AN I don't own Teen Wolf of any of its characters! Enjoy! Sterek guaranteed. Already written, just not edited, so updates will be fast.
We need the money, Stiles. When didn't they need the money? His dad took triple shifts because 72 hours straight was the legal workload limit. He had a job at the Starbucks in town but it didn't pay well enough. This was the solution, he'd said. A ranch hand. Somehow, it paid almost triple what the starbucks job did but it was a live in job and Stiles could guess that it was a shit ton of work.
So, on June 21, the day after graduation, Stiles got on a bus to the middle of Southern ranch was… enormous. Miles and miles of pastures and fields, full of cows and horses of every color and every size. Honestly, Stiles could not believe that so much existed outside the boundaries of Beacon Hills because, if he had just woken up out here, he would have thought he was in an entirely different state. To be completely honest, the first few days went by in a blur. There were two stalls in the back of the main barn that held bunkbeds for the 'interns', which was what they called the temporary hands. Stiles had never really considered himself a city slicker but, out here, surrounded by the other interns who all knew what they were doing and hated that he didn't? He sure felt like one.
The permanent hands were like a class above them, being trusted with more and being housed in the main house, they were treated more like their bosses than their equals. But he never met any of them. They didn't mix with the interns and, truthfully, it was reminiscent of some West Side story rivalry. He thought he could probably go the entire three months without seeing a single one of their faces-hell, the other interns didn't even talk to him unless they were yelling at him. At least, he thought that.
Until he was helping with the morning feed rounds and tossed a bale down from the hayloft. Right onto one of the permanent hands. Thankfully, he was okay, judging by how quickly he threw it off of him and jumped to his feet, but his black hair and sharp jaw did nothing to prepare Stiles for the sheer anger. His face morphed into a mask of anger and his entire body just shook with rage. He screamed at Stiles and cussed him out and threatened everything from his life to his balls and Stiles was actually scared. There was something so visceral-deep in his gut-that screamed at him to run. He couldn't breathe. The man's face went red with rage and he advanced on him, screaming obscenities, but for a second Stiles was face to face with Rafael McCall. His stomach dropped, he wanted to throw up. Mr. McCall wasn't something he ever thought he'd be afraid of again.
"Cool it, Lance!" And suddenly, there was another man. Bigger, broader, with a subtle kind of muscle that was smooth and not excessive. He yanked Mr. McCall away from the ladder. Then, there was just the same young farm hand from before with dark hair and a red face. Lance. The new guy pulled him off and threw him at the door, yelling at him to take a walk. Stiles swallowed hard, trying to breathe.
"Tha- Thank you," But his savior rounded on him, eyes flared with bitter frustration.
"Don't thank me!" he hissed, glaring. "What you did was stupid. You're lucky that he wasn't hurt. If you're going to be so reckless, you should find an office job or something for the summer." With that, he walked away. Stiles gaped, taken aback, because what the hell? But the hand was gone as quickly as the first.
He hated the hands from that moment on. Until he met Liz. Liz was one of the permanent hands but she was nice, actually, and talkative and she was… kind to him. She welcomed him rather than yelling or accusing him of being a stupid city boy. He was measuring out calfmana when she popped up from behind one of the stall doors and held out her hand. But he knew, now, to be careful with the hands.
"Thanks, but I'm in a bit of a hurry." She was undetered, though, and just smiled and picked up another bucket and started measuring out portions of a white powder Stiles hadn't even gotten to on the list yet.
"No biggie, let me help. I'm Liz, by the way. What's your name?"
"Stiles." She had short red hair that the hay latched onto like glue. It didn't make her smile falter though, she just tipped her head and shook like a dog until it began to fall to the cement.
"Sorry they're all prissy little bitches." Stiles did a double take, staring at her because what the hell? "The other hands, I mean. I'm guessing that's why you don't want to talk to me. Sometimes the testosterone gets to their heads, I think, but then again Mira is just as pretentious when it comes to all you summer interns. They know they're Lady Kremaline's favorites." Liz looked to him, as if waiting for him to nod that he understood, but he didn't understand at all so he just shrugged and moved back to the grain. She seemed nice, but it was better safe than sorry.
"Aren't you one of the favorites, then?" Okay, Stiles, that was not playing it safe! What in the name of everything possessed him to think that snapping back at her was a good idea?! But Liz just laughed. With a smile that never seemed to fade, she flicked a piece of grain at him.
"Yeah, I suppose I am. I never really saw the need to make a big deal about it though. It's not like any of us are in danger of being replaced or kicked out. Mom says it's just because they're insecure but I never understood it, personally." She sounded… reasonable. Almost logical? But that didn't make any sense.
"Wait, mom?" Stiles didn't realize until he said it that his mind had caught that. She called Lady Kremaline mom?" She laughed again, that light, easy, airy sound that was on the dangerous side of disarming.
"Yeah, Lady Kremaline to most, I suppose, but mom to me. Sidney to the permanent hands. I grew up here and I never wanted anything but a job here so I don't understand why they get jealous when she offers that same opportunity to others. But, like she says, a lot of them came from less stable backgrounds. They're afraid of one of the newcomers stealing their place. It doesn't matter how much we tell them that they're family and they aren't replaceable… But I'm the daughter, so what do I know?" She shrugged, momentarily solemn before shaking her usual smile back into place. "It's fine, though. They'll get over it just like they do every year. There will always be a few that are never accepted, but you don't strike me as one of those types." Oh, right Stiles definitely wasn't going to be one of the hated ones. He was already halfway there, it seemed.
"I wouldn't be so sure. Two of them already hate me because I dropped a bale of alfalfa on Lance. Cussed me out for almost ten minutes. Then another came and got him to lay off which I thought was good? But he turned on me too. Safe to say I'm not going to be one of the favorites." Liz stopped, staring at him.
"You dropped a bale of alfalfa on Lance?" Oh God he shouldn't have said that. He started to back up without even thinking because he flashed back to the anger and the sudden venom from the hand that had rescued him.
"I know, it was stupid and reckless and if I can't take it seriously I should just go back to the city but it was an accident, I swear." There wasn't anything else to say. He felt like he needed to say more, to apologize, to beg her not to fire him. She was the daughter of the owner! God he was so stupid.
"No way!" But she… laughed? "Lance has been telling everyone for weeks that the bull in the back pasture put those bruises on his legs! Wouldn't let it go! Damn near crowned himself a hero for even trying to go out there. But a bale of alfalfa?! He's never going to live that down!" She was laughing, still, with a huge smile but Stiles didn't understand.
"But.. I was reckless? I could have seriously hurt him?" She shrugged.
"You didn't, though. Accidents happen and you're new." She handed him three more containers, now measured and labeled and ready for rounds, with a small smile. "Don't be too hard on yourself. From the spiel you're giving, I'm guessing Derek is the one who got to you after. He's a bit of a hardass when it comes to the rules. A couple years ago an intern tied a sailing knot in a leadrope instead of a quick release and the horse reared and panicked." Her smile, remarkably, was gone. Stiles hadn't thought that was possible from the short time that he'd known her but it was.
"Was everyone okay?" Another shrug, less enthusiastic and more reluctant.
"It broke his leg in three places and bruised it's spine. Never competed again, even though he was one of our best." She paused. "The horse, not Derek. But know that it's not you. Most of the permanent hands have more… colorful backgrounds that makes them seem a bit cold or standoffish to new people, especially summer interns." She handed him the last of the grain dishes before tossing her hair free of hay again and giving him her usual smile.
"But I like you, so they will too eventually. Try not to worry." Stiles smiled and thanked her, surprisingly wiping moisture from his eyes. It was allergies, right? But he'd never been allergic to anything and he knew that. Liz was the first non-intern to be nice to him, let alone say she liked him or try to make him feel better.
"I'd better be getting back." Liz smiled and tossed him a spool of hotwire.
"Be a dear and take this with you to the back barn on your way?" But it wasn't really a question or a request because she darted away before he could say no. He didn't mind, though. She was sweet, she made him smile, and it was on his way. So he tossed it over his shoulder and started off towards the back barn.
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