Chapter 36: The Kiss II

"So let me get this straight," Aunt Melissa said as she watched Joe try on every outfit in her wardrobe. "You're going to a party with your ex-girlfriend, her new girlfriend and another mutual friend who is, as far as you know, not into girls?"

"Yes." Joe held up a skirt against her hips and gave it a critical glance in the mirror. She was not really a skirt person. Aunt Mel sat behind her on the bed and raised her eyebrows, but probably more from Joe's answer than the skirt. "I know how it looks."

"Do you?" Aunt Melissa gave her a doubtful look. "I just don't want you to get hurt again, Joe. Things didn't exactly end well between you and Alex."

"I know," Joe murmured and threw the skirt away, testing out a pair of tight skinny jeans she had not worn since her Freshman-year. Maybe all those oatmilk cappucinos had crept onto her hips, because she doubted they would fit now. "But that's years ago and besides, she's got a new girlfriend. I'm not any more specially invited than Kelly."

"Right."

Joe held up a dress she did not even remember buying and raised her eyebrows at Aunt Melissa. "What?"

"When was the last time you spent more than thirty seconds at choosing an outfit?"

"Shut up," said Joe and threw the dress onto the floor with the rest of her wardrobe. "It's just that I haven't been out in forever and I don't have anything rave-appropriate! It's got nothing to do with Alex."

"Uh-huh."

"Shut up!" Joe repeated and knelt down by the pile of clothes, sorting through the many layers of black, more black, a little gray and the occasional speck of color that she had probably gotten from someone else. "Forget it. I'm just gonna go with jeans and a t-shirt."

Aunt Melissa sighed and got up. "Hang on, I might have something." She disappeared briefly down the hall to her own bedroom and came back holding a dark top on a hanger with the tag still on. "Bought in a moment of weakness at a clearance sale and the kind lady wouldn't let me return it when I came to my senses."

"Jesus Christ," Joe muttered and held the skimpy piece of clothing up to the light. "Where were you planning to wear this? The swingers-club?"

"Ha ha," Aunt Melissa said with a roll of her eyes. "It's not that bad when you get it on. Come on, try it."

To Aunt Mel's defence, it wasn't that bad when she got it on. Formfitting and partially sheer, as most of the fabric was just black lace. Joe could see the hint of her bra outlined, but in the dark warehouse where the rave was held, it wouldn't show up as much.

"It could work," Aunt Mel said as she looked over Joe's shoulder. "Without the Snoopy-pants."

Joe huffed. She was still in her old Snoopy pajama-pants. Rarely the one to wear something that accentuated her modest curves this much, she turned in the mirror to see her profile as well. It wasn't that much worse than just a t-shirt actually. Maybe it could work? With jeans and some sneakers, because if she knew Alex and Kelly, dancing was on the agenda for the night.

Aunt Mel left her room to get some food ready, insisting Joe should eat something solid before a planned alcohol consumption. Scott was still at school, but said something about working overtime later at the clinic to stock inventory. Aunt Mel would drop Joe off at the rave where she could meet up with the others who came from Berkeley by car and Joe had money put aside for the taxi home. Not that she was planning on drinking excessively, but it had been a while and she sort of deserved a little completely werewolf-free fun. She doubted Derek would find an underground rave all that interesting — a blessing, considering the fiasco last time she saw him — and all the others were underage and not allowed entry.

At least her hair looked good when she did the full routine with the gel that tightened the unruly mass into defined ringlets. She had a looser curl pattern than Kelly, who probably had longer hair than her even if it did not look like it when dry. The texture gave her a lot of free volume and combined with Aunt Mel's top and the dark jeans she looked appropriate for a night out.

The only real plan for the night was not thinking about Derek. It did not take a genius to figure that Joe had overstepped some kind of boundary when she asked about this Paige. His normal simmering anger didn't particularly bite on her anymore, but this had been different. He hadn't just been angry, he'd been upset and to be fair, she was upset too because of the whole thing with Erica and could probably have at least tried to sound less accusing.

The first time she had let it slip that she knew what blue eyes meant, he had said it was not what she thought it was. Which could mean absolutely anything. Then when she said the same thing to Jimmy, he had assumed Derek had told her about Paige. So blue eyes and this Paige was somehow related. Had he killed Paige? Had he killed for Paige? What was the definition of innocent and what was the definition of killing? Could it have been an accident? Whatever it was, it seemed like a painful secret and this was going against her own promises to not think about it.

Plan for the night: No werewolves or thinking about werewolves, whatever the color of their eyes.

After Sean's death, Beacon Hills had been quiet. Well, except for the death of Sean's girlfriend, Jessica Bartlett, who'd passed away after giving birth to their child in the hospital. Investigation pending whether it had been foul play or not. Police was not releasing any more details than necessary, trying to catch up with the killer. It made no sense to Joe that a kanima would somehow sneak into a hospital to kill the victim he had plenty of chance to take out when attacking Sean. Not that she and Scott discussed it.

She had her suspicions that while Scott agreed to work with Derek if they planned to catch the kanima instead of killing it, Derek only agreed to work with Scott if he promised to keep Joe out of it. If it was because he wanted to protect her or because he couldn't stand the sight of her after the Paige-thing was anyone's guess. Right now, she didn't mind. She knew she could get Scott talking if she really needed to. Unless she could find the pattern between the victims to find whoever was controlling the kanima, she was hardly equipped to try and take down the kanima herself yet. The Sheriff hadn't gotten back to her regarding the interviews though, so her intelligence trail had lead nowhere so far.

It was like Scott knew there would be food ready when he came rushing in the front door. Joe heard his voice from downstairs: "I'm not staying long, just gotta change and get to the clinic!"

"Why do you have to change to go to work?" Aunt Mel sounded skeptical, but Scott must have said something to alleviate her suspicions, because Scott came tumbling upstairs just seconds later. He ran past Joe's open door, stopped dead and stared at her.

"Are you wearing makeup?"

Joe, in the midst of applying eyeliner, raised an eyebrow in response.

"It looks really pretty!" Scott insisted and gave her two thumbs up before continuing to his room.

Joe blinked, but smiled at the praise. She gave herself a doubtful look in the small handheld mirror. It'd been a while since she wore more than mascara and lipgloss. It did sort of look good. If she was going to hold her own against Kelly, she would need all the help she could get. What was Kelly's phrase? Available, but not desperate. Was she available? Don't answer that, she was not thinking about that tonight.

Aunt Mel whistled when she came down the stairs and Joe rolled her eyes even though a smile slipped through. Scott wolfed down a portion of the casserole Aunt Mel made before he excused himself and practically ran out the door. Aunt Mel and Joe followed a while later.

"Cell phone? Wallet? Emergency bra stash?" Aunt Mel listed when they drove and Joe checked of all the marks. "Pepperspray? Condoms? What? Better safe than sorry!"

The bass from the music reached them long before they actually saw the warehouse. People milled around outside, while bouncers stood near the entrance checking tickets. Alex and Kelly hovered outside, both with their own cigarette in their mouth, obviously waiting for Joe. Feeling like she was getting dropped off for prom, Joe hopped out of the car and waved good bye to Aunt Mel.

"Hey!" Kelly said when she noticed Joe and tottered over on high heels to hug her. Her cheek was warm and contrasted with the cold night air. "There you are, you look amazing! Where's Derek? Couldn't make it?"

Joe made some lame excuses, not really knowing why, and gave Alex a nod, not risking a hug in case Maddy suddenly appeared. Cigarettes done, they went inside and the heat from the crowd almost knocked Joe over. Dancing youths, in all stages of dressed and undressed, filled the warehouse completely. Some wore neon colors and waved light sticks, other wore skin-tight dresses and stillettos, and some looked like they had just rolled out of bed and put on the first thing they stumbled upon. In their group, Kelly was in a bodycon dress in a bright pink color that fit her complexion to a tee, while Alex was in her usual baggy jeans and a tank top.

"Drinks!" Alex proclaimed as she emerged from the line at the bar. One Scotch for her, one glass of wine for Kelly and a pink fruity drink for Joe, as she usually did not like hard liquor unless coated in sugar and additives. Alex knew this of course and only laughed at Joe's expression of being ladened with the girly choice. "Hey, look, there's Maddy!"

Maddy was in the DJ-booth, obviously hanging out with the other musicians, looking more relaxed than any of the other times Joe had seen her. Maddy saw Alex waving like crazy and raised her own glass in a cheers. Keeping her eye on Alex, she leaned in towards the DJ currently playing and he nodded. Seconds later, the song shifted to something fast-paced and Alex let out a loud whoop.

"Dance!"

Kelly and Joe had been in the midst of discussing campus gossip, as Kelly was still involved with alumni-meetings and had some insight to the personal lives of the faculty. At Alex' insistence, they let themselves be led out to the dance floor and the heavy bass control their rhythm. People on all sides, jumping, grinding, pumping their fists and Joe allowed herself to be swallowed by the anonymity and let loose. Halfway through the song, Maddy joined and danced closely with Alex without acknowleding any of the others.

"I got the next round!"

As promised, Kelly appeared with another round of glasses with each person's beverage of choice. Maddy, apparently the designated driver again, stuck to soda while the others continued with alcohol. Joe sipped the new drink, trying to rehydrate after sweating so much while dancing, and offered to get the next round again to pay both Alex and Kelly back. They kept this up, even with Alex insisting on getting most of the drinks because she had the best earning job.

She tried telling Joe about it, half-screaming about rehabiliation centers to be heard over the music and through the crowd of dancers, while Maddy still clung onto her. Joe just laughed and pointed at her ear. No chance to hear a word Alex said. They both laughed then and continued dancing. Alex and Maddy, a definite couple, got some attention just by being two girls slow-dancing, while Kelly and Joe got the other kind. Guys would dance up to them, try and get closer, before being shut off by Kelly shaking her head 'no' or Joe simply turning towards Kelly and devoting all her attention to the girl.

After who knew how many songs or drinks, the trio stumbled into the bathrooms, laughing and sweating.

"Whoo," Kelly said and fanned her face. "Getting too old for this!"

Alex snorted and stumbled over her own feet while trying to focus at herself in the mirror to reapply eyeliner. Joe, still feeling the rhythm and the booze, danced her way into a booth to pee. It was only luck she was done when the first jab of pain struck her.

"Ooh, sh-" Joe bit in a guttural grunt and bent over double at the next hit in her stomach. Another case of burst appendix or Derek was fighting. His timing was amazing.

Kelly's voice rang out, probably the least drunk of them: "You okay in there, Joe?"

"Yeah, I just-" Joe groaned and hissed at the new stabbing sensation. The alcohol numbed some of it down, probably, but Derek was getting his ass kicked. "Just give me a second. I'll be right out!"

"You sure, babe?" Alex asked, speech already slurred, and Joe ignored the pet name and confirmed that she was. It was a complete lie and she ground her teeth together to keep her grunts of pain inside. Joe flailed around on the toilet seat, jeans and panties down by her knees, everytime something landed a hit on Derek. Kanima? Or hunters?

The latter, Joe decided, as her body trembled involuntarily, pure lightening dancing through her veins only partially numbed by alcohol. On instinct, she grabbed onto the booth walls and the flimsy structure shook along with her. Sweat poured down her face and between her breasts.

Finally over, she tried to catch her breath while shuffling on her clothes again. She buttoned up hastily, trying to mentally prepare for another round. Nothing. Breathing hard, thoughts clouded by the booze, she exited the stall. A pair of other girls gave her knowing looks that turned to confusion when they realized she had been alone in the stall.

Joe stumbled over to the sinks and splashed water onto her face. She met her own eyes in the mirror and blinked slowly. Time for a pep-talk. Okay, so, first she might be a bit drunker than planned. Not in any condition to go running after Derek at least. Not to mention, she left her shotgun at home. And she had no idea where he was. He was probably okay though, she mused while wiping rebellious eyeliner away from her cheek. After the shocks, no more pain. The Argents would definitely inflict a little more pain if they caught him. He probably won. He was pretty strong.

And fast.

Already flushed, she only swallowed heavily at the thought of him. All that muscle. All that strength. All that speed. So much power. And yet so gentle when needed. He could snap bones without even straining himself, and yet every time he grabbed her, which he did quite often now that she thought of it, it was with care. Never hurt her, not even on accident. His touch felt like fire though.

She tried to breathe and ignore the other girls in the bathroom who were spritzing themself with perfume or sharing something out of a silver flask. Blue eyes be damned. He had lost control and still never hurt her. She bit her lip. Once his instinct had been to carry her out in the woods for...what? A cuddle-session? It did not make any more or less sense than any other reasons. The other time, he'd been in her bed. At the night of the full moon, when he clawed up the woodwork on the doorstep, he'd been in her bed. Rolled around in it and now she narrowed her eyes at herself in the mirror. Scent. It had to be about scent. Like when she visisted his subway cart turned into a makeshift bedroom. Her bed would be an epicenter of her scent in the house. Did it help him calm down somehow? How would she feel when rolling around in his bed? Calm. Content. Aroused?

Head reeling, her mind only filled to the brim with the thought of Derek, she made her way back out to the rave. Kelly was easy to find in her bright dress and she handed Joe another drink. A slight hesitation, but what the hell, why not? She let the sweet and sticky drink coat her mouth and throat before they descended upon the dance floor again.

They danced, hands waving in the air, hips swaying to the beat. Joe's curls were damp and she shook her hair around, pearls of sweat like glitter in the air. Strobe lights made the moving crowd around her blink in and out, new positions every time the light hit them. The music pumped into her lungs and the loud hiss of the fog machines spewed out thick white smoke into the warehouse.

However drunk she was, she was not drunk enough to allow some groping townie paw on her and she pushed off whatever hands landed on her, either accidentally or with intention. Alex had disappeared into the crowd, probably with Maddy in the VIP-area and Kelly seemed to be dancing closely to a tall handsome guy who looked to be mixed-race. Content with dancing by herself, Joe didn't mind and sometimes landed in another group of girls only happy to have her there. No one loved new people like drunk girls did.

Another pair of hands landed on her hips, too targeted to be accidental, and Joe automatically tried to brush them off. They didn't budge an inch and her hands ended up on their wrists, feeling the heat seep through her fingertips. Intense heat, she thought through the alcoholic daze, and she looked down at the hands on her hips. Not groping or squeezing, just holding her at that border between appropriate and inappropriate. They were familiar even without the claws or the blood. What was he doing here? Her heart beat faster, tuning in with the deep bass, and she turned around.

Derek.

Derek, in a gray long sleeved t-shirt that was damp with sweat, showing the outline of his torso. He seemed out of breath, judging by his expanding chest, but he was not dancing. The crowd moved around them, jumping to the rhythm, but he stood like a solid column in a sea of people, not paying them any attention. No doubt in Joe's mind at all that his focus was on her and her alone. His eyes glowed red and his head was bent towards her. Predatory. Dark. Hungry.

With a nervous laugh, she went to shrug his hands off her hips, where he still held her in place. As her hands reached his however, she changed her mind. He had grabbed her. And for once, she saw no anger on his face, even if his eyes were glowing red. Curiosity got the best of her, earlier thoughts still in the back of her mind. He could be hurt, right, she just needed to make sure he was okay. Now she breathed as hard as him, glancing up at his face for permission, but finding only the intense heat from before. He had grabbed her. He wouldn't have done that by accident.

With that flimsy reasoning, Joe made up her mind. Not that Drunk Joe was hard to persuade anyway. There had been something else, something she was going to apologize for, but she could not focus on anything but here and now at the moment. Derek was here, now. Instead of pushing his hands off her, she bit her lip and trailed her fingertips across his wrists, up his forearms, onto his biceps and finally ending on his rock hard shoulders. Based on the increase in his breathing, he did not mind. She just wanted to feel him. Touch him. There was nothing wrong with this. They were two consenting adults and she was only human, a woman, drunk on alcohol and lust. There was nothing wrong with this.

Leaving his hands where they were on her hips, she began swaying to the music again. It was not one of the fastest songs playing, but one of the medium-paced ones where the bassline went in tune with her heartbeat and hips. Her hands left his shoulders to snake around his neck, touching the wet strands of hair in the nape. Soft. Running her fingers through the back of his hair, she found it just as soft and touchable as she'd dreamt.

The grip on her hips increased in strength and he pulled her closer so her chest became flush with his. Again, he grabbed her, he pulled her closer. The floor vibrated with the loud song, but his chest vibrated with a low and steady growl she doubted anyone could hear. No worries about the glowing eyes, there were people with more spectacular contact lenses in here already. She worried more about the dark expression, how his chest heaved, how his eyes never left her face. How she felt like a stalked prey in the focus of a predator. It was almost too much.

Drunk on more alcohol than planned, she twirled slowly in his hands to be spared some of the intensity of his gaze. Still dancing, not sure if she could stop if she tried, she put her back against him. Not leaving much space, or any space at all, between them. His fingertips left fire in their wake as they rasped across the sheer fabric of her top, practically bare skin, to land on her waist. Somehow, this felt more normal than anything else. She could pretend he was just some guy who'd caught her eye. Except it wasn't. This was Derek, whose touch felt like fire and whose eyes could look straight into her soul.

Joe leaned her head back against his chest and kept dancing. She kept dancing while he stood there, holding her, not saying a word, hardly moving. Not hurt, not that she could tell from when she peered backwards up at him. Swallowing, her hand travelled up to his cheek, feeling the stubble on his jawline, and then the soft skin of his face and the red light dimmed as he closed his eyes. His hands now roamed her body in turn, as if permission had been given; a flat palm against her stomach, another stroking up the bare skin on her arms. Inhaling, she felt him deep within her lungs. Him. His scent. Derek.

Somehow, he span her around and her back ended up against a wall. They'd moved off the dance floor into a dark corner, behind the loudspeakers, alone. Cornered without fear, Joe arched her back to allow Derek's arm to rest around the small of her back, between her and the cold wall. The other he put on the wall next to her head, keeping himself at bay, allowing her any space she wanted. She did not want space. She wanted him.

No coherent thoughts, just the feel of his body under her hands. This was what she wanted, wasn't it? To touch him. She thought she heard a low sigh when her fingertips edged underneath his shirt, just to feel the scorching muscles of his lower back. The tips of his fingers dug into her side, making sure she stayed put, no escape now. Her breath hitched when he leaned down to her and she exposed her neck, giving him free access. The stubble tickled the sensitive skin on her throat and she both heard and felt how he inhaled, taking in her scent, straight from the source.

Tilting her head, she did the same. The strong odor filled her mind with nothing but white fog, like that which coated the dance floor. Her hands felt the muscles of his torso, his strength. Reacting on instinct when she felt his palms go down her hips and to her thighs, she put her arms around his neck and jumped. Legs around his waist, back hard against the wall, freezing cold compared to the scorching heat of his chest, he held her in place easily. She nestled into his neck, to the beginnings of his beard, and it scratched her skin as they both moved slowly, but with purpose.

Her lips throbbed, as if developing their own pulse in anticipation. His eyes were closed, no red light visible where he was stuck in the edges of her curls, breathing deeply. The music and the other people were an afterthought. In her drunken state, it was only him. Derek. Only Derek.

Joe looked at Derek through half-lidded eyes, waiting for the inevitable, craving it, wanting it. Lips parted slightly, like his, ready and willing. He seemed to pause, however, cheek still against her chin, well on his way to her. To her lips. His eyes were dimming when he opened them, just a dark sheen of red instead of the bright glow.

He had stopped.

Joe's voice came as a raw whisper, as if speaking would ruin it. Had she done something wrong? Did he not want this? "What?"

Derek took a deep breath, not releasing her, but not moving towards her either. His brows furrowed, as if it took everything he had to concentrate. "Scott."

"What?"

His eyes flashed open and he straightened up, creating distance between their faces, between their mouths. She saw how his throat moved as he swallowed hard. The words came with resistance. She thought she had a buzz, but everything about Derek's slack gaze spoke of more than a drunken stupor. "Scott...he's in trouble. He needs help."

Someone might as well have thrown a bucket of cold water over them. Joe shifted when Derek changed his grip, putting her feet back on earth gently. He still held her, hands on her hips, while he tilted his head towards something unseen and unheard by her. Derek closed his eyes

"I have to..."

Joe nodded and took her hands off him, already missing the heat. "Go." She pushed him lightly, heavy of breath. "Go!"

Instead of moving like a stalking predator, Derek seemed to stumble away, not taking his eyes off her before the sea of people closed between them. Joe let out a long shaky breath, leaning against the wall, hoping the chill would cool her off. Hormones still raged and she touched her lips gently, so swollen she could not believe they hadn't found his.

It had to be the alcohol, she thought, because her mind was not clearing even though he left. His scent lingered on her, she realized, wherever he had touched her, she was marked with him. She blamed the alcohol, the hormones, the sheer energy of the music.

So when Alex suddenly appeared out of the crowd, threw her arms around Joe and kissed her deeply, she didn't resist.

...

...

...sorry?

A change of pace from the last chapter. Because there's so little dialogue it's impossible to tell what's going on with Derek, I have written this chapter from his POV as well. I'll post it as a separate oneshot called "The Realist", you'll find it in my profile.

Thank you for reading and I hope you enjoyed it :) Please leave a review to let me know what you think!