Work Text:
It was the old-fashioned and probably antique in some cases bottles that always piqued his interest when he entered this shop. The dark blue and green bottles with the skull and crossbones symbol on them, proclaiming them to be either toxic or to have poisons in them.
Murder in a bottle. Not that he hadn’t availed himself of one or two of them on occasions. Situations sometimes required that kind of tact.
“Ahh… look the Hales send me the prettiest of gifts.”
If he hadn’t been used to Stiles by now, that would have come off as down right creepy, which was saying something considering he was Talia’s Left Hand.
Today wasn’t about poisons though he was after a couple of books that he knew Stiles had and some more esoteric potion ingredients. Things that came from places you didn’t want to know about, any more that you wanted to know how they’d ended up at the shop. Mostly Stiles dealt with things that were freely given, but he was fairly certain on occasion that Stiles wasn’t beyond collecting some of them himself.
After all the shop had been in the Gajos hunting clan for generations. It had been no surprise to anyone when Stiles had taken over from Claudia, even if the family had run it for him for a few years. Claudia had been this power house wrapped up in the soft cotton and woollen blankets. She could be gentle one moment and deadly the next and Gods help you if you ever crossed her or threatened her family. And Stiles took after her with a side of snark that could eviscerate you without him even trying.
While most of the clan had settled in Poland a century or so ago holding that part of Eastern Europe, they had branches all over the world. The difference between the Gajos and other clans, was that they had been and were still in some cases a travelling people. True Romani hiding among modern day travellers. Keeping an eye on and keeping nomadic hunters in check, those that thought it was a hunter’s right to kill the supernatural on sight. Rather than being their communities idea of Protect and Serve.
Stiles efficiently produced the books and ingredients he wanted, mostly without him even having to ask for what he needed. There had been a side-eye and a puzzled frown as Stiles worked out which potion he was going to be making. It was kind of cute in an odd way.
“Courting gift?” The question was bright with a touch of amusement. Though there was something he couldn’t quite put his finger on, something that for half a second seemed to colour the air with melancholy.
There were rumours, of course, that Stiles’ marriage had been arranged almost from the moment he could walk. Though to whom no one really seemed to know, though everyone thought they did. It was an interesting piece of magic.
And that was something he kept very much to himself. Hunters that were capable of magic? Dangerous, really fucking dangerous. But as far as he’d been able to work out there was no history of them abusing it. No hunters were as white as snow but the Gajos clan was probably as close as any hunting family could get.
“Not really, just something I felt I needed to have, you know? One of those feelings that you should always listen to.” Feelings that he’d leaned to take seriously years ago, the ones that kept his pack safe, protected his family. The ones that every Left Hand should have and that many didn’t seem to show any signs of.
The look that Stiles gave him was considering, the same kind of considering a cat gave a mouse before it pounced. Not a feeling he was used to.
A bottle that appeared from seemingly nowhere was added to the pile to be rung up. The glass originally would have been clear but now was cloudy with age to the point of not really being able to tell if there was actually anything in it. The draw to pick it up, though, sang through him causing his hands feel empty.
“What…?” For a moment, he thought he saw shadows behind Stiles. Familiar and not, the kind that made your skin crawl and would haunt your dreams before they wrapped you up in blankets to keep you warm. All the old legends hanging in the air before a blink of the eye cleared them away.
“A Romani opening gift, a deceleration of intention. Open it to accept, return it unopened, and we remain as we are … friends kind of.” For a moment Stile’s eyes seemed to bleed from chocolate to gold and back, something that could be a trick of the light. Or would be if the shop hadn’t been quite so dark.
Stiles added a further book to the bag, one caused the air to bend round it with the amount of magic it was giving off. A book so old that it’s binding had darkened with the hundreds maybe even thousands of hands that had handled it. He was pretty sure if he decided against he wouldn’t even remember the book. For all it was currently raising the hairs on the back of neck and calling his wolf close to the surface.
There was a spark of a promise as Stiles lips brushed across his cheek as he left the shop. A whisper of something deep inside him. Weres didn’t have mates that was just foolish fantasy written in stupid books. But maybe there was a thread of something close in that touch.