Too Little, Too Late 1/1
Author: Lizard971
Title: Too Little, Too Late
Fandom: Teen Wolf
Prompt: hc_bingo prompt "Hidden Injury"
Medium: fanfic
Wordcount: 759
Rating: G
Warnings: Character Death
Summary: Stiles went through the motion after the beating Gerard Argent gave him, until he couldn't anymore.
Post episode “Battlefield” 2x12
Characters: Stiles Stilinski
Disclaimer: Playing in a sandbox that is not mine. (but if you ask me, Stiles is totally mine and I'll fight for him... or what's left of him in this case... oops.)
AN: Because I've been procrastinating so much, this is unbeta-ed for now. It will be later on and I'll edit it then. So I apologize in advance for all the non sense and the mistakes. Be kind.
- Too Little, Too Late -
Stiles watched as Lydia hugged Jackson. The way the two were clinging to each other, there was no denying the love between them. He'd already understood what Lydia felt for Jackson when they were in his room, but Stiles loved her too and that's why he was here now, getting his heart broken into even smaller pieces.
The events from the last day-hell, the last year-finally came crashing down on him; all the emotions he'd tried to keep bottled inside became too much and for the second time in less than 24 hours, Stiles cried.
The first time it had been from relief and it felt good. This time it was from grief and it hurt more than he could tell. The pain only got worse when he looked around the warehouse. How was this his life? How had his life become a mix of giant-killing-lizards, crazy blood-thirsty hunters and most of all werewolves and even a... resurrected werewolf? His gaze next landed on his best friend, the one he'd been expecting to be rescued by; Scott who was holding hands with his ex-girlfriend-the one who had basically tried to kill all of them just a day ago. Stiles should feel happy that somehow, love had found its way in all this chaos, but he just couldn't bring himself to care.
He didn't have time to dwell on it though, as the dull pain that he'd been feeling in his gut since Gerard had worked on him, suddenly intensified. Stiles couldn't suppress a moan as he grabbed for his stomach and doubled over, more tears escaping his eyes before he regrouped and stood up tall again. He just had time to wipe away some of the tears before Scott turned to him, a questioning look on his face.
They locked gaze for a moment, but in the end, Stiles just shrugged and started forward, offering a lame, “he scratched my jeep.”
He walked to his jeep, more than ready to leave the place and the drama behind. He looked around again before getting in, wanting to make sure he wasn't needed anymore, despite everything. No one was paying attention to him, all his “friends” too busy dealing with the aftermath of the fight; he took it as his cue to leave. Stiles climbed in the driver's seat, started the jeep and backed out of the warehouse the way he came, right through the wall. He briefly caught sight of Peter looking at him leave before he disappeared into the night. For a moment he thought he saw concern and confusion on the ex-Alpha's face, but he quickly dismissed the idea and focused on driving back home.
Stiles never made it there. The pain in his gut spiked once again, sending him in a coughing fit that didn't want to stop. When it finally did, the sleeve he had used to cover his mouth was freckled with blood. He didn't really have time to worry about it, as he was left feeling dizzy, vision blurry and his reflexes sluggish. Ultimately, he just wasn't able to keep the jeep on the road or prevent her from crashing in a tree. His last thought before passing out was that he would finally stop being a burden to those around him.
Barely an hour later, the SUV driven by Chris Argent, with Scott as a passenger and Allison in the back, arrived at the scene of the crash. Scott recognized the car immediately, and he jumped out of the SUV before it had come to a stop. As soon as he was outside, he picked up his best friend's scent, but it was tainted with that of blood and... death. He tried to find Stiles' heartbeat over his own frantic one, but there was nothing. He was right here, looking at his best friend and he couldn't even pick up his heartbeat. What a friend he was, Scott thought. It wasn't until Chris Argent pulled him away from the jeep and he heard him call in the crash talking about a fatality, that Scott registered what exactly it meant.
It's not because he couldn't pick up his best friend's heartbeat that Scott was a bad friend; it's because he didn't notice that something was wrong with Stiles back at the warehouse. He broke down right there on the pavement and howled in the night over his loss. He hadn't moved a hair and was still crying when the Sheriff came running in after the paramedics, screaming for Stiles.
Both their screams remained unanswered.
**
FIN
Title: Too Little, Too Late
Fandom: Teen Wolf
Prompt: hc_bingo prompt "Hidden Injury"
Medium: fanfic
Wordcount: 759
Rating: G
Warnings: Character Death
Summary: Stiles went through the motion after the beating Gerard Argent gave him, until he couldn't anymore.
Post episode “Battlefield” 2x12
Characters: Stiles Stilinski
Disclaimer: Playing in a sandbox that is not mine. (but if you ask me, Stiles is totally mine and I'll fight for him... or what's left of him in this case... oops.)
AN: Because I've been procrastinating so much, this is unbeta-ed for now. It will be later on and I'll edit it then. So I apologize in advance for all the non sense and the mistakes. Be kind.
- Too Little, Too Late -
Stiles watched as Lydia hugged Jackson. The way the two were clinging to each other, there was no denying the love between them. He'd already understood what Lydia felt for Jackson when they were in his room, but Stiles loved her too and that's why he was here now, getting his heart broken into even smaller pieces.
The events from the last day-hell, the last year-finally came crashing down on him; all the emotions he'd tried to keep bottled inside became too much and for the second time in less than 24 hours, Stiles cried.
The first time it had been from relief and it felt good. This time it was from grief and it hurt more than he could tell. The pain only got worse when he looked around the warehouse. How was this his life? How had his life become a mix of giant-killing-lizards, crazy blood-thirsty hunters and most of all werewolves and even a... resurrected werewolf? His gaze next landed on his best friend, the one he'd been expecting to be rescued by; Scott who was holding hands with his ex-girlfriend-the one who had basically tried to kill all of them just a day ago. Stiles should feel happy that somehow, love had found its way in all this chaos, but he just couldn't bring himself to care.
He didn't have time to dwell on it though, as the dull pain that he'd been feeling in his gut since Gerard had worked on him, suddenly intensified. Stiles couldn't suppress a moan as he grabbed for his stomach and doubled over, more tears escaping his eyes before he regrouped and stood up tall again. He just had time to wipe away some of the tears before Scott turned to him, a questioning look on his face.
They locked gaze for a moment, but in the end, Stiles just shrugged and started forward, offering a lame, “he scratched my jeep.”
He walked to his jeep, more than ready to leave the place and the drama behind. He looked around again before getting in, wanting to make sure he wasn't needed anymore, despite everything. No one was paying attention to him, all his “friends” too busy dealing with the aftermath of the fight; he took it as his cue to leave. Stiles climbed in the driver's seat, started the jeep and backed out of the warehouse the way he came, right through the wall. He briefly caught sight of Peter looking at him leave before he disappeared into the night. For a moment he thought he saw concern and confusion on the ex-Alpha's face, but he quickly dismissed the idea and focused on driving back home.
Stiles never made it there. The pain in his gut spiked once again, sending him in a coughing fit that didn't want to stop. When it finally did, the sleeve he had used to cover his mouth was freckled with blood. He didn't really have time to worry about it, as he was left feeling dizzy, vision blurry and his reflexes sluggish. Ultimately, he just wasn't able to keep the jeep on the road or prevent her from crashing in a tree. His last thought before passing out was that he would finally stop being a burden to those around him.
Barely an hour later, the SUV driven by Chris Argent, with Scott as a passenger and Allison in the back, arrived at the scene of the crash. Scott recognized the car immediately, and he jumped out of the SUV before it had come to a stop. As soon as he was outside, he picked up his best friend's scent, but it was tainted with that of blood and... death. He tried to find Stiles' heartbeat over his own frantic one, but there was nothing. He was right here, looking at his best friend and he couldn't even pick up his heartbeat. What a friend he was, Scott thought. It wasn't until Chris Argent pulled him away from the jeep and he heard him call in the crash talking about a fatality, that Scott registered what exactly it meant.
It's not because he couldn't pick up his best friend's heartbeat that Scott was a bad friend; it's because he didn't notice that something was wrong with Stiles back at the warehouse. He broke down right there on the pavement and howled in the night over his loss. He hadn't moved a hair and was still crying when the Sheriff came running in after the paramedics, screaming for Stiles.
Both their screams remained unanswered.
**
FIN