Tattoo
The next morning Stiles and Lydia raided Stiles' closet for her outfit for the first day back at school, which took a number of unnecessary hours but Stiles was increasingly uncomfortable with the number of items of clothing that showed off either her chest or abdomen. They finally settled on a plain white tank top with a cut off T-shirt and a pair of tight fitting jeans, Stiles hung the outfit up in her closet and grabbed her jacket before she drove Lydia home, the redhead had plans to set Allison up on a double date when she got back from France later that day and Stiles was heading to Derek's newly acquired loft in the industrial side of town – Isaac believed he had lead on where Boyd and Erica where – and she wanted to be the first to tell the alpha that at least one of his missing betas were alive and well.
Stiles pulled her jeep into a parking space next to a classic mustang convertible, her eyes glossing over the shiny exterior appreciatively as she headed for the building and into the creepy metal box that shrieked and groaned when its mechanics moved. She only just stepped out of the elevator when the heavy, sliding door that led to Derek's two-bedroom studio apartment slid open smoothly to reveal the alpha himself, smirking as he looked over Stiles' appearance. The girl couldn't help but smile, all but skipping up to Derek and ducking under his arm.
"You knew I was coming?"
"No, but your heartbeat picks up rapidly in the elevator." Derek drawled casually; he'd hoped she'd swing by but Stiles didn't need to know that.
"Pfft…" Stiles scoffed under her breath; eyes scanning every detail of the loft before her. It was a sparse space, with a limited number of items; a two-seater sofa parallel to a dark oak coffee table and a couple of large arm chairs. On the wall furthest from the kitchenette there was shelves upon shelves of books and a gigantic hole in the bricks that led to what Stiles presumed was Derek's bedroom. Opposite the door where the fourth wall of the loft should be was nothing but large, slightly grimy window's that showcased downtown Beacon County silhouetted against the horizon, and a spiral staircase that twisted itself up to the second level of the loft.
Derek followed behind Stiles as she slowly moved around the loft, observing everything with an impressively impassive expression. He chewed the inside of his cheek as he scented the air, something was different about Stiles, nothing big but it was noticeable if you were to pay attention. The sparks usual scent of honey and wildflowers was off somehow, like there was something added to it, a rusty tangible scent he could feel dancing over his tongue but couldn't quite place. The silence between them stretched to mildly uncomfortable lengths and Derek had an overwhelming need to fill the air as Stiles remained uncharacteristically quiet.
"So, what do you think?" He asked quietly, jerking his chin to the room and clasping his hands behind his back for her verdict. Stiles, he had learned, had an opinion about almost everything and she wasn't shy about letting people know what she thought.
"It's… nice. For a wolf den." She shrugged, lips twisting thoughtfully. "Although some people have doors leading to the bedroom not giant holes smashed through the walls."
Derek chuckled with a small shake of his head, "For now. It's just me and Isaac, I'm officially his legal guardian so he needs to have a place to sleep and eat. I'm planning on rebuilding the Hale family home, maybe even start branching out, extending the pack more."
"Is that a good idea? I mean with Jackson gone and two of yours still in the wind…" Stiles trailed off slightly turning to face Derek. "I mean it is a great idea reestablishing yourself in Beacon, not being the surly Sourwolf you usually are but looking for more betas right now seems kinda… I don't know. It just feels like a bad idea."
"You mean with Scott, the way he's acting like nothing happened after we turned Jackson?" Derek reprised, he seemed to be the only person that was able to read Stiles perfectly. He knew her thought process and what she meant before even she could figure it out. "Now with the Argent's coming back you don't want what happened to Boyd and Erica to happen to anyone else."
"Yeah, exactly." Stiles breathed, flopping down onto the sofa and patting the seat next to her. "Now, come and tell me your grand plans recreating your old family home, Sourwolf."
Derek took a seat next to her, draping his well muscled arm over the back of the sofa and incidentally over Stiles' shoulders, as he began to explain how Peter was an architect before the fire and his practice was still up and running.
All the ex-lunatic uncle Peter had to do was put a team on the designs and hire a couple of contractors once Derek approved, the Sourwolf snickered slightly as he explained how Peter called it 'a family uprising project' as the original Hale house had to be demolished before they could rebuild, the infrastructure was too weak to be used as the foundation and Peter found it endlessly amusing that Derek – Talia's only son – was the one giving permission to destroy the thing his mother loved after her children. Her ancestral home.
They spoke for hours changing topics several times before they even noticed it had gotten so late and the room was washed in a reddish-orange glow and the door of the loft slid open almost soundlessly. Peter waltzed in with a cool, charming smile and brown tubes tucked under one arm, his mouth open to say something to Derek before he paused, noting how comfortable the two looked with Stiles tucked protectively under Derek's arm.
"Oh, don't mind me." He drawled with false casualness as he took several long strides to the kitchenette. "Go back to whatever you two where doing, I'm sure it was nauseatingly adorable."
"I should actually go." Stiles muttered awkwardly, slipping her phone out of her jacket pocket to check the time. She grimaced noticing the dozens of messages from Scott asking if she was still picking him up from work. "I didn't realize how late it was, I need to meet Scott at work. His mom doesn't want him driving around on that thing he calls a bike late at night."
She knew that it was a bad idea to still be hanging around Scott after the Kanima blowout but he had become needlessly annoying about how 'he's learning control over the summer' and 'they only kept the plan between the two of them because they didn't know who to trust'. If Scott's second dumb reasoning wasn't a kick in the teeth then his incessant, compulsive need to defend his ex girlfriend was like ripping teeth out with pliers, 'it wasn't her fault, it was Gerard.' God how Stiles wanted claw his little werewolf eyes out, it was the second reason she spent the summer alternating between Derek's place and the station, Scott tried to avoid Derek and his pack as much as possible and he never tried to be in the sheriff's station unless strictly necessary.
She could feel two sets of blue eyes drilling into her back, questioning her and maybe even judging her a little but she refused to acknowledge the abstract stupidity behind still calling Scott a friend. She was silently hoping that by being so close to him she would be able to stop him before he did something stupid like with Gerard. Stiles glanced over her shoulder with a smile; Derek was back to being surly and stoic but his eyes shined with worry and his jaw clenched with unspoken words.
"Remember to call and check in on Isaac before it gets too late." She said as she moved towards the door. "Bye Peter."
Peter raised his hand in farewell knowing she wouldn't see it as he turned his penetrating gaze on his nephew. Derek's scowl deepened as he caught the look from the corner of his eye.
"Shut up." He snapped only serving to amuse his uncle rather than force a beta into submission.
"I didn't say anything,"
"You didn't have to; you were thinking it.
"Well…" Peter drawled contemplatively as he tilted his head in thought. "It's a given, obviously. Honestly, I just can't seem to fathom the idea of finding a mate in this day and age, one as potentially powerful as she is and not act on it. It begs the question, dear nephew, what are you doing?"
Derek bit back a snarl of agitation, he knew what Peter was saying was true, it was rare for werewolves to find their mates in the days after Lycaon and his sons learned to shift forms from the druids but now, after centuries of turmoil and slaughter between hunters and the supernatural it was practically non-existent. A fairy tale to most and here he was with someone that perfectly fit with him and he was just… what? Waiting, watching the chance to be with her pass him by? Derek wasn't all that sure but he knew that he had to figure it out soon.
Stiles hummed quietly to herself as she flipped through the book of laminated pages in the tattooist shop that Scott had pointed her towards. There were some nice and intricate pieces in the binder but Stiles wasn't one for needles and almost refused to bring Scott here in the first place, but the dumb beta insisted, pleading with big round eyes and his mouth twisted into something akin to a frustrated pout before she finally relented. A playful quirk pulled at her lips as she came across a detailed drawing of a humanoid lizard in a bold, black ink staring back at her, she turned the binder to show Scott.
"Hey, you sure you don't want something a little like this?" She was completely kidding but Scott scoffed at her regardless. "Too soon?" Scott looked away from her in annoyance, so she decided to walk over to the chair and the artist who was staring at the scrap of paper Scott handed him with a raised brow.
"Gee, it's a good thing you drew me a picture." The tattooist drawled sarcastically; Stiles' lips twitched in amusement.
"Yeah, I don't know man. These things are pretty permanent, you know?" Stiles continued, eyeing the needle and gun warily. "Are you sure you want to do this?"
"I'm not changing my mind."
"Okay," Stiles exhaled heavily, she already knew he wouldn't. "By why two bands, don't you think your first tattoo should mean something?"
"Getting a tattoo does mean something." Scott said earnestly, the tattooist spun back to them.
"He's right. Tattooing goes back thousands of years; in Tahitian it means 'to leave a mark'. Kind of like a right of passage."
Scott grinned stupidly, "See, he get's it."
"Dude, he's literally covered in tattoos." She stated as if it wasn't obvious that the tattooist of a tattoo studio who was covered from head to toe in ink wouldn't be biased. She walked away to sit at the other side of the shop, she really didn't want to watch Scott be stabbed hundreds of thousands of times with a tiny pinprick needle – she'd probably faint.
What felt like several hours later, Stiles was able to slip into her jeep with Scott all wrapped up freshly inked. She was just jamming her car keys into the ignition, the other ridiculous number of keys jingling merrily as Scott hissed and wince flexing his bicep and fingers ghosting over the thick, fluffy gauze.
"You okay there, bud?"
"Yeah, I think so but it kind of burns…"
Stiles snorted through her nose at his idiocy, "Well you'd think so considering you were just stabbed about one hundred thousand times with a needle. I reckon it'll burn just a little bit."
"I guess but I don't think it's meant to hurt like this." Scott winced flinching back dramatically. "I really don't think it's supposed to hurt like this."
He ripped the bandage off just in time for them to watch the black ink fade as new, tanned skin grew over the damaged area. Stiles felt her entire body relax as an unknown tension left her body and Scot sulked.
"It healed."
"Thank the triple goddess." Stiles muttered under her breath continuing honestly, "I hated it."
Scott glared at her but Stiles couldn't find it in herself to really care as she started the jeep and the drove in silence back to Beacon Hill's, Scott's brown eyes burning into the side of her face until she finally broke and asked the one question that would get him to stop. She asked about the huntress and Scott got this dopey, dumb look on his face as he gushed and waxed poetry about the curly haired murderer.
"So, you haven't spoken to her at all since she left?" She eventually asked doubtfully, Scott looked down at his lap with a sad, wistful smile.
"No, we said we wouldn't talk about anything until she came back, if she even decides to come back."
Stiles stopped at a red light, tapping her fingers bored on the wheel as she bit her lip, something was niggling at the base of her neck, an uncomfortably hot itching feeling that spread across her shoulder blades. She rolled her neck to hopefully make the feeling go away but it only intensified with the flicker of rage that erupted in her chest when her eyes fell on the little Honda that stopped next to them and the brunette that was in the passenger seat, laughing at something Lydia had probably said.
"I think she is; I'd even go as far as to say it's pretty damn definite she's coming back." Her jaw clenched and her throat closed up as Allison turned her head and saw them in the jeep, her eyes blown wide in surprise – as if it was an absolute shocker that she'd run into them at some point in Beacon Hills.
"Oh god, oh god…" Scott muttered under his breath ducking low in his seat as if that would make the situation any better or mean that Allison hadn't seen him. "Stiles drive, right now."
"The lights red, can't do anything about that." She uttered, glancing ahead of them to the stop light that was still shining a brilliant red. "Maybe you should talk to her, what's the worse that could happen?"
As if she was able to hear Stiles' suggestion, Lydia stepped on her gas pedal and tore through the red light like a bat out of hell. Seconds later the light turned green and Stiles drove on at a much more sedated pace, Scott looked at her then to Lydia's car ahead of them and them back to Stiles.
"What are you doing?"
"Driving Scott, I'm in the drivers seat. What do you think I'm doing?"
"We're right behind them!" Scott protested aghast.
"Okay, that would be because it's a straight freaking road, Scott." Stiles shot back, her anger spiking and making the burning itch a little more than a burning feeling. "Do you see any turns?"
"I don't want them to think we're following them." He protested once more, sounding annoyingly earnest. Stiles huffed harshly through her nose, glancing at Scott from the corner of her eyes.
"What do you suggest I do Scott?" She growled pretty fed up with his whining.
"I don't know anything!"
Stiles stomped on the breaks and brought Roscoe to a screeching halt; she turned a stared Scott down for a long moment until the omega ducked his head sheepishly. A chime sounded through the cab and Stiles reached for her phone to check the text as a second one came through. The first one was from Derek, apparently Erica had just showed up at the Hale house tired and weary but otherwise unharmed but she couldn't remember much of the last three months.
The second text was Lydia asking if she was alright, Stiles' heart hammered in her chest wondering if she had done something wrong in the ritual where Erica wouldn't remember being dead and resurrected, her hands shook slightly as she typed a quick message back to Lydia saying she was fine. She'd just hit send when the girls from the other car let out an earsplitting shriek and ran out onto the road as a deer came sprinting down the middle of the road and straight through the cars windshield.
Stiles jumped out of the jeep, Scott only seconds behind her and they both ran over to the Honda. Stiles wrapped an arm around the redheads shoulders and pulled her into a reassuring hug, whispering thoughtless words of comfort as Scott – predictably – went to Allison and asked her if she was alright. She was clearly fine, Lydia was a little shook up.
"I saw it's eyes right before it hit us. It was like it was crazy or something." She breathed, turning away from the Spark only long enough to say her piece before burying her face back into the crook of Stiles' neck.
"It's okay…" Stiles whispered calmly. "Erica's back, she doesn't remember anything."
Lydia tapped her forefinger against Stiles' ribs to indicate she'd heard as Scott spoke up, "It was scared. Actually… it was terrified."
A beat passed until Stiles couldn't stop herself from saying something, "Well, now that we've got it cleared up that the damned deer was completely freaking out like the rest of us. How about we call a tow truck, make a accident report and get the hell out of here."
They did as suggested, Stiles immediately calling her dad while Lydia called AA to tow her car to the nearest garage.
I'm sorry there's such a long wait between chapter atm. My mind and attention has been fully grasped by a new idea that I've been working on and I'm a little spacey on what I've already written/going to write for this story. But in other news, Allison is back in Beacon playing the self riteous hunter, Scott's still pitifully ignorant of Stiles' powers and the Darach is about to make it's move.