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(Stiles is in Trouble...) Must Be Tuesday

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Out of every possible contingency plan Stiles has made since the entire werewolf extravaganza started, he’s pretty sure none of them, not even the one that involves what to do in case of zombies attacking, covered what to do when your alpha seems to have forgotten your existence within the span of one heartbeat. Literally, one heartbeat. One second he’s sitting on the rotting floor of Derek’s rundown house, trying to figure out how to do acid and base neutralization problems and the next he’s being thrown into a wall--which, by the way? Fucking hurts.

“Who are you?” Derek growls. “Why are you here?”

Stiles blinks for a second. “Um, Derek? Seriously?”

“Why are you here? Did the Argent’s send you?”

Stiles takes a deep breath and then slowly stands up, doing his normal ‘check body for injury’ evaluation that has become second nature over the previous months. He’s halfway through ‘flex back laterally’’ on his mental checklist when he finally realizes what Derek said.

“Did the Argent’s send me? Really? What the hell, dude?”

Derek doesn’t say anything, just looks at Stiles and there’s nothing--not even a hint of recognition in Derek’s face. “Get out.”

Stiles blinks, because really? “Dude, cold. What the hell’s wrong with you? Do I need to call Scott because, okay, alright, he’s with Allison and probably wouldn’t answer his cell phone, but I could leave a message and this is totally not helping my case at all, is it?”

“Out.” Derek says, forcefully and Stiles feels his stomach flip because right now? Right now he thinks Derek might actually hurt him.

“Alright,” Stiles agrees, holding his hands up, as if to calm the savage beast. “Let me just get my chemistry book and bag and I’ll get out, okay?”

Derek stalks forward and picks up Stiles chemistry book and bag, before pacing to the front door and throwing them out into the woods. “I’m going to give you until the count of 10, and then--” Derek doesn’t bother finishing his thought, just flashes his red eyes and Stiles scrambles towards his jeep.

It’s only when he’s safely in his own bedroom, miles away from Derek and his accusations, that Stiles starts to wonder what the hell happened. Because as far as Stiles knows, people don’t just randomly forget other people, especially not within the span of a second. Which means there’s something supernatural afoot, which, fuck.


Stiles decides not to call Scott about what happened because he’ll see him in school the next day, and besides, he knows that Scott is probably hanging with Allison and having Scott ignore Stiles’ phone call really would have been the icing on a horribly shit cake. Instead, Stiles spends the evening working on an english paper that he probably should have already finished, and finalizing his chemistry homework. When his dad gets home the two of them eat a quiet dinner without saying much, and the silence is like an itch that Stiles wants to scratch at but he knows he can’t, so instead he lets it fester.

It fucking sucks, but it’s sucked for the past few months and Stiles doesn’t really see it getting better anytime soon. Not unless he reads his dad in, tells him about the supernatural, and Stiles is pretty sure that would suck even more. So he deals with it, and washes the dinner dishes without complaint, and disappears into his bedroom as soon as he can with the excuse of homework.

At least this time the excuse has a ring of believability to it.


He sees Scott in chemistry, and it’s like a weight’s been lifted. Scott will be normal and tell him Derek’s just being weird, because that’s basically Derek’s MO, which is why Stiles doesn’t notice at first. Scott sits next to him and says the normal ‘sup’ and nods, but he doesn’t look at Stiles to actually answer. Instead, he opens his textbook and pretends to read what it says about acids and bases.

Stiles thinks Scott is just being studious, so he’s kind of casual with it but leans forward enough to whisper: “Dude, ‘sup with Derek? Is it sourwolf’s time of the month?”

He definitely does, however, notice Scott jerking away from him like he’s been burned. Add to that the flash of his eyes and a slight growl and yeah, Stiles would say something is definitely, completely, 100% hinky. Make that 110% hinky, because Scott is baring his teeth now, and looking more than a little pissed off.

“Why are you asking about Derek?” Scott hisses--well, it might be more of a growl, actually, now that Stiles thinks about it. “How do you know about him?”

And Stiles isn’t an idiot, he wasn’t born yesterday, he can add 2 + 2 and get 4. And right now 2 + 2 is telling him that Scott and Derek (and probably the rest of the pack) don’t know Stiles. And that apparently Stiles shouldn’t know them.

And fuck, but things just got a whole lot more complicated.