Work Text:
University was different, or rather this university was different, well, certainly different from college. But then again Beacon County college wasn’t exactly a guiding light, for all it tried to be.
After all, Beacon Hills was damn near a Hellmouth.
This was different though, as far as he knew there were two packs at GWU, one whose territory the university stood in and a temporary one for students who needed it. The temporary pack was adjacent to the permanent one run by a couple of what he assumed were junior or secondary alphas though he couldn’t be totally sure. And the people who might be able to provide explanations didn’t seem to be talking to him.
Again.
Though what surprised him the most was it seemed that there were two other packs within the territory and university as well. From what he could work out there was a pack made up of cat and fox shifters of some kind, and a pack of he didn’t have a clue.
All in all, it was a really odd community, especially when you mixed in all the humans who weren’t in the know. Like he was, supposedly.
Or that that was the idea that Scott and Derek had cooked up when he’d said he wanted to study criminology and criminal law. An idea that had been a punch to the gut, one that had him almost doubling over in pain, pain that was totally unexpected as if something had been ripped from him.
Not that either Derek or Scott appeared to have noticed.
Of all people Peter had been the person to help him get things together so that he could move, he’d offered him a small apartment off campus which allowed him the space he needed at times. Time to breathe and just listen to silence, for all he loved GWU it seemed to overwhelm his senses at times which was something he really didn’t understand. Though it seemed Peter might, but not that he was really telling him anything.
Which was really useful. But it was better than nothing.
He’d found night classes to be the most fun, not that he didn’t enjoy the ones during the day, but occasionally, they could put him on edge. And it had been come a habit to expect to have to cope with that, which kind of left him dealing with low-level panic at times.
Night classes were quieter and more interesting, covering topics that if you looked sideways could be supernaturally based or at least bordering on. In these classes his leg going was more to do with his enjoyment than with him being twitchy and wanting to look over his shoulder every five minutes.
In away, they were peaceful. The kind of peaceful that came with feeling as though you truly understood what was being taught rather than having facts crammed into your brain so that you could pass an exam.
He had known that it was par for the course, to sort the wheat from the chaff, to find those who really wanted to be here rather than those who were more interested in having GWU on their resume. And he knew it would become if not easier a lot less about cramming and more about understanding after a few semesters, something that had been explained to him by his Dad, Peter, and several of his Dad’s friends. But this semester was really making his brain hurt.
“Mr Stilinski?”
Looking up at his professor, for this evening's class from the notes he’d been taking before his mind had drifted he would have sworn he saw a blink, and you’d miss it sliver of purple around Professor Valet eyes, which was more than a little worrying.
“Sorry…” He kind of wished a hole in the ground would open up and swallow him before he very firmly pushed that thought away, he knew better than that. A wish at the wrong place or time could cause havoc and raise hell. Even for a human in the right circumstances.
“The differences between felonies and misdemeanours and where the cross-over is. So Mr Stilinski, if you would?”
And there was that sinking feeling the one that came right before a fight, the hairs on the back of his neck rising as he ducked and rolled grabbing the two people either side of him by instinct. He was just quick enough to avoid the arrow that he felt splitting the air as it passed over him, splintering the wood of the desk in front of his. He was unhurt as were the two students who he’d hauled down with him.
Screams, growls, and hissing surrounded him as he wished, as he often had at home, that people were safe. He felt a change in the air that always came with that wish, the smell of ozone that you could taste on the back of your throat. That quiet second as time seemed to stand still before all hell broke loose.
In this case, in the form of, he assumed, campus security. He thought he recognised the voice of whoever had been firing at them, impossible as it seemed, as they were dragged from the room yelling about beasts and how they had to be put down.
The sound of Peter’s ringtone caught his attention as he felt warmth blooming in his chest filling the gaping hole he’d more or less forgotten about.
“Mr Stilinski…” He could hear his Professor in the distance calling his name as he slid further into the tiredness that always came from being around a battle. This time letting go as he knew that someone else would clean up the mess.
It wasn’t as though he wouldn’t wake up, after all Peter was holding him close. And there were interesting classes to get back too. But for now, he was just going to let himself sleep.
*~*
“Hey Kiddo, you back with us?”
His eyes blinked open at his Dad’s voice, he didn’t have a clue how he’d got to Washington so quick, teleporter maybe?
As his eyes adjusted his hand rubbed across his chest patting the light wrapped around it as it slipped away back into the hole that wasn’t there any more. Feeling like Peter’s hand brushing across his scalp, thankful that he was safe.
“How you get here?” It really didn’t help that it seemed as though he couldn’t control his tongue, the words not sounding right to his ears. His Dad had more than enough practice with ‘Stiles Speak’ to be able to understand him, though.
“Why didn’t you tell us that Stiles was a Spark, Mr Stilinski?”
The annoyance in his professors voice had him growling, or it would have if his voice would cooperate.
“I didn’t know.” His Dad’s words were all wrapped up in that wry smile that said it wasn’t the first time and probably wouldn’t be the last that Stiles had done something unexpected.
“His pack should have known.”
“No pack.” His words still slurred across his tongue, feeling unpleasantly slippery.
Though, for some reason they brought complete silence to whatever room he was in. The kind of silence that came just before an explosion.
“I’m going to kill somebody.”
He would have laughed at his Professor’s words if he’d been able, but sleep was drawing him back again, and he was happy to let it.
He’d sort it out later or someone else would for once.