Chapter Text
“Fuck.” Okay, so Derek’s not the most verbose person on the planet, but he felt that a loud and concise exclamation of profanity was appropriate.
Fucking faeries.
He pulled his phone out of his jeans (which had been tight enough ten minutes ago but were now cutting off the circulation to his thighs) and his thumb hovered over the speed-dial menu.
Not Scott. He’d bring Isaac and they’d laugh until they couldn’t breathe, then he’d have to get himself home, anyway. Not Stiles, hell no not Stiles. Well, he could call Stiles. But that would lead to bad things happening. Not Cora, because she was living with Peter and besides it was almost two AM and she had school in the morning. And Peter wasn’t even on the speed dial anymore. For good reason.
Allison... no. Because she had a habit of telling her father everything after the whole scene with Jen and the lack of familial communication leading to a series of ritual sacrifices.
Lydia it was. He pressed option ‘6’ and waited for her to answer.
“This better be good, Hale.”
“Trust me it is. Can you meet me at the loft?”
“Derek? What’s wrong with your voice?”
“Can I explain in person?”
“Derek... did you follow that scent? The one that Stiles and I specifically told you not to because we were researching what it might lead to?”
Derek’s shoulders dropped.
“Maybe.”
“You are insufferable and very fortunate that I have a high threshold for your bullshit. Meet me at the loft in twenty minutes. You owe me breakfast and a new pair of shoes."
“Right.” He said to dead air; it was a good thing he had a decent credit rating. All the late-night callouts to Ms Martin were costing him a fortune. At least she didn’t have insane taste, just high-end.
He looked down at himself and cursed again.
Fucking faeries.