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He tried to remember who had talked him into this. Sure, he was trained for protecting, had the appropriate skills to be a bodyguard, and most definitely had the detachment ability necessary to be personal security. Still, it was not a job he had ever had any intention having, let alone trying to make a career in. As far as he was aware, this wasn’t even something that should have been possible -- all royal families had died out or given up any power they had a long time ago.
However, with the world only just scraping past its end several years ago, things had changed. There were a lot of werewolves who survived the almost-apocalypse easier, but the humans had suffered. They were almost entirely extinct, and the worst hit were the ones with even a hint of magical abilities. During the big war, they’d been targeted, used for their magic and spellcasting, often thrown into battle without any concern for their survival. So now that things had settled, and the world was slowly stabilising, those with magic in their blood who’d made it through were treated as royalty.
None of them had been given property or ruling over groups of people, but they were allocated protection to prevent them being used by any surviving rebels. Werewolves, on the other hand, since they were in the majority now, had the responsibility to take care of those humans. The Sparks. The Druids. The Harry Potters of the modern, post-apocalyptic world. (Yes, books had survived the disasters, and with them did legends and truths about magic)
The war that started as an attempt by hunters of the supernatural to wipe out all werewolves and other creatures of the night ended up nearly destroying what was considered “pure” humanity.
Derek barely had anyone left in the world, his family had been destroyed before the worst part of the war even began. What he had -- thanks to his family’s demise -- were survival skills and lack of trust that made him perfect for protection services. He’d been doing it for a few years, since the time that he prevented the assassination of the Druid who worked with the Hale pack. Deaton -- the Druid -- had protected Derek and two of his sisters from the attack against their family, and the four of them made it out alive. When the targeting of magic users began, Derek was the one who managed to keep Deaton safe through several attempts to kidnap or kill him. Now that he was no longer in immediate danger, and Derek’s younger sister Cora took over the task of protecting him, Derek was asked to work with others who didn’t have those kinds of werewolf connections.
Stiles was a Spark who acted as the Emissary of a pack almost smaller than Derek’s. It only had one werewolf -- not even an Alpha -- and three humans who miraculously managed to survive. After the peace treaties, they emerged from the woods around what used to be a small town that was once under the Hales’ protection, and Stiles himself was almost immediately given guards to stop any attempts to take him out of the picture. Laura, Derek’s older sister and his Alpha, was close to the pack that took in Stiles and his pack, and friendly with Alpha Satomi who provided the initial protection.
Still, Derek wasn’t quite sure who suggested that he take over the security duties. He suspected it was a joint effort from both his sisters, because they both knew exactly what his type was when it came to guys, and Stiles fit every detail. Smart, witty, sharp, always ready with a comeback, and from a purely aesthetic point tall, thin, and with the most adorable (not Derek’s words, he never said that) upturned nose.
It didn’t matter how Derek got here, though. What mattered was that he was determined to not let Stiles’ security be at risk because of his own failure of judgment due to distractions. Even if the biggest distraction came from the person he was protecting.
“Come on, loosen up, Derek,” Stiles said for what felt like the millionth time. “Where’s the fun in always being on guard? The war is over, the threat levels have been lowered to a solid two on a ten-scale.”
“That doesn’t mean anything, and you know that,” Derek grumbled back, his eyes scanning the room they were in, assessing each person in it.
“We’re here to dance,” Stiles told him, his fingers twitching at his sides. “How am I supposed to dance if you won’t let me near anyone who’s not Scott.”
Derek sighed. He could see Stiles’ point in not wanting to dance with his best friend and de facto Alpha. Especially since Scott had absolutely no sense of rhythm or a good taste in music. Not to mention that he was currently occupied with Kira, a kitsune whose family moved into the area recently.
“I don’t…” Derek started, ready with an explanation.
He froze when Stiles’ fingers wrapped around his wrist.
“You don’t think it’s safe. You don’t know these people and how much of a threat they could possibly be,” Stiles rattled off.
There was no mocking or anger in his voice, to Derek’s surprise. Stiles understood, as much as it annoyed him to have limitations put on whatever he did.
“I have a solution,” Stiles said, and Derek turned his head sharply.
“You do?”
“I do. It’s simple, really, when you think about it,” he said, his eyes sparkling with mischief and maybe a hint of magic. “You’re a safe option. You know you’re not a threat, I know you have no intention to kill me....”
“That’s debatable sometimes,” Derek muttered under his breath, and he thought he could hear both his sisters chuckle even though they were nowhere close.
“You should dance with me,” Stiles finished, holding Derek’s gaze.
It was proof of how far gone Derek was that the only reply he managed was a nod.