Prologue
Stiles was getting ready to lock up the store when a young woman with long, brown hair walked in, eyes flitting across the rows of shelves and haphazardly stacked piles of books. Stiles was tired and grumpy after Scott ditched her (yet again) for plans with the ever-wondrous Allison. Stiles huffed, and the woman's gaze flicked over to her place behind the old counter, zooming in on the blaring Captain America shield plastered across her baggy shirt.
"Do you sell comics here?" the woman asked, approaching the desk.
"But of course!" Stiles chirped, grinning widely. "No store of mine would be complete without them." The woman chuckled at that, expression softening.
"A fan too, huh? Question is: Marvel or DC?"
Stiles' index finger tapped against her chin, pondering the question for a moment. This often sparked legendary debates in Stiles' group, so she settled on a diplomatic answer.
"Kind of both? I think Marvel has been doing really well recently, with The Avengers and all their other projects, but Batman is great. So yeah, both. Sitting on the fence with that one, I'm sorry to disappoint. Anyway, let me show you where the comics are." Stiles replied, repositioning her chunky glasses. With the grace of a new-born foal, Stiles clambered out from behind the counter, tripping on a nearby pile of books. The woman snorted.
"Not one for coordination, are you?" The woman observed, shaking her head fondly.
"Hey! I can be coordinated when I want to be. Sometimes. Maybe."
Approaching the line of shelves, Stiles curtsied before the woman, smirking slightly, head cocked.
"Comics and graphic novels, m'lady."
"You do me a great service." The woman laughed, running the tips of her fingers against the books' spines.
"You know what? I think this is the beginning of a beautiful friendship." She said, sticking out her hand. "I'm Stiles."
The woman took the hand in hers and shook it firmly.
"I'm Cora. Cora Hale."
A Month Later…
Stiles was lounging around in Cora's apartment watching Iron Man 3 when the finest fucking specimen of a man burst through the door, yelling for her friend. Next to her, Cora jumped up, popcorn scattering everywhere. Stiles had to stifle a laugh.
"Cora! We need to talk about-" The man suddenly cut off, noticing Stiles for the first time, peeking over the back of the sofa.
Geez, Stiles' heart was having palpitations this man was so good looking. All tan skin and dark scruff, with piercing green eyes and jet black hair. Is this was perfection looked like? Is this the real life? Is this just fantasy? He wore a fitted leather jacket over seemingly painted-on jeans and a dark Henley. Stiles was pretty sure she was gaping. Or drooling. She wasn't quite sure.
"Stiles, this is my brother Derek. Derek, this is my friend Stiles. She owns the bookstore I told you about" Cora introduced the two of them. The man – Derek- nodded warily, eyeing Stiles as if she had two heads. She felt remarkably like she was intruding.
"Look, Cora. I'm just gonna go." Stiles decided, pausing the movie. "I've got work tomorrow. I'll talk to you soon, okay?"
Before either sibling could speak a word, Stiles grabbed her coat off the rack and left the flat, brushing past Derek on her way. What were those muscles she felt? Wow, she really needed to get laid.
Stiles arrived back at the apartment she shared with Scott. He was already home from the vet's, sat in front of the TV, Xbox controller in hand. Sighing, Stiles tossed her keys on to the counter before collapsing on the sofa, exhausted.
"Hey, dude!" Scott called, casting a fleeting glance towards her from the action on-screen. Stiles watched him play for a moment, a game she had completed last week. She could tell he was stuck on a level by the way he mashed the buttons got increasingly aggressive. Stiles understood his pain. She'd been stuck there too.
"I think I'm having a crisis, Scott." She admitted, pressing her face into the arm of the sofa. Scott paused the game and turned towards her prone form, frowning.
"C'mon Stiles, talk to your old buddy Scott about it." He coaxed, shuffling towards her. Stiles sighed, facing him, eyes weary.
"I met this guy today."
"Uh oh."
Understatement.
"He was so freaking attractive. There was a leather jacket, and stubble and scowling, Scott. Oh God, the scowling." Stiles babbled, cheeking pinking up. "I didn't think I had a thing for bad boys, Scott, but look at me now." Christ. Stiles needed to compose herself. There's no way she could talk to Lydia about this, she'd eat her alive and demand answers to the many invasive questions she would provide. Scott – bless his heart – just looked confused. Head cocked, like a puppy.
"Uh. I get you're having a freak out and all, but uh, I don't think I'm really qualified for this conversation. Sorry bro." Scott apologised, patting her on the shoulder.
How was this her life?
A week later Stiles was in the book store, filling out a crossword when a shadow loomed over her. She had been oblivious of this, of course, until the unidentified shadow decided to break her out of her reverie.
"Werewolf." The voice said, and Stiles' honey-eyes widened. Wait a goddamn second. She knew that voice from somewhere. She looked up into those same hazel eyes from Cora's flat. She gulped.
"What?" she asked, dumbstruck. Derek had a smirk on his face. Jesus Christ, that arrogance should not be attractive.
"American creature that went to London. Eight across." Oh.
"Uh, thanks?" Stiles mumbled, brain not quite at optimum function. Stupid Derek with his stupid face. In a flurry of movement, Stiles scrabbled about the desk looking for her pen. When – of course- it was under the magazine in the first place. Intelligent, Stiles.
"You're welcome." Derek replied, eyes sly and smile predatory. Stiles' heart-rate was through the roof, purely by the looks he was giving her. How is this guy even real? Stiles mused, internal freak-out on warp speed.
"Do you need something?" Stiles enquired. God, she sounded rude. She could imagine her Dad now, face positively screaming 'unimpressed.' Derek shuffled closer to the desk and squared his shoulders. His big, broad, leather- jacket -filling shoulders, and leaned into Stiles' space. Into. Her. Space. His eyes slid ever so slowly over her slight body, considering for a moment, and Stiles almost forgot to breathe. Was he checking her out? ABORT! ABORT! Stop that train of thought right there, immediately, thank you.
"I do, as a matter of fact." Derek rumbled. Christ, this man simply radiated danger. "Cora wanted me to pick up the comics you saved for her?"
"Ah, yes! I'll just go out back and get them." She smiled, turning and leaving the room. She could feel Derek's burning gaze against her back.
A few minutes Stiles returned to the counter to find Derek on the phone, growling in hushed tones to the person at the other end. She would not like to be that person right now, Derek looked furious. His dark brows were drawn in a grimace, and his eyes seemed to smoulder. Damn.
"Look, I've got to go." He cut off into the phone, holding Stiles' stare. Briskly, he snapped the phone shut and stuffed it into his jacket pocket. His face had softened since the end of the phone call, and Stiles was kind of relieved, for her sake at least.
"I've got Cora's comics." Stiles prompted, dropping them on to the desk.
"Thanks" Derek replied, pulling out his wallet. "How much do I owe you?"
Stiles laughed, and Derek just looked plain confused. Fuck. It's adorable.
"Oh! No, these are mine. I'm lending them to her, I guess."
Derek looked at her for moment before nodding, scooping the comics up and tucking them under one of his (extremely muscular) arms. Breathe, Stiles. Breathe.
"Thanks, Stiles." He murmured, and sauntered back outside.
He remembered her name.
Shit.
The next time Stiles met Derek was at the grocery store. She was fuming, having discovered that they had run out of curly fries, and yeah maybe she wasn't looking where she was going, and maybe she was a little aggressive on the shopping cart front, but she hadn't expected to practically assault the man.
"Shit!" Stiles yelped, pulling the cart back. "I am so, so sorry. I wasn't looking where I was going and they ran out curly fries, as if my week couldn't get any worse and now I'm assaulting fellow shoppers and-"
"Stiles!" Derek interrupted with a wry smile. "It's fine."
Yeah, it's fine. Like Hotty McHotterson Derek is fine. Mighty fine, in fact.
"I said that out loud, didn't I?" Stiles asked, wincing. Derek looked amused.
"Yeah."
"I'm just going to go…" Stiles hedged, creeping away, shopping cart in tow. She didn't make it far before Derek grabbed the other side of the cart, holding it still in a vice-like grip.
"Wait. Give me your phone." And wow, that sounded an awful lot like a command. "It was."
Oops. She'd said that out loud as well, it seems.
"Well what if I don't want to give you my phone?" Stiles teased. Was she actually flirting? The Apocalypse is here, people! The end is nigh! Derek wasn't even affected by it, instead deciding to up his game. Bastard.
"Do you want my number or not?" He grinned, all teeth bared. Stiles felt like prey. Of course he knew what he was doing. Stiles couldn't throw her phone at him fast enough. Not that she was over-eager or anything. She wasn't. Much. Derek's smug expression grew, tapping his number into Stiles' phone before handing it back to her.
"Oh. Uh, thanks." Said Stiles. Clearly sounding coherent was going to be a problem around Derek.
"Text me, okay?" Derek smiled, and it felt almost genuine. He gathered his belongings and began to walk past her when he stopped, looming over her. "I'd really like to take you for coffee sometime." His voice was rough and gravelly, but nonetheless seductive. Stumped, Stiles nodded.
"See you around, Stiles." He winked, rounding the corner and out of sight.
How Stiles wasn't a puddle of hysterics on the floor, she will never know.
Over the months that had passed, Derek and Stiles began dating. There were dinners, and coffee dates and trips to the cinema, and Stiles had learned a little bit more about Derek's life. That hadn't stopped him from being an enigma though, and Stiles couldn't help but notice how whenever his job was brought up, the conversation was swiftly directed back to her life as the owner of an independent book store. It was quite frustrating.
Cora had been fine with the two of them getting together. She was glad that 'Derek doesn't have to mope around anymore' or, since he's been with Stiles he had been 'significantly less broody.' Stiles had also learned that the siblings had an uncle called Peter, though he was rarely mentioned.
It was the weekend, and Derek was busy, so Stiles had invited Lydia and Allison over. Scott, of course, was over the moon with the visitors, having spent most of his time working at Deaton's. That didn't mean to say, however, that she and Derek weren't texting.
"Who're you talking to, sweetie?" Lydia enquired, a sculpted eyebrow quirked. Stiles knew that look: interrogation mode. She swallowed. It was too soon! She hadn't time to prepare for the inquisition! Well, time that wasn't spent with Derek, but that was another matter entirely. Stiles blushed profusely.
"Just some guy I've been seeing." Stiles said, attempting nonchalance. Attempt failed.
"A guy?" Allison perked up, sitting beside Lydia. Oh God, now they were both interested,
"Y-yeah. Y'know. Dating." The girls looked mildly impressed.
"Stiles Stilinski, dating. Who would have thought?" Lydia mocked, pouting. "Who's the not-so-lucky guy?" Unfortunately, Stiles had been expecting this question. There was no way out, not anymore.
"Uh, Derek Hale." There was a smash from the kitchen, and Scott ran into the room.
"WHAT?" The girls screeched in unison.
"Derek Hale." She said more firmly. Minutes passed when Lydia decided to break the silence.
"Are you saying that you, Stiles Stilinski -daughter of the Sheriff- is dating not just a criminal, but the mob-bossand crime lord that is Derek Hale? Is that what you're telling me?" Frankly, she and Allison both looked stunned, a serious feat.
All Stiles could do was stare.
"He's not-" She stuttered out.
"Dude, Derek Hale? Yeah, he is." Scott confirmed, his face a picture of concern.
"But. He and Cora, they're both so nice." Stiles complained, lying face down on the floor. "This explains why he'd never talk about his work. Oh my God, he's totally the Michael Corleone of the Hale family, isn't he?" Fuck. Fuck. Fuck.
"Whoa, you've met Cora, too? So you've almost met all the Hales?"
"They're not Pokémon, Scott! I'm not trying to catch 'em all!" She wailed, legs kicking like a child throwing a tantrum. A beep from her phone broke through the meltdown, and everyone stared at it as if the device would spontaneously combust.
"You know, potentially he could be having someone beaten up right before his eyes, all the while he's texting you. Didn't he say he was busy today?"
"Lydia!" Allison exclaimed. The woman in question just shrugged her delicate shoulders,
"What? I'm just saying it could be a possibility."
Stiles was gaping. Jesus Christ, what was she going to do?
"Guys, what am I going to do?" She panicked, limbs flailing. "I can't leave him, he'll have me killed and buried out in the woods!"
Allison, ever the voice of reason dragged Stiles upright and settled her on the sofa.
"What you're going to do is talk to Derek. I doubt very much he'll threaten you, he is after all the leader of a mafia organisation, and will bound to be discreet."
"Thanks for reminding me, Allison." She whimpered, slumping back against the sofa.
Her dad was going to kill her, even if Derek didn't.
Stiles was sat in Derek's lavish living room when he walked in from the kitchen, fresh cup of coffee in hand. He gave it to her, smiling lightly. Before he could sit down beside her, she sent out a quick text to Scott.
To: McCall, Scott
From: Stilinski, Stiles
Heads up - If I don't text you by this evening, assume I'm either dead or missing. I'm going in.
Derek settled down, nuzzling Stiles' neck and wrapping her in a warm embrace. It was now or never, and she wanted to get this problem out in the open as soon as possible. Hesitantly, she drew back, putting some space between the two of them.
"What's wrong?" Derek frowned, taking her pale hand in his. Stiles took a deep breath, and calmed herself. Well, as calm as she ever would be when confronting the head of a prestigious mafia family.
"I told my friends about you." She admitted.
"Oh."
"Yeah."
"What did they say?" He asked, the grip on her hand tightening slightly.
"They told me about what you do for a living. What you should have done from the start, instead of dragging me along in my ignorance. God, I feel so stupid." Derek looked devastated, and it broke her heart a little.
"Look," he calmed. "Just because I do what I do, doesn't mean I care about you any less. You have to know that, right?" Derek squirmed, his normally grouchy appearance now sheepish, like a scolded child.
"Derek, my father is the Sheriff. How in the hell is that ever going to work? I get why you didn't tell me, I do, it's just – I had to find out from my friends, not even from you." Crazy as it sounds, Stiles felt awful for making the hardened criminal that was Derek Hale look like kicked puppy. He looked so guilty. Even so, was this man ever unattractive?
"Please, can we at least try?" The man pleaded, and wow, he had never sounded so vulnerable before. Her heart broke a bit more.
"I'll have to think about it, okay? Give me a while to work it out by myself."
"Okay. But promise me you won't let your friends' opinions bias you? You know how I am around you, and that has to mean something."
"I'll try." She promised, making her way towards the door. She turned, giving him a weak wave before she was turning the corner and out of sight.
A few days later, Scott had left the apartment so that Stiles had some wallowing time with Lydia and Allison. She sat on her bed, stuffing herself with Ben & Jerry's ice-cream whilst Lydia plaited Allison's long, brown locks. Stiles was wearing her ratty Batman pyjamas, and her hair was a wild mess. She looked hideous.
"Why is this so unfaaaaaair?" Stiles whined, shovelling another scoop of ice-cream into her mouth. Fuck. Shit. Brain freeze. Ouch.
"Only you, Stiles. Only you would find yourself accidentally dating Derek Hale." Allison replied.
Stiles hissed.
"Don't mention his name." Lydia gave her a look.
"What're you going to do?" Allison asked, appraising her newly styled hair. Stiles squirmed, suddenly uncomfortable with the topic of conversation. She really didn't know what to do. She was at war with herself, and it hurt so much.
"I don't know." Stiles complained, eating another scoop. "I mean, he's gorgeous, he's even funny, which is bizarre, for him. But he's just so kind. To me, at least. He's always treated me with so much respect, despite his dubious occupation and grumpy exterior. Oh God, Allison. I don't know." She held her head in her hands, ice cream tub long forgotten.
Lydia and Allison looked at each other. Wow, pity was such a weird look on Lydia.
"It sounds to me like you know what you want to do," said Allison tentatively. "And if you want to stay with him, we'll support you and your decision no matter what. Right, Lydia?"
The woman in question nodded a firm yes.
"And if Derek harms a single hair on your head, mobster or not, we will destroy him."
Why were her friends so scary?
Because things were apparently not shit enough, before she even had a chance to give Derek her answer (newly discovered a few days ago), Stiles was alone in her apartment when there came a loud knock at the door. Huffing, Stiles got up, making her way towards the racket.
"I'm on my way!" she called, before flinging the door open.
Stood there were two men in suits. These men did not look friendly. They didn't act friendly either, especially when they lashed out at her before she could even make a sound, holding a rag over her nose and mouth, reeking of chemicals. Chloroform, she guessed. Everything was spinning and warped, and she tried to fight it, she really did, but her breathing was ragged, and slowly, ever so slowly – there was darkness.
She awoke to find herself in a dingy warehouse, the lingering scent of the chloroform mixed with the damp smell of rot and moss. Having gathered her bearings, she looked down. She had been placed in an old chair, arms tied tightly behind her back, pushing her chest forwards. Stiles struggled for a moment, working at her bindings when there came a soft tutting from the distance. She squinted into the darkness, heart rate climbing as she realised she wasn't alone.
Strutting forward was a man who looked to be in his mid-thirties, and yeah, objectively, he was quite good looking. He had striking blue eyes and sandy brown hair, but Stiles would recognise a Hale face anywhere. Ever the loudmouth, she blurted the next thing to pop into her mind.
"Ah, hey Uncle Peter!" His eyes narrowed. Fuck, she was going to die. He was right in front of her now, all bravado and eerie charm. Stiles shivered.
"Well I can see why my dear Nephew enjoyed your company so much. You are a clever little thing, aren't you?" He sneered, holding her chin in a tight grip. "So beautiful, too."
So yeah, after her meltdown Lydia might have taken (dragged) her shopping, and she may or may not be wearing a new floral dress. Feminine. What a shocker. So Stiles may or may not be looking more presentable than normal. Clearly the universe had a grudge against her, or some shit like that.
"You know how it is, I do like to try." She quipped, grinning. Why was she grinning again? Lord knows. Her survival instincts were questionable at most.
"Yes, I can see that." Peter murmured, prowling around her in a circle. Yup, there it is. Prey drive kicking in. Late as always.
"This has something to do with Derek, doesn't it?" Peter smiled, eyes gleaming. "Wait, don't tell me. You plan on using me as a bargaining chip to take over as head of the Hale Family? Give me the title or I'll shoot your girlfriend in the head. Is that it?" The man nodded. "God, I'm good!" She exclaimed.
"You are good, it you're right, I'm going to make him an offer he can't refuse."
Stiles couldn't help but roll her eyes. The Godfather, really? So cliché. And she told him as such.
"If we're continuing with the Godfather analogy, I'd like to put you forward as the Fredo of the family. Selling Derek and Cora out for a cushy life, sound about right?"
Peter lunged at her, furious.
"You know nothing." He spat. Jon Snow. How the hell was she able to complete Game of Thrones quotes at a time like this? She was about to (stupidly) retort when Derek crashed into the room, followed by a panicking Scott. Wait, what?
"Scott?" Seeing Derek and her best friend in the same room was kind of freaking her out. Before she could say another word, Peter was behind her, wrapping a broad hand around her supple throat.
"Not. Another. Step." Peter snarled, and his nephew halted immediately. "You've got quite a prize here, Derek, so clever."
"Oh hell no" Stiles cried, but he shook her, so she settled for sulking in silent rage. What an asshole.
"What do you want, Uncle?" Derek growled, hands curled into fists, knuckles white.
"What I want, Nephew, is for you to give me control of the Hale Group. This one here," He shook her again, "has been making you weak, and we deserve respect! We deserve our enemies to fear us!"
While Peter was occupied with Derek, Stiles took the time to glance around the room a second time. Then she noticed it. Gaze landing back on Derek, there seemed to be an absence of Scott. What was that boy doing now? She looked back to her boyfriend –if she could even call him that still- and watched as his eyes widened, looking over Peter's shoulder. He was oblivious of course, far too preoccupied with the customary super-villain-evil-plot speech.
Then she heard it. A sudden THWAK and Peter was out cold on the concrete, unconscious. Scott came into view, wielding a wooden plank, and Stiles had never been so grateful to have a friend like Scott. Derek rushed towards Stiles, untying her from the chair and cupping her face in his warm hands.
"Thank you." Stiles whispered to the both of them, only just grasping how serious the situation had been.
"I know this doesn't make up for-"
"No, Derek. I'm okay, you're okay, we're okay." She soothed, "okay?"
Derek's smile was the brightest she had ever seen from him. "That was a lot of okays."
"Dude," interrupted Scott, clapping Derek on the shoulder. "You've gotta go. I called 911, they'll deal with this. They won't wanna see you here."
Derek gave one last sad look at Peter before turning back to Stiles.
"Go. I'll meet you back at your place, got it?"
In the distance they could hear the piercing cry of sirens. With a final nod, Derek left the scene, disappearing into the darkness.
"Scott, you are getting so many bro points for this, it's unreal."
They laughed, and laughed, and laughed.
A few months had passed since the Great Peter Hale Debacle, and Derek and Stiles were going strong. She had eventually introduced him to her friends, who at first were suspicious, but after working with Scott to save her, their respect was earned and they grew to know Derek-the-person instead of Derek-the-mob-boss. His work was, and still is, never mentioned, and everyone – including Derek – liked it that way.
Everyone was crowded into Stiles' and Scott's apartment, rushing through boxes of takeout like ravenous wolves when Stiles' phone began to ring. She looked at the caller ID, and blanched, hitting accept.
"Hey Dad." Stiles answered. Derek's head snapped up and her friends began to snigger. Children.
"Why is it that I had to find out you had a boyfriend from Scott, of all people?" Her father chastised. Stiles ran over to Scott and kicked him in the shin. Being the baby that he was, Scott yelped.
"I don't know what to tell you, Dad. I've been kind of busy of late."
"And how long have you being seeing this mysterious man, Stiles?" The Sheriff questioned.
"Uh, six months?" Derek paled. "More or less."
"You, young lady, are going to bring this boyfriend round for a family meal."
"But-"
"No buts, Stiles. I mean it." He argued. Stiles knew there was no way out, and her whole body sagged in defeat.
"Fine." Everyone was looking at Derek now, who was actually quite terrified.
"I'll see you on Friday." He finished, before hanging up. Stiles' phone dropped to the floor, and she turned to look at her boyfriend. He was clutching the empty takeout container like a lifeline, and Stiles understood, she felt the same fear.
"We're going to die." She declared, much to the humour of her friends. "We're both going to die."
Taking the initiative, Lydia dug around her purse for a notebook as Cora provided her with a pen. After all, they had a lot of planning to do and preparations to make.
Stiles skipped over to Derek, curling against him and pecking him on the lips. They were both smiling, content, and that's all that mattered.