1. OK, so I've found a magical lamp... kinda

(only in Beacon Hills! OMG I can't even...)

...

"So..."

..

Silence. The being (wait maybe allucination? Did Scott lift some strange magical powder from Deaton again?! Why did this happen always to him?!) in front of him lifted an eyebrow. Stiles felt a smidgeon of irritation making his eyelid twitch. What was it with freakin' supernatural creatures and those damn eyebrow, eh? Would the... thing roll its eyes next taking a page from the Hales?

Why him? Why was it always him? Yes he was a smartass and his brain to mouth filter were unexistent, he was sometimes impulsive, had done his fair share of pranks in his life and his curiosity had put him in some tight places (case in point Laura's body, Creeper Peter, Scotty's wolfie mojo...need he say more?) but surely he couldn't have pissed Fate so much to deserve this, right? He was going to lodge a complaint with Karma: there were so many assholes on earth who deserved this shit so much more than him. He was a teenager! A bit of a troublemaker but he had never even killed anybody. So he set Peter on fire once, who cared! I mean... tecnically it was Derek who actually did the deed. And Creepewolf was like a cockroach and kept turning back up like nothing. And he had forgiven him too and now they enjoyed snarking at each other during pack meetings and competing over who could mock the others better (they were 4-3 for Peter currently, but he had a plan for next week, just you see!).

Then there had been that nightmare that was the Nogitsune, but... but... No damn it! He was paying his weight in gold for therapy. Karma had better have a talk with Ms Morell too and resolve this hiccup in their sistem and actually realize that it was all the Nogitsune's fault and he was just another of his victims. And really he wouldn't even think about some of the worse things like raping or mansloughter (I mean now Kate was dead, and good riddance to bad rubbish, but while he wanted to be an optimist he wasn't naive and he was pretty sure that somewhere there had to be somebody else of that ilk. Probably not even all Hunters, the dickbags!). His father was a Sherrif for heaven's sake, there were a lot of criminal and sick sadists around... why did he have such horrid luck? What even was this?!

Maybe for his sanity it would be better if he woke up. (It's all a dream Stiles, now you'll open your eyes and you'll laugh about this ridicolous dream with Scott at school.)

Ok, first thing first...

He reached a hand and poked the Invader-Of-Bed in front of him. Once, twice... it/he was solid. And yep, there went the rolling of eyes. Damn it!

"So" he started again "You're a genie. A real, wish granting genie, have I heard you correctly? What the hell man! You were in a can! What kind of self respecting magical superpowered mythical being lives in a shitty coke can? Are you kidding me right now? I totally brought you at the supermarket! What if I had been a little kid, you unthinking little shit? What would you have done then eh? You could have traumatized someone. And you're not even blue! I call bullshit! Where's the smoke, the arabian clothes and mistical aura? Not even a little sparkle? What say you in your defence?"

He liked to think that he was composed and stern, but maybe his voice had tented to a bit of hysteria right at the end? Nah, he may be surprised (every time! Every time he though nothing could ever surprise him again and then something like this happened! maybe he was cursing himself? Deaton had said he had a Spark. And let's be honest if somebody was clumsy enough to unconciously using their inner power to attract misfortune it would be him. Derek too, now that he though about it. He was going to pester Deaton untill he the vet gave him a good cleansing ritual for the both of them. The situation was reaching the realm of unbearable ridiculousness!) but he was totally in control of the situation. Totally. He had dealt with enough shit in the last two years. A genie was nothing against feral werewolves, murdering mutant-lizard, crazy geriatric hunters, Alpha Pack and ancient fox demons bent on chaos and destruction. And bad comes to worse he had a bat. Rowan wood around a rune enforced steel bar, all soaked in a mistletoe-wolfsbane mixture. Take that!

Stiles held up the coke can and fixed a glare on the genie in front him.

"Come on. To bed you go." he ordered.

The genie looked gobsmacked and then pouted petulantly. "But I just got out! Really Master don't you want to make a wish? I just offered riches and powers to your heart content! Do you know how boring life is when we are in between Masters?!"

Stiles scoffed. "Do I look that guillible to you? Don't answer that, it was rethorical! I'm not making a wish untill I know what the other shoe is and what catastrophe it'll cause dropping. Untill then you'll stay in the can and won't cause trouble. Shoo!"

With a last despondent look the genie poofed away. Stiles looked around mistrusfully. Under the bed, inside his wardrobe. Nothing. So he peeked with one eye inside the can he still held, but it seemed empty. And shaking it a bit caused nothing. Well, looked like he had a shit ton of research in his near future. Let's see, better start from the Argent's Bestiary, then google. Could he risk asking Peter for information? He would probably owe him a limb but... better that than risking the trouble the usual monster of the week caused. And surely Peter's smarmy teasing was certainly preferable to Deaton's infuriating riddles.

Let's get to work.

Hello! This is a little teaser on a new story I'm planning. Hope you like it.

Also I'm italian so it's very, very possible that I missed some mistakes. I'll be very fratefull if you pointed them out. :)

I'm also trying to find a way to give the impression of Stiles' tendency to babble and the way his thoughts are so very dynamic while still using a third person narrator because I really don't like first person P.O.V. Let me know your impressions and/or suggestions? *blushes*

Thanks for reading!

Lori