How this came to be: me- idea- words. The end.
The worst part was probably that his father had tried to warn him. And sure maybe he wasn't the prime example for concentration- what with the amount of Adderall- pumping through his veins but he had at least hoped that at some point life would stop pissing on him and pretending it was rain.
In all fairness he was running late, his mediation skills required these days in order to keep Scott and Allison's relationship alive. The Argent's hadn't taken too well to the fact that Scott was a werewolf- yeah them and half the population of America.
It wasn't like people were surprised that there were werewolves running around, how could they not have known with all of the different examples of it in the media? The easily accessible research. Pages upon pages of internet info retrieved at the click of a button. That wasn't the problem at all.
It was the fact that they were no longer top of the food chain that really had their panties in a twist. Alphas, betas, even omegas possessed more power than a human ever could and if that wasn't a kick in the evolutionary chains balls then Stiles didn't know what was.
At this stage it wasn't really a problem for him, but it was about to be. Stiles had never been one for luck, in fact he was pretty sure that irony had made him its bitch years and years ago but today was when it really decided to go in for the kill.
His keys were in his hand as he scrambled towards the door thoughts flying through his head a mile a minute, not slowing down enough to consider the importance of his father yelling at him from the living room.
"Stiles! Don't forget today's the..."
"Gotta meet Scott dad, sorry!" Stiles yelled back too hyped up to ponder over what his father could be warning him about this time.
Hell it was Beacon Hills and he was Stiles Stilinski. Trouble would find him no matter how much his dad wished it wouldn't. But being the Sheriff's son did have its perks, preventative measures against juvenile detention being one of them.
He sent a quick text out to Scott before he climbed into his jeep, starting his baby and blaring the radio so loud that it was probably damaging his ear canal but he didn't really care. Today he was all about helping Scott talk to his girlfriend, or for a better word, secret girlfriend. Hey, who was he to deny spreading the love? Besides Scott wasn't much of a catch. He'd really hit the jackpot with Allison and Stiles, as his best friend who could confidently make this observations about his blood brother couldn't say no to keeping them together and a little bit of lovin' in the universe.
It was all about the subtlety. Certainly Mr Argent was bound to give him strange looks from hanging around with Allison all the time, and very briefly- to deliver messages of Scott's undying love- but he was used to these looks. It had become apparent long ago that his cognitive skills resided on a higher plane than foolish mortals but he was okay with that. He'd learned to be adaptable and to accept that some people just thought that you were a freak. Enough said.
He didn't get very far of course. The whole town was blocked off. His phone beeped but he didn't need Scott's message to remind him. Of course. How could he have forgotten? Some big shot alpha who'd used to live here was returning and the town committee had organised this fantastic waste of time parade, blocking off all of the main roads and flooding them with people and festivity.
Stiles sat there while his jeep idled, curiously pondering the pros and cons of just driving into the fray of bodies, one jeep to hundred human ratio, consequence be damned. But then he could already picture his father shaking his head at him in his familiar but Stiles hoped affectionate- my God how did I possibly create you- kind of way so he decided against it.
Although he did slam his hands on the wheel in frustrated display of macho masculinity and nearly broke his hands from the manoeuvre, wailing like a girl at the freaking pain of it, deciding to just store his anger away for later. Let it fester for a bit, hold that kind of grudge that women seemed to do so easily.
He parked off to the side of the road, nearly hitting an old man in the process who smacked his walking stick on the side of his jeep in retaliation. He figured there was no point yelling at him to watch the jeep, the dude looked ancient enough to not even know what a hearing aid was so he accepted that sometimes you almost kill somebody and that somebody feels the need to wail on your jeep in revenge. The universe finds balance again.
He parked his car and reluctantly left his baby in the vicinity of these reasonably intelligent savages. There were people everywhere. It was like a people tsunami. A people explosion. A volcanic eruption of people that decimated the town with people lava, and he texted Scott to meet him on the steps of town hall resigning himself to the fact that his personal space was about to be seriously invaded. Like space invaders, invaded.
He let himself be swept away which was surprisingly easy seeing as he was only 147 pounds of fair skin and fragile bones. It was impossible to find Scott in this mess but he hadn't been pushed very far before he was being yanked out of the swarm and into the safety of the sidelines.
Scott gave him a tense smile.
"How did you?..."
"Your scent," he explained. "Allison's over there with her family. I really need to talk to her."
"Then talk away buddy. You know you have my undivided attention. An explosion of Lydia hotness could not detract me from my focus right now. I am zen, one with the universe I am totally-"
"-shutting up. Totally shutting up."
Scott rambled on for about a minute and Stiles tried to pay attention but every now and again people tried to walk through him instead of around him as if he weren't a corporal body and something they could just pass straight through. He kept stumbling all over the place and twitching, though the twitching could have had something to do with his medication.
His best friend finally finished and Stiles was grateful Scott had never been a big word kind of guy because then he would have never remembered what he'd said. He nodded and then bravely stepped out into the madness in the direction Scott had pointed praying to God that he wouldn't get crushed or stampeded on and then die a virgin.
Fifteen minutes later he'd moved about a couple metres, feeling extremely thankful that he was 147 pounds of nothing because then he was harder to hit pressed up against every inch of everything in this little sardine party. Or was it the anchovies that were always packed tightly together? He resolved to google it later if he ever made it out alive.
Somehow he found Allison. He repeated Scott's message the highlights being- Scott loves Allison, Scott will love and continue to date Allison forever even if her parents don't want her to because he's a werewolf. Scott believes it can still work. Scott will do anything to stay with Allison. Conclusion: Scott is whipped beyond recognition and is now brainless.
Allison smiles gratefully at the message which makes Stiles feel a little better about the whole thing. And so is Scott's reaction when twenty minutes later he makes it back to relay Allison's message. He continues this for a further hour and because he is irony's bitch it does not get any easier and the messages get even more gushier to the point that he must projectile vomit or endure it until his body gives the hell up and resolves to have a stroke instead. Considering the heat of the day too, heatstroke isn't entirely off the table.
After playing cupid for a few hours Stiles is getting tired and thirsty and frustrated so he's not feeling the best. He's tempted to lie and say that he's supposed to meet his dad to get out of further snail mail deliveries but he's pretty sure Scott's going to give him those puppy dog eyes and guilt him into it. His options aren't looking too great.
But then he spots Lydia in the crowd that brief flash of strawberry blonde hair raising his spirits so that he starts to think things might be looking up. And then the crowd starts to fizzle out a bit, making it easier to move back and forth between the two sickeningly cute lovebirds and some random vendor takes pity on Stiles and gives him a free bottle of water. And everybody's smiling and having a good time and Stiles is a sucker for conformity so he starts to think that maybe his luck is changing.
Until it isn't.
Allison starts to leave. Only Scott hasn't told her his final little admission of teenage angst that keeps the passion of their forbidden romance that more powerful. And he's frantically muttering these words to Stiles which he's struggling to follow because he's too interested watching the people slowly dispersing and the road he's been crossing for the entire afternoon starting to look like a road again.
Scott's finally done and nudges Stiles forward after Allison who's catching his gaze and looking somewhat disappointed as she's slowly dragged away by her parents. So naturally Stiles feels the need to hurry forward and be the hero and take that sad expression off of her face because it's within his power to do so.
And that's about when he almost gets run over by a sleek car driving way too fast in this crowd of people to be safe, or practical and he has to backpedal a whole hell of a lot so as not to get hit or fall on his ass. The front of the car get so close that it brushes against his jeans.
He yells without thinking, as he usually does. "What the hell are you doing? Did you not notice the thousands of pedestrians all over town? Are you trying to freaking kill me?"
Somebody gasps. The driver's mouth falls open in shock and Stiles bends down to retrieve his dropped water bottle which, thank you Jesus has rolled underneath the car so he has to resort to half crawling under it to get it. Dignity? What dignity you ask. He doesn't know the meaning of the word.
He wonders briefly if this was the smartest idea when he hears the engine rumbling around his ears. Well he wouldn't blame them if they ran over him, he did kind of make it easy for them. He hopes his dad didn't notice, or maybe he does. He's curious to see who his dad would give the third degree to, him or the driver.
His fingers close over the bottle, finally and he shuffles out from underneath the car wondering if he should flip the driver off for good measure only the driver's out of the car and standing in front of him is the man he was driving.
Everybody has gone silent and Stiles is starting to comprehend that hey maybe something big is going on here because everybody is staring and he's pretty sure he's wearing all of his clothing, this time. So nakedness could not be the problem.
Or maybe it's just the guy. Because even Stiles notices he is damn fuckable. He's wearing jeans and a leather jacket like some badass bikey and he has this baby don't even think about fucking with me kind of stare which if wasn't directed his way would certainly have him bending over quicker than a yoga instructor.
The man takes a step towards him and everything is quiet. Stiles wants to say too quite but maybe that's too many cliché moments for today. And he did almost just get run over.
"Is there a problem?" the sex God Stiles wants to lick all over asks in a pretty rough tone which indicates he's about to create one.
There's something about this guy, the way he just took over everything that Stiles immediately doesn't like. He's taking the male masculinity thing to a whole new level. Stiles knows if he punched the steering wheel he wouldn't cry like a girl. No in fact he'd probably break it.
But Stiles has seen way too many Jacksons to pretend that he's going to grovel all over this guy to save his own ass, though it is a nice ass perfectly untoned from years of bench warming for the lacrosse team.
"Did you just try to run me down?" Stiles asks. "Was your ineptitude nearly the death of me? See that's where I'm gonna say no and then I'm gonna say it's none of your business."
The guy just looks at him then and the driver's eyes widen further though Stiles for the life of him cannot figure out why. What the hell is wrong with this dude?
"He's my driver, therefore my problem."
Stiles scoffs openly at the guys abruptness. Straight and to the point. "Well this is my ass and you can use your lips to kiss it."
It's not just one person gasping now, it's several and Stiles has not clicked with the program here but he hears a distinctive groan and wonders what the big deal is. The hunky guy looks shocked legitimately shocked and Stiles feels a thrill of satisfaction for putting it there, ass or no ass.
But with so many witnesses what can this guy do really? It's not like he's going to start an all out brawl. He must have figured out that Stiles isn't that much of a match now anyway though of course looks are deceiving. But somehow Stiles wants him to hit him, he wants to fight this guy, to teach him a lesson for being so damn sure of himself.
But then the man does something that completely surprises him. He glances around them looking into the crowd.
"Who does this pup belong to?" he asks managing to sound like the victim and make Stiles appear like he's the one causing trouble.
"He's the Sheriffs kid," somebody bravely replies, much to Stiles' irritation. Now he has no choice but to behave even if this guy is riling him up like he's never been riled up before. Did he take too much medication today or something? What the hell is wrong with him? But he's already protesting.
"I'm not a pup or a kid!"
The guy looks at him again, that overconfident smirk all over his sexy face and says.
"Didn't your mother ever teach you-"
And he doesn't get another word out because at the mention of his mother, Stiles snaps. He's launching himself forward before his brain can catch up with the moment using the force of his body to slam his hands into the guy's chest and push. In hindsight, bad idea but it was just a push, not even much of a push really.
But Stiles eyes widen when he hits corded muscle and God, rock solid abs but the man moves back more in surprise than anything else. Stiles finds that infuriates him further but the muscle thing seems to have provided a nice enough incentive to back the hell off before he becomes a bloody pulp.
"Don't- don't," he struggles to find the words. Don't talk about my mother. Five simple words but he can't bring himself to enunciate because he's so furious.
It's that word that brings a growl out of the man and helps Stiles anger cool. He glances around the crowd again finally noticing the way their necks are bent as if in submission- to the alpha.
Oh no. Jesus Christ no.
He remembers reading once about what not submitting meant. To the alpha, not submitting was a sign of a challenge, a refusal to accept their word as law.
Stiles had just accidentally challenged an alpha.
Oh God and Scott had just stood by and let him do it. He was the worst best friend ever. Stiles was going to kill him. Except oh right the alpha was going to kill him first like beyond dead, ripped into tiny little pieces dead. So far dead that his dad would not be able to identify him, dead. Well at least that thought was comforting.
"Alpha-" he began pointing at the man accusingly as if in need of confirmation.
"Hale." He said finished for him. "Derek Hale."
Stiles said a particularly colourful swear word and then did the only thing that he thought was a good idea in this situation. Run.
Only it wasn't a good idea because if he hadn't been half terrified out of his mind he would have realised that it would only make things worse. But a core meltdown of his brain had just occurred and he wasn't really dealing with smart Stiles at the moment.
Although in a minute he was going to be dealing with dead Stiles. At least then he wouldn't be caught in Scott and Allison's not another teen star-crossed lover's cliché. But unfortunately in that moment his goo brain chose life, and life included getting the hell out of doge before the big scary alpha ate him.
He'd barely made it three steps before a clawed hand was enclosing around his neck, yanking him back into a solid chest that he had just freaking pushed a minute ago like he was a pro-wrestler.
The crowd that had been scandalised by Stiles behaviour were even more affected by this new development. Stiles managed to catch Scott's eye and his facial expression seemed to spell out everything.
The gist was something along the lines of You complete dumbass! What the hell do you think you're doing? Yeah well he was still working on that phase of his don't die plan.
"Why did you run?" Derek growled into his ear. "Didn't anybody tell you that's an invitation?"
Stiles groaned wondering if it would make him any less of a man to punch himself in the face. He was already struggling fitfully in Derek's grip like some kind of limber octopus cursing to high heavens his unbelievable stupidity. Derek seemed to have no problem holding onto him and the close proximity was not helping things in the slightest. Stiles body wanted to write poems, sing melodies and write intense haiku's to his rocking bod. But then of course his brain was in a state of goo and in no such condition to be performing these tasks, thank God.
And then suddenly he was being dragged back to Derek's car, manhandled inside and kidnapped in broad daylight in front of a crowd of hundreds, his best friend included and probably his dad and maybe even Lydia though not one individual had lifted a finger to stop it? Right alpha law ranks higher than human law, how could he have let that precious detail slip his mind.
"What!- what?... What even?" he managed to coherently gasp out scrambling away from the leather wearing, alpha kidnapper in the small space. "Where are you taking me?"
"I'm taking you to your home as a courtesy to let your family know what's happened and give you twenty four hours to get your affairs into order. Then I'm coming back for you," Derek said simply.
"Coming back?" he squeaked out. "For me? Listen if this is because I pushed you- well, uh then I'm really sorry..."
"No you're not," Derek said. "You're lying."
Stiles winced. Werewolf equals automatic lie detector, dammit why did he keep forgetting all of these important details? His best friend was a freaking werewolf too!
"Then what the hell, man?" he demanded feeling his voice starting to get shrill. He was seriously contemplating wrenching the door open and diving out into the abyss of pain and bitumen.
"You'll only injure yourself," Derek said reading his thoughts as if he had spoken them. Stiles scowled at the older man feeling completely outmatched, but thankfully not outwitted.
"Why are you doing this?"
Derek's indifference vanished for a moment and his face hardened into an expression of pure rage.
"I'm not doing anything," he snarled. "You. Would. Not. Submit."
"That doesn't mean you kidnap me!"
Derek closed his eyes and breathed in deeply to calm himself and Stiles used the opportunity to drink in every aspect of his lean and attractive form, though he was angry and kidnapped and it was all business upstairs he swore. But downstairs on the other hand...
"You're still doing it," Derek explained tightly. "And now you're mine. It's instinct."
Stiles shivered. And now you're mine. God who even says that? What a douche, he tried not to roll his eyes but he did anyway because really how more screwed could he get?
"I'm not anybody's," he managed stubbornly.
Derek even had the gall to smirk at that and Stiles contemplated hitting all that toned muscle for a second try; he just needed to locate some organs or other tender areas. Although the finality of Derek's tone was definitely something to be concerned about and his overconfidence was freaking Stiles out like a hell of a freaking lot. He was certain Derek could hear his heart beat thrumming wildly in his chest from the opposite side of the car.
He was even more certain when Derek caught his upper arm and pulled Stiles into his lap like he was made of nothing. He squeaked out a protest but then Derek's tongue was sliding across the too hot skin of his neck and Stiles was moaning wantonly like a dirty little whore. He flushed at his reaction, trying futilely to pull away to put distance between this sexy man beast who could turn his brain into goo and make him sound like a freaking porno without really doing anything.
But then Derek's teeth came down biting deeply into the skin of his neck with an animalistic growl and Stiles whined impossibly horny and desperate for more. Dear God he was such a virgin. Derek released the grip on his arms and Stiles had to slide uncoordinatedly out of his lap and away from him knowing that the wolf could smell his arousal but was choosing to do nothing about it. The bastard. He wanted to punch the stupid alpha in his stupid face. And now his neck was freaking bleeding. Derek moved toward him again and Stiles tried not to seem hopeful but he merely lapped at the wound with his tongue, soothing over the hurt and making Stiles shudder. And then he pulled away like nothing had happened.
What. The. Fuck.
"We'll see," he said.
Stiles opted for silence after that. Which is really saying something. This was a lot to wrap his head around. And his dad was definitely going to kill him. Maybe he and Derek would do it together as like a bonding thing. It didn't seem entirely unlikely.
But he was still trying to believe this was even happening at all. How in the holy hell of universes had he ended up in a heated argument with an alpha? Oh that was right he was irony's bitch, how had he even let it slip his mind for a moment. He remembered that earlier feeling, thinking maybe his luck was changing and felt the need for grievous bodily harm. To himself. For being below humanly possible levels of stupid.
When had Stiles luck ever changed? Why oh why had he been swept into a false sense of security like that? Oh that was right. He was Stiles Stilinski, this was Beacon Hills and his life sucked.