FBI (For Basic Idiots)

Weak Link

Stiles takes a breath, doesn’t see the disappointed frown on his face when she slowly pulls her hands from his and places them flat on the table. He watches her deep in thought for a moment before she lifts those lovely eyes back up to him – and he really hates that worried (fearful) look on her. Stiles answers him, first, with a question of her own. “Do you think the nogitsune chose me because I’m the weakest link in our pack?”

Derek blinks, slightly taken aback, though, mostly confused. “Why would you think that?”

Stiles scoffs quietly to herself, reaches over to her plate. “Well, Scott is a werewolf, and we know the nogitsune can only possess humans, and Allison was human, too, and the only other human, besides me, to perform that Druid ritual to save the town was her.” She states, tries to sound less beat and more casual.

Derek watches her shove the curly fry into her mouth, tries to focus on the issue at hand here – rather than how pretty that mouth is – keeps his eyes on hers instead. “So?” He arches a brow, smirks a little when she shoots him her usual withering look, sighs, and feels a little guilty for teasing when he still notes the dimness of her eyes. “You think you’re a weak link just because your brain works a little different from others?”

He knew that, even before she huffs and nods. He shakes his head, smiles, tells her, “You’re the smartest person I know, Stiles. You’re resourceful, you think of things no one else can – even me sometimes. You’re not easily fooled, and you don’t trust easily, but you’d still risk your life for a stranger, all the same, and those you do trust, you’re loyal to your death, I know, I’ve seen it.”

He sees her lovely amber eyes brighten with each word he speaks, smiles fondly back at her. “He chose you for all of those reasons. I don’t think you realise how possession works, Stilinski. These demonic assholes are strong, and need someone strong enough to host them.” He grins, his own eyes lighting up with amusement as he reaches over his plate and shoves a few curly fries into his mouth. “It’s like it’s your first day in Beacon Hills, or something.”

Stiles shoots him a withering glare, though, really, she’s still trying to get over his... observations of her. “I know how possession works, douche.” Her heart flutters when he simply shoots her that cheeky (handsome) grin – good God, he’s going to kill her one day! “I just...” She sighs, shoves a few more curly fries into her mouth.

Derek frowns softly. “Is that who you’ve been seeing?” He huffs quietly when she nods. “Why didn’t tell anyone?” He almost slips up, almost says “me” instead.

“Because I don’t wanna be sectioned... again.” Stiles pointedly tells him.

Derek almost lets out a little snarl at the memory. “That’s not gonna happen. You should have at least told Melissa.”

“Why?” Stiles narrows her eyes at him, folds her arms over her chest. “Because you think I need to see a doctor?” She scoffs. “That’s exactly why I didn’t tell anybody.”

“No.” Derek bites out – because sometimes, she really is infuriating, and God, help him, because he still finds it sexy, and this is SO not the appropriate time right now. “Because she’s technically you’re mother, and you can’t keep s**t like this all to yourself. Doesn’t matter if it’s real or not, what matters is you don’t have to deal with it alone. Annoyingly, you and Scott taught me that, a long time ago. Besides, I thought you told Scott everything.” He adds that last part with annoyance, the jealousy a bitter taste in his mouth, as it always is – he definitely talks to her a lot more than she talks to him, ironically, because... Stiles.

Stiles herself, sighs, shoulders sagging as she leans back in her seat. “Fine. I’m sorry. You’re right.”

Derek is stunned into silence, but only for a moment as he then, amusedly says, “I’m sorry, I didn’t quite hear that.”

Stiles practically glowers at him, sarcasm dripping from her tone as she tells him, “Oh, well, you better get that old wolf hearing of yours checked out, grandpa.”

“Grandpa?” Derek scoffs out. “I’m literally 6 years older than you.”

Stiles merely grins, lifts her first burger and finally begins to devour the rest of her breakfast.

Derek rolls his eyes, shoves the last of his curly fries into his mouth, rinses it all down with the ice cold milkshake. For a few moments, they sit in a comfortable enough silence – with him trying not to let his eyes longer too long as he watches her lick the ketchup from her fingers. Holy f**k, she’s going to kill him one day!

By the time they’ve finished off their burgers, too, Stiles asks him, “Can we go back to the woods? I mean, if you’ve got nothing better to do...” She smiles sheepishly, then, is serious again as she adds, “Just wanted to take another look around, see if there’s anything I missed.”

Derek nods, but eyes her carefully for a moment before speaking. “If you’re really worried about the nogitsune, we can dig out the box from my vault, make sure he’s still in there.”

Stiles actually smiles at that, feels slightly relieved, because in truth, with all of her worry and her nightmares and her flashbacks, she’d forgotten all about that tiny detail. “Yes. Thank you.” She nods, smile widening into a grateful expression. “I think I should probably do a little protection spell on the box to keep it from EVER being opened again... and when I say 'a little', I mean a BIG spell... Little?” She scoffs, her nervous ramblings taking over.

Thankfully for her, Derek is smiling and gently grabbing both her hands in his again – he can’t help touching her whenever he can, hopes he’s not too obvious(ly pathetic), but thankfully for him, Stiles always seems oblivious when it comes to anybody being “interested” in her. Derek’s smile widens slightly when her eyes widen ever so slightly and dart down to their connected hands just as he feels her heart skip a couple of times. And it’s all very well being a werewolf and being able to tell when someone desires you. But desire for his body, and desire for Derek himself are two separate things to him – especially after the whole Kate thing.

“Whatever you want.” Derek nods, tells her, “Whatever you need to do to feel safe, we’ll do it. And you won’t be alone when we do.”

How can her heart not melt? Stiles briefly wonders as her heart, indeed, does melt against her ribcage... still, the words are nothing she wouldn’t hear Scott or any of her other close friends say to her, but somehow, for whatever reason, coming from Derek, they seem to mean all the more to her.

Much to both their dismay, Stiles doesn’t get to reply to him, because blondie decides to make an appearance. Tray under her arm, note pad and pen in her hands, she – not so surprisingly – doesn’t spare a second glance to Stiles. Instead, her baby blues are glued to Derek, who Stiles doesn’t see shift rather uncomfortably under blondie’s hungry gaze, because she’s too busy burning holes into her stupid rucksack as she pulls it onto her stupid lap and roots around for those stupid case files... stupid whore...

“Can I get ya anything else, sweetie?” Blondie cheerily ask, then, asks with a tone more blatantly suggestive, “How about a sweet slice of cherry pie?”

Stiles almost chokes on her saliva, and blondie finally turns to her, looks slightly annoyed before actually addressing her directly for the second time only... again, rude w***e.

“That sounds like a nasty cough. You should get it checked out, or you something horrible could happen, and you don’t want that.” Her tone is pleasant, overly friendly, her smile sweet, but there’s a clear nastiness in her now cold blues.

Stiles, surprisingly, even to herself, actually puffs out a laugh at that. But even more surprising to her is the annoyed look on Derek’s face – like he wants to say something. And if Stiles were any other normal girl, she’d probably be pissed at him for not defending her honour, or some stupid bullshit like that.

But she’s Stiles. And Stiles takes a brief moment to appreciate that he seems to know she can handle herself more than anybody else who knows her. Even Scott. Damn, even her dad... though, not Melissa – that woman is a badass herself.

“Wow. Is that a threat?” Stiles asks, tone parked dead in between amused and genuinely curious.

“No.” Blondie quickly says, eyes widening a little.

Ah, Stiles thinks, so she does have some semblance of reality in that pretty head of hers somewhere after all. She seems to realise her error, as if she forgot for a moment that she was at work, dealing with customers.

“I’m sorry if I offended you.”

Stiles glances briefly at Derek, chuckles at both his annoyed glare and blondie’s half wavering voice. “Girls like me are pretty hard to offend.” Stiles gives her half a second to let the look of relief wash over her before casually asking the blonde, “Let’s see how hard you are offend, shall we?”

Derek slightly dreads having to pull Stiles off of the woman, and also, slightly turned on by that notion. Not the girl on girl action part. No. More the Stiles angrily beating someone part.

He can’t help it. He’s not completely human, after all. And all wolves, shifters and natural, love their play fights and their possessive aggression. Derek is not special when it comes down to this; is the same as all the other wolves.

But Stiles isn’t angry, doesn’t need to use her fists at a time like this when her words will just as easily pack a much worse punch. OK, maybe not her own words, but she still thinks she delivers them perfectly as she watches the younger woman’s bright blue eyes slowly dim and brim with tears at the same time.

“You see, the problem with girls like you is that you developed earlier than the rest of us and started giving out handjobs when you were just 12 years old, and now, at I’m guessing, in your mid 20s, you already can’t stand to look at yourself in the mirror, because all you see is the w***e you’ve become. So, you pick on girls like me, or whoever else you think you can push around to make yourself feel superior, and to avoid the inevitable realisation and fact that by the time you’re 30 years old, you’ll be a worn out, chalky-skinned burlap sack that even your dad won’t want.”

Derek’s eyes widen, both his brows slowly rising more and more with every few words, until his mouth hangs slightly open and he can barely contain an impressed smirk.

“Did I win? It feels like I won.” Stiles chirps out with a sweet smile of her own. She notes Derek’s expression is almost as shocked as blondie’s, though, blondie looks like she may burst into those tears threatening to fall right now. Stiles watches after her as she rushes off without another word, her own eyes slightly wide as she glances back to the wolf and whispers, “I think I should leave before I’m thrown out.”

Her expression is serious as she slips her rucksack over her shoulder, but Derek can hear the amusement at the edges of her tone, can see those lovely orbs lighting up with their usual mischief.

He throws down a few screwed up bills before she can protest, and with that, they quickly and quietly make their way out into the parking lot.

###

“That was awesome, by the way.” Derek later tells her, when they’re both slowly walking through the dead leaves, the late morning sun beaming down on them through the empty branches above. He sounds somewhere between impressed and amused, as he was when he watched it happen.

Stiles glances up at him, chuckles when she sees he means it, no teasing. “She had it coming. If it wasn’t me, it would’ve been someone else, eventually.” She scowls when his smirk widens into a (cute) little grin, his (pretty) eyes staring down at his boots as they walk, as she tells him, “You better not have tipped her.”

Derek chuckles at that, glances back up at her, shoots her half a withering look as he tells her, “Obviously not.”

“Well, I wouldn’t know.” Stiles scoffs snootily, though, there’s no real bitterness to her tone, only annoyance as she says, “She liked you.” She scoffs again, uses her magic to cover up her blushing and her racing heart, looks more annoyed (she doesn’t have to pretend that part) as she adds, “I mean, for all she knew, we could’ve been married. The least she could’ve done is asked if you were single, instead of just assuming for herself. Pfft.” She tuts, shakes her head. “Just rude. AND terrible service. I am SO giving that place a strongly worded review before I go to bed tonight.”

Derek smirks to himself as they walk into the clearing where the police tape has still sectioned the now practically bare murder scene off. They stop at where the body was found, the only evidence left of it ever being there is the half hard dried leaves stuck to the ground from the leaked bodily fluids. Derek stands beside her as she kneels down, lets her rucksack hit the ground behind her. He watches her with rapt attention (as he finds he always does) as she digs into it for a clean pair of black rubber gloves, a couple of unused evidence baggies and a small flashlight that he almost mistakes for a thick pen.

“Jordan said there was another murder last night. Same M.O. Female, my age, heart ripped out.” Stiles notes as she pulls on the gloves.

Derek nods as he slowly crouches down beside her. “This one’s a little more high profile. Some famous model, named Lucy Combing, or something like that.” He watches her nod in acknowledgement as she slowly sifts through the leaves with her gloved fingers, then, he explains, “Jordan said it’s gonna be at least a few days until he can get us a look at the body.”

Stiles nods again, lifts her gaze briefly to shoot him a half-hearted smile of optimism. “We can make do until then.”

And there He is. She glances behind Derek, sees Him crouched down behind them both, that creepy fanged smile the only thing visible under all of the bandages. He simply stares back at her over Derek’s shoulder – or she guesses he’s looking at her with his mummified head turned directly towards her.

Stiles freezes for a split second, though, quickly enough for the wolf to actually not seem to notice this time – thankfully. She ignores Him, pretends she was just glancing around, and then, glances back down at the ground, her fingers now more on autopilot as they sift through the dead leaves and rather foul-smelling soil compressed underneath.

“So, do you have any ideas of your own as to what could be doing this?” Derek asks, though, he keeps a close eye on her, because he can feel it again. Something isn’t right with her.

Before Stiles can open her mouth to answer –

“You already know what is doing this... Who is doing this...”

Derek frowns softly when he sees her gulp, doesn’t hear it, but doesn’t need to, because he can see her entire body has stiffened. Again. “Stiles?”

“Hm?” Stiles glances back at him, forces on a smile before she can stop herself, because she’s still on autopilot.

“Are you seeing him again right now?”

Because of course the born know-it-all werewolf can tell when she’s lying even when her magic is also on autopilot and is supposed to be covering her pathetic ass. Still, he looks all cute and concerned, with that sexy low hanging caveman brow... ugh. Even now, she’s pathetic, because of him. Even when she’s trying not to piss her pants over hearing that horrible gravelly voice...

“Seeing me?” The nogitsune chuckles, slowly shifts to hide himself behind Derek completely, and Stiles eyes are frozen on her own face appearing as he moves to peer over Derek’s other shoulder. “Or seeing you?”

Derek glances behind him, sees nothing out of the ordinary – to him. He turns back to her, moves so that he’s all she can see. “Stiles, hey, look at me. Just look at me.” She furiously shakes her head, and with his stupid wolf ego, he almost feels stung when she tries to pull away from him. Instead, when she speaks, he feels the stupid guilt over his pigheadedness, as well as his heart aching.

The nogitsune scoffs quietly, Stiles own voice – though, a little more raspy sounding – now speaking back to her. “Told you, Stiles, we are one.”

“It doesn’t matter. I can still hear him... her...”

Derek scowls as she screws her eyes shut, grabs her wrists gently in his hands, waits for her lovely amber orbs to spring open before telling her, “What happened before, it’s not gonna happen again. I’m not gonna let anything happen to you.” Because right now, he doesn’t care, wants her to know he’ll always protect her with his life.

Any other time, Stiles knows she would be practically melting into a puddle, along with the stinky pile of dead leaves. Right now, however, all she can focus on is “Void Stiles” – as Lydia and Malia cutely (absurdly) named “it” – all she can hear filling her ears and her head is her own rapsy voice.

“They all promised you that before. And look what happened anyway. You are mine, Stiles. You can’t get rid of me. I will always find my way back to you, eventually...”

Stiles doesn’t tell Derek, or anyone else – won’t guilt them with the knowledge – but she knows she will die before she lets this bastard back in.