Chapter 1 - "I'm fine":
Stiles groans as he turns you over onto your back. Holding each other tightly, grinding your bodies on one another's as your kiss becomes more deep and intense by the second.
You run your fingers through Stiles' dark hair as his lips touch your neck gently, leaving soft kisses on your sweet spot; making you tilt your head back slightly and moan under your breath.
*Bzz Bzz*
Stiles' mobile phone buzzes on his bedside cabinet loudly, stopping the kisses and breaking the tension.
"Ugh..." you groan as Stiles reaches over and picks up his phone.
"Oh my God," he says and scrolls down through around 20 messages from Scott.
"What is it?" You ask him.
Stiles doesn't reply as his eyes are locked to his screen, reading the messages. His stare is intense; that intense, that it unwillingly forces your eyes to follow his sight. You look at the messages on his phone too.
'Stiles, this is really important. Message me or call me as soon as you see this! - Scott'
That's just message number 1.
After reading 19 more urgent messages, Stiles decides to finally give Scott a call.
You sit up and wonder what the emergency could be, as Stiles leans off the edge of the bed, placing his phone to his ear, and you both wait for Scott to answer.
"Dammit," Stiles mutters as he removes his phone from his ear, and dials in Scott's number again.
"Is he not answering?" You ask him.
"No," he replies. "If it's so urgent, why doesn't he answer?"
You stop for a second and think. 'If Scott was texting Stiles to give him a call immediately, and now Scott isn't answering the phone after 10 minutes of sending the messages, is Scott in danger?'
"Stiles," you say as you try to rephrase your thought into a speech.
Stiles looks behind his shoulder to you for an answer.
"Is Scott alright?" You ask.
"I don't know," he says. "He's still not answering the phone."
You gasp and Stiles looks back fully at you with a worried look spreading across his face.
"What is it?" He asks.
"Think about it," you tell him. "If Scott messaged you saying to give him a call as soon as possible, he must have needed you there with him pronto right?"
"Right," Stiles answers.
"But why would he need you there pronto?" You question him. "He could have been in trouble."
"Trouble? Like with coach, coach trouble?" Stiles jokes.
"This is serious Stiles," you tell him, a strong tone coming among your voice. "Scott could be in trouble. Danger trouble."
Stiles' face drops as he starts to process the same thought you had a few moments ago in his mind too. He looks up at you, his facial expressions showing distress.
"We need to go," Stiles says and gets up from the edge of his bed, quickly throwing a top over his head and hurrying over to his shoes.
"Stiles," you try to get his attention, but his focus is tying his shoelaces the quickest anyone has ever done before.
Stiles finishes tying his shoelaces, and stands up again; turns around and starts rummaging through the bed sheets.
"Stiles," you say again, but now his focus is on trying to find his phone. "Stiles!"
He stops and looks up to you.
"Finally," you say.
Stiles continues to stare at you, waiting for you to say something heroic.
"Listen," you say as you stand from his bed. "You're moving too quickly. Any faster and you're going to pass out."
Stiles frowns and let's his eyes draw back to the bed sheets. His hands starting to rummage again, you roll your eyes and sigh to yourself.
'He's panicking. I would be too if it were my best friend that may be in trouble, but he doesn't know anything yet. He doesn't know what he's going to do when he gets to Scott, he doesn't know how to get to Scott, he doesn't even know where Scott is!'
"Stiles," you say calmly after thinking for a couple of seconds.
He turns his head to look to you, but his hands are still rummaging. You slowly place your cold hand on his arm, and his arms and hands start to relax.
"You need to stop panicking," you tell him.
"Why are your hands so cold?" He asks.
"What?" You ask, confused.
"Your hands," he says as he stands up properly instead of leaning down to search for his phone. "They're like ice."
You, still confused, take your hand away from his arm and lift it up to your eye level. You slowly bring your hand to your face, and place it gently on your cheek.
'He's right. My hands are like ice.'
"Why are you hands so cold?" Stiles repeats.
"I-I don't know," you stutter.
'It's not like the weather outside is snowing. It's actually quite a hot day, so why are my hands freezing?'
Stiles grabs your hand that is still placed on your cheek, and he moves it towards his mouth. He places a hot, gentle kiss on the surface of your cold hand, and holds it with both of his, to keep it warm. You smile in appreciation and step closer to him so you're in his arms.
"Hugging is not going to do much," you both hear.
You and Stiles turn around and see Scott standing in the doorway of Stiles' bedroom.
"Scott!" Stiles says. "Are you alright? What happened?"
Scott has rips, dirt and blood on his T-shirt, and he looks rough. Stiles makes his way towards Scott, who ends up falling into Stiles' arms. You gasp and run over to help.
Scott has fallen unconscious, so Stiles drags him across his bedroom floor, and places him on his bed.
"Should we call his mom?" You ask.
"No," Stiles replies firmly.
"But why?" You ask, feeling a bit intimidated by Stiles' tone.
"Because," he answers bluntly.
You frown in confusion, and wonder why Stiles is all of a sudden being rude.
'Maybe it's because he's just worried about Scott and or about what his mom would say.'
You manoeuvre over to Stile's computer desk, and sit yourself down on his desk chair.
Stiles examines Scott's body. The wounds on Scott's chest and torso can be seen through the rips in his T-shirt.
"They're not healing," he says.
"They're not?" You ask. "How come?"
"I'm not sure," he replies with that worried tone escalating in his voice.
"Maybe you should tell your dad," you suggest.
"Maybe you're right," he agrees. "I thought this was a situation we could handle like usual, but he's not healing. We need highly profiled elders involved, and especially because my dad can cover for us and Scott's mom can help with injuries."
"Exactly right," you say.
Stiles asks you to keep an eye on Scott whilst he runs downstairs to inform his dad, and to call Scott's mom. You, who are now next to Scott on the bed, are analysing Scott's un-healing wounds.
"Jesus," you say as the wounds seem to be getting worse instead of better.
You hear Stiles downstairs talking to his dad, and you hear his dad saying he'll be the one to call Scott's mom about all of this.
As you're listening, Scott's opens his eyes. Once you notice, you let out a sigh of relief and smile at him. Scott doesn't smile back. Your smile slowly becomes less tense, and Scott's stare becomes more intimate.
"Scott," you say quietly. "Are you alright?"
Scott doesn't answer. Becoming more worried and a little bit afraid, you go to sit back away from Scott, but he grabs you tightly by the arm, making you jump and scream.
"Scott!" You yell as you try to free yourself from his grip. "Let go!"
Stiles from downstairs hears your scream, and runs up the stairs and makes his way into the doorway of his bedroom to see what was going on.
As soon as Stiles places a foot into the bedroom, Scott lets go of your arm; making you fall off the bed and onto the floor, and both of you watch as a dark, almost black smoke is released from Scott's mouth. You, on the floor and Stiles, in the doorway both stare deeply at the smoke. It's almost like you're both forced to watch as the smoke travels away from Scott and above you. As scared as you are, you continue to stare and begin to shake slightly.
"Stiles," you say quietly but loud enough for him to hear.
Tears filling in your eyes, your voice becoming weak and your breath becoming jagged, you try to stay calm as the black smoke stays in one positioned spot.
"(Y/N), try to stay as calm as possible," Stiles says.
You nod a little in reply, and look over to Scott to try and calm your nerves. Scott is still unconscious, but how? He was awake a few minutes ago before the black smoke released itself.
Just then, you start to hear something. Not something, but someone. Whispering. You look up to the cloud of black smoke painfully slow, and listen carefully.
"He's going to get it. He's going to get it. It's not him we're after. It's him. It's not him we're after. It's him." The Voices whisper to you.
'What does that mean? That doesn't make sense.'
"We need him. We're going to get him." The Voices are becoming louder. "We're going to get him. We're going to get him!"
The loud shout of the Voices make you jump and Stiles notices.
"(Y/N), what's wrong? Why did you jump?" He asks, worried.
You don't answer as all you can hear are the shouting of Voices.
"We're going to get him! We're going to get him!"
"Who?" You ask quietly.
Stiles hears you.
"Who? Who are you talking to?" He asks.
You still don't answer him.
"Who are you talking about?" You ask. "Who?!"
"(Y/N), who are you talking to?!" Stiles yells.
"Leave me alone!" You scream at the Voices.
Stiles runs into the room... but that's what the Voices wanted. The cloud of black smoke, within the speed of light, thrusts towards Stiles and then, just like that, vanishes.
You, with tears running down your cheeks, stand up and run towards Stiles; who's eyes roll to the back of his head, and collapses.
"Stiles!" You yell and kneel down to him.
Stiles' dad appears in the doorway after hearing all the shouting.
"What happened?" He asks.
You don't answer, you just cry.
"(Y/N), what happened?" He asks again.
You take a deep breath, and open your mouth to explain, but then you hear coughing. Before any words escape your lips, Stiles opens his eyes and sits up straight.
"Stiles," you say with a sigh of relief.
Stiles starts coughing.
"What - happened?" He asks, coughing in-between.
"I don't know," you say, still crying a little.
Stiles' dad enters the room, and kneels down by Stiles too.
"Are you alright son?" He asks.
"Yeah dad," Stiles replies. "I'm all good."
His dad taps him on the back and stands back up. "I'll see you kids later, I have to go to work."
We all nod and he walks out of the room.
"Oh and guys," he says. "Don't do anything stupid. Don't do anything dangerous. Don't do anything that will cause injuries. Don't do anything supernatural. Don't do -"
"Dad we get it," Stiles interrupts.
His dad nods, and leaves.
You look up to Stiles, who all of a sudden looks really, really tired.
"You sure you're alright?" You ask him.
He looks to you, and smiles a little. "I'm fine."