“So,” Stiles says after a moment. “Werewolves.”
“It’s a thing,” Derek murmurs sleepily.
Stiles chokes on a laugh. “Yeah, I realize that now. I just, I don’t know why I expected anything different. We live in a world where giant aliens attack every few weeks through a trans-dimensional portal at the bottom of the Pacific, why wouldn’t werewolves exist?”
Bookmarked by amberlynne
20 Jan 2019
Morrell flips through some papers on her desk and comes up with a card. She flicks it a couple of times with her thumb before handing it over and watches Stiles as he reads it, rubs a finger over the neat, no-nonsense black type on white card stock. D. Hale. Settlement Mentor.
What it says on the tin.
"You... want me to come to your family reunion?"
"And you'll come to my best friend's wedding as...my... date?" Stiles thinks the whole proposition bears repeating.
"Yes," Derek says again, brows furrowing like he's starting to regret asking.
Stiles thinks about Scott when it happens, tries to get some, y'know, perspective. He thinks about Scott, that there are worse things that can happen when you get hit with an unexpected dose of something. When the device that had been left behind as a last little screw you by the fae they'd been dealing with blew up in his hands he could've been reduced to tomato paste on the walls.
Instead, he has a tail and little pointy striped tabby ears on the top of his head.