So, when my best friend turned 20, I promised her that I would write her some kind of oneshot. We both love Teen Wolf, and she adores Dylan o'Brien, so I decided to write this quick two-shot centered around a character that she designed herself. I hope you all enjoy it as much as she did!


The bell to leave class was ringing, but Melissa couldn't hear it. Not clearly anyways. It was more like a dull pounding in her head, but at this point, she couldn't differentiate it from the pounding headache she'd gotten from staring at the clock with dread for the past hour.

As the other students in Mr. Harris' chemistry class seemingly fled from the classroom, Melissa began to take her time. She'd fully mastered what her dad had called "dawdling" and she was proud of that. She put her books in her bag one by one, then her papers, then her pen. She put her coat on, even though spring was coming through nicely enough that she knew she didn't need to. As she slung her backpack over her shoulder and made her way out of the classroom, she began to contemplate even taking a long bathroom break, or stopping in the hallway to talk to Lydia and Allison.

Whatever kept her out of the house longer.

As if the walk home wasn't long enough. Beacon Hills High School was almost an hour walk from her house. Her father didn't allow her to take drivers ed, but refused to transport her to and from school. Melissa soon learned that school buses and other public transit would have a habit of triggering her anxiety. So she walked. Sometimes, she'd catch a ride with her best friend Hailey when she was allowed her mother's car, but she didn't want to burden anybody. She was too used to feeling that way.

"Hey, Mel!" she heard a familiar voice call. She was already on the sidewalk, only five minutes into the walk before she was pulled from her trance and turned, seeing Stiles in his Jeep, pulled right up next to her. He gave her a huge smile and she blushed a little.

"Hi, Stiles," she said quietly, walking a bit closer to the window. "What's up?"

"I was on my way home and I saw you walking," he explained, still smiling a little, "you want a ride?"

Melissa paused, biting her lip. "I-I dunno..." she said, "my dad-"

"Come on, Mel," he said, shrugging, "you're way too pretty to be out here by yourself." Stiles smiled at her again, watching her blush. It was no secret that the pair had evident feelings for each other. Melissa and Hailey, the latter girl having developed feelings for Scott and vice versa, had gotten dragged into their odd circle of secrets with Allison and Lydia and Jackson and everyone else involved. They were stuck in the middle with the rest of them, and all the time together left Melissa and Stiles vying for each other's attention.

"Well... okay..." she said nervously, walking around and climbing into the passenger seat of his Jeep, "thanks, Stiles."

"No problem!" he replied, both hands on his steering wheel before grabbing the clutch and putting his car in drive. "You're kinda the brains of everything. Honestly, I'd probably dead right now if it wasn't for you half the time."

Melissa smiled weakly, tucking a blonde curl behind her ear. "Thanks, but I don't-"

"No, please," he insisted, his hand smacking against the curve of the steering wheel as he began the trek to Melissa's house, "you're awesome. You deserve as much credit as you get, okay?"

"Thanks," she said, a little more confidence ringing through her voice.

The majority of the ride to Melissa's house was spent talking about recent developments in more werewolf issues. It seemed to be the pair's go-to subject. Whenever Scott had a problem, he went to Stiles, and if Hailey had a problem, she went to Melissa. They'd become so incredibly trained on talking about anything but each other or anything remotely... normal. It'd become an obnoxious second-nature for them. And once Stiles had pulled up to her house, they sat silently, almost as if neither of them knew where to go from there.

"Thanks for saving me the walk, Stiles," she said, now deciding it was about time she kept a tally of how many times she'd thanked him within the past 20 minutes.

"It's no problem at all," Stiles replied, shrugging slightly through a smile, "you're always helping out me and Scott. You deserve to be helped a little too, y'know."

Melissa just smiled, a too little fed up with her own words to speak. Instead of thanking him for the hundredth time, she unbuckled herself, leaned toward him, and kissed him on the cheek. She could hear Stiles' breath hitch, and she suppressed a giggle.

"W-well, thanks...!" he said, almost too happy, before clearing his throat. "Um... is that your dad?"

Melissa turned in shock to look out the windshield, seeing her father standing on the doorstep watching the car, his arms crossed in front of his chest, and visibly frowning, almost scowling. "Shit..." she blurted, shuffling around to collect her backpack.

"Hey, is everything okay...?" Stiles asked, concern astoundingly evident in his voice. "Is he mad or something?"

"No," Melissa replied, almost too quickly, "he's just... I'm... I have to go..." she stuttered, opening the door to the Jeep and stepping out. Stiles sighed.

"Okay..." he began, "but if you need anything, you can text me, okay? Or call me. I meant what I said about helping you."

Melissa managed a small smile, nodding. "Okay, -"

"Melissa!" her father called sternly, and Stiles frowned at the way she flinched.

"Coming dad!" she called back. "I'll talk to you later, Stiles." With that, she ran past her dad and in through the doorway. Stiles smiled kindly at her father, waving politely, but his smile faded as her father glared and slammed the front door shut. He sighed, running a hand through his hair before putting the Jeep in reverse to pull out and trying to ignore the sickened, upside-down feeling in his stomach. That feeling that only ever arose when he could sense something bad happening.