A/N:This was heavily influenced by the flirtatious and adversarial relation of Batman and Catwoman that I can never get enough of. So, of course I had to fuse it with other favorite pairing - Derek and Stiles.
Hopefully it's fun, funny and a bit steamy. And I hope the action scenes are ok, it's pretty tough writing action...and writing in general.
Oh, and I know nothing of hacking, just what video games and movies/TV have told me. Creative liberties! And sorry for the lame codename and title. I tried.
All mistakes are my own. I did my best to proof but things slip through the cracks. Enjoy!
(update - Oct 4, 2016) Special thanks to aeron4 for translating this in German. Link: www. fanfiktion. de/ s/ 57caef47000092bd1f210895/ 1/ The-hodded-fox-and-the-masked-wolf
(just delete the spaces) Thank you so much for your work!
"Thank God, this is my last day." The young security guard muttered to no one as he sat at the front desk with his face smushed in the palm of his hand keeping his head from crashing on the surface he was stationed to, bored out of his mind. His shift was close to being for the night (and for life) at Hale Enterprises.
As he left the building, with his work duty finally over, a dark, extremely handsome figure walked past him. "Beau Linski, get the hell out of here already," was yelled out by his boss, Bobby Finstock, standing somewhere far behind as the two passing strangers slowed their walk to a snail's pace, locking eyes with one another. The handsome man currently capturing the off duty guard's attention could have been wearing a chicken suit and he wouldn't have noticed.
The young security guard was surprised by the man's soft voice, expecting a gruff and rough one when the gorgeous guy spoke. "Is that really necessary, Bobby? We talked about this." The man's light colored eyes contrasting with the dark hair coating his face fascinated the off duty guard.
"Sorry, Mr. Hale." Finstock cleared his throat and corrected his statement in a monotone. "Hale Enterprises thanks you for your hard work and dedication. And we hope to continue receiving your appreciated support." Rolling his eyes at the end of his memorized speech. "Now get the hell out of here before we have to pay for overtime. Better Mr. Hale?"
"Sure," Mr. Hale answered, still looking at the young man retreating to the front door.
Before he made it out the door, the young man called out. "There's a fresh pot of coffee to show my...appreciation," smiling privately as he left the building and stepped on the street.
"You're a good egg, Beau Linski!" The young man heard Finstock respond as he let the glass door close while he waited for his ride to pull up.
"Stick to the rule: no more than a 5 second glance and then out of sight, out of mind." The off duty guard said into the night's air. Repeating his personal mantra of 'don't look back' until an unmarked black car parked ahead of him, not trusting himself to turn around for another view of the ridiculously gorgeous guy he walked past. His hand was on the backseat door handle when an unrelenting urge forced a turn of his head into the lobby of his former place of employment.
"Dammit." The off duty guard internally berated himself as the object of his affection, Mr. Hale, waved back smugly, leaning against the security desk while Finstock chugs a cup of coffee and reads a newspaper. "Stupid handsome bastard." He whispered before ducking into the car to be driven away.
"So are you gonna tell me about the hot guy who couldn't stop staring at you?" Danny tease as he drives, smiling brightly.
"What's there to tell? That's the gist of it. Stupidly hot guy. He stared at me. Yup, that's the sum of it."
Danny cleared his throat, "I could see everything on camera feed, Stiles." Using the off duty guard's real name.
"Okay, fine. We stared at each other," Stiles corrected. "But that's the end of the story. Never seen him before. And I won't ever see him again."
"Well if you don't want him, can I take a run at him? He's totally my type." Danny inquires as he turns into a dark, abandoned alley a few blocks away.
"It wouldn't be wise seeing as his last name is Hale," emphasizing the name.
"Oh." Danny sullenly responds. "Wait, he's not going to be a problem, is he? I thought Finstock was there alone tonight." As the car to a stop, completely drenched in darkness with tinted windows concealing the bright display of the laptop currently booting up in Danny's lap.
The young man in the backseat was currently undressing out of his work uniform. "Don't worry, amigo. He probably forgot an invoice from the contractors or something." He tries to rationalize, throwing a shoe to a side. "He'll be gone by the time I get back there." Another shoe finds a home on the floor of the car.
Stiles could admit, to himself only, that he hadn't ever felt that kind of connection before but how could he pursue it and explain about his false identity his job had on record. After his casual fling with Jackson, he wasn't exactly jumping to start something else.
"11 at night?" Danny asked skeptically as he turned to look at Stiles, still undressing.
"Dude, chill. And eyes up front, this isn't a peep show." Danny obeyed and focused on his monitor.
"Chill yourself. I told you before you're not my type. Now, lobby guy. Definitely my type."
"Not. Gonna. Happen." Getting right into Danny's ear to say slowly causing the driver swat him away. "By the way, not something you tell someone when they're half-naked. It's basic etiquette, dude."
This was their final run together that would be able to settle their debts and allow them to lead (semi) normal lives, free of extracurricular criminal activities on the side. One unexpected arrival of a figurehead - who happened to be breathtakingly gorgeous, not that Stiles cared about that fact – would not derail this night.
Stiles' entire black getup, minus the red hood, was now outfitted over his body. Casual combat boots; heat resistant body-hugging jeans and three quarter sleeve undershirt; zippable vest for concealing small gadgets with a dark red hood attached to cloak his face, casting a shadow over most of his features; gloves with silver knuckle protection; small side holster for his grapple gun; and a red eye mask.
"Comms check," Stiles said aloud, testing if the ear piece that allowed direct contact with his tech support and partner in crime, Danny.
"Loud and clear, Crimson Fox." Stiles, aka Crimson Fox, exited the car after relaying his confirmation on hearing Danny as well, and ran back towards Hale Enterprises under the cloak of night. The maintenance elevator beside the front door of the tall building would lead high enough that the firm's cameras wouldn't be able to detect his presence. "Finstock is heading to the bathroom and he brought reading material. Remind me never to drink any coffee you offer." Danny chuckled.
"Any sign of Mr. Hale?" The hooded thief asks.
"Negative. Guess you were right, Fox."
"See, buddy. We'll be on easy street by dawn," Stiles comments as he rides the loud elevator the lone security guard inside won't be able to hear in the bathroom.
When the elevator stops on the requested floor, he exits to the open construction of the floor where rebar beams, abandoned tools, and exposed wires were found. The floor's exposed skeleton was weaved through by the fast, lean moving burglar leaving no sound or trace of his unapproved entry. The barren floor housed a junction box that Stiles could piggyback on to gain more access to the live feed in the building.
"Connecting the wire tap now," Stiles crisscrossed wires to the small gadget taken out of his vest's pocket. Danny was able to manipulate the cameras inside to his will, adding to his previous ability to view the feed remotely.
"Got it. Ready to start manipulating a camera loop." The hacker told the thief.
"Ah, nice. What would I do without you, pal?"
"Luckily you never have to find out. And…you're good to go, you're basically invisible now. Just remember that –," Danny is cut short as Stiles finishes his warning for him.
"…you won't be able to see me either. No need to remind me every time, Akamai," using Danny's codename, making his way down stairs in the stairwell behind the junction box on the wall, traveling a couple flights down to the information servers.
"I had to do it one last time, Fox. With all these gadgets I should've gotten a recorder to save you the trouble."
Stiles comes to a stop when the door he needs to bypass is fastened shut. "Fire exit, dude," he informed his coconspirator. An intentional clearing of a throat traveled into his ear piece. "Fire exit, dude…please," he amended. The red signal above the emergency exit turning green alerted him to the safety of opening the without alarm. "Thank you."
Stiles could tell the room he entered was cold from the strong, cool current blowing onto his freshly licked lips but his outfit sheltered his body temperature. The room was a narrow hallway with frosted glass walls on either side separating the tall servers with neon lights blinking wildly.
Another obstacle halted his movements when he reached the end of the hall. "Akamai, I'm in front of the security door panel, could really use your magic touch." After a second he remembered to add, "Please." More time passed and Stiles was no closer to his target. "Pretty please with curly fries on top?" Stiles added, thinking he offended his partner in crime unintentionally.
"Sti—Fox, we have a slight problem."
"How slight of a problem we talking here?" Stiles nervously inquired.
"It's a find another way in the server room because the security door panel is on an alternate circuit board…kind of problem." He coolly reported.
Stiles exhales loudly in frustration and places hands on his hips, "Not exactly slight, is it dude?"
"Hey. What's my codename, Fox?"
"Akamai."
"And what does that mean?"
"Hawaiian for 'you're a genius'."
"Damn straight. And I being a genius, have got you covered."
"Never doubted you for a second, you wonderful bastard. Now walk me through your plan B."
"How's Finstock doing?" he requests, a slight shiver in his voice as he crawls through the cooling vents in the ceiling that barely accommodated his lean frame.
"We should have another 10 or so minutes left." Danny informed. "You okay, Fox?" Stiles fell out of the vent, head first, and twisted his body with a mid-air somersault to land safely on his feet.
"S-s-sure, I will be now. This stuff is great against keeping me from sweating, not so great against cold temperatures." Stiles stated while rubbing his arms in a desperate attempt for warmth and walking up to the central computer console connecting to the server banks.
"After this I promise you can come to my place tonight and have all the cuddles."
"That is so sweet, dude. Are you serious?"
"Of course I'm not serious."
"Such a tease. Anyway, ready for me to become your new favorite person?" Stiles inserted the custom made USB flash drive into the computer and waited for the onscreen display to inform him the transfer of files was successful.
Less than a minute later, the program's work was close to its conclusion. "Dude, I will never understand your godly tech powers but God bless you from the bottom of my heart because we just became a hundred thousand dollars richer." Stiles praised.
Danny chuckled, "Don't get ahead of yourself just yet. We still need to deliver it. When the transfer is complete I'll be able to have full access to the floor, so the door will be unlocked."
"Don't overheat your mainframe; this was a piece of cake. Delicious cake with chocolate frosting…"
"Fox, it's done. Come back to Earth."
"Right, right. I just went to my happy place for a sec. Okay, see you in a flash. A flash drive." Stiles simulated a rim shot after his bad joke.
"You're a terrible person."
"I know, it keeps me up at night." Stiles placed the drive into the inside pocket near his chest and exited the server room, thankful to not go through the icy tundra of the vents.
"You are clear for the elevator." Danny relayed to Stiles when the thief made his way back to the floor under construction.
Stiles looked out to the night's sky to take a moment to say goodbye to his life of thievery, a mild sense of melancholy washed over him.
It wasn't the most honorable line of work and he had his share of close calls that would've resulted in his loss of freedom or even death. But nothing could compare to the thrill, the rush, and the challenge his unique occupation brought him. He was no longer that spastic, awkward kid from the small hometown where everyone saw him as a loser. When he was on a job he felt truly alive. But he knew his luck wouldn't last forever and decided to get of the game now while he still had a choice. Plus, it was never meant to be long term - a last resort to help his dad with the crushing debt left after his mother's medical expenses drained their savings; the shooting incident his father was in that put him on temporary suspension resulting in a pay cut with the bonus of expensive physical therapy; college tuition for his best friend, Scott after his dad only promised to help with one semester. All of Stiles' financial assistance was routed through dummy, fake corporations set up by Danny to ensure no trace back to the thief.
A swooshing noise knocked Stiles out of his thoughts, a sound which wouldn't have been of concern if Stiles had felt even a slight breeze. Someone was there with him. So much for a piece of cake. "Akamai, I'm gonna need a few extra minutes and radio silence." Stiles turns around to be surprised by what he sees, "Huh, apparently someone thinks Halloween came early." He knew someone was behind him but he didn't expect the person to be wearing a werewolf mask. A very convincing werewolf mask.
'Did the security get a new addition to the standard uniform in the little time I left my post?'
Stiles stepped forward to the masked individual and halted his stride when a low growl sounded forth from the leather jacket clad man. "You really are dedicated to playing the part of Wolfman, big guy. Look, I was hoping you could help." He said as his eyes roamed over the body in front of him. Wide, broad shoulders with a muscled, comic book hero worthy chest leading to a narrow waist. He would definitely be able to put up a fight. "I'm lost, mind assisting me out of here," feigning innocence in his voice.
"Sure," the dark, stoic figure finally spoke, "come closer so I can toss you down from here to the ground floor. After you return what you stole."
"Not only do you look like a wolf but apparently you were also raised by them. And here I was hoping all that...magnificent muscle had some manners underneath. Shame."
"I was being nice. I could just rip your throat out with my teeth. Now, hand it over before I lose my patience."
"Fine, fair enough. Here," Stiles stepped closer to relinquish his score of the night. As the young thief presented his closed hand into the werewolf masked man's vicinity, he waited until eyes were securely fastened on his outstretched hand before opening it. The open palm released a blinding flash of light from his compact flash bang grenade to stun his target. His victim covered his eyes and fell on his knees for Stiles to push him to ground as he took the opportunity to make a mad dash to the elevator.
"Sly as a fox." Stiles smirked and slammed the down button as soon as he made it inside his escape. Victory seemed to be in his grasp as the elevator began to descend, but the hand that gripped his hoodie had other plans for how the thief's night would end. Stiles was flung backwards like a ragdoll out of the half-walled compartment and skidded along the hard ground from the momentum, coming to stop as his spine hit a support beam releasing a pained grunt.
"Is this still you being nice?" Stiles retorted while he picked himself up, pulled his hood back over his head and patted his slightly dusted legs. The cause of his dust covered outfit stalked toward him, the man pounced on Stiles with incredible speed and for the second time was grabbed by his clothes. Stiles' back connected harshly to the support beam and his personal space invaded as he was face to face with the masked werewolf, the front of his attire seized and feet dangling above the ground.
Up close to the relentless contender, Stiles felt a strong feeling of disbelief overcome him. Either this guy had the most talented makeup artist or the mask wasn't as fake as he thought. The speed he demonstrated was unnatural and the power he exhibited was unreal, even for a man of his impressive body type.
"What are you?" Stiles asked incredulously, witnessing claws lengthen near his neck and feeling claws dig into his clothes.
The beast snarled, baring his fangs. "Don't pretend you don't know what I am because I know exactly what YOU are...hunter." he spits out like a disgusting taste in his mouth.
"Hunter?" Stiles was confused by the terminology. Thief, criminal, overactive - sure. But a hunter?
"I know what you stole. Names of every werewolf under the protection of Hale Enterprises."
"Oh my God this can't be real. You really are a -" Stiles couldn't even say the word, having nothing to do with the tight coil or his suspended state.
The angry face before him morphed into slight confusion. "You're not lying?" But the beast shakes the statement off as another ploy and goes back to growling. "Enough games!"
After being slammed again Stiles clutched the wrists that held him. "I definitely think it's time to stop the games." Stiles struggled to say.
Werewolf or not, Stiles had a mission to complete and a check to collect. This furry faced creature wasn't going to stop him.
"Where is it?" Stiles saw the werewolf's attention was focused on his face and didn't notice his legs were slowly lifting on either side of the building's supernatural security guard.
With both of his legs hovering around the torso before him, Stiles closed his eyes and breathed deep in concentration as he drew all of his energy. This had to be fast and accurate if he was dealing with a supernatural opponent. Stiles quickly let go of the forearms clasping his collar to hold tightly on the beam ridges he was held against. As soon as he did, Stiles focused his core on lifting his legs as high as the limbs could go and opened his eyes to slam them together between the head of his captor. A swift kick to the face was followed when he was free of the clawed hands.
The beast's face morphed into a human one, a stunningly handsome face he recognized instantly, as the werewolf stumbled back nearing the edge. "Mr. Hale?" The night kept getting stranger by the minute. Crap, Stiles thought in a panic as he saw the man he formerly worked for about to take a nosedive to the street after he slipped on a loose floorboard.
'Shit, I wanted him out of my way. Not splattered on the pavement.'
The young thief may have led a criminal lifestyle but he had a code, lines that he would never willingly cross. Killing being a major transgression in Stiles' book. He raced toward the tragedy bound man, who swayed back and forth as Hale gave his best effort to stop his own plummet. The attempt at self rescue was in vain, with Hale beginning his fall to certain doom.
Stiles continued his pursuit, missing the man by a hair, and joined Hale's accidental skydiving trip as he dived off the building. He whipped out his grappling gun to fire a shot close to the roof as Stiles neared close to the werewolf, who extended an arm to his unlikely salvation. The trigger to a safe return was squeezed when their hands met in a secure grip as did their gazes. Hale wore Stiles' earlier expression of disbelief and the two rivals ascended their way back. The problem with the gadget though was an inability to control the speed of ascension which sent the pair skyward at dizzying speeds. When they did reach the top, the landing would not be a pleasant one. Stiles pulled Hale closer so the werewolf could secure a better hold, arms wrapped around his waist. "Hold on tight!" Now that Hale fastened himself onto Stiles, the thief gripped the handle with both hands, fearful of losing his hold.
The two shot into the air like a rocket, well past the floor they began on and the wide 'Hale Enterprises sign fastened to the tall structure, landing harshly on the gravel covered roof. "Wow, that was fun." Stiles spoke from his position along Hale's length, who broke his fall.
"Maybe for you." He said through gritted teeth in annoyance. "You didn't land on tiny rocks with a jackass crushing your ribs. Think you could position yourself better if you plan on staying on top of me?"
"Is that an invitation?" Stiles jokes as he pushes himself into a straddling form. "I think I'd settle for a thank you but if you're offering..."
"You kidding me?" Hale asked incredulously. "If you hadn't kicked me in the face...as a matter of fact, if you didn't steal from me I wouldn't have needed saving!"
"Well, if you want to be technical about it." Stiles mumbles.
"Yes. I do want to be technical about it!" Derek shoots back.
"Aw, c'mon. Don't be such a sour...wolf." Stiles slips a glove off, placing a warm palm on the hard plains under Hale's Henley. "There must be something I can do to make it up."
Hale's breath hitches and his hands squeeze Stiles' thighs, moving upward to a pert ass. Stiles grins as he removes his ungloved hand to trail fingers over Hale's chest, running towards his neck, stopping at his lips and dipping down to bring his face closer to Hale's. Even this close, the darkness and red hood made it hard for the werewolf to see anything other than soft looking lips and a spattering of moles.
Stiles' fingers trace over Hale's mouth as the man below spoke in a husky tone. "There is something you do," he takes a hand off Stiles' ass to caress his wrist's pulse.
Stiles knew what he was doing was stupid but the way he felt in those few seconds Hale wrapped his muscular arms around him was a huge turn on, coupled with their intense eye fucking session in the lobby clouded his judgment and he wanted more. "Name it, handsome." He obliges.
The gentle massage on his wrists turns into a painful squeeze. "Give. Me. The list." He demands with a growl, eyes burning red. Stiles shifts his body to press his full weight against the arm detaining him, then tumbles backwards so he can free his arm by twisting Hale's limb just enough for the werewolf to cease. Once he was let go, Stiles moved out of werewolf's reach and ran toward the exit staircase, having lost his grapple gun in the freefall.
"Wait!" Stiles skids to a halt and freezes a hand on the door knob, despite his better instincts to run ganders back one last time. Hale was on his stomach propped up by his elbows trying to lift himself up. The landing apparently hurt the werewolf more than he let on. "You'll be endangering innocent lives." He warned. "I don't know what you've been told but that information contains the whereabouts of every werewolf under the Hale's protection. You're not like the hunters or you would've let me fall to my death."
Stiles bites his lip. "How do I know you're not lying? They said you were protecting scum…monsters who hurt people."
Hale manages to stand up, seemingly fully recovered and unscathed. "I can't prove it…but how about I match, no, I'll double whatever they're offering." The werewolf walks slowly to Stiles, desperation on his face - wary of what other tricks the thief might have under his sleeve or his vest.
"Fox? I just heard. He can afford it, maybe we should take his offer." Danny chimed in with his opinion. "Sorry, you were silent for too long so I decided to override the comms. And for the record, you did say you felt uneasy about the Argents."
"Your friend is right."
"How'd you hear…?" Stiles wondered.
Hale ignores the question and resumes, "Hunters cannot be trusted. Especially, if you're dealing with the Argents. They are the real monsters, taking the lives of innocent people because they are different from them." He stops a respectable distance from Stiles, who is uncharacteristically quiet as he deliberates internally.
Jackson, who put them in touch with the Argents, has been dealing with shadier than average clients lately, giving some ring of truth to the Argents' morality – another major reason Danny and Stiles don't wish to continue their line of work. If even Danny, Jackson's best friend, is considering switching clients…
"Alright, it's a deal." Stiles holds out his fist after digging inside his vest pocket, replicating his earlier stunt.
"This isn't a trick, is it?" Hale asks skeptically with a bushy brow raised.
Stiles flattens out his palm to present the USB device and Hale steps closer to reach out when he sees it. Once again, Stiles pulls back the hand but instead of dishing an injury to Hale's face, he grabs him by the shirt against his body to plant soft lingering kiss to the surprised face of his new client, who snakes a forearm around the hooded thief's torso and reciprocates the kiss. "A kiss first to seal the deal. Be glad I didn't ask for your John Hancock," Stiles smirks as their lips part but still close enough that each word is felt against the scruffy man's lips.
"I usually like a name...or face when I kiss someone." Hale says.
Stiles steps out of the embrace to remove the hood and mask cloaking his face. "I guess I shouldn't expect a letter of recommendation." He laments to the surprised face in front of him, whose eyebrows soar to new heights. "Word of advice: You may want to invest in a more thorough background check, Mr. Hale."
"Derek, call me Derek."
"Cool, I can call you?"
"If you give me your real name."
"It's Stiles Stilinski."
"Really? Sounds like another fake name to me." Derek twists his body around to retrieve something from the of his pants. "Here, you dropped this," He supplies the grapple gun back to Stiles. "What about the flash drive?"
"Leverage, dude, sorry. Don't worry you'll get it back…as soon as I get paid. And I'll even throw in the Argents' location as a bonus. Good night, Derek. The pleasure was all mine." He walks to the edge of the building, reloading a grapple attachment and fires into the building's exterior before rappelling down. A feature of the device that worked much better than going up.
"Good night, Stiles. See you soon." Shaking his head as he recounts the night's events. "I hope I don't regret this because he did have a nice ass and I would hate to be forced to kick it."
A/N: Sequel has been posted - "What's Yours is Mine"