This idea was an idea from atimelesslove on tumblr and myself. We thought about it a few weeks ago, but I'm just now getting around to posting it. She's going to be making gifsets for this, so go follow her to keep an eye out for them!

I don't own Teen Wolf

He was sprinting as fast as he could, trying to get ahead. His heart was pounding so hard he swore it was going to break free of its captivity in his chest, and he could feel the stitch forming right under his ribcage. Pushing himself as hard as he could go wasn't enough. He was falling behind, and he couldn't get enough breath in to call out to Scott.

Fuck track.

Stiles gave up, putting a hand on his chest as he leaned up against a tree.

"Oh, God," he wheezed. "This – this is how I'm gonna die. Heart attack by track. Awesome."

It wasn't that Stiles was out of shape, that wasn't it at all. He was very fit. But trying to keep up with those damn werewolves – and the one kitsune – when you didn't have the speed to match them was probably the stupidest thing he'd ever done.

Okay, maybe not the stupidest thing he'd ever done, but it was up there.

"Hey, you okay?"

He looked up and saw Kira standing there, hands on her hips.

"I'm fine," he said, still breathless. "I was just, um, racing Scott, and it didn't, really, end well. I, uh, I thought that you would be with him."

"I decided to take it easy," she replied. "Want someone to jog the rest of the way with?"

"Um… Let my heart get back to a normal rate, and then we'll see," he told her.

After a few minutes, when he felt like his heart wasn't going to run away without him, he pushed off from the tree.

"You ready?" Kira asked.

"Yeah," he answered. "I think so."

They started jogging, and Stiles could tell that Kira was holding herself back. A lot.

"You know," Stiles said. "You don't have to hold back so much."

"I don't mind," she shrugged.

"Yes, you do," he countered. "I can handle a little more speed."

"You sure about that?" she asked teasingly, raising an eyebrow.

"Yeah," he said, bounding a step ahead and turning around to face her. "I can even do it backwards."

She rolled her eyes, but didn't speed up. "You're gonna hurt yourself."

Come on," he said, shrugging. "After all the crap we've seen and done, you're afraid I'm gonna hurt myself doing this?"

"Yes," she said simply.

"I'll be fine," he said.

That was when he tripped.

''''''''''

"Stiles!" He groaned something unintelligible in response.

"Stiles! Dude, we're gonna be late!"

"What?" he said opening his eyes.

He was in his room, lying on his bed. Scott was standing at the foot of it.

"We're gonna be late for sound-check," Scott said.

"Oh, right…sound-check," he replied, sitting up and getting out of bed. Something in the back of his head told him that he should ask why they had sound-check, but he already knew.

He threw on some jeans and a dark blue t-shirt before running a hand through his hair. "Let's go."

Scott just looked at him.

"What?" Stiles asked.

"That's what you're wearing?" his best friend asked in response.

"What?" he said. "It's just sound-check."

They made their way out of the apartment and downstairs to the street. The nagging feeling remained, telling him that he shouldn't be in an apartment. He should've left a house. One that he lived in with his dad.

"I can't believe that's what you're wearing," Scott told him as they climbed in the Jeep.

"Why?" Stiles asked.

"Because Mr. M's daughter is gonna be there," he explained, "and I've seen her. She's hot."

Stiles rolled his eyes, pulling out onto the street. "I'm there for sound-check, not to flirt, okay?"

"You won't be saying that when you see her," Scott stated.

''''''''''

They were in the middle of sound-check when he saw her.

"Dad?" she yelled from the doorway, causing Stiles to look up from his drum set. She had long red – no, strawberry blonde – hair, and she was wearing all black. Black skinny jeans, a black corset tank-top, and a loose, flowy black jacket over her shirt. She had a pair of sunglasses in her hand, which she pushed into her hair like a head-band.

Stiles knew her, but he didn't know from where.

"Sweetheart!"Mr. M said joyously, giving her a hug. "How are you?"

"I'm fine," she said, kissing his cheek. "Who's this?"

She was looking at Stiles.

"This," Mr. M said, "is our band performing tonight."

"Two guys are what you consider a band?"

Stiles looked over at Scott, whose brow was furrowed as he held onto the neck of his guitar.

"Actually there are three," Scott said. "Our bass player's just running a little late."

"A lot late," Stiles interjected.

"A lot late," Scott conceded.

"How are you doing sound-check without your whole band?" she asked.

"I'm switching back and forth," Stiles answered her.

Raising an eyebrow at him, she simply nodded before getting on the stage. "Which one of you sings?"

Stiles raised a drumstick. "That would be me."

"You play the drums and sing?" she inquired doubtfully. His heart stuttered as she looked him straight in the eye. God, how did he know this girl?

"Yeah,' he said with a smile. "I, uh, I make it look a lot easier than it is."

"Right," she said. "Why don't you just get a singer? You know, like, someone who can focus on singing."

"And who would you suggest?" Stiles asked sarcastically.

"Me," she answered, "obviously."

"Lydia," Mr. M said. "You can't just barge in on a band – "

"Why not?" she countered. "They obviously need someone."

"We don't need someone," Scott argued. "Stiles is our singer."

"You don't have to put me in the band," she said. "I just thought you might like an option."

The door burst open before anyone could respond, Isaac practically flying onto the stage.

"Sorry I'm late," he said breathlessly. "Allison got sick, so I had to cover her shift until Danny could come in."

"It's fine," Stiles said. "Grab your bass and we'll finish sound-check."

Isaac nodded, stopping when he saw Lydia. "Who are you?"

"Lydia Martin," she said with a smile. "You guys were just about to play for me."

"Oh, we were?" Stiles asked, crossing his arms.

"Yes," she replied with a hint of venom, "you were. But just a verse and a chorus, you know, enough to get a taste."

Stiles looked between Scott and Isaac, who both shrugged. "Fine," he said. This girl may be beautiful, but she was starting to be a pain in the ass.

Walking over to Stiles, Lydia gave him a very come hither look, causing his mouth to go dry and his stomach to twist in anticipation.

"I'll take that," she purred, grabbing the microphone and walking away. "You know Stevie Nicks, right?"

Clearing his throat, Stiles replied, "yeah." He nodded to his fellow band mates and they began.

"Just like the white winged dove
Sings a song
Sounds like she's singin'
Whoo-whoo-whoo"

If Stiles hadn't known the song like the back of his hand – he shouldn't should he? – he wouldn't have been able to keep playing.

Her voice was probably one of the best things he'd ever heard. It was full of life and emotion, like she poured every ounce of herself into each note. Running on auto-pilot, he watched her as she moved across the stage like she was born to be on it.

When they stopped, she turned around with an easy smile. "What'd you think?"

"I – uh, it , uh…" Stiles couldn't put a coherent sentence together to save his life.

"You kinda rocked it," Scott said. Isaac nodded in agreement.

"Thank you," she told him. "What about you, drummer boy?"

"Um, y-yeah," Stiles stammered, holding both of his drumsticks in one hand, tapping them against the other. "What he said."

"Am I good enough to be in your band?" she asked, tilting her head.

The band mates looked at each other, and immediately knew that they were on the same page.

Stiles stood up and held out his hand to shake hers. "Welcome to The Pack."

What do you think?