Chapter Text
At the end of July, Stiles got a surprise invitation to Poland. His dad didn’t really explain as to why the grandmother he hardly recalls suddenly wants to see him, he just said, “The last time she saw you, you were four years old. She says she would like a visit now that you’re eighteen; basically guilt-tripped me into letting you stay there for a month.”
His grandmother is much more awesome than his dad let on. He wishes he had known this important fact before; he would have visited her a lot sooner. Because this, the reason she called him here? Is freaking amazing.
“Now, relax, breathe and say it with conviction,” she instructs, her English colored with a heavy accent.
Stiles does as he’s told; he relaxes his shoulders, breathes deeply in and out before saying, “Burn.” And under his intense stare, the candle is lit. With magic.
“Oh my god, this is fucking awesome!” He laughs, overjoyed. Because after years of being the sidekick, he finally has a superpower, he’s no longer the lonely member of Team Human who has no helpful skills whatsoever. He’s not just a spark anymore, either. He’s more like a blaze.
His celebration is interrupted by a slap against the back of his head.
“Language, young man! That’s it for today. Now come help me in the kitchen - if you don’t help with the process, you don’t get to eat the results.” His 76-year-old grandmother wobbles a little as she stands up from the armchair and Stiles rushes to help her. And gets swatted at in return.
“When I want help, you’ll know.”
He smiles at her back as she waddles away, totally in awe at how adorable she is. And how violent, for her age.
“So, when are you gonna teach me more stuff? Like, can I read minds? Or, throw fireballs? Can I fly? Don’t tell me I need a broom for that. Are adamantium claws totally off the table or perhaps I could use an illusion to make other people think I have adamantium claws? Or, can I order people around like I did to that candle?” Suddenly a wooden spoon is inches from his nose.
“You don’t use magic on people like that, not unless you’re in danger and there’s no other choice. Got it?”
He nods in a rapid motion, sucking in his lips nervously. The spoon is lowered.
“You can do what your magic allows you to do, no more, no less. Now start dicing those carrots.”
“Yes, mam,” he salutes and receives a snort in reply. As he helps her around the kitchen though, he tries one more time, “You are going to teach me more stuff, right?”
“We’ll see. Now that you’re eighteen, you’ve received your full powers. But that could mean anything from swatting a fly to moving buildings. I don’t know how strong your magic is yet, but we have time to experiment.” She then holds up the spoon again, this time containing a bit of sauce, “Taste that.”
“Mm, yummy.”
He can’t wait to get back home and show Scott what he’s capable of.
-
A month later.
Saturday
“What the hell is that on your face?” Scott asks, mouth hanging open and the one half of the sign he’s holding drooping a little, as his arms sag. Allison slowly lowers her half of the sign that says ‘WELCOME BACK, STILES!’ (Stiles is unimpressed with the hearts and balloons decorating it), face pretty much mirroring Scott’s expression. Boyd looks like he’s frowning at him in his usual ‘you’re acting like a total idiot’ way and the corners of Erica’s mouth are slowly rising into a wicked smile (no, but really, when is erica’s mouth not forming a wicked smile, when?).
Stiles stops in front of them, shouldering his bag higher and grins, gesturing at his face excitedly, “Do you like it?”
“You look like a wannabe pornstar from the 70s,” Boyd remarks coolly before rolling his eyes and turning away from them and this conversation, apparently.
“Oh, c’mon,” Stiles says, head jerking back and forth, “I look like a man,” he accompanies this statement with a puffed up chest and his best serious eyebrows. He deflates almost immediately, pointing at the place where Boyd was just standing, “Wait. How does he know what pornstars looked like in the 70s?”
Erica snickers, coming closer to rest her chin on his shoulders as she peers at the thick moustache, “You are so ridiculous, how did you manage this? And your hair,” Her eyes go up and her hand reaches out. Stiles’ eyes close and he hums as she basically pets him, dragging her fingers through his hair. “How did it grow so fast?”
“And dude, you’ve always had trouble growing out anything. How did you-” And now Scott has dropped the sign and is sliding his hand through Stiles’ hair as well.
“Okay guys, this is kind of weird, now.”
Allison is rolling up the sign like she’s in a mad rush and then suddenly she’s there as well, hand in Stiles’ hair and he’s seriously nonplussed right now.
“Guys.” Erica’s hand gets a little too rough, causing his head to loll suddenly to his right and he snaps, stepping back and waving his hand in front of him in his best imitation of martial arts. “Stay back, you heathens! This is not a petting zoo!”
Scott laughs and he relaxes his defensive position.
“But seriously, man. How did you do it?”
Stiles pouts, “Does it really look that bad? The moustache?”
Erica just laughs in his face while Scott and Allison do the ‘sorry-bro’ shrug. Yes, Allison has caught that from Scott now that they all hang out so much together. It always looks freaky cause they do it in unison.
He sighs, pulling his lips back over his teeth in dismay before reaching up and concentrating. He feels a slight thrill run through him, a sign of his magic working and then pulls the moustache off.
He laughs, waving it in front of their faces, “See? As if I could grow a moustache like that in a month, c’mon, you guys. You’re so gullible.”
Scott practically squeals with laughter as he takes the moustache and wiggles it and then he looks up at Stiles, at Stiles’ hair and goes, “Oh, I get it.”
And before he can protest, Scott’s hand is in his hair again and he’s tugging. He’s tugging hard.
“Ohmyfuckinggod, Scott! What the hell are you doing!?” He shouts as Scott steps back, shocked.
“I thought it was a wig, man!”
“Well, it’s not!”
“I get that now!”
“Jesus, that hurt!”
“I’m sorry?”
“Boys.” Allison calmly steps in between to mediate. “Stiles, Scott is sorry and he had really good reason to believe that your hair is a wig.”
He makes a face, “A good reason?”
Erica shoves him gently, “Hair doesn’t usually grow that fast, right? I mean you went away with a freshly shaved buzzcut. And you come back with a full-head of thick pretty hair? What’s up with that?”
Stiles slides up to her and throws an arm around her shoulders smoothly, “You think my hair is pretty?” He flutters his eyelashes because he happens to know that she loves his eyes. She once accidentally told him this when they were all playing ‘I Have Never’ with a stolen stash of special wolfsbane meant to help werewolves get drunk. Oh, what a night. Lydia made out with Allison and then forced Jackson to make out with Scott and Stiles will never ever forget the look on the guy’s face; unlike Scott, Jackson totally enjoyed it. He only wishes Derek had joined them, then maybe Stiles could have sneaked in a kiss or a grope or two and gotten away with it. Because nobody speaks about that night. Ever.
His reminiscing is interrupted by Erica stepping aside just as smoothly and causing him to flap his arms for balance.
“You’re pretty but not that pretty,” and she snarls, eyes flashing.
Stiles holds up his hands in a silent apology and she walks away, a smug look on her face.
Allison and Scott now both take him by each hand and drag him out of the airport.
“But really, how did it grow so fast?” Allison asks and this is the moment where Stiles should start gushing about magic and all the wonderful and devious things he can do with it. But he won’t.
Because during his plane ride, he started to think. He has let people get away with a lot of shit in his life, especially his friends. Shit they haven’t but really should apologize for.
So he’s not going to tell them how awesome he is just yet. He’s gonna play with them for a little bit. And already he has an idea of what to do to each individual.
-
Monday - Scott
On Saturday Stiles did the preparation by enchanting a very expensive brand of aftershave to have a special effect on werewolves. Scott, if everything goes according to the plan, won’t be able to tell there’s anything wrong or suspicious about it.
On Sunday he presented it to his best friend with a flourish, smiling gleefully when the other took a sniff and exclaimed that it was great, I’m gonna wear it tomorrow to see what Allison thinks!
Oh, this is going to be priceless. Stiles wishes he could suddenly whip out a camera and film the whole thing but sadly that would reveal him to be the mastermind behind this prank.
He just hopes he’ll be able to keep his laughter in check.
-
Stiles has to bite down on his lower lip to stop himself from grinning when before first period, Isaac walks into the classroom and sways, as if colliding with an invisible force. His face goes slightly slack with awe and his mouth falls open, eyes drooping as he walks up to where Scott’s sitting and basically sticks his whole face into the spot where Scott’s neck and shoulder meet. Scott shouts in surprise and shoots up from his seat, laughing awkwardly.
The rest of their classmates stop their chattering and turn to stare at the two. Just to make it even more awkward. Stiles fists his hands, forces a surprised expression and shares a bewildered glance with his best friend.
“Hey, Isaac, what’s going on?” Scott asks nervously as Isaac’s staring at him, shuffling his feet, trying to get closer. When he bumps into the table between them he blinks and looks down. And then takes in his surroundings. His face hardens and he backs away, hand coming up to block his nose.
“Uh, I don’t know. I smelled something odd. I’ll just-” And he hurries to his own seat, a few desks before Scott.
Stiles feels a little bad at how Isaac’s probably confused as hell right now.
But then he remembers how many times Scott ditched him during the summer to hang out with the werewolves, with Isaac specifically and goes Naw, he deserves it.
They all do.
As Stiles sits in the last row, neither of the werewolves can see the smile on his face. Which is just as well; it looks almost diabolical.
-
Lunch break is the first time they see Erica and Boyd that day. Stiles is a little bit miffed that Jackson and Lydia apparently decided to spend a week in Spain and that their flight got delayed. While the rest of them are at school, already dreading their senior year, the two love-birds are at home, jet-lagged and exhausted. But no worries, he’ll get them tomorrow. For now, Scott is the main act.
And Erica exceeds Stiles’ expectations.
He and Scott have barely sat down when suddenly Scott’s head snaps up and before he can react to whatever he just heard, his face is smashed against the table, a whole lot of female werewolf clinging onto his back. Erica is rubbing her cheeks against every inch of bare skin she can find, long legs wrapping themselves around Scott’s waist and this is starting to look very sexual. When Stiles sees Allison heading their way, a pinched look on her face as she takes in the scene, Stiles quickly does some damage-control.
“Hey, Erica, what the hell are you doing?” He asks in a nice sing-song tone, at the same time tugging on the sleeve of her leather jacket. She seems to come to her senses a little, struggling to remove herself from Scott’s personal bubble.
“I- Woah-” She gasps as she has to grab Scott’s shoulders and hold herself away. Scott’s sitting back up now and is looking around, a panicky expression on his face.
“Stiles,” Scott whines when Erica suddenly has claws and those claws are digging into Scott’s flesh. Stiles really hadn’t thought this would happen. He springs up and takes Erica by the waist, easing her away from the bench and turning them only to come face-to-face with Boyd.
“I smell raspberries,” Boyd says, eyes flashing golden.
Really, Boyd? Raspberries? That’s the most enticing smell in the world to you? What even... Stiles doesn’t say any of this out loud, though. He gets an idea and basically dumps the slack-jawed Erica into Boyd’s arms and pushes them both towards the exit.
“How about you find out where Isaac’s hiding, take him with you and go to Derek’s? Me and Scott will follow and we’ll figure this out.”
Erica’s nodding slowly, eyes still stuck on Scott before she takes a deep breath and walks away. Boyd looks between her and the werewolf smelling of raspberries, jesus, he will never get over that, conflicted. Stiles shoves him a little and his eyes flash back to normal. He nods to Stiles and follows Erica out of the cafeteria.
Stiles turns around to deal with his best friend’s panic and to reveal him his plan.
In reality, he just wants to see Derek reacting to Scott like the puppy that he really is down inside and maybe dig up what smell the Alpha finds irresistible. Yes, that would be some excellent trivia that Stiles would make a note of and possibly try to use in his favor.
-
“What do you think this is about?” Allison asks, hand on Scott’s shoulder for comfort as Stiles steers them through the forest. They usually meet up at Derek’s new loft, but the Alpha had called Scott after getting Boyd’s message, saying it would be better to get to their training area aka the old Hale property. Stiles agrees with that notion for one reason - less chance of breaking something when they all have their puppy pile.
Derek had made a noise of disgust when Stiles had first asked about the activities a pack takes part of, if piling on top of each other for physical comfort was a thing. Apparently, “We’re still humans, Stiles,” Derek took offense. Now, Stiles can’t wait to see them all out of their comfort zones. That’s what you get for stealing my best friend away from me; during the summer, of all seasons.
He’s vindictive. He’s not even trying to hide it.
Stiles starts humming I’m So Excited and receives Scott’s stink-eye.
“Dude, what the hell is there to be excited about!?”
“I’m not excited about this, I just have the song stuck in my head! You know how my brain works,” He glances away from the road to return the stink-eye. “And Allison, I don’t know, like I’ve said five times now. Just because I research and because I’m apparently the one Deaton thrusts his never-ending and yet so often unhelpful knowledge on, doesn’t mean I’m always the one with the answers!”
He’s doing a pretty good job at lying here; Stiles gives himself a mental pat on the back.
“Sorry, Stiles. It’s just, you usually do have the answers.”
He tilts his head in agreement, “Not gonna argue with that, just. There’s always gonna be exceptions to the rule, right?” He shoots her an easy grin, using the rear-view mirror. Allison laughs at him and Scott seems a little more at ease now, as well.
“Look, whatever it is, it’s obviously not life-threatening, right? And we’ll figure it out and fix it, so stop getting so worked up about it.”
Scott shrugs his shoulders and relaxes further, “Yeah, I know. It just... weirded me out, okay? Not to mention, Erica looked like she wanted to eat me, and I’m so glad Boyd managed to hold himself back, because imagine that much body mass landing on me, I could have broken something!”
“And you would have healed in like seconds, now shut up, we’re here.”
They get out of the car and Scott comes around the front to join him at the driver’s side. Before he gets there, he’s tackled and two very heavy werewolves fly against the side of Stiles’ car before rolling onto the ground.
His first reaction is, “My Jeep, are you fucking kidding me!? How many times do we have to go over this, nobody fucking dents my Jeep!” And then he takes in Jackson covering Scott’s body with his, trying to nuzzle down at him while Scott’s hands are tightly wrapped around the other’s arms, doing his best to hold the guy back.
Allison’s just as surprised, “What’s Jackson doing here?”
“I called him here because Boyd said it was an emergency,” Derek says, jumping down from the front porch. “I wasn’t told the details, but I can guess now.”
Stiles’ eyes quickly take in the thighs, abs, chest, arms, biceps, collarbones, neck- just, everything because a certain Alpha is still allergic to shirts. His eyes zero in on Derek’s tense face. He looks strained, brow furrowed, eyes gleaming red and mouth pinched. So, obviously, the enchanted aftershave is working on him, except he’s managing to keep himself from joining Jackson to nuzzle at Scott.
Great, he’s disappointed now. But then he looks back at Jackson, who’s rubbing himself against Scott. His friend’s voice has gone many octaves higher (“Guys, guys, please, someone, I can’t, Derek, dude,”). Derek looks like he wants to help, but as he takes a step closer, his entire body clenches. Stiles sees those muscles move and feels his mouth fill with drool. He swallows audibly and looks away just as he sees Derek’s head move to look at him. He decides to help a brother out.
“Okay, Jackson, you’ve had your fun now,” He puts a friendly hand on Jackson’s shoulder, fingers grabbing at the jacket, ready to help Scott shove this guy off when a clawed hand comes out and hits him in the chest. Hits him hard enough to cause him to fly back and fall on his ass.
“Motherfucker,” He gasps out, winded.
Suddenly, Derek’s there, grabbing Jackson by his collar and throwing him towards the house, “Go run with the others!” When Jackson gets up and makes a move as if to return to Scott, Derek roars and Jackson slips a few times as he starts running as fast as he can.
Stiles may or may not whimper pathetically, because that shit should not be as hot as it is. It maybe would have been less hot if Derek hadn’t been half-naked. Because Stiles keeps seeing the other’s muscles flex and seriously, every time he sees something of Derek’s twitch, his dick does the same.
Considering how his eyes are glued to Derek, it’s weird how he’s surprised by the sudden proximity. A hand is reached out to him and he gratefully takes it, groaning as he gets up and moves his back tenderly.
“Aw, man. That’s gonna bruise.”
“You okay?”
He glares at Derek, “Did I not just say that it’s gonna bruise?”
Derek glares in return, letting go of his hand with a harsh motion, “I’m sorry I asked.” He turns away, going to Scott, his neck occasionally twitching, jerking his head around in a familiar way, which Stiles recognises as Derek trying to keep himself from wolfing out.
“The others are running to clear their heads. You’re gonna go for a swim in the creek.”
“What?” Scott gapes, leaning back on his hands and glancing at Allison in a ‘help me’ way. “The water’s kinda cold there, dude.”
“I don’t care, whatever it is that makes you smell like that? It’s on your skin. You need to wash it off. And you need to do it here, so we can test if it’s still working afterwards. Now, go.”
“... Stiles!?”
He shrugs, realising his fun is over, “He’s right, man.”
“Ugh,” Scott groans. Allison holds out her hands to him and gets a bright grin in return.
“Come on, I’ll swim with you.”
“Yeah, skinny-dipping!” Stiles fist bumps into thin air and tries to follow the couple but Derek grabs him by the arms and leads him back to his Jeep. Scott and Allison don’t even look back, the traitors. “Hey, dude, what-”
“Go home, Stiles.”
“What!? No. Not okay.” He squirms and wiggles until he finds himself between a car and a hard chest, kind of awkward in a very sexy way, except for the glare in Derek’s eyes. He knows that glare, that ain’t the ‘I’m annoyed but still secretly amused’ glare or the ‘You’re unbelievable, but I secretly like it’ glare. No, that is the ‘Will you just go home, I don’t want you here anymore’ glare. Stiles knows because he’s been getting that a lot this summer. He almost forgot while he hung out with his grandma, how much it hurts to see that look on Derek’s face.
So he lashes out. He literally punches the werewolf’s chest. And then grimaces while Derek just grunts softly.
“You’re such an ass, Jesus. Like, I got the memo, okay? It’s kind of clear, the way you guys ignored me this summer, or how you always sent me away, after I conveniently helped you with research and how you never even come around my house anymore, which... sounds weird to complain about but it’s just one more hint at the bigger picture - for whatever reason, I’m not pack anymore,” Derek’s face goes slack and he opens his mouth but Stiles holds up a hand angrily, “I get it, I don’t wanna be in your stupid pack, anyway. I just want to hang out with my best bud without you getting all territorial about it, got it!?”
Derek closes his eyes and breathes out deeply, a low growl rumbling from his chest and Stiles ‘eep’s.
“We’ll talk about this later. I need to go run with the others right now and you need to go. home.”
Stiles huffs and pushes, the Alpha letting him and taking a step back. He climbs into the Jeep and doesn’t look at Derek as he drives off.
Forget being nice, Stiles is ready to get downright mean. Because he’s done with getting screwed over by werewolves.
Done.