Chapter Text
"STILES—" Scott's voice breaks through Stiles' rant, causing his to click his teeth together with what must be an audible clack. "I get it sucks that none of your current professors could add you to their research projects" Scott starts. It does suck. He's got nearly a 4.0 GPA and regular volunteer experience but that won't get him into the top medical research schools for graduate school. His counselor was instant that he needs to join a research project. And if he wants any shot at completing said research project before he graduates next year he needs to start ASAP.
"But didn't Allison's grandfather offer for you to join his project? He's even researching the same stuff you are right—"
Dr. Gerard Argent had offered to take him in for his research project after he took that class from him. "But Scottie," Stiles interjects anyways, "he's such a creep—"
"He scores higher than Mr Harris, I know." Scott mutters unhelpfully.
"It shouldn't be possible to be more of a creep than Harris—he is a perfect 10/10 on the creepy scale but somehow Dr. Argent is an 11." Stiles continues unperturbed by Scott's murmuring.
"Didn't you take a class with him—he knows an awful lot" Scott asks
"A class you insisted I should stay in because you thought that him liking me was important to getting the approval of Alison's family" Stiles argues.
"It worked! It helped break the ice and Grandpa talks very highly of you" Scott insists. Stiles never wants to think about Gerard being Scott's grandfather ever again—it's bad enough Allison is stuck with him.
"His approval feels gross—like being being hugged by seaweed." Stiles shivers at the thought for emphasis.
"Stiles." Stiles sighs.
"I suppose he can't be that bad if Allison is his granddaughter." Stiles concedes.
Scott goes quiet but Stiles swears he can hear his 'I love Allison' smile face through the phone.
In Stiles and Scott's senior year of high school Scott spent a week head over heels for the new girl and Stiles on multiple occasions caught Scott staring at her across the school halls.
The one time Stiles didn't catch Scott, he managed to get so distracted by Allison's magical hair or whatever else that he fell down the stairs. But at the bottom, Scott was met with the pained smile of Allison who felt every since ounce of pain her soulmate did when falling down said stairs.
Stiles hasn't met his own soulmate yet, but he just knows that when he does every ounce of effort and care he has will go to them.
Stiles feels like he's buzzing the next morning when he trudges into his favorite coffee shop 2 hours earlier than usual. Nerves he's sure. He's embarrassed by the very idea of being anxious to talk to Dr. Argent but the static feeling in his spine makes very compelling evidence of his emotional state. He tries without luck to shake the feeling as he makes his way to the counter. He's anxiously rubbing at his wrist when he joins the short queue. He feels pathetic—all he has to do is talk to a guy who is already—creepily—fond of him and do a few months of research—really he should not be such a picture perfect image of anxiety.
Stiles is usually comforted by the smell of coffee but he finds himself rubbing at the other wrist. Somehow, the queue feels too short this morning and before Stiles finds himself prepared he's making his way up to the front counter. When Stiles forces his eyes to focus so that he can make his order he finds he recognizes the blond woman standing there.
"Cat Woman!" Stiles exclaims, trying for the life of him not to sound like he's 3 inches from a panic attack. Both the squeak in his voice and the resulting look on Erica's face prove his attempt an udder failure.
Erica's eyebrow are bunched and she looks heart warmingly concerned, something Stiles would definitely be making fun of her for any other day. Today though it's all he can do to slide a $10 bill across the counter and breathe semi-regularly. Erica picks up the bill, frowning a little more. "Take a seat. I'll be over in a few." She says, giving Stiles a very concerned looking smile.
Stiles does as directed, collapsing into a booth. Stiles closes his eyes, attempting to divert his stream of thoughts. He thinks of Erica. They'd met in high school. The guidance counselor had thought that they would be good support for each other. Stiles and Erica tried their hardest to convince that counselor he was dead wrong but he was very very right. Stiles and Erica clicked pretty fast after that and even ended up at the same college.
Erica ended up running into her soulmate a few months into the semester when a few days after she had an embarrassing seizure on the quad, she was introduced to Boyd, who had a similar episode at that same time when he was at football practice. Boyd really was the perfect match to Erica, stoic but caring. And Boyd had connections to get Erica to try a new Epilepsy treatment—and as far as Stiles knew Erica hasn't had a seizure since.
Stiles opens his eyes with a jolt when Erica pats him on the shoulder and slides into the other side of the booth with coffer for them both.
"Spill." Is all Erica says.
Stiles should have expected Erica to bully answers out of him, it wouldn't be the first time she's talked him down from panic after all. But the buzzing in his body and brain really hindered his thinking capabilities.
"Uhh." He says eloquently "I guess I'm just anxious to talk to Dr. Argent this morning. He's just the only option I've got to get some research credit."
Erica is frowning when Stiles drags his eyes from their unfocused glance on the table to her. She rests a hand on Stiles' which apparently had been sitting on the table. "Isn't this like the beginning of your third year?" Erica questions.
Stiles feels a nearly painful jolt in his spine and answers. "Yeah—but I'm gonna graduate this spring so time is of the essence and all that."
Erica raises an eyebrow and there's another jolt to his senses. "How many credits are you taking right now to make that happen?"
Stiles can't stop his hand from moving when his whole body jolts then. "Just a few more than usual, nothing too bad."
Erica is watching him with eyes that know too much. Stiles' entire body is nerves and vibrations and he's putting all of his energy into sitting upright and keeping his eyes focused on Erica. Erica opens her mouth to say something but Stiles interrupts it when searing pain explodes in his side and he's jolting out of his seat with a curse.
He loses his balance when pain erupts on the other side and he collapses on the floor. Stiles watches Erica rush over and crouch in front of him. He can tell she's saying something but his brain seems to have given up on processing auditory input. He sits there for a while he's sure, periodically jolting. He misses passing out from the pain—his first episode he doesn't even remember, Scott said he screamed did a went down flailing but he's unfortunately used to the feeling now and instead of passing out he had to sit awake and feel every single ounce of pain.
Stiles comes back to reality a few hours later. He thinks he ended up falling asleep after the jolts stopped. He's sitting in the both and vaguely remembers Erica help him lift himself back into it. He's dizzy and has a bit of a headache but the pent up electric feeling in his skin has fizzled out. He looks at his wrist watch and sighs. He missed his first class but that's no excuse to miss his other classes today. He drags his body to said classes, texts Erica thanks, and he resorts to a simple email to Dr. Argent.
Since Dr. Argent offers to meet Stiles that next day at his lab, Stiles finds himself descending the stairs into one of the many creepy basements on campus. It doesn't help that no one on campus seems keen on the idea of using the lights in the basements. He looks down the hallway at the end of the stairs. One of every few lights are on, likely unable to be turned off, so he luckily isn't going to have to stumble in the dark but the doors down here are all nondescript and the hall looks endless thanks to what must be a light gone out, shrouding the end of the hall in pitch black. He walks cautiously down the hall, rubbing his wrists and squinting at the room numbers of each door. He stops at the second to last door. He takes a deep breath and knocks solidly on the door.
The door opens just a crack and he can see Dr. Argent peek through the crack. Stiles really needs to start a list of reasons why Dr. Argent is creepy and put that at the top. Dr. Argent doesn't take long to regard Stiles though the crack before he fully opens the door and waves Stiles in. Stiles steps into the room and turns around to a few paces in to see Dr. Argent pushing the door closed. When the door firmly shut behind them Dr. Argent turns around. He smiles and speaks. "Stiles. I'm glad to see you—take a seat, I'll tell you about my current projects."
Stiles is starting to feel really stupid for not joining Dr. Argent's lab sooner. Dr. Argent talks for a few minutes about his current research project—focused on pain responses apparently—before he seems to come to a decision. "I suppose it may just be easier to show you" Dr. Argent stands then and makes his way toward the door at the back of the office. He turns when he reaches the handle and Stiles scrabbles to follow.
Behind the staircase is another set of creepy stairs. The stairs wind in a spiral and Stiles watches his hand run along the wall as they descend. Stiles looks up when the wall ends. He looks up into a surprising well lit lab. There's a few metal tables in the middle of the room covered with journals and books and loose paper. There's various doors along the walls on both sides but he notices a window on the left side of the room.
Stiles' feet meet the concrete floor and he rips his attention from the window and back to Dr. Argent. "This" he says with a flourishing hand gesture "is my lab. We actually used to do research on horses down here so everything is quite large—but we've got better subjects now."
Stiles follows Dr. Argent as he walks towards the tables. He picks out a few books and journals from the pile and hands them to Stiles. "Here's some reading to get you started." Stiles nods he feels his eyes glance back at the window. Dr Argent smiles again and Stiles feels dread wash down his back. He smiles back anyways.
"I suppose I did say I was gonna show you." Dr Argent then pulls a key ring out of his pocket and makes his way toward the left side of the room. There a small alcove where the doors to the rooms are and Dr. Argent slides a key into the door.
Stiles isn't sure what he expected to see on the other side of the door but it wasn't a man tied to a metal fence. The man's eyes are closed but his chest is moving up and down so he's at least breathing. Stiles focuses on breathing himself as Dr. Argent continues his demonstration unperturbed.
"This, my boy, is the murderous beast that is aiding our research. Dr. Argent then flips a switch on the wall and Stiles feels the electric current of dread ignite his nerves. The man tied to the fence doesn't move. Stiles watches Dr. Argent frown before reaching for a knob. He twists the knob and Stiles feels the anxious energy in his body intensify. Dr. Argent continues to twist the knob. The man in the center of the room opens his eyes and sends a death glare to Dr. Argent. Dr. Argent smiles and saunters up to the man.
Stiles watches the man's face…change. His facial hair grows long and his eyes start to glow bright fucking blue. Dr. Argent then grabs the man's lip and tucks it upwards showing off a pair of abnormally sharp and long canines.
Dr Argent speaks then. "This, Stiles, is one of the beasts that most people don't even know crawl upon this God forsaken planet." He spits the last word. "A werewolf." Stiles is too shocked to say anything but the man—werewolf—in the middle of the room is clearly fed up with Dr. Argent's fingers on his mouth and snaps his teeth at them. Dr. Argent moves his fingers before they can get bitten and retaliates with a swift slap to the wolf's face. Stiles feels the mirror of stinging pain in his own left cheek and just stares in horror.
Stiles feels like he just lived the last 20 minutes of his life in the third person. He genuinely would have believed it if he'd been possessed as the second Dr. Argent glanced back he found a manic energy that allowed him to barrage the man with questions, as was expected for his behavior when he wasn't reeling with the new found knowledge of unethical research studies and his fucking soulmate being the subject of it. He has the whispers of memories of Dr. Argent brushing off his questions and shooing him out of the lab so he can find every answer in his newly acquired books.
Stiles knows he stumbled back through the creepy hallways and barren campus and managed to collapse into his jeep but it felt more like a dream that reality. Nothing feels real until his phone stops ringing with a click.
"Hello?" Scott says through the phone, sounding a little groggy.
"Scott." Stiles breathes out.
"Stiles? I just went to bed."
"Werewolves!" Stiles exclaims. He feels a small portion of him cringe at the time—he must have spent a LONG time staring blankly in his car.
"What?" Scott says, but he does sound more awake.
"Werewolves" Stiles repeats with emphasis.
"…Are you on drugs right now?" Scott asks skeptically.
"What no! I-" Stiles cuts himself off. Werewolves aren't real. Not to Scott. Scott, as supportive as he is, couldn't fathom any reality other than the one where Stiles has lost his goddamn mind. Stiles, contrary to the floaty feeling of moments ago, feels his stomach sink, like he'd been slapped by cold hard reality again.
"I-" Stiles continues "Just had a nightmare" It hasn't ended really.
"Oh." Scott says awkwardly. "Sorry man…did you need to talk about it?"
Scott sounds like he actually wants to do anything but, so Stiles just says, "No, no. Just wanted to hear something positive from my most put together companion."
"Actually I do have some good news." Stiles can tell Scott is beaming from his end of the phone, shaking off Stiles' crazy outbursts with ease. "Allison and I are engaged!" Stiles can do nothing but respond with enthusiasm he doesn't have.
Stiles doesn't sleep that night. How could he? His soulmate is a werewolf—a werewolf currently being fucking tortured at the hands of Dr. Gerard fucking Argent. He reads all 3 of the books Gerard gave him cover to cover. He fills nearly an entire journal with notes. He nearly falls asleep at his desk after closing that third books but he forces himself upward.
He decides then that he needs a giant cup of coffee and he starts walking down the block to get one. It's still dark out but the sun is just barely starting to brighten the sky. He bursts into the coffee shop that next morning a few minutes after they open. There's not a line this time, just one of the local law enforcement officers retrieving their cup of coffee from the far end of the counter.
Stiles cringes when he sees Erica at the counter. He thinks about getting a worse coffee from the store down the street but Erica turns, and Stiles knows he's been spotted when he sees her face fall. He makes his way up to the register and feels the guilt grow as he finds himself able to take more and more detail of Erica's expression in. They stares for a few minutes before Erica sighs and speaks "Stiles, you of all people should know how important sleep is."
"I—" Stiles starts, but they've had this conversation. The stand in silence for another moment, only interrupted the ding of the front bell after the officer left the store.
"Your episodes have been acting up?" Erica asks quietly, like she just wants confirmation of known information.
"They're not my episodes!" Stiles exclaims.
Erica raises an eyebrow.
"Yes." Stiles mutters. "I'm…on a break though right now."
Erica frowns a little more somehow but with a sigh she puts Stiles' order in the register and Stiles passes her a $10 bill.
A few minutes later, Erica comes over with Stiles' coffee. Stiles grabs the coffee but Erica doesn't let go. Stiles looks up at her face and she speaks softly. "Just…promise me you won't do anything dangerous."
Stiles swallows. "I promise."
Erica doesn't let go. "I promise I wont do anything dangerous" he tries again. Erica lets go but she looks entirely unconvinced. Stiles just turns and leaves the shop.
Stiles is going to do something dangerous. He can't think of any solutions that don't involve danger really. He can't go to the local law enforcement or his dad or even Scott. He's gonna have to do this mission solo.
He's decided the best course of action is to gain information so he once again makes his way down the hall and spiral stairs to Dr. Argents lab.
"Stiles. Finished those books?" Dr. Argent has a chair pulled up to the table today and he looks up over his reading glasses when Stiles drops said books on the table.
"Yes." Stiles fidgets. He did NOT think this through, there's no way he's acting casual.
"Well I've got more books—I'm sure you managed to still have burning questions."
Stiles nods. "Can I see the beast again?" Stiles asks before he loses his nerve.
Gerard's grin sharpens again. "Why of course you can. In fact there's some procedures I should show you.
This time, the werewolf isn't tied to the fence in the middle of the room. Rather, he's curled up in the corner of the room. His wrists are chained to the wall and he's surrounded by a ring of black dust. "Mountain ash?" Stiles asks for confirmation.
"Couldn't have him running off."
"Right." Stiles says. He has the distinct feeling he's fucking this up—like he's saying all the things a werewolf sympathizer would say.
But Gerard just continues to make strides to the werewolf in the corner of the room. Stiles reaches the edge of the ash and just stares. The corner of the room has both an old and rusty looking sink and toilet but otherwise is just a barren space with cinder block walls and concrete floors. In the center the corner, the man lies dressed in sweats.
Gerard takes an agonizing pause before he speaks. "Stiles, you've read at least three books about werewolves now, did those books go into special detail of werewolf healing?"
"Uhh—they mentioned a miraculous ability to heal but none of them went into special detail."
"That's right. You see Stiles, werewolves can heal what would take a human to heal in minutes, scrapes are no more than a little itch and bones just knit back together." Gerard crosses the ring then and lifts one of the chained arms of the werewolf. The werewolf's eyes fly open but the werewolf makes surprisingly little effort to rip its arm out of Gerard's grip. He runs a nail through the werewolf's arm leaving a trail of blood and pain in his wake. But just as quickly as the pain comes it goes and Stiles watches as Gerard runs the pad of his thumb over the blood revealing whole skin. "That ability—" Gerard makes eye contact with Stiles and the gleeful gleam in his eyes turns Stiles' stomach. "Is what I want to isolate." Gerard drops the werewolf's arm and crosses back over the circle.
"Werewolf healing would revolutionize the healthcare system—" Gerard grabs Stiles by the shoulders then. "Werewolves after all, don't have to worry about things like chronic illness."
Stiles feels his eyes pull back to the werewolf while he swallows. "Right." He says a little absently. Stiles jolts when he remembers the hands on his shoulders. He drags his eyes to Gerard's face. "Right." he says with what his hopefully more firmness.
"Right." Gerard says with no apparent concern. He then walks Stiles to the outer lab with a disconcerting hand on his back. "Currently, we've been taking a microbiological approach. So all we'll need is skin, blood, and bone samples."
"Right. Stiles says, glancing behind him at the room once more.
"That being said" Gerard continues, pausing until Stiles looks back at him. "I would prefer to be with you for those, in case it tries to attack you. I will however, give you a key to the lab so that you can feed it once a day and give it a bath and clean clothes weekly." He then sets the key in Stiles' hands.
"Wait so what's with the electrical shock thing?" Stiles blurts before he can stop himself. Gerard turns to him and Stiles feels more words fall out of his mouth in attempt to fix his blunder. "Like if you're just interested in microbiology."
Gerard looks blankly at Stiles for a minute before he speaks. "It was mostly for demonstration. These monsters," Gerard looks back at the werewolf's room with a sneer. "like to hide among us." Gerard then turns to Stiles before spitting the next words. "So we have to remind them that they are not people."
Stiles drives himself home that night and lugs down the hall. He opens his bedroom door and finds Scott sitting on his bed staring at his rolling corkboard.
Scott spares Stiles a glance before furrowing his brows once again and looking at the board. "I thought you got rid of your crime board." Scott says.
"I-" Stiles starts. "It's not a crime board." Stiles looks over at his board. It really wasn't him reliving his 13 year old dreams of detective work. It was probably worse. Stiles felt his eyes dance over the board. The board was covered with sticky notes and papers and red yarn all for the purpose of mapping out his knowledge of werewolves.
"Werewolves?" Scott says skeptically.
Stiles lets his head fall into his hands. "It's—" nothing Scott would understand. Scott, who looks incredibly worried, would get someone else involved if Stiles started spouting off about mythical creatures. There was a time when Stiles probably could have told Scott werewolves were real but Scott fell in love and grew up.
Stiles feels young and stupid and tired when he shares the first lie he can think of. His voice is muffled slightly from his hands"I— got back into supernatural."
"Dude. Are you really that lonely here?"
Stiles stiffens and lifts his head to look at Scott in confusion. "I—what?"
Scott looks devastated and sighs before he speaks. "You only ever watch supernatural when you're lonely—like when me and Allison started dating and I canceled our Saturday video game sessions three weekends in a row, or when—"
"WOAH— I don't know what kind of thought processes led you there but I am fine Scott. I'm good even."
Scott's disbelief is written all over his face but he gracefully chooses not to bring up Stiles clear lack of friends.
They both stand awkwardly in Stiles' room looking anywhere but each other before Stiles realizes, "Wait, what are you doing here?"
"I— I thought I asked the other night. Allison wanted to tell her grandfather that we're engaged. I swear you said we could spend a few nights here.
Stiles probably did. He doesn't remember the majority of that phone call. Stiles would rather work more on his plans but there's no way Scott would let him lock himself in his room and continue his research. So, Stiles nods and leads Scott back to the living room and boots up his xbox.
Allison arrives about half an hour later with a frozen pizza and a random movie she got for cheap at the grocery store. The movie, coincidentally, is some low budget horror film about a werewolf. Scott winces when he sees the werewolf on the disk menu but Stiles just turns toward the TV and lets himself get lost in thought thinking of his own werewolf.
He works on mentally mapping the lab. Without a key to the werewolf's chains he's going to have to find a way to free the man from the wall. He has some experience with lock picking but his father threw his kit out along with his crime board and he doesn't think he's skilled enough to use a paperclip or whatever else is used in cliche movies. He supposes he could—
Stiles startles when a sharp clap of thunder plays from the TV. He feels his skin tingle and his hairs stand straight. He forces his attention on the TV where the main characters are slinking through a dark house. Another sharp booms plays from the speakers and Stiles feels the air grow electric with his nerves.
Then however, Stiles feels a painful jot in his side and he squirms in response. Scott rests a hand on his leg before the electricity Stiles thought was in the air surges down his body. He thinks he made a sound of some kind but every other sense is drown out by the pain. He notices more than feels the sharp pains across his sides and arms and back and legs but it's all he can do to keep his body from falling off the couch.
He makes out Scott standing in front of him as the pain dissipates but he doesn't process more than Scott's frown before his eyelids become to heavy to keep open and he falls asleep.
Stiles wakes to sunlight in his face. He groans a little because he swears he did not open his blinds and he bought blackout blinds for a reason. Regardless he opens his eyes and sees the ceiling of his living room.
The very living room that he passed out in the night before. Stiles glances around the room, noticing Scott and Allison asleep on an air mattress about a foot in front of the couch. Stiles picks up his phone to look at the time and notices a calendar reminder. He's supposed to go feed the werewolf in an hour. Stiles glances back at Scott for a few moments and watches his chest rise and fall for a few beats before he gets up off the couch. He's got to make a stop before he reaches campus.
The creepy hallway is still dark and Stiles has to turn his flashlight on to be able to stick his key in the locked door. But soon enough he's descending the spiral stairs and ripping the door to the Werewolf's room open. Stiles is surprised somehow when the werewolf looks completely whole in his corner. Stiles can remember the phantom pain from the night before and that memory was ten times stronger than the knowledge of werewolf healing.
Stiles walks past the sad bland food he was told he had to the feed the man and marches right up to mountain ash barrier. He stands in front of the man for a few minutes watching his chest rise and fall before speaking. "Uhm. Hi?"
The werewolf doesn't respond. But Stiles notices that the rate of the man's chest movements shift. "I." Stiles pauses. He drops his backpack on the concrete and lifts his brand new pair of bolt cutters out of the bag. Stiles looks up at the man who has opened an eye trained it on Stiles.
Stiles inches closer to the mountain ash and the man opens his mouth in a snarl. Stiles steps back hastily. Stiles looks down at his bolt cutters and back at the man a few times before he realizes. "I wasn't— I just want to cut the chains." The man looks unconvinced but Stiles takes another step forward and the man's expression doesn't change. So Stiles steps over the mountain ash and brings the bolt cutters up to the chains.
Stiles shifts his stance and pulls the handles together with one swift movement. Stiles' arms then fling back apart and Stiles falls on his ass just outside of the mountain ash ring. Stiles sits for a few minute looking at the concrete. His arms ache from the movement but his wrists burn. Stiles glances down at the unmarred skin of his wrists before his eyes flick to the werewolf's wrists but he can't see past the thick metal. The man though, is sitting up and staring at Stiles. Stiles freezes a little.
"Fuck. I thought that would work. These should be able to cut through chains twice as thick. I—" He looks back the man who has just been staring with an unreadable expression.
Stiles rises again, stumbling only a little when he's back on his feel. The man's eyes stay locked on him and Stiles comes back up to the circle. He lifts a foot to cross back over but he looks back up the wolf and hesitates.
"Are you gonna hurt me?" The man stares and blinks for a few minutes before he glances away. Stiles feels like he should be surprised, he read 3 books from Gerard claiming werewolves were uncontrollable killing machines and he definitely hurt this one in some way, but some deeper part of him—his soul maybe—knows that he wouldn't. Couldn't even.
Stiles finishes his steps over the ash and into the werewolf's corner and he just looks at the werewolf and breathes. The werewolf just lays back down and closes his eyes. Stiles lays down next to him then. Their chests just rise and fall in steady rhythm, breathing, existing and nothing more.
Gorgeous artwork above by @Haleswallows on Ao3 and Tumblr. Image depicts Derek and Stiles lying on the floor together. (Go send love to hanna or else >:( They deserve it. (/lh))
Stiles doesn't think before he once again enters the coffee shop Erica works at. He woke up a little while ago still curled on the floor by his soulmate but he knows better than to stay long enough for Gerard to catch him in the position. But of course habit is the result of fragmented and panicked thinking so after his escape from the lab, he goes to the shop without really thinking about it.
Stiles scans the room, hoping to make a quick exit but he catches Erica's eyes at the front counter as he does. He submits to his fate at that and sluggishly stumbles to the registers. Erica seems to always greet Stiles with disappointed looks and 5 feet from the counter this seems to be case again, but as Stiles continues, he notices Erica's face scrunch up and nostrils flail in disgust.
"Do I really smell that bad?" Stiles asks appalled that he could shake Erica with the smell of…a few skipped showers. He can shower when there isn't a man strung up in Gerard's lab.
Erica blinks at the question. Her face still screams disgust when she speaks with clear reluctance. "Where were you just now?"
Stiles pauses for a moment but he answers before his brain is back online fully "I— Just Gerard's lab—what does that have to do with anything?"
Erica's eyes widen at the admission. "What was it you said you were doing for him?" Erica asks with clear worry but firmness.
Stiles thinks briefly of telling Erica the truth right then. She seems thrown by something and maybe telling her he's providing the most minimal and dehumanizing care to a werewolf would make for a funny joke but its probably too specific to land. "Just some busy work" Stiles answers vaguely instead before changing the subject. "Anyways, I was hoping for a cup of coffee?" He holds out his money. Erica takes the money and Stiles ventures to the other side of the counter.
Stiles takes his time to stare at the floor and think through his next plan while he waits for his coffee. When Stiles' name is called Erica once again holds the cup out to him and doesn't let go. "Maybe we could have a chat today?" She says hopefully, but Stiles can hear a strain in her voice that makes him look up. Her smile is tight with worry and Stiles feels vaguely guilty to worry her so much but not enough to stop. He CAN'T stop.
Stiles forces a smile onto his own face, "I've really gotta go, homework isn't going to do itself."
Erica's smile slips a little. The bell on the door rings and Stiles eyes flick to the door on instinct. Boyd is entering the store and something about his demeanor sets off alarm bells in Stiles' head. He scoffs a little in disbelief and impatience. "Is this some kind of intervention?" He asks.
"Do you need an intervention?" Erica asks. Stiles doesn't speak. Boyd reaches the pair and just raises his eyebrows. Stiles feels Erica's grip on the cup loosen in response to Boyd's pretense. Stiles notices Boyd's own nostrils flare some and his face scrunches briefly before the expression replaced by his indifferent, stoic expression. Stiles must really reek .
"I'm fine." He blurts then, pulling his arm back and removing his coffee from Erica's grasp. He starts walking backwards with a smile plastered on his face. "Just really really focused on my work for lab, you know how I get." Stiles then. He turns then and finishes his retreat from the shop.
Stiles pauses for a second once he's safely on the sidewalk to look back into the shop through the display window. Erica clearly meant to follow Stiles out the door but Boyd grabbed her arm and is saying something to her. Erica deflates visibly and turns to Boyd. Stiles looks away then and walks away.
Stiles walks straight from the coffee shop to Dr. Argent's office. He should have gone to his class, he only would have been a few minutes late, but he knows there was no chance of him learning a single thing today. Instead he sits outside Dr. Argent's office rereading one of the werewolf books until Dr. Argent shows up for his office hours.
"Stiles. Good to see you." Dr. Argent unlocks his office and ushers Stiles in. Stiles sits in the chair across from Dr. Argent's desk and stares at the surface of the desk. The wood grain isn't particularly exciting but if he makes too much eye contact he's sure he'll give something away.
"What can I do for you Stiles?" Gerard asks, sitting on the other side of the desk.
"Do you have any more books about werewolves I could borrow?" Stiles asks, hoping he doesn't sound too rehearsed.
"Sure I do." Gerard answers easily. "But I think you want to know something else."
Stiles looks up then. Fuck.
"Stiles, I don't welcome just anyone to work in my lab, childhood friends with my future grandson-in-law or not."
Stiles swallows. His eyes flick around the room in what seems to be a feeble attempt to expel his nervous energy as he finds himself unable to land on any one spot.
"But you seem to understand what most scientists can't."
Stiles eyes finally land on Gerard's face and he feels his eyebrows draw in.
"Those papers you wrote for my class—sure there was some halfhearted attempt to acknowledge the notion of the studies being 'unethical' but we both know how you really feel."
Stiles feels his stomach sink. He wrote about studies that had interesting or important findings. He supposes he could see his enthusiasm for information overshadowing the unethical studies but he never wanted to endorse let alone perform unethical research.
"You and I understand that sacrifice is important for science."
Stiles chuckles a little, "Would it even be appropriate to call this a sacrifice?" Stiles feels positively sick but it works like a charm. Gerard laughs deeply and rises from his seat. He walks across the room and kneels in front of his bookshelf.
"I knew I liked you Stiles." He says. "I know exactly which book to give you next."
Stiles takes his moment while Gerard is across the room and focused on the shelf to reach across the desk and pick up Gerard's keys from the desk. Stiles is somewhat grateful for his 13 year old self who perfected picking up keys without making a sound. He tucks the keys into his pocket and looks up to see Gerard rising to his feet with another book.
Stiles takes the book and leaves as soon as he feels he can without rousing suspicion.
Stiles nearly trips in the dark hallway on his way to Gerard's lab in his hurry. He rushes down the stairs and nearly flings the door to the werewolf's room open. The werewolf, for once, has his eyes wide open when Stiles appears. He's standing still, watching Stiles. His eyes gleam in emotion but the rest of his face is completely blank. Stiles rushes over with Gerard's keys in hand and starts trying to fit keys into locks. He stumbles with the keys a couple of times in his haste, dropping them once, but he manages to fit the right key into the lock and releases the cuff on the man's right wrist. He then picks up the left wrist and does the same.
Stiles then, without releasing his grip on the man's wrist, marches right back towards the exit. The man stumbles after him but right as Stiles moves to pull the man's arm over the ash, blue explodes across his field of vision and it feels as though he hits a wall. Stiles stumbles over the ash leaving the werewolf to stumble back into the corner. Stiles gets up again and turns towards the man. He looks confused now.
Stiles bends down and with his hand he brushes the ash aside. Before Stiles is upright again the werewolf is across the room, staring at Stiles with glowing blue eyes. Stiles pauses for a moment. He inches closer to the werewolf but when Stiles is about halfway across the room, the werewolf tenses again. Stiles pauses as well and in a few minutes he makes out the sound of shoes clacking down the stairs.
Stiles' gaze darts around the room but he's drawing blanks. But just under the shelf he makes out a familiar handle. He rushes across the room and pulls his bolt cutters out from under the shelf. There's a chain shaped hole in the blade but they're sharp everywhere else and at the very least would make a good blunt force weapon.
Stiles stands holding his bolt cutters and watches the door. The door opens again and a middle aged blond woman enters. Her eyes flick across the room, lingering on both the werewolf and Stiles.
"Well. I told dad it was a bad idea to enlist an undergraduate." She looks unconcerned despite the werewolf sporting his claws and fangs and Stiles' large bolt cutters heft over his shoulder. She walks over to the werewolf first. The werewolf growls at her, increasing in volume as she comes closer and closer.
"You never learn" she sighs. "Every amount of resistance now is gonna hurt ten times more later ."
The werewolf just grows louder and tenser. Stiles creeps a few steps toward them. Stiles misses some silent cue because for a while they both just stand and then the werewolf is lunging toward the woman and she's retaliating with a dagger she pulled from somewhere.
Stiles stands frozen for a few moments but barely manages to duck out of the way when a dagger flies in his direction and embeds into the wall. Stiles gets up then and rushes towards the flurry. He feels the slicing down his chest as he runs but he doesn't stop. He just hefts his bolt cutters and prepares to swing. But the woman just delivers a swift kick in his direction sending him to the floor.
The bolt cutters land on his hand with a sickening crunch and searing pain. In his periphery, Stiles can see his soulmate react to the pain and fall to the floor himself. Stiles forces himself upwards but the woman is standing over his soulmate with her dagger and there's no way he'll make it in time. He tries anyways, ignoring the searing pain in his chest and the staticky feeling in his hand.
The woman sinks the dagger in to the werewolf's shoulder and Stiles forces himself not to recoil from the pain. He runs into the woman sending her to the ground underneath him. She's quick to push him off but her attention has been successfully diverted. Stiles scrambles backwards as she ambles towards him. Stiles glances at his soulmate but he doesn't move. His chest seems to rise and fall some but Stiles doesn't get a good chance to look before his back hits the wall.
Stiles looks up at the woman. Her eyes gleam in the dim florescent lighting and she's smiling wide. She lifts a third dagger but before she can bring it down on Stiles' prone form an arrow lodges itself in her shoulder. Stiles looks to the door where Allison stands with a bow in hand. The blond woman marches towards Allison and Scott rushes past her and falls to the floor by Stiles' side.
Scott is grabbing Stiles' shoulders and pulling him to his feet but Stiles can't leave. Stiles shakes out of Scott's hold and lifts his right and uninjured hand to point at the werewolf across the room. Scott turns to the man and pauses for a minute. Stiles leans against the wall and watches at Scott runs over the man.
Stiles then looks over at Allison who managed to land a couple more arrows in the woman but her bow lies broken in half on the ground a few feet in front of her. Allison is moving backwards slowly while the woman advances. Stiles watches her mouth move as she runs a finger along her dagger but he can't process the words now. But then Stiles remembers. Stiles looks to his side and sure enough the dagger is still embedded in the wall to his left.
Stiles reaches his hand to the dagger but his hand explodes in pain when it makes contact with the knife. Stiles takes advantage of the adrenaline rush to use his other hand to grip the dagger and throw. The dagger sails through the air sails right past the woman. Stiles is sure the dagger hits the ground but he doesn't hear it fall over the sound of howling.
Before he knows it there are a dozen werewolves rushing into the room. A few of them tackle the blond woman and she screams in pain. Another group rush towards Scott and his soulmate where Scott has been working on tying a tourniquet on the man's arm where his shoulder is oozing dark nearly black colored blood. Two werewolves come up to him then, the guy just grabs his right arm to sling over his shoulders and hold him up. Stiles leans onto the werewolf grateful not to have to fight his dizziness as much. The other werewolf just stands scanning their eyes across his body, probably looking for injuries. They pick up his left arm and she and Stiles just stare at his floppy fingers. Stiles looks away after a few minutes and stares at the blond werewolf not currently holding him up for a few minutes before the realization sets in. "Erica?"
The blond werewolf smiles ruefully and nods a little.
Stiles is going to say more but his thoughts are interrupted by an exclamation across the room. "Derek?!". Stiles can feel his lips lift a little—Stiles' soulmate has a name. Derek. Stiles lets himself pass out.