Derek was crouched atop of an apartment building; keen eyes watched the jewellery store across the street. This was Beacon City, and Derek was Crimson Alpha, leader of The Pack, a crime fighting organisation once started by his family. Across the skyline, he could see the rest of The Pack get into position, surrounding the seemingly innocent building. What wasn't so innocent, Derek mused, was the master thief known as Vulpis, who was casually filling his backpack with gems and other rare items he found.
From his vantage point, Derek cupped his hands around his mouth and let out a long, loud, chilling howl, watching Vulpis for his reaction. While The Pack tensed and began to slink forward, Vulpis stopped, head snapping round to the source of the noise, letting a wide, sly grin stretch across his half-masked face.
When the rest of The Pack were in position, Derek leapt off the edge of the building, swooping down to the entrance of the store, where Vulpis was waiting for him, arms crossed and smiling with glee. They were a similar height, though where Derek was bulky and muscled; Vulpis was lean, with a slim waist and broad shoulders. He wore a distractingly skin-tight terracotta suit, black gloves, a fitted orange mask with small pointed ears and chunky black boots; it was often in one word, distracting.
"Well lookie here, Mr Wolfman" Vulpis taunted, circling Derek with a predatory smirk. As he passed behind him, Vulpis dragged a long finger across his shoulder.
"Stop it" Derek snapped, listening to the sniggers of The Pack around him. Traitors.
"Touchy." Vulpis teased. "Or, you know. Not."
When the thief was back in front of him, Derek took a step forward into Vulpis' space. The man stared right back, no fear and no caution. It wasn't like he was a rookie, anyway, the man was a Beacon City legend. Many newspapers reported on the cat and mouse games between him and The Pack. Taunting them, playing with them. But who was the cat, and who was the mouse?
Abruptly, Derek launched forward towards the man, knuckles raised and a snarl on his lips, but Vulpis was nimble. Light feet dodged the attack, leaping at Derek and over his partly hunched form. Vulpis laughed, and the sound was carefree and melodic, like a child who was playing leapfrog. As soon as he was behind him, the lithe fox-man kicked Derek's feet out from beneath him and sauntered round, lowering himself until he straddled Derek's hips, suit stretching with the movement. Derek glowered.
"So what brings you here?" Vulpis asked conversationally, resting his elbows on Derek's chest and cradling his head in his hands. The Pack was in the building, watching the commotion with wary, yet amused eyes.
"You." Derek gritted out, teeth gnashing. Vulpis fluttered his dark lashes, and pouted.
"You came here for little old me?" Vulpis wiggled excitedly.
"Don't get too excited, you're nothing special." Jackson chipped in from behind the pair. Vulpis' head snapped round, eyes flitting about the room. Analysing for an escape route, Derek presumed.
"Aw, I'm hurt." Vulpis pretended, holding a hand over his heart in mock outrage. "Well, sorry gang, but I can't stick around. Other places to be, and all that."
As soon as The Pack approached the two men, Derek helplessly watched as Vulpis threw down a smoke bomb, incapacitating the group into coughs and groans, and gracefully slunk into the shadows, hips swaying, and the movement fluid. But before he was out of their hearing range, he called out:
"Imagine the headlines! Master thief evades legendary crime-fighting super team, again. Tut tut."
Erica growled, her red lips curled into a scowl. Derek looked around the group, taking note of their clenched fists and annoyed expressions.
"Ugh, I'm gonna kill him!" She threatened. The rest of The Pack nodded in agreement.
"Head back to HQ" Derek ordered, "We've let this go on too long. We need a plan."
"Let's go fox hunting." Jackson sneered.
Back at the Den, Derek found himself victim too many sideways glances from the rest of the team, some worried, some judging, and some downright amused.
"What was that back there, Derek?" Isaac asked, barely smothering a grin. Derek rolled his eyes; mentally preparing himself for the inquisition he knew was approaching.
"I don't know what you're talking about." Derek snapped. Clearly all that mental preparation had been for nothing, and now The Pack had gotten a reaction out of him. He should have known, dammit.
Isaac looked around the rest of the group, and Derek noticed they all seemed to side with the young vigilante. He sighed at the unfairness of it all, he'd rather not think about muscle-hugging suits and swaggering hips. Fuck. Derek wandered towards one of the chairs placed around the vast loft and sat down, sagging into the soft leather.
"Aw, c'mon Derek," Erica cooed as she fluttered her heavily mascaraed lashes, "Fox got your tongue? Or has the thief stolen your heart?"
"Sounds like a shitty rom com." Boyd piped up from the corner of the room, where he was leaning against one of the hard brick walls.
The loft was their place of refuge between missions, a location for which they gathered and discussed their newest Intel and discussed their next step of action. Sofas and chairs littered the large span of space, with a small kitchen nestled in one of the corners, though it was rarely used. Along the wall from the kitchen sat the Hub where their hacker and computer expert Danny worked, providing the rest of The Pack with information on their targets and key players in Beacon City's criminal population, the mysterious Vulpis being one of them. Only Derek slept in the loft, claiming that someone had to keep the place on lockdown in case someone (Vulpis, begrudgingly sprang to mind) tried to break into their hideout. The other members of the group lived in apartments in and around the city, unknown to each other. They had to live some semblance of an ordinary life, after all.
Breaking Derek out of his thoughts, Danny spoke up to the group, who were wearily lounging around.
"Guys, I think you all should see this," the man suggested, "I've been doing some digging, and I think I've found something on this Vulpis of yours."
"Derek's, you mean." Isaac snickered. Jeez, it's like working with children.
Groaning, the rest of The Pack dragged themselves up from their seats and trudged their way over to the Hub, ready and reluctantly eager to look at what Danny had found. Standing behind the hacker, Derek clapped a hand on his shoulder, a silent signal for him to begin explaining.
"So, I did a bit of digging, and by a bit, I mean a lot, about this thief of yours and like most of the night life of Beacon City, he'll have a secret identity, but, I've managed to find something on this Vulpis character." Danny paused for a moment, ensuring that the group behind him were listening. They nodded, and he spoke again, "Most criminals we've followed we've been aware of their alter-egos, so to speak, from previous jobs where they've let details slip, want a bit of fame and recognition, or already have their prints on file from previous convictions or arrests. But here's the thing, Vulpis here," He points to the profile, "is incredibly careful with the details of his missions, he's cheeky, as Derek seems to be well aware of, but not fame hungry, and the man's never been arrested before, so law enforcement have nothing on him at all."
"Never been arrested?" Boyd asks, bewildered.
"Never," Danny confirms. "I've checked every single data base I have access to, and there just seems to be so little information on this guy. My guess is either he has an ally who has removed all information connected to him, or he's a pretty decent hacker himself."
Derek huffed irritably, of course he was. Danny holds up a finger, the universal sign to hold on.
"But, one word I find does keep cropping up is 'Stiles.'"
There's a pause.
"What the hell is a Stiles?" Erica demands.
"I'm not sure. It could be a codename, an actual name, or something else entirely, I don't know. But I think you guys have more work to do if you want to get anywhere with this guy. He's like an enigma. I'm sorry, but that's all I've got." Danny concludes, much to the chagrin of the rest of The Pack.
"Well, it's better than nothing." Derek concedes, "The rest of you head back to your homes, but keep alert for Vulpis' activity, and I'll call you when I need you. We'll try and catch him on his next heist, see if we can gather any more information for Danny."
Grabbing their belongings, the leftover members of The Pack exited the loft, leaving Derek alone in the silence, wondering how he's allowed the man in the fox suit to get under his skin.
Fox hunting indeed.
A few days later, Derek was sat in the loft looking at the latest reports from his informants. Scattered across Beacon City, in the underground network Derek had people working for him, telling him the goings on of the darker side of the city, and the latest news looked particularly unpleasant, especially for Derek.
It has become increasingly apparent that his Uncle Peter, known to the criminal underworld as Peter Hale, who had been cut off from the Hale family for his illicit activities. The latest news was that he had become something of a mobster, the leader and brains of a gang who were attempting to make their name in the city.
Derek never told The Pack about his association with the nefarious crime lord. The group didn't share their full names, wanting a complete separation between their normal life and their 'nightlife.'
Unconsciously, Derek let his mind wander towards Vulpis and wondered whether he had heard anything about Peter, seeing as he had deeper connections with this world, possessing the reputation and respect which came with being an anonymous master thief with a track record for evading both the Police, and The Pack's pursuit.
Making his decision, Derek suited up in his black and blood red uniform, equipped with daggers and a range of light weaponry. He neglected to put on the Kevlar, though, to catch up and talk with Vulpis meant that he had to travel as light as possible. That guy was quick and sneaky, his lean body already an advantage over Derek's bulky form.
Quickly, Derek slung on his backpack, launching himself from the dilapidated building and into the night.
Watching across the skyline, Derek squinted, looking for movement along the rooftops, specifically a slight man in a fox mask. A rapidly moving shadow caught his attention from the corner of his eye, not too far from where he was now. If Derek focused enough, he could hear the pounding of feet and the crunching of gravel beneath the shadow's feet.
Springing into action, Derek clambered down the structure's outer steps, throwing himself across the thin alleyway and onto the opposite building on the other side. Surprisingly agile, he climbed the building, the muscles in his arms and legs pumping and aching with the strain. By now, the shadow – Derek had now identified as Vulpis himself- was straight in front of him, not quite within reach, but not quite out of it either.
Oblivious to his straining muscles, Derek sprinted towards the man, still unaware of being pursued, as he jumped from rooftop to rooftop, nimble as a cat (or a fox). With a final surge of speed, Derek pounced, throwing himself on top of the young man, pinning him in place, face down into the dirty roof.
"If you wanted to get on top of me, all you had to do was ask." Vulpis smirked. Gently, as if to show he wasn't going to flee, the thief pushed against Derek's chest. Derek obliged, leaning back a fraction; allowing Vulpis to turn over and face him, chest heaving, his breath released in short pants. Jesus fuck, the way this guy looked should be illegal.
"No thanks." Derek replied, forcing a bland look to show on his face.
"Your loss." Vulpis claimed, grinning as he dragged light fingers across Derek's chest and abs. He ignored the gentle, maybe hesitant touches. Derek wasn't enjoying them. Nope. Not one bit.
"What do you know about Peter Hale?" Derek asked. Vulpis shrugged.
"He's quite a scary guy from what I've heard. A little unhinged, creepy. Why?"
Derek wonders for a moment whether he should be discussing his movements with Vulpis, he didn't want anything used against him, and he couldn't trust these criminal times, so he was cautious with his reply.
"We've been seeing an increase in his activity throughout the city. The Pack needs to take action, but we're not going about it uninformed. I figured if anyone was going to know about what was going on in the criminal network," Vulpis snorted at that, "it would be you."
He watched for a moment as the man beneath him considered what he had said. He had to know, Derek was sure of it.
"As it happens," Vulpis smirked, "what I can tell from other thieves in the area I've communicated with, his base is pretty well protected. Thorough security systems, heavy guarding, the lot. You'd have to be careful; I wouldn't want to lose my source of entertainment now, would I?"
"Anything else?" Derek pushed, huffing in impatience.
"Jeez, no need to be so snappy. I am helping you after all. I've also heard on the grapevine that Peter keeps the blueprints for his HQ in his office at the other end of the city, if you wanted to get into the HQ, you'll have to steal those blueprints."
"How do you know all this?" He enquired, slightly suspicious. Awkwardly, Vulpis shifted beneath him in an attempt to get comfortable on the ground. Derek's stomach tensed minutely at the movement.
"I may have casually questioned one of his incredibly wasted henchmen at Jungle one night. Maybe?"
Derek blinked for a few moments, disbelieving.
"Incredible." He commented, voice dripping with sarcasm.
"Hey, don't judge. You asked me for information, and I had it. Don't criticize my methods." Vulpis pouted, an obscenely plush lip sticking out.
There was one thing left Derek had to ask, the question of the hard found 'Stiles' and what meaning the word had to the master thief. He had no idea how the man was going to react, so he was kind of glad he had him pinned down, just in case he tried to make a run for it. Any information on Vulpis was to be treasured, as it was rarely ever discovered, and Derek needed as much on this guy as possible if he was to catch him at the scene of a crime. This was the only way he was going to be caught; no one knew his face or identity, thus making an investigation impossible.
"I have one thing left to ask you." Derek said.
"Go on." Vulpis prodded, placing long, slim fingers back along Derek's chest.
"What does the word Stiles mean to you?" Derek watched as Vulpis froze for a moment, smirk tight and eyes wide before he sagged, a series of cackles bubbling out of his pale throat. Tears were springing out the corners of his eyes, but Derek couldn't understand whether they were with humour, or hysterics. It was a few minutes before the laughter seemed to stop, and by that time, Derek's confusion had twisted into annoyance. "Well?"
"Man, I never would have expected that." Vulpis chuckled, wiping his eyes.
"So it's a name?"
"In a manner of speaking, yes." The young man confirmed.
"Your name?"
Vulpis looked at him sceptically, as if he hadn't expected Derek to ask such a personal question. Well, personal for the masked men and women of Beacon City, at least.
"A nickname, so to speak. I haven't gone by my real name for a long, long time, Derek Hale."
Derek's head snapped up in alarm. No one had managed to identify him before, let alone work out his association with Peter. Was it a cause for concern? Probably, but Derek was somehow reassured by the man's honest appearance. Yes, appearance.
"You know my name?"
"Yes." Of course he did. See? Little shit.
"And my connection with Peter doesn't bother you?" Derek enquired.
"Not at all. You're the freaking Dark Prince of Justice or some shit like that. Peter was the bad apple of your family, I get that. Your family was pretty famous, Derek, and I looked at the report from the fire." Derek clamped down on the hurt, "You were never found, so I kind of put two and two together. You're the typical Batman story, dude, so no, I don't judge you for Peter's actions."
"And your real name?"
"You won't find it anywhere, so don't bother trying."
Derek snorted; of course he wouldn't be able to find it. The little shit was so careful, so precise, he wondered whether he would ever get anything on him. That's what makes him so interesting, his subconscious spoke up. Shush. Nope. Lies. Absolute lies.
Hauling himself off of Vulpis, no, Stiles, he held out a hand to the thief, resolving that his gift of information was to be rewarded by being let go. Temporarily, at least. With a tentative grip, the man took the proffered hand, dragging himself up and brushing the gravel off his shoulders and thighs. Christ, don't think about the thighs.
"Thank you." Derek said. Stiles looked at him with a lopsided smile, quite different from his teasing smirks and grins.
"No problem." Stiles says with a mock salute, and then he was hauling him in for a hard kiss, all passion and energy, with small nips and bites which could only be described as sly, much like the man himself. "See you around, Alpha." He chuckles, letting Derek go and running into the horizon.
Derek is left in a breathless daze, swaying slightly, wondering how Boyd was right.
His life was a rom com.
Fuck.
A week later The Pack was assembled in the loft, all kitted out in their uniforms and discussing their next move. Derek had told them about Peter and his growing power within Beacon City – neglecting to mention his relation to the mob boss in question- and suggested that something had to be done immediately, before Peter managed to further corrupt the Police force and political figures in the area. It was at this point Derek told them about the blueprints for the compound,– also neglecting the source of this information - and their necessity in completing the mission with maximum planning and minimal flaws.
With the sneaky nature of fetching the blueprints, The Pack needed someone who could get in and out of Peter's office undetected, someone very much like the person Derek was trying particularly hard not to think about.
"Well you know who we need, right?" Jackson sneered.
Like a train wreck, Derek watched the eyes of his team light up with understanding, totally unable to stop the oncoming crash and burn of Jackson's insinuation.
"Vulpis! We need Vulpis!" Isaac and Erica chorused, because of course they did.
Derek rolled his eyes.
"How are we going to get him to do that, huh? He doesn't owe us anything, and besides, he's a criminal. We don't work with criminals." Shut up. Don't judge.
"But with Peter gaining control," Danny speaks up, "he'll be influencing the fences and networks within the city. Vulpis is a key player, and exceptionally good at what he does, so Peter will try and recruit him." Weirdly enough, the group around him looked heartbroken by the idea. "However, Vulpis is freelance, so he won't want another party taking a share of his work, it's not his MO. The only option that leaves for Peter is to kill him, reducing the competition for his own pet thieves, and giving him a bigger profit."
"I'm impressed," Derek admitted, leaving Danny to beam under his praise.
"But how do we find him?" Boyd asks.
"I'm guessing," yeah, guessing, "that Vulpis will be out most nights. If what Danny says is true, he's going to be hoarding as much as he can before Peter gains too much influence and cuts off Vulpis' buyers."
"So what are we waiting for?" Erica cried, "Let's go!"
So off they went. Naturally.
By the time The Pack had found Vulpis, he was in a dingy alleyway arguing with two intimidating men. He was cornered, yes, but this was the sneakiest man in the city, an escape from this would be easy to a man like him.
Their voices were hushed, barely audible to the keen ears of The Pack, who were watching with interest, maybe a hint of concern for their fellow night owl. Derek was confused; the distinct lines of good and bad were shifting, and all because of Stiles, or to The Pack, Vulpis. He could tell that Stiles was a good person, he gave Derek a chance despite knowing he was Peter's nephew, he gave him information, and knew when it was time to mess around, and time to be serious. That didn't make his stealing and robberies any less wrong or illegal, and that was the issue. It was a paradox, and Derek was unsure what to make of the situation.
"Now scram!" Vulpis bellowed at the now retreating thugs, breaking Derek out of his thoughts. It was surprisingly vicious, and even The Pack stepped back, shocked.
As he noticed his new guests, Vulpis sauntered towards them; molten eyes gleaming behind the goggles perched upon his russet mask.
"Now what can I do for your guys and gals?" He asked, black-gloved hands thrown up in the air.
"C'mon, we need to talk somewhere safe." Derek suggested, grabbing Vulpis' wrist.
"Hey, what're you doing? Cut it out!" The man struggled, "At least tell me where we're going."
"He's got a point." Boyd noted. Helpful.
"We're taking you to a warehouse on the edge of the city. Don't worry," Vulpis snorted, "we're not going to hand you over to the Police or anything like that."
"What he means," Erica chipped in, "is that we need your help, as much as it pains our fearless leader to ask." Derek gave her a look, unamused.
"Why didn't you say so? Lead the way!" Vulpis replied, giving Erica a toothy grin.
Arriving at the warehouse, Vulpis began checking the perimeter. Derek guessed it must be habit, checking for key exits and vantage points in the event of an escape.
"What was that back there?" Jackson asked.
"Oh, that? Peter Hale has been trying to recruit me. Again. He's really determined. Never seen the man himself, though."
The Pack looked at each other, they knew this was happen. Derek hoped it would be a way for Derek to gain Stiles' help.
"So what did you guys want, anyway?" Vulpis asked, eyes flitting about carefully.
"We want you and our Alpha over there to kiss and make up." Isaac snarked.
"Nah, we've already done that" Vulpis muttered, barely, just barely heard by the rest of the group.
"WHAT?" Erica gasped, staring at Derek. Fuck. Fuck. Fuck.
Boyd looked visibly smug, whilst Isaac gaped in disbelief.
"Can we just talk about our plans for Vulpis, here? Please?" Derek pleaded, face red and flustered. He just wanted this torment to end already.
"I don't want to know what plans you've got for him, boss." Jackson grimaced. He looked just as awkward as Derek did, and that was a serious feat right now.
Vulpis simply took it in his stride, shrugging his shoulders and grinning at the group. Turning back towards Derek, he asked:
"So what do you want me to do?"
"We need you to break into Peter Hale's city office, grab a set of blueprints, and give them to us. All undetected." Derek put it bluntly, there was no point sugar-coating the request. Honesty was like ambrosia to thieves.
Vulpis whistled, nodding in understanding.
"Wow, I mean, wow. That's quite a big ask-"
"But-"
"Peter Hale is insane." The man growled, "What happens if I get caught, huh? He won't hand me over to the Police; God knows what he'll do. It's risky, even for me. I don't want to get caught by someone like that."
Derek understood, he really did, but –
"We have no other choice." He declared, face solemn. Vulpis sighed, exasperated, and all fight seemed to leave his body in one sagging motion.
"I know. It's risky, and I don't like it, but Peter has been recruiting my fences, and I need to do something, otherwise I'm out of the business."
Danny looked proud, once his prediction was found correct.
"So you're in, right?" Isaac asked.
"Yeah," Vulpis agreed, "I'm in."
It was arranged for them all to meet up near the office block a week later, giving Vulpis enough time for preparation and to scope the location for a point of entry. The lot of them were tense, desperate for the blueprints Derek so urgently needed. The sky was growing dark with the incoming evening, and each member of the group (including Vulpis) have been assigned their own earpieces for communication, as they were situated at various locations surrounding the building.
It had been decided that Vulpis would enter the building via an old ventilation system which travelled from the roof, branching at different areas, but more importantly, it exited directly in Peter's office, which in theory, should be empty. Not only was the most nimble and silent of the group, he was also the most slim, so travelling through the ventilation system would be fairly simple for him.
"Okay, you guys," Vulpis' voice crackled across the headset, "I'm entering the vent now."
It was slow going, Derek could tell, and Vulpis was giving him updates whenever he passed another branch in the tunnel. Derek was surprised by how Vulpis' soft breathing seemed to comfort him, reassuring him that things were going as planned. It wasn't that he knew he was safe. Nope. Not it. No way.
Ten more minutes had passed when Vulpis spoke again, a subtle hint of panic and worry in his voice.
"Okay, I'm there but – shit. His office light is on, I can't tell if he's in there guys, I can't-"
"I know you're there little thief, don't hide from me." Oozed Peter Hale, voice barely picked up by Derek's headset.
"Fuck. Oh God, I've been compromised. Shit. You guys better come for me or I swear to-"
Vulpis' threat was drowned out by the sound of the vent's grate being removed, followed by a startled yelp and then…
…silence.
"We need to get in there." Erica urged, darkly lined eyes wide and pleading.
"She's right, Derek." Boyd reasoned with his leader. "Peter's a lunatic, we can't live Vulpis with him, thief or not,"
Derek wasn't going to argue with them, anyway. He knew what Peter would be capable of, and he didn't want to be responsible for Stiles' mental and physical state if he ever got out. It wasn't that Derek cared for Stiles; he was just doing what anyone would do. That was it, Derek convinced himself. Barely.
With the knowledge that the building was now empty, – Peter and Vulpis the exception – The Pack stormed, the building, racing up the stairs to the appropriate floor, where they were greeted by a set of large, heavy oak-wood door. The place looked lavish and spotless, clearly for someone with lots of money and a taste for the finer things. Someone like Peter.
Hesitantly, but with a solid push, Erica and Isaac entered the room first, flanking Derek as he approached the centre of the room, Jackson and Boyd following behind. Derek loved when The Pack worked as a team like this; he felt a sense of overwhelming pride seeing their unity, despite the circumstances for which it has revealed itself.
When Derek scanned the room before him, his eyes froze dead in their tracks, looking towards the man he once called his uncle, who stared back at him gaze hard, cold, and cruel. What surprised Derek more – and The Pack, it seemed – was that sat on the floor next to Peter's wide, polished desk was Stiles, who had a large, intimidating collar clasped around his neck, like some sort of guard dog, or fox. Connected to the collar was a long metal chain, which Peter gripped in one hand, where the other was holding a tumbler of whisky. Despite the nature of Stiles' incarceration, he looked fine, if a little edgy. Peter must have caught him by surprise, if the earlier yelp had been any indication, that's when he must have been collared.
"Are you okay?" Boyd asked, a picture of genuine concern.
"I'm fine. If anything, I'm totally feeling like the Princess Leia to his Jabba the Hutt right now."
Everyone in the room let out a chuckle. It broke the tension, albeit temporarily.
"Oh Vulpis," Peter smarmed, "you do make me laugh. If only you had accepted my offer, I wouldn't have been forced to do this." He yanked the chains, causing Vulpis to sway slightly with the movement. He didn't look scared, just irritated. It comforted Derek somewhat.
"Peter?" Derek gritted out, stance aggressive
"Yes, nephew?"
"Let. Him. Go."
"Wait, nephew?" The group behind Derek asked, faces twisted in confusion.
"Oh, you didn't know?" Peter probed conversationally.
"Perhaps I didn't want to be associated with the likes of you." Derek sneered, defending himself to his fellow teammates. They didn't look angry, or judgemental, but still hurt. Stiles, on the other hand looked unfazed, picking at the fingers of his black spandex gloves.
"But you'll be associated with the little fox, here?" Peter urged, lip curled into a silent snarl. He pulled the chain again, sending Vulpis into a sprawl against the floor. It was an almost seductive pose, if not for the fact that he had a chain around his neck and a crime lord controlling his every move. Right, now was not the time for these thoughts.
"He's not a cold-blooded killer."
"How can you tell?"
"Not my style, dude." Vulpis drawled from his place on the floor, toying with the collar around his neck. "Sneaking around enemies is much more fun."
As soon as Vulpis said the word 'fun' he leapt up, startling Peter and everyone else around the room with his rapid movements. Before Peter could move, the chain he had previously been holding was wrapped around his throat, not particularly tight Derek could see, but enough to threaten Peter and stop him from moving.
"Derek," Stiles had started, saying his name for the second time ever, "could you be so kind as to check through the desk drawers for the blueprints. I would ask Peter, but he seems a little preoccupied at the moment." Nodding, Derek stalked towards the desk, checking through each draw until found the bottom one locked.
"It's locked, I think Peter still has the key." Derek replied.
"Does he now? That won't do at all!" Adjusting his grip on the chains, Vulpis shoved his hand one of Peter's trouser pockets, shamelessly searching for the key.
"Oh, Vulpis. We haven't even had our first date yet." Peter crooned the best he could. The light press of the chains mangled his words, making them rough and wobbly.
"Aha!" Vulpis cheered, eyes sparkling and grin widening as he pulled a set of keys from Peter's pocket before tossing them over to Derek, who began picking through them.
Finding the right key, Derek opened the last drawer and rifled through the papers, stopping at a set of blueprints amidst the other likely nefarious documents. He beckoned Jackson over, who was wearing a tube across his shoulders, perfect for the transportation of the 'goods,' and sealed away the blueprints from Peter's furious eyes. After a brief cough from Vulpis, Derek started searching through the keys again, this one for Vulpis' collar. With a small click the collar was loose and falling to the floor, allowing Vulpis to heave a sigh of relief before returning his attention back to Peter.
"I'm not going to kill you, Peter. I'm not going to prove you right and take a life just because you've done this to me. Yes, I may be a thief, and yes, my moral compass may not point totally towards north, but. I'm better than you, and if these guys are as determined as they seem to be, I very much doubt there'll be a next meeting between us." Derek watched as Vulpis paused, eyes alight with energy. "I'm sure you guys will have a lot of planning to do. Deal with Peter how you want, and thanks for saving me. I'd say I owe you one, but as you got me into this mess I don't think that would be true." With a small wave, Vulpis let go of Peter and left the office. This time through the doors they had entered by, disappearing from Derek's view - and life – once again.
Derek couldn't help but feel a little lost.
A month had passed before Derek saw Stiles again. The Pack had been preoccupied with wheedling out the corruption from within the Police force, ending in a spectacular raid of Peter's compound which could almost be described as a battle, working with the newly appointed Sheriff Stilinski, an honourable man who reminded him a bit of Stiles for some reason. It was harsh and brutal, and it was found that Peter had been receiving weapon and drug shipments that were to be distributed to vendors throughout the area, and then sold on, all for his profit. It took a while for Peter's empire to be completely dismantled, but the work had been worth it. Derek had never seen Beacon City look so clean and free, as if the dark poison which had infected it had been removed. The city was healing.
Not that Derek and The Pack hadn't heard anything about Stiles' alter-ego, Vulpis. Not at all. He still made a frequent appearance in the Beacon City Gazette, reporting his latest daring heists and outrageous robberies which put the Police and security forces to shame. Of course, Vulpis' name was never mentioned, but Derek could tell it was him. He could always tell.
This was how Derek found himself sat upon a billboard with Stiles, watching the horizon and bustling city beneath it. They were close together, the air between them warm and intimate. It was a pleasant feeling; one Derek wanted to bask in forever.
"Everything sorted with Peter?" Stiles asked softly. For in this moment between them, they weren't Crimson Alpha and Vulpis, they were Derek and Stiles, another barrier between the two of them had been removed.
"Yeah." Derek confirmed, nodding slightly. "It's strange, you know? My only remaining family member and I've condemned him to a life in prison."
"Do you regret it?" Stiles prodded, legs swinging in the night air. Derek shook his head.
"Not at all. The way I see criminals isn't just black and white anymore, but Peter was a killer, and he deserved what he got. That sort of thing can't be forgiven."
"And me?" Stiles exaggerated fluttering his eyelashes, pouting at him.
"You're a pain in my ass, but you're not a dangerous one." Derek replied. Stiles scoffed.
"Puh-lease, I'm a lean, mean, fighting machine. I could totally be dangerous." The thief teased, mimicking a karate chop to Derek's shoulder. He let out a deep laugh at Stiles' flailing arms. The laughter died off and they sat in silence for a few minutes, taking in the sounds of the city, the clubs and cars and screeching sirens. It was Derek who broke the comfortable silence.
"You could join The Pack you know, if you wanted." His normally gruff voice now small and shy.
"Oh, Derek," Stiles sighed, all tenderness. Derek stilled as Stiles raised a hand to cup his jaw, thumb stroking the small patch of prickly stubble beneath his dark mask. "You know I can't."
Derek couldn't help but lean into Stiles' warmth.
"The Police will want us to pursue you. They'll search for information, demand answers."
Smiling like a Cheshire Cat, Stiles pressed a soft kiss to Derek's lips. It was stark change from the sultry looks, purposeful touches and demanding affection Stiles usually showered Derek with. He wouldn't admit it to anyone else, but the kiss was sweet and gentle. Something new. It filled Derek with hope.
"I'll be the Catwoman to your Batman any time you want." Stiles said, sneaking Derek another kiss.
They were quiet for a long time after that.
The End.