New Teen Wolf Fic: On The Job Training, PG-13, 3/6
On The Job Training, Part 3
by Suz
Part 1, Part 2.
Many thanks to Rhi! :D
You all know this is meant to be ridiculous, right? ;)
*
Stiles' ponderings about exactly what his place in the pack is - and what's expected of him, beyond badass planning skills - are put on hold when Dad gets a phone call. Dad works night security, now. Neither one of them are thrilled about it but it's a job and it brings in money. He still keeps in contact with his old friends, though, and it's one of them who lets him know about the body they found out in the forest. Fortunately, it'd been nowhere near Derek's old place, so at least there weren't about to be any shiny new murder charges about to land on Derek's doorstep.
Not so fortunately, it seems the guy's chest has been ripped apart by some kind of wild animal.
Yeah. They were back to this again.
Stiles calls Derek, and within half an hour the entire pack is at the warehouse. It's become a home away from home at this point. They spend so much time there and it's not an entirely terrible place to be, at least once Derek started letting them personalise it. Mostly that means some actual furniture, but every now and then one of them brings something else that, for whatever reason, they feel would make a good fit. The last one was Boyd, who brought in a handmade ashtray that's so funky they find a use for it despite none of them smoking. Ultimately, Stiles uses it to store nuts when they're in a snacking mood.
Derek tells them what's going down and the next day, Scott manages to sneak into the hospital morgue under the guise of visiting his mom. The pictures he brings back are typically gross, but when they're examined as closely as possible the slashes into the chest are clearly not the work of a werewolf or a kanima.
Which means something else has arrived that's capable of killing people with its huge, scary claws. Fantastic.
Scott suggests they show the pictures to his boss, and it takes Stiles longer than it should to realise he means Dr Deaton. He literally can't remember the last time Scott went to work, and figures Dr Deaton must only be using the 'job' as an excuse to keep an eye on Scott - and subsequently Derek - at this point. Deaton would've been Stiles' next point of call, anyway. He still doesn't know exactly who Deaton is or exactly what his history is, but it's clear the guy knows a lot more about their crazy lives than any of them do. He's proven helpful numerous times, and Stiles is pretty sure that he's caught Derek on the phone to him more than once, asking for advice.
When he grows up, Stiles kind of wants to be just like him.
So they're in the exam room - literally, all of them, clustered around the examination table - and Dr Deaton doesn't even sigh, just acts like this is normal behaviour. Holding out a hand, he takes Scott's phone, slowly and intently scrolling through the pictures. When he reaches one in particular he balks, his normally placid face actually betraying an emotion, and when he passes the phone back Stiles catches a glimpse of what's clearly an awkward, taken-while-they-were-kissing shot of Scott and Allison frenching. Stiles should probably feel grossed out as Scott quickly snatches the phone away, but mostly he just feels sad.
"Well?" Derek asks roughly, stampeding over the moment of awkwardness with all of his usual subtlety.
"Was the victim male or female?" Deaton asks calmly and Stiles can see why he'd need to ask. The pictures had been close-ups of the gouges more than anything else and they'd been so deep and vicious, they'd simply obliterated most of the chest area.
"Male."
Now Deaton does sigh. "The creature you're looking for is a succubus."
It takes them all a moment for the news to settle in.
Unsurprisingly, Stiles is the first one to speak. It's kind of his thing. "As in...a lifeforce sucking hot chick? With the sex and the skimpy clothes and the enormous wings?" He pauses when he realises everyone's staring at him. "What?"
"Word of advice, Stiles," Deaton tells him drolly, "don't get your knowledge of the supernatural from comics and video games."
Stiles shifts his weight from one leg to the other. Well, okay. That was kind of a fair statement. "But they're actually real, right? That's what I'm getting at." Deaton nods. Stiles takes that as permission to turn to the left and thump Derek on the chest because, like the creeper he is, he's leaning right into Stiles' personal space. "You didn't think I needed to know this?"
"Do you know how rare succubi are?" Derek defends. "I have to warn you about every supernatural creature that might, in a one-in-a-million chance, happen to stumble through Beacon Hills?"
"How can I plan for anything if I don't even know if it really exists? It's not like it's in the Beastiery!" Stiles fires back, folding his arms across his chest. He is their ideas guy, after all. He needs to be well-informed. "What else do I need to worry about? Is there a chance of zombies appearing in the near future?"
"Don't be ridiculous," Derek practically snorts, sounding pretty damn ridiculous himself as he does so. "Zombies don't exist."
"Oh, zombies are ridiculous but werewolves and succubi aren't?" It's like Derek's living on this whole other planet, where his reasoning only makes sense to himself. Annoyed beyond belief, Stiles gives up on Derek altogether and turns back to Deaton. "How do we kill it?"
Pleased that someone seems to be taking this seriously - and okay, maybe Stiles had let that disagreement with Derek go on longer than was strictly necessary - Deaton turns away to get something out of a drawer. When he returns, he's holding a familiar looking glass bottle.
Stiles knows where this is heading. "Me again?"
"You again," Deaton nods.
Of course, the problem is finding the succubus in the first place. There's nothing, apparently, that specifically lures them out, but as it turns out succubi aren't the greatest logical thinkers, running mostly on instinct and the need for its source of energy. When another body turns up the next day of a guy who lives less than two blocks away from the first victim, they go succubi hunting in the local neighbourhood. They do a bit of casual investigation during the day - trying to find out if anyone has been hearing crazy happy sex noises lately - but soon have to give that up because the police are running their own investigation and they don't want to pop up on their radar.
So, they go out at night again, partly because there's less people around, but mostly because, so far, the succubus has only struck at night. With their fancy werewolf hearing, if they pass anywhere within range of an attack - or crazy happy sex noises in the lead up to an attack - they'll be able to hear it. Stiles has never been so glad not to be a werewolf because honestly, he does not want to eavesdrop on anybody's crazy happy sex noises, whether it's in the lead up to an attack or not.
He comments on this to Scott, as they cautiously pick their way through the neighbourhood. They've broken the area down into four different sections, each pair covering one area each, with Derek taking one for himself.
Scott just shrugs. "It is a little weird at first - well, more than a little weird," he admits. "But it's one of those things you just have to get used to, eventually. There's not really much choice in it, you know?"
There was something genuinely disturbing about the way Scott said that. It made Stiles' brain figure a few things out. "Dude. Just how many people have you heard having sex?"
Finally flushing - and there was the Scott Stiles knew, the one who actually got embarrassed about hearing other people having sex, not being all grown up about it and shit - Scott shrugs again. "It's...not all the time, you know? Most of the time you can block stuff out if you really don't want to hear it. But...sometimes...if it's really loud or really close...like Mr and Mrs Collins," he finally mumbles, shuddering.
Stiles does some shuddering of his own. "Your neighbours?" Ohhh, gross! How could Scott ever look at them the same way? How could Stiles? Sure, they were married and all, so it was no great surprise objectively thinking about them having a sex life. It was different hearing about it second hand, and no doubt horrifyingly different for poor Scott, who'd heard it first hand. Nice.
"Every time they do it," he confesses quietly, "I can't look at them for days afterward. And sometimes they do it more than once a week, which means I just can't look at them at all!"
Stiles places a companionable hand on Scott's shoulder. "So totally glad I'm not a werewolf," he re-affirms.
"And it's not just couples!" Scott continues urgently, because apparently he was on a roll now and Stiles was beginning to wish that he'd never mentioned it in the first place. "Sometimes it's people when they're...alone, you know?" Stiles did know, and was starting to think that Scott doesn't know any other phrase than 'you know', when the conversation takes an abrupt turn south. "I even heard Derek jerking off, once!"
Hello there, awkwardness.
There was genuinely no good response to that kind of statement, although a whole bunch of them flew through his mind. Derek actually jerks off, rather than denying himself the pleasure and being all self-masochistic and broody? What was it like? Was he loud? Did he say anything? More specifically, anyone's name? At exactly what place and time did this happen? Any one of which would just make Stiles sound like a pervert.
He was still trying to figure out exactly what to say when another thought struck Stiles - did that mean Scott had heard him jerking off at some point, too? They were always randomly turning up at each other's places without calling ahead. And then the real oh, shit moment - maybe Derek had heard him jerking off. Which, really, should've been all the punishment Derek deserved for turning up without warning. But, given that Stiles was technically a teenager and given how often he did jerk off, it was kind of amazing that Derek had never stumbled across him mid-jerk.
Which means. Which means...
Derek probably has heard him jerking off, and put off whatever apparently dire piece of news that couldn't wait until later.
Derek's howl when it comes, then, is something of a relief. Even if it means he's in trouble.
They find Derek fighting the succubus in the bedroom of a townhouse three blocks away. No one else is there and they don't have time to worry about the reasons why. Stiles is panting for breath by the time they get up the stairs, hands already fumbling to get the the bottle open as Derek throws the succubus into the far wall. There's a guy on the bed, out cold, naked and - well - fully erect. The succubus itself is nothing like he imagined, despite getting the truth of it from Dr Deaton. Her claws are long, black, and truly terrifying to look at. Her skin is nothing but huge, grey, drooping wrinkles and it seems like every inch of her body is writhing. The effect is more than a little strange on the eyes and Stiles is about to go to town with his mountain ash mojo when she leaps back up, pinning Derek to the floor. Stiles takes half a step towards them; Scott takes even more.
"No!" Derek yells, struggling against her vicious-looking grip. "Do it!"
"But-" He'd be trapped too, then. In the circle. With the succubus.
"She'll be trapped!" Derek does something truly ridiculous then, grabbing on to the succubus and pulling her closer.
Stiles isn't about to let a boneheaded sacrifice like that go to waste - no matter how dumb it'd been - closing his eyes as he pours the mountain ash into the palm of one hand. Letting out a long breath, Stiles concentrates, remembering what this'd felt like the few times he's done it before. Imagine what you need. Be the spark. Imagine what you need. Imagine-
His palm is suddenly empty.
"Dude!" Scott exclaims. "You did it!"
He opens his eyes to see that yeah, he has, only there was no time to be happy about it because Derek is trapped inside the circle with that thing with no chance of escape. The circle, at least, provided a distraction for the succubus who suddenly leaves Derek the hell alone, trying to force her way out. It doesn't work - everytime she tries to breech the barrier, she gets thrown back into the middle of the circle. Plainly furious, she drops back down on top of Derek - who worryingly, hasn't even tried to get up - and digs her claws into his chest.
It wasn't the claws in the chest thing that was worrying Stiles so much, though, that was the faint blue light that seemed to be coming out of Derek's body and flowing into hers. Stiles was pretty sure she was devouring Derek's soul right in front of them.
It prompts him into action, utterly sure about what he needs to do next. "I don't think so," Stiles says out loud, dropping the bottle to the carpeted floor, pulling out the mirror he's kept hidden away in his inside jacket pocket - they'd all had one hidden somewhere, for whoever was here for this part. It was small but, according to Deaton, any mirror would do and now that she was trapped - apparently, another vital part of the destroying succubi process - the mirror could do its work. "Hey, Clawasaurus," Stiles calls, louder this time, gaining its attention. Hissing, the succubus looks up at him - right at the mirror.
And freezes.
Swallowing, hoping this is really working, Stiles tests it by keeping the the mirror angled at the succubus' eyes - or the black pools that pass for them, anyway - and lifting it up higher. Its gaze follows the mirror and then, eventually, its entire body did, the claws yanking out of Derek's body with a disturbing squelching noise. The blue light disappears, much to Stiles' relief.
Utterly sure, now, that the succubus was focused only on its own reflection - it keeps slowly tipping its head from side-to-side, like it can't decide which is its best side - Stiles breaks the circle with a flick of his hand. "Get him out," he says quietly to Scott, "now." Scott doesn't hesitate, silently and carefully bending closer, grabbing Derek's still form and dragging it across the floor. It spreads more of the ash around but Stiles knows what he's doing, now. This time he doesn't even need to close his eyes, turning his left hand slowly, as the ash that's been spread out of place quickly and easily moves back together, re-forming the circle.
That done, Stiles walks closer still, as close to the edge of the circle as possible, discovering in the process that the stench coming from the succubus' mouth is almost overwhelming. Eyes watering, Stiles turns his head to one side, holding out a hand. He feels Scott place the metal into his palm and Stiles wraps his fingers around it firmly.
"Take the mirror," Stiles instructs, "but don't move it."
Scott does exactly what he's asked, having to lean in awkwardly to make sure the succubus doesn't lose interest in its reflection as they swap hands, but they get it done. Soon, Scott is the only one holding the mirror up to the succubus' eyes, and Stiles is about to step towards it.
"Are you sure?" Scott asks, nervous on his behalf.
"Dude, only one who can cross the circle," he points out, and then he's stepping in, stabbing the silver into her chest with as much strength as he can muster. It's nowhere near what a werewolf can produce but it clearly works, the resulting shockwave powerful but silent, throwing them across the room. Stiles definitely has a whole new collection of bruises across his back as he groans on the floor, and then there's a bright light that quickly vanishes into nothingness.
"I," he says firmly, "am awesome." Because really, that was 100% the truth. In every possible way.
Scott's helping him up, then, and he's stumbling over to Derek. He's healing, that much is clear. But when they look closer, there's a...faint glow, all over his body.
Stiles sighs, already pulling out his phone. "You can see that, right?"
"It's almost pretty," Scott remarks and that's all the answer he needs.
Deaton picks up quickly. "Stiles."
"Short version," he immediately explains, "succubus go kaplooey. Derek trapped with it for a while. He's now glowing and won't wake up." Stiles wonders what his diary would sound like to other people if he ever decided to write one. He'd probably end up being committed.
"Did it feed from him?"
Stiles vividly remembers the blue glow transferring from Derek to the succubus. "Pretty damn sure, yeah."
"I was worried about this happening," Deaton remarks.
Well that was just great, giving this warning now. "You picked a fine time to say something."
"I did," Deaton insists. "I did tell you not the let the succubus feed on anyone. I automatically assumed you'd put yourselves under the same category. My mistake," he says snottily, making Stiles re-think his desire to be like Dr Deaton when he grows up, "I should've realised who I was dealing with."
That was just uncalled for. "Look, we can discuss my long, detailed, annotated list of failings later. Right now - what do we do to fix it?"
"It's still connected to him, likely because he's a supernatural being himself," Deaton finally tells him. "If it stays connected long enough, it could theoretically re-form its corporeal presence."
That sounds bad. Very bad. "So what do we need to do to stop that happening?" Stiles asks. "And save Derek?"
Deaton tells him.
Stiles is very tempted to asks if Deaton's just screwing with him now, because really, the universe thinks his life is a big, fat, joke. Right? Ha fucking ha. But no, Deaton continues on quite seriously, explaining that re-forming the circle around Derek will somehow make the connection weaker, and that as the succubus survives on a mix of lifeforce and sexual energy, two people who aren't the victim need to be on either side of the circle. Kissing.
Kissing.
That is the most ridiculous thing Stiles has ever heard.
Deaton still doesn't stop talking, going on about the potential sexual energy disrupting the rest of the already weak connection, destroying it completely. And this cannot be real. This is not some crappy fantasy B-movie, sexual energy disruption cannot actually be a thing.
But Derek is still laying disturbingly still on the floor, the glow getting brighter and brighter by the second. "Oh, for God's sake," Stiles mutters, ending the call and quickly re-forming the circle around him and Derek. Now, how to break the news to your best friend that you had to make out with them? Stiles was pretty sure that most teenagers were not having to deal with these choices. "So, here's the thing."
"What's wrong?" Scott asks genuinely, evidently not having eavesdropped on the conversation but confused by Stiles re-forming the circle the way he has.
"We have to make out," Stiles just blurts, because there was no nice way of saying it, "from either side of the circle. And the sooner the better, from how glowy he's looking." That level of brightness could not be a good thing.
Scott looks shocked, of course, but after a few moments just asks, "Did Dr Deaton say it'd help?"
And he's Scott. Of course Scott wouldn't be fazed about kissing another guy. Hell, he'd probably go down on the entire lacrosse team if it meant helping someone. "Yeah."
"Okay," Scott says, all accepting, like this kind of crap happens all the time. And actually, it kind of does. For them, this is kind of normal. "Always figured that if I kissed another guy some day, it'd be you anyway."
Okay, so maybe Scott isn't the worst friend in the entire world, and they need to get with the program because Derek is looking seriously glowy now. "I gotta warn ya," Stiles can't stop himself from saying as he leans in, "I picked up some mad skills from Jackson and Isaac."
"Just don't give me mono," Scott teases, and then their lips are brushing together.
It's naturally awkward, because Stiles has to lean out more than usual so Scott's face doesn't get too near the mountain ash. And overall it's a weird, weird experience. Scott has been his best friend for practically his entire life - since the day Stiles went running into school, yelling that the new kid outside was having an asthma attack - and for all that he acknowledges he has a thing for guys now, he's seriously not attracted to Scott at all. He hopes that won't have an affect on disrupting the sexual energy connection (Stiles is going to force himself never to think that stupid phrase again in his entire stupid life), and decides to just study the kiss objectively. Unsurprisingly, Scott knows what he's doing - God knows he got enough experience with Allison - and it's strangely comforting, somehow. Stiles leans into it, bracing his hands against Scott's shoulders, letting the pressure from the past few minutes slip from his body-
"What," a grumpy voice rasps, "are you doing?"
Immediately pulling away, Stiles raises his fists in the air. "Houston, we have touchdown!" Scott is laughing at him then, and Stiles is breaking the circle and kneeling down next to an extremely grumpy-looking and not-glowy-at-all Derek. "How're you feeling? Apart from the enormous claw marks in your chest." Derek just keeps glaring at him. "You need to work on that, you know? Man - or werewolf - cannot communicate through glares alone."
"I can try," Derek argues, holding out an arm. Stiles and Scott both pull him up and he stumbles around on his feet a bit, but his skin is gaining more colour with each passing second and he's almost fully healed.
Derek eyes them both carefully. "I'm assuming...the kissing...?"
"Was totally to save your ass," Stiles points out helpfully. "You're welcome, by the way. And even if it wasn't," he finds the need to add, "apparently I belong to you guys now anyway, or something equally stupid, so I might as well get my experience within the pack, right?" He can't help himself, winking at Derek deliberately. If Derek was a cartoon he'd totally have steam coming out of his ears right now.
Stiles never gets to hear what the response is as footsteps thunder up the stairs, Erica and Boyd rushing into the room.
"Problem solved?" Erica asks quickly, gaze falling to the naked guy on the bed.
"Yes," Derek nods, finally looking away from Stiles.
"Good, because we have another one."
"Hunters," Boyd says, "the new ones in town. They're here." Well, that explains what'd happened to the others - and in fact, maybe the succubus was the thing that'd brought them into town in the first place, and they weren't looking for werewolves at all. Unfortunately, if they'd heard Derek's howl, that was no longer a secret.
Derek brushes past him, heading for the stairs. "Jackson and Isaac?"
"Leading them away from the warehouse." Boyd follows straight after, the rest of them straggling behind. Jackson is always the best one for these jobs, because so far they'd found nothing that would hurt him - with the exception of wolfsbane. Stiles wasn't entirely sure why wolfsbane of all things affected him, simply assuming it had something to do with getting the bite from a werewolf. And Isaac knew how to stay out of trouble by now and was sneaky as hell to boot, so Stiles would be genuinely surprised if anyone actually caught him.
Derek is barking out orders as they flee from the house. "Erica, with me. Boyd, stay with Stiles and Scott. Do not go to the warehouse under any circumstances until you hear from me." He pauses, looking at all of them. "Stay out of trouble." That's Derek's macho, Alpha way of saying stay safe. Stiles came to recognise what it stood for a long time ago.
They all nod, starting to move away in their groups, when Stiles feels a hand around his wrist. Surprised, he jerks back around to see that it's Derek, hand clamped around his wrist, staring at him intently.
"Thank you," Derek says, and then he immediately lets go, turning and running in the opposite direction.
Stiles isn't sure what to make of that one and isn't given much of a chance to think it over as Boyd literally grabs his shoulders, telling him to get moving.
Stiles runs through the darkness, towards where he knows the jeep is.
But his mind is stuck outside the house, where Derek's hand is still wrapped about his wrist.
TBC
Next Part.
by Suz
Part 1, Part 2.
Many thanks to Rhi! :D
You all know this is meant to be ridiculous, right? ;)
*
Stiles' ponderings about exactly what his place in the pack is - and what's expected of him, beyond badass planning skills - are put on hold when Dad gets a phone call. Dad works night security, now. Neither one of them are thrilled about it but it's a job and it brings in money. He still keeps in contact with his old friends, though, and it's one of them who lets him know about the body they found out in the forest. Fortunately, it'd been nowhere near Derek's old place, so at least there weren't about to be any shiny new murder charges about to land on Derek's doorstep.
Not so fortunately, it seems the guy's chest has been ripped apart by some kind of wild animal.
Yeah. They were back to this again.
Stiles calls Derek, and within half an hour the entire pack is at the warehouse. It's become a home away from home at this point. They spend so much time there and it's not an entirely terrible place to be, at least once Derek started letting them personalise it. Mostly that means some actual furniture, but every now and then one of them brings something else that, for whatever reason, they feel would make a good fit. The last one was Boyd, who brought in a handmade ashtray that's so funky they find a use for it despite none of them smoking. Ultimately, Stiles uses it to store nuts when they're in a snacking mood.
Derek tells them what's going down and the next day, Scott manages to sneak into the hospital morgue under the guise of visiting his mom. The pictures he brings back are typically gross, but when they're examined as closely as possible the slashes into the chest are clearly not the work of a werewolf or a kanima.
Which means something else has arrived that's capable of killing people with its huge, scary claws. Fantastic.
Scott suggests they show the pictures to his boss, and it takes Stiles longer than it should to realise he means Dr Deaton. He literally can't remember the last time Scott went to work, and figures Dr Deaton must only be using the 'job' as an excuse to keep an eye on Scott - and subsequently Derek - at this point. Deaton would've been Stiles' next point of call, anyway. He still doesn't know exactly who Deaton is or exactly what his history is, but it's clear the guy knows a lot more about their crazy lives than any of them do. He's proven helpful numerous times, and Stiles is pretty sure that he's caught Derek on the phone to him more than once, asking for advice.
When he grows up, Stiles kind of wants to be just like him.
So they're in the exam room - literally, all of them, clustered around the examination table - and Dr Deaton doesn't even sigh, just acts like this is normal behaviour. Holding out a hand, he takes Scott's phone, slowly and intently scrolling through the pictures. When he reaches one in particular he balks, his normally placid face actually betraying an emotion, and when he passes the phone back Stiles catches a glimpse of what's clearly an awkward, taken-while-they-were-kissing shot of Scott and Allison frenching. Stiles should probably feel grossed out as Scott quickly snatches the phone away, but mostly he just feels sad.
"Well?" Derek asks roughly, stampeding over the moment of awkwardness with all of his usual subtlety.
"Was the victim male or female?" Deaton asks calmly and Stiles can see why he'd need to ask. The pictures had been close-ups of the gouges more than anything else and they'd been so deep and vicious, they'd simply obliterated most of the chest area.
"Male."
Now Deaton does sigh. "The creature you're looking for is a succubus."
It takes them all a moment for the news to settle in.
Unsurprisingly, Stiles is the first one to speak. It's kind of his thing. "As in...a lifeforce sucking hot chick? With the sex and the skimpy clothes and the enormous wings?" He pauses when he realises everyone's staring at him. "What?"
"Word of advice, Stiles," Deaton tells him drolly, "don't get your knowledge of the supernatural from comics and video games."
Stiles shifts his weight from one leg to the other. Well, okay. That was kind of a fair statement. "But they're actually real, right? That's what I'm getting at." Deaton nods. Stiles takes that as permission to turn to the left and thump Derek on the chest because, like the creeper he is, he's leaning right into Stiles' personal space. "You didn't think I needed to know this?"
"Do you know how rare succubi are?" Derek defends. "I have to warn you about every supernatural creature that might, in a one-in-a-million chance, happen to stumble through Beacon Hills?"
"How can I plan for anything if I don't even know if it really exists? It's not like it's in the Beastiery!" Stiles fires back, folding his arms across his chest. He is their ideas guy, after all. He needs to be well-informed. "What else do I need to worry about? Is there a chance of zombies appearing in the near future?"
"Don't be ridiculous," Derek practically snorts, sounding pretty damn ridiculous himself as he does so. "Zombies don't exist."
"Oh, zombies are ridiculous but werewolves and succubi aren't?" It's like Derek's living on this whole other planet, where his reasoning only makes sense to himself. Annoyed beyond belief, Stiles gives up on Derek altogether and turns back to Deaton. "How do we kill it?"
Pleased that someone seems to be taking this seriously - and okay, maybe Stiles had let that disagreement with Derek go on longer than was strictly necessary - Deaton turns away to get something out of a drawer. When he returns, he's holding a familiar looking glass bottle.
Stiles knows where this is heading. "Me again?"
"You again," Deaton nods.
Of course, the problem is finding the succubus in the first place. There's nothing, apparently, that specifically lures them out, but as it turns out succubi aren't the greatest logical thinkers, running mostly on instinct and the need for its source of energy. When another body turns up the next day of a guy who lives less than two blocks away from the first victim, they go succubi hunting in the local neighbourhood. They do a bit of casual investigation during the day - trying to find out if anyone has been hearing crazy happy sex noises lately - but soon have to give that up because the police are running their own investigation and they don't want to pop up on their radar.
So, they go out at night again, partly because there's less people around, but mostly because, so far, the succubus has only struck at night. With their fancy werewolf hearing, if they pass anywhere within range of an attack - or crazy happy sex noises in the lead up to an attack - they'll be able to hear it. Stiles has never been so glad not to be a werewolf because honestly, he does not want to eavesdrop on anybody's crazy happy sex noises, whether it's in the lead up to an attack or not.
He comments on this to Scott, as they cautiously pick their way through the neighbourhood. They've broken the area down into four different sections, each pair covering one area each, with Derek taking one for himself.
Scott just shrugs. "It is a little weird at first - well, more than a little weird," he admits. "But it's one of those things you just have to get used to, eventually. There's not really much choice in it, you know?"
There was something genuinely disturbing about the way Scott said that. It made Stiles' brain figure a few things out. "Dude. Just how many people have you heard having sex?"
Finally flushing - and there was the Scott Stiles knew, the one who actually got embarrassed about hearing other people having sex, not being all grown up about it and shit - Scott shrugs again. "It's...not all the time, you know? Most of the time you can block stuff out if you really don't want to hear it. But...sometimes...if it's really loud or really close...like Mr and Mrs Collins," he finally mumbles, shuddering.
Stiles does some shuddering of his own. "Your neighbours?" Ohhh, gross! How could Scott ever look at them the same way? How could Stiles? Sure, they were married and all, so it was no great surprise objectively thinking about them having a sex life. It was different hearing about it second hand, and no doubt horrifyingly different for poor Scott, who'd heard it first hand. Nice.
"Every time they do it," he confesses quietly, "I can't look at them for days afterward. And sometimes they do it more than once a week, which means I just can't look at them at all!"
Stiles places a companionable hand on Scott's shoulder. "So totally glad I'm not a werewolf," he re-affirms.
"And it's not just couples!" Scott continues urgently, because apparently he was on a roll now and Stiles was beginning to wish that he'd never mentioned it in the first place. "Sometimes it's people when they're...alone, you know?" Stiles did know, and was starting to think that Scott doesn't know any other phrase than 'you know', when the conversation takes an abrupt turn south. "I even heard Derek jerking off, once!"
Hello there, awkwardness.
There was genuinely no good response to that kind of statement, although a whole bunch of them flew through his mind. Derek actually jerks off, rather than denying himself the pleasure and being all self-masochistic and broody? What was it like? Was he loud? Did he say anything? More specifically, anyone's name? At exactly what place and time did this happen? Any one of which would just make Stiles sound like a pervert.
He was still trying to figure out exactly what to say when another thought struck Stiles - did that mean Scott had heard him jerking off at some point, too? They were always randomly turning up at each other's places without calling ahead. And then the real oh, shit moment - maybe Derek had heard him jerking off. Which, really, should've been all the punishment Derek deserved for turning up without warning. But, given that Stiles was technically a teenager and given how often he did jerk off, it was kind of amazing that Derek had never stumbled across him mid-jerk.
Which means. Which means...
Derek probably has heard him jerking off, and put off whatever apparently dire piece of news that couldn't wait until later.
Derek's howl when it comes, then, is something of a relief. Even if it means he's in trouble.
They find Derek fighting the succubus in the bedroom of a townhouse three blocks away. No one else is there and they don't have time to worry about the reasons why. Stiles is panting for breath by the time they get up the stairs, hands already fumbling to get the the bottle open as Derek throws the succubus into the far wall. There's a guy on the bed, out cold, naked and - well - fully erect. The succubus itself is nothing like he imagined, despite getting the truth of it from Dr Deaton. Her claws are long, black, and truly terrifying to look at. Her skin is nothing but huge, grey, drooping wrinkles and it seems like every inch of her body is writhing. The effect is more than a little strange on the eyes and Stiles is about to go to town with his mountain ash mojo when she leaps back up, pinning Derek to the floor. Stiles takes half a step towards them; Scott takes even more.
"No!" Derek yells, struggling against her vicious-looking grip. "Do it!"
"But-" He'd be trapped too, then. In the circle. With the succubus.
"She'll be trapped!" Derek does something truly ridiculous then, grabbing on to the succubus and pulling her closer.
Stiles isn't about to let a boneheaded sacrifice like that go to waste - no matter how dumb it'd been - closing his eyes as he pours the mountain ash into the palm of one hand. Letting out a long breath, Stiles concentrates, remembering what this'd felt like the few times he's done it before. Imagine what you need. Be the spark. Imagine what you need. Imagine-
His palm is suddenly empty.
"Dude!" Scott exclaims. "You did it!"
He opens his eyes to see that yeah, he has, only there was no time to be happy about it because Derek is trapped inside the circle with that thing with no chance of escape. The circle, at least, provided a distraction for the succubus who suddenly leaves Derek the hell alone, trying to force her way out. It doesn't work - everytime she tries to breech the barrier, she gets thrown back into the middle of the circle. Plainly furious, she drops back down on top of Derek - who worryingly, hasn't even tried to get up - and digs her claws into his chest.
It wasn't the claws in the chest thing that was worrying Stiles so much, though, that was the faint blue light that seemed to be coming out of Derek's body and flowing into hers. Stiles was pretty sure she was devouring Derek's soul right in front of them.
It prompts him into action, utterly sure about what he needs to do next. "I don't think so," Stiles says out loud, dropping the bottle to the carpeted floor, pulling out the mirror he's kept hidden away in his inside jacket pocket - they'd all had one hidden somewhere, for whoever was here for this part. It was small but, according to Deaton, any mirror would do and now that she was trapped - apparently, another vital part of the destroying succubi process - the mirror could do its work. "Hey, Clawasaurus," Stiles calls, louder this time, gaining its attention. Hissing, the succubus looks up at him - right at the mirror.
And freezes.
Swallowing, hoping this is really working, Stiles tests it by keeping the the mirror angled at the succubus' eyes - or the black pools that pass for them, anyway - and lifting it up higher. Its gaze follows the mirror and then, eventually, its entire body did, the claws yanking out of Derek's body with a disturbing squelching noise. The blue light disappears, much to Stiles' relief.
Utterly sure, now, that the succubus was focused only on its own reflection - it keeps slowly tipping its head from side-to-side, like it can't decide which is its best side - Stiles breaks the circle with a flick of his hand. "Get him out," he says quietly to Scott, "now." Scott doesn't hesitate, silently and carefully bending closer, grabbing Derek's still form and dragging it across the floor. It spreads more of the ash around but Stiles knows what he's doing, now. This time he doesn't even need to close his eyes, turning his left hand slowly, as the ash that's been spread out of place quickly and easily moves back together, re-forming the circle.
That done, Stiles walks closer still, as close to the edge of the circle as possible, discovering in the process that the stench coming from the succubus' mouth is almost overwhelming. Eyes watering, Stiles turns his head to one side, holding out a hand. He feels Scott place the metal into his palm and Stiles wraps his fingers around it firmly.
"Take the mirror," Stiles instructs, "but don't move it."
Scott does exactly what he's asked, having to lean in awkwardly to make sure the succubus doesn't lose interest in its reflection as they swap hands, but they get it done. Soon, Scott is the only one holding the mirror up to the succubus' eyes, and Stiles is about to step towards it.
"Are you sure?" Scott asks, nervous on his behalf.
"Dude, only one who can cross the circle," he points out, and then he's stepping in, stabbing the silver into her chest with as much strength as he can muster. It's nowhere near what a werewolf can produce but it clearly works, the resulting shockwave powerful but silent, throwing them across the room. Stiles definitely has a whole new collection of bruises across his back as he groans on the floor, and then there's a bright light that quickly vanishes into nothingness.
"I," he says firmly, "am awesome." Because really, that was 100% the truth. In every possible way.
Scott's helping him up, then, and he's stumbling over to Derek. He's healing, that much is clear. But when they look closer, there's a...faint glow, all over his body.
Stiles sighs, already pulling out his phone. "You can see that, right?"
"It's almost pretty," Scott remarks and that's all the answer he needs.
Deaton picks up quickly. "Stiles."
"Short version," he immediately explains, "succubus go kaplooey. Derek trapped with it for a while. He's now glowing and won't wake up." Stiles wonders what his diary would sound like to other people if he ever decided to write one. He'd probably end up being committed.
"Did it feed from him?"
Stiles vividly remembers the blue glow transferring from Derek to the succubus. "Pretty damn sure, yeah."
"I was worried about this happening," Deaton remarks.
Well that was just great, giving this warning now. "You picked a fine time to say something."
"I did," Deaton insists. "I did tell you not the let the succubus feed on anyone. I automatically assumed you'd put yourselves under the same category. My mistake," he says snottily, making Stiles re-think his desire to be like Dr Deaton when he grows up, "I should've realised who I was dealing with."
That was just uncalled for. "Look, we can discuss my long, detailed, annotated list of failings later. Right now - what do we do to fix it?"
"It's still connected to him, likely because he's a supernatural being himself," Deaton finally tells him. "If it stays connected long enough, it could theoretically re-form its corporeal presence."
That sounds bad. Very bad. "So what do we need to do to stop that happening?" Stiles asks. "And save Derek?"
Deaton tells him.
Stiles is very tempted to asks if Deaton's just screwing with him now, because really, the universe thinks his life is a big, fat, joke. Right? Ha fucking ha. But no, Deaton continues on quite seriously, explaining that re-forming the circle around Derek will somehow make the connection weaker, and that as the succubus survives on a mix of lifeforce and sexual energy, two people who aren't the victim need to be on either side of the circle. Kissing.
Kissing.
That is the most ridiculous thing Stiles has ever heard.
Deaton still doesn't stop talking, going on about the potential sexual energy disrupting the rest of the already weak connection, destroying it completely. And this cannot be real. This is not some crappy fantasy B-movie, sexual energy disruption cannot actually be a thing.
But Derek is still laying disturbingly still on the floor, the glow getting brighter and brighter by the second. "Oh, for God's sake," Stiles mutters, ending the call and quickly re-forming the circle around him and Derek. Now, how to break the news to your best friend that you had to make out with them? Stiles was pretty sure that most teenagers were not having to deal with these choices. "So, here's the thing."
"What's wrong?" Scott asks genuinely, evidently not having eavesdropped on the conversation but confused by Stiles re-forming the circle the way he has.
"We have to make out," Stiles just blurts, because there was no nice way of saying it, "from either side of the circle. And the sooner the better, from how glowy he's looking." That level of brightness could not be a good thing.
Scott looks shocked, of course, but after a few moments just asks, "Did Dr Deaton say it'd help?"
And he's Scott. Of course Scott wouldn't be fazed about kissing another guy. Hell, he'd probably go down on the entire lacrosse team if it meant helping someone. "Yeah."
"Okay," Scott says, all accepting, like this kind of crap happens all the time. And actually, it kind of does. For them, this is kind of normal. "Always figured that if I kissed another guy some day, it'd be you anyway."
Okay, so maybe Scott isn't the worst friend in the entire world, and they need to get with the program because Derek is looking seriously glowy now. "I gotta warn ya," Stiles can't stop himself from saying as he leans in, "I picked up some mad skills from Jackson and Isaac."
"Just don't give me mono," Scott teases, and then their lips are brushing together.
It's naturally awkward, because Stiles has to lean out more than usual so Scott's face doesn't get too near the mountain ash. And overall it's a weird, weird experience. Scott has been his best friend for practically his entire life - since the day Stiles went running into school, yelling that the new kid outside was having an asthma attack - and for all that he acknowledges he has a thing for guys now, he's seriously not attracted to Scott at all. He hopes that won't have an affect on disrupting the sexual energy connection (Stiles is going to force himself never to think that stupid phrase again in his entire stupid life), and decides to just study the kiss objectively. Unsurprisingly, Scott knows what he's doing - God knows he got enough experience with Allison - and it's strangely comforting, somehow. Stiles leans into it, bracing his hands against Scott's shoulders, letting the pressure from the past few minutes slip from his body-
"What," a grumpy voice rasps, "are you doing?"
Immediately pulling away, Stiles raises his fists in the air. "Houston, we have touchdown!" Scott is laughing at him then, and Stiles is breaking the circle and kneeling down next to an extremely grumpy-looking and not-glowy-at-all Derek. "How're you feeling? Apart from the enormous claw marks in your chest." Derek just keeps glaring at him. "You need to work on that, you know? Man - or werewolf - cannot communicate through glares alone."
"I can try," Derek argues, holding out an arm. Stiles and Scott both pull him up and he stumbles around on his feet a bit, but his skin is gaining more colour with each passing second and he's almost fully healed.
Derek eyes them both carefully. "I'm assuming...the kissing...?"
"Was totally to save your ass," Stiles points out helpfully. "You're welcome, by the way. And even if it wasn't," he finds the need to add, "apparently I belong to you guys now anyway, or something equally stupid, so I might as well get my experience within the pack, right?" He can't help himself, winking at Derek deliberately. If Derek was a cartoon he'd totally have steam coming out of his ears right now.
Stiles never gets to hear what the response is as footsteps thunder up the stairs, Erica and Boyd rushing into the room.
"Problem solved?" Erica asks quickly, gaze falling to the naked guy on the bed.
"Yes," Derek nods, finally looking away from Stiles.
"Good, because we have another one."
"Hunters," Boyd says, "the new ones in town. They're here." Well, that explains what'd happened to the others - and in fact, maybe the succubus was the thing that'd brought them into town in the first place, and they weren't looking for werewolves at all. Unfortunately, if they'd heard Derek's howl, that was no longer a secret.
Derek brushes past him, heading for the stairs. "Jackson and Isaac?"
"Leading them away from the warehouse." Boyd follows straight after, the rest of them straggling behind. Jackson is always the best one for these jobs, because so far they'd found nothing that would hurt him - with the exception of wolfsbane. Stiles wasn't entirely sure why wolfsbane of all things affected him, simply assuming it had something to do with getting the bite from a werewolf. And Isaac knew how to stay out of trouble by now and was sneaky as hell to boot, so Stiles would be genuinely surprised if anyone actually caught him.
Derek is barking out orders as they flee from the house. "Erica, with me. Boyd, stay with Stiles and Scott. Do not go to the warehouse under any circumstances until you hear from me." He pauses, looking at all of them. "Stay out of trouble." That's Derek's macho, Alpha way of saying stay safe. Stiles came to recognise what it stood for a long time ago.
They all nod, starting to move away in their groups, when Stiles feels a hand around his wrist. Surprised, he jerks back around to see that it's Derek, hand clamped around his wrist, staring at him intently.
"Thank you," Derek says, and then he immediately lets go, turning and running in the opposite direction.
Stiles isn't sure what to make of that one and isn't given much of a chance to think it over as Boyd literally grabs his shoulders, telling him to get moving.
Stiles runs through the darkness, towards where he knows the jeep is.
But his mind is stuck outside the house, where Derek's hand is still wrapped about his wrist.
TBC
Next Part.