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What Big Eyes You Have

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            Maybe he should have rethought the red hoodie and the cliché basket, but Stiles couldn’t seem to help himself. Besides, it was a chilly evening even for September and he wasn’t anywhere near keen on being sick for the next week. Lord knew that his wolf buddies could protect him against demonic creatures and all sorts of badies that roamed the night, but germs were a bit beyond their reach.  That just left the basket and he wasn’t about to regret that little joke.

 

            Maybe he shouldn’t have been humming either, snickering to himself at the mental equivalent of an eyeroll he would have gotten from Scott at his choice of musical tunes for his evening stroll. But again, he just couldn’t help himself. After all, it was only too easy and ironic when he already knew exactly who was following him.

 

            Regardless of being human with no extra senses of his own and his ‘stalker’ (really the man could go into the work professionally at the rate he did it) being as quiet as possible, Stiles already knew he would be coming. After all, the path he was taking was far less than inconspicuous. So, instead of ignoring the presence completely, he opted for the less obvious option and paused in his steps, leaning down as though to fix the still tightly knotted tie on his shoe.

 

            Sure enough, as he stood, his line of sight caught the bored and only slightly irritated gaze of one silent alpha wolf. Derek stood leaning against a tree, hands in his pockets, donning his staple outfit style complete with leather jacket. Stiles would have snickered had he not valued his plan.

 

            The snarking words in his throat died at the older man’s voice, cutting through the harsh thickness of the evening air. “Stiles.”

 

            “Well hey there Derek, fancy meeting you here.” He grinned innocently.

 

Derek, however, seemed to be having none of it. Oh well. “What are you doing out here? And alone? In the middle of the night-have you learned nothing over the last few years?”

 

            Settling on one foot to scratch the back of a calf with his other, Stiles half shrugged, letting his eyes keep focus on Derek as much as he could through the dense smoking cloud of fog that rolled between them. Now that he thought about it, the whole thing was rather Silent Hill. The dying trees for the oncoming winter; the fog thick and arid; a few brown leaves dropping here and there. “You would think I’d have learned my lesson by now right? What with all the kidnapping and biting to be had. But I’m on a mission here so the dark creatures of the night,” his fingers joined the conversation, wiggling mysteriously beside his head, “will have to wait until I’m done to attempt on my life. Got a rather important task ahead of me, so if you don’t mind.”

 

            Not giving the other man time to respond, he turned on his heel and began his trek again in the same direction he’d previously been heading. A smirk played on his lips when he was soon joined by a tall figured. One who’s exasperated sigh could have been no more exaggerated if he tried.

 

            For a few long moments, they walked in silence, only the crunch of the newly fallen leaves echoing around them. This was probably his favorite time of year. Cool but not cold, everything in a state of change, falling away to bring in a new season next spring. It was quietest this time of year too. Most of the birds had migrated and those that hadn’t were generally quieter in the early morning and evening, leaving the sound of the wind and leaves and creaking of the trees to fill the gaps of silence that floated around them.  Well, those and the huffing sighs of a put-out werewolf.

 

            “Beat it, furball, I’m on my way to grandma’s house.” Stiles snarked into the space of silence between them, surprised that he did not receive a shove or smack in return for his commentary. Instead, he glanced up to see Derek staring down at him with an eyebrow so high Stiles was positive it was about to leap straight off his forehead.

 

            A slow smirk crossed Derek’s lips, eyes trailing across Stiles long enough for the shorter man to flush. He could only be thankful it was so dark out that Derek couldn’t….well likely couldn’t, god he hoped he couldn’t see that.  “Didn’t you hear? Little girls in red shouldn’t be wandering the woods alone.”

 

            Stiles sputtered a little indignantly before letting out a soft chuckle. “I’m not afraid of the big bad wolf.” He grinned, nearly slapping himself in the face when he winked back at the other man. He didn’t even give the girl comment the dignity of a response. Derek, thankfully, seemed to take it in stride and shook his head.

 

            “You should be. And there is more than me out here. All sorts of things ready to tear you to pieces.”  Oh. Wow okay. The way he said that so calmly could have either been reassuring or terrifying. Stiles was going with the former. Besides, he knew full well by these points that Derek was messing with him. If he were serious he would have dragged Stiles out by the back of his shirt and tossed him at his jeep. The fact that they were still walking indicated that there were, in fact, no other big bad things out here waiting for him. At least that the werewolf at his side could sense. Then he had a thought.

 

            “Wait.” He grinned, turning to look fully at the other man who strode so idly beside him  like this was a normal occurrence for the two of them. Sure. “So if you are the big bad wolf, shouldn’t you be laying in a bed somewhere waiting on the helpless grandkid to appear? Or at least be disguised as grandma?”

 

            Without missing a beat, Derek replied. “Sorry, I left my moomoo at home.”

 

            A burst of laughter broke the silence of the woods and in the distance a few creatures reacted with a flutter of wings and the scuttling of small feet on the forest floor.  Even Derek couldn’t keep the grin off his face while Stiles attempted to regain his stature, nearly dropping the basket in his hands. It was a rare day when Mr. Sourpus would joke back with him and he wasn’t about to waste the moment.

 

            Turning to face Derek, careful of his steps, Stiles’ face slid into an expression of false fear. “Oh my grandma! What big eyes you have!”

 

            “The better to watch you trip over that rock with.”

 

            Sure enough, Stiles fumbled, nearly tumbling to the ground basket and all before righting himself and sending a rather chastising glare at the offending rock jutting from the earth.

 

            There was a long silence between them as they continued walking. By now Stiles was positive Derek knew exactly where they were going. There was no way around it, but if he had any questions or doubts as to why he didn’t seem to want to voice them. Stiles could ponder that maybe he knew why he was here, but that would take the fun out of this entire exercise.

 

            Giving Derek another sideways glance, he took his chances again. “My grandma, what a big nose you have.”

 

            This time the other man eyed him as well, his gaze slipping down to the basket in Stiles’ arms before darting back up to meet his gaze. He said nothing however, just shook his head, pulling his hands from his pockets.

 

            And opportunity, there she was knocking on the door just as the Hale house came into view around a grove of trees.  The younger man sped his pace just the slightest, putting some distance between himself and Derek, hands growing clammy in anticipation. He knew his heartbeat would be giving him away now, but he couldn’t care.

 

            It didn’t take him long to approach the steps and Stiles took them in two great steps, turning to glance down at the alpha, basket tight in his grasp. He approached with a grace that always took Stiles’ brain and turned it into mush. Really, stalking was never meant to be so attractive but Derek Hale took it to a whole new level of creepy sexy.  

 

            Catching himself before his voice broke, Stiles spoke again, eyes never leaving the gaze caught to his own. “My grandma, what big hands you have.”

 

            The innuendo in his words was not lost and Derek paused for a step, nearly only a heartbeat before he resumed his stride, stepping up to the porch slowly and with intent. Their steps matched beat for beat until Stiles stood in front of the house entrance, crowded back into the doorway by the wide expanse of Derek’s body. Without looking, he knew well enough that the other man’s hands were clenching and unclenching, though his gaze was steady, unblinking.

 

            Then, silently, the werewolf reached around him and turned the knob to the door, pushing it open with a quiet creak, the warmth of the house inside flooding out over their bodies in an irresistible invitation.

 

            Deep breath and a steady voice, a smirk slipping across pale lips. “My, what a big mouth you have.”

 

            This time, the response was instant, a resounding growl that vibrated through all of Stile’s being. “The better to eat you with.”

 

            With a delighted laugh, Stiles wrapped his hands into the lapels of the leather jacket, pulling Derek inside the house with him, pressing their mouths together in what could almost be labeled desperately by anyone who did not know them. That each kiss was always this needy and exciting and Stiles would change none of it.  “God I hope so.”

 

 

            Outside in the dimming light of the evening, a lone spilled basket of bone-shaped dog biscuits lay on its side across the porch, long forgotten.