Chapter 13 - "Fair-ing" Pretty Well

The ball flew straight and strong, cutting a clean path through the cool night air until it connected with the wooden pins and toppled them all with one fell swoop, leaving the items to roll noisily around the metal counter they sat upon until they reached the edge of the surface and plummeted toward the ground.

Minho turned to sneer confidently at Derek, pride exploding inside him and drawing his lips up in a vicious smirk of victory as he crossed his arms defiantly over his chest and glared at the other wolf. The Asian received naught but an exasperated eye roll for his efforts so the Keeper quickly averted his attention to the real reason he'd been playing a stupid fair game relentlessly for the past three hours, turning to gaze behind himself in hopes of seeing an adorable brunette boy gazing at him in awe before bounding into the Runner's arms, overcome with adoration.

Instead Minho's hopeful gaze fell on some random snot-nosed brat who stood with her finger shoved far enough up her right nostril the werewolf was legitimately concerned she may pull her brain out.

"Stiles?" Derek's voice sounded somewhere behind Minho as the Keeper blinked blankly at the toddler who was obviously not a sexy teenage boy about to leap into his arms.

"They wandered off about twenty minutes ago." The gamekeeper spoke up, his voice dry and bored as he gazed exhaustedly at the two guys who'd hogged up his time for the majority of the evening. So much for Minho's great plan to impress Thomas.

"Shit." Derek huffed softly, frowning deeply with something almost readable as concern written across his face as he took a few steps forward and cast his dark eyes about the crowd.

Anxiousness clawed its way into Minho's chest. Legitimately, the wolf knew he was being paranoid; but everytime Thomas was out of his sight, the Keeper just couldn't calm down. The presence of the boy soothed the werewolf and when the brunette wasn't around everything just felt off - Like the entire world was shifted three inches to the left. Maybe it was how many times he'd almost lost the boy in the past, maybe his wolf didn't like being parted from its mate... Either way, Minho was really starting to consider just gluing Thomas to his side.

For now though, Minho settled for closing his eyes and trying to locate his Runner, straining to overcome the overbearing interference of the fair and searching for any hint of familiarity in the chaotic din. The idea of finding Thomas by scent was ruled out rather quickly, it just simply wasn't an option with all the greasy food stands and crowds of people clogging his senses and smothering out any hope of scenting the brunette. Instead, Minho tried to listen for his mate's heartbeat, toning out the world around him and focusing solely on finding that familiar rhythm.

The werewolf pushed everything else aside, the metallic grinding of the old rides in motion, the shrill screams of whiney kids, the vendors calling out their wares at the tops of their lungs... He searched through it all to find that familiar rhythm and finally, after a long, tense moment that definitely shaved a few years off Minho's lifetime, he found it, his senses locking in on the steady thrum of Thomas's heartbeat until it was all he could hear.

"They're coming back this way." Minho assured a still worried looking Derek after a long moment, trying to keep the pure relief he felt washing over him from his voice as he traced the sound of Thomas's heart and found it to be steadily approaching their little corner of the crowded fairgrounds.

"You can find them from here? In this mess?" Derek deadpanned disbelievingly, gazing disapprovingly around at the chaos they found themselves in before turning back to Minho with one, unimpressed eyebrow raised. "Sorry, pup, but I'm not about to buy that you're some kinda superwolf. I can't smell anything but cheap dough and the cardboard they pass off as meat frying in huge tubs of heart disease." The Alpha snorted dryly, sneering cynically at the younger wolf with a hard look in his stormy gray eyes.

"I can sense Thomas's heartbeat. Not my fault you can't keep track of your boyfriend." Minho growled angrily, remembering how Derek had mentioned Stiles disappearing on numerous occasions since they'd met the odd pair and hoping to sting the irritating guy with his words. The Keeper was just about tired of Derek constantly acting like he had a stick shoved up his ass - Or maybe, Stiles should actually try doing that. It could get this ungodly prick over whatever deep set need to be an asshole he currently had.

Derek snarled, eyes flashing crimson red as he glared at the Asian, looking more like a dormant volcano than an irritating guy as his face flushed as red as a chubby two year old who'd just learned Hershey Park wasn't made of chocolate and was about to throw the biggest temper tantrum of the century.

However, fate apparently decided to take a break from its usual cynical joyride and cut Minho a little bit of slack as Stiles re-emerged from the crowd a moment later, Thomas at his heels.

"Told you so." Minho couldn't help but huff in a quiet whisper, wholeheartedly aware of how much of a second grader he sounded like as he turned to glare pointedly at Derek with a victorious smirk tugging at his lips.

Derek, however, seemed genuinely surprised, glancing at the twins as if double checking that they were real before casting a side long look at Minho, dark eyes cold and analytical. "You're bound to him." The alpha noted emotionlessly. "That's why you're part of the pack." The guy concluded clinically.

"Yeah? You don't say? I hadn't noticed." Minho snarled in a hushed whisper, Thomas was getting way too close for him to be discussing Derek Hale's apparent slowness and inability to read social cues - The game keeper had figured this shit out quicker for fucks sake.

"But it's stronger - You shouldn't have been able to sense him from here. Not if I couldn't find Stiles." Derek mused thoughtfully, looking confused yet interested as he gazed at Minho as if the younger werewolf were a specimen trapped under a glass case for him to examine. The discerning stare didn't leave Derek's gray eyes for a long moment and Minho was really starting to consider changing the guy's name to McCreepy when Stiles finally got close enough to call out to the wolf, efficiently breaking the awkward moment as Derek finally pulled his gaze away from the Keeper, though his eyes still lingered critically.

"Have fun playing with balls, Min?" Thomas quipped jovially before Minho had a chance to process the information Derek had just given him. The brunette bounded over to the werewolf but dodged nimbly out of the way as the Asian took a playful swing at him for his comment.

"You two seemed distracted enough so we decided to go grab some food." Stiles explained breathlessly; and when Minho turned to see what had stolen the kid's breath, he found Derek had roughly pulled the teen against his chest into a bone crushing hug, apparently displeased at the separation - Minho had to admit he felt a little bad about using the kid's odd disappearances as a weapon earlier. (Though he'd never admit it to Captain Asshole McFuckface.)

"That's the understatement of the year. I waved my hand in front of your face and everything. You didn't even blink!" Thomas scoffed amusedly but the sentence ended in a sharp squeal as Minho sprang at him, undeterred by Thomas's earlier evasion of his attack and determined to have his vengeance.

Thomas tried to skid to the left as Minho charged at him, ducking under the werewolf's arm as the Asian tried to grab him, but the Keeper was quicker and spun on a heel before the brunette even had a chance to restabilize himself. Minho swung his other arm out as Thomas stumbled to a halt and braced himself for his next move, catching the brunette around the waist and hauling the teen back towards himself before his Runner even had a chance to react.

"Minho, have mercy!" Thomas whined pleadingly, twisting and squirming around in the werewolf's steely grip to no avail, his attempts fruitless against the supernatural's unfair advantage of ungodly strength and great arms.

"You asked for this, Tomboy!" Minho retorted cruely, letting just a little bit of a growl enter his voice, not enough to be intimidating but enough to make the boy in his arms' heart rate pick up as his attempts to escape became a little more frenzied.

Minho forced himself to stick to the safe notion that Thomas's increased heart rate was an adrenaline induced phenomenon, it was the only way to keep his own heart from pursuing a career as an astronaut and it would be foolish of him to even entertain the briefest notion that there was any other factor affecting the brunette's elevated pulse. However, the sudden return of that earthshatteringly addictive scent he'd smelled on his friend earlier was making it hard to ignore the dangerous hope that so badly wanted to brew in the Asian's chest.

The unfamiliar smell's unimaginably sweet decadence enraptured the Keeper, driving his wolf wild and making him very much start to regret ensnaring Thomas in his arms. It was too much. Up close the scent was only stronger in its pull, the rich divinity of it urging the werewolf to bury his face in his mate's neck until it was all he could smell. Combined with the feel of the younger boy actually in his arms, it was undeniable and Minho knew his urges would win out sooner or later if he didn't get control of himself quick.

Minho had just begun some slow breathing exercises (A.K.A: Breathing shallowly through his mouth to avoid inhaling the drug like scent) when Thomas decided to blow all the Keeper's hopes and dreams of self-control out of the water.

The teen must've came up with a new plan, since random squirming and flailing was obviously not doing the trick, and abruptly went still in Minho's iron grip, leaving the wolf confused and concerned. However, concern was shot in the ass a moment later when the smaller boy tilted his neck to the side and let his head fall back onto the Asian's shoulder, leaving his neck exposed in a show of submission.

Minho should admittedly probably be wondering where Thomas learned such a thing - But truthfully the Asian wasn't thinking of Jack shit. All thoughts were consumed by the wildfire the display lit inside the werewolf, leaving nothing but the burning need to sink his teeth into his perfect, submissive mate's neck and claim the smaller boy for his own.

The Keeper was about halfway to doing just that when he caught himself and hurriedly stuffed his mind full of good 'ol trustworthy images of saggy grandma tits, hoping to splash some cold, hard reality onto his horny ass wolf.

Disgusting as it was, the tactic was working great until Thomas opened his beautiful mouth again and threw Minho's valiant efforts out the nearest window and sent them falling twenty stories before they landed in front of a cement roller and were never to be seen again. This seemed to be a increasingly common occurrence whenever Thomas opened his mouth.

"You win, Min. I'm sorry. Please let me go." Thomas pleaded in a low whisper, never once moving from the submissive pose. "Please, Minho?" The brunette added in a pleading tone that made Minho desperately want to hear those same words spoke in an entirely different context.

Except, the problem here was, the display made Minho want to do the complete opposite of what Thomas was asking. Having his perfect, sexy mate captured and baring his succulent neck for the wolf was not exactly conducive to fighting back the pressing urge to claim the delicious brunette and the fact that Thomas's scent had failed to loose its drawing, sweet edge was doing incredibly little to aid the Keeper's cause.

Bite. Claim. Mine. Minho's wolf reiterated urgently, the words a low, feral growl that left no room for argument despite Minho's obvious need to argue against the unattainable desire. As much as he wanted to simply mark Thomas and claim him as his own here and now, there was no way the Asian was going to do so without the other teen's consent. He needed Thomas to want him too. However, self restraint was only so strong of a leash and with Thomas willingly giving himself to the wolf as he currently was in his submissive position, it was a fraying rope on the edge of snapping.

Which was why Minho was ready to fall to his knees and kiss the guy's feet (Well, maybe he would've been if he wasn't so stomachchurningly odourful) when the gamekeeper suddenly bellowed, "Hey, you gonna choose a damn toy or not, boyo?" Effectively snapping the wolf from his Thomas-induced trance of lust with a bucket of ice cold reality just as the Keeper felt his mouth open whether he wanted it to or not.

Minho let his grip on Thomas go lax as soon as he could convince himself to do so, using the momentary shock produced by the jarring sound of the gamekeeper's booming voice to release his hold on the teen before the rest of the wolf could figure out what he was doing and put a stop to it.

Thomas grinned at the Keeper, a cunning glint shining in the brunette's hazel orbs as he turned back to smirk slightly at his defeated attacker, just the corner of one side of his pink lips drawing upwards in the beginnings of the victorious expression. That sly little fox...

Now, Minho hoped that this sudden change of attitude would perhaps deter his wolf in its endless quest to pin Thomas to the ground and claim the boy in all senses of the word but, apparently, he would be totally fucking wrong. Clever. Wolfy declared wantingly, evidently pleased by his wry mate's cunning ways.

"Choose anything off the top row." The gamekeeper cut in again boredly, digging under his huge nails before flicking away a tiny piece of dirt as Minho approached the booth once more, grateful for the distraction from his wolf's sudden attraction to Thomas's fiery attitude, the creature apparently liking his mate's unwillingness to just roll over and play dead.

"I don't want anything." Minho began slowly, choosing his words very carefully to make this next part as least awkward as humanly possible.

"Oh thank go-" The gamekeeper began with a heavy sigh of relief, only to twist his face into a dark scowl once more as Minho quickly cut him off with another rush of words.

"So you can choose something, Tom." The werewolf rambled out quickly, stringing the sentence together so that it flowed more as one word than any distinct few words as he rushed through the phrase as quickly as possible, hating how he felt his face flush and his heart race as he spoke.

"Really?" Thomas startled hastily, looking genuinely surprised despite the fact that the gamekeeper, Stiles, Derek and everyone around them looked entirely unshocked in the slightest. Leave it to Minho to fall for the most oblivious person to ever exist - It was a wonder Thomas survived this long, though it probably had a good bit to do with Minho swooping in to save the brunette's sorry ass like some feathered and fanged guardian angel of the night time and again.

"Yeah, I'm really not a diehard fan of jumbo, neon bananas wearing sunglasses." Minho assured easily then leaned in to add, "Their googly eyes feel like there staring into my soul." In a hushed whisper, eliciting a amused snort from Thomas that went straight to Minho's weak heart - Literally everything Thomas did was so cute, the werewolf was undoubtedly going to die of a heart attack at age 17 and it was going to be all his adorable mate's fault. At least the Asian would die happy.

Thomas's scent picked up with Minho's new favorite smell - no frying meat or brewing coffee could possibly compete with something so purely indulgent - as the brunette's hazel orbs widened slightly, glimmering with excitement and surprise while Minho decided he would eagerly accept his incredible, early, heart failure induced demise if it meant he got to witness such a beautiful display.

The younger boy moved to the booth tentatively, honey orbs running thoughtfully over the huge stuffed animals adorning the top row of the booth as the gamekeeper straightened up in preparation to complete his toy giving duties. Then, Thomas's eyes moved lower, taking in the entirety of the booth's selection with the same considering gaze before they suddenly halted their monotonous left to right pattern.

"Does it have to be off the top row?" Thomas inquired hopefully, his eyes widening as they stayed locked on the same spot they'd come to rest upon a moment ago. Minho vowed to rip the offspring of a horrible relationship between human and beluga whale that defied mother nature in every way possible's spleen out through the guy's throat if he told the werewolf's precious mate no.

"Nah, kid. Whatever you want." The tub of lard replied with a slight laugh, smartly preserving his life for the time being. Minho also had to note the dude seemed much friendlier than he had a moment ago when it was just the Asian and Derek - Maybe Thomas and Stiles were some kind of magical softening barrier between the hard headed, probably intolerable, werewolves and the rest of the world. It made about as much sense as everything else in Minho's life.

"That one then." Thomas indicated eagerly, pointing a finger at something on one of the lower shelves Minho couldn't quite see around the many rolls of the local pillsbury doughboy.

However, the Keeper definitely saw it when his mate reached out his arms and had placed into his long, grabbing fingers a small stuffed wolf. The toy had pitch black fur, darker than the night surrounding them at that very moment that brilliantly offset piercing blue eyes made out of two shiny buttons that caught the light and reflected it back so that they appeared to glow in the darkness.

"And you're very sure he doesn't know?" Stiles hissed in Minho's ear as Thomas began to stroll back towards the group, accompanying the question with a light snicker as Minho merely opened and closed his mouth a few times like the impressive, super cool, supernatural badass he was. Yeah. Totally badass.