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Last night had been an utter and complete success, all and all. He and Sara had eaten dinner, she looked so lovely in her dress, and he hardly minded that she didn't correct him when he called himself her boyfriend or the fact the the entire car ride back to her house, they had held hands. Despite the fact he had nearly stroked out from a public induced panic attack and they had to leave early, Sara seemed to have throughly enjoyed herself. He couldn't have been happier or more elated, so why was he lying in his bed now the next morning, brow furrowed to the point of scowling and bags under his eyes from a sleepless night?
He rose from his prison of damp sheets and paced the cold floor, trying to will an answer from thin air to his internal crisis. The taut threads of his patience were wearing thin, and his pajama bottoms, be it said, were in a similar condition. He uttered no more curses, but he breathed out a prolonged and ragged sigh such as to put all The boy who cried wolf's bitter wailing to shame. He ran his hands roughly through his obsidian hair and interlocked his hands behind his head before asking the darkness, "What the fHell am I supposed to do?" But the room was perfectly still. Even the faintly dancing shadows that played against the walls seemed subdued and indifferent, and the only sound to be heard was the soft panting of Derek Hale's quickened breath.
The question that a plagued him all night, that had turned a beautiful morning sour, that had his mind reeling and heart pounding was not an unfounded one...What sort of future did he and Sara have in Bellingstone?
Anyone else, anyone human, might of said: Isn't it too early to be thinking on that? That is a trouble for down the road. Wasn't your first date last night? But they were humans and humans couldn't concieve the complexities that came with being a lone wolf in another packs territory. It was one thing for Derek, so obviously not a threat on his own, to live on the fringes of the city; but it was another entirely for him to take interest in taking a mate--a former of their pack no less--and to appear to be forming a pack of his own. If this pack were like his--his old one--he amended, they'd see to it that the pair of loners either submitted, left, or died...as was pack law. Sure, it was an ancient law that most were loose on, but none the less, it was a possibility that the Alpha, the wolf who hadn't bothered to speak with Derek when he came into his own diner, practiced such principles.
He finally halted in his pacing and looked over his shoulder to the window blanketed in heavy black drapes. Sara saw this place as her home, and if she didn't want to leave then by God, Derek would take on every single wolf in that pack so that she could stay. Let it not be said that Derek Hale was not adversarial, that he was no fighter. He was an Alpha by rights, and whether or not he had a pack or didn't, his strength did not wane. He was a wolf, a wolf hopelessly in love.
Love always makes you do stupid things right?