Title: TBD

Author: Sibyl Moon

Fandom: Teen Wolf

Relationship: Stiles/Derek

Word Count: 2037

Warnings/Rating: Canon-Typical-Violence, references to love potions

Summary: A Magical Bookshop AU

Author Note: My experiment with magical realism

~ 

Chapter One

Leaning back against the counter, Stiles watched his latest customer leave in a flurry of acidic anger. Shaking his head, he followed her trail of destruction with a calculating gaze and wondered if it was worth writing up a bill and sending it to her.

“Some people just can’t take disappointment very well,” He said, pushing off the repurposed apothecary counter and walking forward to lock up so he could begin to clean up the mess. 

Binx was waiting by the door; he looked up from where he’d been grooming himself and blinked at Stiles before glancing at the door. His black fur was still ruffled from the passage of their moody client.

“I know!” Stiles waved back at the counter. “It says right on the sign that we don’t do love spells.”

Binx blinked back at him and stretched, obviously done with the drama for the morning. He sauntered away, probably searching for a dozing Marie to curl up with.

Stiles sighed, flicking the lock and turning the sign from open to closed. He returned to the items that Connie Walker had managed to dump off the shelves in her dramatic exit when Stiles denied her the love potion she’d wanted.

“Just a little one. It’s not a big deal,” Stiles mocked in falsetto as he began to gather up the crystals and gemstones into the baskets. He was glad there hadn’t been anything too expensive in her path. 

He grimaced at the display of oils that had shattered. The scent of incense and other herbs filled the shop more than usual, and he knew he was going to have to prop the door open for a bit once things were cleaned up. “Love spells might not be our thing, but I’m not against a little misfortune sent Ms. Walker’s way,” he grumbled, setting the basket of gems back on the shelf and heading to the back room to get the cleaning supplies. Getting the oil up from the hardwood was going to be fun.

***

“Did she really?” Kira fell sideways, giggling. “Was she wearing that awful fake fur coat?”

“That’s what did most of the damage,” Stiles huffed, taking a drink of his brightly colored cocktail. He wasn’t sure what was in it, but Kira assured him that it would make him feel better. “She kept flinging it around as she stomped out of the shop. Now I have to spend all of tomorrow morning remaking those oils, and another batch of balms as well. She took out an entire shelf of candles, but those seemed to have come out with only minimal damage.”

“All that for a love spell?” Kira shook her head. “Isn’t she married?”

“She wants me to match her son and a girl from an appropriate family,” Stiles said, raising his brow at Kira. “It’s so gross I almost cursed her on her way out before she’d even knocked anything over.”

“Sounds like she might have deserved something,” Kira said, sipping at her bright blue drink. She sat back in the booth, her eyes twinkling in the bar’s dim lights. “Then again, she seems like the kind of person who will end up attracting negative energy all on her own.”

“I wouldn’t mind helping it along,” Stiles replied, rolling his head as he tried to loosen the tension in his shoulders. “It should be fine. I’m keeping an eye on the situation now to make sure that she doesn’t branch out somewhere else. No shop nearby will sell her what she’s looking for, but that doesn’t mean she won’t find some backwoods asshole or, worse, order from some shady dealer online and poison her son.”

“If you’re worried you should tell the Hales,” Kira said, slurping up the last of the slush in her glass. “You know that they can help keep an eye out if she goes looking for other sources.”

“Nope, nope, not going to do it,” Stiles said, shaking his head as he sliced his hand through the air in front of him. “This is magical territory, which makes it mine. I don’t need them poking their noses into it and then getting all judgy about it.”

“Are you still mad about that thing with Derek?” Kira frowned at him. She set her glass down and laid her hand on his arm. “Don’t you think it’s time that the two of you learned how to work together?”

“No.” Stiles avoided meeting Kira’s gaze and finished his own drink. “This is delicious, what was it called again?”

“Tequila Sunrise, you’ve had it before. Stop deflecting, the two of you act like toddlers,” She sat up and looked around the bar. 

“It’s not my fault that Derek Hale is an asshole,” Stiles said, frowning at her. He held up his hands in surrender when she opened her mouth. “I need more to drink if we’re going to talk about Derek Hale, and his expressive eyebrows, and his attractive everything.”

“I never said he was attractive,” Kira muttered behind him as he stood up and headed towards the bar. 

Stiles weaved his way through the crowd. The place had been nearly empty when he and Kira had arrived an hour ago, but it was filling up fast now. He managed to get the bartender’s attention and put his order in for a couple of fresh drinks before turning to survey the bar. 

He knew it had opened up a couple of months ago but hadn’t had a chance to stop in before tonight, and he was only here at Kira’s insistence that they weren’t going to drink a bottle of wine with his cats when there was a perfectly good bar open in town now.

It was a nice place as far as bars went. It was clean and didn’t have much negative energy hanging over it, either. Stiles didn’t think that was just because it was new either; he could see the touches of spellwork that spoke of supernatural security as well as the mundane. He poked at the wards to see if he could tell who had placed them; there was something about some of the work that niggled at him. 

“Ah fuck.” Marilyn French, of course, it was. He hoped the owners didn’t regret their choice of witch. Marilyn was known to cut corners and do some shoddy work in the recent past. He weighed the advisability of looking up the owners and warning them when the bartender reappeared with his drinks.

“Did you know mediocre Marilyn is the one who did the wards for this place,” Stiles said, sliding into the booth next to Kira, his voice hushed as he passed her a drink. “I’m thinking about warning them about her reputation. The last place she warded was Donnelly’s over on 6th street.”

“Isn’t that the place that has the pipes backing up constantly and the pixie problem?” Kira frowned, glancing around as if speaking about the pixies would spark them into being. “That place is warded? We haven’t been able to go there for months. I think it got closed down by mundane authorities for a rodent infestation.”

“Yep, Marilyn slapped up some half-assed wards on the place and called it a day. Her repellent wards were reversed. They were worried that something else was wrong. So they called me in to look over her work—”

“As they should,” Kira said smugly. “Because you’re the best, despite what those jerks at city hall think.”

Stiles grinned into his drink. Kira might have moved to Beacon Hills late in high school, but she’d realized how the town’s authorities had dismissed Stiles’ abilities pretty quickly.

“Yeah, they still like to operate under the belief that I’m little more than a hedge witch with barely a speck of talent. Especially since I turned down the gracious offer of apprenticeship under the great druid Alan Deaton.”

“Ptoo, Ptoo,” Kira said, making the sign of the evil eye before screwing her face up in a frown. “Wait, isn’t Marilyn his student—or was his student?”

“Yep,” Stiles said, popping the word obnoxiously before taking another drink and settling back in the booth. “Which is why when I reported the general incompetence, outright negligence, and her complete dereliction of duty in reporting the fact that the place was sitting on a mini nexus and therefore needed special handling—well, you can imagine how that went.”

“Did she get censured at all?” Kira sighed, stirring her drink with the straw and listening to the ice clink.

“A slap on the wrist and sent back to Deaton for further training. Since he failed so badly the first time, I don’t know how it’s supposed to help now.” He waved the frustration of that away and looked around the bar again. It was a nice place, and he had no idea why they’d gone with Marilyn to ward it; a dozen highly qualified magic users in the area could have done better work. There were others with better resumes; he’d written over half of them himself.

“Deaton is a dickhead,” Kira said, sipping at her drink. She straightened up so fast she startled Stiles. “Wait, you said that Marilyn did this place too? Stiles, you have to tell them.”

“That’s what I was debating,” Stiles said. “After what happened at Donnelly’s I made sure word got around. When the owners of this place went looking for someone to ward they should have heard about Marilyn’s less than stellar abilities and while she hadn’t been sanctioned by city hall, she has been pretty much blacklisted by the town’s circle despite Deaton’s influence.”

“Deaton, ptoo, ptoo,” Kira said. She grinned when Stiles laughed. “He really is a dickhead; how does he retain such a high position in town?”

“Politics.” 

“Ugh, gross.” Kira wrinkled her nose. 

“Word,” Stiles said, tilting his glass in her direction with a wry grin. “Deaton has his position because he knows how to play the game, and I don’t play—not with them—but he doesn’t lead our community the way they think, though and that’s what matters in the end. Marilyn shouldn’t have managed to get this job, which means that Deaton was poking his nose into things that weren’t his business. He chose his place years ago when he attached himself to city hall and stepped back from his position as Hale emissary.” Stiles grimaced. As much as he disliked most of the Hales and their attitudes towards his kind, he’d felt angry and betrayed on their behalf when Deaton had basically severed ties with the pack a decade ago, claiming he was needed to keep the balance and couldn’t do that as their emissary.

“Why did he want you as an apprentice anyway?” Kira frowned into her drink, rattling the ice one last time before setting it back on the table. “Not that you aren’t awesome, but it never made sense to me. You definitely don’t fit into my vision of a druid or Deaton’s version of balance.”

“I walk my own line; that’s true,” Stiles said, rolling his shoulders. “He was never clear about why he chose me. I always got the impression that he wanted to tether me rather than train me. He was worried I would turn out exactly as I have. You know how much he hates me—but that could be due to the time I punched him in the balls.” He grinned as Kira giggled; he’d told her the story years before.

He didn’t often think about Deaton’s offer. The man had preyed on him when he’d been young and grieving—his magic wild and sparking under his skin. Deaton had appeared at the house with the incense from Claudia’s death rites still heavy in the air. For the audacity—the disrespect—his mom would have punched the smug fucker in the face before he’d even opened his mouth. Deaton had commented about the balance working hand in hand with death so that he could train Stiles now that his mom was dead. Stiles hadn’t been tall enough to hit him in the face, so he’d punched him in the balls. He’d followed up with another one to the nose when Deaton had curled over before his dad had pulled him back.