They were left alone in that room for way too long.
Although "way too long" was probably pushing it. It was most likely only about five minutes, but it was long enough for Stiles to start obsessing and sinking into a thought-spiral he couldn't get out of.
Captain Hale was obscenely good looking, to the point where Stiles wanted to track down his parents and thank him for mating that night and congratulating them on such a masterpiece of genetics.
Captain Hale also had an incredibly familiar looking jawline, one that had haunted Stiles' Mate dreams for the past four years, one he now felt he knew as well as his own.
Captain Hale also happened to have a Claiming Bite on the left side of his neck, although not as high up or prominently displayed as the other Bites he'd witnessed that day—or any other day really. But it wasn't completely unheard of. Sometimes omegas were shier and more subdued and didn't put their claim as high up on their alpha.
Although if it had been Stiles, he'd put that thing right where everyone and their mother could see it. No way would he let a Mate as gorgeous as that alpha run around with his Bite half-hidden behind the collar of his work uniform.
Whatever. Didn't matter. Because the alpha wasn't Stiles'.
Which, was a thought that had his wolf whimpering and whining and feeling just... wrong. Hell, all of him felt wrong at that. He just knew deep down in his gut that Captain Hale was meant to be his and he was meant to be the Captain's.
But the Claiming Bite...
Okay, that could be explained away, he mentally reasoned. Hale looked older than him, looked maybe mid-twenties at least. Maybe he'd figured he was Dream-less and Mated someone else, someone he'd fallen in love with and wanted to spend forever with. It'd happened before, another cliché rom-com plot, the storyline of trashy paperback novels.
Would just be Stiles' shitty luck that it happened to him in real life.
Damn.
Although really, how can shit be that bad for one person? Lost his mom, lost his brother, now lost his potential Mate.
He thought back to an earlier remembrance that all bad things came in threes, the cliché sounding more true than ever. That would make three people that'd been taken from him far too soon—although the last didn't seem nearly as permanent or severe, but still. Maybe he'd get lucky and he wouldn't be losing anyone else for quite some time. Thank fuck, because he honestly didn't know how much more of that crap he could handle.
Whatever. He had more important shit to deal with, like finding his brother's Mate and getting the evidence necessary to lock the guy up for murder.
The door opened once more, Parrish pulling an extra chair inside and setting it across from Lydia before sinking down onto it, once again shooting her a small smile. Captain Hale followed at a much more subdued pace, shutting the door, before scuffing his way over in heavy boots. His eyes were trained down at his hands, one clutching what Stiles could now see where two evidence bags, the contents hidden behind thick palms. The omega's traitorous mind supplied him with images of those hands wrapped around his wrists as he was held down, hard cock being driven into him, thick knot filling him up and keeping them locked together.
He quickly wiped the images away, shifting in his seat as his own dick twitched inside his khakis, clearly okay with the idea his brain had concocted.
The alpha stopped across the table from him, nostrils flaring on his bent head, leaning over the metal as he placed one of the bags on it. "These," he began, voice not quite as deep as his appearance would suggest, sliding the bag closer to him. Stiles glanced down as the hand pulled away, immediately recognizing the thick black frames visible through the thick clear plastic. Stu's glasses.
"Were found about a mile away from Stuart's body, only a few feet away from this." At that, Hale placed the second bag next to the first, tapping it before pulling his hand back.
Stiles checked it out, heart stopping in his chest at the sight of it. It was the smartphone from his vision the night before, the one he'd seen Stu use to text him. The screen was lit up, displaying the last message sent to a series of numbers he knew were his own, a familiar text bubble just below it.
"Luv u bro. I'm sry"
"Recognize this number?" Hale asked, a hint of authority in his voice. It was clear the guy was used to being respected, to his orders being followed, even without knowing that his last name was that of the State Alpha. His every word carried power, his every move wordlessly saying he was not one to be fucked with. Even the way he pointed to the ten-digit code that made Stiles' phone ring had a sense of purpose and dominance. Alpha or not, this guy was in charge and Stiles would do damn well to do as he was told, traditional town or not.
"Yeah," he rasped out, leaning back in his seat, fingers knotting together on top of the table. "It's mine."
"Any idea what he's apologizing to you for?"
He snorted, eyes rolling before he was aware of it, shrugging in a manner that was more annoyed teenager than questioned adult. "How the fuck should I know? Probably for disappearing two years ago in the middle of the fucking night."
"And you're sure you haven't had any other communication with your brother, aside from the email yesterday?" the alpha double-checked, not quite suspicious or curious, but something in between, like he wasn't accusing yet didn't believe he was totally innocent.
Stiles licked his lips, eyes glued to the table, one hand wringing the back of his neck as the other tapped the top of the table. "He emailed a week after he left saying it was better that he was gone and then a few months later saying he was Mated. Until yesterday, I didn't even know if he was alive." He swallowed hard, emotions thick in his throat again. God, just saying that was surreal as hell, the reality smacking him in the face once again. He spent a year and a half unsure if his brother was alive and now he was one-hundred percent sure that he wasn't.
Fucking hell, that sucked.
"Sir," Parrish spoke up weakly. "I still don't think it's a good idea for you to be involved in the investigation. It's too personal and you're too—"
"And you doing the intake interview for your Mate isn't too personal?" Hale butted in harshly, head snapping to his subordinate. Stiles risked a peek up at the two S-Dubs, noting the alpha scowling down at his beta, fists clenched on the table as he leaned over it.
A sheepish grin appeared on Parrish's face as he seesawed his head. "Point," he admitted, wagging his eyebrows in dismissal. "But with all due respect, sir, you did that very thing a couple years ago."
Hale's eyes narrowed, his jaw gritting and his fists clenching tighter, knuckles white. The strong scent of anger hit Stiles' nose and he slumped further down in his seat on automatic, head tilting to the left on instinct, his omega nature taking the reins and making him supplicate to an incensed alpha.
"It's not the same," the darker-haired one grit out through clenched teeth, scowling down more at his subordinate.
"Yes, it is, Derek."
Derek?
"No, it's not. Don't fucking argue with—"
Derek?
"Derek?" Stiles interrupted, sitting up straighter in his seat and angling himself toward the alpha, pointing a finger at him. "You're Stu's Mate." It wasn't a question, it wasn't him double-checking, it was a statement he knew for a fact. Because there was no way it was a coincidence that his brother was Mated to an alpha named Derek and then just happened to work with another alpha who had the same name.
Plus it was really fucking like his luck that he meet a guy he was ninety-nine-point-nine percent sure was his Mate and he was already Mated to his fucking twin, the better twin, the smarter, more good looking twin.
Derek—as he was now known to be—shut his eyes tight, nostrils flaring as he breathed deep and even, like he was keeping his calm. Which, shit, he probably was. The guy had just lost his damn Mate and there Stiles was, bringing the recently departed back up like it was no big deal. And really, he of all people should know how much Stuart's death stung, how much it hurt to have him brought up so soon after he was taken from them. He of all people should also know how a wolf reacted after losing their Mate, how they were practically half of themselves, zombies walking around with no purpose and no reason for living.
Like his dad.
And now, like Derek.
Although Derek seemed to be moving around okay. Then again, it wasn't like Stiles knew what was going on in the guy's head. His wolf could've been howling and yowling, his mind could've been buzzing with a thousand thoughts all related to the Mate he'd just lost, his chest could've felt too tight and too empty and too aching, just like Stiles' was. And maybe he was just good at hiding it, or maybe it hadn't fully sunken in with him yet. After all, Derek had come in with evidence from the crime scene, where he most likely had been all day searching for clues to catch his Mate's killer. Maybe he'd been too preoccupied to fully realize what had happened, maybe he'd been too busy to really let himself think about what Stuart's death meant from that moment forward.
Stiles was pretty much in the same boat in that aspect. He'd been so focused on entrance interviews and the S-Dubs and trying to wheedle clues out of Parrish that he hadn't actually thought about the fact that his brother was dead and how that would affect the lives of both himself and his dad—as well as all their friends—from then on.
It was gonna catch up to him and Derek both at some point. And it was gonna hurt.
A muscle in the alpha's jaw ticked, visible through the whiskers he was sporting, adam's apple bobbing as he swallowed hard. His entire body—or at least the parts that Stiles could see—were pulled taut, every line of him tight, a bow pulled to its extreme. It was only a matter of time before it—and he—snapped and someone was caught in the crossfire.
"Parrish," Derek began calmly, eyes still closed. "Take Miss Martin into another room and complete her interview there."
"But, sir—"
"That's an order, Officer Parrish," the alpha snarled, eyes snapping open and fixing his subordinate with a hard glare that brokered no argument.
The beta opened his mouth like he was gonna debate more, only to slam it shut, clearly knowing better. He broke eye contact, head subtly tilting to the left before nodding and rising to his feet. He stepped around the table and helped Lydia to her feet, the two of them then leaving the room.
And leaving Stiles alone with Derek.
Awkward. As. Fuck.
The tension in the alpha seemed to leave the room with those who'd just exited, his body sagging as he sank down into the chair opposite Stiles. He turned to face him, but immediately dug the heels of his palms in his eyes, elbows on the table, tired sigh leaving him.
Stiles took the opportunity to study him, the breadth of his shoulders, the circumference of his arms, the length of his fingers. His mind was inundated with images from his Dreams, remembering how it felt to have that broad torso pressed against his back, his chest, to have those hands pinning him down, stroking along his skin, to wrap his own fingers around those arms and dig in, to hold on to them as he felt like he was falling apart. The shade of his hair matched that of his happy trail in those few peeks the omega was able to sneak. The length and style of his whiskers matched that of the rough stubble that had rubbed up against his skin only two nights prior. This was his Mate, he knew it deep down in his soul. And his wolf was sure of it, too, whining to get closer, rolling on its back in supplication, feeling at peace and at home, all thanks to the alpha across the table.
The alpha that bore the Claiming Bite of Stiles' twin brother.
Fuck. His. Life.
Clearing his throat, he shifted in his seat, fingers tangling together on top of the table. "So," he began, pausing, feeling awkward as hell. Because seriously, what the fuck was he supposed to say in this situation? What exactly does one say to their finally found Mate who just happened to already be in a committed relationship with one's twin?
"Bet you didn't expect to meet—" Shit, where the hell was he going with that? Who exactly was he to Derek, how exactly was their relationship defined? "Your bro-in-law like this."
Jesus fucking Christ, he was a moron.
He winced at the stupid question, glad the other man was still hiding his face to he couldn't see how patchy and red he was getting. Because wow, that was just...yeah, that was dumb and idiotic and something only he would come up with.
A snort rocked Derek's upper body, his hands dropping to the table but his head still hung there. "Honestly? I didn't expect to meet you at all, considering why Stu came here."
That got Stiles' undivided fucking attention and immediately snapped him out of his embarrassed funk.
He shot up straighter in his seat, leaning closer, ignoring the heady scent of alpha and woods and wolf, focusing solely on the conversation. "Stu told you why he ran away?" he asked excitedly, voice wavering with emotions barely kept in check. Finding out why his brother left would bring him another sort of peace to everything, would help close one mystery surrounding his twin and maybe even help on his way to solving another. He just needed to get the info without raising too much suspicion.
He figured he was safe at that moment though, considering pretty much anyone would be dying to know why a family member up and bailed in the middle of the night with no explanation. No suspicion raised yet.
"Yeah," the alpha informed him, lifting his head and Stiles only just flicked his eyes to the side in time to avoid meeting the other man's. Looking at an alpha was fine, no problem. Meeting his eyes? Pretty much reserved for family members and Mates only.
Unless there were special circumstances or one was raised in a town with looser morals and social behaviors, like Stiles was, meaning he had no issue looking Scott or Lydia right in the eye for whatever reason.
And as much as Stiles would love to check out those light orbs of Derek's head on, he had a feeling it would be a really bad fucking mistake.
"But it's not a good idea to discuss it here," Derek continued, ending his statement with two meaningful taps to his right ear.
Stiles frowned in confusion at that, aiming his puzzled expression at the tip of the guy's nose, strangely fascinated by the way it came to a point and fighting the urge to lean over and just kiss it. "Aren't your interview rooms soundproofed?" he questioned, knowing the ones in the sheriff's station back home were, mainly to protect attorney-client privilege. Seemed strange that ones here wouldn't be the same way.
"They are," Derek argued, clasping his hands together and setting them on the table. "But there's also cameras and you never know who's watching."
The omega's eyebrows raised at that, eyes automatically going to the two corners he could see to find any cameras as stated. Nothing there, but a quick peek over his left shoulder revealed one high up in that corner. There was no flashing red light like in movies or tv shows, but he knew that was bull. Real cameras had no flashy lights, were constantly recording without alerting anyone to their presence. Easier to catch people doing something wrong that way.
Turning back to face forward, he kept his gaze lowered, fingers of one hand tapping those on the other. "But you are gonna tell me, right?" he made sure, letting the hope and uncertainty leak into his voice and scent.
Derek nodded, his own scent carrying the smell of reluctance but the strength of determination, fingers tightening their grip on one another. "If you want me to."
"If I want—" Stiles repeated with a scoff, rolling his eyes. "That's the dumbest thing I've ever fucking heard. Why wouldn't I wanna know?" His eyes narrowed and his lip curled up in a sneer as he lifted his head and looked Derek right in the eye.
Huge. Fucking. Mistake.
Or quite possibly, the smartest thing he'd ever done.
Either way. Holy shit.
It felt like he was zapped with a defibrillator—or at least how he imagined it would feel—electricity zipping throughout his body. He had a brief flash of memory, of Allison telling him that the French phrase for "love at first sight" literally translated to "a bolt of lightning" and he couldn't help but feel like they'd gotten it extremely fucking right. Because he felt like he'd been struck by it, every nerve in his body tingling, every synapse firing, every cell lighting up, every hair standing on end.
He inhaled sharply, the air caught in frozen lungs, next to his stopped heart. His wolf was clawing at the surface, whining and howling to get out, to make them get closer, to curl up in Derek's lap and scent-mark him, be scent-marked by him right back. Because it was him, their alpha, their Mate, the literal male of their Dreams. They finally found him and everything from then on out was gonna be amazing, perfect, a life full of love and caring and knots and protection, all because of the dark-haired, green-eyed man across the table, the one Stiles hadn't been sure about but now knew without a doubt...
"It's you," he murmured, staring wide eyed, whiskey orbs locked on to bright green ones. "It really is you." The corner of his lips curved up, a happy and relieved grin forming on his face because he'd just found his motherfucking Soul Mate.
The eye contact seemed to be having a similar effect on Derek, his entire body tense, his eyes wide and his brows raised in surprise. His breathing was ragged, body shuddering with it, the tips of his front teeth showing through parted lips. His scent roared to life, delighting Stiles' nose with the aromas of virile alpha, arousal, joy, peace, and a warmth he could only describe as coming home. It was like what he'd caught coming off Lydia when she first made eye contact with Parrish, only better. Because it was Derek, it was Stiles' alpha, it was the male who would Mate him and claim him and take care of him for the rest of their lives.
And fuck, Stiles could tell he would take care of him well. He was muscular, strong, in command of lots of people. He'd be able to provide for his omega, bring him food, protect him from danger. And when it came time for Stiles' heat? Derek was obviously fully capable of taking care of him, would knot him and fill him and breed him—
Not that Stiles could actually be bred, but there was no telling that to his hormones or his wolf.
But if he could be, then without a doubt, Derek would be completely able to do so and could provide him with pups.
His teeth sank into his bottom lip at just the thought of even practicing that, of Derek's big hands wrapped around his wrists, holding him down as he plowed into the omega, just like so many Dreams before. Stiles couldn't wait to feel it in reality, to see if it compared to the revery, to find out if real life truly was better, like all his paired off friends kept telling him.
Without thinking, his hand slid across the table, desperately seeking the alpha's as it sat clenched on the metal furniture. Which wouldn't do, wasn't right. Derek shouldn't be tensed, shouldn't have his fingers balled into fists. They should be stroking his skin, smoothing over his chin and lips and jaw, just like in the Dreams. They should be stroking into him and getting him ready for his alpha and his knot. They should be holding him down in submission as he was taken, claimed, mated in the most primitive way, in the way their animals demanded.
Snapping out of the trance they both seemed to be in, Derek snatched his hand back as though Stiles had burned him, despite the younger man's fingers still being an inch or so away. The alpha's scent shifted to something spicy and angry, his eyes narrowed, brows pulled into a harsh glare, nostrils flaring as he shut his mouth. Without a word, he shot up to his feet and strode out the room like it was on fire, slamming the door closed behind himself.
Stiles sat there stunned, hand frozen mid-action, mouth hanging open. Rejection was a cold slap to the face, icing over every molecule in his body, eyes locked on where Derek's green orbs had just been.
"What the fuck?" he breathed out to no one, hand dropping onto the table before his entire upper half slumped onto it, head falling with a bang.
That wasn't how it was supposed to go. Derek was supposed to whisk Stiles away to claim him, or at least scent-mark the crap outta him. Or at the very least fucking smile because hello! Soul Mates. But no, the guy had stormed out like Stiles had personally offended him or threatened him or like Derek didn't—
He inhaled sharply, holding the air in his lungs as realization hit him. Derek left because Derek didn't want him.
And why would he? The guy had a Mate—well, used to anyway. And not just any Mate, but Stiles' brother, the better, smarter, hotter, all around more awesome and special twin. Getting Stiles as a Soul Mate was a shitty consolation prize and probably the crap cherry on top of a shitacular sundae of a day. It was settling for the cheap knock-off, the store brand cereal your mom insisted was just as good as name brand but really wasn't and always tasted funny. Stiles was Toaster Pastries, while Stuart had been Pop Tarts and no one wanted the crappy burnt chocolate tasting ones when they could have gooey, yummy frosted fudge.
And Derek clearly knew this, knew Stiles was the marshmallow cereal with pieces that didn't quite match Lucky Charms. He knew that the younger twin would never, could never compare to the Mate he'd just lost and he didn't wanna be disappointed by how little he stacked up to his predecessor. He knew all this after five minutes of interaction and five seconds of eye contact and refused to waste any more time on an imitation of the love he'd just lost.
Assuming the guy had even been in love with Stu.
But of course he had been. Why else would he have Mated the guy? You don't make a lifelong commitment like that unless you were in love. Matings were a til-death-do-us-part thing, no chance of severing ties—not without a really damn good reason, like Mate abuse or the like. But even then, some abused wolves stay with their abusers, despite knowing that their life was most likely in danger, because it was their Mate and deep down inside, the one beating and clawing and biting them in a violent manner still loved them.
Like Derek most likely loved Stuart.
Stiles sat up suddenly at that, another epiphany striking him. Maybe Derek had left due to guilt. Maybe he'd killed Stu—whether out of a sudden burst of rage or an on-going thing that had built up and culminated in Stu's murder, it wasn't clear—and then finding out his Soul Mate was his victim's twin, it was too much and he was hit with an overwhelming sense of remorse. Maybe Stu's death was an accident and he hadn't meant to do it. Things had just gotten out of hand and he'd lost control and he'd snapped without even realizing it. His wolf had taken over, he'd gone temporarily feral, and before he knew it, he was looking down at a dead Mate...
No, his mind argued, supplying him with images Stu had sent him. The controlled rage accompanying red eyes, the smooth rumble saying chastising words, a strange suaveness to the actions. The alpha who'd killed his brother knew what he was doing, that much was clear. And someone who'd accidentally killed another wouldn't try to cover it up by moving the body and scrubbing them down to remove their scent and hide the evidence. No, the remorse would drive them to confess, to lead authorities to the body, to take whatever punishment was handed them.
Unless they were a total sociopath.
Then again, a sociopath probably wouldn't accidentally kill someone.
Not that it mattered, because Derek wasn't a sociopath, Stiles just knew it.
He could perfectly hear Stu scoff in his ear, could imagine the smack upside the head and the eyeroll he'd get for that. His twin would call him a moron, would point out that he's being just as naïve and blind as all the abuse victims they see coming through the station doors, all of them swearing that it's okay because their Mate would never harm them.
"Mates don't always mean happy ever after."
Stiles had thought that saying had applied just to Stuart and his situation, but now... now it was maybe also applying to his. Because there was a possibility that his Soul Mate was a killer who'd taken his twin from him. His twin that he'd been Mated to.
Fuck, his head hurt.
He cradled it between his hands, elbows on the table, long breath blowing out from between puffed up cheeks. Shit was way too complicated and he had no idea what the fuck to even think anymore. Because his gut was telling him Derek was innocent, but all the evidence seemed to contradict that and he was torn between the two.
He wished his dad was there. The sheriff would know what to do.
Or maybe not. Maybe his dad would be too overwhelmed with grief over losing one of his sons—and pissed at the other running off—that he wouldn't be able to think straight either.
Christ, what a clusterfuck.
The door swung open and Stiles' head jerked up, heart in his throat with the hope that it was Derek back to apologize, back to confess, back to explain so Stiles could feel a little less like he was going fucking crazy and crawling out of his skin.
Disappointment had him slumping in his seat at the realization that it wasn't who he'd hoped it'd be. Only for the emotion to be replaced by confusion at the sight of a somewhat familiar beta stepping through the threshold, wearing the same black tactical uniform as all the other S-Dubs.
"Ethan?" he questioned incredulously, brow pulled and eyes narrowed in confusion as he took in the sight of the tan brunet.
The beta frowned in response, closing the door and pointing to himself with a manila folder. "Aiden," he corrected, Stiles bobbing his eyebrows. Ethan having a twin in another city made more sense than Ethan being in Oak Creek.
"I take it you know my brother," Aiden commented lightly as he stepped over and sat in the chair Derek had previously occupied.
Stiles' eyes narrowed imperceptibly at someone else taking his alpha's seat, but he kept his scent neutral, instead getting comfy in his own. "Kinda," he stated, rubbing under his nose and tapping his fingers against the table. "Danny's a good friend."
A really good friend, his mind corrected. One he very much fucking owed, just like Lydia.
Although from the sound of it, Danny had owed Lydia so maybe Stiles was in the clear on that one.
Aiden nodded as he straightened the folder on the table and opened it up, revealing the same bio sheet Stiles had spied before. "I haven't had a chance to meet him yet," he confessed, slipping a pen with a pointed end out of his right chest pocket. "Work keeps me busy and pretty much inside the walls. Doesn't look like I'll be meeting him any time soon either." At that, he lifted his chocolate eyes, scent turning sorrowful and sympathetic. "I'm sorry for your loss. I can't imagine how hard it must be for you to have your twin taken away. I don't even wanna think about losing Ethan like that."
The omega swallowed hard, the hole in his soul pulsing and stinging at the reminder of his loss. A weak smile barely turned up the corners of his lips for a brief moment before disappearing completely, a rough "thanks" scraping its way out his throat.
A wavering smile was Aiden's response before he focused on the papers before him, flipping a couple back and holding them in his right hand and scribbling something down with his left. Well, that was one way Stiles could tell them apart. To the best of his knowledge, Ethan was a righty.
Sucked that didn't quite work with him or Stu.
Or rather hadn't worked with him and Stu.
Whatever. Point was he and Stu both were right-hand dominant so other people couldn't tell them apart by which hand they wrote with and that was a bummer.
He smeared a hand over his face, knee bouncing up and down under the table, fingers of his free left hand drumming on the metal. Aiden raised his eyes at him, eyebrow cocked in question, head still tilted down towards the papers.
"Nervous?" the beta questioned, amusement coloring his words.
Stiles shook his head, popping out a quick "nope", chewing on a hangnail. Because he wasn't. He was anxious, sure, ready to get out and get on his way and try to get to the bottom of the mystery surrounding his brother's death. His determination to find the killer had doubled, now no longer just a need to give his twin some justice, but also to maybe—hopefully—prove Derek innocent.
Not that it would matter. Derek still wouldn't want him. But it would make Stiles feel a little bit better about his own feelings towards the other male—whatever they may be.
Not that that mattered either. Derek was pretty much off-limits as his twin's Mate—whether his actual True Mate or not, didn't matter. Also didn't matter that Stu was no longer with them. It was the principle of the thing really.
It was also a pride thing, if he was being totally honest with himself. He was sick of being the one people settled for when they didn't get Stu and he wasn't about to be second choice with his fucking Mate.
But whatever. All of that was moot. Regardless of how Derek felt about him or any chance of them getting together—of which there was none—Stiles was still determined to figure out who had murdered Stuart. And potentially prove Derek's innocence in the process and thus not make himself a naïve jackass in love with an abuser and an asshole.
Although he was still potentially a huge asshole considering how he'd just up and bailed on Stiles like that.
Then again, Stiles had done the same with his dad.
He could totally admit to asshole-like tendencies though. He was comfortable and assured in himself enough to do that.
"Really?" Aiden questioned incredulously, head rearing back slightly. "Because most people are in this situation."
Stiles shrugged. "I haven't done anything wrong and I'm not planning on doing anything wrong." Because conducting his own search for his brother's killer wasn't wrong and was totally justified and he'd fight anyone and everyone who disagreed, regardless of dynamic. "I've got nothing to hide."
The beta slowly nodded, pointing at the other male with the pointed end of his pen. "Your leg is shaking, your fingers are drumming, and you're chewing on a hangnail. You haven't sat still the entire time I've been in this room and from what I've been told, you've been like that pretty much since you were taken in here." He seesawed his head. "It's a sign of nervousness and potentially a dead-giveaway that the fidgeting person is guilty of something."
He cocked an eyebrow, impressed. These S-Dubs clearly knew their shit and he kinda wished his dad had more of them under his command.
The thought of which made him realize that he once again hadn't been left with the S-Dubs' version of Haigh and that fucking sucked. But whatever. Aiden seemed okay and if he was anything like his twin, then he and Stiles should get along fine. Or at least fine enough to get this interview over with and Stiles out into Oak Creek proper.
"Or it's a sign that the fidgeting person has ADHD and is pretty much physically incapable of sitting still," he pointed out, gesturing with an open palm.
"Then explain why you reek of anxiety."
He rolled his eyes, shaking his head in disbelief. "I'm trapped in what looks like an interrogation room being questioned by three different guys at this point, moments after finding out that my brother was murdered and that they have no idea who did it or why. So yeah, I'm a little anxious."
Dark eyes narrowed at him, analyzing, suspicious, then returned to their normal size as he passed whatever test he'd just been put through. Not that he had any doubt. He'd spoken the truth, albeit with a tiny amount—okay, a lot—of attitude, but still the truth. No way would he be busted in any sort of lie or have any sort of red flags pop up over that, laying the ground work for the rest of their conversation being totally honest.
"Sorry," Aiden apologized, not sounding remorseful at all, a superficial "sorry" given because societal rules dictated that it should be said. Stiles was used to it though, having lost count of however many superficial bullshit "sorry"s he'd gotten from Jackson over the years because Lydia had threatened him into it after whatever douchebag thing he'd done to Stiles solely because he was an alpha and he could.
"Wouldn't be doing my job if I didn't question everything," the beta went on, sheepish smile on his face that felt just as fake as the apology.
The visitor just nodded, small smile on his face, putting up a facade of his own as he acted as though he understood and accepted the "sorry". "What exactly is your job?" he asked, glad he could at least be genuine about his curiosity. "What the hell is an S-Dub anyway?"
"Slang term for Security Wolf," he explained, pride lighting up his scent, honest smile on his face as he sat up straighter and puffed out his chest in what the younger man would usually refer to as "bullshit alpha posturing", if it hadn't come from a beta. "And my job is whatever the Big Guy tells me to do at that moment."
"You mean Derek?"
Aiden's eyes narrowed momentarily, suspicious, before seeming to realize that Stiles had most likely made the connection himself after having heard the nickname the S-Dubs used for their boss. "Yeah. Derek."
He slowly nodded, as though taking the info in, trying to cover up the fact that he was pretty sure he just found a damn good in, a damn good way to get some info about the man without making it obvious that he was snooping or had ulterior motives. "What kind of boss is he like?" he asked, keeping his voice light and curious rather than interrogatory and invasive. "He fair? Heavy-handed? Nice until you mess up, then he's a douchebag?" He shrugged to wrap it up, hoping it came across as nonchalant.
Judging from the suspicious note creeping back into Aiden's scent and the way he narrowed his eyes once again, he wasn't as successful as he'd hoped.
The beta leaned back in his chair, folding his arms over his chest, pen still clutched in his left hand. "Why do you ask?"
He shrugged again, smoothing his hair down at the back of his neck. "Just curious."
The eyes stayed narrow, lips parting in thought, then he lifted his head and looked down at him slightly. "This is about your brother," he stated, causing Stiles' own eyes to widen and his brows to raise, wondering if he'd maybe been way more obvious with his intent that he'd thought he'd been. "You wanna make sure he was Mated to a good guy and not a dick."
Or not.
He forced a sheepish smile on his face, scratching at a sideburn in a faux-nervous tick, faking having been caught. "Yeeeah," he stretched the word out to further cement the image, knowing it was working when the other man's scent settled back into its previous comfortable state. "Busted, huh?"
The beta shrugged, not seeming put off by it. "Honestly, I'd do the same thing in your shoes, and I probably will since you know Ethan and Danny." He winked and Stiles faked a small laugh at that. "But I'd especially do it considering the circumstances surrounding your brother."
Oh shit, maybe he'd been busted after all.
His heart started pounding, hands going clammy, and he hoped like hell his physical reaction was attributed to the reminder of his brother's current condition. He croaked out a "yeah" then swallowed hard, staring down at his hands as his fingers tangled together on top of the table for the umpteenth time that afternoon.
"He's a good guy," Aiden assured him, lopsided smirk on his face. "Harsh, but fair. And I'd never seen him raise his voice at Stu, much less lay a violent finger on the guy. You don't need to worry about Derek."
Stiles just nodded, not in the mood to argue. He most definitely needed to worry about Derek, and for several very good fucking reasons.
Turned out Aiden was now the one conducting his interview, not Parrish, not Derek. Third time was a charm, Stiles figured, realizing it was probably for the best. Parrish he was too tempted to give a warning lecture over treating his best friend right—dynamics be damned—and Derek he was too tempted to...well, to do everything really: grill, demand an apology, explain himself, fuck right there on that table...
He shoved it all aside, focusing solely on the interview itself and not why the other two S-Dubs he'd met weren't doing it. It was fairly standard, double-checking all the facts they already had on file in the hopes of catching him in a lie: his parents' name, where he'd been born and raised, where he went to school, birthdate, dynamic, his birth name.
That had gotten a reaction out of the stoic beta who'd been reading the questions like he was beyond bored and was secretly wishing himself elsewhere as he slumped in his seat. Stiles had just shrugged in a "what can ya do?" manner and Aiden dismissed it with a bob of the eyebrows, taking his word on the pronunciation but asking him to spell it.
"Anyone who can spell out that eye-chart of a name and get it right clearly has to be the guy," the guard commented, scribbling a note on the file page.
The rest of the interview went by fairly quickly and efficiently. Stiles was relieved to realize that he was able to be completely honest about everything, alleviating some of the guilt he was feeling about having lied to so many people the past day or two. Granted he wasn't looked at too favorably when he admitted to the lie on his exit papers to leave Beacon Hills, but it hadn't entirely been his fault. At least that's what he told himself when the nausea set in, worried it would have him sent back home and into custody of his dad's department.
Questions turned to his relationship with Jackson, which he was completely honest about, too, regardless of the risk that it may actually hurt his chances of gaining admittance. He was glad when talk further shifted to Danny and that he could be totally truthful there without any negative consequences. He talked about the male's goodheartedness, his easygoing persona, his kindness and his general sunshiny disposition, scenting the way Aiden relaxed with each word, a small smile tugging up the corner of his lips.
The door opened, Stiles peeking over to watch Erica slip inside, hands behind her back. "Big Guy wants ya, Aid," she stated, pointing to the exit with her thumb as she slid to the side of the threshold.
The male beta nodded in acknowledgment, gathering up the already closed file on Stiles, giving the visitor a small smile. "Thanks," he stated genuinely, presumably referring to the info about his own twin's Mate, rising to his feet as his scent shifted from something satisfied and pleased to more morose and apologetic. "And sorry again for your loss."
Stiles forced the corners of his lips up in a barely there smile of gratitude before his face fell and his head ducked down. He swallowed hard, staring at his hands as they sat on the table, thumbnails clicking together. He'd been kind of okay the past few minutes, mind distracted with thoughts of Danny, of the few times he'd seen the guy with his Mate and how they interacted with one another. But now that distraction was gone and he was once again reminded of his own twin and what had happened to him, why Stiles had come to Oak Creek in the first place.
The heavy footsteps of his boots sounded out as Aiden left the room, the door shut behind him. But the floral scent of the female remained, her own boot covered feet quieter as she made her way to the table and to the seat her co-worker had just vacated. She placed something on the table and slid it over, not stopping until it hit Stiles' knuckles, his eyes catching the clear plastic of a bottle of water.
Raising his eyes, he checked out what she'd brought him, then looked at Erica herself, watching as she pulled the chair out and turned it slightly before lowering herself onto it. She stretched her legs out onto the seat next to her, crossing them at the ankles, one arm propped on the table as she shrugged a shoulder under her tactical shirt.
"Figured you'd be thirsty," she explained, smacking a piece of pink bubblegum between her teeth. "You haven't asked for anything all day and I figure you aren't really thinking straight enough to remember you need essential things like food and water."
His lips twitched in a small grin, knowing she hit the nail on the head with that. It was a bad habit of his, getting so wrapped up in whatever project or paper or research or what the hell he was working on at that moment, totally forgetting necessities, to the point where more than once, he'd made himself ill. And with his mind totally focused on Stuart and his death, he'd completely forgotten that he hadn't had anything to drink since lunch, which was...
Yeah, he had no idea what time it was. It'd been a while since he'd put anything nutritious in himself, basically.
The bottle was still cold from the machine he assumed she got it out of, his hand slightly slipping as he gripped it and unscrewed the cap. He took a sip, relishing the rush of chill he got, the way he could feel it slide down his throat and into his stomach, cooling him down. He took a few more gulps, downing more than he meant to, thirstier than he even realized, before putting the cap back on and setting it aside.
"Thanks," he told her, smile a little more genuine and less shaky than before.
She waved him off, blowing a bubble then deflating it before pulling the gum back into her mouth.
Silence descended over them, Erica more preoccupied with her gum and Stiles staring at the water bottle he held between both hands, thumb rubbing the condensation. A frown formed on his face, the expression deepening with each moment that passed quietly, realization dawning on him. Erica hadn't given any condolences. At least not since she entered the room. He honestly couldn't remember if she'd said anything out in the reception area when he'd first gotten the news, the entire thing a blur now. He was pretty sure she hadn't. Although really, it kinda didn't matter, hadn't ever stopped other people before. He remembered back to his mom's death, how countless folks had given him their condolences several times and not just because they couldn't remember whether they had or not. He figured with Erica having been one of Stu's co-workers—and potentially even a friend—she would've said it more than once.
Apparently not.
Kinda rude really.
"Did you know it's harder for betas to get pregnant than alphas or omegas?" she randomly stated, head tilted to the side as she peered at him from beneath heavy black eyeshadow.
Okay, what?
His eyebrows raised then furrowed, his head rearing back in surprise, shaking rapidly to clear away the confusion that her random statement had created. Because it was random, even more so than the crap his own mouth usually spurts out—Stu's words, of course. The two of them were sitting in silence in an interrogation room at the base for what he figured was Oak Creek's version of law enforcement. Had they been waiting in the reception area of an OB/GYN, maybe if she'd been reading a magazine about it, sure, then it wouldn't seem so far outta left fucking field. But no. She was sitting there smacking her gum and inspecting her red nails.
And Stiles was left seated across from her making like a goldfish as he struggled to come up with a response of some form. Of any form. "I—what?" he managed to get out, brow furrowing further and eyes narrowing as he leaned his head closer, lips parted.
Erica shrugged, focusing on him as she ran her hand through her hair, fluffing it up. "You look like you need a distraction and I need someone else to complain to about the unfairness of beta fertility."
He opened his mouth only to shut it with a loud smack, still having no clue what the hell was going on. But she was right, at least about the first part. He needed a distraction, something else to think about. And why not issues betas apparently had with getting pregnant? Wasn't like he had anything else to talk to her about and hanging out in silence once again would just let his brain do something dumb like think about his brother. Or Derek. Or his brother and Derek.
So yeah, distraction, definitely needed.
"See, the thing that pisses me off," Erica began, taking his lack of response as permission to go ahead. She dropped her feet onto the floor with a loud thud before turning to face him, leaning over the table to get closer, ample chest resting on top of the metal. "Is how fucking easy it is for alphas and omegas. They go into heat once a year and unless they're on birth control, they're beyond fertile, right? Just one time and boom!" She smacked her hand on the table for emphasis, making him jump slightly in his seat. "Instant-prego. But us betas? We don't get a neat li'l week of guaranteed fertility. We have to guess and assume and do all kinds of crazy positions in order to guarantee his sperm gets to my egg—which I'm not complaining about, ya feel?" She smirked salaciously at him, tongue curled over a fang, eyebrows bobbing.
Stiles just nodded along, figuring it was his safest option. No point in telling her he hadn't done it in any positions, much less new and crazy ones.
"But laying there with your legs in the air for an hour afterward? It gets a li'l tiring. Not to mention makes you feel kinda crazy." She leaned back in her seat with a sigh, lips sticking out in a slight pout before she shook a hand through her hair and waved it all off. "Don't get me wrong, it'll totally be worth it when I finally get pregnant. It's just when you agree to have a family, those nine months of pregnancy are a long enough wait, ya know?"
He shrugged this time, shaking his head. "I guess, yeah." He sniffed, scratching his forehead with a finger before going back to fiddling with his bottle. "I mean, I can't exactly relate, but I know what it's like to be ready for something to happen but have to keep waiting for it."
His mind supplied him with flashes of a blade nose and a sharp jaw, phantom sensations of a broad torso and thick arms against his own body, a thick cock driving into hi—and he promptly cut that thought off. He shifted in his seat, cleared his throat, willing his dick to not get too excited and his scent to not make it too obvious.
Erica's head tilted to the side, eyes narrowed as she looked him over, nostrils flaring as she scented him. "I take it you mean your Mate," she perfectly deduced, straightening up once more. "You don't have a Claiming Bite and your scent, while carrying a few notes of others, including a couple alphas, it doesn't have that overwhelming possessive tone of someone who's marked you as their's."
He rubbed a hand over the left side of his neck self-consciously, eyes automatically drawn to the Bite on her neck. "Yeah," he rasped out, clearing his throat and dropping his hand once he realized what he was doing.
A sympathetic smile formed on her face and she slid a hand over to lay on his, only to think better of it and pull it back. His wolf whimpered, having been looking forward to the physical comfort, but his human-half ignored it, knowing it was nothing personal. Just more antiquated bullshit really. He was gonna have to get used to it while he was there, was gonna have to forgo the freely given hugs and shoulder bumps and nuzzles his friends gave out back home.
"I'm sorry, sweetie," Erica stated, seeming to genuinely mean it, before she perked right up. "Maybe you'll find him here like Stu did. Wouldn't that be something?" She practically beamed at him, clapping her hands as she leaned forward over the table again, brown eyes sparkling in delight.
It was on the tip of his tongue to say that he already had and to point out the irony of who his Mate turned out to be, but he kept his mouth shut. Yet the thought of Derek was firmly planted in his mind, the image of the alpha that he'd managed to sneak a peek at, the jolt of electricity he'd felt when they'd locked eyes. His heart began pounding in his chest and he hoped like hell she interpreted it as excitement over her idea possibly becoming reality.
"Yeah, maybe," he played along, lips curved up on one side. But he couldn't manage a full smile, couldn't keep up the joy that had come when he remembered Derek, not when he was also reminded of the Bite on the side of his neck, the one that belonged to his twin. Finding his Mate was supposed to be the most amazing, incredible, beyond unbelievably awesome moment of his life—at least that's how Scott always played it up—and yet Stiles' had turned out to be bittersweet and depressing, a taunt at what technically belonged to him but he could never have.
Assuming the guy hadn't even been the one to kill Stuart.
Rubbing the back of his neck, Stiles shifted in his seat, leaning on his elbows as he put a curious expression on his face. Not that it was all that hard, considering the fact that internally, he was dying to know more. But he had to play it down, make it seem like just a curiosity over his brother's Mate and not anything more than that, much like he'd done with Aiden.
"What were they like together?" he questioned. "Stu and Derek, I mean. Was it a good match or were there issues? How were they?"
Erica frowned at his inquiries before bobbing her eyebrows in dismissal. "They were good. They made a good team," she answered, heartbeat steady as she told the truth. "They weren't all that big on PDA or anything, but they'd hold hands at times and I'd seen them give each other a quick little kiss a couple times." She paused as she frowned again, staring at the table but seeming as though she was seeing something else.
Stiles leaned closer, tucking his feet under the chair. "What?" he asked softly, not wanting to snap her out of her thoughts and lead her to believe that she was making a mistake and that she should've kept her mouth shut.
"Was kind of weird for a Mated pair to be so—" She waved her hand around in an attempt to find the right word before giving up. "Hands-off, I guess. I mean, Cora is constantly complaining about what hell it is to work here with Mated pairs because we're always all over each other and it's nauseating, or at least nauseating to her, but Derek and Stu were always very touch-shy rather than touch-starved, ya know?"
He nodded, filing the information away, finding the whole thing strange. Danny and Ethan were practically joined at the hip, hardly ever leaving the other person's side and Allison pretty much never used chairs when Scott was around, always using his lap instead. And god, the making out! The endless making out. Stiles'd had to break out the Super Soakers in order to prevent himself from seeing any body parts he didn't wanna see and/or prevent any stains on whatever furniture his friends were going at it on.
So to hear about a Mated pair being so hands-off was strange.
"Then again, I don't know what goes on in the bedroom," Erica went on, hands raised in innocence. "Maybe they're all over each other in there and somehow manage to get it out of their systems." She scoffed at her own thought, rolling her eyes. "Don't see how, but whatever."
He nodded again, rolling with it, ignoring his wolf's angry growls at the thought of Derek doing anything in anyone's bedroom with anyone else. "So aside from the weird no touchy thing, they were totally normal?"
She nodded, humming in agreement, before wincing and seesawing her head. "About once a month Stu would show up to work all jittery and shit, looking like he hadn't really slept. Well, more than usual, anyway. And he'd be really jumpy and freaked out way easier than normal, but always played it off. And Derek would show up sometimes really depressed and cranky and more snarly than usual, pretty much with the same frequency."
He frowned hard at that, red flags popping up all over the place. His brother being jittery and freaking out, Derek being cranky and snarly, both states happening once a month...
"Were they like that at the same time?"
"Whoa! No, no, no!" she insisted, waving her hands around as she caught his implication. "Derek would never lay a hand on Stu, not like that. He was totally respectful, a perfect gentleman, and would be the only one who could calm Stu down from a panic attack."
Stiles' eyes widened at that. Stu had never gotten panic attacks; it had always been a Stiles thing. What the hell had happened to his brother the past two years?
Erica sighed, running a hand through her hair. "Look, talking about this clearly isn't any help to you, so let's just drop it, yeah?" she suggested lowly, giving him a soft smile. "Why don't I go find something we can do to occupy ourselves?"
He looked up at her in question as she rose to her feet, hitching up her utility belt. "Thought you had to man the gate or something."
She waved him off. "Pretty sure Whittemore is gonna be stuck on that for a while once the Big Guy is done with him. Plus my shift technically ended fifteen minutes ago. I just figured you didn't wanna be here by yourself while your friend is getting her flirt on with Parrish."
He seesawed his head, seeing her point, before giving her a grateful smile. "Thanks."
A wink was her response, along with a smirk and a "no problem, Doe Eyes" before she sauntered out the room.
Stiles leaned back in the chair, spinning his half-empty bottle around for lack of anything better to do, mind racing. Stu having panic attacks, acting jumpy and jittery, freaking out at work and getting no sleep at home. Derek being snarly and cranky, most likely snapping at everyone he worked with—including Stuart. The lack of touching and PDA between them and what implications all those things held.
"What the fuck happened to you, bro?" he muttered to no one, ducking his head and running his hands through his hair.
He was almost afraid to find the answer.