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a glimpse at a conversation

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“You’re not scared,” Derek said, it wasn't a question.

“Why should I be scared?” Nate asked as Derek stalked forward and into his space.

“Didn't you hear? I’m a monster,” Derek whispered, walking in a circle around Nate.

“That’s what they say,” Nate said, his eyes meeting Derek’s as they flashed red at the confirmation. “And yet…”

“And yet you’re not scared,” Derek supplied. “Not even surprised.”

“I knew a hunter once,” Nate told him.

Derek growled low in his chest at the mention of hunters; Nate thought it sounded like the way his Humvee as it idled in the desert, memories clouding his face for a moment as he looked at Derek.

“Are you a hunter?” Derek asked, his chest inches from Nate’s.


“But you've hunted and stalked in the past, I can tell by the line of your back and the set of your eyes.” Derek moved closer until they were a hair away from touching.

“I've hunted down a lot of things in my life,” Nate told him.

“People?” Derek asked



“Yes.” Nate answered again.

“Werewolves?” Derek whispered, his eyes red again.

“No,” Nate shook his head.

“And you’re still not scared; your heart so sure, steady,” Derek leaned his head closer, tilting it so his ear was closer to Nate’s chest. “Not a hint of fear.”

“Why should there be?” Nate shrugged, looking relaxed. “You’re not going to hurt me. I’m sure you could try,” he said with a smirk as Derek’s eyes angled back up to his. “I don’t know how successful you’d be.”

Derek huffed out a laugh. “You have no idea what’s good for you.”

Nate just smiled; it wasn't the first time he’d heard that before.