Not only was the chain link fence super high, there was barbed wire strung along the top like freaking Christmas lights! WHY WAS THERE BARBED WIRE ON A STRIP MALL FENCE?? Was there a prison around here Stiles didn't know about? Sure, the gun store was just a couple shops down from them and Beacon Hills wasn't short on the occasional shoplifter, but was this really necessary?
There was a little more light in this alley way from the overhead street lamps, so as soon as that big hairy face came lurking from around the corner, Stiles could see every harrowing detail. The sticky patches in its fur shone red against the light's reflection, which confirmed the whole blood or mud issue. Great, so this wasn't the first time Mr. Big Bad Wolf had gone moonlighting as a murderous lunatic.
Stiles had no more time to think as the werewolf closed in on him. Was this it? The end of his short, somewhat sweet life? This was almost worse than the time he got thrashed by that rotten old prune Allison called a grandfather. Could this be the thing Derek wanted him to watch out for earlier? Dammit, and the guy was here not too long ago! Guess the boy would never know for sure now that he was about to get torn to pieces. He flinched when his vision suddenly went dark, assuming the beast had struck quicker than he could blink. At least it was a quick, painless death.
It wasn't until he opened his eyes again that Stiles realized he hadn't given up the ghost just yet. There were sounds of a struggle - loud yowling mixed in with some sharp grunts and yelps. The crazed werewolf was twisting around like it had been set on fire, claws trying to grasp at something small and black that had fastened itself skin deep into the creature.
The canine VS feline match continued on as Stiles watched slightly horrified. It was amusing to say the least, seeing this little kitty fighting tooth and nail against something 10x it's size. If only he had so much blind courage.
But now was his chance! Stiles snuck by in a hurry while the werewolf's back was turned and made a break for it back down the alley leading to Stone Cold. If he could just somehow convince Jessica that they needed to leave because of a gang brawl going on outside the shop, he might actually survive the night! Wait until he told Derek abou--
For a second, Stiles thought he had run into a brick wall, but when big, strong hands wrapped around his arms to keep him steady, that speculation went out the window. He nearly panicked, thinking the beast had caught up to him, yet he grasped at what felt like a worn leather material, saturated with the familiar smell of pine and smoke…
Stiles shook his head of any dizziness that plagued him from the impact and looked up at the figure.There was just enough light to see the hardened contours of Derek's face staring at him, eyebrows furiously pressing downward as they tended to do.
"Derek!" he exclaimed, eyes misting out of relief.
There was a fraction of urgency in the alpha's voice when he asked, "What are you doing here?"
"There's a thing. A thing that-- that's back there! And it's big and trying to kill me and the cat, but it saved my life even though it was kind of a jerk to me earlier! I just… I don't even…!" He shrugged hysterically.
Derek took hold of him more firmly so the boy would focus. "Stiles, where's th--"
Stiles saw the metallic flash in Derek's eyes when he set his sights on the rogue werewolf at the end of the alley. It was an interesting thing, seeing the transformation up close and personal. A deep red hue bled into Derek's irises like spilt ink, and as his lips curled upward, the pearly canines became grisly tools for tearing through flesh. Stiles absentmindedly thought of how it'd feel to be bitten by those teeth, not even hard; just enough to leave an imprint on one's skin. It was an odd direction his mind was going considering their predicament.
He looked back to see the ravenous creature stalking towards the two of them, it's feral nature from earlier suddenly digressing. It sensed the aura of a higher ranking werewolf, but not once did the other falter in it's actions, or it's intent. Nothing was going to pacify this beast, at least not without confrontation.
In other news, the absence of the cat was disheartening on Stiles' part.
"Get out of here," Derek murmured to the boy before pushing him off what was essentially going to be the battlefield.
"No, wait, Derek--"
"I've been tracking this guy for days. Finally, he shows his ugly mug."
"What're you, the Godfather? Seriously, there's something wrong with this dude, I don't know what it is, but he's not right in the head. I was thinking rabies or…" he ended his sentence with a shrug, hoping Derek had a better explanation of what was going on.
"Well, judging by the seven people he's killed, that wouldn't be too far from the truth."
Oh shit, he knew this guy had racked up a body count! You could tell just by looking into those crazy bloodlust eyes. Funny, though, Stiles hadn't heard about any deaths in Beacon Hills due to "animal attacks" as of late.
The sudden fierce bark from their deranged assailant nearly sent Stiles' heart rocketing into his throat as instinct told him to latch onto the back of Derek's jacket. The taller man backed up, but only to distance Stiles further from the situation. He turned his head to the side, keeping one eye on the beast as he spoke.
"You need to go. NOW."
Stiles was about to reply, but he'd been beaten to the punch. It seems their friend was tired of being ignored, and it launched itself directly towards them with both sets of claws arched and ready for the kill.
Derek let out one of his inhuman roars, the tendons in his neck becoming as tight as strings on a guitar. Without further adieu, the leather-clad werewolf sprung into action just as quickly.
Because Derek wasn't fully wolfed out, there was a slight disadvantage in terms of stature and strength, but he used this in his favor by tackling the creature at its waist and bringing it down to ground level. The two tumbled for a bit before ramming into one of the dumpsters, causing it to ring like a thunderous gong, and Derek took this moment while his opponent was temporarily stunned to kick him back a good yard or so.
Stiles furthered himself from the fight and glanced back at the alleyway door leading into Stone Cold, hoping that no one could hear the clash of the titans going on just outside the shop. Good thing the manager hadn't come in today, or he'd certainly be out of a job.
Derek didn't give the werewolf a chance to recover as he took hold of it's grimy fur and attempted to pin the beast down in preparation for the thrashing it deserved. But once all four paws were solidly planted on the ground beneath it, Derek was spring loaded backwards, sandwiched between his opponent and the brick wall. His lungs were briefly devoid of air until he was grabbed and thrown overhead into the fire escape across from them, landing on the concrete with a thud that made Stiles hiss in empathy.
Sure, Derek had told him to book it, but since when was Stiles a terrible person who abandoned his friends? Plus, he had to make sure the rogue wolf didn't try to escape down his end of the alley. If this guy murdered seven people like Derek said, then there's no way they could afford to lose him.
Although running away might've been the more desirable option now that their villain had turned its attention towards the helpless teen. "Oh shit…" Stiles breathed. He ran.
It was a futile effort and he knew it, seeing as his little limbs couldn't compare to a four-legged hound hopped up on steroids… or acid… or both. Either way, he was doomed unless Derek saved him in the nick of time as was the norm, and once he reached the end of the alley...
Stopping to turn and face his to-be killer…
Still no Derek.
This is the part where Stiles started getting a little worried, and why shouldn't he be when all two-hundred-something pounds of pure muscle and insanity was coming towards him? The boy looked past the beast to see if Derek had taken that blow harder than he'd thought, or if he was on his way over… and noticed that they were alone. No sign of the guy anywhere. Seriously? He'd just left? What kind of Dark Knight shit was this?!
Stiles could see tomorrow's headlines now: "HAIRY SERIAL KILLER STRIKES AGAIN. 8TH VICTIM THIS WEEK - SOME PANSY-LOOKING KID IN PINK STRIPED OUTFIT AND ICE CREAM HAT. WILL NOT BE MISSED."
What a way to go.
Stiles theory of Derek actually being related to Batman might've been plausible as the now jacket-less man dropped down from above and landed squarely on the werewolf's shoulders. The creature tried to knock its surprise attacker off by flailing and pulling at the clothing Derek wore, which was taking a beating itself from those vicious claws. Little did anyone know that in the time all eyes were taken off Derek, he'd been granted time to transform even further into his werewolf state. It was hard to tell with how much they were moving, but there was no mistake when Stiles saw that the man's face had developed a more animalistic quality as well as his eyebrows suddenly taking a vacation. He would never understand the logic of that, but now wasn't the time for such questions.
Derek rode that thing like a bucking bronco, nearly losing his grip a couple times, but judging by how sloppy the movements of his opponent were becoming, one could tell that it was finally taking its toll on the beast's stamina. Thus, the golden opportunity presented itself.
With Derek's right arm wrapped around it's burly neck and his left palm shoved against the side of it's face, he jerked the creature's head to the right in one harsh motion, which was followed by a chilling snap that sent goosebumps up Stiles' body.
They dropped like an anchor in a matter of seconds, Derek still perfectly perched on the werewolf's back and cupping the head. He moved one hand over it's neck and pressed hard through the hair, waiting to feel some sort of twitch from the artery beneath it's skin.
Stiles pulled himself out of the stupefied haze he was in just enough to inch closer and ask in a cracked voice, "Is he… D-did you kill it?"
No answer from Derek who put a hand up in a subtle way of saying "zip it". They stood in stagnant silence for one more minute, but there was no rise and fall in the beast's chest any longer, nor the quiet drum of a heartbeat. It seemed the mongrel was put down for good.
Derek rose from crouching and rolled his shoulders until he heard a symphony of pops. All that "bull riding" practically gave him whiplash. Any gashes or bruising his adversary had inflicted on him were long gone thanks to that super efficient werewolf healing. Stiles watched in wonder as the man's wound melded together like rain drops on a windshield, encasing the deep red lines in a new layer of skin. That would never cease to be cool. And, slowly but surely, Derek's eyes, teeth, and epic sideburns returned to their more human appearance. The same could not be said for their furry foe, however.
Stiles nudged the beast with his foot and snorted. "You took him out pretty quick, man." He looked up at Derek who turned his head and spat out some dirt and hair that had made its way into his mouth during the fray. "From how hellbent this werewolf was on ripping our throats out you'd think there'd be more of a challenge."
"He's not a werewolf."
"Oh… well then he does a great impression of one."
"Breaking a it's neck wouldn't kill it, and the heart stopped beating."
Okay, that made sense. If he remembered correctly, the only sure way of killing a werewolf was slicing it in two. Just thinking about it gave Stiles the chills. "Soooo what else do you think it could be?"
"I can't say. But whatever this guy is, he wasn't exactly firing on all cylinders. I could smell the crazy on him as soon as I got here."
Stiles let out a few short laughs at Derek's comment, but stopped when he saw the older man's unamused expression glowering at him. "Well, at least he won't be killing anymore people. It's weird how there haven't been any news on this guy, though. Seven murders would kind of be a big deal in Beacon Hills…"
"The murders weren't done here," Derek said, straightening the moss green t-shirt that he'd have to throw away due to all the rips and tears.
"He went to different cities in California and killed in each of them. This was his next haunting ground, and you were his next victim from the looks of it."
Derek said all this like it was the most blah thing in the world, and it left Stiles with the feeling a girl gets when their boyfriend delivers a shitty excuse as to why he didn't call her back last night.
He stood there with his mouth open for a few seconds before forming a coherent sentence. "Uuummm, okay? Why me, specifically? Do I have some sort of monster-nip sprayed all over my body, or maybe a big neon sign that says 'EAT AT STILES, OR HEY JUST EAT STILES BECAUSE HE'S TOTALLY OKAY WITH IT!'"
Derek allowed for a pause as he thought of a way to explain something to the teenager. "It's… because of me, I think."
Not that hard to wrap one's mind around, honestly. "Whatd'ya mean?"
"All the people this thing has killed… I knew them."
The boy became solemn. "Oh, dude, I'm… I'm sorry, I…" He knew Derek had lost enough family as it was, and now there were more Hale casualties? When would it end?
"Don't be. I didn't know them all that well. My parents and uncle were the ones who had a history with them. I barely remember their faces from when I was a kid."
"So you weren't related?"
"Not as far as I know." Derek shoved the hulking beast onto its back to get a better look at it. "But for some reason, this guy had a problem with them."
Stiles crossed over to where Derek stood so he wasn't so visible in the alley's entrance. All the while he racked his brain for a conclusion as to why this would be happening the way it was. A pattern, a motivation - anything! But the detective in him suffered from a lack of information. "What do you think it means then?" he asked as if Derek had all the answers at this point.
"I don't know. But ever since… then…" Derek still had a hard time recalling it, but Stiles could guess what he was referring to, "… the attacks have become more personal, I guess. The last victim killed was a friend of my sister's who'd visit every so often. She'd sometimes play with me and my siblings."
"No. Human. She tried to keep in touch with Laura and I after what happened, but it was too dangerous for her to be around us at the time, so we cut ties."
"That sucks, man." Stiles couldn't think of anything else to say.
"And now this bastard went after you. No matter how you look at it, it seems like he has some sort of vendetta against my family altogether."
"Too bad we don't know why," the boy looked down and kicked at some loose gravel on the ground, noticing that his once virgin white uniform was now soiled with dirt and sweat. He'd have to get it dry-cleaned by tomorrow or his manager would have a cow.
"No, but I'll find out." Derek clenched his hands into fists, visibly enraged despite his cool outer demeanor. He wouldn't admit it, but Stiles knew the older man was more or less in pain at the moment. The anguish of losing his family and the only other people he could call friends must've been quite a weight on his mind. There was only so much hardship one could go through, even if you were a big bad alpha.
"I wanna help." The words left his mouth without time given to think about it.
"Help? How?" Derek snorted. Might as well hear him out.
"In any way I can," Stiles shrugged. "If we can find out which cities this dude hit, I may be able to pinpoint where he came from, who he was, and why he hated you guys so much. We can even get a DNA sample from the hair and run it down at Deaton's lab."
"Stiles, I don--"
"And I promise I won't get involved with anything too dangerous or out of my league, okay? I'll leave all that grunt work up to you and your werewolfyness," he reassured with a roll of his eyes. "You're just gonna have to accept the fact that I'm helping you out , bro, because I'm gonna do it either way. You know that, right?"
That was all too true. Derek shook his head, feigning frustration when really Stiles had somehow managed to lift his mood, if only a little. He knew it'd be difficult to do the research all on his own, and now that the initial threat was taken care of, perhaps it wouldn't hurt to let someone lend a hand?
"Fine." Derek could actually see how much Stiles was trying to keep his elation at bay. Getting so excited over the smallest of things... what a goober. "But if we're doing this, you need t--"
The dying blare of a police siren almost sent Derek back into a werewolf tizzy had the flashing red and blue lights not appeared against the building walls. Stiles, too, nearly jumped clean out of his own shoes, thinking the noise was the cry of another unfriendly guest. The pop of gravel against tires came to a stop just around the corner, and two distinct clicks of car doors being opened triggered a greater panic attack in Stiles than facing that rogue werewolf earlier.
"Oh crap!" He glanced down at the supernatural beast. There was no way the police would believe this thing was just some drunk guy in a Halloween costume. It wasn't even October! They wouldn't want to stick around and explain the situation to the cops anyway, not with "HELLO I'M A WANTED MAN" written all over Derek's face. "We need to get this guy outta here. Help me!"
The alpha felt he had no choice when Stiles began dragging the creature by its armpits down the alleyway like a hobo who'd just found a sack of money. He aided in the boy's frantic scramble, picking up the werewolf by its legs and hauling it as far as they could before Stiles had to drop his end and allow the red that had gathered in his face to disperse. "Man, is this a werewolf or a moose?!" Derek ignored the ill-timed weight joke and shoved the body forward to keep them going, almost knocking Stiles back on his ass.
Voices could be heard from two concerned police officers who'd received a call about some disturbance near this shopping strip. They happened to be in the area when the coordinates were relayed on their police scanner, their guess being that it was probably a few delinquents kids causing trouble again. Last week they saw two pairs of sneakers strung up on the telephone wires overlooking the road. It was the "tough guy's " way of establishing dominance in this day and age, like a gorilla beating it's chest. As for those on the other end of those shoes… well, they'd be sucking food through a straw for the next few weeks, that much could be said.
"Remind me again what the report from that old lady was?" One of the officers asked his partner, brushing a piece of lent off his overly starched uniform.
"Apparently, Mrs. Brigsby heard a 'terrible ruckus coming from the alley next to Henderson Jewelers and Stone Cold'; said that there was… 'howling and barking'."
"So, basically, we came here to break up a fight between two stray dogs. Think she meant to call animal control?"
The other cop shrugged and adjusted his brown leather jacket before approaching the alley. "Might as well humor the woman if that's all it is."
"Right…" He followed after his partner. He was relatively new to their precinct, so his expectations for an action-packed, Robo Cop life on the force hadn't waned just yet, unlike the older officer.
Meanwhile, Stiles could see the policemen's shadows closing in on them from across the way. Luckily, they were too deep in the shadows to be seen, but that wouldn't hold as cover for long.
"Dammit!" the teen whispered to himself. He'd gotten in trouble for fooling around on private property, interfering in an investigation, and pretty much being in places he shouldn't be. This however… There was no rational excuse good enough to save their skins.
No choice. They had to get rid of the body now.
"Okay, help me lift him up, Derek."
Nothing left to do but trust Stiles, Derek thought. The notion left a bad taste in his mouth, or maybe it was the rotting stench of garbage nearby? Probably both. The teenager started to direct the werewolf's carcass over towards one of the open the dumpsters, and that's when the lightbulb came on in Derek's head.
With one big heave, the two managed to stuff their deceased assailant inside the pit of raw waste, but they only had a few seconds to catch their breath before Derek noticed the gleam of a couple flashlights.
There was no time to run or hide. The cops were here, the wanted Derek Hale was exposed, and Stiles just knew he was going to regret what he was about to do for the rest of his short-lived days.
'Should've written my will sooner…' Stiles thought as he grabbed the stubbled face in front of him and pulled with all his might. "Sorry, Derek."
It was prickly. Not his actual lips of course, but the area around Derek's mouth tickled Stiles' own as they connected in a forced kiss. Almost immediately, the alpha tried ripping himself away from the boy, which would no doubt be followed by a swift punch to the teenager's face, but Stiles was relentless. Like an awkward octopus, he wrapped his arms around the older man's head and yanked him forward with as much strength as he could muster.
Derek's hands shot up to brace himself against the brick wall, almost too stunned to know what he should do in this unexpected turn of events. He met Stiles gaze, asking through glare alone what the hell he was doing and why hadn't he started running. Those big brown eyes shifted to their left twice as if they wanted Derek to look in that direction, which he did. Once he spotted the cops at the alley's entrance and remembered the predicament they were in, it all started to fall into place.
Really? Making out in a back alley was Stiles' idea of concealing themselves? Could they not just as easily have hidden behind a dumpster? No, of course not. That would make everything too simple. Well, unless these cops were scared of cooties they were pretty much busted.
"What's that?" ask the rookie officer who noticed movement half way down the alley. He and his partner shown their lights on the scene and saw what looked like two people wrestling. "Huh. So it was some punk kids after all. Damn…"
"I wouldn't be so sure about that," replied his partner. He sighed and tongued the inside of his cheek in an exasperated manner.
"What?" Upon closer inspection, some of their faces came into view, which were alarmingly close - too close to be considered a hostile interaction at this point. "Ohhhh…." As an automatic reflex, the policeman lowered his flashlight and shuffled from one foot to the other in embarrassment.
The couple fumbled with each other's hair and clothes like wild animals, one of the kids' legs knocking into a trash can beside them, causing it to fall over. The older officer snorted, amused by how intense they were. It's like nothing else around them existed. Oh, he remembered those days…
Stiles was having a hard time catching his breath while snogging the shit out of Derek, so he opened his mouth to take in some air, not expecting to let out a small moan that was trapped inside.
'Oh my GOD what the fuck was that?! Great, now Derek probably thinks I'm getting off on this.'
What a surprise it was to the guy when he felt the slippery brush of a tongue against his teeth.
Derek bent his left arm and kept it against the wall as he clasped the small of Stiles' back and eliminated any space left between them. A strained breath of air was released from his nose before he started macking on the other's lips in heated, sensual "bites".
The feeling made Stiles weak in the knees as he combed his fingers through that stupid flippy hair and tried establishing some of his own authority by letting their tongues collide full on. He blushed at the sounds they made and felt a little rush of blood to his nether regions. It was embarrassing by how much this was affecting him. You’d think he’d never made out before… or at least not with a twenty-something year old werewolf dude with anger management issues. Still, that didn't make him any less of a good kisser. 'Oh man how does he do that~?' An impulsive shiver hit him like a 100 degree fever with a temperature to match. Wait, why were they doing this again?
He snuck a peak at the police, making sure they had seen what was happening and, hopefully, didn't plan on coming near. One of the officers was tall, trim, and seemed to be only a few years older than Derek. In fact, he looked sorta familiar…
'Hey, isn't that the guy my dad works with?'
The second cop stepped out of a shadow the opposite wall was casting, and lo and behold…
"Oh FUCK!" Stiles mumbled into Derek's mouth. The alpha didn't take notice, however, and merely wrapped his left arm around the boy's waist to join the other.
Sherriff Stilinski squinted through the little amount of light he was offered by the street lamps. He swore he heard something from one of the kids. In fact, he wasn't even sure how old they were. The one person in a short-sleeve was obviously a man due to his height and build, but the other one dressed in what looked like a shocking white and pink-striped uniform…
Before he could get a good look at their faces, the smaller of the two grabbed their lover's hand and smacked it up to her (or his) cheek in what was supposed to be a romantic gesture. Looked more like it hurt, to be honest.
"Should we break this up?" his deputy, Tom Levvy, asked, pointing with his nightstick.
"… Naw. Leave them be. Wouldn't wanna spoil their evening."
"What do we tell the precinct?"
"What we initially thought; couple of strays tangling it up with each other. Not too far from the truth, right?" he smiled and made his way back across the street towards there car.
The younger officer shrugged, responding with a, "Welp, yer the boss," and followed after him.
Stiles saw them leave out of the corner of his eye and released an internal sigh of relief. Looks like their tactic worked. But MAN OH MAN if his dad had seen it was he and Derek, both of them would be lying in an early grave right about now.
"Wow, that was cl-- D-Dere--" Stiles tried to break the kiss, but Derek was still too preoccupied with the seventeen year old's pliable lips. Had he not noticed that they were alone? Apparently not since he just kept going with even more fervor than before. You'd think the guy was actually liking this. Then again, it's not like he was being all that objective either. It felt pretty good, actually. He certainly didn't have the willpower to deny it.
He squeezed Derek's shoulder and leaned all his weight into the brick wall, inciting a low grunt from the alpha. There was no more danger, no more police, just them and a lazy game of wolf got your tongue. That is until Stiles felt the point of a long sharp fang against his mouth. Reality had set in.
"Okay, Derek, Derek! They're gone now!"
The werewolf opened his eyes and finally managed to stop after Stiles' insistent push. His pupils were lined with red and dilated from the sexual build up, and sure enough those killer canines were out and ready to go. For what, though, the boy didn't want to know.
"Were… were you about to bite me?"
"… What? No!" Derek sneered, his werewolf features quickly disappearing once more. That question seemed to ground him just a bit.
"Weeeell, your teeth were all fangy and it kinda looked like you were getting a little excited so--"
"I wasn't going to bite you, but I'm thinking about it now." he asserted crossly.
The boy flashed a weak smile and nodded. "… Right. Sorry."
Their staring contest didn't last for too much longer as Derek separated himself from the warm body and straightened what little of his shirt he still had. At the same time, Stiles felt Derek's hand leave his butt. He didn't even realize it'd been there, but fat chance he'd bring it up to the guy.
"I-I can't believe that worked, haha…" He figured somebody had to break the ice, but he was left without a reply.
Derek took a look inside the dumpster where they'd stashed the body. It was still dead, thank goodness, but could it stay here unnoticed? If anyone found it, there'd be quite a buzz in the media, and that's the last thing Beacon Hills really needed.
Stiles saw the concerned expression on the older man's face and moseyed on over to see their furry friend. "I'll just cover him up with all the trash from the shop. Smells bad enough already, so I don't think anyone will get suspicious."
Well, that was at least a syllable.
"Ugh… listen, Derek. I'm sorry, okay? I was panicking and didn't know what else to do. That was my dad for crying out loud! I mean, we would've been in such deep shit, I just--"
"I said don't worry about it."
Was it really that simple? Stiles thought for sure that Derek would've given him an earful for that kiss, even if the both of them did enjoy it to some extent. That wasn't weird, right? At his age, sexual exploration was a normal, healthy behavior, after all. Who cares if it was with a girl, or a boy, or Derek Hale for that matter? 'I liked it, and I am not ashamed of that.' He affirmed to himself. Although the seventeen year old couldn't help but wonder if he just imagined that faint spark in his chest during their make out, or if it was the cold realization that he might not live once the kiss ended.
"Um… When we, you know, ahhh……"
The feeling of Derek's tongue and tight grip were still very fresh in Stiles' mind. He squeezed his eyes shut and blinked rapidly to rid the memory. To any normal person he probably looked like a tweaker. Snap out of it, Stilinski!
Well, okay, never mind then.
"Oh my god, who the heck comes to an ice cream shop this late on a school night?!" Stiles moaned, glaring angrily at the alley door to Stone Cold. And what perfect timing they had.
He turned back to Derek and saw that the alpha had found his treasured leather jacket, safe from wear and tear. The man slipped it on with ease, looking as dapper as he had when first entering the shop. Stiles licked his lips and focused his eyes back on Derek's face.
"I gotta go, so uhh… I guess… thanks for, you know, earlier."
Derek looked as if he wanted to say something too, but the words wouldn't come to him, even though he felt like an onslaught of what Stiles called "word vomit" was trying to make its way out.
Figuring the guy needed to go off and hang with his pack buddies or whatever, Stiles started heading inside and gave a sickly goodbye. "See you later or something." His muddy shoes squeaked against the kitchen tiles inside as he disappeared from sight.
"Yes??" The boy practically launched himself out of the doorway in a flurry, grabbing onto the frame to keep himself from falling down those three steps.
Derek's mouth hung open for a minute, but he disguised the gawk by running his tongue over his teeth, briefly looking away before saying, "Just… stay out of trouble. Yeah?" For good measure, he threw in, "If you wanna help me out with this, then don't try to be a hero. CALL me first. I'm getting tired of saving your sorry ass."
Contrary to what he thought would happen, Derek was a little surprised when he received a 100 watt smile from the teen, who responded with his own dry remark. "Same goes for you, Grandpa Grump."
Derek rolled his eyes but couldn't stop the tight grin from creeping onto his face, no matter how hard he tried to hide it. He began making his way down the other end of the alley away from the police. He'd had enough of this place already.
"You should come by the shop more often, man! I'll give you a discount!" Stiles called after him.
The alpha waved without breaking his stride. "Not gonna happen!"
Heh. What a stubborn dick.
"Hello?" A faint voice came from inside the shop.
Whoops! Almost forgot about the stupid customer who ruined their… moment? Was that what he and Derek were having? Well, no time to work out the details now.
Stiles closed the back door and locked it, just in case. He'd have to come back out and cover up the body with more garbage, but it was best not to assume that thing was dead indefinitely and wouldn't come barging into their shop for a little payback. Gotta consider all possible scenarios.
Turning his apron frontside once more, he went to take care of the new customer and possibly shoot glares at them while they weren't looking. "Welcome to Stone Cold, hours are ten to TEN so you got about five minutes ready set go."
"Naw, I'm good. Trying to watch what I eat," said the too familiar, gruff voice of the sherif.
"DAAAAAAAD HEY WHAT'RE YOU DOIN' HERE, BRO…??"
"Uhh, I was in the area and thought I'd check on my son, bro." The sherif chuckled, but his expression changed when he saw the raggedy state Stiles was in. "What happened to your… costume?"
"You mean my uniform?" The boy looked down to see that his clothing had taken on a lovely shade of brown and puke green in some spots.
His father held back a snort. "That's your uniform," he pointed, making a comment more than asking a question.
"Y-yeah, it's-- I mean, I didn't exactly have a choic-- okay that's not the point here, okay?"
"Easy there, I get it. When I was around your age I had to wear a big taco suit for my first part-time job. Believe me, you got the better deal here."
Stiles would have to ask for pictures of that later on.
The sherif took a gander at Stone Cold's interior before continuing. "So, you doing okay here?"
"Yeah, it's uhh… it's not the Oval Office or anything, but I can't complain, I guess."
"No, you can't. In today's economy you gotta be thankful for landing a job in the first place. Nothing more important than learning how to support yourself before 'leaving the nest', as they say."
"Yessir," Stiles nodded. If Stiles had been taught anything about the significance of a hard day's work and putting food on the table through the efforts of your own two hands, it was from this old guy, and he respected that affirmation.
His father's eyes wandered to what was behind the counter. "And it looks like you've kept everything pretty clean around here. I just wish you could adopt that same discipline at home."
The teen grinned half-heartedly and offered small shrug. Boys will be boys?
As if Stiles didn't have enough stress on his plate, the door to the employee bathroom opened and out came a wistful and smiley Jessica. Had she really been in there talking to her boyfriend the entire time King Kong VS Godzilla was going on outside?
"Oh, hi Sherif Stilinski!" She chirped. The two had a smidgen of history together during the pool slide incident. Stilinski had been first on the scene to ask what had happened and took on the job of calming a rather hysterical Jessica until the ambulance showed up ("hysterical" being another word for drunk off her ass.)
"Hello there, Jessica," he nodded at the blonde. "I didn't know you worked here with Stiles."
"Yup! It's a temporary gig until I graduate and move up north with my boyfriend." She just had to let the whole work know, didn't she?
"Hey Jessica! Isn't it your turn to close up tonight?" Stiles interjected.
"Um, no, I'm pretty sure you're suppose--"
"THANK you, Jessica, you're such a model employee. All-Work-And-No-Play-Jessica; that's what they should call you!"
She narrowed her eyes at him. The girl knew Stiles was taking a jab at how much she slacked off talking on the phone. Instead of causing a petty scene in front of the cops, and to avoid owing her fellow employee any favors later on, she rolled her eyes and trudged into the kitchen, muttering a curse at Stiles under her breath.
The teen turned his attention back to the officers and gave his best fake smile. Why even try when his dad could see right through it 99.9% of the time? "Sooo, nothing for you fine gentlemen this evening?"
Deputy Levvy began to speak. "Well, I--"
"No thanks, we need to start heading back, anyway," the Sherif replied. It was getting pretty late, and he figured Stiles should help close up or do whatever he needed to do before coming home.
"Oh okay. Thanks for stopping by! Come back soon~!" He said in his sing-song employee voice. Did he mean it? Not really. Was it gonna happen whether he invited them or not? Probably so.
"And hey…" His father leaned in towards the counter to whisper something to his son while his partner left through the front. Stiles looked around, confused as to his dad's sudden change in attitude. "You might wanna tell your friend to keep her private affairs in a less public setting."
Stiles made a face. "Huh? You mean Jessica?"
One could tell how uncomfortable it was for Sherif Stilinski to explain the situation to his son, but it had to be addressed one way or another. "We think we saw Jessica and her boyfriend out in the back alley gettin' a little…" He made a suggestive look with his eyes.
"Oh…… OHHH. Ah ha hA HAHA haha haAHAH! Riiight, right. They were totally… I-I mean, not that I knew that was going on, of course not! But uhh yeah. Got'cha. I'll… have a talk with her or something."
"… You do that." The sherif shook his head walking away, bewildered by that boy's weird behavior ever since they'd walked in. Although, it wasn't all that different from how Stiles normally acted, or whatever "normal" meant in his case.
"Bye dad! See you soon!" Stiles waved a little too enthusiastically. In return he got the ring of a bell.
Finally. Some peace and quiet. The shop was empty, Jessica wasn't talking his ear off, and the pinnacle point of his night had ended without loss of limbs or a horrible, disemboweling death. Stiles leaned against the display case and sighed, wiping his eyes and mouth in case there was any grime lingering there. His finger brushed across his lips and stopped. The memory of that kiss came crawling back into his brain like one of those scarabs from The Mummy. That same warm glow in his stomach returned from earlier, leaving the seventeen year old with a bunch of questions and uncertainties that he never really thought he'd find himself mulling over.
'Tch. Of course only Derek could drive me this crazy.' The abrupt surge of frustration died down when he got a buzz from his cell phone. He pulled the device out of his way too tight work pants and saw that the message was from Derek.
"Just saw the police go into the shop. Everything ok?"
Ha! So the guy wasn't as cold and stoic as he let on. What a worry-wolf!
Stiles texted back, "It's fine. We're still in the clear. My dad doesn't suspect anything." He knew how crucial it was to keep everything that had transpired in the dark, and that's how it would stay. As soon as the garbage trucks came by first thing in the morning to take away the werewolf imposter, they'd all feel better about this whole thing, no doubt.
Another text from Derek...
"I meant you but that's good too."
Oh fuck him.
"Yo, Stilinski! You wanna at least finish your garbage duty or shall I take care of that too, you jerk?" Jessica yelled from the kitchen.
Stiles went to do just that, an involuntary red tint smothering every bit of his pale skin from the neck up that lasted well after he arrived home that night.