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Derek had been the curator of the Beacon Hills Museum of Arts and Culture for 6 years. He had took the job straight out of college and fell in love with the building. It’s old stone walls, majestic marble staircases and the beautiful stained glass skylight had taken his breath away on his first field trip to the building in elementary school. He’d poured his heart and soul into keeping the museum in its fine glory; getting any new exhibitions he could, keeping up to date with new developments, anything. His sisters reminded him on a daily basis that his love affair with the BHMAC was extremely sad, but he couldn’t care less. His life and his museum were pretty perfect.
Until some annoying shit kept vandalising his museum.
Well, he started thinking it was vandalism. It was only on specific exhibits mainly relating to paganism and mythology, but it wasn’t like the usual vandalism the museum experienced. A few times a couple of kids had etched “S&A” into the marble stair case, or shit like that. But this was different, the vandal was correcting the descriptions.
The first one Derek noticed was a piece of art which has been assumed to be from the 13th century depicting a old tree from Beacon Hills woods, the art was untitled with no known artist. He’d come in to do his morning checks in each time period when he’d noticed the black etching on the small white plaque holding the very little information they had. A date had been added 889AD, with the title 'Unknown' crossed out and the word ‘Nemeton’ in caps. He’d checked with multiple of his archaeologist connections and a few mythology lecturers at UCLA and the story checked out. The painting was of a mythological hub within specifically local strands of Wicca and Paganism rooting back to the 1st century, apparently that big scary tree in the middle of the woods had been called a Nemeton back in the day.
Then it kept happening, different works of art scattered across his museum. All 'incorrectly' dated and all relating to some form of paganism or specifically Beacon Hills rooted mythology. The latest being a painting believed to be rooted in the late Renaissance; Derek had always suspected that it was earlier, but according to Isaac in records it couldn't be that early. The red pigment found in the paint wasn't around pre-medieval times, and the style spoke of some Renaissance aesthetics. It had always bugged Derek, it wasn't a crimson or anything vaguely bright enough of a red to contain toxic pigments. It was more a copper, burnt brown. When Derek was honest with himself, he always remarked that the red streaks looked like blood, dried blood. Which is exactly what that day's etching said. The date had been added as 750AD, similar to the other works of art, but this time paint had been scratched out and 'Ink & Blood' added alongside it.
It was at that moment Derek had realised that this was a vandal after his own heart.
"You're ridiculous." Stiles laughed, reorganising the pencils into their separate pots.
"I'm not." Derek groaned from his leaning spot against the register.
"I cannot believe you're head over heels with the exhibit vandal." Stiles rolled his eyes. Stiles was new to the museum staff, he'd started around 4 months ago working in the gift shop and had easily become one of Derek's favourite members of staff. He was a hard worker, funny, insanely smart and not bad on the eyes. Derek had even started taking his lunches in the shop. Mainly because Stiles was the only one who knew about Derek's insane crush on the Vandal. Derek didn't even mind that Stiles' ripped the shit out of him for it. "How many is that now?"
"I think it's bordering on double figures, we'll have enough to open it's own exhibit soon."
"What would you even call it?" Stiles was looking at his hands.
"I don't even know. Beacon Hills Paganism? Or Pagan Fanatic 101, Date Me?" Derek groaned, slumping more against the counter. "If only I could catch them. It's like they know where the cameras are." Derek snorted. "Imagine if it was someone who worked here." There was a crash, and the pitter patter of pencils clattering to the floor.
"Shit." Stiles scrambled to pick them up. "That would be insane, anyway we're like a family no one would do that." Stiles cleared his throat.
"That is true." Derek ran a hand through his hair, before turning back to Stiles who was staring in Derek's general direction. "What?"
"You have..." Stiles plucked a small cluster of fluff off Derek's suit jacket, "fluff." The tension hung in the air for a moment before Stiles waved his arms in a shooing motion. "Go get you. I have work to do!" Derek flashed Stiles a fake apology smile before disappearing into the World War 2 exhibit.
"They're all related to this one myth, this 'Nemeton'. It's like an old tree routed in the 1st century." This was his first call of outreach, to his youngest sister Cora. He wanted a opportunity to get ahead of this vandal, and since his entire family was rooted in history, he had the connections. Cora was studying in New York at the moment and doing her doctorate in Mythology and Folklore in California. Derek was determined to figure out which painting would be targeted next so then maybe he could catch this guy; Laura had informed him that camping outside one painting overnight was lunacy but Derek was still tempted.
"I've heard of the Nemeton, you know. It's local, like purely related to Beacon Hills folklore, but it's obscure. Pagan and Wicca based, around 1 AD." Cora tipped tapped away in the background of the call. "Did you say Stiles Stilinski works with you now?"
"Yeah, he's the new manager of the gift shop."
"Why don't you ask him?"
"Why would Stiles know?"
"He was in my year at school, the dude's a massive nut for mythology and all that stuff. He did a history paper on werewolves in Beacon Hills, and got an A. He's got a brain like sponge. He used to be obsessed with Beacon Hills folklore, I'm pretty sure it's what he studied in college."
"He said he studied Criminology, to be a cop like his dad." Derek said weakly.
"Sure that's what he majored in, but I bet my ass he did something related to it. I mean, Der you hired the guy, I'm sure you have his resume or something to check?"
"That sounds sneaky. I'm only interested in sneaking up on one person."
"Holy shit." Cora gasped in revelation. "It's Stiles."
"What?"
"I can't believe it took me this long. It's definitely him. Stiles is your art vandal. Along with being insanely smart, he's an insufferable know it all. He's the only person who'd A) know that much on such an obscure part of an even more obscure strain of mythology and B) he's just that much of an asshole that he'd vandalise the exhibits before coming to you. I mean you are quite imposing maybe he thought you wouldn't take a shop manager seriously." Derek chewed on his lip, it made a whole lot of sense. So obvious really. The Vandalism had started around the time Stiles had started managing the gift shop, he often comes in early to do 'inventory', and he'd dropped all those pencils when Derek had joked about it being one of the staff.
"Shit it's Stiles. Talk about hiding in plain sight. How did I not put two and two together? That's embarrassing."
"Were you distracted by his dazzling eyes? Insane hair? Or his inability to speak without flailing his arms around in a way that shouldn't be endearing?"
"Erm... maybe?"
"I had a massive crush on him in school. You don't need to worry, he wasn't into me anyway. I think he prefers them older, and well, men."
"Oh."
"So somehow I think you've got a shot big bro."
"I might actually have an idea..."
"There's no way this won't be disaster."
"Stiles! Wait up!" Derek jogged across the museum steps to catch up with Stiles.
"Hey Derek, what's crackalacking?" Stiles smiled, readjusting his messenger bag on his shoulder. His hair was squashed by a maroon beanie despite the blistering heat.
"I've got a new tactic to catch the vandal!" Derek chanted, puffing his chest out to demonstrate how proud he was.
"Thought you said it had died off so you weren't bothering?" Stiles shifted nervously.
"Yeah, but that doesn't mean he won't strike again. I've never come in this early you see? Like I come in to open but never as early as you. So here I am, 6:00am on the dot."
Derek smiled, watching as Stiles unlocked the front doors.
"That's smart." Stiles was smiling to himself as he walked in.
"Actually, I want to show you something." Derek gently touched Stiles' elbow as he began to walk in the direction of the shop. Derek snapped the lock closed, gestured for a nearby chair for Stiles to leave his bag on and began walking towards were the guest exhibitions usually are. "Did you have a nice few days off?"
"Yeah, got to spend it with my dad, it's not often our time off overlaps. Thanks for that, Isaac said you pulled some strings to get that off."
"Isaac enjoyed his time in the public eye, no matter what he says. He had all the little old ladies cooing over his scarf."
"Of course he did." Stiles stopped. "Derek where are we going?" The door to the Guest exhibition room was draped in black tarp.
"Just let me." Derek smiled gently, offering a hand out for Stiles to take. He hesitantly took it and let Derek lead him into the hidden room.
"What the?" The space was usually occupied with experimental art or something elite Derek had managed to get his hands on, Instead the walls where filled with the art that had been 'vandalised'. All displayed alongside the white placard which had been scratched out and written over.
"Turns out the vandal was kind of on to something. I got someone to look into this nemeton and it's a real vital part of Beacon Hills history, it's not taught but I thought an exhibition, free to the public could raise a bit of awareness of where Beacon Hills comes from." Derek watched as Stiles looped his way around the room. "And it's all because of you Stiles." He stopped dead in his tracks.
"What? I'm not?" Stiles scuffed his shoes against the floor.
"Come on, it's was stupidly obvious."
"You where befuddled for weeks."
"Befuddled? Actually I probably wouldn't have figured it out if it wasn't for Cora."
"Dammit. If it makes you feel any better I completely spaced on the fact that she's your sister. I see it now, the eyebrows."
"They're genetic." Derek gave a little humble shrug.
"You're a dumbass." Stiles' smile lit up the room as he scanned his eyes across the room.
"Yeah I am." Derek smiled. "So which one is your favourite?"
"This one." Stiles said without hesitation, walking over to the painting.
"Ink & Blood?"
"Without a doubt, I know it's grim but it just stands out."
"Yeah." Derek walked over to stand slightly behind Stiles.
"I am sorry you know. I just started coming in early to get some quiet time with the art, ya know. When no one was here. And then I kept noticing the errors, and i physically cannot stop myself so I did one. Then you started coming to talk to me about the vandal and I couldn't stop, you would have stopped coming to hang with me. Then it was way too past an acceptable time to let you in on the secret." Stiles shrugged, actively not looking at Derek.
"Hey." He tapped Stiles on the shoulder. "Do you wanna go out sometime?"
"On a date." A new smile flashed across Stiles' face, his tongue peeking out from behind his teeth slightly. His eyes glinted mischievously.
"God help me. Yes." Derek laughed. "I'll never be bored with you will I?"
"Never." He grinned, moving closer and pressing his lips to Derek's lightly. "Without me, you'd still be displaying wrong facts about art."
"Dick."