Chapter 62

Dr Lee managed to get them all released from the hospital on Monday morning. There was some disbelief among the personnel about the condition of everyone's injuries, but a second and even a third opinion on the bite and slash wounds brought about the same results: Derek, Isaac, and Jackson were fit enough to recover in their own homes, and so home they went.

"I had a long and enlightening talk with Peter Hale and the sheriff last night," Dr Lee, who had accompanied them to the exit, murmured. "You'll need to be more careful if you want to keep flying below the radar."

"Holy shit, Peter's moving fast," Stiles exclaimed. "And you haven't run screaming?"

Dr Lee smiled at that. "I had a hunch that something special was going on after witnessing first-hand how fast you were healing. I was surprised that you're not actually like the Hales. Anyway, I strongly recommended employing a private physician going forward, maybe even building up a small private practice for your unique needs. As your pack grows, you'll need someone to create paperwork for the mundane world and deal with emergencies as they relate to your kind."

Stiles looked at the doctor intently. "You haven't volunteered, have you?"

"No," Dr Lee replied, still smiling faintly. "Nor will I do so in the future. But I know a few individuals who might fill that position or positions admirably. Peter knows to call me when he wants to move forward on that. In the meantime, I've volunteered to treat the … pack as needed and act as a shield."

"Thank you, doctor," Derek said quietly. "We appreciate your helpfulness."

"And the hospital appreciates the generous donations your uncle will make in the coming years," Dr Lee returned mildly, but with a twinkle in his dark eyes. "Now get out of here, and don't forget to look miserable for at least two weeks whenever you're out and about in town. The news about the bear attack won't get old anytime soon."

Derek and Isaac were staring at Stiles, and the teen sighed, "Yes, I'll research glamours next."

Dr Lee looked intrigued but Derek wound his arm around Stiles' shoulder and led him out of the hospital.

oOo

They dropped off Jackson first and left him with a half dozen red healing cards and strict instructions to call if his condition worsened.

"There'll also be mandatory hanging out so I can do my healing mojo," Stiles added. While he and Jackson had never been friendly, the guy was now firmly one of his people. It didn't matter that neither of them had planned for that. "So take our calls or else."

"You'll hunt me down like an animal?" Jackson quipped, mouth quirking up in a sardonic smile.

Stiles pointed at him. "Exactly. And believe me, my animal guys are faster and more ruthless than you."

They parted ways then and retreated to Peter's apartment. Neither Isaac nor Derek wanted to be alone yet, despite the enforced togetherness of the last two days. Stiles made them lunch and spent the afternoon discussing ideas and strategies with Isaac. Derek crashed on Peter's suede couch, looking like a slightly pale GQ model. Of all of them, his wounds had healed the best so far. Only the punctures in his neck were still a little iffy, but even those were healing quickly.

In the evening, Erica and Boyd joined them. Boyd remained mute after having had to coral unruly children all day on the roller rink, but Erica was bubbling with creative energy.

"Everyone in favour of making Erica our second creative consultant raise your paw," Stiles said after yet another newly filled page in Isaac's notebook.

Everyone raised a hand, even Derek who otherwise still appeared asleep.

"Great, you're hired," Stiles told Erica. "Peter will talk about the contract with you."

"Seriously?" Erica squeaked. "Just like that?"

"Dude, we started all of this just like that," Isaac said. "You've got good ideas, and Stiles will need help reading books and developing stuff. I'm nearly booked solid just drawing things."

"Wow, I." Erica bit her lip and huffed. "Just, wow."

"Do you have a job for me as well?" Boyd asked.

Stiles pursed his lips. "Well, Peter's got enough money to pay you, and you helped a lot with the ward stones. Would you be willing to do more of the boring work? I thought about offering ward stones in our shop and I could never paint them all by myself to satisfy demand. Some help with that would be awesome."

"I'd do anything that needed to be done, as long as it isn't overly creative," Boyd asserted. "I'm no good at that. But I'll give your stones a base colour, or carry stuff, or drive wherever to deliver things. Whatever you need."

Stiles and Isaac exchanged a look that merely consisted of two sets of raised eyebrows.

Then, Stiles said, "Welcome aboard. You talk about a contract with Peter since that's his area of expertise, but I promise that you won't work for the minimum wage. Downside: you'll definitely earn that money."

They all shook hands on that and the evening ended late and on a high note.

oOo

It turned out that Boyd was a fantastic employee. By Friday, he and Erica had negotiated and signed their contracts with their guardians' approval. Like all of them, they earned a fairly obscene hourly wage of thirty dollars after taxes, with a percentage of the shop's profits on top of that for the duration of their contract.

"Thirty dollars an hour just for painting rocks," Boyd muttered as he steadily worked his way through the small sets of ward stones Stiles was creating. Each set only consisted of thirteen stones, and each of them would get a different base colour.

"You're still not over that?" Stiles asked, grinning. He sent his latest snarky message to Jackson, who was still coughing up black sludge but didn't feel too awful otherwise. Stiles' daily pilgrimage to breakfast at the Whittemores' house with a side order of healing spells was - thankfully - seeing to that.

"I might believe it when I check my account in a week," Boyd retorted. He shook his head. "Seriously, painting stones."

"So far, I'm having fun," Erica cackled and showed off her latest dick painting. "Can I get an employee discount for a set for myself? My parents would hate them."

"Yeah, and you'd better do it before we raise our prices," Isaac replied with a smirk. "The dick wards seem to be popular."

Erica cackled again and the two exchanged a high-five.

Stiles was glad to have included this adult version for the ward stones in the shop. It was meant to be an in-joke, something to keep Erica entertained on the days when they didn't have any creative consulting going on, but someone had actually bought the first experimental set the next day and two different people had messaged to ask whether more would be available soon. It honestly boggled the mind.

"Do you think we can lure Lydia into painting rocks?" Erica asked as she set her finished purple and gold stone onto the drying rack. "It's not that I don't have fun with you guys, but I offered to spend time with her and she doesn't seem to have that many female friends. Maybe she'd like something to do, other than spending time with Whittemore and having her nails done. Plus, since she's apparently magic she could learn stuff about herself and what she can do. She said she wanted to."

"I wanted to give her some time after our run-in with the alpha morons, but you can ask no problem," Stiles answered. "We have enough work so it wouldn't be a stretch to offer her a temp contract."

"Peter gave him carte blanche," Isaac explained when Erica looked surprised at Stiles' easy acceptance so soon after bringing her and Boyd on board. "Plus, sales are already picking up. I thought we'd have to wait longer for people to find us, but apparently not."

"Yeah, I saw that we're almost out of origami animals," Stiles said. "If that continues, we need to hire someone to help with the folding next."

"We could do with a house elf," Erica giggled. She stretched out her back and sighed happily. "This is amazing. Easily the best summer job I'll ever have."

"And the best thing is that we're still going out later to have fun," Stiles said. He set his phone aside and took the next sheet of paper for folding. "As soon as Derek's back from the post office."

Boyd shook his head. "There must be a better way to arrange delivery than sending Derek all the way to Redding. The dude will get tired of driving in no time."

"We'll figure something out," Stiles assured him. "Right now it's the best we can do. Our security is more important than efficiency."

"Speaking of which, is there any news about Danny?" Erica asked. "There's a loose cannon if I ever saw one."

"Peter's not saying much about it but I do know that he's in contact with Danny," Stiles said. He set his folded monkey aside and chose a pink square of paper next. For some reason, fancy flamingos in different poses were quite popular. "Seems like Danny's serious about wanting in. I don't even know why."

"Maybe he has the hots for Derek and Peter," Erica guessed. She looked meaningfully at Stiles. "He wouldn't be the only one, now would he?"

"Ugh, can you stop reminding me?" Stiles muttered.

"Yes, stop reminding him," Boyd agreed. "I'm done with the ultramarine set but I don't think there's enough of the sunshine yellow left for the last set."

"I'll get more with the next order," Isaac promised, already reaching for his laptop to put the paint in his shopping basket. "Just take the lemon yellow instead."

They worked for another quarter-hour, not talking much. But then Erica was done with her rock and sat back with a great huff.

"This Danny thing is making me nervous," she said, picking up their conversation from before and crossing her arms with a pout. "What do we even know about him, other than that he has great dimples and is good with computers?"

"Well, he lives in a three-generation house," Stiles offered. "And he's got an older brother that has already moved out. He got caught cyber-snooping once and had to do community work. The file is sealed but my dad's got an eye on him ever since."

"I was a little surprised that you didn't give him any slack," Boyd said. He placed the last rock of his set on the drying rack and looked intently at Stiles. "In school, it always seemed like you hoped he'd become your friend."

Stiles grimaced. "I know. I'm still cringing a little thinking about it."

"You don't need to," Erica said softly. "I think we all know how hard it is to have few friends. Or none at all. At least you tried, Batman, and Danny wasn't a bad choice. Even if he isn't interested, he isn't an asshole about it. Not even to Greenburg, and he deserves all the flak he's getting."

"Harsh," Stiles muttered, grinning with relief. "But also true."

"Well, now that I know him a little better, I wouldn't consider Danny prime friend material," Isaac huffed. "He's just as self-absorbed as Jackson, in his own way. When he cornered Stiles at Lydia's party, he mentioned wanting to know what was going on in Beacon Hills so he could keep his family safe, but I call bullshit on that. Why would anyone in his family come into conflict with werewolves or hunters?"

"True. Unless …" Erica bit her lip. "Unless they were somehow other as well. I mean, it could be, couldn't it? No one knew about the Hales either, until Peter woke up from his coma and decided to go avenging."

"Derek's already scoped his place out and couldn't find anything strange, but maybe there is more to it than just a general worry for his family," Isaac allowed, although he didn't look very happy about it. "Though if that's the case, they're damn good at hiding it."

"Peter's on it so I'm willing to table this for now," Stiles told them, not in the mood to speculate about Danny any longer. "I'd much rather fight out where we're gonna buy our snacks later."

"Hale made food," Boyd pointed out.

Stiles snorted. "Food is food and snacks are snacks. But don't worry, you'll learn. So, I'm voting for the Panetteria. It's on the way and they have these amazing little panini and cakes."

"Marsha's," Isaac countered. "What's your favourite, Boyd?"

"Whatever Erica can eat," Boyd replied with a shrug. "I'm not picky."

Erica rewarded his chivalry with a loud smack to the cheek and adoring eyes.

"Looks like Derek's vote will decide," Stiles said, taking a colourful paper next and starting to fold a butterfly. "Let's do another thirty minutes and then we can finally go swimming."

oOo

That night, after several hours of swimming and play fighting in the lake, Stiles slept like a log.

That is until Lou jerked him awake, claws out and growl reverberating through Stiles' mind.

"What the hell?" Stiles cried. The wolf spirit in his head didn't even really allow for disorientation; all his senses immediately latched onto the irregularity in his room's make-up.

There, in the darkest corner, a figure was standing very still, large, reflecting eyes staring unblinkingly at him.

Stiles' own burning eyes nearly popped from their sockets and shock shot its adrenaline-fuelled heat into even the tiniest muscle fibre.

It took embarrassingly long to regain his composure and realize that his window was open. The thick line of mountain ash warding off the room was undisturbed, which made the whole thing even more surreal.

Not foe, but dangerous, Lou rumbled. Very dangerous. Careful. Not human.

Stiles acknowledged the information and slowly got into a low crouch. "Hello there," he said as soothingly as he could.

The figure didn't move from its spot in the shadows. Only its highly reflective eyes were visible, and they were following Stiles' every move.

"You found me, and my wards didn't keep you out," Stiles said. "That means that you're sort of a friend. Am I right?"

There was a slight head tilt.

"Alright. That's good! Well, you're here now, so why don't you introduce yourself?" Stiles went on, optimizing his crouch for maximum attack value while at the same time trying to look as unthreatening as possible. "I'm Stiles, although you probably knew that already."

No name, no scent, Lou growled. Empty. But curious. We are wary.

Yes, very. Stiles swallowed. "My friend tells me that you haven't got a name?"

A low hiss sounded now, and the figure shuffled a little closer. In the weak light coming in through the window, the curve of its skull gleamed a little without giving anything away. Stiles couldn't even make out the skin tone, which was beyond frustrating.

"That's not a problem," Stiles said calmly. "It just means that we can decide on a name together. Whatcha wanna be called? Any ideas?"

Another hiss, but at least it didn't sound threatening.

"The language barrier could be a problem," Stiles mused, now tilting his own head consideringly. "I'll come up with something if that's alright with you. It'd be good to get a visual on you, though. Just to get an idea of what would be appropriate. I wouldn't wanna call you Snufflepuff when you're a big bad yeti, you know. Although yetis probably give great hugs, so it might not be completely dumb."

The figure in the shadow suddenly moved up. Swiftly, the gleaming eyes rose to the ceiling. Seconds later and lightning-fast, a dark, humanoid body glided in one slick move along the wall and through the open window, leaving Stiles alone without so much as a by your leave.

Speechless, Stiles stared after his nocturnal guest.

"He had a tail!" he said to Lou, flabbergasted. "What the hell?!"

oOo

Peter wasn't amused about the late-night visit at all. He liked it even less that Lou wasn't able to offer any sort of identifying information on the lizard man, except that he was, apparently, a giant supernatural lizard.

"At least we know that he can jump easily to the ceiling, and run along walls like a gecko," Stiles said, trying and failing not to feel flattered and reassured by Peter's growly macho posturing. Across the kitchen table, his father was rubbing his temples tiredly. "And I repeat, he wasn't out to hurt me. The wards on the house would've never let him in if that had been the case."

"He crossed a mountain ash barrier!" Peter snapped, eyes glowing brightly. "That's not just unusual, that's unheard of! No supernatural being can do that; that's the whole point!"

"Yeah, but you forget that I'm magic," Stiles countered. At both his father and Peter's unimpressed looks, he explained, "I just mean that something in my wards obviously allowed him to come through. Like, maybe he was seeking shelter or something. You know I've begun dabbling in intent-based wards. They might've gone a bit wonky."

"I do not begrudge you your new friends," John said after a pregnant pause, "but I ask that you do not adopt more strays in the foreseeable future. I'm still … saturated, for lack of a better word."

"I know, dad." Stiles did know. His dad was doing his very best to understand what all of this pack business meant to Stiles, and his quiet support meant the world. Trying not to attract more trouble was the least Stiles could do to repay his kindness. "I'll try to tweak the wards so that he can't come into the house again."

His father nodded, relief making his weary face look even more tired.

"For what it's worth, I have no earthly idea what's going on," Stiles continued. "That lizard guy obviously isn't one of the alpha pack, and as I said, he wasn't even verbal. He was just … there. And when I asked him to show himself, he noped out and slithered away."

Peter's eyes narrowed. "I can't believe that this thing is shy."

"Shy isn't quite right," Stiles replied, cocking his head in thought. "More like reserved, maybe? He had no problem staring at me. And he sort of listened to what I was saying. The more I think about it, the more I believe that he understood me. He just didn't want to engage."

"Very curious," Peter muttered.

"If it will help you sleep at night, I can hook up a camera," Stiles offered. "Maybe he'll be back, although I wouldn't count on it."

"I'd be glad if that were the case," his father admitted. "I'm sort of used to werewolves now. Lizard people are a bit much. And also, I'm not okay with giving Hale here a free show."

Peter's red-eyed gaze settled on the sheriff and a dangerous smile showed off far more sharp teeth than Stiles was comfortable with.

"Dad, I wouldn't live-stream it!" Stiles squawked. "Can you just not with the wild accusations, please? Oh my god!"

John sat frozen, only to slap both hands in front of his face and shaking his head. "I'm sorry. I'm tired and freaked out. Don't mind me, I'm not thinking clearly. Sorry."

"I wish the guys from the FBI would let you get some real sleep," Stiles huffed, willing the mortified blush to vanish from his cheeks. "Seriously, it's not funny!"

"I'm the only one who can get those Lobos guys to talk," John mumbled, still hunched over miserably. "I wish I could read a couple more people in, just to teach them the runes and convince them that using them is the right thing to do."

"Yeah, no, not gonna happen with so many strange faces in town," Stiles said at once. "But I'm sick and tired of seeing you like this." He tapped his father's ankle with his foot. "Can you get me into the interview rooms without people seeing me? I can kit them out with the truth runes. Might be a better solution in the long term, anyway."

The sheriff perked up at this, his expression so pathetically hopeful that it almost hurt to look at him. "Could you really do that?"

Stiles forced himself to remain calm. "Just watch me. And no, I don't particularly care that this is technically forcing people to compromise themselves. I'm not forcing them to talk, but when they do talk, they'll tell you guys the truth."

"I'm not against that at all," Peter said. "But you should factor in the human element. Even LEOs are not above abusing their power, so you should make sure that your truth magic only pertains to police work."

"Yeah, of course." Stiles picked up his phone and wrote himself a memo. "I'll start immediately and let you know when I'm ready for a visit, dad."

"I should probably protest, but I'm just grateful," his father admitted. His shoulders slumped as he relaxed. "Finding ways to stamp our prisoners without the deputies noticing was becoming a bit of a challenge. I do have a rather bright bunch at the station, after all."

Stiles hooked his foot around his dad's ankle and smiled warmly. "I'm sorry I haven't thought of this sooner, but it'll be alright now. As soon as they notice that every cop will be able to make those locust guys talk, you'll be back to normal hours."

"I really hope so, kiddo. It'll be good to spend at least part of the summer together. I owe you three trips to San Francisco as it is; it's about time I finally make good on my promises."

Stiles practically glowed at the look of parental love and pride on his father's face. "I'll hold you to that, daddio."

And just like that the day was looking up again, mysterious visitors and yet more work notwithstanding. Stiles found that he could easily deal with all of that, as long as it made the people he loved - and himself - happy.


End of chapter 62