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English
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Published:
2015-08-03
Updated:
2015-09-08
Words:
1,685
Chapters:
2/?
Comments:
77
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401
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5,824

you should be (stronger than me)

Summary:

There was a slight draft through his room, coming from the window. The supposedly closed window. Stiles froze.

"Hi there, Stiles."

Notes:

Okay, so, Theo the New Hot Mysterious werewolf looked at Stiles for a few seconds and it was very intense.

Can anyone really blame me for this.
I mean.

It was a very intense look.

(See the end of the work for more notes.)

Chapter 1

Notes:

(See the end of the chapter for notes.)

Chapter Text

Stiles listened to the sound of his father's car roll down the street and let out a sigh. It was hard, knowing intellectully that the Sheriff was right about his suspicion, but still having a feeling in his gut telling him that something was wrong.

Theo's story was too perfect. Stiles didn't trust perfect things. And there was just something...not right about Theo. If he was Theo. If Theo was even still alive. Maybe not-Theo had eaten him and stolen his identity. Maybe Theo had never been Theo, and whoever this person was had secretly been planning his evil plan since the fourth grade. Maybe Stiles should go to bed before he passed out on the floor again. Whatever. Stiles was not gonna trust this dude. It didn't matter what Scott said. Stiles had been right about Peter, and eventually he would be right about Theo/not-Theo/never-Theo aswell.

For now, Stiles went downstairs to turn off the lights and returned to his bedroom with the intention of doing some light internet research/stalking in his bed. He got as far as the desk before he felt it. There was a slight draft through his room, coming from the window. The supposedly closed window. Stiles froze. He tried to keep his heartbeat steady and his breathing even to avoid alerting the intruder of his awareness. Not that it would make a diffence. Now that he knew, it was impossible to escape the feeling of being watched, the instinct telling him that he was no longer alone.

Stiles eyed his bed. There was a baseball bat, especially made werewolf-unfriendly, right under the bed. If he could just get a few steps to the left he would be able to grab it. Past experiences indicated that whoever had broken into his room was a werewolf, so he should be able to protect himself with it. If it was something else, well, he would just have to improvise.

Before he even took a step, he felt another body press against his from behind. Unfamiliar hands grabbed his wrists, stopping his instinctual flailing and crossing them over his own chest. His legs were kicked apart and his body bent slightly backwards, so that he was unsteady on his feet and forced to lean against the person behind him. The whole fight, if it could even be called a fight, Stiles thought with rage and frustration building in his chest, took less than thirty seconds.

"Hi there, Stiles."

Stiles stopped breathing. His first emotion was, stupidly, triumph. He knew it. He knew there was something wrong. Scott and the others were so gonna regret not trusting his judgement. From now on they should just listen to everything he said and worship the ground where he walked.

Stiles second emotion was, regrettably, anger.

"You fucking asshole, I knew there was something shady about you! So what is your master plan, huh? You're gonna, what, join the pack, act all nice and helpful, then turn on Scott when he least expects it? No way are you gonna get anywhere near him ever again, you dipshit, I'm gonna makmmmppppphffff."

Stiles mouth kept moving, but the large hand pressed against his lips turned his shouted words into a low mumble.

"Shhhhh, Stiles, be quiet."

Stiles clenched his fists in anger. He tried in vain to push against the hand holding his arms captive across his chest, and groaned in frustration when his attempts to kick at his captors legs were met with a rough shake. His entire body was violently thrashed from side to side until he lost any resemblance of balance. Hanging in the intruder's arms, panting against the strong fingers covering his mouth, Stiles once again cursed his extreme lack of supernatural strength.

He tried to speak, mostly in order to move on from the pathetic and somewhat failed escape attempt, and was surprised when the hand left his lips in favor of sliding up to his forehead.

"What do you want from me? Why are you here?" Stiles blurted out, sensing that he should talk while he had the chance. If he was gonna die in his own bedroom like some kind of sad teenage virgin (all lies, of course) he wanted to know a bit more about the, most likely, super evil plans that his death would enable.

His answer came in the form of a warm hand tightening its grip across his forehead, and a pressure that encouraged him to lean his head back. Well, maybe not so much encouraged as firmly pushed his head back against a solid shoulder, until he had no choice but to meet his captor's amused eyes.

"I told you, Stiles. I came here for you." Theo whispered.

Notes:

This was very short and blah blah, I don't know if anyone else is interested in this ship?? Are you? (Please be, they are killing me with all this "I don't trust you" and "Trust me ok I came back 4 u" and "We are murder buddies, Stiles")
I might write more of this??? I don't know???

Comments are the best, okay. Please tell me what you thought.

Thank you so much for reading <333