Chapter 17 - Finally Heading home

"Hey, there you guys are!" Scott greeted enthusiastically as the pair approached, grinning excitedly and flagging them over in case they'd somehow missed the small heard of teenagers waiting for them.

"Dude, I'm not sure which gypsy you went to, but it can't have been that one!" Thomas jokingly informed Lydia with a disgruntled shudder as they finally reached the group.

"Really?" Lydia questioned confusedly, cocking her head slightly and looking thoughtful as both Thomas and Minho shook their heads adamantly, though neither made any moves to elaborate.

"She's batshit." Minho merely huffed out in explanation, still never removing his hand from where it was wrapped tightly around Thomas's, revelling in the secure feeling keeping his digits tightly intertwined with the long, warm fingers of the younger boy brought. With the constant, subtle touch, the wolf could be sure of his mate's presence and safety.

"That sucks man, did she tell you we're all doomed?" Stiles joked lightly, drawing out the oo in doomed and wiggling his fingers in a display of ghostly spookiness, snickering slightly as he did so.

"Something like that." Thomas sighed dryly, the reminder nearly eliciting a protective growl from his companion as the teen instinctively tightened his grip on the boy's hand and edged a few inches closer to the fragile brunette, his wolf on edge and certain phantoms were about to rise from the earth underfoot to steal his mate away - The werewolf didn't miss the way Derek scooched a little closer to Stiles either, letting the Keeper know his fears were not entirely baseless.

"And no one is the least bit surprised." Isaac added humorlessly, rolling his eyes and looking utterly tired of all the world's shit.

"Don't worry about it dude, she's probably a nutcase." Scott assured easily, waving a hand as if to brush away any totally reasonable concerns the pack may have. Minho was really starting to get the impression Scott was the overly optimistic one of the bunch and reminded himself never to trust the kid's hopeful reassurances, no matter how well meaning they may be, trustingness like that was simply too dangerous - The only person Minho would ever truly trust was Thomas and he couldn't help but wonder when Scott would be fucked up enough to realize he couldn't trust the world like that.

"Or we're all doomed." Lydia interjected helpfully, her face bored and displeased and her tone leaving it uncertain whether she was actually joking or not as the other members of the pack each eventually shrugged their agreement, looking as if this wasn't too far off of a reasonable possibility.

"Sounds pretty likely to me." Stiles dismissed easily. "And, I don't know about you damned souls, but this one would most certainly like to be well rested in preparation for judgment day." The kid stated flatly, arms stretching upwards over his head and a long yawn forced its way past his lips as if his body were trying to prove the point.

"Agreed." Thomas seconded, snuggling his stuffed wolf a little tighter to his chest and leaning subtly against Minho's side, hazel eyes blinking heavily as he reached up to rub at one.

Minho was almost shocked he hadn't picked up on Thomas's low energy levels earlier, almost guilty at not realizing his mate needed something and now determined to provide it. Meaning, that it was taking a good bit of self restraint to resist the pressing urge to scoop his precious boy up in his arms and bundle the smaller teen off somewhere safe where the wolf could curl around him to protect his treasure while he slumbered.

For once in Minho's life, Derek Hale, King of Being a Stubborn Asshole, actually seemed to be on the same page as him, casting a concerned gaze at Stiles as if he half expected the kid to fall asleep on the spot and Minho really couldn't honestly say he blamed the grumpy dickhead as the twin to his own favorite human did kinda look like something off The Walking Dead at the moment, all tired, half lidded eyes and dragging limbs. The boy seriously doubted that the kid was functioning on anything like a normal sleep cycle and most certainly wasn't getting the "six to eight hours of rest" everyone constantly preached about.

However, Minho had his own sleepyheaded pretty boy to worry about, who was actually currently resting his head against the teen's shoulder and looking like he very well may pass out here in the next five minutes, if not sooner. Minho totally did not wonder if it would be cool to simply let the object of his desires succumb to sleep right here in the middle of the fairgrounds so the wolf would have a chance to impress the sweet, sleepy thing with his awesome boyfriending skills - A.K.A. Totally swoon Thomas to his knees by carrying the desirable boy bridal style to the nearest bed.

"There closing up anyway, let's head home." Minho suggested hastily despite the apparent fact that none of the fair staff appeared to be doing any such thing and the whole event truthfully seemed to actually still be in full swing despite the late hours that were quickly approaching. Though Thomas hummed softly in agreement at the obviously false statement so that was good enough for Minho.

"Aw, guys! Just one more ride?" Scott pleaded hopefully, widening his eyes in what could only be dubbed a "puppy dog" look as he cast his expectant gaze around the group, desperately searching for some support and ultimately finding none. Stiles yawned, Derek glared, Lydia fixed her nails, Isaac looked anywhere else and Minho was entirely unaffected by anyone's puppy dog eyes that wasn't Thomas, the knee weakening teen's huge hazel orbs pretty much granting the werewolf immunity from all other, lesser pleading stares.

Speaking of Thomas, Minho was relatively certain the only reason his kind brunette didn't cave under Scott's puppy dog look was because his prized possession had actually gone ahead and dozed off on the boy's arm, the teen's weight slumping heavily against his Keeper's side as Minho did his best to ignore the feeling of a steadily pooling wetness against his shoulder blade. (Okay - So maybe he was trying to ignore how endeared he felt by the fact that Thomas was drooling on him more so than the actual fact in and of itself.)

"Sorry, Scotty, think it's gonna be a no go." Stiles huffed sleepily, then paused as a long, drawn out yawn broke through his words and he stretched his arms high over his head. "Now stop with the puppy dog eyes, I've told you that's a cheap tactic." The wry teen scolded, wagging a disapproving finger at the other boy who merely grumbled some unintelligible protest before finally letting his eyes return to the normal size of the rest of the human race's.

Murmurs of agreement came up from everyone in the pack, the awareness of the late hour seemingly bringing exhaustion down upon the group as if the mere acknowledgement of the tiredness had amplified it tenfold, though Minho surprisingly felt more alert than ever. His wolf was restless, as if his instincts were trying to tell him something was amiss though, even under the paranoid teen's scrutinizing gaze, nothing seemed too out of the ordinary. Well, there was that odd woman who had strolled by them earlier with what looked like a full on lumberjack beard braided into a series of intricate knots and ribbons but Minho seriously doubted his wolf was this anxious over a fashion faux pas.

Thomas startled out of his half-asleep stupor a moment later, however, blasting away thoughts of all else with a fucking two ton cannon as the dazed boy mumbled out a bleary, "Min?" That sent a battering ram straight through Minho's weak defences, turning the wolf into a crumbly mess of debris and emotions at the sheer note of vulnerability in the half-conscious mumbling of his name, the likes of which he never expected anyone to trust him with.

"C'mon, sleeping beauty, we're heading home." Minho explained softly as he reached a hand up to ruffle the demolition crew of a boy's scruffy brown locks, letting the romantic nickname slip before he could think better of it, his usual defences that kept him from spilling such endearments shot and momentarily nonexistent in light of Thomas's inherit adorableness when he was sleepy. Embarrassment and anxiety spiked through the wolf's system, causing him to tense away from the sleepy human as realization came swooping with its sirens blaring an endless barrage of "what the fuck are you thinking?"

"Mhm, home." Thomas simply mumbled however, apparently too sleepy to catch onto the nickname (or unbothered by it, but Minho was not about to be the hopeful idiot that got thoughts like that in his head) as he let his hazel orbs fall shut again despite the fact that the werewolf was already beginning to urge the hapless teen into motion after the pack, who began making their way back toward the parking lot. "You're 'm home, Minho." The, obviously still sleeping, boy decided to inform the flabbergasted wolf and apparently felt the need to prove his point by nuzzling his head into the absolutely stunned teen's side as they suddenly came to a screeching halt a few paces behind their friends.

Call him Jesus, because he might as well have been crucified on the spot. Remember breathing? Breathing was nice. Minho should really try it again sometime. Not right now obviously because at the moment the wolf was almost certain he didn't even possess lungs anymore. He must've left them somewhere back in the fairgrounds. Perhaps they got flung out of his body on the Tilt-A-Whirl like his brain because this was all obviously an elaborate fantasy.

"Shut up, shank." Minho managed to snort after a few long moments in which someone might as well have placed him in a vacuum for there was absolutely no need to grant him oxygen when he was going to fail so magnificently at making use of it. Somehow, the wolf even managed to get them walking again, though it consisted a good bit of Minho walking and Thomas simply slumping into his backside whilst being steadily pulled along by the grip the older boy got on his hand. However, it only took Thomas tripping and banging his skull painfully into the Keeper's back five or six times for Minho to accept that this obviously wasn't working and the boy drew them to a halt once more.

Since Thomas was already slumped haphazardly against the wolf's back, it wasn't too difficult to bend his legs and get his body underneath the jello-like substance that had replaced his companion, Thomas all sagging limbs and limpness as the werewolf hooked his arms underneath the teen's legs and pulled them up until they rested mostly on his hips. "Can you at least put your arms around my neck, you lazy little shit?" The Keeper snorted haughtily, making sure to sound totally irritated and not at all pleased that he'd gotten to show off his "look how good I can carry you" skills like he'd wanted.

Thomas complied wordlessly, his long, slim arms dangling over Minho's shoulders and encircling the older boy until the younger teen was simply hugging the teen's broad chest more or less, though maybe the boy just happened to fall against the Keeper that way, for the kid's head slumped listlessly into the crook of his carrier's neck where his warm breath came out soft and slow against the sensitive skin there, as if sleep had already claimed the pretty boy.

They managed to make it to the car pretty quickly after that, no longer slowed down by Thomas's inherit ability to fall asleep instantly no matter the circumstance and Minho quite near jogging to catch up with the rest of the pack - quite he was not about to break into a full on run and wake the now obviously slumbering boy who was never gifted as much peaceful sleep as he deserved. The Keeper's wolf was comforted by the presence of its pack and insisted on keeping Thomas close to them, especially when his chosen soulmate was in such a vulnerable state as he was when he was asleep, seemingly expecting the mismatched heard of teenagers to aid him in protecting his mate and determined to surround his most precious treasure in a bubble of safe as much as he could.

With this determination driving him, Minho had them caught back up with the rest of the herd just as they reached the parking lot and were beginning to nod their goodbyes before heading off in separate vehicles. (Translation: The poor werewolf had to witness a heat filled smooch fest as Derek seemed almost convinced that if he didn't suck Stiles's face clean off, he wouldn't see the boy in the morning.) With an obviously conked out Thomas on his back, Minho got away with only having to deliver a few curt nods as farewell before eagerly retreating to Stiles's Jeep to wait for the kid to finish having his lungs removed through his esophagus by Derek's tongue. (Gross. Never even think those words again. Please, god, have mercy on his scalded eyeballs.)

Minho cautiously delivered Thomas to the back seat of the Jeep, carefully shrugging the long, tangling limbs of the, apparently quite clingy, teen off as cautiously as he could despite their best attempts to retwist themselves about the wolf in anyway they possibly could. Finally, after that was done, the teen shimmied his way into the seat beside his sleeping beauty - As he was now freely going to call him and totally mark it off as teasing because, come on! How could he not? Just look at the kid! Even in slumber he had the audacity to lay there and look fucking heart wrenchingly gorgeous, all messy hair and soft lips slightly parted... Fuck. Minho was gone. Minho was so gone for this boy, he was literally going to be ruined for anyone else and he loved it that way. Fuck him.

After what felt like an eternity but, in all reality, couldn't have been more than five minutes Stiles finally reappeared from his smoochfest, looking more dazed than anyone getting behind the wheel ever should and smelling like someone had just handed him a million dollars on a gold platter - Though, if anyone being handed cash carried the sharp spike of arousal Stiles's scent currently did, there was a problem, or at least a weird money fetish. Gag.

As the car revved to life under Stiles's fingers, however, and they slowly began pulling out of the parking lot and into the streets beyond, Thomas managed to squirm his head into Minho's lap in his slumber, snuggling his face into the inside of the teen's thigh in such a way that left the wolf with no room to talk about Stiles's aroused scent as his own dick took interest in the sudden proximity, wholeheartedly ignoring Minho's unspoken protest of He is asleep you fucking creep and vain attempts to picture some nasty images to ward away the sudden onslaught of horny that came up to smack him in the face. (Which is exactly what his boner would be doing to his poor friend if he didn't get this shit under control in the next two minutes.)

Whether it was a mercy or a curse, Minho was left completely unsure as Thomas chose then to stir into wakefulness for a moment, hazel orbs blinking lazily open to gaze into Minho's dark ones, where the wolf could only vainly hope the perceptive teen wouldn't find the lust he felt throbbing through his veins in their depths. "I mean it you know." The exhausted teen yawned sleepily and ignored any and all bulges he may or may not have noticed in Minho's jeans as the torment of a boy nuzzled his way further up the broad expanse of the teen's inner thigh, absolutely ending any vain attempt Minho had going to drown out his own arousal.

"What's that, shank?" The werewolf inquired breathlessly, needing a distraction from the downright sinful sensation of the object of all his sexual fantasies mere breaths away from where all the blood in his body had suddenly decided to take up residency without so much as consulting the landlord, the tight denim of his jeans suddenly feeling extremely constricting.

" 'My home. 'S you." The tired teen mused thoughtfully and even though he brought a hand up to lazily trace designs on the rough material of the hellish jeans with a single, long finger, drawing lines and swirls in a way that would make even the most stoic of men shudder to even think about, Minho took more interest in his words than in the enticing sensation. "Always there. Even before, that gypsy chick said so." Thomas elaborated after a moment, as if sensing his companion's confusion and even if the last part of the boy's words didn't make much sense, the sentiment still struck the werewolf like a bullet straight to the chest. "Always there for me, Min. My home." Thomas reiterated through a drawn out yawn before promptly falling back asleep before his Keeper could even begin to analyze what he'd just heard.