Tears of Blood Part II: Last of The Wilds

Ch 3: The Rivers of Home

Watford

Mercure London Watford Hotel, London

Sunday

Time: 1400Hrs

Stiles let go of Alice and stepped back, and whistled wolfishly.

I am developing way too many wolfy-traits, Sheesh!!!

"Shut up", Alice hissed going red all over.

"Can't help it cuz, you look smokin'", he leered playfully, "Aunt Elena must be beating 'em off with sticks", he teased.

Alice laughed, "That's exactly what Aunt Elena said", she grinned at him and smirked as she continued, "Similar you two are", she teased.

In more ways than one...

"Ugh! Please no!!!" he whined shuddering all over.

"Come on you big baby, Aunty El's orders, food then sleep", she dragged him to his bag and then marched forward talking a mile a minute about something to do with sticks and how that phrase was just weird. Stiles smiled softly as he listened to her complain, and rant. They truly were very similar. Twins, his mum called them. He couldn't help but agree; Beacon Hills wouldn't have survived with Stiles and Alice running around town. Derek would have bolted...

"Why are you smiling like that?"

Stiles blinked, "Just remembering a friend", he grinned, and then hooked an arm over her shoulder and pulled her closer to his right side, "Now, you've been here ages, what's good to eat here?" he asked as they stepped into a restaurant called Brassiere.

"Pancakes!" she answered, "But its Lunch now, so that wouldn't be there, uhm you could try the steak, they have good—" she trailed off as her eyes arrested upon something to her left.

"Alley-cat?" Stiles asked.

Alice turned to him, all puppy dog eyes and pouting lips, "Play for me", she demanded.

"What?" he asked confused.

"I haven't heard you play in forever, please Wolfy, please", she dragged him to a Grand baby White Piano in the corner of the room. The sun hit the gleaming surface illuminating the corner space in dazzling brightness, "Please Play for me?!!!" she begged.

Stiles groaned, "Okay, okay, put away those weapons", he whined. He could never deny Alice anything; she was like a female version of Scotty. Where Scotty was all puppy dog affectionate, she, with her bright eyes like a kitten and her pointy canines, she was difficult to say no to.

"What do you want me to play?"

"Anything", she whispered.

"Keep an eye on my bag, don't touch it, don't open it. Alley-cat you hear me", he ordered.

At her nod, he walked to the Piano and let his fingers run on the keys, and then sat behind the instrument.

Stiles wasn't really one for being a singer, couldn't bring the words in to a tune, and yet when he first heard his mother play, it captivated him, the natural easiness of the rhythm, it swept through him, with the force of a storm.

He still remembers the time when he was barely pushing three, and had crawled to where his mum sat tuning the Piano that used to sit in the Stilinski drawing room, he'd crawled onto the seat after she gone to answer the door, and his curious fingers slid over the black and white secrets, his mother enjoyed spending so much time caressing. He hadn't realized the first song he'd played was Beethoven's Moonlight Sonata, all he cared for was the sweet sound he'd mother had been making earlier.