Hey…
I know, I know it's been a LOOOOOOOOOOONG time since I've been on this site. I'm practically have gone ghost or whatever the term is that people use. I've been busy with life and colleges, which suck and is exciting at the same time. I don't know how, but it is.
I know I have another story that's in hiatus, but I will get back to that once I get more free time. Also, I need to get back on the rhythm for that story and that means I need to re-watch ALL of season four episodes all over again just to see how the story would go. It's been a while since Teen Wolf has been off-aired since September, so I just need to find that inspiration again (and I will).
Now this: the "new" story.
I basically came up with this idea while watching Modern Family and dreamt the Teen Wolf characters doing this. I have no idea why, but I loved the concept and I always laugh whenever I imagine what the characters would say when they're being interviewed or confessing something.
So thus the story was born.
This story will be updated irregularly, meaning if I get the time or an idea for the next chapter comes up, I will try to post it. So don't expect new chapters every week or something like that.
So yeah…enjoy!
Disclaimer: I don't own anything, but my laptop.
Melissa straightened herself while looking ahead. Her hands were clasped above her thighs in a comfortable position. Her coffee was still warm and the strong scent reached up to her nostrils. She wanted to take a sip, but couldn't.
They were beginning.
"So what was your first thought about your son, Scott, being a werewolf?"
"My first thought?" Melissa pondered for a moment. Her index finger lightly tapped her dark jeans before answering, "Well, I was scared. I mean," she pushed a curl behind, "I'm not going to lie because that would just be ridiculous, but he was a werewolf. I didn't even know they actually existed until he revealed himself at the police station."
"Do you support him?"
Melissa nodded. "Of course! I gave birth to him for Christ sakes. I don't care if Scott is any supernatural creature that I've seen in the movies: I will be there for him no matter what. That is my job."
"And your ex-husband, Rafael, does he know?"
"Him?" Melissa jerked her thumb behind as if he were in the room. She scoffed in laughter before stating, "No. Not unless Scott tells him. For a man who is an FBI Agent, he really has a difficult time piecing the clues together. I mean," Melissa leaned forward as the camera zoomed in closer. "He honestly told a sketch artist to draw an Oni, but instead it came out looking like a cheap and cartoon version of Zorro."
Agent Rafael intently gazed outside the window.
The pain in his shoulder was still fresh as he adjusted the cast to make his arm feel comfortable. He was waiting patiently for the results and he could not seem to rest at all. The clock was ticking behind him. Even though there were other officers in the station with him, he still felt alone.
Rafael was used to it, though.
Most of the officers barely interacted with him unless it was for an investigation. Then again he was trying to get Sheriff Stilinski, a beloved man in this town, fired. It wasn't Rafael's though. He was simply doing his job his supervisor assigned him, but apparently that wasn't enough to cut him some slack.
Sometimes he hated his job.
"Agent McCall," a man called out his name behind him. The agent swiftly turned around to see the sketch artist holding his drawing book. "It's done. I did the best that I could with all the information you had provided me, but…"
The artist turned the notebook to reveal his sketch.
"That seems about right," Rafael responded and the artist had to blink his eyes as if he heard it right.
"Are you sure?"
"Positive!" The wounded man stated with confidence. He walked towards the door with his hand on the knob. "You can start making copies and I'll get someone to post it on the wall. Thank you for your services."
The sketch artist had his mouth open as if he was going to protest, but the door slammed shut and he was alone in the office. Gripping his notebook, his eyes skimmed his drawing and was still baffled that the agent wanted to find a person straight out of some fictional story.
He sighed. "Idiot…"
She leaned back with her arms crossed and an eyebrow raised.
"And he wonders why the police station does not take him seriously."
"What was my first thought on Scott being a werewolf?" Stiles repeated with a light smirk as he stretched his arms behind his friend. The two were sitting together on the couch and Scott gave him a look. "Well, I thought he was going to kill me."
"No I wasn't!"
Stiles snapped his head at the alpha. "You growled at me during your first period cycle. Sorry if I was trying to prevent you from eating someone on the full moon." He then whispered, "I swear, Allison owed me big time."
Scott rolled his eyes before looking at the camera. "In my defense, it was my first time going through the full moon as a newly bitten werewolf."
"Who was stubborn as a bull."
"I was an idiot back then!"
"That I can happily agree with," Stiles grinned in amusement as he watched Scott pinch his nose.
"And how was this experience for the two of you?"
Stiles immediately answered like a lightning bolt. "Stressful, painful, lack of sleep, nightmares, the fear of death at your doorstep: you know, the usual stuff a seventeen year old guy experiences in their life."
"Okay," Scott pointed an accusing finger at him. "None of this would have happened if you didn't drag me to the forest to look for a dead body. And guess who got bit? Me!"
"Are you saying you regret getting the bite?"
"What?" The alpha blurted out as he shook his head. "No, no, no. I'm not regretting it, I'm just…well, I just never realized how much this bite would have changed my whole life. I mean," the boy scratched his head as he thought of his answer. "Before the bite, Stiles and I were losers."
"That we were."
"And we were basically nobodies," Scott continued with a sadden expression. "We were benchwarmers on the lacrosse team, had no friends besides the two of us and I thought that would be our lives in high school. But…it's not."
"We made friends," Stiles quipped happily. "Scott became captain of the lacrosse team, I got to make-out with a hot werecoyote and illegally enter a bar downtown."
Scott punched him with annoyed eyes. "Dude! Our parents are going to see this!"
Panic had crept on the poor boy's face.
"Do you think you guys can cut that part out?"
"Are we rolling?" Derek asked as sat on the stool with his muscular arms crossed over his chest.
"Yes," responded the interviewer from behind. "What was your first thought on Scott being a werewolf?"
Derek took a moment to answer. "You know, I thought he was a little-shit who refused any help from me because he thought I was the bad guy. Apparently if you wear black-on-black you're automatically a bad person."
"According to Scott and Stiles, they had accused you of killing your sister, Laura" the interview read off from the paper. Derek went still for a second before breathing slowly and allowed the interviewer to finish. "What are your thoughts on this? Do you hold any grudges against the boys?"
"Well first off, they're idiots," he bluntly stated as his arms fell to his sides. "I don't know why they would think I would kill my sister. She was the last family member I had who was neither dead nor insane. To be honest, I respected my sister because she was wise like my mother. Peter…" He shook his head. "I don't even know where to begin with him."
"Do you trust your uncle?"
"No."
"Do you have anything to say to your uncle?"
Derek struck the middle finger.
"And we're done here."
"I knew something was different about Scott when he came to work a week after he got the bite from Peter," Dr. Deaton shared to the interviewer. He was sitting outside of his office and the emissary smiled at the fond memory. "I had a feeling he was a werewolf, but I did not want to mention it. I wanted him to accept his new role on his own although there were some…rough moments."
"Like what?"
"Well…"
Scott was cleaning up the cages in the backroom as slowly as possible.
He did not want to shake the cage with the washcloth because the chain rattled with an offbeat tone. Scott wasn't sure why, but he found the metal sound irritating and he cursed underneath his breath whenever it shook. It was not just that, but the ticking of the clock drove him nuts.
Tick.
Tick.
Tick.
Tick.
He grunted in annoyance as he pushed himself away from the cage. Soon there were more sounds being added. They were piled on top of each other until all the sounds had blurred into something that he no longer understood.
"ENOUGH!" He roared like a lion in the wild and punched the wall closest to him. Scott huffed heavily with his shoulders shaking as if a volcano was about to erupt. The poor werewolf rushed into the bathroom and let the cool water run out the faucet. He had splashed water to his face before gripping the counter.
He was controlling himself.
He can't transform. Not here.
A knock.
"Scott?" Deaton's voice echoed from the other side. "Are you okay?"
"Yeah," he croaked and coughed to regain his deep voice. "I'm fine."
He opened the door and Scott stepped out to see Deaton with a concern face. The veterinarian made sure to keep some distance between him and the distressed boy. Deaton observed Scott's body language silently, but intently at the same time.
"Are you okay?"
"Yeah, just something on my mind, that's all."
"Well, if it's on your mind," Deaton stated softly as he gently placed his hand on Scott's shoulder. "I won't force it out of you. That would be rude of me. However, I just want to let you know that whatever it is you are going through: I am here to help."
Scott nodded with a small smile. "Thanks."
"Well," the veterinarian quipped as he walked away from the room. "You know I would need to take a chuck of your paycheck to repair the hole in the wall."
Scott winced to himself, although he never saw the amused expression from the older man.
Deaton chuckled at the memory. "I will never forget that."
"Did you fix the hole?"
"Actually," Deaton pointed behind the camera. "It's still there."
The camera zoomed into the medium-sized hole that held a small hook in the middle. The camera then returned to Deaton who held a sly grin.
"Apparently it makes a great place for my coat!"
I just want to point out a few things:
I will try to make sure the "interviewer" is neutral. I want you, the readers, to believe you're asking them the questions and interacting with them.
I will try to incorporate EVERY character from this show: alive, dead and even overseas (AKA Jackson and Isaac). I'm not sure how, but then again it's a fictional story and I'll do it my way. Screw logic! (Or not.)
That's pretty much all for now. Please review, follow or favorite this story. If you do all three that's even better! Until next time…
-WhatTheCensoredXD