"Derek! Derek!" Stiles jumped out of his Jeep and was running toward the front door almost before the car stopped moving. He stumbled in his haste, gravel flying everywhere, flailing, gulped a lungful of air getting ready for another shout… and skidded to a halt just shy of colliding with a broad chest which materialized out of nowhere right in front of his face.
"What?!" Oh, apparently the chest belonged to Derek. Stiles straightened his posture.
"IsawanewAlphaintown!" He blurted on the exhale.
"What do you mean 'a new Alpha'?" Aaand… Peter was suddenly next to him too, the creeper. Stiles scowled at the Undead Uncle, not at all pleased to see him.
"Explain!" demanded Derek though elongated teeth, eyes doing the Stop sign imitation.
"I was at the gas station on the west edge of Beacon Hills, you know the one with coke on sale and cheap Pringles?" That earned him an impatient growl, which in turn made their very own Night of the Living Dead reject smirk slightly. Urgh!
"Right. So, I was just minding my business, comparing nutrition values of Mars and Twix bars, trying to decide between them, and did you know that one bar of Twix contains on 2.9 gram more saturated fat than Mars?"
"Stiles, the Alpha!" as if snarling at him was totally normal and reasonable form of conversing. Pff, werewolves: no manners to speak of!
"Yes, as I was saying, while I was contemplating the very important matter pertaining to my health," he glared at Derek, "A couple walked in, white males, Caucasian, the first is approximately 5'10" - 6' tall, dark brown hair, light eyes, late twenties to early thirties, was wearing blue jeans, a black leather jacket with a green hoodie underneath and a pair of black combat boots. I have reasons to believe he's armed and dangerous."
Stiles paused to take a breath, when Peter the Undead passed him a bottle of water. Where did it?.. Ah, no matter. He accepted it with a grateful nod (he has good manners! Well… Or at least some of his manners are good). After swallowing half of the drink in one go, Stiles continued.
"The second is 6' 3", dark hair, dark eyes, has a mustache and a short beard, late thirties to early forties, was wearing dark gray knitted sweater, checkered shirt, gray jeans and brown tracking boots. He seemed harmless, up to the moment he looked at me and promptly wolfed out. With a lot, and I mean a lot of facial hair, flashing red eyes, lots of big scary teeth… The whole shebang. Oh, and pointy ears." He mimed the ears with his fingers, but stopped when he heard Peter's snort.
Derek's glare became marginally less intensive, he even loosened his perpetual scowl a bit. "That's not an Alpha." He sighed dramatically. "That's not a werewolf in fact."
"Whoa! What do you mean 'not a werewolf'? He sure as hell met all the major requirements! Hey, I'd say he is a walking illustration for the Big Bad Wolf!" Peter snorted again. This time even lauder. Stiles eyed him suspiciously: rude creeper was actually looking like he valiantly resisted the urge to laugh out loud. Hmm… Maybe he was trying to maintain his creepy reputation.
Oh, and the intensity of the glare returned with a vengeance! Figures.
"He is a Blutbad," Derek practically spat the word, as if it personally offended him. Or possibly killed his family… Nope, that was Kate Argent. The point is, he almost literally radiated contempt, it was in his aura, which is totally a real thing! Auras, that is.
Peter the Creeper chose this moment of their lively chat to join in on the fun. "How many people saw his transformation?"
Huh, and he just must be the practical one. Stiles made a contemplating face and hummed tunelessly. "Now that I think about it, it was really strange how nobody freaked out. I mean really, the guy wolfed out and no one rised a brow. Not to say there was a crowd, but… You'd think there would be more screaming and maybe some running involved." He slowly trailed off under the new previously unknown severity of Derek's expression.
"Stiles," and again it was the 28 Days Later outcast who asked the question, "Say, had anyone in your family died recently? One of your distant relatives maybe?" He sounded so pleasant, it made Stiles want to pull out all of his fangs.
"Why, yes, my aunt Mary was in a car crash, we had a call just this morning…" And why's Derek looking so grim all of a sudden? "Why are you looking so grim, Sourwolf?"
Peter finally lost it. Stiles'd never before heard him laughing so hard.
"It's because you are a Grimm!" he wheezed in between fits of laughter.