"Where'd I put that spatula...damn it, I thought I put it away. Scott!" Mrs. McCall's voice called up to where they were currently sprawled out on Scott's bed. Stiles let out a loud laugh when Scott looked helplessly at him and gave out a sigh.
"How should I know?"
"Don't know, bro." Stiles reached over and patted Scott on the shoulder. "You cooking would result in the fire department coming over."
"Yeah, no kidding." Scott stuck his tongue out but rolled off the bed soon after. "Guess I should go help her."
"Nevermind!" Melissa called up just as he was walking out the door. As casually as possible, Scott backed up into the room, closing the door while he was at it.
"So why was Malia and Isaac kissing?" Scott blurted out when he sat back down on the bed. His body was thrumming with anxiousness, and most clearly he was curious as to the answer. But when it came out so callous, Scott flinched. "Sorry man. Didn't mean it like that."
"Because we broke up." Throwing the statement out there, Stiles leaned back on his arms until his elbows locked. His plaid red shirt fell loosely onto the bed as he kicked off his shoes. On his way in, he had thrown his backpack somewhere near the desk.
"Why?" Scott had a stupendous look on his face. "You guys looked happy together."
"Because she liked Isaac and…" He swallowed, and looked anywhere but at Scott, refusing to make eye contact. "And I still like Derek and she could tell. She didn't want to hold me back."
"You….what?"
"I still like Derek." Stiles said slowly, completely unsure as to how to phrase it. But then he repeated the statement. More confident and he lifted his head up to look at Scott in the eyes. "I like Derek. I never truly stopped." Admitting it to himself made a weight he didn't know he was carrying lift up off his shoulders, and he felt nothing but relief and a long held exhaustion of carrying it disappear.
"But—after what he did...you left. He was out of touch for a ?"
"You know how you liked Allison? No matter what happened? Despite her turning on us for a few minutes and her shooting Isaac? Despite her being with Isaac? You loved her unconditionally, and I like Derek that way. I...I love him and I never stopped. I got hurt, and I over-reacted, and I left like a coward because I didn't want to face him, or face the words that were said. I was immature and I'm better now. And Malia...I do love her, She's an amazing person, but I love her more like a sister, and I didn't want to admit the feelings I had for Derek were still there." Finishing the long narrative, the two teenagers sat in a momentary silence.
"Like Allison?" Scott's voice was hoarse at saying her name but at best, there was not stutter like there had been in the past. Nodding, Stiles looked down at his fingers and counted them.
"Like Allison." He confirmed it.
"Damn." Scott whistled lowly, before spreading his arms and laying back in a star shaped manner. "Now what?" Shrugging, Stiles laid back too, his hands resting on his stomach.
"I don't know, man. I have no clue."
"I'm so sorry about this Mr. Stilinski. I have no idea how they could've gotten in my room." Lydia's apologetic voice woke Stiles up. Startled, he almost fell off the couch. Barely catching himself, Stiles stood up as if nothing happened and ignored the nausea that came from doing it. Both Lydia and his dad looked at him in surprise.
"Hey Stiles." Lydia said at the exact same time his father asked what he was doing on the couch. He shrugged.
"Hey Lydia. An I must've fallen asleep. Can't remember. I got home from Scott's pretty late."
"I thought you were sleeping over. That would explain why all Melissa's silverware is all over her yard." His dad crossed his arms.
"No, we just needed to talk and work on some Spanish homework. Ms. Fetch is drowning us in homework. And what about Melissa's silverware? That's ridiculous." Stiles yawned.
"Speaking of school…" Glancing at his watch, his dad looked at it and tapped on the glass. "I'll call you in for first hour and say car trouble. You too Lydia. Just get to school somewhat on time?" He looked at the both of them, sighing as he did so. "Thanks Lydia. See you guys later." And with that, his dad was out the door.
"No problem, and thanks Sheriff." Lydia called out after him before doing the classic heel turn and staring at Stiles.
"Sure…" Stiles said slowly. "I'll just have to get dressed. Why are you even over? I didn't hear you come in."
"For some reason, and trust me, I don't understand it myself because of how odd it is. But I found your dad's squad keys on my dresser. I asked my mom to drop me off on her way to work and said you were going to drive me to school." Lydia explained, walking over and sitting down in the navy blue armchair.
"You found the squad keys? Wha— that's just so ridiculous. But thanks. Dad's getting to the age where his memory is getting a little fuzzy, so you prevented a huge panic this morning."
"Glad to be of assistance, and your dad would shoot you if he heard you say that. Now go change. It takes twenty minutes to get to Starbucks. You're paying."
"Of course." Stiles smirked. They did this every Friday as it was. The school, to be frank, didn't care because they both had study hall first hour. So long as they both showed up for their fundamental classes, the school was alright.
"I'd like a caramel macchiato and a white chocolate mocha please. Both mediums." Stiles took out his credit card and slid it, accepting the high coffee price without a second glance. "The name is Martin." He used her last name, simply because it was shorter, and there wouldn't be any spelling mistakes or questioning looks, though he's sure by now he didn't have to mention any name. They probably had the two's orders memorized. But still, out of a courtesy, he still said it.
"-Stiles?" Lydia's impatient voice cut through his concentration.
"Yeah?" He turned around to face her, keeping his body still facing towards the counter.
"I'm asking you what your thoughts are on painting my room. You've seen it a few times already, and I'm growing tired of the dark pink. I need something more sophisticated this time." She hummed, pulling out her phone. "Oh, and of course you'll be helping me paint it." She casually stated as she typed away. He made a noise in agreement, his eyes distracted by a short man waddling up to the counter.
At a rough guess, he was under five feet. Perhaps four foot three, so a legal midget. The clothes were stone gray, including a plain colour tie. If a wager had to be made about a job, a businessman would be the best guess. He was clearly overweight, and had a bald, shiny head, with a tattoo covering half of his face. It was a skull. Uncanny white, and with octopus tentacles in the background, curling around the left ear. For some reason, it made an uneasy feeling shiver it's way down Stiles's spine, but he tossed it out of his mind as an excuse for the cold air conditioning (considering he had chosen to stand directly under the vent). But there was just something about the man that captivated his attention, and he felt himself being drawn to it. Under more scrutiny, he noted a thin, white scar that traveled down the back of the head, along where the spine would connect to the brainstem, before it disappeared under clothes.
"Nice tattoo." Stiles let out a low whistle, but before he could examine the details of it any farther, a glare was sent his way by the man, and Lydia punched him in the shoulder. He let out a small, completely unmanly yelp, before giving a motioning 'what' gesture at her, his attention brought back to her. She rolled her eyes and she didn't have to mutter a word for him to know they needed to get their coffee and leave. When her last name was called out, he quickly grabbed both of them, blatantly ignoring the man's eyes drilling a hole in the back of his head, and walked out with Lydia holding his arm.
"You feeling alright?" Lydia asked once they situated themselves in his jeep.
"Yeah. Why?" He fumbled the keys out of his pocket like he usually did.
"Well for starters, you gave me the mocha and secondly, the man didn't have a tattoo. Not one I could see, and unless you developed a certain type of vision that would allow you to see underneath clothes…" She trailed off, leaving the statement open. In a panic, he looked at the Starbucks cup in his cup holder and saw that it was the macchiato.
"Oh my God, please switch. You know I can't stand that taste." Hurriedly, he leaned over and grabbed his mocha from her hands, taking a sip and relaxing into the back of his chair. "Much better. And he did have a tattoo. It was on the left side of his face. Maybe you were at the wrong angle."
"Stiles, don't try that with me. I was at the perfect angle to get the entirety of him and I saw no tattoo. Are you running a fever?" Out of the corner of his eye, he saw her narrowing her eyebrows at him. "You know that you need to take care of yourself too. How many Adderall's have you had today? You're not taking an overdose, are you? Because you can't concentrate one bit when you have that much of an intake, and if that's the case, you're not getting any coffee. I'll hand it off to Isaac."
"Lydia, I'm fine." He gave off an exasperated sigh, and when she raised an eyebrow at him, he made a motion to himself. "Check me if you don't believe me. And no. I'm not overdosing on Adderall right now. I took how much my doc prescribed."
"I believe you." Her voice suddenly gave a turn and it was more gentle. "Now, let's get to AP Calculus. I doubt would accept coffee as a late excuse unless we grabbed one for her."
"Pack night!" Stiles whooped loudly as soon as the final bell rung, releasing the buses to go drop off the eager minded high schoolers who had yet to get a driving licence. He threw an arm around Scott's shoulders, who in turn had his arm around Kira's waist. Lydia was to next to him, holding Jackson's hand. When the five of them all walked outside, they met up with Liam, Malia, Isaac, and Danny. Together, the squad walked towards their cars, which they all parked next to each other as some way of pack bonding. Though, they'd never admit it made them all feel better with being closer to each other even in the parking lot.
"Oi!" Jackson angrily yelled out, dropping Lydia's hands. "Where the hell is my Porsche? I just got here a few minutes ago as it is. I swear to God I'm going to kill someone…" Just as Jackson dissolved into mutters of threats and promised bodily injury, Lydia's phone started ringing, the song 'Hungry Like The Wolf' playing at full volume. Answering it, and holding it to her ear, she inspected her nails that she had undoubtedly had done recently.
"Wait, what?" Her hand dropped and her mouth opened in a small 'o' shape, before she looked incredulously at Jackson. "Thanks, Derek. I'll let him know." She said as she hung up. "Jackson, what the hell is your car doing on the other side of town?"
"What?" Jackson's voice went so high and he looked like he was practically going to faint. If Stiles wasn't trying to figure out how it happened, he would undoubtedly be videotaping the moment to forever share to embarrass Jackson.
"Relax, dude." Stiles said. "I'll give you a ride in my death trap. Everyone meet up at Scott's at seven?" Most let out a noise of agreement or acknowledgement before taking off, leaving Lydia, Stiles, and Jackson left. "Let's go get your car dude."
About half-way through the chosen movie, Stiles stood up, and stretched. Walking into the kitchen, he took down a glass from the corner cabinet and poured himself a glass a water, taking a sip. Then, not wanting to miss any major scenes, went to stand in the doorway. As soon as he did, his eyes didn't wander to the TV, but instead he looked over all the pack members.
In the love seat, Lydia was laying on top of Jackson's chest, and Jackson's thumb was seemingly moving unconsciously on Lydia's shoulder. Danny was on the floor eating popcorn and sitting next to Kira, who in turn was curled up at Scott's side, eyes focused on the movie. On the left side of the couch, closest to the door, and right behind Danny, sat Liam, who looked slightly uncomfortable sitting next to Isaac and Malia as they held hands. In the huge chair by himself that just so happened to be nearest to the kitchen, and overlooked the entire room, was Derek.
Stiles stared at him for maybe too long of a time, but he couldn't help it. Derek had clearly trimmed what had been the beginning of a beard down to just stubble, and he undoubtedly looked hot. Or maybe that was just Stiles's hormones kicking in. Yet, there Derek was, wearing a light grey henley, that showed off his arm muscles, and pants that looked tight. His classic leather jacket was on his lap, and his legs were in the four-formation, showing off the white socks that looked freshly bought. His whole demeanor had Stiles nearly dooling and a rush of nostalgia and self-deprivation came over him.
He lowered his eyes, just as Derek took his off the TV to glance at him. The pepper smell that the low self-esteem gave off and the orange-like scent of things past had hit his nose, almost causing him to sneeze. Staring at Stiles, Derek watched as he swirled the glass of water like a glass of whiskey would be warmed. And then the aroma was gone, and Stiles shook himself, before looking up and they were both blatantly staring at each other. Stiles's mouth dropped open and he could feel himself going into fight-or-flight mode with what to do. His feet stayed still though. As did his eyes. Derek himself though, was captured by how the light was catching the amber colour that made up Stiles's iris's. He had no urge to turn away, or to avert his attention elsewhere.
The moment was broken, much to both's dismay, as an arrow broke through the living room's glass and Derek dodged out of the way for it to only nick him in the shoulder. Landing at Stiles's feet, and everyone else's attention caught, Derek let out a low growl, his fangs elongated and his eyes a brilliant shade of gold. Then it was silent. Someone had paused the movie, and they all stared at the arrow in the red armchair.
Stiles's moved to step forward, but a deep sound emitted from Derek and he stopped instantaneously. Making a visual report instead of a physical one, Stiles held the arrow under scrutiny. It was long, with a sleek black paint on it. The feathers at the end matched the dark colour and appeared to be real. If he had to wager a guess, it would be a crow or raven given how dark the colour was. Calmly, Stiles gazed around the room to see Scott and Jackson all wolfed out and Kira had her sword by her side. They all held their breath, waiting for the end to drop.
As it did, the entire window shattered, and Stiles's put his arms up on reflex for any glass to hit him, despite him being the farthest away. Taking them down seconds later at a loud roar, Stiles bit his tongue at the fact that Derek was in front of him, guarding him instinctively, as the others stood around what had entered. It was a short of statue figure, with a black, hooded cape on. It looked straight out of Lord Of The Rings, with a mixture of movie Aaragon and the body of a hobbit.
Once again, it fell silent. Nobody made a move. Probably because Scott gave no signal to attack and the thing, whatever it was, hadn't really gone on offense. But then everything went to hell.
Whatever it was could create neon purple orbs, that once more looked straight out of a movie, and it sent them in directions of the pack members. As soon as the orbs were dodged, they attacked right back, only to be caught by surprise when two athames were pulled out of the cloak. In a karate like move, the creature jumped over Scott and Isaac, pushed Kira over, and dodged Jackson, to stand still in front of Derek. From behind, Malia moved to strike, but missed as it quickly moved out of it's way, grabbed her wrist, and undoubtedly crushed all the bones in it.
Cradling her wrist and giving a howl of pain, Malia retreated to the corner where Danny and Lydia were standing out of the way.
Derek lunged for the thing, and time seemed to slow down for a second, as a purple orb was sent Derek's way and hit him right in the side. Dropping to the ground, Derek was out cold. From the two sides, Scott and Isaac came charging at it, only to be flung back from an invisible barrier. Isaac hit an old vase, shattering it, and hit his head on the back of a desk. Scott made a dent in the wall, and slid down it, getting back up slowly.
The thing, seemingly have no emotions, or a voice of a sort, turned on Stiles. A terribly bad feeling flooded Stiles as he started at it. There was no visible face. Nothing but black cloth. As it geared up to attack Stiles, Stiles looked desperately around for something to defend himself, seeing nothing but his fists.
In a matter of seconds, Mrs. McCall scared the crap out of both Stiles and the creature as she came charging out from behind Stiles with a baseball bat and giving out a battle cry. She swung at it with full force, managing to knock an athame out of it's hands, but not quick enough for it to dart forward, cut Stiles in a swift manner on the stomach, all before it started running back to the window which it came in from.
"Hey!" Isaac yelled out at the hooded figure. But it never hesitated nor stopped at the command, and jumped back out of the broken window.
"Scott!" Stiles's worried, high-pitched voice came from the living room. "Call Deaton! We need his help." Turning the corner, Isaac immediately saw Stiles at Derek's side trying to shake him awake while successfully ignoring his own shirt becoming soaked in his blood. He succeeded a few minutes later, but Derek threw up the second his eyes were open, barely turning on his side in time. When he was done, he let out a low groan.
"I'm so sorry, Mrs. McCall." Derek managed to get out before passing out again, Stiles catching his head in time before it hit the ground.
"Dont-" Melissa started to say, but stopped, though everyone knew she was going to brush it off. They all know she's seen her fair share of puke at the hospital. "Scott, get Deaton." She ended up repeating the order Stiles gave just a couple of moments before. Scott scrambled getting onto his feet, reaching out to the home phone and getting the vet on speed dial. And then it was just a matter of waiting.
In that time, Derek had finally managed to wake up but Stiles left no room for an argument when he full on demanded Derek lay on the couch and drink water. (It wasn't mentioned it was the same glass of water Stiles had held beforehand.) But after that, he refused to talk to Derek and instead focused intensely on the front door awaiting the vet. Though everyone around rolled their eyes at the petulant behavior and averted their eyes from the scene, focusing on themselves or each other for other possible injuries. Mrs. McCall had gotten her stitching kit from the kitchen cabinet and began disinfecting the three-inch-long cut Stiles had received without any protest from Stiles himself.
"Start at the beginning." Deaton smoothly requested as soon as he walked through the door, setting down his briefcase on the living room table, and pulling out a syringe, and giving Derek a shot. "It'll counteract any magic that will affect memory, body system, or body function."
"Tonight's pack night." Scott started.
"And out of nowhere this short ninja broke through the window." Jackson furrowed his eyebrows in anger.
"The second it touched the floor, and we were all in shock that we couldn't move for a second, whoever it was started firing these round orbs of energy or something at us." Kira joined in.
"And then, poof!" Isaac said. "It was gone. Jumped back out of the window. And when we saw Derek had been hit, we called you." It went quiet, before Stiles spoke up.
"I think this may have to do with something this morning. I caught a glimpse of the 'short ninja' as Jackson put it, and it reminded me of something Lydia and I saw on our normal Friday morning coffee round. And there's been some strange things happening too."
"Explain." Deaton monotonically said. Internally, Stiles was debating whether the man had emotions or not, or had any voice range.
"We saw — I mean, I saw someone at the local Starbucks joint this morning." Stiles spoke up, clasping his hands together. "It was a man, roughly fifty, and definitely a legal midget. Overweight, had a tattoo on the side of his face. Lydia never saw it but I definitely did. And now all these strange things are happening. Things are disappearing and are relocating to different areas. I mean, Jackson's Porsche was on the other side of town in the matter of ten minutes and it takes roughly half an hour to drive there. My dad's keys for the squad were in Lydia's house on her dresser, and Melissa's silverware is spread across yards. And that's not even half of it!" It was quiet after that, the entire pack watching the veterinarian druid contemplating.
"It sounds like it's a duergar problem." Deaton said calmly after a long time, staring down the pack group. "But I'd have to double check. They're fairly common in the United States but they prefer to stick to the east coast. The west gets a little to warm for them. But like I said, I'll use my connections to ask around. If there's one, there's more and it's bound to be noticeable on their track over."
Mrs. McCall turned around from her position at the doorway, resting the baseball bat on her shoulder and facing Deaton. Her eyes were wild with anger, and confusion. But mostly anger. Probably towards the misplacement of her kitchen utensils or maybe it was the completely shattered window, or maybe from something coming onto her turf to attack her son and her son's pack.
"What...the ever-living fuck, is a duergar?"