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“Hey, Sourwolf!”
Derek growls but then again, he turns around and looks at the teenager. He wasn’t surprised to see him here, he gave him a key after all, but it’s rather annoying if you try to work something out and get interrupted over and over again.
Stiles ignores his growl and jumps down the steps lively. He crosses the room and comes to a halt in front of the metal desk on which Derek worked for the past few hours.
“What brings you here?” Derek asks pointedly and puts the sheets of paper he looked through by.
“You gave me a key for your loft and still ask me what brings me here?” Stiles says and leans forwards, his hands on the table top.
“You know what I… whatever.” Derek furls his eyebrows and tries to figure out why he gave Stiles the key in the first place.
“Just kidding,” Stiles replies grinning. “I was worried. You holed up in this wrecked space, I haven’t heard from you in three days… not that it’s out of the ordinary, but you gave me the key and now you can’t expect me to sit at home and let you do your thing.”
Derek’s expression relaxes. He hadn’t thought about the possibility that someone could be worried if he didn’t call or show up for some days, but on the other hand, Stiles wasn’t just someone.
“Sorry, I… I was busy.” He doesn’t break the eye contact.
“I noticed,” Stiles says quietly and encircles the desk until he stands beside the older man. The teen rests himself against the table with his backside and places his hands on the edge of the table. “So… what did you do?” he asks curiously, peering at the open books and sheets of paper that litter the table.
“I tried to find out who’s la Loba.”
“La Loba?”
“As far as I know, it’s a tale about an old woman who collects bones and when she collected all the bones of one specific creature she sits by the fire, sings a song and the creature comes back to life.”
Stiles looks like his brain is working, hard.
“What’s the matter with it?”
“I’m not sure.” Derek clenches his teeth and the muscles in his jaw become visible.
Stiles shifts closer until his fingers slightly touch Derek’s. The touch sends a shiver down his spine and gives him goose bumps.
“It’s about that freaky old Spanish speaking woman, right?” Stiles asks concerned and closes his fingers around Derek’s hand. Everything starts to feel ten times more intense.
“Not exactly hard to guess, right?” Derek answers and intensifies the clasp.
“Not really, yeah,” the teen says, his eyes fixed on Derek’s eyes. He could drown in them. That’s when Derek breaks the gaze and looks down at their entwined fingers.
“You sure you’re in on this?” Derek asks and he looks more than worried when he looks up and at Stiles again.
The teen turns around and so does Derek. Their eyes fix one another. Nobody says a word.
Stiles fingers twitch and he reaches out for Derek’s hand. Their fingers entwine again.
“If you let me.”