Chapter 9

They finally reached Claire's house after a silent, but not uncomfortable walk through the woods. She stopped in her backyard, and chewed on her lip, thinking.

"What is it?" Derek asked, managing to look genuinely curious and arrogant at the same time. The man truly had the gift of condescension. Claire just sighed and shook her head before answering him.

"My mom is inside with a ton of children. I don't think she would take too kindly to a half naked man she may or may not remember seeing on the news for murder walking up the stairs to her daughter's bedroom." She said all of this while waving her hand around in the air as if it were obvious. Apparently, his condescension triggered her own.

He stared at her like he was deciding whether or not she could keep a secret, and then nodded.

"Go inside, and I'll meet you in your room."

"I appreciate the confidence, but there's really no way to get in my house without somebody seeing you."

She smiled to herself at the thought of finding him caught in a conversation with a toddler.

"Just go. I won't get caught."

Her eyebrow must have touched her hairline. God, he was cocky.

"Fine, but if my mom finds you, I'm not covering for your ass. Breaking and entering won't make your track record look any better, my friend," Claire said, before walking through the back door and closing it in his face.

Claire leaned up against the door and smirked. Slowly, her small smile spread into a huge grin and she laughed out loud. She was acutely aware of the blood pulsing through her veins and everything around her looked fuzzy. Adrenaline coursed through her, leaving her feeling giddy and somehow relaxed. So relaxed. She simultaneously wanted to scream and cuddle something soft. Her brain was so weird. Her mom came around the corner a moment later.

"What the heck are you laughing at?" she asked, looking concerned.

"I don't actually know. I just feel really, really good…ya know?"

It took her mother about ten seconds to reply, Claire grinning stupidly the entire time.

"Claire Dorothy Dawson are you high?!" she yelled, as she grabbed her daughter's face and looked closely at her eyes before giving her clothing a sniff. Claire laughed even harder.

"I'm not high, Mom. Promise."

Her mother's green eyes stared confusedly into her own blue ones before some kind of realization suddenly dawned on her face.

"You met a boy."

Claire immediately stopped laughing. Her mother could not know about Derek. She tried to feign confidence and scoffed.

"No I didn-," she started to say, her voice cracking.

"Don't give me that. I know that look very well. You met a boy, and you've just been to see him."

Her mother looked quite pleased with herself. She seemed to fancy herself as some kind of Sherlock Holmes.

"I'm just going to…go to my room," Claire said as she shimmied her way past her.

"I expect details!" she said before cackling loudly. Her evil laugh was coming along nicely, Claire thought bitterly, rubbing the sweat from her palms onto her jeans as she neared the staircase.

She forced herself to walk slowly up the stairs. If Derek was already up there, she didn't want him to hear her running up the stairs like an idiot to see him. Which was probably pointless, considering she had been caught stalking him on multiple occasions.

Claire didn't give herself time to feel nervous. She pushed open the door and was greeted by the sight of a shirtless Derek Hale, once again sitting in her computer chair, looking more awkward than usual.

She cleared her throat, and spoke in a quiet voice. "You actually made it up here without getting caught. Call me impressed."

He just gave her that look that said 'of course I didn't get caught and of course you're impressed.' Claire rolled her eyes and walked over to her dresser, trying to think of a way to bring him down a notch. She smirked as she dug through her dresser, and finally found what she was looking for.

"How about…this?" she said as she pivoted with a lacy pink camisole in hand. She held it up to her chest and did a little shimmy.

He fixed her with a look that was a mixture of irritation, confusion, and…was that amusement she detected? Claire burst out laughing, and threw the shirt at his face, before turning to find something more suitable for Mr. Grumpy-Gills.

While she was digging for something a little bigger, she heard him clear his throat.

"You wouldn't happen to have some ruby slippers to go with that tank top, would you, Dorothy?" he asked, the smirk in his voice evident.

Claire spun around on her heel.

"You heard that?"

He almost smiled.

"Definitely did."

Rolling her eyes, she tossed him one of her oversized nightshirts, and felt a mixture of relief and disappointment when he slipped it over his head and pulled it down his long torso. He was too good-looking not to gawk at like an idiot, but she really did miss the nice view. Claire flopped herself onto her bed, and then rolled on her stomach to look at Derek. He was sitting in her chair, attempting to look relaxed, and failing miserably.

"You have no idea how many people have made that joke. That's why I usually try to keep my middle name a secret. But, let's not talk about me. Tell me about 'The Mysterious," she put her hands in front of her face and wiggled them, "Derek Hale," she grinned, feeling silly, but she didn't know much about this man, and her imagination had gone wild dreaming up of all the possibilities his back-story might entail.

At the change of subject, his body tensed. After some time he seemed to be able to relax his muscles, but the suspicion never left his eyes.

"What do you need to know?"

Trust issues, much? Claire thought. It was like he was up on a witness stand or something.

"Well, I don't really need to know anything. I just figured after so many of our…interesting encounters, we should at least get know each other a little bit. Don't you think?"

Looking at his face, Claire saw a decision being made in Derek's head. All of a sudden he was not his usual angry self, but somehow seductive. He didn't dignify her last question with a response. Instead, he leaned toward her, his forearms resting on his thighs, and fixed his green eyes on her own. His voice lowered to something much softer than his usual, harsh tone.

"Okay. What would you like to know?"

She sucked in a breath. Jesus, she was only human. Be cool, bitch, be cool. Part of her brain registered that he was manipulating her, taking her off of her guard, but her stomach was doing flips, and she didn't know what to do except to feel her heart squeeze in her chest. For God's-sake, she was like a lovesick puppy. Bringing him here was a mistake.

"Are you from around here?" she finally stammered, going for casual, but probably looking more constipated than anything else.

"Yes. I grew up here. I graduated from Beacon Hills High School a few years back."

"Did you live around here after that?"

"No. I moved to Brooklyn after that."

"Brooklyn?! As in New York City?!" Claire blurted out.

"That's the one."

"Wow. That explains so much."

"Does it?"

"Not really."

He smirked.

"Okay, now you know where I'm from. What else would you like to know?"

"Yeah, um, give me a second," she said as she racked her brain for something to say to him. There were so many questions she wanted answered, but with him looking at her like that she had lost everything. To try to regain thought, Claire looked away from his face and stared at his hands and arms. His arms…

"How did you heal so fast after the other night? You were bleeding so much," she asked, only glancing up at his face after she had finished her question.

"Magic powers," he said as he smiled. He actually smiled, and she felt something inside her snap. It was probably the fakest thing she had ever seen. He was still looking at her like she was some kind of idiot who could be fooled by his stupid charm, and she didn't want to be played by him anymore.

"Actually, you know what?" she said, standing up. "I don't want to know. I think you should leave." She walked to her bedroom door and opened it. She stood to the side to let him through, but Derek didn't move from her desk chair, his façade finally dropped. There were no more emotions on his face except his usual angry eyes.

"Seriously, get out. If you didn't want to my answer questions about you, that's fine. Just tell me that instead of playing off of my feelings. Real dick-move, Derek," she spat at him.

Derek looked down at his lap, his eyebrows knit together, and his mouth opened for a second.

"I'm—," he said, and then abruptly stopped with a huff, and stood up. He walked over to her window, and opened it, before turning back to face her.

"See you around, Claire."

And then he jumped out her window.

"What the hell?" she gasped, running over to her window. Once again, Derek was nowhere in sight.

What the hell?

That was all her brain seemed capable of processing at the moment. What the fucking hell?