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Little Red and their Wayward Assassins

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Stiles didn’t notice it right away - not with being in the hospital and finally recovering from all the damage the Nogitsune did to his body. He didn’t sleep much - still too afraid of what he’d see if he closed his eyes - so instead he snuck into Allison’s room. He would never stop being grateful that he could sneak into her room - that she was alive - that he hadn’t killed her. On her end, Allison welcomed him - rejoiced in the fact that they’d both come out ahead - both beaten everything that had been thrown at them. They were so wrapped up in being grateful they were alive that they didn’t notice they’d both slowly been pushed out of the pack. It was Allison that convinced Stiles to give sleep a shot again, but not on his own. She’d dragged him into her bed - not able to get out for long yet because of the still healing chest wound - and curled around him, tucking her head under his chin, face tilted towards the door. 

“I’ve got you.” She whispered then, and he didn’t need werewolf hearing to know she was telling the truth. Trusting her to watch his back, Stiles let himself close his eyes and slept through the night for the first time in weeks. Chris had showed up in the morning with breakfast for 3, used to Stiles’ sneaking around, but he froze at the sight of his daughter watching the door with sharp eyes, Stiles fast asleep in her arms. He opened his mouth to speak and her eyes narrowed so Chris just gave a sigh, moving into the room to run a hand over her hair. Then, to his own surprise, he did the same to Stiles. The boy shifted but didn’t wake and now Allison’s gaze was warm. 

“I love you.” She mouthed to her father, and with a tired smile, he mouthed it back. 


Stiles was released from the hospital two weeks before Allison was set to be, but for once he didn’t run for the chance to escape, sticking with Allison instead, and the two of them talked about everything - what had happened - what could happen - where to even go from there. It was in one of those conversations that Allison pointed out what Stiles had realized but tried to ignore.

“Have you seen Scott?” She asked tentatively, and Stiles tensed before giving a slow shake of his head, gaze not leaving her face. “Isaac?” Allison asked, biting her lip, and Stiles could only shake his head again. He was used to this - being left behind by his best friend for others - first with Allison but then with Isaac, even Kira - but Allison had never been on this side of Scott - had always been the one he’d left people behind for. She’d told Stiles about their heartfelt goodbye and even Stiles had been a bit surprised by the fact that he hadn’t seen Scott around much (read: at all) but he just figured they were dealing with clean up and knew that he was fine. But he hadn’t realized Allison hadn’t seen anyone either - should have with all the time he spent in her room - but hadn’t. He could only huff out a breath, moving to the bed to wrap her in his own arms this time. 

“I’m sorry.” And he meant it. Allison squeezed back so tight he thought his ribs would start creaking but he didn’t ease her away. 

“Are we still pack, Stiles?” And the question hurt more than it should have at this point - after everything that had happened he should have seen it coming - but he’d still held out hope. Like all things he’d wished for, it had apparently gone ignored. He’d felt her tears then, soaking into his shirt front and squeezed her tighter. From that moment he swore he wouldn’t let this happen to her again - wouldn’t let this happen to either of them. They’d be their own damn pack, werewolves or not. He’d shifted his weight to get comfortable and Allison’s arms had tightened. 

“Don’t leave.” 

“Never again. I promise. It’s you and me now.” And he’d pressed a kiss against the top of her head, sealing the promise. 


Allison wasn’t released from the hospital, instead she was sprung. Chris drove both her and Stiles back to the Argents, not even under the slightest misconception that either would go anywhere without the other. It had irked him at first - another one of the pack and his daughter - but he’d been there when Stiles could only sleep with someone there watching over him; had been there when Stiles was the only one able to calm Allison out of a panic attack. Even that day, the reason behind their leaving the hospital, he’d witnessed Stiles’ reaction when Allison’s scream had torn through the hospital, when Chris had raced to the door of her hospital room to see a nurse stumble towards him with Stiles in between her and Allison, rage in his eyes as he made himself her shield as Allison shuddered behind him, breaths too quick to mean anything good. 

“She said no.” Stiles had all but snarled and the nurse had jerked back further rushing past Chris and out of the room. Stiles had stayed there though, eyes on Chris then, and Chris recognized this look so he put his hands up in easy surrender, making himself look as unthreatening as possible. He’d waited until Stiles recognized him, the violence sliding back behind recognition and the boy had shuddered before stepping back but he didn’t offer apology. Chris understood that too, understood that he would never have accepted an apology when the violence was to protect his daughter. Instead he watched as Stiles turned back to Allison and his hands were up but he didn’t touch - not until Allison’s hand shot out to grip his tightly, knees still curled to her chest. 

“Hey Chris - we’re going to need your med training.” Stiles said easily, gaze never leaving Allison’s. Chris watched her grip tighten on Stiles’ but she didn’t say no. Chris moved further into the room, waiting. “We’ve got to change Ali’s bandaging.” And with that Chris knew exactly what had happened - a stranger had reached for her healing wound and she’d panicked. His chest tightened, hurting for his baby girl, but he didn’t let it show. “Alright Ali - so your dad’s gonna change your bandage, okay? And you’re gonna keep on holding both my hands, okay?” She nodded tightly, gaze flickering to her dad and back but saying nothing. Chris didn’t waste any time. He carefully peeled back the bandage stark against her breast bone - and was quick to press a new one over her stitches, carefully taping it back against her skin. Once the job was done, Allison sagged forward, tears sliding down her cheeks and she let go of Stiles’ hands to throw shaky arms around her father, sobbing quietly against his shoulder. Chris caught Stiles’ eye over his daughters shoulder and realized from the fury blazing in his eyes once again that this wasn’t the first time this had happened. His stomach turned to lead.

“We’re leaving.” He stated, and Stiles’ gaze snapped to his but didn’t disagree. Allison’s sobs tapered off and she pulled back, wiping her tears away. 


“You’re not staying here.” He told her, and there was no hesitation. Within the hour, the Argents plus Stiles we’re leaving the hospital, and they didn’t look back. 




“I think we should leave.” Allison announced 2 weeks after they’d left the hospital during dinner, and 3 sets of eyes snapped in her direction, the sheriff having made it from work that evening - having understood the moment he’d seen the two kids together there’d be no separating them. He’d seen it with Scott all those years ago and it hadn’t surprised him at all to see it now with Allison.

“Leave as in leave Beacon Hills?” Stiles was the first to ask, and Allison nodded resolutely. 

“I know you’ve been doing your classes online anyways. You’ve practically graduated already. I could do online courses too until we graduate. I know you were looking at N.Y.U., Stiles.” She told him, and Stiles just stared back, unblinking. Neither parent spoke, watching their two children talk it out without either uttering a word before finally Stiles blinked, offering a shrug. 

“If that’s what you wanna do, Ali.” He looked at his dad then, and John could only huff out a breath. 

“I’ve known for a while you’d never end up staying here. At least if you’re in New York I’ll have somewhere cool to visit you.” And Stiles snorted out a laugh, leaning over to knock their shoulders together. All three of them looked at Chris then. 

“We already own a condo in New York.” He conceded, and Stiles and Allison both shared a grin. 

“Guess we better start packing.”