"Do you know what the nice thing about hauling boxes and random furniture items is?" Karyna asked as she carried a lamp past Stiles.
"No need to go to the gym?" Stiles called over his shoulder.
"Damn straight," Karyna said.
Stiles laughed as he grabbed the last of his boxes and stepped out, "Holy shit!" He yelped, dropping the box of books. Naturally, it landed on his foot. "Ow." He yanked the box off his foot and rubbed it before looking up at Derek Hale. "Really? All this time and you couldn't, I don't know, call?"
"You changed your phone number," Derek replied.
"My dad didn't," Stiles replied. "He's perfectly capable of passing on messages."
"Hey, Peter Pan," Marci began, "oh."
"What's up?" Stiles asked.
"The bulb's out in my closet and I don't think that shelf is as strong as it looks. When you have a moment can you help me change it?" Marci asked.
"Sure," Stiles said, "let me get this box in the apartment and I'll come up."
"Great, thanks Pan." Marci gave him a kiss on his cheek.
"Not a problem Wendy," Stiles replied. "Hey, this is Derek, Peter's nephew. Derek, this is my friend Marci."
"You're Peter's nephew," Marci said, "that stare has to be genetic; you just pull it off in a distinctly less creepy manner." She ducked in the van and came back out with a box labeled books.
"Peter dropped by my dad's," Stiles said as he picked up the box again. "He startled Marci by staring at her through the back door unannounced. You should talk to him about that." He stepped around Derek and headed for his apartment.
"Stiles," Derek ground out.
"Sorry," Stiles said, "we have to get this truck back by ten or we're paying another day. If you want to be Broody McSourwolf, that's fine, but I have stuff I need to do." He raised his eyebrows at himself as he entered his apartment; he hadn't nicknamed anyone like that in years. Beacon Hills really did steal a person's maturity if they weren't careful.
"Stiles," Derek said.
"Whoa," Stiles set the box down carefully and spun, "No." He pointed at Derek. "This, this is not acceptable. I know that you never listened to me about going into the bedroom of the sixteen-year-old son of the sheriff, but I draw the line. You are not allowed in my apartment without an invitation. Out. Get out now."
Derek growled at him and Stiles turned to find his bokken. Picking up the wooden sword, he slid into a defense stance. "This is my house," he said slowly. "My territory. If you threaten me here, I will make sure you regret it. You need to leave. Contact me before you come over again."
Derek stared at him for a long moment. Then he turned around and jumped.
Stiles hid his smile.
Marci had her katana, angled for a low defense while Karyna had her kaiken held loosely. "I don't know you, Derek Hale," Karyna said in a low, dangerous voice, "but I know Stiles. I have been woken up by his screams as the scars he bore ripped him apart. I've comforted him through flashbacks and panic attacks. You left him broken, a toy you discarded without thought. There's a saying that feels particularly apt at this moment. Finders' keepers, losers' weepers."
Derek stared at them, his shoulders straight and his back so stiff that Stiles felt twinges of sympathy pain. Then Derek shoved past them and out the door.
"A bokken?" Karyna asked as she tucked the dagger behind her, probably in a sheath on her waistband.
"First weapon I could grab," Stiles replied. "I didn't want to hurt Derek; I just wanted to make a point."
"He wasn't very friendly," Marci said.
"Derek didn't have wonderful ladies like you two to help him heal after he broke," Stiles replied as he put the bokken on top of a box. "You get used to him. Do you need help bringing anything up?"
"I think there are three more boxes if you would grab one," Marci said. "When I saw Derek follow you, I went to get Tink because I thought you needed us."
"We gave Derek a message he'll be hard put to misunderstand," Stiles said. "I'm not alone." He smiled a little, "We'll just see what we can do about sharing the rest of the message."
"You are not weak," Karyna said, "You don't need to be protected. You are not worthless."
"Damn straight," Stiles agreed. "Now let's unload that truck and go over to the Den."
NNNNNNNNNNNNNNN
The Wolf's Den and Pub was located in what Karyna considered a good location. It was downtown, around the corner from the county courthouse, and located on a common parade route. Stiles said the street in front was closed for street fairs and holiday festivals, meaning they were perfectly placed to attract people for good food after spending hours on their feet.
It had been renovated by a local contractor to specifications Karyna had put together from Stiles's online research, her parents' suggestions, and email inquiries to successful microbreweries across America and it looked fabulous. After Stiles had won the naming rights, he'd proposed using a hunting lodge theme as fitting to the heavily wooded area around Beacon Hills and walking into the pub now that it was done, Karyna was pleasantly surprised.
"Nice," Marci said as she drifted through the front room. "I was picturing a lot more animal heads."
"I told them it was tacky," Stiles replied, "and stuffed animals freak me out. Their eyes follow you everywhere."
"I know," Marci said. She looked up at a painting of a group of wolves, "That's pretty."
Stiles coughed, "Thanks. A friend of mine painted that."
Karyna wandered over for a closer look. There were five wolves in the painting, one with black hair stood on a rock slab over the others. A full moon above them gave a silver edging to the wolf's coat. Of the four wolves that stood before the black wolf, three were grey wolves, lean and rangy, although one of them was slightly larger than the other two. The other one was lean and rangy, but had a brown coat. He stood a bit apart from the others, and there was a hint of challenge in the way it stood. There was a plaque beside the picture Pack Meeting by Erica Reyes (1996-2011)
"Is that Catwoman?" Karyna asked, remembering a onetime conversation after she'd jokingly called him Superman.
"Yeah," Stiles said quietly, "she painted it for me."
"Oh my God, this kitchen!" Marci squealed.
"Is it okay?" Stiles called.
"It's fabulous," Marci replied as she popped through a swinging door at the back of the restaurant. "Whoever your contractor was, they did everything exactly right."
"We'll have to ask Dad," Stiles said, "he handled the contractor for us."
"How are we doing in terms of the beers anyways?" Karyna asked.
"Thanks to the Bat Brewery loaning their talents and resources, we should have opening month covered," Stiles said. "I'm going to start brewing here in the morning and with opening day in six weeks, we'll be serving our brews, made in the pub, right from the beginning."
"Bat Brewery, Stiles, really?" Karyna asked.
"Complain to Bruce and Dick," Stiles said, "they're the ones who named it. Just like they named the Bat Beer."
"Thank God my parents never really had a legacy to pass on," Marci said cheerfully. "No unpronounceable names, no popular namesakes, just a name that makes me sound nice and trustworthy."
"Good, just don't let people around here know you know me and we're set," Stiles said. "Beacon Hills has a long memory and a thorough rumor mill."
Karyna scratched the metal bracelet on her wrist as Stiles and Marci settled on barstools to watch her. "Okay," Karyna said, "we have a lot of work yet to do."
"To Neverland?" Stiles asked, gesturing over his shoulder to a discrete door with a frosted glass insert labeled 'PRIVATE'.
"To Neverland," Karyna agreed with a smile.
A kaiken is a type of dagger.