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By the time she stops the Jeep in front of Derek's house Stiles can't remember driving there. She’s pretty sure she stopped at red lights.
"Derek," she says, not yelling but not really in control either. Nothing happens, there’s no movement visible through the half-melted and broken windows. No sound.
"Derek!" she shouts up at the collapsed second floor. "You need to come down here so I can claw your eyes out."
"Yeah," Derek says from the front doorway, "I can see how that's incentive."
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Or: Miss Stiles Stilinski vs. Season Two
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John walks into the kitchen, opens the fridge, and is grateful for the uncharacteristic lack of body parts within. She says, mostly to herself but partially to Sherlock in case he's in one of his helpful (well, slightly helpful, well, more helpful) moods, "We're out of milk again."
She closes the door to the refrigerator, turns and finds Sherlock standing well within her personal space. She jumps, a little. It's not the proximity, she rather likes Sherlock in her personal space these days, it's just that she didn't hear him come up. It's unnerving.
"Would you not-" she starts, already exasperated and it's only half past seven.
"You're pregnant," Sherlock interrupts.
Wait, what?
"Wait, what?"
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Isaac is asleep in a chair. The angle of his neck makes Derek wince in sympathy.
"Isaac," Derek says.
Isaac snaps awake immediately.
"You're-"
"Where's Stiles?"
"Stiles?" Isaac asks.
Jesus. It's not like they know more than one.
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"Holy crap! Why the hell did you lie to incredibly powerful magical beings with trust issues? How was that Plan A?"
Derek says, "We're not arguing about this, it's already done."
"Like hell we're not fighting about this," Stiles says, indignant. "What were you thinking?"
"I was thinking it was worth the risk if it kept you alive! And it worked, so drop it."
"You had no idea that it was going to work!" Stiles throws his hands up. Why is Derek the most frustrating werewolf in the history of ever, why is Stiles even helping him, why is this his life? "Why did they even believe you in the first place?"
Derek says, "You reeked of me," which is unfair. Stiles only smelled because he'd gotten covered in Derek's bodily fluids trying to staunch the bleeding.
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Stiles scrolls up on his text message history and sure enough finds "I'm OK, don't worry, I'm going back to the hotel room" with a timestamp of 1:30AM and "I think I'm in love I think he's a werewolf" at 3:00AM.
Stiles stares at his phone for a while in horror.
Scott: HEY LYDIA WANTS TO KNOW WHY YOU CHANGED YR FACEBOOK STATUS TO MARRIED
Well, so would Stiles.
