My first Sterek as well as my first crossover, please enjoy and let me know what you think!
Stiles sighed as he sat in the room by himself. He was fighting a killer hangover, his tongue was dry and cottony, his head was throbbing, and a weak nausea pulsed in his stomach. The mahogany paneling and glass furniture was probably meant to be modern, but really it just came off as pretentious. He'd been pushing a pen across the desk and watching it roll back to him for at least 7 minutes. Clearly whoever the architect was on this job hadn't done their due diligence. That or the table was just tilted. He looked down to the legs and sure enough one of them was just a smidge shorter than the others. He grabbed a sheet of paper from the table, folded it a few times, and slid it under. He placed the pen back in the middle of the table and managed a small smile when it stayed in place. It was the little victories these days.
"Mister Stilinski." The very British voice belonged to the woman that walked in. She was older than Stiles, probably in her late thirties, wearing a tight black skirt and a red blouse. She looked severe with her crisp red lipstick and dark brown hair pulled tightly back into a bun.
"It's… Stiles." Mister Stilinski is his father… was his father.
"Mister... Stiles?" the look on her face was confused as she consulted the clipboard in her hand confirming his last name.
"No, just Stiles is fine."
She crossed the room and sat in the seat across from him at the table. "Stiles then. My name is Adelle DeWitt and I am in charge of this facility. We provide a unique service to our very elite clientele, but we also offer an opportunity for people like you, who may be looking for a way out of certain circumstances." She paused, watching his response. "You are here because we see you as a perfect candidate."
"A candidate for what exactly?" He tugged at his shirt uncomfortably.
"I am offering you a fresh start. Same you, new life, free of any pain you wish to leave behind, as well as a sizable monetary sum. All I require is a five year commitment to The Dollhouse." She smiled, but it looked more like a carnivore evaluating its prey.
"The Doll… House?"
"Like I said before, this facility, The Dollhouse, offers a unique service-"
"-To elite clientele, yea, I got it, but what service is that? You sound like a Madame."
Her smile this time was genuine, as if laughing to a joke Stiles wasn't privy to. "You could say that, but it's also much much more than that. Our actives, people who have signed contracts like I have for you today are not just common escorts. They don't just act out the fantasies of our clients, they live them."
Stiles was confused now. "what do you…"
"More of that later Mister… Stiles," she corrected herself mid sentence, "Everything will be explained to you by our tech specialist, Topher. For now, I just need you to sign…" She trailed off, looking at the table and clearly not seeing what she expected to.
"Oh.. you might be looking for this," Stiles reached down and awkwardly grabbed the folded up form from beneath the leg of the table, offering an apologetic smile as he unfolded and handed it to her.
She raised an eyebrow, but took the paper and laid it out, smoothing the creases so it was readable and sliding it back across the table to him. "This is your typical non disclosure agreement, stating you won't breathe a word of this facility to anyone upon leaving."
Stiles' eyes wandered lazily over the page skimming the legalese until he got the the thick black line that clearly begged a signature. He picked up the pen that had rolled to the edge of the table again, and poised it on the line. Mumbling a "whatever" he scratched his name across the line.
Adelle swiped the paper away as soon as it was signed. "Alright then, as I was saying, you are here because we know a lot about you Stiles. We know that you have been living alone since your father passed last year and that your savings are dwindling. You almost never leave the house, you are rarely sober, and to be honest I'm surprised you showered before coming today."
Stiles lifted an arm and sniffed, shrugging. He had in fact showered that morning, and he thought he smelled just fine. As to the other charges, a man was entitled to letting himself go a bit after losing the only parent he had left. He had been 24 and felt too old to call himself an orphan, but when the sheriff had been shot in the line of duty, Stiles' world had crashed down around him. He shrugged and almost offered some form of defense, but didn't have the energy.
"To put it bluntly, you can't maintain this for much longer. In another few months you won't be able to pay your rent, less if you keep buying alcohol in the amounts that you have been." She looked at him sternly. "At this point you have two options," she slid her clipboard across the table to him, this time multiple pages of legalese with as many dotted lines to sign on, "Sign a contract with the dollhouse, and emerge on the other side free of pain and addiction, or walk out that door and be found in a pile of your own filth in a few months. It's up to you." There was no concern in her eyes, only cold seriousness.
Her sudden sharpness startled Stiles, and he looked down at the stack of papers. A chance at a fresh start? He hadn't talked to any of his old friends in a while, even Scott, his closest friend since before he could remember, had stopped calling after Stiles had screamed at him in a drunken rage and slammed the door in his face. Sometimes he would wake up and there would be a bag of groceries on the porch, but the calls had stopped coming months ago. "So, if I would be an… escort… what exactly would I be doing?" He looked up at her.
"Anything and everything," she stated matter-of-factly. "Anything from rock climbing to acting out sexual fantasies to just being a friend to someone in need of some companionship. Here at the dollhouse, we have the ability to wipe away the personality and memories of our actives, leaving them in what we call the blank slate state. While here in the house, we care for our actives like children. We monitor their health and wellness, make sure they get exercise, proper nutrition, and are always happy. We offer swimming, art, yoga, and have a full in house spa to ensure utmost comfort at all times.
When actives do go out on an engagement, we are able to fill them with the memories and skills necessary to complete whatever the client wishes. In their heads, they truly are the people we create for them, they aren't just acting. We are able to offer absolute perfection."
Stiles just looked at her with wide eyes and a gaping jaw for a moment. "You want to get into my brain and erase… me?" He stood up, "absolutely not… that's…. that's… insane!"
"Sit down Stiles." The authority in her voice made him sit nervously. "Like I said, we have incredible technology. We map your brain, and store you as you are, on a hard drive so that we can restore you as soon as your contract is up. When we restore you, we do have the ability to make minor changes. You are still you, but with less pain, and with less… dependencies." She nudged the contract again.
A year ago, nothing in the world could have gotten Stiles anywhere near that dotted line, but when you already lost your mother, and your father is shot during a simple robbery in a convenience store, everything changes. He had finally gotten close with his father after graduating high school. He went to the state school nearby, and was so close to his degree when his dad died. He took a month off for grieving, but that month turned into three, into six, into a year, and then he hadn't left his couch in what felt like weeks, he hadn't done laundry in a month, and the depression that had crept in had made itself a permanent home in his chest. He felt a crushing weight on his shoulders every day, and spent so much time in a drunken stupor that when he woke up, hungover and nauseous, he felt like he'd time traveled.
All of those feelings and memories crashed down on him as he thought about the last year and suddenly he was flipping through the pages of the contract, signing his name over and over again, refusing to let himself cry. When he finished he looked up at Miss DeWitt and she seemed satisfied. "Welcome to the Dollhouse Stiles.
Just a short intro, but next update will show you the insides of the Dollhouse :)