Chapter 4 - A Little Different

"And there was blood everywhere, and Allison was screaming, and I was morphed and like roaring, and then I just woke up!"

"So you killed her?" Stiles replied simply. They were just walking into school, and he had unknowingly agreed to listen to the plot of whatever nightmare had woken Scott up this morning. He had to admit, he was a little disappointed. Not that gore and horror wasn't cool under most circumstances, but when Scott had come running up to him panting about the dream he'd had, Stiles was hoping for something a little more interesting, something hot or ridiculously bizarre. But no. It'd just been more werewolf stuff. Typical.

"I don't know," Scott sighed. He sounded at least a little calmer now that he'd shared his terror with someone, though he was still very clearly freaked. "I just woke up. And I was sweating like crazy and I couldn't breathe. I've never had a dream where I woke up like that before."

"Really? I have," Stiles chirped. "Usually ends a little differently." He smirked, letting his mind stray back to the glorious dream that he'd had last night.

He was used to waking up hot and bothered in the middle of the night, but last night had been a little different even for him. It hadn't been one of his recurring dreams, the ones that usually featured him and Lydia Martin in the locker room, or his bedroom, or the pool. The pool one was his favorite. But last night it hadn't been just him and Lydia, and if he was being honest with himself, it was a nice change. A very, very, verynice change. He'd been thoroughly content being slammed back into a desk, smothered by fiery red hair and looking up into sultry, chocolaty-brown eyes. Needless to say, he'd been extremely frustrated when his alarm went off, and had to spend a long stretch of time in a cold shower as a result.

"Actually yesterday…" he began to share, but a sudden shadow next to him made him look to his right. A large pair of chocolaty-brown eyes were staring him down, delicate eyebrows raised half in amusement and half in disgust. He froze. "Sadie! Hi!" he squeaked in terror. She narrowed her eyes in suspicion, picking up on his strained voice, and he quickly ducked his head. His eyes roamed over her body, taking slight reassurance in the long sleeved sweater, boots and skirt. It was short, sure, but least it was part of her own outfit. It was definitely not one of the tantalizing school uniforms she and Lydia had been barely wearing in his fantasy, which meant that he was definitely awake. Whether or not that was a good thing, he hadn't decided yet.

"Never mind," she decided, breaking him out of his thoughts. "I don't want to be part of this conversation." Stiles's mouth gaped open and closed uncontrollably. How much had she heard? How much had he even said? Had he slipped up and said any of that out loud? He was pretty sure that he hadn't, considering that Sadie had chosen to politely excuse herself instead of sprinting away to puke. Scott was even laughing.

"Hold on," he chuckled, before turning mischievous eyes to his best friend. "A, I meant I've never had a dream that felt that real, and B, never give anyone that much detail about you in bed again."

"Noted," Stiles agreed, and gulped. He shot Sadie's skirt one more glance before looking away altogether. Why did she have to be wearing a pleated skirt?

"What's up?" Scott asked Sadie, who raised her eyebrows pointedly as a reply.

"What's up with Derek?" she snapped. Scott and Stiles shared a dismal look before both looked forward, trying to ignore the brunette's anger.

"I'm not sure," Scott admitted carefully. "I haven't spoken to him yet."

"Well come on, Scott!" she growled, arms flailing wildly before anchoring over her chest. She was practically marching now, heels clacking dangerously on the hard floor as she glared at them. "What are you waiting for?!"

"I'm sorry!" he whined, hands squeezing his backpack straps tightly. "It's just…Derek doesn't exactly want to see either of us right now…"

"I thought that he wanted gain your trust?" Sadie pointed out suspiciously.

"He did—does!" Scott corrected himself hastily, but the girl was already glaring.

"God, what did you two do?" she groaned. Stiles felt his eyebrows shoot up towards his hairline in disbelief, finally turning to look at her once more now that he was focused on the problem at hand.

"What did we do?!" he yelped. "This—This guy is potentially stalking you for no reason and you wanna know what we did to upset him?" Sadie pursed her painted lips, narrowing her eyes at him once more.

"When it's getting in the way of me finding out why Derek's interested in me, yes!" They glared at each other evenly for a few seconds before Scott's uneasy mumbling broke their trance.

"We may have…accidentally gotten him thrown in jail for something the police say he didn't do…" Thankfully, the gravity of the situation seemed to have frozen Sadie for a moment, giving Stiles time to double the strength of his glare and turn to his best friend.

"Dude!" he protested. That was entirely too much information to give Sadie. They were trying to keep her out of the mess, not intrigue her by letting her know they were investigating murders. Or rather, upset her. Stiles didn't even have another second to open his mouth before Sadie stopped dead, whirling around to look at Scott.

"You what?!" she screeched. Stiles flinched, and was momentarily thankful he hadn't gotten the brunt of the yell. Scott was positively cowering in front of her.

"It was an accident!" he attempted to explain. "It-It looks like he'd killed this girl, and the police are convinced he didn't do it, but…!"

"Wait," she cut him off darkly. She looked furious, positively teeming with that dangerous anger that bubbles right below the surface before someone explodes. Stiles had to contain a yelp as she grabbed his shoulder, yanking him around to face her. Scott trembled next to him, similarly trapped. "You thought this Derek guy killed a girl and didn't think that was a relevant fact to bring up when you found out that he knows where I live and work?! And then you tell me not to worry about it?!" Scott and Stiles couldn't even share a look of fear, both too terrified by the feral look on Sadie's face. She glared between them both, chocolaty eyes darkening with rage. "Look," she spat, and Stiles took in a sharp breath as she grabbed a fistful of his shirt and forcefully pulling him closer. "I don't care if you think he killed that girl or not. You two are going to get over whatever the fuck is wrong between you and Derek Hale, and you're going to find out what's up. And then you're gonna tell me. Got it?" Stiles nodded furiously, almost entranced by the order. "Good. I'll see you in English." Sadie roughly released them both, leaving Stiles to stumble slightly as she stormed past him, heels still clicking.

"Damnit," Scott groaned, running a hand through his hair. Stiles didn't reply. He still hadn't moved. He was staring down the hallway, watching Sadie's hair fly angrily behind her as she strutted away, and one of his hands absently feeling the creases her fist had left in the front of his shirt. Scott did a double take when he saw his friend's stricken face. "Hey, you okay?"

"Well, she's…" Stiles paused as Sadie's figure retreated from sight, actually swallowing thickly. "…angry…" He saw Scott nod once or twice out of the corner of his eye before he turned in sudden realization.

"Dude! No!"

"What?!" Stiles squawked, his eyes tearing back to his friend's face. Scott was glaring at him, more incredulous than actually upset.

"Don't think about it!"

"D-Don't think about what? What am I thinking about? I'm not thinking about anything!" he defended quickly. Scott cocked an eyebrow skeptically.

"Right," he scoffed. "So you weren't fantasizing about Sadie when she's angry?"

"Wh-? Pft!" Stiles laughed nervously, which only made Scott cross his arms over his chest. His laughter slowly ebbed away, traded for a nervous flush and a hand scratching at the back of his neck. "What?!" he snapped defensively. "It's the first time I've heard her use the word 'fuck' and I'm already hormonally compromised because last night I had this really, really vivid dream where she and Lydia…!"

"Stiles!" Scott yelped with wide eyes. "I—I—No! Stop talking! I don't want to hear about it!"

"God you are the worst!" Stiles groaned, stomping a foot in frustration. Scott merely rolled his eyes, fixing him with another scowl.

"Look, can we deal with the more important things right now?" he begged. "Like the fact that I mentally tore my girlfriend limb from limb last night with my werewolf claws?!"

"Yeah," Stiles deflated, rubbing a hand down his face. "Yeah, that's probably more important." He shook himself off, trying to shake away his previous mind set. Scott was talking about important, life-or-death situations, and Stiles had to help him. That meant trying to control his more primal, hormonal urges. No thinking about the threesome dream. No thinking about Sadie grabbing him by his shirt and pulling him toward her, screaming orders into his face. And definitely no embellishing or rethinking of his previous dreams now that he knew exactly what it sounded like when Sadie said "fuck."

Now was the time for werewolf business. His other thoughts would just have to wait for bedtime.

A/N: Whoops my hand slipped and I wrote two chapters today. Sorry for the long wait. These are short so I'm going to try and crank them out. Don't forget to tell me what you think!

-Brittney