Disclaimer: Do not own Teen Wolf or any associated characters. Only what happens in my head.
Warnings: Language
A/N
Two
"What, uh, wha-Why does he owe you a favor?" Stiles stammered, his whiskey colored eyes followed the man. As always, his hands moved a lot when he talked. A lot. Just one more of those little ADHD quirks that fit right in with his inability to sit still.
Scott also watched Derek, though the question caused his head to shake. "Saved his ass with coach last year. Twice." His shoulders rose and fell in a brief shrug. "Coach was ready to kick him off the team, he was running late all the time or missing practices. He had a lot going on."
"Liiiike?" Stiles prodded while nodding toward the truck.
Everyone else was already pulling boxes out or on their way up to the house with one. Lydia, instead of carrying much of anything, was in the back of the truck pushing boxes toward everyone else. He should have figured she wasn't going to be much help with heavy lifting. Scott appeared to contemplate his answer while hefting a particularly heavy box labeled 'LR-Books'. When Stiles had picked up a considerably lighter one labeled 'BR' Scott breathed a sigh.
"He's Derek Hale."
Why was that familiar? Why was that..? His brows had knitted together in the middle before shooting up toward his hairline. "As in the HALE fire? The fire that killed basically an entire family?"
"Shhh." Astonished, he quickly shook his head. It didn't matter how long people knew Stiles, somehow they were always surprised when he couldn't manage something so simple as a whisper. Well, most of the time. His voice was lowered when he spoke next."It's still a pretty touchy subject, man."
"No shit.." He murmured. Perfect time to shut his trap, though, because Derek had just exited the house and was making his way toward them. Stiles eyed the man, wondering how in the hell he wasn't sweating his ass off in a leather jacket and jeans. Eh, maybe he was one of those people who were always cold. Derek chose not to look at either of them as he strode past. "Wait.. didn't that happen, like, I don't know, 6 years ago?"
Scott's head canted to the side, his expression exasperated. Stiles got the impression that his best friend wanted to bring up his mom. Fair point. Enough said. Instead, the taller boy added, "the only other person who survived the fire was his older sister, Laura." Scott glanced back toward the truck before he ducked passed Jackson and Danny on their way out of the house. "She died five months ago."
"Oh." His warm gaze shifted back as well, watching as Derek hauled a box out of the truck. "Wh-what happened?"
"Car accident, just outside of the preserve. Guess she was on her way home and a deer ran out in front of her, she swerved and hit a tree."
Something about that didn't sit right in Stile's head. Maybe it was the way Scott had said it, or the way his eyes narrowed. He deposited his box in the bathroom and immediately met back up with him. "Did you..?"
"Investigate? Of course." He scoffed at the obvious question. Both fell silent again as they passed Derek. "It's the preserve.. smells like deer out there, pretty much everywhere. What got me, though, was that she didn't seem like she'd been going fast enough for it to kill her. As in, the car was barely banged up." Scott flashed a smile toward Lydia as the girl continued moving boxes around inside of the truck. After the pair had walked away again he nodded back toward her. "Lydia found her."
"Ouch!" Stiles glanced back at the strawberry blonde, who looked as chipper as he'd ever seen her. Oddly enough, whenever Derek was near her that didn't seem to change. In fact, the guy seemed downright chummy with her.. even if he didn't smile. Stiles could see it in his posture, the way he seemed even relaxed. Sort of.
Still, Stiles didn't believe Scott. If he'd had the same werewolf-y powers, he'd have been able to listen to the boys heartbeat. As it stood, he just had to rely on his gut instincts. The ones that currently told him that whatever Derek owed the crooked-jawed boy a favor for? It wasn't covering his ass on a few missed lacrosse practices. Something else was going on between the two. Stiles would inevitably find out. Like he always did.
–
Conversation came to a halt as the majority of the heavy lifting really kicked in. The girls took the easier tasks: baskets filled with towels, bags of clothes or bedding, pillows. Meanwhile the rest of them mostly worked together to lift the furniture. The dolly in the truck helped with the large appliances; It did nothing for the rest: the beds, the living room set, the desks, the kitchen table. Why had his father not bothered to sell everything and buy new? Oh, right, because even though they'd been renting out the house for extra income, they still didn't have the money for THAT.
Needless to say, he ended up bumping shoulders with everyone more often than he cared to admit while power lifting with everyone. He hated how easy Scott had it, and had had to laugh several times at the boy for 'pretending' that things were heavier than they really were. Stupid werewolf powers. While they were carrying the couch into the house his father, panting, had asked if everyone wanted pizza for their help. Everyone happily agreed.
There was very little to move now, so Stiles told his father to take a break, order their pizza. If only because he wanted to give his old man a break. At his age he probably shouldn't be lifting as much as he had. Much as Stiles would rather his dad eat a salad and a veggie burger, high cholesterol and all, he'd rather the guy not keel over later tonight from having over-done it.
If not for Scott's-and the team of teens who'd come along-help it would have taken Stiles and Noah the better part of the day, and probably time tomorrow, to finish clearing out the truck. The summer sun was just beginning to set on the horizon when they'd taken Noah's recliner into the house. The other teens lounged on the lawn or porch while Stiles went to move his Jeep off of the trailer. Stiles hopped into the Jeep and backed it carefully onto the road, then parked it in their driveway before grabbing what little had been stowed in the front of their U-Haul. Really, it was just a duffle with a change of clothes for each of them, both of their meds and a few bottles of water. He kicked the door back open and dropped back to the ground, freezing when he heard a grunt of pain.
His eyes widened, meeting the gaze-glare?-of Derek Hale. "Oh, god, sorry man!" Stiles realized he'd not only cracked him with the door when it was swung open, but stomped on his foot upon hitting the ground. Derek's jaw worked in annoyance, his right hand rubbing at a red spot blossoming on his forehead. "Shit.. you're not, uh, you're not bleeding are you?"
"It's fine." The man's hand quickly swiped at his head to check. It came away clean. Thank god. "You should be more careful." His voice carried a deep rumble, almost a growl.
"Yeah, I-I know, sorry. Was just trying to.. ya know, pay for the pizza?" He held up his wallet, which had been left in the cab while they'd worked. Derek's brows shifted up, blue-green eyes turned toward the batman wallet, then back to Stiles. Why were his eyebrows so expressive?! With the wallet tucked into his pocket, Stiles glanced toward everyone lounging around. Talking and laughing among themselves. "Hey, uh, we didn't really have much of an introduction, ya know? Stiles." He added, holding out a hand.
Derek stared at it for a moment, his arms shifted up to cross over his chest. Okay, rude. "Derek."
"You live around here?"
"Not really." He glanced around the quiet suburban street. Not much of a talker, it seemed. How he and Scott could have become friends was nothing short of amazing. Especially when one considered Scott to be a bit of a puppy, one who could get someone talking. Feeling Stile's eyes on him Derek turned back with a raised brow. "Nice to meet you, Stiles. Welcome back to Beacon Hills."
"Th-thanks." He stammered, but only because the elder teen had started to walk away. The broody looking guy wasn't staying for pizza, it seemed. He regarded the other, watching as Derek climbed into a glossy black Camaro.
"Stiles, will you hurry it up? Pretty sure he has other deliveries." Noah called, drawing Stiles from his reverie. He hadn't even realized the pizza man had shown up.
–
After everyone had left Stiles laid on his bedroom floor, staring at the ceiling. He knew he needed to begin the daunting task of searching through his boxes and bags for his sheets. Or even put his bed together. Instead, he drummed his fingers against his stomach and frowned. Something seemed.. off. With Scott. With Derek. Hell, even with Jackson, but he was assuming that the jock-y boy was like every other jock: looking at skinny, nerdy Stiles as though he were something lesser than.
Scott had lied to him. Of that much he was certain. Something more had happened between he and the elder boy. And he was relatively sure that Derek had somehow overheard he and Scott talking about him. Unless he was always that surly with everyone he met. Probable. The more he thought about it, however, the less he thought that the case. Actually. Derek had conversed quite easily with Jackson and Danny. Old teammates or not. And had been friendly enough with Allison and Lydia. Even with the Sheriff.
"Hey.. Stiles. Hey!" Stiles blinked rapidly while lifting his head up from the floor. His dad stood in the doorway. "I'm going to sleep in my chair tonight. You want the couch?"
"Nah, dad. Probably gonna lay right here." A chuckle escaped him before he'd dropped back onto the carpet. Truth be told, his anxiety was at a peak level. He was torn between that state of wanting to get his entire room taken care of and wanting to do nothing at all. Which meant he was going to have to choose between taking his Adderall or a hefty dose of melatonin. If he wasn't going to work on unpacking, he should sleep.
"Doubt that'll be comfortable, kid. Couch is open if you want it. I've got to be at the station early, Stiles, don't get into trouble."
"What, are you kidding me? Best behaved teen in the world right here." Stiles replied seriously, staring at his father in mock surprise.
Noah's regarded him in disbelief, then tapped the door frame twice with his palm. Stiles listened to his fathers retreating footsteps and exhaled again. His fingers hadn't once stopped bouncing through the conversation. Which meant if he planned to get any semblance of sleep he'd have to take much more melatonin than was probably advisable. So with a heavy sigh he hauled himself back up to begin setting his bed frame up.
By the time he had his bed in order, with sheets and everything, his desk and laptop set up, and several boxes unpacked it was well after four in the morning. And he actually felt tired. Thankfully.
Stiles toed off his sneakers and flopped face first into his bed. Yanking a pillow close, he buried his face into it. It only took a few moments before his body to enter that state of being too heavy to move and his mind to fog over. Just before he drifted out Stiles brows knitted together, feeling as though someone were watching him. It took considerable effort to pry one eye open.
Everything had that blurry haze of sleep surrounding it, but he was pretty sure he saw a pair of glowing blue eyes just outside his window. Before he could investigate further, sleep took him entirely.