A/N: Hiya, everyone! This is going to be my first ever chaptered fic! It is set in an AU where werewolves may or may not exist. I'm still trying to decide. There will most definitely be other supernatural elements though. I have a mystery/adventure storyline in mind with Sterek as the main pairing. Almost all the characters of the show will be used at some point in the story. Established canon pairings will remain as is like Scott/Allison and Jackson/Lydia. Hope you guys enjoy reading this as much as I have enjoyed writing it. :)
CHAPTER ONE : HELLO, STRANGER
"Leave me alone..." Stiles groaned, pulling the covers back over his head and curling into a ball in its warmth.
"First day of school, remember?" said the older Stilinski sternly and ripped off the covers again, much to the annoyance of his son who reached out a frantic hand and snatched it right back. A tug-of-war immediately ensued, by the end of which neither had won and Stiles found himself fully awake and muttering grumpily.
"Hey, don't worry," said his dad, a.k.a. the Sheriff already dressed for work, turning around at the doorway and looking slightly concerned.
"I'm not!" protested Stiles, sounding crossed. "Just..." - his dad looked like he wanted to say something but thankfully remained silent - "...tired." Knowing how lame that sounded, especially considering he had practically spent the entire summer lazing around and only a few minutes ago had been woken up from a ten-hour long sleep, he stumbled off the bed and zombied his way to the bathroom, not bothering to stay and witness the growing concern on his father's face.
Stiles had never been one of the popular kids in school, he'd be the first to admit that, but recently he'd felt more out-of-place than ever. The fact that he knew exactly why, and his complete helplessness in the matter nevertheless, irked him more than anything though. It wasn't even that he was jealous that his best (and only) friend, Scott, had been spending way too much time with his new girlfriend, Allison, lately and had little to no time for him at all. He wasn't even annoyed that what little time they shared these days was spent with Scott all doe-eyed and cooing unabashedly about everything he and Allison had done or said to each other recently. Well maybe he did feel a little bit of both - jealousy and annoyance. But what bothered and scared him the most was that he felt like he was slowly sinking into oblivion. He felt like he didn't belong anymore.
Allison had suddenly become the sun of Scott's solar-system and he felt like some tiny, insignificant, obscure planet at the very edge, physically present and doing the rounds but it might just as well have been non-existent. He could totally sympathize with Pluto right now. Poor Pluto...
It did not help matters that now they were hanging out with Lydia (and Jackson) all the time by virtue of association through a complex network of relations, him being the bestfriend of the other's bestfriend's boyfriend. Yup, it sucked, especially since Lydia - for whom he had somehow festered an unhealthy amount of obsession over the last how-many-years-he-had-been-on-the-planet - probably still hadn't figured out why exactly it was that she found herself wondering why his face looked strangely familiar everytime they met. Ouch!
Drying himself wearily, he stepped out of the shower and reluctantly got dressed. His dad had already left. He grabbed the breakfast from the kitchen table and with a final sweeping glance of surveillance across the living room, exited the house.
Atleast there is one saving grace in all of this, he said to himself as he happily climbed into the driver's seat of his beloved jeep and inhaled deeply, his face glowing with pure contentment.
"I missed you too," he purred before turning on the ignition and pulling out into the street. Only once did he slow down briefly to glance at the house opposite theirs, the one that had been vacated a few months ago by a middle-aged couple and their two kindergarten daughters. Even in broad daylight Stiles thought it looked creepy. He tore his eyes away from the grim sight with a shudder and accelerated down the quiet street. Between bites off the vegie sandwich his dad had left him and sips from the disposable coffee cup, he was soon pulling into the Beacon Hills High School's already overcrowded parking lot. Scott and Allison were upon him in an instant, all smiles and giggling at some secret joke. A highly disinterested duo of Lydia and Jackson stood some distance away, engaged in a back-and-forth monosyllabic conversation.
"Hey, you...guys," Stiles offered tentatively before he was clapped on the back by a beaming Scott. "Nice to see you too," he sighed in the general direction of Lydia who hadn't noticed him. Yet.
The day passed by quite uneventfully, the only exception being the dreaded Chemistry class where Stiles found himself as the unfortunate target of one of Mr. Harris' diatribes about his livid horror and utter loss of faith in the future of the human race everytime he was painfully reminded of the general ignorance that ran rampant throughout the class but that which especially and unmistakably manifested itself and reared its ugly head in a few select unnamed individuals. Thankfully there was no detention thereafter.
Lacrosse try-outs after school would hopefully be a less harrowing experience, since he had already made peace with the idea- no, the fact that he would probably end up on the bench all season. Scott was adamant to make first line, however, and Stiles winced through the disaster that his bestfriend's try-out ended up being. He was sure Jackson had rammed Scott intentionally. Even as the boy lay motionless on the ground, the wind totally knocked out of him, the rest of the team erupted in a chorus of racuous laughter and ill-concealed snickers, not to mention their coach, Bobby Finstock, berating Scott's manhood, wanting to know if he'd be much better off with a kiddy diaper. Only Danny, the goalie, and Allison, who had literally dashed all the way from the stands, reached out to help. Danny removed his helmet and kneeled down to help Scott up. Allison was cradling his face and begging him to open his eyes. Stiles rolled his eyes and reached out a hand.
"Thanks, I can manage now," Scott groaned after the trio had helped him back up on his feet. Allison still looked concerned but stepped away slowly. Lydia and Jackson exchanged a look and the latter walked away with an exasperated look on his face. Still swaying a little unsteadily, Scott dragged himself back to the locker-room with Stiles close behind him, even as their boisterous coach bellowed behind them: "Now, who's up next? Get off the field, Greenberg, and for god's sake turn around so I don't have to see that hideous face of yours!"
They showered in silence and got dressed. Stiles finally let out a long-contained sigh as they slowly made their way toward the parking-lot. He had known all along that something was bound to go down today. First day of school was always the day when everyone was trying to start out on a good note, and for some it simply meant asserting themselves by drawing a clear line between oppressor and oppressed for the rest of the academic session. Jackson had frankly made Scott's life hell last year, and Stiles had hoped that now that he was the boyfriend of his girlfriend's bff, things would finally simmer down. Clearly Jackson's and his rationale operated in completely different dimensions.
"Hey, try not to let it get to you too much, okay?" he said at last trying to atleast provide some form of support to his wounded friend, but even he could detect the unmistakable strain of dread that laced his voice.
"I'm fine," Scott lied but Stiles chose not to press the matter any further.
"Hop in, I'll give you a ride," he said instead, managing a genuine smile at last, as they approached his jeep. Scott grinned in gratitude and deposited his bike in the back.
"Scott!"
"Allison!"
It was as if all of Scott's anguish had suddenly evaporated at the mere utterance of his name by that singular person. Stiles turned around to see Allison and Lydia scurrying up toward them.
"Scott, are you okay?" Allison demanded, turning Scott's face this way and that, trying to detect the slightest hint of an injury.
"Allison, I'm more than fine," protested Scott, beaming like an idiot. Allison considered his assurance for a few seconds and finally smiled, relief flooding her face.
"Hey, Lydia," Stiles managed in the meantime, turning to face the girl with the strawberry-blonde hair, but he only received the Lydia look in return, a term he had come up with himself for the very expression Lydia had on her face right now that fell somewhere between disinterest and amusement.
"Right," he sighed ruefully before turning away from the public make-out session that was going on right beside his jeep. Lydia ahem-ed and the couple broke apart reluctantly.
"I'm kinda running late for work anyway, so..." Scott said, slightly out of breath, and another minute or two was spent with the two making plans to help each other with studies later that evening at the Argent's.
Studies, right, Stiles said to himself and mentally rolled his eyes. He felt ridiculous watching those two and was growing more and more impatient, and judging from Lydia's expression she wasn't exactly enjoying this conversation either.
After painfully long and totally unnecessary goodbyes, Stiles was finally driving his friend to work, as had been the plan all along. Deaton came out to greet them, waving at Stiles who waved back, and then he was on his drive back home. Somehow he was starting to feel better about himself after all the drama that had gone down today. Humming a random tune he slowly pulled into his driveway. He felt strangely happy and fished the keys out of his pocket as he walked toward his front door. Something felt different. He wouldn't have been able to explain the feeling had he been asked to.
It was only then that he realised what was wrong-no, different, as he spun around sharply to the sound of a black Chevrolet Camaro coming to a halt outside the house across the street. They had new neighbours. Or atleast a new neighbour, as a solitary individual stepped out of the car. Wearing a black leather jacket and a brooding expression to match, he looked like the kind of brother you could brag about at school. Or terrorise fellow mates with, depending on the situation.
Stiles raised up an uncertain hand and waved. What he got back in return was the most terrifying smile he had ever seen. Atleast he assured himself it was a smile because the only other thing it could possibly have been would be a scowl.
"M-my dad and I live here," Stiles stammered, labouring under a tremendous amount of nerves. Before he could stop himself, he added: "He's the Sheriff." He instantly smacked himself over the head mentally. "Stiles...Stilinski," he offered hopefully.
Stiles debated whether to dig a hole right there and bury himself at the deadly silence that followed next. The man looked like he was only a few years older than him but even from this distance his presence was intimidating. Stiles watched as a parade of varying emotions ranging from surprise to annoyance to downright anger flashed across his face before he met Stiles' wavering gaze.
"Hale," he said at last, and Stiles was confused for a second before the man continued: "Derek Hale."
