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Of course, ghosts were real. And because ghosts were real, poltergeists were real. Add that to Stiles’ luck, and, of course, one had inhabited the rebuilt Hale house within a week of Stiles moving in with Derek. Sighing, he swept up the broken pieces of the vase that had flown at his head as soon as he’d entered the library that morning to do some research on ghosts and poltergeists. He’d been humming the theme to Ghostbusters under his breath, so he might have been asking for the attack, but it didn’t make it any less irritating.
“You aren’t nearly as funny as you think you are,” Stiles commented, dumping the shards into the trash bin next to the desk. “Eventually, we are going to run out of vases, dude.” A book flew across the room, just barely missing Stiles’ head. It fell open on the desktop, the pages wildly flipping until they stopped. Stiles glanced over it, muttering, “I’m not sure if you have lousy aim or great aim.”
The book’s page was the start of a chapter on possession. “Been there, done that, dude,” Stiles said. “A Nogitsune, ever heard of it?” He felt a cold push on his chest, and he brushed it away. “Hands to yourself, dude.”
“Are you arguing with yourself again?” Derek asked, entering the room with two mugs of coffee in one hand.
“No. The ghost keeps trying to throw things at me. I don’t get what I did to piss him off.” Stiles ducked as another book came really close to hitting him. He felt a breeze on his cheek as it flew by before landing on the floor next to Stiles’ feet. “Gender Studies and Unconscious Misogyny. You are so weird, dude.”
“You bought the book,” Derek pointed out, setting the mugs on the desk and picking the book up, returning it to the shelves.
Stiles watched him walk away, enjoying the view of his butt in the low-hanging sweats that Derek threw on after climbing out of bed that morning. His eyes traced upwards, stopping when a tremor went through Derek, and suddenly his entire stance changed. Turning around, Derek put his hands on his hips and glared at Stiles.
“Don’t call me ‘dude,’” he said, his voice sounding odd and his eyebrows moving in unfamiliar patterns.
“I didn’t,” Stiles responded, watching as Derek pinched the bridge of this nose with his thumb and forefinger, the others outstretched into the air. “What is wrong with you?”
“My name is Adora Allana Maria Hale, you idiot,” Derek snapped, and Stiles’ eyes widened. “Stop calling me ‘dude,’ and I’ll stop throwing books and vases at you.”
“You’re the ghost!” Stiles screamed, and Derek crossed his arms over his chest and huffed at him, rolling his eyes.
“Duh!”
“Wait, Adora? You’re Derek’s little sister!” She’d been about thirteen when the fire had happened, which explained a whole lot about the way she was behaving at the moment.
“Again, duh!” Another eye roll, this one strong enough that Derek moved his entire head.
“Do you think you could stop possessing your brother now because this is just weird?” Stiles asked, moving forward. He held a finger out to poke at Derek’s chest but thought better of it when Derek growled at him.
“Stop calling me ‘dude,’ and I won’t possess him anymore.” Derek leaned in and pressed his finger to the tip of Stiles’ nose hard enough to send him back a step. “Call me it again, and I’ll possess him at a very,” she looked him up and down with a wicked smile, “private moment.”
Stiles squawked and waved his arms around. “I solemnly swear I will never call you ‘dude’ again!”
A satisfied smirk crossed Derek’s face for a brief moment before he gave a shiver. He blinked his eyes a few times, looking around in confusion. “Do I even want to know?” he asked.
“You never told me Adora was such a stinker,” Stiles said.
“Wait? Adora? Adora is the ghost?” Stiles nodded, and Derek rubbed at his eyes, leaving the room quickly.
Stiles remained where he was, watching books moving randomly on and off the shelves. He wondered if Adora was looking for something to read. “You should go hang out with your brother for a while,” Stiles suggested. The last book to come off the shelf slid back into place, the door bouncing as Adora left the room. “See you later, Princess,” he called, laughing when there was a crash from the hallway. He’d never really liked that vase anyway.