*Sunday afternoon. No crises. Hale pack 2.0 playing baseball down on the preserve*
Erica to Derek: Omg you really need to tap that harder.
Derek: Huh? Did you somehow manage to miss me scoring that home run just now?
Erica: *rolls her eyes* I'm not talking about the ball, Babe Ruth.
Stiles: *runs past them both, reeking of horny*
Erica: I was talking about that.
Derek: *turns the same shade of red as the flash of his alpha eyes*
Derek, shouting: GAME SUSPENDED! EVERYONE GO HOME!
Scott, muttering quietly: Oh God, please, please just wait until we're out of earshot this time...
The rest of the pack: *tutting unhappily* Awww, Stiles!
Stiles: *throws his hands up in the air* What? What I do?!
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“Hello?”
“There’s a Desert Maker loose in Beacon Hills and we don’t know how to stop it.”
“Well, hello to you too Scott! How’ve you been? I’ve been well, thanks.”
“Stiles. We need your help. I know you’re busy with coursework and we’ve been trying not to bother you with this stuff but we’ve tried everything and looked everywhere and can’t find any info on how to stop this thing from destroying the preserve. It’s killing every plant that it touches. We need you.”
“Sigh, same story, different monster. I don’t wanna know, Scott. We had a deal, no telling Stiles of Beacon Hills problems unless people are dying. Plants aren’t people. Sounds like you’ve got a weed problem. Call a gardener.”
“This is different. It’s destroying everything green and turning the preserve to dust. It’s spreading like a disease. And now the animals are dying.”
“Ugh. Have you tried Deaton and all the books in the Hale vault?”
“Yes, we only found one reference to it and it says there’s a spell to trap it but the pages have been torn out of the book.”
“Well, that’s terrible form. Have you asked Derek why his family has been tearing pages out of poor innocent books all willy-nilly?”
“What? Of course I haven’t asked Derek.”
“Well, there you go. Call Derek. I have an exam in 20 min-”
“Stiles! He disappeared, remember? No one knows where Derek is and his phone’s disconnected. I can’t ask him.”
“What do you mean? His phone isn’t disconnected. He sent me a photo of his puppy eating his shoe just this morning.”
“Stiles, are you feeling OK? He left town 10 months ago, disconnected his phone and no one’s heard from him since…”
“What? No he didn’t. Well, I mean, yeah he left town and his phone was disconnected but then he got a new number like 2 days later and texted it to everyone.”
“Uh, no, no one’s heard from him in 10 months Stiles. Are you telling me you have Derek’s new number?”
“Yes... he’s living in New Jersey. With his new puppy, Joseph. He’s pretty cute, but definitely needs puppy classes. Joseph that is, not Derek. Although…”
“Derek’s living in New Jersey?”
“Yeah, I go stay with him when I don’t have classes. I didn’t know you guys thought he was like, missing.”
“You visit Derek? Regularly?”
“Well yeah, when I get a few days break between important classes. It’s quiet there, I get more study done. Plus, he makes better food than anything on campus so…”
“You stay with Derek and he makes you food?”
“This really isn’t a big deal, I don’t know why your voice has gone all weird and squeaky.”
“It’s kind of a big deal Stiles! Why did he only give you his number?”
“I don’t know, Scott, maybe he too was trying to avoid annoying true alphas calling him all the time with Beacon Hills supernatural problems!”
“Why didn’t you ever mention this before?”
“It never came up, I guess. I figured you’d all been keeping in touch with him. I’ll ask him why I’m his favorite when I see him at bowling tonight.”
“BOWLING?!”
“We joined a team.”
“This is- just- you-“
“Are you stuttering or is this line dropping out? I really do have to get to this exam. I’ll text you his number and you can work this vegan demon thing out with him.”
“Right.”
“You good?”
“I don’t even know anymore.”
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liam: stiles, just listen to me on this one, please!
stiles: fine, i’ll do it, dumb-bar!
theo: hey, you do not talk to him like that.
stiles: whatever, mr rae-ken’t-keep-his-eyes-off-liam.
scott: stiles! what crawled up your ass and died?
stiles: oh, absolutely nothing, mr mccall-ing-isaac-daddy-behind-closed-doors.
argent: okay, what the hell is going on in here?
stiles: everything’s peachy, mr argent-inian-girls-in-my-area!
argent: *colour draining from his face, eyes darkening, voice low* stiles… how did you get access to my search history? and why did you feel the need to do such a thing in the first place?
stiles: i, uhh… care about your personal life?
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