Twilight Worlds Chapter 6- The Twilight memento (part 1), a teen wolf fanfic

Hey guys! Yep! I'm alive!

Today is my birthday and instead of me asking for gifts, I'm giving this to you. An actual update!

Now before you all gut me like a fish lets cut the rambling and get the legal stuff out of the way. Shall we?

DISCLAIMER: blah blah blah same as always.

Now that that's settled lets get on with what you guys have been waiting.

Enjoy. :)

Chapter 6. - The Twilight memento (Part I)

His eyebrows are twitching.

His patience is almost at its limit.

Also it should be noted that he's using all of his self-control to not throw a punch.

It is in moments like these that he has to make use of the words Scott and Jackson use when they're half asleep in the morning, because both of them are not the early type of people and practically can't function like normal human beings if they lack enough sleep. The only difference between them is that Jackson whines like a puppy while Scott glares people to death.

"Don't you think is too early for this shit? Go away." he says in the most unfriendly tone he can come up with, glaring through his purple shaded glasses at his reflection in the dark shaded glasses of the older boy in front of him.

"Are you saying a person can't have a coffee to begin his day?" the man asks with an amusing tone, which only causes the boy to twitch even more.

"No, what I'm saying is that you cannot have a coffee, of all the places in the world to have a coffee, in this loft." Stiles crosses his arms, trying to give an impression that whatever the other boy does nothing will change his opinion. He also scowls.

"Well I do recall you saying that we would settle things next time… for the third time." When the other guy started chuckling Stiles could swear he was about to pop a blood vessel.

Today is Thursday.

It's been three days since Derek and Stiles bumped into each other at the loft's entrance.

Since then, every morning the tall-dark-jerk guy named Derek came to the loft just to annoy the fuck out of Stiles. The slim kid was pretty sure that this was the way karma had decided to bite him in the ass, probably for messing with Jackson so many times, or not agreeing to help Lydia shopping, or it may be for that one time he was really pissed and yelled at Allison, or maybe it was for all those times he cheated on Scott during their weekend game sessions (although in his defense, Scott was fucking asking for that).

Whatever the reason the universe had choose to punish him for, he only dreaded the way the universe was getting back at him. By pissing him off with an insensitive prick… despite how attractive that jerk might be he wasn't about to let the idiot walk all over him… not that he wanted the guy all over him, because he didn't.

Seriously.

"Morning Derek." the voice of Isaac snapped Stiles back to reality.

"Morning Isaac." Derek greeted back with a smile, making Stiles feel angrier as it seemed that the tall guy was making himself comfortable and ignoring the fact that he wasn't welcomed.

"Hey Stiles," the blonde curly boy called him, "Do you know if we still have some of those lemon cheese tarts?"

"There's a fresh tray in the backroom." he answered keeping his stare on Derek.

Isaac, finally noticing the stare Stiles is holding on Derek (who was still smiling as if nothing was happening, noticeably infuriating the fuck out of Stiles by the way), alternated his eyes between the two boys. "Well… umm… I'll go get them… yeah." he said awkwardly and promptly walking into the backroom..

Derek returned his eyes to Stiles once Isaac disappeared behind the door, when he noticed the harsh look on the boy's face the young Hale widen his grin and waved at him. "Hey there."

Stiles only narrows his eyes.

"So, can I have my hazel flavored coffee now?" Derek asked unfazed.

As soon as his question was made Stiles revealed a mug from under the counter top and placed it right before Derek. He also decided to remain silent.

"Not very friendly are you?" the dark boy asked and grinned smugly as he saw Stiles gaping.

And that was it.

"Are you seriously fucking kidding me?" Stiles almost choked on his own spit as he tried not to raise his voice too much. The last thing he wanted was bad publicity, pissed off customers and one angry Heather.

"Such a fancy language you use." he retorted… with a smile. Stiles tried to fight back that stupid fluttering feeling in his gut he had been getting for a while.

"Stop stalling you jerk." the boy narrowed his eyes. "You are very well aware of what I meant with that."

"I also know that Heather told you yesterday to just do your job," Derek leaned over the counter. "What is your job Stiles?"

The kid scowled. "I'm a barista."

Derek didn't even try to hide the smirk in his face. "And what do baristas do?"

An eyebrow twitched. "They serve coffee." Stiles answered slowly. "And I did serve you coffee." he signaled the mug.

"Yes you did, which is nice to know that you in fact do your job," he said picking up the mug and giving it a sip and making an approval sound in the back of his throat while nodding, "And you do it in a very good by the way."

Stiles tried to harden his glare, feeling more blood rushing up to his face. Of course, he stubbornly convinced himself that it was because of the rage.

Derek's grin grew even wider when he looked back at Stiles, noticing the red cheeks. "Did my comment just made you blush?"

"Actually I'm fighting back the urge to punch you." he gritted.

"Stiles!" a voice shouted getting both boys' attention.

The one calling out to him was Lydia; she was wearing a short purple dress that was a perfect fit for every curve of her body together with purple high heels that made a perfect match, a few golden bangles jingling in her right wrist, a very fancy purse under her arm, and her long curly strawberry blonde hair perfectly fluttering in the air as she walked to the counter. She was using that ever so mysterious and yet a bit creepy smile of hers.

As Stiles smiled, always happy to see any of his friends and specially her, the barista boy started to wave at her returning her a big smile as well. Derek remained in his place, his features turning all serious.

"Hey boys." she said once she was by the counter.

"Hey Lydia." both boys greeted her. At this Stiles turned to see Derek with a surprised look on his face.

Derek merely was looking back at him, his face ever so stoic. "What?"

The barista pointed a finger at the older boy while looking at the redhead. "You know this guy?!" Derek scowled at that, feeling a bit offended as how the boy had addressed him. Stile threw his arms up in the air when Lydia nodded. "Of course you would knew him, I don't know why am I even surprised about your social skills, fuck."

"Is there something wrong with her knowing about me?" Derek asked a bit annoyed.

"Of course there is!" Stiles said flailing.

"What is that supposed to mean?" Derek glared at him.

"Because you're a jerk!" Stiles said flailing once more, as if that was all the explanation needed. "There's just no way that Lydia would be able to put up with you, she can barely put up with me and I am all sweetness and awesomeness."

Derek was getting a little pissed about what Stiles said, but found it hard to stay angry at the boy as he said those words which why he snorted. "Yeah, sure."

Stiles narrowed another glare at Derek, then turned to Lydia to complain. "See?! He's a total jerk!" he pointed at Derek.

"Well, you're not exactly a bouquet of roses you know." The Hale boy retorted.

Stiles glared. "Oh, yeah? Well-"

"Okay, enough of your bitching Stiles." The barista boy gaped at Lydia. "First of all, yes I know Derek if only because of a coincidence."

"As I recall it you're the one who walked up to me and practically demanded that I accepted your help." Derek said, unfazed by Lydia's cold glare.

"Actually, yeah, she does that a lot." as soon as Lydia turned to Stiles with that smile of hers the boy immediately went stiff.

"Second of all," she paused to pat Stiles' cheek while smiling, "Sweetie, is not that I put up with you, most of the times, but is more like a knack for ignoring you."

Stiles gaped.

"Anyway, I came here because Allison asked me to get something for her; she's doing a test right now." As Stiles continued gaping at her Lydia kept smiling at him. "Sweetie, I'm kind of in a hurry, you know."

Stiles pouted. "Fine, but we are so having this conversation later, okay?" without more words Stiles went to the backroom.

"So it was true." the girl said without looking at the older boy. Sensing how Derek was giving her the questioning brow she added. "That a tall and dark and, I quote, 'extremely handsome guy' has been hanging around the campus for the last three days, only to annoy the shit out a certain barista boy." she marked the last words finally turning to Derek with that typical smile of hers.

Derek adjusted his dark glasses before taking a sip of his mug. "Well it seems that that guy has nothing better to do."

Lydia narrowed her eyes at him. "Derek, what exactly are you doing here?"

Derek remained silent, taking another sip and merely looking at Lydia. He was trying to sort out his thoughts for an answer.

"Derek." they both turned around, looking at Isaac who was holding up a brown bag. "Here are the muffins you ordered."

"Thanks." he while grabbing the bag. "Well I gotta go to work. See you later Isaac, Lydia" he said nodding to each one of them and heading out without sparing another glance.

"Here you go Lyds." After a few seconds after Derek dashed out Stiles appeared from the backroom, handing the girl a book. His eyes glanced at the empty stool for just a brief second.

"Disappointed to see someone's missing?" Lydia asked looking smugly making Stiles roll his eyes. 'Of course she had to fucking notice.'

"Actually I'm relieved."

"About what?" asked a confused Isaac.

"Not important. Lyds, please tell Allison I said thanks, the book was really helpful." He smiled at her.

The girl gave him one more significant look. "Will do." she said after a few seconds and started putting the book in her purse. "By the way, I need you to stop by my house as soon as you're off from your last class, got it?" she said in a tone that didn't leave room for discussion.

Stiles merely nodded.

"Good." She said smiling again in that creepy way of her. "See you later." Pinching Stiles' cheek and giving another smile to Isaac she stuttered out of the loft.

"What was that all about?" asked Isaac, his expression a little freaked out.

Over the last week Isaac got to know Stiles' friends, since they were the ones who hanged around the loft most of the time in between classes or during their free periods. First impressions were usually his strong point for him so he pretty much caught up to everyone's basic character: Lydia was bossy and smart, Jackson was a little bit of a jerk, Allison was shy but cute, and Scott was a huge clueless person. Right now, since Lydia had given him 'the smile' like Stiles used to call it all the time, he couldn't help to feel a little scared for his life. He had heard from his scrawny barista mate that having that smile directed at you was never a good thing.

"If she didn't say anything to you then it's best not to linger about it." he shrugged dismissively. "Anyway, my shift is over and I have to go and finish a report for my Shakespeare class." he said removing his apron and his purple glasses. "It's almost ten o'clock so Danny will be here soon, need anything?"

Isaac shook his head. "Nah, it's ok. Just go and good luck with your report. If I need anything I'll just text you and make sure everyone in the classroom hears your ringtone." he chuckled.

Stiles gaped. "Hey! I'll have you know, that mushy tone is specifically only for Scott and it's quite fitting." When the blonde boy gave him an unimpressed look he added. "You're just like that because you weren't there when Scott and Allison first started dating. Seriously man, it was like watching one of those cheesy romance novels that are so lovey-dovey-gooey-goo that you just wanna choke on your own puke. And not also happy with burning my eyes with their PDA , Scott made me their third wheel a good chunk of times by casually forgetting he was meeting up with Allison whenever we went out. I mean totally uncool."

Isaac merely looked at the other boy with wide opened eyes, wondering how the hell Stiles didn't run out of breath with such a rambling fit.

"You don't believe me do you?" Stiles asked seeing who the other boy just kept looking at him.

Isaac cleared his throat. "Sorry, I was thinking about something else. But yeah, actually yeah, I do believe you. I know how that feels." he winced at the memory of Boyd and Erica's first dates.

"Are you okay?"

"Yeah, just remembered some scaring things."

"Well anyway, I'm off. See you later." he waved while walking away.

As Stiles exited the loft and headed for his classroom, mostly wondering about how to write his report, he started happily humming a song with a smile tugging up his lips. He remained so engrossed in his classes and duties for the rest of the day that he didn't got the chance to be thinking about certain tall dark and jerky guy, and probably he would just be caught up in an endless loop of blushing and berating himself every time he let his mind drift to the image of Derek. Because despite how much he wanted to deny the attractiveness of the taller man and just label him a big total asshole (which he totally was by the way), Stiles found out he couldn't really do it.

Not that he was falling for the guy or something, because he totally wasn't. After all, how could he be able to fall for tall-dark-broody-jerkwad-asshole-perfect-hair-muscle… okay, so despite the obvious looks that one could totally be okay with, he knew that allowing himself to set eyes on a guy such as that was not good for him. He already had his good share of pining after people that were either completely out of his league or after the ones who treated him like crap… or both. It was kind of an unhealthy hobby if you asked him.

But for now he was totally focusing on his duties.

He would later have time to deal with his unhealthy hobbies.

He is losing control.

He knows it and he can't do anything about it.

Whenever he dwells on it he finds he actually doesn't mind too much.

Because there's something telling him that losing control this time won't be so bad.

Though he can't really say why.

These are the thoughts that go through Derek Hale's mind as he sits in his desk, absentmindedly nodding at whatever his secretary is telling him about today's schedule. He knows better than to ignore his secretary when she's going through the agenda for the day, because later it will only be a nonstop rain of scolding for not having the professionalism to be more attentive; however, he couldn't stop himself from dwelling into the events of this week and that last question Lydia gave him.

That Monday afternoon, after leaving the loft, Derek had received a text message from his mother asking if he was alright since she heard he had left a message back in the office saying he wasn't going to work today, a first the Hale boy frowned. Wasn't he allowed a break every now and then? Of course, he got his answer when he texted back. As his reply said something about how he just wanted a day off and that nothing bad was happening to him, Talia immediately replied saying that it was just a bit weird for Mr. Workaholic to take a day off. She also asked if Peter had anything to do with this.

'Not you too mom.' he sighed and thought.

He had to remind himself to later have a long talk with his sisters about the difference between an actual workaholic and a person who is just professional and dedicated. He also had to consider telling her about Peter, but he thought it would be best to leave that piece of information as blackmailing material for later.

After replying to his mother that everything was fine and that she should stop listening to Cora and Laura, Derek also told her that he would spend most of the day doing a few personal errands.

That's how most of his Monday went by.

By Tuesday Derek was yet again heading for the loft in Peter's bike, parking in the campus around ten in the morning, occasionally noticing how most students would gawk at him. It should be noticed that he did definitely not smirk nor swell his chest in pride… not that much anyway. Once he was inside the loft, Derek's grin grew even wider as he saw the horrified look on Stiles when the kid saw him walking to the counter. So adjusting his dark glasses he started the slow pacing towards the counter, weirdly enjoying the way Stiles frowned and adjusted those purple shaded glasses every few seconds. Probably fidgeting and trying to suppress the urge to punch him. The thought only made the Hale boy smile even more, although the reason behind it was quickly dismissed in the back of his head.

Probably it was a whim of destiny, but that whole Tuesday morning the loft remained devoid of customers, which allowed Derek to enjoy the pleasure of annoying Stiles without the boy getting too engrossed in attending other people. Occasionally going to the backroom to bake something while Isaac came to the front to make him company. Then Stiles would come back to attend the register and bicker a little more with the tall dark older boy, which Derek was incredibly happy to oblige to… not that he would say it out loud. And finally, just as it happened on Monday, by the time Derek had to leave both of them, or mostly Stiles, were engrossed into another argue as they were suddenly interrupted by Heather ordering Stiles around. The barista boy simply made the same warning he made to Derek last time and went to the back to do his job, the Hale boy left with another smirk smeared across his face.

Wednesday morning was pretty much the same.

Now that he was here... in his office... still not paying full attention to his secretary, he was recounting the events of today's morning… yeah, it was once again the same thing.

It amazed Derek how easy it was for him to engross himself in the matter of Stiles, mostly because it was quite rare of him to show any interest in anything at all (yeah, in accordance to Laura and Cora who wouldn't stop labeling him as a sociopath). But the fact was that Derek rarely developed an interest in people or things not related to his work or his family… yeah, he had to interact with strange people every now and then but the interactions never went any further than what normal social patterns established, like going to a mall and courteously greeting the cashier when buying something with Laura, or talking calmly to a police officer if Peter was being his usual creepy self, or chatting about cars to the mechanics that worked together with Boyd in the workshop. Point is: Derek never went beyond normal social behavior when it came to talk only when it was necessary for him.

Probably it had to do with the fact that he felt like some kind of weight was removed from him at some point in the last days, but he just didn't notice how quickly that heavy feeling had vanished from over him.

He was pulled out of his thought when his secretary said that it was all for the day, so berating himself yet again for his lack of focus the young Hale just asked for a digital copy of the schedule in case he needed to be reminded of the time limits for each thing (It was the only way that his secretary wouldn't notice his lack of attention). With that his secretary nodded and left, stopping and looking back at him just before exiting the room.

"By the way, Mr. Hale," she called waiting for the man to turn to her, "Your uncle came by this morning, he left something for you on the coffee table."

"Thank you Emily, I'll make sure to check it out." he nodded to the girl and went back to read some of his papers.

"You're welcome, Mr. Hale." and with that she left, closing the door behind her.

Deciding that it was best to get over with Peter's surprise before anything else happened (which could be mostly just his uncle calling to know if he had opened his present) he went to the table, registering a box he hadn't notice before. Derek, up to this point in his life, expected something weird to pop out of the box as soon as the lid was open, or maybe something very disturbing to appear before his eyes, which were possible scenarios taking into account that said box was from Peter. What he definitely never expected to find was a simple and plain box of chocolates.

'Just chocolate? Really Peter?' he thought a little amused.

Either his uncle was becoming a little bit more normal or… actually, now that he thought about that, Peter normal?! That was by far the most utterly stupid thing. So while dwelling on the possibility of whether if his uncle was becoming a little bit normal for once or not it was that the Hale boy's nose caught a certain scent in the air. Another sniff directed his nose to the box in his hands, and that's when he smelled again.

The chocolate was spiked.

'Now this is more Peter-like.' he thought as he shook his head smiling.

Derek also felt a little bit amused to see the different figures that the chocolates had, like a bell, a star, a flower, and so on; however, his eyes sprang open when he saw a chocolate in the form of an eye… a chocolate eye

That's when another memory hit right away.

'Spark.'

Indeed.

How in the holy hell did he forget those delicious two ponds of melted chocolate?

It was midway through his memories of the stripper boy that another thing hit his thoughts, he had forgotten to visit The Pack as he had promised the boy. Return to visit him again. Derek buried his head in his hands. Had the boy been waiting for him on these past days? Was he disappointed on him not going as he said he would right after actually asking for the boy's permission? What should he say to him next time he saw him? Could he have the chance to schedule another private show to get the chance to talk to him? The last question popping into his mind with a little more importance than the others… especially if he wished to get the chance to talk to the boy without a whole hoard of gasping and horny customers that is.

His gut churned at that.

And then his mind, processing the thought and the reaction, was suddenly shocked.

'Oh my god, am i-'

His shocking thoughts had to be canceled when he heard the door of his office being knocked.

"Come in." he said clearing his throat and checking himself in a mirror before turning his eyes to the door, not surprised to see Emily popping her head inside.

"Excuse me, Mr. Hale?" she ask tentatively, voice small and a bit shy.

"Yes, Emily? What is it?"

"Sorry for bothering you Mr. Hale but there's someone who wants to see you and just refuses to leave." she makes an apologetic smile.

Derek weighs his options before nodding. "It's okay, you can let the person in."

As he saw Emily going back to whoever wanted to see him Derek sighed and braced himself for another, and most likely boring, business meeting.

His thoughts would have to wait for later.

The door slammed open.

David Whittemore was absentmindedly going through some papers from his last case, where he had been triumphant as always by the way, when the sudden slam of the door caused his heart to almost jump out of his chest.

His near heart attack caused him to sweat uncontrollably and his pulse to reach high levels as his chest started to go up and down looking like a frog that was croaking. When David turned around his face turned pale to the sight of the man standing in the doorway, it was an almost devious grin he had long forgotten and was coming all back to him like a splash from a bucket of cold water.

"I'm sorry," the man said stepping into the office, "I would've knocked but no one seemed to be attending in the front."

"The door was closed." David stated.

"Exactly," he said pointing a finger, "It was only 'closed' but not locked." he smirked.

"Usually that means no one should come inside because its lunch break or something, people close their doors because they do not want to be disturbed." David glared.

"And that's why people lock their doors." he smirked again.

"Peter, what the hell do you want from me?!" he asked finally losing all patience.

"Ah, skipping the formalities already, eh David?" Peter smirked, "Or should I address you as 'Mr. Whittemore'? Although that sounds quite weird when you-"

"Peter!" the lawyer interrupted. "Get to the point."

Smiling once again Peter flopped down into the cozy seat from across David. "I need your help David."

"No." he immediately said.

The Hale man snorted. "Listen David-"

"No you listen to me!" he almost pointing a menacing finger at Peter and leaning over his desk. "I don't know what the hell you're up to and I frankly don't give a shit about it."

Peter clucked his tongue. "My, my. What a nasty language for someone of your etiquette David."

The lawyer was now losing his patience. "Enough with the bullshit Hale!"

Peter finally relented in his silliness, keeping a cold stare.

Mr. Whittemore relaxing back into his seat took a depth breath. "Listen, I just don't want to get into trouble Peter," the man's face being to contort with a hint of concern, "I have a family to think about and-"

"Family?" Peter mocked, his features obviously trying to contain an unseen anger.

Sitting up straight from his comfortable position on the chair. "Family?!"

"Yes, family." David repeated. "Right now my family is-"

"I have family to think about too, Whittemore!" he snapped. "I don't know if you remember David but there was a time when there was this happy little family which had members that used to look out for each other's backs all the time. A family that shared more than just blood bonds."

David swallowed the heavy knot forming in his throat.

"Not matter how dire the situation was, they would always stick together and help out one another regardless of the consequences."

David looked down.

"They would always defend each other from anyone and anything." Peter said last and heavy breathing.

The lawyer remained silent for a few minutes, focusing only on the way the other man tried to even his breath. "I never meant to run away."

Peter, who was now more visibly calm, relaxed into his seat again sighing. "I can't blame you… although I desperately wish I could."

"I am at fault." he corrected. "They were counting on me and I let them down."

The Hale man hid his face behind his hands sighing. "There was nothing any of us could've done, nobody saw that coming and most certainly not to them." Sitting up straight once more he now looked into David's eyes. "But we can do something now, David."

Mr. Whittemore let out a hopeless sigh. "Peter, what's the point? That was eight years ago and no one could find any proof of any kind."

"As I said, we can do something now."

"Peter-"

"No, listen." he interrupted, his voice getting higher. "There was no real justice to that, and you know it very well. We let that asshole have his way mostly because there was nothing we could do at the time, but there is something we can do now." He said slumping back into his chair.

David made a defeated sigh.

"It was for Jackson." Peter said, making David turned with a confused look. "In that time, you and your wife had just adopted Jackson, and I understand that you were so happy with having your son that you didn't want to risk anything." Peter reached for David's hand. "And believe me when I say that that's the main reason why they would've never blamed you. It's also the main reason why I can't blame you, even though I'd really loved to." He finished smirking

The lawyer snorted.

After a few moments of silence David spoke again. "Peter, what about him? Does he know anything of this?"

Peter shook his head.

"Then why should we bring up the past? I know I haven't been keeping a good record about this, but I've heard about him." At this Peter looked surprised. "It was actually a big shock when I knew who he was, but the point is that right now he's happy with his life as it is. Removing the past and bringing back old grudges and ghosts will only hurt him. Even worse, It could end up hurting the people around him."

"And let me guess, one of those people is Jackson right?"

David looked at Peter stunned for only a few seconds and then sighed. "So you have been keeping tabs haven't you?"

"I have someone else helping me." he simply stated.

David stared at Peter, the Hale man giving a significant look. Realization came into the lawyer when he rolled his eyes in annoyance. "Of course, how could I miss that one. Figures he would be the one helping you." he said all snarky.

"He also has something important to lose in all of this, yet he doesn't coward back." Peter said making David flinch.

"If you have him helping you out then what the fuck are you-?" he couldn't finish his question when a folder was thrown over his desk. The lawyer eyebrow rose questioningly at the other man.

"Last time I asked for your help you said that there was nothing that could be done because there wasn't enough solid evidence to go all the way through." He said calmly, crossing his arms over his chest looking quite menacing. "This is not really solid evidence as much as several hints that point towards it. I was hoping you could look at it"

Giving the Hale man a significant look David reached the folder and read the papers, his eyebrows started to disappear in the line of hair several times.

"What are you thinking?" Peter asked eyeing the man and measuring his reactions.

The lawyer said nothing as he kept reading the papers, his expressions variating from blank to surprised and seriousness all at the same time. After a few minutes David put down the folder to let out a sigh.

"Not looking good?" Peter asked tentatively.

"Is not that," David made a pause closing his eyes and pinching the bridge of his nose, "It's just that..." he made another pause to arrange his thoughts finally turning his eyes to the other man. "Okay, first of all. Yes, there are good leads in this and I'm pretty sure that if you guys can get a hold of them then, and only then, it might help more as solid evidence."

"Might?" he remarked the word.

"The point is, what makes you think the evidence is still there, Peter?"

"We've been able to recover some of it, but there are several key points that we're missing." he sighed.

"I see." he paused again measuring the situation. "Second of all. Even if you do get what you need, how are you going to go on about it?" David leaned over the desk, his face frowning with concern. "Peter, if there's one thing you shouldn't forget about is the power that that man has right now. Years ago, the reason why he was able to get out of all of that unscathed it was because he was smart enough to not leave any trace behind that couldn't incriminate him. Now, eight years later, he has built enough power to be untouchable unless the whole world points at him."

"I am very well aware of that little detail, thank you very much." he said annoyed.

"Well then, I'm very happy for you." the lawyer retorted sarcastically. "Now last. What are you gonna do about the boy?"

Peter remained silent.

"As much as we would both like to keep the number of involved people to a minimum, we can't deny that he has all the right in the world to know what's going on."

The other man silently nodded.

"And this is the very reason why I think is a bad idea to bring back the past." he breath out exasperatedly, standing up from his chair as he slowly paced to his window. Pushing back the urge to pull out his hairs while looking outside.

"Are you saying that is better to leave that bastard unpunished?".

"Of course not! Christ, Peter!" David finally snapped again.

"Then what is the problem, David?!"

"Peter, I'm really sorry about this but-"

"Are you, David?" Peter interrupted abruptly, raising his voice as well. "Do you even feel sorry for all of this? Can you really say you'll abandon the boy when both of his parents-?"

"Oh my god, Peter! I never said that!"

"Then why the hell are you-"

"HE THREATENED MY FAMILY!" finally David shout, his face red with anger and anguish.

Peter gaped, his face turned pale. He felt a knot of nausea rising through his gut. David also, finally feeling more in control of himself, went back to drop tired on his chair as he let out all the air from his lungs. He felt defeated and cornered.

"Why didn't you told us about this?" finally Peter asked, his voice a bit small.

David said nothing.

"David, why didn't you ever say anything?" he asked again raising his voice a bit.

Mr. Whittemore only shook his head.

"We could've helped you or something, David. I'm sure that if we-"

"Peter." the other man suddenly interrupted, his eyes finally meeting Peter's. There was a hint of helplessness as his voice struggled to get the words through.

"What's really going on David?" Peter asked hesitantly. Something told him he really didn't want to know.

"He is obsessed once again..." he paused not really sure if he wanted to complete the phrase. "... he's obsessed... with the boy."

Peter's eyes were wide with horror.

"If a move is made, there's just no way to prevent everyone from getting involved."

The problem had escalated to an even worse level.

Stiles was lying in his bed.

After a horrible day of never ending and dull-brain-numbing lectures, the boy was feeling incredible exhausted from all of those tedious exercises that most of the professors kept insisting on doing for class. Seriously, didn't anyone see how pointless those so called 'reinforcement exercises' were when all they did was to stall the course? He still wondered how the hell the college allowed those guys to go on with that kind of teaching that almost sucked all the color out of your imagination.

However, if he had to be honest (which he was totally trying not to as much as he hated to admit it), the real reason why he felt so tired was because he just couldn't stop whining about a certain tall-dark-jerky guy who seemed to really find joy in making his a life a living hell. Not only was he a total dick but he also seemed to be way too much on Stiles' mind, and that was precisely what the scrawny kid didn't liked.

Why was he complaining about this?

Because his mind was still on that man he met almost a week ago.

And wasn't that a tragic thought by taking into consideration that he almost knew nothing about him. Yet, all and all, he could still perfectly picture the tall-wolfy man for which he made a private dance. He could still remember the enticing moves he used, how much emphasis he did on every twitch and twist he needed in order to perform to his utmost perfection.

Indeed. The great Spark had made a show like never just before for those green eyes.

"Dery." the name felt like velvet in his lips and left a sweet sensation in his tongue. However the feeling in his tongue was short lived when he shook his head to keep all those memories out of his head.

"Stop it Stilinski!" he said to himself, his voice a bit annoyed. "You know very well that Spark is the one who has him." He shifted to be resting on his side. "You, on the other hand, have... nothing."

Now the thing was even more deep than anyone could imagine.

Why?

The answer was simple.

Stiles treated Spark as another being.

Spark was another person in Stiles' book.

"That's right boy." That smugly inner voice he knew so well started to buzz in his ears. "No matter what you do it won't work, Dery is only in there for me and you know it Stiles." The boy shut his eyes as those words crossed his mind with a foreign and sultry voice.

Ah yes, the boy had been so intended in keeping the lives of Stiles and Spark apart from each other that, over the course of time and in a very slow way, it came to a point where suddenly Stiles and Spark were now different personalities in his mind.

Spark was another person.

It had been some time ago when his brain had registered this twisted reality inside of him as something usual, even as fucked up and weird as it sounded… considering it was by the way. Maybe it was his uncanny ability to always look forward to something unnatural, or his affinity to always find himself embroiled in some weird shit, but the one and only truth for him was that Spark was another side of him taking control whenever it was necessary. Spark was everything Stiles was not, and anything Spark wished he could have while on the other hand Stiles wasn't even allowed to look at it.

Yeah, it was quite depressing and at the same time stupid. Mostly because they were still the same; however, Stiles didn't see it that way.

"I really am fucked up, am I?" he left the question in the air.

Taking a deep breath and trying his best to ignore the voice from before Stiles got up from his bed and went to the bathroom, opening the faucet and splashing cold water in his face several times as droplets traced the lines over the lean muscles of his bare chest and disappeared under the waistband of his pajama bottoms. When he felt he was cold and wet enough he stood up straight, his eyes opening wide with surprise and his entire body suffering a shudder when he saw the image of Spark grinning back at him from the other side of the mirror.

"Exactly." Spark said grinning even wider. "Did you really think that Dery wanted to see you?" the stripper pointed a finger at the boy. "What with all the scrawnyness and the nerdyness did you honestly thought he could feel attracted to you?"

Stiles only stared at the stripper.

"You really did think that." he said with a pleased tone.

The boy frowned. "Of course not you idiot."

Feeling something boiling inside of him Stiles quickly left the bathroom and returned to his bedroom to throw himself over the bed, sprawling his body like a starfish.

"I can tell what you're thinking." the voice called to him again in a singing tone.

When Stiles turned his head around he saw the image of Spark grinning back at him from the big mirror that was hanging from the wardrobe's door.

"And you're thinking that I'm right."

"If you know that already then shut the fuck up, okay?" he gritted tucking his head under the pillow.

"Fine, suit yourself." the voice ringed in his ears. "Because as long as you keep thinking about it… well, you catch my drift."

As Stiles kept silent he expected yet another sarcastic retort from the stripper for what he felt like ages. God, was this how people thought of him whenever he did the same? After actually waiting just a few seconds for a snarky comment only the silence filled his mind when he heard the voice no more.

Instantly taking his head from under the pillow he saw the mirror void of any figure in it. The image of Spark had been replaced now with his own figure laying on the bed and looking back with baggy and tired eyes.

Yes, it was true that up to a certain point Stiles felt quite attracted to that guy that had called himself Dery. It was no secret that the guy looked insanely attractive being all tall, with broad shoulders and an amazing muscled body hidden under those formal clothes he was using those two times (he loved to suppose that from the way his clothes seemed a bit tight in certain spots), that jet black hair that was finely coiffed, the stubble that gave the man a more mature and cool look, and last where those piercing green eyes.

It was no secret to himself that even though the memory of green held some grim meaning for him, after seeing the glint in those green eyes something inside of him changed without the young man noticing it. The feeling started to slowly shift since the first moment he saw those green eyes staring back at him that night he performed, he would be lying if he said that he didn't felt some kind of shock the moment his eyes locked on with the man's. The aftermath being an uncontrollable spiral of emotions that only made him dizzy. There was still some fear attached to the feeling, but after the second time he saw those eyes and was also able to be in the central focus of them, he knew that the lingering fear behind that color had started to wither away only to leave a fluttering sensation behind.

The feeling burrowed even deeper in those last moments with the wolf man. He would still remember how close their bodies were, the warm radiating from both of them as their hands lingered dangerously close but without touching each other. How their breaths collided like the clash of two summer breezes, the heat that came from their mouths almost calling- no, more like screaming for something else to happen. And finally how those two brilliant emerald eyes were trying to bore into his very soul, as if they were the only ones capable of doing and uncovering something incredible… and now that he was thinking about that, they kind of did. Stiles chuckled only for a second as the bitter truth hit him once again, a heavy knot forming in his throat.

The one Dery had been with was Spark, not Stiles.

And so Stiles was back to square one.

That's when his phone went off, filling the silence with the batman music he used for entry calls.

Thanking the heavens for sending him something to pull his mind out of his gloomy thoughts the boy quickly scrambled for his phone resting in the nightstand right beside the bed, because of the need to distract himself Stiles was quickly punching the answering button without even looking at the ID caller.

"Hello." he said in the most chipper tone he could muster, he was still feeling grateful for the distraction.

"I just love it when you sound so cheerful you know?" the voice on the other side said with a smug tone.

As his hopeful smile fell down Stiles now thought that he was actually cursed.

"Did you seriously just went speechless?" the voice asked with amusement.

Stiles felt another frown in his face. "No, I was waiting for you to hang up." He spat the words in the bitterest tone he could come up with.

"Incredibly enough that's one of the sweetest things you have ever said to me." the man on the other side of the line chuckled.

Trying his best to not break the phone under his grip Stiles took a deep breath. "Just say whatever you wanted to say so can I hang up faster."

"Oh, am I interrupting something important?"

'Other than my usual arguments with myself?' his mind immediately formed. "Deucalion, can you please stop beating around the bush?"

The man chuckled. "Okay, okay, I'll get to the point. You see I need you to work tomorrow night."

Stiles frowned. "Why?" He was confused, Deucalion was not the kind of person who made last minute changes when it came to work. He was always right on schedule or made changes with at least a week of anticipation… just like last week.

He heard the man sighing. "There were... a few issues for Saturday."

Stiles waited to see if Deucalion was going to say something else, so when the only thing he could hear was the older man's breathing he figured it was best to not question the change. He did it once before... and some things can just never be unheard. "Fine," he sighed, "Tomorrow night it is then."

"Glad to hear that." Stiles could practically picture Deucalion's smile. "Though I just gotta say it, I'm a little surprised you actually agreed to it without complaining or even questioning it."

Stiles rolled his eyes. "Yeah, whatever. Well if that's all I'm-"

"You have nothing to worry about." The older man interrupted. "Stiles, you know me better than that. Have I ever backtracked on my word to you?"

Stiles sighed.

If there was one thing that he was completely uncomfortable about working with Deucalion it was the fact that the older man was almost an expert in reading his line of thought and make pretty accurate guesses of his worries, doubts and such. He felt way too much exposed to the man every time that happened.

"No, never." the boy answered slowly.

"Good." Deucalion said and Stiles could only suppose he was smiling. "Anyhow, will this cause any problem for you tomorrow?"

The boy took his time to answer.

Now that he was giving more thought it didn't, mostly because tomorrow he only had one class and he was already ahead of schedule so it was okay for him to skip it one or two times. As for the loft, he had arranged a little deal with Danny since a few weeks ago where both baristas had agreed to exchange their day off. So no, there wasn't any problem with it… unfortunately.

"No."

"Excellent. I'll make sure that everything is ready for when you get here."

Stiles sighed. "Okay."

"Always good to hear your enthusiasm." Deucalion deadpanned.

"Yeah, yeah, anyway see you tomorrow." And without wanting to hear more from the older man he hanged up.

A loud sigh escaped his lips.

Stiles stood there seated in his bed, legs crossed with his phone dangling between his long pale fingers as he thought that maybe that was what he needed. Maybe the the stress of this last week was now adding up to the stress he usually carried around, what with midterms and all the shit he had been through the week maybe what he needed was to spend a long weekend working to forget about everything that was going on in his life.

Another sigh escaped his lips.

Was it crazy of him to think that maybe Spark was right?

His thoughts were suddenly interrupted when his phone buzzed so quickly taking a glance at his ID caller, just to make sure who was calling him this time before answering, his face immediately paled when his mind read the name 'Lydia.'

Yeah, Stiles paled because he had forgot about what he promised the redhead girl this morning.

"Oh shit."

Stiles knew he was majorly fucked.

He was walking with his usual smirk.

He felt quite sure that his smirk was his personal trademarked feature as Derek's was his scowl, not also to mention Laura's ranting and Cora's stomping. Was it a Hale thing? Maybe, considering how his sister's feature was the nagging.

That last thought made him chuckle.

It was midway through the long hallway of the second floor of the incredible Hale Manor that Peter's thoughts were suddenly interrupted when a stack of pictures, tied together with tape, were violently flying a few inches in front of his face. Turning to the direction from which the stack came flying Peter found the door of one of the many big closets (more like storing rooms if you ask him) of the house wide open and the sound of rummaging coming out of it, so being careful of any other incoming flying object he stuck his head inside feeling a little surprised when he saw Laura's back.

The Hale girl was sitting on the floor, a box sitting between her legs, and her arms picking and throwing things around her as she seemed to look for something.

As the older Hale took a couple of tentative steps into the room he took note of all of the junk scattered around the floor, if he had to take an educated guess he could say that his niece had been here at least an hour. He came to a halt when he spotted an old looking picture of him and Talia when they were just little kids, his lips slowly turned into a full smile. Peter got so engrossed in the picture and his memories that he didn't notice Laura starting to stand up, and since Laura was so focused on her task as well it was no surprise that when she turned around and saw his uncle a surprised shout came out of her also scaring Peter who shouted as well.

"Oh my god! You scared the living hell out of me!" Laura protested grabbing her chest panting.

"Well you also scared me! And I'm pretty sure I'm about to turn deaf!" the older man retorted back sticking one finger into one of his ears.

Laura sighed. "Peter what are you doing here?" She asked taking another box in hands and returning to her previous position to resume her search.

Peter's left brow rose, feeling a bit curious about what his niece was doing, but nonetheless answered. "Well, I was just having a lovely stroll through the hallway when suddenly, if I may add, a flying stack of pictures passed right in front of my face."

With that last sentence Laura turned around almost snapping her neck, her face turned apologetic as she saw her uncle's questioning look. "Sorry about that, it's just I'm getting a little desperate here."

Peter took another look around the room. "I can clearly see that." Laura huffed and shook her head. "What are you looking for anyway?" He asked as he stood in his place, eyeing a few pictures interesting enough to catch his eye as he kept glancing at the floor.

"I'm looking for some old albums that, if I remember correctly, were supposed to be here." She said in an exasperated tone as she kept rummaging through the current box in her hands.

Peter let out a small chuckle before returning to scan some for the pictures on the floor, his mind was suddenly invaded by memories of old. His thoughts were suddenly interrupted when he heard Laura grunt annoyed, the now empty box was now lying on its side.

"Urgh, I hate this! Why the hell do we keep storing so much crap?! Or for that matter why in the holy hell haven't we at least sorted out all of this junk?!"

"And here I was thinking that Cora was the only one to lose her temper so easily." Peter said chuckling, when Laura turned to glare at him he added. "Be careful my dear niece, scowl any harder and you'll give yourself Derek's frowny lines."

Laura gaped. "Oh my god! I hate you so much right now!" Having said Laura picked another box and kept throwing stuff around.

A heavy sigh escaped Peter's lips as he shook his head, these kids just didn't have enough sense of humor sometimes. "In all seriousness, just what are you exactly looking for?" When Laura gave him a look as if to say 'Don't you dare play dumb with me, I've already told you that.' Peter rose both hands as a sign of peace and defeat and added. "It's just that you have to remember that if there's one thing the Hales are good at is collecting memories. Mostly pictures at that."

Laura sighed. "I'm looking for the albums from when mom was pregnant with Cora."

Peter's brows rose, the older started to feel a bit intrigued… and if he was being honest (only internally of course) a bit scared. "Why?"

The Hale girl growled in annoyance once again when the box she was searching through ended up empty again. "Because I need them." She spat.

Remaining silent for a moment, the older Hale took a few breaths before answering. "Well I think those ones are in your mother's room, mostly because of your dad. You know how kind of a sap he is when it comes to your mother every time she was pregnant."

Laura froze. "Crap." She said, quickly standing up and storming out of the room.

Peter, on the other hand, remained still in his place just looking around the place that looked like someone had ransacked the entire room, the older man scrunched his nose trying to figure out why his niece was in such a mood.

It was actually a rare sight so see the always so calm Laura losing her temper like that, she usually was the cooler of the three Hale siblings.

Before Peter could form any more thoughts his phone went off, so he quickly punched the answer button after checking the ID caller.

"Talk to me." he said in a calm tone.

"Is everything okay?" the voice on the other side was a man.

Peter made a questioning face. "Why wouldn't it?"

"You sound very calm." he said as if it was the only thing he needed to say.

"I'm always calm."

"No, you're usually just cheeky and smirk like the greatest asshole in the universe."

The older Hale snorted. "Is so good to hear that from your friends, you know?"

"I'm happy to oblige." the other man said, and Peter could almost feel him smiling.

"Well enough with the pleasantries. What news do you have?"

"Well, you'll be pleased to hear that we have new info on our hands." He announced sounding very proud and pleased.

"Really?" Peter sounded amused. "And may I ask from where did we acquire this information?"

There was a brief silence on the other side of the line. "Don't even pretend you're surprised, especially when it was you who had it all arranged."

Peter started fiddling with his fingertips while smirking. "Old tricks are the best aren't they?"

There was a snort on the other side. "I hate it whenever I have to agree with you."

"I know, it almost makes you to want to grab a crossbow and shot it right through my skull, right?" He smirked again when he only heard silence. "I've heard that one before."

"Oh, because you know me so well don't you?"

"Well, I am me for a reason you know."

The other man snorted. "You should really get a hand on your modesty."

After that last comment both men were laughing softly, probably as a caution that both could be heard. A few second of laughter were followed by another couple of seconds of silent breathing, it was obvious there was more to be said but whatever those last words were they were most likely not pleasant. There was a knot forming in the gut of the other man, and Peter could feel how his friend was struggling to say whatever it was that he needed to say.

Peter sighed. "I'm not gonna hang up until you finish whatever you needed to say me, you know?"

The man scoffed. "Nothing gets past you right?"

"As I said before 'I am me for a reason' so yeah, I guess you could say that." Peter shook his head before continuing. "So, do I have to get it out of you or will please spare me the effort?"

The other man sighed. "I talked with David."

The older Hale kept silent for a few seconds. "You talked to him or he called you?"

"Does it really matter?"

"David is a lawyer after all, you can never be too specific when dealing with a lawyer now, can you?"

A groan was heard through the phone. "Okay, fine, yes." The man said exasperated. "David called me. There, are you happy now?"

Peter made a cocky grin. "Yes, actually I am happy and no, I'm never tired of being right."

"God you're insufferable."

"Aww, you sure know how to make me blush, don't you?"

"Anyway, he told me about his situation." The man paused and sighed. "He also told be about the situation with him."

Peter sighed as well. "So now you know too." He could almost see his friend nodding at his comment.

"We both know him well enough to assure that if he feels cornered things are going to get ugly." he said with a worried tone.

Peter sighed, honestly he was losing count how many times he had sighed already and that was worrying him. "Let's take easy for now, okay? We gather as much as we can, ready whatever we need and..."

"And?" the man asked after several seconds of silence. "Did you forget about something?"

"I have an unfinished business actually." Peter said wincing.

"'Unfinished business' uh? And what, pray tell, is this business about?"

Instead of answering Peter simply tuck his left hand into his pocket, his fingers lightly caressing the item inside.

He had a promise to fulfill.

"So you got detention? Again?" he said smirking.

Instead of an answer there was only silence and two staring faces, one was actually more of a glare and the other was kind of stoic.

"Ok, ok, ok, look." He took a pausing breath. "I get it that you like to look very enticing and I get it that he can't help but admire you every time he sees you shaking your ass, but…"

"If you even dare finish that sentence Lahey I swear I'll shave your head by plucking out every single hair with my eyebrow plucker." The girl said pointing a menacing finger at the barista boy.

Isaac on the other tried to shut his mouth into a thin line, thing that failed as his lips kept quivering with the contained laughter. Boyd merely snorted.

Erica gaped. "What are you laughing at?" She cried punching the tall dark boy in the shoulder. "You should be on my side, you know?"

"I'm sorry." he said chuckling and raising his hands in defeat. "But you do realize we kind of asked for it, right?"

Erica made and offended look. "Is it so wrong for two people to want to show each other just how much in love they are?"

"Not at all." Said Isaac. "What it is wrong though is trying to show it off in the main hallway." Before the blonde girl could say anything he added. "With your clothes halfway out of their place." He then turned to Boyd. "Seriously?"

Boyd only shrugged, partly because he wasn't easily scandalized and mainly because he was used to this kind of stuff with Erica.

Erica scoffed. "Some people just need to mind their own business and get a life."

"See? That's something else I don't get." Said Isaac turning to Erica. "Was it really necessary to mock Harris for his lack of social life?"

"Well the guy was obviously jealous that someone was getting some and not him, is it really my fault that he can't score?"

"Well, you certainly did a good job reminding him of that." Boyd said earning a glare from Erica. Isaac was laughing his ass off.

Before Erica could say anything in her defense a voice caught their attentions.

"Hey! Isaac!" The alluded boy turned and smiled.

"Hey there Allison!"

Aside from the curly haired boy the other two remained silent, Boyd with his default stoic expression and Erica rising one brow in amusement. Both following the approaching girl with their eyes as she came to the counter.

"How's it going here?" she asked flashing a cute pair of dimples as she smiled.

Isaac smiled back. "Well, it gets pretty quiet after four in the afternoon so I'd say is quite relaxing over here."

"As long as you don't get bored that's good." she replied.

"Nah, with my friends here it never gets boring." He said happily signaling to Erica and Boyd.

The girl, turning to face Erica and Boyd, made a surprise face and quickly smile again to extend her hand to both of them. "Oh, I see. Hello, I'm Allison. Nice to meet you."

For just brief moment both of them looked at her hand and turned to look at Isaac, the blonde boy in turn widened his eyes and made a face as if to say 'Say hi to her or, I swear to god, I'll smear so much poison ivy in your faces that you'll have to use paper bags as masks to have sex,' to which both eagerly started shaking hands with the girl and smiling.

After Allison made an order and walked back to sit together with a redheaded girl who was smiling in a very strange, and kind of creepy way if you ask any of them, Erica quickly looked back at Isaac. The blonde boy was waving happily at Allison retreating figure, his face was brandishing that typical goofy smile of his. The blonde girl was doing that devilish smile of hers.

"What?" asked Isaac al confused when he saw Erica's smile.

"You are sooooo gonna get your balls ripped off." She said, Boyd snorted trying to muffle a laughter.

Isaac looked at her like she had just grown a third head. "What?!"

"What do you think, Boyd?" she turned to the tall boy.

"I think he might make a good soprano." he said smirking, Erica started cackling like crazy.

Isaac snorted exasperated. "Okay, what the hell are you guys talking about?" He turned to Boyd. "And seriously? A soprano?" The dark boy shrugged.

"But, seriously." Said Erica. "Just make sure Cora doesn't catch you and you'll be fine."

The blonde boy rose a brow confused. "What does Cora have to do with all of this?"

This time it was Erica and Boyd who looked at him like he was the one with the third head.

"You're not serious, are you?" asked Boyd after a few seconds of silence from the blonde kid.

"Serious about what exactly?"

Erica and Boyd gaped, actually it was more Erica gapping and Boyd fighting back the urge to gap. "So you haven't even notice?" asked Erica with disbelief.

Isaac was now feeling a little bit frustrated. "Notice what?!"

"You really are an idiot, you know?" the blonde girl mocked. Boyd contained a laugh

"Okay, you know what? If you guys are just gonna get all mysterious and puzzling and insulting like Peter then I'm gonna get back to work." The boy sighed shaking his head while turning around to make Allison's order.

"Just be careful with a certain abrasive girl, goldilocks." Erica mocked.

Isaac sighed again and looked skyward, asking for inner strength. Was this how Derek felt when his sisters and uncle were teasing him?

"I think it's just my luck to end up like Stiles." Isaac suddenly blurted out.

"Like who?" asked Erica while feeding Boyd some of her pastry.

"Stiles." Isaac said while filling the mugs. "He's the one who usually works the morning shifts with me. But since you guys can barely get to class in the morning and, therefore, not able to make a stop by the loft is understandable that you haven't seen him yet."

"Yeah, yeah, so you're a morning guy. Big deal." Erica mocked and Boyd scoffed. "But seriously, who names their kid 'Stiles'?"

"I also said the same thing so I asked him once myself." The boy answered putting the mugs in a tray and preparing two pastries from the displaying case. "He simply said that I would be saying the same if not worse if I heard his real name. So, go figure."

"That bad huh?" Asked Boyd with his mouth still stuffed with some of Erica's pastry.

Isaac nodded. "Yeah. Now if you'll excuse, I'm gonna keep doing my job. The last thing I want is for someone to come to the loft and just pick on me while I try to do my job, just like Derek does with Stiles."

Isaac completely missed the way Boyd choked on the pastry and the way Erica spat hot coffee in Boyd's face.

He wasn't aware that once again he had run his mouth.

With a loud groan he landed like a heavyweight in his big comfy bed.

The groan was definitely a manly one, not a whiny one in case anyone heard it. Okay?

But back on topic.

Derek was now lying on his back; one of his fluffy pillows had been pulled over the young Hale's face.

He also groaned some more into the pillow as his body felt really tired.

Today had been a total bitch back in the office.

One of the reasons why he didn't spend that much time in the loft this morning was because he knew he had a very heavy schedule ahead of him today, so he was really in no position to dawdle around in the coffee shop while bothering his favorite barista.

Suddenly his whole body froze when his brain realized what he had just thought.

That's right.

He just thought it.

'Favorite barista' sang the irritating Peter-like voice in his head.

Once again Derek had to groan.

Mostly because he couldn't refute that.

Proof of it was that during the course of the last three days Derek had taken upon himself to spend time in the loft getting to know the barista kid named Stiles, actually more like hanging around just to annoy the fuck out of him. Still it was a time he hadn't considered as a waste, and now that he looked back at it he always found himself smiling at the flailing arms and the nonstop ranting and the funny faces and… 'OK, hang on. Stop it right there.' He order to himself.

The young Hale suddenly pulling himself from the bed to sit in the edge of the mattress and firmly shake his head, he let out a really heavy sigh and started rubbing his hands all over his face.

This was not going well… at all.

Now that he was giving a little more thought, which was something weird considering that Derek Hale never handed emotions very well, he was surprised by how easy it had been for him to actually get to feel comfortable with that kid. Stiles' perky attitude mixing up with his antics and those several lapses of anger were things he came to actually enjoy each and every time he visited the loft. Granted, he usually would just go there in order to annoy him but that didn't mean he wasn't having a good time. Also he figured that if the kid was really that annoyed about him he would've just kick him out, which he never did by the way. Maybe the fact that the kid was never willing to let himself be outmatched was the reason why he always retaliated instead of opting for a more permanent solution, but despite that being a reason Derek smiled because he found out he didn't really care that much. Whatever reason Stiles had for allowing such interesting… relation to develop between them then he was happy and would not argue with it.

However, despite whatever warm and comfortable feeling he got from the barista kid his brain just wouldn't stop reminding him of the other side of the coin… his coin.

That other side was Spark.

The thing about the stripper boy was that, unlike the warm feeling he got from Stiles, Spark was a mystery that manage to trap him in an unstoppable spiral of emotions that went in the other and complete opposite direction.

Every time he closed his eyes he could see those two melting ponds of chocolate, an incredible pair of eyes who could just pierce right through his soul and leave him completely defenseless.

Each and every time he could vividly remember those soft and glittering lips that shone like the Milky Way in the night sky, a comparison that was even more effective when he remembered how the boy's skin was littered with moles and freckles all across that pale expansion.

His body twitched just by even remembering those long sleek fingers he used to grab onto either a dancing pole or even to just make gestures that eyes couldn't just ignore.

His mind would also remind him of those long and oh-such-sinful legs, the very same legs that made Derek imagine how perfectly they would fit wrapped around his waist.

Derek had to shake his head once more when the memories assaulted him.

Yeah, this other kid caused a more violent reaction in him. Because just as his name, or actually the right word would be nickname, the boy was just precisely that… he was a spark that ignited different feelings in Derek. He was a spark of desire... of need... of lust.

As the young Hale boy let out another sigh (as well as a frustrated growl, but not that he'll ever admit it) and bowed his head down his eyes were caught by something rather uncomfortable (or maybe more like awkward), his entire face started to feel hot when he realized he had let his mind wander way too much into his thoughts.

'Fuck.'

Yep, ladies and gentlemen, Derek Hale was getting hard.

Flagpole kind of hard.

And with that Derek groaned all frustrated while flopping back into bed like a dead weight while a pillow made its way to the young man's hips to cover his shame.

He covered his probably-now-even-redder face with his arms, slowly breathing to regain control over his own body.

"My god." He spoke softly. "Peter is right. I'm such a fucking prude."

To be fair on the matter it had been quite a long time since Derek had his last sex experience, said occasion being in Berlin during a business party with a most flirting brunette girl. He couldn't exactly remember her name or her status (more like he couldn't bother to) but she was kind of funny and somewhat relaxing, factors that had managed to somehow thaw the ever-so-cold behavior that Derek usually had… although probably that was mostly because of the several drinks that Peter had almost forcefully shoved down his throat- actually, now that he thinks about (and much to his dismay) it was really thanks to Peter that he got laid that last time.

Fan-fucking-tastic.

The young Hale sighed. 'Way to go, Derek.' He thought to himself. 'You can't even get your own fuck buddy.'

It wasn't supposed to be this unfair.

Actually it wasn't… not long ago anyway.

It was some time ago, during his college years to be more precise, that the young and adventurous Derek Hale was socially active (no, seriously), despite the ever infinite shower of insults that either his sisters or his uncle would do about his behavior that always send people running for the hills it was in those times when he would, surprisingly, be more opened towards people in general.

A time when he would willingly go to parties and even be excited about meeting new people.

A time when he was another Derek.

Somewhere down the path it was where he changed, it was after provocative smiles mixed with lustful glances and sinful flirting that, in the end, he had resolved to shut himself off to never suffer or cause suffering to anyone ever again.

Betrayal was something he never took well.

The young Hale grimaced at the memory, promptly shaking his head to clear those traitor thoughts from his mind.

Or else he get even more depressed.

Anyway (getting back to the real topic) since it had been a while since Derek's last visit to the sex department the young Hale was totally entitled to feel incredibly (if he may add) aroused by the stripper kid, because after all the incredible movements and twist and… and just everything else then it was quite impossible for any normal human being to not feel completely aroused by the situation.

And man was he feeling really horny after that private session with the kid.

He remembers his breath turning heavy when the kid finished in that pose over him.

He remembers his hands being all jittery.

He remembers how all of his muscles were aching for the touch.

He remembers the growls in the back of his throat whenever they made eye contact.

He also remembers that soft pink tongue that…

'Fuck.' He thought bitterly while shaking his head once more.

He really needed to get laid.

Thankfully, Derek's depressive analysis of his lack of sex life came to a halt when a voice called him out of his thoughts.

"You look so contemplative, you know?" a gruff, and somewhat deep, voice makes him turn his head to the door of his room.

Derek let out a sigh and scowled when he met his uncle's snarky grin, the older man was resting against the door frame.

"I like it how you're always happy to see me, my dear Dery-boy." Peter says while pacing into the room.

Derek sighs once more (seriously, how many fucking time has he done that just the past couple of minutes?) and cover his face again. "What do you want Peter?" he muffles into his arms.

"What? Not even a 'Hello Peter'? Or maybe a 'How are you doing?' or even at the very least 'Is there anything I can do for you, my dear and incredible uncle?'? Because that is rude, just so you know." The older man dramatized.

Derek had to simply scoff at that, but nonetheless as he shook his head he tried again. "Fine, okay, I get it. Lemme try it again." He took a breath. "What do you want Peter?" he smiled all smug as he asked.

Peter started chuckling. "I should've known."

The younger Hale also chuckled as he tried to adjust his position in the bed, only rising his body using his elbows. "So what's up?"

"What? Can't I just come in here to see how my favorite nephew is doing? I am a better human being than what most of you usually make out of me, Dery-boy." he said, dramatizing again.

Derek scoffed. "Okay, first of all. No matter how much drama you do you're just no acting material, so please stop pretending." Peter snorted in derision. "Second of all, you never ever do anything without a reason." When Peter gave him a disbelieving look he then added. "No matter how stupid your reason can be."

The older Hale shook his head and sighed in defeat. "So I guess the cat's out of the bag, uh?"

"After all these years I'd say that is more like the cat has been thrown into the street and wandered off into the woods." When Peter started gaping Derek's faced started to frown in confusion. "What?"

"Did you just really make a joke?"

"Shut up!" Derek covered his face with his pillow once more. "If you're just gonna be your usual self then please get out."

Peter chuckled as he made his way to the bed to sit right beside Derek. "Okay, enough drama. What's on your mind?"

Derek groaned again. "Nothing." Despite the silence the young man was able to practically hear every time his uncle was smiling all smugly, as if he knew precisely what was going through his mind.

"Oh, really?" See? He already knew and he was still trying to force it out of his mouth as if that gave him a great pleasure.

Asshole.

"Peter, leave me alone."

After a few beats of silence the older man spoke again. "You know? Your sisters are right about you." When Derek gave him a questioning look from under his arms he added. "You really have been working so much that you almost forgot how to socialize."

Derek scoffed before returning to hide his face under his arms. "Like I said, if you're only going to be your usual self then get out."

"Fine then, I'll go. BUT, not before telling you that this weekend you're coming with me." He said smiling while strolling to the door.

"Going where exactly?" Derek muffled under his arms.

"Oh, it's really nothing important." He said stopping at the door.

"It may not be important under Peter standards, but it'll probably be risky for my health." The young Hale complained.

The older man snorted. "Fine, if you wanna know then I'll tell you that you and I are going to see the famous Spark of The Pack in sexy action. Don't forget to dress nice, bye." He said and quickly slammed the door before his nephew had the chance to say anything about it.

As the room settled in a comforting silence the only person inside of it had completely froze, Derek was pretty sure that he was unable to even breath.

If walls could laugh Derek's room would've probably filled itself with cracks in less than five seconds, mostly because his horrified face wasn't even a proper example of how thrilled and scared and aroused he really felt… and all of those at the same time.

So yeah, in retrospect he was right after all.

He really needed to get laid.

'Glare of Death.'

That is the only way to call it.

The intense way those two eyes were drilling out everything inside of him was almost unnerving.

Stiles is completely sure that, if looks could harm, then he would already have his balls as a necktie choking him to death and his cock being used as mallet hammer to make his skull cave in; however, since Lydia Martin was currently giving him a silent glare while her high-heel-cladded foot was mercilessly tapping the floor then he was pretty sure that he prefered that punishment to this.

Seriously, nothing in this world could compare to endure the ever burning gaze of the strawberry blonde girl.

Although, now that Stiles was thinking about, whatever punishment came from Lydia was likely the worst thing you could experience in this life.

Emasculation was probably less humiliating and less painful.

"Stiles." The hissing call of the girl brought the skinny boy back to the real world.

As the boy jumped all startled his arms started to flail all around, knocking several picture frames from Lydia's drawer. He turned around to look at the girl with an apologetic smile, but by the way she rolled her eyes at him he figured he had most likely done one of those contorted expressions his face use to do whenever he tried to convey to many things at once. Before his mind could wander any more on more random thoughts he felt a couple of small hands gripping his shoulder and, as he was being manhandled, his ass hit something soft and cushy, his fingers became acquainted with the soft sensation of pink silk.

He looked around to get his bearings, realizing he was sitting in Lydia's bed.

A soft clear of a throat caught his attention, as he looked up he was a little bit surprised to find a really expensive looking china cup being held in front of him. He turned his eyes from the cup to the redhead's eyes.

"It's the Indian chai you got for me last time." The girl said shrugging. "You look like you could use some."

Stiles gave the girl and the cup another glance in that order before slowly raising his hand.

Lydia scoffed annoyed. "Stiles, I'm not going to kill right now. Okay?"

He narrowed his eyes at her. His keys words to act were 'right' and 'now.'

She started patting his cheek while cooing at him. "Oh honey, knowing you as I do you'll probably end up doing something stupid for which I'll just have to kill you later."

Stiles opened his mouth to retort, but ended up shutting his mouth and pouting taking the cup nonetheless.

Damn it.

"Okay, enough about this." She said flipping her hair and turning to her dresser to pick up a notepad, all the while fixing her makeup. "In case you're wondering the answer is no." Stiles opened his mouth to say something but Lydia went ahead of his thoughts. "No, I'm not mad for you for being late. Actually I was planning on you being late for whatever stupid reason and so I decided to have coffee with Allison at the loft. So you can stop being all paranoid about me ripping your balls off… for now." She shrugged and returned to sit in the bed right beside the slim boy.

Stiles narrowed his eyes at her. "Okay, I get it. So my golden jewels are safe… for now." Lydia nodded at that. "So, what am I really here for?" He sipped his tea.

"Planning." She said as if that explained everything.

"Of what exactly?"

Lydia rolled her eyes. "Of you."

"Me?" He rose an eyebrow in confusion.

The redheaded girl was giving a him a look as if to say 'Are you playing dumb with me or are you really just this stupid?'

Stiles made a face of realization. "Oh, my birthday."

"Yes, your birthday." She said exasperated turning to to write something on the notepad.

Stiles winces.

He winces hard.

Really hard.

He winces mostly because Lydia was right about killing him later.

Okay, so the thing with Stiles' birthday is kind of a really really really touchy thing. Even the clueless Scott McCall knows to stay clear of that, hell everyone in their circle of friends knows to stay away from that topic so is not like Lydia doesn't know. And why is that? Well the answer is simple, simply horrible and really hurtful.

His birthday is also the day he lost his parents… not at the same time it should be said, though that isn't exactly something to be relieved about either.

But yeah, his birthday was the day of the year that he couldn't stand the most. That is the reason why he always tried to avoid celebrating it, even though most of those times Scott always used to almost force him to sit down with him and play video games while hogging down all the junk food they could buy until their stomachs couldn't handle it anymore.

He had said it several times then and he still thinks it: Scott was- is his lifesaver.

After his mom passed away Stiles used to mop around all day practically doing nothing but wallowing in his misery and darkness, crying and sobbing and occasionally throwing up from how horrible he felt every time his mom's last smile came to mind. On the days when his birthday came around Scott would always steal him away for endless nights of junk food and all the videogames they could rent with their available money, sometimes even pissing off the local video store for trying to rent games at late hours.

It was also thanks to Scott's suggestion that Stiles had finally find a way to properly celebrate his birthday without the guilty feeling of being happy at his mother's expense. Now, whenever Stiles' birthday rolled around, they would usually do whatever came into their minds and just go with it. Whatever crazy idea came to them at that moment they would do it, and they would keep at it until they simply collapse from fatigue. Usually it was Stiles and his dad, or most accurately Stiles who dragged his dad, who did any kind of crazy thing that they felt like doing at the moment. Scott would go with them on most of the occasions, sometimes even dragging his mom with them. Later as their group grew, Allison and Lydia and even Jackson (obviously whipped by Lydia) would join in, making this weird habit into more of a custom for them.

All of this only to keep at bay all the darkness that the memory of his mother's death brought to him.

He knew it was silly of him to even think about it but sometimes he just couldn't help to feel really guilty whenever he remembered his mom's condition, deep inside he always heard this nagging voice telling him that it was his fault that she ended up like that. That if he hadn't been such a stupid-hyperactive kid, then maybe he could've done something to change things.

The sole idea of it was an unbearable torment.

Hence why he sometimes thought that having his birthday becoming the same date as his mother's death was like a punishment.

And he didn't even need to bring his dad to mind who at that time was probably feeling even worse than him, and if Stiles had to take an educated guess his father was probably berating himself for not doing something else to help his slow-dying wife.

Several times Stiles wondered if having the tendency to bear all of the burden was a Stilinski genetic trait.

But back on topic.

What really topped it all off happened ten years after his mother passed away, if he had to be more precise. Why? Because it was the day just before graduating from High School and it was also his birthday.

It was supposed to be one of the most happy moments in his life but as his luck, or more like lack of, would have it things went another way. In the most horrible way if Stiles had to say.

After long weeks of planning (mostly just Lydia doing the planning while dragging everybody around to Jackson and Scott's annoyance) for the big day of their prom and Stiles's birthday they were all hanging in the Redheaded girl's house, mostly just deciding on how to properly celebrate after the ceremony was done which was this coming Saturday. Despite that day being his birthday, Stiles didn't mind having to celebrate later, mostly because it was not so rare of him to do that since his mother. Also, because of Lydia's suggestion, or more like order but it wasn't like any of the boys would actually have the balls to complain to her either, the celebration of Stiles' birthday would come as a follow-up party to the prom.

The hyperactive boy was okay with it, and mostly relieved that Lydia wouldn't gut him if he decided to go along with the plan.

Their planning moment was short lived when Stiles' phone went off. The boy was quite surprised to see the precinct's number instead of his dad personal phone, but thinking nothing of it he immediately answered. His worries became more suffocating when he heard Tara's shaky breathing, the strong female deputy he knew since little was not someone who easily became this shaken and dubious. So after questioning her state and building up more and more fear every time she hesitated to speak the news was delivered, causing Stiles' whole world to crumble right beneath his feet.

The sheriff… His one and only father… died in the line of action.

Needless to say, the next days or weeks or months (Stiles didn't even bother to count anymore) were only a blur in his memory. And he could totally say that if it wasn't for his friends, who were there for him through all that hell, he would have probably kill himself.

After so many years of coping with his mother's death having his dad and his best buddy at his sides to support him, his world started to recover light when more people started to become significant in his life. Lydia, the girl he had chase after for many years had finally acknowledge him and became a great and close friend if not more like a big sister who always looked after him. Allison, who at first was only his best friend's girlfriend who was causing a rift between his almost-brother and him but at the end became the super sweet and badass girl who was always gentle and understanding (seriously, how the fuck are you supposed to hate someone like that? It's simply impossible). And last but not least Jackson, the bullying asshole who, after that long and painful screaming session in detention, later became the kind of friend with whom you're always bickering but you never doubt he always has your back covered.

That world, which had taken years to finally shape into what he had until that moment was shattered once again now that his father had been taken away from him.

It was hard, really hard, but it was also thanks to his friends who were now the only family he had left that he was able to once again made it through another personal hell.

The hell where once again he lost family… on his birthday.

Stiles wanted to cry.

He knew that if he had been alone he wouldn't have made it through.

Now, after a few years of having copped with his dad's death, Stiles would usually just avoid any kind of celebration in regards to his birthday altogether.

Going to so far as to even avoid Scott for an entire weekend… even though he had to endure the guilt-inducing-puppy-eyes later.

Internally developing this weird paranoia that if he celebrated his birthday, someone dear and close to him would die.

So to sum it all up: Stiles doesn't celebrate his birthday… not anymore.

So back on to the current situation: Lydia is trying to arrange him a birthday party.

Which is totally not okay, because Stiles doesn't want anybody to die.

No matter how fucked up that sounds, okay?

Now that he thought about it, this was the first time that Lydia had taken upon herself to arrange his birthday. Obviously she did it for Jackson, Scott (with Allison's help of course), Allison (Forcing Scott to not interfere despite all of the puppy pouting) and her own birthday parties (which were usually awesome), whereas his birthday was always in Scott's hands from which he would later escape and do almost nothing but mop around or even just sleep the day away.

Whenever his birthday rolls around now he just wants to crawl into bed and forget all the bad memories that this day brings with it. Nor he has any intention to allow his fucking birthday to create new horrible memories.

He is immensely grateful for his friends, who are now his new family, to be in his life and because of this Stiles is greatly determined to not lose anybody else… not on his watch.

"Stiles!" the hissing voice pulls the slim kid back to reality.

"Uh? What?" The boy shakes his head looking all disoriented from being pulled out of his mind.

Lydia takes a deep breath to control the urge to whack Stiles with one of her heels. "I said 'Birthday. Ideas. Now.'" She hissed once more.

The barista boy eyed her for a seconds only getting this look on her face and a sharp look on her eyes that said 'Stilinski, you better put to work that hyperactive mind of yours right now or, I swear to god, you'll be using your balls as sleigh bells for next Christmas.'

Stiles winced once more.

Yeah, that first thought of his was right after all.

Lydia is going to kill him.

"Hey there, bro." The boy waved happily

Standing at the opened door of their "room" Aiden froze immediately as soon as he saw his brother.

"Ethan, what exactly are you doing?" He asked in an almost forced deadpanned tone.

Aiden was smiling broadly. "What do you think?" He signaled his face.

The boy looked at his twin's face with calculating eyes.

Ethan was currently wearing a… ummm… well…

"It's make up." Aiden deadpanned again.

The smiley twin rolled his eyes. "I know is make up, but what do you think?"

"Why are you wearing make up?" He asked all confused.

Ethan groaned in frustration. "That's beside the point right now. Just tell what do you think."

Aiden carefully eyed his brother, his mind struggling to arrange the proper words for what he was seeing. On the other hand, Ethan was merely looking at him with expectation.

"Well..." he made a pause to clear his throat. "If I had to be honest with you, I'd say you look like a clown who tried to do an abstract painting while working in a make up factory and finally tripped over his own painting pallet."

Ethan narrowed his eyes. "You think you're so funny don't you?"

The twin shrugged. "You're the one who asked."

After closing the door behind him Aiden walked to the nearest couch flopping himself hard as if he was a deadweight, causing the poor piece of furniture to squeak. After putting his arms behind his head to use them as a pillow Aiden turned his head around to see his brother scrubbing his face, half of the makeup was already smudging the white towel he was using. Aiden couldn't help to let out a mocking snort.

"Oh yeah, very funny. Keep on laughing, you jerk."

"It's not my fault you decided to paint on yourself like a kindergartener." He smirked. "But while we're on the topic, why on earth did you decide to go all Picasso on your face?"

Ethan remained silent, focusing instead on his image on the mirror and starting to wipe away the paint. Aiden smirked.

"Was it Spark?"

"Shut up."

Aiden was trying to contain the laugh so hard that he couldn't help to giggle in the process.

"Stop laughing you dick!"

"Sorry." he managed to wheeze out. "Can you really blame me? In any case, you shouldn't have listened to Spark in the first place. You really didn't learn anything since last year's Eastern Party, am I right?"

"Is not like I was really planning on doing it for a show, you know?" Ethan muffles into his towel as he keeps brushing off the paint. "I just wanted to try it out."

"You mean like 'trying out the whole clown look before ditching it' kind of way?"

Ethan looked at his brother like he had grown a third head.

"What?"

"And you criticize me because I spend too much time with Spark." He said shaking his head while heading for the closet.

Aiden snorted in derision. "Well, we all work together. It's only natural that we all rub something of ourselves on others, right?"

"Well speak for yourself and, by the way, the fact that we work on place named The Pack doesn't necessarily imply for us to be acting like a bunch of wolves." Ethan shook his head. "I have enough implicit things with your growling and menacing frowns."

The twin scowled. "Are you calling me an animal?"

"Note that I wasn't the one who said it… or recognized it for that matter." He said giggling on his way to the bathroom.

As Ethan disappeared behind the bathroom's door Aiden took a deep breath, closing his eyes and focusing on the shower's noise once it was turned on.

These were the kind of moments he loved the most.

Just him and his brother.

Despite all the shit that life had thrown their way they were still kicking and fighting through life without looking back or regretting anything, no matter how hard or how bad things turned out for them in the past they still kept their chins up never losing theirs spirits. And as Aiden opened his eyes to take a look around him he knew both his brother and him were finally being rewarded for all the shit they had endured so far.

All thanks to Deucalion.

He and Ethan would for always be grateful to life or destiny or karma or whatever the fuck was the reason that that man had appeared before them, but if it hadn't been for him they would probably still aimlessly wander around life without any goal in mind other than surviving one more day.

"You're not going to get sick right?" Ethan's sudden voice snapped him back to reality, making him turn around from his position on the couch. "You better not. Remember how scary Kali gets when someone doesn't help out during the anniversary of The Pack."

Aiden merely rose a questioning brow at him as if to say 'Dude, what the hell are you talking about?'.

Ethan sighed. "You're thinking about something." He simply stated.

"I was, so?"

"Whenever you're thinking deeply you get this weird look and your face, like you're about to get sick."

"So you were making fun of my face?" he deadpanned.

"And we're supposed to be twins." He said walking away and shaking his head.

Aiden shrugged not really understanding what his brother was talking about, opting to relax once more as he shifted his body to be more comfortable in the couch and fixing his gaze on the ceiling.

"Hey." He called his brother who was rummaging through one of his drawers. "How come you thought it was best to paint your face instead of just wearing the mask we got last weekend? Seems easier and less uncomfortable to me."

"I thought the same, bro." Ethan answered without looking to his brother. "I just wanted to try it out." He shrugged. "Besides, have you heard about what those masks involve?"

"'What the masks involve?'" Ethan nodded. "I didn't even think they had to have a meaning or something. Where did you hear that anyway?"

"Well you see, I overheard Kali and Ennis talking about-"

"Overheard or eavesdrop?" Aiden interrupted porting a smugly grin.

Ethan groaned in frustration. "It's the same thing, now stop interrupting me." Aiden smirks. "The point is that apparently the whole mask thing has some kind of legend revolving around it."

"What kind of legend?" He asked, though his face showed that he was far from interested.

"Destiny." The twin answers quickly and plainly.

Aiden looked at him like he's just that fucking stupid, also with a face that said 'Please keep going and hope that I consider this worth my time.'

Ethan sighs. "What I mean is that the masks involve some kind of destiny thing. You've seen that the masks are paired right?" When he sees his brother nodding he continues. "Well apparently the masks are conduits to people who are destined."

"You mean like that crap about being meant to each other and shit?"

Ethan looked at him for a few seconds. "I love how your thoughts are full of love, just so you know."

Aiden shrugs.

The twin shakes his head but continues. "Anyway, yes. The mask are supposed to be in pair because they're meant to match up two people who are destined to be together." He finishes with a smile.

"And what's the catch?" When he sees his brother looking all confused he adds. "In these kind of things there's always always a fucking catch, you know? Like a punishment for not following some set of rules or conditions for the whole love shit."

Ethan took a second to smile to himself because his brother was actually showing some interest, which was weird. If Aiden had really no interest in all he wouldn't have followed the conversation with a question of his own.

"Well," Ethan started. "As far I could understand, there's a certain ritual or more like condition." He corrected. "Apparently before the two people can be matched by the masks they have to work some magic of their own."

"How?"

"Well, a mask is supposed to be a concealment of the person you are right?" Aiden shrugged and Ethan sighed. How the fuck was he supposed to know that anyway. "Anyway, since a mask is supposed to hide who you truly are is it believed that if a person can see beyond the mask then the bond is truthful. In other words, if you-"

"Yeah, yeah, I get it already. I'm not that emotionally constipated, you know?"

Ethan shook his head as he chuckled. "Good to know. But yeah, that's the whole business with the masks. Finding the one for you."

"Well good thing I haven't seen the one that matches mine then, because I'm not really up to the whole lovey crap and all." He snorted in derision. "Which rises me the question: Is that why you wanted to see how the whole 'Painting my face' thing looked like?"

The other twin scrunched his brows together in confusion.

"You know? With you always hoping for you perfect Disney romance to just show up I'm guessing you meeting your other half while working is not your ideal situation." He started laughing at that.

Needless to say, Ethan was sitting on his brother's stomach and kicking the shit out of him.

Probably Ethan admitted that his brother was right, inwardly of course, but the point was the he found kind of fascinating the fact that something as simple as two matching masks being able to bring to two people together because of some destiny thing.

So he was a hopeless romantic kind of a sap, sue him.

Although it did raise the question.

If he remembered correctly, masks had been given away in a very random way since last week. In other words, had anyone from the pack had found a matching mask? Or for that matter had any clients been matched already? Since most of the staff, if not everyone, liked to spread gossip like wildfire it was actually weird not having heard anything about someone being matched already.

So the actual important question was this:

Would someone be able to find its "destined one" in this charade?

Personally, Ethan wouldn't bet on it.

Red light.

That means 'stop.'

So he does.

His black Camaro, however, makes a screeching complain as it halts right on the spot.

His sighs.

It's been a horribly long day and he really doesn't want to have to deal with this kind of crap right now.

Since there's a lot of traffic going on for the street with the green light on he figures he could take a quick glance at his phone while he waits, so he does and sighs when he sees no messages or missed calls or anything but the ticking clock in his locked screen.

8:30 pm.

It's quite late, but not as late as some other times when he thought he would have to sleep in his office, and now that he thought about it maybe that's why Cora and Laura were always calling workaholic. Of course, is not his fault that some things just can't wait and have to be done before they get worse. After all, as future CEO of his family's company, he has the responsibility to uphold the family business like a complete professional… that doesn't stop his sisters and uncle from mocking him nonetheless but what can you do about it, right?

Derek sometimes wonders if there's something else he could do with his life. Don't get him wrong, is not like he hates his current job or anything of the sort. It's more like one of those usual moments where one can't help but wonder how life would be if he had chosen another path in his life.

Of course, many things in his life (if not all of it, for all he knows) could've gone different had he made different choices in his past. And while it's true that tragedies and suffering forge the person you are in the present, Derek sometimes couldn't stop himself from wondering how he would've turned out had his past decisions been different. Would he be different in any sense? Would his way of thinking be different? Would his likes and dislikes be different? Would the way he interacted with his family change? There were so many questions that usually came to his mind whenever he questioned this topic that it made his head hurt, the constant reminder that things could've gone so different in his life had he had better judgment weighed on him in a terrible way. However, Derek's inner monologue about his life came to a halt when a horn behind him began to blare, he realized that the traffic light was a now a shining green signaling that he had to move.

Stopping on another red light Derek's attention was now caught by his own reflection, his eyes looked tired and his skin a little paled from the fatigue. But what really had caught his attention was, overall, his gruff appearance now that his stubble had once again covered most of his face. His beard had always give him, what Cora and Laura had named, his 'Spartan Look' (fucking hell). He didn't really had anything against it, and it wasn't also like he was even interested in it. It's just that it had always amused him how everyone, even his mother, has always said that allowing his stubble to grow always gave him a gruff-older look and that same look turned into something fresh and young every time he shaved. Did it really make such a difference in him? He snorted at the idea. Usually he would only shave during the weekends that he got to spend at home whenever he was not on a business trip or something like that, and even then it wasn't so much of a standard routine for him. On the other hand, when he was in business things he was so busy that he usually didn't really make time for anything more than shower and tooth brushing as far a personal hygiene routine demanded (except taking care of his hair, but that was another story and it wasn't anyone's business by the way), hence why he always let his stubble grow. Also it added to the fact that his beard usually grew really fast. How fast? Well, last time he shaved was Thursday morning and now it was Friday evening, so go figure how fast his hormones acted.

He snorted at that thought.

As Derek resumed his drive because the light turned green his phone started buzzing with an incoming call, he decided to answer using his Bluetooth headset.

"Derek Hale." he answered.

"Why hello my dear and sweet Dery-boy!" the other voiced singed.

The young Hale sighed. "What is it Peter?"

"What? Not a 'Hello Peter'? Or maybe 'How are you Peter?' Or even a 'What can I do for you my great and incredible uncle?' Cause you're being really rude my dear nephew." His over the top dramatic tone made caused Derek to laugh. "I might have to tell your mother of how terrible you are at manners. This family has educated you better than that, Dery-boy."

The young man shook his head and smiled at his uncle's quirks. "Don't worry, I'm pretty sure my sisters already beat you to that one." He heard Peter chuckling while mumbling that he had a point. "Anyway, anything wrong?" After searching his thoughts he also added. "Or is there anything you need?"

His uncle gasped. "Derek! Is that really what you think of me?" He dramatized again probably knowing that it would make his nephew smile, which it did by the way. "I swear, this family has such a low concept of me."

Derek has to roll his eyes at that, smiling once more. "Peter, we already had this conversation before. Remember?"

"Yeah, yeah. 'No drama material' and 'Always a reason' blah blah blah." Derek heard the older man letting out a sigh. "Ok then, right to the point. You're still going with me to The Pack right? You're not gonna sleep in the office right? Because if you dare to pull the Mr. Workaholic Routine to get out of this, my payback is going to be really embarrassing for you, my dear nephew."

"Actually I'm on my way back." He frowned when his words uncle dawned on him. "And what do you mean with 'Mr. Workaholic Routine'? I've never done that before."

"Derek." Peter said in a low stern voice. "I've known you for your entire life, please don't insult me. Don't think I haven't heard about your little escapades whenever your sisters tried to drag you into something you would've rather beheaded yourself for instead of agreeing to."

Just as Derek fought back a choked sound emerging from the back of his throat he could clearly hear his uncle chuckling.

"I know willing socialism is not your forte, but going as far as to shield yourself behind your job instead of just refusing a like man… shame on you, Derek Hale." Peter chuckled again. "Though that being said, is no secret how much of a sucker for family you are."

Derek groaned… actually it was more like a growl.

See, this is why Derek really hated this. No matter how much he always tried to keep his reputation, his family always found a way to make him bend. Sometimes he wondered how was it that the social media hadn't been able to let this fact about him out as a fucking highlight for gossip.

"Derek?" Peter's voice brought him back to reality. Not something he was relieved with by the way. "Are you there?"

"Yeah. I was just debating whether to drive into a tree or a concrete wall or even drive right into the nearest river."

"Dear god, nephew, you're such a drama queen." Derek has to massage his temple, if he kept this conversation a migraine was sure to come around.

"Peter, could you please leave the insults for later? Right now I need a shower and get ready." He hoped not sounding too eager with that last sentence.

"Yeah, yeah. Just get your workaholic ass over here and lets be on our way. See you later, bye."

"I am not a workaholic!" He blared into the deadline.

He huffed offended. He was so having talk with his sisters.

Also he felt grateful. Grateful that his uncle didn't notice- actually he was pretty sure that Peter did notice the hidden hint in his words about going to The Pack, but nonetheless didn't say anything about it and Derek was immensely grateful for that one. On the other hand, now that he thought about it, the older Hale never did good things without taking back some compensation and that usually was an even bigger problem. A huge ass problem that did nothing but to fuck you good.

He owed his uncle.

Crap.

Stopping at another red light Derek's thought about owning his uncle, as unsettling as that was, was pushed aside when his eyes deviated towards the glove compartment. His brain immediately remembered him what was in there.

Derek's black wolf mask.

As the light continued to be red the young man allowed himself to get lost in his memories of the stripper boy.

A small smile smeared across his gruff features.

He would get to see Spark again... hopefully for the three whole nights that the so called anniversary of The Pack would last.

It would be a promising weekend.

Destiny is sometimes really cruel.

Or was it karma?

Who knew.

The only important things was that whatever it was that moved all of this, it made a really sad twist in that exact moment.

Had Derek not been so engrossed in his memories he would've returned to face the street in front of him waiting for the green light. Had he kept this position he would've caught through the corner of his eye a bus that stopped right beside the left side of his Camaro waiting to take the left turn. Had he noticed the stopping bus he would have also noticed that in the bus window that was slightly right above him there was a boy absentmindedly staring through it. Had Derek notice this boy he would've immediately turn around to see to see him and, finally, had Derek turned around to see that boy he would've immediately been captured by the boy's chocolate colored eyes and in turn, probably an most likely, the boy would've been attracted by the allurement of Derek's green-hazel stare and both would've surely eye-locked each other.

But Derek never did.

And so the bus turned left, taking the main road to downtown and those chocolate eyes with it.

And a black Camaro resumed his road back home, taking a pair of green hazel eyes with it.

Tonight The Pack's greatest star, Spark, would perform.

A/N: Ending notes will be reserved for next chapter.

Please leave your threatening comment after the scream.