Derek got back from his run around 5:30 pm, as the sky's orange hues gave way to the light greys of civil twilight. Stiles wasn't in the living room, so Derek guessed he was still sleeping underground.
He took a long, hot shower that loosened the knots in his back and got dressed in a comfortable, dark Henley and jeans, as he did most of the time since he arrived at Boulder. He checked his texts to find only one message from Cora that read no news and sighed before heading downstairs.
Starving from his long run, he quickly put together a burger and sat on the couch to eat in front of the TV, casually glancing in the direction of the basement stairs, straining to hear some sign that Stiles was awake. He finished both his burger and a beer before he heard Stiles moving downstairs, lazily walking to the shower.
Derek turned the TV volume up to silence Stiles' shower. For some reason, it felt like an intrusion to be listening on that. The man deserved his privacy after all. It wasn't like a vampire hunter would enter the house while Derek had a direct line of sight to the door.
He lost count of the minutes Stiles' shower went on, distracted by the image of Stiles' naked body earlier on their roadtrip. Derek took a deep breath to avoid focusing on the sound of water hitting skin, but all he managed was to get a nose full of Stiles' scent. It was everywhere: the sofa, the curtains, even the books on the shelves smelled vaguely of him. It was intoxicating. Once again, Derek found himself repeating a mantra he barely believed in anymore, but he felt the need to repeat anyway.
Suddenly, the water shut off and Derek heard as Stiles went back to his bedroom to get dressed. He took the remote and flipped through the channels until he found something that looked vaguely interesting. He was still trying to piece the story together when Stiles came up the stairs, dressed in a pair of tight black jeans ripped at the knee and a deep red t-shirt. He carried a black and white plaid shirt that he left on the sofa as he looked for something in the kitchen. He smelled of expensive perfume, almost intense enough to hide his scent. Almost. Derek would've found that scent everywhere if he needed to.
Half joking, Derek asked "going somewhere?"
Without even looking in his direction, Stiles replied, "yeah, to the club."
Derek felt his eyebrows furrow immediately. "What do you mean to the club?"
Grabbing the car keys in triumph, Stiles finally turned to Derek and said, "the club. The place where people go get drunk and hook up? That club."
"You're just… going to the club then?"
"Is there a problem with that?"
"Well, for starters, you're not supposed to go out alone," Derek said.
"I already went there last week. Alone, if you can recall."
Derek could recall that night perfectly. He still felt the ghost of Stiles' lips on his, the absolute terror that gripped him when he realized he just let Stiles leave on his own when his survival and his pack's depended on the vampire's, the overwhelming relief he felt when Stiles arrived safely, the irrational anger he felt when he smelled vodka and women’s perfume on him.
"Well, you shouldn't have. You shouldn't be going out on your own anyway," Derek insisted.
"Just yesterday I went to get a pack of cigarettes to the convenience store," he said dismissively. "I'll be fine."
Derek knew his anger was unjustified, yet it still slipped into his tone when he said "it's different. The store is ten minutes away."
Stiles put his hands on his hips, leaning slightly to the right. "You do know that I'm going to feed, right?"
He didn't know where the following words came from, but he regretted them as soon as he said them. "Do you have to?"
The vampire huffed a laugh. "Do I have to? Have you forgotten what I am? Newsflash, Derek. I'm a fucking vampire. I need blood to live and it's been almost a week since the last time I fed. Unless you're volunteering your neck, I have to go out tonight."
Before Derek could do something stupid like offer his neck, he turned the TV off and got up from the sofa with a sigh.
"Alright then, let's go."
Stiles' face was a perfect picture of surprise, he looked completely taken aback by Derek's statement. "You are coming," he said, flatly.
"Clearly."
"Let me get this straight, Derek." He counted with his fingers then. "You had the most disgusted expression I've ever seen when I went out to feed in Salt Lake City, you immediately retreated into your shell last week when I mentioned feeding, and now you wanna come with?"
"You're making a big deal out of this, Stilinski. I just don't want anyone to stake you tonight."
"There are no hunters in Boulder," Stiles said confidently.
"That we know of," Derek finished for him.
Stiles threw his head back and groaned. "Do not cramp my style."
"As if you had any game to begin with."
"Oh, Derek, you haven't seen anything yet."
The club was less than 20 minutes away, so they decided to walk as night fell around them. Stiles, of course, had a blunt out before they turned left onto Walnut St. He lit up and took a big hit before offering it to Derek. He hesitated for a moment, but ultimately decided he might as well do something to loosen the knot in his stomach that told him this outing was a terrible idea.
"You know, I didn't expect you to be a stoner," Stiles said.
"I'm not," Derek replied, exhaling. "Laura was the stoner. I used to sit with her sometimes, smoke to try to forget about the fire. Not that it ever worked."
Laura's face briefly crossed his mind, unbidden. His heart tightened with the memories of his older sister sitting him down after the fire, Derek breaking down in apologies as he told her about Kate. When he stopped crying, Laura opened her cigarettes case, got a joint out and offered it to Derek.
"I don't smoke," he said.
"And I'm Pamela Anderson," she joked. "I know what the basketball team was up to after practice. I invented that tradition."
Derek lit up and smoked with her for a long time. When he finally felt relaxed enough to speak again, he said "please don't tell Cora. She'll kill me."
"She won't," Laura replied. "But I won't tell her because you will. She'll scream and fight and cry and you two will hug it out eventually."
"Laura—"
"Don't Laura me. No more secrets, you hear me? We're family. We're pack. We're all in this together."
Derek shook his head and with it, the memories of his dead sister. There was no use in dwelling on that anymore. After a while, Stiles spoke again, hesitating before saying, "I'm really sorry about Laura."
Derek's whole body tensed as if preparing for a fight. "Can we not talk about her now?"
Stiles shook his head and passed him the joint again. "You smoke an incredible amount for someone who just sat there sometimes."
"There's not much to do at your hideout. I've already read 3 books this week. I might as well get high, don't you think?"
"Touché."
They walked in silence for a while, passing the blunt around until it consumed completely. Once they turned onto 13th St, Derek noticed how crowded the place seemed.
"Where are we going?" he asked, glancing around the street, that looked much too bright for a vampire. A quick glance at his watch told him it was 6:15, but the sky was as dark as if it was past midnight.
"The Velvet Lounge. You'll never guess what's the theme tonight."
When they got to the door, a big sign announced it was Vampire Goth Night. Derek rolled his eyes as they walked to the queue, but he did a double take when he noticed Stiles' pitch black eyes.
"Will you wait until we're inside the club at least?" he asked as he elbowed him.
"Derek, look around you," Stiles slurred through his fangs. "Two thirds of the people here are in full vampire cosplay."
He was right. Most of the people were dressed in some kind of goth outfit, but some were wearing old-fashioned clothes from the beginning of the previous century while they sported fangs that looked way too real to be fake. However, Derek's nose told him everyone at the queue was as human as they came.
"This is ridiculous," Derek mumbled.
"Then you should've stayed home," Stiles replied. "Now come on, at least give me the Alpha eyes. You gotta look the part, babe."
Derek looked up to the sky looking for the patience he'd need to survive the night. When he didn't find it, he closed his eyes and inhaled deeply, letting the slightest touch of his Alpha spark come to the surface. He looked back at Stiles and raised an eyebrow at him.
"Fangs?" Stiles pushed.
"Come on!"
"It's a vampire-themed. Fangs are the quintessential vampire thing."
"Vampires are not the only ones with fangs," he argued, but still, he let his canines grow. His next words were slightly slurred. "Are you happy now?"
"Very."
The queue moved slowly and they stayed silent until they reached the bouncer who asked for their IDs.
"Cool contacts, man," the guy said. Derek only nodded as a response.
Once inside, they walked directly onto the dance floor where people were already dancing and drinking as a band made up of two girls who took goth to another level sang about sex and blood and eternal life.
"I'm gonna get us something to drink," Stiles said, slithering through the crowd and towards the bar. Derek followed at a safe distance, slowly, aware that his mild transformation was enough to enhance his senses, flooding them of Stiles' scent at every turn.
Vampires are— before he could even finish his mantra, he bit his tongue as he noticed a guy flirting with Stiles at the bar. The man was posturing too much to be subtle and Stiles was letting the guy touch his arm in what he guessed was supposed to be a seductive gesture.
Before he fully processed what he was doing, he picked up his pace and came to stand behind Stiles, pressed up against his body. "Did you order, babe?"
The man took his hand away immediately, glancing between the two of them.
Stiles half turned, giving him a wicked smile. "Hey, babe. This is Drew. He's here on vacation." Derek wanted to send the guy away, but Stiles still had something to add. The fucker. "Do you want to dance with us, Drew? We'd love it if you joined us tonight."
The guy's eyes opened comically big, but he recovered easily enough. "I'm here with a friend though."
Derek gave the guy a once over, wondering what Stiles saw in the guy. He looked like a regular, skinny dude. Drew, probably getting a different idea, swallowed and nodded, saying he'd be back in a bit.
Annoyed, Stiles turned to look at him. "What are you doing?"
He didn't have a better excuse so he went with a half-truth. "I'm your bodyguard, aren't I? Wherever you go, I go."
Stiles laughed, loud and openmouthed, showing his impressive set of fangs. "Oh, you're gonna regret those words, pretty boy."
The bartender arrived with their drinks, a vodka tonic for Stiles and a beer for Derek. Stiles knocked back his drink in three gulps, then nodded towards the dancefloor.
"Drew is not coming back," he declared, coming closer to Derek, close enough that Derek could smell the alcohol in his breath. "So, you better help me find someone else who's ready to get freaky with us."
Derek didn't get a chance to ask why he was being included in Stiles' scheming, as the vampire danced his way into the crowd and got lost amongst the bodies with surprising ease. After a moment, he left his bottle on the bar, untouched, and made his way through the sweaty crowd until he found Stiles, this time dancing with a short redhead. Once the vampire noticed him, he nodded in his direction and the girl turned to look at him. She raised her eyebrow but smiled, closing the distance to Stiles' ear to whisper something.
For his part, Stiles laughed, loud enough to be heard above the music. As soon as Derek reached them, he heard the woman say, "but he's super hot, I'll give you that."
He was aware of the fact that Stiles needed to feed, but he didn't have to like playing a part in his hunt. Still, he found himself swaying to the music, dancing to an 80s beat that was so Stiles, he wanted to find the DJ and ask him to stop. Derek didn't know how long he could resist the temptation to offer Stiles his own blood so the vampire didn't have to feed on anyone else.
It was insane. By all accounts, Derek was the Alpha of a notorious vampire hunting family, the last thing he should be doing was helping a vampire hunt. But this was not any vampire, this was Stiles, the vampire who saved his life and to whom he owed his life. As long as that debt stood between them, he had to put his morals aside and let the vampire do his thing. Stiles was right after all: he was a vampire and vampires fed on people.
That thought alone should've been more than enough to make Derek back away, yet all it did was make him horny.
They danced for a long time, long enough that Derek almost forgot about the reason they were at the club in the first place, until the girl grabbed Stiles' hand and led him to the backdoor.
Derek followed.
The cold, fall night was silent outside the club, the earlier crowd was all but gone, or at least they didn't dare step into the alleyway. When Derek reached them, the woman was already kissing him, pushing him against the wall, biting his lower lip, panting against Stiles' mouth. Stiles threw his head back as she kissed down his neck.
The vampire opened his eyes and they immediately met Derek's. He smirked.
The redhead noticed his distraction and did a double take in his direction. As Derek stepped into their space, the woman turned around, extending her hand in his direction. Stiles watched him carefully, the mirthful turn of his mouth as tempting as that first night in Boulder. Derek wanted to get his lips on him immediately.
Instead he leaned down and kissed the redhead, bringing her body closer to him. Stiles followed, running his hand down her sides, then a hand down Derek's arm. The shiver that went through him made the woman grind against him. Derek pulled back to look at her just as Stiles kissed the side of her neck. Her eyes went white and a moan left her lips when Stiles' fangs punctured her skin.
Avidly, Stiles drank from her and Derek watched enthralled as a rivulet of dark blood ran down the front of her mesh shirt. The redhead's legs trembled, she opened her eyes surprised and grabbed Derek's hand. Her pupils were dilated and a dribble of saliva pooled at the corner of her mouth.
Derek heard her heart stumble, tachycardic, and finally found his voice again.
"Enough."
The vampire didn't react.
"Enough, I said," he pushed, grabbing the woman by the waist and pulling her free from his fangs. The woman's body crumbled, but Derek caught her just in time.
Swallowing —blood, swallowing blood, the woman's blood—, Stiles opened his eyes, consumed by black, and cleaned his chin with the back of his hand. "What are you doing, Derek?"
"You said nothing about killing her."
"I thought that was a given," he slurred, his fangs getting in the way of his words.
Derek felt his own Alpha spark rise to the surface. He pointed a clawed finger at Stiles' face. "You're not gonna kill anyone, you hear me?"
Stiles threw his head back in frustration. "For fuck's sake, she's gonna die anyway. Let me make it good for her at least."
"She's not going—"
"She is!" Stiles interrupted, his voice louder in the small space between them. "Do you think I don't know how long I can drink before letting them go? I've only been alive a few centuries!"
Derek's brow furrowed, he paid attention to the woman's heartbeat, looking for it under the faint bass line audible even through the wall. When he didn't find it, his arm let go of her and her body fell to the floor with a thud.
"Great," Stiles said, his voice cold. He used his sleeve to clean his face, then crouched down to clean the side of the woman's neck. Derek watched as the vampire folded her body at the waist and pushed her under the bags of rotting trash. Then he took off his plaid shirt and threw it into the pile. "Let's go."
Derek didn't move. For a moment, all he could think of was the redheaded woman hidden by the black bags, her life cut short in a moment.
"Derek, come on."
"I should kill you," Derek said, his tone even.
"You won't. Now can we go back into the club? I want a drink."
"Fuck you, Stilinski."
"Oh, come on. She's not any different from all the vampires you've killed on this trip only. Will you come already? The night's young and you've got a body to guard."
Derek turned to him —now more sure than ever that once he repaid his debt, he'd kill the damn vampire— and followed.
"That's more like it, babe," Stiles teased.
"Shut the fuck up, Stilinski."
If his heart did a flip at Stiles' pet name, that was no one's business but his own.