stylinskies

[stylinskies]

— where: lydia’s apartment — when: the morning after the rave

One.  Two.  Three.  Four.  Five. Climbing the stairs two at a time, Stiles barely stopped to register what he was doing. Counting his fingers. Even though the whole not being able to read bullshit was done, Stiles was still having the panic attacks. He wasn’t sleeping. And apparently he was blacking out. Because after finding that key on his keychain and leaving the rave, Stiles didn’t remember anything. He blinked and it was morning and he was hanging half out of his open Jeep window. A mess of unanswered text messages from everyone the only tell that the night before happened. That he actually did leave. Because he missed something.  Something happened. Something weird. Confirm you’re alive. From Isaac.  We’ve gotta meet up and talk about this. From Scott in a group chat. And then the one that actually woke him up. Three words from Allison. Lydia got hurt.  That was all it took to get Stiles to break every speed suggestion to get to the overly fancy building Lydia lived in, taking the stairs two at a time to see what happened. He was halfway up when he realized that this could be a trick of his brain. Nothing felt real anymore, so who was to say that this, something happening to Lydia, wasn’t just another weird waking nightmare. So he stopped, counting his fingers. He did it twice more just to confirm, and his stomach bottomed out. Ten fingers. So something really did happen. Something that he couldn’t help but feel like he may have a hand in.  It took him less than a minute to be at her door. Not even bothering to knock he used the copy of the key he made and ran in. “Lyd?” He called, ignoring Prada at the front door in favor of standing in the strawberry blonde’s bedroom doorway. “Are you alright? What happened?”

[stylinskies]

Quinoa. They were on the brink of certain death, the fate of town once again in their hands, and Lydia and Stiles were talking about quinoa. It was the simplicity of it all that made him laugh to himself. “I think you’re lying,” He hummed. “Like when people said kale was good. I think you’re falling for big Health Food propaganda.” His lightheadedness may have been from the nerves of what was coming soon, but there was also the relief that he wasn’t going to do this alone. Lydia was right there. She wouldn’t leave him alone to deal with this. She’d help him find his dad, and that was all that he needed right now. 

Even though he knew she was going to be there, Stiles was still anticipating her choosing Allison to anchor. He wouldn’t blame Lydia either, Allison was her best friend. Stiles was her…boyfriend? Have they reached that level? Would it be weird to ask right now? After he had a breakdown about his dad and right before he was going to - for lack of a better word - die. Probably. But he pocketed that question for later. “It does make sense,” Stiles filled in the blanks for her, a half smile lifting the corner of his mouth. “You and I have something good going on.” He said. “And you’re right I do absolutely like you better than Isaac.” A muffled hey from the other end of the wall reminded Stiles that the other man had werewolf hearing. Squeezing her hand, Stiles tried to give Lydia a confident smile. “I think you’re a pretty damn good motivator,” He said. “Now let’s go drown me, yeah?”

Something in Lydia melts feeling Stiles lips brush against the back of her hand, enjoying leaning into a quiet moment with him despite the situation at hand. Her lips quirk upwards, scoffing gently. "Quinoa is good. You guys are just ordering it from all the wrong places." Or worse, trying to make it. She's come to learn that Stiles is decent in the kitchen but she has a feeling that a lot of that comes from his father either not sharing that skill set or just being too busy to ever try. Maybe a little bit of both. The thought pulls up an image of decades ago, Stiles as a little kid and Noah trying to navigate life as half of a family with Claudia gone. Her chest tightens and Lydia sends up a silent prayer to a God she doesn't really believe in that all of this works.

She squeezes his hand again. "I was thinking about that too." Because how could she not? The only thing that's been going through her mind since Deaton told them about the ritual was the logistics of it and how it was all going to play out. "If I had it my way Isaac could just sit it out and I would do the whole thing," she admits with a shake of her head though she knows that would only result in something catastrophic. It had seemed like a no brainer that Lydia would go with Allison, but the more she thinks about it the less clear that becomes. "I thought I would go with Allison. She's my best friend — it makes sense, right?" She chews on her bottom lip momentarily, brows furrowing. "But I think it makes more sense the other way now. She and Isaac..." she trails off, unsure just how much Stiles knows about all of that. "They've got something between them. And you and I...." Well, something doesn't really seem like the right word for that. "You like me better than Isaac. I figure that might be more motivation to wake up again."

[stylinskies]

Brown eyes tracked the manicured fingers stroking soft assurances into her knuckles. Each circle a reminder to breathe. Slowly. Not like the shallow breaths that followed the probing questions Rafael asked about where his father was. Because how do you explain to someone that his father was kidnapped for the last part of a ritualistic sacrifice that would bring the end of the world? Rafael already didn’t trust him. So he had to lie through his teeth to a higher level agent and his friends from work. All around this situation was giving him heartburn. But watching the way Lydia’s finger moved against his skin, scattered with bruises from when he punched a wall a few days ago - at least he didn’t break his hand this time - brought all the agitation down. Quieting it to a murmur that thankfully, her words drowned out. “Could expand out into the suite next door,” Stiles mused softly, twisting his hand underneath hers so he could lace their fingers together. “That place has been empty for months.” 

Smiling softly, Stiles lifted their linked hands up to brush his lips against her knuckles in a quiet thank you. “I mean…he’s kinda right about quinoa.” He said, his father’s constant fight against healthy food a happy reminder that he was still a person. He wasn’t a body..not yet at least. “But I will absolutely use this to guilt him into eating healthy.” Will it work? No. But he was damn well going to try. Using their joined hand to tug her closure, Stiles let go of her hand to slide an arm around her waist. “Are you going to drown Allison? Or can I put in a request for you myself? Because if you leave me with Isaac I can’t be sure he’ll bring me back..”

Stiles seems distracted even on his best days and this is far from one of those. So when Stiles seems to slip away from her for a minute, Lydia doesn't take it personally. None of them are at their best today, a fact that weights heavily on her mind because if there was ever a time that they needed to be their best, it was now. Mentally, she packs away anything that doesn't need to be dealt with now — the banshee bombshell, Aiden's consistent texts, her latest fight with her mother. Anything that might even be a little bit distracting, Lydia compartmentalizes it for future Lydia and gives one hundred percent of her focus to Stiles and the incoming ice bath ritual because that's where she needs to be now.

She hums, nodding and brushing her thumb across the back of Stiles knuckles. "Maybe Deaton can expand the place. Add on a wing with a spa and double his profits." She doesn't point out the fact that, technically, she and Allison are rich dumbasses showing up in Deaton's office requesting the Nemeton Special. She also doesn't bother telling Stiles he can't start thinking about what happens after if they don't get this right. She knows there's no point, he's clearly already running through every scenario in his mind and nothing is going to stop that until they're finished with this — she knows because she does the same thing. "Just because you're an adult doesn't mean it would be easier to lose a parent. You and your dad..." she trails off for a moment, trying to find the right words. "You guys have a bond like something straight out of a Disney Channel Original." Her shoulder bumps against his, offering a small, teasing smile. It's something she's been almost jealous of sometimes, but Lydia doesn't say that. "This time next week I'm sure he's going to be trying to strangle you over quinoa."

[stylinskies]

Sometimes when you’re overwhelmed, it’s best to count backwards from ten. The voice of the grief counselor his father sent him to after his mom died floated in the back of his brain. And well, Stiles has tried everything at this point, so why not count? Ten…nine…eight… The crashing sound of ice into tin baths pulled Stiles back into reality and he had to start over again.  He made it to six before it happened again. At this point, he was figuring that there was some sort of supernatural entity that wants him to suffer, and he was just going to give in. To walk in there and drown himself in ice and mistletoe to save his father because at least the more worthy Stilinski would still be around. Fight back. 

A new voice. One he’s never actually heard before. Pushing at the center of his brain. If he ever paid attention in his biology class, he’d know it was the thalamus, the part of his brain that dealt with his dreams and sleep. It absolutely hadn’t been used in days, stress and anxiety keeping him awake since his father got taken. And maybe that was for the best. This voice sounds…angry. Terrifying. Vengeful. Fight back. It repeated. He wanted to respond. It felt like a bad idea. But he was closing his eyes, trying to find a thought, a way to push back and ask how, when a hand on top of his brought him back out to reality. The voices in his head faded back into static, but quieter this time as his entire being focused on Lydia. It was second nature at this point, when she was talking, to turn everything around him off to make sure he caught every word. Snorting softly, Stiles lifted a shoulder in a noncommittal shrug. 

“Sounds like we’re starting a trend. How long ‘til rich dumbasses are gunna start showing up at vet’s offices asking for the Nemeton special?” His laugh was dry and unconvincing. But the half smile curled in the corner of his mouth was real. It was hard not to feel a little relief that she was there with him. It’s going to work. Nodding a little Stiles’ brown eyes fall back down to the hammered out badge on the counter. “It will,” He agreed. Because Deaton’s never really led them astray before. “But I guess I’m worried about what happens after…” Turning back to the strawberry blonde, he sighs heavily. Because he really wasn’t okay. And for once, someone wasn’t just taking him at his word. “I just…I’m an adult. It just feels kinda weird…to consider myself an orphan if this all goes wrong and we don’t get to them in time, y’know? But that’s what I’ll be, and that scares the shit out of me.”

Initially, Lydia had thought it only made sense she would go with Allison. She's her best friend — the two have been to hell and back together. They know each other better than anyone. Of course Lydia would be the one to pull her back from the edge of death. Why wouldn't she? And Deaton would pull back Scott, because he's like a father to him and Isaac... Lydia had been mulling the whole thing over earlier, racking her brain trying to figure out if Isaac and Stiles had suddenly gotten super close and she had been oblivious to it. They hadn't — but Isaac and Allison had been another story, despite Lydia's warnings about not going down that road. So maybe she's not pulling Allison back at all. So maybe it makes more sense if Isaac is with Allison and Lydia is with Stiles. Because Lydia and Stiles do have a connection — one that she would put on the same level as she does with Allison, even if it's different. Still, Lydia's not entirely sure how to feel about that, afraid of leaving Allison's life in Isaac's hands. But she doesn't want to leave Stiles' life there either. Really, if Lydia had her way she would just be able to hold all three of them under and bring them back. She knows that isn't possible though.

She lets out a breath, shrugging her shoulders. "Extreme hydrotherapy — well, cold water immersion therapy, technically." She reaches out for him, land coming to land on top of his and squeezing gently. "I know you do." Lydia's heart goes out to Stiles, unable to imagine how she would feel in his position and her relationship with her parents is no where near as healthy or close as Stiles and Noah. Even with Chris, Noah and Melissa missing Lydia is anxious enough. Chris has taken on a parental role with her ever since he decided she's not a supernatural being that needs to be put down (the irony isn't lost on Lydia), it's obvious that Melissa McCall would do anything for anyone and she's been spending more time with Noah since she and Stiles began... whatever you want to call what they're doing. Lydia feels a connection to all three of them in varying degrees and wants to see them all back safe and sound. "We're going to get all of them back. It's going to work." Lydia says it confidently because they have no other choice but to believe that it's going to work. "You don't have to be fine right now. It makes more sense if you're not."

[stylinskies]

When it’s explained outright the way Deaton explains everything, it makes sense. There will be someone there to anchor them to reality. To keep them from actually dying. It’s as foolproof as these things can be. So there’s nothing to worry about. Except the longer he stood there, Stiles kept finding things to worry about. Who would anchor him? His best friend was being sacrificed along with him, and even then, he would’ve gone to Allison. Isaac’s also got a stronger connection to Allison and Scott than him, and well, Lydia and Allison are best friends. So where did that leave him? Desperately clinging to the ledge, too scared to jump off without a parachute all over again. 

But too much was going on to be reassured, so Stiles kept the concern to himself. Just letting the chips fall where they may. He had to save his father. “How’d you put it?” Stiles hummed, reaching down to grab the discarded badge and slipping it into his pocket. “Because supernatural polar plunge feels…crass.” He could tell that she was worried - who could blame her really? - but he really wanted to reassure her. Even though reassuring was difficult when you weren’t exactly assured yourself. “I…just want my dad back, y’know? And if this is the only way to get him back then let’s do it. But I’m…I gotta be fine, right?”

Anxiety courses through Lydia, her mind running a mile a minute as she goes over every potential outcome of this and tries to settle on the least horrific one. Obviously, an ideal outcome is this working. Their friends will be deadish for a few hours, they'll find the answers they're looking for and they'll be able to save the parents and take out Jennifer Blake. The least ideal is that all of this goes wrong, Stiles, Scott and Allison never come back up out of the ice and Jennifer wins her endgame. The margin of error all feels too big for Lydia's liking, but she has to trust that Deaton knows what he's doing. After all, he's been doing this longer than they have and he's their resident expert, even if it feels like they're on their own more often than not. Even with all of that in mind, it's a tough pill to swallow — putting this kind of blind faith in someone. But what other choice do they have?

She watches Stiles with concerned eyes as his fingers curl around his father's badge before letting it fall. It's obvious she has interrupted his train of thought, and she wishes that mind reading was something that came along with being a banshee. "Swim is a nice way to put it," she responds with a raised eyebrow. "I'm fine, Stiles." Which is kind of a lie but right now she has no choice but to compartmentalize and be fine. She'd had her breakdown over everything and now it's time to start putting it behind her and figuring out how to navigate her new life — finally with some answers. It's her turn to be something solid for Stiles to lean against. "Tell me where your head is at."

[stylinskies]

His hands were bruised from the hammer he used to flatten out the crushed badge he was twirling around, letting the faded light of the lamp behind the desk he was leaning against catch against the metal. The last connection to his father, battered and dented, but it was still there. A physical depiction of how Stiles felt - like this last hope had to be something. He couldn't bury his father too.

Though he really wished there was another way. Being essentially drowned in an iced mistletoe bath seemed like a bad way to spend an evening. But nothing about this supernatural bullshit was easy was it? So he's been standing here, staring at the badge in his hand, but not really seeing it. He hadn't really seen anything, since Deaton told them the plan. In all honesty, Stiles wasn't fully there. Instead, stuck in a maze of his own invention. Each corner shadowed by futures that he couldn't let happen.

Stiles was pulled out of his thoughts by a voice beside him. Long fingers loosened, letting the badge between them fall to the counter top with a clatter muted by the sound of ice being poured into metal tubs in the next room. "Huh?" He asked lamely, giving away how distracted he was. "I mean...yeah. About to go for a swim fully clothed...how are you? You don't really have a great job today either."

OPEN!! vague enough for all u bitches setting — deaton's office pre-ice baths

Lydia feels like her nerves are fried. The past twenty-four hours have felt like a lifetime, not to mention everything that had lead up to this. With Chris and Melissa having been taken, it's clear that their already limited window of time has become even smaller, leading to desperate and borderline insane methods to get answers. She'd tried her hand with Derek and Peter Hale — to her displeasure — who had both ended up being wholeheartedly useless with no memories of the root cellar thanks to Talia — because werewolves can take memories now, apparently, just to add to the millions of things they have to keep straight already.

They find themselves in Deaton's office now, a sacrificial ritual of their own only moments away. Lydia bites down on the inside of her cheek, wishing they had any other option at this point. She feels a tug in the back of her mind, like the answer — this stupid tree she's been drawing all semester — is somewhere back there, locked away, but she can't help. What else is new? She sighs, hand raking through strawberry curls as she glances into the exam room where Isaac and Deaton are filling up another tub. She feels anxious but who could blame her? She's sure they all are. Her lips purse together, glancing to the left of her. "Are you okay?" The question feels stupid because when was the last time any of them were okay?

[stylinskies]

“Lyd.” Stiles said, nudging her back with his shoulder. He was trying to keep the mood light, but there was still seriousness behind it. “Come on. You’re like the most powerful out of all of us. You’re the one that was immune to Peter’s bite. You’re the one that brought Jackson back…no matter what you are, you're powerful and it would be stupid if people didn’t notice that. Scott and my dad got there in time to help, and I’m forever going to be grateful that they did…but that doesn’t take anything away from you. Sometimes powerful people still need help.”

We don’t have to worry about that right now. Yes we do. His mind was screaming at him. I can’t think about the rest of it. Putting off the scary shit was something he hasn’t done since he was a kid. To be honest, it wasn’t a viable way to live life when your best friend was a werewolf and your town was constantly on the brink of being supernaturally destroyed. But right now, with the idea of losing the last close family member he had, Stiles was falling back into old habits. But Lydia’s hands were on his face, stroking his cheek, crashing him back into the moment for a second. Swallowing hard, Stiles shook his head. To focus back on the woman in front of him, but to also dislodge the bad thoughts hovering in the front of his mind. Hew asn’t going to accidentally speak any of that out loud. “Of course,” He said, quietly, as brown eyes tracked Lydia’s movements. “It’s important…” It is. And maybe now, in his secret “find a cure for werewolf stuff” board, there’s a section for banshees, but he wasn’t going to bring that up now. Instead he sighed. “No. We uh….got a hold of Derek. Since he…y’know…has been sleeping with Jennifer. They’re talking about using him to get her to tell us where he is. But I’m not really sure how great of a plan that is. If she thinks it’s a trap she won’t show up. I really doubt love was drivin’ that relationship….Frank’s looking but he’s only got the generic serial killer angle, so I don’t know if he’s doing anything besides running around like a chicken with his head cut off, but I appreciate the effort. Just wish there was literally anything I could do officially. Just tired of feeling like I’m grasping at straws every time something like this happens. Like Scott getting bit…getting you away from Peter at the formal…getting paralyzed like a million times by Jackson…the whole Alpha Pack  thing…”

Lydia resists the urge to scoff at Stiles words because she doesn't feel powerful right now — she certainly hadn't felt that way last night. Lydia had been helpless in that moment — again — and almost lost her life... again. "I don't think powerful is the word she would use," she shakes her head, teeth gnawing on the inside of her lip. She doesn't think it's the word anyone would use. "If it hadn't been for Scott and your dad..." she frowns, both because of what could have happened and what did happen. Logically, Lydia knows that Jennifer had had her victims picked out long in advance but it would be a lie to say that a part of her didn't wonder if Noah may have managed to evade her grasp if he hadn't been caught in that empty classroom with them the night before.

Stiles laugh sounds wooden and Lydia doesn't expect any less. They're both far from okay right now — but at least they're not alone, right? Lydia can't remember the last time she had felt that way. Her mind wanders back to the year before, when she'd felt like she was slipping down a slow spiral into insanity with no one there to hold onto. When Jackson had saved her from bleeding out on the field she thought he might be someone she could turn to but that obviously hadn't been the case. Most of her friends had taken Jackson's side in their break up and Allison had been avoiding her at every turn. It had been simultaneously the loneliest and scariest time in her life and right now she clings to the fact that she has someone she can trust to be there.

He drives that thought forward now, pulling her attention back to the present. The feeling of his fingers on the back of her thigh ground her in reality and she tears her gaze away from his laptop and back to him. A sigh falls from her lips, "We don't have to worry about that right now." It's not like this problem is time sensitive. Lydia can tough it out for a little longer, she's gotten surprisingly good at that. The hand on the back of his neck slides forward along his jaw, thumb stroking against his cheek. "Thank you for doing this — looking into this." It means a lot to her — her chest feels like it's cracked open, heart exposing itself and glowing with appreciation. "We can look at more later. Have you heard anything? From Scott? About your dad?"

[stylinskies]

🥃 + where do you see yourself in 10 years?

🥃 + where do you see yourself in 10 years?

 “I want to be a detective. Which…I guess I already am….but like. A bigger detective. I wanna put away the really bad guys.” He was blabbering. And his drink was empty. So he had nothing to distract him. “Like I want to be ground breaking, y’know? Because everyone else around me is doing this…amazingly wild stuff and I’m just here. Doing research. and sometimes I feel useless.”

[stylinskies]

🥃 + what is your biggest fear?

🥃 + what is your biggest fear?

“I mean,” Stiles said. “It used to be spiders…but now my inner circle is mostly supernatural creatures that could kill me with their pinky so…feels kinda stupid to say spiders…but also like…I’m terrified of being left behind. Like everyone forgot about me or left me behind because I’m just a human with barely anything going on..” A hiccup interrupted his train of thought, pulling him back to reality. “Also Kanimas. I’m fucking terrified of Kanimas.”

[stylinskies]

🥃 + how has scott's lycanthropy changed your friendship?

🥃 + how has scott's lycanthropy changed your friendship?

“I mean…” When uncomfortable, just crack a joke. A defense mechanism that multiple therapists called him out on over the years, started to take over. “About as much as you’d expect when your best friend turns into a supernatural creature…now I gotta make sure not to piss him off…which used to be one of my favorite past times.” The alcohol was buzzing in his brain, just enough to turn his filter off. “But sometimes it’s hard to keep up with him now…and it’s different…y’know? We used to have so much time to hang out even when our schedules were busy…but now it’s kind of hard to compete with saving the world.”

[stylinskies]

🥃 + do you regret not taking the bite when given the chance?

🥃 + do you regret not taking the bite when given the chance? 

“Look, no matter what bullshit Peter and Derek spew…the bite’s not a gift.” Slurring his words, he started snapping his fingers to try and focus his thoughts. “All I’ve seen are the consequences of it. So no.” Another swig of his drink was the only pause in his stream of consciousness. “Also…I’d be like…fully indebted to Peter or something. That has done literally no one any favors. So no I don’t regret it…even though everyone’s way stronger and faster and somehow hotter than me…”

[stylinskies]

🥃 + do you think your father blames you for your mothers death?

🥃 + do you think your father blames you for your mothers death? 

An uncomfortable memory of Lydia’s birthday party a few years ago, a spiked drink, and a hallucination flashed behind fluttering eyelids as Stiles knocked back the rest of his drink. Suddenly, this game wasn’t fun anymore. “Yes,” a single syllable stretched out after miles of silence. “But I don’t really blame him for that.” 

[stylinskies]

🥃 + genuinely, do you think it will work out with lydia?

Send me  ‘ 🥃 ‘ + plus a question, and my muse will answer it while drunk.

"Look..." The syllables were tripping their way out of his mouth before he could figure out how to say it in the least embarrassing way possible. "I haven't been more sure of something in my entire life...and I've said it since I was a kid." Another swig of his drink preceded a middle finger pointing upward toward nothing. "And when I end up being right, all those fuckers in school who thought she would never look at me a second time can eat my ass."

[stylinskies]

Send me  ‘ 🥃 ‘ + plus a question, and my muse will answer it while drunk.

[stylinskies]

Pushing strands of strawberry blonde hair behind her ear, Stiles nodded a little bit. “Honestly, I don’t think any of us were…like besides the Alpha’s and Derek. But then apparently Scott’s a True Alpha, so she started paying attention.” Letting his hand drop back down to brush fingertips against her thigh he shrugged. “She probably was shocked she missed it. A powerful being right in front of her? She thought she was this big bad unstoppable force.” 

Licking his lips, Stiles laughed. It felt weird in his hollowed out chest. Like he shouldn’t be. Not when everything was falling apart around him. But Lydia was a lifeline. Keeping her close was a reminder that there was other stuff going on. That not everything was disgusting and bad. Except for that one time where he asked his - girlfriend? friend with benefits? He didn’t know for sure - if she was a serial killer. “Flowers, orgasms, dinner, and taking care of your boujee dog….” He pointed out. “I think it’s a pretty solid forgiveness plan.” Chuckling a little bit, he watched her face. 

This wasn’t easy, he knew that. And knowing that she now had to deal with not only the fact that this was all happening to her, that she had to accept a new identity, he didn’t know how to make this better. Like once again, the wrong person was being punished for something he had a hand in. If he didn’t drag Scott out into the woods, he wouldn’t have been bitten. And if Lydia had gone to the formal with Jackson, she wouldn’t have had to find him and wouldn’t have run into Peter - right? He couldn’t know for sure. But what he did know was that he could help find a solution. “Hey…we’ll figure it out alright? I’ll see what I can find about a cure. Or at least something to make it bearable for you.”

Lydia sighs into the kiss and lets her brain shut off, if only for a few seconds. The feeling of Stiles lips against hers and his hand on the small of her back ground her back into reality and soothe away the anxieties swirling in her chest, reminding her that at the end of the day she's alive and she can figure this out — and she doesn't have to do it alone. Not anymore. She has friends who want to help her — she has him. She shakes her head, lips pursing as she looks back at the computer. "I don't think I was even on her radar before," she admits with a sigh. "I don't think she knew that I was even a part of all of this — not the way Peter did." For so long she had thought she'd just been in the wrong place at the wrong time and that Peter had latched onto her. Now she has to second guess all of that and it frustrates her that somehow Peter Hale is always twelve steps ahead of everyone else.

Her expression softens into something that could almost be a grin, eyes rolling as her hand slips into Stiles hair, fingertips dragging across his scalp. "You did, but is that really the kind of thing you can make up for over the course of a few months? Flowers and orgasms don't fix everything," she hums, though the words don't really hold much weight. Lydia had been hurt by his thought process, but she has let it go by now. It's not something that was worth holding onto when the bigger picture going on around them was so much more worrying. "Yeah," she huffs out the word. "I just get to hallucinate and keep finding dead bodies. At least Scott knows when it's coming and has some control."

[stylinskies]

“Honestly,” Stiles said, staring straight ahead, “I think they’ve been stumbling ass backwards into the information just like we have. They’re just better bullshitters.” He finds it extremely hard to believe that Aiden and Ethan are smarter than they are. They have a literal genius on their side. But the pack wasn’t - like usual - their biggest problem. Stiles wasn’t allowed to know about the details of the case, no matter how hard he tried. The second Scott’s father got there he was knocked out. Marked a victim rather than a suspect, with the alibi he offered and his father’s disappearance. But he was good at what he did - and what he did most of the time was eavesdrop.

”The aresenal you father has is actually probably going to be an issue,” He admitted. “Feds aren’t leaving any stone unturned. And you guys live in the same building as the current top suspects.” Was there a genuine angle for them to search Argent? No. But they’ve gotten warrants on less. “If not the cops, then at least Isaac,” maybe Stiles floated the idea by him already, using Isaac’s obvious crush on Allison to his advantage. “The thing with Jennifer is she hasn’t actually hurt anyone besides her target…Heather was taken out of an entire party,” voice faltering a little bit as he remembered his friend and the way she was found. 

“Just an idea though. So…feel free to ignore it.” The bitter tone stumbled in. But with everything going on, he was frustrated. Frustrated that there were no leads. That his father was probably dying or already dead. That no matter how many times he was right before, his friends still thought his theories were jokes to wave away. Like how his best friend opted to run away with a group of literal killers than come up with a plan with him. “You stayin’ here or going home? I’ve been staying with Lydia for a bit so I can take you over there…unless you think you should stick close to your dad.”

One step forward, three steps back. Every single time Allison starts to think they’ve figured something out, that they’ve solved a piece of this never ending puzzle — A new, worse complication arrives and makes her head begin to spin. “It wouldn’t be the first time they knew something we didn’t.” She points out, though they both know Stiles is right. Allison can’t stop the sinking feeling that’s threatening to pull her under, telling her that this is where it ends whether they like it or not — They may truly be at the end of their rope. She knows now is not the time to let herself fall into that emotional trap, not when they’re still in the middle of this fight. Ignoring the knots in her stomach proves to be more difficult than she’d like to admit.

It’s reassuring to know the FBI won’t be knocking on her door asking about the incident at the hospital, it gives them time to work on finding Melissa and the Sheriff without Scott’s father barging in. Taking a deep breath, Allison forces herself to follow Stiles' lead — Work on solving the problem. Her mother’s voice finds her, adding: Clinically, and unemotionally. She can cry later. Right now they need to figure this out. Something. Anything. She follows Stiles train of thought, still finding it strange the helpless, confused Jennifer Blake was the Darach — But then again, Gerard had been skilled at manipulation too. Brows furrow as he pulls a crumpled piece of paper from his bag, naively hoping for a brief moment that maybe it’s a note from Scott, though the thought passes quickly.

She stares at it for a moment, reading the words over and over. Parent or Guardian. Guardian. Just like it said on her father’s desk. The gravity of that reality begins to sink in, threatening to pull her under. Argent being on elevator doors scared her, but this only confirmed what they already knew was coming. Her father would be the last sacrifice. Alongside Melissa Mccall, and Sheriff Stilinski. The thought makes her sick, the realization that they would all most likely end up burying their parents. Allison’s eyes don’t leave the paper as Stiles speaks, suggesting a police detail for her father. It takes everything in her not to laugh at the idea, knowing the police won’t exactly do much in this situation.

Instead, she forces herself to swallow the lump in her throat, and takes a deep breath as she hands the paper back to him. Clinically, and unemotionally. If they want any sort of chance to save their parents, she can’t let herself succumb to her fear. “We both know that’s not going to do much.” Allison points out, more defeated than anything. It’d be so much easier if this could be handled by a few deputy’s standing by the door. “Besides, there’s more of an arsenal in my parents garage than the police station. I don’t know that a police detail would do much more than put more people in danger.”

[stylinskies]

“Yet,” Stiles interrupted. “He doesn’t want you dead yet.” One of Scott’s best qualities is also the one that frustrates the shit out of Stiles. How easily trusting he is. He takes people at their word every time. And maybe it’s less about Scott and more about how distrusting Stiles is of everyone, but sometimes it felt like Stiles had to bring his best friend back down to earth. “The second you stop being of use to him, you’re gunna be dead.”

Rubbing his jaw, Stiles shrugged desperately. “I mean…we found out that she's his sister by accident, dude. I trust Deaton, but something tells me he’s as in the dark about what his sister is up to as we are, families are weird, man.” Speaking of families. A familiar face and badge sat in the back of his mind. You need to say something. A voice in his head said. It should come from you. “Lyd?” Running a hand through his hair. “She’s…doing better. After y’know…almost becoming the next victim of a serial killer. We’ve been doing research on the whole banshee thing.”

Exhaling, Stiles figured that he waited long enough. “Dude…the feds showed up at the hospital.” It felt like a useless comment, but Stiles was still trying to figure out how to break this to Scott. “And uh…I met the team…they wanted me to update them…the head of the field team…” Letting out a deep sigh, Stiles leaned his elbows on the stainless steel table between them. “The head of the field team is your dad.”

❝ Doesn’t want me dead, ❞ Scott shrugged, not sure why he chose to add that in but it’s true. That’s the main thing he had to use to his advantage with him and the Alpha pack. Which was saying something because between them and the Darrach, he wasn’t sure they would be able to survive. Both seemed impossible to fight, so he was going with the lesser of two evils, where had an advantage, to take the other one out. Once they took care of Jennifer then they could focus on taking out Deucalion. He wasn’t sure about the rest of them, but he knew that Deucalion needed to be stopped for sure. Everyone besides his pack could agree with that, he was sure of it.

He turned to face Stiles, chewing on the side of his cheek nervously. Scott was trying his best to stay calm and collected, for the sake of his best friend but also to keep himself from losing control. Wolfing out wouldn't help anyone right now and he needed to be focused on doing whatever he could to get their parents back. ❝ No, but she didn’t have a whole lot of time to either because Deucalion had just thrown his cane and stabbed her in the chest for telling me what he did and what she thinks he’s trying to do with Derek and me. ❞ The explanation was vague but he wasn't sure how much Stiles wanted to know about what happened. ❝ I don't know if we can believe her but I don't think she'd lie. I mean, it's Deaton’s sister and she knows we can ask him about it and I trust him to tell me the truth, don't you? ❞ For a moment it crossed his mind that she might not be okay and he should try to find out if she got away safely after he left. Maybe he should have helped her to the hospital, which then brought his mind back to his mom. How am I going to find her?

Scott let out an overwhelmed sigh. He paused for a beat, organizing his thoughts again which was proving hard with the constant amount of information he was gathering on top of how worried he is about his mom and trying to keep it together. ❝ She's definitely not working with them, though. That much I know. ❞ If she was, she wasn't anymore. Not by the way they were acting and if she was working with the Darach Scott was positive Deaton would know. ❝ I am going to go back to Allison's though because she said her dad might have some stuff about it. Is Lydia okay? ❞