A Drop Of Ink In Water
IX & X
Stiles is an observer. He's used to watch the world around him with a critical eye that few people have. He watches, analyses and judges. He doesn't do it because he likes it – he doesn't even do it on purpose – but for as long as can remember he has always been able to notice things that other people didn't. Little things that didn't matter if you took them one by one but could make a lot of sense once put together. Because of that ability he sometimes said things that made people look at him oddly or had judgments that were considered a little too radical. He was the skinny, eccentric guy that babbled a lot and by definition someone you tried to avoid.
He had asked a lot of questions during his childhood. Why this? Why that? He could still picture his dad's tired expression before all his questioning. Exhausted by his endless questions, his parents also soon realized that they would need external help as his queries became a lot more specific through the years. So, they introduced him to libraries. His mom would take him and when his parents could only answer "I don't know" the books knew it all. He watched the row of books with big, amazed eyes as he entered in one for the first time. The library looked like a labyrinth. The bookcases were so high they seemed to reach the ceiling, shelves so full his eyes didn't know where to stop. Stiles, five years old, felt like he found a secret magical kingdom.
He tried to make his mom take him every day after this. Whenever it was possible, when other kids were playing hide and seek, his mother would take him after school and right after stepping a foot in the library, he would disappear into the alley, jogging on his little legs. She'd find him several hours later, sitting on the floor, little piles of books scattered around him. This passion for reading had leaded him to read perfectly at a young age allowing him to have a notable advantage on his classmates who still struggled to decipher words.
Then Scott came into his life. They were ten when he moved in Beacon Hills. He was short, skinny, had too much hair and there was a shy loneliness around him that immediately drawn Stiles to him. Scott and him were alike, he could relate to him. They were both living in a world that they didn't understand and were failing to fit in. It's at that same period that his mother fell sick but he discovered that many years later.
He had tried to introduce Scott to the beautiful worlds that were libraries but he failed miserably. Scott didn't have the same curiosity that he did, he was more into comic books than Greek mythology – he didn't reproach him that, after all Scott was the one who made him discover Gotham City and its dark avenger. Moreover, reading was more of a solitary activity and he wanted to spend time with Scott. He wanted them to become best friends, one of those inseparable pair he often saw in movies. So, he eventually stopped going to the everyday to spend more time with him. They would play in his or Scott's yard, inventing great adventures or simply lie on the grass, watching the clouds and talking about anything and everything. This had been one of the best periods of his life. Thanks to Scott he wasn't so lonely anymore. He still loved reading but he now preferred borrowing books and doing his research online rather than spending all his days at the library. Having a person to share his thoughts on books would have been nice, though.
Derek Hale, he types in the Google search bar.
He thought a lot about Derek these days. About his proposition, about his little chat with Scott, about who Derek really was, who was the person behind the fury façade… He wondered if Derek could be trusted… He knew nothing about Derek Hale, even though he had been seeing him quite often. He knew Derek was an alpha werewolf, that Peter Hale was his uncle and that he had money. That was pretty much it, he knew nothing that really mattered. And that fact was pretty disturbing to Stiles because he usually knew a lot about the customers' personal lives. Even if they at first didn't really intend to share information about themselves, he always managed to get through that and learn about them. Alcohol, excess of confidence or just consented sharing, people always let slip some about themselves. The problem with Derek was that he wasn't the usual customer. He was so far from it. He never talked, barely drank and his facial expressions were limited to brooding, pensive and angry. Derek was disturbingly hard to read.
The internet also seemed to be confused about the case that was Derek Hale because it found nothing relevant.
Stiles sighs, bumping his head on his desk.
Danny could not seem to stop talking about Derek. He was constantly pushing Stiles into accepting the wolf's offer. And Stiles was forced to admit Danny may have a point. His dad's situation wasn't the best. Stiles knew that it was only a matter of time before the bills start piling up. Soon, his father would have to look for a new job. He probably wasn't going to find one which paid as much as being the Sheriff did. Plus, at the moment, his father was depressingly focused on the thought that he would get his job back, that his superiors would see their mistake and take him back. Stiles couldn't help but hope, too. His dad hadn't been unemployed for a long time but Stiles was already worrying not only for his bank account – Stiles with his current salary wouldn't be able to help him - but also for his sanity.
His family was never rich. When his mother fell sick, the doctor had trouble to find her illness. They had tried treatment on treatment without success. They had had to pay all those expensive medical fees only to realize that she couldn't be saved. She had died slowly, painfully, leaving them drained and broken. They had tried everything in their power to save her and at the end to appease her. It hadn't been enough. Work was all his dad had left to keep those memories away.
Finally, his father had recently had to make some work on the house done. He had needed to fix all the things that had been worn over the years. Stiles knew he still hadn't paid for all of it.
He couldn't stop thinking about Danny's words, "Accept, Stiles. What do you have to lose? You don't have to spread them, man. Just accept under your conditions. This isn't a whore house, it's an Escort Club. It's in the title, you escort, you talk, you make him look good and special in front of his friends and then you go home. What happens under the covers is just a bonus! It's not obligatory. Well, seeing the client it would be a shame not to consume… Anyway, my point is that you are in charge, not the other way around. If he's not happy with it you can tell him to fuck off."
Maybe Danny was right.
Stiles parks his jeep outside the McCall house. He and Scott are supposed to hang out. He knocks on the door. He remembers the old times when Scott or he was grounded and he had to climb the wall to enter the house by Scott's window not to be noticed. He was definitely too old for that now and not flexible enough. He's greeted by Ms. McCall who is getting ready to go to work. Melissa tells him that Scott is taking a shower so he decides to wait for him in his bedroom.
"Scott, I'm here! Hurry!" He says when passing next to the bathroom's door. Scott answers with a lazy "Yeah," then Stiles goes to his friend's room to wait. He settles on the king-sized bed. The room was still the same, the poster, the dirty pile of clothes by the side of the bed, the bookcase full of comic books and...
His scream is muffled by a hand on his mouth.
"What the hell?" He says in bewilderment when Derek finally takes his hand off. "What are you doing here?"
Derek looks at him, brows frown in an unreadable expression.
"I'm here to talk to Scott." He finally says gesturing his head in the bathroom direction. He puts his hand in the pockets of his black leather jacket, still staring.
Stiles mouth goes dry.
"About what?" He asks, voice a little husky.
Derek shoots him an exasperated glare which make Stiles rolls his eyes. So, it's still was like that.
"What are you doing here?" The werewolf asks in return as he sits next to him on the bed.
Stiles tries not to shift too awkwardly, surprisingly shaken by Derek's presence. They haven't been this close since Derek made his offer. Stiles wants to argue that he is Scott best friend, that Scott probably would have become a senseless, murderous beast without him but his words dies in his throat. Derek seems to have sensed his trouble because he snaps his eyes on him, watching him like an oak. Stiles hates how his insides twinge. He stiffens when the others moves closer. Derek opens his mouth to say something but Scott choses this moment to walk into the room.
Oh, awkward.
At the end Stiles is reduced to wait outside while Scott and Derek talk and he is so pissed. How could Scott accept that? Did he forget everything Stiles had done for him? How he stayed by his side even after Scott tried to kill him?
He tries to ears drop, face pressed against the door but he can't hear anything which is very weird when you now the McCall's house walls are paper thin. They were probably doing some werewolf stuff so he wouldn't be able to hear anything. He kicks in the wall out of rage but only ends up hurting his foot. He limps toward the opposite wall to lean on it, firmly decided to get out of Scott everything he and Derek talked about. He couldn't stand to be put on the side like that. This just made him even more convinced that the decision he made during the afternoon was the right one.
Melissa waves at him as she passes in the corridor, she's leaving for work. If only she knew his son was talking to a weird guy who had no concept of private property alone, in his room, in only a towel, at this very moment, she wouldn't leave with such an easy smile, Stiles thinks.
The room's door finally opens after ten minutes during which Stiles played Angry Birds to reduce his anger. It didn't work very well because Stiles really wants to have a word or two with Scott. Not nice ones. Only, Derek's the only one to get out the room. He closes the door behind him.
"He's changing." He indicates before Stiles puzzled look.
"Ah." The younger simply says.
The werewolf imitates him and leans on the wall, facing him.
Stiles bites his lips. He takes his phone in one hand while Derek watches him warily. He opens a new text message and types, "I would like you to come to my office, tomorrow.", then throws the phone in Derek's direction. The other man catches it with impeccable reflexes as expected. Derek at first looks surprised. His expression changes from confused to curious when he reads the message. "You changed your mind?" Derek types back, with a remarkable speed.
"Maybe." Stiles simply answers.
Derek actually raises a smile.
Later, after Derek's gone. Stiles pressures Scott into telling him what they talked about and Scott to his surprise swears Derek's only came to inform him that he could assist to a pack meeting if he wanted to. Stiles doesn't know why but he feels like he has somehow been tricked.
Stiles was terrible all night. He spent the evening harassing Scott with questions about Derek. When Scott thought the interrogatory was finally done, Stiles found new questions and complaints. Sometimes, he wished he could switch Stiles off.
Scott feels his phone vibrating in his pocket and instantly knows it's another text from Stiles.
He sighs.
He wasn't even able to enjoy the movie – that Stiles had chosen – because the other hadn't been able to stop talking, completely ignoring the people around trying to hush him. His silences had never lasted more than fifteen minutes – the time, Scott supposed, he was able to keep his mouth shut before exploding with obsessive curiosity.
Scott stops at the supermarket before going home. He wants to drink beer and he knows there are no more Lucky Charms home. And most of all, he doesn't want to go home yet. He had wanted to spend a nice relaxing night with his best friend, sadly for him the said friend had had other plans. So, he was going to have a nice night by himself. Alone. At home. He couldn't believe how miserable his life had become. He needed to find himself a girlfriend. People already said Stiles and he looked like an old couple.
He walks into the grocery stores and smiles at the cashier when she greets him. The forty years old blushes like a teenager. His smile widens at the thought that he might get some extra discount coupons.
He wanders into the alleys staying more time than necessary in the cereal department when he knows already what he wants. He even stops at the DVD section, even though he has no intention to buy any. He finally goes to the drinks shelves. He's grabbing a six-pack when he catches a glimpse of blond hair. The scent fills his nostrils and his heart thumps loudly on his ribcage. He turns his head to see the scent's owner leave the checkout. His feet move on their own. His follows the scent, barely stopping at the checkout. He doesn't wait for his change, the cashier calls for him but he doesn't listen. He gets out of the store without looking back.
The man doesn't go far. Scott finds him in front of the shop, next to the entrances. He recognizes him. Isaac Lahey. The werewolf he literally bumped into with his car. The man is petting a dog's head with infinite carefulness. Scott sees him opening the white plastic bag he's carrying the groceries he has just bought with and take out a small sandwich out of it. He takes one of the triangle sandwiches and tosses it to the dog and keeps one for himself. The dog devours his meal in big chunks.
Isaac takes his eyes off the dog to rest them on Scott. He doesn't look surprised to see him there, like he knew he was there the whole – which he probably did, Scott realizes.
He walks in the other wolf's direction, steps uneasy. Isaac and the dogs watch him with almost identical piercing eyes.
"Hi." He greets awkwardly, unable to find anything better to say.
The man eyes him up and down.
"Why are you following me?" He asks with undisguised aggressivity.
Scott feels his body stiffen.
"You don't remember me? A few days ago with my car… I- I ran into you."
"Yes." Isaac says impatiently. He desire to see the other go away palpable.
"I'm sorry about that, man. I didn't see you. You came out of nowhere. I-"
"It's okay. I'm fine, you know," he points himself then Scott alternatively, "werewolves."
Scott opens his mouth, momently stricken to hear the word from another person than Stiles or himself. Even Derek rarely said it out loud.
"Yes, but," he retorts after a few second of uncomfortable silence, "it must have hurt like hell, didn't it? So... Sorry."
It's Isaac's turn to look surprised. He parts his lips to say something but is interrupted by the dog poking his leg with its paw. It nudges its nose against the hand that holds the sandwich left. The man throws his share to the dog without a second thought.
At this moment, Scott notices the scent emanating from the dog. He crinkles his nose.
"That dog," he says making Isaac's eyes fall back on him, "she's sick."
"Yes, I know." Isaac answers without looking at him. His eyes are lowered on the dog which moans, begging for another piece of food. Unfortunately, there's nothing left. Isaac scratches behind its ear instead. "I think there's something wrong with her leg."
Scott shakes his head then focuses on his sense of smell. The smell is familiar, he already encountered it years ago.
"No, not that." He frowns. "She smells wrong."
This time Isaac looks at him.
"You smell it, too? I thought it was maybe dirt or something…" He declares, stature suddenly different, back arching with anxiety.
"No." Scott answers abruptly, finally recalling the scent. "It's death. She's has a severe infection." He nods to himself, sure of his statement. "Look, I worked with a veterinarian when I was younger. He should be able to help her. If I ask him, I'm sure he will even at this hour. Want me to take you there?"
Isaac glares at him.
"If we do nothing she's going to die." Scott adds.
He can read in the other's expression the question he's asking himself. Why are you doing this? Why do you want to help? He's glad when the blond keeps his mouth shut and nods in agreement because he has no fucking clue what he would have answered.
"Okay." Isaac finally consents. "But if you do anything wrong…"
"I won't." Scott deadpans. He locks his eyes with Isaacs when he adds, "I just want to help."
Isaac must judge his words sincere because he follows him into his car.
TBC
Hey, guys! I'm so sorry for this late update. Last week was pretty rough and I didn't feel like writing at all. I sincerely apologies, I didn't keep my two weeks promise. I hope you still enjoyed this chapter, things will get interesting from now on. However, I start university this monday so I don't know when I'll update. It depends of how much homework I'm going to have (it's not like I have a lot of school hours). BUT, good news, I found a beta! Yoohoo ! So, beta-ed version soon!