Bright But Solemn Eyed (Part One)
accident
Stiles groaned as he tossed his book bag onto the floor for a second time. Less than a week into his first summer break as a college student and already he was going crazy.
“But why do I have to call you?” Scott’s voice came from Stiles’ computer speakers. “We’re already talking.”
Stiles sat back up and pulled a face as he began rummaging through the mess of papers on his desk. “Because I can’t find my phone. It was in my bag and it’s not anymore. You call me. Phone rings. Profit!”
“Did you check your laundry basket? I didn’t have a phone for like two weeks last fall because I forgot it in my pocket and Mom refuses to check them anymore for stuff.”
“How are you in college?” Stiles leaned his elbow on his desk. Scott just shrugged on his monitor and pulled out his phone. There was a slight delay from Scott on screen dialing and Scott’s ringtone blaring. Stiles sat back quickly and stared at the phone where it sat next to his keyboard.
He picked it up slowly and faintly heard Scott snickering at him. “Good thing it wasn’t a snake.”
“Yea,” Stiles agreed slowly, “especially since it wasn’t there a second ago.”
“Right, dude, whatever. Go read some comics or something and veg. Not every school finishes when yours did. Unless of course you want to help me figure out some of these essay prompts?” Scott tilted his head and smirked when Stiles quickly refused. “Go. Relax. I’ll talk to you in a few days.” Stiles nodded and muttered a goodbye before Scott signed off.
coincidence
“What the everloving f...” Stiles tugged at his hair as he paced around the living room, sighing. He’d made three separate circuits between the kitchen and the front door before he realized his dad was leaning against the wall watching him.
The Sheriff raised an eyebrow at him as Stiles turned and walked through the other room again. “Lose something?” he asked with a sardonic tone.
“Other than my mind, he implies,” Stiles grumbled to himself as he leant over to pick up the newspaper from the coffee table from where he’d dropped it only a minute ago. “My grip on sanity... A few crayons out of the box... A shitload of marbles… My rocker, I am off of...” The entire time Stiles muttered to himself he wandered around the room looking on every flat surface including behind the potted plant near the door.
He glanced up when he heard his dad call his name. Repeatedly. “Stiles! What are you looking for?” The elder Stilinski had straightened up and was underlining each word with his coffee mug.
“I made it and then set it on the counter to go get the paper from the front porch and it’s not on the counter so apparently it’s grown legs and...”
“What are we talking about?” Stiles paused in his ramblings when his Dad caught his arm as the young man had gone past him towards the kitchen.
“My coffee,” Stiles replied with ‘duh’ implied. The Sheriff side eyed him for a moment before forcibly turning Stiles to face the kitchen table. “That... coffee.” His father hummed from behind him as Stiles moved to pick up the mug from the table. “I left it on the counter.”
“Obviously not. Now can you stop with the guided tour of our front room and give me the sports page?” Stiles opened his mouth to retort but allowed it to snap closed again, dropping down into the nearest seat. He tossed the paper towards his dad and stared at the cup of coffee in front of him, eyes darting up to the counter and back again.
pattern
Kicking the tire of his Jeep probably wasn’t his brightest idea, Stiles thought as he leaned against the vehicle and rubbed his toe through his sneaker. “Oh my god,” he groaned, straightening up and dropping his head back against the door, eyes closed and teeth grinding together.
“Problem?” The voice was familiar enough that Stiles found himself answering before he opened his eyes.
“I dropped my keys and managed to kick them to the direct center point under my Jeep.” Stiles straightened up and found Derek smirking at him from a few feet away. “Wanna turn into a puppy, wiggle under there, and fetch them for me?” The sarcasm kicked in on defense and Derek’s smirk turned into more of a glower, leaving Stiles feeling oddly off centered. “I mean... I...” Stiles dropped his head back again. “Sorry.”
He heard Derek move closer and the creak of the other man’s boots as he apparently stooped down to look under the vehicle. “There’s nothing under there.”
“Wha...?” Stiles dropped down next to Derek and peered into the darkness. The pair straightened up at the same time and Stiles found himself backing away quickly as Derek moved forward to look into the Jeep.
“They’re on the seat.” Stiles stepped closer again and looked in to find his keys right where Derek had said.
“Somethings fucking with me,” the younger man said in a sure tone. He could see Derek staring at him as he yanked open the door and grabbed the keyring. “Seriously fucking with me. This door was locked. Those keys were under the car.” He turned to find Derek still just as close, staring at him incredulously. “Seriously,” Stiles asserted, “shit keeps moving around. First my phone moved out of my bag onto my desk and then my coffee moved to the table and...”
“So something is ‘fucking with you’ by... making life easier?” Stiles bit back the urge to stick his tongue out in response to Derek’s logic. “Maybe you’re just tired after finals.”
“Don’t try to common sense me, Mr Werewolf.” Stiles shook his finger in Derek’s face. “That stopped working when I saw dudes with glowy eyes and too much facial hair rampage through my high school.” Derek let out a growly sigh before turning away and stalking across the parking lot towards his own car without another word. Stiles watched him drive off before turning his attention back to the keys currently warming in the palm of his hand.
fourth time’s a charm
Stiles took a deep breath before stepping off the path into the woods of the reserve. “This is a bad idea,” he said softly into his phone. He could hear Scott on the other end of the line moving through the woods about a mile down the path.
“It was your idea,” Scott whispered, the sound of leaves rustling around him slowing.
“Yea, well, you’re the one who should know better than to agree with my ideas in the first place.” Stiles tried to shield the glow of his phone in the darkness.
“I did,” Scott countered, “but you said you’d come out here without me if I said no.”
Stiles let out an agreeing murmur as he paused near a large tree. “Potential poltergeists are serious business, Scotty.”
“Potential sleep deprivation is more serious. And I’m talking about you.” Stiles made a face at his phone as he slid his keys from his pocket. “What sort of poltergeist helps stupid college kids find their lost cups of coffee anyway?”
“Maybe it thrives on confusion.” It was the same argument they’d had back at Stiles’ house. “Maybe it’s trying to lull me into a false sense of confusion before it strikes with an evil vengeance.”
“Maybe there’s nothing false about your sense of confusion,” Scott mumbled. Stiles took a deep breath. “Okay,” his friend said, “I’m in position. I should be able to get there fast enough if something happens. Like your messy death.”
Stiles took a deep breath before tossing his keys as hard as he could in the direction Scott should be hiding. “Always the optimist,” he said softly. “Now optimistically listen for me to optimistically scream bloody murder.” He switched off his phone and pocketed it before Scott could get the last word.
“Optimism...” he whispered to himself as he leaned back against the tree. The plan was to give it a few minutes before he started trying to ‘find’ his keys. And by keys he meant asshat of a poltergeist or leprechaun or whatever the hell was messing with his life. He found himself halfway through some pop song he’d heard on the way over when a creaking limb had him whirling to face the opposite direction.
He cleared his throat before calling out into the dark woods. “I know you’re out there,” he lied as confidently as possible. The movement stopped for a moment before starting again, just as loudly. “You’re so unsubtle a brick could take lessons,” Stiles called out. He was beginning to question the logic of Scott being so far upwind and was about to head in his direction when a man came into view.
“Did I frighten you?” the stranger questioned, still walking towards Stiles. The young man could only shrug in response as he took in the other man’s shaggy hair and torn clothes. “Should I try harder?” A flash of blue and Stiles took off running in the other direction.
“Scott!” he shouted as he crashed through the underbrush, “Now would be a good time to get your hairy ass...aaah!” He stopped so quickly he tripped and landed flat on his back, the strange werewolf staring down at him with a grin.
The werewolf shook his head. “You can’t outrun me.”
“Sure I could,” Stiles argued, pushing himself backwards until he hit a tree. “I’m just not wearing my “oh shit a monster wants to eat me” shoes.”
“Monster,” the omega growled. “Is it the eyes?” The flashed blue again as Stiles tried to stand up. “Or the teeth?” He snarled, fangs catching what little light the waxing moon shed.
Stiles pulled his head back as the man leaned closer. “It’s the breath,” he choked out, “definitely the breath.” The man grabbed Stiles wrists as he tried to push the werewolf away, twisting them until the brunet feels the bones grind. “I’m not alone out here.”
“I know,” the man whispered right in Stiles’ face. “But I’m willing to bet that my teeth are faster than his legs.” He clicks his teeth at Stiles once before letting go of his wrists and grabbing his hair instead. Stiles pushes against his chest, fingertips pressing in as he tries to strain his neck away as the omega leans in.
All Stiles can think of is pushing the werewolf away with everything he is. Living. Surviving.
The lightning nearly blinded him before he fainted.
Stiles groaned as he tossed his book bag onto the floor for a second time. Less than a week into his first summer break as a college student and already he was going crazy.
“But why do I have to call you?” Scott’s voice came from Stiles’ computer speakers. “We’re already talking.”
Stiles sat back up and pulled a face as he began rummaging through the mess of papers on his desk. “Because I can’t find my phone. It was in my bag and it’s not anymore. You call me. Phone rings. Profit!”
“Did you check your laundry basket? I didn’t have a phone for like two weeks last fall because I forgot it in my pocket and Mom refuses to check them anymore for stuff.”
“How are you in college?” Stiles leaned his elbow on his desk. Scott just shrugged on his monitor and pulled out his phone. There was a slight delay from Scott on screen dialing and Scott’s ringtone blaring. Stiles sat back quickly and stared at the phone where it sat next to his keyboard.
He picked it up slowly and faintly heard Scott snickering at him. “Good thing it wasn’t a snake.”
“Yea,” Stiles agreed slowly, “especially since it wasn’t there a second ago.”
“Right, dude, whatever. Go read some comics or something and veg. Not every school finishes when yours did. Unless of course you want to help me figure out some of these essay prompts?” Scott tilted his head and smirked when Stiles quickly refused. “Go. Relax. I’ll talk to you in a few days.” Stiles nodded and muttered a goodbye before Scott signed off.
coincidence
“What the everloving f...” Stiles tugged at his hair as he paced around the living room, sighing. He’d made three separate circuits between the kitchen and the front door before he realized his dad was leaning against the wall watching him.
The Sheriff raised an eyebrow at him as Stiles turned and walked through the other room again. “Lose something?” he asked with a sardonic tone.
“Other than my mind, he implies,” Stiles grumbled to himself as he leant over to pick up the newspaper from the coffee table from where he’d dropped it only a minute ago. “My grip on sanity... A few crayons out of the box... A shitload of marbles… My rocker, I am off of...” The entire time Stiles muttered to himself he wandered around the room looking on every flat surface including behind the potted plant near the door.
He glanced up when he heard his dad call his name. Repeatedly. “Stiles! What are you looking for?” The elder Stilinski had straightened up and was underlining each word with his coffee mug.
“I made it and then set it on the counter to go get the paper from the front porch and it’s not on the counter so apparently it’s grown legs and...”
“What are we talking about?” Stiles paused in his ramblings when his Dad caught his arm as the young man had gone past him towards the kitchen.
“My coffee,” Stiles replied with ‘duh’ implied. The Sheriff side eyed him for a moment before forcibly turning Stiles to face the kitchen table. “That... coffee.” His father hummed from behind him as Stiles moved to pick up the mug from the table. “I left it on the counter.”
“Obviously not. Now can you stop with the guided tour of our front room and give me the sports page?” Stiles opened his mouth to retort but allowed it to snap closed again, dropping down into the nearest seat. He tossed the paper towards his dad and stared at the cup of coffee in front of him, eyes darting up to the counter and back again.
pattern
Kicking the tire of his Jeep probably wasn’t his brightest idea, Stiles thought as he leaned against the vehicle and rubbed his toe through his sneaker. “Oh my god,” he groaned, straightening up and dropping his head back against the door, eyes closed and teeth grinding together.
“Problem?” The voice was familiar enough that Stiles found himself answering before he opened his eyes.
“I dropped my keys and managed to kick them to the direct center point under my Jeep.” Stiles straightened up and found Derek smirking at him from a few feet away. “Wanna turn into a puppy, wiggle under there, and fetch them for me?” The sarcasm kicked in on defense and Derek’s smirk turned into more of a glower, leaving Stiles feeling oddly off centered. “I mean... I...” Stiles dropped his head back again. “Sorry.”
He heard Derek move closer and the creak of the other man’s boots as he apparently stooped down to look under the vehicle. “There’s nothing under there.”
“Wha...?” Stiles dropped down next to Derek and peered into the darkness. The pair straightened up at the same time and Stiles found himself backing away quickly as Derek moved forward to look into the Jeep.
“They’re on the seat.” Stiles stepped closer again and looked in to find his keys right where Derek had said.
“Somethings fucking with me,” the younger man said in a sure tone. He could see Derek staring at him as he yanked open the door and grabbed the keyring. “Seriously fucking with me. This door was locked. Those keys were under the car.” He turned to find Derek still just as close, staring at him incredulously. “Seriously,” Stiles asserted, “shit keeps moving around. First my phone moved out of my bag onto my desk and then my coffee moved to the table and...”
“So something is ‘fucking with you’ by... making life easier?” Stiles bit back the urge to stick his tongue out in response to Derek’s logic. “Maybe you’re just tired after finals.”
“Don’t try to common sense me, Mr Werewolf.” Stiles shook his finger in Derek’s face. “That stopped working when I saw dudes with glowy eyes and too much facial hair rampage through my high school.” Derek let out a growly sigh before turning away and stalking across the parking lot towards his own car without another word. Stiles watched him drive off before turning his attention back to the keys currently warming in the palm of his hand.
fourth time’s a charm
Stiles took a deep breath before stepping off the path into the woods of the reserve. “This is a bad idea,” he said softly into his phone. He could hear Scott on the other end of the line moving through the woods about a mile down the path.
“It was your idea,” Scott whispered, the sound of leaves rustling around him slowing.
“Yea, well, you’re the one who should know better than to agree with my ideas in the first place.” Stiles tried to shield the glow of his phone in the darkness.
“I did,” Scott countered, “but you said you’d come out here without me if I said no.”
Stiles let out an agreeing murmur as he paused near a large tree. “Potential poltergeists are serious business, Scotty.”
“Potential sleep deprivation is more serious. And I’m talking about you.” Stiles made a face at his phone as he slid his keys from his pocket. “What sort of poltergeist helps stupid college kids find their lost cups of coffee anyway?”
“Maybe it thrives on confusion.” It was the same argument they’d had back at Stiles’ house. “Maybe it’s trying to lull me into a false sense of confusion before it strikes with an evil vengeance.”
“Maybe there’s nothing false about your sense of confusion,” Scott mumbled. Stiles took a deep breath. “Okay,” his friend said, “I’m in position. I should be able to get there fast enough if something happens. Like your messy death.”
Stiles took a deep breath before tossing his keys as hard as he could in the direction Scott should be hiding. “Always the optimist,” he said softly. “Now optimistically listen for me to optimistically scream bloody murder.” He switched off his phone and pocketed it before Scott could get the last word.
“Optimism...” he whispered to himself as he leaned back against the tree. The plan was to give it a few minutes before he started trying to ‘find’ his keys. And by keys he meant asshat of a poltergeist or leprechaun or whatever the hell was messing with his life. He found himself halfway through some pop song he’d heard on the way over when a creaking limb had him whirling to face the opposite direction.
He cleared his throat before calling out into the dark woods. “I know you’re out there,” he lied as confidently as possible. The movement stopped for a moment before starting again, just as loudly. “You’re so unsubtle a brick could take lessons,” Stiles called out. He was beginning to question the logic of Scott being so far upwind and was about to head in his direction when a man came into view.
“Did I frighten you?” the stranger questioned, still walking towards Stiles. The young man could only shrug in response as he took in the other man’s shaggy hair and torn clothes. “Should I try harder?” A flash of blue and Stiles took off running in the other direction.
“Scott!” he shouted as he crashed through the underbrush, “Now would be a good time to get your hairy ass...aaah!” He stopped so quickly he tripped and landed flat on his back, the strange werewolf staring down at him with a grin.
The werewolf shook his head. “You can’t outrun me.”
“Sure I could,” Stiles argued, pushing himself backwards until he hit a tree. “I’m just not wearing my “oh shit a monster wants to eat me” shoes.”
“Monster,” the omega growled. “Is it the eyes?” The flashed blue again as Stiles tried to stand up. “Or the teeth?” He snarled, fangs catching what little light the waxing moon shed.
Stiles pulled his head back as the man leaned closer. “It’s the breath,” he choked out, “definitely the breath.” The man grabbed Stiles wrists as he tried to push the werewolf away, twisting them until the brunet feels the bones grind. “I’m not alone out here.”
“I know,” the man whispered right in Stiles’ face. “But I’m willing to bet that my teeth are faster than his legs.” He clicks his teeth at Stiles once before letting go of his wrists and grabbing his hair instead. Stiles pushes against his chest, fingertips pressing in as he tries to strain his neck away as the omega leans in.
All Stiles can think of is pushing the werewolf away with everything he is. Living. Surviving.
The lightning nearly blinded him before he fainted.