AN* This is my first dip into the Teen Wolf fandom, I hope you all enjoy. No Beta. Criticism is welcomed. I may or may not post more to it, I'm not sure yet.
Somehow, they all miss it. They miss that he disappears for three days. They miss that it's quieter, that there's no flailing limbs to avoid. They miss the obvious Stiles-shaped hole.
When it finally comes out, it's Lydia who mentions the silence - and doesn't that make Scott feel like the absolute worst.
But then it's panic and worry and ohmygod, what if something has him? It's a flurry of jerky movements that have them gathering and plotting, planning how to track down the big bad of the week and rescue their friend.
Except rescue isn't needed, apparently. Cause not even an hour after they notice he's supposedly missing, he's not. He's strolling in through the McCall front door like he lives there (and let's be real, he has been sleeping there a lot since Derek left town), plopping down on the couch.
"What supernatural badass has you all in a tizzy?" He asks, nonchalant, like he hasn't been missing for three days. Three days of absolutely nothing. Static.
They all look ready to absolutely strangle him, but it's a tie between Lydia and Scott who looks angrier. Isaac's just thrilled Stiles is back and Allison seems to know a ticking bomb when she sees one.
"We thought something took you," the hunter interjects before Lydia can open her mouth; Scott still looks like someone has shoved a dirty sock in his mouth.
"Oh," Stiles says. And that's it. Just 'oh'. He tilts his head, welcoming the warmth that is Isaac as he pushes in to sit beside him - wrapping the fragile human up in a sideways hug. There's a nose in his neck but it's nothing new, he simply shrugs. "I had a thing to do."
"You could have told someon-"
Lydia's sharp, angry words are cut off by Isaac's sniffing. "You smell different."
"Dude, we've talked about the sniffing boundaries. Do it all you want but don't tell me when you smell something you don't want to smell or don't like, it's not my fault. My body is its own temple. It does whatever it wants, contrary to werewolf belief - I don't make these smells just to piss you guys off." Stiles huffs, attempts to cross his arms but fails when a mop of curls stops him. "Although if I could, I probably would. Serve you all right for sniffing me."
"He's right though," Scott finally says, nose wrinkled as he steps closer - anger momentarily forgotten at the new scent. "You do smell different."
"My life," Stiles mutters as he untangles himself from Isaac, standing up and stepping away from the group at large. "Only I would fall into a group of werewolves that comment on my day-to-day smell."
"Okay," Allison starts softly as she steps in between the three slowly advancing on Stiles, holding her hands out. "How about we all take a big step back and just breathe?"
"Or Stiles could just tell us where he was," Lydia suggests with a snarl, eyes flickering over the teen's body with curiosity.
Stiles has the good grace to look a bit ashamed, biting his lip as he bobs his head to show he agrees. He knows he's only making this worse. Reaching out, he gives Allison's wrist a quick squeeze. "It's okay, Buffster."
"Eventually," Allison drawls out with a roll of her eyes, fond smile defeating the purpose of her words. "I will convince you that I'd totally kick Buffy's ass."
"Sure," the spastic teen smirks like he believes it, eyes glancing nervously at the other three who are not-so-patiently waiting. Clearing his throat, he decides to just rip the bandage off. "I went to see a friend of Deaton's."
"Deaton?" Isaac questions, curiosity radiating off of him.
"And when you say friend, you mean of the..." Scott wiggles his fingers, imitating magic.
"What was so important that you didn't tell anyone and it took three damn days?" Lydia's voice is hard still but the anger is fading and everyone knows it.
They never stay mad at each other anymore, not since the nasty fight with the stupid gnomes.
"Ink. You smell like ink." Isaac blurts suddenly, eyes bright like he just figured out a rather frustrating puzzle.
Stiles sighs, ignores the looks that are being sent his direction and tugs his shirt down enough to show the skin above his heart. He doesn't let his eyes focus on any of his friends, simply keeps them steadily on the wall as the silence thickens.
"Dude," Scott says at the same moment as Lydia questions, "It's for protection, right?"
And he guess that's the easiest way to explain it, so he bobs his head again. He's cautious as he looks at each of them; Isaac simply looks thoughtful, as well as Allison, while Lydia looks like she's fighting with herself and Scott looks gobsmacked. Stiles decides to handle the bomb before it explodes.
"Scott?" His voice nudges his best friend, pulling him out of whatever he had fell into at the sight of his chest.
"You're actually in love with him."
"No." He shakes his head, four sets of eyes focusing on him with disapproval although only two of them had actually been able to hear the blip in his heart. "Well, yes - but that's not why I got it. Lydia was right, it is for protection. It's more than that though. It - well, Deaton can explain it better."
"How about we move this to the kitchen?" Allison steps in yet again, eyes lingering on Scott and Lydia to let them know it wasn't actually a question. "Stiles and I can make Alfredo, your mom got chicken the other night."
There's a lull before they all nod at once, trickling slowly towards the kitchen; Stiles is the last one standing in the room with Allison and he simply deflates on the spot, resting his head against her shoulder.
"I don't know how to tell them," he admits quietly, very much aware that Isaac and Scott could still hear him.
"You tell them how you told me, except maybe without the panic attack." She reaches back to run her fingers through his hair, humming softly to him as he snorts.
"No panic attack. Gotcha." He stands there a moment, soaking up strength from her before he pulls away and tosses his arm around her shoulders. "I can't believe you just volunteered to cook for them again after last time."
"Oh, they'll eat it or wake up on fire."
Stiles' laughter follows them into the kitchen, the atmosphere tense and awkward as the other three sit at the table patiently. Scott is twitching on spot, Isaac basically leaning his entire body towards Stiles, and Lydia is studying some book in front of her.
"Okay," Stiles clears his throat as he makes his way over to the cabinets, digging out everything they're going to need. "First of all, I got the triskele for obvious reasons and the eyes for even more obvious reasons.. apparently."
"It's a miniature version of Derek's tattoo - over your heart - with a pair of bright blue eyes in the middle of it, of course it's obvious." Lydia scoffs at him, rolling her eyes. "Get to the other reasons for it. And why it took three days."
There's a quick glance between Allison and Stiles, one that silently communicates the 'go ahead' and the 'it's okay, you're safe here'.
"The magic part of it took three days." He scratches the back of his neck, eyes refusing to meet anyone else's as he turns the stove on for the water. "Bobby and Deaton did most of the hard work but it still took a lot out of me, the actual tattoo part only took like three hours. I spent two days in bed."
"Deaton's been at work the whole time," Scott interrupts, earning looks from both Lydia and Allison.
"FaceTime is a beautiful thing," Sties offers airily. "It's to keep evil things out, like that stupid demon that thought it was funny to jump from teacher to teacher-" He shudders as if remembering something completely unpleasant. "And it repels spells, like with the witches. Bobby said it might tie me to the land a bit more but nothing too noticeable. He taught me some awesome new tricks that I'm just dying to try out but I'm going to need help."
"Wait, that's it? You didn't go magically tie yourself to Derek or get werewolf married or anything?" Scott's frowning, like he doesn't quite believe him.
"Werewolf married? Really?" Stiles laughs, rubs his face with a shake of his head. "No, no - nothing like that."
"You're acting too twitchy," Lydia frowns, eyes drawn together. "You're not telling us something."
"Stiles is always twitchy," Isaac offers helpfully - or so he thinks.
"I'm not acting twitchy!" Stiles huffs, ignoring the eyes on him in favor of stirring the pasta.
"Stiles.." Allison nudges him gently, eyes fluttering towards the rest of them and back before glaring pointedly.
"This explains why you weren't worried he was kidnapped," Lydia mutters after a moment of quiet. "You totally knew."
"I didn't just go for the tattoo," Stiles admits quietly, mostly to get the attention off of Allison but also to finally fess up. He waits a beat, stirring the pasta again before finally speaking again. "I got wind of two wolves up near Portland without a pack, they fit the description of Derek and Cora and then Deaton told me about Bobby who just so happens to live in Portland and I decided.. I just wanted to check on them." He shrugs, shoulders slumping. "They seem to be doing fine. Cora's in school. Derek's got a job. I didn't even let them know I was there. Just.. checked on them and headed to Bobby's."
There's silence at that, no one knowing what to say and Stiles lost in his own thoughts. It's a few minutes later that the front door opens again, Melissa and the Sheriff coming in.
"Did we interrupt some secret meeting?" Melissa laughs, looking around at the teens in her kitchen. Her eyes linger on Isaac who is bouncing in his seat and Scott who looks like someone kicked his puppy before settling on Stiles. "Oh, how was your trip, dear?"
The teen in question shakes his head, motions for Allison to watch the pasta, and after receiving a nod darts out of the kitchen as if he's on fire.
John and Melissa both look torn between following after him and staying to find out what had just happened, but Lydia stands up and holds out a hand to stop them.
"I've got this," she tells them as she steps away from the table before pointing at Isaac and Scott. "Ears off."
With that she stalks out of the room, heading for the door and down the steps to where Stiles is crouched down behind his jeep trying to catch his breath. She doesn't pause to think before she's sitting down beside him, taking his hand in between both of hers and holding it to her chest.
"Focus on my heart, and breathe."
They've done this before. Brought each other down from panic attacks resulting from too much too fast too soon. When the fairies had kidnapped Stiles' dad or Lydia thought her mom was dead because of the vampires or when they'd both had gotten so worked up over the fact that their school was burning down with them inside of it. It was simple self-preservation that they'd learned how to calm each other down quickly. They didn't have time for panic attacks when the supernatural world was nipping at their heels.
So, he listens. He focuses on the beating of her heart and forces a deep breath in and out. He continues with his breathing, his eyes squeezed tightly shut as they bring him back from the edge. It's only after he's breathing regularly and his tight hold on her hands is slack that she nudges his shoulder gently.
"You should tell him," she offers quietly, carefully.
"No," he grunts, shaking his head. "They're happy in Portland. They have lives there. No one is chasing them and trying to kill them. Scott, Allison and I - we created the beacon. We did it. And we'd do it again, but it'sour responsibility. I'm not dragging them back here just to be pieces on the chessboard again."
"I think he'd want to know." When it's met by silence, she sighs and laces their fingers together. "You ready to go back inside?"
"Shit. Yeah, let's go before my dad thinks I've run off." Stiles grumbles as he stands up and then offers his hand, helping her up. He laces their fingers together again, heading towards the house.
"If you ever leave, you damn well better take me with you - I do not want to be stuck in the triangle that is Allison, Isaac and Scott." Lydia makes a face at the thought, pushing the door shut behind them as they step inside the house.
Stiles snorts, nodding quickly before dropping a kiss to the girl's cheek. "You got it, Princess."
They let their hands fall apart, Lydia heading back to her spot at the table and Stiles heading over to where his dad was lounging against the counter with a cup of coffee. Melissa had apparently taken over helping Allison cook for everyone.
"Everything okay?" John questions quietly, eyes studying his son carefully.
"Yeah, dad. Yeah. Everything's okay. Sorry, Mrs. McCall." He offers Melissa a small smile, ducking his head when she comes over to kiss his cheek.
"Well, let us see it." She says after a moment, patience obviously all out for the time being.
Stiles laughs before shaking his head, ignoring the surprised looks of his friends as he tugs his shirt down and to the side to present the tattoo. He's quiet as they look it over, nervous as time seems to slow down to a snail's pace. It's only when Melissa traces a finger over it that he jumps out of his thoughts.
"He did a good job," is all she says before she floats away to finish dinner up.
His dad is still staring at it, like somehow the blue eyes are staring back, but after a moment he can't fight down the urge to keep silent and wait him out. "Dad? What do you think?"
"It's what you wanted, right? You're happy with it?"
"Extremely," he nods with a smile, letting his grip on his shirt go and hiding the ink away. "The eyes glow under the full moon," he adds in with a smirk.
"Of course they do," John mutters as he brings Stiles in for a hug, shaking his head the entire time. "Of course they do."