Disclaimer: I do not own nor do I profit off of Teen Wolf.
Warning(s): Maybe some trigger-y scenes, angry steaminess, emotional turmoil
My excuse is that life sucks.
.
.
Last time: "Come here," turning Scott back towards me, I pulled him to me and kissed him, fairly sloppily, but his response was fierce and soon he was pulling away.
"Okay," he said breathlessly, stealing another, quicker kiss, before repeating more calmly, "Okay." This time, it was a real howl.
I glanced down at Scott's phone, still in my hand, as it dinged at me. Ignoring Hale's first text from Deaton's phone (Was that a dying cat?), I scrolled to the second.
He'll come for that
Soon, an answering howl filled the grounds, and, instinctively, my hand went to my pocket.
In case of emergencies, Dr. Deaton had told me, eyes somber and locked on mine as he slipped me the extra vial of ash, throw it down and will a circle. If you need it enough, it'll come. The office was already surrounded, so as long as nothing went horribly wrong, the little vial would just be an extra dollop of paranoia.
Do you need this signal? I texted Deaton with Scott's phone. Clearly, Hale still had it, however, as the reply was a succinct, Shut up.
A roll of the eyes and a ding later, Deaton informed us, Circle closed. Hale inside.
In a state of disbelief, I double checked the text and now Scott was peering over my shoulder at the delay.
"What happened?"
Giving him his cell phone to look over the conversation, I tried to focus. Okay, so we weren't going to talk with Mr. or Ms. Crazy Alpha from a position of safety. What had Hale originally said he'd be doing? Finding his sister's killer and ripping them limb from limb? Well, I didn't exactly have a Werewolf Strength Comparison Chart on hand, but I had a feeling Alpha meant stronger than the average puppy and seeing as Hale thought this one might have killed his sister while she had been Alpha…
"He's dead," I concluded, "Hale just killed himself."
Evidently, Scott had finished the string of messages, as he didn't react to my fearful exasperation with surprise, and handed back the phone. "Not yet." Tensed and ready, Scott flexed his hands, "What do we do?"
There was a possibility forming in my head, and I nodded slowly as it came clear there was no feasible alternative. I didn't answer Scott as I took two steps backward- over the line of ash.
His attitude changed pretty quickly at that. "Stiles, get back in here."
"Deaton gave me some back up ash, Scott," I showed him the vial, "I can find Hale and throw it down around us both. I'll text Deaton to break the larger circle and get himself somewhere safe."
"Stiles, no." He tried to reach for me and was stopped by the barrier; frustrated, he pressed his hands against it as if it would bow under his strength.
"If this is getting done, it's gotta be fast," I said in uneasy farewell, backing down the darkened hallway, "I'll be careful."
"Don't be careful; come back!" A fist pounded once against the barrier as I turned and ran, "Stiles!"
Pretty soon I couldn't hear him anymore.
School is super creepy at night, did you know? There's this word, kenopsia, it's that feeling you get in a place that's usually filled with people and noise, but is currently empty and quiet. As I glanced down another abandoned hallway, I shuddered. Yep, kenopsia. Didn't help that it was dark. I could hear every rasp and distant groan of the vents settling, my own breath loud and intrusive and my footsteps blatant indicators of my location. The not-silence stretched on as I tried to figure out how to find Hale, jumping at every shadow, when abruptly, the phone Scott had handed back to me went off.
"Shit, shit, shit, shit," I swore, digging it out and silencing it. There was a new text message on the screen from Hale's number.
Stop losing your goddamn cellphones.
Don't text this number! I sent back, before realizing the solution to my previous problem, Wait, where are you?
Locker room. Had to text. Stiles' phone sent me: There was a clearly copy-pasted portion, Hey guys, found something awesome, meet me at school. Hale continued in his own words, Time stamp 10 min ago.
Where… was my cellphone, anyway? Clearly, in someone else's hands.
"Shit," I whispered again, and made an about-face in the direction of the locker rooms. Don't move. Coming to you.
Scott's phone was now receiving a call, and it took me a moment to answer it- knowing who was on the other side.
"What do you mean, coming to me?" The growl came dangerously softly across the line and I grimaced, keeping my voice low as I continued down the halls.
"Well, you're obviously about to do something stupid, and I have an extra bit of rowan ash, and I'm gonna put it around both of us, so don't move."
"Get back to Scott," Hale demanded, but as he was currently just a voice over the phone, I was free to ignore him without fear of imminent injury. Not that he'd hurt me yet. Much.
"Yeah, not happening," I whispered, peeking around a corner before continuing on.
"I hate you so much," Hale informed me quietly, sounding distracted. I was sure he was cursing my name to the high heavens for attempting to interfere with his revenge hunt, but I hadn't exactly expected differently when I set out to save his life. "Find someplace to hide and I'll find you."
"If you can find me, so can the Alpha," I pointed out, and I could actually hear his temper fraying, "Besides, how do I know this isn't a scheme to get me to leave you to your almighty vengeance and let you get yourself ganked?"
"Look, just," He exhaled sharply, "Just stay put for a minute. I swear I will come find you." From the tone of his voice, I could actually believe he would come find me- if only to smack me across the face.
"You've got five minutes, bub," I informed him, riding high on adrenaline and my naturally daring and courageous nature. I mean, terror is basically the same thing. "I'm near the chem labs."
He hung up without so much as a fare thee well.
"Rude," I told the phone quietly, and settled myself in the gap between two lines of lockers, fiddling with the edges of the phone as I waited. We'd originally meant to just capture the Alpha, stuck between the rowan circles around the office and the school, and wait for his or her transformation to fail.
Hale was sure, from Scott's descriptions of their mental pow-wows, that something was wrong with the Alpha, and that they wouldn't be able to sustain a transformation for very long before slipping back to human form. Hence, trapping them in the first place. Hale, however, apparently wanted revenge more than justice.
…Although, what had we thought to do with the Alpha after figuring out their identity? Get them arrested for what had been judged an animal attack on Hale's sister? Mulling on these deeper thoughts, I almost didn't register the approaching footsteps. When the sound pierced my concentration haze, I peeked my head out of my alcove of lockers and almost fell over.
Who else would be wandering the school but Lydia, Jackson, Allison, and Paul? Surely, this made a great deal of cosmic sense, right?
Right?
"What are you doing here?" My mouth evidently disagreed. Well, I did, too, seeing as I couldn't keep the frantic tone from my question at first, before clearing my throat and leaning nonchalantly against the lockers I'd just jumped out from behind. "I mean, I figured you guys weren't the types for nighttime school tomfoolery."
"Then why did you invite us?" Paul prodded, a grin stretching across his face as he held up his phone, a text from me on the screen. Allison nodded beside him. "Come on, man you know I'm always up for awesome."
"I didn't," I replied, frowning, before my mind fell on what Hale had told me my phone had recently sent him, "Shit. I lost my cell phone earlier..." I looked across the group and hastily calculated the best thing to get them out of here. Jackson- he would leave if Lydia and Allison did. Lydia- she'd go if Allison did. Paul would probably leave if I just asked him, but Allison?
If I tried to get her to go, she'd ask why. If I told her I was in some trouble, that it wasn't safe, I got the vibe she'd want to stay even more.
Damn her stubborn loyalty. Why was she so not-a-jerk?
"I think someone's trying to get us in trouble," I said carefully, "We should get out of here before we get busted for trespassing."
"If you didn't send the text, then why are you here?" Lydia asked, looked underwhelmed and unimpressed by my excuse.
"Just messing around," I laughed, nervously, "You don't have to tell the staff or anything, I didn't get to set up any pranks yet."
She eyed me, unmoved, but Allison grabbed me and pulled me aside, saying to the others, "Give us a second, please."
"You shouldn't be out this late at night," she informed me when we were far enough that our whispers would be meaningless hisses to the others.
"That werewolf thing again?" I quietly complained, "It's not like I'm running around the forest with a red hood on."
"Yes, that werewolf thing," Allison glanced from left to right, super suspiciously, "Look, they aren't stuck in the forest; they can wander around looking like people! They're even more likely to be in the town than in the forest!"
"So I should keep my midnight wanderings to the forest," I concluded and she groaned.
"You're impossible." It sounded a little fond, though, so I didn't mind. She looked at me, the frustration fading, "Why did you send that text, though?"
"I told you," I stepped a little more away from her, "I didn't. So I guess you'll be getting your wish tonight, 'cause that's way too freaky for me. I'm going home."
Another long look and she nodded, "Lydia drove me here; you can catch a ride with us."
I choked back the nervous laugh, "I've got my car; it's fine."
"We'll walk you to it," she decided, and I inwardly clawed at my face in frustration. Go home and get away from the werewolves and let me deal with it!
Huh. That's probably what she felt, too.
Well, unfortunately for her, I couldn't let that happen.
"Sure," I agreed outwardly, shrugging, and Allison went back to the small group of messy werewolf victims waiting to happen so as to explain that the text was a hoax and we should get out of there. My plan was two part and foolproof: get them outside, keep them outside.
…Okay, I was winging it, but could you blame me? I didn't have a key to lock any doors, I didn't have a beam to keep them shut, and the school was ridiculously trusting with nearly every exit open to interlopers on weeknights.
Scott's phone pinged quietly and I checked the screen, Outer circle broken. Office?
Still intact, I sent Deaton, and Lydia snatched the phone out of my hand, "Hey."
"Thought you said you didn't have your phone?" She accused, already flipping to the contacts list and trying to find Allison's name or those of her accidental companions. Other than Allison, she wouldn't find them.
"That's Scott's," I replied, pointing uselessly, "and I'd like it back, if you don't mind."
She flicked her eyes to me and glanced up and down the contacts list once more, obviously stalling seeing as Scott had 5 people in his contacts, including me, under various nicknames, before slapping the phone back into my hand, "So you think someone's trying to get us into trouble?"
"Uh-huh," I agreed, distracted by the sound of something skittering nearby. Did Alphas still skitter or was that Hale? Would he be wolfed out right now to cause skittering? Was a seeing-eye dog lost in the building behind us? …Hey, if I didn't account for every possibility, then if a seeing-eye dog really was around that corner, I'd waste precious time gaping at it as the Alpha crept up behind me, rather than getting Allison and friends out of here. Whatever it was, it was getting closer.
My hand clenched the vial of ash, ready for a throw down (hah), and Derek Hale slid around the corner, eyes wild and blood down his front. He glanced at us and barked, "Run!" before taking off like the hounds of hell were after him, grabbing my arm and Lydia's as he passed to prompt us to move on our own.
Taking initiative I yanked sideways, and Hale, not being prepared for it, was jerked off course into the open door of an empty classroom, Lydia dragged along and the others not far behind – if only out of concern for Lydia's well-being.
"Okay, we should probably barricade the door," I told the others, and when Hale glanced at me questioningly, I slid the small bottle of ash just far enough out of my pocket to catch the light and glint. He nodded, understanding the distraction needed, and reiterated my command loudly to the other humans. Allison seemed a little torn, but also still on the right side of sane – she clearly did not want to meet up with whatever made a werewolf bleed so much - as she began to help Jackson and Paul shift a lab table in front of the door. Oh, chemistry, how I hate thy teacher, but for now, I love thy heavy table slabs. While they acted as my unwitting dupes and Lydia watched them anxiously, I popped the cork and carefully, firmly believed in a rowan ash circle around us. I gave Hale a wobbly thumb's up, requesting confirmation, and he glanced at his side of the room before sending back a surreptitious thumb's up of his own and a reflexive grimace at using even one hand gesture I also used - or because he was in some crazy levels of pain. That was possible.
"What happened to you?" Lydia asked Hale in a hushed voice, almost touching his arm before thinking better of it, "What's out there?" Almost co-opting the answer I bit my lip instead and glanced away – had I really gotten that used to answering for Scott? I was surprised he hadn't socked me yet. Then again, I've always been a better liar.
"Mountain lion," Hale said decisively, glancing at Allison as the two of them shared a wary glance filled with mutually distrustful undertones.
"Let's get another table in front of this door," Allison said, keeping an eye on Hale as she did. This time, I joined in the effort, despite knowing the futility of it, and Allison hissed to me, "No mountain lion would have him running like that."
"Well, it was nice of him to drag us along, then," I muttered back, and she sent both of us a sidelong glance.
"Or maybe he was lying and there's nothing out there," she murmured, "Maybe that blood isn't his."
I looked over at Hale, pointed surreptitiously at his stomach, and he winced, but obligingly moved the arm slightly away so I could see some puncture wounds that were smaller than the tears in the shirt, but not fully healed either. "Look," I whispered back, and Allison glanced over, catching sight of the wounds and paling.
"Maybe another table," she said, but Jackson shot her down. They had moved enough tables to stop a mountain lion, he decreed, unless of course, something else was going on? Paul blinked at them both, before turning to the injured stranger that had dragged them in here.
"Do you need, like, medical attention?"
I grabbed at the opening, "Allison, you and I should go help Hale; Lydia, Jackson, Paul, can you keep an eye on the windows?" Allison looked at me like I was crazy, but I continued, quietly, "You can't ask him anything over here."
Lydia had the boys keeping an eye out with a flick of her fingers, but didn't attempt to join the medical aid efforts, to the relief of all three of us. Hale and Allison stared each other down for a moment before I physically guided Hale to lay down on one of the unmoved tables towards the far edge of the room. Thank the sky above I wore crappy quality shirts. I took off both layers for a moment to get the t-shirt free and hastily threw my overshirt back on before I could get any more weird looks. Ripping it up, I gave Allison a significant look, and she sighed.
"What's really out there?" she asked, "And why aren't you healing?" I wanted to know the answer to that particular question, too, but I focused on making my t-shirt into usable strips. Hale looked at me first, which Allison thankfully misinterpreted, "He knows."
"…The answer to both questions is an Alpha," he growled quietly, "They cause wounds that heal… slower." That was incredibly inconvenient. Why? Why was that a thing? I couldn't ask, though; this was supposed to be Allison's field and I wasn't sure whether that was an odd thing to ask without caring about the person asking. Especially since it seemed sort of like the opposite of what I could do with Scott.
"An Alpha?" Allison echoed, "Why would it hurt you?"
Hale glared at her, which she returned automatically, so I intervened in the most passive aggressive way I could.
"Lift him up a little," I directed, "So I can get this around his stomach." Allison didn't argue exactly, but man the number of looks exchanged today was bordering on ridiculous. "Do you really want everyone to wonder why you're letting a random guy bleed out?" Seeing the protest on Hale's tongue, I continued, "And you should not be using muscles with holes in them."
Allison rolled her eyes but gingerly pushed a scowling Hale up by the shoulders – the scowl did not falter with the pain, and I was ever so slightly impressed. When the wound was wrapped as tightly and thoroughly as I could make it with t-shirt material and a half-remembered field dressing lecture from Ms. McCall (I'd been in a WWII phase, don't ask), the blood seemed to be seeping less so either I was doing it right or I could help Hale out with healing, too. I wasn't really picky which one turned out to be true.
"It's mad," Hale finally admitted, more to me than to Allison, but when she looked confused, he huffed, "The Alpha is insane. Its eyes were like an animal's." Now Allison was incredulous, and Hale growled at the expression she was making, "We aren't animals. The Alpha, though, is killing people."
A little uncertainly, "But don't you… um."
"We're not all killers. You can learn to control the change," Hale shook his head, the scowl changing focus in an interesting display of consciously directed agitation, "What am I doing? This is not the time. Look, the point is, we've just gotta wait it out. It's… limited by its madness," the words seemed to be pulled from him painfully, his need to keep us kids safe clearly struggling to overcome his desire to keep the Hunters in the dark, "It'll tire soon enough."
"How do I know it doesn't just want you?" Allison asked, crossing her arms over her chest, trying to regain control of the situation she'd found herself dropped in so abruptly after just going out to see what a friend was up to. I could see her frustrated uncertainty groaning inside her.
"You don't," he said, shortly, giving up the pain vs. talking fight.
"How about I watch him, and you watch the door?" I suggested, a little loudly, because their aggression was seeping into the air around them and making it smell of blood feuds. She shot a short glare at me, before throwing her arms up and stalking off towards the others. I could hear them accosting her for information, unwilling to directly approach the man covered in blood or the area around him, but perfectly willing to dig it out of Allison. She kept with the mountain lion story, saying Hale had injured it enough in his fight with it that it should give up soon, but that they should stay here for now and wait it out. No, the police can't help, and animal control is closed this time of night… Did they really want to get an officer of the law mauled when we're not in any danger if we stay put a bit? Blah, blah, blah, the lies blended together behind me and I turned to Hale.
"These are going to heal, right?" I whispered. I couldn't see him telling Allison if an Alpha's claws could cause permanent damage and right now, it was kind of important.
"Yeah," he grunted, not bothering to open squeezed shut eyes.
"Good," I said, still in that hushed tone, but with a little less anxiety, "okay. So what have we learned from this adventure?" Hale's eyes opened slightly to shoot death at me in a mean squint, "Oh, don't go Leeroy Jenkins and destroy a perfectly good- well, a not horrible plan? Yes, that's great, but also maybe, just maybe, listen to Stiles and Deaton every so often." There was no change in the severity of glare, but some of the lines of tension had eased in his face. "You can ignore Scott, though; Scott is king of bad ideas. Just, like, tune him out completely."
"You share the crown," he snorted, painfully; I could see the pre-smile that was as far as he typically got in mirth.
"Well, then I'd prefer you address me with the respect my station demands," I whispered haughtily back.
"You're a royal pain, if that works," he retorted, but the moment passed and abruptly, he sat up, hissing at the actual pain and growling at a clearly audible volume, "It's close."
Allison glanced at him, didn't bother to ask if he was sure, and slid a knife from her stylin' boots. What? They were. Stylin'.
"Allison!" Lydia exclaimed, as if shocked by the very presence of sharp metal on her friend's person. Which, you know, she probably was. I mean, that was a serious type of knife she was packing. That was one great use of knee high boots, though I was fairly certain I couldn't get away with it. Scott would probably laugh himself sick, not to mention how the general public would react.
My wonderful fashion sense of "but it's useful" was not appreciated in this day and age. For example, look how well wearing constant layers works when you need disposable fabric.
Why was I getting so distracted by this? Focus, agh.
Shit, I think that was one of Scott's t-shirts.
A loud, rolling growl came from somewhere not-Hale and my focus was abruptly back in the game. Hale was getting to his feet, despite the suffering that the action was putting him through, and limping towards the sound, but I grabbed his arm before he could get very far.
"It can't get in and you can't get out," I said, knowing it could be attributed to the table barricade, "What do you think you're gonna do?"
"Just let me get near the door," he snapped, and I took my hand from his person, holding it up in surrender. I got that he was frustrated at not being able to do anything – so was I, but limping around in agony didn't seem the right way to deal with that emotion.
Hale was leaning on the barricade now, taking deep breaths through his nose even as Allison shot him Looks and readied her knife, while Jackson brought his fists up in an awkward ready stance as Paul and Lydia slid into fighting poses that looked somewhat competent. Huh.
The growling and scraping noises stalked past the door, and then back the other direction. And again. With a noise between a whine and a moan, the ozone feeling I'd come to associate with werewolves hitting a magical barrier faded and the presumed Alpha thudded away. When the sounds had trailed off into inaudibility, everyone relaxed and Lydia blew out sharply.
"From the average mountain lion's speed and the area our school covers, taking their hunting patterns into account, we should probably wait another 15 minutes before leaving the room." At the expressions that met her gaze, she added, twirling a bit of hair around her finger, "I mean, so I hear, from like that boring ecology class my Mom made me take."
"Right," I replied flatly. Really, who was falling for this? …On the other hand, Scott hadn't believed me when I told him Lydia had a definite chance at valedictorian, and that was recent. "We'll just… wait it out, then."
Paul sat beside me, seeming to think the danger had passed, and gestured towards Hale, keeping his voice low, "Dude, I don't know if this guy has fifteen minutes."
"We've done what we can, and dragging him out just to get him attacked by the mountain lion again seems counterproductive," I argued, "We have to wait."
"I could go check it out," Allison said, fingering her knife, but luckily Lydia seemed to think that was completely insane and I was not put in the position of talking down the baby Hunter from hunting. Jackson, on the other hand, eyed her speculatively at the suggestion, and seemed to be thinking over things I really didn't want him thinking over as he glanced between us and Hale.
"..You didn't, um…" Paul brought me back to the real world with his uneasy tone, "You didn't think a mountain lion would make a good prank, right?" I stared at him incredulously and he raised his hands in front of him defensively, "They don't usually get through closed doors on their own!"
My mind raced for a moment before I affixed a faux-thoughtful expression on my face, "The door was propped open when we got here, you don't think…?"
He paled, "Maybe someone was trying to do more than get us in trouble." Forcing a nervous laugh, he continued, "Of course, who could possibly have a grudge against me?" Paul was clearly not convinced by his own attempt to make light of the situation.
"I don't know what to think," I said, injecting just enough fear and sadness into my tone to sound as if I did agree with his idea, but was avoiding verbal acknowledgement. Lost in thought, now, Paul nodded.
"And what was that man even doing here?" Lydia was asking across the room, gesturing at Hale, and I was starting to regret the whole waiting thing.
Are we all clear? I texted Deaton with Scott's phone, Pinned with company.
"Are you texting your dad?" Paul asked, and when I paused, continued, "Since we should probably tell the police if someone let that thing into a school even if Allison doesn't think they can help."
"Yeah," I lied, "He says to sit tight if we're somewhere safe and he'll be there soon."
"Good," Paul sighed, and I returned to staring at Scott's phone and scrolling through various pictures and lists as I waited for a reply. His contacts list really was just five people. The identities were even sadder. His mother was just "Mom," while my dad fell under "Sheriff," and Hale was simply the letter D for his first name, while Allison was a similar A. I, however, had the honor of having my name be entirely written out. By which I mean, entirely. First, middle, last. Recently, he'd added a heart emoji which was sweet and gross all at once. I mean, he wasn't a pre-teen girl, so that was weird, but eh. Scott had always been a little off when it came to romance.
All clear. Deaton replied via text, Call the cops for your company.
Right, that did make sense. After telling them my dad was coming, my dad should probably show up.
Hey, Dad, it's Stiles on Scott's phone and there's a mountain lion at school so if you could bring animal control by that'd be great. Love you.
Yes, that was the real text.
Yes, my father did reply within the minute.
Yes, I was grounded.
Oh, shit, I really needed to go free Scott before he was discovered. Or… Probably Deaton could do that. I sent off yet another cryptic text to Deaton, getting an affirmative and hoping he actually understood what I meant. It wasn't that I had no faith in anyone but myself getting things done but… maybe I had a few, similar trust issues.
It was a few minutes later Deaton sent a follow up text, You are needed. I stood up without thinking about it, garnering a few weird looks from the rest of the Trapped Forever Troupe. "I… really have to pee and I'm pretty sure it's safe."
"That's ridiculous," Lydia seemed ready to rip into my lack of concern for my own life after being the driving force behind everyone ending up in this classroom in the first place, but I just shrugged.
"Time waits for no man." I made sure to break the rowan ash line before I left, meeting Hale's eyes pointedly and feeling just a little relieved when he seemed to get the picture, nodding. He'd be relatively safe from Allison as long as she remained confused and within the company of the other teens.
"That doesn't even make sense," Lydia pointed out as I wiggled past the barricade and out the door- man, that thing was ineffective.
"I gotta go," I reiterated, heading out of their line of sight and picking up speed until I could run to the main office.
Deaton was hovering outside the office, with Scott pacing on the other side of the barrier when I arrived. I looked between the two of them, and startled a little when Scott slammed his hands against the barrier, growling. There weren't any pleas or admonishments or attempts to persuade, just a feral growl that dragged on past the point of confusion.
His eyes were a nice, solid glow, too.
"What's going on with him?" I asked, and Deaton gestured once before his arms re-crossed his chest.
"The Alpha seems to be close enough to retain a connection, despite exiting the school rather near to my hiding spot," Deaton explained, "I was hoping just seeing you would snap him out of it."
"Obviously not." Part of that may have been because Scott had already been mad at me before the Alpha started playing with his mind. I edged closer, "Scott? Can you understand me?" Scott cocked his head, growls tapering off to something quieter, and I inched right up to the edge of the barrier, "Listen, you've gotta calm down. My dad's on his way, with animal control, actually, and you can't be wolfed out when he gets here." That, of course, is when Scott lunged, attempting to grab and/or pounce on me, before hitting the barrier again and yelping, the growls starting up again as he paced back and forth, eyes locked on me. "Alright, talking him down isn't working." I looked at Deaton, "I need you to go and stall the police." Quickly remembering that I was not actually in charge of a covert mission and Deaton had no reason to obey my commands, I added, "Please." Despite seeming a little suspicious of what I was planning to do, Deaton did agree to delay my father and the rest of the cops by making a bit of a scene. And so we were alone.
I only had one idea left to calm Scott down and I had been pretty sure that Deaton, as a responsible adult, would have had some reservations to letting me do it.
"I can't let you out like this," I said, keeping my voice soothing and low, "So, I'm going to come in, now, okay?" The growling didn't stop and I briefly considered whether this was suicide by boyfriend before stepping over the line and grabbing both of Scott's clawed hands. He wasted no time in shoving me against the nearest wall and biting into the flesh of my shoulder. The shout that jumped out of me was completely understandable, I think. It hurt.
"God, that is not pleasant!" As we stood there, Scott adjusting the grip of his jaw on my newly bleeding shoulder, I did see some of the tension leave him, but clearly not enough. My mind spun through explanations and past observations, discarding and sorting until it came to me. He was in pain. Or the Alpha was causing him pain. Or… or the Alpha was in pain and Scott was getting the brunt of it. Either way, I'd already noted before that calm and healing were incompatible, and from the way Scott's teeth were still in me, calm was not happening just yet. It was when Scott eased his teeth from my flesh, only to drag them over my neck that I realized he was still acting off from how he should if he were being driven into a purely homicidal rage. That bite should have been the beginning of a rip, and the hands pinning mine should have been hard enough to leave bruises, at least. Other than the pain from the bite, I was just uncomfortable and possibly on the edge of being threatened with death, not actually on the way to dying. Hopefully, that meant the Alpha was losing its link to Scott, from distance or fatigue, I didn't really care.
"Scott," I crooned, struggling to keep my voice even and low as my shoulder throbbed and Scott placed his teeth almost thoughtfully around my throat, pausing at the sound as it vibrated against his tongue, "Come on, Scott… There's much better things you could be doing with me pinned against a wall than that." I slid my leg between his, ignoring the warning growl against my throat and pressing up with my thigh, surprising fuzzy-Scott enough that his grip on my throat and hands slackened. This was the least threatening way I could think of to get more skin-to-skin contact between us; Scott had proven before that the more contact there was, the stronger the effect, back before we'd begun dating, in the locker room after he'd almost taken out Jackson. The unexpected action was enough I could slip my hands from Scott's grip in the moment of surprise and I did, sliding them under his shirt, instead, "Can we take this off, Scott?" Maybe repeating his name over and over would help and maybe it wouldn't, but I didn't exactly understand how much Scott understood when he was like this, and people are pretty well-trained to recognize their own name. I tried to push the shirt up, but Scott bared his teeth, the growling that had tapered off a bit in confusion returning at full speed and I hastily pressed a kiss to his jaw, cutting off the sound. Fuzzy-Scott had seemed to think I was some kind of completely insane prey up until this point, when he began to catch on as I sucked and licked just under the line of his jaw. No, you're not imagining the wolf-y parallels, but I was pretty desperate at this point and it seemed worth a shot. When his body abruptly sat flush against mine and I felt ever-so-slightly more one with the wall, I could tell he'd finally figured it out. His hips rolled against mine, experimentally, as his hands slid over my back pockets and gripped. He was probably crushing his own hands between me and the wall in his sudden fervor, but that was not the actual goal of this little exercise. I tried for his shirt again, and though he growled, he finally, finally cooperated and it was off him. Of course, now that he was cooperating, Scott had to make it difficult another way, and he ripped my remaining shirt open down the front. I lamented the number of excuses I'd have to make that just increased exponentially. I'd already have trouble with the god damn bite. It didn't exactly look human. Still, I hastily wrapped my arms around Scott, bringing as much of our skin together as possible, and having to bite back a reaction of my own. We really needed to spend some time alone when we weren't busy scheming or otherwise working on a problem in our lives, a conclusion that I felt was compounded by at least a factor of four when Scott's next move was to lift me off the floor, so I was officially at his mercy. Not going to lie, if my father and the police weren't about to show up, and Scott had been in his right mind, this could have ended very differently.
As it was… "Scott," I tried again, biting back a mixed moan of pain and pleasure as his tongue worked over the open wound on my shoulder. The last thing I needed to do was encourage Fuzzy-Scott any further, "Come on, Scott, come back to me." Luckily, Scott was supporting my weight all on his lonesome, so I could take my hands from his back and turn his face towards mine, ignoring the slight growl, "You gotta snap out of it, Scott. Think about me; pull on your anchor or however it works." I kissed him, resisting Scott's attempt to make it rougher and keeping it a firm, closed lip press, repeating when I broke off, "Come on, Scott, you can do it."
My heart sank a little when glowing eyes stared back at me without a flicker in radiance.
"Stiles?" He said, slowly, and I blinked in surprise.
"Furry-you better have recognized me a little or I'm going to be so mad you almost cheated on me," I complained unthinkingly as my pulse returned to a normal pace and Scott snorted before confusion crossed his fangy face.
"I can… remember what happened. Last time the Alpha messed with me, it was a blur."
"Last time, you didn't have me," I teased, feeling his hands tighten under me as he thought, before I remembered exactly why I'd needed Scott to calm the fuck down, "Oh, okay, uh, we need to go, like, now. The others know I was here, but you, especially, need to leave."
"What? Why?" Scott always chose the best times to actually display curiosity over my actions.
"Allison was here and she knows there were werewolves involved and so far, you aren't linked to werewolves in her head," I summarized, and pushed ineffectually at his chest, "So, you need to put me down and skedaddle. Vamoose. Get the lead out and go."
Only then did Scott seem to realize he was still holding me off the ground as he gingerly released his hold and let me down, "Oh." He shook his head, like a dog surfacing from water, "Okay. I'll… run home. We took your car, right?"
"Yep," I said, pushing him towards the door and breaking the rowan line in front of him, "Go."
"Yeah," he hesitated, looking at me oddly, and kissed my cheek with a wary air about him before he trotted off into the darkness.
Standing alone with the remnants of a shirt hanging off my shoulders and blood dripping down my skin, I found myself replaying the look Scott had given me just before he left with a growing confusion of my own, "That was weird," I said aloud to myself, "That was definitely weird, right?" I was expecting guilt, or a panic attack, and that had been… had been… Whatever, I would deal with it later. For now, I needed to get to a bathroom…or maybe the locker rooms and look less like I'd been mauled by something after the mountain lion was supposedly gone from the building. I stopped by my locker and grabbed a spare shirt, not putting it on until I'd rummaged through the first aid kit attached to the wall and covered my wound with enough layers that I was sure the blood wouldn't seep through visibly to my shirt.
It was as I was wandering back towards the front of the school that the sirens approached.
"Fantastic," I noted, walking out into the parking lot and into the range of my father's glare, "The cavalry has arrived."
After a series of lies and some pointed looks from Hale and Allison when they were retrieved from the building, my father took me home so I could tell him- you guessed it – more lies. Really though, Allison had very clearly noted my change in attire by tugging on the sleeve of my shirt as she passed and saying she'd call me later, so I could look forward to lying pretty much all week.
Basically, it was an exhausting evening filled with suspicion and distrust before my father left to deal with the rest of the animal drama I'd dumped in his lap. I didn't realize that dragging myself up to bed would lead to it getting worse.
"Scott," I greeted tiredly, flopping face-first onto my bed and blindly extending a hand for him to take. He didn't. Propping myself up to meet his gaze, he was staring at me like he'd never seen me before, "What? I am so exhausted I could die but you look like you really need to say something."
"I-" He cut himself off, looking frustrated, and sat on the bed by me with more force than necessary, staring at the ceiling in a manner that seemed eerily similar to avoiding my eyes. Which… it couldn't be, right?
I sat up completely, "What's wrong?" When he didn't respond, I reached a hand out to touch his face and gain his attention, but he jerked away from me as if burned, "Scott?"
"You just…" The words did not seem to be coming for him, or at least not how he wanted them to, and eventually he blurted, "How often do you manage me?"
"What?" I drew back myself, "What do you mean?"
"When I was… not myself you just…" Scott hesitated, but a little anger seeped into his tone, "You seemed like you knew what to do, and you just did it without even thinking about it, without even seeming a little uneasy at, you know, manipulating me, and you've always been the better liar and… You do this a lot, don't you? Not just when I'm…" He trailed off, but the silence was taught with discontent.
"I don't-" I stopped, and forced myself to really think about it. I did kind of manage him. Maybe it was just familiarity- I knew how to deal with his moods, so I did, and I didn't have any ill intent, but… How many times had I spoken for him? Or made him come around to my way of thinking? "I don't… mean to." At the betrayal that edged into his expression, I hurried to explain myself, "I don't mean that I'm like pulling your strings or something, but yeah, sometimes I take control of a situation I shouldn't, because I want to help. I'm just trying to help, and I get carried away." His lip was curling, just a little, and I added, hastily, "But it's not like I don't think you can handle it! I just don't think you should have to deal with everything on your own! That's all! I'll try- I'll try to stop if you want. I didn't really realize I was doing it until you brought it up." The fact that this was devolving into some kind of guilty plea did not escape me and I felt a little indignation flare, "And it's not like you haven't blatantly manipulated me before."
He rocked back a little, stung, "Only for little things! Not practically all the time!"
Oh, come on! Now, that was an exaggeration! "I don't do it all the time!"
"Often enough!" He fired back, voice exasperated, "It's like I can't decide anything on my own!"
"Oh, because I want you to do every stupid thing you do," I retorted, "Yes, you've uncovered my evil plan."
"I can't help but wonder!" He snapped, and oh that was it, because I leaped on him, wanting to punch him or claw him or something for even implying I'd want all the bad things that had come about to have happened to him. It may have been counterproductive to try to hurt him for implying I wanted him hurt, but I wasn't thinking incredibly clearly. Which was evident. I'd just tackled a werewolf.
It didn't take long for him to pin me, and it wasn't long after that we were agitatedly pulling the clothing from one another's bodies, biting without kissing and I know I raked my nails down his back a little too hard more than once. By the time we were down to our boxers, and Scott was furiously moving against me, I had a moment to wonder what the hell just happened before it all came to a rather abrupt end, my legs tightening around him as my breath stopped just a minute before he clearly followed me over the edge, erratically slowing to a halt. I came to realize my cheeks were wet, but that I hadn't been crying, and Scott made a breathless, devastated noise against my neck.
"You're the only one I've got," he said, brokenly.
"The only what?" I asked, folding my arms around him when he didn't try to shake off the comfort.
His reply was quiet, "I don't know."
At this point, I just felt spent and small and sad. I really just wanted a shower, to apologize, and to put it all behind me, so I threaded my fingers into his hair, "I'm… I'm sorry. I did say I'd try to stop, if you wanted."
Scott pressed his nose into my wounded shoulder and I winced, but he didn't apologize, "Would you be able to?"
"You might have to remind me," I admitted, voice still hushed, "Maybe a lot. But I would, for you."
"That's enough," he sighed, with the air of a confession, "I don't know if it's right, but it's enough that you would, if I asked. Hell. Even if you didn't, I don't know if I'd be able… I don't think I'd leave you." A somewhat bitter snort, "Even if I'm not always sure you'd really mind."
My heart skipped uncomfortably; some part of me had realized during the course of the argument Scott had been on the verge of breaking up with me, but the rest of me had had hands over ears, singing loudly to drown it out. My arms and legs, still tangled with him, tightened, "Are you… I mean," I swallowed anxiously; I couldn't just say, don't leave me, could I? It sort of went against everything I believed in, and it would make me sound so pathetic and… I squeezed my eyes shut and let my pride shatter into a million pieces, "Please don't leave me."
Scott pushed himself up and looked just a little bit shocked, which didn't do anything for my ego or my temper, "Stiles?"
"Well, what do you expect?" I snapped, ire rising at his shock and feeling not unlike a wounded animal defending its hurts, "You really think I wouldn't mind you leaving me after I went through those stupid counselling sessions to keep you? After I told my father how I felt about you? After you knew how I felt about you? After dealing with werewolves and hunters and things I really don't have to put up with just to stay by you? Okay, so you're better at speeches and the dramatic gestures and things. And maybe you're more forward with affection, but that doesn't mean I haven't been fighting for you, too. I really… hate you sometimes," I finished weakly, unable to actually say that I loved him after he'd sort of harpooned my latest vulnerable moment with his thrice damned shock. He always knew just what to say to get a rise out of me, damn him. Or in this case, not say. Whatever. Scott didn't seem all that put off by my declaration of hate, though, as he wiped the tears from his eyes and controlled his sniffles.
He gave a wet laugh, "You're the worst. You hate me? Really?"
"I hate you the most," I told him succinctly, though I'd yet to let my hold on him loosen.
"Oh, my heart is broken," Scott sighed, but he kissed me after he said it, the first time that visit our lips had actually met. I returned it with a bit of agitation, and he laughed, breaking away, "You're doing it again! You're terrible!"
"I'm literally saying I hate you and you're accusing me of manipulating you into kissing me," I returned flatly, and he nodded.
"It's always your fault when I kiss you," he said, leaning in to do it again.
"God, just jump back out the window you came in through," I muttered against his lips, and he bit me, making me jump.
"I hate you, too," Scott murmured, breaking the kiss and nuzzling into my neck.
He really was the worst. I still didn't let go.
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