A Teen Wolf fic for Beacon Hills
Title: The One Where Stiles Gets Enhanced
Rating: PG-13
Warnings: Um, there is some human experimenting going on.
Word Count: 1,102
Stiles woke up on a hard pseudo hospital bed. There was a distant sound of a monitor beeping while he sat up. He felt a bit dizzy-woah, okay, a lot dizzy - like he had lost a lot of blood. Oh, god, he hoped he didn’t lose a lot of blood. Or anything else. He did a pat down of his body but all his limbs seemed intact. He was, however, fairly certain that he was not being worked on by someone with an actual medical degree. His surroundings looked worrisomely insanitary and resembled an abandoned basement in one of those horror video games he and Scott liked to play.
“Oh man, definite zombie apocalypse,” Stiles said to himself. “I’m going to wander out of this not-hospital and find a ghost town and then some flesh-snacking humans. This is my reality right now.”
“Where do you even come up with these ideas?” An unimpressed Derek appeared through the doorway.
“Resident Evil, man. You’ve heard of that, right? Wait, no, don’t answer that question. I don’t want to know the inevitable, sad answer. I am atypically pleased to see you, man. Where am I and also why?”
“Some….creatures took off with you. Scott and I have been trying to find you all night.” Derek sounded both concerned and extremely annoyed, as if his lack of a good night’s sleep was Stiles’ fault. Which, okay, technically it was, but being kidnapped by unidentified monsters was not a part of Stiles’ summer schedule, okay?
“Define creatures.”
“We don’t know what they were. Their skin was green and they had several eyeballs. They were fast, too. Scott is still chasing after them.”
Stiles considered this. “Aliens. They were so aliens. Let’s get out of here before they abduct us in their UFO. Experimenting on humans is a total alien thing, I learned that from TV, and that is not something we want to be mixed up in.”
“Aliens don’t exist,” Derek said, and then hesitated. “And, don’t freak out, but I think they might have already experimented.”
“Oh my god. Okay, first off, dude, never start a sentence with ‘don’t freak out.’ That is a definite way to freak someone out. Second of all, I would have said werewolves don’t exist three summers ago, so don’t be so certain. Thirdly, I am going to die, probably.”
“You’re going to be okay,” Derek argued in what was a suspiciously nervous tone. “Just sit still so I can look you over.”
“I’m going to die,” Stiles repeated. “You and Scott better avenge me. Or, wait, I can avenge myself. I’m a total badass when I want to be. Just find me one of those green assholes and hand me a bat and let me unleash the fury.”
Derek gave him one of his infamous Derek looks. “Absolutely not. Your motor coordination is severely lacking on a good day; you’d get yourself killed. Stay still and tell me what the date is today.”
“I’m doing this tonight,” Stiles insisted. “You’re probably gonna start a fight."
“Please don’t reference ‘90s boy band songs while I’m trying to determine your mental state.”
“Um, my mental state is awesome. My physical state is equally as awesome. I am literally the epitome of health right now. I’m okay, I’m completely okay, I’m- I’m going to throw up.”
-
Approximately ten minutes later, Derek was half helping, half dragging a vomit covered Stiles out of the creepy not-hospital building. Neither of them was particularly pleased about this. Especially the vomit part. They hadn’t even reached Derek’s car before a possible alien, possible less lizardy and more eyeballey Kanima, hurled itself from behind the Toyota, straight into the air, right at them.
Derek hadn’t even let the claws out before Stiles, in a knee-jerk reaction, caught the creature’s chin and opposite temple in his hands. The alien clawed at Stiles’ arm, but with unfound strength, Stiles jerked his hands and the alien was suddenly collapsed dead on the floor.
Derek stared at Stiles. Stiles stared at the alien. He was at least 98% certain he did not have the strength to effortlessly snap a neck before he woke up. Then Derek looked down at Stiles’ arm and, following his gaze, Stiles saw he was bleeding…green blood. Yes, well, that certainly confirmed the human experiment theory.
“Oh man, this is so Resident Evil.”
“Would you stop that? It is not.”
Stiles found himself being ushered impatiently into the passenger seat. He waited until Derek was pulling out of the empty parking lot before saying, “So. Now that I’m all pumped up like Captain America, we can go fight the good fight with Scott, right?”
“You are the exact same size as you were before and you’re bleeding a green substance. This is not like Captain America,” Derek said. “In any case, you are not fighting. I’m taking you to Dr.Deaton to be thoroughly examined for any life-threatening diseases.”
“Aww, dude. I never knew you cared.” Stiles glanced laterally at him. “But, like, I do feel fine, okay? Besides the earlier puking, that was pretty gross. But otherwise I’m sure this only has positive benefits. So you can maybe loosen up on the steering wheel before it rips off.”
Derek looked disapproving at this show of self-diagnosing, but his grip on the wheel did relax a margin. They drove on in silence for a few minutes, but Derek kept shooting Stiles odd looks until, finally, he gave in.
“Are you okay?”
“Dude, I literally just said-“
“Not physically. I meant, well, you did just kill someone…”
"I did, didn't I?" Stiles pondered this for a moment. "Well, to be fair, it was more of a something. And it did try to turn me into some weird alien-human hybrid. Which I’m totally into, don’t get me wrong, but my positive outlook on this was probably not its intention. Like, you don’t just knock someone unconscious, kidnap them, and then hybrid them up, am I right? Like no sane person does that. So yeah, I’m good. Can we get pancakes after Deaton’s?”
Derek stared at him for a moment. Then he sighed. “Yeah, we can get pancakes.”
“Score. You’re the best, man.”
So, yeah, there were weird aliens running around trying to enhance everyone’s strength, and they were probably going to have to deal with that eventually. But Stiles had a clean bill of health, pancakes from a trying-not-to-smile-but-totally-secretly-smiling Derek, and a best friend who he was going to be able to challenge to an arm wrestling contest soon. All in all, it was a pretty good day.
-
Tropes Generated:
1. Neck Snap
2. Alien Blood
3. Angst? What Angst?
Rating: PG-13
Warnings: Um, there is some human experimenting going on.
Word Count: 1,102
Stiles woke up on a hard pseudo hospital bed. There was a distant sound of a monitor beeping while he sat up. He felt a bit dizzy-woah, okay, a lot dizzy - like he had lost a lot of blood. Oh, god, he hoped he didn’t lose a lot of blood. Or anything else. He did a pat down of his body but all his limbs seemed intact. He was, however, fairly certain that he was not being worked on by someone with an actual medical degree. His surroundings looked worrisomely insanitary and resembled an abandoned basement in one of those horror video games he and Scott liked to play.
“Oh man, definite zombie apocalypse,” Stiles said to himself. “I’m going to wander out of this not-hospital and find a ghost town and then some flesh-snacking humans. This is my reality right now.”
“Where do you even come up with these ideas?” An unimpressed Derek appeared through the doorway.
“Resident Evil, man. You’ve heard of that, right? Wait, no, don’t answer that question. I don’t want to know the inevitable, sad answer. I am atypically pleased to see you, man. Where am I and also why?”
“Some….creatures took off with you. Scott and I have been trying to find you all night.” Derek sounded both concerned and extremely annoyed, as if his lack of a good night’s sleep was Stiles’ fault. Which, okay, technically it was, but being kidnapped by unidentified monsters was not a part of Stiles’ summer schedule, okay?
“Define creatures.”
“We don’t know what they were. Their skin was green and they had several eyeballs. They were fast, too. Scott is still chasing after them.”
Stiles considered this. “Aliens. They were so aliens. Let’s get out of here before they abduct us in their UFO. Experimenting on humans is a total alien thing, I learned that from TV, and that is not something we want to be mixed up in.”
“Aliens don’t exist,” Derek said, and then hesitated. “And, don’t freak out, but I think they might have already experimented.”
“Oh my god. Okay, first off, dude, never start a sentence with ‘don’t freak out.’ That is a definite way to freak someone out. Second of all, I would have said werewolves don’t exist three summers ago, so don’t be so certain. Thirdly, I am going to die, probably.”
“You’re going to be okay,” Derek argued in what was a suspiciously nervous tone. “Just sit still so I can look you over.”
“I’m going to die,” Stiles repeated. “You and Scott better avenge me. Or, wait, I can avenge myself. I’m a total badass when I want to be. Just find me one of those green assholes and hand me a bat and let me unleash the fury.”
Derek gave him one of his infamous Derek looks. “Absolutely not. Your motor coordination is severely lacking on a good day; you’d get yourself killed. Stay still and tell me what the date is today.”
“I’m doing this tonight,” Stiles insisted. “You’re probably gonna start a fight."
“Please don’t reference ‘90s boy band songs while I’m trying to determine your mental state.”
“Um, my mental state is awesome. My physical state is equally as awesome. I am literally the epitome of health right now. I’m okay, I’m completely okay, I’m- I’m going to throw up.”
-
Approximately ten minutes later, Derek was half helping, half dragging a vomit covered Stiles out of the creepy not-hospital building. Neither of them was particularly pleased about this. Especially the vomit part. They hadn’t even reached Derek’s car before a possible alien, possible less lizardy and more eyeballey Kanima, hurled itself from behind the Toyota, straight into the air, right at them.
Derek hadn’t even let the claws out before Stiles, in a knee-jerk reaction, caught the creature’s chin and opposite temple in his hands. The alien clawed at Stiles’ arm, but with unfound strength, Stiles jerked his hands and the alien was suddenly collapsed dead on the floor.
Derek stared at Stiles. Stiles stared at the alien. He was at least 98% certain he did not have the strength to effortlessly snap a neck before he woke up. Then Derek looked down at Stiles’ arm and, following his gaze, Stiles saw he was bleeding…green blood. Yes, well, that certainly confirmed the human experiment theory.
“Oh man, this is so Resident Evil.”
“Would you stop that? It is not.”
Stiles found himself being ushered impatiently into the passenger seat. He waited until Derek was pulling out of the empty parking lot before saying, “So. Now that I’m all pumped up like Captain America, we can go fight the good fight with Scott, right?”
“You are the exact same size as you were before and you’re bleeding a green substance. This is not like Captain America,” Derek said. “In any case, you are not fighting. I’m taking you to Dr.Deaton to be thoroughly examined for any life-threatening diseases.”
“Aww, dude. I never knew you cared.” Stiles glanced laterally at him. “But, like, I do feel fine, okay? Besides the earlier puking, that was pretty gross. But otherwise I’m sure this only has positive benefits. So you can maybe loosen up on the steering wheel before it rips off.”
Derek looked disapproving at this show of self-diagnosing, but his grip on the wheel did relax a margin. They drove on in silence for a few minutes, but Derek kept shooting Stiles odd looks until, finally, he gave in.
“Are you okay?”
“Dude, I literally just said-“
“Not physically. I meant, well, you did just kill someone…”
"I did, didn't I?" Stiles pondered this for a moment. "Well, to be fair, it was more of a something. And it did try to turn me into some weird alien-human hybrid. Which I’m totally into, don’t get me wrong, but my positive outlook on this was probably not its intention. Like, you don’t just knock someone unconscious, kidnap them, and then hybrid them up, am I right? Like no sane person does that. So yeah, I’m good. Can we get pancakes after Deaton’s?”
Derek stared at him for a moment. Then he sighed. “Yeah, we can get pancakes.”
“Score. You’re the best, man.”
So, yeah, there were weird aliens running around trying to enhance everyone’s strength, and they were probably going to have to deal with that eventually. But Stiles had a clean bill of health, pancakes from a trying-not-to-smile-but-totally-secretly-smiling Derek, and a best friend who he was going to be able to challenge to an arm wrestling contest soon. All in all, it was a pretty good day.
-
Tropes Generated:
1. Neck Snap
2. Alien Blood
3. Angst? What Angst?