Belief – Chapter 2
It's 11.30pm and Derek is taking five. He's sprawled out on a kitchen chair making a rough calculation of the evening's takings; they've certainly done OK tonight. Derek batches up the cash ready for the safe.
He hears the bar's main door open and moments later feels the faint wash of cooler air that floods into the bar. With that air, the scents of the night waft in; there's the usual undertone of car fumes, urban living never being without that. There's a faint tinge of ozone that's drifted over from the bay and the melange of aromas that a myriad of people passing by or through have left behind them. One rises to the surface, stronger than the others, a mix of cinnamon and coffee wrapped around the metallic tang that always belongs to someone who spends a lot of time around technology.
It makes Derek's nose twitch and he doesn't know why. Years of conditioning ensure that personal scents don't often trip Derek's consciousness. He sneezes and gets up to put the money in the safe, more as a distraction than from an immediate need to move. However, it's just as well because…
"Derek. Customer!" Cora yells into the back.
Derek is minor league pissed, she could have easily served the new customer herself and allowed him another five minutes but no, why would she do that? He locks the safe, flips the picture covering it back into place and steps out, possibly not with the welcoming expression Cora always encourages him to wear.
He sees two newcomers, not locals as none of his regulars bother with costumes on a night like this. He can see Cora side-eyeing them as she insouciantly carries on filing her nails. One, the woman, is stunning - if you like that kind of thing - voluptuous figure poured into a Catwoman costume, long blonde curls tumbling down from the fake cat ears she's wearing and a ruby-red pout on her flawless face as she approaches the bar. Beside her, perched on a bar stool, unsurprisingly, is Batman.
Derek moves behind the bar towards them, "What can I get you?"
It's Batman who answers, "I'll have a bottle of whatever beer you recommend and my feline friend will have a JD and coke."
Derek recognises that the scent he identified earlier emanates from this person. His brow creases a little as he picks up further notes to the scent: cedar, which probably comes from the man's cologne, a spicy top note and an underlying floral tone that he pins down as lily. The mix of them is enticing and completely overwhelms the scent of the man's Catwoman companion who exudes honey.
His immediate impulse is to press closer, get more of that scent. He hasn't even taken in details of the man's appearance yet, over and above his costume preference, such is the strength of the instinct that seems to be taking over Derek's hindbrain. He turns to mix the JD and coke in a desperate attempt to normalise himself.
Derek has never been happier about Cora's insistence on wolfing out for Halloween, he doubts he would have been able to help himself flashing a red-eye or dropping a fang in the face of the shock of the scent. Cora, for her part, has been taking it all in, no doubt aware of the stutter of his heartbeat as he processes his unusual reaction. She smirks ever so slightly at him, enough to bring him back to level ground.
He grabs a bottle of beer from a local microbrewery and slaps both drinks down on the countertop, slightly harder than he'd intended.
"That'll be ten dollars fifty", he tells the seasonal superhero and for the first time, looks directly at his face. Half hidden by a tightly fitted cowl, the man's amber eyes shine out with amusement. He can see a number of chocolate coloured moles splashed across the lower half of the man's face, edging up along his cheekbones. He'd bet his life that similarly toned freckles are spread across the bridge of his nose.
What? When has Derek ever considered the facial construction of his patrons. Never. That's when. Nor has he ever let his eyes drift down from a face to observe a strong but slim frame swathed in figure-hugging lycra. He recognises that it's a pretty good replica of the Adam West TV show iteration of Batman. He's just about to lean forward a bit see if the man's attention to detail carries on below the waist when the costumed man tips his head at a delightful angle, catching Derek's eye and drawing his attention back to a questioning gaze.
Almost reflexively he growls, "Tabs for regular customers only" at the man. Beautiful eyes or not, he still needs to pay for his drinks.
Surprisingly, Batman challenges him back, "How do you know we won't become regular customers?" he asks with a hint of a tease in his voice, which is deeper than Derek would have expected and ever so slightly raspy.
"Our customers tend to be a certain kind of person" Derek says truthfully but a for a split second contemplates a future in which amber eyes and lithe limbs are a welcome addition to the usual fur and fang aspect of his customary patrons. His reverie is broken by the whirlwind that is Boyd, returning for the remaining couple of hours.
Boyd apologises for apparently being a little late, not that Derek has noticed or even cares right now. Derek usually spends the end of the shift doing the accounts and preparing orders to be sent off in the morning, so Boyd moves to replace him at the bar.
Cora allows him entry but indicates towards the back room with a pointed reminder, "Boyd, costume!" before he can resume his shift or, indeed, his IshiftI/.
Boyd dips out of sight, Derek can sense his partial beta-shift but by now has lost interest in Boyd in favour of the enigma in fancy dress in front of him. He wants those liquid eyes back on him, not wandering round the room checking out other people. He taps on the bar in front of where his latest patron is leaning.
"Ten fifty", he reiterates. Batman leans back to gain access to a pouch on the utility belt on the costume. He brings forth some random coins that he thrusts in Derek's direction and Derek notices that the eyes that he was so taken with before, are now examining the wolfier aspects of his face. With another endearing head tip, he leans forward again, towards Derek who can only imagine what that stretch of neck and throat would look like without the faux-leather covering it.
"So, if you're not on the party trail and you're not particularly taken with the holiday, why are you all wearing matching wolf faces?"
The open curiosity on what he can see of the man's face does something to Derek's normal reticence. He doesn't often have to deal with questions like this from humans. So few of them have ever seen his other face and nearly all of those who have, are aligned with the community somehow. Derek would, under similar circumstances, probably growl a little and ignore the question but this time he's compelled to be truthful. Or, given his hugely powerful self-preservation instincts, as truthful as he can manage without outing himself. He shrugs.
"My sister insists upon it", and then he grudgingly admits, "It's more trouble not to do it".
He can almost hear Cora snort at him. He's not wrong, he knows which battles to choose with his sister. There are countless ways she can make him miserable, if she wants.
Batman – Derek's resigned to thinking of him as Batman now, for want of his real name – takes a long glug from his bottle and Derek can see his throat flexing under the skin-tight mask. It sets his mouth watering. Weres are tactile, everybody knows that and skin to skin contact is highly important. Equally, the sight of skin is a powerful attractant and yet Derek can only see a few square inches of this man's skin. Despite that, he's still enraptured.
Batman is still obviously intrigued by Derek's all-natural vibe, he says, "Well you do it very well, those prosthetics were not bought in a costume shop, they look professional to me."
Derek is rigid as the man slowly reaches forward. Almost in slow motion he sees a hand stretching up towards his wolfed-out ear. His ear tingles a little, he wants to move towards that hand but he can't. If Batman touches his ear like Derek would like him to, he'll know, without a shadow of a doubt, that it's no prosthetic.
"Can I touch?"
This time Derek's self-preservation instincts kick right in. He jerks away, out of reach, grunting out a "No." at the impertinent request.
Removing himself from the temptation of pushing into the offered touch, Derek starts messing around at the back of the bar. It's make-work, he doesn't really need to do it, but it gives him time to think about why he so much wants to engage with this person. It's very out of character for him, he usually couldn't give a fuck – excuse him – about anyone except his oldest friends and family.
He recalls his parents' tales of how they met. His mother had told him many times how she'd caught this delicious scent in the air one day and couldn't help herself from following it. It led her to the local newspaper offices and it took her a week of borderline stalking to identify the person to whom it belonged: the newest junior reporter. Being 18 and inexperienced, Talia had no idea what to do next, so she organised a charity event at school and invited the local newspaper, crossing her fingers.
Obviously, the ploy worked, else Derek and his sisters wouldn't be there. Derek doesn't wonder too much about the rest of the story; about how his Dad was equally smitten despite not having wolf senses. He ponders his mother's experience of being overtaken with an urge to find the source of that one scent that called to her. It seems very similar to his own feelings now.
He almost wants to call his mother; to ask if she ever felt something equivalent but ignored it, how strong was it? Above all, was she sure, certain this was the one. Did she believe in her instincts? It's 1am so he can't, he'll just have to wing it.
Derek drags a crate of beer in. He starts filling the under-counter refrigerator with bottles, just for something to do while he contemplates his next move or if there's even going to be one. He should talk to the guy. Yes, that's what he should do, he should make conversation, be urbane and amusing. Scintillate this man so he doesn't want to leave, give Derek some time to win him over.
He stands up and noticing that Batman's bottle is all but empty says, "Did you enjoy that?"
No-one ever said that Derek's conversational skills were sparkling, he cringes internally and then cringes more when the reply comes slightly archly, "I certainly did!"
Derek's like a bulldozer, once he's off, everything in his path is gonna get destroyed. "Would you like to see our other options?"
Batman grins, it's full of teeth and very wicked, "Honey, you can show me your options any time!"
Those amber eyes scan down Derek's torso in an unmistakeable fashion.
Derek's not stupid, just because he doesn't much like talking to people doesn't mean he can't read them. He can smell them as well and he knows lust when he scents it. That sort of late night, casual attraction you feel when you're a little relaxed and a few drinks in.
Derek flushes, he can feel it start on his chest and rise, unhesitatingly, up his neck and over his cheeks. He's never too sure what to do when people are overtly attracted to him, apart from shut them down. It's a new experience to have someone he's interested in, appear to be interested back and it's right out of his comfort zone. He grabs for the two nearest bottles and puts them between himself and Batman, to break the tension that's becoming unbearable.
It works, Batman looks down, apparently mollified by his earlier behaviour. When he looks up, his countenance is open again, there's no trace of the look that said he wanted to eat Derek right up and smack his lips afterwards. He takes one of the beers from Derek without looking at it.
"Beer, yes", he utters, as if this conversation has been about beer all along. Well, maybe it was from Derek's side and now Derek is stymied, a million conversational starters flit through his brain, he discounts them all. eHHe's no good at this, he's never had to do it before. He feels awkward and tense, Batman takes pity on him.
"Uh, sorry, force of habit, it's my profession, kind of hard to switch off…" the apology trails off but Derek's none the wiser, what kind of profession must you be in to be able to leer at random strangers for a living?
He wants to know. "What is?" And then grimaces when he realises that could be perceived as being over familiar.
Batman doesn't seem fazed, "People watching, I'm in fashion." Then amazingly, he follows that up with, "And if you don't mind me saying, you look like you could be too, have you ever done any modelling? I could see you walking for Tom Ford or someone like that if you got rid of the stupid holiday gear."
Derek's a little stunned that this guy thinks he could be a model, almost too stunned to realise at first that he is again reaching for Derek's wolf ear. He flinches back quickly to avoid the contact. Derek's heartbeat is going nineteen to the dozen, he knows Cora can sense it, what she doesn't know is whether his urge is for fight or flight. Regardless, she comes to back up her alpha.
"Modelling? Derek? With His social skills?" she scoffs. Derek's not sure whether she is doing him any favours but she leans, elbows on the bar, in a conversational manner. It's enough to disarm Batman, he directs his answer towards her.
"Well you can take it from me that social skills are not a prerequisite for a model. Most of them can only hold a conversation if it's about themselves"
Cora seems actually interested now, she bumps her hip against Derek's in a kind of 'I'm here for you, bro' gesture. She takes the reigns of the conversation from him.
"So, what is it exactly in fashion that you do…er… "
Oh great, she's found a way to get this man's name, he can finally stop calling him Batman in his head.
"Miecieslaw, but you can call me Batman if it's easier."
Derek dies a little inside, he's getting absolutely nothing he can work with. Cora holds her hand out towards Batman.
"I'm Cora and this hulking tower of awkwardness is my big brother Derek." When they have shaken hands, Batman - Derek's not even going to try and replicate the random consonants uttered by their owner moments ago – turns to Derek with a shy smile and reaches out to shake with him also.
Derek finally has an opportunity to touch, to learn what this man's skin feels like against his. Batman's fingers are long and elegant; his palm, cool in Derek's clasp. There are no callouses or hard patches, the skin is soft like peaches. This is not a man who works with his hands for a living. All this, Derek compiles from the brief moment he allows himself. Propriety stating that a handshake between two men should be brisk and efficient. But propriety be damned, Batman does not seem to want to let go.
The issue is forced by Derek loosening his grip. He has to, if he holds on one second longer, he knows he'll never let go. He'll have the memory of the contact forever though. He'll always know how it feels to hold the hand of a superhero.
"It's nice to meet you, Cora and Derek." This time it's directed at Derek not that Cora's offended, she just ploughs straight on with more conversation.
"Tell me more about this fashion thing, how do you know so many models?"
Derek can tell when Cora's on a roll, she gets a glint in her eye. She's like a bloodhound on a trail, never gives up when she senses there's something interesting to find. He phases out of the conversation to mull over his reactions. He feels on the back foot, surprised and the sense of heightened awareness that comes with that. He thinks he wants to sit down so he heads out into the back room.
He flops down in the kitchen chair, holds his head in his hands and takes a few deep breaths. That scent is everywhere, all-encompassing but it's starting to feel natural not an interloper's aroma.
The more time he spends in the company of the mysterious stranger, the more he wants to. Derek is almost at a point where he's ready to offer everything to a person whose face he's not even see yet. He rubs his hands up his head and his fingers catch on his ears, still furry. Swiftly, he pulls the wolf in, ears, eyes and teeth.
What is he thinking, he's a werewolf, this is ridiculous, he can't possibly start something with a random human. He can easily hold the wolf at bay for a one-night stand, that's not important but he inherently knows that this wouldn't be, couldn't be, one night only. Derek wants more and he doesn't want to hide his nature, he wants to share it.