Chapter 12 - Fair Stalls and Hard Balls

The earsplitting crack of wood slamming into wood followed by the clatter of numerous weighty items toppling atop one another and rolling noisily against a metal surface thundered in Minho's head as he trailed a chattering Stiles and an ever stoic Derek through the park, nearly flinching back against the sheer loudness of the awful din as they approached the source of the endless hell song - Curse supernatural hearing. Sure, it had many benefits - Like, maybe, listening in on one's best friend while they had "private time." (Thomas always seemed to choose the deadheads, though why anyone would want to jerk off beside dead people, Minho would never know - Nor did he know that Thomas masturbated in the Glader's makeshift cemetery for that matter. Nope. He wasn't an eavesdropping pervert in the least.) - But damn it could be a pain in the ass, or more accurately the head if the migraine Minho was starting to have was anything to go by.

Thomas eyed the booths interestedly as they approached, hazel orbs wide and excited as they came to stand before a tent covered oak table where a man covered in enough hair to qualify him as more of an animal then Minho or Derek stood leaning against the wood and grinning eagerly at the little group as they approached.

"Step right up! Step right up!" The man bellowed enthusiastically, his double chin bouncing fluidly as he threw his arms out in invitation and gave a hearty laugh that jiggled his bulging stomach like a Santa Claus starring in a cliche children's story.

The rancid scent of body odour and rotten beef washed over Minho in a nauseating wave as the group came to a halt in front of the counter, making him feel as if they were on the Tilt-A-Whirl once more as his stomach decided to join a team of Olympic acrobats and was going for gold.

Before Minho's stomach could bring home a shiny medal for its country, Derek Hale wordlessly slammed a few neatly folded dollars down on the wooden surface, earning a wild grin from the game master as the dude reached under the counter and produced four large wooden balls from somewhere, easily fitting the items in his huge, sweat drenched hands

"Derek's really good at this game." Stiles explained excitedly, watching his boyfriend with attentive eyes as the Alpha plucked up the first ball and squinted at the far side of the sloping tent, where a second counter housed a few small towers of old wooden pins stacked atop one another.

Derek lowered his body and fixed his goal with a grave stare so full of intensity Minho was surprised the pins didn't burst into flames on the spot. The wolf's lips twisted into a determined snarl as he drew back, bringing his arm far behind his body and clutching the unfortunate wooden object tight enough that Minho was sure he heard it crack in the guy's grip.

Minho struggled to refrain from snorting amusedly. All these theatrics were ridiculous and Derek looked more as if he were bracing himself for a battle of life or death rather than to throw a ball at some sticks at a carnival. It was a silly game and the alpha was only making a fool out of himself.

Except then an ear shattering crack ripped through the air, exploding in the quiet and absolutely demolishing Minho's poor unfortunate ear drums as he nearly reared back at the sound and struggled not to clasp his hands over his over sensitive ears. Then came the rolling of pins and the boy had to refrain from groaning as he gazed at the empty area where the pins Derek had been aiming for once stood, now left as barren as Minho might as well be since he honestly could not picture ever wanting to stick his dick in anything that wasn't Thomas.

Speaking of the inevitable cause of the end of Minho's bloodline, he flinched at the deafening sound, recoiling into Minho's side as his addictive scent inexplicably soured with the worrisome smell Minho had finally placed as guilt when they'd first arrived in Beacon Hills.

"You weren't playing!" Thomas chuckled awedly before Minho had a chance to wonder about his companion's off reaction, the boy seeming to recover from his momentary discomfort as quickly as it had come.

"Yeah, he is really sexy." Stiles replied dazedly, his amber eyes glazed over with adoration as he stared past the Gladers to keep his gaze fixed resolutely on Derek's arms as if the bulging veins spoke to him in a language only he could understand. "I mean, yeah! Yeah! Told you so." Stiles quickly corrected after an embarrassingly long moment, finally breaking his staring contest with his boyfriend's biceps to snap momentarily back to reality before the display immediately drew him back in.

Derek turned to gaze proudly back at the group, usually stoic face contorted in the beginnings of a victorious smirk as the arms apparently became too much for Stiles and the boy bounded the short distance between them, practically leaping into the older man and still managing to throw the wolf slightly off balance despite their obvious size difference in his excitement - Like a small, brunette torpedo rocketing into a brick wall.

"Damn! And here I thought you had a throwing arm, Min!" Thomas laughed lightly, looking impressed and smiling teasingly as he playfully shoved the wolf in question with his shoulder, the slight contact making angels sing in Minho's head, a brilliant chorus complete with all the bells and whistles: Harps, heavenly light, the whole shebang.

Despite that, Minho's wolf was displeased. His mate should be impressed with him. The desire to do absolutely anything to regain Thomas's attention bubbled up inside him and pressed him to run into the forest and fell the largest predator he could find to drag back and lay at the brunette boy's feet until praised.

"What about you, boyo? Wanna win something for your little boyfriend?" The chunky ball of lard bellowed, drawing Minho's attention back to the world where it was unacceptable to drag the dead carcass of wild animals to one's best friend.

Minho totally reacted smoothly and cooly, keeping a coy attitude and remaining collected at all times as he professionally replied to the obviously confused man, ready to correct this foolish misinterpretation as calmly as possible... Meaning, that he sputtered unintelligibly for a good minute, eyes blown wide and face flushed red as the ketchup stains he's spotted on Isaac's shirt earlier that day as he sprayed spit and squeaked out an inhuman sound no living creature could possibly interpret.

Minho's embarrassment burned like liquid fire through his veins, his face ablaze as he firmly clamped his unobedient mouth shut seeing as his response was obviously not panning out as planned and was probably only making it more obvious how the simple question had thrown him for a loop.

Meanwhile, the game runner merely chuckled knowingly and began reaching down for the wooden balls before Minho had even agreed, seeming to already know how this was going to play out. Derek Hale barked out a sharp snort of a laugh somewhere in the background, likely able to scent the other wolf's humiliation.

Except, Thomas merely laughed lightly, smiling easily and unbotheredly at the confused soul behind the counter and, for some inexplicable reason, did not open his mouth to correct the man. Aside from that, the brunette's intoxicating scent exploded with an electrifying spike of happiness and warmed with the underlying tone of something sweet and deep, countless layers of honey and sugar combining to make a single, earth shattering smell. Minho couldn't put a name to the flavor but it was nothing short of downright addictive and his wolf wanted more of it. Actually, he kinda just wanted to drown himself in it, really. Who needed to breathe air anyway? Oxygen couldn't possibly compare to the hypnotic aroma and besides, suffocation was all the rage nowadays.

Rather than actually replying, Minho merely produced his wallet and grabbed a few crinkled dollars before haphazardly slamming the bills on the table, not trusting his words at the moment and pretty sure if he opened his mouth and inhaled the smell there was a 99.9% chance he was going to lose what little restraint he still had and pounce Thomas like a piece of meat.

The man behind the counter slammed his huge hand down over the wrinkled pieces of paper, completely concealing them deep in the recesses of his meaty folds before drawing the appendage back towards his hefty frame, seeming to straight up absorb the cash as it disappeared into the chunky flesh - Maybe the dude ate the dollars with his overactive sweat glands. The living potato sack then produced three large wooden balls from beneath the counter, his movements agonizingly slow and leaving him looking as if he was stuck in some parallel universe where everyone was spliced with molasses.

Minho bit back an inpatient growl as the dude's huge hand slowly lifted off the wooden items, leaving a glistening sweat stain on the balls as they were finally freed from the guy's endless mountains of flab. The wolf darted forward as soon as he could, snatching the balls from the counter and indiscreetly wiping them off on his pants with a look of disgust, grimacing as he tried not to choke on the stomach churning scent of salt and body order flooding his senses and drowning out the last lingering remnants of Thomas's sweet scent.

The werewolf stalked over to where Stiles was just beginning to untangle himself from Derek, sort of reminding Minho of an octopus in the way the brunette's lanky limbs reluctantly unentwined from where they had twisted around the Alpha in ways the boy hadn't even known to be possible.

"What do you want?" Derek finally managed to question the smaller male as Stiles finally stopped collapsing the guy's esophagus in his tight grip, the werewolf nodding towards the colorful row of plush toys lining the top of the game tent. The stuffed animals were strung up to frame the canvas and overflowing over the sides of the display area, all fluffy looking monstrosities with huge, oversized, lifeless eyes that made Minho cringe to even look at and left the Keeper hurrying to get to his place and take his turn in an attempt to escape the toys' dead stare as quickly as possible.

Despite his hurry, Minho did manage to see Stiles flush slightly, cheeks turning as pink as his lips, as he pointed at a brightly colored snake that was currently hanging from the top of the tent yet still almost dragging the ground in its fullness, its vibrant blue tail just sweeping the tips of the grass as the bulbous man behind the counter reached up to untie it. Minho nearly gagged at the way the dude's arm fat collapsed in rolls over the extended limb and shook with each tiny motion as he struggled against the cords before finally managing to free the prize after a long moment of grunting and wheezing with breathless effort.

Derek took the vibrant stuffed animal from the guy and turned back towards his boyfriend, who was now practically bouncing on the balls of his feet in his excitement, grinning from ear to ear as he reached out both hands and eagerly flexed his long fingers in a grabby motion. Surprising Minho,who had been under the impression Derek Hale was an impenetrable fortress of grumpiness, the alpha's lips curled upwards in the beginnings of a smile as he ignored the teen's grabbing digits and slung the snake around the kid's neck instead, letting it hang low over Stiles's shoulders as the brunette eyed the muscled guy confusedly, hazel orbs wide and questioning.

Minho quickly reverted his attention back to his own set of pins as Derek grabbed either end of the snake and used it to tug the smaller male closer to himself, leaning down to effectively cut off Stiles startled squeak at being moved by pressing his lips against the brunette's.

Minho eyed the pins suspiciously as if he half expected them to run away the moment he chucked a ball at them, his gaze intense and analyzing as he tossed the ball experimentally from hand to hand, trying to get a sense of how it flew. The werewolf calculated the weight of the item in his hand, measuring the distance between himself and the goal as he planted his feet far apart from each other in an attempt to gain balance. The supernatural being shifted his weight from one foot to the other as he drew his arm back in preparation for the pitch, narrowing his dark eyes and trying to picture an invisible line from his hand to the pins on the far side of the counter.

Then Minho said fuck it and threw the damn ball already.

A loud crash could be heard, then the abhorrent sound of something being ripped. However, there was no satisfying sound of pins crashing together or rolling across the smooth surface of the table and when Minho gazed at the pins he'd been aiming for, he saw them all sitting exactly where they'd been before, stacked neatly atop each other in a perfect pile. There was however a tattered hole through the canvas tent off to the left of them. Whoops. So much for supernatural reflexes, supernatural strength was doing just fine on the other hand.

"Holy shit, Min!" Thomas snorted through a fit of giggles but didn't get much farther than that as his snickers bubbled up into a full belly laugh that stole his words away and left him a trembling mess.

Minho really gave a monumental effort to glare at his friend but it proved rather difficult to do so when his heart decided to elope with his stomach and take up residence in his throat at the mere sight of Thomas overwhelmed with laughter.

The pretty brunette was doubled over, wheezing in gasping breaths of air as he wrapped his long arms around his stomach in an attempt to regain control over his giggles, though it proved to be little to no avail as the teen stuttered out something Minho couldn't quite catch through the breathless wheezes and immediately fell back into a renewed fit of laughter.

"You're supposed to aim at the pins, pup." Derek snorted dryly from where he stood nearby, though his witless sarcasm lost a bit of its bite when Minho turned to glare at the guy and found him to be tied to Stiles by a neon snake. The sly brunette had somehow managed to get the toy around both of their waists and was now beginning to work on tying the werewolf's hands behind his back, seemingly unnoticed as Derek was too busy smirking cockily at Minho.

Minho really intended to bite back a snarky response but his attention was suddenly yanked back to Thomas with whiplash causing strength as the brunette finally overcame his hysterics and restraightened himself. This would have all been fine and dandy if the Runner hadn't then proceeded to tip his head back to gasp in a huge calming breath as he apparently tried to recover from his sudden fit of giggles, leaving the pale column of his neck on full display.

Now, Minho had more practice in self control than most - As the majority of the populous usually didn't have to constantly fight the overwhelming urge to pin their best friend on the nearest surface that was vaguely flat and not made of bees - But all of that resilience was blown away like dust caught in a fucking tornado as Thomas swallowed back a heavy gulp of air, his throat bobbing with the action and highlighting a thin line of sweat slowly trailing down the expanse of his skin.

Claim. Wolfy demanded in a low whine, absolutely refusing to let Minho break his gaze from the sight despite the boy's best attempts to do so and the wolf was pretty sure an absolutely pathetic whimper managed to claw its way past his clamped lips as his eyes tracked the motion against his will.

It might have been all over then if Derek hadn't actually done something helpful for once in his miserable existence and slammed another unfortunate ball into a stack of pins, the earshatterung sound breaking through the haze of delusional fantasy (What? Thomas could totally bare his neck and beg for Minho to sink his fangs into the sensitive flesh there. It could happen.) Minho had become lost in and dragging his sorry ass back to reality where Thomas was presumably not about to offer himself up to be the wolf's new chew toy.

Minho glowered disdainfully at the toppled pins, grateful for the excuse to look anywhere besides at Thomas since that was obviously going to lead to him pouncing the brunette and devouring him like a piece of meat but still feeling unhappy at not being able to impress his mate with his obviously superior fair game skills.

Derek then turned back with a victorious glint in his gray eyes, a smirk tugging at his lips as he made eye contact with Minho, gaze hard and challenging.

Minho growled and grabbed one of his remaining balls, glaring steadily back into the Alpha's stare as he stalked to the counter. If Derek wanted a challenge, that's what Minho would give him.