Chapter Text
The first night of October found Stiles wandering around the forest behind his house. This wasn’t uncommon for the Polish teen- the woods had become much less scary at night after dealing with psycho werewolves, pissed witches, and all the other things that go bump in the night. Now it was a haven of sorts. A place he could go to clear his head and drown all his bad thoughts away with the strong scent of pine, grass, and flowers.
But still, for safety, he had his trusty metal bat magically coated in mountain ash and ground up silver (Thank you, Mr. Argent) and one broody sourwolf on speed dial. Stiles considered himself fine. At least if he died, Lydia promised she would write a eulogy about his heroic, badass death. Even if it was neither heroic nor badass. She also promised to find a way to bring him back, so yay!
So back to the woods, illuminated by soft moonlight and hues of blue, where Stiles tried unsuccessfully to tire himself out. Watching T.V. hadn’t worked to do so and neither had flipping through old Captain America comics. His mind was wide awake and he couldn’t exactly take his Adderall at three a.m., it would mess up his entire pill-taking schedule, so taking a stroll through the trees was his only good option.
The cool wind that went through every so often only served to hype up his nerves, making his eyes feel less tired with the jolt of cold. He probably should’ve worn something more covering than an Iron Man T-Shirt and baggy sweats, complete with his no-longer white Converse, but he couldn’t be bothered to turn back now.
So the sixteen year old settled on humming to himself, an old Polish lullaby his mama used to sing to him, and spun around the woods in some sort of weird dance. Deeper and deeper he went, so far he could no longer see his house and over a familiar rushing stream, which meant he was at least a mile in. At least he had some sense of direction going, Stiles mused to himself, he was usually terrible.
As he walked, the common three a.m. thoughts began to creep in on him, bringing him to think about the last year. Words swirled around in his mind like the crisp orange leaves falling from the trees.
The falling out with the pack was one thing. They had all treated him like crap for a while and he was done helping people who wouldn’t care if he disappeared or got hurt. Soon, his only true friends were Lydia and Kira, the only ones who still bothered to text him and make plans with him. Well, and Peter, but Peter was like a creepy father-figure who had always looked out for him in a weird way, so he didn’t count.
He had almost moved away, contacting an aunt who lived in New York to see if she could open up her home for him as well as her two kids. He knew Aunt Elaine had a drinking problem, but so had his father- guess it runs in the family seeing as Noah and Elaine were twins who weren’t that close anymore- and he figured he could deal with it. But then his cousin Simon went missing and he didn’t want to add to the stress. He really hoped Simon was okay. He had heard about a new vampire matching his description joining the New York clan through the supernatural grape vine, however, and only hoped it could possibly be his cousin.
When Aunt Elaine was a no-go, he considered texting his dad’s old military buddy up in Washington, some guy named Charlie, but his daughter was going through some crap and again, he didn’t want to intrude. But he had heard that Bella ended up getting over her ex and had started dating some chick named Angela, so good for her. Dude sounded toxic.
During some point in all of this, the pack realized they messed up and were going to lose him (he can thank a very pissed off Lydia, who was tired of her best friend being depressed because they couldn’t get their heads out of their asses, for that) they began apologizing profusely and including him more than ever. Even Isaac, who treated him like the mud on his boots, had made an effort to apologize and make it up to him. Scott had cried a lot and hugged him for an hour. Jackson was off in London but they had gotten over their differences and the jock was even coming back soon with his boyfriends. So that was sorted and cleared up. Although he wishes the same could happen with his father. His relationship with the Sheriff was more strained than ever and he was home alone even more. Just like tonight.
There were so many things he wished he could say to his father.
‘Pay more attention to me’, ‘I wish you would hug me like you haven’t since I was seven’, ‘Stop drinking so much, I can’t lose you, too’, ‘I wish I was as important to you as your job is’.
But he didn’t ever want to sound selfish. He didn’t ever want to risk his father yelling at him like the one time he had had a little too much whiskey and started blaming him for mom being sick, just like she had when she attacked him with a knife before Melissa stopped her and rushed her to the hospital.
He still had the scar on his stomach.
Stiles sighed, wishing his mind would quiet down but knew it was impossible when your brain had so many defects. Defects it was he considered them- anxiety, depression, ADHD... just a list of things wrong with him.
The pale teen was so lost in his thoughts he didn’t notice a lump on the ground in front of him until he tripped right over it, hitting the ground palms first and hissing at the pain. This is why he hated the forest. Stupid trees, stupid, creepy creatures that call it home, stupid logs he trips over in the dark-
He pushed himself up to look at the obstacle, standing up-
That-That was the furthest thing from a damn log.
That was a person.
That was a real person, passed out, right there, with dark hair and tan skin and a sharp face spattered with blood and dirt. He was curled in on himself and there was a dark patch on his clothes and Stiles swore, if this was a corpse...
“Oh my god,” Stiles muttered, dropping to his knees again and pulling the stranger’s arm towards him, pressing his fingers to a pulse point. Two fingers as he waited, pressing maybe a little too harshly.
Slow, but steady. Most importantly, there.
“Well, at least you’re not dead,” Stiles told the unconscious teen with a relieved breath, “It wouldn’t be the first time, you know. How funny. Or even the third time- or was the witch the second? There was Laura, and then… I think it was, yeah.” He grinned upon figuring it out. Then the teen shut his eyes with a deep sigh.
“I’m talking to a passed out teen about how many dead bodies I’ve found in the woods. Wow, Stiles, not creepy at all. Great going.” He rolled his eyes and then focused them back on the teen, noticing that he looked...familiar?
Where had he seen him before?
Tan skin, black hair, stupidly attractive, same age, definitely not from here-
Oh.
Oh, wow. His life was just peachy, wasn’t it.
“Damian Wayne,” He whispered, laughing a little hysterically to himself as his hand met his forehead, “Great. Amazing news, Mister Wayne, your son is in the middle of the woods passed out and slightly covered in blood. I hope you weren’t expecting him home before curfew, cause he’s a little bit farther than you might expect him to be. Of course the blood part might not scare you, you are a vigilante. How do I know? Well apparently everyone in Gotham is blind and stupid, because you have the same voice and figure-”
“Would you shut up?”
“OHMYGOD!” Stiles yelled as he flailed backwards, not expecting a glare from splotchy green eyes, way too awake for someone who was definitely just passed out. Was that a vigilante thing? Or just a Damian thing? Some people are weird like that. Like Allison; she is way too awake in the morning when normal people like Erica and Stiles just want to be sleeping instead of having to function as a member of society.
“You talk so loudly,” Damian Wayne continued, sitting up and popping his neck on both sides. “Where am I?”
“I-uh. Um. B-Beacon Hills, California.” He stumbled over his words as he still tried to process the fact that a celebrity, vigilante (obviously he was Robin, come on, Gotham), and one of his strongest, STILL VERY REAL, crushes was right there in front of him.
The teen scowled, standing and examining his arm. “Fantastic. I suppose I should’ve guessed that. It is ridiculously humid here, yet it’s autumn.”
Stiles felt his mouth gaping as he tried to form words. It was apparently easier to talk to people, especially famous billionaire hotties, when they’re passed out in the middle of the woods at night. Great, he’ll make a note of that.
“Uh. Um. You…?”
Damian looked at him expectantly, raising an unimpressed, neatly groomed eyebrow. “Yes?”
Stiles poked his tongue out to wet his lips, opening his mouth again and then shaking his head. “Nevermind. Um, what are you doing...here?” It was very strange. If Damian had been kidnapped, they took him very far away from Gotham, and if he ran away, how the Hell did he get to California already? He was just on the news in his city like two days ago. Then again- rich kid who is also a genius. Could have bought a plane ticket and covered his tracks.
The Arabic teen sighed, adjusting his jacket. “I didn’t plan to be here. I suppose I was sidetracked when that wolf attacked me.”
His heart may have just stilled for a beat.
Stiles is 99% sure the universe hates him and wants to make his life all sorts of crappy YA novel tropes, because if Damian Wayne, his hot celebrity crush, is a fucking werewolf-
“...A wolf?”
“Yes. It was very large, I assume it wasn’t a normal one,” He locked eyes with the other boy, intimidating the shit out of the Polish boy, “Why?”
A normal one? Did he know? Did he mean a werewolf or just a very big normal wolf? Well, not normal, since he just- Stiles forcefully shoved his thought train in a tiny box and punted it away. He came out here for peace and he gets this. Describes his life, really.
Stiles ran his tongue over his teeth, trying to figure out a way to word his next question without sounding weird.
“Did it… bite you?”
Well, that was a fail.
Damian frowned and then looked back at his arm, which he had been adjusting weirdly for awhile, now that Stiles thought about it. He raised an eyebrow at it and then stuck it out for Stiles to see. “I suppose it did.”
The other teen was spot on. Up on his forearm, near his elbow joint on the inner part of his arm, there was a deep bite nearly matching Scott’s. Although this one was neater, like it had been placed without a fight. There had definitely been one, though. Blood stuck heavily to Damian’s plain shirt and sort of stunk.
Stiles felt air choke up in his throat as he swallowed thickly. “Shit.”
“Very neat, don’t you think? I stabbed it right after- the bite awoke me. It was very quiet.” Damian just examined it like it was nothing, dark green eyes glinting beautifully, and Stiles took in the information.
His tongue was dry, mouth like the desert. If Damian stabbed it, then... “Did you kill it?”
“I believe so. Shame. It was very beautiful, but it did attack me,” Damian said with a frown, “I hate having to kill animals.” He did look genuinely upset at the thought. Stiles understood. His mama once told him about how she was attacked by a cougar but she didn’t blame it- the deer were scarce that year and it was hungry, she had been walking near dawn. Claudia had always taught him that animals are just trying to survive, just like us. If one attacked you, it was probably scared, angry, or hurt. His mom, he realized, had been through a lot of crazy shit.
This one, though, Damian shouldn’t have to feel guilty about. It was definitely a werewolf, one that could fully shift at that. And it was breaking the new code. Beacon Hills was protected, dammit, they made this clear on the Accords last year! No rogue alphas should be stumbling in trying to build a pack! He was so sick of this shit; it was freshman year all over again.
Stiles nodded at his words, trying to process that Damian was most likely a werewolf. An Alpha at that, if the wolf was dead. It was a lot, and he knew he wasn’t reacting, but he knew the information probably hadn’t actually soaked in properly and he would have a freak out moment later; good, he mused. Less of a chance to blow his already weak chances with the hot vigilante werewolf.
Yep. Life was peachy.
Well, Damian was responding okay so far. Might as well just jump the gun.
“Hey, quick question. Do you believe in the supernatural?”