I worry about Angie. I don't think she ever takes time off.
The Sheriff leads the way through the diner, which is fuller than I've ever seen it when Derek and I come. There are actually families here this morning, not just the truckers. He nods in greeting to Angie, and she raises her pot of coffee in acknowledgement. She eyes my clothes, and tilts her head to the side questioningly. I duck my head and she sighs in annoyance.
Sheriff Stilinski finds a booth in the middle of the diner and gestures for me to sit, and I can't help but feel relieved that he slides into the booth across from me.
"You're not gonna be mean to him, are you?" I demand. "Because I'll tell Stiles you're eating bad stuff."
He shakes his head. "I'm not going to be mean." I narrow my eyes at him suspiciously. "I can't invite someone to breakfast without ulterior motives?"
"No." I point a finger at him. "You're a Stilinski, and Stilinskis don't do anything without ulterior motives." He just arches a brow at me, and, okay, I might be being a little paranoid right now. "Just… Don't be weird." He looks absolutely offended and holy shit. Stiles gets it from him. "He's like, my only friend outside of the boys and station. I like having him around. I want to keep him around, if you don't mind."
Sheriff Stilinski sighs. "We're just here for breakfast," he assures. He glances past me, and raises a hand, and I look back to see Derek move away from the door. Looking absolutely out of place in his leather jacket and sullen disposition among the rest of the cheerful patrons.
He crosses the room, and I slide in the seat more so he can sit.
"Hey," I greet, tugging at his jacket sleeve. "Looking like you came here straight from a Vogue shoot again." His eye roll is quick to disappear, however, when I gasp. "Or maybe the cover shoot of a certain young adult paranormal nov-"
"I hate you."
"Obviously not, or you wouldn't have come," I counter, and he doesn't argue. A throat clears, and we look across the table to see the Sheriff's questioning gaze. We're saved from having to explain our future literary plans by Angie, who appears seemingly out of nowhere with a note pad in her hand.
"Coffee, Sheriff?"
He nods. "Yes, please."
She turns to us, and I grab the menu, flipping it for the drinks. "Um…" I give it a quick scan. "Strawberry milk, please." It earns me a couple looks, but she writes it down all the same.
"Coffee, please," Derek says, and I look up at him in surprise as Angie makes her escape. "What?"
"I dunno, I just don't see you drinking coffee." And I have so many werewolf related questions I need to know the answers to. Immediately. Such as: how the hell does caffeine affect werewolves? What would happen if I fed Scott a Redbull?
"So, Derek, what are your plans while in Beacon Hills?" Sheriff Stilinski asks. I shoot him a look, because wow. This is where Stiles gets his lack of tact. "I'm actually a bit surprised you haven't gone back to New York yet."
Derek's gaze drops a bit. "I wasn't planning on going back without Laura," he says, and you can see the shame in the Sheriff's face. Derek clears his throat. "Our lease in New York is almost up anyway."
The Sheriff frowns. "What about your stuff?"
"The landlord is a friend of ours. I've asked him to put it in storage until I get a chance to go back for it."
Stilinski hums, not sure how to take that information. Angie chooses this time to return with two mugs, my milk, and a fresh pot of coffee.
"Know your orders?" she asks, and Derek is the first to answer. Changes had to be made to the Sheriff's order, because he is absolutely not allowed to have bacon that doesn't come from a bird.
"Did you go to school up in New York?" Sheriff Stilinski asks, and even I have to look up at him curiously.
"Columbia," he says, with a tint of pride, and Sheriff Stilinski hums, impressed. "I graduated last semester, actually. Business with a minor in English Literature."
I gasp in excitement. "English nerd!" I exclaim, slapping his arm, and good thing he doesn't have his drink in his hand. "I was an English nerd too!"
"But you're going back to school," the Sheriff says quickly, and I crinkle my nose, remembering my conversation with my dad last night.
"Yeah, I guess." I slouch in the seat. "Student loans, yay!" I mutter. There's a tense moment of silence before Derek rummages through his jacket pocket and pulls out a purple package.
"You left these," he says, handing over the cookies, and I straighten, grinning.
"My chokis!" I could kiss him. "I think we should have a fall wedding. A halloween wedding!"
"A what now?" The Sheriff looks absolutely panicked.
"I'm gonna marry Derek," I say flippantly, looking around to make sure Angie isn't around before opening the package. I just feel like she wouldn't approve. "He brought me cookies last night." I take a bite of one and can feel my soul detach from my body and ascend into a high plane of being.
"If that's how you arrange marriages, you're going to have to marry Paulson and Silverman too."
"They get me vending machine cookies. These are god tier cookies that I've only found in one gas station here-" I stop short, glancing up at Derek. He doesn't look at me, instead finding his coffee very interesting. The gas station with the chokis is not the one by his motel.
My heart. Oh god, my heart.
But because I can't articulate just how much I appreciate Derek Hale in this moment, I pull a second cookie out and hold it out to him. "Take it. Don't argue."
He blinks in surprise and slowly takes it. "Okay?"
"And put these back before Angie comes back," I tell him, all but shoving the pack back in his pocket. "I don't have pockets."
Derek rolls his eyes, but pulls my hand out of his jacket and rearranges the cookies in a way that won't get them broken by the time we leave.
The sheriff continues his interrogation - plans of finding a job, plans on finding somewhere to live, has Ares told you about her brother? Seems like a great guy - and Derek answers with only a little attitude. He even asks his own questions about Beacon Hills - is Mrs. Kernshaw still at the library, when did lacrosse become such a big thing, she has mentioned her brother, he does seem like a great guy.
And you know? It isn't a horrible experience. Derek even let me steal some of his hash browns. Sheriff Stilinski no longer has the Dad™ voice, and actually seems to enjoy the conversation they're having.
Things are going much better than I had anticipated.
The bell by the door chimes, and a split second later Derek goes absolutely still next to me. I look up at him, mouth full of waffle, and frown at how his expression has gone absolutely blank. I tap his arm, and he gave a small shake of his head. The sheriff doesn't notice; he's too busy complaining about his turkey bacon.
"Look who's here!"
Ay, Diosito, why must you hurt me so?
"Hey, guys!" I look up around my shoulder to see Kate Argent making her way across the diner toward our booth, a bright smile on her face. It doesn't reach her eyes. Chris Argent gives a tight smile as he follows her, and Allison waves. I swallow the food in my mouth, nearly choking as I do so, and wave back, because it's not her fault her family is insane.
Kate sits herself at the table next to our booth, and I can't help but notice the way the Sheriff narrows his eyes ever so slightly. It's something he does when he's annoyed, and hard to miss if you don't know what you're looking for. Chris, realizing that his sister won't be moving, gestures for Allison to sit, and shoots her a look when she tries to sit in the seat opposite to Kate, and closer to our booth. She huffs in annoyance and moves over.
"Hey, Derek," she says, and there's a toxicity to her voice, hidden behind a sweet facade, that makes my skin crawl. Derek tenses, and looks up at her, and for a split second I worry he's actually going to shift and rip out her throat. I wouldn't blame him; she tried to kill him more than once already. Her eyes give him a greedy once over, and a flare of anger heats my face. Derek has his hands balled into fists on his lap as he tears his eyes away from her and instead seems to focus on his plate.
They can't do anything here, I remind myself. They can't do anything here with so many people around, with Sheriff Stilinski right there. Chris Argent wouldn't do anything with Allison here.
These reassurances don't work all that well.
"What brings you out?" the Sheriff asks, and bless him for taking one for the team. Kate turns her attention to him.
"Well," she sighs. "Allison has been coped up since Wednesday, so I finally convinced Chris to let me take her out." She shoots her brother a look. "He insisted on coming."
Chris gives an unapologetic smile, and Allison glares at him.
"We were supposed to go to the game last night, but my parents wouldn't let me. They won't even let me get the mail," she says over the table to me, and I wince for her.
"That's when you pull a Rapunzel and bounce out yourself," I tell her, and am met with twin glares from the Sheriff and Chris, though the Sheriff's is in general disapproval, whereas Chris looks like he wants to shove a knife in my throat. "Oh, come on," I say, rolling my eyes. "Last couple weeks aside, Beacon Hills isn't anywhere near as bad as Laredo, and I used to ditch out in the middle of the night over there…" If looks could kill, I would be decomposing at this point. I don't hide behind Derek, but it's a close thing. In my defense, he shifts in a way that makes hiding very easy.
"Dad, don't be mean," Allison chides, looking turning red with embarrassment and seeming to miss the way Derek is actively murdering him with his gaze alone. He doesn't respond, but his glare has moved from murderous to scrutinizing. Which is worse, I think.
"Ares, honey, how's your car working?" Kate asks, and Allison frowns, looking between the two of us.
"Something's wrong with your car?"
Derek glances at me, and I can't remember if I mentioned this in the fuck up that was last night. "It was being weird Friday afternoon and left me stranded on the lot by Gore and Jefferson," I tell her. I glance up at Kate, who's smiling eagerly, watching as Derek as I go on. "Your aunt stopped to check on me."
"Oh." Allison looks at her aunt quizzically. Like this is the first time she's heard anything about it.
The Sheriff starts to explain that he's having someone look at the Turtle later, and I look up at Derek to see his jaw twitching. His hands are balled in fists, and his knuckles are white, and shit. I can feel him shake next to me, and hear the very very faint growl coming from his throat.
Not sure what else to do, I bump my shoulder into him, and he jumps a bit. Barely noticeable, but there nonetheless. He glances down at me, and I crinkle my nose at him as I lean on him, and if I take advantage of his state to swipe a piece of bacon from his plate, I can't be blamed. Because it seems to relax him enough to huff in annoyance. Little by little he loosens, until his hands unclench and his darkened expression falls away.
Kate sits back in her chair, and it isn't hard to see the disappointment in her eyes when it looks so much like Elisa when she failed to get a rise out of me. But like Elisa, she immediately looks for another point of attack.
"If you don't mind me asking," she starts, "but how does a group like this get together for breakfast?"
The Sheriff frowns, and Chris looks at her in warning.
"Kate-"
"I'm just curious," she goes on, and has to stop there, because Angie, Angel of the Lord that she is, appears seemingly out of nowhere to bestow upon us the ticket. She sets it on the table, and both Derek and the Sheriff reach for it at the same time.
"I got it," Sheriff Stilinski says, somehow managing to grab it before Derek. "I invited you, remember?"
"I can pay you back," Derek says quietly, and the sheriff waves him off.
"Least I can do." He leaves it at that, not wanting to go on in front of the Argents, but what's left unsaid is clear. "You two good to go?" Derek nods almost too eagerly and starts out of the booth even as the Sheriff says his goodbyes. I throw back what's left of my drink before sliding out after Derek, saluting Allison as I go. She almost doesn't see it; she's looking at her aunt like she's searching for some explanation for her actions and words to Derek.
Chris nods in acknowledgement to Derek, a sort of I won't kill you now because there are witnesses, but I better not catch you alone nod. Derek doesn't return it.
"Bye, Derek," Kate sings, and when that doesn't get a reaction, "It was good seeing you again, Ares, sweetie." and Derek must hear something I don't - aside from the general bad touch vibes -, because he whirls back around, looking absolutely murderous. She tilts her head to the side, smiling curiously, and waves her fingers at him.
Bruja.
"Why don't you two head on outside," the Sheriff suggests, giving Kate a look. Derek tears his glare away from her and nods, catching my arm and pulling me in front of him, which, okay? He prods my forward, and keeps his hand against the small of my back as we pass the dining families that had literally no idea how close they came to seeing a murder.
"You okay?" I ask as soon as we're outside and he's dropped his hand. We stop between the cruiser and the camaro, parked together a bit farther off from the door. I turn back to face him, and his expression is dark and closed off, and his eyes are flickering. Like, literally flickering between bright anime blue and hazel, and this might be an understatement, but that's not good.
"Der-" I reach for him, and he takes a step back, bumping back into the camaro. I pull my hand back as he takes a breath, and exhales a growl, glaring past me at the edge of the lot. His jaw jumps, and I wonder if he's holding off a shift. Not entirely sure what to do but knowing he needs to be grounded or bad shit is gonna go down, I move to his side and lean next to him, looping my arm through his. He stiffens, but I ignore it, and after a second he lets me pull his hand into my own.
"They wouldn't do anything here," I tell him, keeping my voice low and glancing at the windows of the diner. They're tinted so it's harder to look in than out, but I can make out where the Argents are sitting. No details, but judging by the prickly feeling on the back of my neck it wouldn't surprise me if they were staring. I go on. "Chris wouldn't with Allison here, and even if Kate is crazy enough to try anything, Sheriff Stilinski won't let them do anything to you." I look up at him and bump my shoulder into him. "I think you were winning him over in there."
It doesn't have the effect I want it to have; he scowls when he meets my gaze. "I'm not - it's not -" he growls in frustration, running his free hand through his hair. "It isn't me she's threatening," he says finally, and it takes a second for the words to sink in.
"Oh." I blink and look away, wondering why I'm not feeling absolutely panicked. Or maybe I am but it's just my constant state of being now so I just don't notice anymore. Because Kate Argent is probably gonna kill me at some point. Some point soon, if she had it her way.
"I won't let her," Derek says, voice hard, full of conviction. I look up at him, and he's leaning in close, and once again I'm hit with deja vu from Wednesday.
I can't help the smile, because Jesus Christ, Derek Hale. "I know." I crinkle my nose at him. "But you don't gotta worry about me. There's a chola hidden in here somewhere," I assure him, and he huffs, leaning back. "I got the hoops and flannel in my trunk back home, just waiting for their time to shine."
"You're the worst human," he mutters.
"And yet, you adore me."
"And yet," he says under his breathe, almost too low for me to hear. I don't think he actually planned on me to hear. Before I can think anything of it, Sheriff Stilinski walks out of the dinner, looking annoyed in a way that says someone got very close to getting arrested. If only he had been on duty.
"Alright, Sheriff?" I ask, pulling away from Derek as he approaches. He nods, waving the question off. Which I don't really appreciate, but whatever.
"I don't care for that woman," Stilinski mutters as he comes to a stop next to us. "They give you much trouble?" he asks Derek. He doesn't get an answer, which is answer enough. Stilinski shakes his head. "Have Ares call me if they do," he says, and holds his hand out. Derek blinks at it in surprise. He takes it, but carefully, as if he's worried the Sheriff is about to jerk it away. Or shoot him in the face with a wolfsbane bullet.
The sheriff nods to the cruiser. "When you're ready, kid," he says to me, and I nod as he makes his way around. I turn back to Derek.
"You gonna be okay?" I ask.
"I should be asking you that."
"Oh, you know us latinas. Having a mental breakdown one minute, ready to take over the world the next. We're complex and wonderful women, latinas. To be feared, really."
He shakes his head in disbelief, sticking his hands in his pockets. He frowns, and pulls out the pack of cookies with an arched brow. He holds them out for me, and being a child, pulls them back when I grab for them.
"Rude!" He gives a small smile and drops it in my hand. I stare down at them for a second before looking up at him. "You didn't really go to the gas station by the motel, did you?"
He looks away, rubbing the back of his neck, but doesn't say anything.
"You're a loser, Derek Hale," I tell him, and smile up at him when he dares look back down at me. "I guess I'll just wash these for you?" I gesture to the clothes I'm wearing.
"You don't hav-"
"I'll wash them." I rock back on my heels, and his lips quirk at the corners. "So. I'll text?"
"Memes and shitposts?"
"All day, everyday," I say with a grin, and he doesn't hide his smile this time. His stupid sunshine smile. And it's all that stupid smile's fault for what happens next. I rock forward, catching the front of his jacket and use it to pull myself up - because Derek Hale is taller than me by a freaking head - and kiss his cheek.
It's nothing more than a peck, a traditional greeting or farewell back home. Something I've done plenty of times to friends and family, to Warren and Sonya literally any time I see them. But like I said earlier, Derek isn't like Sonya or Warren. Derek is different.
And Derek has gone absolutely still. I pull back, and his face is bright red, his eyes wide. He opens his mouth to say something, but nothing comes out.
"Thanks," I say, feeling my own face heat up. "For yesterday." I step back. "For taking care of me," I clarify, and hold up the cookies.
He nods, and slowly seems to get his senses back. "Yeah." He clears his throat. "You're welcome." And he looks past me to the cruiser, and his expression goes blank. "You should probably…" he gestures. "He might still arrest me."
I look back, and Sheriff Stilinski is openly staring - no, glaring. "I'll bail you out," I tell him, but does as he suggests. He waits until I'm in the car to start to get in his own, and I wave through the window at him as I put on the seat belt and settle back.
But there's a disturbance in the force, and I turn to face the Sheriff.
"What the hell was that?"
"That's what Mexicans do to say goodbye," I tell him nonchalantly, and I'm actually pretty impressed that I can pull it off. He stares at me, obviously not buying it. Which, what isn't there to buy? "Take a culture appreciation class, it's a thing." He doesn't say anything. "What? You want me to kiss you too? I can."
He shakes his head, looking done in a way only a dad can. "I'm not dealing with this right now," he mutters, turning on the car. I barely suppress my grin, and look down at the purple package in my hands.