A/N: So just a quick run down on things so you know what's going on. This fic is an AU from the TVD/TW RPG I'm in, which you can find a link to on my author's page if you're interested in it! Nancy's FC is Emma Stone, and the relationship between her and Stiles is entirely platonic. The two have been best friends since birth, and their parents were all best friends before them. Nancy's parents and Stiles' mom died when Stiles and Nancy were eleven, but I can't tell you why because of spoilers! After being orphaned, Nancy moved into the Stilinski household and it only strengthened their friendship. Also, zombies aren't the normal kind of zombies that you're thinking of! :3
Nancy is entirely the creation of Arie, who also prompted me for this fic as seen below:
I'm seeing a bad-ass Stancy post-apocalypse AU. A little girl finds them after they come back from hunting the zombs (As Stiles calls them) one time.
She's a tiny, pale, little thing. Human, of course. Nancy has learned to distinguish between wolves, humans, bloodsuckers, and zombies. And the blood thrumming through the little one's veins is a dead giveaway. The redhead kneels down so she is at the little girl's level and because of how short she is... it isn't much of a stretch. "Wolves are strong, wolves are intelligent," the girl recites the familiar mantra that Nancy and Stiles learned as children. She looks over at her best friend and finds that he is mouthing the words along with her, the familiar hardness no longer quite in his eyes. "But humans are better, they are stronger, they are smarter. To be a human who runs with wolves, you have to be the best." Nancy smiles before patting her on the head.
Maybe one day after all of this is over, she can have children because it is during times like these when she remembers why she wanted to be a teacher in the first place.
A few disclaimers: Title comes from Mumford & Sons' song "Whispers in the Dark". The Teen Wolf characters are not my creation and all belong to Jeff Davis and MTV unless otherwise stated (as in the case of Nancy).
Growing up in an impound that had probably seen better days was the downfall of being raised in the zombie apocalypse. Everything seemed to fade into shades of brown or green, boring colors. Nancy tells him to stop whining about stupid things like the color of the walls, but he can't help that he's been taught how to shoot a gun since he could hold one. There's no point in him sitting in this classroom learning about the creatures that he knew backwards and forwards since he could read. He was probably one of the only few teenagers that would make it to their parents' ages.
Nancy kicks his leg, snapping him back to the present. He jerks forward, glasses slipping down his face slightly. Everyone in the room is staring at him, including Harris.
" . Dreaming again, I presume?" Comes the snide remark. Harris hates him. Stiles doesnn't blame him. He knows he's an asshole, but it's not his fault that he'd rather be out killing monsters than sitting in a classroom going over the same boring safety measures every day.
Stiles smirks and leans forward so his elbows are resting on the desk. "You know me. Constantly thinking about what it'd finally be like when you die and turn. I wonder if I would be able to convince my dad to let me kill you myself." Everyone's eyes widen slightly, even Nancy's. Stiles had never actually gone that far with a comeback, but he's getting tired of everything. It's only a few more days before he graduates and is able to actually get his hands on his own weapon.
Harris' eyes narrow slightly, and he crosses his arms while casually leaning against the front of his desk. "Well, as interesting as that sounds, I don't believe we have time. Perhaps you could tell me after class. While you clean the floors with a toothbrush." There's a few snickers from around the room, but Stiles just rolls his eyes and leans back in his chair.
When he glances over at Nancy, she's glaring at him. He moves his head in a What? motion, and the redhead just scoffs and goes back to paying attention to Harris. This is going to be a long fucking day.
She's waiting for him with a book in her hand when he walks out of the classroom, knees aching from having to shuffle around on the floor for hours, elbows creaking from the new sensation of moving them other than just backwards and forwards. A hand comes up to rub at his neck as he rolls it around and tries to get it to pop. He comes to a stop in front of her, but she doesn't look up at him.
"Oh, come on," he says in exasperation, and her green eyes flicker up to his face. If he were anyone else, then he would be shaking in his boots. Good thing he had become immune to her death stares when they were kids. Oh, who was he kidding. Nancy is five foot three inches of total badassery. Stiles has seen her take down guys in training that are twice her size. She knows how to be scary.
"They're never going to put you in the field," she says, her tone clearly showing just how pissed off with him she was as she snapps the ancient book closed. Stiles' eyes catch a glimpse of it before it's shoved into her purse-
It's a bag, Stiles. They don't even make purses anymore.
-bag, and he has to dig his nails into his palms so he doesn't bust out laughing. Abraham Lincoln: Vampire Hunter. Somehow only Nancy would read books that made jokes about the creatures they kill now. His brain scrambles to recall just who Abraham Lincoln was, and something is telling him that he had been someone really important. With a shake of his head, he focuses back on the present.
"And why is that?" He asks, following behind his best friend as she slings the bag over her shoulder and begins to storm away. His legs are longer than hers, so it wouldn't take him long to catch up with her, but he still hangs back and let's her stay ahead. Last time he caught up to her, she had tripped him and then dropped her bag on his stomach before storming away again. "My dad runs the compound, Nancy. He's the leader. They would be-"
She turns around at that and storms back up to him. Even with the few inches on the boots, she still has to crane her head up to look at him. One of her fingers jab into his shoulder repeatedly as she talks. "They don't have to do jack shit, Stiles Stilinski. Just because your father decides what squadrons go where and who goes to towns to dig through the rubble for supplies doesn't mean that they're going to put a gun in your hand. And you know why? Because you don't know how to fucking follow orders."
Stiles looks down at her, taking every single jab and every single word. His eyes harden, but he knows she's telling the truth. Nancy, on the other hand, softens a bit. Her jabbing finger turns to a soft palm that rests on his chest, right above his heart.
"You're going to graduate with me, do you hear me? We're going to graduate and your dad is going to pin that stupid star to our jackets and give us a gun and a crossbow and he's going to make us raise our hands and recite that Goddamn motto and then we're going to fucking go kill some monsters, alright? We're going to go out there and we're going to- We're going to-" Her eyes start to tear up, but he knows what she was going to say.
He steps forward and wraps his arms around her, pulling her forward until she is burying her face in his chest. His finger run through her hair, and he shushes her softly. She never cries, though. She hasn't actually cried since that day all those years ago. They both changed then.
"I'm going to go in the field. Even if I can't follow orders, they would be stupid not to put me in the field. Even Harris knows that, alright?" He says to her, chin resting lightly on top of her head. His eyes close after a moment, and he presses a kiss to the top of her head. "I promise I'll try harder."
Nancy lets out a soft laugh at that and murmurs into the fabric of his shirt, "You're such a liar."
"Yeah, well I was aiming to comfort you."
He can practically feel the eye roll that she gives him before pulling away. His eyes scan her face, and you wouldn't even be able to tell that she had been upset a few moments prior. "C'mon.. I'm hungry," Nancy says lightly before wrapping her arm around his waist. His arm instinctively goes to he shoulders, and they walk towards the Mess Hall-
Why can't you call it a cafeteria like everyone else, Stiles?
-the cafeteria for dinner.
They're serving rice with artificial gravy again. Stiles takes it without complaining, something he really tries not to do since it's the same thing they serve every day for dinner. Nancy catches his look, though, and shakes her head before smiling at the woman working the line tonight. They make their way to the place they normally sit, and Allison and Scott are already sitting there making lovey dovey eyes at each other.
Only those two would find fucking-
You sound so barbaric when you say that! At least call it making love or something. Jesus H. Christ. You think that you would have learned to be more respectful by now.
-making love an enjoyable pastime in the midst of a zombie apocalypse. He and Nancy share a look of good natured disgust before they both slam their trays down in front of the couple, causing them to jump and whirl towards the other two. They both have the same shit eating grins on their faces as the sit down.
"Sometimes I swear you two were born in the same womb," Allison comments before picking up her spoon and eating a bit of rice. Scott, of course, goes back to staring at her hair, probably writing haikus about it in his head.
"Unfortunately, we weren't-" Nancy starts just as Stiles says at the same time, "Fortunately, we weren't-" which makes the redhead glare at him. He smiles innocently at her before taking a spoonful of bland rice and even blander gravy and shoves it into his mouth so he isn't forced to apologize. He knows she'll get him back later. It frightens him slightly.
"Are you two ready for graduation?" She asks instead.
Just as Allison begins her reply, a head of strawberry blonde hair makes it's way through the crowd, children, teenagers, and adults alike moving parting the way for her like the Red Sea for Moses. Stiles tracks the top of the head with his eyes until the person attached to it finally is visible.
Lydia Martin. Perhaps the smartest person in the compound and training to take the Head Scientist role as soon as she graduates, even if the Head Scientist thinks that it's a joke to feel threatened by someone as young as Lydia. Stiles tries to remember how Lydia and Allison had talked about how there once to be many different types of Scientists, but now there's only one. Lydia had said she wanted to be a specific kind, but he couldn't seem to remember which one.
That was unusual. He usually remembered every single detail about the ginger goddess. But now, his memory was failing him. Maybe he could chalk it up to stress since final evaluations were coming up and there was the whole 'the head officers nor putting him in the field' thing. He tried not to let himself be bothered by the lie.
Eventually, Lydia makes her way to their table and sits down next to Allison. A grin slowly makes its way to cover Stiles' face, and he doesn't notice the way Nancy immediately scowls, eyes flickering between the redhead and her best friend.
"So guess what I was just told," Lydia states to Allison, not even bothered that she had just interrupted a conversation. Allison stops mid sentence and looks to her own best friend.
"Ummm.. What?" The brunette asks, shaking her head lightly.
Lydia takes a deep breath - something Nancy always describes to a zoned out Stiles as an over dramatic pause that always takes up air that other people need to breathe - before answering. "Someone has a higher GPA than me. Someone who isn't even training to be Head Scientist! They're training to be a dirty foot soldier."
Stiles doesn't notice the look that Allison gives her, too focused on the way that Lydia still found ways to curl her hair perfectly without any hair tools. "Lydia. I'm training to be one of those 'dirty foot soldiers'."
His eyes move to her hand as she waves it, noticing the tiny cut on her hand. He wonders what it is from before focusing back on what she is saying. "-gorgeous huntress that will defend the compound. There's a distinct difference." Her tone is condescending in every way, but Stiles is too focused on the way that her mouth forms those condescending words. Nancy stares at him hard before scoffing and beginning to eat.
"Anyways, Deaton told me that someone named Stiles has the higher GPA. What the hell is a Stiles anyways? It sounds like a new breed of monster that we're going to learn about. Apparently he's Stilinski's son-"
Stiles tunes in when he hears his last name, too focused in on Lydia to notice the two times she said his first name-
Now you know good and well that is a nickname and not your legal first name.
-nickname. He blinks at Lydia before cutting in and saying, "I'm Stilinski's son."
Lydia pauses, obviously offended that someone interrupted her, but then her eyebrows move to hang low over her eyes as he speaks. Her face quickly morphs to visibly show what she thinks of him. "You're Stiles Stilinski?" She asks. It's clear she doesn't think highly of him.
Stiles nods, swallowing slightly because of his nerves. It didn't really matter to anyone that Stiles was smart and one of the best shots in the whole compound. To everyone, he was just that annoying hyperactive kid who never seemed to shut up and couldn't follow orders if his life depended on it, which in this day and age it did. The only thing to ever make his palms sweat like this is Lydia Martin.
"Oh. Well I was hoping for someone a bit... More."
Stiles can hear the way that Nancy grits her teeth and glances down at where she is gripping her spoon. Her knuckles have turned white from the force of the grip, and her eyes are practically burning holes into the other redhead. Lydia's gaze slowly moves from Stiles to Nancy and moves over her completely once.
"Are you his girlfriend?" Lydia asks, a smirk on her face. Stiles' eyes widen in fear, and he's just about to start stammering out no's and corrections before he gets cut off.
"Would that be a problem?" Nancy retorts back. Stiles knows that tone of voice. That's the tone of voice that makes him hide as best as he can for a week every month from Nancy. This was not going to go down good.
Lydia hums under her breath slightly, assessing the girl sitting across the table. Her eyes flicker to Stiles once more, lingering on him for only a moment before she answers. "It's fitting."
"What the fuck is that-"
"Oh, you've got a very lovely mouth on you don't you?"
"Do you know who the hell you're talking to?"
"Do you know who you're talking to?"
Stiles quickly raises his hands and waves them in between the two girls and says quickly, "Alright now. Let's put away the claws, ladies. I'm sure that this is all just a big mis-"
Nancy grabs his arm and twists it until it's out of her face, leaving him to repeatedly say 'Ow!' until she shoves it away from her. "I'm going to fucking kill a bitch, one that I'm pretty sure is her own breed of monster."
Lydia coolly smirks. "Oh, honey. Those eyebrows actually are their own breed of monster."
Nancy shoves away from the table and is about to lunge forward when suddenly there's a call of, "Stiles! Nancy!" from across the room. They suddenly become so frozen that someone might say they were sculptures or wax figures - if anyone took the time to do that kind of thing anymore.. Both of them have heard that tone many times before, more times then they would like to count. They both slowly turn and look to where the voice came from.
Standing in the entryway of the Mess Hall is John Stilinski. Everyone else in the room has stopped their conversations as well and are either staring at their leader Stilinski or the two teenagers that he is staring down. Slowly, he raises a hand and crooks a finger for the both of them to get their asses over there. Even Scott has stopped giving Allison lovestruck eyes long enough to notice when his two friends are getting into trouble.
"Well, shit," Nancy mutters under her breath.
"I couldn't have said it better myself," Stiles mutters right back.
~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~TWO WEEKS LATER~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~
Stiles tugs at the collar of his shirt before Nancy hits his hand away from it. When he turns to look at her, her face is blank and staring straight forward as if she didn't just assault him while his dad speaks into a microphone. Eventually he turns away from her and focuses back on the speech that he's heard his father tell graduates since Gerard Argent was overthrown and they elected John to be the next leader. A shiver goes down the eighteen year old's spine as he thinks about creepy Gerard.
He doesn't let his mind stray to why his fists clench at the thought of him.
Eventually, his father gets to the point of the speech where he asks the graduates to stand. Nancy and Stiles look at each other, matching grins covering their faces. This was the part that even as children they would get excited about. It was time to recite the one thing that made this compound the strongest out there. Every other compound that the one in Beacon Hills had come in contact with had died out, feasted upon by zombies and werewolves and vampires. There was also the chance that they just died of starvation or thirst.
"Now if the graduates would repeat after me:" John says, and Stiles grabs Nancy's hand, ignoring the few eye rolls and scoffs he gets from the others around him. Someone mutters something under their breath about how they should stop lying about fucking around, but they quickly shut up once Nancy glares at them.
Wolves are strong, wolves are intelligent.
But humans are better, humans are stronger, humans are smarter.
To be a human that runs with wolves, you have to be the best.
Vampires are fast, vampires are deadly.
But humans are better, humans are faster, humans are deadlier.
To be a human that fights the bite, you have to be the best.
Zombies are sane, zombies are hungry.
But humans are better, humans are saner, humans are hungrier.
To be a human that sees another day, you have to be the best.
Monsters are scary, monsters are killers.
But to protect the ones they love,
humans will be the stories told to scare children at night.
I will be the one to fight for those who can't
to persevere through it all
to be the light of hope when the world is a cloud of darkness.
As they say the last line, the two take a deep breath in sync with each other and squeeze their hands as hard as they can. This is it, the grip says. This is the moment where we get that gold star pinned to our jackets, the grip says. This is when he will look us in the eyes and tell us, your moms would be so proud, as would Nancy's father, James, the grip says.
This is the chance to make the world a better place, the grips says.
~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~A YEAR AND 8 MONTHS LATER~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~
"What do you mean I'm being put on suspension?!" Stiles says forcefully with a raised voice. He doesn't yell. This is not yelling.
Nancy is trailing behind him, trying to keep up with his long strides as he storms after his father. There's a rather nasty cut on her forehead that she should really be getting checked out, but she batted away any medical attention that had tried to herd her into the infirmary. The Stilinskis are both walking fast, and she curses her genetics that 'blessed' her with short legs.
John sighs and stops suddenly, something Stiles had been expecting but Nancy had not. She runs into Stiles and stumbles back slightly. He turns to shoot her a glare, one she definitely doesn't deserve, before turning back to his father.
"You nearly got your whole patrol killed, Stiles," the aged man replies, his whole face looking tired. Eight years of running a post-apocalyptic compound does that to a man. Stiles doesn't envy his father, and he knows that everyone dislikes him enough that he won't be chosen to run it when his father steps down.
Or when he dies, a voice supplies in the back of his head. He ignores it and stares his father down, hands drumming against his thighs in a beat of their own making, both hitting at different timings. They hadn't been able to find a pharmacy within a four day round trip journey that had any Adderall in months, and the effects of no medication was starting to get to him.
"But I didn't. There were no deaths. Except for the group of bloodsuckers that had been killing people on night patrols. They're all dead. So how about a 'good job, Stiles' or even a 'I'm going to let you and Nancy gather that team and enough supplies to go on that mission you've been asking to go on for months now, Stile'. Preferably the second one." He is shaking his hands now, and Nancy crosses her arms as she waits for the right time to step in.
John's eyebrows hang low over his eyes, and he crosses his arms as well. "You doused a vampire in kerosene and then set it on fire. It then proceeded to continue to fight, while on fire, might I add, and gave Everette and Simmons bordering on second degree burns. You realize that they are two of our best men, correct?"
Stiles smirks and replies with a snarky, "Well, technically, Simmons is a girl, so-"
Nancy obviously sees this as the best time to step in before Stiles gets an even worse punishment. And by step in, she literally steps forward and onto Stiles's foot. He curses under his breath, and she shifts her weight innocently. "What I think Stiles is trying to say, and we all know I've had to interpret for him many times before, is how long is he on suspension?"
Stiles' father, the man that had become a father for Nancy, stares at the two nineteen year olds before letting out a sigh. "Three months."
"Three months?! That's-"
Nancy steps on his foot again before he can continue that thought. John looks at his son and runs a hand over his face a few times before he continues. "Son, this is the fifth time that you've put your squad in danger. Do you understand that? Is the gaping wound on Nancy's forehead not enough to get that through your head? This isn't a joke. When you go out beyond the fence, you are not only responsible for your back but everyone elses' in your squad."
Stiles looks down at the ground, and the need to move around, let out the energy he has built up despite the raid he was just on is an itch beneath his skin that he can't scratch. He takes a few deep breaths as he literally bites his tongue while trying to think over how to reply to his dad. "Give me another chance," he says. "Send me on the mission I've been asking for and I promise I won't screw it up."
He looks back up to see his father's softening expression. Nancy's eyes flicker between them as she watches the exchange.
"You know I can't do that, Stiles," he says lowly, so low that anyone passing by wouldn't be able to hear them. That is, if anyone was walking by, but the hallway they're in is completely deserted.
"Why not?" He asks, his tone going back to one of hardness. Nancy watches as his walls go back up again and he becomes the man that he didn't use to be before they were on the field, killing creatures that look as normal as any other person inside the compound.
"Because for me to allow you to travel further than a four day round trip would be a suicide mission. I would have to find enough supplies for a team in case you don't come across any on your journey, a team that you wouldn't be able to find volunteers for anyways. No one wants to go further than what has already been explored. Not to mention the gasoline and the ammunition and weapons supply. We don't have those kinds of supplies for a mission like this, Stiles."
His hand taps on his leg which is shaking as his foot shuffles on the floor. He thinks over his options, taking even breaths as his train of thought switches tracks so many times that he wouldn't even begin to find his starting point. Stiles doesn't know how long he stands there silently before Nancy elbows him in the side. He looks at her, eyebrows low as he thinks over his plan one last time. Eventually, the younger Stilinski faces his elder.
"What if I said I already had a team?"
A/N: Alright! Chapter one is done with! Let me know in the comments what you think and leave any questions if you're confused about anything.
If you follow my other story, "Vigilem", and were expecting that story instead of this one, welllll... We can talk about that later.
-The Nerdy Brunette