"-res. Ares, wake up for a bit."
You know when you're in the middle of a doze and when you wake you're not entirely sure what the seven hells is going on?
"Ohshit." I inhale sharply, my eyes snapping open as I lurch forward. Something digs into my collar bone, and slowly my surroundings fall into place. We're in the Camaro, and I blink owlishly out the windshield to see the that we're parking in front of Derek's room. The seatbelt had locked, which is probably for the best because I might have brained myself on the dash.
We only stayed at the river - henceforth known as el Rio Escondido - for about an hour. And that was because I was all but falling asleep on Derek, and he hadn't been too keen on letting me pass out in the middle of the preserve. Which is great of him, because I'm not too keen on being sore in the morning.
"Hey, you okay?" I turn to see Derek looking at me. He's got a hand on my shoulder. I blink at him before nodding. The corners of his mouth quirk up - the beginning of a smile. "Alright, come on."
I follow his lead, clumsily unbuckling my seatbelt, and pulling at the door handle. It pops open, and good thing there isn't a car parked on my side, because the door flies open and bounces on its hinges.
"Can you not mess up my car?" Derek asks as he comes around the front and stops in front of my door. I make a face, sticking my tongue out at him, and he has to look away, struggling to school his expression. He waits as I try to get out, and in the end he has to give me a hand, because in case you might not remember, my motor skills decline significantly when I'm sleepy. He lets me hold onto his arm as we make our way to door, and doesn't say anything when I lean against his back as he unlocks the door.
"You know who's great?" I ask as he searches for the right key to the door. I go on before he has a chance to answer. "Lana Del Rey. I love her. I'm gonna marry her."
"I thought you were going to marry me."
"I can marry two people, Derek Hale. I can marry whoever-ever I wan'," I say, the last half of my sentence mangled by a yawn.
"I don't think you can actually marry two people at the same time, Ares," he says, and he sounds like he's trying to hold back a laugh. "That might be illegal." He finally gets the door open, and I scowl at the sudden brightness when he reaches in and turns on the light.
"I guess I'll just marry you then," I tell him, because that's a more realistic goal, I think, and follow him in. "I'll marry and serenade you with Lana Del Rey songs, since you like them so much." I snort, remembering how red he had gotten when I sang "Gods and Monsters." "It'll be nicer songs though," I assure him, stumbling to the bed and plopping down.
"Does she have nicer songs?" he asks, setting the keys down on the dresser.
"She has the nicest songs, Derek Hale." I throw myself back, flinging my arms out, and stare at the ceiling. "Let's get out of this town, baby we're on fire / Everyone around here wants to be going down, down."
"That doesn't sound pleasant," he mutters.
I ignore him. "I got so scared, I thought no one could save me / You came along scooped me up like a baby." My eyes close as I hum the chorus to myself. "It's the best song."
"You can serenade me with the best song in the morning," he says, but his voice sounds off. I'm too tired to pinpoint what exactly it is, and file it away for later examination. He pats my knee, the one that wasn't bloodied by my fall earlier. "Shoes."
I grumble Spanish obscenities and kick them off.
"Jacket." I make a whining noise in my throat and turn to my side, wrapping my arms around myself and burying my face into the bed. "Ares, come on. It's not nearly as comfortable to sleep in as you might think."
"'S warm though."
"Blanket's better," he assures, and I let him sit me back up and help get the jacket off. "If this is you tired, I don't want to see you drunk," he mutters to himself as he stands me up and leans me against him.
"I'm a fun drunk," I say through a yawn, swaying as he pulls the covers back. "Pelo suelto y todo eso."
"I'm sure," he says dryly, gesturing to the bed. I pat his arm before crawling in with about the same grace as drunk toddler. "You good?" he asks as I pull the covers up and shove my head under the pillow.
"The best."
I'm not sure what it is that wakes me. A feeling. The lack of something, maybe. I sit up, blinking as I look around. The room is dark, only a small sliver of light peeking through the crack in the window curtains. The small clock on the night stand reads one-fifteen, and we had returned to the room sometime around midnight. I frown, noting that I'm the only one in the bed, and look around.
"Derek?" There isn't an immediate answer, and a spike of panic stabs into my chest. "Derek Hale." I throw the blankets back and crawl to the end of the bed in time to see Derek shoot up from where he's laying on the floor and shift in a defensive stance in front of the door. When some unseen enemy doesn't immediately come tearing it down, he looks up at me. It's too dark to make out his expression, but his head is tilted a bit to the side, and the part of me that wants to make dog jokes is reminded of a confused puppy.
"What's wrong?"
I stare at him in disbelief, then at the pallet of blankets and the pillow he has set up between the bed and the door.
"Are you sleeping on the floor?" I demand. He sits back on his butt, looks down at his pallet, then up at me.
"Yeah."
"Why?" My eyes start to adjust to the dark better, and I can almost make out his confusion. He doesn't answer quick enough, and a horrible thought occurs to me. "Did I kick you out of your bed?!"
"Wha - Ares, no." He jumps up when I try to get out of the bed, because I am not gonna be the chick that steals someone's bed. When they have to probably pay by the night, no less. Unfortunately the pants I'm wearing are too loose and get caught in the comforter, meaning my legs get caught with them, and before I can register what's happening, I'm tilting forward off the bed. But instead of getting a face full of gross carpet and maybe earning a broken nose out of it, I get a face full of chest. Bare chest. Because Derek Hale doesn't wear a shirt to sleep apparently.
"Christ, Ares, what're you doing?" Derek demands, straightening me. I look up at him, and his eyes seem to glow in the dark, even without flashing the anime blue.
"I'm not gonna steal your bed, dude, what the shit?"
He scowls. "You didn't steal it, I gave it to you."
"But you can't- You can't just sleep on the floor! It's hard and you'll hurt your back."
He rolls his head a dramatic eyeroll. "My back is fine. Go to sleep." He steps back toward his makeshift bed, and I throw myself back as the adrenaline of waking alone seeps away, leaving me with effects of my run earlier and several nights of shit sleep.
"Lay down with me," I say into the darkness, and the sound of Derek trying to get comfortable on the floor cuts off.
"Why?" There's something defensive in his voice, almost accusing, and I can't help but wince at the tone.
Because it's not fair for you to sleep on the floor. Because there's more than enough room for the both of us. Because I haven't sleep a full night since before Wednesday. Because there's still some irrational part in my head that thinks my phone is going to go off and it's going to be Elisa demanding to know where I am and why aren't I home already. Because - god, the list could go on forever if I let it.
"Please?"
A heavy silence fills the room, y Dios mio, I made it weird, didn't I-
Derek sighs loudly. "Alright." He says it like it's a chore, asshole werewolf.
I sit up in surprise, and the movement is too fast, because I'm hit with a wave of lightheadedness, but it doesn't keep me from seeing Derek picking himself up. He leaves the blankets on the floor, and comes around to the side I haven't completely taken over.
"I mean. You don't have to if you don't want to," I say quickly, not wanting him think I'm the clingy friend Scott claims I am.
He waves his hand at me. "Shove over, Delgado," he says, and I'm not quite sure how to take the last name only. But it's a good an answer as I'm likely to get, so I make room for him. "You already offered."
"No takesies-backsies?"
He huffs. "Sure." He moves to lay down, but I stick an arm out.
"You gotta say it or you're not allowed."
"You're a child."
"You think I'm cute," I remind him. He shakes his head, muttering incoherently as he catches my hand and lifts my arm out of the way.
"No takesies-backsies." He settles in, turning on his side facing me, and I can't help but crinkle my nose at him. "You're not going to kick me, are you?"
"I might steal the blankets," I warn him, shifting to face him, pulling the blankets tighter around me as I do. He's closer than I thought. "Not as bad as Sonya though," I offer in consolation. "She starfishes. Warren demon talks in his sleep." I hide my face in the blanket to cover a yawn. "It's the wor-orse."
Derek hums. It's soft and sleepy and it makes something in my chest flutter. Not my heart though. Because that would be ridiculous. But he must notice something, because he opens an eye at me.
"What?" His voice is quiet, almost hoarse.
And shit. It was my heart.
I'm going to have to have a conversation with Sonya. I'm going to need to have a conversation with her as soon as possible. Because I don't think wanting to marry this asshole is a joke anymore. Because his smile makes my heart want to do Selena proud and bidi bidi bam bam. Because looking at his eyes makes my heart want to rip out Alien style. Because the fact that he went out of his way to take care of me tonight pretty much guarantees that I am Fucked™.
And I can't have him looking like an adorable asshole and doing things to my heart without going unpunished, which is the only explanation I will give for my next actions.
"My hands cold?" I ask, and he arches a brow in confusion.
"Wha-" He gasps, his eyes going wide as I rest my hands just below his jaw. I let out a laugh, and it sounds suspiciously like a giggle. He goes still for a split second before relaxing into the touch.
"Yes," he says finally. "You're hands are cold." He doesn't move them, though. I move my hands up, patting his cheeks, and he lets out a huff of laughter. "What are you doing?"
"You're prickly," I tell him, because he is and it pokes at my palms, but not enough to hurt. He catches my hands and pulls them down in front of him. He holds them gently, and I can't bring myself to pull away.
"You need to go to sleep," he says, and yes, he's right. I do need to go to sleep. "You're being uncharacteristically touchy."
"You're being uncharacteristically nice," I counter before ducking my face into the blanket to yawn again. He smiles, and I don't think he means to."What?"
His smile falls away, and for a fraction of a second his eyes seem to go wide with… alarm? But it's gone before I can really tell, and it's not like I could tell anyway, sleep deprived that I am. He shakes his head and rolls on his back, letting my hands go.
"Go to sleep."
Just like that, his uncharacteristically nice is replaced with his characteristically aloof nature from before that I thought was finally fading away. And it makes my chest tighten. I pull my hands back, consider saying something, anything, because it feels weird now. Off. But I don't want to risk making it worse, and so shift back away from him a bit and roll away, facing away from him.
You know when you have a really trippy dream about a less murderous version of Willy Wonka's Chocolate factory, complete with Gene Wilder and a bunch of tiny Stiles and Scotts that make up the Oompa Loompas and it just… weirds you awake?
No? Just me? Okay then.
I grumble incoherently, trying to scrape the vision of Stiles and Scott singing that creepy ass song, and shift closer to the source of warmth next to me. I pull the blanket around me tighter, cocooning myself as best as I can as I press my face into the wall of warm next to me.
The wall shifts a bit, and that. That's not right. Walls don't move. And they aren't warm, and there's the fact that my bed isn't against a wall-
My eyes snap open and this is not a wall. Or even a pillow. I stiffen, slowly looking up to see Derek blinking himself awake. And wow. He's adorable, with his tousled hair and sleepy eyes and-
Oh. Oh Diosito mio.
This is Derek Hale's chest I shoving my face in.
"Oh my God!"
I throw myself up, or try to, at least. I would have succeeded, but the thing about blanket cocoons is that they're very constricting, and I tangle myself into the sheets and end up throwing myself back. Over the edge of the bed and into the not very comfortable corner of the nightstand, which has that lamp that will break and get glass everywhere.
Or that's how it would have happened, if Derek didn't reach out and and grab a fistful of blanket in one hand and my arm with his other.
"Jesus, Ares!" he scowls, pulling me back onto the bed and away from the very uncomfortable corner of the nightstand and maybe even death, who knows with my luck. I stare at him in shock, blinking what little sleep I have left in my eyes and trying to calm my pounding heart.
This isn't my room. This is… Derek's motel? What the shiiit, right, last night. Dad's call, my failure of a run, El Rio Escondido.
"Oh my fuck," I say quietly, collapsing back into the bed.
"You alright?"
I don't answer, but instead grab the covers and pull them over my head and curl into a ball. He starts to say something, only to be cut off by three sharp raps at the door.
"Tell housekeeping to go away," I mutter, trying to calm my pounding heart.
"That's not housekeeping," Derek say, and his voice is tight, as if with… fear? I pull the blanket back and stare at him through my hair, which came free from its hair tie and is now absolutely everywhere. Derek's face has drained of color, and he looks at the door like it's going to be thrown open and the room shot up like we're in a bad - read: freaking fantastic and worth binging - novela.
"Who is it?" I ask, sitting up as Derek jumps out of the bed, throwing up the covers he had been under, as if to cover up the fact we had been sharing.
"I'm gonna get arrested again," he mutters under his breath, and I'm pretty sure I'm not supposed to hear that as he crosses the room to get to the door as the knocks repeat, loud and impatient.
He throws the lock and pulls the door open, revealing a very unamused Sheriff Stilinski. And I think the fact that he's out of uniform makes this even worse, honestly.
The Sheriff looks at Derek, pulling his sunglasses off and narrowing his eyes at his lack of shirt before stepping in without invitation and surveying the room. I keep absolutely still, because maybe he's like a t-rex, and needs movement to notice things. He eyes the pallet on the floor, which Gracias a Dios Derek left out last night or else he might be super murdered, before looking up at me. Me, the teenaged girl he lowkey took in along with Melissa, who is currently sitting in the bed of a man he recently arrested on murder charges.
"Hey, Sheriff."
"Ares. You okay, kiddo?"
I nod, and decide that it's probably best for everyone that I get out of the bed. "I'm fine. Nothing quite like a slumber party with your bro to…" I trail off at the please stop speaking look the Sheriff gives me, and I nearly stumble in my haste to get out of the bed. "Um. Why are you here?" I ask, searching around the pillow for my hair tie. "Not that I don't appreciate your presence," I go on, pulling my hair back into a low bun.
"Stiles called," he says flatly.
"Of course he did."
"Melissa asked me to come get you," he goes on, and that doesn't sound quite right. She would have totally come and got me herself if I needed her to.
"She asked you or you told her?" He has got that dad glare on point. I raise my hands in defense before gesturing to the bathroom. "I'm just gonna… my face…" Derek shoots me a look of betrayal as I dip behind the door, slamming it shut behind me and resting my back against it. I take a second to take a deep breath and mentally kick myself for leaving Derek to the wolves - ha - like that. I press my ear against the door, and there is silence on the other side.
I am the worst friend.
I'm quick to go through a mockery of my morning routine - splashing water on my face and rinsing my mouth out with water to try and get rid of that gross taste out of my mouth.
"Okay, I'm good, we can go now!" I say, throwing open the door and really meaning please for the love of god do not murder Derek. Derek, who has not moved from his position by the door, not even to put a shirt on. The sheriff, on the other hand, has made himself right at home, looking as though he wants nothing more than to bring in a full forensic team to do a sweep of the place.
The sheriff looks up at me, and frowns when he notices my clothes.
"Those aren't yours."
"Probably because mine are covered in blood and Derek is a decent human that let me borrow some of his," I counter, frustration seeping into my voice. I already had one bad talk with a dad in the past 24 hours, I'm not interested in another so soon. He opens his mouth to say something, but closes it, shaking his head. He turns to Derek as I grab my bag of ruined clothes and my shoes from by the bed.
"You know the diner off highway five?" he asks, and isn't that the one we go to for lunch? Derek must nod, because the Sheriff goes on. "Put some clothes on, son. You're joining us for breakfast."
"He's what?" My head snaps up as I finish pulling on my shoes, not bothering to untie and retie them. Derek looks just as shocked as I feel.
"We're going to breakfast," Sheriff Stilinski says brightly, and if I've learned anything from Stiles, it's that he's a lot like his dad, and when the Stilinskis breaks out the cheerful attitude, someone is in for it. "We'll meet you there," he goes on, gesturing for me to follow him, and if only he could hear the shrill shrieking that is going on in my head. I spare Derek a panicked look, because holy shit, this is the worst thing, and he seems resigned to his fate.
"I'm just going to ask one thing," Sheriff Stilinski says once we're in the cruiser. I keep my eyes down, on my hands, and note the small red dots of blood that didn't break through the skin. "You really okay, kid?"
And wow, this isn't a question about why the hell I'm with Derek? I look up at him.
"I am. Now." I crinkle my nose and look out the windshield. "I think Wednesday finally caught up with me, and my dad called, and I dunno. I just needed out of the house."
"Your dad?" And I can't blame his alarmed tone, because Scott loves talking shit on my dad, which annoys the ever living shit outta me, because it's not him that's horrible. It's the woman he married, and he's just never freaking home long enough to see that.
"It wasn't bad or anything," I assure him. "He just mentioned his wife and it kinda…" I bring my hands them and give a helpless shake. I don't mention the promise to visit, because he'll tell Melissa, and Melissa will mention it to Scott, and god. Scott will go straight to Aaron with that.
The sheriff sighs. "Alright. One more question. Did Derek really sleep on the floor?"
"Oh my gawd," I through my head back. "Yes! Can we go now? Please?"
And it's not a complete lie. Derek did sleep on the floor. Just not all night. Sheriff Stilinski must never know any different.
~Bed sharing~
I swear we'll be back to something vaguely resembling the show's plot soon. Until then, many thanks for the kind reviews and the new follows/favs. Have a safe and fun weekend! Do your homework! Don't procrastinate like I do!
Translations
el Rio Escondido - the hidden river
Pelo suelto y todo eso - Hair down and all that. Pelo suelto is a reference to the Gloria Trevi song, which is p much about living life your way.