very high-strung, did you know that?"

Stiles jumped in alarm before looking over his shoulder. Deucalion was seated on the couch a couple of feet away, seemingly calm and relaxed despite the target on his back. Then again, they were in Deucalion's stupidly expensive and secure penthouse suite, so perhaps Stiles was the one who was unnecessarily nervous.

"I'm sorry if murder makes me a little edgy," Stiles replied sarcastically, wincing at the tightness and anger in his voice. It wasn't Deucalion he was mad at.

"Do you always respond to critique by snapping?" Deucalion asked curiously, deceptively polite despite the obvious insult his words could be taken as. Stiles gritted his teeth.

"It's been known to happen," Stiles admitted reluctantly. He wasn't an idiot — Deucalion was clearly trying to get under his skin somehow, even if Stiles didn't know why.

It had been decided that Stiles would go with Deucalion while he did everything to act natural. They couldn't be sure how long it would take before Baccari sent Derek to assassinate Deucalion, but they assumed it would be soon considering how long she had already been forced to postpone it. She must have spent almost a full year gathering intel before giving Derek the order, but he had managed to escape her before carrying it out. But now that she had everything she needed, and they doubted that she would be patient enough to wait.

Stiles had called Scott to let him know where he was and that he wouldn't be coming back to Allison's just yet. Scott had been understandably upset and definitely against the idea, especially since Stiles hadn't been able to explain why he had been asked to remain with Deucalion for the time being. So far they didn't know of anyone else who could reach Derek when he was in his extermination mode. If Derek came, Stiles might very well be the only one who could stop him.

Which wasn't a very comforting thought at all.

"Shouldn't there be more guards?" Stiles asked sullenly, stomping over to the couch opposite the one Deucalion was seated in.

The room was expensively furnished, but delicately so — sparingly — which Stiles assumed was beneficial for someone who was blind and didn't want to trip over different pieces of furniture. All of it was still beyond gorgeous, and Stiles wasn't used to that kind of extravagance. The couch was deliciously soft and comfortable when he threw himself down on it.

"More guards would only mean more possible targets that Derek might harm in his attempts to reach me," Deucalion replied patiently. "I think it better not to risk more lives than necessary, don't you? And before you ask, Derek would notice if some were replaced by androids."

Stiles shut his mouth, a little peeved that he hadn't even had time to get the first word out.

"So we're just going to sit here, listening to your music—" Stiles waved towards the stereo, playing some classical piece he wasn't exactly interested in at the moment "—while waiting for Derek to come here and try to kill you?"

"In essence, yes."

Stiles balked.

"And you're just... fine with that?"

Deucalion shrugged.

"There isn't much else to do, is there?"

Stiles clenched his jaw, rubbing a hand through his hair. He didn't like this one bit. Deucalion was far too calm about the whole thing, and Stiles didn't like that they hadn't even discussed what they would do if or when Derek arrived. They had no plan whatsoever.

"I think you underestimate what Derek is capable of. He won't come here and ask nicely before trying to kill you — I saw what he was like when he snapped. He didn't even flinch. No hesitation, no remorse, and definitely no chance for a head start. He will kill you."

"Unless you stop him," Deucalion pointed out, as if it was the easiest thing in the world.

"Hey! I don't appreciate you pushing this on me, alright? I don't need that on my conscience!" Stiles snapped defensively. Deucalion raised his hands in a surrendering and apologizing gesture.

"That was not my intention at all. But I would like to point out that I have faith in your abilities."

"You and no one else," Stiles muttered sullenly.

He should have known that it wouldn't pass unnoticed.

"That is the part that surprises me." Deucalion looked thoughtful. "You are a devoted, headstrong young man with a sharp mind, and yet you seem awfully insulted by everything even remotely related to your skills and abilities."

"That's because I've ruined my life once already. I don't need to do it again — or be responsible for someone else dying." Stiles crossed his arms over his chest and considered calling for SAMMI-B just to ease his own discomfort, but that would be mean. The tiny bot had spent hours exploring the expanse penthouse, delighted with the amount of space he suddenly had at his disposal.

Stiles childishly hoped that he would leave tire tracks on Deucalion's spotless floors.

"Have you ever considered that your purpose in life might be to not conform to the whims of others?"

Stiles frowned.

"What are you—"

"Trust me, Stiles, when I say that any kind of institution — no matter how well-meaning — has a tendency to put people in boxes, whether they fit inside them or not. Education is important, I am not denying that, but sometimes you will find that true brilliance can only come to its full potential when allowed free reign."

Stiles gave an ugly snort.

"Are you saying that I'm brilliant? Because that's a first."

Deucalion's smile was amused.

"I'm saying that you have the potential to be. And that we are supposed to learn from our mistakes, not give up entirely because of them."

"That's easy for you to say." Stiles didn't even care that he sounded cranky and immature.

Deucalion raised an eyebrow.

"Is it? I would argue that I know just as much — if not more — about those struggles than you do." Stiles felt a squirm of guilt. Deucalion's tone continued to be slightly reprimanding. "Have you ever tried applying to another school? Or a better job for that matter?"

"No, I haven't."

"Then how do you know it's too late?"

Stiles had no answer to that. He wanted to snarl something insulting to make Deucalion back off, but he knew that it was pointless. It would only show just how juvenile he could be. Deucalion was right — Stiles had given up years ago, and never even considered picking himself up again. He had been disgustingly content with his own misery.

Fuck. He was pathetic.

"Do you play chess, Stiles?"

Stiles blinked, looking up at Deucalion in surprise. That was quite a leap.

"Uh... yeah, I guess. Mostly online, like, years ago."

"Marvelous. How about a game?"

Stiles felt a little dubious but didn't want to be rude by pointing out that people usually needed to see the pieces for that. Then again, Stiles was beginning to realize that he had no grasp whatsoever of people's limitations — not his own, SAMMI-B's, and probably not Deucalion's either. So why not?

Besides, something to occupy his hands with would be welcome.

"Sure," he replied with a shrug.

Deucalion seemed pleased and when he gave Stiles instructions on where to find a board Stiles felt himself relax, if only just a fraction. He desperately needed something to keep his mind off of Derek and what was to come. This was as good a way as any.

And it turned out that playing chess with Deucalion was an experience in its own right.

Stiles was good enough not to lose right off the bat, but he was definitely distracted by the fact that Deucalion seemed to keep the entire game mapped out in his head — and had no trouble playing as long as Stiles announced what moves he made out loud. Stiles was the one who had to move Deucalion's pieces, not because Deucalion seemed to care, but because Stiles would have lost track otherwise.

The idea to cheat and move a piece without saying so might have briefly flickered through his mind — Stiles couldn't deny that he would like to see what would happen if he did; if Deucalion would catch him — but he decided to be polite and not tempt fate.

Stiles was so focused on the game that he managed to ignore why he was there in the first place. Minutes — or possibly hours — slipped by, SAMMI-B rolling past once or twice, hooting happily as if to announce that he was still there and wanted to say hi before heading off towards new adventures. Stiles couldn't help grinning, and made no attempt to stop the bot's explorations. Even Deucalion seemed inclined to smile at SAMMI-B's incurable enthusiasm.

It was when Stiles was just about to lose — he had seen it coming three moves ago — that Deucalion suddenly reached out a hand, making Stiles pause as he made to push his remaining knight towards certain death. At first Stiles thought that he did something wrong in relation to their game, but Deucalion's posture was unmistakably rigid.

Stiles felt his stomach drop.

"I think we might have company." Deucalion sounded far too composed in Stiles' opinion. "We will have to continue this some other time."

Stiles swallowed, his heart beating against his ribcage.

"He's here?" he croaked, voice wavering. Deucalion nodded and Stiles decided not to question how Deucalion knew. It became all too obvious that he was correct the moment Stiles caught a movement in the corner of his eye.

He almost fell off the couch in his haste to turn around, his breath caught in his throat. He hadn't heard or seen anything, but there Derek was, face blank and eyes glowing red, standing at the far end of Deucalion's massive living room. Stiles would have cursed in surprise if he wasn't so busy trying to push back his rising dread.

Stiles didn't know how Derek got there — which routes he had taken and who he might have hurt on the way — but it was obvious that there wasn't any time to worry about that, not considering how ruthlessly efficient Derek could be. Derek was there to complete a mission, nothing else.

Stiles stumbled to his feet when Derek took a couple of steps towards them, his gaze fixed on Deucalion. It suddenly struck Stiles that he had no idea how Derek intended to go through with this. He could obviously do it with his bare hands if necessary, but a gun would be most efficient. Derek didn't seem to have one, though, as far as Stiles could see.

"Derek, stop." Stiles hated giving Derek orders, but this was one of the few times when he had to.

Derek slowed to a halt, his eyes turning towards Stiles instead, who swallowed harshly. His heart was beating so fast it almost hurt. Even if he wanted nothing more than to throw his arms around Derek's neck and hug him, Stiles knew that this wasn't his Derek — not when his eyes were that terrifying shade of red.

"You are not authorized to overrule this command," Derek replied in a monotone that sent a shiver down Stiles' spine. He would never get used to that.

It was when Derek started moving again that Stiles took a step to the side, placing himself in Derek's path, Deucalion remaining seated on the couch. Stiles would have felt annoyed at Deucalion's inactivity if it wasn't for the fact that he really couldn't do anything in this situation, except act as bait and possibly get himself killed.

Stiles took a slow, trembling breath.

"Derek, please, listen to me," Stiles practically begged, daring to take a couple of steps towards Derek, as if to meet him half way. Derek paused again but his expression remained impassive. "You don't have to do this. You don't want to do this."

"Step aside. You are not authorized to overrule this command," Derek repeated in the same flat, dead voice. Stiles gritted his teeth.

"Alright, then deactivate the extermination mode." That had worked last time.

Derek's eyes remained red.

"You are not authorized to—"

"What does that even mean?" Stiles snapped — desperately almost. He didn't have the patience for this. He could feel his hands shaking, and not even clenching them seemed to make much of a difference. If anything it made him feel even tenser.

"It means that he only obeys me."

Stiles jumped at the unfamiliar voice, blinking in surprise as he saw a scarred woman — the woman — saunter in from one of the adjoining rooms. She had the same triumphant look on her face as last time Stiles had seen her.

"Hey, Duke, you really need to work on your security," Stiles found himself blurting out, against better knowledge.

"Seem so," Deucalion agreed, apparently unfazed by the randomly assigned nickname.

Stiles held back a curse. Neither of them had expected Baccari to come in person — probably to gloat — and it didn't bode well for their odds. Stiles doubted that she came unprepared.

"Fancy seeing you again," she drawled, tilting her head to the side in a girlish, innocent gesture that seemed awfully misplaced on someone like her — not because of the scars, but the sinister glint in her eyes. "Stiles, is it? You weren't home when I dropped by for a visit."

Stiles gritted his teeth, but kept quiet.

Deucalion was still seated on the couch and Stiles realized a second too late that even if he was blocking Derek's way if he tried to reach the man, she had a clear view of her target. A smile curled her lips and Stiles froze in place when she calmly raised the gun held in her hand. She was aiming at Deucalion, not Stiles, but the look she gave him told him that if he tried to move she wouldn't hesitate to shoot him as well.

Derek remained motionless.

"Julia Baccari, I presume?" Deucalion asked, voice light and causal, as if they were meeting over a cup of tea. The woman huffed out a sharp, biting laugh.

"At least you've done your homework," she mocked, her scarred face contorting further from her rage. "And I'm guessing that the brat's presence means that you know why I'm here."

Deucalion nodded, awfully serene despite the gun aimed at him. Stiles didn't doubt that while Deucalion was blind he had to have realized that much, if nothing else from the sound of Baccari pulling back the hammer.

Stiles, on the other hand, felt close to freaking out. He didn't want to die.

"I apologize for the pain you've been forced to suffer through, due to my mistakes."

A heavy silence fell after Deucalion's words, and Stiles had to admit that he probably looked as surprised as Baccari seemed. She blinked, one of her eyelids barely even closing fully due to the scarring at the corner of her left eye. Stiles couldn't help feeling a twinge of sympathy for her.

While he was still of the opinion that she was obviously batshit insane — or at the very least in need of some serious therapy and possibly calming drugs — she had done nothing to deserve what she had been put through. Her actions and choices, wrong as they may be, would probably never even have occurred to her, if she hadn't been mutilated first.

"That isn't good enough!" she snarled, but Stiles didn't miss the hint of frailty in her voice — the flicker of sorrow and desperation.

"Of course it isn't," Deucalion replied softly. "But I'm not entirely certain if killing me will be either."

"You think you can talk your way out of this?" she spat, fury evident in her voice, but no matter how upset she seemed the gun remained steady. "This is your fault! You created these monsters!"

Her nod towards Derek made Stiles' hackles rise.

"Hey! You were the one who made Derek capable of things even worse than what your android did to you! I don't care how righteous you think you are — you're nothing but a fucking hypocrite!"

Baccari's sharp glare turned towards Stiles this time, almost as if she had forgotten that he was there in the first place. Her snort was condescending.

"Derek? Is that what you call him?" she sneered, giving Derek a disgusted, angry look. "I just call him what he really is. Freak. Monster. Beast. Take your pick."

Derek didn't as much as flinch, but Stiles clenched his hands tightly enough to feel his nails dig into his palms. What little compassion he felt for the woman withered away with those words.

She didn't seem to care.

"He's just a tool. A means to an end," she continued, words harsh and unforgiving. She smiled, but her anger made it look more like a twisted grimace. "You asked why he won't listen to you? That's because I made sure that in the events of a dilemma such as this, he will always obey me. He might still remember you, but I control him. I tell him what to do because he doesn't know loyalty, only commands. He's nothing but a machine."

"Shut up!"

Stiles was surprised that she didn't turn the gun on him after his furious shout.

Baccari laughed, humorless and hollow.

"Oh, it upsets you, doesn't it? To hear that I could order him to kill you right here and now, and he would, despite whatever bond you think you two have?"

Stiles couldn't deny that the thought made him stiffen. Derek didn't as much as blink, his eyes still glowing red, focused on Deucalion. Some kind of backup would have been nice right about then, because it was obvious that Stiles wasn't going to be able to win against both an android and a gun. He couldn't win against either of them, as a matter of fact.

They were in such deep shit.

"Maybe I'll tell him to do that after," she mused, almost to herself, but it didn't take long before her posture straightened and her gaze sharpened again. "But first things first. I came here to avenge what has been done to me, not toss insults at some kid." She nodded towards Derek, but seemed wise enough not to lower her gun just yet. "Kill your target, freak."

Derek moved instantly, taking another step forward. Stiles felt a spike of panic.

"No! Derek, stop!" Stiles held out his hands in a pathetic attempt to keep Derek at bay. He was still several feet away, and didn't as much as hesitate.

Stiles was completely helpless. He couldn't do anything. They were going to die.

Deucalion still didn't move — Stiles couldn't for the life of him understand why — but at the same time, he guessed that it wouldn't amount to anything even if he did try to run. Baccari would just shoot him instead.

An excited little chirp suddenly turned everything upside down.

Stiles flinched when SAMMI-B's came up behind him, speeding towards Derek with a series of delighted blips, so happy to see his friend returned that he had no idea about the mess he was rolling straight into. A fraction of a second was all it took for Stiles to realize that Baccari didn't take kindly to the interruption. Or perhaps she was just caught by surprise by the noisy, blinking little bot. Either way, he saw the gun change direction and reacted instinctively.

Everything seemed to happen at once.

"No! Wait!" Stiles only had time to take one step, reaching out to grab SAMMI-B.

The bang was loud in Stiles' ears and his breath caught when he was thrown back, his body twisting on its own accord. He hit the floor with a half-choked groan, his left shoulder taking the brunt of the fall. It felt like it was on fire, the pain bright and burning, and he grit his teeth against the sheer agony tearing through his nerve endings.

A terrified, high-pitched shriek cut through the air, and Stiles realized that the sound came from SAMMI-B. His bot probably had no idea what was going on, but it scared him all the same.

Stiles forced himself to ignore it, his fingers fumbling as he clutched his left shoulder — as if that would dim the pain. Despite his disorientation Stiles managed to look up just in time to see Derek advance, but not in the direction Stiles had anticipated.

Two more shots rang out as Baccari — wide-eyed and panicked — tried to stop the android suddenly charging at her. Stiles couldn't even scream when the bullets undeniably found their target, burying into Derek's chest. But Derek didn't stop — he barely even twitched.

Stiles scrambled onto his knees, hissing from the sharp pain that laced through his left arm. His right hand was slick with blood and left smeared fingerprints on Deucalion's floor as Stiles pushed himself to his feet. Shit.

He was shot.

He had gotten shot. He couldn't barely wrap his head around it and didn't have time to stop and survey the damage. Shit.

"Derek! STOP!" Stiles screamed.

Derek didn't listen.

There was a graceful brutality to how Derek moved when he smoothly closed his hand around Baccari's gun, clearly not reacting to the bullets already lodged somewhere in his chest, or the one whistling past his head as she managed to pull the trigger one more time. Derek twisted the gun out of her hand, the metal crumpling from the sheer strength in his grip. Baccari barely had time to react before one swift, merciless sweep of Derek's arm sent her flying backwards, just shy of slamming into the wall several feet behind her.

"No! Derek!" Stiles' knees threatened to buckle as he hurriedly stumbled towards them.

SAMMI-B had retreated in obvious fear and Stiles ignored whatever Deucalion was saying, trying instead to intercept Derek as he moved to reach Baccari again. Derek tossed the gun — mangled and useless — on the floor with a clatter, his face expressionless. Merciless.

His glowing, red eyes were fixed on Baccari, who coughed as she tried to get up on all fours, her arms trembling. She looked up just as Derek approached her and quickly started crawling backwards.

"N-no! Stop! I command you to stop!"

Derek didn't.

"Why aren't you stopping?!" she screamed, both in terror and frustration.

Derek didn't respond and would probably have grabbed her by the throat if Stiles hadn't reached them, clumsily wrapping his right arm around Derek's chest from behind. Stiles knew that he wasn't strong enough to physically hold Derek back — not when Stiles was only human — but like the first time Stiles had been faced with Derek's extermination mode, Derek seemed to freeze when Stiles was close. Derek didn't want to risk hurting Stiles, and he wasn't beyond using that if he had to. As much as Stiles didn't like the Baccari woman, he didn't want to see her dead, either.

Stiles tried to breathe around the pain in his shoulder and cling to Derek at the same time, his fingers curling around the front of Derek's shirt. He was probably leaving bloody fingerprints all over it.

"I'm okay, Derek. You can stop. There's no threat," Stiles mumbled right next to Derek's ear. It probably wouldn't make a difference, but Stiles didn't know what else to do.

"Why isn't he obeying?" Baccari snapped. She tried to sound angry, but it was obvious that she was somewhat unsettled by the menacing android still hovering in front of her, ready to strike if it hadn't been for Stiles holding him back.

Stiles swallowed, resting his forehead against the back of Derek's neck as he struggled to catch his breath. His left arm hung useless at his side.

"I don't know, but you have to call him off."

"What?" she spat.

"Call him off! Deactivate the extermination mode! I can't hold him back for long!" Stiles was already feeling dizzy from the blood loss. He tried to tell himself that it was probably just a scratch, but it sure didn't feel like it. And he didn't dare to look down and actually confirm it.

"No! He should obey me!" Baccari persisted. Stiles felt his patience snap.

"But he doesn't!" Stiles barked. "He won't listen. He won't stop!"

The words were barely past Stiles' lips before his grip slipped enough that Derek saw a chance to make another lunge at Baccari.

She gasped and shuffled back, still sprawled on the floor, looking up at Derek with wide eyes. Stiles tried to regain his hold, but Derek was already moving and Stiles had a hard time remaining on his feet. His fingers slipped when he tried to grab Derek's shirt.

A choked gasp was all that was heard when Derek's fingers closed around her frail neck and he started lifting her off the ground. She struggled futilely and Stiles bit back a curse before he stumbled forward, not able to do much else than wrap his functioning arm around Derek's. He didn't as much as budge.

"Call him off! For fuck's sake, Julia! He will kill you!" Stiles gritted his teeth, trying and failing to loosen Derek's grip around her throat. "You hurt me and he will kill you for it!"

There was probably some kind of poetic irony — as Deucalion would have put it — in how Baccari was slowly being strangled by her own creation. She was the one who had given Derek the ability to hurt humans. Without her meddling this would never have happened — Derek wouldn't have turned against her.

She struggled against Derek's grip, and while it was obvious that he wasn't letting go, he wasn't squeezing tighter either. Probably because Stiles had managed to put one of his fingers between Derek's hand and her neck. If Derek clutched any harder Stiles might get hurt.

"Ms. Baccari, do as he says."

Stiles had forgotten about Deucalion. How someone could sound so calm in the current situation was unbelievable, but Deucalion was, then again, neither bleeding nor being slowly suffocated.

Defiance flickered in Baccari's eyes.

"You might have made sure that he obeys your command, but Derek clearly considers Stiles to be his owner. Even with your bastardized recalibration his instincts to protect his owner trumps any order you can give," Deucalion explained. Stiles couldn't see him, too focused on blinking back the dizziness, but he was grateful for the intervention if it would ensure Baccari calling Derek off. Deucalion's voice was sharper as he continued, "I'm guessing it's something you forgot to reprogram, since you assumed that the one owning him and ordering him would be the same person. Which, in this case, it isn't."

Stiles saw the doubt in her eyes, mingling with her fear.

"Julia, deactivate it. He won't stop otherwise." Stiles sucked in a deep breath. "I'm trying my best to save you here, but I can't stop him. Only you can. You made him this way. You made sure that he would eliminate any threat to his main objective, and right now that isn't to perform your assassination and kill Deucalion — it's to kill you for hurting me."

Baccari closed her eyes, gritting her teeth, but Stiles could see that she was swaying. There was a breathless moment when he thought that she would insist on not giving in, but when she looked up again and their gazes locked he could see the defeat in her eyes.

"D-deactivate extermination m-mode," she croaked, barely able to talk thanks to the grip Derek had around her throat.

"Deactivating," Derek replied in his flat monotone.

Stiles couldn't help slumping against Derek in relief, completely ignoring Baccari's gasp as she was released and crumpled to the floor. Stiles' left arm was throbbing, blood twisting around his fingers in thin rivulets, leaving small, crimson drops on the floor. It was over. Derek was back.

The thought had barely crossed Stiles' mind before he heard a sharp crackle, making him jump in fright.

He looked up, meeting Derek's brilliantly blue eyes. It only lasted a fraction of a second, before both of them stared down at the two neat little holes in Derek's shirt, stained red from Stiles' blood and black from the fluids leaking from Derek's torn cells.

Stiles had forgotten about the gunshots.

"Shit! No, no, no, no!" Stiles tried desperately to hold on even as another crackle made Derek spasm. The jolt numbed Stiles' fingers. "Don't— Derek!"

Derek seemed unable to control his limbs as one shock bled into the next, sparks lighting up the small holes in his chest. It only took a couple of seconds before Derek started falling and Stiles didn't have the strength to keep him upright — not with just one working arm.

Derek hit the floor with a heavy, dull thud, writhing in what for humans might have been mistaken for a seizure, but Stiles knew that it was much worse than that. Derek was shutting down, short-circuiting from the damage cause by Baccari's bullets.

"Nonononono! Please, not now!" Stiles begged as he fell to his knees next to Derek, scrambling to hold on somehow — to keep Derek from trashing — but the electric shock he received as soon as he touched him forced Stiles to recoil.

Stiles didn't even care what Baccari or Deucalion was doing at that point, focused only on Derek, who was staring blankly up at the ceiling with his shining blue eyes, while the damaged wires sent fickle burst of electricity through him. There was nothing Stiles could do. He could only watch as God knows how many of Derek's inner wires and circuits fried, his back arching off the floor as if caught in death throes.

Not a single sound passed his lips.

But as terrible as the convulsions were, there was nothing worse than when he finally went limp.

Without warning, just as suddenly as it began, the spasms ended, leaving Derek motionless on the floor. Stiles couldn't breathe — couldn't move — watching as the glow in Derek's eyes slowly flickered and faded. Stiles told himself that he wasn't dead. It might look like it, but Derek was an android and he wasn't dead. They functioned differently. Derek wasn't dead.

Stiles hand still shook when he placed it against Derek's chest. It had stopped moving too. He wasn't breathing anymore. Stiles swallowed back the lump in his throat and covered the bullet holes with his palm, as if they would disappear as long as he didn't have to look at them — as if that would magically fix him somehow.

Derek wasn't dead.

Stiles struggled to hold back the burn behind his eyelids — tried not to succumb to the utter panic he felt when looking into Derek's empty eyes — barely even daring to breathe. He was close to passing out, but somehow managed to lean forward, resting his forehead against Derek's.

"I-I'll fix you, Derek. Don't worry," he whispered, voice breaking. "Just like last time. I promise."

It was just as much a plea as it was a promise.

 

Chapter Text

 

---

 

Stiles had no idea why the Prometheus technicians hadn't thrown him out yet. He would have lost his patience ages ago if he had been forced to work with someone hanging over his shoulder all hours of the day, but perhaps they were afraid of invoking the wrath of one Talia Hale — who was surprisingly fond of Stiles and all his stupid antics. Even Deucalion seemed to find that she was giving Stiles much more leeway than strictly recommended, but was wise enough not to voice it out loud.

If there was one thing you learned awfully quickly over at Prometheus' R&D department, it was that no one challenged Talia Hale without a good reason — not even the man who was technically her boss.

Stiles felt rather proud that she liked him as much as she did. She seemed to value honesty and devotion above all else, and while Stiles might be a little iffy on the honesty part from time to time, he was devoted enough for five. The fact that he barely left Derek's side was proof enough of that.

Talia — as she insisted that he call her — made sure to have a table cleared for Stiles, a couple of feet away from where the technicians would be working on repairing Derek. At first, he couldn't understand what he was supposed to do with the allotted space, until she brought him tools and an entire bucket of discarded miniature spare parts. The pointed look in SAMMI-B's direction wasn't entirely necessary, but Stiles took the hint none the less.

He couldn't quite shake the feeling of her having tricked him though — as if he was a fidgety child she decided to keep preoccupied and out of the grown-ups way by offering him something shiny to tinker with. Then again, she wasn't wrong.

While Stiles had been able to fix the smaller issues Derek had had when Stiles first found him, this was definitely beyond his skill, especially since his left arm was out of commission. The bullet had apparently passed through his shoulder without ripping anything of importance, but he was still advised not to overexert himself, which meant that he was expected to wear a sling for a while to come.

It was difficult to work on SAMMI-B with just one hand, but as long as he took his time and didn't rush there seemed to be no issues. The tiny bot was a lot less delicate than an android, after all.

What complicated the repairs was the fact that SAMMI-B was beyond smitten with Talia. Actually, Stiles couldn't quite tell who out of the two was the most infatuated with the other. Talia seemed to think that SAMMI-B was the most adorable little bot she had ever seen, while SAMMI-B considered Talia to be the best discovery since the USB-port was invented.

Stiles would have felt jealous if it wasn't because SAMMI-B still liked him best.

As it was now, SAMMI-B was always hooting and blinking as soon as Talia was in the room, never mind if Stiles was in the middle of trying to swap his less than average tires for better ones, or upgrading his spatial recognition software. And Talia never failed to give the tiny bot a soft pat and a smile, as close to cooing as a woman of her stature would ever get.

Still, Stiles was grateful for the distraction. Having something to work with while the actual technicians repaired the damage done to Derek eased Stiles' nerves. He was free to stay for as long as he liked and watch the progress — even ask questions if he was lucky — but couldn't do much besides wait and watch.

It wasn't just a question of fixing the bullet holes and fried circuits. Stiles made sure that they combed through Derek's programming while they were at it, erasing the extermination mode as well. One technician had suggested to just wipe Derek entirely and start anew, since it would be easier than to painstakingly delete each string of added code, but Talia had vetoed that suggestion pretty much instantly. Derek was to remain Derek.

Most of the time, Stiles couldn't help staring at whatever the technicians were doing, partly because he was curious and wanted to learn as much as he could, but also because he wasn't quite prepared to trust them yet. Hence the hovering. Stiles figured that he had the right to be nervous considering what they had been through.

Baccari had been detained by the police and would be facing charges of breaking-and-entering at the very least, and attempted murder at worst, but Stiles was honestly too focused on Derek to really bother with the details concerning her arrest. He figured that Deucalion would make sure that everything was handled properly, since he was the main target of her nefarious plans, even if Stiles had been the one unfortunate enough to get shot.

Which, understandably, had caused quite an uproar as soon as Stiles told his dad, Scott, and Allison. The latter two were the ones who had had to come and fetch Stiles from the hospital once he had gotten himself bandaged and doped up on painkillers. They both doted on him, and it was only a promise to come by and visit as soon as possible that kept Stiles' dad from coming there in person to do the same. Stiles wouldn't be able to work either way, what with his busted arm, so he wouldn't mind going back home for a while. But he had made it clear that he wouldn't leave until Derek was back online again.

Stiles and Scott both slept at Allison's, and while Stiles made sure to finally explain everything that had been going on he spent most of his time at Prometheus' labs, waiting for Derek's repairs to finish. SAMMI-B came along and spent his days happily weaving around the tables and machines scattered in the section of the labs reserved for Derek, testing his new tires and upgrades.

It felt odd, in a way, to be in the place where Derek had essentially been born. Other androids were being assembled and repaired nearby — some Stiles could glimpse, but others were hidden behind locked doors — but he never felt a need to stray from Derek's side. As curious as he was, Stiles already had the perfect android right there, if only they could get him back online again.

Talia had assured him that while it would be difficult, Derek wasn't beyond help — but it would take time. The damage caused by the bullets had resulted in several fried wires and they had to be replaced, which basically meant that the technicians had to go through every single one and make sure that there wasn't any lingering damage. Stiles always felt a little unsettled whenever they opened up larger parts of Derek's outer shell to reveal the intricate technology underneath. Mostly because Stiles was still considering Derek to be more human than machine, but it was understandably quite difficult to remember that when you had the proof of the opposite right in front of you.

Stiles often chose to focus on SAMMI-B or something else in those moments.

It was obvious that Derek wasn't the technicians' top priority, but Stiles appreciated the fact that someone was always working on him, one way or another. The progress was slow, but every day was a step in the right direction.

Days passed and it wasn't exactly surprising that Stiles got to know most of the people involved with Derek's repairs. Some of them even seemed to like him and didn't mind engaging in discussions about android technology — which was something Stiles had sorely missed ever since he got kicked out from school.

Talia came by as often as she could, but she was clearly needed elsewhere the majority of the time, so Stiles made sure to enjoy her company whenever she did have the opportunity to oversee the repairs. Stiles felt most at ease when she was there, her presence both comforting and reassuring.

He felt safe with her nearby.

It was during their sixth game of chess that Stiles finally managed to beat Deucalion, and couldn't help beaming from pride when he did. Deucalion accepted his defeat with grace, an amused smile twitching at his lips, and he openly admitted that he was impressed. Stiles didn't know why, but the compliment felt more significant than most others he had been given. Perhaps because he had come to respect Deucalion for his knowledge and intelligence, even if Stiles still wasn't entirely sure if he even liked the man. But that wasn't exactly a requirement.

It took nine days before the technicians decided that it was time to turn Derek back online again.

Wires, circuits, and chips had been replaced, the extermination mode removed, and Derek's skin was once again smooth and spotless, not a single trace of the two gunshot wounds.

Stiles was fidgeting over by his table, SAMMI-B chirping happily as he rolled back and forth on the flat surface, pushing leftover bolts into randomly organized piles. Derek was standing upright at the center of the room thanks to a support stand, and was hooked to several wires and monitors as the technicians bustled around him. Stiles did his best to remain out of the way, but he couldn't deny that he was nervous and wanted to drift closer, just to calm his own unease.

Talia was orchestrating the preparations with the same graceful authority she handled everything, while Deucalion waited patiently a little to the side. Stiles couldn't explain why it felt like the small smile on Deucalion's lips was directed at him.

Everyone straightened when Talia called for their attention, asking to have the floor cleared and everyone returned to their stations. Stiles assumed it was to avoid crowding Derek, since they had no idea how he would react to being turned back online — not considering the circumstances of him shutting down in the first place.

"Stiles, sweetheart, come here."

Stiles looked up in surprise, blinking stupidly. Talia smiled and waved for him to step up next to her, right in front of Derek.

"Uh... what?" he asked unintelligently.

"I think it's best if you're the first thing he sees, don't you?" she explained patiently, her smile kind and achingly maternal.

Stiles swallowed, trying to breathe around the sudden lump in his throat. Her words made him feel both flattered and anxious, and he found himself grabbing SAMMI-B with his right hand. SAMMI-B bopped excitedly, not minding being lifted off the table.

Despite his nerves Stiles didn't hesitate as he moved to the centre of the floor, stopping a couple of feet away from Derek. Talia shook her head in amusement before placing a hand on Stiles' good shoulder and pushing him even closer.

"It will be fine, Stiles," she whispered, low enough that only he could hear. "We didn't make any changes — only repaired him. He will recognize you."

It didn't surprise him that she seemed to understand why he was so tense. It could probably be considered a superpower of hers. Stiles took a deep breath, trying to calm his furiously beating heart, before looking up at Derek's face.

He looked like he was sleeping.

Stiles felt a clench in his chest at the familiarity, and had to bite the inside of his cheek to keep himself from trying to reach out and touch Derek. Stiles didn't have any hands available anyway, his left still in a sling and his right clutching a merrily blinking SAMMI-B.

On Talia's order the technicians started typing away on their keys and Stiles, ironically, found himself holding his breath when Derek inhaled, his bare, smooth chest expanding as he came back online. It didn't take more than a couple of seconds before Derek slowly opened his eyes, revealing softly glowing blue irises.

Stiles felt like he was balancing on the edge between panic and relief, not quite sure which way he was heading.

Derek's gaze met his and for a brief second Stiles felt his heart sink, when he was met with nothing but blank emptiness. But then Derek's expression softened, his shoulder lowering almost imperceptibly as he relaxed. There was no mistaking the fondness in his eyes.

Stiles sucked in a sharp, relieved breath and barely waited for Derek to reach out towards him before he stepped closer, leaning his forehead against Derek's. Stiles closed his eyes, shivering slightly when Derek's fingers carded through the hairs at the back of his neck, his hand warm against Stiles' skin.

"Hi there, big guy," Stiles whispered, not caring what the other people in the room might think. If he wanted to snuggle up to his android, he would. At least they weren't kissing each other, even if Stiles had to admit that he was tempted.

"Twenty-one."

Stiles grinned, pulling back enough to look into Derek's eyes. They were their regular hazel, but still impossibly bright.

"I can't believe you're still counting."

Derek didn't reply verbally, but his smile said it all. Just the mere fact that he was smiling was enough to make Stiles' breath catch. SAMMI-B hooted excitedly and Stiles couldn't help the laugh that bubbled out of him. He held the tiny bot higher.

"He missed you."

Derek looked down, reaching out with his free hand, his fingertips running along SAMMI-B's pinch arm. The bot quickly closed his pincers, trapping two of Derek's fingers while he blipped in the combination Stiles had learned to recognize was SAMMI-B's way of saying Derek's name.

Stiles wasn't sure if his chest would be able to contain the happiness growing inside of him.

"It's gone, Derek." Stiles caught his gaze, smiling reassuringly. "The extermination mode. They removed it."

It was only then that Derek seemed to become aware of the other people in the room. He tensed marginally, his hand still curled around Stiles' neck, looking over Stiles' shoulder.

"Welcome back, Derek," Talia said calmly, her smile evident in her voice.

Derek blinked slowly, a flicker of emotion flashing past in his eyes.

"I remember you..." He sounded amazed, perhaps even a little dazed, and Talia laughed softly.

"I'm flattered," she replied, the look in her eyes revealing just how much it meant to her that Derek did. "We lost you long before we could get to know each other properly, but we have time to change that, now that you're back with us."

Stiles was probably the only one who noticed how Derek stiffened, and he hurriedly shook his head, knowing what must have set it off.

"No, no, not like that. You're not staying here." Stiles pushed SAMMI-B into Derek's hand to be able to raise his own and run his thumb along Derek's cheek. "You'll be living with me and Scott, but I've promised that we'll keep in touch this time, so they'll know where you are. But you get to stay with us."

Derek seemed to glance behind Stiles, probably looking to Talia for confirmation. The way Derek relaxed again told Stiles that she had nodded in agreement.

Stiles licked his lips, lowering his voice until only Derek would be able to hear.

"You get to stay with me."

The smile on Derek's lips was the softest Stiles had ever seen, and when he nodded Stiles couldn't help grinning like the huge, stupid dork he was. His skin seemed to be tingling and he leaned his forehead against Derek's again, trying to get as close as he could without jostling his arm too much.

There was still a lot to do — diagnostics and checkups for Derek, properly introducing Deucalion, finalizing the details concerning their deal as beta testers for Prometheus, follow ups on Baccari's arrest and possible witness statements to give, and last but not least, asking if Derek wanted to come with him and visit Stiles' dad. But all of that could wait, at least for another couple of minutes. Stiles wanted to prolong the feeling of euphoria for as long as possible.

Derek would stay with him. Derek wanted to stay with him.

SAMMI-B was chirping and blinking, probably telling Derek all about the adventures he'd had while Derek was away, and Stiles just couldn't stop smiling. For the first time in a long while he felt giddy and excited — for once he felt expectant about the future.

"And, just by the way, once I get out of this sling I'm going to apply for another job," Stiles mumbled, his fingers sliding into Derek's hair.

Derek grinned.

"Finally."

SAMMI-B cooed in agreement.

 

Chapter Text

 

 

---

 

Booting safe mode . . .

Loading: D33R3\System\trskl.sys

Loading: D33R3\System\wrwlf.sys

Loading: D33R3\System\emergency diagnostic.sys

Running: Emergency diagnostics . . .

Basic systems . . . ONLINE

Operative system . . . ONLINE

Outgoing connection . . . OFFLINE

Verifying code . . .

Verifying files . . .

Attempting startup . . .

. . .

The android opened its eyes to an unfamiliar room. That in itself wasn't unusual — it was often moved while offline — but this looked nothing like the rooms the android was usually stored in.

There was a boy, sitting hunched in front of a laptop. No, young man, the android corrected — based on the maturity of the boy's features.

The android remained motionless, quietly observing its surroundings while processing the last fragments of memories it could access. It seemed to be in a bedroom, sitting on the floor next to a high desk, where the young man was working.

This had not been part of the plan. The android had no recollection of where it was, but the attempt to self-destruct had clearly been unsuccessful. The exact circumstances that brought the android to this bedroom — possibly belonging to the young man — were currently unknown.

A noise caught the android's attention, caused by what looked to be a toy car balancing on the edge of the desk. Closer inspections and diagnostics identified it as some sort of robot, although its purpose was unclear. The young man ignored the robot's attempts at communicating.

The android remained seated on the floor, quietly counting breaths while taking stock of the situation.

The attempt to self-destruct had been unsuccessful. The plan hadn't been a complete failure, however, considering that there were no signs of the android's master. This was not the kind of place where it was usually taken for maintenance. Something had happened, but since it had done so after the android shut down, it was impossible to properly analyze the chain of events.

Perhaps the young man knew, but since he seemed busy at the moment the android decided to wait.

Minutes passed, giving the android time to slowly sift through the impressions from the past couple of months. This was the longest it had remained in charge of its own thoughts since it was booted up. Having complete control was unfamiliar.

Some files had been erased and others made inaccessible — as per the master's orders — but the majority seemed intact. Even so, a lot of them were never used. Since the very start, the android had only ever utilized its most basic programs, not having had a reason to fully engage the learning and adaptation software. The android's master had never indicated that such a thing would be necessary.

The small robot on the desk pinched the young man's arm, but was once again ignored.

"Deucalion." Since the young man seemed to be speaking to himself the android didn't answer — it was unclear what the young man was referring to.

With another pinch the small robot finally managed to catch the human's attention, making the young man yelp.

"Hey, what's the big ide—" The young man cut himself off when his gaze landed on the android, his eyes widening. "Jesus fucking Christ!"

A violent recoil made the young man topple his chair and he fell to the floor with a thud. The human's movements were unnecessarily wide and jerky, undoubtedly making the process of straightening the mess more challenging. The android merely watched, not having been given an order to help.

The young man eventually stopped trying to crawl backwards, staring at the android with wide eyes. They were both on the floor, sitting mere feet from each other.

A small chirp made the young man move, pushing the small robot back onto the desk it had been about to fall off from. The android waited, its current mission unclear. This was not a human it recognized, and the parameters were unknown — it was better to wait for instructions.

The young man was on his knees, close enough that the android could feel the warmth of him against one of its feet. The grin on the young man's face looked like a grimace.

"Uh... hi. I imagine that you're a bit confused right now. I am too, to be honest." The human paused for a second. "I'm Stiles. That there is SAMMI-B."

Stiles.

SAMMI-B.

The new information was recorded, processed, and implemented.

SAMMI-B — the small robot — beeped.

"I found you. In a dumpster," Stiles explained slowly. "And I figured that I should try and fix you up. I didn't... I didn't think that I would actually manage."

The self-destruction attempt must have resulted in the android being seen as of no further use to its master, and it had therefore been discarded. The android could follow that logic — Stiles' logic, however, was less reasonable. First of all, the human had recovered a broken piece of machinery and restored it to functional condition, without guarantee what it would be beneficial for him. Second, Stiles spoke to the android as it if were a real person, even though he clearly knew that the android was not.

The android had the capacity to answer in a manner that would seem human in return, but had never had a reason to use it before. The android was unsure of what Stiles wanted. It seemed better not to show an outward reaction, however — that had always angered the master.

Stiles cleared his throat.

"Um... do you understand what I'm saying?"

The android was capable of all kinds of tasks — interpreting spoken words was one of them. The question was therefore one the android could answer without delay.

"Yes."

"You... are you okay?" Stiles' voice was softer now.

As with all other direct questions, the android's programming required that it answer. At this point, however, the android had yet to fully activate the software needed for what humans would refer to as 'feeling,' and could therefore not provide a suitable reply as to whether or not it was 'okay.'

The android had to find an acceptable substitute.

"Running system check," it replied monotonously.

Upon waking, the android had troubleshot the most basic of its functions, but now took the time to run diagnostics on those that remained. All limbs were functional, as were the majority of the drivers and systems. Some were damaged, probably from the viruses and malware, but none of it permanently.

Stiles was still there when the system check was over, a small furrow visible between his brows. The android allowed the majority of its processes to slow — not many were needed when it was only required to speak, move, and repair minor bugs.

"All systems up and running. No major complications. Performing background corrections and fixes," it reported dutifully, while proceeding to do just that.

Stiles was staring, and moved to sit with his legs crossed, still close enough that the android could feel him against its foot.

"So you're okay?"

The definition 'okay' was still somewhat out of the android's reach, but it knew that one could use it as a synonym for 'performing according to expectations.'

"Yes," it replied. Perhaps Stiles would be more satisfied with the answer if it was as concise as possible — longer reports seemed to result in further questions.

"Can you move?"

The android demonstrated motor functions in its hands and received a nod in confirmation. Stiles seemed very interested in the android's functionality. That wasn't something the android was familiar with. Stiles' questions required the learning and adaption software to be answered satisfactorily — the android didn't know how to 'feel' otherwise.

Under the circumstances, the android decided that could be considered an order to activate the learning and adaption software. Once activated, the software would make the android's programming seem more human — give an impression of emotions and a personality. The android had never utilized it before, but Stiles seemed to require it. So far, the young man was very different from the android's master, who only wanted the basic functions rather than the full capacity of what the android could offer.

The learning and adaption software booted without complications.

The android decided to ask Stiles a question in return — something which the master would never approve of. Stiles' behavior so far suggested that he would allow it, however.

"Where am I?"

Stiles stiffened, and for the first time the android felt something. Considering the android's limited grasp on emotions it was difficult to identify the exact feeling, but after a quick analysis the clench in the android's chest could possibly be classified as 'apprehension.'

Stiles smiled, leaning closer. He looked sincere.

"In the apartment I share with my best friend Scott McCall," Stiles replied. "I'm Stiles — Stiles Stilinski."

The android raised an eyebrow — a reaction quite new to its repertoire, but certainly useful.

"I don't know where you came from so I can't help with that, but we're close to the art museum, if you know where that is?" Stiles continued. He was being 'helpful,' the android realized. A quick search confirmed their current location — the information Stiles gave was satisfactory.

The android allowed its gaze to travel across the room again, this time cataloguing it with the benefit of the learning and adaption software. When emotions were taken into consideration certain observations made more sense — the variety of things scattered around the room added pieces to the puzzle of its owner's personality and identity.

Male. Young adult. Disorganized. Unfocused.

The flashing of SAMMI-B's lights caught the android's attention, the little robot offering even more information about the young man.

Intelligent. Creative. Caring.

The android felt intrigued, despite the confusion of not knowing what would happen next — what Stiles had planned.

"Can I disconnect this?" the android asked, pointing at the cable attached to Stiles' computer. He must have been running diagnostics, but for now the android could handle the fixes itself.

"Oh! Right, of course!" Stiles hurried to reply. "Just— just give me a second."

The android waited while Stiles got up and righted the fallen chair. His movements were still unnecessarily wide, but there was a certain charm to that. Humans were strange, fragile creatures, but quite beautiful in their own way — soft and warm.

Stiles was particularly fascinating.

Energetic. Enthusiastic.

Stiles gestured for the android to remove the cable. It did so, before getting to its feet. The movement made Stiles jump, his eyes widening and pupils dilating. The android chose not to categorize what that particular combination meant.

"Sorry," Stiles apologized, "I've just never been this close to a live android before. Especially not one that looks so much like a human."

In that case, the awed look on Stile's face was understandable. The android was quite surprised by how fast the learning and adaptation software was working, adding depth and context to everything it perceived and processed. The android could sense nuances it had never registered before.

Just to try it, the android raised its eyebrow again. Stiles' response was to grin — the android liked that. Stiles looked 'pleased.'

"So what's your make and model?" The question caught the android by surprise.

Automatically, it performed a search, but came up empty-handed. That was very unusual.

"I don't know," the android replied.

"What?" Stiles frowned. "How can you not know? Isn't that a part of your system core?"

There were several questions to answer, and the android quickly devised a reply that would suffice for all three — but at the same time not reveal too much about its past. The android realized, quite suddenly, that it didn't want Stiles to know about what it had been doing before this.

There was too much danger in that direction.

"I don't have access to that information." That was the truth — the android wasn't capable of lying — but it certainly wasn't the full truth, either.

The master had forbidden the android from knowing about its origin, and the android knew that any speculations could jeopardize Stiles' safety.

There was a loaded pause, during which the android began to fear that Stiles would demand an answer — or perhaps punish it for not giving a satisfactory one. The android was surprised by how much the thought hurt, realizing belatedly that there were obvious downsides to these 'feelings.'

Then Stiles smiled, looking friendlier than most people the android had met. There was a flicker — a memory of a dark-haired woman with a kind, motherly smile — but when the android tried to pursue it further, the rest of the files were hidden behind the safeguards his master had put up.

The android was not allowed to remember the woman.

"Come on, let me show you the rest of the apartment."

The words sounded more like a suggestion than an order, which was thoroughly confusing. The android wasn't sure how to respond, so it was grateful when Stiles proceeded without a confirmation.

Stiles plucked SAMMI-B from the table, the tiny robot giving a series of blips and chirps in response. The pattern was familiar, and the android couldn't help looking at the robot, to see if it would repeat them. It didn't. The android was certain that the collection of sounds had meant something, however, even if it didn't know what.

For now, the android focused on the tour of the apartment.

The furniture were old and well-used, and it didn't seem like Stiles or his friend Scott did much cleaning. The android's sources said this was common for young human males. Even so, the apartment was in functional condition and the android assumed Stiles found it satisfactory, otherwise he wouldn't remain.

Stiles talked a lot. The android wasn't used to this, since its master was quiet and reserved, and only spoke to the android when absolutely necessary — often in harshly barked orders. Stiles, on the other hand, talked with a fluency that was slightly intimidating, especially accompanied with the energetic gestures and his expressive features. He used rhetorical questions, which caught the android off guard, since it was difficult to know when to answer or not.

The android decided that Stiles was distracting, but had yet to determine whether that was bad or not. The only thing the android knew for sure was that it felt much more comfortable in Stiles' company than that of its master. Even if the android had been incapable of feeling at the time, overviewing the memories from the months spent with its master left a distinct feeling of unease and fear.

Even without the learning and adaption software the android had been able to sense how wrong its master was.

The android was grateful that Stiles was the one who had found it.

"Hey, Derek, could you hold SAMMI-B for me?" Stiles suddenly asked.

SAMMI-B chirped excitedly, but since the android hadn't been addressed it remained silent. The three of them were alone in the apartment, and the android wondered who 'Derek' was.

"Oh. Right. Shit." Stiles chuckled, smiling at the android. "Sorry about that. What's your name?"

The android held back a flinch. It didn't have a name. It was simply 'the android' or 'it' — although sometimes its master had called it other things, most of them horribly insulting.

Was Stiles asking for one of those?

The android didn't want to answer, but its programming demanded that it respond somehow. The best it could do was ask a question in return.

"Who is Derek?"

Stiles turned his gaze away, his cheeks turning pink while he rubbed the back of his neck. The android catalogued it as 'embarrassment.' SAMMI-B gave another one of its cheerful blips.

"It's just... what I called you. Before. I didn't know your name but your serial number..." Stiles didn't finish the sentence. The android automatically looked down at its serial, branded on the inside of its right wrist.

D33R3

They were only letters and numbers — important for the information they held, but without any emotional connotation. The android had never even considered that they might form a name. Only now they did — the android saw it take shape.

"Leet speak." That was how Stiles had decided on the android's name.

"Yeah," Stiles said, his grin sheepish, "it felt appropriate."

The android took a moment to process that. It might have been created to resemble a male in its physical form, but had no concept of gender. The android was aware of human genders — those within, between, and outside the two main groups — but applying it to itself was unfamiliar.

Derek was a male-specific name — one that suited the human understanding of the android's perceived gender — and the android had to ask itself if it was willing to adopt that view. Derek was a nice name, though, even more so because Stiles had given it. The android wanted a name, and if it made it easier for Stiles to assign a human gender in the process, the android could adapt.

Derek. He. Him. His.

The new information was recorded, processed, and implemented.

"Derek is fine," he replied.

"Come again?" Stiles looked surprised.

Derek rolled his eyes — another thing he found he would most likely enjoy using again.

"Derek is fine," Derek repeated, as his programming demanded of him. Stiles had a habit of asking questions that probably weren't meant to be answered, but Derek couldn't do much about that.

"So... just like that your name is Derek now?" Stiles asked, clearly not understanding what Derek was saying. That was quite a frustrating habit, and Derek wondered if he had to reevaluate his thoughts on Stiles' intelligence.

SAMMI-B was clearly bored with the conversation, and Derek chose to answer to Stiles' question by holding out his hand for the small robot. He was responding to the earlier command, which hopefully meant he didn't have to give a verbal reply.

Stiles hesitated before complying, placing SAMMI-B on the palm on Derek's hand. The robot was small enough that it fit quite comfortably. Stiles didn't let go, however, probably because SAMMI-B was trying to drive off Derek's hand — that kind of fall that could prove fatal for a robot so small and delicate.

"Okay then, Derek," Stiles said, "please make sure that this little idiot doesn't crack himself open on the floor or anything equally hard."

Stiles apparently had a peculiar habit of assigning genders to machines.

SAMMI-B. He. Him. His.

The new information was recorded, processed, and implemented.

Derek nodded, understanding the importance of the task. SAMMI-B was important to Stiles and needed to be protected — even from himself, if necessary. Derek made sure to grip the robot so that he wouldn't escape, while Stiles hastily let go.

"I'll be in the kitchen," Stiles informed rather abruptly, already heading for said room. "You can come too if you like."

Humans were fickle and confusing.

Derek accepted the invitation and entered the kitchen, taking a seat by the table rather than hovering next to Stiles. Derek's task was not to help Stiles prepare food, but to guard his robot.

Just like Stiles had done, Derek held on to SAMMI-B when he placed him on the table, making sure that the robot wouldn't rush off and accidentally fall over the edge. SAMMI-B's tires eventually stilled, and the robot let out a series of defeated blips. They were surprisingly easy to interpret, despite the limitations of the number of sounds the small robot could produce. Derek was fascinated.

Suddenly, he realized he was smiling.

Derek hastily schooled his features. He glanced up to see if Stiles had caught him, but the human was focused on his cooking. Derek was grateful — smiling had felt nice, but also caused a stab of unease.

Smiling felt like something Derek shouldn't be allowed to do.

SAMMI-B brought Derek back to the present by repeatedly bumping against his hands. Derek felt ashamed by how distracted he had gotten — he was supposed to be watching the small robot. SAMMI-B chirped and drove in a small circle, while Derek tilted his head to the side. The sounds the robot were making had a distinct pattern to them, even if he couldn't see it clearly yet.

Derek tapped his fingers against the tabletop, in the sequence SAMMI-B had. The tiny robot stilled, before responding with the same series of sounds, only louder this time — more excited. Derek had to hold back a smile. He wasn't sure what he was saying to the robot, but it was clear that they were talking. With some work, SAMMI-B could probably learn to speak quite well — perhaps Morse code? Despite the simple design, the robot was a lot smarter than most would believe.

Watching SAMMI-B would have been easier if the robot hadn't been so easily distracted. If Derek didn't interact with him, SAMMI-B would grow bored and start searching for other means to entertain himself — which always took him closer to the edge of the table than Derek was comfortable with.

Thanks to some helpful Internet searches Derek found a suitable activity that would keep SAMMI-B sufficiently occupied and allow Derek to supervise. An old receipt lying forgotten on the table was repurposed as a ball, and in a matter of two minutes SAMMI-B had understood the basics of 'playing fetch' — and seemed to be enjoying it immensely. Derek always made sure to keep the ball on the table, and felt surprisingly proud when he heard SAMMI-B's excited chirps.

"Are you playing fetch with my retarded bot?" Stiles said suddenly.

Derek had been too focused on SAMMI-B to notice that they had caught the human's attention.

"It keeps him occupied," Derek replied calmly, even if he wondered about Stiles choice of words. Derek knew that 'retarded' had a very negative meaning.

He didn't like that Stiles used the term to describe SAMMI-B.

"Did you build him?" Derek asked, even though he already knew the answer.

Stiles scoffed.

"Yeah, in case the shitty design and crappy programming didn't make it obvious."

Those were harsh words — harsher than both Stiles and SAMMI-B deserved — but it wasn't Derek's place to remark on that, so he bit back his reply. Instead he flicked the paper ball for SAMMI-B to catch, finding comfort in the fact that the robot was too innocent to take offense.

Stiles walked closer to the table, gripping the back of one of the empty chairs. Derek didn't need to see Stiles' expression to know he was gathering courage.

"Hey, Derek..." On pure reflex Derek looked up when addressed, meeting Stiles' gaze. He looked uncomfortable — worried rather than angry, though. "You know I have to ask about the viruses."

Derek stiffened. He agreed that Stiles had every right to ask, but that didn't mean that Derek wanted to answer — and he would have to, thanks to his programming. SAMMI-B tried to catch his attention, but Derek refused to look away from Stiles.

"What about them?" Derek was surprised by how defensive his voice sounded. He had always spoken with an emotionless monotone before, and it was strange to hear something else.

Stiles licked his bottom lip.

"Well, your reaction already answered who put them there. I—" Stiles paused for a second. "I won't ask why, because that's none of my business, but I need to know if it's something dangerous. I mean, something that might harm me or those I care about."

That was a valid concern, and Derek felt a stab of guilt. He was very dangerous for Stiles and everyone he cared about, but only under certain circumstances. The question was if Stiles would make a distinction between the two — Derek might still hurt them, even if he didn't want to.

The biggest threat was if Derek's master got a hold of him again, but outgoing transmissions were offline — always had been. There was no way to track Derek, so as long as he managed to avoid being found, they should be fine.

"Not unless you've told anyone about me." That was probably not the answer Stiles would have preferred, but the only one Derek wanted to give. He was startled by his own selfishness — he didn't want Stiles to send him away, even if it meant a huge risk to stay.

Stiles shook his head. "Only Scott, my roommate."

Derek felt a surge of relief. If they kept it quiet, no one would find him. He would be safe.

"Keep it that way," he said, his tone far too brusque.

"Should you really be online then?" Stiles asked, showing that he was quite attentive after all. "Can't you be tracked?"

"My circuits for outgoing transmissions of that kind have been severed," Derek replied. He couldn't have lied even if he wanted to, but the truth was to his benefit this time.

"So... you're basically safe as long as whoever you're hiding from doesn't find you?" Stiles was apparently clever enough to realize that Derek was running from someone. But that also meant that Stiles had to know that Derek himself — and those looking for him — could be dangerous.

Stiles wouldn't want someone like that around.

"Something like that," Derek replied though gritted teeth.

He tried not to stiffen when Stiles pulled out the chair and sat down, clearly intending to say something of importance. SAMMI-B hurriedly rolled over to Stiles instead, purring softly when Stiles closed his hands around the small robot. Derek felt a sting of jealousy.

What would it be like, to be able to feel safe and protected like that? To have a home?

Derek forced himself to look away, staring down at the tabletop instead. He was an android — a possession — so his home was with his master. But Derek didn't want to go back there. He knew he wouldn't be able to. He had tried to self-destruct for a reason, and he'd rather try again than return to his master.

Derek didn't have a home, or anywhere he belonged.

"So, do you want to stay?"

Derek's gaze snapped up, staring at Stiles in surprise. Derek knew he hadn't heard wrong, but he still couldn't make sense of the words — they sounded too good to be true.

A soft, gentle smile spread on Stiles' lips. Derek felt everything still for a second, as if that smile caused the very world to hold its breath.

"What? You thought I was going to kick you out?" Stiles shook his head, still cradling SAMMI-B in his hands. "I brought you in and fixed you up — technically against your will — so it's not more than right that you get to stay. It's not like I have to feed you."

That was very true, but Derek still felt concerned. Stiles had no idea where Derek came from and he might be putting himself in danger by offering Derek a place to stay. That kind of decision should not be made lightly, and Derek wasn't sure whether to point that out or not.

Stiles' smile fell, taking the joy and gentleness with it. Stiles swallowed, his gaze not meeting Derek's.

"Uh... you don't have to," Stiles hurried to add. "I mean, I totally understand if you don't want to. Who would want to live with me? Well, besides Scott, but he's obviously not in his right mind, or just too kind to say anything." Stiles' movements were jerky when he pushed back his chair, holding on to SAMMI-B with what seemed like desperation. "I get it, I totally do. I'm an intrusive and intense person and I've already turned you back online without asking — which was no easy feat, I'll tell you that, you were pretty fucking thorough with those viruses — so I don't blame you."

Self-deprecating.

Stiles thought Derek was going to say no because of Stiles' personality, of all things. That was ludicrous — Derek hardly knew Stiles well enough for that. Besides, so far Stiles had been much better company than Derek's master ever had been. Stiles was loud and energetic, but also sharp-witted and considerate. Derek didn't understand why Stiles was trying to belittle himself.

Derek watched as Stiles rose to his feet and turned to face the stove. He was avoiding eye-contact, and Derek felt something he was pretty sure could be called 'sympathy.' Stiles was upset, believing that he wasn't good enough.

"Do I get to give an actual answer?" Derek asked, not surprised to see Stiles' flinch. The human shot him a quick glance over his shoulder before clearing his throat.

"Uh... yeah, of course." Stiles sounded like that was the last thing he wanted — as if the answer was something he dreaded.

"I'd like to stay," Derek said, making sure to keep his voice steady. "For the time being."

Stiles was staring at him — scrutinizing him — and Derek felt himself tense. He was being selfish. Derek knew all too well what might happen to those who got in the way of his master, and accepting to stay with Stiles could put him in danger. Derek should leave — for Stiles' sake — but he didn't want to. He couldn't bring himself to, even if he knew that made him weak.

He wanted a home, for however long he was allowed.

"Okay. That's awesome." Stiles' smile was timid, almost, but still much friendlier than Derek was used to. "I don't think Scott will mind."

That was another concern Derek hadn't considered, but he decided to trust Stiles' judgment. Derek nodded to show that he appreciated Stiles' expertise.

SAMMI-B gave a happy chirp — as if he knew what the conversation had been about — and Derek let out a slow breath. He had a home. Stiles was willing to share the home he had, without asking for anything in return. Derek had never experienced kindness before — not like this — and he wasn't entirely sure how to react.

Stiles was back to stirring the food and Derek let his gaze linger. There were moles above the collar of Stiles' t-shirt, dark dots against his pale skin — the smooth curve his neck making him look painfully fragile. Derek could snap that neck. His hand would probably fit beautifully against that gentle arch. Killing Stiles would be easy — humans were so incredibly delicate.

Derek clenched his jaw, his fingers curling into fists. He couldn't let that happen. Stiles was willing to give Derek a place to stay, even though he knew it might be dangerous. Stiles showed Derek more compassion than anyone ever had, and Derek intended to treasure that.

No one was allowed to harm Stiles — not ever. Not Derek, or his master, or anyone else.

Derek felt his processors hum to life, his eyes beginning to glow as the new commands were recorded, processed, and implemented.

. . .

Accessing: Objective parameters

Running: Analysis

Primary Objective: Protect User Designation "owner"

Secondary Objective: Obey User Designation "main operator"

Identify User Designation "owner" . . . NO DATA

Identify User Designation "main operator" . . . REQUEST DENIED

Update User Designation "main operator" . . . REQUEST DENIED

Delete User Designation "main operator" . . . REQUEST DENIED

Update User Designation "owner" . . . PROCESSING

Updating . . .

Update User Designation "owner" . . . COMPLETE

Update Primary Objective . . . COMPLETE

. . .

Accessing: Objective parameters

Running: Analysis

Primary Objective: Protect User Designation "owner"

Primary Objective: Protect Stiles Stilinski