Watching Derek dote on someone is hard – harder than Stiles
thought it would ever be, despite the fact he knows it’s insincere; despite the
fact it’s the job and nothing more.
It’s hard because
Stiles hasn’t had those arms around him in months, hasn’t had opportunity to
arrange a chance meeting on a crowded street in weeks, hasn’t had Derek’s eyes
meet his and watched his mouth curl into a smile for him.
Derek’s team have
been fairly indulgent, letting Stiles tag along on the assignment to observe
and allowing him to blend with various crowds just to be close to Derek. Early
on, before Derek insinuated himself into their mark’s life, they even allowed
them to talk on the phone, but that might as well have been in another
hates his job, hates Derek’s job, hates the fact they’d never have met if it
wasn’t for their jobs because then he can’t hate it as much.
Stiles is across the
restaurant and he can’t tear his eyes away from the back of Derek’s head for
more than a few seconds at a time, usually at the prompting of the agent he’s
sitting across from.
“I don’t expect you will really understand the beauty of the softly simmering cauldron with its shimmering fumes, the delicate power of liquids that creep through human veins, bewitching the mind, ensnaring the senses…”