#I'm the world's biggest hoe for sen/guide

[twothumbsandnostakeincanon]

Stiles was just kind of weird.

Weird name, weird sense of humor, weird habits.

So it wasn’t really a surprise to anyone that his weirdness extended to the point of him being a Guide. Hell, it wasn’t even really a surprise when he was shipped off to the special school for Guides and Sentinels that were too potent to be in public before they were trained.

But it was a little bit of a surprise when his instructors discovered that he was not, in fact talking to himself between classes as they thought.

He was talking to his soul animal.

__________

“He’s been here one month!” Ms. Clara, the bonding counselor, hissed at Finstock. “There are instructors who have been here for years without seeing theirs, much less engaging in verbal communication!”

“Stilinski can barely shut up in class, why would his soul animal be any different,” Finstock answered carelessly as he scrawled six question marks at the top of an econ paper and flung it to the side. “I don’t know what you’re complaining about. He’s starting to make progress at shielding, and the sooner he gets that shit the sooner we can kick him out. Then maybe I’ll finally be able to get a cup of coffee in the morning before he’s emptied the entire goddamn carafe.”

“I’m not complaining,” she said, offended. “It’s just… unsettling. Soul animals are sacred. Most of us only see them a handful of times, but he talks to his as if- as if it were a particularly rude cat!”

“Ferret,” Finstock corrected absentmindedly, writing NO on the next paper and underlining it three times.

“Excuse me?”

“It’s a ferret. And apparently it bites him when he’s not giving it enough attention, so rude is pretty accurate.”

Ms. Clara’s mouth was hanging open, and continued to do so even after Derek Hale stormed into Finstock’s office.

“I need to talk to you about Stiles’ soul animal,” he said, eyebrows drawn together in a frustrated line.

“See?!” Ms. Clara said, gesturing sharply at him. “I’m not the only one who finds it unsettling!”

“What?” Derek said. “No, I don’t- it keeps interrupting my lectures on Animal Farm.”

Finstock finally looked up from his grading.

“How in the hell is a soul animal interrupting your lectures? Stilinski’s the only one who can see or hear it!”

“Stiles says it won’t stop biting him unless he tells everyone what it’s saying,” Derek said, shifting a his weight and crossing his arms. “I guess he could be lying. Stiles is already pretty proficient with projection- Look, the point is I wasted fifteen minutes arguing that ferrets couldn’t have prevented the rise of Stalinism-”

“Tiny baby Jesus,” Finstock pleaded, rubbing his face. “I know you’re still relatively new here Hale, but just because a student, or a student’s soul animal, brings up a topic doesn’t mean you have to engage. I would, because Animal Farm sucks and talking about anything else would be more interesting, but I know how anal you are about lesson plans-”

“-it’s state curriculum-”

“So Hale, if the sacred ferret interrupts you again then tell it to shut up, and Ms. Clara, engage in some selective attention if it really bothers you that much. Now get out of my office so I can drink bourbon while I grade, the way God intended.”

Ms. Clara turned on her heel and stormed out, but Derek hesitated.

“... Can I really do that? I mean… it’s not really a normal situation, and I absolutely have to get through this unit by the end of the week, but… it’s his soul animal.”

Finstock sighed.

“Nothing about Stilinski is normal. Just work something out.”

__________

“You should find a Sentinel and bone them so we can get out of here.”

“Shut up Quincy, I’m trying to read about communist ham.”

“You could be reading about communist ham on your own bed, with your blankets and your TV-”

“-and feeling every emotion in a ten block radius until I fall into a swoon and end up right back here,” Stiles finished dryly.

Quincy scoffed.

“You have better control than that.”

“Not yet,” Stiles said grimly. “I will, but not yet. And I’m not about to go out and bond with the first Sentinel I see just so I can go home. Besides, even with the lightest of bonding, which, by the way, does not necessarily include fucking, but even with that, whoever I bonded to wouldn’t want to let me out of their sight for at least a week. We’d still be stuck, even with the boost in my shields.”

“Of course you don’t have to fuck them, but why wouldn’t you?” Quincy asked, baffled. He looked over from where he was basking in a patch of sunlight on the floor.

Stiles rolled his eyes.

“Is every soul animal as horny as you?”

“I’m an extension of you, so if you have a problem with it-”

“Yeah, yeah,” Stiles cut him off, cheeks turning a little pink. He knew exactly why Quincy was acting the way he was; Stiles hadn’t been able to smuggle any sex toys into his luggage before he was whisked off to Guide Camp. Or The Institute for Sentinels and Guides of Sensitivity. Whatever. The point was that he was lacking, and apparently it resonated all the way down to his soul. He cleared his throat. “Besides, it’s your fault that Hale is watching me so closely. I probably could have gotten away with the CliffsNotes if you hadn’t insisted on arguing about your ferret superiority.”

“If you think for one second that ferrets would have put up with any of Napoleon’s-”

“That is so not the point. You’re lucky he offered to listen to your bullshit during his office hours instead of just straight up kicking us out of class.”

Quincy scoffed.

“I’m lucky?”

“Yes,” Stiles said firmly. “Because you’re a reflection of my soul, and I could very easily see my soul going hairless if I have to repeat American Literature next year.”

Quincy gasped.

“You wouldn’t. You couldn’t.”

“Do you really want to find out?”

Quincy’s furry little face somehow managed to convey utter betrayal before curling back up with a huff in his warm patch.

“Whatever,” he grumbled. “I’ll show you, and Hale… class discussion is for chumps… office debates are the real battleground…”

Stiles finally returned to Napoleon and his windmill, ignoring the touch of homesickness and loneliness that resonated between the two of them. Stiles just had to get through this. He had to get through being the weird one here so he could go home and be the weird one there.

At least when he was the weird one at home he had his Dad and Scott.

Here he had no one.

__________

Stiles knocked on Hale’s office door, and then walked in without waiting for an answer.

Derek looked up from his desk, exasperated.

“You’re supposed to wait for me to tell you to come in, Stiles. What if I’d been helping another student?”

Stiles waved a hand dismissively.

“Then I would have felt two people in room instead of your lonesome brooding self.”

Derek grimaced.

“You’re not supposed to be able to feel in here at all, Stiles. That’s what the shields in the Institute are for, to prevent-”

“-Prevent overwhelming emotions from my sensitive little Guide brain, blah blah blah.” He dropped down into a chair, immediately sticking out a hand and then bringing it to his lap, as if he were picking up something Derek couldn’t see. Disconcerted to once again see Stiles treating impossible things as if they were no big deal, Derek tried to push back to his initial concern.

“Yes, exactly. If you’re still picking up things like that then we may need to, I don’t know, move you to a more secluded area, or double up shields or something. We’re responsible for your wellbeing, Stiles, and we take that seriously.”

“Okay, first of all dude,” Stiles said with an eye roll, “you’re like four years older than me. Stop acting like you’re wiser and so much more experienced.” He had one hand up by his shoulder now, clearly supporting the weight of something. “Second of all, we both know that the Institute barely has any idea what to do with me. The only reason I’m here instead of locked up in an isolation room somewhere is because Finstock is just crazy enough to say ‘what the hell’ instead of ‘hell no.’ I make everyone uncomfortable, I pick up on some training way too quickly, and other training doesn’t work on me at all; sensing how many people are in a room is the least of my problems.” He paused, and tilted his head toward the shoulder with his hand. “Quincy says stop stalling and get ready to admit that ferrets would make the best political leaders.”

“Quincy. Your soul animal… is named Quincy?” Derek asked, dazed. Stiles shrugged.

“I told him it was a girls name.”

“Don’t be a small minded gender binarist,” Quincy said, nipping Stiles’ ear sharp enough that Stiles dropped him to rub it, scowling. Quincy just sat up on his lap instead, clearly ready to do battle.

“It’s a… him?” Derek asked, eyes darting around Stiles occasionally, pointlessly trying to see what Stiles could.

Stiles smiled bemusedly.

“Well, he’s a reflection of my soul, and I’m a ‘him.’”

“Right,” Derek said, a little distantly. He’d only ever caught a glimpse of his own. A blackbird of some kind. He’d always referred to the animal as ‘it’, but now he wondered if that was offensive. He sternly shook himself back into the moment, reasserting his attention. “Just because your situation is… unique, doesn’t mean that your learning environment shouldn’t be as good as everyone else’s.”

“Dude, just don’t worry about it, okay? I’m getting better at consistent shielding all the time, but short of my perfect sentinel match magically walking through that door and bonding with me immediately, there’s nothing to do about right now anyway.”

Suddenly a knock rapped at the door. They both turned to look at it in surprise as it opened. Stiles’ mouth fell open as the most gorgeous man he’d ever seen stepped in.

Blue eyes, broad shoulders, and a smirk that said a million things Stiles immediately wanted to have whispered in his ear. He was magnetic.

He was a Sentinel.

“Hello nephew. I apologize for interrupting, but your mother insisted I get this to you before it cooled.” He placed a tupperware container on the corner of the desk, clearly ready to leave as quickly as he came, but stopped abruptly when he spotted Stiles sitting.

They stared at each other for a beat, and Stiles felt an undeniable pull. An urge to get up and touch, even to wrap himself around the other man and stay there for days.  His knees twitched, as if they were going to get up and move whether or not they had permission.

“Holy shit,” Quincy whispered.

Peter’s eyes shot down to Stiles’ lap and widened.

“Holy shit,” Quincy repeated. “Look at that huge ass wolf!!”

Stiles tore his eyes away from Peter to look behind him and sure enough, there in the doorway stood an enormous grey wolf. Peter’s brow furrowed, looking behind himself in the same direction and stiffened in surprise. The wolf just ambled in, nudging Peter’s hand with his nose before continuing over to sit in front of Stiles. Quincy wasted no time in scurrying off Stiles’ lap to climb on top of him, causing Peter and Stiles to both shiver as they touched.

It took one more beat for Peter to recover, and then his eyes snapped back to Stiles, sharply taking in everything about him. A clever grin slowly took over his face. He extended his hand.

“You must be Stiles.”