Teen Wolf Imagines

I thought you were a myth pt.5- Derek Hale

You sat on the balcony, taking in the sunrise. After that intimate moment with Derek talking about you keeping him sane, the two of you had stayed up all night, sitting on the ground, and leaning on the wall right under the windows as you looked up at the stars, talking about everything that had happened since the day you left.
Scott wandered out through the door, stretching and still a little bleary eyed.
You smiled, which felt odd at this hour. Smiling was reserved for hours not created by evil - Also known as anything before eight in the morning. "There's our little warrior!" Your voice was chipper, too, and Derek laughed at the look on Scott's face.
He narrowed his eyebrows at you, and you shrugged, still smiling. "Were you guys up all night?"
"I guess so," Derek said, looking out at the skyline, which was even brighter than only a minute ago. "God, I didn't even realize." He looked at you, smiling.
"Oh my God," you heard Stiles' voice behind you, groggy and thick with sleep. You chanced a look over your shoulder and snorted at his hair which was going every which way. "Derek Hale, our resident Sourwolf, is smiling. I'm still asleep, aren't I?"
You looked back to Derek, biting your lip to contain the laugh that wanted so badly to come out. The smile was still there as he looked at you, and pointed a finger in warning, his elbow braced on his knee as he sat cross legged. "Don't you dare encourage him," he warned, though with that smile, you knew he was anything but threatening.
"This is some weird dream," Stiles continued, his voice almost far away, like some sort of denial, maybe even fear, and Scott pulled his hand down his face, shaking his head knowing any attempt to stop the train of thought his friend was on would fail. "Some weird dream. And that smile is meant to lull us into some false sense of security...."
Scott grabbed Stiles' arm, smacking the back of his head gently, and ushered him back inside.
"Don't let him have any coffee!" Derek called after Scott, who paused, and looked over his shoulder with a 'duh' look, and said, "Ya think?" before letting the door close behind him.
Derek chuckled and you looked at him, still biting your lip, eyebrows raised. He hung his head. "Fine. Come on. Let it out," he mumbled into his chest.
You let a moment pass until he looked back up questioningly before you burst out laughing.
"Okay, okay, geeze," he lightly shoved your shoulder, and you felt seventeen again. "It wasn't that funny. What gives?"
You took a deep breath, swearing you wheezed slightly with the effort as another laugh just wanted to come out. "They call you 'Sourwolf'! Why didn't I think of that? It's perfect!"
"You ever call me that, so help me-"
"Oh, right. Pookie Bear is so much better. I agree." You nodded, smirking as you tried to pull a serious face.
"Okay, fine, but not in front of anyone-"
"Nope," you held up both hands. "You already made the decision. Pookie Bear forever and always you shall be."
He tried so hard to maintain the scowl he sent your way, but it faltered as his lips twitched upward further and further, and when he spoke it sounded strained, and came out on a chuckle. "I hate you."
You shoved his shoulder. "Oh, don't be such a Sourwolf."
He looked straight up, his body sagging, his head thumping back against the wall with a groan. This was the Derek you remembered. Laughing, having fun, and joking around.
"Hey. That's the exact opposite of what I said. Don't be such a Sourwolf, Pookie Bear!"
You leaned your head back against the wall to match him, laughing so hard your stomach hurt.
Lydia walked out, a note in her hand and smirk on her face as she handed Derek a note before quickly retreating to the safety of the indoors, and the werewolves that surrounded the door looking out at the two of you, grinning madly.
You looked to the note as Derek began reading. "Pookie, we are out of coffee. Went to go get some, took your credit card, will be back soon."
Derek crumpled the letter, and you took it away before he could chuck it off the edge of the balcony. "You didn't finish it!"
You cleared your throat. "Don't look at me like that, stop being such a Sourwolf. Signed, Stiles."
You fell over from laughing so hard, Derek trying to take the letter from your hand, and you tucked it up underneath you, guarding it. "Can I frame this?"
"No, but you can use it in the obituary after I kill him."
"Derek! That's not nice! What a Sourwolf thing to say!"
"But-" he reached for the note, and you pulled it away.
"Don't make me go True Alpha on you."
"I was an Alpha first!" He said after a moment.
"Ah, but I am one now. And a True Alpha at that."
He narrowed his eyebrows. "You just like the sound of your own voice, don't you?"
You matched his face. "If your voice sounded as good as mine, you'd do the same thing. Not to mention, I'm a True Alpha, so you have to listen to me. It's, like, myth law, or something."
"Oh, God, get a room!" You heard Peter's voice muffled through the glass door.
You flashed your eyes, a snarl turning into a low growl before you looked at him. "We do. You're the one deciding to watch. Old habits die hard, I guess."
Peter shot daggers at you, a brief flash of his eyes before he turned away toward the kitchen. "He is going to break every mug I own," Derek sighed.
You chuckled. "Sorry. It's true. He always was the one to crash our party." A moment passed and you heard everyone trying to talk Peter away from the cabinet with the mugs. "Oh. You weren't kidding about the...." You pointed inside, and Derek hung his head, shaking it slowly. "Nope."
"Might wanna let Stiles know to buy you new mugs, too."
"If I do that, he's gonna buy weird colors or shapes or something," Derek whined, pulling out his phone.
"Give it to me," you reached for the phone.
"Nope, I got it, I got it," Derek batted your hand away, and you huffed, his smug grin in satisfaction fading fast as Stiles answered.
"Mugs?" You heard his greeting and laughed.
Derek sighed. "Yes. Mugs."
A moment. "Is fuschia okay with you?"
"Give me the phone," you mumbled through a grin, taking the phone. "Stiles, get the right mugs, or I swear I will call you something far worse than Pookie Bear and Sourwolf combined."
"Pookie wolf? Aw, that's actually kinda cute...."
"You like to be called Stiles, right? That's a nickname you like to be called in place of your real name, right?"
The line was silent for a minute. "What are you getting at?" His voice was serious.
"Well, you know, I could just call you by your real name- Scott?" You called out, as if he were right in front of you. "What was it again? It was long and weird and, I don't think I can pronounce that correctly without help...." You paused, grinning madly as you said the next words. "But I'm a fast learner. Shouldn't take long...." Silence, but you could hear his heart rate picking up over the phone. "Derek, do you know what that accent means over the-"
There was a clatter on the other end, and he must have grabbed every mug they had in one fell swoop, reaching for the few stragglers beyond his grip. "Okay. An entire shelf's worth of plain, bland grey coffee mugs, coming right up."
"Thank you, Stiles," you said sweetly.
He grumbled on the other end, making you smile.
"Oh, and Stiles? Grab some dry erase markers. Since Sourwolf has such bland taste and a lack of diversity, we can at least write our names on them while we use them so we don't end up spit swapping."
A beat, and five distinct hits into the cart made you smile wider.
"Thank you, Stiles."
"You're welcome. I'm grabbing sugar and cream and some flavored creamers, too, just FYI, for those of us who don't drink it black like it's a cup of death. Aka, for everyone but Pookie."
"Hey!" Derek objected.
"Oh, Bear," you said in a calming voice, placing a hand on his knee, "I know you like it extra sweet with cream and a swirl of vanilla, don't worry."
"I hope you stick around for a long time," Stiles said, the wild grin evident in his tone.
You looked at Derek, your hand still on his knee, smiling gently. "I plan on it."
After you hung up and handed Derek back his phone, he smirked deviously. "You're gonna spike his drink, aren't you?"
"I can't decide if some Irish Cream would do the trick, or something my dad once said he did to his brother....."
"What?"
"Laxatives."
Xxx
Stiles came back with more than just what you had asked, it looked like he had bought the entire store.
As he stuck the fifth thing of ice cream in the freezer, you heard him mumble, "Revenge is a dish best served cold, my friend."
"How much did you spend?" Derek practically roared, Isaac and Scott holding him back, Peter just looking on amused, Liam just standing there awkwardly. The girls had all gone out shopping, and asked if you wanted to come, but you elected to stay behind and help wrangle the testosterone home, telling them just to surprise you, and giving them your sizes.
You went to hand them some cash you had in your bag that had hardly anything else in it, and Derek stepped between the two of you, handing them his credit card, and calling after them, "Only for her stuff!"
"Derek, I can pay," you objected as he closed the loft door then turned to you.
"So can I. Please, let me treat you. I have years to make up for dinner dates and whatnot. And this is stuff you need. Text the girls whatever you need, toiletries, clothes, shoes, whatever."
Slowly walking over to Derek's phone, you started a text message, feeling his eyes on you. You looked up. "What?"
"You don't have a phone, do you?" He said it simply, knowing you wouldn't want to go into details.
"No," you shook your head. Without another word, Derek grabbed Stiles by the ear, handed him another card, and mumbled something to him, before Stiles smiled, leaving the loft.
"How many credit cards do you have?" You asked, bewildered.
"When you get in a fight and forget to clean off your wallet, the clerks look at you funny when you hand them a card covered in blood or that has slash marks on it. Once it even had teeth, well fang, marks. I couldn't explain even if I tried. So I just walked away."
You shook your head, before returning to the text message. "You know what, I'm just gonna call her, in case you are being watched. A call won't look suspicious. A text about female clothing might. Hunters can hack the phones, sometimes, but they can't track credit card sales. And I take it you use a different name-"
"No. Just mine. So what? I'm buying clothes for a girl. If they find out you're with me, maybe that's good. We have a reputation in this town. We don't usually get messed with. At least, not by hunters. And if anything, I think they are out looking for you, not sitting outside the apartment waiting. Parrish is escorting them today, and nobody messes with Stiles because he is the Sheriff's kid."
The room had gone silent between the eerily normal, and yet in some aspects, not, conversation. You nodded, looking around the room before gesturing the boys make their coffee and finish putting away Stiles' food stocks that should last a month. They sprang into action as you pressed send, going back up to "your" room, turning the music on the clock radio beside the bed up loud, going into the bathroom and turning on the shower and sink, hoping you could make your order with Lydia in peace without much eavesdropping from the peanut gallery downstairs.
"Is something wrong?" She answered. Oh. Banshee. Derek's phone. Whoops.
"No, it's me, sorry. And by the way, so sorry that is your instinctual answer. I was born into this, and I still hate that aspect."
She sounded relieved. "Sorry. Just when Derek calls, it's only ever some new baddie, you know."
"Well, when Stiles gets back with my phone, you can always just answer without worrying. I will only call you to vent about Sourwolf's latest meltdowns and what not. You know. The good stuff." You smiled.
Lydia laughed softly. "Okay. Deal. Now, why are you calling?"
"I just wanted to stay as above the radar as possible incase they are tracking texts and stuff. I just have learned to be extra careful, I guess." You sighed. "Life without a pack for too long."
You could hear the sadness in her smile, but she pushed through none the less. You liked her already. "Well, you're with us now. So stop worrying so much. That a what family is for."
Happy tears fell down your cheeks silently. For the first time in a long time, you had a home, a pack, a family, and a safe, warm roof over your head. "Thank you." Your voice cracked a little.
"Well, think you can remember everything I tell you I need, or do you want a text?"
You could tell Lydia's lips were pursed, and Malia, using her hearing obviously, mumbled about a text so we could "divide, conquer, and get out". "I agree with you, Malia," you said, and then you heard Kira say, "Oh! Busted!" softly, and you laughed. Today was just full of that. It felt good to laugh again. "But I think you all need to stay with Parrish nearby. Just in case."
They all agreed, and you said you would text them, and Lydia promised not to go too overboard, Malia scoffing in the background, and Lydia asking what was the point of a big strong body guard if he didn't help carry the bags before hanging up. You stared at the phone for a minute before laughing out loud.
Shaking your head, you sat on the closed toilet seat and began typing, jumping when there was a knock on the door. "Okay. Now that our ears are bleeding from the atrocious radio station you insisted on blasting to the world, and I know you aren't showering and using the sink at the same time, and I can hear the keys clicking, can I please have my bathroom back?" Derek was whining like a child.
"After I type this up. No reading over my shoulder. Then your phone is hostage until I get my own or they come back."
A moment. "Fine," Derek grumbled, and the bedroom door closed, but you heard him leap onto the bed a few seconds later, waiting for you.
Finishing up the message, you stared before you hit send. You hated asking for so many things, but you remembered your duffle bag full of clothes from friends that were falling apart, or torn and bloody.... You had just asked for the basics - workout gear, like sweats, jackets, sports bras, some tennis shoes, shirts and jeans and shorts from particular stores, because you knew what sizes you wore without fail at those stores, and you already could tell Lydia would get everything right off the bat with one look at you. That was her superpower. Then the essentials, like underwear, socks, pajamas, toiletries, makeup on the off chance you needed to be presentable, and a few sunglasses and baseball caps along with other hats in case you wanted and/or needed to go out without being recognized.
After you sent it, you turned the shower and sink off, and right before you unlocked the door, the phone vibrated with a reply of a picture with Parrish already loaded with bags, and the caption, "Oh, good! Now we can actually start shopping!" You rolled your eyes and laughed, walking out and laying beside Derek, who laid on his back, staring at the ceiling.
"You have a million dollars?"
Derek turned his head toward you, his face screwed up questioningly, and you pulled up the most recent text with the picture and caption from Lydia, and he read it before rolling his eyes and chuckling, covering his face with his hands. "Oh my God."
The phone buzzed. "What's Derek's favorite color?"
Derek sat up beside me, and we spoke in unison as I typed, "Why?"
About fifteen seconds later, "Because it comes in red, green, and blue." Then another buzz. "Oh, and white and black, too."
"What is 'it'?" You typed, and the two of you stared at the phone when two pictures came in of very risqué lingerie.
"Obviously they started with underwear, even though that was way after actual clothing," you muttered, and Derek chuckled before suddenly stealing the phone from you, running into the bathroom and locking it before you heard the keys clacking as he typed out a response. "Derek Hale, let me in and don't send that, or I swear-" The little 'woosh' sound of a sent message stopped you.
Unlocking the door, tossing the phone on the bed, Derek grinned smugly and walked out of the room. Scooping up the phone, you read what he had sent, and your face turned bright red. "This is Derek. If you buy one of each, then you can get whatever you want for yourselves today, too. On me."
Xxx
Stiles showed back up with a brand new, top of the line phone, and explained to Derek how the new billing worked.
"Why do you keep snickering?" Derek asked Stiles, but you started before he could answer.
"Who is 'Miguel', and why does my phone think I'm them?"
Derek turned his glare on Stiles.
"What?" He cried, grinning. "I can't just broadcast her name, now, can I?"
You copied the contact info over from Derek's phone, and Derek pointed at you. "Don't you dare delete those messages."
You rolled your eyes before locking his phone and tossing it to him, shooting Lydia a text, "Hey, it's me. Save me in your phone as 'Miguel'. I don't get it, but it's Stiles' doing. Oh. And I forgot. I need a picture frame, too."
Xxx
"Did you buy the entire town out of clothing?!" Derek hollered, opening the loft doors to what looked like four walking piles of shopping bags instead of people.
"Just about," Malia mumbled.
"We stopped her before it got bad," Kira added.
Parrish just set the bags down, gave everyone a nod, and left the loft, shutting the door, eager to return to his squad car outside and just sit.
"Lydia, are those shoe boxes? I asked for some sneakers. Since when does that designer make sneakers?"
Lydia shrugged innocently as you opened a box and held up a high black stiletto heel. "I don't think they do. But I've heard rumors."
"Heels? Really, Lydia?" She already felt like a sister. All three of them did. "Because running from hunters or evil is so much easier in five inch heels."
"Five inches?" You heard Derek say from somewhere behind you, and you recognized that tone. Lydia knew just what she was doing. Oh she was good.
"Malia picked out the dress. Blame her." Lydia was smiling.
Derek swallowed thickly. "Dress?"
You turned to him. "Why are you acting like you did when we went to prom? It's like you expect me to always be covered in dirt and blood, running for my life."
"Not in those heels, you're not," Stiles said from the sidelines, sipping his coffee, ignoring the death glare from Derek. "Miguel," he added as an afterthought.
"Yeah, well Kira wanted the longer, flowy dress, but I liked the tighter, shorter, kinda strappy looking one. It looks like claw marks kinda. So those are the shoes for Kira's dress. These," she opened another box to reveal another pair of black stilettos, just as tall, but they were open toed, and had fringe along the middle of the front, straps coming up to meet it from the sides, and they looked to be right at the ankle, making them look a little tactical. "These go with my dress."
"So this dress, you have it? I'm confused," Stiles began, and immediately shrugged at the glare from Malia. Wow. The Hale Glare must be genetic.
"Why don't you go try some of it on?" Derek asked. "You know, see if you like them, and if you don't, we can return whatever you don't like."
"A fashion show?" Peter asked in annoyance. "I'm leaving."
"No, you're staying where I can see you until the hunters leave," Derek replied calmly. "Scott, Stiles, since I know they picked out the stuff, why don't you two hang around. Isaac, Liam? If you guys want, you can leave. This will probably be boring for you."
They were both staring at the two sets of heels you and Malia were holding, their video game long paused and forgotten, and almost spoke in unison, "No, it's cool. Safety in numbers, right?"
You rolled your eyes, grabbing a handful of bags and making your way up the stairs. Something fell and you sighed as you kept going, deciding to pick it up on your way back down. As you dumped the bags on the bed, the three girls trailing behind you with their own arms full, you turned to head back down the stairs and pick up the stray item, only to see Peter hold up the lingerie with a smirk. "No one told me what pair of heels goes with this...."
You snatched it out of Peter's hand, spinning on your heel to stomp away before you paused, turning back to him. Leaning in close, you whispered exaggeratedly, "I don't know yet, either. But you can ask Derek later to find out. I'm sure he'll see them long before you ever do."
Seeing the couch void of bags, you made your way back up to the room, and slammed the door, hearing the whoops from the guys, and Derek threatening to kill Peter yet again.
Kira was confused. "Why are they-"
You held up the green lacy garment. "Oh" they all said in unison.
You nodded. "Peter wanted to know which shoes went with this."
Lydia smirked. "Well, they are my favorite, so, too bad he'll never know."
Xxx
After what felt like decades of marching up and down the stairs in clothes and shoes, it was over.
Lydia had good taste. They all did. Malia's dress and shoe choice had them all staring slack jawed. Kira's had pretty much the same effect, but when you did a little twirl and the dress flew out a little bit you caught Derek smiling. Lydia's combo had wolf whistles before you hit the second step, so you immediately turned around once you reached the bottom and walked back up.
Then the basics like workout gear and whatnot.
Finally, after the stench of all the perfume the stores always sprayed on the bags, you were starting to get a headache, so you thanked the girls, and admitted you didn't want to take any of it back, but would make a decision later after you showered.
Using the new soaps they had got you, you took a long hot shower, realizing you hadn't showered after the thing with Scott last night. After stepping out, you decided to let your hair air dry, and put on some of the makeup they had bought.
Throwing on a blue shirt that cut off just below your belly button, some high rise jean shorts, the one pair of low rise black converse Lydia had indulged you in, and tying a coordinating flannel around your waist because you knew Beacon Hills always got cold at night, you ran your fingers through your hair a few times, letting it do what it wanted, the hair band around your wrist just in case, you went to go downstairs right as a knock sounded on the door.
Opening it to see Lydia, she smiled as she took in the outfit. "Well, you'll blend right in here," she said, coming in and closing the door, looking at something in her hands. "I remembered your tattoo from last night, and I just wanted to give you this. I saw it and couldn't pass it up."
It was a necklace from one of the clothing stores you had told her to go to, and wasn't precious metal or anything, but none of that mattered, it was precious to you. It was a silver arrowhead on a silver chain that looked like it would hang a few inches above your belly button.
You looked up at her, tears brimming in both of your eyes. "Thank you."
"You said that one on your back was to keep moving you forward, but this one points down. To remember to look around you, where you are now. To remember you're not alone anymore. You're never going to be alone ever again. Even when you think you are, we always find our way back. We're family. It's just how it works." She was really choked up, and you were getting there yourself.
Pulling her into a hug, you thanked her again, and felt her silent acknowledgement as she nodded against your shoulder, before taking a deep, shuddering breath. "Scott was right. Allison would have really liked you."
You pulled the necklace on. "Thank you. Well, from what I've heard, I think I would have really liked her, too."
Making your way down the stairs, Lydia a few steps behind you, you caught Scott's eye, and saw him smile at the necklace glancing behind you at Lydia with a small nod, before looking back to you. "Nice necklace."
"Well, hey, hey, hey! Look who's looking normal!" Stiles said abruptly, making you laugh after a moment.
Walking over to the desk, you set down the picture frame Lydia had gotten, simple smooth wood, with the letter from earlier on proud display behind the glass, and ignored the eye roll from Derek.
"Hey!" Stiles smiled and pointed at it, and you smirked, looking over at Derek, who had a single eyebrow cocked at you in both amusement and question.
You shrugged. "What? Just marking my territory, so to speak. No need to pee on such a nice desk to get the point across."
Derek chuckled, shaking his head as you slid over to him, wrapping an arm around his waist, and feeling his own wrap around you tightly. "You look just like you did in High School."
You smiled, going on tippy toes to whisper in his ear, "I can guarantee you won't be saying that with some of the other stuff I didn't show on the catwalk."
He swallowed roughly before turning to you. "Why do you do that when I'm stuck with a million other people in my own damn loft because of danger that you brought?"
"Because. I like to see you squirm."
"Well, so do I," he smirked, and it was smug, as you lightly swatted at his upper arm, your own grin betraying you, "but I can't do that because of the million other people forced to stay here."
"I'm sorry. I know it's my fault they are here. As soon as I clear my name, kick some ass, and remind those bastard hunters why the story books say to be afraid of us, I will make it up to you."
"That's all I ask," Derek said, sniffing a little to sound snooty as he stuck his nose up in the air. "Miguel," he added with a smile.