Chapter Text
Senior year. The end of their high school career. And the way Scott wants to start it, is with a tattoo. A tattoo . Now, don’t get him wrong. Stiles likes tattoos, he even thinks they can be attractive on certain people. But the tattoo he’s chosen is so… bland? It’s just there. It doesn’t even look cool.
The tattoo artist holds up the piece of paper Scott handed him and raises his eyebrows, “Boy, it’s a good thing you drew me a picture.” He says sarcastically, placing the paper with one thick band and one thin band underneath it on the table. “ID?” He asks, holding his hand out. Scott rummages in his pocket and takes out the fake ID he had Danny make for him. His birthday is in a couple months but he just needed to get his tattoo now. Stiles already turned 18 so was able to burn his fake ID in a very symbolic manner. The tattoo artist, who Stiles decides he’s going to call ‘Mark’ , pulls out a couple of forms that Scott starts filling out. Stiles wanders around the shop, looking at the different intricate tattoo designs on the walls. He picks up a catalog of premade tattoos and starts flipping through it. Scott settles down in the leather chair as Mark rummages around a cabinet getting his supplies ready.
“Hey Scott! Sure you don’t want something like this?” Stiles asks, turning towards him and holding up a drawing of a Kanima. Scott rolls his eyes and gives him a look. Stiles looks down at the drawing and back up at him, “Too soon? Yeah…” He puts the drawing back down and walks over to them, crossing his arms and looking somewhat worriedly at the tattoo gun.
“I don’t know man,” He starts, chewing on his bottom lip, “Are you sure about this? I mean, these things are pretty permanent, you know?”
Scott shakes his head, a confident grin appearing on his face, “I’m not changing my mind.”
Stiles sighs, shoulders sagging somewhat defeatedly, “Okay, but why two bands?”
Scott shrugs, “I just like it.”
“But don’t you think your first tattoo should have some sort of meaning? You know, or something?” Stiles tries, crossing his arms and walking closer as Mark lays out the stencil and takes Scott’s attention to ask if it’s in the correct spot.
“ Getting a tattoo means something.” Scott responds after he’s confirmed the location. Stiles squints at him and replies skeptically, “I don’t think that’s-”
He’s interrupted by Mark, “He's right. Tattooing goes back thousands of years. The Tahitian word tatau means "to leave a mark," like a rite of passage.”
Scott grins and gestures towards Mark, “Yeah, see? He gets it!”
Stiles scoffs, “He’s covered in tattoos, Scott. Literally .”
Scott just gives him another look and turns his attention back to Mark who’s looking at him expectantly, “Okay, you ready? You ain’t got any problems with needles, do ya?”
Scott shakes his head, “Nope!”
Stiles eyes the tattoo gun wearily as he takes a small step back, “I tend to get a little squeamish, though, so…”
And that’s the last thing he remembers before he passes out.
The air is cold. Stiles blinks his eyes open, looking around. His eyes process the interior of the tattoo parlor, the lights blinding him momentarily as he stares into one of them like the idiot he is. “Oh god,” he winces, squinting and looking around. Scott is staring down at him, he looks like he’s trying to hold in a laugh, “Dude, you okay?”
Stiles sits up a bit and nods, “Yeah, yeah. I’m just uh, gonna sit here until it’s over.” He says, taking the water bottle Mark hands him silently. Scott’s eyes are filled with laughter and Stiles pointedly looks away. He hears the tattoo gun start and stares determinedly down at his phone. It worries him slightly, that they’ve barely heard from Derek much over the summer. Well, it’s not like he owes it to them to keep in touch. But Stiles likes knowing things. He likes being in the loop. Especially with Boyd and Erica still missing. That’s not a loop he likes being out of.
“Done. How’d ya like it?” Mark asks, sitting back and putting the gun and needles away. Thank you, Mark.
Scott stands from the chair and walks over to the mirror and grins, “I love it! Thanks!” He hands Mark some cash and then Stiles is following Scott out to his Jeep. His arm is now wrapped in a thick bandage. Mark said he can take it off when he gets home, but it looks weird as hell.
Scott winces as he climbs into the passenger seat, “Oh man…”
Stiles peers over at him, eyeing the bandage wearily, “You okay?”
“Kinda burns.” He confesses, looking down at his arm, eyebrows furrowed.
Stiles scoffs, “Yeah, you just had your skin stabbed about one hundred thousand times with a needle…”
Scott hisses and shakes his head, “Yeah, but I don’t think it’s supposed to feel like this .” He stares at his arm like it’s a ticking time bomb about to go off, “Oh god…” Stiles mutters as Scott jumps in the seat, yelping.
“No, it’s definitely not supposed to feel like this! I gotta take this thing off!” He cries, tugging at the bandage much to Stiles’ horror.
“No, no, no, no, Scott! Oh, Scott, please stop!” Stiles shouts trying to scramble away from the bandage that’s smoking. It falls away and Stiles abruptly stops his pleading, “Woah, what?” He gasps, staring at the tattoo that’s disappearing before his eyes. Scott looks heartbroken, “No! What? No, come on!” He whines, sighing and deflating back into the seat, “It healed.” He states the obvious. Stiles has to bite his tongue from retorting with something snarky and says something that’s probably worse, “Oh thank god, I hated it.” He glances over at Scott, who’s glaring at him, and winces, “Sorry.”
“So… you and Allison still keeping in touch?” Stiles asks tentatively. It’s a sore subject. Scott is still head over heels in love and everyone else is… still pretty mad that she tried to kill them all. It’s pretty much just a shit show.
Scott shakes his head, “Nah, we agreed to give each other the summer. No texts, no calls.”
Stiles presses on the brakes as they come to a red light, “So, then how do you know she won’t be back at school, then?”
Scott takes a deep breath and looks down at his hands, “After everything that happened, I’m not sure she’s coming back at all …”
Stiles looks over at him, eyes widening and jaw slackening as he sees Lydia and Allison in the car next to them, “I think she is.” He nods, staring at Allison laughing in the passenger seat of Lydia’s car, “I’d say it’s pretty definite, you know… Like, one-hundred-percent…” Scott squints at him, before following his gaze. “Oh, my god! Oh-” He makes eye contact with Allison and flails in his seat, turning towards Stiles panickedly, “Can we just drive, please? Stiles?”
Stiles looks at him exasperatedly, “Scott, it’s a red light!”
“Stiles! Please!” Scott pleads, gesturing wildly.
Stiles opens his mouth to protest when Lydia presses the gas and runs the red light. Problem solved. Scott lets out a relieved sigh that turns into an outraged gasp, “What are you doing?!” He shouts. The lights turned green and Stiles is accelerating behind Lydia’s car. He glances at Scott confusedly, “I’m driving…?”
“We’re right behind them!” He protests.
“Okay, well, do you see any turns?”
“I don’t want it to look like we’re following them!”
Stiles rolls his eyes with his entire body, “Well, what do you want me to do?”
Scott throws his arms up in the air, “I don’t know! Anything?!”
Stiles slams his foot on the brakes, looking at Scott expectantly, “Happy?” Scott glares at him and opens his mouth to probably say something snarky when Lydia also slams on the brakes. They look at each other slowly before returning their gaze to the brake lights glowing red in the night sky. The serenity of the night is broken as a deer runs straight into Lydia’s car.
“Holy fuck!” Stiles shouts, the two of them scrambling out of the Jeep to get to them. Scott stumbles to a halt at Allison’s side, “Are you okay?” Allison is shaking and her face is pale. Stiles places his hand on Lydia’s shoulder, “Are you hurt?” He asks, searching her eyes for the answer. “It came out of nowhere!” She cries out.
“Are you okay?” Scott asks Allison again. She nods, stuttering out, “I’m okay.”
“Well, I’m not okay!” Lydia shrieks, “I am totally freaking out! How the hell does it just run into us?! I saw its eyes right before it hit us, and it was like it… it was like it was crazy .”
Stiles looks to Scott as he approaches the dead deer. He hesitantly puts his hand to the deer’s neck, “No, it was scared.” He says.
“What is he doing…?” Lydia whispers, watching on in confusion.
“Freaky werewolf powers.” Is all Stiles says. It’s become his answer to a lot of things lately.
“Actually… it was terrified.” Scott corrects, looking up at the three of them.
“Cool! So am I!” Lydia almost screams, throwing her hands in the air.
“Lydia, calm down. Look, I’ll call my dad and he’ll come pick us up, okay?” Allison says, walking over to her and putting her hand on her arm.
“Or… we could give you a lift?” Stiles asks hopefully, looking at Lydia.
“I don’t think…” Allison and Scott start to say before Lydia interrupts them, “I don’t want to spend another second out here. Allison, suck it up, come on.” Lydia grabs her hand and drags her towards Stiles’ Jeep, sitting in the passenger seat.
“You remember the night I got bit?” Scott asks, stopping Stiles from walking back to his car.
“What do you mean?”
“Like, the herd of deer in the forest that almost trampled me to death. Because of Peter.” He clarifies.
“You think there’s a new alpha?” Stiles asks, lowering his voice even though neither of the girls have super hearing. Scott shrugs, “You take them back to their houses, I’m gonna check out the woods. I’ll see you tomorrow for the first day of school, okay?” He’s running off into the dark forest before Stiles can protest. Stupid werewolves.
He returns to the Jeep, sighing. Allison is on the phone, presumably with her dad as she says, “No, Stiles is driving us home… Yeah it’s the road off of exit 4… Thanks Dad.”
“Where is Scott going?” Lydia asks, crossing her arms and tapping her high heeled feet impatiently. Stiles starts his Jeep, reversing until he’s turned them around, “Werewolf things.”
“How are you not freaking out about this?” She asks, watching the scenery pass by.
It’s a valid question. Stiles asks himself that question almost constantly. He shrugs, “I’m used to it.” He clears his throat after a couple minutes of awkward silence, “So, when’d you get back?”
“We don’t have to do small talk.” Allison says, effectively shutting Stiles down from asking anymore questions.
“Mmkay.” He mutters, returning to silence. Silence. It’s not something he’s very used to. His brain never shuts up and his mouth usually doesn’t either. Silence, silence, silence. This has got to be a world record. Look, he actually can be quiet, believe it or not. He just usually uses it to his advantage. Or when he’s being defiant. But this sucks. He drops off Allison first. She gives him an awkward wave and a muttered thank you. You know, they’re probably both remembering the fact he was beaten up by her grandpa. Which… Now that he’s thinking about it, does she know? Does Chris know? Well, his friends definitely don’t know because he hasn’t told them.
“Stiles?”
Stiles shakes his head and looks over at Lydia, “Hm?”
“Uh, are you going to drive ?” She asks, raising her eyebrows. Stiles looks back in front of him and realizes he’s still parked in front of Allison’s apartment building. “Oh, oh yeah.” He shifts the Jeep back into drive and heads for Lydia’s house. This could be it. He’s actually alone with Lydia right now. His Strawberry Blonde Princess. He’s gonna do it. He’s gonna do it. He can profess his love for her. 15 year plans are overrated anyways.
Lydia crosses her arms and looks towards him, “I can practically hear you thinking. I know you’ve been dying to ask me something. Just do it.”
Stiles glances at her, he drums his fingers against the steering wheel nervously, “Right. Right, yeah. Uh,” he clears his throat, glancing at her before he returns his eyes to the road, “Lydia, I’ve been in love with you since middle school. I… know everything with Jackson is still fresh, but… could I ask you to give me a chance?”
Well. There it is.
Not the huge romantic gesture he was hoping for, and not exactly the correct words he would have loved to have come out of his mouth, but it did the job. He waits with bated breath for Lydia’s response. Stiles hears her sigh heavily and feels his chest tighten.
“Stiles…” She starts, placing her hands on her lap, “I’m sorry. I can’t. I don’t want this to sound harsh, but you have got to get me out of your head. Okay? We aren’t going to happen. It’s best if you try your hardest to get over me. You’re in love with the idea of me, not who I actually am. I’m not the one for you. You’re not the one for me.”
Ouch. Stiles sucks in a breath. There was a fifty-fifty chance it wouldn’t work out but it still stings. Okay, fine. A 10 percent chance it’d work. He just nods and slows to a stop outside of her mansion house. Lydia hesitantly gets out, “I’m sorry.” She says before she’s walking up to her house.
Stiles stares at his steering wheel. It’s a constant. His Jeep is a constant. He takes a deep breath, eyes closing for a couple seconds before he starts his drive back to his house. It’s the first day of senior year tomorrow, after all.
Stiles has decided he’s going to ignore the crushing heartbreak. It seems like the healthiest way to deal with it at the moment. He’s sitting at his desk, typing on his computer when his dad stops by his bedroom door, “You know how many vehicle collisions last year involved deer? Two hundred and forty-seven thousand .”
His dad groans, “Oh, god, please go to school.”
Stiles ignores him, clearing the search engine as he refines his question, “But that’s crossing the road, this one last night came right down the middle.”
“I’m not gonna beg you.” He warns.
“Okay, good. I’m impervious to your influence anyway.”
“Would you consider a bribe?” The sheriff asks.
“You couldn’t meet my price.”
“Extortion?” He tries.
Stiles shrugs, almost laughing, “You got nothing on me.”
His dad sighs heavily and walks into his room, “Yeah…” he mutters as he’s grabbing the back of his desk chair and dragging him away from his computer. “Dad, what are you doing?” he asks, trying to scramble his way back forwards, “Dad! What are you doing?” He asks again, shouting in alarm as he falls flat on his face. Great.
Stiles no longer drives Scott to school because Scott is a cool kid now and has his own dirt bike he saved and bought. He also has a stupid gray denim jacket with an American flag patch. It’s almost as bad as the leather jackets. Speaking of , where the hell is Isaac?
Scott jogs up to him as they walk into school, “Hey! I was thinking about a way to get my tattoo to show up.”
Stiles raises his eyebrows, “Oh?” Because apparently they’re talking about this instead of catching up on if anything happened in the woods last night.
“I’m gonna ask Derek.” Scott says.
“You wanna ask Derek for help?! Why? Why? ” He cries out, exasperatedly. Derek. Stiles can’t even begin to verbalize the way he annoys the hell out of him. The asshole hasn’t ever thanked him for saving his life on a few occasions. He definitely didn’t after the whole Kanima and pool incident. Asshole.
“He’s got the triskele tattooed on his back, so, there has to be a way to do it without healing, right?” Scott asks as they’re walking through the halls and past a giant bulletin board. Stiles comes face to face with the missing posters for both Boyd and Erica. Sadness tugs at his heart and he looks back at Scott, “Okay, yeah, but still… doesn’t he have his hands a little full right now?” He motions at the posters and Scott frowns. They walk past the principal's office and peer in as they hear his voice, “Look, these are the applications for the career adviser. I need them sorted. And, whatever happened to the library while I was gone?! I want it cleared up! ”
Stiles grimaces and then drops his jaw as he pulls out the sword Gerard Argent had a habit of cutting werewolves in half with. “And what the hell is this?” He asks, incredulously.
“Go, go, go…” Stiles says awkwardly, the two of them hurrying towards their first class.
Stiles slides into the seat he’s claimed as his in their English class. Scott’s sitting next to him, grabbing a notebook from his backpack. Lydia walks past him and to the empty seat next to him. Stiles feels his heart tighten but pushes it down, giving her a friendly smile before his attention is taken by Allison hesitantly standing in front of the desk sitting ahead of Scott. She’s looking at it awkwardly and hesitates as she begins to ask, “Is someone…?”
Scott hurriedly shakes his head, stammering nervously, “No! No, no, no, no. No, it’s all you- all yours. Uh… it’s totally vacant.” He gives her a smile and Stiles has to resist the urge to punch his best friend in the face. Instead he gives him a sarcastic smile and thumbs up. He looks down as his phone buzzes, the rest of the class seemingly doing the same thing. It’s not a number he recognizes and he glances at Scott, who seems to have gotten the same message.
“The offing was barred by a blank bank of clouds and the tranquil waterway, leading to the uttermost ends of the earth, flowed somber under an overcast sky, seemed to lead into the heart of an immense darkness.” A voice reads aloud. Stiles looks up and sees their new English teacher walking in and leaning against the desk. Holy run on sentences Batman, he thinks, looking down at the text, eyebrows raised.
“This is the last line to the first book we are going to read. It is also the last text you will receive in this class. Phones off, everyone.” She says, turning to the chalkboard. Stiles shakes his head and raises his hand. She looks at him, after writing her name on the board. Ms. Blake. “Yes, Mr. Stilinski?” She asks, a sigh begging to come out of her.
“It seems unsafe to have us completely turn off our phones, you know? What if there’s an emergency?” He asks.
Ms. Blake lets the sigh out, “I’m sure that if there’s an emergency, whoever is trying to reach you can call the school.”
“Okay, but, what if they don’t have the number for the school? And they don’t have internet to look up the phone number? It just seems like it’s begging for something bad to happen.” Stiles offers, ignoring the way all of his classmates are probably glaring at him. Ms. Blake closes her eyes momentarily, a habit a lot of Stiles’ teachers seem to have, “I would be happy to discuss this more with you, Mr. Stilinski, during detention. Would you like that?”
Stiles slowly closes his mouth and shakes his head, “No, no, that’s fine. All my questions have been answered.”
Ms. Blake smiles and turns to the rest of the class, “Great. Now, I’m Ms. Blake. Welcome to twelfth grade English class. Please open your textbooks to-” She’s cut off by her desk phone ringing. Stiles has to bite back a laugh as she clenches her fists and holds up a finger to the class. She goes to the phone and answers it, nodding a couple times before her eyes flick up to Scott’s. She talks in a hushed tone to whoever is on the other end and then hangs up. She takes a deep breath, “Mr. McCall, that was the office. Your mother needs you to meet her at the hospital. She was trying to get a hold of you.”
Stiles covers his mouth with his hand, biting his bottom lip before a snort can come out of him. Scott glances at him worriedly and packs up his bag, leaving the classroom. Ms. Blake follows him out and is gone for a minute before she’s back in the classroom, pointedly not looking at Stiles. Ms. Blake hands out their first assignment and goes to sit at her desk, silently doing paperwork. Which is crazy, what kind of paperwork does she have to do on the first day of classes?
It’s been about half an hour of silently writing and Stiles is thoroughly bored. He glances at Lydia, eyebrows furrowing as he notices the bandage on her ankle, “Hey, Lydia,” He whispers, “What is that? Is that from the accident?” He asks, motioning with his chin to her ankle.
Lydia fiddles with her pen, sheepishly replying, “No… Prada bit me.”
“Your dog?”
Lydia turns to him, eyebrows furrowed, “No, my designer handbag.” Stiles sighs, staring at her. Lydia rolls her eyes and says, drolly, “Yes, my dog.”
“Has it ever bitten you before?” He asks.
She hesitates, pressing her lips together as she shakes her head subtly. Stiles glances up to make sure Ms. Blake is still preoccupied, “Okay, what if it’s, like, the same thing as the deer? You know, like, how animals start acting weird right before an earthquake or something?”
Lydia rolls her eyes and looks at him, “Meaning what? There’s gonna be an earthquake?”
“Or something .” He responds exasperatedly, “I just… maybe it means something’s coming. Something bad.”
“It was a deer and a dog.” She hisses at him, going back to her schoolwork.
Stiles opens his mouth to respond when a loud thunk at the window captures his and his classmates’s attention. Ms. Blake stands up from her seat. They’re all staring at the blood stain on the cracked window. Stiles jumps as another bird hits the window, breaking its neck and falling.
“What’s that thing you say about threes? Once… twice…” Lydia says slowly as they see what has to be every crow in Beacon Hills heading straight for their classroom. “Get down, everyone! Get down! Down! Get Down!” Ms. Blake shouts as the birds come crashing through the room. Stiles winces as a piece of glass cuts his forehead. He drops under his desk, reaching out for Lydia as she takes cover under her own desk. It’s like their very own version of Alfred Hitchcock’s The Birds but in real life. There’s screaming and sounds of birds flying around and killing themselves on every possible object in the room.
It feels like forever until the room goes silent. Allison and Lydia are hugging underneath Allison’s desk. Stiles’ dad is busting into the classroom ten minutes later. He’s followed by a couple other parents and his deputies. “Stiles.” Is the only greeting he gets before his dad is pulling him into a tight hug.
“Dad, don’t worry, I’m okay.” He says, although it’s muffled from where his mouth is pressed into his dad’s shoulder. The sheriff pulls back and looks him over, gingerly touching the small wound on his forehead. Stiles makes the mistake of wincing slightly as he’s now being cared for by one of the deputies with a first aid kit while his dad starts taking statements, looking over at him every couple of seconds. He squints at the deputy currently patching him up. He looks strikingly similar to Derek. All light eyes, dark scruffy beard and sharp features. He pointedly ignores the way his stomach flips.
Once Deputy Hottie is done, Stiles starts to text Scott. It’s no real surprise when he doesn’t get an answer. He looks up and notices Ms. Blake standing shakily by her desk. Stiles steps towards her, “Ms. Blake? You okay?” He asks softly, noticing a black feather stuck in her hair. He reaches out, apologizing as she flinches, “Uh, sorry… just that… there.” He says, plucking the feather out and showing it to her. She gives him a weak smile and turns away from him, chewing at her thumbnail.
Stiles starts trying to call Scott as the bell rings. The principal hasn’t said anything yet, but apparently school is continuing on. The American Education system truly is something. Scott picks up and Stiles is immediately talking, “We’ve got a serious problem at school. Ms. Blake’s class-”
“Hey, can you tell me about it later?” He interrupts.
“Well, no, pretty sure this qualifies for immediate discussion.” Stiles counters, grabbing his backpack and heading into the busy hallways.
Scott sighs, “Okay. Then, meet me at Derek’s.”
Stiles splutters, “Derek’s house? What the hell are you doing at-”
“Just meet us here, okay?” He interrupts again before he hangs up. Stiles grinds his teeth together, mentally cursing Scott as he hurries to his Jeep, screeching out of the school parking lot. He’s still cursing Scott in his mind as he pulls up to Derek’s house. It still looks like shit. The Camaro has been replaced with a more practical SUV. At least he’s got some sort of sense. He bounds up the stairs and into the house, eyes landing on Isaac, unconscious in a hospital gown. “Wha…?” He starts, turning to look at Scott whose appeared from another room, “I’ll explain later,” Scott says, shaking his head, “Now what happened in Ms. Blake’s class?”
“Right, well about every single fucking bird in Beacon Hills came flying straight into the high school. There was a literal bird massacre in the classroom. Glass everywhere.” Stiles explains, following him towards the room he can see Derek standing in.
Scott furrows his brows and sits down in an old chair across from where Derek’s sitting on a charred coffee table. “So, what are we doing?” Stiles asks, looking between Derek and Scott.
“Derek’s gonna help me get my tattoo to show up.” He replies, taking his overshirt off so he’s sitting there in a gray tank top. Stiles fights the urge to roll his eyes and just remains silent. He watches as Derek gently takes Scott’s arm, eyes flicking red as he inspects the portion of his arm that held the tattoo for all of five minutes.
“Yeah, I see it. It’s two bands, right?” Derek asks, sitting back and looking up at Scott’s face, “What does it mean?”
Scott shrugs. He reaches out to the dusty table, tracing a thin ring and a thicker ring outside of it, “I don’t know… it’s just something I trace with my fingers.”
“Why is this so important to you?” Derek asks.
“Do you know what the word ‘tattoo’ means?”
“To mark something.” Stiles supplies, winking at Derek knowingly.
“Well, that’s in Tahitian. In Samoan, it means ‘open wound’. I knew I wanted to get a tattoo when I turned eighteen. I always wanted one. I just decided to get it now, it makes it kind of a reward.” Scott explains, wiping the dust off his fingers. Derek, to his credit, is being weirdly empathetic and… kind.
“For what?” He asks, looking like he’s actually listening.
Scott takes a deep breath before he’s replying, “For not calling or texting Allison all summer. Even when I really wanted to, even when it was so hard not to sometimes… I was trying to give her the space she wants. Going on four months later… It still hurts. It still feels like a, uh…” He trails off, looking down at his hand.
“Like an open wound.” Stiles says. As much as he thinks the whole Allison debacle is stupid and he should just get over her and come to terms with the fact she tried to kill them all, he understands that it still hurts. And he wants to be there for him, even if he doesn’t understand it. Scott looks up at him and nods.
Derek sighs and takes something from under the coffee table, “The pain’s gonna be worse than anything you’ve ever felt.”
Stiles nods, seems about right. “Oh, that’s great.” He says looking towards Scott.
“Do it.” Scott nods.
Derek smiles and, first off, that’s new . Sure he’s seen Derek smile a couple times, but it’s still new everytime he sees it. It makes him feel weird. Second off, the thing he’s holding turns out to be a fucking blowtorch , “Oh, wow . That’s a- that’s a lot for me.” Stiles stutters, beginning to take a couple steps away, “So, I’m gonna take that as my cue, I’m just gonna wait outside-” He’s cut off by Derek stopping him with a palm to his chest, resting for a couple seconds before he’s pushing him back, “Nope. You can help hold him down.”
Stiles attributes the way his stomach does a weird gymnastics routine to being because he’s about to see Derek blowtorch Scott’s arm. He gags and whimpers, “Oh my god…” He walks behind Scott, placing his hands on his shoulders. But, really, what the hell is Stiles going to do if Scott decides he wants to jump up out of the chair?! Derek looks up into Stiles’ eyes once more before he’s grabbing Derek’s arm and starts to blowtorch it. Scott starts wincing and writhing, “Hold him!” Derek commands, glaring up at Stiles. Stiles glares back at him but puts more pressure on Scott’s shoulders, shoving him down as best as he can. Scott’s screaming and he’s shifting. It goes on for a couple more minutes until he’s passed out, body covered in sweat. Derek finishes blowtorching the tattoo and sits back, putting it away.
“Do I even wanna know where you got a blowtorch?” Stiles asks, peering at the tattoo that’s very visible on his arm. He wrinkles his nose at the way his skin is healing the burn blisters around the bands. Derek raises his eyebrows at him. Stiles rolls his eyes and leans against what he thinks was a counter of somesort. Scott jerks awake, slowly looking down at his arm. He looks delighted as he stares up at Derek in awe, “It worked!”
Stiles sighs, “Well, it looks pretty damn permanent now.”
“Yeah… I kind of needed something permanent. Everything that’s happening to us… everything just changes so fast. Everything’s so, uh… ephemeral.” Scott says, grabbing his jacket as he stands. Stiles looks at him weirdly, “Studying for the SATs?”
“Yep.”
“Nice!”
They’re walking to the front door as Derek walks towards Isaac. Stiles still wants to know what happened there. Scott opens the front door, pausing as he’s looking at it, “You painted the door.” He says, slowly looking back at Derek, “Why’d you paint the door?”
“Go home, Scott.” Derek warns, arms crossing.
“And why only one side?” Scott pushes. He flicks his claws out and begins scratching at the door. It’s quite rude, honestly. “Scott…” Derek protests, walking up to them.
Stiles stares at the symbol Scott uncovered. Scott looks back at Derek, “The birds at the school, and the deer last night… Just like the night I got trampled by the deer when I got bit by the alpha.”
Derek sighs and Stiles knows Scott’s onto something. “How many are there?” Scott asks.
Derek sighs again, “A pack of ‘em. An alpha pack.”
A what?
“ All of them? How does that even work?” Stiles asks, incredulously. Derek seems to weigh the pros and cons of continuing this conversation and sighs, defeated, “I hear there’s some kind of a leader… He’s called Deucalion. We know they have Boyd and Erica. Peter, Isaac and I have been looking for them for the last four months.” So that somewhat explains why Isaac is in a hospital gown.
“Let’s say you find them, how do you deal with an alpha pack?” Scott asks, turning to face him fully. Derek frowns and rubs a hand down his face, suddenly looking much too tired for his measly 23 years of age. “With all the help I can get.” He confesses.
They’re interrupted by Isaac, groggily asking from the table, “Where is she? Where’s the girl?”
Derek, Scott and Stiles look between themselves and then back at Isaac confusedly before Derek asks, “What girl?”