Damn! Time got away from me and this is really delayed. Sorry those of you who were looking forward to it (and for such a short chapter, too). But I hope you enjoy and that you feel free to review! It certainly helps.
Later, buried in a book unrelated to anything in his real world, Stiles' father called up the stairs. He startled, blinking and looked toward his door. "What?" he called back.
"I was wondering if you wanted to go to the store for me." His father appeared in the doorway, eyebrows raised in invitation. Obviously he didn't believe that everything in Stiles' world was fine.
"Which one?" the teenager asked.
"Why don't you hit all of them?" His dad held out money, more than enough for a few household necessities, trying to further entice Stiles into taking the trip.
Stiles unfolded himself from the window seat and stood, taking the money that his father offered. "Alright, I'll be back in a little bit," he mumbled, taking a sweatshirt from his bed on his way out of the door. His father offered him a smile and Stiles returned it half-heartedly.
Outside, Stiles put the sweatshirt on to fight the wind and ducked his head as he walked toward the business area of the village for the second time that day. The square was as busy as before with people moving to and fro as they normally did.
Stiles recognized his classmates, but didn't acknowledge any of them because he knew that they would avoid his eye or give him a look to further inform him that he wasn't welcome to interact with them. Still, a few pointedly moved out of his way, averting their gazes from his cursed form. Stiles rolled his eyes, decided against confronting them, and pushed his way into the first store surrounding the square.
Groceries were simple and Stiles managed to get in and out of each specialized shop before they closed for the day. Stiles also bought more staples like paper and pens because he'd noticed a shortage at the house. He took care of everything he and his father might need, and when everything was taken care, of the only store remaining was the bookstore.
Stiles had enough money left for at least one book and he knew that the extra money was intended for the bookstore, but he was tempted to go home because the rejection from his peers every time they saw him was taking its toll. Then again, Stiles' book supply was running low and there was no way of knowing when his father would extend an offer like this again. Making a decision, Stiles drew in a breath and walked into the bookstore.
A bell rang, but the sole employee and occupant of the store didn't look up from the book he was reading at the desk. Stiles wasn't bothered. He disappeared down an aisle, actively scanning the shelves.
Derek Hale had never been much of a social butterfly as long as Stiles had lived in the village and that was okay with him. Maybe the man would make eye contact with Stiles or show him some kind of warmth since he was so removed from the village gossip. Stiles smiled to himself as the dumb thought ran through his head, crouching down for a better view of the books on a shelf parallel to his knees.
The extensive Hale family was rumored to live in an extravagant house in the woods closer to this village than any of the neighboring ones. Derek Hale was the only member of the family employed in the village and the others, like Derek's older sister, Laura, were seen sparingly when the family needed something that Derek had been unable to retrieve. The family was well-respected, but left alone because they maintained a level of privacy and the villagers regarded the Hales much the same way they did the Stilinskis.
Stiles selected a book that looked promising and approached the desk with his find. Derek looked up from his own book and shifted in his seat so he was in a position to process the purchase. Stiles, incensed by some inability to let the opportunity for communication pass, said, "Lots of business, I see." He wasn't sure what he was trying to achieve with the observation, but he wasn't surprised by the reaction.
Derek simply looked back at him, frowning a little as he checked the price of the book. Stiles nodded, accepting the response and the fact that he was in dire need of casual human interaction. At least Derek was looking at him, though.
"Twelve seventy," the strange, quiet young man informed him. Stiles noticed that there was enough money for one more book and his internal debate was short-lived.
"Um, could you hold on to that? I'm going to go back and get another one." At the exasperated look, Stiles gave a sheepish smile and plunged back into the depths of the bookstore's shelves. He wanted the extra book, but he also wanted to remain in the pleasant atmosphere of the store, not ready to face his unwelcoming peers outside. That wasn't inspiring him to stall, though, and when he was still in the store fifteen minutes later it was because he genuinely couldn't find another book that he wanted to own and read.
Stiles bit his lip while examining the fifth shelf, aware that Derek probably wanted to go home sometime and that he was likely annoyed at this point. While crossing to another shelf, Stiles risked a glance at the desk to see if he should abandon the second book and leave already. He frowned when he saw that Derek had disappeared, but he returned to his search.
Suddenly, Stiles was aware of a warm body behind him, reaching up over him to take hold of a book and pull it down, requiring that Stiles duck. "I found this one interesting when I read it," the soft voice said. Stiles swallowed and turned to face Derek to see him holding the book and examining the cover. He looked up at Stiles and raised an eyebrow. "What do you think?"
Stiles took the proffered book and looked at the cover. He opened the book to a random page and skimmed a few paragraphs, doing the same on another page and feeling a smile develop on his face. "I think I'll take it," he replied, looking up to see Derek watching him. He was so startled by the intense green gaze that he jumped a little, only to collide with the bookshelf behind him. His heart was beating rapidly and Stiles cursed his mood-ruining anxiety when Derek looked at him strangely. He righted himself and took a breath, holding the book out to Derek with a smile. "I'll take it, thank you."
Derek took the book from his hands, spared Stiles another uneasy glance, and turned back toward the desk. Stiles followed Derek toward the front of the store and stood silently as the other man checked the book's price and added it to the first. "Twenty-two fifty."
Stiles surrendered the money and gathered the books, shuffling them into his arms and picking up the shopping bags that he'd set down before. "Thank you." He smiled again at the Hale and made his way to the exit. He wasn't expecting a response, so when the quiet "you're welcome" followed him out, he almost fell through the open door. Stiles regained his balance and turned to see Derek Hale looking at him silently with his green eyes and his emotion-free face. Something about it struck Stiles as familiar, though he'd never interacted with Derek enough for anything about the man to be familiar to him. Stiles blinked once and nodded before walking through the door and making his way back home quickly.
His dad smiled when he walked through the door. "Hey, did you get what you wanted?" The man was on his feet, ready to see what Stiles had brought back. Stiles, still shaken by his encounter with the enigmatic Derek Hale, put the groceries, remaining money, and everything else but the books on the table.
He forced a smile onto his face—not feeling remotely in the mood to smile—and nodded, presenting the books. "Yeah, thanks Dad, you read my mind." His dad's subsequent smile sent a wave of sadness over Stiles. The man looked genuinely happy that he was able to read his son's emotions and figure out what to do, something that Stiles' father had never been particularly good at and had always been up to Stiles' mother.
"What do you want for dinner?" his father asked curiously, looking through the grocery bags.
"Whatever's fine. I'm going to go break one of these in," Stiles replied, indicating his new books. His father nodded and looked up to flash another smile at his teenage son. Stiles returned it weakly and retreated to his bedroom.
Later, after dinner, Stiles lay in bed with one candle flickering on his bedside table. He'd put down his book and turned off his small lamp hours ago, and now lay staring at the ceiling while waiting for sleep. He was also listening closely for the sounds of the wolves howling in the forest.
At the rise of each one, Stiles closed his eyes and wondered if it was his wolf howling with his pack or if it was a pack with other wolves. The howling had started almost as soon as Stiles had resolved to go to sleep, motivating him to stay awake and listen. At another pause, Stiles walked to his window and leaned against the glass, looking out to the dark, still trees under the nearly-full moon. He was in awe of the sound of belonging and that it was echoed by so many wolves, but in his awe he also felt sad. He knew why, too, but didn't want to dwell on it.
Not long after that, the chorus ended and Stiles was left with nothing else to do but go back to bed. As he settled into the mattress with his blanket pulled up around his shoulders, Stiles couldn't deny—or explain—the sense that all of the howls felt comforting.