Stiles was embarrassed to find himself reduced to sneaking out of his own apartment. He was in his late 20's, he shouldn't have to sneak anywhere. Unfortunately, Finstock did not seem to care his age, his reason for leaving, or how Stiles pled that he would be fine without a bodyguard. Finstock had been a friend of his mother's before she had died. He had in fact been the friend that introduced Stiles's mother and father. Stiles's meddling, John Stilinski swore, was inherited from Stiles's mother and Finstock had plenty of practice dealing with it long before Stiles's parents had even met. As such, Stiles was currently being forced to sneak out of his apartment window and to a waiting taxi.
The taxi finally stopped at an address is one of the swankier ends of town. Anticipating a short visit, Stiles paid the taxi to wait and rushed up the front steps.
A maid opened the door at his approach. She was very with pretty, with dark brown hair and enormous brown eyes.
"Mr. Stilinski?" she asked.
Stiles nodded, smoothing out his clothes. He hadn't been sure what to wear so opted for something in between what he normally wore on a date and wore to teach classes. He had on dark gray slacks and a fitted and somewhat stylish, black button-down shirt. He had not worn a tie, but made sure the shirt was buttoned high enough to keep his neck covered, mindful of his experience just a few nights previously.
"The Queen is expecting you. Right this way." The maid led him down a long hallway. She moved gracefully, almost like a hunter stalking prey. Stiles felt very clumsy next to her.
As Stiles walked through the townhouse, he began to get very nervous. He understood style well enough to know that it surrounded him. Then he straightened his back. The son of a single father/cop could not compete with the grandeur, but he had been invited here. He had not requested it. He took a deep breath.
The maid opened the door to a drawing room, let Stiles in, and silently swept away.
"Mr. Stilinski! Welcome to the Manhattan Hive!" The woman who came forward somehow looked both exactly what Stiles pictured and the exact opposite of it. She was tall and slender, with cocoa skin, dark brown eyes, and a pleasant expression. She was wearing jeans and a t-shirt, far from what Stiles expected (although he was sure they were designer and therefore cost much more than his own clothes), but she held herself in a regal way.
"Miss Morrell?" he asked tentatively.
"Yes, dear! And this is Aiden and Ethan," she said, gesturing to a pair of identical twins. "That gentleman there is Ennis, and you know Braeden."
Aside from Braeden, who smiled pleasantly, nobody seemed pleased to see him. Braeden was also the only drone pleasant.
"If you don't mind, might I shake your hand?" The Manhattan queen moved toward Stiles suddenly. Up close, she looked far less pleasant and far more calculating. "I need to confirm your state."
She grabbed Stiles's hand firmly. The moment they touched, the hive queen's calculating features vanished, but none of the regalness did. Stiles wondered if she hadn't been a true royal at some point.
"My queen, I have to object to this." The formal words sounded odd coming from the large vampire – Ennis – Stiles thought to himself.
The queen let go of Stiles's hand. Her fangs reappeared. Glaring at the larger vampire, she hissed, "You overstep, child."
Ennis looked somber. "I only worry for your safety."
Aiden or Ethan – Stiles wasn't sure which – spoke from where he stood. "I agree, my queen. One fatal injury while a spark touches you and you are done."
"This boy does nothing threatening to us. You are too young to remember the true terror of a spark. He does not have it."
Stiles was starting to get annoyed at being spoken of as if he were not standing in the middle of all of them. "You asked me to come here. What did you need?"
The vampires seemed to ignore him, too focused on arguing amongst themselves. Braeden noticed Stiles turning to leave, though.
"Please, Mr. Stilinski. They sometimes forget themselves. Do not leave yet. Would you like coffee or perhaps some wine?"
Not trusting himself with alcohol, Stiles acquiesced to coffee. Braeden called through an intercom, "Allison, please bring in some coffee for our guest." The maid from earlier returned with a tray of coffee, sugar, and cream.
The Manhattan Queen waited until Stiles was halfway through his cup of coffee before reopening their conversation. They made small talk, discussing what Stiles would normally consider celebrity gossip. Since the people he was conversing with were on intimate terms with most of the celebrities in question, though, it seemed somehow odder. The topic of conversation then moved on to Stiles's job.
"So, you are a student, then? Studying the supernatural?" Braeden inquired.
Stiles nodded. "I'm working on a doctorate in the subject. I also teach some courses on the subject for undergraduates. The university requires all students to take at least one class about supernaturals in effort to produce a well-rounded education."
Stiles probably could have continued to discuss his work, both as a lecturer and his thesis, but it did not seem to be a subject that interested the vampires overly much. Not flashy enough, he supposed.
"Speaking of the university," the hive queen segued not so subtly, "What was it that happened during that student party a few nights ago?"
Stiles set down his mug. "I'm sure Agent Hale described it accurately enough."
No one said anything.
"It was an accident," mumbled Stiles.
"It was a very tidy stake to the heart," said Ennis.
Stiles immediately got defensive. "Very tidy. He barely bled at all. I certainly did not drive him to starvation. The vampire was seriously neglected. He had not even been taught what I was." Stiles finished accusingly.
The queen looked shocked. "He was not one of mine!"
Stiles stood abruptly. "BUR smelled Manhattan bloodline on that dead vampire. You have no right to pin your carelessness on me."
Ennis crowded Stiles and almost growled, "Spark." Stiles thought he would have made an admirable werewolf. Stiles merely reached out to touch him and the vampire back away.
Morrell, still sitting, spoke. "You are correct, Mr. Stilinski. This is a hive problem. BUR should not be involved until we know more about the situation. You certainly should not be a part of it."
"So there has been more than one of these unregistered roves?" Stiles questioned.
The queen glared and repeated, "This is hive business."
At Morrell's continued repetition that the situation was hive business, Stiles finally understood that not even the hive knew what was going on. "Please, how many have there been?"
"Three. We have caught two and you took care of the third. They know nothing and are disoriented. They die within days, despite our efforts. The hive structure is more than just an institution. It is our instinct. No vampire is born outside the hive. Only a hive queen can metamorphose a vampire. It is both our greatest strength and greatest weakness."
Stiles suddenly understood why the vampires did not want BUR interference. If the vampires could learn to create vampires outside the hive, they could create supernaturals without the blood bite.
"What will you do next?" Stiles questioned.
"I have already done it. I have involved you."
"The potentate will not be pleased." One of the twins added.
The potentate served as an advisor to the President of the United States. The current potentate had occupied the position since the early 1900's. The President was reported to find his advice invaluable. Of course, they said the same about the dewan, the President's werewolf advisor. He was an omega who had been around almost as long as the potentate.
"This is hive business," the queen repeated again. "For all his power, the potentate is still just a rove." They sat in silence for a moment.
Stiles realized it was getting late and he had classes to teach the next day. "Thank you for an," he paused, choosing his next word carefully, "educational visit."
Braeden, after a nod from Morrell, called for the maid – Allison – through the intercom again. Stiles followed the girl out, feeling relieved to be leaving the townhouse.
As he started down the front steps, Allison grabbed his arm firmly.
"You are with BUR?"
"I'm not quite official, but. . ." Stiles was cut off.
"Can you take them a message?"
Stiles nodded. "Tell me."
Allison glanced around. "Ask them to look for the missing ones. My master was a rove. He vanished last week. They brought me to the hive because I'm pretty and do good work, but without his protection, I do not know how long I will last. Please try."
"Try what, exactly?" Stiles was thoroughly confused.
"To find out where the roves are gone, as well as where the new ones come from."
Stiles was so distracted that when he got into the waiting cab, he did not realize it was not the same one he had taken earlier. Nor did he realize someone was already in it.
Once he did, the cab had already taken off. Stiles tried to open the door, but they were locked in a way that he could not undo.
The man in the cab with him looked towards Stiles. "All I want to know is who are you and what you are doing visiting the Manhattan hive."
When Stiles did not answer, the man lunged at him with a damp cloth. Stiles thought he could smell chloroform. He tried to kick at the man, but could not land a solid blow. Stiles then did the next best thing – he screamed.
Despite both his screaming and kicking, the chloroform cloth was getting closer. Suddenly, there was an unexpected noise, designed by evolution to chill the bones. It was a snarling howl. It was followed by the wrenching of metal as the cab door was pulled off the entire metal frame of the cab and Stiles spilled out onto a road. He landed on something solid, but fleshy enough to break his fall.
"Dammit Stiles, move!"
Stiles couldn't claim to be light. Carry enough books and you developed some muscles. But Derek Hale, for it was he that Stiles landed on, should have move him easily, even without supernatural strength.
Hale began running his hands over Stiles to check for injuries. "Are you hurt?"
"Aside from my dignity? No, I don't think so." Stiles suspected Hale's handling was a tad more than strictly called for, but he secretly enjoyed it.
Hale reluctantly turned away from Stiles, huffing in annoyance. "See what you've done! He got away!"
Stiles, now a lot calmer, rolled his eyes. "I didn't do anything. You opened – or should I say tore off – the door. I simply fell out. A man was attacking me!"
Hale couldn't say much to such a defense. Stiles suddenly opted for the attack, feeling he had been on the defensive too often already that night. "Wait, were you following me? How did you find me?"
Hale at least had the grace to look slightly sheepish. "I don't trust the Manhattan hive. I told you not to come! Look what happened." Hale growled.
"But I was perfectly safe inside! It wasn't till I left that things went a little crazy." Stiles was aware he sounded like a petulant child, but there wasn't much he could do.
"Exactly!" Hale seemed to latch onto this. "You need to go home where I assume you left that bodyguard I know your dad has for you and stay inside and never go out." He sounded so serious that Stiles laughed. "You waited this whole time?"
Hale nodded. "Stilinski." He suddenly reverted to Stiles's last name. "We should get you home." Hale started to call BUR for agents to bring a car
"You don't know want to know what I found out from Morrell, then?" Stiles asked, while they waited.
"I take it you want to tell me?"
Stiles nodded, rubbing at his arms through the thin material of his shirt. Without a word, Hale handed over his jacket. It was a warm, black leather. The shoulders were too large and it dwarfed Stiles, but he did not want to take it off. It smelled of fresh grass and clean air.
"She's frightened. Other than last night, two other unexplained vampires have appeared. She said they arrive knowing nothing. They don't even know about me."
Hale hated to admit it, but Stiles had gotten more information from the hive than any of his agents had managed.
Stiles suddenly had a realization. "The man in the cab wanted to know who I was."
Hale groaned. "Dammit. They were after you specifically. I was hoping they might just be after any drone or vampire. You realize they are going to try again?"
Stiles nodded. "I'll try not to give them another opportunity."
"I'll have to set a watch on you. More than just Finstock. He's getting on in age."
Stiles was surprised Hale knew so much about the bodyguard Stiles's father hired. "What about on full moons?"
Hale winced. "BUR has daylight and vampire agents."
Stiles shook his head. "I won't have strangers following me everywhere. You, certainly. Argent is fine, but not others."
Hale couldn't quite keep a foolish grin off his face when he realized he merited a "certainly". It disappeared quickly with Stiles's next statement. "What if I arrange to be around Laura during the full moon?"
Hale glared. "I'm certain her shoe collection would be extremely helpful in a fight. If you used them as ammo, I suppose you might never run out."
Stiles grinned. "You almost sound jealous every time I mention Laura." Stiles snorted. "Of course, that is absurd. Now, if you'll—"
Stiles was cut off by Derek hale turning him and, to Stiles's complete surprise, kissing him full on the lips.