Derek got back from his run to find his home invaded by a bunch of strangers who turned their eyes on him the second he entered his living room.
Stiles had told him Maddie's book club would meet at their place, but Stiles didn't say there would be women staring at him as if he were a piece of meat they were dying to take a bite from.
"Stiles?" he asked cautiously. When no one moved or said anything, he called louder "Stiles!"
The man came out of the study with Maddie in tow. "Yes, babe?"
Derek almost rolled his eyes, but stopped himself just in time. Instead, he asked "What's going on?"
"Book club!" Maddie said enthusiastically. Her smile was as bright as the pink cardigan she was wearing that night. One of the women sitting on the couch showed him a copy of Portrait in Sepia.
"Oh, right. I'm gonna get out of the way then," Derek said, going up the stairs two steps at a time.
He didn't get the shower going fast enough and so he heard one of the women say "Jesus, Stiles, he's hot hot."
Derek didn't hear Stiles' answer, but it was probably for the best. He took the longest shower he'd ever taken in Boulder and got dressed in a dark t-shirt and jeans. He regretted not picking up a book while he was downstairs and so, he spent a good hour watching a movie on his phone, until he heard the women saying their goodbyes.
He waited a whole extra minute before leaving his room. The moment he opened the door, he was hit with the strong scent of marijuana. The words left his mouth faster than he could process, "are you getting high without me?"
He did not pout because he was an adult man who didn't pout, but it was a near thing. There was a ritual-like quality to their evenings: Derek would go for a run, take a shower, come down to find Stiles reading or watching something on TV. There would be dinner for Derek, maybe a beer, then he’d sit down next to Stiles and watch whatever the man thought was interesting. At 2 am, then again around 5, Stiles would call Lydia and have a short conversation pacing around the living room. After his calls, Stiles would always be twitchy and agitated, but after a few minutes, he would calm down and sit next to Derek on the sofa to smoke weed and watch something else.
To say Derek was used to their nights together would be insane, yet it was the true.
"We've been doing that for the last hour, babe!" Stiles called from the first floor.
The only thing that ever interrupted their nights was Maddie dropping by to chat every other day. She would usually get Stiles high and stay for a while talking about whatever crochet project she had going on and Stiles would indulge her asking her questions only someone very stoned would find interesting.
When Derek asked Stiles what the hell he was doing befriending the neighbor, all Stiles said was "she seems very lonely, Derek. If I wasn't in the middle of something, I'd be offering her a place in California."
"You wanna turn her?" Derek asked.
"I don't know, Derek. I miss my fucking coven."
Shaking his head to clear the unwanted thoughts, Derek made his way down the hall and down the stairs to find Stiles lighting the bong for Maddie. The woman in question coughed when she saw him, waving her hand in front of her to disperse the smoke. "Hi, Derek."
"Hey, Maddie." Suddenly, he regretted coming down. He should have stayed upstairs until he was sure the woman left. It was stupid, but at least he wouldn't have to pretend to be the one thing he could not stop thinking about being. "I'm just gonna—"
"Oh no, honey. You have to come smoke with us," she said. "You see, darling Stiles was telling us how you'd rather be sober than get high with strangers, but I know how it is after a long day recovering after a night shift. I used to work at this call center that was the emergency line for a travel insurance company and when I had to work nights I always needed to get stupid high after a shift."
Derek didn't process all the information before saying, "really, just do your thing. I'll grab a book and be out of—"
Pouting —yes, pouting—, Stiles said "come on, Derek. If you're not gonna eat her brownies, the least you could do is smoke one with our friend Maddie here."
Scandalized, Maddie turned to Stiles. "You said he liked them!"
"He did. He has refused another one ever since the night he tried them."
"I can't get stupid high when I have you to look after," Derek quipped, realizing too late how loving it sounded.
"I do not believe your husband has ever been stupid high, Stiles," Maddie said.
Stiles smirked. "Oh, you don't know the half of it, Mads."
With a sigh —aware that he would regret it—, he crossed the room and sat on the couch opposite to them. "What are we waiting for?"
Maddie squealed as Stiles went for the grinder and put more weed in the bowl for him to smoke. "So, do you do this often, Mr. Stilinski?"
Derek raised his eyebrow at Stiles. "You didn't tell her I never took your name?"
"I still hope to convince you." He turned the bong around so its mouth was in Derek's direction and held a lighter in his right hand, playing with the small flame.
"Can't even hyphenate them then?" Derek asked.
"Stilinski-Hale? or Hale-Stilinski?"
Maddie did a double take in Derek's direction. "Derek Hale? Do you know a Laura Hale?"
Derek felt every muscle in his back tense. Still, he tried to sound unaffected when he replied. "No, should I?"
"Definitely! She is this photographer from New York who did some groundbreaking work before vanishing to live in a commune somewhere in California."
Stiles frowned. "I'd never heard of her."
"You don't know anything about art, Stiles. There's a fake Monet in your house. That's so early 00s."
"How is a Monet old-fashioned?" Stiles asked, more offended than Derek could buy. Underneath it all, Stiles smelled of suspicion. He was surprised by Maddie's news, but he was good at hiding it. The only reason Derek could think for Maddie knowing who Laura was was that she knew exactly who Derek was.
The woman in question was yapping about contemporary photography versus old paintings and how Stiles would need a real Monet to have her attention.
"It's a 5,000-dollar reproduction," he insisted, but Derek knew it was the real deal. If Maddie knew so much about art, then she had to know the painting in the living room was worth much more. It made Derek all the more uncomfortable around her.
Maddie's phone rang then, interrupting their discussion. She picked up and exchanged a few words with a man before hanging up and saying "I'm sorry, loves. Duty calls. My husband got home and I know he needs someone to fix him dinner."
Stiles walked her to the door and said his goodbyes. When he came back to the living room, he looked more sober than Derek had seen him in a while.
"That was either a freak coincidence or—"
"I don't believe in coincidences," Derek said.
Stiles sighed and pinched the bridge of his nose. "I can try to go to her place one of these days. Snoop around? I think she might be honestly obsessed with you."
"Great," Derek said.
"Come on, Derek. There's nothing we can do tonight. Let's get high and watch a romcom."
"I'm not watching a romcom," he said.
Twenty minutes later, they laughed as Jane Fonda's character had a mental breakdown. Stiles' laugh was the best part of the whole night.