Chapter Text
Stiles is standing behind the counter slicing a cucumber when the bell over the door signals that someone has just walked into the shop. Stiles looks over his shoulder to greet the new customer only to make eye contact with Derek Hale. The sudden pain in his finger causes Stiles to break the eye contact, snatching his hand back from the knife, but when Stiles looks closer there isn’t any blood on his hand just a newly formed soul-mark where the pain had been that looks suspiciously like the Hale triskelion. “Hale,” Stiles turns pointing, “you owe me twenty bucks.”