Tall, Dark and Handsome meets Almost Tall, Fair-Skinned and Sarcasm {Sterek}

Chapter 13: Breaking walls

"Well that was a bust," I said into the phone, and Scott groaned on the other end.

"You're telling me," he griped. "Can I sleep in my own bed tonight? Or did you need a chaperone?" He asked sarcastically.

I rolled my eyes before I remembered he couldn't see me. "No, I don't need a chaperone," I snapped. "Besides, he locked himself in my room when we got home and I haven't seen him since. I'd rather sleep on the horrifically uncomfortable couch than deal with the werewolf that's allergic to the entire spectrum of human emotion besides his beloved anger."

Scott whistled on the other end of the phone. "Trouble in paradise?" He asked. "Seriously Stiles, I can sleepover again if he's giving you any trouble-," he started to offer.

"No, it's fine. Get some sleep Scotty," I cut him off. "I can handle sourwolf."

"I'm only a phone call away," he reminded me, before hanging up.

I shoved my phone into my pocket with more force than necessary before scrubbing my hands over my face. It was getting late, I needed to figure something out for dinner. I sighed dramatically as I rose from the couch, my shirt riding up as I stretched my sore muscles and walked into the kitchen. My eyes were still closed as I basked in the feeling of the stiff muscles loosening the longer I held my arms above my head. I walked blindly into the kitchen, finally opening my eyes as my hand came to rest on the door of the fridge. The pickings were slim... so I settled on chicken Caesar salad. Quick, easy, and healthy. I sniggered as I thought about how much dad hated suppers that only consisted of a salad. It was for his own good.

I nearly jumped out of my skin when I noticed Derek leaning against the doorframe.

"Christ! How are you so sneaky?!" I demanded as I attempted to restart my heart, my hand clutching my chest dramatically. "How long have you been standing there?" I asked as I eyed him suspiciously.

"Long enough to know you could walk through your house blindfolded," he smirked playfully as his eyes shot down to check me out for a moment.

I didn't think about the action, but observed him silently for a moment. Two hours ago he was practically shaking with rage. Now, he seemed cool as a goddamned cucumber. I can't keep up. I didn't know if I even wanted to. This guy would give me a run for my money.

"You know, you really are going to give me whiplash one of these days," I decided, turning back to preparing supper.

"What's that supposed to mean?" He asked defensively as he moved to take a seat at the table. I could feel his eyes on me, and refrained from shivering under the attention.

"It means I can't keep up with your mood swings. And for someone that barely acknowledges emotions, you seem to have a lot of them," I elaborated.

Derek stayed silent behind me, and I couldn't help glancing over my shoulder at him. His jaw was locked, and I couldn't read the emotion in his eyes. As the oil popped in the pan under the weight of the chicken, I turned to face him fully.

"What's going on in that big head of yours?" I wondered. He swallowed thickly and I watched as his Adam's Apple moved in his throat. My eyes were drawn back up to his as he cleared his throat- as if he might speak. He opened his mouth for a moment, but snapped it shut again before anything came out. I could practically hear him gritting his teeth from here, and I wanted to do that same. What is it about him? Why do I care if he doesn't want to share anyway? Being around him was both intoxicating and infuriating, like my own special kind of torture. "Fine, don't share with the class," I snapped, flipping the chicken before it burned.

It was silent for a few more minutes while I chopped the salad, and my frustration only grew.

"What are you making?" He asked quietly, and if I didn't know better I would have used the word meekly.