'Rona got me writing again. This fic is stand-alone from my other, but I am working on the sequel for that. Teen Wolf is low-threshold compared to other fandoms and it's fun to just write freely without excessive planning. Please review if you have any opinion on the fic. (PS: This is also published on AO3, same pen-name)
Chapter 1: The Intruder
It seemed like a good decision at the time. She only had classes a couple of days a week and most of her schoolwork could be done online, even with the shitty connection that averaged at well below the advertised 12 Mbps. Her aunt only lived half an hour from campus in any case, and she could easily afford the gas money when she didn't have to pay rent on top of it. Her aunt was more than happy if she just helped her cousin Scott with his homework when needed. Which was quite often, truth be told.
It was not a big house, but she got her own room, spacious enough to create a little office nook crammed in between the door and the sloped ceiling. Her aunt worked odd hours and Scott seemed to spend most of his time at his friend's house, so the living room TV was usually unoccupied when she wanted to watch true-crime documentaries. They respected her privacy, she got enough peace and quiet to actually get some work done, and Aunt Melissa's only rule towards curfews and partying was not bringing strange boys home. Which was an easy enough rule to stick to - her phone was not exactly blowing up with offers for neither parties nor boys.
So the arrangement was satisfactory for all parties. Melissa got help around the house, Scott got help with his homework, and Joe did not have to put herself in lifelong debt to pay rent and utilities at the dorms on campus.
At least it was satisfactory, until Scott started bringing strange boys home.
Joe emerged from her room after a long session of online workshops with her group, feeling very much like a disgruntled hedgehog coming out of hibernation. The afterglow from the computer monitor flashed in her mind every time she blinked. It was easy to lose track of time and now she had to get rid of the evidence. She balanced a large load of old water bottles, used coffee mugs and the occasional empty cup of instant noodles in her arms and used her hip to close the door behind her. Those large piles of unfolded laundry on her bed was best left unseen by the other occupants in the house - especially Aunt Melissa.
A flicker in the shadows down by Scott's door caused Joe to stop on her way to the stairs. She squinted, still half-blind. Either the combination of Scott's lacrosse stick propped up by the door and the crooked lamp on the wall caused the shadows to resemble the silhouette of a man - or there was a man standing in the hallway.
"Uh...who're you?" Joe asked and the water bottles made a cracking sound as she subconsciously squeezed them.
The man, clad in a tight white shirt and a form-fitting leather jacket, took a step forward so he was no longer half-concealed in the dark hallway. This did not in any way or form make him less intimidating, even if it looked like he made a genuine effort to remove that scowl on his face. Dark haired, but almost unnaturally pale skin, and the hint of a five-o'clock-shadow. If she had to guess, he was a descendant of Black Irish. Very attractive, to that extent that he was probably very aware of it too. He attempted a smile.
"I'm a friend of Scott's."
Joe's eyebrows rose to meet her hair-bun that laid haphardazly atop her head. "You're like, what, ten year's older than him?"
The man smiled again with a closed mouth, even if it never reached his eyes. "Sorry, who are you again?"
"I live here," Joe said with emphasis and tried to shift her load to get one arm free in case she had to make a run for it back into her room. She left her cell-phone in there, only because the oversized sweatpants she was wearing did not have pockets. It was either that, or storming downstairs to the landline to call the cops if that should become necessary.
"Ah, so you're Scott's sister?" the man said as if he'd heard all about her, but never had the pleasure to meet her before. It was a good act, very believable, except Scott did not have any siblings. "I'm Der-"
"Yeah, I don't care," Joe interrupted him. The house was small, the walls were thin - if Scott was in his room, he would have heard them talking out in the hallway and come outside. He hadn't, so Joe's best guess was that he wasn't home. How did he even get in here? Did they forget to lock the front door again? "You're not Scott's friend, I've never seen you before, and I want you to leave."
The man raised his hand in a disarming manner, but Joe's pulse quickened by the second whie she tried to keep it hidden. She took a step back to clear passage in the hallway and nodded towards the stairs leading down. "Leave. Now."
He hesitated, his head tilted a bit to the side as if he was listening to something, and now her heart beat faster - what if she was practically trapped in the house with some kind of deranged lunatic? She jolted when the man lifted his other arm, and he slowed his movements almost apologetically. With both hands raised and empty palms facing her, he bowed his head to expose his neck.
"Sorry," he mumbled and obviously made a point of keeping eye contact. He walked past her to the stairs. The same instant he passed her, she got hit full force with what had to be his very pungent cologne. In fact, it was so powerful she tried to take another step back, causing her to bump into the wall.
This made him look up at her and he missed the top step of the stairs. She opened her mouth to yell, picturing him breaking his neck in his fall, but he had already recovered his balance and grabbed onto the bannister. There was not much expression on his face, but the small quirk in his brows made him look confused, almost dazed, and he kept glancing back at her as he made his way to the front door. She remained rooted to the spot, almost dizzy from the lingering scent of him, and did not take normal breaths until the door slammed behind him.
"That guy needs a shower," she muttered and stumbled down the stairs to lock the door after him. She peeked out from the lace-curtains that were part of the remains from the previous owner, but the street was deserted. Not comforting, she would have preferred to see him walking away from the house. Now he could be lurking in the bushes for all she knew.
On that pleasant thought, she hauled the evidence of the many hours spent in front of the computer to the kitchen. She made a mental note to ask Scott about the guy when he got home. Maybe he had been telling the truth, however unlikely. In that case, they had to have a conversation about boundaries. It was bad enough that that Stilinski kid kept popping up at odd hours - she had several times come down to the kitchen to find him sipping coffee first thing in the morning, before anyone else in the house was up. But at least she knew Stiles, this new, and much older, guy did not seem like anyone Scott would want to hang out with. Not that she knew much about who Scott would want to hang out with other than Stiles. Stiles was Scott's best - and only - friend. He had never brought anyone else home as far she knew at least.
Joe turned on the radio to have some company and distraction from her own thoughts when doing the dishes. She relaxed a bit more with every passing minute the guy did not leap out of the neighbor's overgrown cedar hedge. Leaving some of the cups in the sink to soak - they might have been sitting in her room for days and gotten all crusty - she turned to rummage the fridge for any late night snack. Locked in her room in front of the computer all day made her lose any sense of time and she had skipped both lunch and dinner. But hopefully there would be leftovers...
Several bangs and crashes and a final heavy thud came from upstairs - like someone sneaking in through a window, tripping over a wire or the laundry basket, stumbling to catch their balance before tripping again over a wayward skateboard and relenting to the floor. Joe froze with the fridge door open, the fluorescent buzzing the only sound after the racket upstairs died away. It was probably Scott. He must have forgotten his mom worked the late shift and tried to sneak in past curfew. It had to be Scott. Right?
"Scott?" she called in the voice of someone who did not actually want to be heard. The knife block sat invitingly on the counter, but stabbing someone meant getting a bit closer than Joe found comfortable, so she locked her hand around the cast iron frying pan that Aunt Mel used for her infamous grilled cheese instead. More thuds and bangs echoed through the floor.
Inching her way up the stairs, she desperately tried to listen for any tell-tale signs this was just her hormonal teenager of a cousin who was bumping into things, and not some raving madman throwing a fit. What she did hear did nothing to still her fears. Groaning, growling even, and more crashes.
"Shit," she muttered and shifted her grip on the frying pan, her sweaty palms making it slick. "Shit, shit, shit."
The hallway seemed impossibly long and alltogether too short at the same time and she was in front of Scott's door before she knew it. "Scott?" she tried again, and thought the strange noises inside stopped for a split second. No answer from probably-not-Scott.
Joe hefted the makeshift weapon and swore. "Shit."
She flung the door open and found a monster.
"AAAAH!" she screamed, closed her eyes and swung blindly at the intruder who was definitely-not-Scott! By chance, the heavy iron made contact and definitely-not-Scott let out a shrill yelp. Still squeezing her eyes shut, she shifted the momentum of the frying pan to take another swing, again and again, hitting only air and shrieking like a madwoman each time. "AAH! AAAH! AAH!"
"JOE! Stop! Stop, it's me, stop!"
The sound of Scott's voice snapped her out of the frenzy and she finally dared to open her eyes again. Instead of the yellow-eyed monster who had snarled at her when she opened the door, she only saw her baby cousin sprawled out on the floor. Blood dripped from his nose where she evidently had gotten him good with the frying pan.
"Scott?!" she screeched and stopped swinging. Quick look around the room revealed it to be empty, although furniture and books laid strewn everywhere. No monster. No danger. Just her cousin. "What the hell?" They stared at each other for several seconds. Scott touched his nose gingerly and Joe dropped the frying pan with a heavy bang. "Oh no! Oh my God, oh, I'm so sorry!"
She knelt by Scott and twisted his face roughly despite his protests. He was bleeding and yelped each time she prodded his nose, but it did not appear to be broken. She tried to grab onto his head to look at his pupiles. "Hold still, you could have a concussion!"
"Ow!" he protested again and swatted at her hands. "Jesus, Joe!"
"Well, I'm sorry!" she yelled right into his ear, making him flinch and grimace. "I thought I saw-" What had she seen? Probably a stress-induced hallucination fuelled by her fear-fantasies from that strange encounter before. Saying she tried to knock her cousin out because she thought she'd seen some kind of fairytale monster did not sound like a plausible explanation in case they had to go the ER. "I thought you were a burglar."
"A burglar?" Scott exclaimed, but shrugged her off so he could sit more upright. He clutched at his nose, but it looked like the bleeding had stopped at least. "What do we have in this house worth stealing?"
"A burglar wouldn't know that!"
"Jesus Christ, Joe! Ow!"
She'd swatted the back of his head. "What the hell are you doing sneaking in anyway? Curfew was an hour ago."
"I'm sorry, I forgot," he mumbled lamely, not looking at her.
"And then what, you decided to do some alternative redecorating?" Joe made a face at the mess in the room. A little mess was normal for a healthy teenage boy, but the overturned furniture was a bit too kitsch, even for him. "What's wrong with ya? You know your mom can't afford to replace this stuff."
Scott groaned and buried his head into his arms. "I know, I know. I just...tripped."
"Ten times in a row?"
"Joe..."
"I mean I get it, making first line's exciting and all, but it doesn't make you some kind of rockstar-"
"Joe!" Scott snapped and gave her a hard stare over his shoulder. "I'm sorry, okay? And I'm sorry for scaring you."
She frowned at the memories of how piss-her-pants-terrified she had been just a few minutes before. Bristling, she got up and hefted at his arm to make him stand as well. No signs of concussion and no broken nose, he would be fine. "Yeah, well, ya didn't scare me half as much as that so-called-friend of yours."
"What friend?" Scott sounded panicked and grabbed Joe's arm when she turned away to get the frying pan back up from the floor. He forced her to look at him. "Joe, what friend?"
"Some creepy guy in a leather jacket, said he was your friend, and I was like, uh, dude, you're like a decade too old, and he was like, yeah, well, who are you then, like I don't actually live here, and I was like, uh, you need to get-"
"Joe!" Scott snapped again to pause her paraphrasing. "What was his name?"
They stared at each other. Scott had caught up with her height-wise almost a year ago and now he had several inches on her. She still thought of him like approximately twelve years old, but the boy was growing to be a man. A man who looked dead serious.
"I mean, I don't know-"
Scott threw his head back and released her arm with an exaspareted groan."Joe!"
"I didn't catch it!"
"Was it Derek? Derek Hale?"
Joe shrugged theatrically. "I don't know! Maybe? Is he a friend of yours?"
"No!" Scott turned abruptly to flip his computer chair upright. "He's not my friend. Next time he shows up, don't open the door."
"I never did open the door for him, he was just standing in the hall all of a sudden."
"What? In the house?" Panic seeped into Scott's voice and he looked around the room as if the stranger was hiding behind the nightsand and Joe started to feel nervous again herself. "Joe, promise me, if he ever come back here, call the police."
The intensity in his voice gave her goosebumps. Keep in mind that this was a guy who'd failed one of his tests because he couldn't name which party the current president represented. Not really invested in anything outside the high school bubble.
"What's going on, Scott?" she asked gently while helping him pick up all the knicknacks from his desk. "Who is that guy?"
Scott shook his head. "I can't explain. Just promise me you'll stay away from him."
