elevenmccall reblogged
elevenmccall reblogged
He wanted to curl up in a ball and forget everything but he couldnât. The tiredness was stuck in his bones and his heart. âNah, we gottaâŠfind out where the body went. Can you track it?â His attempt to avoid sleeping was weak at best. But expected of him. He hated doing anything that was because of his own vulnerability. At least he was warmer with how close Scott was. The natural chill was for the moment being battled by it. âIâm not sleeping, man.â
Scott had always comforted him. His arms were something Stiles could say was a safe space. Where vulnerability was allowed for the briefest of moments. âHe wasnât a chimera then. I donât think he was. Which means that it was recent. You couldnât have predicted this. Iâve got enough blood on my hands, Scott. A little more isnât going to make much of a difference. He was a psycho, Iâm glad it was me and not someone who doesnât know how to defend themselves or my Dad.â
âI can try...â He murmured, shutting his eyes. He could faintly catch Donovanâs scent and his blood, slowly starting to walk out the door as he tracked it. Opening his eyes to cast a glance behind him at Stiles, adding, âI got it, but itâs no use if a car was involved. And you should try, you canât avoid it forever, dude.â Scott remembered how bad it got before, to where his mom had to sedate him. He hoped it wouldnât come to that.
He couldnât agree or disagree entirely with the way his best friend saw things, choosing to remain quiet as he followed Donovanâs scent. There was one almost familiar attached, too much that he knew it had to be someone he knew, not Donovan himself. He couldnât remember though, frowning. His face only fell more as they reached outside, trail leading them to the parking lot with a space that had clear skid marks on the pavement. âWhat do we do know?â He almost wished the school had video cameras so they could check the footage.
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Why was Scott here? They hadnât been anything close to friends in a long time. Stiles didât have anyone any more and he was used to it. Used to the silence of the loft and the feeling of pain. Was that sad? It felt sad. He could barely focus on it because Scott could see his bare chest and the multitude of scars that crisscrossed his pale skin. And the newer cuts and bruises. Along with the cut he had been stitching together.
âIâm not.â A lie despite the evidence around him that disproved it. âNot part of your pack. JustâŠâ He didnât know how to finish his own sentence. How could he explain this when he didnât remember hearing Scott even acknowledge him in months.
âYou didnât have to come looking for me. Iâm heading out anyway.â To find the final vampire and burn itâs asshole body to the ground. The longer it was out there the more danger everyone was in.
âRight, of course not. Not like the evidence against that is all over your body or anything.â Scott shook his head, arms crossing over his chest. âDid I ever say you werenât?â Heâd never say that or anything like it, but he knew he could share in the blame of the two of them not talking for so long. He wanted to believe though that if Stiles wasnât with the pack, heâd be safe and away from all the trouble that befell Beacon Hills.
âSo youâre not with us, but fighting anyways? Seriously, Stiles? Why do you think I havenât talked to? To keep you away from all of this. To keep you safe. I failed when it came to Donovan, I didnât want you to have to do something like that again.â
There were so many emotions going through the alpha, he shaked with it all, holding himself together just barely. âDonât, stay here. Whatever it is, weâll deal with it. Youâre hurt. Donât think I wonât call your dad right now.â
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Where the fuck was he? It was cold and he felt so alone. Was this hell? No, the voice had said he was the anchor of death. So he had to be where dead people were. But why? How the fuck had this happened and why was he dead again? WASÂ he dead again? He needed some answers but first he had to find his way back home. Back to Scott and his Dad.
His chest felt warm. It pulled him towards the fog and he walked with it guiding him. How else was he supposed to leave. The further he walked, the more he felt like he was getting closer to home. He could feel something pressing on his chest. Chest compressions. Scott was trying to start his heart. The voice slipped in next. He was TRYING.
Finally, he felt the last tendrils of the fog clear and his heart and breathing started as one. A giant gasp had his lungs workings and his heart beat fast. Everything hurt and he was so disorientated. Wasnât he sat up before? His chest hurt and he wondered how much time heâd been out for Scott to start chest compressions.
âS-Scott?â His voice was so soft and so confused. Even though he knew more than Scott, that didnât mean he understood it. âIâm okay.â He reassured his best friend straight away. âIâm okay.â
Worry started to settle in him when Stiles didnât make any sings of life, he was about to call Stiles dad when everything happened all at once. He wasnât sure heâd ever been so relieved, gasping along with the other. âOh my god, Stiles... what the hell? I thought I lost you, you werenât breathing and you had no heartbeat.â
He didnât have a clue to what had happened, not that he had much time after heâd been spurred into action to try and save his best friend. He patted the otherâs shoulder, trying to get him to sit up more. âYeah, buddy. Itâs me, you okay? Do you need me to get you water or something? Should I call your dad?â
A frown etched itself onto his features, immediately responding with,â You werenât okay a second ago. You were dead. What happened?â His voice was flat, wanting to know exactly what had happened. Scott pushed all other emotions to the side for now, needing to know the answer to why heâd just seen his best friend die.
He wasnât sure if this had anything to do with why he came back to life in the first place, if maybe Stilesâ time here was limited. It scared him and he knew theyâd have to dig for answers sooner than later.
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âSee? See? I told you that you werenât gonna regret it. I bet you thought I was gonna pee on it. But I didnât. I made a moat, âcause it was missing a moat. Was I wrong?â Stiles is altogether too proud of himself, too gleefully willing to express that by scolding Scott for this doubts in the most unsubtle way possible. Itâs been their dynamic for approximately forever, so Stiles apparently feels it would be a shame to disrupt that now.
He looks back down at the sandcastle, after Scottâs taken several pictures, and puffs his shoulders back a little, proud of himself. âIt does look pretty good, huh. We should celebrate. You wanna get some ice cream to celebrate?â
Scott takes the scolding in stride, well, in stride with a look. Itâs easily given away to a grin though as he shakes his head, breathing in relief that his sandcastle is in near perfect condition. âI feel like I should say something about how youâre literally proud of yourself for not peeing on something, but I think Iâll let you have this one.â He tries to make up pointing it out by winking at his best friend.
He holds back a laugh as he catches Stiles, gesturing toward the castle with his free hand. âYou want to take a picture with it?â Scott drops his arm at the mention of ice cream though, brown eyes lighting up. âYes, that shouldnât even be a question. Okay, pictures because you know my momâs going to want to see them and then lots of ice cream to celebrate the best sandcastle ever. Or second best since our first one brought us together.â
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âScottâIâjustââ  Words donât come easily through the wheezing laughter.  For five years, theyâve done this.  Anna has dodged his mother in every way conceivable and done a pretty decent job of it.  Until this very morning.  When she accidentally answered his phone without thinking.  âOkay, okayâlistenââ  A deep inhale to stop the laughter for a second.  âYour mother isnât stupid.  She has to know something is up.â  Settling next to him, she reaches out, brushes fingers through his hair.  While itâs funny to her, she understands that itâs harder for Scott.  He has family.  âIf your mom wants us to have another wedding, weâll have another wedding.  After all, our first one wasnât exactly perfect.â Â
Scott is trying so hard not to grin, but he can feel the familiar stretch on his face giving him away. The otherâs laughter is infectious though and he has to lean over to kiss her, smiling softer as he pulls back. âFive years married and I canât believe youâre laughing at me.â He honestly wouldnât have it any other way, or at least would like to have it so his mother knew. "You got me there,â he admits, for the past two years heâs had to avoid his mom setting him up. It was almost like she was trying to get him to admit why he couldnât at this point. Scott leans into that touch, turning his head to kiss her palm. âI know, a do-over would be really nice. I guess we can tell her, itâs about time. I donât think we couldâve made it another year.â
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âBut still, he has a key though right? He wouldnât make this much noise breaking into the house without at least calling out and telling us who he is??â If Stiles is breaking into the house though, man, Savannah might actually hit him over the head with the bat herself. Okay, at least in the stomach or maybe just hit him in the ass. If he put them through all this grief though, sheâll knock some sense into him somehow.
Needless to say, Savannah actually usually is not a very violent person. Sheâs just irritated at being woken up.
âDude, if itâs not supernatural, then you flash your eyes, scare the SHIT out of them, and they leave and theyâll never come back. It would be perfect.â
She turns really quiet though the moment they make it to the stairs, walking carefully and slowly, trying hard not to make anything creak. Thereâs another noise in the kitchen and without even really thinking she pushes the bat into Scottâs hands.
Okay - he can fight the thing.
âI donât know, I donât think heâs made copies since the last time mom changed the locks,â he muses. âBut yeah, I feel like even with this amount of noise, he wouldâve made some kind of sound to let us know it was him.â That dropped down their list of suspects, no one else they knew could be making the amount of racket. Scott listens, really listens and frowns when he hears a fast heartbeat. Too fast for a human, unless they were on something or terrified.
It was almost familiar though, like if heâd heard it before. He stays quiet, listening and trying to focus. What was it?
âYeah, right. What if they had a gun? I mean, Iâm pretty sure itâs not human, but still. Thatâs definitely not a good idea.â
He shakes his head, continuing to walk down the stairs. Itâs not until he clears them that Savannah is thrusting the bat into his hands and he gives her a look. He's about to roll his eyes when he remembers, groaning. âOh my god.â He marches into the kitchen, turning on all the lights. Scott actually dives under one of the chairs, exclaiming, âGot you!â He crawls backwards, grinning up at the other with a rabbit in his hands.
elevenmccall reblogged
     The man is caught off guard when the other notices him, smile gracefully dancing over his features just as delicately as his fingers strum along to the song; picking out melodies with every flicker of his digit from one string to another. And then the instrument is abandoned and he wields their daughter instead and his own grin is replaced with bashful laughter, head shaking until it isnât and heâs resting his temple against the door frame. Taking in every giggle and every smile like he could never get enough and he was certain he wouldnât. He would drown so willingly from the love and adoration that naturally poured from his two greatest gifts and heâs stunned, even now, how he could have gotten this lucky. And enough is enough, his restraint is forgotten as heâs crossing the room to where his two loves were; fingers knotting in his husbandâs hair as he brushes his lips against their daughterâs forehead as he hummed along like he knew the song Scott was singing.Â
    Scott leans into the touch as he keeps singing, watching his beloved kiss their daughterâs forehead. Sometimes he couldnât believe this was his life, after everything, this is how it ended up. He wouldnât trade any of it for the world though. He loved the two of them more than anyone or anything. He met Isaacâs eyes, shooting him a look because while their child mightâve been fooled, Scott knew he had no idea what song he was singing. He cracks a grin, finishing up the song before kissing the girlâs temple and reaching out to find Isaacâs hand to squeeze. âGoodnight, sweetheart.â He went around the bed, tugging Isaac out of the room and stifling laughter. Once he has the door closed, heâs smiling up at him and pulling Isaac down for a kiss. âI love you,â he breathes, lips brushing his still. Scott canât find it in himself to pull away too much, wanting to keep his husband as close as possible. âI love you even if you had no idea what I was singing back there.â @fightbehaviorâ
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Why did everything screw up so easily? How the hell had someone managed to wreck them both? He had been dead. Someone had messed him up so much his heart had stopped and Scott had killed when before heâd been against it. He had no idea what was going on but for now he wasnât going to question it.
Sooner or later, theyâd work it out. The supernatural element of this town tended not to hide from them. It was in your face and rude.
âHow did you work it out? That he was evil, I mean? I only found the fake signature from his parents. What did he do?â Stiles was slowly piecing everything together. âNow you see why I did it. Trust in anyone other than pack is overrated.â
âOkay.â He let it go for now. They would talk more later. A bitter but resigned smile crossed his face. âSome people are beyond saving. Especially those being attacked by psycho chimera.â He didnât blame Scott and hoped he smelt it.
Skinwalkers didnât sound normal or good but if they helped, they helped. âI guess if we donât hear anything in a while, we can go hunting for them.â He would help Scott find Kira if it got him to smile.
Stiles stripped in the hallway and went upstairs to shower. The warm water warmed his skin and he felt better than he had in a long time. On account of being dead. He probably stood there for ten minutes to absorb the feeling. Once he finally scraped the blood and dirt off his skin he changed into a pair of jeans, a random green shirt and his favorite thing that Scott owned. Scottâs red hoodie that he had stolen a lot.
Scott had a lot of questions, but he saved them for later. He was going to figure this out. For now though, he was going to have to deal with the fact that his best friend was back from the dead. He wasnât sure how he was going to break it to the pack, how theyâd deal with it when he wasnât even sure how he was.
At least he knew that if the supernatural was behind this, itâd make itself known sooner or later. If there was someone behind it, well he counted on the same thing. Nothing ever stayed quiet in Beacon Hills.
âI donât know if he ever was evil, the Dread Doctors have been manipulating him since he was a kid. That didnât matter though, what mattered is that Donovan got the idea of killing you from him. After that, it was only a matter of time till we got him,â he answered, shrugging. He pursed his lips, nodding. It was easier to close back off now that they werenât touching.
He mirrored the otherâs bitter smile. âYeah, I know.â It was a hard truth he learned without the other around, which was almost comical in the sense that Stiles had been the one pushing that truth when he was alive. He didnât care that the other didnât blame him, he blamed himself enough for it.
A firm nod and his smile vanished. âWeâre already working on a plan, if theyâre not helping her and just keeping her trapped there, well...â He shrugged before continuing, âwe need to know how to kill them so weâre finding that out how to do that first.â
He got everything he wanted before cleaning up the front room, then started to get rid of all tracks leading up to his room. He did it all before Stiles was even done with his shower. Scott made sure to take the filthy discarded clothes and bag them up, even Stilesâ shoes. He was sure he still had an old pair the other could use in his closet. He sat on the bench by the foot of his bed, waiting afterwards. âBetter?â
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@elevenmccall + elemental verse
The voices were getting too much for him. Usually it was a quiet voice in the back of his head. A whisper. Come to the nemeton. Even though it hid, Stiles often found it without any difficulty. But heâd never touched it. Never had he followed the voices to that extent. But since the dread doctors, the voice had gotten louder. More insistent. Finally, heâd given up fighting it. If it got the voice to shut up, heâd touch the freaking stump.
His fingers had brushed the wood and heâd spent ten minutes in a weird vision before collapsing against the stump, too tired to do anything. So he pulled out his phone. From what heâd just been told and shown, he was more than fucked. âScott?â He knew it was 2am but he also knew that Scott would come get him. âIâm at the nemeton, Iâll explain later. Can you come pick me up? Just find the Jeep and my scent.â
Scott groaned, wanted to ignore the ringing phone and go right back to sleep. He knew if it was Stiles though, heâd just call back, whether the news was good or not. He listened as he picked up, small frown on his face, but agreeing to go get him as he got out of bed. Then he was murmuring a goodbye and getting ready quickly. He left through his window, hesitating before going on foot instead.
If the jeep was out there, he could drive it back instead of having to leave his bike. It took some time, but eventually he found the blue jeep. Thankfully by now, Scott didnât need anything from his best friend to catch his scent, finding it and following it easily. He traced it, hurrying the more the otherâs scent strengthened until he was seeing him standing next to the giant stump. âDude, what are you doing out here?â
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He jumped as the pill bottle was removed from his hands. A momentary delusional slip. It happened. He wasnât getting worse again. He WASNâT. Heâd take his meds and be okay again. The teen couldnât handle another stay in eichen. Despite his denial that Scott had opened the bottle, he shook out his regular dosage and swallowed them dry.
âNot real. Itâs not real.â He repeated to himself. âHeâs dead. Heâs not there. Itâs not real. Youâre in your home, alone.â He rubbed a hand over his face to try and remove the tears that were dribbling down his cheeks in a steady stream. âRemember what Dr. Morell said. Count your fingers.â Was talking to yourself normal? It was the closest he could get right now.Â
Slowly he counted his fingers and he got to ten but Scott was still there. He blinked and  his eyes were huge. âYouâreâŠYou DIED.â
Scott waited, let the other freak out about this. After dying, he could afford to be patient. He wanted to know what happened, do something, but at this point he was sure itâd cause more harm than good. He pursed his lips, standing still as the other counted his fingers and realized he wasnât some part of a dream.
âI know,â he breathed, shifting the weight on his feet before rocking back on his heels. âBut Iâm here, I donât know when or why, but Iâm here.â He held his arms out, glancing around. âIâm alive at least I think I am. I can touch things, Iâm breathing, I have a freakinâ pulse, Stiles.â He held his hand out, hesitating before taking it and putting it on his chest, over his heart.
âDonât... donât freak out again, okay? I donât know what Iâve missed, but uh, Iâm guessing itâs a lot? Iâm sorry.â
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The feeling of dying was still new even if heâd technically died a lot. Each time felt like the first. And Scott had to hear it. Had to feel his best friend die in order to bring him back to do it all over again. A cycle of pain and death that Stiles had wanted to try sparing his best friend from. But he couldnât. Not without being trapped on the other side.
A few minutes. Heâd gone so far into the other side that it had taken that long to follow Scottâs anchoring back to the shore of life. Even now, Stiles couldnât deny Scott anything and let him curl tighter into him. âO-Okay.â His voice caught as hot tears made a home within his eyes but he refused to let them fall. Getting trapped scared him but making Scott feel bad made him feel worse. It was too much.
At this point, Scott wasnât sure why Stiles was trying to spare him from this. It was no more than he deserved and if the alternative was the other being stuck on the other side, it was really a no brainer to him. âGood,â he mumbled, squeezing him a little tighter. He didnât pull away, knowing the other was always cold and he was like his very own space heater.
âIf you get stuck and we canât bring you back, if itâs something that coulda easily been prevented like that, Stiles...â He shook his head, it would be worse. It wasnât something he was sure he could handle again. Scott needed the other to live, at least until he was an old man. He didnât want to live in a world where that didnât happen, where the two of them didnât make it. After the past year, it wasnât something he could live through again.
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âThat guy could literally play anyone, I swear. I watched two of his movies once and barely realized it was the same person in both,â she commented with a little bit of awe, watching the screen. Channing Tatum wasnât bad, all things considered â a little stupid looking, but with enough thick muscle to make up for it.
It was a nice, relaxing thing â being able to watch a movie with Scott without the stress of the outside world. They could laugh and chill out on the couch, eat food, throw snacks at each otherâs heads ( itâs an inevitability; they at least clean up after themselves ) and generally feel good. The only times that are better are when theyâre able to get the entire pack into one room. When luckâs on their side and everyone can agree on a movie, that is.
âI donât understand how anyone believes THEY are teenagers. Iâd be able to spot âem a mile off.â
âYouâre not wrong,â he agrees, laughing a little. âOh my god, which movie? And you know heâs in this one, right? He was in like, the original TV series, I guess. Itâs just a small cameo though, but itâs cool.â While Scott hadnât ever watched the late show, he knew about it from his mother. Sheâd watched it.
And even if heâd watched this movie before, it was still funny to him. He still had a good time right now watching it with Malia and forgetting all about everything else, whether supernatural or just school related. It didnât matter if the ice cream had gotten a little melted, it was perfect to him. Scott also made pizza rolls, thankful the two of them didnât have to really work out or get stomachaches. He was pretty sure it came close though.
âHey, people like that are always playing teenagers. Itâs the only way they all blend, if they actually used teenagers, they couldnât.â
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                         YOUâVE NEVER BEEN  camping before ,  but this seemed like a fun activity to do before your senior year ;  something to put on your college apps ,  and who knows ,  maybe youâd end up living in cali next fall rather than your home of new york.  when a hand touches you ,  you turn around ,  seeing what you can only assume is another counselor .   â  really ? ?  itâs mine too actually ,  but i already signed in ,  got here kind of early ,  follow me !  â  there you go rambling ,  oops .   â  iâm riley matthews ,  by the way ,  my name will be the one with the smiley face by it .  â
                        SO FAR SO GOOD. itâs actually kind of nice , the fresh air and all the trees . scottâs backpack is slung over his shoulder and he grips it as he smiles at riley . heâs glad to hear heâs not the only new counselor this year and thankful for the help .  â  oh my god , i was hoping i wasnât the only new one !  â  he wonders if heâs made a poor choice in not getting here sooner . â  scott mccall , uh - no smiley face . so howâd you hear about this ? â he asks , curiosity lacing his voice .
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âNo problem,â she responded before sliding in closer to him, her lips indeed finding the expanse of Scottâs neck and lightly nipping there, pressing occasional kisses down the length. Theyâre just dancing, but it felt so warm and almost intimate â the perfect experience for the club, honestly. A place where they could both forget every trouble and surrender to the music. Her hips worked against his more and her hands slipped up and down his chest then back, feeling his muscles.
Scott knew they were probably putting on a show for the customers, but he wasnât too bothered by it. The both of them were dancing for themselves and thatâs all that mattered to him. He let the music move through him, hips rolling along to the beat. He let his hands move, encouraged by her own and he slipped a leg between hers. Scott pulled her closer, hands drifting down to her ass as he let his head dip down to find her lips. He kissed her for a moment before he pressed more kisses down her jaw, trailing them further down.
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Stiles didnât WANTÂ to come back. Heâd left to hide from everything and try and process all the feelings that were flooding him. But he still felt wrong. Everything was still wrong. And Scott, as far as he knew, still had no idea what had happened with Donovan. Not unless Theo had gloated about the true reason. He thought briefly about ignoring the text but his fingers had already typed out a reply before he could tell them not to.
( text ;; Scott ) I donât need to do shit, Scott. ( text ;; Scott ) I said I was fine.
If Scott was being honest, he didnât want Stiles to come back either. But things werenât finished yet and he needed all the help he could get. Going so far as to get Liam and Mason involved so they could venture to New Mexico to get Kira back. She was the one that was able to finally get to Malia. Now all they needed was Stiles. The otherâs anger was enough to bring up his own and he typed back furiously.
( text ;; Stiles ) You need to get here now.
( text ;; Stiles ) Because maybe youâre fine, but weâre Lydiaâs not.
( text ;; Stiles ) If we donât get her out of Eichen, sheâs going to die and take a good chunk of Beacon Hills with her.
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âHe wonât.â The fox chuckled darkly. âHe doesnât know what order his memories come in. What some of them mean. He has the puzzle pieces but no edges to work out what the puzzle is. Iâll give him the edges that will fit.â That didnât mean that they would be at all true but his host didnât know enough to work that out. He laughed and grabbed one of Scottâs arms, bending it to force Scottâs body downwards or break his arm. âYou think I would let him watch so easily without editing things? That wonât make it past the censor.â
âHe will,â he growled, eyes burning brighter. Scott roared as the other broke his arm, but he tugged on it and forced the otherâs arm to bend down. He didnât hesitate as he let his fangs drop and bite the otherâs arm. The alpha laughed as he pulled away, blood dripping down his mouth. âAnd youâll just go back to being another bad memory.â He wasnât sure if Stiles would ever forgive him for this, but he had to do it before he missed his chance. He knew he wouldnât get another one after this.