Chapter 45. *shakes head at self*
No ending in sight either, people. I'm sort of afraid to have this run on forever. o_O
Chapter 45
At least the 'let's meet the neighbours and our friends' parents to informally adopt Derek into clan Stilinski' plot had been a complete success. Not only had the weather been very fine all afternoon, the old ladies, while not exactly friends with each other, had also bonded instantly over their shared opinion that Derek desperately needed coddling and fattening up, and each of them had also made sure to pinch Stiles' cheeks as a reward for his acceptance of his father's decision.
Sitting at the kiddy table, their self-imposed exile from any more unwelcome adult attention, Erica had nearly laughed herself sick, with Isaac not very far behind.
"At least you aren't laughing at me, Boyd," Stiles muttered, rubbing his abused face plaintively and stabbing at his salad. Hilariously, Peter was becoming fast friends with Mrs. Miller, no doubt wrapping her around his clawed little finger and moving to steal all her best recipes. Stiles hoped that the strawberry rhubarb pie would be one of them because that had been amazing.
Boyd raised his eyebrows slightly. "You keep believing that."
Isaac and Erica howled, and Stiles pouted.
"But seriously, what brought this on?" Erica finally asked, carefully wiping away some tears to preserve her eyeliner and mascara. "I thought Derek lived with his uncle?"
Stiles glanced at the werewolf questioningly and received a small nod in return. "He still does that, but they have a sorta difficult relationship. Sometimes he just needs a place for a time-out. After the stuff with the Argents and Scott went down, my dad thinks that we could watch out for each other."
"Especially since the Argents left such a lasting impression," Boyd agreed. "You think they'll be back?"
"Man, I hope not," Stiles answered promptly. "I mean, who even needs them? But it's not just them; maybe you've heard about that new gang trying to invade Beacon County. Apparently they're real big on going after the families of officers to cow them so my dad really doesn't want to leave me alone when he's working late, or nights."
Erica cocked her head as she looked Derek over. "Well, he does look like he packs a punch. And you'll go back to self-defence training in a couple of weeks, right?"
"Yeah, when exams are over. The docs at the hospital said that I've healed really well." Stiles grinned at her. "But Isaac's way better than me by now, so he'll be the one to teach you some good moves."
"You can partner with her," Isaac said. "It'll be good training for you both. Boyd, you wanna join?"
Boyd nodded. "When I've got time."
"He's gonna work a lot over the summer," Erica supplied and ran a hand over Boyd's arm, "but he promised to make time for hanging out and stuff. Which I really appreciate."
Her saucy grin instantly put Stiles on alert.
"What about you two?" she continued brightly. "Any plans on finding yourselves a girl? Or maybe some really hot older dude?"
Stiles looked heavenward for strength, because of course she had to go there. Thank god the parental units were far enough away, or there'd be alarm bells ringing again.
"Erica," Derek warned quietly.
"What? I've got eyes in my head, and those two, who shall not be named, flirt," she defended herself. "Dear god do they flirt. It's getting me all hot under the collar."
"What collar," Stiles snapped, glaring at her low cut top and feeling thoroughly humiliated.
"Watch it, Stiles," Boyd snarled and stood. Derek stood as well, covering Stiles, and the two stared at each other with hard eyes.
"No, it's alright, Boyd." Erica grabbed the teen's hand and pulled him back down into his seat. "I shouldn't tease about it, because it sucks if he actually likes you back. Which he does, I'm beginning to think. Wow. I'm sorry, Stiles." She leaned forward, putting her rather distracting cleavage on display, and whispered conspiratorially, "Peter's really very hot, so I feel your pain."
"And he knows it," Derek said flatly. Reluctantly he sat back down as well but his posture was still wary. "Can we drop it now?"
"Yes, please," Stiles begged.
Erica winked. "Alright, but I claim best friend privileges. If something exciting happens, you tell me, got it?"
"You will not reciprocate," Boyd told her sternly, to which Erica only blew him a raspberry.
"Of course I will, Honey Bear. If I'm Stiles' bestie, he's mine, too." She placed her cheek against her boyfriend's shoulder and looked up beguilingly. "But you're the bestest bestie of them all, boo. I solemnly swear to censor myself to the best of my ability. That okay?"
Despite his lingering mortification, Stiles had to grin about Boyd's reluctantly mollified expression.
"We good, man?" he asked Boyd.
The boy nodded, but he said, "Please don't talk to her like that again."
"I deserved it for poking him," Erica interjected contritely. "It's all good, Stiles, promise."
"It was still dickish. You look great and don't let anyone tell you otherwise," Stiles returned just as apologetically.
She smiled shyly. "I'm working on it."
Isaac blew out an annoyed breath. "So now that we're all fine and dandy again, care to tell me more about that gang trying to infiltrate our town, Stiles?"
Figuring that Isaac was doing his part in gathering intelligence for the pack, Stiles readily gave up what he'd managed to learn from the people at the station and the almighty internet. "They call themselves Los Lobos Locos and hail from San Diego. At least that's where they've started their marauding, but they've been moving north for a couple of years now."
"They do not call themselves that," Isaac said flatly. "What the fuck."
Stiles fought down a smirk. "I know, it's so cliché. Anyways, I trawled the internet the last couple of nights to find out more, and it turns out that they're known for their brutality. Robberies, overtaking territories for selling drugs, intimidating law enforcement, whatever they need done, they do it with the big guns blazing."
"How does that even work long term?" Boyd asked, one eyebrow raised.
"It doesn't, or else they wouldn't be wandering so much," Stiles replied. "But they have access to heavy hitting weapons, and a steady influx of new members, unfortunately. My dad's pissed off at the number of mentally unstable people just itching to grab a gun and cause destruction. Also, a deputy told me that most of the guys are apparently so brainwashed that they prefer suicide by cop to being arrested. Some gang members even more or less provoked getting killed in prison later, just so they wouldn't be tempted to tattle on their pack. My dad's deputies are already looking for qualified counsellors because they were lucky so far and didn't have to shoot anyone, but they don't expect it to stay that way."
"And those Lobo dudes are really coming here?" Erica asked, paling a little.
"Not if my dad can help it," Stiles tried to reassure her, "but he's struggling. State police and the FBI are involved because they've been escalating for a while now, but they don't know the area as well as the local LEOs and are apparently fond of stepping on all the toes they can find."
"That begs the question why they haven't been taken out already," Isaac muttered. He opened the browser on his phone and frowned at what he found there. "I admit that I haven't really noticed them in the news or something, but come on. According to the net, they've been terrorizing SoCal for years. Surely that'd have been enough."
Erica looked at his phone and blanched even further. "Wow, they're the guys who've blown up the police station in Arvin."
"Yeah, that was a massacre, thankfully not just for our guys. My dad said that they're broken up into chapters so they won't be taken out all at once if the FBI manages a sting operation. There's a lot more sick shit going on, but they won't discuss it with me, and I don't need to hear it," Stiles replied somberly. "I'll try to keep you updated. Right now things are still good in Beacon Hills, so don't worry too much. If that changes, my dad will inform the news outlets and stuff."
"Can I ask Derek to protect me, too?" Erica asked, for once wholly without a leer. "I definitely can't throw a punch to save my life, which really sucks, but I also don't want to give up hanging out just because those scumbags might go after you, Stiles. and I just know my parents might ask me to if those Locust guys actually manage to come here."
"If you're okay with him tagging along over the summer every now and then, he could do that," Stiles said, looking at the werewolf to make sure that was alright with him. "But then he gets a say in what we're gonna do, too. There might be hiking involved, though."
"I'm totally okay with that," Erica said quickly.
"What do you say, Derek? You wanna play babysitter for a bunch of losers?" Stiles asked.
Derek eyed them speculatively. "I demand hazard pay."
"Oy," Isaac snarked, "I can look after myself."
"Sure you can," Derek replied, his sarcastic tone belying the words.
"I don't know about you, but I'll get another piece of pie before it's all gone," Stiles declared.
Under the old ladies' eager eyes, Stiles chose another piece of strawberry rhubarb pie for himself, chocolate pecan for Derek, and, because Isaac had been absolutely awesome earlier, apple for him. He also managed to carry the whipped cream dispenser under his arm, to the delight of his friends.
"Sorry, I couldn't carry anymore, or I'd have gotten you some more blueberries," Stiles said to Erica as he handed out plates. "Or do you want strawberries?"
"I'll get her some," Boyd said to Stiles and left to raid the already heavily plundered dessert table.
"He's so great," Erica sighed, dreamily watching him go.
"And you're so smitten it's almost disgusting," Isaac sniped with an eye roll. He pulled his plate closer and positively burrowed his pie under a mountain of whipped cream.
Erica just smirked as she stole a dollop. "You never answered my question earlier. Are you planning on luring some unsuspecting girl into your trap? Because believe me, some girls really want to be lured."
"I'm not in a good place for a girlfriend right now," Isaac replied, not beating around the bush. He speared a piece of cake, shoved it into his mouth, and groaned obscenely. "It's already hard work to live with an adult who actually cares. No way am I pandering to some girl's romantic fantasies while I'm still having to pinch myself occasionally."
Stiles could relate only too well to this after his own dad had recently decided to take more of an interest. "It's totally cool, no one needs to date during the holidays. It just means more time for hanging out and working on your comic and stuff. Which I'm totally here for."
"Yeah, me too." Isaac smiled and offered his hand for a casual high-five.
Boyd returned then and their talk turned to their last week of school, and the finals they still had to power through. It was the first time in Stiles' living memory that he'd had that: just sitting in the garden with friends, talking about school and life and their plans while drinking soda and eating delicious food.
I really hope things work out with Erica and Boyd, Stiles thought, a little wistful when the sun had gone down and the few fairy lights Derek had strung up for them flickered on. And for them, too.
With the cooler air the atmosphere turned mellow and sweet, and an intimacy settled over the gathering that hadn't been there before. Everything seemed possible just then: Erica travelling the world and Boyd doing meaningful work with socially disadvantaged children, and Stiles tried to breathe through the rush of happiness in his chest.
From across their loose chair circle, he caught Peter's eye and shyly toasted him with his glass of lemonade.
Peter, who was lounging in utter relaxation right beside the sheriff, regarded him for a moment before raising his own glass of scotch and inclining his head.
And I won't be an idiot about Peter, Stiles told himself.
Because he desperately wanted the pack stuff to work out between them, first and foremost, and if that meant keeping his crush to himself for the next year, he absolutely would. He did have several years of practice in pining after Lydia under his belt, after all.
oOo
On Wednesday afternoon, right after Stiles had gotten home after his last exam, Stiles' phone chimed with a message. It was from Peter, which made Stiles' heart do a stupid little extra hop in his chest. Now that he'd acknowledged his decidedly carnal interest in the man, his hands even got a little sweaty.
It all turned from enjoyable to clammy in a heartbeat once he'd read the message.
Don't panic, all is well. However, your father will have to stay at the station today because two of his deputies were ambushed an hour ago. One is in critical condition.
Stiles blanched, all elation about having survived school for another year forgotten. Hastily he typed back, OMG, will he make it? And how do you even know this?
I might have taken offence at another wolf hunting in my territory.
Unlike the deputy, one of the invaders won't be pulling through. Another was permanently hobbled.
Would be a bit difficult, what with a head and a leg having been parted from their bodies respectively.
Stiles' mouth dropped open at the small flood of messages, and Peter still wasn't done.
Your father knows, and hasn't threatened me with arrest or worse. Do you think you might be able follow his lead? Your morals are gratifyingly flexible, but it's always better to ask. If not, I'll endeavour to make myself scarce for a while.
That being said, I definitely need to set up several safe houses in Beacon Hills. I played the animal attack angle and am in need of a shower.
Stiles regained his equilibrium. Are you jacked up on adrenaline just now? You're rambling.
Yes, Peter replied. I called Derek to pick me up and get me home. We might use the momentum to spar a little.
Don't you dare cut him to ribbons, Stiles shot back, alarmed. And don't you dare test out the emergency healing die! If you hurt yourselves, it fucking doesn't count as an emergency. And if you kill him, I'll end you myself. Understood?
Completely. Still, someone has to test it sometime, Peter replied. Derek will be by later - in one piece.
There was a pause, and then yet another message popped up on Stiles' phone.
Your father asks that you refrain from pestering his underlings. He'll tell you everything once he's got the time. He also asks that you begin to wear the bullet proof shirts again, just in case some of those low lives manage to break through the perimeter.
Stiles didn't have to think twice about it. Consider it done. Can I finally have that book about offensive magic? Seems like we might need it.
I'll have Isaac deliver it. I'd also feel better if he could spend the night at yours, together with Derek.
Yeah, me too. Stiles bit his lip and counted to five. Be careful, don't get caught.
Never. I have too much to lose now. Be safe, Stiles.
Stiles wallowed in the strange intimacy of Peter contacting him right after heaping bloody vengeance on one of America's most violent gangs in recent history and then regretfully deleted the chat history. It just wouldn't do to leave evidence lying around, even with his dad being firmly on their side in this instance.
He drove his jeep home and parked it in the garage for a change, because if there ever was a time to ward it to hell and back, this was it. It helped that Derek had completely sorted the mess after he was done repairing the jeep, making the space available for its actual purpose again.
After closing and locking the garage door, Stiles sprinted up to his room, threw on one of the armoured shirts, grabbed the folder of ward schemes he'd collected, and a handful of sharpies. His baby wouldn't ever be the same after this, but it'd be worth it.
For more than an hour, Stiles busied himself with placing three different wards onto his beloved jeep. The first one was done in thick black marker, the second in silver, and the last and most vicious one in gold. Trained in laying out intent based wards or no, Stiles wouldn't let anyone or anything take the car from him. He'd already decided that his next car-related project would be finding a way to reduce wear and tear to zero. That'd cut the cost for the pack by a lot … and probably enable everyone to buy monstrously overpriced cars as a result.
A knock against the garage door pulled him from his thoughts.
"Stiles?" Isaac called. "You gonna let me in?"
Stiles stood. "Yeah, I'm gonna open the front door. Hold on."
A minute later, Isaac was crowding him in the hallway and snuffling against his neck.
"Why does living in this town suck so much?" the werewolf demanded. "We literally just ended one threat."
"I actually think Peter had some fun today," Stiles mumbled against Isaac's shoulder. "Honestly, I think he felt cheated with the Argents and let out his frustration on them."
"He still looked like a mad serial killer when he finally made it back," Isaac huffed and pushed Stiles away. "Derek dumped him in the river first to get rid of most of the blood. That'll teach me to always have a change of clothes on hand."
"But no one saw them? What about security cameras?" Stiles asked.
"Apparently those guys smashed the camera in the police car first before trying to off the deputies. Since it happened outside town there's no footage. Body cams didn't get anything useful on Peter as well, thank god." Isaac grabbed Stiles by the arm and dragged him into the kitchen. "Do you have any leftovers from Sunday left? I could stress-eat a cow."
"No, but we can order pizza or something. I could eat." Stiles took out his phone to check the time. "If Derek's trying to beat up Peter, he'll be a while, right?"
"They were already at each other's throats when I left," Isaac said with an eye roll. "You bet that they'll stuff themselves right after their 'sparring' session."
His air quotes were a thing of beauty, Stiles decided. They chose their pizza, placed the order, and then retreated to Stiles' room to work on their projects.
"You know, I can hardly believe that we'll be really starting our shop next week," Isaac suddenly said. He had his whole backpack full of Copic markers spread out on Stiles' bed as he worked on his newest drawing. It showed a lanky teen in a red hoodie that was carrying a spiked baseball bat in the middle of a dark and creepy forest. "Is it just me getting nervous?"
Stiles spun his pencil around his fingers. "Nah, I'm nervous as heck. Especially since what we'll be selling will be so cheap. I mean, let's face it, we're shoddily printing trading card sized pics on hemp paper and demand ten dollars and up for one. It's kind of insane."
"You did come up with sufficiently suggestive advertising texts, right?" Isaac questioned. "You said, but you know, nervous wreck here."
"Peter gave his okay and Derek told me that he'd become at least curious," Stiles replied. "Also, if we don't sell, nothing will change, except we'll be a little disappointed. But!" And he set down the pencil in favour of one of the newly printed cards Isaac had made for him last Saturday. "Check this out." He flicked it at his friend.
"It's a Lucky Dust card," Isaac said slowly. He traced it with his fingers, chasing the tiny spark of magic Stiles had hidden in it. "You gonna tell me what it's good for now?"
"Yep. So, at first I thought that I'd just charm it for luck, run of the mill-like like you do. But then I thought that it'd be much better to charm it for luck in a shitty situation. Like, someone's in really dire straits for some reason, but they have this Lucky Dust card, so they rip it up and then something tiny but really good happens when they need it the most."
Isaac's less than impressed expression lightened to one of awe. "Like an emergency beacon of hope?"
"Better. Like clutching at a straw and actually being able to find a way out of their misery." Stiles leaned forward. "I'll do the generic luck freebie too, of course, and there's this Magical Moment card I want where people can just use it up for a special moment in their day. But the Lucky Dust, man, I think we need it to help folks who're being run down by murderous hunters and stuff."
"I'm so there for it," Isaac said fervently, eyes firmly on the dark blue card with glowing sprinkles and the equally glowing slogan 'A Sprinkle Of Lucky Dust' on it. "Can I keep this?"
"Partners in the business can have whatever they need," Stiles said. He exhaled. "In fact, I've printed out a ton of med pack tickets just for us. Who knows when we might need them."
"Yeah, excellent thinking. Thanks." Isaac accepted the thick envelope and almost reverently stowed it in his backpack. "Tell me what you need for your new cards. I brought my laptop, I can do it immediately."
Stiles managed to outline his thoughts on each motif but then their pizza arrived - not tampered with this time, because Stiles had warded the house to such a degree that people with ill intent couldn't help but feel repelled, not to mention experience severe nausea - and they attacked it like the hungry teenagers they were.
They'd return to work right after, but in that half hour they managed to forget their troubles and just enjoy the fact that school would be out for summer in two more days, and that they'd take their very first step into the business world together.
End of chapter 45