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Lucy’s nice. Derek really likes her. She’s smart, and funny, and gorgeous. She doesn’t seem to mind that Peter shows up at Derek’s loft all the time, making creepy comments. She teases him about being friends with teenagers, but it’s clear that she’s not judging him. She struggles to make friends, too. Finds it hard meeting people in a new place, even in a small community like Beacon Hills. They have fun together. They laugh and make love and Derek can feel himself starting to fall for her.
He’s toying with the idea of giving her a key, when they discover she’s behind the recent string of disappearances.
*
“Dude,” Stiles says sympathetically, dropping a bottle of whisky in front of Derek and collapsing next to him on the couch. Derek glares at him and shoves the whisky away. Stiles pushes it back. “Lydia’s worked out how to imbue it with enough wolfsbane to get you drunk, but not so much you start hallucinating. Drink up my lovelorn friend.”
Derek takes the whisky and takes a long draw. Stiles claps him on the shoulder.
“So Lucy was trying to harvest our organs, huh?” Stiles says. “That’s rough. Women, eh?”
“Why are you here?” Derek growls.
“You’re my friend, you got dumped,” Stiles says. “I’m here to supply you with booze and sympathy.”
“We’re not friends,” Derek points out. He takes another few mouthful of whisky.
“Well, no,” Stiles admits.
“And I didn’t get dumped, my girlfriend tried to cut out my heart,” Derek says.
“Which, when you think about it, is beautifully symbolic,” Stiles says.
“As you pointed out at the time,” Derek says. “Why are you really here?”
“I was going to give your little werewolfy heart some time to mend before I did this,” Stiles says. “But here goes. Once is an incidence, twice is a coincidence, three times is a pattern.”
“What are you talking about?” Derek says. He looks at the whisky. A fairly impressive amount has disappeared, and he’s starting to feel a little looser, but he’s not drunk enough to understand Stiles’s ramblings.
“Kate Argent, Jennifer Blake, Lucy King,” Stiles says, ticking the names off with his fingers. “Incidence, coincidence, pattern.”
“I have terrible taste in women,” Derek says. “I get it. Your point is made. You can leave now.”
“That’s not my point,” Stiles says. “Terrible taste is dating women who you have nothing in common with, your friends all hate or who try to get you to propose after a week of dating. What you have is a whole different problem.”
“What is your point, Stiles?” Derek says, sighing.
“My point is, next time you start dating a woman, let everyone know immediately and that way if she is evil, we’ll have a head start.”
*
Everything about Sarah screams innocent, helpless and defenseless. She seems genuinely scared when three vampires try to attack her, and it takes Derek two weeks before she will even let him talk to her. She makes Derek feel useful, and it’s been a long time since anyone seemed to appreciate how hard Derek works to keep people safe. How much strength it takes to go out night after night and face creatures humans can only imagine in their worst nightmares. He’s kissed her three times before he remembers Stiles’s stupid comment. It’s completely ridiculous, but he can’t get it out of his head. He’s so distracted, he lets Peter talk him into borrowing Talia’s claws for a few days, and Derek would really rather not know what Peter needed them for. Sarah’s busy that night, so Derek decides he might as well visit Stiles, if only so he can prove how ridiculous Stiles’s theory is.
“She’s completely harmless,” Derek says. Stiles jumps in his desk chair, turning to face Derek.
“Jesus! Give a man some warning, yeah?” Stiles says. “I could have been doing anything. I could have been looking at porn!”
“I would have been able to smell it if you were masturbating,” Derek says. Stiles shudders.
“Well that’s creepy,” Stiles says. “Who’s completely harmless?”
“Sarah,” Derek says. Stiles sighs.
Two hours later, they catch Sarah in the middle of trying to turn Joseph, the owner of the bowling alley, into a vampire.
*
It’s not until Caroline that Derek really gets behind Stiles’s plan. Caroline is gorgeous. Derek feels almost drunk every time he sees her. Her scent is dizzying and her touch sets Derek’s skin on fire. Derek is convinced she is the love of his life, so he feels no fear telling Stiles about her. There’s no way she could be anything less than an angel sent from heaven.
“So Carole was going to bite your head off during sex?” Stiles asks, staring down aghast at Caroline’s body. Derek shudders.
“Apparently.”
“That’s rough, dude,” Stile says, patting Derek’s back in consolation.
After that, Derek lets Stiles know every time a woman takes the slightest bit of interest in him, or he even passingly thinks a woman is attractive. Beacon Hills is safer than it has been since the Hale pack were still alive. Even graduation and prom go off without a hitch after Derek admits to having a crush on the woman taking photographs for the event.
*
“It’s like a supernatural form of gaydar,” Stiles says, cheeks flushed from the shots he had been downing and the vigorous dancing that had followed. Derek glares at him, taking away the shot Stiles had been reaching for, shoving a bottle of water at him instead.
“Gaydar is when you can tell someone is gay,” Lydia points out.
“Oh,” Stiles says. He fumbles with the lid of the water bottle. “It’s like the opposite of that. It’s like he’s a gay magnet. A super gay magnet.”
“You mean a supernatural magnet,” Lydia says, amused.
“Yeah,” Stiles says. Derek sighs, reaching over and opening the bottle. Stiles grins at him. “Thanks man. You might be super attractive, but you’re alright.”
Lydia laughs and Derek glares at her.
*
“I’m thinking of taking up celibacy,” Derek says, as they dig through Amelia’s apartment. She had been nice. Evil, but very civilised, old school villain. Nothing too gory planned, just a good old fashioned power-seeker.
“Or men,” Lydia offers. Stiles freezes in the middle of reaching for a book he thinks has instructions on creating minions.
Derek shakes his head. “I don’t think that would help. I was checking out Charles right up until he started summoning evil spirits. Hell, I still thought he was attractive after that. I think there’s something wrong with me.”
“I, uh, didn’t know you swung both ways,” Stiles says, trying desperately to sound casual. Derek shrugs.
“What, you thought I only went for women and agendered creatures from hell?” Derek says. “No, my type seems to be evil.”
*
“I was evil,” Stiles says. “For a bit.”
Derek had been starting to doze off, feeling relaxed and content, but he sits straight up at Stiles’s words.
“You weren’t evil,” Derek says, reaching for the remote to turn off the television. “You were never evil. You were possessed.”
“No,” Stiles says. “I know. I just meant…” He licks his lips, eyes flicking down to Derek’s mouth as he leans forward. “You said your type was evil. And I was kinda evil, for a bit.”
“Oh,” Derek says, taken aback. Stiles flushes and moves back away.
“Sorry, I thought…” Stiles starts to say, but Derek grabs his arm and pulls him back in, cutting him off.
“Yeah,” Derek says, “Tell me your nefarious plans to terrorise the good people of Beacon Hills, and I’m all yours.”
“Well,” Stiles says, grinning. He presses a tentative kiss on Derek’s jaw. “I thought I would start by tying a young beautiful woman to the train tracks.”
“A classic move,” Derek says, one hand sliding up Stiles’s thigh, the other curling around the nape of his neck.
“And while I’m waiting for the train to come, I might grow a moustache,” Stiles continues, moving to kiss below Derek’s ear.
“Tell me you have a speech prepared to explain your plan,” Derek says. Stiles grins against Derek’s mouth.
“Oh yes,” Stiles says. He kisses Derek, feeling bold and pleased with himself. “Just wait until you hear it, you’ll never want to let me go.”