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every smile you fake, every claim you stake {i'll be watching you}

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It takes a while for Stiles to notice.  He tends to be running at full tilt here there and everywhere so it takes a while for him to realise he’s being followed.  That creepy feeling that he has all the time isn’t the run of the mill werewolves-and-hunters-and-death-oh-my! feeling but something shiny and new that he isn’t as familiar with.


Now all he has to do is figure out who it is.  Stiles is, after all, the brains of the operation and it would be no use going to the brawn (aka Scott, and how is this his life now?) without all the important facts.  Also the fact that he thinks he’s being followed because he has a creepy tingly feeling will probably not engender a positive response.  Possibly the extra confused face, but probably laughter of the 'who would bother following you?' kind.


Stiles knows it’s not Derek, mainly because he doubts Derek could follow Stiles around without breaking cover to growl and physically intimidate him.  Also because neither Erica or Isaac have been smirking at him.


It’s a stroke of luck really rather than expert deductive skills when Stiles overhears Alison complaining to Lydia that her dad keeps coming to drop her off and pick her up from school when she's quite capable of looking after herself.

And then Stiles starts noticing Chris leaning against his car in the parking lot every morning and every afternoon, very purposefully not looking in Stiles direction.  Even when Stiles gives him the stare of doom (yeah so maybe he needs to work on the stare of doom... and the name of it).  Stiles then observes the same car repeatedly in his rear-view mirror, in the car park of the drive thru, and later at the supermarket.

When one night Stiles sees the car on the street outside his house, he snaps.   Muttering angrily to himself about werewolves and hunters and their creepy-ass behaviour, he grabs the baseball bat he confiscated from Scott and his mum and storms down the stairs and out of his house, across the street and to Chris’ car.


There is yelling.  If asked later Stiles could not have told you what he said, but Chris would likely tell you it was the angry rant to end all angry rants.  There were a fare few insults to hunters, Argents, and Chris’ own mental stability.  Chris waited it all out patiently, without even a sideways glance at the baseball bat Stiles was using to gesticulate.


When Stiles finally runs out of breath, Chris looks at him for a moment before speaking.  “You, Stiles are very very human.  And you've gotten yourself involved in all of my family’s mess.  I don’t want anyone else getting hurt, between the werewolves, the kanima, Gerard and now Allison... I don’t want you getting hurt.”


And that shut Stiles up, first time for everything and all that.  It’s weird.  The most interaction he’d had with Chris Argent previously involved being threatened and thrown against things.  It’s not until Stiles is back inside, lying in bed and thinking it over that he realises that Chris is looking for a distraction.  His life is pretty much a living nightmare, he’s just lost his wife, his father is pretty much a psycho and it looks like his daughter is going the same way.  So maybe he’s using protecting Stiles as a distraction from the whole heap of crazy that is his life.  For now, Stiles can live with that.




Stiles has no choice really, but to get used to it.  Chris isn’t stopping his weird protective creepy stalker routine and Stiles can’t really tell anyone.  He can’t even imagine how that conversation would go, or how he’d go about explaining it to his dad whilst omitting the whole hunters and werewolves thing. 


So Stiles gives Chris a little wave sometimes in the morning or afternoon at school, because it’s only polite.   And then there was that unseasonably cold evening when Stiles took a thermos of coffee out to Chris’ car, where he was parked outside Stiles' house.


And then it just stops.  The thing is though that it’s not like Stiles can ask anyone about it.  Stiles seriously doubts, 'Hey Allison so how come your Dad isn't following me anymore?' would go down well as a conversation opener.   Stiles never really got it to begin with; it’s not like he's anything special.  Why was Chris following him around specifically?  Why bother to protect Stiles from all the werewolf crazy hijinks when there are so many other people out there.   It was only a matter of time really before he realised Stiles wasn't worth it.




But then Scott's mum tells them that Chris was in a car accident and that he's in the hospital.  Which sucks.  Somehow Stiles finds himself standing outside Chris' hospital room, with a half eaten bunch of grapes (he stress eats okay, luckily he also has a freaky high metabolism) gathering the courage to knock.  Luckily he's rumbled by the nurse opening the door to let herself in and revealing Stiles' presence, because otherwise he may have stood there internally monologuing all day.


Chris smiles wryly at him and asks, “Missed me?”

Stiles scoffs, “I just don't like change, it freaks me out, I am not built for adaptation.”

“That’s odd, because you seemed to handle adapting Scott's whole 'situation' just fine.”

Stiles flushes and glares “Just shut up and get better soon.”


He drops the grapes on the bed and walks casually out of the room (though it may look like fleeing to an outside observer that's just because they're not taking into account Stiles' natural frenetic energy, really).

...He comes back the next day with good coffee and puzzle books and sits with Chris while he does the first crossword.  When Chris falls asleep before he finishes Stiles takes the book and pen out of his hands and puts them on the bedside table before creeping quietly out and closing the door behind him.




And so what if visiting Chris is kind of fun?  It's nice okay, for Stiles to talk to someone who isn't all obsessed with talking about their stupid werewolf issues (or not bothering to even notice Stiles’ existence anymore because of their stupid werewolf issues).

And sure so maybe Chris is a werewolf hunter but he's pretty normal apart from that, and sort of funny and he has this little half smile he does whenever he's humouring Stiles (instead of rolling his eyes or throwing him against a wall) that kind of makes Stiles want to reach out and.... Stop thinking. Stop, stop, stop.  At least until he's at home, alone in his room and not sitting opposite Chris who is currently explaining the myth of silver bullets, because Stiles asked and he's good like that.

Later when he's at home he lets himself think about Chris' smile, and how good a look the unshaven thing is on him.  And his eyes, which are kind or gorgeous.  Stiles thinks about if they'd flutter shut if Stiles kissed him or if Chris would keep them open to watch Stiles.  If he'd pin both of Stiles' hands above his head and hold him down with his body weight as he watched Stiles whilst they.... Urgh, Stiles stares up at his bedroom ceiling, he is so screwed.




It's not as big a problem as he'd thought it might be.  Chris is a hunter and one hundred percent human, thus he can't smell any of Stiles thoughts or hormonal responses to his Chris' presence like a werewolf could. And being that Chris is a werewolf hunter Stiles is not very often in the same space as him and any of the local werewolves who might sniff his wayward hormones out.  


The couple of times they’ve all been unfortunately and uncomfortably reunited his thoughts are usually along the lines of 'oh shit whose going to die this time' rather than contemplating how inappropriately attractive Chris is being like all over the place and all in front of Stiles.  Seriously, how is he supposed to mentally barricade himself against that?

So sure, he's old enough to be Stiles' father, and so his (occasionally crazy ass) daughter is older than Stiles is.  It doesn't mean Stiles can't objectively recognise his attractiveness, when he's alone at night in his bed...sometimes in the morning in the shower, or when he gets home from school or...

The point is, Stiles is a teenager.  Sex is what he thinks about, on a quarter hourly basis.  And Chris is just always there looking all broody and watching Stiles like he might, maybe, be thinking the same thoughts Stiles is.

But the thing is Stiles can't even pretend to himself that this is all about how he thinks Chris is just gorgeous beyond all comprehension.  Because he visited him in hospital, and he brings him coffee when it's cold out and talks to him about books and school and whatever vaguely neutral werewolf related topics they can.

And Chris doesn't need anything from Stiles.  Okay, sure he's probably using Stiles as a bit of a distraction, a way to lay low after Victoria, and Gerard and Alison's crazy ass vendetta.  But for his distraction he chose to protect Stiles.  Chris doesn't want anything from him, he talks to him about normal (and some not so normal) things and seems to genuinely give a crap.

So yeah, maybe Stiles was doubly screwed here.  But that was okay because he knew nothing could come of it.  He might as well enjoy the attention and the eye candy whilst he could.  Which as it turned out was a really good philosophy, considering that a week after Chris was released from the hospital Allison shot Stiles with her crossbow.




There was blood, lots of it.  And no (Derek) he didn't usually faint at the sight of blood but when it was coming out of him in vast quantities he probably had the right to feel a little light headed.

He felt warm hands on him, they were so warm and he was so cold.

"God, Stiles."

Chris, that was Chris. He opened his eyes again and immediately wanted to close them from the amount of effort required, but he persevered because looking at him was a face that was worth the effort.

"Hey," he smiled when he caught Chris' eye.

"Hey," Chris chokes out, glances down for a moment at Stiles' stomach where there are two arrows protruding.

When Stiles opens his eyes again Allison is on her knees on the other side of him hands pressing down on his stomach.  Stiles looks over at Chris and laughs, or at least tries to.

"All this time protecting me from the wolves and it’s your daughter that kills me."

He hears Allison choke back a sob and is glad.  If Stiles bleeding out on the forest floor is what it takes for her to stop flipping from normal to vengeful psycho rage bitch then at least he won't die for nothing.

"You're not going to die Stiles, okay? Okay?!"


He hears howling at one point, or sirens, could be both.  He hears Scott shouting and Allison crying.  Sees Isaac he thinks on the ground next to him, hands pressing down on one of his wounds.

The last thing he remembers is Chris squeezing his hand telling Stiles to stay awake, please stay awake.




When he wakes up next everything is fuzzy and dark and smells too clean.  He looks round the hospital room and takes in the figure standing in the corner.  Any other person might be a little startled, but Stiles his either too used to his Chris Argent shaped shadow or too high on the good drugs to care.


Chris walks over and drops into the chair next to him.  When Chris takes Stiles’ hand Stiles lets himself begin to drift back into unconsciousness.  He definitely imagines the soft press of lips to his own as he drifts off.




There’s someone looming over him, Stiles can feel it, he’s very good at sensing these things now.  He frowns and doesn’t bother opening his eyes.  “Go ‘way Chris,” he grumbles and turns his head into the pillow.  There’s a dull ache in his stomach and his head feels all stuffy and horrible, he just wants to go back to sleep.


“Chris?  As in Chris Argent?”  Definitely-not-Chris asks.


Stiles forces himself to open his eyes and looks up at Scott who’s frowning down at him.  “Scott.”


“Why does it smell like Allison’s dad in here?” Scott asks.  He leans right up close to Stiles and sniffs.  “Why do you smell like him?”


“Priorities Scott,” Stiles breathes, takes in a sharp breath as he shifts on the bed.  “Do I still have all my major organs?”


“Yeah, yeah they stitched you up,” Scott replies, holding out a cup of water with a straw to Stiles who sips it gratefully.  “Allison feels awful,” he says with his said little puppy dog face.


“Not as awful as I feel.  Told Chris he shouldn’t get her a new cross bow.”


Scott frowns down at him and looks like he’s about to say something else but he’s interrupted by Stiles’ dad, using some sort of secret stealth moves he definitely hasn’t passed on to Stiles,  “A new cross bow?  How many lethal weapons does Allison have?”


“Just a couple, it’s-”


“Not helping Scott,” Stiles groans.


“Okay I’ll just be going,” he says and edges out of the room.


His dad looks at him for a moment and then he’s rushing to the bedside and Stiles is being wrapped in the biggest, most careful hug he thinks his dad has ever given him.


“Don’t do that again,” he murmurs into Stiles shoulder.


“I won’t.  I’m okay dad, I’m okay.”




It takes another couple of days before Stiles is crawling out of his skin with boredom and can’t be blamed for his actions.  He tosses his phone from hand to hand for several long minutes before finally giving in and tapping out a quick message.


Given up on being a creepy stalker?


Stiles had convinced Chris a couple weeks ago that he couldn’t call him for help if he couldn’t call him for help and the number had been programmed in and sat there unused in his phone until now.  Stiles presses send before he can think too much about it.


He receives a response almost immediately.




It’s followed by a couple of quick knocks on the hospital room door.  Stiles grins.