Prompt Post 02
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The worst thing to realize was the fact that his father would almost certainly crumble under the guilt of another family member lost to werewolves. Everyone else could carry on, but his father wouldn’t be able to.
He did remember his abductor, Derek, receiving a call. Whoever it was, they were in on the kidnapping. As he had unfortunately suspected, his abduction wasn’t the work of just this one werewolf. It was clearly an organized effort, planned to the slightest detail.
Derek seemed mildly irritated by the conversation. Bit out answers like “Yes, he’s contained,” and, “I know.”
The one that caught Stiles’ attention the most was a brusque, “He isn’t injured, I didn’t have to do that. He’s just… jumpy. When his heartbeat isn’t fast it’s irregular.”
Stiles gritted his teeth, closed his eyes in a wave of something just short of anger. The werewolf that kidnapped him shouldn’t have the right to analyze him, his pulse, his movements. He reported it as if dealing with a pet being carted off to new owners.
The call ended with an impassionate, “I’ll be there in a few hours.”
A few hours. In a few hours he would be somewhere he didn’t know, with werewolves that hated him. He might end up dead, a werewolf, or tortured-
“God,” Stiles said, trying desperately to blink tears from his eyes. “I’m never going to see my dad again, am I?”
If Derek heard him, he showed no indication of it, practically squinting at the road and cars in front of them.
Suddenly, at a particularly long red light, he says, “You might, you might not. It’s not up to me.”
Stiles looked out at the trees outside his window, frustrated out of his mind that every little sniffle that left him was highly noticeable to a werewolf with sensitive hearing.
“I’m really thirsty,” he stated softly at the next intersection.
“You talk too much,” was Derek’s non-reply, surprisingly quick.
Stiles let out a near hysterical laugh, halfway to a sob. “How inconvenient for you, right? The person you just forced into your car can talk, and requires food and sleep, who would have guessed?”
“You can sleep now,” he responded simply, like it was the solution to every problem in Stiles’ life.
“I like comfortable sleeping? The kind with a bed, a full stomach, no duct tape around my limbs, and no kidnappers inches away,” he hissed in frustration.
For a time everything was silent, and with some relief he assumed Derek had simply ignored the outburst.
Then, the car slammed to a stop. Stiles hardly heard the brakes squeal over the sensation of his body suddenly lurching forward into the seatbelt.
“Fuck,” he breathed, catching his breath. “You aren’t mad, are you? I was just joking, I can totally go without food and water for a while, I ate a lot this morning-”
At the sight of a knife in Derek’s hand, he slammed his eyes shut and jerked his body as far away as he could in a pitiful attempt at evading a werewolf.
“Stay,” Derek directed, and as condescending as it was, the mellow tone was such a contrast that Stiles dared to ease his eyes open. And, wow, he was dumb.
Derek was separating his bound limbs with knife cuts through the tape. He pulled the tape off in a painful gradual process that looked deceivingly gentle. Stiles bit his lip until Derek finished.
“Please say we’ve stopped because we’re getting food? Or because you’ve suddenly decided that I’m not worth the trouble and will let me go, that’s good too.”
Derek just tugged on his wrist (which, ow, was extremely sore) to signal for him to get out of the car. His legs shook slightly upon supporting themselves against the ground for the first time in hours.
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“You don’t think someone will notice you’re a werewolf kidnapping a public figure’s son?” He whispered out, instantly regretting it. Even his lack of filter was no excuse for alerting his kidnapper of possible threats to his plan.
“No,” Derek said simply, pulling him by the wrist, still, as if otherwise Stiles would make an attempt to bolt away from a werewolf. Tempting, but too ridiculous for him to truly ever consider. “There’s a slight chance I might be recognized, it’s happened before. But your father has kept you out of the media too well.”
“The lack of information on me didn’t seem to deter you when you decided to kidnap me,” he muttered softly, too afraid to say the words as harshly as he wanted to.
“Don’t do anything stupid when we’re inside,” Derek said, thumb pressed tight against a vein in warning.
“I know that,” he said defensively. “I’m not trying to get myself clawed to death in a restaurant.”
Derek seemed to tense for a second, and Stiles’ stomach twisted in horrified anticipation. But then he continued walking as if nothing had been said.
The place was simple, clean, and entirely unimpressive otherwise. Derek had clearly just chosen it at random, spotting it at the side of the road after Stiles’ outburst.
Even though Stiles could only see the back of him, there was an instant transformation in Derek the minute he walked up to the hostess. He chatted cheerily with her, almost like he was putting off being seated, which was eerie by itself. He even laughed at a few of her shy jokes.
“I just need to see both your IDs,” she finally stated with a smile, “and I can seat you.”
Stiles belatedly realized that Derek couldn’t possibly have an ID. They were only for humans, and in recent years notoriously difficult to fake.
Derek made a show of flipping through his wallet, and sent a fake worried glance in Stiles’ direction that made his blood boil.
“I think I lost mine, I must have left it home.” His voice was exaggerated with distress. He had obviously done this before, probably countless times, in order to even be able buy a car and put gas in it.
“Oh, dear,” the woman said, pressing a nail to her chin. “We can’t service anyone without human identification, I’m so sorry. I dislike doing this, really, but you know how it is now, with werewolves all around.”
“I understand. What about him, can he eat if he has his ID?” He asked, gesturing to Stiles. Dumbly, Stiles just stared back at him, at a loss.
“Oh, that’s so sweet,” she said sadly, glancing between them. “I can’t possibly let you go hungry while your friend eats alone. You know what-forget it. No one besides me has to know you’ve lost your ID. I’ll just check your friend’s.”
“Really? Thank you so much, it means a lot,” Derek said, turning to Stiles with a bright smile that made him want to scream. “You have your ID, right?”
“Uh, yeah,” he said with a shrug. He pulled his ID out of the wallet, and handed it to the hostess, under Derek’s scrutinizing observance. He hoped the hostess would sense something was wrong, that she would somehow recognize ‘Stilinski’ and find it suspicious that he would be eating with a man with no identification.
But of course, she just looked at the card and handed it back with a smile. Even if she had somehow known who his father was, and assumed he was related, she obviously hadn’t recognized Derek and was far too charmed to think anything badly of him.
Dejected, he followed her to the small booth, and slid into it across from Derek.
Derek Hale, his kidnapper that he would be eating a meal with.
“Oh my god, this is so fucked up,” he muttered to himself.
“You’re the one who wanted to eat,” Derek said, voice growled out from behind the opened menu.
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He ate bites of the sandwich so quickly that it hurt, throat straining to swallow them down. When he got halfway through stuffing down his fries he slowed down, chewing off little ranch-soaked pieces, because Derek was eating chicken at an infuriatingly steady pace.
“I’m done,” he announced after swallowing the last bit of a fry. He pulled his fourth coke closer, eager to distract himself by drinking until the bill came.
Derek’s hand found his wrist again when they got up to leave, leading him outside.
At the sight of the Camaro, Stiles suddenly wished he had slowed down when eating his meal, even if it would have meant more time sitting across a table from Derek.
He jumped into the passenger seat voluntarily before Derek could take it upon himself to push him in.
At the sight of the duct tape in Derek’s hands again, however, he jerked away.
“I don’t need that,” he insisted, surprised by the panic in his own voice. “I don’t like not being able to move my hands and feet-please.”
Derek regarded him sourly, lips pressed tight. “I can’t risk you trying to escape the car, you’d hurt yourself.”
As if it was all about Stiles safety, instead of containing him.
“I’m not going to try and fling myself out the door or make you crash if that’s what you’re thinking. I’m not trying to kill myself. Come on, can’t you tell that I’m saying the truth?” His voice grew desperate.
“You might change your mind later,” Derek argued with a frown.
“I won’t, I just don’t want to be confined for hours again. Please?” He knew Derek didn’t care in the least what his feelings were, but he seemed to at least care about what would keep Stiles more quiet and calm. “It will help me to relax if I can just move freely.”
Derek emitted a sharp sound, like a sigh cut off. He pulled back, shutting the door.
Stiles allowed himself a sigh of relief. It was hardly a battle won, considering he was still forced to go to a place he might never come back from. At this point, he had no choice but to appreciate the miniscule amount of freedom he had and let his mind go blank for the next few hours.
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sort of a more slow paced chapter for characterization/world-building, there will be a lot more action (and familiar characters introduced) coming up
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i like how you put such an efort to write them in character! awesome job!
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Great work with this chappie so looking forward to more
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