Warning: Long-ass chapter ahead. It's frustrating at first, but it gets better :)
Chapter 52: The First Date
The arrangement with Jimmy worked better than expected. They were both borderline insomniacs and the apartment was never fully quiet, either of them always up at any point in the day. It helped. Things felt marginally normal.
After Jimmy returned from a shopping trip, they had installed a heavy wooden plank that ran across both sets of windows in the living room. It rested on some square white cabinets and served as a crazy long desk where they could each have their personal mess several feet apart. Jimmy never brought in the dining room table — the one she had tried to save Derek's life on — but they never cooked anything, so eating all meals in the kitchen or in front of the TV was fine.
At Joe's insistence, and her expense, they got a coffee machine for the kitchen. Second-hand, so it did not bankrupt her immediately. Jimmy stuck to his tea kettle, but as long as Joe got her caffeine, it was fine. Living downtown meant she was within walking distance from the coffee shop, but her wallet would not survive that long-term. Not that Jimmy wanted her to pay rent, as he didn't either, but they split utilities and groceries.
"We should just buy these in bulk," Joe commented as she looked over their weekly budget and how much Jimmy spent on this non-caffeinated organic soda that he called kombucha. It was some kind of fermented tea, apparently, and crazy expensive. "Same with the frozen enchilada pockets." She squinted at the receipt from the grocery store. "What is cauliflower rice?"
"Rice," Jimmy said as he came up, "made," he went down, "of cauli-", up again, "flower."
Joe raised her eyebrow at the push-uping Jimmy on the floor. That had been another reason not to bring in the dining table. He wanted the room to exercise. Apparently, this new physique did not come for free. She sat on top of the kitchen island, cross-legged, and watched him work out. So strange. Jimmy was not wearing anything else than gray sweatpants, so she could see every gleaming muscle that contracted and flexed as he did his moves. Technically, they were the same muscles she saw on Derek. And yet...nothing. No reaction. She could recognize that he looked good, but that was it.
If her mind replaced Jimmy with Derek however...
"You're thinking about him again."
That happened.
"Stop smelling me, asshole."
"Stop smelling then."
It made her wonder if Derek worked out. He probably did. Anything to stay strong, stay fast, stay powerful. Lifting weights? Probably, but she could picture him doing these bodyweight-exercises like Jimmy was doing. Push-ups, pull-ups, sit-ups, any other kind of ups. The tattoo on his back glistening with sweat as he worked his body-
"And you're thinking about him again."
"Shut up," Joe murmured and returned her attention to the receipts and budget plan. With how easily Jimmy could tell, she had to wonder how much Scott had picked up the few times she and Derek had been in the vicinity of each other with Scott around. The first few times it was probably okay because she was more skeptical than attracted, but lately? Hmm.
"You should try to exercise as well," said Jimmy after he was done doing something he called pistol squats that looked utterly ridiculous. He grabbed a water bottle and finished it in almost one go, his powerful throat working as he swallowed. Again, Joe could see the similarities, but it just wasn't the same. "Will take your mind off things."
Joe made a dismissive sound. "Like you taking your mind off that contract with your parents and your still unfinished book?"
"I will admit that this writer's block is proving to be demanding." Jimmy glanced at his computer in the furthermost corner. Joe's was closer to the kitchen, so she could put on the coffee machine without getting out of her chair. "But a sound mind requires a sound body."
"Whatever, just don't be making any body sounds and we're good," Joe said absentmindedly. Still a few months left of the semester and the TA-work was picking up after Spring Break. She needed a second income if she was going to keep up this lavish lifestyle of eating more than once a day. Could go back to tutoring, if she resisted the urge to stab herself with an ice-pick at the thought alone.
Erica and Boyd were reported missing to the local police now, but even though Sheriff Stilinski took the case seriously, statistics showed that missing youth were rarely prioritized by the law enforcement agencies. The surrounding state police and jurisdictions were informed of the missing kids and that meant they'd alert Beacon County if the kids showed up in the arrest, hospital, or morgue. And that was it. No search party, no investigation. Kids ran away all the time, usually they came home when their money ran out.
Nothing usual about this.
Jimmy's computer made a ding and Joe frowned. "Another e-mail? Dude, you need to turn off that notification-sound, they are going of twenty-four seven."
"I have many correspondents overseas. They are in a different time-zone," Jimmy said as he went over to check the computer. He made a dismissive sound. "Another fan wanting me to update."
"Yeah, how's that going for ya? Writer's block there as well?"
Jimmy had reopened his blog — sorry, news site — to the general euphoria of his readers. She had proofread his first article about the kanima-murders, trying to find the line between exposing them as actual supernatural murders without exposing himself, so to speak. That was the only article he had published in the week of being back from hiatus and his followers were used to a more frequent updating schedule.
"For now," Jimmy said and shut off his computer. "I will take a shower. My keen sense of smell tells me I am perspiring heavily."
"Don't need a keen sense of smell to tell that."
Her phone buzzed and now it was Joe's turn to frown. She kept expecting the worst — bodies found in the Preserve, Kate escaping to Mexico, Gerard reinstated as the principal. The text-message was not about either.
Oh. In the privacy of Jimmy's — and hers now — kitchen, she blushed deeply.
Lobito: Pick you up at 7 PM.
"Jimmy!" she called, hopping down from the counter. "I need the shower!"
Only one bathroom in the apartment, luckily not connected to either bedroom, and she practically sprinted down the hall to it. His muffled voice came from inside. "I am already nude."
"Don't care! Derek's picking me up at seven," she said and banged her flat palm on the door. It yanked open from the inside, Jimmy clutching a skimpy towel around his waist and frowning. She barged her way inside and shoved him out of the bathroom, giving him her phone. The co-ed dorms from her first year at Berkeley had made her mostly immune to social hang-ups about gender. "What do I say?"
"This might sound radical," Jimmy's voice came from outside the door. "But I would suggest a simple 'OK' to suffice. Perhaps a smiley-face if you are feeling convivial."
"Doesn't that seem a bit stand-offish?" Joe wrenched her sweatshirt off while turning on the shower at the same time to get the heat running. "I need to find out what to wear. Like, does he want to go hiking or is it a dinner and a movie or-"
"That is too long for a text, I will just call-"
Joe tore the door open and stuck her head outside, already naked except for an equally skimpy towel trying to cover more of her than Jimmy tried to cover on himself. To his credit, his gaze never flickered once. "No! Are you insane? You can't call him!"
"Delgado," Jimmy said patiently, as he did when he was sick of her bullshit. "As a member of both his subspecies and gender, I can assure you that a simple phone call is to be appreciated more than a dozen texts back and forth. Why are you overcomplicating things?"
"I'm not!" Joe went inside the bathroom because she was running out of time. She hopped in the shower, raising her voice, not thinking that Jimmy could hear her anyway. "But you can't call because then he'll know I showed you the text-message, he'll know I'm overthinking it."
"But you are overthinking it."
"Not the point! Okay, hang on, brainstorm with me here," she shouted and thought she heard Jimmy groan. "We're in April, right? And he said seven pm so that probably means it's indoors because the weather's still cold."
"This is California, Delgado, not New York and it's almost May. It's closer to sixty degrees out."
"Shit. That doesn't narrow it down. Um, okay, how about I ask him what kind of shoes to wear? That's cute, right?"
The utter silence on the other side indicated that it was not, in fact, that cute.
"God! What kind of guy just sends that text with no further info. 'Pick you up at 7 PM', not even a question mark." Joe shampooed so hard she got it in her eyes and swore under her breath. "Does he think I've been sitting around just waiting for him to call me about that date?"
"You have been sitting-"
Joe continued pretending she had not heard Jimmy. "What if I had plans tonight? I could have plans, right? I have friends," like two of them, "I live with you, I could have a girls' night with Aunt Mel planned, he has no way of knowing if I'm free or not." Huffing, Joe stomped out of the shower, shampoo still in her hair, and stuck her head out the door again. "The audacity of this guy. Screw it. I'm canceling. Text him that I'm busy."
He was leaning on the other side of the hallway, her phone still in hand. "Are you sure about that, Joe?"
"Yes!" She slammed the door and went back to the shower, not wasting the hot water now that she had begun anyway.
"What if he asks what your plans were?"
"Make something up."
Rinsing her hair, she tried to picture what he could possibly have planned for tonight. She had a hard time imagining him at a minigolf-course for example. No, Derek Hale was either a hike-and-see-the-sunset or a dinner-and-a-movie kind of guy. There wasn't that much to do in Beacon Hills anyway. As she applied the conditioner, she called out to Jimmy: "What time does the sun set in Beacon Hills?"
"Around eight pm."
Hah, called it. "Did you cancel?"
"No, the phone shows that he's typing."
"What's he saying?"
"I don't know, I said he was typing, he hasn't sent anything."
Maybe he was getting second thoughts. Maybe he realized that was not a way to ask a girl out. Okay, technically he asked her out at the Hale house yesterday, and that had almost been too much asking out in Joe's opinion. But just sending a text like that and assume she'll fall in line just beca-
"He says 'No dress-code, but please no sweats'."
"What?" Joe barked, half-blind with conditioner in her eyes. "He said what?"
"This is ridiculous, I'm just gonna call-"
"No! Text him 'OK', the letters, not the word and no smiley," Joe snapped as she ducked back under the water spray, words slurred by the stream. "No sweats? I'll show him no sweats that-"
"I am fortunate enough to not understand a word you're saying. I will not cancel then?"
Joe wrenched off the water and stomped naked onto the floor, using the small towel to dry herself quickly. "No!"
She heard a tired sigh and the sound her phone made when a message was sent. "Very well. Now can I please have the shower?"
Wrapping her hair up, she covered herself as much as she could and let Jimmy have the bathroom. "But make it quick, you gotta help me choose my outfit."
He closed the door while muttering: "Get a roommate, they said, it'll be fun, they said."
Already fuming, Joe opened the trashbags containing all of her clothes, still not fully unpacked from moving. No sweats, huh? Okay, what did Derek like? He always wore grays and neutral greens and to be fair, most of Joe's closet was neutral gray, but only because it was washed out black. She needed something opposite of sweats in every way. Color, fit, texture. He had complimented her outfit at the rave, so those pants could still work — black fitted jeans. The top was a no-go unless he was taking her to a BDSM-club and that seemed too spontaneous for a first date. Had to wait until the third one at least.
So far it looked like she was going for jeans and a t-shirt, which was her default when the occasion didn't allow for sweats. Joe made a face. She had to have any other top that could work but still keep it sort of neutral, as he obviously had not approved of her dress that night of the reunion dinner. Okay, he had said she looked amazing — Joe blushed even at the memory — but she had a feeling his sight was clouded with, uh, the pheromone-equivalent of beer goggles. Did she have time to head over to Aunt Mel's to raid her closet? It would be cutting it close and mess up her hair-drying time.
The shower turned off and Jimmy trudged into her room seconds later, towel around his waist and dripping water.
"Okay, I'm down to these pants," Joe said and held up the jeans in question. The rest of her clothes had exploded over her bed. "These are all my tops."
"How many gray t-shirts do you own?" Jimmy asked with a curl in his lip. He was not a fan of neutrals, but he seemed to have eased up on the pattern-matching after he turned into a werewolf. Maybe anti-pattern was a werewolf-thing?
"What do you mean? These are totally different. That's cotton, that's a cotton mix, that's sleeveless and this is like a three-quarter long sleeve and-"
Jimmy ignored her in favor of reaching into the pile. "This."
"That's my serious-shirt," Joe said with a grimace as she took the item in question from his hands. A splurge when she was interviewing for post-grad positions at the university, a luxurious white business shirt of some sort of linen-mixed fabric that did not crease and was a bit less see-through than most other white shirts she had ever tried. "I wear this when I need to be taken seriously."
He crossed his arms and raised his eyebrows. "Tonight sounds like a good time for that." Something made him smile and now Joe raised her eyebrows. "You are standing in your underwear talking to me who is essentially naked and let's face it, the epitome of male physique, and not caring a bit." Cue eye roll. "It is fascinating how this mate-bond affects your judgment."
"For your information, that's not the mate-bond. I'm still attracted to other people," Joe bit back and decided to go for the combo Jimmy suggested. She looked over at him. "Does it bother you? Either way?"
"Not at all," Jimmy said easily, still with his arms crossed, which meant the towel hung on by a simple tuck on his side. "I meant what I said about not being attracted to you." Under his breath, he muttered: "You'd be exhausting as a partner anyway."
"Cool. Same. How's this?" Joe had put on the jeans and shirt, feeling like she was going straight in for an accountant-interview. Jimmy rolled his eyes.
"Unbutton. One more. One more. One more."
"Bro, are you serious, I'm practically not buttoned at all," Joe murmured and looked at herself in the tall mirror by the door. She rolled up her sleeves to her elbows and tried to move around, seeing just how much she exposed herself. By Jimmy's orders, she had unbuttoned until the underband of her bra. Not that much cleavage to begin with, it was still all on display now.
"Now tuck your shirt."
She did and the effect changed again. Okay, she could work with this. It was a step further from hinting, but it was still not quite exposing. Like a firm, but not an explicit message of what she wore underneath her shirt.
"Hang on, hang on," Joe said before Jimmy could go back to presumably put on some clothes. "Take a picture for Kelly, have her approve. Use my phone."
Rolling his eyes, he still took the phone from her hand and switched to camera mode. "Can you do something with your arms, you're slouching. Not the Wonderwoman-pose, just be natural. That...is not natural."
"Just take the damn picture!"
Sound of a message sent, two seconds later, sound of a message received. Jimmy sighed. "She tells you to wear heels and then gives several smiley-faces with hearts in their eyes and one thumb up."
He refused to have any opinion on her makeup and went back to his own room. Joe had a whole hour before Derek would pick her up, which she needed when she messed up her eyeliner again. Why was she so nervous? This was worse than that reunion-dinner. It was just Derek.
Her true mate.
Oh God, stop it, Delgado. She concentrated on the eyeliner again. Every time she leaned forwards, she realized she revealed more of her bra without it being overly tacky. It was just a black lacy bra she got at Macy's or something, no push-up or any other effect. Not exposing anything, but still, that little peek-a-boo was kind of hot. And she wasn't even that interested in boobs.
She found herself wondering if Derek was.
Fourth time's a charm, apparently, when it came to liquid eyeliner. The rest she kept simple, but could not resist the temptation of red lipstick. It was an undisputed fact that Latinas looked good with red lipstick. The only downside to red lipstick was how it smeared if you kissed. Not that she planned to do any kissing tonight, but if it happened, it happened-
"Aargh," Joe groaned to herself, after nearly stabbing herself in the eye with the mascara wand. Relax or he would be able to smell her arousal several miles away. First date was a first date no matter how long she'd known him. No kissing. Maybe holding hands a bit. God, would he put his arm around her like when he pretended to be her boyfriend? He was so tactile compared to her. Touching her like it was second-nature and who knew, maybe it was to him?
Ten minutes to go. Okay, makeup done, she could not get the eyeliner completely evened out, but who cared at this point, right? Hair semi-dry, not too frizzy, would probably frizz more if they were spending the night outdoors, but this was a guy who'd seen her in all states of disarray so it should be fine. Anything was an improvement from either the lopsided half-bun she wore or the monster mess that came after every near-death experience.
As she tried to figure out if she should go outside to wait for him — he seemed like a guy who'd be here at seven sharp — or if she should let him come up to get her, she ran her fingers over his leather jacket. The one he gave to her. Told her she looked good in. No matter if he meant it as a joke, he still gave it to her. She tested it on. Okay, now that looked cool.
"Looking good, Delgado," Jimmy said as he passed her room, shooting her two finger guns.
No, not the jacket, it was too much. She was already playing up his ego with just agreeing to this date and not calling him out on the part cryptic, part blunt texts. But the jacket looked really cool. No, no jacket.
It smelled really good though.
All the more reasons to leave it behind, she would have enough just to fight her own hormones when having the source readily available.
Not that readily available though.
Probably.
Jimmy's disinterested voice came from the living room: "He's here."
Pulling on the first of a pair of heels she had not worn in a while, but did wonders for her butt, she dashed out into the living room where Jimmy was on his computer. She hadn't heard the buzzer.
"How do I look?" she asked and Jimmy gave her a thumbs up over his shoulder without turning around. Joe groaned. Sometimes she missed Aunt Mel who could hype her a bit up when necessary. "Do I go down or is he coming up?"
"He's waiting for you in the car," Jimmy said and tapped his ear. Aha. Super hearing.
"Are you guys talking right now?" she asked, wondering how far that hearing really went and Jimmy gave her a thumbs up again. He was looking at the latest development in the Kate Argent-case. Her trail was leading investigators to Mexico, not surprisingly.
"He says he's still waiting."
"Tell him to kiss my ass," Joe muttered and pulled on the other heel, wincing a bit as it'd been a while since she walked in them. A realization struck her as Jimmy gave her a very specific look over his shoulder — Derek could hear her too. "Uh, I'll be down in a second?"
Waiting for Jimmy to tell her if Derek answered or not, she looked at herself in the reflection of the window. Jacket or no jacket?
No jacket, and if they were supposed to be outside, Derek could give her his jacket. Or keep her warm in any other mann- Why was she like this?
"I'm just gonna go."
Jimmy waved her off without a word. Since she hated to carry a purse, she put her wallet and phone in the back pocket along with the lipstick in case she had to touch up. Because she had a drink or something, not because of kissing. Okay, you know what, Joe? Shut up.
She wobbled down to the ground floor and found Derek's Camaro sitting on the curb outside the main entrance. It looked extra shiny as if he'd polished it. The windows rolled down and she saw him take off his sunglasses when she walked up to the car.
Without killing the engine, he reached over to shove the door open. Her heart was already hammering ridiculously loud in her chest, a fact that had to be more than prominent to him because of the insanely many buttons she had undone. Smiling tightly, she got into the car — a car she had literally gotten in a thousand times before so it was no big deal, Joe, would you just relax for a second here? — and buckled up.
"Hey," Derek said and that was it before he got the car into gear and cruised off.
By the time she realized she hadn't returned his greeting, it was too late. Oh well, he would smell she was nervous and probably give her a free pass. Not like he was initiating any conversation either.
Okay, so he was in a pair of fitted dark jeans that looked new, or at least there weren't any scratches on them like most of his other pairs. On top he wore a snug deep red — maroon or burgundy maybe? — henley shirt in a thicker material than he usually wore. Looked like cashmere? Looked expensive, actually, and there was some nice leather detailing around the collar.
Trying and probably failing to be discrete, she leaned back to take a peek at his shoes to get any inclination if they were going hiking after all and she had to go back and change.
Dress shoes.
Okay. Unexpected. Not unexpected, he cleaned up good.
After the initial greeting, he had not looked at her again. He drove like he hated both the road and his car, particularly his steering wheel and she could see one of the muscles — triceps? — flex on his arm even through his shirt as he gripped it. The deadly silence was killing her, but she did not have the nerves to turn on the radio because then he might ask why she was doing that, and then she would have to say it was too quiet and he would ask her to talk then and she would panic and say something stupid and-
They just passed the Beacon Hills-sign. She turned in her seat to confirm it. Oh God, maybe Derek fully intended to hike in dress shoes?
"Where are we going?" she asked after a few failed attempts where she had to clear her throat first.
"Berkeley."
"Oh, okay," she said to fill the silence. The only reason she could think he would take her to Berkeley was if he was trying to recreate that disastrous reunion dinner. The food had been nice — she thought at least, she could not even remember it. Maybe Derek was not a dinner-and-a-movie kind of guy, maybe it was just dinner?
This was the most awkward car ride in her life. And it was with Derek, of all people. He'd saved her life, she'd saved his life, they'd fought, they'd nearly kissed at least a couple of times, at least she thought they had, maybe that was just how she remembered it. No. Joe recalled the look of pure frustration on Derek's face after Kelly knocked on the door at the reunion dinner. The other times there was an actual emergency going on, but that time was just bad luck and he had looked really frustrated. Really.
And now he looked angry, as per usual, still not relenting on the steering wheel. If anything, he had looked less angry when he was paralyzed from the neck down in the swimming pool. That could have been the sheer exhaustion though. To be fair, he had looked absolutely livid when he spotted her sneaking back in after getting the shotgun. Probably the third angriest she'd seen him, with the two other places being when Matt had a gun in her face and when the kanima put her in a choke-hold.
The complete silence made her fiddle with the undone buttons on her shirt, feeling stupid and exposed. Could she deftly button up without him noticing? Probably not, as he had noticed her playing with the hem of her dress before the reunion dinner — he had supernaturally heightened senses, nothing escaped him. And if she didn't stop messing with the buttons, she'd open another one and she forced her hand down into her lap.
He'd trimmed his beard.
She kept peeking over at him, where he sat with a ramrod back, driving the Camaro like that was his only purpose in life. Like that time at the reunion dinner, he'd taken it a step further and made sure the lines were straight where the beard ended on his cheeks. Joe liked the beard or stubble as she usually referred to it. He kept it shorter than Jimmy and when they first met — that seemed like years ago when it was just in January — he had been nearly clean-shaven. Never completely clean-shaven and she could imagine him being that kind of guy who got a shadow before he had finished shaving the rest of his face. Probably not helped by the werewolf-gene.
Not a gene. A part of him. Which a gene was, so that analogy was actually fine.
If they were going all the way to Berkeley, she almost wished she'd taken her own car and met him there. This was the longest half hour in the history of time. Two words. He'd said two words to her this entire time. Had she insulted him that much with the 'kiss my ass'-comment she made in the apartment? It hadn't even been intended for him! That could not be it, she had dished out far worse things than that. Called him a failure in the high school locker room, but to be fair, she had just found out that his psycho uncle was alive after he himself had killed him and she was both suffering the effects of the mountain ash and quitting morphine-combo. Never found out exactly how Peter was brought back to life. Jimmy had said something about the Worm moon and the girl, but that had been it. Story for another time, silence was better than dredging up all that bad stuff right now.
Or was it?
Maybe a little argument was better than nothing? Would make for an awkward car ride home though. Jimmy could pick her up if it got too bad. No, no argument now. Things were bad enough with Erica and Boyd still missing. Joe would never admit it, but she had a small hope they were on a beach somewhere, couch-surfing and hanging ut, doing normal runaway kids' stuff. It hadn't been that long, maybe they still had cash enough to live kinda comfy and then they'd come sneaking back when it ran out. A nice dream. Erica and Boyd made a cute couple. Had to find a guy for Isaac though. Or girl. Joe feared, suspected, worried — all of the above — that he had developed a crush on her, probably just projecting through his Alpha. Isaac needed a nice girl, or guy, his own age. She should probably go talk to him, make sure he knew that offer of The Talk still was available. Not that she had any clue to what she was doing when it came to the dating game, but she was pretty sure of her sexuality.
Oh thank God, they'd reached Berkeley.
It quickly became apparent that they were not going to that craft brewery because Derek was taking all the turns she did when she headed for the university. In fact, he was even pulling up to the university parking lot. More confused by the second, Joe watched him do that arm-thing when he reversed into the parking space. So now they were parked at the university. Joe narrowed her eyes, almost fearing some kind of set-up involving Kelly or Alex or any of the other guys. It was nowhere near her birthday though, and she did not see that many other cars here.
"Hang on," Derek said as he killed the ignition and got out of the car. Major deja vu, as he came over to her side and opened the door. Giving her his arm, he said with what sounded like annoyance: "Didn't think you'd wear heels."
"Uh, well, I am," Joe said awkwardly as she used his arm as support to get out. Easier in jeans, no fear of flashing anyone. The heels almost brought her to his height, but she was more concerned with scanning the parking lot, trying to figure out what they were doing here without actually asking him. No arm around her shoulders or waist this time though, so it was not all like the reunion dinner. No facade to keep up.
Instead, he put his hands in the pockets of his jeans and nodded his head to indicate the way. It took her approximately five steps to regret her footwear, but after Derek's comment, she would rather chew her toes off than say something about it. So she tottered after him, literally, as he was walking at his normal speed. She could usually not keep up with him in sneakers when he did that, let alone heels. When he was ten yards ahead of her, it seemed to dawn on him that he was missing something and he turned, still with both hands in pocket, with raised eyebrows.
"Coming?"
"I'm trying," Joe bit out, hating these shoes with every fiber of her being. It was a reason they had originally been stored in the back of the closet. They looked good on, made her butt look all cute and perky, but they were a nightmare to walk in. Shoes like that could only be worn to bars where she could stand by a tall table for five minutes at a time and then go sit down somewhere. No dancing or walking in these shoes. Had he turned off his werewolf senses or something? How could he not notice her literally bite in a swear word with every step?
They were walking down the campus sidewalk, heading to one of the newer buildings Joe never went to because she hadn't had classes there since she was a Freshman. A couple of students milled about, heading to or from the library or dorms. Oh my God, what if he was taking her to some dorm party? Did he know anyone from the school? How could she explain that as a post-grad who lived off-campus, she would never even contemplate attending another dorm party, not even if her life depended on it?
And no conversation. Zero. Zilch. This was so weird. It was like going on a date with your platonic best friend. Why had she brought up the date-stuff again? Couldn't they just have made out in the Hale house yesterday and then taken it from there? Did they need to be dating when they were already destined to be together?
Eventually, Derek stopped in front of a pair of glass doors to the main building. He waited patiently, or at least with feigned patience, for Joe to catch up.
"What are we doing here?" she finally asked, having tried and failed to figure it out. Joe tried to not sound whiny, but the shoes hurt and while she had not had high hopes for tonight, a tour around her own college had not been on the expected agenda.
Derek nodded at the door. A large poster had been put up, declaring this was the entrance to the annual anthropology-exhibition as hosted by the university's museum. The college had one of the largest collections in the US, but not the space to display it all, so they curated a streamlined exhibition that changed each year.
"Okay?" Joe asked, wondering why Derek looked so pleased. "Are you secretly an anthropology-buff?"
"No," Derek admitted and pushed the doors open, holding out his hand to her. "But you are."
Quirking her brows, she took his hand, noting the heat, and let him lead her inside. He paid the modest entering-fee at the reception desk and they entered the exhibition hall. This year's theme: Native American Myths and Legends.
Eyebrows raised, she looked at him again and he smiled with closed lips. Still, more than she was used to, still enough to make her heart beat just a little faster.
"I like hearing you talk about this stuff," Derek said with a shrug. Her hand still in his, he tugged on it so she stepped closer, where he tucked her arm into his elbow.
Joe, a bit distracted by the fact that they were so close and that her arm was around his, swallowed. "Are you expecting me to present the exhibition to you?"
"If you'd like," he said, his voice resonating through her core. "As I'm not illiterate, I can read the displays if not."
Biting her lip to avoid smiling like an idiot, Joe followed Derek to the first exhibit. The Silver Fox and the Coyote of the Miwok-tribe, native to Northern California. She lasted all of ten seconds before she began to explain what was missing from the display text.
"A lot of tribes actually have both the creators being male, unlike the traditional Miwok where the Silver Fox is female. The duality is a really common theme in a lot of traditional legends because you have the wise and orderly on one side, that's the Fox, and then there's the trickster, the Coyote. There are literally so many mythologies that have this trickster-figure because it was all about life lessons, you know, and they needed something god-like whose sole purpose was to create havoc, where the other gods were too pure or wise of heart."
He let her talk throughout the whole exhibition, in essence, giving him a more thorough tour than any guide could have managed. Her heels echoed on the marble floor and she tried to keep her voice down because there were not that many people in here despite how it was open until nine pm. A werewolf with super-hearing was a nice companion for that, as he would hear her no matter how low she whispered.
After he had made her aware of it back at the house, she noticed how much more mindful she was of him now that she talked. How his eyes moved when she explained certain parts of a woven blanket, for example. How they darted around. She noticed the minuscule parting of lips when he was thinking, also noticing the hint of bunny teeth when you saw him from the right angle, no less gorgeous for that. His flexing jaw when he had disagreed with something akin to a werewolf-legend, specifically skinwalkers. The tilt in his head when he looked at her after she had tried to be funny or tell something a bit more raunchy than they could put on the displays. Pheromones, he called them. Signals that he liked her. Or at least her when she was talking about stuff like this.
"Okay, so the Maidu was actually Sierra Nevada people, north of Yosemite, and they were completely-"
"Excuse me, ma'am, sir."
Steered by Derek, they turned around to the nice plump lady who had taken their entering-fee in the beginning. Joe wondered if she had gone too far in explaining the creation-myths, but to her defense, there were a lot of semen-analogies there.
The plump lady smiled sweetly. "Sorry to disturb you, but we're closing in five minutes." She held up her hand to display the number five. "Thank you so much for visiting."
Joe watched her go back to the desk. Still holding on to Derek's arm, because it did take some pressure off her feet if nothing else, she tried to locate a clock. "Didn't you say they were open until nine?"
"I did," Derek said and showed her the time on his phone. 8:55.
"Son of a bitch," Joe said without thinking. No wonder she was parched, she had been talking for nearly an hour and a half. "Sorry, I didn't mean to-"
"Joe, I like hearing you talk about this," Derek said with a slight smile, no doubt hearing the crazy flutter of heartbeat that brought on. "Why'd you think I took you here?"
Despite his statement, Joe was at a loss for words now and they exited the hall while bidding the woman a good night. No matter what Jimmy said, it was still kind of cold in April and she was glad Derek had made no moves to shake her off his arm as they trudged back to the car, keeping a more leisurely pace now. It was like holding onto a radiator.
Derek opened the car door for her and offered his arm as support when she got in. She had thought it was just an act he put on at the dinner, but maybe this was how he was raised? Part of the werewolf-code — thou shalt help girls in too-high heels. Time had passed so fast after they entered the exhibition, and although her feet still throbbed, she did not actually want the night to end.
"You like Chinese?" Derek asked as he got in the driver's seat and Joe, grinning like an idiot, confirmed that she did.
Because Joe used to live in Berkeley, she knew about a couple of places and they chose the one closest. A busy night, they still managed to snag a table for two, tucked into a corner. Not surprisingly, Derek sat with his back to the wall, forever vigilant. She had been out with other guys who did that, who also happened to call themselves alphas, but they weren't like Derek. They weren't actual Alphas like Derek.
"Did you really live in New York?" she asked after the nice waiter brought them their drinks. She opted for the non-alcoholic variant tonight, not wanting to cloud her judgment more than necessary.
Derek looked surprised. "Yeah, six years. Why?"
"I thought that might have been something you just said," Joe explained, referring to how he had told Caleb and Kyle at the reunion dinner about it. "Are you actually a licensed mechanic?"
"I am actually a licensed mechanic," Derek said slowly, but with a hint of a smile in his eyes. "Laura, she, uh..." This was the first time Joe had ever heard him talk about his sister after she and Jimmy sprang him from the torture chamber. He took a deep breath, regaining his voice. "Laura made me do it, to get me out of the apartment."
Derek took a sip of his beer, one that would not even give him a buzz, and looked elsewhere.
"Where'd you live?" Joe asked, as a New Yorker herself, deciding not to push on the subject of Laura too much.
So it turns out that they had overlapping years in New York. When Derek was working as a mechanic in Brooklyn, Joe had finished up high school in the Bronx. Two opposite sides of New York City, but still close enough that it wouldn't have been impossible for them to accidentally meet. Funny how life worked.
"What would have happened if you, like, saw me on the subway or something? Could you smell me from day one? Stupid question, you can smell everyone, but when did you actually know what was going on?"
Derek paused, twirling his beer bottle around. They had almost finished their first round, still waiting for their food. "Not everyone's scent almost knocks me down the stairs."
"So you knew already that time you lurked in the hallway?"
"When I lurked in Scott's room," Derek corrected and had another swig of beer. "You just caught me leaving." He talked slowly, mostly to his bottle. "I had a pretty strong suspicion, but..."
"But?"
"It was bad timing to get distracted." His eyes glittered from the small tea-lights on their table. "So I stalked you a bit — sorry — and every time I saw you, it just kept getting stronger. Then I tried to avoid you, which did not work at all since you kept showing up everywhere-"
"I'm sorry," Joe couldn't help but laugh. She gestured to herself. "I kept showing up everywhere? Excuse me, but every time I turned around you were there!" Joe counted on her fingers. "The vet clinic, the video store, the school parking lot-"
Derek shrugged. "All those times I was there before you."
"You-" Joe stopped to think, realizing he was right. "Oh my God, I'm the stalker." She mulled it over and decided: "Nah, bro, you stole my car to have it cleaned. That or the engine-thing is the most stalker-ish thing you did, beats any of mine."
Half worried she offended him, she realized he was smiling as he looked down at the tabletop. Almost embarrassed? It was not a look she was used to seeing on him, somehow made her heart beat faster.
"I felt bad for bleeding all over your seats," he pulled in a sharp breath, "and scaring you. The engine was as much for my own sake as yours. I'm, uh, sorry about that. Both times, really. You're right, I should have asked."
"You could at least have told me you were a licensed mechanic," Joe mumbled into the now empty glass of her drink. "I was worried my car would blow up."
"I think I lowered the chances of that drastically. The original engine was a literal fire hazard," Derek said and right then, the waiter turned up with their food. They leaned back as the steaming plates were put in front of them. They thanked him and each went for the chopsticks, Derek snapping them apart in a fluid movement. Seemingly without thinking, he reached over to do the same to hers. "Reminds me that I never kicked Carter's ass for that.
Half distracted by the chopsticks back in her hands, she said: "You probably beat him up in high school, let bygones be bygones."
They picked at their food for a while — she had the safe broccoli beef, extra spicy, while Derek went for some kind of lamb-dish with noodles.
"Never beat anyone up in high school," Derek said conversationally, popping a piece of meat into his mouth, a brief flash of canines. She must have looked skeptical as he sighed and again, seemingly without thinking, reached over to take a piece of her food. He did not notice her slightly surprised look. "Barely got to play sports. Secrecy was our main advantage, Mom never let us forget that. But homeschooling would just set us further apart from the rest of the town, which our money already did, so I guess that's why she allowed us to attend Beacon High."
Feeling adventurous, curious to see if he would notice, Joe leaned forward to snag a bite of his food. He did notice, but only to push his plate closer to her to give her better access. Okay, that lamb-thing was delicious and she would definitely order this the next time they- Joe mentally cleared her throat. Next time she was here, no matter the company.
"How many siblings-" She bit off her own question, realizing her faux pas. All of her questions were in the past tense.
"Laura's the oldest, then me, Michael and Cora," Derek listed on his fingers, quickly, but determined to go through with it. He returned to his food, brows pulled down to give him a dark expression. "Michael was the only human of us. We also lived with my dad's brother and his wife, with two kids, Tyler and Aaron. Tyler probably human, but it's not easy to tell when they're that young."
Big family, Joe thought but said nothing. It did not go unregistered that Derek used a mix of tenses when talking about his family. She could imagine the Hale house when it was a mansion, filled with people, kids coming and going as they saw fit. A long dining table, maybe, food passed between them as naturally as they talked, loud laughter and jokes filling the room.
She did not realize she was crying before a tear hit her plate. Joe flinched and was about to get up, run to the bathroom. "Oh shit, I'm sorry, I'll-"
Derek grabbed her hand and pulled her back to the table. His bright eyes were dry but watchful. "It's okay."
"It really isn't," Joe muttered as she used her free hand to dab at her eyes with the napkin, hoping the mascara wouldn't run. She wasn't sure if she meant what had happened or the fact that she was only halfway through their dinner and already crying.
"It is what it is," Derek said, repeating her words from the hospital.
"I'm sorry, I shouldn't have-"
As he tightened his grip on her hand, her voice died to nothing.
"Don't apologize for that." He signaled to the waiter to get them another round of drinks. "How about you? Any siblings?"
Still holding the napkin up to her eyes, her other hand in his, she shook her head. "Closest thing I have is Scott and-" That thought did nothing to brighten the mood. "My Grandma had a hard time having children, so she stopped after two. Got some second cousins in Argentina, but we don't really have any contact with them." With a sigh, she gestured to the napkin. "I really didn't mean to-"
"It's okay," Derek repeated. Probably realizing that family was not the most fun thing to discuss, he changed the subject. "I got a question for you for once. When did you first notice me?"
"When you were standing like a psychopath in the upstairs hall," Joe muttered, glad of the reprieve from the gloom, even though she wanted to know more about Derek and what he came from. "No, really, I mean it. I smelled you when you passed me."
Derek's eyebrow raised as he chewed. "And that didn't strike you as strange?"
"I was more worried about how you'd broken into the house, rather than the fact that you used a shit ton of cologne." Joe laughed as Derek rolled his eyes. "But yeah, that's when I noticed you, scent and all." She glanced at him, comparing how different he looked from just a few months ago. "By the way, been meaning to say, I like that you stopped shaving so often," she used her fingers to indicate her own jaw before picking up her chopsticks, "you look better like this."
She caught a hint of a smile even as he leaned over his food, using his free hand to eat. "I still shave once a day."
A piece of broccoli dropped from her chopsticks. "Are you serious?"
"I just changed from a razor to a machine," he explained as he rubbed his own jaw, and now that she was aware, she could see his beard had already grown darker. "It grows like crazy. My dad was the same."
"Because you're a," she glanced around the restaurant, but no one was paying attention except Derek, who looked at her expectantly, "werewolf?" At his slightly bigger smile and shrug, she blinked. "You should hope so because your skin would be completely raw if you did it without any healing in the picture." Picking the fallen broccoli back up, she raised her eyebrows. "You could have like a full hipster-beard in a few days. Should totally do that for Halloween"
"Or I could just..." Derek did another shrug and gestured to his own completely serious face. His lips twitched when Joe laughed at the image of Wolf-Derek handing out candy on Halloween.
"If you just did the red eyes and fangs, you'd be a pretty convincing vampire." She chewed thoughtfully. "Are-"
"No," he said decisively, already guessing where that question was heading. "There's a lot of other things, but I've never come across vampires."
Joe couldn't help but smile at the whole situation of asking if vampires were real as a serious question and having it dismissed by a werewolf. Noticing his inquisitive expression, she shook her head, still smiling.
"I'm just processing that I'm on a date with a werewolf." Was it her imagination or did his face light up slightly every time she said the word? They were in a public setting, but he'd probably let her know if she needed to keep her voice down. Every table in the restaurant was occupied and Joe glanced around. "Can you hear, like, every conversation in here?"
"Not at the same time." He took another swig of beer and his eyes got slightly unfocused for a second. "Kitchen messed up an order so they're arguing, but not much interesting other than that. I told you, our hearing's selective and," another tug to his lips in a slight smile and she just realized they had been holding hands for a while now when his thumb stroked gently over her hand, "I'd rather listen to you."
Yeah, he definitely knew what he was doing. Even if he pretended to not notice the rush of heat spreading in her face and continued eating in silence, his eyes crinkled like he was holding back a smirk.
A brief pause as the waiter cleared their plates and refilled their drinks. Both of them leaning back broke their grip on each other and Joe was not bold enough to reclaim it.
"Derek?" she asked when her heartbeat was back under control.
Derek made a noise of confirmation that he'd heard her, eyes locked on the label on his bottle, obviously thinking about something.
"Why did you roll around in my bed that night of the full moon?"
No, his grip definitely tightened around the bottleneck. As if to buy time, he took a long swig, staring into nothing. "It's going to sound creepy."
Joe burst out laughing at his expression and the fact that Derek Hale, big bad Alpha werewolf, worried about sounding 'creepy'. Her laughter did not make his mood brighten considerably, but the more she tried to get it under control, the more she started cracking up at his expression. Finally, he rolled his eyes, but she could see the smile threatening to peek through.
"Mm, try me," Joe finally got the voice to say and sipped on her drink through the straw, knowing her lipstick was probably all rubbed off now anyway, and found she did not care even the slightest.
"I lost control," Derek mumbled slowly, so she had to lean over the table to hear him. "I meant what I said that it doesn't happen often, but the full moon makes everything stronger and I had just fought Scott as he tried to kill Allison and Jackson — long story, don't ask — so my adrenaline was already running high and then you're there all of a sudden and you're smelling agitated and angry and the next thing I know I'm also in pain. Sensory overload, is that a word? And I know now, and knew then, that Scott's just your cousin, but right then, when I lost control, I just saw him as-"
"As?" Joe prompted and her eyes widened. "Competition?"
"I told you it was gonna sound weird," Derek muttered and drank more beer. "But to answer your question, I managed to redirect myself to the second strongest source of your smell in the house to calm down," Derek spoke the last part directly into the bottle, "and simultaneously mask it with my own."
"I'm sorry, what was that? That last part? You masked my scent with your own?"
Derek looked like he wanted to sink through his chair, but with his bottle now empty, he had no choice but to put it down and nod stiffly.
"Dude, what are you, a musk ox?"
A sharp inhale before he recovered. "They didn't cover that part in the stories you found?"
Her turn to want to sink through her chair. "Uh, they did actually, but that was somehow the least worrisome part of it." She shifted around a bit, twirling the remaining ice cubes around in her glass. "How much of those stories are based on reality? Like, do you ever need to bite me or something to claim me or...?"
With a raised eyebrow and completely straight face, he asked: "Do you want me to?"
Eyes snapped to his face as the question had her frozen. Only the glint in his eyes let her know it was a joke and she managed to breathe again.
"Dude," she said, if only to annoy him a little back, "you just told me you rolled around in my bed to mask my scent with yours, I'm allowed to be a bit concerned about the rest." She drummed her fingers on the table, half-tempted to reach for his hand again. "I just, y'know, want to know the rules. What's expected or..." what you want.
"I'm not sure exactly what you've read, but I'm pretty sure it's not like that." Derek's tone was neutral and he signaled the waiter for more drinks. He seemed to remember something and asked: "You want coffee instead?" After she nodded and Derek placed the order, he sighed, obviously not done with the subject. "I'm not expecting anything from you, Joe."
"Okay, good. What does 'mate' mean?" The question blurted out before she could stop it. "Deaton asked me if you told me and-"
"I did tell you." A rush of butterflies in her stomach as he put those bright eyes at her. "Yesterday."
"That Old English stuff?" Her face cleared. "Is that why you've been eating my food?"
His eyebrows raised in puzzlement before he realized what she meant. "No, that was just," he shrugged, almost apologetically, "old habits, I guess. Don't take this the wrong way, but you remind me of Laura at times."
Joe absolutely took this the wrong way. "I remind you of-"
"I'm able to relax around you," Derek clarified immediately and poked a hole in Joe's swelling balloon of indignation. He looked to the side, obviously not relaxing anymore. "Take it as a compliment."
"Oh. Thanks?" Again, this topic seemed too sore to prod, so she asked instead: "So, what does 'mate' mean?"
Her breathing stopped again as he leisurely reached over the table to rest his fingertips on the back of her hand. His eyes were on hers though, open and honest. "Equal."
This time when the waiter came with their drinks, neither pulled away.
Without releasing her hand, Derek changed the subject to something more mundane. They discussed music for a bit, comparing notes on concerts attended in New York when they lived there at the same time, but never matching. Derek told her more about his apprenticeship to become a mechanic, how he re-built this veteran car from scratch just to sell it to afford the Camaro, the only thing he said he bought completely with his own money. She in turn told him about her various part-time jobs — she'd had brief careers as a barista, hostess, gym receptionist, veterinarian assistant before she managed to pay her bills as a tutor, TA, and through various scholarships.
It was comfortable. At least for her. Without any way of reading his chemosignals, she had to take his word for it, but at least he looked more relaxed than she had ever seen him before. Maybe that was why they were in Berkeley because Beacon Hills represented so much pain, stress, and danger for both of them. His voice lost that hard edge it always had and became almost soothing when he talked. At least until he started going through all of the 'first date stuff' Joe had rambled on about the night after the rave.
It started innocently enough — he seemed to read every kind of book in existence, his dream job was as a freelance mechanic (only working when he felt like it) and the strangest phone call was from her when she was stranded in the woods under attack from a deer.
"Okay, how fast are you?" she found herself asking, recalling how insanely quick he had run out there that night. "Like, why do you bother with a car?"
"Because if I want to run that fast, it's on all fours," Derek said simply, as if to get it over with, and waited patiently for her to stop coughing after the coffee went down her windpipe. Something about that imagery was impossible to consolidate with the clean-cut guy in front of her. A guy who now smiled gently, watching her laugh while trying to recover.
Even after she stopped laughing, he kept looking at her. They weren't fully holding hands, but both resting one of their hands next to the other's on the table at all times. Light, comfortable touches that still sent tingles into her core.
"What?" she asked when regaining her voice, taking a sip of water to try and clear her throat. By the way he looked at her, she worried she had something on her face. The smile lingered, but he shook his head when she started brushing off her undereyes in case of mascara fallout.
Of all the questions he could have asked, she was not prepared for this one: "Does it bother you?"
It took her a few seconds to realize that he was not talking about him looking at her, but rather what set her off in a laughing fit in the first place. "I mean, not really, it's just hard to picture, you know, because you're clearly a bipedal creature trying to do a quadrupedal-"
"Joe."
Of course, he saw right through her attempted diversion. Fiddling with the tattered remains of her napkin, she sighed. "I'm not bothered by you, just," she shrugged, "the imbalance? You have a clear unfair advantage."
"It's not always an advantage," Derek said slowly but did not elaborate. "And you're okay with the rest?"
"It's grown on me," she said with a tiny smile. "Are you okay with me," her brows furrowed at her poor choice of words, "not being the rest?"
His eyebrows raised in clear surprise, beer bottle momentary frozen on its way to his mouth. "Most of the time," he said eventually, "when you're not actively trying to get yourself killed."
"Hey, I heal too."
"Took you a week and a half to recover from what would have taken me less than a minute."
"Show-off." For a second, she glared at her coffee. "This 'bout me trying to shield you from a shotgun blast?" The vivid memory of Kate turning the barrel towards them made her frown even as he nodded slowly. "To be fair-"
"You reacted on instinct," Derek finished without any more anger in his tone than usual. One of his fingers brushed against hers. "It was stupid, but it's part of-"
"The bond?" she guessed, tempted to roll her eyes.
"Of who you are," he said instead and raised his eyebrow in a challenge. "Guess it runs in the family."
Slowly, she asked: "Is that a compliment?"
A smile tugged on his lips. "Sometimes."
And Joe found herself smiling back.
In the end, she drank her coffee and he finished his last beer and the nice waiter came to inform them that they were closing up. Despite her protests, he paid for both of them. She was not sure if she wanted to know how he earned his money, afraid it would turn out to be something completely illegal.
Now when they walked out, he put his arm around her waist, as if it was the most natural thing in the world. At least it made her immune to the cold air outside. She had no idea what time it was. Still some people wandering around downtown, so obviously not midnight, but still late. Time to go home, probably, and she waited for Derek to suggest they should call it a night.
"You want to take the long way back?" Derek asked, indicating the brightly lit downtown area with the large fountain in the middle of a plaza.
"My shoes are killing me," Joe admitted, as much as she hated to say no because she really did not want this night to end. It was a night without any deaths, monsters, or supernatural drama — she had this Cinderella-feeling that things would end at midnight.
Derek shrugged with a half-smile. "Take them off."
"I can't walk barefoot," Joe said and wrinkled her nose. "Not sanitary."
"You'll heal if you catch anything."
"Still gross."
Joe let him walk her to the fountain anyway, wincing with each step. "Hey, what are-" She almost believed he was throwing her in, but instead he just lifted her up on the fountain edge. Joe laughed, embarrassed even though they were practically alone. More of the fact that he lifted her like she weighed nothing, a feeling she had not had since she was around six years old. "What are you doing?"
"Shoe," Derek said and held out his hand. When she didn't immediately respond, he put his shoulder behind her leg to steady her and forced her foot up so he could wriggle her shoe off. Joe laughed more than she had time to be offended, but relented both her shoes to him so she was barefoot on the wide fountain edge.
"I swear, if this ends with me getting dunked in water..." Joe let the empty threat hang in the air, but accepted his hand again to keep her balanced as they walked around the large fountain, him on the ground and her on the edge.
Just holding his hand sent tingles up through her spine and she found herself searching for something to say to fill the silence. If it got quiet, she would start to overthink again.
"You look really nice tonight." She surprised herself by saying it, but decided to push through. He'd obviously made an effort, not that he really needed to with his natural good looks. "It's a good color on you." She wrinkled her brows a bit. "It's the only color I've seen you wear other than that one green sweater you have and that is practically gray."
"Thank you," Derek said, almost lost in thought, watching her balance the very wide marble walkway. "Took the last tag off in the car while we were driving."
Joe smirked, somehow still losing balance every once in a while despite the fountain edge being so wide her forearm would not even reach across. "You went out and got a whole new outfit for tonight? Aww." When he kept quiet, she raised her eyebrows. "This is the part where you say that you think I look nice too. Presuming you actually do, if you don't, then please don't say any-"
She yelped as Derek tugged sharply on her hand, causing her to topple over.
Instead of the fountain, she fell over him and he grabbed her easily around the waist while her hands landed around his neck. This brought their faces altogether too close for comfort and she could smell the beer on his breath, knowing it did nothing for his mind. Eyes locked together, she had nowhere else she could possibly look, and he took a step back from the fountain. Feet gently coming off the edge as he sat her down on the ground, still looking at her like she was the only thing in existence.
"Joe," he said, leaning down, closer to her as she thought her own heart would make her go deaf, "you look amazing tonight."
She swallowed, so acutely aware of everywhere they touched, everywhere he pressed into her, and vice versa. Opposites, hard where she was soft, flat where she was curved, but both hot all over. Derek leaned closer still, so close she could not tell her heartbeat from his and-
Her phone rang.
Locked like that, with his hands on her waist and her arms around his neck, they stared, inches apart. A glint in his eye and her breath hitched when she felt his hand on her backside, but it was only to get the ringing phone out of her pocket.
"Not tonight," he murmured and she heard a soft splash behind her, ringing continuing for a few seconds underwater before it stopped — and Derek put one hand behind her neck and leaned down. His eyes flickered to hers. "Is this okay?"
"Derek, please just kiss me."
And he did. Finally.
The stubble around his mouth tickled, but it was an afterthought, a triviality, compared to how his lips felt on hers. Hot and demanding at the same time, tasting a little of beer, but most of something else that was just Derek. One of his hands pressed into her back, lifting her up to him, while her arms closed around his neck, pulling him towards her.
A low growl somewhere, from him, from her, it did not matter. God, she wanted this. His heat, from his hands and his lips and his mouth, transferred into her, filling every limb with fluttering fire. Quelling the butterflies in her stomach for just a second before they released with vengeance onto her very being.
Feet nearly lifted off the ground, her naked toes against the soft fabric of his new jeans, his other hand in her hair, holding her close, closer, as if they could never become close enough. His lips parted, moving with hers, not in a rush, just intense. This was what she wanted, right now, no room for doubt in her mind. Her whole body felt on fire, but the good kind, the kind where you want to writhe around in it, quench it the only way the body knew how. Helpless against him, she shuddered at his fingers raking her scalp between her curls, and she held onto his neck, strong and muscular just like the rest of him.
When they eventually broke off, it was just their lips, the rest of them staying in that position. Derek still held her off the ground, she still pulled herself to him, clinging to him. His eyes were heavy-lidded, dark beyond reason, and she imagined hers to look completely black.
She managed a shuddering breath through her nose, inhaling him at this proximity just flooding her mind with sensations. Derek, his scent, how he felt, how warm he was, how much he wanted her, how much he was holding back, afraid of scaring her, afraid of ruining things, afraid-
Should she be able to feel his thoughts? Or was it her own, her body just confused with who was who?
Joe cupped his cheek, felt the light scratching of his beard, the smooth skin, the flutter of his eyelash as he closed his eyes completely. This time she kissed him, just leaning forward the few inches of space left from their previous kiss. Deep, long, unmoving. Chaste by comparison, but brimming with promises.
Now his phone rang.
Again, soft lips leaving hers as Derek grudgingly put her back down. The cold concrete froze her toes, especially compared to the warmth of his body. One arm around her, still holding her, apparently unwilling to let go as he reached back for his own phone. A defeated sigh through his whole body, passed on to her, just like he passed on the phone.
She recognized the number. Memorized years ago.
Her voice sounded hoarse when she answered. "Hi, this is really not a good time."
"Joe, finally, I've been trying to get reception for days now." Her dad's voice came through the speaker and Joe wondered how the hell he had known to call Derek's phone. "You know a girl named Erica Reyes?"
A lump of ice in her stomach, killing any previous fire and butterflies. "Yes?"
"She called me a few days ago, saying she needed help, but the call cut before she could say anything else. Is she all right?"
"I haven't- I haven't-" Joe stuttered, trying to make the words come out right, to let him know that she didn't know. A warmth on her arm — Derek's hand gently touching her, grounding her. She'd stepped away from him without thinking. "I haven't seen her in over a week. She's missing."
A long silence followed, only the smattering sound of background noises wherever her father was.
"All right, kid. It's gonna be fine. I'm catching a flight to SFO, I'll be in Beacon Hills tomorrow morning."
.
.
In the voice of Kamala Harris: "We did it, Joe. We did it. You finally got to kiss the resident sourwolf of Beacon Hills!"
Oh, and by the way, there are still two missing teenagers, an Alpha pack and Kate Argent to think about. But hey! At least there was a Halegado-kiss! Only took them 300k words and 52 chapters to get there.
Buckle up for season 3A, kids. It's gonna be a bumpy ride.
That's all I have time for today, I'm responsible for dinner tonight for the first time and it is stressful. As always, I'm so grateful for your reviews and PMs! Honored that so many of you seem to enjoy this story!
I have almost finished writing this chapter from Derek's POV as well and I'll post it tomorrow if time permits in the oneshot-collection called "The Realist".
Please let me know what you think of this chapter and thank you for reading :)
Here's to hoping 2021 is better than 2020 (and let's face it, the bar is low).
HAPPY NEW YEAR! Godt nyttår! Buorre ođđajahki!