Oh, hello second chapter of the day. Consider this your Valentine's Day gift (ﾉ◕ヮ◕)ﾉ*:･ﾟ✧

It doesn't take me more than ten minutes to make myself decent human - what with basic morning hygiene -, to listen to Deaton's message, confirming that no, Scott and I are not allowed to come into work today, and poke my head in Melissa's room to check if she's home, which she is.

Ten minutes is not a long time. Ten minutes is, like, nothing. So imagine my surprise when I come back down to the living room to find that the house has been invaded by a stray Stilinski. The younger Stilinski to be precise.

"Hey, what's this one doing here?" I ask, hopping off the bottom step and gesturing to Stiles, who sits next to Scott on the couch. Both boys watch Derek as if he was here for nefarious reasons. To his credit, Derek does a really good job at ignoring them as he sits on the arm of the loveseat.

"My dad didn't want me home alone while he was at work, so he told me to come here," Stiles answers, not looking away from Derek.

"Aw, he loves you. Not quite sure he loves us, though," I add under my breath. Derek snorts, and Stiles lets out a scandalized gasp as he grasps at his imaginary pearls.

"Rude!"

"I'm feeding you, I can say these things." I cross the room. "Come on, Der. Come help so you don't have to be stuck here with them."

"Oh thank god," he breathes, jumping up and trailing after me. Scott and Stiles glare after him, and I point a finger at them to keep them from getting up and following. "Hey, and your mom is home, so don't be loud," I tell him. They don't answer.

"You know Scott's going to listen in, don't you?" Derek asks when we get to the kitchen. I make my way to the fridge, pulling out the carton of eggs and the roll of chorizo.

"We can always whisper," I say, leaning in close to him and dropping my voice conspiratorially. He struggles to keep a grin off his face as he leans in even closer, and whispers in my ear.

"He could still hear."

His breath is warm, and I can feel my face heat up at how close he is. Which. Never really been a problem before, but before he wasn't whispering things in my ear while standing right there. My mind wanders to last night, his fingers brushing my neck, and-

NOPE.

He pulls away, not bothering to hide his grin as he takes the carton of eggs from my hands and moves to the counter. I glare at him, hoping my face isn't too red.

"You're an asshole," I accuse. Stupid werewolf. "But if it bothers you that much, I did just update my spanish playlist on Spotify." I bounce excitedly as I pull my phone out of my pocket. "Added, like, twenty Gloria Trevi songs." His smile is soft, but he wipes it away and rolls his eyes melodramatically when he sees me looking up at him, as if he just remembered he's supposed to be an asshole werewolf. Which he is.

"Gloria Trevi."

"Nineties Gloria Trevi," I tell him, setting the chorizo on the counter and pulling a pair of pans out to put on the stove, all the while opening my music on my phone. I hand it over to him, and he blinks in surprise as I roll up my sleeves and move to the sink to wash my hands.

"Or you can find one, since you're the guest and all."

"Wow, thanks. I'm so honored," he says flatly, but I can hear the grin in voice. "Jesus, how many playlists do you have?"

"I need one for every mood," I tell him lightly.

"'Post Steven Universe Binge' is a mood?" he asks.

"I am a diverse human being." He snorts and continues to scroll as I dry my hands with a clean dish cloth. "Will you just pick one already?" I demand, moving around him to pull five plates out of the cabinet and set them down.

"What's 'I swear I'm still Ace?'" he asks. "And no grammar? Ares, I'm shocked."

Oh. Oh god I forgot that one existed.

"Not that one!" I exclaim, reaching for my phone. He arches a brow and holds the phone up over his head, and presses play. And because my phone has an asshole music app that doesn't like to start the first song at the beginning, we're graced with Childish Gambino's profound final lines of "Heartbeat."

"-we dating? Are we fucking?
Are we best friends? Are we something in between that?
I wish we never fucked, and I mean that...
But not really, you say the nastiest shit in bed and it's fuckin' awesome."

I drop my face in my hand in embarrassment. Derek is silent in front of me, not moving. "God dammit, Derek Hale," I mutter, picking up my head as the next song started. For what it's worth, Derek's face is far more red than mine as he slowly lowers his arm and holds the phone out to me. "Just… leave it, the damage has been done." I say, snatching the phone from him and dropping it on the counter. "It'll bug Scott to no end that we're listening to sex songs anyway."

"Sorry," Derek says, not sounding sorry at all, and I wave a dismissive hand.

"All my mystery. Ruined," I lament. "It's fine, dude. I love this song anyway," I tell him, dancing past him to stand in front of stove. He doesn't seem to know what to do, and wow, I can't believe my playlist would have broken him like that. "Do me a solid and grab the cheese and ketchup from the fridge," I order as I get started on Stiles' eggs. Two fried eggs for the kid with the fried brain. "And there's a package of hash browns in the freezer, grab that too. Actually, go ahead and start those," I tell him, turning on the second front flame on the stove.

He does as I ask, and we lull into a quiet - aside from the popping of oil and my hums with the music.

"So, when your brother called…" Derek starts. I nod, knowing that I should have seen this coming.

"He was understandably upset," I say carefully.

"Scott was serious about him coming to take you away."

"Yup." I don't look up at him. "Aaron is really…. He's protective." I snort at the understatement. "He didn't even want to let me come out to Beacon Hills after-" I stop short, glancing up at Derek. He must have noticed, but he didn't say anything. Bless him. "It was Alicia's idea, and it took her a week to convince him to let me come up."

That had not been good week.

"So he wants you home?" Derek asks. He's voice is suspiciously devoid of emotion.

"Yeah." I flip the eggs and grin when they don't break. "He's been looking for an excuse to steal me back since I got here."

"Serial killing Alpha seems like a pretty legitimate reason."

I roll my eyes and blow a raspberry, catching Derek by surprise. "Please. I'm comfortable here now, crazy werewolf shenanigans aside. I'm staying. Gonna help you nerds get your shit together, finish school…" The eggs finished, and I set them aside on the top plate before looking up at Derek. "Fried, scrambled, or with chorizo?" I ask.

"Uh, scrambled is fine," he says, and I go back to my cooking. "What would you do if your family decides to take you back to Texas?" he asks after a moment, and Lord help me, he actually sounds worried.

"I'm an adult, Derek Hale. It's not their choice, it's mine. You of all people should know that I don't let people tell me what to do. And I love my brother, but if he tries to force me back to Texas, your ass better be there to stop him." I bump him with my hip, and he lets out a surprised laugh. "Use those asshole werewolf powers for good."

"I can do that."

"Good."

Derek moves the pan of potatoes, now finished, to the back of the stove and steps back, looking like he's trying not to laugh as I sway with music, humming along. "This has to be the last thing I'd expect you to listen to," he admits. "Especially after after listening to that cartoon song twenty times."

I shoot him a look. "First of all, that cartoon song is "Stronger than You" from Steven Universe. Second, we only listened to ten versions of that song. And third, I'll have you know, I know I know all these words."

"All of them?" He doesn't seem convinced, and I've never been more insulted in my life.

"The entire playlist."

"Even the dirty bits?" Now he's just fucking with me, the asshole. Well, two can play that game.

"Especially the dirty bits."

Derek smiles, and it was all teeth. "Prove it." I narrow my eyes at him, not wanting to sink to his level as I moved his eggs to the waiting plate before I'm tempted to do something like burn them. "Thought so," he says smugly, and I turn off the stove's flame so the house doesn't burn down. He arches a brow as I turn on him, picking up the song at the tail end of the chorus.

"- And I'm singing: fuck yeah, give it to me, this is heaven, what I truly want. It's innocence lost…"

Derek's face goes completely blank as I continue on to the next verse. He takes a step back as I move toward him, and if I channel my inner Sonya - Sonya, brilliant, occasionally sex personified Sonya - as I move in close, well, the asshole brought it upon himself. He stumbles back into the table and leans back as I lean forward, pulling him down by his shirt and dropping my voice to whisper in his ear:

"If I get a little prettier, can I be your baby?"

I lean back to see his face flush bright red and can't help but bring up a finger and boop him on the nose, because honestly, he's adorable when he's flustered.

"You're the worst and I hate you," Derek croaks, sliding out from under me. He clears his throat and looks away. I laugh and move back to the stove, turning it on to continue making breakfast.

"I can change the playlist-" The song changes and I throw my hands up and bob my head with the new beat. "After this song!"

Derek shakes his head. "It's not as bad as the last one," he allows.

"Lana Del Rey is a queen. She could stab me and I would thank her."

"That doesn't sound very healthy."

"And yet here I am. Not giving a fuck." I glance up at him and grin.

We - meaning me, because I don't trust Derek near Scott's food - finish cooking without any more issues. I set Melissa's plate to the side, covered, for her to find when she wakes up, making a note to make sure to hide away some tortillas for her.

"Niños!" I call out as I turn my music off and tuck my phone away into my pocket. They waste absolutely no time running into the kitchen. They skid to a stop at the entrance and regard Derek coolly. "Sit and eat before I throw it out," I threaten, setting down their plates at the table. Scott looks like he wants to argue, but instead makes his way to the table sullenly.

"Not poisoned?" Stiles asks, breaking the yoke with his fork. "Derek did help you."

"No, but I still can," Derek offers, and Stiles pulls his plate close to him, shielding it.

"You know, Ares," Scott starts, leaning back in his chair. He sounds too cheerful for this to be good. "I didn't realize you were such a good singer."

My soul. How it leaves my body.

Stiles snickers and Scott narrows his now gold eyes at Derek. I inhale deeply and set my plate down, any desire to eat fleeing, much like my will to live. "If you'll excuse me. I'm going to offer myself to the Alpha now."

"Ares, no."

I ignore Derek and walk out the kitchen. Let that little asshole cousin of mine fend for himself. I make my way to the living room and drop onto the couch. The remote mocks me from the coffee table, and I groan as I reach forward to grab it.

"News, news, ugh." I turn off the tv and throw my head back, lamenting my current life situation.

"There's never anything good on in the mornings." I roll my head over to see Derek walking up, two plates in his hands and two water bottles under his arm. "You need to eat, Ares," he says, setting one plate on the table in front of me and dropping the water bottle on the couch.

"Why are you such a mom today?" I demand, forcing myself up and grabbing the bottles out of the way so he has somewhere to sit. He drops next to me and gives me a flat look.

"Says the girl who made everyone breakfast."

"Okay, but I grew up in a pretty traditional Mexican house. That shit's, like, hardwired in me." I reach forward and grab the plate. "Melissa has been slowly but surely training it out of me, bless her."

"That's horrible," Derek says, sounding like he isn't sure if I'm being serious or not.

"It's the patriarchy," I say sadly, crinkling my nose at him. "What, your family never had the girls cooking and cleaning while the guys hung around watching TV and talking man things?" It comes out before I can stop it. "Um, don't answer that."

"It's fine," he says. He pauses, as if thinking of his answer. "And no. My mom was the Alpha. No one would have dared told her to do that stuff. And Laura was next in line, so…" he trails off. I look up at him in surprise. He never talks about his family. No more than I do.

"Are werewolves matriarchal?" I ask, going for a more general question.

"Not all of them. My family was." He pokes at his food. "My father was human. He took my mom's last name."

"Wow." I look down at my food.

Derek clears his throat and straightens. "Eat your food." I make face at him, but know he's right. I had a traumatic night and I haven't eaten. Maybe that's why I haven't had my crash yet. I don't have the proper energy to.

I'm sure the science in that is wrong.

I bring my legs up to cross them, only for pain to erupt from my shin when I try to tuck it away. "Fucking shit," I hiss, my eyes watering. How the hell did I forget about that?! I hold my plate out, and Derek takes it without prompting.

"What's wrong?" he demands, and I ignore him in favor of propping my foot on the coffee table and pulling up the leg of my pjs up. "Christ, Ares!"

A dark purple bruise bloomed sometime while I was making breakfast, not too big, but still ugly looking. Derek sets the plates on the table, and before I can stop him, he grabs my leg and pulls it into his lap, turning my entire body with it.

"Dude, what the hell- Derek Hale, do not take away my pain!" I snap as he lays a hand over the bruise, the other wrapping around my ankle so I can't pull away. "I'm gonna kick you in the face!" He ignores me, and those gross black veins spread up his arm as he drains away the pain. "Masochist," I accuse, crossing my arms.

He pretends I didn't speak, because he's so good at that. "You should have your aunt look at it when she gets home."

"Hah! Yeah, no." I lean back into the couch's arm. "She's got enough to worry about. I'm fine. This is, like, the fifth time I've bashed myself of this damn table, anyway."

"Hopeless human."

"Wow, great use of alliteration, Hale."

"I take pride in my literary skills."

"I'm sure it brings all the English Majors to the yard."

He snorts. "Have to beat them off with a stick."

I throw my head back and laugh. "Hey." I nudge him with my other foot to get his attention. "I appreciate you, Derek Hale. Even if I still think you're a masochist."

He shakes his head, looking away. "Yeah, well." He clears his throat. "I appreciate you, too, Ares Delgado."

Derek Hale. Werewolf after my damn heart.

So that happened.

Hope you liked these two chapters, they've been sitting in my docs for a while and I've made some progress on the next, so I figure, why not make up for being gone for two months? (real talk though, don't expect much for a while, bc I'm horrible and it takes forever to get anything done) ANYWHO. Be sure to leave a review/follow/favorite if you liked it!

Interested in Ares' playlist? I got bored and made it instead of studying. Check it out here on Playmoss:
 /en/galanerd/playlist/i-swear-im-still-ace

A Pinterest board! Because it's easier than tumblr and playing on it makes me feel productive, even if I haven't written in a month. Check it out here: galanerdwrites/khmbb/

So yeah. Check those out if you're interested. Send pins and/or rec songs. Until next time!