Soulmates | Derek Hale

seven.

Maeve slowly walked up the steps into the loft, practically asleep after her shift at work, her recent case taking all of the little energy she had left.

Unlocking the sliding doors, Maeve stopped, glancing across the hall to Dereks loft.

Derek had been quiet recently, in fact, she hadn't heard from him at all in almost two days, which was weird as Derek had developed a habit of coming to put Luna to bed every night after her nightmare.

Maeve slid open the heavy door with a huff, Derek never locked it, but she still had a key.

Maeve scanned the room, surprised to find Derek not in his bed or asleep on the couch. The barley furnished loft was empty, Derek nowhere go be found, and Maeve couldn't help the sinking bad feeling in her chest.

—

"Come on, Derek. He killed your sister."

Derek glared the floor angrily, Kate's irritating voice was like stabs to his ears. He lost track of how long he'd been stuck in the basement of his old home, hoping that someone would realise he was missing sooner or later.

"Now - either you're not telling me because, well, you want to kill him yourself, or for some reason - You're protecting him."

Derek flinched as Kate grabbed at his chin, tilting his head up to face her; "Look at that sour face. I bet you always get people coming up to you saying, 'Smile, Derek.', 'Why don't you smile more?' Don't you just wanna kick those people in the face?"

Derek pulled on the chains, growling, "I can think of one."

—

"Stop smiling like that."

Derek stood in the doorway of his and Maeve's room, lips clamped shut trying to shield his laughter.

Maeve groaned in frustration, lying back on their bed, covering her face with her pillow, "It's not funny!"

Derek's loud laughter filled the room, Maeve moved the pillow, throwing it at him, "Derek!"

"I just can't get over how you managed to get shot," Derek walked into the room, sitting at the end of their bed, "on your first day. Or how you got out from going to the hospital."

It was Maeve's first day on patrol until she could make it up to be a detective, and despite being a werewolf with super senses, Maeve found herself getting shot in her first encounter with a criminal of the day.

Maeve turned around, lifting her head to look at her husband of three years, "Told them a fake hospital and took my holiday leave."

Derek smiled in amusement, running his hand over her legs as Maeve tossed them into his lap, rolling onto her back.

"You know I'm going to have to have a conversation with my partner as to why you laughed when they called to tell you i'd been shot."

Derek smiled innocently, "It is quite funny."

Maeve gently kicked him off the bed, "You know what's actually funny? You sleeping on our tiny couch tonight!"

"Maeve," Derek wined, landing on the cream carpet.

"No, no, the injured claims the bed," Maeve playfully glared, sitting in the middle of their bed, "I've been shot, don't be so insensitive."

Derek rolled his eyes, turning to the door as he played along, "Fine."

"Shouldn't the injured get a kiss goodnight?" Maeve called after him, Derek smiled to himself, walking back into the room.