#barkeep!derek
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Omg I love the hot bombshell bau reader x Spencer!! Could you write a scenario with them when the team is out drinking and she’s flirting with him even more & she can take it a lil further because they’re not in work? Thank you🥰
thank you for your request! this isn't a perfect fit of what you asked for but I hope you like it! fem!reader, 1k
"Psst! Psst!" Your perfume floats his way. "Spencer!"
Spencer turns to your whisper shouting, much less whisper than you probably mean it to be. You're as in his personal space as you can manage without falling into his lap. Luckily, the rest of the team seem to be more interested in the previously unheard story Emily's deigned to tell about a Sin to Win weekend in Atlanta, and no one turns to investigate your secret.
"What?" he asks.
"Can you get me another drink?" you whisper. You insisted on sitting next to him, your breath sharp with cherry liqueur. If you hadn't, he would've tried to make it this way anyhow.
It's not fair. You've drunk enough to get cut off and still you look so pretty, bombshell through and through —there's no other word for it. Your eyes are glittering and unsmudged despite an evening of laughter and a pitcher's worth of bourbon bombs, and they're looking at him with this weird pinching pleading that makes his stomach twist.
"I don't think you should have anything else."
"Spence…" You put your hand on his thigh. Not cupping it, nowhere inappropriate, just your fingertips pressed to the fabric of his pants as you twist in your seat to beg. "Please, Spencer. Please."
He really likes you, and this tone you're using threatens to haunt him forever. Resigned, he moves your hand off of his leg and grabs your empty glasses. "A spritzer," he says, standing up from the booth. "That's it."
"Hey, no," JJ says, her thin brows pinching as she smiles, perplexed. "She's cut off."
"That's why Spencer's going to get it for me. He's my angel," you brag, words tipping, tumbling all over the place.
Spencer looks at the disapproving expressions on their faces, Hotch, Emily, Derek and JJ all looking as though they learned how to frown from the same place. Only Penelope and Rossi seem encouraging. Penelope tipsy herself, and Rossi a self-professed believer in, "Living life to the fullest. Get the girl another drink, Reid."
"A spritzer," Spencer says again.
You smile gleefully and follow him out of your seats toward the bar. The barkeep gives Spencer a knowing look when he orders your drink but doesn't say anything when Spencer puts the change in the tip jar, which is questionable. Spencer secures your cold beverage and hands it to you, fully intending on walking you back to the booth.
You pull him off course. He has little power in the situation, a yelp and a yank and you're dragging him toward the bar jukebox. Your spritzer paints your hand as you put it down, lips wet with it as you beam at him from over your shoulder.
"Pick a song?" you ask.
"I don't know if they'll have anything I like."
"Pick one anyways."
Spencer has to stand directly behind you to read the titles. "Why don't you pick one?" he asks gently.
You sway. He doesn't know if it's down to the alcohol or the five seconds of music that plays as you scroll through songs. "I don't have a dollar."
Spencer laughs and gets his wallet out, handing you two dollars from the fold. "There. Pick two."
"You're such a nice guy, Spencer, and I don't mean it like, oh, you're a nice guy, you don't mess girls around, I mean…" You fold the dollars he gave you mindlessly. "I mean, you're just nice. In the best sense of the word. You're gentle, kind…"
You gasp, sounding pained. Spencer's hand leaps to the small of your back, "What? What's wrong?"
"They have Out of Touch by Hall and Oates. Hold my spritzer, handsome, I need to put this on before I die."
Derek comes looking for you both somewhere in the second play of the same song. Spencer's cheeks are bright pink, people staring in confusion at the repeat and the pretty drunk woman speaking the words. Spencer tries to flag Derek for saving, but when Derek sees the way you've wrapped your arms around Spencer's bicep, he chuckles and waves goodbye.
You look up to Spencer eagerly. You're close enough to kiss him. "You know how to play nine ball?"
"In theory," he says weakly.
"Good! If I win you can buy me another spritzer, and if you win, I'll let you take me home."
Spencer was always going to be taking you home tonight, but for a distinctly different reason. "If you win," he says, licking his lips, "I'll give you another dollar for the jukebox."
"And if you win?" you ask.
"I'll take you home," he says slowly. "But only to take you home."
"That's cute."
No matter what drunken delusion you're under, Spencer does end up taking you home after a third round of Hall and Oates. You're not so drunk as to need help standing, and you manage to get to bed without help. He just wants to make sure you lock the door.
You kiss him on the cheek, your hand behind his neck like you might turn his lips to yours. Spencer turns his face away.
"I'm not gonna try anything, Spence," you say, stroking the hair at the nape of his neck. "Just wanted to say thanks. You'll stay, right? Don't get the train."
Spencer sleeps on your couch. In the morning he wakes to the smell of eggs fried in sesame oil and the heavy scent of hot chocolate. Oh, and you in your tiny pyjama shorts at the helm, completely untouched by the copious booze intake of the night before. "Loverboy," you sing-song. "Come on! I'm gonna sit in your lap and feed you like a Grecian emperor. It'll be fun."
It'll definitely be something.
#spencer reid#spencer reid x reader#spencer reid x you#spencer reid x y/n#spencer reid x fem!reader#spencer reid imagine#spencer reid fluff#spencer reid fanfic#spencer reid oneshot#spencer reid scenario#spencer reid drabble#spencer reid fic#spencer reid fanfiction#criminal minds fanfiction#criminal minds#criminal minds fic#criminal minds x reader
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Could you write about the poly household having a board game or D&D night?
-- This is totally Derek's idea.
-- It's a whole thing. You pick out some board games together you think look fun, and them on actual game night Baxter cooks some snacky foods, Cove runs out for plenty of drinks. Derek is in charge of setup.
-- Baxter is going to call everyone nerds for doing this, but he's also going to be into it.
-- Derek is the biggest team player ever, even if you're not technically on teams. If you're playing something where you can trade with other players? He'll trade with you for what you need, even if it doesn't benefit him.
-- Cove is generally bad at everything.
-- Baxter is going to pretend to cheat but he wouldn't really and everyone knows that.
-- If he wins he's going to be unbearable.
-- Derek is going to have to remind Cove not to get food on the game stuff.
-- Derek is the DM for D&D. Cove needs to sit next to him so he can help him.
-- Baxter is going to call everyone nerds again, but one day a package is going to come for him and you'll be like "what is it?" and he'll shrug it off but you'll figure it out eventually -- it's several pretty dice sets.
-- Baxter is an elf rogue. When you're creating your characters he spends too much time describing what he's wearing. Will speak with a bit of an accent as his character like he's lovingly mocking the whole concept but then it becomes sincere because he's having fun with his favorite people.
-- He's the D&D player that's just causing chaos.
Derek: You enter a crowded tavern, what do you do?
Baxter: I pull out my dagger and stab the barkeep as a display of dominance.
Derek: *sigh* Roll the dice.
-- Cove is a human cleric. He asked Derek what he thought he should be and Derek pointed out that your party would probably need a good healer and Cove didn't want you or Baxter to get hurt :)
-- Unfortunately he is also bad at this game.
-- Baxter offers to let him use one of his sets of dice to maybe change up his luck, which cheers him up, but it doesn't actually help.
-- Derek puts SO MUCH THOUGHT into his stories. This is like Baby Castle times infinity. He's so good at it. Cove is amazed that he can make up stories like that and tell them so well. Baxter thinks it is so charming.
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A Pirate Walked Into A Bar...
This is for @sterek-bingo I didn’t have time to completely finish it, but all tags are included. This is almost 25k words, so make sure you got the time lol. Anyway I hope you like it! I’m so excited to finish this, so my hope is to have it completely done by the end of june.
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"Shit, shit, fuck, FUCK!" Stiles vaulted over the boxes blocking the alley way. His eyes scanned the path as fast as they could, looking for any possible escape. His breath was coming out in harsh waves. His legs were stinging.
"You there! Stop!" The voice came from closer than he would've liked. It was followed by the clatter of people giving chase.
"Fuck, fuck, fuckity fucking ell." He was too far from the sea, and with the way he was running he had no idea if he was getting closer or farther away. Stiles darted down another alley way, this one much narrower and more cluttered with dirt and boxes. It was like the walls were slowly closing in and soon he would have no where else to run.
The clattering was getting closer, but they were still out of sight as Stiles kept weaving down different paths.
There was a crossroads up ahead. If Stiles pushed fast enough he could get through the crossroad and down the next alley fast enough that they would have to split up.
He darted out into the road just as a cart came barreling through. It knocked him off his feet. God bless the fuckin queen, that hurt his hip! As he tried to get up he looked around. A big red sign posted at the top of one of the buildings drew his eyes.
He knew where he was.
"Stop that pirate!" A voice boomed from directly behind him. The few people who were around all turned their eyes to him. The people just looked on, not even caring if he was caught.
Stiles scrambled up and grabbed his hat. As he ran to his new charted path, he kicked the wagon's gate down and apples spilled all over the road. He didn't even slow his pace as he leaned down to grab an apple. He took a bite and turned around still moving. He smiled around a bite of apple before he hurled the rest right at the crown's guard leading the charge. He turned back around, not even seeing if it hit him. The answering annoyed, 'Stiles!' was enough.
He took off, once again laughing. He could hear the clatter of at least two guards slipping on apples as the rest followed him again.
Stiles had never been so grateful for being knocked on his ass. He would've never seen that sign if he wasn't. All he needed, all any self respecting pirate, would need is just one point. One point to let them know where they are, to find out where they need to go. And Stiles' Northstar was the, 'Shoddy shirt and chantey shanty,' big red sign with bold letters and a half naked lady on it.
They were within sight so he needed to lose them first. He sped seemingly at random through alleys and in and out of houses and businesses that were most welcoming at his unexpected and late polite visit.
Stiles vaulted a dinner table.
"Get the fuck out! Thief! Guards! There's a thief in my house!"
"Pirate!" Stiles called over his shoulder as he burst out the back door with huffing breath.
They were greatly slowed down by having to clatter after him through a house and finally they could still hear him, but not see him.
Stiles looped back and finally started towards where he wanted to go. He could taste the salt water and feel the sea calling to him behind him, but he could not go that way. He would never make it through the dense quarter at this time. Either someone or one of the many crown's guard would stop him. He could barely hear the thud of boots over the harsh panting of his breath, but he still felt as if they were on his heels nonetheless. He could tell he was getting tired, but he needed to push on.
Just as he was turning a guard came crashing into the wall right behind him.
"Oh fuck."
Two of the guards must've tried to get around him, but failed. They didn't make it in front of him, but they were right at his back.
If this didn't work exactly he was screwed.
He took two quick turns in succession and finally he was close.
He shot down the alley to the left and quickly concealed himself in an alcove.
When they ran past he quickly and as quietly as he could, made it to the alley now on his left, which he would've gone straight into before his misdirect.
There was a man blocking the path up ahead, emptying a barrel into a trash bin. He could hear them turning around and shouting at each other that he went back. The man turned to put the trash bin back inside the door he was keeping open showing a warm glowing room. Stiles didn't slow his pace as he plowed right towards the man. He was closing the bin when Stiles barreled into his chest and grabbed his shirt and the door behind the man. Stiles quickly went backwards into the lit room, hauling the man along with him by his shirt and tugging the door right behind them. The door latched and there was a thud as Stiles pressed the man against the door and followed his body with his own.
"Don't make a sound." The man's eyes were wide with confusion, but as the boots and yells went cluncking by he seemed content to just hold his breath.
Stiles tried to slow and quiet his own breath as he pressed closer to the man trying to stay out of the windows view as they went by.
Stiles counted the sets of footfalls as they went by, and when the final pair cleared he let out a heavy breath.
"Well, that's one way to finish your day." Stiles let out a laugh.
The man was still pressed against the door like they were about to burst through it. Stiles could hear muffled movement out in the hall.
"What the fuck Stiles!"
"Oh calm down. I'm only in trouble if they catch me, sourwolf."
FIVE MONTHS AGO
Derek's shoulders ached and his eyelids begged to close, but he had to finish carting the heavy barrels before he could go to sleep. His family could no longer afford to rent the cart and steed they normally did to haul the weeks brews from their distillery to their bar. With the raging war outside their lands laying waste to their country, and the war inside it barely held back by the tentative so called peace and the people poorer than they had seen in decades, no one could afford anything.
If anyone saw a man carting a barrel on each shoulder it would certainly give him away, so he had to finish under the cover of dusk. It was very late but with his bed calling him like a siren's song, he finished earlier than normal. He was about to go up the steps to where his family slept above the bar, when he realized there weren't as many heartbeats as there should've been. That was odd. Usually everyone was in bed by now.
He slowly crept back down and tried to listen, but he could only see the light coming from the room in the back of the bar that functioned as his mother's office. He slowly opened the window he knew wouldn't make a sound and tried to pick up something.
"-rate we won't make it three months!" That was Laura's voice, she sounded stressed and upset.
"Be that as it may, we need actual solutions, not just more problems." That was his mother's voice calming and commanding, but no less stressed which worried him. His mother didn't get stressed.
"I've already told you what we need to do!"
"No. I won't do that. You know that."
"Mother! Please just consider it. The pirates make enough plundering the seas, but now they're taking our livelihood with their cheap smuggled moonshine! We could at least ask them to stop. Look, I know that they do some good keeping the crown's guard occupied and when they help, but this is our survival we're talking about! If we're to remain in this city we have to consider our options."
He could hear his mother sigh as though there was a weight on her chest he never knew was there. "Laura, you'll make a great alpha one day, but you must consider grander things than just your pack if you're ever going to be more than that."
More than an alpha? What was she talking about?
"What would you have me do anyway? We don't know all of the pirates. Would we talk to the pirates? Reason with them? Run them out of town? Which could expose us, and then where would we be? Put to death."
His mother seemed to soften her face. "I know you want to fix this, but we can't. We must wait. He will come, I'm sure of it. We have to wait here for him and I know that's not the answer you want, but it's the only one I have."
Who was he? Who would come?
His dad which had only been a heartbeat he could hear on the other side of the room came closer and wrapped Laura in his arms. "We'll be okay little wolf. Your mother has a plan."
He could hear Laura's heartbeat relax, but the worried look his parents shared while Laura's head was tucked into his shoulder had his beating faster.
His mother came over and rested all of their heads together so they could focus on each others heartbeats and calm down.
Just as they had gotten settled, his mother's head shot up and her eyes glowed directly at him. "Derek?"
They saw him now and he didn't want to pretend like he hadn't heard it anyway.
He opened the door and walked in. "So everything you said about the war being the reason we are going out of business is a lie? It's really filthy pirates and their bootleg pisswater they call liquor?!"
"Derek!"
He was so angry he didn't even feel sorry for his outburst. "What? What mom, you want me to calm down about my family about to lose their home and business because of some no good thieves that like to think they're important because they have a boat and get away with it! They're the scum of the seas!"
Laura turned to him. "You sound like Captain Whittemore."
That stopped the boiling of his blood with what felt like a slap. He hadn't realized he had almost directly quoted the man that would like nothing more than to skin his entire family alive.
"I-I um-"
"You, need to calm down." His mother flashed her eyes at him and he felt the shame of his outburst. It wasn't their fault and he finally realized they were as scared as he was.
His father started to lead him upstairs. "They'll figure it out son. Don't worry about it." His father had no eyes to flash at him, but he felt it as a command anyway.
When they made it upstairs his dad checked the girls' room. He could see his cousin Lily in bed, but Laura's was predictably empty.
His father followed him to his room and checked for Thomas, who was of course curled up in his bed instead of his own. With them all accounted for he gave Derek a hug and bid him goodnight.
His muscles protested even moving his small sleeping brother.
His eyes opened wide, but seeing Derek he calmed. "What took you so long?"
Derek let out a small laugh. "I'd like to see you haul all of those barrels champ."
Thomas started to crawl out of his bed.
"You can stay."
Thomas looked at him confused and with his bed head he looked adorable. "You usually kick me out."
"That's because you actually kick me in the neck. But you can stay tonight."
Thomas didn't think twice. He crawled right back into the middle of the bed and Derek didn't have it in him to care. He got changed into his sleep clothes and gently moved a yawning Thomas over. He protectively curled around him and got settled in.
A small sleepy voice spoke. "Are you letting me stay because of whatever has mom, dad, and Laura so worried?"
Thomas had none of the enhanced senses that his siblings and cousin had, but he always could sense things. In some ways he was more in tune with things than any of them. "No I'm letting you stay so the kraken under your bed doesn't eat you." He smiled when Thomas turned to him to give him a flat look. "And there's nothing to worry about." He put an arm around Thomas and pulled him as close as he could. "Go to sleep Tommy."
Thomas let out a yawn and soon his heartbeat was slowed.
He was still seething with the new found enemy, at finally having a channel for his anger, but seeing Thomas sleeping peacefully he calmed. Derek placed a kiss on his forehead and spoke once more before letting his brothers heartbeat lull him to sleep. "We'll protect you."
---
Derek awoke the next morning to a forceful pain in his neck. He shot up with claws and glowing eyes. He looked around wildly. Once he new everything was okay he flopped back down and pulled a pillow on top of his face with clawless fingers.
The sound was muffled, but no less frustrated, "Ughgshghh omas at urt!"
Derek moved the pillow to see Thomas was still sound asleep with his head on the opposite side of the bed and his foot close to Derek's face. Derek shoved it off the bed and he didn't even stir. Derek got up with a huff and got changed. He headed downstairs to start his work.
He kissed his mother's head where she was bent over her desk. When she looked up at him his head tilted towards the floor. She brought her wrist up and rubbed it against his neck. Once he looked up she wrapped her hand around the side of his neck and gently stroked his jaw. "Don't worry. We will handle it."
Derek opened his mouth to protest, but decided not to. "Okay."
She smiled and pulled his head down to kiss his forehead. "Good. Now go help your sister so she can head to the distillery."
In the face of all their budget cutting Laura took the brunt of the distillery work. She only helped set up the bar in the mornings while his mother sorted paperwork. Once she went to the distillery the bar was managed by Derek till the end of work rush and then his mother helped. His father was a teacher, but was recently let go so if he didn't have an odd job or two he helped out when he wasn't giving the younger two kids lessons.
They were all constantly working nowadays, just to barely make ends meet. Derek could remember even just a couple months ago when things were good, but there was supposedly some big peace meeting in a couple months that had tensions rising and the people preparing for an all out war. As the months dragged on things got tighter and tighter. Now, he just wished the noose closing around their necks was on the filthy pirates stealing their lively hood. But Derek had to put that all away to get though the day, it was much too heavy for this early.
The mornings were always slow. There was nothing really to do except get set up for the day. Pretty soon Laura was leaving him in charge of the two barflies, Kevin and Mark, that seemingly never left the place. It was slow up until it wasn't. The lunch rush came like it always did, all at once. Even though it wasn't as much as it had always been, Derek was busy. It wasn't until two that he finally felt like he wasn't rushed off his feet.
He was just pouring a refill for someone as the bar doors slammed open. All eyes in the bar turned to the stranger in the entryway as he quickly closed the doors behind him. He was out of breath, but acting like he wasn't. After a pause as he surveyed the room, he started to saunter towards the bar, but as shouting crown's guard walked past he sat down with a clatter at an occupied table. His back was to the door as he slung an arm around the man sitting there.
"Hi, how ya doing?"
The man sneered and started to pull away. The stranger pulled out a coin and flicked it onto the table in front of the man with his thumb. "Have a drink on me pal." The coin was worth at least three drinks and the man swept it up with a smile.
The man was pleased with his presence then, and tried to get him to stay, but as soon as the shouting stopped he resumed his path towards the bar. "Sorry, I can't stay friend."
He reached the bar and knocked on it as if Derek wasn't already looking at him. "Three things call me: the sea, rum,-" He reached up to point towards a middle shelf rum. "And f-"
Derek caught his wrist before he could pull it back down. "You're a pirate." Derek said the word with a sneer as he looked down at the brand.
The stranger quickly schooled his startled expression. "Nonsense. The P stands for pretty, my face was such a distraction Captain Jackson Whittemore had to brand it into my skin. I am a fine upstanding citizen of this country just like you all. God bless the rightful queen." He lifted his other hand like he was toasting the drink he did not possess yet.
"So I could just call those guards back here?"
The stranger tutted like he was speaking to a child. "Now is that any way to treat a paying customer?"
Derek flung the arm that had still been firmly in his grip. "Your money is no good here." He spit his next word out like vitriol. "Pirate."
That only made the stranger smirk with a fire like look in his eyes. "Have I bed your wife? You seem to be very angry with someone you don't know."
Derek grit his teeth.
"No that's not it. Perhaps I refused to bed you?"
Derek's veins burned as did his cheeks. The other patrons seemed to chuckle at the barb, finally turning back to their drinks.
"No, that's not it either." The stranger leaned over the bar into his space to speak softly. "I wouldn't have refused." He tossed a suggestive wink and as he leaned back his eyes raked up and down Derek in a way that made him feel naked.
"Maybe I bed your sister."
Derek closed his eyes because he knew they would bleed blue. He quickly clenched his claws into his fists, hoping the stranger didn't see them.
"Get out before I make you." Derek snarled around teeth. This was one of the filthy people taking his family's business and he came to flaunt it in his face with jokes. Derek would rip his throat out with his teeth if it wouldn't put his family in more danger.
"Hm, no. I think we can come to an agreement. I-"
"I will call the guards back here." Derek could finally open his eyes and it was to a smile that had no right to be that disarming or that smug.
"You see, I don't think you will." The stranger gave a meaningful look down at his hands and when Derek looked he then tapped on the bar before scrapping against it with his fingernails. "I think you're about to pour me a drink."
Derek was just about to pull him into the back alley to beat that smirk right off his face when the pirate lifted a heavy coin purse to the bar. As soon as it clanked down the ties loosened enough to see in. It was enough gold coins for a third of their expenses for the entire month.
"I think you're going to pour me a house rum while taking my coin. Because between me and you, I think you'd rather have a filthy pirate drink here than have everyone you know brought before the Captain."
Derek couldn't help the fear that filled his chest as he said that. Every single were brought before the Captain was never seen again. Well, sometimes there would be a piece of jewelry or a blood stained article of clothing given to the uninvolved human family members if it was something they didn't know about. But if they had so much as a hint, they were gone too. The Captain was known for killing anyone who was even suspected of being in league with supernaturals. He was called the Kanima Captain, because almost like a reptile, he left no trace of people, seemingly swallowing entire families whole. Derek only had a moment to consider as the crown's guard filed back past.
The pirate seemed to give him an amused look like he didn't care if Derek called them in here. Like he would be just as happy running away.
"Fine." Derek snarled back swiping the coin purse.
The pirate smiled and threw down some more coins from a pocket. "And another round for the tavern filled with friends I've made." The pirate looked back to see if his bribe would work and the people cheered and tipped their glasses up in appreciation.
Derek poured his drink closer to the top than he normally would if not to just keep him from speaking that much longer.
As he turned back, the pirate was already mid story with Mark, who could barely keep his head up. The pirate must've taken the wobble his head does towards the bar as a nod of encouragement. He turned with sharp eyes to Derek who was wearing the most malicious look he had.
The pirate's lips only stopped moving once the glass was being tilted back and resumed as soon as it was empty.
Derek didn't move his spiteful stare away from the pirate, he knew better than to take your eyes off a thief.
The pirate finished his story and turned back to Derek. "You know if you look at me any more intensely I'll assume you want something. We already know about your scorn for pirates and their supposed thievery, so you must not want me to steal something for you. I already gave you money. I suppose there is one more thing I'm famous for." The pirate gave him a lecherous grin.
"The only thing I want from you, pirate, is for you to get out of my bar."
"Well, I think one drink is much too soon for you to take me back to your place. I mean, even if you were to try to take advantage of me, one drink is not enough to get me disoriented. I am a pirate after all." The pirate scrunched his nose mockingly as he said pirate.
"Oh I'm sure there isn't enough rum in the world to make you act even more as indecent and appalling as you do sober."
He smirked at Derek. "Not nearly."
Derek rolled his eyes and continued on with his job. He couldn't wait for the pirate to leave. As luck would have it, he just tossed down way too many coins and ordered himself another round.
Derek dutifully poured it.
Derek was on the other side of the bar pouring a drink when Thomas came down. The wolf inside him panicked. He wanted to be in between his pack and the pirate that seemed nothing but trouble.
"Tommy aren't you in the middle of lessons with Dad?"
Thomas shrugged. "I was hungry. He told me to ask you for something."
Derek seemed frazzled. "Right okay, there should be some dried meat over there. Grab it and go back upstairs." Derek tried to finish with the group, but they kept asking him questions.
"I can't find it."
Derek was about to huff at him to look with his eyes when he remembered Laura grabbed the snack on her way out. "Okay sorry bud, I didn't get time to pick up anything else. Just giv-"
"Here."
Derek stiffened at the voice. He turned to see the pirate washing an apple with his soft flowy shirt. He held it out to Thomas.
Derek put the pitcher down and moved towards them quickly. "Tommy don't take that."
Thomas seemed to look at the pirate appraisingly. He took the apple and smelled it.
"Tommy!"
"What? It's just an apple." He took a bite and Derek felt his heart fall out. He rushed the rest of the way to Thomas.
"What did I say? Huh! I told you not to take it!" All he could smell was the sweet scent of fruit, but there were many scentless poisons. He went to snatch it out of his hands, but Thomas moved it and stuck out his tongue.
"Easy friend. I did not mean to offend you. He seemed hungry."
Derek turned turned to the pirate and snarled in his face. "Do not, call me friend!"
The pirate held up his hands, and Derek wanted nothing more than to just rip them from his body. Something about this man irritated him so much. Just the way he looked got under his skin.
"Whoa, you're scaring me." Thomas' eyes looked shiny. "Did I do something wrong?" Thomas' voice went small as he looked at the pirate. "Is he a bad man?"
The look on the pirate's face looked totally foreign to anything Derek thought it could look like.
"No, I'm not. I just said some rude things to your brother. He made me feel like I was wrong just because of what I am, so I said some things I shouldn't have. I am sorry for what I said though... Well. most of it. Some of it. Do you think your brother will forgive me for what I am and what I said?" The pirate didn't take his eyes off Thomas and it made his wolf bristle at how earnest he was looking at his brother. Like he actually cared what he said.
Thomas looked confused. "That doesn't sound like Derek. He would never hate anybody for what they are. Just who they choose to be. He can seem kinda mean sometimes though. But he's not. He even let me sleep in his bed last night even though I always kick him!"
Derek's cheeks flamed once again.
Stiles glanced up at him. "Is that so?"
"Yeah. So I'm sure he will forgive you for what you said. Well, as long as you didn't say anything about his family." Thomas laughed. "He once gave Louis, the butcher's son, a knuckle sandwich for saying Laura couldn't do better than him."
"Well, what if I tried real hard, even if I did that, would he forgive me?"
He seemed to consider. "I think so. Derek's the best big brother ever. He never stays mad at me." Thomas looked up at him so adoringly his heart almost melted.
"Well then, I guess I should apologize."
Derek was brought away from Thomas to look at the pirate. "No need. Pirate."
Thomas' eyes went wide. "You're a pirate?" He spoke in a hushed awed tone.
He booped his nose. "Sure am, kiddo."
"Is the kraken real?" Thomas asked in a rush.
The pirate laughed and leaned down from his bar stool after glancing around to see if anyone was looking. He whispered into his ear. "She sure is, but between me and you, she's a total sweetheart."
Derek put an arm on the pirate's shoulder to pull him back. "Tommy, go finish your work."
"But Derek-"
"Thomas." Derek spoke with a commanding voice.
"Ugh fine." Thomas turned to the pirate before leaving. "What's your name?"
"Well, your brother just calls me pirate, but my name is Stiles."
Thomas' face scrunched up as Derek spoke, "What the hell is a Stiles?"
Stiles rolled his eyes. "What's your name kid?"
Thomas beamed before holding out his hand. "My name is Thomas, but Derek calls me Tommy."
Stiles smiled. "Should I call you Tommy?"
Derek moved in between them and put his hand on the bar. "You shouldn't call him anything."
Thomas wedged underneath Derek's arm. "You should call me Thomas." Derek had an annoyed scowl on his face.
"And you can call my brother D-" Thomas' eyes widened slightly and Derek's arm tightened around him. "Miguel. You can call him Miguel."
Stiles raised an eyebrow. "Miguel?"
Derek tightened the arm around him as he spoke with clenched teeth. "Miguel."
"I can't breathe, you meanie. Let me go." Thomas landed a boney elbow right between his ribs and as soon as he doubled over he scurried back up the steps.
As Derek was regaining his breath he realized how close he had gotten to the pirate. He took two steps back.
"Relax. I only bite if you make me." His gleaming teeth somehow seemed more threatening than half the wolves he's met.
"Finish your drink and then leave. I'm not asking."
Stiles swallowed it all down then stood. "Well, I'm not one to overstay my welcome."
"You did that the moment you stepped foot in here."
Stiles let out a laugh. "Man, what do you have against pirates?"
"You are dirty thieves that don't think about how you hurt anyone else. You don't care about anyone and no one cares about you."
The pirate slapped his hand down on the bar. "You know it's bigots like you who don't think to even try to understand someone before going right to judging. I would think you would know better, but apparently not. You know, not all pirates are just the trash that this society throws out to the seas, sometimes we leave because we know this society is the trash and needs to be fixed. I don't take down the little fishing boats trying to make a living. I take down the royal ships so laden with treasures they've stolen from other lands just because they have less firepower! I take down ships with enough money to help the kingdom, but the Argents would rather hoard it for power!"
Derek took his arm harshly. "If you're going to flaunt that you're a pirate a few drinks might make them forget, but if you want to talk about just who you steal from I'd lower your voice. Most don't give a damn, but some care for the Argents."
The pirate still had rage in his eyes as he looked at the attention he had grabbed, but he nodded at Derek and stormed through the doors.
Derek's day passed like all of the ones before and soon enough he was tossing out the days trash and then getting ready for bed for it to all start over again tomorrow.
He kissed Thomas on the head and crawled into bed.
"Psst. Derek."
Derek opened his eyes. "Yes Tommy?"
"We met a pirate today!"
Derek couldn't help the churning in his stomach at Thomas' delighted tone. "We did."
He heard rustling. "Don't sound like that Derek. We met a pirate! You love pirates!"
Derek swiveled his head to look at where Thomas was sitting up in bed. "I do not!"
"You do too. You always tell me stories about awesome pirates!"
"That's different."
"How?"
Derek opened his mouth before he found something he could say. "Those pirates are fake."
"So?"
"Well, they don't actually steal from people."
"Robin hood is fake, but if someone actually stole from rich people to give to the poor people he would be good."
"That's not the same thing."
"Why?"
It infuriated Derek when he did that. Used one word answers to completely derail what Derek said. "Because. Okay. Just because."
"But why?"
Derek turned to groan in his pillow. "Because, Stiles is a filthy pirate that steals okay. Now go to bed."
"I'm not tired. I want a story about pirates." Derek knew he did that just to press the issue.
"Tommy go to sleep before I smother you with my pillow."
He heard a huff and Thomas angrily turning towards the wall and shoving around his blankets.
Derek could practically see the pouty lip. He closed his eyes and sighed. "There once was a pirate, he was a bad pirate. He got put in jail and everyone celebrated at the bar. The end."
"That's the worst story you've ever told." Derek could hear the smile in his voice just like the one he was wearing.
"Tomorrow night's will be better. Get some sleep. I love you Tommy."
Thomas yawned. "I love you too Derek."
For once Derek was not awoken by Thomas crawling into his bed or nightmares. He was awoken by a crash in the alley. The alley that was right below their window. Derek scrambled out of bed shoving the blankets away and snagging a shirt as he went towards the hall. He walked out the hall and was met with glowing red eyes in the darkness of the room across the hall. The glowing gave way to darkness and his mother stepped into the faintly lit hallway.
"Did you hear it?"
"It did not sound big. Are you sure you closed the bin? Those raccoons are probably back. Go check Derek."
They had been plagued by the pesky vermin since Lily had left food out for them for a week and now no matter what they would not leave. Derek nodded at his mother and headed down the stairs and he grabbed a broom before going through the back door.
Derek let out a sigh as he closed the door behind himself.
When he turned around the silhouette of a man startled him into dropping the broom and growing claws and fangs. The flash of his eyes brought clear sight of someone he dreaded to see.
"Man you are the worst secret werewolf ever. That's twice now. If the crown's guard weren't such incompetent imbeciles I would say you'd have a problem."
Derek quickly shifted back. Maybe he would get a chance to beat him up in the back alley. "Say it a bit louder why don't you?!" Derek hissed out.
Stiles lifted a challenging eyebrow. "Man you really are the wor-" Stiles' lifted voice was quickly cut off by a hand over his mouth. A hand that had been across the alley, not but a moment ago. Derek's body was close enough to be threatening, but not enough to be squishing Stiles' bag in-between them. Derek's eyes made him look like he was about to tear Stiles to shreds as the hand gripped Stiles' mouth in a vice.
Stiles licked it.
"Augh gross! What are you, a child?"
Stiles stuck out his tongue. "Well then, you shouldn't cover my mouth. I need it for things." Stiles made a suggestive face at him.
"I don't want anymore filthy pirate on me, thank you."
The suggestive nature was wiped away by irritation. "Alright then. I believe that brings this conversation to an end then. If you would please excuse me, I have some business to attend to." Stiles did a mock bow. When he leaned back up he made a gesture like he was waiting for Derek to leave.
Derek had unimpressed eyebrows and petulantly crossed his arms. "I'm not moving until you leave my alley."
"This isn't your alley."
Derek's eyebrows taunted him and he adjusted so he stood a little taller. "That's my family's bar and we live right above it, I think it's safe to say this is my alley."
Stiles' eyes flickered up to above the bar and Derek inwardly cursed himself for giving out that piece of sensitive information. He didn't know what it was about the pirate, but he disarmed him while making him want nothing more than to just press his body against the wall and use his teeth on the man. "Not that it's any of your business pirate."
Stiles smiled. It seemed he was getting used to the sneer. That made Derek's blood boil.
"No, but it is good to know." Stiles chuckled. "If I ever need to find you, I'll know where to look."
Derek's face must've betrayed what he was thinking, because instantly Stiles' hand was no longer gripping the light brown satchel he had slung over his body and instead was clutching his arm.
"I mean you no harm." If Derek didn't know that he was dishonest for a living he'd swear he'd never seen a more honest man than he did in the face before him. "No matter what I said in the bar, I would never, and I mean never, put your family in harms way just because of who you are." Stiles' eyes were leaking sincerity and Derek found his shoulders slumping down in a calm relief he hadn't felt in months. It was dizzying how quickly the mood and conversation had changed.
Derek caught up to himself after a few moments of staring right into his eyes. Derek nodded minutely and stepped back while brushing off his hand. Derek had never been accepted for who he was entirely, ever, by anyone outside of his family. His family had to be constantly vigilant, never letting anyone too close. He felt flayed raw and his insides were a mess of not knowing what to do or how to feel. He had become so used to hiding who he was, never letting anyone in, and here was this pirate sauntering into his life when he should've been running. Or maybe Derek should've been the one that ran, but somehow he felt transfixed. Either way right now he had no idea what he should be doing, but he knew even if he wanted to, running would be the last thing he did. Even if he had no idea why.
Thomas hadn't been entirely wrong, though. He did like pirates, but that was before he found out that pirates were the ones stealing his family's business. Had been the reason for months of worry and barely scraping by. Months of Lily and Thomas no longer getting the cakes he used to buy them from the corner bakery, or the joy they brought. Months of Laura having to do the jobs they could no longer afford to pay anyone else to do. Months of his mom in her office making sure they didn't spend a single gold coin too much. Months of his dad trying to pick up odd jobs that had his bones creaking in a way that never failed to remind them how human he really was. They had owned New Haven for as long as Derek could remember. He couldn't lose it. He wouldn't. Not to the likes of this pirate.
And now that he had somewhere to focus all of the anger, that seemed to be more of a part of his heart than the blood pumping through it, he wouldn't let that go. Even still, just for this moment all of what had been suffocating him seemed to vanish to be replaced by desperation. It had been so long since he had felt something that deep other than anger. He almost forgot he could feel other ways. He still felt for his family of course, but the rage was always there. There were always flames crawling up his throat and licking the back of his brain. Now it was like cold ocean water was dumped down his back.
He nodded again. No matter how earnest Stiles seemed, Derek felt like he had to convince him. "We don't bother anyone. They would take the kids. He's only eight, she's nine. They don't deserve that. We aren't monsters, we ar-" Derek could tell he was getting himself worked up.
"Hey hey, I know. I know. Stupid heartless people that are afraid are the only ones who think that you are. You don't deserve any of the shit the Argent's rule has brought upon you. No supernatural being does."
Nobody ever disrespected the Argents like that. They grumbled and didn't care about them, but no one voiced their opinions like that. But maybe that was the plus of being a pirate. It made him wonder why the venom in Stiles' eyes was there. Why did he hate them so much? It seemed personal to him. Derek discretely took a breath in through his nose. Surely he wouldn't have missed it if Stiles was a were.
"I'm not a shifter. I just know when something is wrong."
Derek tried to not let it show that he was surprised Stiles caught him. "What about stealing, isn't that wrong?"
"Not if it was already stolen."
Derek scoffed. "So you're telling me everything you steal has been stolen?"
"No, I'm saying I only steal from the Argents and everything they have was either stolen of the backs of their people or from the rightful ruling families of Beacon and Duszasdom. They rule with an iron fist and Queen Victoria is as fit to rule as the crazed vengencewolf Captain. She lives for nothing other than to see her lands rid of peaceful families just because they are different, even at the expense of her own. She has no right to rule, much less of a claim on the riches of those kingdoms. They can talk peace and prosperity all they want, but the war with King Deucalion is ravaging the lands! The only thing keeping their control is their army of hunters and the so called strengthening arrangements. Just because they gave away the southeastern half of Beacon to the now Queen Natalie and Lady Lydia and the rest to Kate doesn't mean that that vile woman doesn't control it too! And they might have won tentative favor among the Duszaonians with my- the Sheriff's approval, but that won't last long. It might look nice on paper, but make no mistake that family controls everything and everyone who submits to them! And I refuse! Refuse! To be one of them! So call me dirty pirate all you want, I will never submit to a rule under an Argent who thinks about how she can kill innocents just because they're different, before she thinks about the good of her people! The Argents focus their armies inwardly hounding anyone who so much as growls all the while Deucalion slaughters her supposed subjects at the borders! She is unfit to rule as is her sister-in-law! The Argents do not deserve what they took!"
Stiles was heaving with rage in his eyes. If Derek didn't know better he would say that the air was actually charged with lighting, everything felt electric. Stiles seemed to collect himself, but it was more like the lighting was in a bottle now. He may have corked it, but there was still a danger there. "All I'm saying is, I might steal, but I steal from the right people. I don't hurt innocents. There are much worse things out there to be than a pirate."
Derek almost wanted to scream my family is innocent, but with how worked up Stiles had been he thought against it. "You can think what you'd like. I don't want to see you around here again. You are loud with your views and no matter if they are true or not, they attract attention. Attention we don't need. This is private property. Get away." Derek barely held back the urge to make a shooing motion.
Gone was the rage as Stiles slipped into that lazy smile he seemed to always wear. "Private property? This is an alley."
Derek was back to being annoyed. "My alley."
"Okay okay. I'll leave just one question."
Derek let out a huff of exasperation.
"Is it private property to the rat too?" He pointed at a small mouse eating a piece of banana peel.
"Should I take him with me? Or are you going to snap your teeth at h-" Stiles ducked the broom Derek swung at him with a laugh. He started down the alley and called over his shoulder. "Okay, okay. You win sourwolf, I'm going." He started walking backwards to look at Derek. "But I know you'll miss me."
Derek deadpanned. "Desperately."
Stiles let out an obnoxious laugh and set off in a jog. "Goodnight Miguel." Stiles' voice had a strange lilt when he said his name like he knew it was fake.
"Goodnight pirate." Even if he was justified in other things he was definitely still causing harm, whether he knew it or not. Nonetheless, Derek found himself oddly taken in with the pirate. He shook his head trying to rid himself of the amusement curling in his gut.
Derek could hear his mom moving down the stairs. He quickly went back inside to meet her in the back room.
"What took you so long? Were they in the garbage?"
He knew she would hear if he lied, and for some reason he didn't want to tell her about the pirate. "Don't worry mom. I cleaned up the filth out there."
"Good. Let's get to bed. It's late."
It wasn't until he was back settled in bed that he realized that Stiles probably was delivering his moonshine in that brown bag.
---
Derek yawned as he was lost in thought about the night before while wiping a glass. Why had Stiles been in his alley. Sure, he was probably delivering moonshine, but his alley specifically? The town was a maze of different back ways and turns. Not only did he burst into his bar, but to be outside his window? His mother always warned him about people hunting them. It always boggled Derek the amount of paranoia his parents and Laura had for being found. It wasn't just the guard they were weary of either. They wouldn't let anyone outside of the family watch Lily or Thomas, they never told people their real names, and they never allowed them to have friends get too close.
Derek had once. He had made friends with three people, kids really. They had nowhere to go and they were scared. Derek and his family took care of them, but as soon as his mother found out they were wanted by the Captain, Derek never saw them again. For a terrifying moment Derek had wondered if she turned them in to keep her family out of it.
Sometimes it was a lonely life, not being able to talk to anyone outside of his family. He loved them, but he wished that sometimes he could meet someone more than just once. The bar was filled with either people that he'd known since as long as he could remember or drifters that only stopped for a drink.
Then came Stiles.
Why did the first person he actually was able to have a conversation that didn't involve asking what someone wanted to drink, have to be with a filthy pirate?
He felt eyes on him and he looked up.
Laura had one eyebrow raised at him. "I don't think that glass is getting anymore dry. You've been on that one for like five minutes. Something wrong?"
Derek did not want to tell her about Stiles. "No." Fuck that was way too fast, and did his voice really go a bit high, ugh.
Laura looked gleeful. The damn shark looked like she smelled blood in the water. "Really?" Her voice was flat.
"Leave it."
"So there is something!"
Derek put down the glass. "Lauuuuuuraaaaa." He wished she would just go open the doors, so they could start working.
"Nope nope, you do not get to hide this from me. I'm your big sister and nothing ever happens in this town. Spill."
"It has nothing to do with you."
"Don't care. Do you want me to get Mom to as-"
Derek's eyes widened. "You wouldn't, you evil witch." Derek knew she absolutely would. "Fine." He had to remain vague. "I met someone."
Laura's mouth went open with a grin. "You met someone?" She unlocked the door for a group that was waiting.
Shit. By her tone he realized how fucked he was. He stayed vague alright, but by her tone she interpreted it way differently than he meant her to.
"Not like that!"
She looked downright smug. The bitch. "Sure. Not like that at all." She said it like it totally was like that.
"Don't go making a big deal about it."
"Are you kidding? You haven't met a person you haven't instantly hated. This is huge!"
Someone called for a barkeep. He contemplated telling her that he does actually hate them, but that would just open more questions. "I'm done talking about this." Derek walked away from her to help the patron.
"For now. I'll let you be, for now." That woman was evil, pure evil.
---
"You there! Stop! There's nowhere left to run!" The head crown's guard shouted at a panting Stiles heading straight towards the lookout point.
He laughed as he came to a stop where the cobblestone mounted upwards into a waist high fence. The crudely cemented together rocks arched out in an incomplete circle towards the sea, on the edge of a cliff. Stiles hopped up onto the ledge.
"Who said anything about running Captain Jackass?" Smirking, Stiles jumped off with a sloppy salute.
After the expected splash Jackson let out a sigh. "Every fucking time Stilinski."
A few moments later more guards rushed up behind him and swiveled their heads back and forth trying to catch sight of the pirate.
Stiles saw his laugh turn to air bubbles and then race each other to the surface in a wobbly game of chase. They broke the surface, but he kept swimming down.
What little air he had left he used to blow out a little bubble in front of him. He quickly reached out a hand and forced the bubble to stay down with the wave of his hand. He slowly opened his hand and splayed his fingers as far as he could. The air bubble rapidly expanded. Once it was big enough Stiles swam over to it and went inside. He took a deep gasping breath and let out a small chuckle.
"That will only get old once he figures out how I do it." Stiles looked over to a fish swimming by. "Which will be never."
With the flick of a wrist the bubble was moving and carting him along with it. It was moving at a leisurely pace till a big dark shape came into view.
"There she is."
As he came closer Stiles was able to make out the shape he had memorized by now.
Inside a bubble much like the one he was currently in, except much larger, was a ship. But not just any ship, the finest ship in, or on the seven seas. She far out shone any of the sunken ships that had ever graced the waves, because when she went down it was never for long. And any ship now would barely be out of port by the time good ol Claudia made it round the world two times flat. The finest ship and with a crew Stiles had mostly hand picked by the time he was fifteen. It had only taken five years to get Stiles from a sniffling kid just wanting his mom back, to first mate on the head ship of the most feared and respected pirate armada on the seas. It had only taken three more years after that before he convinced the Captain he could lead it before Stiles was Captain Stilinski the feared spark of the seas.
He was renowned for being fair, but ruthless. Many said that if it wasn't for his first mate the town of Schlongshire would be nothing but rubble and bodies not even worth burying. It was unusual for a human to be a pirate, but not unheard of. What was unheard of was a spark being one. When one could control countries and have given to them everything they could want simply for their allegiance, why would they go pillaging the seas for scraps. Sparks hardly came along twice in a century, they were powerful. And more often than not, destined for greater things than being a pirate. All the same, he lived a life true to himself and doing everything in his power to make the world better, while trying his damnedest to return to his family. Even if in his many years at sea he had learned to make a new one. One that ate oranges and threw each other overboard for a laugh. He helped supernaturals as much as he could, giving the homeless and hopeless with nowhere else to turn, a place to be accepted. To be cared for and a part of something.
It was no secret that most of his crew was strays he had picked up or saved from certain doom. He even protected quite a few from the grasp of the Argents and even the Captain.
His bubble met the much bigger one slightly above deck level and as they pressed into each other they combined and Stiles popped through. He fell down and landed on deck in a crouch steadying himself with on hand on the floor.
As if they hadn't seen his approach, his crew's eyes snapped to attention at the sound of his boots hitting the wood.
"Mornin Cap."
Stiles half bowed at the man carrying a barrel across the ship. "And an absolutely splendid mornin to you as well."
A man rushed up to him. "How did it go?" The man seemed nervous.
"Scotty, me matey, you worry too much."
Scott rolled his eyes. "You know you sound ridiculous when you speak like that."
"Arrr I do. And you know you love it."
Scott's face went serious. "How did it fare?"
Stiles' smile fell as he looked at him. "Where is she?"
Scott winced. "That bad? She's below deck, she didn't sleep well and has a headache. What happened?"
Stiles looked around to see if anyone was listening. Everyone seemed rather busy as soon as he looked. In fact as his eyes started sweeping the deck he clocked at least three people actually sweeping the deck which was odd because it was his turn to brush away the dirt. "Are you givin your Captain sauce?" Stiles hooked an arm around his neck and started walking them towards his quarters. "It went bloody brilliant as expected."
Once the door shut behind them Stiles let go of him. "How many times do I have to tell you, no talking in front of the crew. It's bad for morale."
"So it is bad news then?"
Stiles sighed and scrubbed a hand down his face as he tossed his hat onto his desk. "Duchess Evangeline hadn't heard or found anything and neither has Lord Emhyr." Stiles sat heavily down in his chair by his desk and Scott came closer. "If they're in either of their territories they're so well hidden that they'll never find them."
Scott crossed his arms as he leaned against the desk. "And you believe them? You think they're trustworthy?"
Stiles gave a considering look as he steepled his fingers. He nodded his head. "I do. With what we know about them they wouldn't dare lie to us. If there is any further information they would've passed it along. For all the Lady's talents, blackmail is one of her finest."
"And were you followed on your way back from your meeting with her?"
Stiles scoffed. "The Captain couldn't catch me if I had two hands tied behind my back, and I would know-"
Scott rolled his eyes and spoke instep with Stiles.
"I've gotten away shackled."
"- I've gotten away shackled." Stiles stuck out his tongue. "Make fun all you'd like, that was badass."
Stiles stared at him until one side of his jaw moved and his lip curled up. "Okay, that was pretty badass."
Stiles smiled. "Okay, I'm all good here. I'll be heading to bed shortly, I woke up so early it was late, you should go check on her."
Scott's expression changed. "You going to bed shortly translates to me walking in on you in the morning still up, drunk bent over the charts."
Stiles' wide smile dropped. "I'll be fine. You head to bed, you woke early as well."
Scott didn't move. "You may not want to worry the crew, but I'm not just crew. I'm your firstmate. You're my brother." Scott looked at him with his puppy eyes.
Stiles rolled his eyes. "Alright you can stop that now. I'm worried Scotty, of course I am. If we don't find them in time-"
"We will find them in time." Scott went over to the couch and sat down.
Stiles gave him a flat look. "Your eternal optimism is not welcome here."
"Okay fine. Say we don't, it will still be fine. We have a backup plan." Scott motioned him to come sit.
Stiles gave him a dubious look. "You and I both know she won't be able to kill her father, not when he hasn't done anything to deserve it." Stiles poured two glasses of rum and walked over to sit down.
Scott took a glass. "So we'll find a way around it. Stiles I know us, I know you. You've always thought of something, you always figure any problem we have out."
Stiles ran a hand through his hair. "That's just it Scotty, this isn't just some problem. This is the problem, the biggest problem. And if this doesn't go right then we're most likely dead."
Scott put a commiserating hand on his arm. "Yeah. That would suck for us."
"It would so suck."
Stiles drained his glass and set it on the floor. "Alright, open up. I need puppy cuddles."
Scott opened his arms and wedged a leg along the back of the couch and draped the other down the side of the couch. Stiles crawled into his arms and leaned his back against Scott's front.
"Scott you're the best friend ever."
Scott wrapped his arms around Stiles and breathed in his best friend that always smelled like spicy soap, seawater, and something crackling. It took him awhile to realize, but he knew now that was the scent of Stiles' rage. Ever present, even now, content to be wrapped up safe with the person he relied on most. "We are going to be okay. Stiles, I need you to realize that. We will figure it out and we will be behind you every step of the way. This crew, they would die for you. We're a family Stiles. You did that, you built us. You saved us. You aren't just my best friend or the best Captain, you're the best person I've ever known."
With his words Scott swore he could hear the thunder receding. "I just don't want to let everyone down. Everyone is all in on this one. And no matter what everyone says, even if it is their choice, if this goes belly up, it's on me."
"Yeah it is. It's on ye, it's on me, it's on everyone involved. But that won't stop you will it?"
Stiles sighed and leaned his head back into the curve of Scott's neck. "No, it won't."
"So we're in this together?"
"Aye. We always are. Always have been."
There was a pause of silence as they just relaxed.
"Why can't we be nine again, running around and stealing jelly tarts when our moms weren't looking?"
Scott slapped Stiles' stomach. "Excuse ye! I never stole jelly tarts! You never told me they were stolen! I still can't believe ye roped me into that one. It's been nine years and I still can't believe that!"
Stiles laughed. "But you ate them, you were a part of it!" He chuckled and then his scent went sour. "Maybe I was always meant to be a filthy pirate stealing things and hurting people."
"Hey what did we say about listening to the shit Jackson says?" Scott said it jokingly expecting a light-hearted response. Usually Stiles didn't take those sorts of things to heart.
He was serious as he replied, "It wasn't Jackson."
Scott set his drink down. "What? Who was it?"
Stiles stared blankly up at the ceiling. "Just some man, a barkeep. From yesterday."
"Don't let those speciest, Gerard lovers get to ye. He's a pig for-"
"No. He wasn't. He was an honest man, kind to his brother. I think he was a good man, a truly good one. He just- when he looked at me I could see just, this hatred. He hated pirates, he hated me even after I told him I didn't steal from the local fishermen. I felt like he truly hated me the second he looked at me. It was strange. I've never felt anything like it. You're going to think I'm mad but-"
"I already know you are mad."
Stiles elbowed him. "His eyes. I feel like I recognized them. And I just strangely wanted to get him to understand that I was not his enemy. I wanted him to think I was good too."
"Oh by thunder, that's your Lady Lydia voice! Have ye planned your wedding yet?"
"Shut up. I don't know he just felt... Important. I shouldn't even be thinking about this. It doesn't matter. I'll never see him again."
Stiles was still staring at the ceiling without moving.
"But ye want to?"
"It doesn't matt-"
"Do y-"
"Yes!" He turned and laid on his stomach. "I want his eyes to look at my eyes. And for him to not have so much hate in them. Is that so much to ask for?"
Scott smiled. "I think you deserve to be happy, but you pick impossible ways of getting there. But if you think he could be good for ye, go for it."
"It's not even that Scotty, I just feel in my bones I need to see him again. It's not like that at all. "
"Like your spark says so? Okay. Then do that."
"Don't be daft."
"I'm not."
"I can't be distracted right now."
"Oh, he's distracting is he?"
Stiles turned his head and smiled. "He's hotter than Lady Lydia."
Scott grabbed the couch like they were sailing stormy seas that were tossing the ship about. "Hotter than Lady Lydia!"
Stiles pressed a finger to his lips. "Shhhh she'll hear you!"
"We're under the ocean and she's miles away in her castle."
"She has tea with Davey Jones, they gossip."
Scott laughed at his friend which was interrupted by a knock and some one barging in followed by the door slamming. "Is the Cap- Ugh gross your weird incesto make out session is not something I wanted to see today."
"Cora, how many times do I have to tell ye. Knock, wait, then come in!"
Cora rolled her eyes. "I just came in to ask if the Cap-"
There was another knock and the door once again slammed open. "Is the Captain coming out to tell us what happened?"
Stiles pressed his face into Scott's chest and banged it against it. "Ma-li-aaaaa! Knock! Wait! Come in! I swear I will hang a sign."
"She can't read remember?"
Malia snarled at Cora.
"What? You can't."
"That's rude Cora! Malia put the claws away there will be no murdering of crewmates today." He turned to Scott. "I swear by the stars I thought I was their Captain not their mother."
They laughed as they stood up to stretch.
"Captain will give a quick talk, eat something, then get some sleep."
"What would I do without you Scotty."
"Set ye ship on fire."
"That was one time!"
"Do you know how many times it takes a ship to burn down? Once. And it happened again too!"
"That time doesn't count because technically it was the monkey and you know it!"
---
FOUR MONTHS AGO
Derek had tried to push it away to not focus on it, he even nearly forgot. But as the days went by he couldn't shake the feeling that someone was about to burst through the bar doors. It had been over a month since he had seen the pirate and he didn't know if he was expecting him to have sent the crown's guard or if the pirate would burst through the doors again. One sent dread and the other excitement and he didn't know how to feel about that, hell he'd deny feeling anything but contempt for the pirate. Each day Derek became more resigned to never seeing him again, but one night when the sound of rustling in the alley woke him up he sprung out of bed.
"I'll get it mom!" He called out a little too loudly for the late hour as he rushed down the steps.
"Don't wake the whole house!" That was Laura's voice not his mom's.
"Go back to sleep you wench."
He could tell she was raising a middle finger to his back without even turning.
He threw open the door and for a disappointing second didn't see anything. Slowly out of a shadow a figure emerged.
"What are you doing here pirate?"
That damn lazy smirk. "I thought you might miss me by now."
Damn him. "Like shit on a shoe."
The pirate laughed and Derek found himself smiling. The sticky sweat and fever of having too heavy of a blanket on in the tropic heat still clung to the back of his neck, but the warmth felt a little less scorching with the night air tickling his skin.
"Do you often have looters?"
Derek was confused by the question. "What?"
"Well, I was just wondering what would prompt you to so eagerly bolt out of bed in such a state."
Derek looked down at his bare torso and thin sleeping pants. He crossed his arms with a scowl, but quickly used one hand to try and smooth down his bed head.
Stiles looked up and pulled his bottom lip into his mouth while the corners tilted up.
"That made it w-"
"Worse. So much worse." The words flooded out of him with joy.
Derek's cheeks heated as he looked away.
Stiles came closer and lifted a hand. Derek flinched.
"How many times do I have to tell you, I won't hurt you."
He had never seen his eyes this close before and he knew he'd never pour another glass of whiskey again without thinking about how honest he looked right now. How truthful, how right.
He moved his hands up again and carded his hands through his hair to smooth it out.
"There." He smiled at Derek and he swallowed harshly. "Now, I can't do anything about the pants... Well, I cou-"
Derek met his raised eyebrow with a pair of flat ones. "No, thank you."
"Hm, are you that polite in the bedroom too?"
Derek was so caught of guard he scoffed as his cheeks flamed. "Must you be so shameless?"
"Yup. Otherwise I lose a bet that I couldn't live my whole life being the most shameless person to ever walk the earth. And unfortunately I put my ship as collateral, so I must keep to it."
At the mention of his ship Derek's eyes hardened again. "Well, it's rude and off putting."
"If you'd rather I could be putting out."
"I'd rather you leave my alley."
The step forward the pirate took was dangerous and Derek suddenly couldn't remember how to breathe. He was close before, but now he could see that it was exactly three thirty-five on a good sea faring day, the kind of day filled with just the perfect amount of sunshine filtering through windows that if he swirled a glass of whiskey it would be the closest anything could ever get to his eyes without a touch of magic. They were hypnotic and he wondered if maybe the pirate had been blessed by a seawitch. A blessing that any hate ever felt towards him would turn to butterflies.
"Would you though? Would you rather that I leave? Because I can."
Stiles went to take a step back and immediately Derek's mouth fell open. The pirate smirked at him and his rage came back at being tricked and toyed with. "Why are you here in my alley, pirate?" Derek caught sight of the bag over his shoulder and quickly dug in it and snatched out a bottle.
Stiles scrambled to get it back. "Hey, that's mine!" As he reached for it Derek held it up. Even though they were the same height, Derek grew up with multiple siblings and knew how to play keep away. As Stiles' limbs flailed in their pursuit he whined. "With all the shit you gave me about stealing, and here you are taking my things!"
Derek knew he had a right to what he said, but the anger was still there. He pushed Stiles backwards and looked right into his eyes as he sent the bottle crashing to the ground.
It shattered with an awful noise and liquor splashed everywhere. As the pieces scattered Stiles' eyes widened. "What the hell! Dude, that is so not cool!" His eyes were still downcast at the shards that now laid all over. As soon as he looked up he took a step back.
There was malice in his eyes clear as day.
"Leave pirate. And don't come back."
This time Stiles believed him. He scrambled backwards and as he took off into the night Derek heard something like he's not worth it. He felt that mutter as if Stiles had picked up a shard and slashed across his chest with it.
This entire time he's been rejecting the pirate. He's been belittling him, thinking he's heartless. A thief. A criminal. But to hear that he doesn't think Derek was worth it hurt more than he would've thought. Worth what? The time he took to talk to him? The effort to annoy him? The air he breathes? The space he takes up? The family that he has? Not worth what? Anything? It was so vague Derek's mind took it and ran. He imagined he meant all of them. Maybe that's why it hurt so bad, it was like multiple insults at once.
Just like that, as soon as he could no longer hear the pirate absconding in the night, Derek felt the familiar heat at the back of his throat. His anger and returned and decided he wanted nothing to do with the filthy pirate anymore.
Derek fell into bed still hot with anger and tossed his blanket to the floor. Derek laid there stewing till he thought about how his anger was justified. The pirate insulted him, even if he had done something offensive first. The pirate was a rotten no good liar. He didn't know shit about Derek. A self satisfied smirk found its way to his lips. He was glad he had vented like that now. It was good to get it out, because he deserved it.
With a yawn he decided to sleep and dream only of the pirate's ship sailing far away.
Thomas was asleep in his bed, but even from across the room he felt the comfort his brother brought him. He listened to his heartbeat and drifted off.
---
He was aware of the sunlight filtering into the room before he opened his eyes. He heard heartbeats from all the rooms and instinctively felt the safety of having his pack asleep around him. His eyes opened in soft little flicks of his lashes. He felt the peace of the morning and smiled. He hadn't slept like that in ages.
While getting dressed he debated taking a quick run. He woke up early and feeling rested, but he knew the day would tire him out quickly. It was better to just get to work. By the time Laura came down he had already set up all the tables, made breakfast for everyone, and gotten the bar ready for the day.
"Ugh, I nearly forgot you're a disgusting morning person. Seriously Der, it's been so long I was getting used to you rolling out of bed right before mom was about to lose her shit and go into your room to tackle you."
He let a small smile grace his face.
Her face still had a mark where she had laid on her pillow, but to Derek she was the most intimidating person he had ever met when she had that look on her face. She raised an eyebrow. "Why are you so glee ridden today?"
"I just slept well."
She became further intrigued. "And why did you sleep well?"
Derek needed to distract her with something and quickly. "I don't know. Hey, I made fresh bread for breakfast."
She squinted at him. "You're distracting me."
Oh shit, oh shit. It was the worst when she knew she was being distracted. She would be relentless now.
Her face turned sad. "It's okay. You don't have to tell me. It's just I miss how we used to be. We were so close. You used to tell me everything. I guess I just wanted to feel like your big sister again."
Derek felt the back of his throat getting thick. Damn her. This is how she wanted to play it, fine. He was ready to tell her to stop guilting him, but then he caught her eyes and he saw the sparkle of sincerity. Derek knew he had been pulling away from them, but he didn't think they'd notice. The guilt of it wore him down and he leaned against the counter with a huff.
He saw the satisfaction in her face, but she leaned against the bar as well to show how ready she was to listen.
His sister knew him, so when he sat in silence she didn't push.
Why had he slept so good? Why did he feel so content? The foreground of his mind wanted to shout that it was because he had sent the pirate off, but even if it was the loudest voice it wasn't the only one. With how calm he was he knew, deep down, that Stiles wasn't the only pirate responsible. He was just the only one Derek could hold responsible. Hell, it wasn't even just all the pirates' fault. It was the taxes to fund an unnecessary war. It was the war killing people's spirits. It was the Argents for creating the war. It was so many things, but Stiles was all he could focus on because it was easier to scream at one person than accept there's a flawed system in place that he can't fix. He knew rationally he didn't really want Stiles gone, so why was he happy that he was?
Or maybe it wasn't that Stiles was gone that made him happy.
Maybe it was that he was there at all.
Derek tried to find a reason for it to not be true, but he couldn't.
But then if he was happy that Stiles was there, why was he still happy once he was gone? It didn't make any sense. He felt confused and wrong footed.
Why was he so happy? Why was he so content? Why was h-
Derek's head lifted up from where he had been staring at the ground with a shock.
Why wasn't he angry?
That was the real question. He hadn't even noticed, but he didn't feel the heat at his back chasing him. He didn't feel the burning inside. For the first time in a long time he had awoken without the rage.
Maybe he wasn't happy that the pirate was there. Maybe he was just not angry once he had left. Maybe letting it out helped him in a way he hadn't been helped in a long time. It still made him feel bad. Especially remembering the way he looked at him once he told him to leave, but still. That hole where his anger was, was so much lighter to carry now. Even if there was an emptiness that came with how he got it.
He knew it wouldn't last, but today he was genuinely happy. He couldn't help wanting to see the pirate everyday if this is how he felt afterwards. Even if that was selfish.
Laura made a noise that let him know she was getting impatient.
Even if he didn't understand it, he knew he had to try to explain.
"That person I met." He could tell she got excited. "We had a fight. I yelled at him and I don't think I'll ever see him again and it makes me happy."
He could sense the confusion.
"I told you it wasn't like that Laur. But it's not really that I enjoy that he's gone either, at least I think not. I just- I always have this anger in me. It just hurts so much, and when I yelled at him it made it not hurt so much. I know it was shitty of me, but I-I just..."
"You just want it to stop hurting." Her eyes were teary and Derek could feel his getting glossy as well.
"I don't know why. I don't know why I feel this anger. God Laura, it doesn't make any sense. It's just there constantly, and it feels like I'm on fire."
At that Laura let out a choked sob.
"I'm sorry Laura. I'm so sorry I don't know why I'm like this."
She moved quickly towards him and pulled him into a hug. "Do not, ever, tell me you're sorry for how you feel. You hear me? You only have to apologize for how you act with those emotions."
Derek gripped onto the back of her shirt for a few more moments, grateful to feel the comfort of his big sister again.
When they broke apart Laura looked questioningly into his eyes. "Do you think this happiness will wear off once you realize, truly realize, that you'll never see him again? You'll never get to apologize. Don't you think you'll feel bad for what you said to him?"
Derek shrugged. "I guess I'll find out."
While they had breakfast Derek smiled at jokes and gave an extra slice of bread to Lily and they looked at him with approval. He hadn't realized how long it had been since he had interacted with his family normally. He enjoyed the day and he fell into sleep with a blissful sigh.
---
When he woke up the anger wasn't back all the way. It was just like there was a match, a tiny insignificant match. He could deal with a match.
By the end of the week the match had grown to a campfire and the hole inside him had gotten deeper.
By two more weeks the fire had consumed him and there was smoke biting at his lungs like he had never felt before. The hole inside him was a cavern that he didn't know how to crawl out of. Over the last few days he'd been getting concerned looks from the family he couldn't stop pushing away and snapping at. He didn't know how much longer he could take it.
---
THREE MONTHS AGO
It had been over a month since he had seen the pirate when Laura got the idea to try and provoke him. To try and get his anger out on her. No matter what she tried he wouldn't react.
She was particularly determined when she awoke him by smacking him.
It was a long day and he was just tired. Tired of everything. At the dinner table she made one final jab.
"What's even the purpose of you getting up at all if you're going to be so late?"
His mother was about to admonish her when he spoke.
"I don't know what the purpose of it is either."
He didn't know whether it was what he said or the way he said it, but everyone stopped. His father's cutlery clanked onto his plate and he sent unsure glances to his wife.
His mother pushed her chair away from the table and went to his side. She kissed his forehead and spoke. "There is always a reason to get up in the mornings."
He mustered a smile he didn't feel. "Right." He excused himself and headed to bed.
He heard the door open and close, then Thomas getting changed. They both laid down in silence till Thomas' voice came out sure. "Tell me a story Derek."
He looked to where his brother was. "Sorry bud. I don't think my stories would be any good tonight."
"A story doesn't have to be good to be worth hearing. Sometimes it just has to be what someone needs to hear, or even what someone needs to tell."
"Tommy?"
"Yeah Derek?"
"You really freak me out when you say stuff like that."
They both gently laughed into the darkness.
"You're eight. You shouldn't know the secret to life."
"Okay, then I won't. Tell me a story."
Derek settled into his bed more and turned to stare at the ceiling.
"I suppose you want one about pirates." Thomas loved his stories about pirates, and after meeting one Derek knew that would be the only thing he'd like to hear. He'd been able to avoid it after his fight so far. Thomas seemed to sense he didn't want to talk about them, but it seemed he'd have to finally cave tonight.
"It doesn't have to be about pirates." He could hear the, 'But I really want it to be.' in the tone of his voice.
"Just a short one, okay? I have to haul the brews tomorrow."
"Fine."
Thomas listened, completely enthralled, while Derek told a story about a boy cursed by a witch to breath fire. Thomas could feel the heat in his own neck as Derek described the boy choking on cinders. The rage bubbling in the boys chest felt oddly familiar, but Thomas knew it wasn't his own.
He spoke of ash clogging lungs and Thomas felt like coughing. Derek explained how every time the boy felt deeply, the fire poured out of him. Everything about what he was saying lit him up. He wanted to scratch at scabs that weren't even there. Thomas was scared of the darkness surrounding him, but it had nothing to do with how the dim room reminded him of smoke. What scared him was how it seemed to be coming out of Derek as he spoke, in great big puffs that snuffed out the light.
Thomas was about to try and move the story away from the flames by asking where the pirates were when Derek's tone changed all by itself.
He started describing the cool waves and the crisp scent of the sea that clung to an annoying pirate. The pirate pestered the boy till he lead him through the town. The boy showed him around and brought him to his favorite apple tree. They shared apples as they talked. The pirate made the boy laugh and as he did flames bubbled up and burned the pirate. The boy ran away as the pirate called after him. Derek told about the guilt the boy felt from burning the pirate, but he was happy because it had been so long since he had laughed like that. The boy sat on a rock over looking the harbor and watched ships leaving wondering if the pirate had left yet.
Derek had stopped talking and it took Thomas a bit to realize that was where he was leaving it. "That's the end?"
Derek sounded confused. "Yes? Of course it's the end, why wouldn't it be?"
Thomas sat up in his bed. "Because! You didn't deal with the witch, or explain why she had done it. You didn't let the boy let go of his anger. You didn't let the pirate know what was happening and why he got hurt. He deserves to know why! You didn't have them fall in love. They didn't even meet again!"
Derek's cheeks heated as he clung to one particular sentence. "Fall in love?"
"Yes! They were meant to fall in love right? The pirate made him laugh. The boy brought him to his favorite apple tree!"
"He hurt him. Why would he come back?"
"Because! Just because butthead! You can't stop the story there! You just can't." Thomas was emphatic about it.
"What happened to a story doesn't have to be a good one? Huh?" Derek raised an eyebrow at his brother who he knew couldn't see it.
"A story doesn't have to be good, but it does have to be completed. That's not the end. It just can't be."
Derek took a deep breath and Thomas could tell he was about to tell him to go to sleep.
"I'm going to finish it."
Derek's mouth dropped open. "How dare you! I told you it wouldn't be good. You wound me, deeply. I'll never recover. You don't like your big bros stories anymore, you have to rewrite the ending."
Thomas rolled his eyes. " I'm not rewriting anything you baby. Now listen."
Thomas talked about their reunion and how the pirate wasn't mad the fire burned him. He had a magical potion from the kraken that healed it, so it didn't even hurt. It did leave a cool shimmery scar that the pirate showed the boy because he thought it was cool.
Derek chuckled at that.
The boy told him he was frightened about how the pirate would react to his abilities. How everyone had shunned him, but the pirate didn't care. They became friends and the pirate asked him to sail away with him. He refused because he didn't want to burn the pirate's ship. But the pirate came up with a plan. He took him to a cove on the other side of the island and within they met sirens.
The sirens blessed the boy with their gifts. From then on whenever the boy would feel the fire inch up his throat all he had to do was sing and the salty waves would flow from his lungs out his lips to vanquish the flames.
To thank the pirate he promised to sing for him, but the pirate refused him. He told him to only sing for him if he would stay with him to sing aboard his ship everyday.
The boy said he would, and so he also became a pirate. They sailed the seas and lived happily ever after.
"And that's how the story is supposed to end!" Thomas' voice sounded snooty.
"Why would the boy become a pirate? And how could he leave his home? Also the pirate just forgives him? And you didn't even talk about the witch!" Derek replied snottily.
"Because he wanted to leave, everyone didn't like him."
"Still, why would he become a pirate?"
"Because that's what his friend was. He wanted to be like him, so he wasn't alone." Thomas explained.
"Still, he could've gone without becoming a pirate." Derek refuted.
"It's just a story Derek, why does it matter so much?" He seemed like he already knew the answer.
Derek felt gobsmacked. "You're the one that wouldn't let me end it! You made up an ending!"
"But you're the one trying to change what the characters did. They're just characters. What they do doesn't impact anything. It's not like they're real."
Derek was about to argue again when their door opened.
"Boys! You're supposed to be asleep. Go to bed!"
"Sorry Mom."
"Sorry Mom."
After a scolding look, she closed the door and they settled into bed.
"Goodnight love you." Thomas turned over.
He was done talking. Apparently, he had said what he was going to.
"Goodnight Tommy. I love you too."
Derek said goodnight even though he wanted to question him on what he meant. Thomas always seemed like he cared what the characters did. He always complained when Derek was too mean to one character or if one did something that didn't seem like them. Why did he say that what they did didn't matter?
He hadn't said that though, had he? He had said what they do doesn't impact anything.
The boy burning the pirate didn't impact anything. It wasn't like they were real.
Derek got a flash of hurt eyes and a speedy exit. It wasn't like they were real.
They weren't real.
But why did Derek have this pulling in his chest when he thought of the pirate in pain as the boy ran away?
He heard his brother's voice echoing. It wasn't like they were real.
Derek huffed and whispered to his brother's soft snores. "God damn you, you witch child."
What they did didn't impact anything, but Derek was real. His pirate was real. And he had hurt him.
Laura's words came back to him and he supposed he finally did feel awful for yelling.
He fell asleep cursing his siblings.
---
He had a fitful night of sleep and woke up already exhausted. The day drug on, and by the time he was on his last trip from the distillery he was beyond tired.
He was thankfully going down the last hill before he reached the bar. He debated taking a break, but decided to just get it over with.
He didn't see the uneven cobblestone till it was too late.
Fuck.
He managed to keep a hold on one of the barrels, but the other went sailing down the hill.
Derek watched it go with a detached sort of disappointment.
Fuck his life.
About half way down the hill a figure emerged from an alley. They were cloaked in shadow. The figure swiftly moved in front of the barrel while speaking, "What would you do without me?"
Just as they finished talking the barrel reached right in front of them. As it came close they brushed their coat behind them and lifted up one boot to stop the barrel. Their hat had a ridiculous feather standing up proudly as they stood with their arms akimbo.
For one shining moment they looked quite heroic. But the momentum from the hill, and then quickly being stopped must've sloshed the liquid inside. The second wave of force was unexpected. And just as the figure tipped their hat to look up, Derek caught a glimpse of a wide, brown eyed, mole dotted face.
Stiles' perched boot slipped in front of the barrel which, without anything stopping it, rolled into his other leg. Just like that Stiles went face first into the cobblestone, barely catching any of his weight with his arms.
"Roaloorororloriiiiiiikeeerkrlo." The barrel continued down the hill unbidden.
Stiles flipped over with a muttered, "Fuck." He lifted onto his elbows to see the barrel. After it had trampled some bushes, it rolled over a felled branch like a ramp. It was about to fly off the cliff's edge.
Stiles lifted a hand. It was Derek's turn to go wide eyed.
A soft yellow light flowed around his hand like currents. That same light wrapped itself around the barrel and caught it midair. Derek looked at Stiles only to see the same light emanating from his eyes. Derek nearly dropped the other barrel with shock.
With a wave of his hand the barrel was coming closer and obediently sat softly onto the ground next to him.
"Damn. I woulda looked so swashbuckling if that would've worked." Stiles picked up his hat.
"You have magic!" Derek was quickly moving closer, now wide awake.
"Yes? Didn't you know?" Stiles replied nonchalantly as he got off the floor.
His eyebrows went flat from where they were embedded in his hairline. "I wouldn't have asked if I knew." Derek stopped still a few paces away.
"Well sooorry. I figured the glowy hands-" He wiggled his fingers. "And barrel freezing midair were a big enough clue in, but yes I'm a spark."
He filed away the knowledge of what Stiles was, it was very shocking and he didn't know what to do with that. Derek laughed while he shook his head. "Are you always this much of a jackass?"
Stiles didn't miss a beat. "Only on Tuesdays and Thursdays." He brushed non-existent dirt off his shoulders.
Derek's eyebrows furrowed. "Today is Sunday?"
Stiles seemed thoughtful. "Huh. Well, then I guess Sundays too." He seemed to dwell on the thought for a moment longer before snapping out of it. "Anyway, you have your barrel and my pride has been brutally ripped from me once again. I do believe that brings our affairs to a close." Stiles clasped his hands behind his back, waiting for him to leave.
He didn't budge.
"So if you'll excu-"
"Wait." Derek set down the barrel.
There was a pause as they both waited for Derek to say something.
"About last time-"
"What about last time?" He seemed like a shark.
"Well, I just wanted to say- I wanted to say I was wr-"
"Captain Stiles!"
Derek startled as a portly old man came running out of another alley.
"You weren't at the agreed spot?" He looked out of breath and confused. Derek recognized him as Mr. Bramington. He came into the bar a couple nights a week, but hadn't been in a few weeks.
Stiles had a plastered on smile. "My apologies friend. I believe I'm done here anyway. Good to see you again." He gave a curt nod that Derek knew meant it was not.
"Well, should we get on with our business Captain?" He gave Derek a distrustful glance. "To the meeting spot?"
"Why yes, of course." As Stiles stretched out an arm to usher the man forth, he caught sight of that damn bag.
"Mr. Bramington, how have you been?" Derek said before they could leave.
He squinted in the low light, till recognition filled his features. "Why Derek! I've been well. How've you been, my boy?"
"Good. Have you truly been well? What about Martha and the boys?"
He seemed confused till Derek mentioned the boys, then his face lit up. "Yes I have. Martha as well. But that's not what you want to know is it, you scamp." He gave him a fond knowing look. "You're asking after Jacob, aren't you? He talks about you constantly. He truly will be overjoyed to hear I ran into you. You must meet up. You've only seen each other, what twice? That cannot stand. Oh and your little brother could come along to play with my Fletcher." His eyes looked dreamy. "Just think of it, two of my boys, marring two of Jadwiga's boys."
Stiles' jaw dropped and he looked at Derek squinting, before he shook it off.
"You know, your mother caused quite the stir when you all moved here. No matter how humble she tried to be her beauty nearly broke quite a many marriages. But I have always thought higher. Admitted, I did think it would be my oldest and Laura that got together, but fate always finds a way."
Stiles and Derek shared sideways glances. Derek mouthed something that seemed like make him stop.
"I think it's actually qui-"
"Shall we continue to our business?"
His gaping mouth closed with a shake. "Why yes. Yes, of course."
Derek raised a hand. "Actually I was wondering, because I haven't seen you at the bar in awhile. And now you're taking up with this sort of... Company."
Stiles narrowed his eyes.
The man seemed to fumble his works. "Right well, you see. Well, times are tough. You understand my boy, right? Do tell your mother I am sorry, but with the war, you understand. Even for my son's future in-laws it's hard to manage." The man worried at his overcoat. "Well you do u-"
"Understand. Right." Derek's words were clipped as he stared at the pirate.
The pirate slung an arm over Mr. Bramington's shoulders with a smirk. "Now that that's sorted, shall we? I do appreciate," The pirate looked directly at Derek. "That I'm the one getting your business."
Derek could feel his blood boil. Let the competition begin. "Not so fast." He plastered on a fake grin. "I don't want to lose such valued customer, especially one with such deep familial ties. So what do you say, half priced drinks tomorrow?"
Mr. Bramington's eyes gleamed.
"Now now. I think he's developed quite the taste for moonshine, there's no going back once you've tasted our quality."
Derek scoffed. "That pisswater? My sister does all of our brewing. She carefully makes every batch. You'd be lucky not to be actually drinking piss with him. And half priced is one hell of a deal."
Derek would've sworn there was a flash of light in his eyes before he fired back. "Half off is one hell of a deal... What about buy one bottle get the second free? And I personally assure you my first mate stopped pissing in the bottles months back." He gave Mr. Bramington a hearty back slap and tossed a wink at Derek.
Mr. Bramington let out a laugh at the pirate's joke. "Well, that does sound good. I'll-"
Derek felt bad for what he was about to do, but he couldn't help it. The smug way the pirate was looking at him was infuriating. "First round on us, anything you'd like. Then half off. And I would love it if you would bring Jacob with you. It has been so long since I've seen him."
The man nearly started to shake with glee. He ran over to hug Derek, and he lifted him slightly. "Deal my boy! Oh, he'll be so excited! We'll see you four sharp. Right after work. I can't wait to tell Martha! She'll have to hurry up and finish her dress for the wedding!"
They watched as the man sped off.
Stiles turned to Derek with disbelieving eyes. "As in, she's already started the dress?"
They both burst out laughing at the same time.
Once their laughter subsided, Stiles turned to him with a smile. "So I take it you're not actually in a starcrossed love affair with his son, as he seems to think?"
Derek raised an eyebrow then his face went flat. "Why would you even have to ask? We're desperately in love. Don't tell anyone though."
"Ah his parents don't know?" The pirate put on a face of faux sympathy.
"It would break them if they found out." Derek was still speaking deadpan. He moved closer to the barrel Stiles caught.
Stiles laughed once again. "My lips are sealed. That was quite heartless though. To mess with that poor man and his son just for some rivalry with a handsome pirate."
Derek felt a stab of guilt again, something he was getting quite used to feeling. "I would feel worse if his son wasn't so insistent. The only time we spoke he mentioned that his father could acquire five pigs for my hand."
"That's ludicrous!"
Derek smiled. "I kno-"
"You're worth at least twenty. And maybe a horse."
He was taken aback as his cheeks flamed.
"And don't think I've forgotten that you didn't dispute that I'm handsome." He tossed another wink and Derek wondered how he could ever be so carelessly charming.
"I- wh- no."
"To what? No to what? The pigs? Or my devilish good looks? Maybe you object about the horse and I see where you're coming from. Your personality leaves a bit to be desired, so maybe a compromise. Twenty pigs and then an ass included into the deal."
Derek drew his eyebrows together in confusion. "Why would they give my family you?"
Stiles' face looked shocked, but still amused. "So you do have jokes hidden away in those eyebrows."
Derek let the corners of his mouth lift. "Yeah, I guess I do."
"Well bravo. That one was good. Got any other ones?"
Derek felt the lightness in his chest, but it wasn't filled with heat either. Right now it felt like he was a down pillow. He wanted to float on the cool night air forever. "Maybe. If you stick around."
He looked caught off guard. "Hm, well is this your alley?"
It was Derek's turn to not expect what the other said. "I'm sorry?"
There was a defensive edge to his eyes now. "It's just every time I find myself in your company you tell me to get out of your alley. So is this your alley?"
Derek considered. He tried to pull up all of the anger he felt with their little rivalry, but he just felt light. "No. This is just a street. An empty street, late at night. Anyone can meet anyone here."
"Even a pirate?"
He thought back to Thomas and Laura. "Yes. Even a pirate."
He nodded and seemed to accept it, but the defensive nature was still there. "So tonight I'm just Stiles and you're just..."
"Mig-"
"I seriously am not calling you Miguel. There is no way that is your name. How bout a nickname?"
His response was immediate. "No."
"Eyebrows? Cranky pants? Barkeep?"
Derek didn't like the idea of him calling him any of those things, but barkeep was especially grating. It was like that's all they were. Just barkeep and customer. They weren't even acquaintances yet, but they weren't just that. Well Derek didn't know what they were, he wasn't even sure he didn't actually hate him. Maybe they were rivals. Rivals that were occasionally friendly, but rivals all the same. That sounded right.
"Do not call me any of those."
"Well what do you suggest sourwolf? Hey tha-"
Derek instantly was alarmed. "Would you shut up! We are in the street!"
It took a beat but he realized his mistake. "Yes, in the empty street. At one in the morning!"
Derek still looked upset. "Still!"
Stiles rolled his eyes. "Oh, for the love of the bloody sea! Fine!" His eyes started to swirl with black and the inky color smoked out of his eyes in wisps. That same dark black weaved around his fingers and gradually faded to a smoke all around them.
Derek took two steps back in alarm.
The smoke quickly dissipated and his eyes went back to whiskey brown. "There. Now no one can hear us. Happy, sparky?"
Derek raised an eyebrow. "I find that interesting that you picked that, considering you're the spark."
Stiles opened his mouth then shut it. "You have me there, spot."
"I will rip your throat out. With my teeth." Derek sounded sincere.
A jolt of excitement raced up Stiles' spine. "I've never been one to shy away because of a threat. Especially not one as alluring as that." Stiles smirked.
Derek floundered. "I didn't- That's not what I meant."
"Sure it wasn't sourwolf. Then, how exactly did you mean it?"
Stiles took a step forward and had an evil glint in his eye. Derek found himself taking a small step back. He hit the barrel behind him and Stiles followed till he was close.
"How did you mean it big bad? Did you mean you would slam into me? Press me against a wall? Would you flash your eyes at me to let me know who was in control? Would you growl? I bet your claws would be out. Would you be careful with them? Or would you scratch me all up? Would you leave bruises from where you held me down? Would my wrists wear your mark like manacles from when you pressed them above my head? I bet you could do it with one hand, that you would."
Derek swallowed harshly.
"Would you make me beg you? Would I be able to see the hint of fang peeking from your lips as you smiled? Would you tip my head up as I pleaded?"
Stiles slightly lifted Derek's chin to tease him. He leaned his head forward. "Would I feel your breath against my neck?" He puffed out a breath and Derek let out a noise halfway between a pant and a whine.
"Stiles I-"
He interrupted him. "Is that how you'd do it? Would you do all that and then between one exhalation." Another tickle of warm breath. "And the next, you'd use your teeth to rip. Out. My. Throat. Is that how you'd do it big bad?" Stiles leaned back to look into his blown eyes and moved far enough back so Derek could move away from the barrel.
"No." Derek's voice came out shaky and his mouth was dry.
Stiles made a contemplating noise. "Hm? Well then, how would you?"
Derek knew this was the moment he took back the power. The moment he shoved Stiles into submission, but remembering how his eyes glowed just moments before he held that back. "I wouldn't be able to do any of that. The moment I moved towards you, you would use your magic to restrain me."
Stiles nodded and seemed to be surprised by the knowledge he saved for later. "Okay. Good to know. Well, I already knew, good to know you know, who's in charge here."
Derek was glad to be on some what more solid footing now. "Oh no, that's not what I said at all." He let out a low growl and leaned forward as his fangs peeked from behind his lips.
He heard Stiles' heartbeat jump.
"Agree to disagree, sourwolf."
"Keep telling yourself that."
Stiles smiled so wide his eyes closed. "I will. Thanks."
"You're impossible."
"Oh come on, you wouldn't like me if I was easy. An easy friend couldn't hold your attention."
Derek furrowed his eyebrows and counted the moles on Stiles' face as he realized, no he wouldn't.
Stiles rolled his eyes and pushed him away as he spoke. "Fuck off if you're about to say-" His voice imitated Derek's as he put on a scowly face. "We're not friends."
"I wasn't going to say that."
"Oh yeah, what were you going to say?"
"I would like you if you were less annoying."
Stiles' mouth dropped open and Derek laughed.
"You know you're cute when you're indignant. Less cute when you talk though."
Stiles' face went red as he turned away.
"Yeah, yeah. Okay, we should get going." He deflected.
"Oh, you can do all of that earlier, but I call you cute and you look like you were left in the sun for days?"
Stiles turned back around with a finger pointed up, but his mouth opened without any words coming out.
"Get your finger out of my face or I'll bite it."
Stiles shov-
"Ow!" He quickly pulled his finger back as a self satisfied smirk found its way to Derek's face. "You bit my finger!"
"You shoved your finger in my face. I told you I would bite it."
"What are you, five?!"
Derek shrugged.
Stiles cradled his finger to his chest as he glared at Derek. "First, you make fun of me by calling me cute, then you brutally bite off my finger. What's next? Are you going to stab me?"
"I wasn't making fun."
That reply wasn't expected and the shock showed itself on his face. He looked apprehensive. "People don't call me cute. They just don't."
Derek stepped closer and cradled his face as his thumb stroked the freckles on his cheeks. "They should. It's true. Even when you're red as a cherry, you're cute." Derek sounded distracted. "Especially then."
"Your ass is cute." Stiles inwardly cursed that his response to compliments was humor.
Derek snorted a laugh and let his hand drop. "Why, thank you. I do believe Jacob has mentioned it when he thought I couldn't hear."
"Well, I've got to respect a man that knows a true asset when he sees one."
"Was that a pun?"
Stiles put a hand on his shoulder. "I'm about to tell you something very important, it's always a pun."
They both smiled and Derek realized his cheeks were starting to hurt from it. And of course that's when reality had to crash down on him.
"Well, it was nice to know you sourwolf." He gave an exaggerated bow and Derek's stomach flipped.
"Wait, are you leaving?"
Stiles tilted his head. "Yeah. I mean my sale was a bust, thanks for that by the way. No moonshine tonight, I got you instead." His face lit up. "Maybe that's what I'll call you. Moonshine."
Derek wrinkled his nose at the name.
"Anyways, I have to head back." He pointed behind himself.
"I'm headed that way too. We can walk together."
Stiles looked at the two barrels. "I think you'll be slower, besides you don't don't want to be caught out with the likes of me. This time already has been a risk for you."
Stiles started to turn.
"Wait! I just- I was going to ask for your help. They are very heavy and it didn't look like much work for you to lift one before." He threw in one final plea. "I'm tired."
Stiles rolled his eyes. "Honestly, what would you do without me." That same yellow flowed around him again, and the barrels were both lifted up.
"You didn't have to- I could've taken one."
Stiles rolled his eyes. "It's not like they're heavy."
Derek grumbled. "They are, you just cheat."
"This isn't cheating. It takes just as much effort, if not more."
Derek was intrigued. He had heard stories about sparks and their power. Given their rarity he didn't think he'd ever meet one. "How does it work? I mean, I just assumed you waggled your fingers and it, I don't know, happened."
Stiles gave him an unimpressed look. "You thought magic... Just happens?"
He shrugged.
Stiles sighed and began walking. "There are different types of magic, but rarely does it ever just, happen. Every type of magic takes years of mastery and skill. Though you can have an aptness for it, a predisposition. Something that makes magic just," Stiles paused, seemingly searching inside himself for the answer. "Belong. Magic just belongs inside some people. It is meant to flow, to work and be inside of some people. Like me. And like how being a werewolf belongs inside of you. Its not a part of you, it is you."
Stiles stopped walking and Derek did as well.
Easy as breathing Stiles' eyes turned scarlet and flames reflected from his eyes into Derek's while he watched with interest. Stiles raised a closed fist and slowly opened it to let loose little cinders. They rose up and as Derek watched their dance they took shape of a bird. It swooped and soared, but soon enough they took on a new shape. A man's face slowly came into focus. As they settled Derek recognized the face as his own. His image morphed and he saw his eyes gather most of the burning particles and it changed his face to a look of anger. Just as it looked like it was about to yell something, all of the cinders instantly gathered into his eyes. In the next moment, the two spots were gathering. As the groups collided they shot up into the air to once again form the bird, this time wings spread wide. Derek heard a ear piercing screech, but it only reverberated inside of his own chest. Just like that, they disappeared leaving not even a trail of smoke in their wake.
"Neat party trick, huh?" His eyes went back to normal and he resumed walking, like he hadn't just changed Derek's worldview.
"That was bloody brilliant!"
Stiles shrugged. "You should see what I can do with a glass of water."
Derek's eyes shone. "I bet that's brilliant too."
Stiles rubbed the back of his neck. "Thanks."
"That bird was beautiful. And it really looked like my face!" Derek faltered and seemed unsure, "Except, why-why did it look like that? So angry and hateful?"
Stiles looked away. "That's how you looked last time I saw you. Usually, it latches onto a vibrant memory of someone's face."
Derek solemnly nodded. "Right. I'm sorry about that. I shoul-"
Stiles waved a hand. "It doesn't matter. Who cares."
"I do. I treated you unjustly. I apologize."
Stiles looked over at him. "I accept." He looked down at his hands for a second. "Well, I should go."
Derek looked at him with alarm. Perhaps his apology was lackluster. "But-" After his objection he took in the scene of a familiar back alley. "Oh. We're already here."
Stiles scoffed. "You hadn't noticed, sourwolf?"
Derek looked sheepish. He hadn't. He was so wrapped up in Stiles he could've walked straight into a pole and he wouldn't have noticed.
"I just- we barely got to talk."
"My favorite fruit is oranges, I love freshly baked pastries, but I can only get the best ones in a land far away from here, and I've had a long day. These barrels are heavy. There, those are some things about me." Stiles gently set down the barrels and the yellow magic faded after Derek opened the door for him.
Derek nodded. "Right. Of course. I know they are, I haul them every week." He hoped he picked up on what he was trying to ask for.
"I bid you farewell, sourwolf."
The frustration at him leaving without the insurance of another meeting got to him. "Goodnight pirate."
The pirate's face closed off at that. He quickly turned on his heels to leave.
Shit. This alley must be cursed. He always said the wrong thing there.
"Stiles?"
He didn't turn. "Yes?"
"My favorite fruit is apples."
When Stiles' face came into view it had a soft smile. "Sleep well, moonshine."
"You as well, Captain." Stiles face was shocked and pleased at Derek using his proper title for the first time.
Stiles walked away again and Derek reluctantly went in the door.
Damn it. He would never see him again.
Damn it. As Stiles walked away he thought of how he should've made plans for another meeting, but he hadn't.
Derek fell asleep and for the first time, dreamed of images in fire and ashes that didn't end in heartbreak.
---
Mr. Bramington and his son came sharply at three. Derek was able to make his excuses as he kept himself busy while they drank. Jacob, upon realizing his father must've greatly exaggerated his interest, left with his father in tow.
The evening passed in a flash after that as Derek's mood was high and the bar was full. He cleaned tables diligently as his mother poured for the evening crowd.
A patron made a joke and he smiled back. He was about to crack back when he looked up at the swinging doors clattering open.
His smile faltered and he nearly dropped the jug he was carrying.
His mother shot him a look and quickly wiped her hands on her apron as she weaved the tables to get to their intruder.
He had to get upstairs. Lily had not learned proper control over sensing pack distress, so his father had no way of knowing what was happening.
Over his shoulder he heard, "Captain Whittemore, have you come for a drink?"
At that name being uttered the tavern fell to a hush.
"No. I'm here on business."
Derek felt the bile at the back of his throat as he reached the girl's room where they were studying.
His dad looked up from where he was pointing at the book in front of Lily with a smile. One that faded as soon as he saw Derek's state. He instantly knew something was wrong.
"Where is your mother?" He asked urgently.
"Downstairs with the Captain."
The color drained from his face.
Thomas instantly shot up and grabbed Lily's hand. He drug her over to his room and Derek could hear him grabbing their packed bag from under his bed and handing Derek's to Lily.
His father similarly went to his room and grabbed his parents bag.
From downstairs Derek heard, "What sort of business?" His mother's voice cool as a river.
"The official kind."
They both rushed back into the room and suddenly Derek couldn't hear anything except the blood pumping in his ears.
He could see the commotion of them moving around him, but could not bring himself to move.
He saw Thomas sling a bag around himself, then he helped Lily pull out one from under Laura's bed.
He saw his father grab a knife out of his bag and he wondered if people were about to bust down the door. If his father could hear them he should be able to, but he just couldn't focus. His mind felt foggy as he watched his father open and lean out of the window. He saw him stick the knife under one of the letters on the sign right outside the window. He pried until the H came off. He knew there was a reason for it. His mind was just so blurry right now.
Aven. That was a flower. Right? Derek was grasping to figure out what it meant. It didn't make sense. The letter now laid on the window sill and it meant something. Laura would know. Maybe it was about Laura?
His father was now tucking the knife into his waistband and talking to him. Was he talking too? No, he didn't think so. It didn't even feel like he was breathing. What was his father trying to say? Something about his mother. Was she here? He tried to shake his head to clear it. To bring his father's or his mother's voice back into focus, but he could not. He tried desperately to bring air into his lungs, but once again he couldn't.
Suddenly he felt a small hand on his arm and the world snapped back into focus. "Derek, you need to calm down."
He looked into Thomas' eyes and they were set with determination. "You need to help us. We can't hear down there, but you can. What is mom saying? Can you tell us?"
Derek nodded even though he wasn't sure he could do much of anything right now. It was taking all of his strength to just remain standing. He focused on the hand holding his arm then on his mother's voice. "She's taking the Captain to the storeroom."
"What else?"
He still felt a bit dazed. He didn't answer Thomas.
He saw him moving and he brought Lily closer.
"Ow!" He felt the pinpricks of tiny claws.
"What else Derek?!"
He felt his head clear. Oh God, he needed to protect them. The Captain would kill them. He looked at his little brother and cousin. He was instantly dropped back into the panic of the moment as his senses returned fully. "She's taking him around. He's... looking for something?"
His father's eyebrows pulled together. "What?"
He listened and tried to catch their words, but it was hard with them in the heavily insulated room. He finally pieced enough words together.
"He's looking for moonshine?"
His father deflated and he looked two seconds away from a heart attack. "Thank the gods." There was an uneasy set to his shoulders still, but he wasn't as distraught. "I should go down. Derek stay here, and if you hear us tell you, you take them and you run."
He dutifully nodded.
His father went downstairs and the three of them sat huddled together, a kid under each of his arms, tensely till Derek heard the guards and the Captain leave. Lily started shaking and he just held her tighter. Derek hadn't realized how scared he was till he saw his mother enter and his claws vanished from where they were buried in his thighs.
At the sight of her, Thomas started to sob. His parents quickly joined them on the floor where Derek was leaning against Laura's bed. They wrapped them up in a hug and just sat there for a couple minutes.
Lily's timid barely used voice broke the silence. "Safe?"
Derek pulled her onto his lap as his mother kissed her forehead.
"Safe."
She stopped trembling and nodded.
His mother rose to her feet and Derek wanted to pull her back down.
"I have to go to the meeting place. Laura would've been done by now and she would've seen the sign. She'll be waiting."
The only thing keeping him from asking his mother to stay was the need to see his sister.
When they went back downstairs the bar was empty besides Mark who had reached across the bar to serve himself.
As his mother moved to leave his father stopped her. "Maybe I should go, love. I'm less noticeable than you. And you should stay with the kids."
She considered for a moment. "Alright. But hurry."
He nodded then walked up to her. They briefly rested their heads together then kissed. "I'll be back soon, dear."
He was out the door.
They helped their mother clean up the bar as they waited.
Derek was flipping a chair over as the doors burst open and a teary eyed Laura froze at the door. After seeing them alive and unharmed she ran closer and swept the two youngest into her arms. Derek moved closer and he was brought into the hug as well.
"I saw the sign and I thought- I thought I'd never see you again." Her voice was shaky.
Their mother smoothed down her wild hair. "Did you leave your father behind?"
Just as she finished speaking. The doors burst open yet again. His father was out of breath as he braced on his knees. "Don't worry about your old man. Just run all the way back why don't you."
There had been so many people bursting through the doors these days ever since Sti-
Derek's heart dropped out of his chest.
They were here looking for moonshine. Stiles sold moonshine. Derek was with him last night.
This was all his fault.
Derek didn't know whether he felt more guilt or more anger.
He suddenly thought about Stiles warning him that being around him could be dangerous, then he thought of the dirty pirate some how telling Jackson about them.
He now felt nothing but rage and contempt for the pirate.
He started to stalk off to his room, but Laura caught his arm. She looked to their mother. "What are we to do?"
His mother and father looked at each other for a few moments. "We will stay, for awhile. To leave immediately would arouse suspicion, but if they call again we will leave. If this is just about erroneous moonshine rumors then this will blow over. We just stay quiet and calm. Go to sleep."
Derek was anything but calm as he laid down for bed.
He sat stewing for a half hour before he heard a groan. "I need you to stop Derek. I can't sleep. It won't help being angry or feeling guilty."
Derek didn't know what to say.
He heard a sigh and covers rustling.
Thomas settled in beside him and he instantly felt the comfort of his brother.
"Do you want a story?"
Thomas laid his head on Derek's shoulder. "No. I think I just want to be here."
Derek knew exactly what he meant so his just kissed his forehead and said, "Okay."
Less than ten minutes later he heard shuffling in the girl's room before their door opened and in walked Laura holding a sleeping Lily to her chest. "Move over Der-bear."
It had been awhile since he had heard the teasing nickname and didn't care for it, but he complied nonetheless.
All four of them settled in.
He heard his mother check all the doors and windows. She came to check on them.
She gave all four of them a kiss on the forehead before saying goodnight.
Derek slept restlessly. If it wasn't Thomas kicking him it was Laura's snoring. Lily was a sticky weight on his chest. Good God, that kid was a furnace. He was already awake when the noise started from the alley, but all the wolves fell quickly out of slumber.
Thomas awoke with a look of alarm. "What is it?"
Laura went to stand, but Derek stopped her. "You stay with them. It's probably the raccoons again."
He met his mother in the hall.
"I'll check tonight Derek."
He felt a bit of panic bubble in his chest. "No, it's okay I can. It's probably that pest again."
"I want to make sure tonight." She looked like she was listening to the back alley.
Shit. He hoped she was focused enough on the noise outside and not on his heart. "I looked out the window. It's just raccoons."
She looked at him for a moment and he tried to be calm. "Okay."
He nodded and went downstairs.
He took a steadying breath before opening the door.
The pirate's mouth opened with some quip or another at the ready. Derek quickly put a finger against his own mouth to tell him to be silent. He moved his hands in a way that he thought looked like magic using. Stiles raised and eyebrow and rolled his eyes. Which turned black and wispy like they had before.
The smoke cleared and he spoke. "There, now no one can hea-"
Derek had him up against the opposite wall by his throat before he even finished his sentence. The pirate's eyes went wide as Derek lifted him slightly off the ground. He started to try and break the hold as Derek's claws started to make beads of blood drip down his neck. "Do you enjoy toying with people?! With their families?! Well, I've had enough of your sick games, you bastard! All this time you try and get me to trust you, but then you do this?! Why even bother?!" Derek's eyes were murderous.
The pirate was desperately trying to take in a breath. "St-stop. W-wh-what?"
He thought of how scared he had been earlier, Derek's resolve didn't falter. "I should kill you for what you did to my family."
The confusion in the pirate's eyes seemed out of place to him. He let up just a bit.
The human's nails dug into his arms. "Do-don't ma-make me d-"
Derek pressed harder again. If he was innocent why wasn't he using his magic to help himself? Did he feel guilty?
"P-please."
With a growl Derek let him drop to the floor. He fell to his hands and knees and took in great gulps of air.
In-between deep breaths he spoke. "What. The. Hell."
Looking at his prone form Derek wanted to kick him till he heard bones crack. "You are the scum of the earth. You prey on innocent people no matter how much it hurts others."
Stiles shakily made it back to his feet. "I have no idea what you're talking about."
Derek whirled on him and the pirate's arms whipped up placatingly.
"Don't play dumb!"
"Listen to my heart. Does it skip? I have no idea what you're talking about."
Derek's eyebrows pulled together. He thought back. How would the Captain have known if the pirate hadn't told him? "That doesn't make any sense. He knew. He knew we talked. How did he know?"
Stiles looked as confused as Derek. "Who? How did who know?"
Derek sneered, "The Captain. He came to my bar because of you."
Stiles' eyes went wide. "What? No. That doesn't make any sense. He couldn't have not withou- What exactly happened?"
"He came looking for your pisswater, as if we would sell it." The confusion morphed back to anger.
Stiles let out a relieved breath. "Oh."
That boiled his blood. "Oh?! Oh?! Like he couldn't have found out about us?! Like we couldn't have been forced to flee our home?! Like it isn't important that my entire family could've been torn apart and killed?!" His voice rose as fearful tears fell.
"No. Oh, like I'm glad he didn't know about you. Oh, like I'm glad you and your family are safe. Oh, like I'm glad you weren't forced to leave."
Derek felt like someone had put all of his emotions into a cup and mixed them. "What? How- why do you say things like that, and yet you leave me so confused? I always feel so many different things around you. I feel like I should trust you, even when I know it is not so."
The pirate's face turned into a soft smile. "Feel all you would like, but know this, I would never, ever put your family in harms way. I would die before telling anyone something that would harm you or them."
Derek just kept falling deeper and deeper into the darkness. "Why? What have we done to earn such fierce allegiance?"
Stiles looked into his eyes and he swore he saw a flash of guiding light. "Because, you exist in a way that is different. Someone that has everyone against them needs at least one person on their side." He squinted at him. "And I don't think you've ever had that person, moonshine."
Derek decided he believed him. The fight left his shoulders and he let the anger fizzle. He replied, "You hurt me. You hurt me because you exist in a way that is different, but similar to me. You hurt me because you have decided to care for me, and I don't know what that means. Or even if I can allow it." He stared directly into Stiles' eyes. "I cannot yet decide if you are a poison or a salve. If you are meant to be my healing or my damnation. A kiss of grace-" Derek looked to his lips. "Or the silver tongue of the devil."
Stiles' arm reached up, but it froze as Derek looked to the side and continued, "Because I was around you my family could've lost everything."
His arm dropped.
"I am sorry Miguel. Truly."
Derek looked back intensely. "Are you bad for me?"
Stiles wanted nothing more than to say no. "I could be. I do not know."
Derek sighed. "My family I-"
Stiles' smile did not reach his eyes. "It's okay. I know. I understand."
When Stiles' hand cupped his cheek he closed his eyes against the feelings welling inside of him. He didn't see it, but he felt the soft press of lips against his other cheek.
"Goodbye, my moonshine."
He had only met him a hand full of times, but Derek had this pull towards him. It felt like if he let him walk away he'd spend the rest of his life regretting it. He didn't want to see Stiles leave. "Goodbye, Captain."
When Derek opened his eyes he saw a faint trace of black smoke. His spell was gone, just like him.
"Derek?" His mother's voice called out from the steps. "What's taking so long?"
Derek wiped under his eyes and walked back inside. "Nothing, Mom."
She frown as soon as she saw him, then her face turned surprised. "You were crying?"
Of course she'd smell his tears. "Nothing Mama. I just hurt him and I didn't mean to." Derek felt the sting of how true those words were.
Her face softened. "It looks like he hurt you too. You have too kind of a heart, sweet cub. Sometimes we hurt things we don't mean to. That doesn't make us bad. It just makes us people. Everybody hurts things Derek. I'm sure he's fine." She pulled him into a hug and raked her fingers through his hair.
"He just- I'm sorry. I didn't mean to." He crumpled farther into her.
Stiles was the first person he'd ever had any sort of connection to, and he messed it up somehow. He didn't even know if he was trustworthy, but his absence stung like he was important. Like he was a friend.
Derek had only been friends with Issac, Erica, and Boyd, and they had to leave him too. He probably hurt them too. He almost hurt his family by not being careful. Why was he so bad at this.
Maybe he was the poison.
His mother pulled back and he put on a smile.
She looked unsure. "Is something else the matter? Is there som-"
"I'm fine. Just too tired I think." He started for the stairs.
"Derek."
He looked back.
"You know there is nothing you could ever do that I wouldn't forgive you for, right?"
"I kno-"
"And perhaps you should start forgiving yourself for things that were and are out of your control. I don't know or understand what has been going on with you, but I still know you. You are good, even when you try to convince yourself you are not. You put the weight of the world on your shoulders son, if I can't convince you to put it down, will you at least share it with someone? Laura or I wou-"
"I'm fine. Truly mother. Just a bad night." He knew she wouldn't believe him, but he hoped she'd let him have his secrets.
She looked like she would fight him, but then thought better of it. "Alright. Get some sleep. I love you Derek."
"Love you too Mom."
Derek laid awake wondering how he knew if Stiles truly didn't tell the Captain.
---
"And that's where you left it?!" Scott sounded outraged.
"I'm a liability to his family, Scott."
"So what? It's true love!" He was practically shouting.
Cora walked in on the wrong moment. "Is he trying to convince ye to marry him again?"
Stiles rolled his eyes. "No. What did you need Cor?" Beside Scott, she was his closest deckhand. Throughout their years of searching they grew close. Through every false lead, every person trying to dupe them for money, they stood together never letting their faith waver. She had become family, just as Scott was. Like all of his crew.
"Me and Malia are shovin off."
"Malia and I. Okay I'll be up in a minute to send you off."
Scott went to bed with one final beseeching look.
---
The next week passed quickly and without event. His family let out a breath at their continued safety.
Derek settled back into his normal routine like he'd never left it, and soon enough he was wondering if his loneliness invented the pirate. If he was some manifested moral argument that was warring inside of him.
Just like his magic, he had left no trace. He had half a mind to ask Mr. Bramington if he remembered him.
He was back to the rush of the day and the quietness of the night. The anger was still in the back of him, but he embraced everything with an air of detachment and acceptance.
Very few things mattered to him anymore. But among those that did, were his nightly stories. Thomas had applauded him on including more humor in them lately. He didn't have it in him to explain about how it was the pirate that really brought the humor. Another thing he never cared for before was pouring a glass of whiskey, now it was one of his favorite parts of the day. Every time someone asked for rum he looked at them, just to be sure it wasn't him. One day a patron thrilled to be done with the work week threw open the doors and Derek nearly broke his neck snapping it up so fast. He smiled at a pun his father made and he had to assure them all that he had smiled like that recently, he was sure of it, maybe just not in front of them in a long time.
Derek didn't know if his life was better or worse, he just knew it was changed. The kind of change that hurts to remember before and aches to think of what ifs.
If there was an ache in his shoulders he didn't feel it. It was almost as if his magic lingered. As if it helped Derek carry the barrels, even now.
He was looking forward to resting when out of the corner of his eye he saw a blurred shadow darting in an alley. He was instantly alarmed. He hastily put down both barrels and tried to squash the part of his brain that invented the swish of a familiar brown coat. "Who goes there?"
There was silence.
A crown's guard would've announced their presence. "I saw you moving, do not make me come over there."
An unbelievably high and shrilly voice spoke, "Oh, it's just silly me. I forgot the wash on the line."
There was no way that was actually a woman's voice.
"Come out."
"I'm in my nighty you pervert."
Derek scented the air and as familiar spicy soap, rum, salt, and something unidentifiable filled his nose, happiness filled his chest. "I already know it's you. Come out here, Stiles."
That shrilly voice again. "No, it's not."
Derek listened and sure enough, he picked out a recognizable rabbiting heartbeat. He wondered when the pirate's heartbeat had become recognizable to him. He smiled and replied in a similar high tone. "Yes it is."
It must've caught him off guard because Derek heard his bubbling laugh from the dark alley.
Slowly he emerged. "I swear, I did not seek you out."
Derek had a wide smile. "I gathered that from your most convincing ruse."
He crossed his arms. "I was pressed for time okay! You snuck up on me."
"You must be horrible at stealth. I've ran into you numerous times at night now."
Stiles' smile faded. "I'm very good at stealth actually. But I should go." He had a regretful look upon his face.
"Wait." Derek wanted to reach out to grab him. To make him stay.
"I'm sorry, moonshine. I don't wan- Your family. We mustn't press fate. It's not just the captain we have to worry about, the guard patrol."
Derek felt a hot stone in his gut. "Right. Of course. Were you on a delivery?" He didn't actually want to know. He didn't want to find out how many of their customers he was stealing, but he didn't want to be without his company again so soon.
"Yes. Business is booming. I really should depart, moonshine."
"Why don't you leave?"
The pirate looked confused and hurt.
"No! I mean not here, the port. Pirates don't stay in one port for long. Why do you? Surely you risk capture?"
"I am looking for someone. It is imperative that I find them, and it is my greatest hope that I will find them here."
"So, you cannot leave?"
"Do you want me to?"
That had been what he'd been hinting towards, but now that he said it he knew it not to be so. "I think it would be best for my heart if I had to stop saying goodbye to you."
"But do you want me to?"
Derek looked away and he then realized how unfair a question he had asked. "Sorry, nevermind."
He started to walk away when his voice froze him. "I want, to be able to talk to you the entire night. Just the two of us making each other laugh like this world isn't trying to break us. God, how you manage to make me laugh." There was a pause. "That is what I truly want."
Stiles tried to find his voice. "But we cannot have what we want, can we?"
"No."
With great difficulty he continued to walk away.
He was almost to the next alley when an idea hit him. He turned and ran back to where Derek was picking up the barrels.
Derek looked at him in confusion.
"What if no one could tell it was me?"
His eyebrows furrowed. "What?"
"What if I looked completely different? Could we see each other then? If no one knew it was me?"
"I suppose? But if your disguise is anything like your voice change, then I don't think it will be very good." Derek smiled.
"Shut up you jackass. I'm serious. Would that work?"
Derek considered it. "If you looked nothing like yourself? Yes, I think it would."
Stiles' eyes were wild with happiness. He rushed Derek and hugged him. Derek wanted to let the barrels go crashing to the floor so he could wrap his arms around him instead. Stiles stepped back.
"I will meet you here, same time, next week. Okay?"
Derek wanted to say no, to have the strength for it, but he couldn't. He craved to feel the way he did around Stiles constantly. "You will find me here."
---
The week could not pass fast enough and Thomas started to wonder about the stories he told. They all included a heart touching reunion or forbidden meeting of some sort and it took Derek quite a bit of effort not to die from embarrassment when he pointed it out.
He made himself wait to leave the distillery so he'd only be ten minutes early, but he found himself dashing through the streets. He waited fifteen minutes and wondered if the pirate would show. If maybe he changed his mind, if he had left. At twenty minutes he stared at the barrels wondering how long he could put off picking them up. It had been thirty minutes and he was about to leave when he heard someone approach. His heart instantly soared.
"What took you so long? Did you take a nap, you lazy bastard?"
An old man came out of the shadows. "What did you call me?" He was bent over and had a crotchety look on his face.
Derek instantly paled. "I am so sorry sir! I thought you were someone else!"
The old man's lips started to turn up till he let out a rumbustious laugh.
Derek looked confused. He wondered if maybe the man had had a bit too much drink. He took a breath in to see if he could smell the alcohol.
He did smell rum, but there was another scent that struck him.
"Stiles?!"
The man rolled his eyes and instantly Derek knew it was him.
"What is the point of all this if you just go on saying my name like that?"
Derek check to see if he could hear anyone around. He didn't. "My gods it is you! How?"
He pulled out a pendant from under his shirt. It had the faint trace of black smoke leaking from it. He held it in his palm and closed his eyes. Between one blink and the next Stiles was standing in front of him. "I do have a few tricks, moonshine."
Derek came closer and looked at the rock. "And you'll just enchant this every time we are near? Will you always look different to me?"
Stiles shook his head. "No. It is still enchanted."
Derek cocked his head. "But I see you?"
"If I want someone to see through it, I just have to hold it and focus on a strong memory of them."
Derek thought for a moment. "Like with the fire bird?"
Stiles nodded.
"Did you think of the same memory?"
"How do you mean?" He asked confused.
Derek looked nervous. "Do you still think of me angered and yelling?"
Stiles smiled sweetly. "I think of the forests in your eyes and your bunny teeth."
To divert from his rising blush Derek flashed his fangs.
Stiles laughed. "Oh, don't worry, I think of those too. Just not when I'm casting magic."
There was no hiding his blush now. "My mother warned me sailors have dirty minds."
"Did she also tell you only pirates can follow through with all they say?"
Derek looked away. "Never came up."
The pirate opened his mouth.
"Do not! Leave it alone."
He laughed. "Shame. That was such a good one."
Derek felt the smile on his face slide into place and he relaxed. "What took you so long?"
"I received a message." Dejection wafted through the air.
"Not good?" Derek tried to be sympathetic, even though Laura always told him he sucked at it.
"Not the best, but that doesn't matter now. Now I just want to talk to you."
Derek felt warmth curl itself into his belly, but not the harsh heat he was familiar with. It was nice, feeling like someone wanted his company.
They wandered aimlessly and talked all night.
************************
Okayyyy so hopefully I'll have the next part up in like a week. Thanks for reading!
#Stiles#stiles stilinski#teen wolf stiles#derek x stiles#stiles x derek#magic!stiles#spark stiles#spark!stiles#Derek#derek hale#Sterek#sterek bingo 2020#sterekbingo2020#sterek bingo#sbrivals#sbpetnames#sbpirates#pirate!stiles#barkeep!derek#theres so much backstory and plot to this#seriously so much backstory ask veti#derek is a failwolf#he is so angsty and honestly he just needs a friend#scott mccall#allison argent#lydia martin#jackson whittemore#erica reyes#vernon boyd#alive hale family
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emily, emily prentiss (where are you)
Prologue
/next>
words: 1.6k
warnings: canon-typical violence, swearing, angst
read on ao3 or below the cut. lemme know what you think, pals!
26 AUG 2011 - Paris
She stops in on a whim. She usually avoids Irish pubs. They make her bones itch at the thought of who she pretended to be for so long. But Lauren Reynolds is dead now, and so is Emily Prentiss, and Marie Poulin is alone. Her evening walk wasn’t enough to calm her restlessness today, and her online Scrabble friend wasn’t available to distract her. In a moment of self-pity, she decides a single drink would be all right. She’s been living in Paris for months, living frugally on the government dime, hiding in plain sight from the one man Lauren Reynolds loved, whom Emily Prentiss nearly loved and nearly killed. But Marie Poulin? She was just alone in the City of Lights, looking for something to do on a humid Friday evening in late August.
It’s dim inside, and the air is heavy with the smell of stale cigarettes and booze lingering in the carpet. She orders a double of an Irish whiskey at the bar, nods her head when the barkeep shows her the label, the delicate bird above the name implying quality. The government agencies responsible for her can splurge this once, she decides, and she leaves a generous tip at the bar as she takes the glass to a corner table. There’s a live band playing, something grungy and niche, but quiet; it seems like they’re near the end of their set, and she pays the little attention as her mind wanders.
♫ I’m gonna go to America / And kill the very first person / That I see…
She’s been here since April, escorted by a friend on a private jet while the faded yellow of old bruises still spilled from the edges of her scars, her ribs aching slightly if she took a deep breath. Every morning since then she’s thought about her friends—her family, really—and how they would be coping with the death of Emily Prentiss, reconciling the woman who was their friend and coworker with the woman who daillianced with terrorists. They deserved to mourn, so she mourned for them rather than herself. And why should she mourn for herself? Marie Poulin was fine, she was alive, and Marie Poulin didn’t know Emily Prentiss. But at this moment, Marie Poulin is just a ill-fitting shell, too small to contain the life she’d once lived, so she lets herself remember what it was like to be Emily Prentiss.
♫ Then I’m gonna disappear / No, you won’t ever / Find me…
She misses Sergio, her soft, sweet baby. Discovering she was actually a cat lady had been a surprise, but beneath every tough exterior lies a softie, and Sergio proved she was no exception. Sleep had evaded her long before she died in Boston, but at least back then she could lay in bed with Sergio’s gentle purrs beside her, curled up in a velvety black ball. Here, there is no purring at night to distract her from the city noises that put her on edge, her fight-or-flight instincts perpetually humming in the background. She was certain that Penelope was looking after sweet Sergio; he would be happy there, spoiled and loved by the kindest person she knew.
♫ Then I’m gonna reappear / Six months later, maybe / A full year…
She misses Penelope’s brightness. Her life is so grey in Paris, where even on the sunniest days she feels trapped in monotone without Penelope’s lust for life and quirky, deeply loving heart. Her final words haunted her now.
“But you’re not alone, ok? You are not alone. We are in that dark place with you.”
She misses harmlessly flirting with Derek, their constant one-upmanship, his slick flattery, but she misses his unending loyalty more than anything.
“I’m so proud of you. Do you understand that? I am proud of you because you are my friend, and you are my partner.”
His was the last face she saw before she closed her eyes, slowly dying on a concrete floor in Boston. He held her hand to the end.
♫ Then I’m gonna kill again / Just so I can get right back with / you, my friend (where are you)...
She misses Dave, her rock, her de facto parent where her real parents failed. Surely a grown woman whose own father was largely absent in spirit, if not in body, would get along fine without a fatherly presence to guide her, but she was so grateful for Dave’s presence in her life, for as long as she’d had it. His wise words were usually accompanied by a finger of expensive scotch or brandy. She takes comfort knowing he would absolutely approve of the drink in her hand, smooth and smokey as it was. She checks her phone, seeing JJ still hadn’t yet played her turn. It’s such a stupid game, but she’s come to rely on it for the connection to the only friend she has, imparting secret messages of love and hope in the words she chooses. Marie Poulin is a loner, prefers it that way even, but Emily Prentiss had a life full of love and friendship. Friends like Spencer Reid—
♫ I’ll leave you all the clues you need / If you get confused you can just ask / Dr Reid…
Dr Spencer Reid, the boy-genius little brother she never knew she’d needed until she nearly lost him in Atlanta. She misses their monthly foreign film nights, his impossible collection of facts he whispers to her in the near-empty theatre as they eat popcorn and snicker at her inappropriate jokes. She wonders if his headaches have gotten better, or if they’ve only grown worse with the added trauma of losing Emily Prentiss—
♫ Emily, Emily Prentiss (Emily)…
Her glass stops halfway to her lips; it feels like the air’s been sucked out of the room.
♫ Emily, Emily Prentiss (where are you?)...
There is nothing but her and the music. Her vision blurs, her breathing is shallow and rapid.
♫ Emily, Emily Prentiss…
She sets her back drink down on the table, wrapping her hands tighter around the glass to mask her trembling fingers. If the glass shattered in her hand, would she even feel it?
♫ I want a full-on weekend, baby / Me and you…
He immediately comes to mind, but he’s supposed to believe she’s dead.
♫ The size of the wall / The height of the room / It takes all that I / can do with your blood
Doyle is supposed to think she’s dead.
♫ Emily, Emily Prentiss…
The scar on her belly twinges, she can feel the wooden stake piercing through her abdomen again, and again.
♫ I’ll sing like a canary / Oh baby / Me and you…
How did he fucking find her?
♫ Emily, Emily Prentiss…
She’s been so careful. This is the first night, the very first night she’s done something for herself in months. Her mind reels, racing frantically through every person she’s encountered today, last week, last month, trying to recall a face that lingered too long, showed too much interest.
♫ Emily, Emily Prentiss (where are you)...
She tucks further into the corner, her face darkened by low light and shadows. She’s scanning the room for anyone out of place, but it’s an Irish pub in the 9e arrondissement in Paris, everyone’s out of place by virtue of being here. A few regulars nurse their drinks at the bar, a few couples in the dining room are quietly absorbed in their dinners. Everyone seems to be minding their own business, like they can’t even hear this fucking nightmare of a song carving tunnels in her already fragile mind.
♫ Emily, Emily Prentiss…
He found her, he’s taunting her.
♫ Emily, Emily Prentiss…
And she’s not dead.
*** *** ***
It takes every ounce of strength she has left not to leave the bar immediately, but she can’t draw attention to herself. She sips her drink in her shadowy corner, no longer tasting the smoky richness, and watches as the band packs up their gear. There's no merch table, no posters anywhere announcing who they are. The singer had mumbled something at the end of the set, but she couldn’t make out a name, just noting the Irish accent. She waits until they’re loading up their van from a side entrance, then slips out the front.
She hails a cab, spits out an address across the city. From there she walks three blocks to a Métro stop, taking one train and then another, and another. It’s late—or early, rather—by the time she arrives at her flat. FBI protocol takes over, and she clears each room, gun in hand, finger itching to pull the trigger, before she lets out a shaky breath, bolting the door shut and checking the locks on the windows. She’s tense, paranoid that her circuitous route from the bar wasn’t enough to evade anyone who might have been following her.
The cold ceramic of the bathroom sink grounds her as she braces her hands on either side, resting her forehead on the mirror. Her skin is slick with sweat, heart still racing even now. She runs the faucet, splashing water on her face, desperate to slow her fevered pulse. She steps back and leans against the wall, the tile cool against her skin, and thumps her fist against a chipped tile once, twice, in time to the rattle of the building’s old pipes. The tile cracks, and she pushes her fist in, pulling out an old cellphone. She turns it on, relieved to see the screen spring to life. Her hand shakes as she dials a number from memory, slipped to her once on a scrap of paper in the hospital room where she learned she was dead.
He picks up on the first ring.
“Hotchner.”
“Aaron,” Emily breathes, clutching a sob at the back of throat. “He found me.”
~~~
/next>
tags: @sneetchestoo @fionaloover @laurensprentiss @mydearoriel
(let me know if you'd like a tag for the next chapter!)
#hotchniss#hotchniss fic#aaron hotchner#emily prentiss#aaron x emily#criminal minds#criminal minds fic#where are you fic#hancy writes#if you saw me accidentally post this on main no you didn't#love you all bye
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One thought I have had about seth’s mom is in his epilogue, did he even have the right number? She seems like the time to have changed her number at least once, so for all we know, Seth didn’t even actually leave a voicemail to his mom
Here’s a fun fact for y’all theory crafters and such.
I don’t know, guys. I don’t know what I’m doing with his mom yet. That’s why she’s conveniently left as a question mark. You can contemplate and guess, but until I see where she’ll fit into what I want to do, she’s just a cool idea for the time being.
I decided that I wanted to tell a story about the holidays and what it means to me with this next arc, I did that on a whim when I needed some inspiration, and I have adapted my plans to suit it. When creating content in this way, rather than something much more static like a book or something that is finished and then released, I gotta stay flexible and a lot of things are figured out as I go.
I get a lot of lore/background questions and the truth is, I just haven’t gone that deep. Partly for flexibility, partly because figuring it out for myself as I create is extremely fun and gratifying for me. It’s why making these installments is so easy. So...just keep that in mind when asking big questions like this.
But you are right, he could have had the wrong number at this point. One idea that I love is that she bought a camper van and started living minimalistic on the road for a year or something. Like she’s just out and about doing her thing.
I think where I’m going with her is framing her as the non-traditional mom, she’s not doting and worried, she’s just...doing her thing. She does her thing because trying to be that motherly type didn’t work out for her, she went through some shit with Seth’s dad (I might not get too into it, but given Seth’s relationship with his father you could safely assume the same could go for her) and she just broke bad and is off doing her thing. She went from a shitty barkeep in the middle of nowhere to dating a guy like Derek, dangerous, probably fucks like a god, etc. then from Derek...who knows? She’s just vibing.
At some point there’ll be a reckoning between her and Seth, he adores her, loves her so much, took a lot of inspiration and influence from her. But then she just bounced. She’s living her life and has her reasons, but I don’t think Seth has yet come to terms with that.
This reflects some of what my own relationship with my mom is like. My mom could have gone two ways after splitting with my own father. She could have been a wild girl, and has flirted with that side of herself a few times, but she went the other way. She’s super religious. And I resented her for that. But in time I learned that sometimes people have to find something, be it a lifestyle or mindset or whatever, to cope with the shit that they’ve been through.
In my own life, I learned to be happy that my mom found something that kept her from going off the deep end. I will probably let that reflect in Seth’s relationship with his mother.
So not only do I need to figure out how I want to introduce her and let her exist in the plot, it’s deeply personal and will be an emotional experience for me that I gotta get my head right for.
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LAST ONE I SWEAR!! I drew this just for this event lol! I really wanted fashion disaster Bard!Stiles who only vaguely knows how to play the recorder. He’s better at poetry but he was told he had to pick an instrument besides his singing voice.
(submitted by @loveyprophet)
It started in a pub, as all good adventures do.
The pub was lit by the warm glow of the overhead lights, the withered grain of the thick wooden walls gave the space a rustic and welcoming feeling. The heavy mahogany benchtop of the bar ran along one wall, stained by the years of drinks that had rested or been spilt over it. The wall behind it was lined with wooden shelves, bottles of alcohol and wooden barrels lying on their sides, spouts piercing the lids so that the barkeep could pour drinks.
Several tables were set up around the room, wooden booths lining the walls and stools lined up under the bar.
Groups of people sat in nearby, filling the building with raucous chatter.
Stiles sat at the bar, a tankard in his hand.
He got a lot of strange looks from those around him, and he knew why. He didn’t look like someone who belonged here; he wore a blue-grey plaid shirt over a black shirt, strips of fabric coiled around his forearms and thick red gloves with a woollen lining covered his hands. A red cape with a thin fleece lining was pinned around his shoulders, his chest covered in brown belts that crossed over his torso and coiled around his waist. A blue bandanna was folded into a headband, pulling back the tousled mess of his chestnut-brown hair from his face. Strapped to his side, in one of the leather holsters fastened to the belt around his waist, was a recorder.
In short, he was a fashion disaster—and as such, he always looked out of place.
But his reputation proceeded him; Stiles Stilinski—the strongest bard in the Eastern lands. And the only bard to carry a recorder as a weapon.
He specialised in lyrical poetry and vocals, but his mentor had told him time and time again that he needed a weapon to hone his powers. The only problem was, he was never any good at playing an instrument. The only instrument he could play was the recorder or the drums, but it was hard to carry a drum kit into battle, so a recorder it was.
Stiles lifted his tankard, taking another drink of the lager.
A figure slid up beside him, sitting down at the bar. The man was dressed in a worn black leather coat that matched the black plated armour he wore underneath. The leather chest plate covered half his chest, fastened to the plates of armour that sat over his shoulder. Underneath his armour, he wore a soft grey shirt. Black leather belts were coiled around his waist, a quiver attached to his hip and a row of throwing knives holstered on the other side.
A Ranger.
The man pushed back the hood of his coat, revealing his short raven-black hair and stunning aventurine-green eyes.
Stiles felt his heart skip a beat, his breath catching in his throat as he blinked in surprise.
He forced himself to look away, lifting his tankard to his lips and taking another drink.
The barkeep – a tall man with dark skin and a heavy build – brought the Ranger his drink, sliding a beaten metal tankard in front of the man.
“You know a lot of people who come through here, right?” the Ranger asked., his voice deep and husky.
The barkeep, Boyd, nodded.
“I need a team,” the Ranger said. “The best of the best.”
“You want the best of the best, look to your right,” Boyd replied nodding towards Stiles.
Stiles looked up from his drink, surprised by the compliment.
The Ranger looked at him, his pale eyes looking him over.
“Bard?” the Ranger asked.
Stiles nodded.
“The best there is,” Boyd added.
The Ranger raised an eyebrow. He held out his hand.
“Derek,” he introduced himself.
“Stiles,” he replied, shaking the man’s hand.
The corners of Derek’s lips turned up in a charming smile.
“Are you up for an adventure, Stiles?”
#a picture is worth 8 thousand words#a picture is worth 8 thousand words event#sterek#sterek au#sterek dnd au#sterek bard au#bard stiles#bard!stiles#ranger derek#ranger!derek#sterek fanfiction#sterek fanfic#sterek fic#long post#text post#submission#lovey#loveyprophet#sterek one shot#sterek short one shot#sterek ficlet#sterek fanart#sterek fan art
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How they met you
Aaron Hotchner: You were very quiet. A stay in the back kind of person. You would bring the team coffee and they would thank you but never really remember your name. Well... Except Aaron. Aaron noticed those eyes and he fell almost instantly. But the day he knew he absolutely had to ask you out was when he was reviewing a case and you were delivering coffee. You didn't say anything until you noticed something off. "Uh... Miss Garcia?" You said. She looked up. "Hmm?" "There's a mark on the shoulder." You said. "Wha-- holy crap." "That... Also looks looks like it was done postmortem..." You added. Aaron rose a brow and you blushed so many shades of red. "Uh... B-bye." You blurted out before leaving. Everyone noticed Aaron's eyes glued to you. "....So the coffee delivery girl/guy?" Rossi asked. "...Hmm?" He asked absentmindedly. "... He's totally head over heels."
Spencer Reid: You were on another team actually. But after a while the team started families and went off on their own and you were open for a transfer. You were put in the BAU due to your two doctorates and your knowledge. They asked Strauss if they'd give you a partner or something, someone she was sure you'd get along with. That's when she assigned you to Dr. Spencer Reid. You walked into the BAU, nervous as hell. You opened the glass doors and Hotchner immediately motioned you over. You followed him up the stairs where he welcomed you and finally you were sent back downstairs. Only issue... He never told you who Spencer was. You sighed and made your way to the coffee station. "You must be new." A voice said. You looked over and noticed this tall guy. His hair was longer but his eyes were very captivating. "...Yeah... Only issue was Hotch never said who my partner was." You mumbled. "Partner?" He asked. "Oh I'm Doctor Y/n L/n... New addition." You said with a nod. "I'm Doctor Spencer Reid. And you're my new partner...." He said with a small laugh. "Ah! We're both coffee addicts." You joked. He smiled and you did too. " Sorry I'm so awkward I just don't know how to handle this... New adjustment." You admitted. "Don't worry. The team is very welcoming." He assured. "The team isn't who I'm worried about." You blurted out and Spencer rose a brow, a blush daring to creep onto his face. "... I'm.. uh... I've always tried to be welcoming. Course, I'm weird so... They don't always get what I'm saying." Spencer admitted. "You don't seem weird to me." You assured. Your phone buzzed. "Crap, I have to check on my dog real quick." You said walking away. Derek, who had been watching this entire time finally came forward. "So that probability of falling in love with your partner... Where are you at with that?" Derek asked. "...98%." Spencer said watching you walk away.
Derek Morgan: "I swear to God if I get another kid in here looking at those damn recipes for butter beer, I'm going to lose my shit." Your coworker groaned. "They're just having fun Rachel." You said. "Fuck fun. Fuck life." She said. "Someone's in a spectacular mood." You said. "Customer." Rachel said. You moved to the counter and put on the apron. "Hi, how can I help you today?" You asked. You looked up and froze, dead in your tracks. How can a man look THAT good? You swallowed. "Uh... Yeah... Coffee... Black." He said. "Sure... Thing." You nodded. ".....Name?" You asked after a long silence. "Uh.. what?" "for your order?" You reminded. "Oh! Derek." He said. "..." Rachel watched the painfully awkward situation. "Here's your coffee sir." Rachel said. "While I was at it, I added her number on your cup. Have fun." Rachel said. "Rachel!" You gaped. "I was going to ask for it later." Derek assured. You blushed and he smiled. "See you around--" he looked on the side of the cup, noticing Rachel also put your name on there. "Y/n." He winked. He walked out and you gaped. "....Holy shit."
JJ: You were a bartender. She was an agent who at this very moment, hated life. "would it be cheesy to say 'hit me barkeep'?" JJ asked. "Totally. Which is why I'm going to be equally cheesy and ask 'whats your poison'?" You said. She smiled "Whiskey." She breathed. You began pouring and slid her the glass. "So. What's got you down blondie?" You asked. "My job. Sucks." She said. "What do you do?" You asked, cleaning a glass. "FBI." She said. "Wooooo okay. That's gotta be rough." You said sympathetically. "You have no idea." JJ mumbled. You gave her another glass. "On the house." You assured. She gave a shy smile. "So why'd you become a bartender?" She asked. "Literally to listen to other people's issues." You laughed. "You can't be serious." She said. "I actually am... I'm in college right now for psychology." You admitted. "Oh my god that actually funny." JJ gaped. "Crazy, I know." You chuckled. "No, I find it hilarious that you found the ultimate shortcut. You can talk and drink." JJ said laughing. You cracked a smile. "Cute laugh." You said. "Cute... Face." JJ said. "Okay, that's definitely the whiskey talking." You snorted. "Probably." She nodded. She put money on the counter and something else, leaving. You walked over and looked up. She gave you her number.
Penelope Garcia: Coffee. Thank God for that blessed bean that kept you awake. You came in, exhausted from hours of coding and encrypting before dragging your ass to the nearest coffee shop. You got your coffee, noticing it was a full house and you groaned. "Uh... I have a table.. I-I don't mind sharing." A blonde woman said. She seemed spunky with the way she dressed. You followed sitting down. "What's your name? You don't have to talk if you don't want to by the way." She said. "Y/n... You?" You asked taking a gulp of the coffee. "Penelope." She said. "Pretty name." You said with a smile. "Thank you! My parents were kind of hippies..." She admitted. You chuckled and she smiled. You noticed the reflection on her glasses. "Are you coding?" You asked. "Yeah... It's fun to me." She admitted. "Can I see... I kind of love computers." You admitted. She turned her laptop to you and you chuckled. "This is some seriously cool stuff." You said. "Do you want to go out some time?" She asked. You looked over with a smile. "I'd love that." You said. She smiled and you did too.
#penelope garcia x reader#aaron hotchner x reader#derek morgan x reader#spencer reid x reader#x reader
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50 Follower Celebration Drabbles
Hotch x Reader: 🧸
Aaron came home late again. He always felt terrible about leaving you and Jack when he was away on a case and especially hated it when he couldn’t come home right away. Instead, he had to go back and file paperwork and deal with bureaucratic red tape, when the one thing he wanted was to be home with you.
He pushed opened the door to the apartment and quietly shuffled out of his shoes and set his briefcase down. The first thing he did notice the house was dark was going to check on Jack and watch him sleep for a bit.
To his surprise he found you snuggled up next to Jack. His heart melted as he found his phone and took a quick picture. He wanted it for when he traveled the next time. You had stepped into his life in full force going as far as taking Jack on as your own son.
Hotch leaned down, sliding his hands under the small of your back and your knees before pulling you gently away from the sleeping boy and into his arms. He cradled you close and walked back to your shared bedroom and laid down with you still against him. He didn’t care that he was still in his expensive suit all that mattered was that he was finally home. Had a family that loved and valued not only him but the work he did in the world. He kissed your head before nuzzling his down against yours and fell asleep.
Emily x Reader 🍒
You were having the time of your life out with your girlfriend and her team dancing at the bar with them. The bar wasn’t really the kind of one where dancing happened - there was no dance floor! But after a few tequila shots you always had to dance and your girlfriend, Emily, never let you dance alone.
You loved the way she felt pressed against you, running her hands up your body as you ground back on her slowly.
“Keep it PG their ladies” Morgan smirked at them as he joined you two with an attractive lady he picked up at the bar.
Emily rolled her eyes turning you around and pulling you closer. She leaned down pulling you into a deep kiss. Your head swooned with butterflies and alcohol and before you knew it Emily was supporting your weight against her.
“Babe, I think it’s time we get you home” she smiled at you. She had a much higher tolerance and was happy to let you have the fun tonight planning on driving you both home later anyway.
“Noooo! Mooore shotttttts please!” You spun around away from her grasp to the bar.
“Barkeep!” Your hand hit the counter, “another round for me and my wonderful friends”
The bartender took one look at Emily who flashed her badge behind you and shook her head no.
“Sorry little lady, no can do.”
Emily watched as you pouted, falling back into her embrace. She whispered in your ear quietly, “if we go home now I’ll make sure to turn that frown around” she winked at you.
Your face flushed and you grabbed her hand making a b-line for the door. “Bye, everyone!”
Emily laughed following you out to the car waving goodby to her still mostly sober team.
Reid x Reader 🧸
Your anxiety revved up as the plane descended into LAS airport. You had already gone to the bathroom to change your clothes, twice, before the plane began the descent. You wanted to look your very best.
Your hands had to fiddle with something to channel the extra anxiety and found its target on the inflight drink napkin. You twisted it this way and that.
You startled when soft hands reached over and took yours in them. “Love, you seem anxious. I didn’t realize you were afraid of planes landing. You know it’s more likely you will die falling off your bed, one in two million, than it is to die in a plane crash, which is a 1 in 11 million…”
“It’s not that.” You cut him off biting your lip. You were slightly embarrassed by what was eating at you.
“Then what is it, love?” His hand reached up to cup your face. He was clearly worried about you.
“What if she doesn’t like me? What if she thinks I’m not right for you! What if..” the plane landed stopping your train of thought. You felt like you might be sick as the plane started taxing to the gate.
It didn’t help that Spencer was laughing while pulling you into a hug.
“It’s not funny Spence!”
“Love, I’m not laughing at you. It’s cute, really. You’re worried about meeting my mom for the first time.” He grinned ear to ear, “She’s going to absolutely adore you.” He kissed your forehead once again making you feel small.
Blush crept up your cheeks making you look flushed and innocent.
“A-are you sure?”
“Yes. She is going to love you because I love you. So much” he lifted your left hand to his lips kissing the new engagement ring on your small finger.
Reid x Reader ☔️
Your head throbbed painfully as the pressure on the BAU jet changed. Maybe flying with a concussion across the country wasn’t the best idea. Your turn your attention to the feeling of long fingers rubbing through your hair in a very rhythmic pattern.
Spencer hadn’t left your side since he and the team found you unconscious in an ally. The UNSUB had hit you over the head with a crowbar and luckily for you, it wasn’t as bad as it could have been.
He stayed with you through the ambulance ride telling them everything they needed to know about you. Your height, weight, birthday, allergies, and any medications you were on, even the date of your last period.
He repeated the same things when they got you inside and the doctor came in to ask questions but you had still been unconscious.
He even sat in the chair next to your hospital bed all night until you finally came too. Finding your hand safely tucked into his while his other held a book he was reading out loud to you. Of course, you had no idea what it was saying - it was in Russian.
Now he had your head placed gently in his lap while the jet took you guys home and away from this case.
“You should be resting (y/n)” he chided.
“How did you know I was awake? My eyes aren’t even open?”
“Your breathing changes when you are sleeping to when you awake. I noticed the difference”
“Only you would notice that” you tried to move, regretting it instantly.
“Lay back, relax and let me take care of you,” he said getting a water bottle and some pain medicine. He dropped the pill onto your tongue and gently held the bottle to your lips so you could sip and swallow.
“Thanks, Spence”
“Oh, course love” he smiled before resuming petting your hair. “Rest now”
Morgan x Reid 🍒
Morgan slammed the tall skinny boy back against the wall. Their lips devoured each other’s hunger for more. Derek felt Spencer reach for his pants and he wasn’t interested in Spencer taking the lead or even in sharing power tonight.
He reached for Spencer’s wrists gripping them tightly in his hands before pinning them over the genius head in one of his.
“Tonight, your mine. Tonight any bratty quips will be punished. Tonight I’m going to make you cry out for me and you’re going to beg me for your release. Got that?” Morgan arched a brow at him keeping his eyes stern.
He watched Reid shiver against the wall, “y-yes sir”
Reid loved it when Morgan took charge. When Morgan released his hands and opened his apartment door so they could take this out of the hallway, Spencer eagerly went inside.
“Gah!” Spencer looked back after being spanked hard by Morgan as he walked.
Morgan pulled Reid close, kissing up to his neck, before gripping the curly mop of hair and yanking it back.
“You better be naked and bent over the bed by the time I make it into the bedroom, or there’ll be hell to pay kid”
Morgan smirked letting go watching Spencer practically run back into the bedroom leaving a trail of clothes strewn across the hallway floor.
Morgan x Reader 🍒
Morgan was on his way to pick you up for your date night. You had no idea what he had planned but you knew for a fact what you wanted to happen. He had been gone for almost a whole week and you were in desperate to get him in bed tonight, or against a wall…. a bathroom stall… the car seat. It didn’t matter. The fact is you knew you were getting laid tonight. No matter what.
You prepped everything. Perfectly shaved legs, a sexy short little dress that hugged your curves just right and no panties. It’s not that you weren’t bringing any, you just weren’t going to wear them.
You smiled hearing the doorbell and quickly flitted from your room to the door throwing it open.
Before you could say hi Morgan stepped into the room and kissed you passionately. He pressed his body against yours and backed you into the room kicking the door shut behind him.
You moaned in the kiss. The panties you had in your hand that you planned to slip into his pocket fell to the floor onto his shoes.
He pulled back to see what feel and smirked.
“Oh,” he smirked “I’m glad we’re on the same page”
He lifted you quickly up onto the counter and laid you back. Winking at you casually, “I’m glad your panties dropped that quickly for me babe”
Tag List: @hommoturttle @rxseinbloom @obsessed-with-spencerreid @l0ve-0f-my-life
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Yee Haw
Summary: An AU based off of JJ and Reid’s conversation at the end of “Rusty” where Reid says if he weren’t in the FBI he’d be a cowboy.
Warnings: Swearing, Mentions of homophobia and transphobia.
Word Count: 1,095
Tropes: AU, The Team Is Queer Because You Can’t Stop Me
Characters: Penelope Garcia, Emily Prentiss, Spencer Reid, David Rossi, Jennifer Jereau, Aaron Hotchner, Derek Morgan
FYI: The fic is in Spencer’s POV.
I dismounted my horse, Monte, and hitched him in front of a large building with a sign reading “Saloon” perched on the roof. As I stepped into the dimly lit room the doors swung behind me, creaking loudly on their hinges. As my eyes adjusted I saw a man behind the bar, he was older, with salt n’ pepper hair and a goatee to match. The only other person in the bar was a woman with straight black hair framing an angular face, who was nursing a glass of what looked like whiskey.
“You new around here?” The barkeep asked as he cleaned out a cup with a rag.
“Uh, yeah, I bought a ranch just outside of town,” I said, sliding onto a stool a couple of chairs away from the woman.
“I should introduce myself then, I’m David Rossi, me and my wife Krystall own and run the saloon. She’s down at the flower shop right now, but you’ll meet her soon enough.” The man, who I now knew as David Rossi, said. “But anyway, what can I get you?”
“Spencer Reid, and water would be fantastic, thanks,” I said with a small smile. As I tapped my fingers against the counter, I dared a glance towards the woman at the end of the bar. She downed the rest of her drink and stood up, as she did so I caught a glimpse of what seemed to be a sheriff’s badge. As she left I turned back to Mr. Rossi.
“That’s the sheriff?”
“Yep.”
“Does she always drink in the middle of the day?”
“You’ll have to excuse her, we don’t really get any sort of crime around here, so she doesn’t have much else to do.”
I nodded, taking a long sip of water.
“So you said you bought a ranch?” Mr. Rossi asked, turning to grab a rag to wipe away the wet rings the sheriff’s drink had left on the bar.
“Yes, I’ve got some cattle, a couple of horses.”
“So you’re a cattle farmer?”
“Well, I sort of just wanted to move somewhere small. My hometown wasn’t big by any standards, but it was just too much.” I said with a dishonest smile. My mom had tried her best to help me hide my secret, but once it was out, the news spread like wildfire. Luckily I was able to get out before any actual damage could be done.
Mr. Rossi nodded, I knew he could tell I was lying, but he didn’t pry, which I appreciated.
“Lots of folks around here like that.” Mr. Rossi said with a knowing look. I nodded, reaching towards my pocket to pay for the water.
“Hey, no, on the house for our newest resident.” Rossi said, picking up my empty glass. I smiled at him, and stood up, leaving the bar. As I squinted through the sunlight I spotted a man, he was on a horse and was pulling a cart full of what looked like vegetables, I figured I was already on a roll, I had already met the bar owner and the sheriff, might as well meet The Vegetable Guy. I mounted my horse and trotted towards Vegetable Guy.
“Hey, I’m Spencer Reid, I just moved here. I’ve got a ranch just outside of town.” Vegetable Guy turned to me with a kind smile. “Derek Morgan, I’ve got a farm just West of here. I’m going to drop off some vegetables to one of my biggest buyers, Penelope Garcia, have you met her yet?”
“No, mind if I come with you?”
“Not at all, you’ll love her, everyone does.”
I nodded, continuing to ride alongside him until we reached a large metal gate leading into a large forested area. Soon a stout woman was running towards us down a dirt path and Derek and I dismounted, she unlocked the gate, struggling to push it open, as soon as she did she embraced Derek with a huge smile.
“Hey baby girl, I’ve got someone you should meet.” The woman, who I assumed was Penelope reluctantly let go of Derek and she approached me, the same smile still plastered onto her face.
“Penelope Garcia” She held out her hand.
“Spencer Reid.” I shook her hand and took notice of how she was dressed, she had on some of the brightest clothes I’d ever seen, not to mention plenty of accessories including a pair of giant heart-shaped earrings.
“Great to meet you! I run this sanctuary-” She gestured to the forested area, “for wounded animals. Derek supplies me with all the vegetables I need to feed everybody.” I nodded, glancing back toward the cart piled high with vegetables. “He also volunteers here a few times a week, and we’re always looking for more help.” She said, walking towards the vegetables to help Derek unload them. Penelope and I each carried two crates while Derek carried four.
“Are you sure you’re alright? It’s okay if we have to make two trips.” I said with concern, glancing back at Derek, who was walking a few yards behind me.
“I’m alright.” As if to prove his point, he jogged towards me, the crates swaying precariously in his arms.
“Okay, if you say so.” I said turning to face forwards, I was surprised to see that Penelope had stopped. It was then that I heard a loud meowing coming from the tree she was stopped in front of. Penelope turned towards Derek, a look of worry evident on her features.
“Sergio got himself stuck again!” She said, looking up into the tree.
“I’ll call Emily.” With that, Derek set down the vegetables and made his way back down the trail.
I stood there awkwardly as Penelope called out for Sergio, desperate to make some sort of conversation, I tried to think of something helpful to say.
“You know, 31% of feline adoptions are black cats.” Penelope turned towards me with a confused look on her face.
“That’s cool.” She said, “I always worry about black cats, I’m afraid people won’t adopt them because of a stupid superstition.”
“Uh, unfortunately, black cats are the most commonly left behind at animal shelters, at 30%, but I-I uh felt like that statistic was too sad.”
“Oh. Why do you know all this anyway?” I shrugged at her question.
“I have an, uh, eidetic memory. I remember everything I read.”
“That’s, that’s really cool actually.” She turned to me as her face lit up, “What else do you know about cats?” I smiled, I knew I was gonna like it here.
#cm#criminal minds#spencer reid#penelope garcia#derek morgan#david rossi#cm fanfiction#criminal minds fanfiction
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Sterek Country Singer AU: Derek is a world renowned country singer and Stiles is a bartender at a strip club who dreams of hitting it big as a songwriter but doesn’t have the guts to go out there and get it.
Derek is riding his high and hoping all this fame will finally get him what he really wants. As a werewolf, Derek was raised on mate stories, and in a family where his parents were true mates. He hopes that travelling the world for concerts, he’ll be able to find his one and only and bring them home.
After his final show in California, one of Derek’s friends (aka pack members who tour with him as assistants and roadies) convinces him to go to a strip club. He’s up for some easy fun and is surprised they managed to find a bisexual-friendly place called ‘Both Ways’. There, he meets a lot of pretty people and has a great time. He thinks he’s found a great girl named Paige and considers taking her back to his hotel room when he steps away for a moment to get drinks from the bar, and everything changes. All his thoughts of Paige dispensary when he looks up to see the bartender; a tall, gorgeous man that seems to be hiding his built body under a shirt that’s two sizes too big. He has big warm eyes and soft plump lips that he can’t help but think would look great with something in between them.
Once he gets close enough, he can hear the barkeep’s heartbeat and realises it’s in sync with his, then his scent hits him. Derek has smelt a lot of enticing and even tempting scents before but all of those pale in comparison to the intoxicating scent the man is giving off.
So Derek decides to do what he does best: turn up his southern charm and woo the pants off this guy who has just got to be his mate.
And boy, does it not work. Derek tries to charm him but Stiles shuts him down; “I come here to work, not get hit on.” And just when he’s about to ask him out, Paige comes bouncing in and presses up against Derek. Stiles casts a glance at her before looking back at Derek. “It looks like you go your hands full already.”
Before Derek can say anything, Stiles turns and walks away to another customer.
But Derek knows that Stiles is the one, and he’s not going to let go of this. He’s never been one to walk away from a challenge.
@loveyprophet
#loveyprophet!#exposing our dirty little secrets#sterek#sterek au#sterek country singer au#sterek mates au#country singer derek#country singer!derek#bartender stiles#bartender!stiles#imagine sterek#sterek imagine#eternalsterek
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NCIS: Los Angeles Season Ten Rewatch: "Into the Breach"
The basics: The team investigates the death of a journalist covering a Marine incident in Afghanistan.
Written by: Lee A. Carlisle who wrote "Golden Days" and "Reentry".
Directed by: James Hanlon who directed “War Cries”, “The Grey Man”, “Kolcheck, A”, “Driving Miss Diaz”, “Command and Control” (number 150), “Angels and Daemons", “Where There’s Smoke”, “Black Market”, “Tidings We Bring”, “Can I Get a Witness?”, “Cac Tu Nhan” and "A Diamond in the Rough".
Guest stars of note: Peter Jacobson as Special Prosecutor John Rogers and Marsha Thomason as NCIS Special Agent Nicole DeChamps return from "Joyride". Pamela Reed as Roberta Deeks is back from in "The Sound of Silence". Cedric Sanders as Retired Marine Sergeant Odell Ikande, Colby French as Phillip Beckett, Victoria Platt as Hannah Nessbaum, Matty Cardarople as Danny, Dominic Pace as Hargrove, Derek Chariton as Kirby, Alexandra El Kahwagi as Ruya Ghanem and Thomas Crawford as Jeffrey Kelly.
Our heroes: Help a Marine who is helping others.
What important things did we learn about:
Callen: Wants Sam to be happy.
Sam: A good ear for DeChamps when she's troubled.
Kensi: Offers support to a troubled DeChamps.
Deeks: Working the health inspection of his bar today.
Eric: Intercepting hostage calls.
Nell: Chasing down electrical outages in Afghanistan.
Hetty: Not a factor.
What not so important things did we learn about:
Callen: Taking mathlete, again.
Sam: Junior Math Olympian.
Kensi: Realizes Deeks and Bertie really are similar in demeanor.
Deeks: Can't unsee Bertie's too short dress.
Eric: Hoping to have Fatima back in LA.
Nell: Has her fingers crossed for Fatima.
Hetty: Absent.
Who's down with OTP: Kensi and Deeks are getting ready for the wedding. All is well.
Who's down with BrOTP: Lots of Callen teasing of Sam but the teasing is with a good heart – he wants Sam to be happy.
Any pressing need for Harm and Mac: No.
Who is running the team this week? Hello, AUSA Rogers.
Mosley watch: Not a word.
Fashion review: Black button down dress shirt for Callen. Black henley for Sam. Red and black v-neck top for Kensi. The blue and darker blue softball shirt for barkeep Deeks. Black button down shirt with little cactuses and a grey cardigan sweater for Eric (with long pants). Red print dress with a v-neck with a bow (feh) for Nell.
Music: Bertie and her baby boy dance to Iron & Wine's "Upward Over the Mountain" at the end of the episode.
Any notable cut scene: No.
Quote: Sam: "Don't start. I'm not in the mood."
Callen: "I know you said that whatever happened last night wasn't a date.."
Sam: "Because it wasn't."
Callen: "But if it was you know that's okay, right?"
Sam: "I appreciate that, G. But I don't know what I'm looking for right now, and I'm not in any rush to find it."
Callen: "And there's nothing wrong with that. I mean, even the big man's got to take baby steps once in a while."
Sam: "And you were doing so well."
Callen: "One for two with heartfelt moments? Come on, that's not half bad."
Sam: "That's exactly half bad. That's one for two."
Callen: "We can't all be mathletes, all right?"
Sam: "For the last time, it's Junior Math Olympian."
Callen: "Never heard of it."
Anything else: A pair of bantering birdwatchers on a hill have their morning of ornithology interrupted by the sounds of a car accident. Running down the hill to help, the men rush to an SVU flipped over in a ditch. One of the birders finds a woman upside – held be her seatbeat. She keeps saying "find the candy." The other bird fan calls 911.
Kensi and Deeks are dealing with last minute RSVP's (Uncle Mortimer) and drop outs (Great Uncle Oliver) for the wedding. Both are from "the House of Blye," according to Deeks. Deeks is freaking out about the wedding. They have a list of 13-things to do just that day. Kensi is more zen – encouraging Deeks to breathe. Taking some deep breaths, Deeks is amazed how Kensi calms him. "That's why you're marrying me."
The calm lasts about a second as Bertie arrives with a "wedding emergency!" Her dress for the wedding needed to be hemmed about an inch and the tailor cut too much. Pulling out her phone, Deeks "can't unsee that" as he looks at a photo. Kensi thinks the tailor took off a foot. Bertie is freaking out because she doesn't know if she can trust the tailor to fix it or should she get a new dress or should she try to hem it herself, which she should have done in the first place. Deeks looks at Kensi – "do you see where I get it?" Also a concern – the speeches at the wedding and keeping the mic away from Uncle Bob.
Deeks is far more concerned about the health inspection for the bar today. Bertie is ready. She has seen every episode of Kitchen Nightmares twice. Looking at the to-do list, Bertie wants to help. Kensi is called to the office – Deeks has the day off to be at the bar for the inspection.
Mother and son are alone. She has already scratched on item off the wedding prep list – finding a song for the mother-son dance. Deeks can't believe she crossed it off because they are "absolutely doing a mother-son dance at my wedding." Bertie walks away with her hand up.
Walking into the office, Callen can't understand why Sam turned down Lakers tickets the night before – especially with LeBron in town. Is Sam meeting with a group of mathletes? Taking that goat yoga class Nell recommended? Sam had "plans". Agent DeChamps walks into the bullpen. She was in town testifying the day before. When Sam told her Deeks was out of the office, she figured she would lend a hand. Callen wants to know when Sam mentioned Deeks's absence. At drinks the night before. Sam looks uncomfortable. Eric arrives with a case.
Rogers is back running things and compliments Sam for hiding is disappointment with that fact well. Callen asks about Fatima. She's been assigned to the San Diego office which bums out Nell. They were going to go to a conference together. Eric is still hopeful Fatima can join the team. Rogers does not look happy with the chit chat.
The birdwatchers car accident was in the Hollywood Hills. The woman in the vehicle – Rebecca Frazier - died. Callen isn't sure what NCIS's involvement could be. Frazier was an investigative reporter working on a year old Marine operation. Dry conditions, well maintained road – why would Frazier's SUV wind up in a ditch? Due to the "sensitive nature" of Frazier's story, the SecNav wants extra scrutiny of her death. Eric and Nell are researching Frazier's last words. Rogers is offering to help – people answer questions quickly when coming from a special prosecutor. Kensi is in the boatshed with Frazier's editor. Callen sends DeChamps to join Kensi – he and Sam are off to the crime scene.
On the couch of the boat shed, Frazier's editor is stunned. They had lunch yesterday. Kensi promises the editor she wants to uncover the truth – she can be trusted. The editor trusts Kensi but she does not trust the system. They may find the truth and still have it buried. Kensi asks if Frazier received any threats. Just one – a mailed threat with no identification other than a Los Angeles postmark. Frazier was looking for a retired Marine, an Odell Ikande according to the editor. Ikande did not want to be found – the editor thinks Kensi should start there. Ikande sounds like "candy" – Frazier told the witnesses to find Ikande.
At the crime scene, Callen asks Sam about drinks with DeChamps. After a really hard day in court, DeChamps gave him a call. Sam let her vent over drinks. Callen thinks some people would call that a date. "Absolutely not a date." Callen asks about where they had drinks. When Sam answers Spire 73, Callen asks about the shoes Sam wore. It is an upscale place.
At the accident site, there are no signs of skid marks, no sign the driver tried to correct. Callen and Sam start making their way down to the vehicle.
Nell has Kensi from the boat shed on the big screen. Ikande was a MARSOC Marine (as was Lance Hamilton) and Purple Heart winner. He was about to re-enlist in 2018 but was injured in a secret mission. The Marines have a Hancock Park address for Ikande. Kensi and DeChamps will see him.
Looking at the vehicle, Sam finds a cell site simulator in one of the wheel wells. With navigation systems being run by cell connections, someone could have hacked the automatic steering of Frazier's vehicle. Ikande has significant computer training.
With a visual inspection, Eric can't guess the cell site simulator's capabilities. To make sure Frazier wound up in the ditch, the person hijacking the steering would have to be nearby. Nell is going to check cameras in and out of the canyon. The roads in and out are limited so Nell can easily look for a tail.
Deeks can't believe Bertie won't do the dance. As Bertie cleans the bar, she explains that most mother-son wedding songs are inappropriate and creepy. Deeks is willing to find a deeper cut that is appropriate and not creepy. "Mother" by Danzig earns a mention. Bertie is "meh" on Bob Dylan's "Forever Young" – and she loves Bob Dylan. Loved – turning down the Nobel Prize put Bob on Bertie's bad side. Jeffrey Kelly from the Department of Health arrives as Deeks is complaining about the wedding. The inspection begins.
Kensi and DeChamps are walking towards Ikande's home. They discuss DeChamps's court testimony – it was for her last case working a protection detail for the Secret Service – Congressman Guzman. Kensi mentions her "fair share" of time on the stand and is available as a sympathetic ear. DeChamps notices the door to Ikande's home is ajar. The women enter the home, identifiying themselves as federal agents.
Nobody is in the house but there are fresh groceries on the counter. Hearing someone entering the home, DeChamps confronts a young woman – Ruya Ghanem – walking in. She is Odell Ikande's roommate.
On the large screen in the armory, Rogers is having a conversation with Ikande's former commanding officer. The CO respects Ikande as a great Marine who was "dealt a tough hand." Rogers asks about Ikande's last mission. The CO tries to play the classified card but Rogers has advance clearance.
Switching to a secure connection, the CO explains any reporter looking into Ikande's involvement wouldn't find much. Ikande and his team were looking for a high value target in Afghanistan. Before the team got close to the target, a group of civilian contractors were under attack in a nearby village. The team was pulled out to rescue the contractors. The rebels willl protect the high value targets from US forces by causing a distraction. By pulling Ikande's team away, a backup team was too late chasing the target. The target is gone.
The rescue went "sideways". The contractors were saved but four of Ikande's men died. The CO tells Rogers that Sgt. Ikande was one of the best men he ever commanded. If NCIS was bringing him in, the CO asked that the team keep him safe. Rogers says they will try.
Eric confirms that Ruya Ghanem is a refugee from Tajikistan. She last saw Ikande that morning – he is a maintenance worker at a mosque. Kensi asks about Ikande speaking to Rebecca Frazier. Ghanem is evasive. DeChamps says they only want to talk to Ikande about an investigation – he could be helpful. Asked if Ikande ever discusses his time in the Marines, Ghanem tells Kensi that he does not discuss that part of his life. Kensi looks at a framed photo of a group of Marines in their combat gear.
In Ops, Sam tells Callen, Eric and Nell that for the military, losing a man sticks with you for the rest of your life. Losing four – Sam can't imagine. Callen thinks Frazier was going to go public with the deaths of the four men. Ikande would not take that well. Sam wants everything Eric and Nell can dig up on the rescue of the contractors.
Returning to the accident, Eric and Nell have footage of Frazier's car being followed by a white van that leaves the same road 15-minutes later. That is enough time to get to the area where Frazier's car ran off the road and back. Kaleidoscope found the van in an alley. Callen and Sam are on their way.
Pulling up behind the van, Callen and Sam find two men. One is trying to remove the license plate while the other is grabbing something from the passenger's side of the van. Callen orders them to put their hands up – "federal agents." Anyone surprised these guys went for their guns and got shot instead? Didn't think so. Sam opens the back door to the van only to find a couple of gas cans. They were going to torch the van. Callen notes they still haven't found Ikande.
The dead men are Diego Marin and Felix Gamero – minor criminals but they have gang affiliations with the Imperio Aztecas. The van was also seen near the mosque where Ikande works. Callen thinks the men were hired by Ikande. Sam is more interested in the gang. Since they're fairly new players, Nell does not have much information on the Aztecas. Sam finds some parking tickets, Callen finds a box of doughnuts that correspond with the location of the tickets. Sam is in the mood for a cheat day.
In a role reversal, Rogers arrives in Ops with a debrief for Eric and Nell. Ikande's team and the contractors were rescued by employing a drone strike, causing civilian deaths in a nearby village. The contractors worked for Schenley Electrical, a firm that no longer does work out of the U.S. They have LA offices, though, run by a Phillip Beckett. He is one of the men Ikande's team saved. One of the last calls on Ikande's phone was to Beckett. Rogers wants Kensi and DeChamps to speak to Beckett.
At Schenley Electrical, Beckett is working with a staffer when Kensi and DeChamps walk in wanting to talk. After asking the staffer to leave, Beckett is helpful but finds all of this a sensitive subject because of what happened. Beckett and his staff were repairing a generator in a village and then they were taking heavy fire. Ikande's team saved them all. Beckett did not hear from Ikande after the attack until that morning when he called rambling about an accident. With Ikande hanging up before Beckett could get any info, Beckett has nothing to offer about the missing Ikande's current location. Owing Ikande "big time", Beckett wishes he could help.
Outside, Kensi and DeChamps don't believe Beckett. If someone who saves your life calls for help, you call them back. Beckett could be covering for Ikande. Or going to him. Beckett leaves the office with Kensi and Deeks following.
Deeks is crowding the health inspector. The inspector wanted the bar owner nearby, not that nearby. Deeks has a question for the inspector – if he went to a wedding and there was no mother-son dance, would that be weird? The inspector thinks it depends – do they hate each other? "They're starting to," according to Bertie, who doesn't like the inappropriate songs. Deeks asks for the inspector to help him. And he does, believing the dance issue is not about the music selection.
Deeks and Bertie have a serious talk. Kensi is a great dancer. Julia is a great dancer. Bertie – two left feet. When Deeks tries to reassure her it isn't a competition, Bertie tells him the truth. All weddings are competitions. Bertie doesn't want to look like a fool in front of everybody. Deeks is heartbroken. The health inspector is sorry to interrupt but he needs to see the supply closet and can't find it. Bertie provides an escort.
Walking to the doughnut shop, Callen and Sam are talking again about the adult beverages Sam and DeChamps shared at a fancy bar not being a date. To Sam, dates are more than where you go and what you wear. They are about intent. Callen asks Sam's intent. He was being a good friend to someone who was a good friend to him. Friendships can evolve into something more, according to Callen. Sam agrees but breaks Callen's heart by saying the two of them are just going to remain friends.
When Callen and Sam announce "NCIS" in the doughnut shop, three guys immediately leave. The counterman did not recognize photos of the guys who tried to torch the van. Asked if he knows about the guys who left, the counterman feigns ignorance, saying they just drink the crappy coffee. The man won't help because of "warrants and something."
Sam doesn't need a warrant to call for a health inspector's visit. The counterman isn't wearing gloves or a hairnet. Callen remembers Deeks is with a health inspector right now. A now cooperating counterman says the guys "roll" with the Imperio Aztecas. He also wants Sam to write all this down. Making a mental note, Sam asks the man to continue. Keeping this all between the three of them, the counterman hears the term "blanco" a lot so he believes the guys want to start a race war. Blanco means white, as in "whitey, the man." Callen and Sam are fascinated.
Beckett is walking in a park with Kensi and DeChamps a bit behind. DeChamps asks if Kensi has a hard time testifying. She does – having to explain every decision she makes has her feeling as if she's on trial. DeChamps thinks she's been on trial since the whole thing happened. Kensi reminds DeChamps that she saved her protectee. DeChamps adds at the cost of the life of the protectee's son. According to Kensi, good agents make mistakes and she's a great agent. "You got to forgive yourself." DeChamps thinks that's easier said than done.
Beckett meets with Ikande. As Kensi and DeChamps move in, a man with a knife tries to take out Ikande. Kensi draws the attention of the man with the knife while Ikande flees. DeChamps goes after Ikande while Kensi struggles with the man with the knife. Twisting him around, Kensi has the man with the knife accidently stab himself. Pulling her weapon, DeChamps gets Ikande to surrender. Gone in all the excitement – Beckett.
With the team in the boat shed with Rogers, Eric and Nell in Ops provide an update. Knife man was Juan Hernandez – the late Juan Hernandez since he died on the way to the hospital. No surprise – Hernandez was an Imperio Azteca. With the gang trying to kill Ikande, something must have gone wrong between them or they weren't working together at all.
Ikande is in interrogation. After telling Callen and Sam he knows nothing about the Aztecas, Ikande states he did not killed Rebecca Frazier, he was helping her. Since leaving the Marines, he has been a non-violent man. His faith means everything to him – that's why he's working at the mosque. Innocent blood, however, is on his hands. The drone strike that saved him killed innocent villagers. Their story needs to be told.
That morning, someone tried to kidnap him from the mosque. He was able to fight them off but saw what happened to Rebecca Frazier on the news. He thought it was not a coincidence so he called the only other man who knew what happened – Phillip Beckett.
Callen asked what happened the night of the drone strike. Explaining that the village where the contractors were – Farah - was so small it probably isn't even on a map, they went in with no cover and not a lot of intel. They found the contractors but leaving the village was a nightmare. The enemy was well-armed and well-trained. Not a band of local rebels.
Sam does not believe they were rebels. He is familiar with Farah where their main crop is opium. Warlords protect that area. Callen remembers the counterman from the doughnut shop – "blanco" could be heroin, made from opium.
With Callen and Sam back in the main room, Eric and Nell have info on Schenley, who lost their contract in Afghanistan after the rescue. The company remained flush with cash, as were the top executives. More suspicious – the generator that was being repaired failed like clockwork once a month over a year's time. Schenley's other 27 generators in Afghanistan had a grand total of three failures in a year.
Assuming they were moving opium, Rogers wonders how they got it back to the US. Schenley shipped broken generator equipment home in company trucks. Sam thinks if you empty the gas tanks in the trunks, you can move a lot of opium, especially over a year. DeChamps figures the local warlord wasn't happy with the deal and tried to kill the Schenley staffers. In comes Sgt. Ikande's team and Schenley almost gets away with it.
Eric has a location on where the trucks were shipped – a warehouse near Shenley's main plant. Rogers is amazed the team does such smart work "and yet still be so…you." He's getting the team a warrant.
Outside the warehouse is an armed guard. Callen and Sam are out front, Kensi and DeChamps are breaking in through a back door. Taking out the guard out front, Kensi and DeChamps finds a full drug operation – complete with the guy who is there to shoot intruders. And shot he does, even shooting some of the product. He pins down Kensi and DeChamps but an arriving Callen and Sam fix that.
Eric and Nell call from Ops. Beckett does not know Ikande is in custody. He sends a threatening video to Ikande's cell phone. Beckett has Ikande's roommate, Ruya Ghanem, as a hostage. Ikande explains to the others that Ghanem is not just his roommate, she is a survivor of the drone attack.
Explaining that Ruya, who is from Tajikistan, was visiting family in Afghanistan, Ikande tells them she lost her parents and both brothers in the attack. Her family was supposed to emigrate to the US – they had all the paperwork done. She arrived alone. Rebecca Frazier found Ghanem and through her, found Ikande. Feeling he owed Ghanem, he took her in and promised to tell Frazier his story.
All Ikande cares about is Ghanem's safety – she has been through so much. He is willing to help anyway he can. He will trade his life for hers. Sam says "Once a Marine," and Ikande finishes "always a Marine." The exchange will happen at "the old zoo."
At the old zoo, Kensi on a hill on overwatch duty. There are five men in a park area, a sixth near the old zoo enclosures. Nell directs DeChamps to a back entrance to the enclosures. Callen and Sam watch the men in the park.
Sam has Ikande move in. The plan is to have Ikande talking to Beckett while DeChamps rescues Ghanem. As with all TV/movie criminals, Beckett is a chatty sort who explains every bad thing he's ever done.
DeChamps finds Ghanem, who points out her captor. DeChamps jumps the man and the two struggle. With Ghanem's help – the hostage kicks away her minder's gun – DeChamps has everything under control.
And as with all chatty TV/movie criminals, Beckett decides to make his move at the worse possible time. With Ghanem safe, Callen and Sam move on Beckett, who is about to kill Ikande. That goes poorly for Beckett. And his men. Ikande winds up with Beckett's gun. Announcing "you are not mine to judge," Ikande leaves a wounded Beckett and the bullets from the gun on the ground. He instead hugs Ghanem.
With news from Rogers, DeChamps tells Sam that Schenley was paying for the Imperio Aztecas the whole time – they created a Mexican gang to blame for the sale of the drugs. Ikande and Ghanem will work with Frazier's editor to finish the drone story. Sam is happy with the ending. So is DeChamps, who is grateful Sam was there for her. She wants Sam to know she is always available to do the same. The two plan to share a drink some night when they're both feeling good.
Callen sees DeChamps leave. Sam wants no part of whatever nonsense Callen has planned. But there is no nonsense. Callen wants Sam to know it is okay to go on a date. Smiling, Sam jokingly appreciates Callen giving him permission. Seriously, he isn't looking for anyone and he isn't in a rush to start. Callen thinks that's fine too – "even the big man needs to take little steps." The mathlete/junior math olympian conversation is repeated for the thousandth time.
With just one minor violation – an exceptional feat for new bar owners – the health inspector is done with the bar. The inspector offers some personal advice – "if given a chance to dance, always dance."
Deeks puts some nice music on. His mother is mortified as Deeks pulls her on the dance floor. Deeks promises he will look like a fool ten times over before ever letting her look bad. He is willing to throw himself into the chocolate fountain for her. The two dance and Bertie looks so happy.
Deeks tells her that her dress doesn't matter, the song they're dancing to doesn't matter. What matters is that everyone knows what a great job she did with him. And that he knows what a great job she did. The two dance and share how much they love each other. Deeks twirls Bertie around for the big finish. Deeks asks if they're going to dance like she did when she was a hippie. Bertie admits she was a good hippie as the two dance away.
What head canon can be formed from here: Another generic case. This one wasn't as good as I remember (the opposite of "Sound of Silence"). Very little tension, very little attachment to Ikande or Ghanem. Meh.
Five years ago, all of Rogers lines could have been delivered by Granger save the line about being a Special Prosecutor. It is a good part – the dry sense of humor, the gruff but fair leader.
Whoever cast Pamela Reed as Deeks’s mother deserves a raise. Like Eric Christian Olsen, she moves easily from comedy to drama back to comedy again. The last scene was touching and hilarious.
Episode number: 16 of 24 in season ten – two thirds of the way there. 232 overall.
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a night at the bar
big thanks to @sterekficrecs and @jmeelee for all your help!! i love y’all!
Words: ~2k
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Relationships: Derek Hale/Stiles Stilinski
Characters: Derek Hale, Stiles Stilinski, Erica Reyes, Vernon Boyd, Scott McCall (Teen Wolf), Isaac Lahey, Braeden (Teen Wolf)
Additional Tags: Established Relationship, Drinking, Dancing
Summary:
Derek’s not sure how he ends up perched on a hard, wooden barstool at the crowded local dance club during happy hour. One minute, he’s lounging around the loft, ready for a quiet, relaxing night. Dinner’s prepped and brining in the refrigerator, a new recipe for thyme and rosemary pot roast that he’s been wanting to try. The next thing he knows, Stiles convinces him to spend the night making sure he doesn’t drink too many $3 margaritas. Last margarita Tuesday, Derek stayed home, and Stiles blamed the resulting all-day hangover on his absence since Derek is the one who keeps him in check.
Next time he can go by himself.
*also on ao3
art created by the ridiculously talented @benaya-trash
Derek’s not sure how he ends up perched on a hard, wooden barstool at the crowded local dance club during happy hour. One minute, he’s lounging around the loft, ready for a quiet, relaxing night. Dinner’s prepped and brining in the refrigerator, a new recipe for thyme and rosemary pot roast that he’s been wanting to try. The next thing he knows, Stiles convinces him to spend the night making sure he doesn’t drink too many $3 margaritas. Last margarita Tuesday, Derek stayed home, and Stiles blamed the resulting all-day hangover on his absence since Derek is the one who keeps him in check.
Next time he can go by himself.
The air is hot, humid, and reeks of the cheap beer that’s spilled all over the scuffed dance floor. The scent seeps through the leather jacket he refuses to take off, into his pores. Derek can’t wait to get home and into the shower. It’s not all bad though. He watches with amusement as Stiles attempts to dance with Erica. Attempts. He’s still not sure that Stiles really knows how to do anything other than flail.
What is he doing?
Derek pinches the bridge of his nose; he needs something a bit different than the weekly special, so he orders himself a bourbon and sips it slowly. The warm, bitter whiskey slides smoothly down his throat.
Gangly limbs reach for him as Stiles settles himself on the adjacent stool. Stiles’s hair is disheveled from running his hands through it, wiping away the sweat that beads up on his forehead. A stray drop rolls down his neck, and Derek’s eyes chase the path until Stiles speaks, drawing Derek’s attention back to Stiles’s mouth. “Der-ek, you need to come and dance with me, dude.”
“Don’t call me dude.” The words come out louder than intended, but his voice is competing with the booming bass pumping through the giant subwoofer. All the local bar needs are neon lights to complete the ambiance.
Thank God for small favors.
“Fine, Der-bear.” Stiles bats his eyes playfully at the term of endearment. “Yo, barkeep, can I get another?” Stiles yells as he leans over the countertop, holding up his empty glass.
“Anyone else need one?” Derek asks, glancing back to the dance floor. Erica sways her hips in time to the music, drawing the attention of every heterosexual male. A predatory grin spread across her glossy, red lips. Boyd holds her close, an arm wrapped tightly around her middle, letting them all know that she’s taken. Isaac and Scott jump in place, not too dissimilar to Stiles’s earlier flailing. Neither are bothered by the slight stickiness of the floor, clearly too engrossed in each other’s smiling faces.
“Nah, I think they’re good. Besides, Boyd can get Erica’s, and Scott’s taking care of Isaac’s tab.” Stiles spins and faces him, a teasing smile on his lips as he walks his fingers up Derek’s arm. “So. Derek. Are you really gonna sit over here all night? Why won’t you come dance with me?” Stiles asks with a pout, making Derek think about biting and sucking on the puffed-out lip.
“Stiles, you know I’m not good at this. Being social,” Derek says, gesturing to the too-crowded room. “But it’s not like I’m not having a good time. I mean, yes, I’d prefer to be at home. But I’m also perfectly content watching you make a fool out of yourself.” There’s a twinkle in his eye, and he laughs when Stiles feigns indignation as if to say, “Who me?”
The bartender delivers Stiles’s drink, and Derek’s eyes are glued to his long fingers as they wrap around the glass. Stiles gets up, taking a sip of his drink before punching Derek in the arm. “Alright, well, I’m gonna go put on a show, I guess, so you have some entertainment.”
Derek shakes his head with a snort at the wink he gets before Stiles twirls away, knocking into a woman standing close and almost spilling the rest of his drink. He chuckles into his glass when Erica takes Stiles’s margarita and downs it in one gulp. Motioning to the bartender, he orders another one knowing Stiles will be back.
There’s a tap on his shoulder, and he turns to see a guy about his age. His eyebrows shoot up in question. “Can I help you?”
“Just checking if this seat is taken?” The guy wears a sly smirk, eyes trailing over Derek’s body as he gestures to the stool to his right.
“All yours,” he says, standing up from his seat. Derek’s proud of the way he looks and works hard for it. Some people check him out subtly but others, like this guy, damn near eye-fuck him, which makes his skin crawl. Managing not to shudder, he grabs his drink and turns his back on the guy, heading to the dance floor.
“Stiles.” He receives a wide grin when he’s noticed and holds out the cold, fresh drink for Stiles to take. “Saw Erica abscond with yours.”
Stiles places a chaste kiss on his cheek when he reaches for the glass. “Thanks, Der. You gonna stay and dance?”
“No, just wanted to get this for you and scope out somewhere new to sit.”
Stiles glances towards his old location and scowl. “Someone ‘bad touch’ you? Cause I’ll kick their ass, man.”
“No Stiles. No ‘bad touch.’” Derek says with a fond smile, shaking his head at Stiles’s protective nature. “He just checked me out. Although it did border on grotesque,” he says with a resigned sigh. Unfortunately, he’s no stranger to being objectified by others.
“Rude.” Stiles scrunches his face, amber eyes blazing as they narrow towards the figure at the bar. “You’re not a piece of meat.” The words are said vehemently before Stiles takes a sip of his drink. There’s salt from the rim on the corner of his mouth, and Derek thinks about licking it off. His hopes are dashed when Stiles’s tongue peeks out, doing the job for him. “I wish people would realize that. Yeah, you’re pretty and work out, but you’re so much more than that.”
“I know, Stiles. I know. Thank you.” Stiles's face softens at his words. He takes a sip of his drink and spots an empty booth along the wall. “I’m gonna head over there,” he says, pointing in the direction of the new spot. When Stiles acknowledges the new location, he makes his way over.
Erica and Boyd join him when they get tired of dancing, falling against each other across from him. Erica’s laughter rings in his ears as she wipes the sweat from her brow. Looking out into the crowd, Derek can see that Scott and Isaac have crowded around Stiles, all three men jumping around with their hands in the air.
What are they doing?
“Derek, he’s killing me.” The statement makes him glance back at Erica, who is staring bemusedly at the group on the dance floor.
“I mean, seriously. What even is that?” Boyd huffs a laugh at her tone. “It’s like some weird mating ritual, isn’t it? He’s trying to peacock for you but doesn’t know how.”
“Erica.” Derek raises a brow. A small shake of his head chastises her.
“Derek,” she laughs as Isaac clutches his nose when Stiles's flailing limbs hit him in the face. “He’s a danger to society.”
Eyes, once again, locked on Stiles, he smiles fondly. “He’s a menace.”
Getting up to go back to the bar, he’s knocked into the table when a body collides with him. “Shit, sorry, Der. Tripped.”
He grips Stiles by the arms, helping him regain his footing. “It’s okay.”
“You know… If you don't join me out there, I’ll just start dancing by the table…” The threat sounds more like a promise.
Groaning, Derek pinches the bridge of his nose as Stiles starts gyrating around him. “Please stop. Just-- Stiles, no. Okay?” Though there’s really no complaint when Stiles’s ass rubs against his own.
“Um, Stiles, yes!” is huffed against the shell of his ear, and Derek can’t help but groan when Stiles shimmies against his back.
Really?!
When Stiles has made his way to the front of his body, Derek reaches out and stops him from continuing his trek. “I’m gonna go and get another drink. Do you want anything?” he asks, leaning into Stiles’s space.
“Just water.” There’s a flush to Stiles's skin. Red blotches on his cheeks travel down his neck and chest, disappearing beneath Stiles’s sweat-soaked graphic tee. “I think I need to start winding down. You know I’m a lightweight.”
“Alright, one water coming right up. Go back to dancing. I’ll bring it to you.” Stiles squeezes Derek’s forearm in acknowledgment before dancing his back through the throngs of bodies to Scott and Isaac.
Derek’s waiting on the bartender to bring the water when he feels a body sidle up beside him. It’s a woman this time, dark hair falling in waves around her shoulders. Her arms are crossed over her chest as she clears her throat and nods in Stiles’s direction. “That guy bothering you? The one that was all up in your shit before you came over.”
“Uhh...” Derek takes pause at the clipped tone of her voice. Bouncer, maybe? This is clearly someone that’s had to kick way too many handsy men out of the bar.
“I don’t put up with that stuff here,” she says, holding her hand out for him to shake. “Braeden. This is my place. I saw that one guy earlier, but he didn’t touch you and pretty much moved on when you left. But this one, he’s been watching you, and I don’t take kindly to unwanted advances. So, if he’s bothering you--”
Derek snorts at the idea of Stiles bothering him but hides with a cough at the worry on her face. “Uh, yeah. A little bit. But, uh, he’s my husband, so I kinda signed up for it.”
She barks out a laugh. “Husba-- Wow! Is he always-- I mean, can I ask? What is he doing?”
Derek follows her line of sight and facepalms at Stiles's attempt to grind on thin air. Shaking his head and sighing in resignation, he says, “I-- I don’t even know anymore. But that is definitely the signal to have him drink this,” he says, holding up the freshly produced glass of water, “and take him home.”
Leaving her laughing at the bar, Derek makes his way to Stiles and smiles as Stiles’s arms wrap around his neck when he gets close. “Der-ek, my love, my life. Bringer of hydration.”
Derek slides an arm around Stiles's waist, drawing him impossibly close until Stiles is whispering in his ear. “I know how much you don’t like me dragging you to the bar. But you come anyway. It’s how I know you love me.”
Pulling away, Derek smiles softly at the look of adoration on Stiles’s face. He brings the glass up for Stiles to take, jumping when Stiles exclaims, “And this! You take care of me so well. How did I get so lucky?”
There’s a dribble of water as Stiles gulps it down. “Ahh… thanks, Der.”
Setting the empty glass down on a nearby table, Derek slides his arms back around Stiles and asks, “You ready to go home now?”
“Yeah, I guess. Kinda hungry, though. I’m feeling faint from lack of sustenance.”
He rolls his eyes, knowing what Stiles is after. “Fine.”
Derek turns and crouches on the ground and hears Stiles laugh. “Yet another reason I know how much you love me,” is whispered into his ear as Stiles climbs on his back.
“Yeah, yeah… I’m guessing curly fries?” He looks over his shoulder at Stiles, who beams at him as he nods and presses a chaste kiss against the side of his mouth. “Alright, let’s get outta here.”
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The List
“It is a truth universally acknowledged, that a single man in possession of promising political standing, and a halfway decent army, must be in want of a cunning strategist..”
*
“Laurant.”
The tall lancer hunched over at the end of the bar looked up first at the sound of footsteps descending the stairs of the Forgotten Knight, as a wolf might at the bleating of a lamb. Upon hearing his name, though, he flinched, and looked harder at the person addressing him. A slim, dark fellow, dressed like a merchant or retainer, unarmed and unimpressive. Yet it was big, armoured Laurant who gave the man a respectful berth as he walked over.
"The list?"
Laurant scowled at the bluntness of the question. "If I had it ready, I’d have sought you out, wouldn’t I? I have to make inquiries. Double-check facts. These things take time. You said you weren't in a hurry, Nophica’s man."
"I am in a hurry now," the man said. He picked up Laurant's glass and drained it. Laurant watched the perfectly good highball he had barely had a mouthful of disappear, in some shock, and sorrow.
"Well, all right," he growled resignedly, signaling to the barkeep and pointing to the empty glass. "Do I get to know what's ruffled your feathers, at least? Someone say something mean about your beloved Matron?"
“It’s nothing. I made a promise - a gamble - and I thought I went prepared. But it seems I was bested." The man looked at the glass in his hand, as if upset with it for being empty. “If I was faced with a mysterious and questionably motivated stranger I would first ask for his true intentions, not his obscure and irrelevant past.. Never mind. We should both be back to work.”
He cocked his head at Laurant. “You’ve yet to find any useful information about Derek Ziegler either, have you? The man’s good lady had to be locked up to stop her besieging Ishgard in search of him. A dreadful state for anyone to be in, and her with their child on the way.. Do you really have the time to be here, getting a drink?”
"He’s your friend, not mine. And I’ll have you know there’s not many I’d let take that tone with me," Laurant said. He leaned down, almost nose to nose with the smaller man, and smiled, but only with his mouth. Something else entirely glittered in his mad yellow eyes.. Yet the man simply stared back, unflinching, and it was Laurant who first looked away.
"Rat like me poking his nose in high places, asking about noble lords and ladies? You'll drive me to an early grave." All his oily menace had left him, and he simply slumped on the bar counter like a giant, sulking child. "Ziegler I understand; you’re either genuinely fond of that lot he runs with, or it’s useful if they think you are. But what is Nophica’s man planning to do with a list of all the young lords in this stinking city, anyway? You plotting revenge?"
"Not revenge," the man said, very quietly. "Revolution."
The barkeep interrupted them then, to place two more highballs on the counter. The dark man picked one up and steadily drank from it, in much the same manner he had the first. Laurant sighed, and made sure to grab the remaining glass quickly.
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Beloved Bartender And Dan Tana’s Curmudgeon Mike Gotovac Dies At 76
WEST HOLLYWOOD (CBSLA) — Patrons of the popular West Hollywood hot spot Dan Tana’s are mourning the loss of its longtime bartender Mike Gotovac.
Gotovac, 76, was known as the restaurant’s resident curmudgeon and was famous for telling diners, “shut up and drink stupid!”
The beloved bartender reportedly survived coronavirus and was in recovery, only to succumb to a stroke on Thursday.
Tributes poured in for the cantankerous bartender on social media.
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Today we lost the greatest bartender, but better human being. Came here with no money from Croatia, found #dantanas and worked there for 54 years. #covid19 won this round, but to quote Michael: “Shut up and drink stupid!” You will be missed. #legend #theeagles
A post shared by Derek Maddalena (@the_dbomb_la) on May 14, 2020 at 6:33pm PDT
I can’t seem to grasp this. I can’t imagine not seeing Mike’s face at the bar, hearing his cantankerous sense humor, or watching him in his element behind the bar. They broke the mold with Mikey There will never be another like him. Dan Tana’s will never be the same.
pic.twitter.com/lpvu0RsLid
— Vintage Los Angeles (@alisonmartino) May 15, 2020
I used to play soccer against him in the SIXTIES! We played on opposing teams in the first division of the GREATER LOS ANGELES SOCCER LEAGUE! Barely spoke to each other until a few years later I saw Mike behind my old friend DAN TANA’s bar! For 50 years I we always shook hands..
— Eric Braeden (@EBraeden) May 15, 2020
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Mike Gotovac. Legend. When I didn't have any money I would go to Dan Tana's for my birthday and put it on a credit card. I did this for many years. When you have a reservation you have to wait at the bar until your table is ready. Every year I saw Mike at the bar. I think he was also taking bets…who knows.
He was entertaining, gave out drinks and worked at Dan Tana's for 50 years! He had Covid 19. He was recovering but today the news is he passed. I really enjoyed seeing him when I visited. He wouldn't remember me but everyone remembers him. Hollywood legend. #dantanas #hollywood #mikegotovac
A post shared by Michael Madison (@themichaelmadison) on May 14, 2020 at 9:29pm PDT
Bartender Michael Gotovac at Dan Tana's has passed away. 52 years of bartending & one helluva guy. We are so sad about this. He was just a very special person! RIP Mike – we will miss you… https://t.co/YBJ0AENwBI via @YouTube
— Lori & Julia (@LoriJulia) May 15, 2020
For all of us that have gone to #DanTana’s for years and have loved our bartender #MikeGotovac. Today we lost him to the #Coronavirus. RIP Mike I know you will be mixing mean drinks in Heaven. Dana Tana’s and most things will never be the same. https://t.co/hjATJI6xNp
— Candu Management (@CanduManagement) May 15, 2020
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Just learned that THE BEST BARKEEP Los Angeles has EVER seen has passed. We will miss you Mike!!! I’ll always remember the conversations on the bench. RIP.
https://www.google.com/amp/s/www.visitwesthollywood.com/stories/qa-with-michael-gotovac-of-dan-tanas/%3famp. #mikegotovac #dantanas
A post shared by Jeff Shea (@jeffshea_) on May 14, 2020 at 6:36pm PDT
I won’t get sappy because Mikey wouldn’t want that. Over the last 5 or so years, Michael Gotovac, Dan Tana’s legend, made me feel right at home. The young guy in a group that’s been their forever. I’ll miss ya Mike. Now, to quote him, I’ll “Shut up Aaron. Ya messed the pic up” pic.twitter.com/09TuL0JSuR
— Aaron Wolf (@TheAaronWolf) May 15, 2020
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Lost a dear friend today. Legendary bartender and a hell of a good man. He made LA feel like home and was like a father to me. He will be missed. I know him and Harry Dean are having a drink and a smoke together now. #dantanas #rip
A post shared by Isaac Medeiros (@kidcinema95) on May 14, 2020 at 8:31pm PDT
According to a Facebook post from Dan Tana’s, Gotovac was born in Croatia and left communist Yugoslavia to make his way to Germany, eventually landing with the tight-knit Croatian-American community in Los Angeles. He began working at Dan Tana’s in 1968 and was known for his passion for soccer and Croatian freedom.
Dan Tana’s says Gotovac’s family will hold a private service for him, but that the West Hollywood icon left instructions for a party and that details will be released at a later date. In lieu of flowers, the family is requesting donations be made in Gotovac’s name to St. Jude Children’s Research Hospital.
Gotovac leaves behind a wife, two sisters, three sons and three granddaughters.
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“everybody wants to rule the world” part 1 fanfiction (red hood x oc)
DISCLAIMER: I am not an expert on Gotham and/or Jason Todd. I merely like the character of Red Hood and know a little about the city and Batman through several different movies.
BACKGROUND MUSIC SUGGESTION: You’ll Find A Way Switch & Sinden Remix - Santigold
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“Lonnie, … this is literally your job.”
The woman taps her empty glass on the bar top, staring at the barkeeper who’s patiently polishing shot glasses. He stares at her, silently, and they engage in a long staring contest while the woman’s tapping gets louder. Tap.
Tap tap.
Tap tap tap tap tap tap tap tap tap tap ta-
The barkeeper groans and takes the glass away from her, annoyed.
“Good boy,” she grins and winks at the middle aged, begruntled Lonnie refilling her glass. He pushes it back to her, grimly, and walks to another part of the bar attempting to avoid her triumphant glare. She watches him lean over the counter to a young boy sweeping the floors. His son, Danny. 13 years old, working at his father’s bar after school to help keep the costs down. They talk for a short second and Danny nods, obligingly sweeping the area his father pointed towards. Some drunk left a ton of peanut shells on the floor.
The bar is filling up. Getting to be that time where normal people start to go drinking. She had been there early, after a long 36 hours of staking out one of the Penguin’s right-hand men with Gordon. It was a dead-end, as usual. She was Gordon’s “new partner”, involuntarily though. She worked forensics, but had been in the field for some time before that. Gordon noticed her detective- and shooting skills and promoted her. She hated leg-work. That’s why she had switched to forensics in the first place. But she liked Gordon, so she did it as a favor. The rest of the police academy was full of scum-bags anyway. He was better off with her.
She didn’t look it, but she was one of the best in the academy. She was intelligent, a straight shooter and an ok fighter. But because she was female and not as beautifully toned as Wonder Woman (the AMAZON (!!!!)), men thought she was easy to push around. They were often mistaken. She didn’t hold back, mostly because she loved kicking misogynists’ in the balls.
“Girl, there you are!”
The woman looks up from her glass. Ziva enters with a bunch of other girls who were hanging up their coats. Ziva runs over to the woman at the bar and gives her a big side-hug, pressing cheek on cheek. The woman smiles warmly, closing her eyes as her face is smushed against her friend’s. She smells like cheap hair-spray.
“Hey Ziva.” The brown-haired woman escapes the seemingly never-ending hug to look at her friend’s face. “New crew?” She nods in the direction of the girl group. They’re all very pretty.
“Oh yeah, work friends. Some of the newcomers need to relax a little after their first day.”
Ah, first day stripping. Can’t be a fun experience. Ziva runs her hand through her long, black curls and smiles. It’s nice of her to take care of the new girls. She’s been a stripper for over 5 years, seen some shit too. Nevertheless, she’s still the sweet girl the woman knew from High School. Deserves better.
“So, what are you drinking about tonight?” Ziva asks, flicking the side of the woman’s whiskey glass. It makes a slight ping sound.
“Gotham’s low crime rate.” The woman answers monotonal. The black-haired girl snickers, looking around the bar. She waves at the other girls to order something already.
“You still with Derek?” The woman grunts out taking a sip of her drink and staring at her friend. Her words muffle in the glass. Derek was a meathead, fucking disaster of a person. Didn’t treat her well.
Ziva chews her gum loudly and shakes her head. Off again, good. She’s typing on her phone as she answers. Probably the owner of the strip club, as always. The woman bites her lip, angrily. She had tried to get Ziva out of that scene, but she was in way too deep. The police wasn’t able to pull her out, the Mob was too heavily resourced. Fuck Falcone. To the thought of the Mob boss choking on a gold ice cube, the woman takes another sip from her glass.
“I met this new guy, though.” Ziva confesses and smiles coquettishly, still staring down at her phone. The woman raises her eyebrows. Can’t be worse than Derek. She looks at Ziva, interested, who returns her gaze with a big smile on her face.
“He’s meeting me here. Real hottie. You’ll know when you see him.” She clicks her tongue and leans against the bar. Come to think of it, she does look nicer than usual today. She put effort into her make-up. Must really wanna impress this guy. “You should join us!”
“Nah, I’m good here. Just take care of yourself, ok?” The woman returns her attention to her drink, swirling the liquid in her glass. “Your girls look nervous, go.” She gestures towards the clump of girls in the booth who are sheepishly sipping on their beverages. Non-alcoholic.
Ziva chuckles warmly and fist-bumps the brown-haired patron before walking over to her group. The woman continues to drink, alone.
Some time passes and a handsome guy joins Ziva’s table and kisses her on the cheek. She was right, he is good-looking. But fuck-boy type, for sure. Wears a leather jacket inside, black hair with a white strand in it. Probably dyed it on a dare or some bullshit. He’s all over Ziva, putting his arm around the back of the seat behind her. Laughing a little too much at what she says. He’s drinking Pabst Blue Ribbon. Definite fuck-boy. The other girls are swooning over him. The woman rolls her eyes. Predictable disaster. They’ll sleep together and then he won’t contact her again. Classy.
THUMP.
Some asshole pushes Danny to the side as he walks through the bar. The young boy hits the side of the bar and the dickhead’s entourage is cackling. Lonnie, the barkeeper looks petrified. It’s clear this troupe belongs to some Mob group, otherwise Lonnie would’ve said something already. The woman glares at the group. Their tattoos look familiar. Maroni maybe? Fuck-head. The whole bar is silent and watching. Even fuck-boy is glaring at them. Ziva’s whispering something in his ear.
“Yo grandpa, I want some of your finest tequila!” Dickhead, a skinny white guy with a bunch of face-tattoos, is yelling across the bar to Lonnie, who instantly obeys and hastily grabs a big bottle to bring it to them.
“No no. Not you. Let dipshit over there bring it!” He’s pointing at Danny, who’s rubbing the side of his arm. The entourage laughs again. The boy looks at his father and there’s a slight pause between the two. Lonnie looks worried, but paradoxically nods reassuringly at his son as he’s handing him the bottle. Danny walks over to the morons and Dickhead smirks as the young boy pours their drinks snakingly. Danny finishes and starts walking away, when Dickhead trips him. The boy falls and the whole bottle crashes onto the ground. The noise of the glass breaking is overpowered by the assholes’ loud and disgusting laughter. They return to their drinking as Danny tries to pick up the pieces of glass on the floor, humiliated. His father rushes over to help him.
The people in the bar resume their conversation as if nothing happened. The noise level rises again. Only the woman and the fuck-boy are still staring at the group. No one asks the boy if he’s ok. Lonnie and Danny have finished cleaning up and the barkeeper leads his frightened son back to his broom, gently rubbing his back.
The woman downs her drink. Fuck that noise. Mob group, Schmob group. They look like three skinny albino roosters who lost most of their feathers.
She gets up from her bar stool and pushes her tits up, giving herself more cleavage. She walks over to the group and focuses on the asshole who pushed and tripped Danny.
“… you look important…” she says, sultry. The guy looks her up and down and smiles, showing her his yellow teeth.
“I am important, toots.” He grins wider.
Ugh.
She leans over the table, making her cleavage more visible. She notices the eye of the fuck-boy, pretending to look at Ziva, stare at her a few tables over. The rest of the bar has moved on. She focuses her attention back on the skinheads.
“Oh of course you are.” She grins. She takes the shot glass in her hand and he watches her, lustfully. She holds the glass near her chest. His eyes follow her hand. “Big boy like you…-” Skinny ass motherfucker. He readjusts the way he is sitting, hanging a leg over the side of the booth and pointing at his lap. Evidently, he wants her to sit there. He keeps smiling with his mustard teeth.
She laughs quietly, swirling the tequila in the glass and she leans closer to him. Her face is near to his and he’s staring down her shirt, licking his lips.
“Big boy like you who gets a hard-on bullying children.” As the words leave her mouth, she tilts the glass over his crotch and it splashes onto it.
He lets out a loud yelp and flails his arms attempting to punch her, yelling some derogatory term. Anticipating, she grabs his head and slams it into the table, knocking him out cold. The other two bozos try to grab her, but she elbows one of them in the nose, breaking it, and kicks the other in between his legs. Both run out of the bar without looking back. The woman grabs the knocked-out, skinny miscreant’s collar and drags his body on the floor. She sees the whole bar stare at her, including Ziva’s entire table. The fuck-boy had gotten up.
With effort, she flings the skinhead out of the bar, wipes her wet, tequila-hands on her pants and walks back in. Lonnie and Danny run to her and ask if she’s alright. They thank her and some of the bar patrons clap for her. It’s a very sparing applause. She holds up her hand in gratitude, awkwardly, and resumes her conversation with the young boy. Ziva runs over to her and talks to her as well.
Time passes. The bar is nearly empty. Ziva’s group had left hours ago. A few stragglers here and there, with the woman still comforting Lonnie. Apparently, Maroni had been forcing Lonnie to launder money in exchange for Danny’s life. That allowed his dipshit men to do whatever they wanted in the bar. Danny had been the target of their bullying for the past two weeks. But at least he was alive, which is what was most important to Lonnie. Still, he was grateful to the woman’s actions.
The woman finally leaves the bar at around 3 a.m. She walks confidently with her purse flung around her shoulder, loosely. Her heels echo in the alley ways. It’s dark and the street lights flicker, with orange color gleaming up above. She’s used to walking at night in Gotham, a city crippled by the intense crime rate. There’s always noise, even this late at night. Ambulances, sirens, people yelling at each other, helicopters looking for some insane escapees from Arkham. And, somewhere in this city, a caped crusader watches. Gordon had taken her with him to meet the infamous Batman, just a few weeks ago. That’s where they got the lead to follow Penguin’s men. The Batman didn’t speak much, he grunted occasionally and nodded. Handed her an electronic gadget to track the guy with. It was pretty amazing technology. Who could that man be, under that weird mask? Bit kinky, for her taste.
She turns into a darker alley. It’s a short-cut to her apartment, and she’d rather spend less time on these streets. Unbeknownst to her, there was someone watching her from the top of the building beside her. Quietly and completely hidden, there was an eye on her. And it didn’t belong to a Bat.
A group of three turned into the alley ahead of her. They stop and seem to be looking in her direction. The woman raises an eyebrow, but doesn’t stop walking. The threesome starts to walk towards her again. It’s hard to see with the flickering lights. She walks slower, sensing that the group is not aiming to walk past her.
Oh man, it’s Dickhead and the Assholes. The skinny white guy has a big red bulge on his forehead, probably where she hammered his face into the table. The one to his right has a bloody nose with tissues stuffed in his nostrils and the one of his left is limping a little. They look mad.
“You fucking cunt!” The “leader” blurts out, standing right in front of her. He points a skinny finger at her and she stops in her tracks. Not great. They have her surrounded.
“Hey babe,” she retorts and looks down at his wet pants. She won’t be able to flirt her way out of his, that’s for sure.
“Shut your fucking mouth.” The bloody nose says, nasal-y. All three of them are glaring at her.
“You’re gonna pay for that little stunt you pulled.” Skinny Dickhead flashes his yellow teeth at her again. Did he just … hiss at her, what the hell was that? The woman raises her eyebrow again, obviously not very impressed by his threat.
“I wouldn’t flash those, they’re not very threatening. Disgusting, yes. Threatening, nah.” Her hands are on her sides as she makes a disgusted facial expression. “I know a good dentist.”
Quickly, Skinny Dickhead pulls out a handgun and points it right at her face. She looks past the barrel at his face. She doesn’t flinch.
“You little bitch.” He growls and takes a step closer to her. The gun is still pointing right at her nose. “I work for Maroni. You know what we do to people who disrespect us?” He starts unbuckling his belt and she looks down at the open belt buckle, then back at him. “You’re gonna suck my dick before I blow your brains out.”
She laughs in derision, looking to the side slightly as if in disbelief. Without hesitation, she clamps her hands around the gun simultaneously turning it away from her and disarming him. Now she’s holding the gun and pointing it at his crane-like nose. He stares and starts the sweat. The other two start to back away with a few “HOLY SHIT”’s in there.
“You should cock your gun before pointing it.” She says as she uncocks it. The click echoes through the alley. “It’s a more serious threat.”
He puts his hands up and they limply hang over his head. She can tell he’s shaking. The other two have already run off. She walks towards him, holding the gun with both hands.
“Now. Put that little thing away.” She gestures with the gun at his open fly and he hectically tries to close his pants. While he’s fiddling around, she takes a step towards him and hits him over the head with the barrel. Again, he falls to the ground. Out. Hit the same spot as before.
“Moron,” she mumbles and handcuffs him to a nearby pipe.
The woman starts walking through the alley again. As she’s walking, she’s disassembling the gun and leaving the pieces spread around the alley. Her heels clack confidentially, until she hears another gun cock behind her.
“You should check your surroundings before getting rid of a weapon like that.” A voice says from behind her.
The woman lets out a deep sigh and turns around. What an awful night. Mugged twice in under three minutes. She turns to find notorious Red Hood holding a rifle at her. It’s cocked.
She glares at him, annoyed.
“That was pretty cool just now. That little stunt. Where’d you learn to do that?” he asks, leaning against the wall of the building. Completely non-chalant, as if he’s not just mugging her.
“Math Camp.” She shrugs her shoulders and crosses her arms. If he wants to mug/kill her, he might as well get it over with. No way she can disarm a rifle.
“Cool! Purse please!” He speaks in a sing-song voice, holding out a free hand.
Rolling her eyes, she throws her purse to him and taps her foot. The police had been looking for this guy, too. But Batman had asked Gordon to let the case go. Now he was here, robbing a cop.
Red Hood was rummaging through her tiny purse, balancing it on his leg while his right hand still held the rifle pointed at her. He pulls out her Police ID.
“Oooh.” He exclaims, triumphantly. He opens the ID and reads it. “Cerys Edison, weird name.”
“Red Hood, dumb name.” The brown-haired woman named Cerys retorts, sarcastically. The vigilante chuckles under his mask.
“Buuuuurn.” He turns the ID a couple times. “Cool, Detective.”
After he reads all of her information and takes a couple of cough drops out of her purse, he throws it back to her. He didn’t take any money. She catches the purse, confused, and stares at him. Huh?
“You could be useful. Have a good night!” He leans the rifle behind his neck, waves kindly and starts to jump up the fire escapes back up to the rooftop. What the hell was that all about? Did he really just fake-mug her for some cough drops?
Cerys stood in the alleyway for a couple more minutes, befuddled. She had seen a lot of things in Gotham, but never did a mugging turn out so well. He had disappeared over the rooftops and left her with a feeling of uneasiness.
Useful. What did he mean by that?
Gathering herself back together, Cerys Edison finally walked out of the alley and towards her apartment.
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#jason todd#red hood#jason todd x oc#jason todd x reader#gotham#batman#bruce wayne#gordon#jim gordon#fanfiction#batfiction#cerys#robin#batman and robin#original character#red hood x oc#batfam#writing#gotham city police department#gotham city#maroni#falcone#mob
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Entre-nous, between us
Written for Nursey/Dex Week Day 3: Alternate Universe
Nursey/Dex Week: Day 1, Day 2, Day 3, Day 4, Day 5, Day 6, Day 7
(Read on AO3 - also for historical notes!)
Following the Great War, Derek realized returning to Louisiana wasn’t an option. His mother had passed while he was away at war, and his bastard of a father had already remarried in order to get back into his family’s good graces by marrying a woman of proper lineage.
With no proper family to speak of anymore, and a bit of inheritance in his pocket, Derek spent two years after his discharge wandering around Europe before deciding to settle in Paris. Soon Derek found himself immersed in the city of love, deep in the jazz age, playing bass in a band.
He liked Paris - good food, pretty sights, and no one cared who you loved or slept with. He spent his days in cafes and wandering the streets, his nights in clubs, and his late nights in the beds of his lovers. Most excused themselves in the morning once they saw the state of his chest and back, scared by the chemical warfare of the front. Derek shrugged it off and pretended it didn't bother him. He shrugged it off and performed another gig, at his usual haunt, Le Caveau de la Huchette, eager to see what the 1920s would bring him.
It started off like any other performance. Men and women pairing off to the music, switching between themselves to keep dancing. Most nights everyone who came to the club danced - why come if not for the music after all - so it was rare to see someone just watching from a table. Glancing every so often at the ginger who sat alone drinking, Derek wondered what had brought the stranger to his little slice of freedom. He tried not to dwell on it too long, except the ginger made that difficult due to his repeated glances up at him too.
It wasn’t that Derek wasn’t looked at often, his appearance usually only led to confusion because of the colonies, but it wasn’t as common from the men. But the look was unmistakable - the ginger was taking him in.
At the break, Derek walked off the stage and sent a drink over to the stranger’s table, before heading to the back to stretch and re-apply some ointment to his stiff muscles.
Coming back to the front, Derek was elated to see that the ginger was sipping on his fresh beer and giving Derek a pleased, but surprised look. Well, at least he had a shot then. Usually most men who weren’t into that kind of bedfellow downed the drink,, but wouldn’t look at him, or sent it back and left the club all together.
Leaning against the wall closest to the stage, Derek stared at the man a bit more, admiring the smattering of freckles that played over his skin. Pulling out a small notebook from his pants, he made a few notes about autumn before closing it, ready for the next set.
Derek became more of a showboat on stage, especially when the ginger kept eyeing him, but not taking any offers from the women to dance. Seeing a shot he made himself seem like the most charming man on stage, working up a sweat as he really got into the music and was lucky enough to lock eyes once more with the recipient of his drink. Looking across the room at his hazel eyes, Derek winked at him and licked his lips before focusing on the solo he was coming up to. He was pleased to see the man flush, and not look affronted by his advances.
Once the set ended, Derek went to the bar to get a drink of water before packing up, watching people file out. He was bent over his case when a shadow moved across the floor before him.
“Tu joues bien,” Derek hears in a poor French accent and looks up to see the ginger.
“Merci, je suppose que vous ne parlez pas français?” he asks slowly, and gets a nod from the ginger.
“Je suis Irlandais,” the ginger attempts, shakily, and Derek smirks.
“Well lucky for you, I speak English,” he laughed, clicking his case closed, and standing up. “Do I get a name from you or do I keep calling you Gingembre?”Derek winked, continuing to pack up his instrument.
“Name’s William, but you can call me Will or Liam.” The newly named man said, fidgeting nervously. “I gather from the barman you’re Derek?”
“You’ve gathered right. Passing through town or are you settled here in our fair city?”
“A little bit of both. You say our fair city, but your accent sounds American?” he asked, uncertain.
“You’re right, I’m American, but the French decided to claim me for a bit so I can manage their tongue well enough.” Derek said, closing his case and leaning against the stage next to him. He looked up to better asses the Irishman in front of him, greatly enjoying what he was seeing.
“Interesting,” he hummed, standing a bit stiffly, unsure of what to say next.
“I guess it might be, Liam. But as much as I’d like to stand here all night chatting a fair sight like you, the barkeep it giving me a look at means I need to head home. If you have nothing to do, I have a few bottles of wine and a bed to enjoy,” he spelled out, being forward enough for the man before him to get the hint.
Derek could tell that even the direct approach took him a moment to process. After a pause a blush slowly began to spread over his cheeks, and down his neck.
“D-did I give you that i-impression sitting there?” he asked clearly confused by what signals he had been giving off that told Derek he was looking for company in bed too.
“Most men I send drinks to don’t stay and chat if they don’t want me looking their way,” Derek explained, grabbing his case in one hand and gesturing towards Liam with the other. He began walking towards the doors and out into the emptying streets of the city, guiding his companion along the way with a gentle hand. “I won’t take offense if you just wanted to tell me you liked my music and head home by the way.”
“People like you don't buy people like me drinks...” Will replied, but there was no venom in the statement and he continued to walk alongside the other man.
"What do you mean people like me? Ruffians? Vets? Negroes? Americans? Bass players? Men? You'll need to be a little more specific,” the musician chuckled, ambling down the road.
“All of the above I guess. But I was going to be saying fine, you know good looking people,” he murmured, keeping his hands in his pockets and his head down.
“Well first off, thank you. I’m not a lot of people’s types, but I seem to have gotten your eye,” Derek grinned, nudging the Irishman. “Second, this is Paris, it's not criminal to want who you want here. I go home with men, and women, and sometimes both. Depends on who I find attractive that night, and tonight my eyes landed on you," he grinned, pulling out a cigarette for the walk home. “It ain’t like England here. They don’t send guys like us to the labor camps for doing what we do. Sure some look at you funny, and if you get a policeman with a grudge he holds it against you, but overall, it’s entre-nous, between us.”
“That’s certainly a change from back home,” he replied, shoulders relaxing and low whistle emanating from his teeth. “I could get used to that,” he added, looking up to smile at Derek.
“Good because you look good when someone flirts with you. Got this gorgeous flush,” Derek winked, brushing his finger against a pale cheek and causing said flush to reappear.
"I don't flush," Will grunted, cheeks tinting pink just as he said it.
“This is me,” Derek stopped walking and pointed to a set of stairs leading up to a second floor apartment. “You can come in for wine. Come in for wine and more. Or head out. I won’t say I wouldn’t be heartbroken if you walked away now, but if you do, I play at Le Caveau de la Huchette every other day.”
“Can I say just wine now, and maybe something more later?” Will asked, shyly.
“We certainly can,” he assured him and began the climb upstairs.
Once inside, Derek put down his case by the door and hung up his hat. The place was a modest studio, with a bed bigger than was typical and a small kitchen. He hadn’t wanted to waste all his money on living expenses if all he would be doing here was eating, sleeping, and occasionally entertaining. Pointing to the small set of table and chairs, Derek told Will to make himself comfortable as he looked at his wine selection, plucking two bottles along with some glasses down from the shelf.
“Had you ever heard jazz before tonight?” he asked curiously, pouring each of them a large glass of red.
“Only once on the radio. Different, but a lot of it looks like the music from back home. Communal in a way,” Will tried to explain, wringing his hands. Derek could tell he wasn’t used to talking so much.
“That it is. Takes at least a few people for a jazz band and what good is playing if you have no one to entertain?” Derek smiled, handing the other man a full glass. “I saw you didn’t dance with anyone, even when that lovely lady asked you.”
“I don’t do much dancing,” Will confessed, running a hand over the back of his neck. “And I’m don’t do much with women,” he added.
“Shame, I bet you’d make a fine dancer with some practice,” Derek grinned, and leaned over the table a bit. “So tell me how did you wind up here? I’ll tell you mine if you tell me yours.
Over a few glasses of wine Derek found out the following - Liam got mixed up in some business with the Irish Republican Army and had to leave his country. He’s trying to find a place he can stay that he likes enough and lets him send money back home to his family. Derek in turn told him that he fought in the 93rd Infantry Division during the Great War, but instead of returning to the States when it was over, he had settled down in Paris.
“I learned the fiddle growing up and well it wasn’t too much of a leap to bass,” he wrapped up, feeling pleasantly buzzed.
“Me too. It wasn’t mine, but I learned. Never knew when a good party would get going and it wasn’t right for the same fellas to play all night you know?” he laughed, his cheeks ruddy from the wine.
“So you said you don’t do women? Never had a chance or never got the urge.”
“Never got the urge. Tried stealing a few kisses in my younger years, but never made my heart race like some other lads. When I got involved with the IRA I met a few forward thinking sorts and had a few tumbles with them, but nothing more,” he explained, swallowing down the rest of his wine.
“More of a Wilde man. No harm in that,” he winked, but the reference didn’t register with Will.
Draining the wine from his own glass, Derek collected the empty bottles and glasses to clean later. “So, Liam, did you want to stay for more or head on home?” he asked, leaning against his counter to look at the other man.
Standing, Will looked around the room, clearly trying to think, but Derek was pleased that the ginger’s eyes kept coming back to him. Seeing the thought process running through Will’s mind, Nursey stepped forward and placed a hand on his waist. “Stay,” he whispered, moving in closer to kiss his cheek. “I’d hate to let a handsome man like you walk out the door.”
The simple kiss seemed to make Will’s mind up for him and he moved his head to capture Derek’s lips. He’d done this much before, and even if it had been a long time, kissing still came naturally to him from what Derek could tell.
Letting his hand rest upon Will’s waist, Derek deepened the kiss, feeling the hard muscles beneath his fingers. Will was certainly a laboring man, and he wondered just how sculpted he was under his shirt and trousers.
It didn’t take long for Will to let go a bit, his hands roaming over Derek’s chest and back. Moving over a particularly sensitive spot, Derek laughed and pulled back and when he looked up he could see that William was smirking.
“You look good with a smile like that. That sultry act is good and all, but I like a man who has a good smile,” Will offered, and moved back to Derek, grabbing his hand and pulling him close.
“So the position of strong, silent type for the night gets taken by you?”
Will nodded and moved Derek to the bed in the corner of the room, kissing him as he moved. Settling down onto the edge, he pulled Derek down gently so he was straddling his lap, and moved a hand to unbutton his shirt, but Derek stopped him.
“You don’t want to do that. The war did a number on my body, but was nice enough to leave my face alone,” he explained, trying to not let show how affected he was. “I promise whatever we want to do I can do it without making you look at that. It isn’t pretty,” he mumbled. Derek tried to move back in for a kiss, but Will moved out of the way.
“I don’t know what kind of people you’ve been going to bed with, but your face isn't what caught my eye.” The ginger said, deadly serious. He pressed his hand firmly against his lover’s chest. “Your fingers played that instrument like you had a story and I wanted to know more. So while your face is right handsome, and your build is something to admire, I ain’t here just for that,” he promised, and moved against to unbutton his shirt. This time Derek let him.
As his shirt was peeled off, Derek didn’t look at the way Will reacted. He’d seen it before. People would think they could handle what they thought the scars would look like, but then his clothes would come off and they’d see the extent that the mustard gas had molted his skin. The gas mask he wore that day had saved his lungs and face, but did fuck all for the rest of him.
It took him a second to realize that the dulled pressure he felt on his torso were kisses that William was peppering over his skin, his arm resting around his waist as he did so. He was so stunned by the gesture that it took Will kissing his lips again to move, swallowing his feelings down with a shaky breath, and chasing after the red-head’s mouth.
“There you are,” he heard the ginger murmur. Derek grinned, pushing Will down to the bed, stripping away the other man's shirt. He was pleased that the freckles adorning Liam’s face were just as prevalent on his torso, and that a sturdy build was hiding underneath.
“I like how your freckles are everywhere, and I want to see how far down they go,” he hummed, as he kissed down his neck, his confidence bolstered a bit.
It didn’t take much longer for both men to be stripped down bare, laying side by side on the bed.
“We don’t have to do more than kiss if it’s too much for one night,” Derek offered, his eyes closed, focusing on the touch of Will’s fingers caressing his skin, the sensation ceasing every so often as it hit a patch of skin that was too damaged to feel.
“I’ve done more than kiss before, you aren’t the first naked man I’ve seen,” Will hummed, and moved to grip Derek’s shaft, stroking him slowly. The sensation caught Derek off guard who tucked his head into the crook of Will’s neck, gasping a bit at the stimulation.
Moving his hands up, Derek gripped Will’s shoulder with one while the other reached to grab his lover's prick, returning the pleasure.
It was Will’s turn to suck in a breath, not having expected Derek to return the favor. “Hope you didn’t think I would leave you wanting. If flirting makes you flush I want to see you after climax,” the American grunted, picking up the pace.
It didn’t take long for Derek to grip both of them in his hand, stroking them together, their combined friction and slick adding more to the pleasure of it all. Within no time, both men were spilling between each other, neither admitting that it had been a long time since they’d been with another person.
They came down, kissing each other, and touching whatever skin they could find, basking in the afterglow. Eventually Derek got up to get a towel, wiped them both down, and collapsed on the bed.
“If you stay until morning we can heat the water for a shower and fool around some more,” Derek whispered, placing another kiss on Liam’s lips, hoping the hot shower would incentivise the other man a bit more.
“How about I stay until morning, we shower, and we go get a croissant and walk around the city. That is if you don’t have to work,” he countered.
“I’ve got all the time in the world for you.”
#nurseydexweek#nurseydex#alternate universe#omgcheckplease#check please#derek nurse#william poindexter#myfics#myposts
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