Oh, What A Night (Beacon Hills, 2011)

[whatisastiles]

Stiles and the damn fools that follow him back to Beacon Hills step into an ordinary looking teenage boy's bedroom. There's the usual furniture—bed, desk, dresser, bookshelf—and decorations—band posters, telescope, pile of smelly lacrosse gear. It doesn't look like much in the way of a werewolf investigative headquarters.

"Welcome to mi casa," says Stiles. "Dad's not home, thank God, so he won't notice we're here."

Add 'weird people traveling in through my closet' to the many things Stiles would rather not have to explain to his father.

"I need to talk to Scott," he say, punching the speed dial on his phone at the same time. He pauses for a moment listening to the phone ring, ring, and finally go to voicemail before hanging up. "And he's not picking up, so I'm going to go see if he's at home. You staying here or coming with?"

Comments

[alpha_loomer]

"Right now?" Derek fires back. "You."

He stalks toward Stiles.

"You're worried about your friend? Worried enough to get the..." he looks at Grace and Raph "...weirdest backup in Beacon Hills? Then stop following me."

[headed4hell]

"Hey now."

As soon as Grumpy McMuscles moves toward Stiles, Grace shifts in front of the kid and glares up at him. Her gun may not pack silver, but it'll still slow him down.

"You don't see how this looks bad for you?"

Really?

[mnt_raph]

"Then stop runnin'," is all Raph can manage.

The arrival of Grace and Stiles has helped relax him somewhat, but there's still something so damn off putting about this guy. Something he hasn't felt since...Hogwarts. Not since that battle at Hogwarts.

[whatisastiles]

Grace has a really good point.

"Where you go, people seem to turn up dead..."

It looks super bad.

"... of course, I brought back up."

Duh.

"You think I'm just going to stand here while you try to get my best friend to join your little murder club?"

You're not Scott's brother, Derek. Stiles was there first.

[alpha_loomer]

As they say, appearances can be deceiving.

Jaw clenched, Derek stares hard at Stiles. Maybe it's the werewolf thing that keeps him from blinking, maybe not; the end result is unsettling all the same.

It's not that he doesn't know. It's that he can't *believe* he's going to have to explain himself to this group of clowns, and do so before Scott invites even more trouble he can't handle.

"I'm trying to help him, you idiot."

It has nothing to do with wanting a damn brother.

Probably.

If Scott DID become like a brother, he'd only die in a fire or some other horrible circumstance just like everyone else.




He just wants Scott to realize the bite is a gift, no matter who did the biting.

[whatisastiles]

Yeah, the leather and the scowling, totally concealing a fluffy little puppy with a heart of gold. Right.

"Help?!" shouts Stiles, incredulous. "Bull. Shit."

"Since when does stalking equal helping?"

Since never, that's when.

[alpha_loomer]

Derek's jaw continues to work.

Look, it's really hard not to shove Stiles up against the wall behind him and growl in his face. Derek is the very model of restraint.

"When," he gets out through gritted teeth, "there is something worse out stalking him, too."

How's that for helping, Stiles.




Only don't take too long answering. Scott's on his own and Derek scheduled 'Teach Scott to Werewolf' for 11 PM.

[whatisastiles]

Stiles throws a 'Can you believe this guy?' look in Grace's direction before he replies.

"Like what? Mountain lions, Derek?" he asks, sarcastic.

Even Sheriff Stilinski doesn't really buy the mountain lion explanation of the recent murders.

[alpha_loomer]

The look and implied censure have no effect on Derek. He continues to glare, with a quick break to visibly scoff at the idea that he'd consider a mountain lion reason enough to be having this ridiculous conversation.

"No."

The you dumbass is implied. Because, really. All this delay is doing is putting Scott in more danger, the very thing Stiles claims to be against.

(It would probably help if he said that aloud -- except the dumbass part.)

Eventually he remembers to add, grumpily, "I didn't bite Scott."

[headed4hell]

Grace raises her eyebrows at Stiles and takes another step toward Derek.

"Another werewolf?"

She remembers asking the same when the night started. It seems like a really long time ago now.

[mnt_raph]

His shoulders slump and his head lolls forward.

"Mithros, are you freakin' kiddin' me with this crap right now."

[whatisastiles]

Does Derek kid? Mostly he just glowers.

But yes, this is 100% crapola.

"Then who did bite Scott? Is that who's supposedly..." Stiles waves his hands toward the preserve, "... out there?"

That still doesn't seem like a good reason for stalking. Just saying.

[alpha_loomer]

Another thing he doesn't do? Talk about his thoughts and feelings with teenagers and... whatever the other two are.

He almost laughs in Stiles's face.

Almost.

"You're not the one who deserves an explanation. You want to know? Ask him when I'm done."

Look, that's practically a promise that Scott will survive the night if Derek has any say in the matter. Assuming he gets to him in time.

Derek gives Stiles another hard, long look, before running, leaping, and disappearing up and over a wall.

[whatisastiles]

"ARGH."

If Stiles had more hair, he would tear at it.

"This is why I hate that guy!" he shouts at the empty space that used to contain a Derek.

[headed4hell]

Grace blinks after Derek and almost lets out an impressed whistle. If you ask her, that was pretty badass; but Stiles doesn't want to hear that right now.

"Hey," she says, touching his arm, "For what it's worth, I don't think he wants to eat your friend."

[mnt_raph]

You can take the guy out of the Bronx, but you can never take the Bronx out of the guy.

"You want I should go after him again?"

[whatisastiles]

"Don't bother, he'll just keep doing that until he gets his creepy bro-time with Scott."

So this has been a pretty spectacular failure.

Except maybe the ponchos. That turned out to be a decent idea.

"Grace's right. It doesn't sound like he's gonna kill anybody tonight."

[headed4hell]

The ponchos were a great idea. Almost as great as the Slurpees.

"'Course I'm right. I've gotta sixth sense when it comes to murderous intent."

She smirks and points at Raph.

"'Sides, you've got a jeep to fix."

Beat.

"And maybe there can be a a donut run."

She looks hopeful.

[mnt_raph]

Raph, who had been looking over Derek's escape route, visibly flinches.
He doesn't have to see Grace to know that she's talking about him.

"Be easier to just buy him a new one..."

[whatisastiles]

"You've got a Jeep to fix," repeats Stiles.

It's been literally decades since Jeep stopped making the CJ-5. You can't just buy a new one.

What the hell is this crap?

"When it's running—and only then—I'll consider taking you to the donut shop my dad thinks I don't know he still goes to every Saturday."

He's such a cop stereotype. It's embarrassing.

[headed4hell]

"Sweet."

Grace grins and wraps a strong arm around Stiles's neck, pulling him back the way they came.

"So you're dad likes donuts, huh? Bet I can guess which type."

[whatisastiles]

Stiles groans, but let's himself be tugged along toward the McCalls'.

"Don't even start, Grace. You're not meeting him."

Ever, if Stiles can help it.

[mnt_raph]

He watches them walk away and briefly considers making a break for the wall himself, but ultimately follows when he remembers that on the other side of there be werewolves.

Raph is not overly fond of werewolves.
And even if he was, fixing the car is way more preferable than having to deal with that mopey stalker and the potential of another Stiles.

He stows his sai and slowly follows Grace and the kid back to the Jeep.

Teenagers are exhausting.