He knocked, the polite thing to do the first time you drop by someone's window frame, twice even, gentleman that he is. Nothing. Maybe she was out?
Probably off on a father daughter bonding session involving throwing knives and hand-to-hand combat.
Or maybe she was already in the woods, helping the pack from the other side. The thought twisted at his gut as he leaned back against the pane of glass that separated him from Allison's bedroom.
The excited energy that had led him here, well, round about here, began to drain from him.
He'd taken a quick detour by Scott's house before the brand new shiny red Honda in the driveway slammed a painful reminder that he no longer belonged there. Shimmying up onto the porch rafters now would no doubt result in another felony charge under his belt.
Trespassing, breaking and entering, nothing new really but he couldn't imagine Pops would be too forgiving given the up-and-coming elections.
It had been an instinctual reaction as soon as he'd heard the police report on the radio by his bedside to snatch his jacket from the back of his desk chair and head straight up the street to grab Scott along the way.
Code 419, Beacon Hills Preserve. Translated: dead human body in the woods.
Without Scott to run to, he couldn't imagine any better time to instigate plan B.
He hadn't heard anything from his wolfish counterparts but he didn't doubt they'd be all over this already what with their affinity for wooded areas, and, well, mysterious dead bodies.
So he ran to Allison's. Seriously. It was full-bodied, stitch-inducing, fence-hopping running, a risk fraught with perils considering his usual lack of ability to keep his face off the ground when trying to put one foot in front of the other.
All for nothing though if the stoic silence from her room was anything to go by.
He let out a deep sigh, shoulders hunched forwards as he pulled his knees to his chest.
He leaned back again, too far back. It took his brain a few seconds to recognise that the glass he had been aiming to reach had been wrenched upwards and away from the path of his shoulders.
His arms scrambled to find a hold at the frame around him as his right foot caught in the nook of his left leg knocking him further off balance, through the empty frame and straight into a desk piled with paperwork now falling on top of him.
He continued to struggle after his back slammed into plush carpet, he almost had advanced algebra in a headlock before two strong arms managed to pin him down.
"Stiles! Jesus, be quiet!" was hissed into his ear before he was dragged and bodily flung into darkness.
He barely had time to gather his thoughts before he heard an insistent knocking coming from beyond what he coined his 'naughty cave'.
"Allison?"
He could hear her gathering her belongings from the floor quickly before responding "Just a second!"
Apparently Allison's mother took her literally as barely a second passed before he heard the door launched open.
"Mom, Jesus, you didn't have to take it off the hinges." A slightly breathless Allison muttered.
"What's going on, Allison, why the mess?"
"I had a slight, ah, pigeon episode."
"Pigeon episode."
Even from the safety of his dark, newly rechristened 'cave of protection' his mind's eye could see the sharp pencilled eyebrow raised to a point.
"Yes. A pigeon Mom. It flew in through the window."
Stiles was pretty sure he was in the clothes closet, either that or Allison had a secret man-chamber she threw all intruders into.
Maybe that sleeve caressing his cheek was actually another hapless victim... He checked. Just a shirt.
Felt like a cotton-polyester blend, very soft, maybe he could... Just... No. No cross-dressing, there are limits to his curiosity.
"I heard a crash."
"I fell from my chair. I wasn't expecting an aerial assault on my studying, never mind having to chase a bird from my room with my algebra folder...
Look. Mom. He left this morning. He's gone. These little check-ups aren't necessary anymore."
And, yes, that was a shoe making his left butt-cheek go numb. Awesome.
Who likes walking evenly anyway? Not Stiles.
The pimp lean really gives him that extra kick with the ladies.
God, the shirt was so soft. It was swinging slightly now, tickling his face.
"Were they necessary before?"
"No Mom, of course not. I just thought you'd rest assured now that he's cleared the State."
"I was just checking you were ok, Allison, that's my right as a parent."
Her right as a stick-in-the-ass. Seriously, if he could just get like a blazer, or a t-shirt in this material.
Or an all-in-one adult sleepsuit. Wow. Yes. And a blanket, maybe some throe cushions, a giant human nest of softness.
He heard the door close just as the material came tumbling down around his grip, quickly followed by a handful of it's neighbouring wardrobe pieces.
Allison opened her closet door to find an overly-zealous Stiles rolling in her shirts like a pig in mud.
"...Stiles?"
"Mnpfhhh five more minutes"
"Five more minutes. And you iron them all."
"Deal."
She shut the door and climbed back onto her bed to wait.
It didn't take long for Stiles to stumble from amidst her clothes looking slightly sheepish with a deep flush on his cheeks.
He paused for a moment to disentangle himself from a black long-sleeved piece.
"Sorry, I have, ah, I have a... condition. Cureable only by softness. Your closet met the perfect specifications. There's a reason I'm here, I swear to God."
"What is it Stiles?" Her tone was indifferent but her lips betrayed her, twitching at the corner with a hint of amusement.
"Code 419 in the woods, I'd bet it's all in one piece too. Come on, we gotta hurry, the call came in, like, ages, maybe fifteen minutes ago, factoring in closet time."
He already had one leg out of the window before even stopping to consider her response.
He turned to check the bed, readying himself to convince her with the elegant enticements of blood and gore he often launched at Scott, only to find that she was no longer there.
He twisted further, spotting her behind him shrugging on a leather jacket just as he staggered, one leg still attempting to leave the room, and came face to face with the carpet he'd been pinned to minutes before.
"Come on, you had your five minutes."
She pulled him back up with unexpected force and nudged him towards the window.
"And oh, please be careful, if you don't want my mom to be the one peeling you off the ground."
Stiles definitely did not want to face death cradled in the arms of that firefox woman.
He very gingerly exited the window before shimmying down the support post with practiced ease.
He heard something click above him before Allison's form arced through the air over him and landed silently at his side.
"Ok, you are totally teaching me that. And some of your kick ass karate moves. Call it ninja classes."
She was already picking up pace, heading in the direction of the preserve with quick deliberate steps. He hurried to her side.
"Seriously, I'll get some black lycra, sewing machine, Spidey-suit us up. We can wear them under our clothes, fight crime on the side. Or, I don't know, steal from the rich, give to the poor. Give to the Stiles, to help him pay for his ninja lessons."
Allison didn't reply, simply chuckled, she didn't tell him to shut-up either so that was a good enough sign for Stiles.
"I can't be the only one without some killer moves, people will start to talk."
"Code 419, that's a dead body right?"
"A* on the cop lingo, looks like I can't teach you much in return... Unless you want some tips on ultimate Frisbee? I've got a pretty mean Frisbee swing.
Yeah. One John Doe. Messed up leg. Suspected animal attack. Same old.
Hey, you don't reckon Jackson had a hissy fit? Or Erica.. Oh God I hope it wasn't Erica."
"You think it was one of ours?"
Ours, he took a moment to consider it, ours. His and Allison's or Beacon Hill's?
"..No. Not even, well, no, ok, let's count out Erica... Maybe."
"Stiles! Erica did not maul a man. Say it with me."
"Sure. She gave my cheek a pretty good imprint of my carburetor, but sure, man-mauling has yet to be seen. I emphasise the yet."
She rolled her eyes but didn't move to reassure him.
"Hey, I'm just saying, the girl has a temper. What about Lydia? I mean, if it's true that not only their lunar cycles are aligned... Imagine some guy deciding to push them at the wrong time? Oh God let it be Jackson. Let it be Jackson."
"Stiles, shut up..."
And there it was.
"...We've got to be within their hearing by now, do you want Jackson to..."
Stiles didn't get to hear the rest as a dark figure flew from the tree-line straight into his 147lbs of pale skin and fragile bones.
His head hit the ground with a definitive thud. "Oh come on" he groaned, third time in a row.
"Next time I hear you wishing I was dead I will eat your ass, understood?" Jackson growled before jumping off his limp form.
"Yeah, yeah, big bad wolf. What was I saying, earlier, about the hissy fits? I take it all back. You sir are the epitome of calm and collected. They should name a whale noises CD after you or something."
"Shut up Stiles."
Nobody ever said 'keep talking, Stiles, what an interesting point you're making there, wait, let me stop ranting and raging for a minute so that I can take it all in'.
He was surrounded by fools, hairy fools, underappreciated in his time like Picasso or... Shakespeare.
Him and old Billy, peas in a pod.
"Stiles, be quiet." Dereks voice sounded from a little to the left of his head-ached haze. And, yes, he'd said all of that out loud. Great.
"Come on Billy" Allison smiled as she reached out an arm to help him up. Surprisingly strong yet again.
"You're missing the point, I'm not saying I'm Shakespeare, I just rent a space in the pod. The same one. The metaphor's there. Somewhere. Where are the others?"
"Doing as they're told." Derek growled from, yep, right in front of him. Ok, he was going to just take a nice little step back, or three, four, accidental fourth, and, yep, ass meet floor. Four times in a freaking row.
He looked up at the towering form of Derek Hale, red glazing his Irises as he muttered "What are you doing here Stiles?"
Right. Not supposed to be here. Not called in by Mr Alpha himself.
"Would you believe midnight stroll? Wood-side date? I can offer you secret-nocturnal-wildlife-enthusiast before I'm all out of options."
"I believe the answer you're looking for is 'Stolen police radio'."
"Thankyou, Boyd. Always got my back. Dude, what's with the lurking? Did you always lurk so much as a human?"
As if to drive his point home Boyd slid out from the cover of the shadows, a good ten feet from where Stiles had assumed he was standing.
"Always."
Stiles was back up again and facing Derek, mentally preparing himself for the face-off to come.
"Hey, we heard about it fair and square ok? It matters to us too, you know, just because we're humans doesn't mean we can't help."
"It's still dangerous Stiles, go home."
"Na uh, we're staying."
"She can stay. You go home."
"What? How is that fair?"
"She brought a weapon, what did you bring?" Sure enough, Allison was pulling a folded contraption out of an ankle strap as he spoke.
"I brought... Her." He sighed, defeated.
"And we're very grateful, now run along." Jackson mocked in a sing-song voice from beside her.
Stiles didn't even have the energy to bite back as he scratched his head and turned the way he came.
A heavy hand found his shoulder and pulled him back slightly to halt his movement.
"I can't let the Sheriff's kid go stumbling straight into danger Stiles."
"You've let me get into plenty of danger a whole bunch of times before."
"Not unnecessary danger like this, Stiles, you can't help here."
"Yeah, sure, whatever, I gotta get home anyway, it's a school night." He chuckled a little half-heartedly under his breath "better tuck your pups in at a reasonable hour Mr Alpha." He threw over his shoulder as he started back home.
That solved it, he guessed. Allison in, Stiles out. Score.