Inferno - Stiles Stilinski

Chapter 34

Stealing a prison transport van.

That was his big plan.

We are gonna be in so much trouble when Mr. Stilinski finds out.

IF he finds out...

If... if is good.

Oh, who am I kidding, he's gonna find out.

I'm totally losing my job.

This was a terrible idea.

And I'm about to reiterate that to Stiles for about the thousandth time, but I'm cut off by a loud, angry scream.

"STILES! MCCALL! I'M GONNA KILL YOU!"

Just fannnnnntastic. Jackson is up.

"Whelp... sounds like Sunshine's awake." I sigh, making my way over to Stiles, who is unlocking the back doors of the van.

He carefully peeks inside, and seeing Jackson as... well Jackson, and not the kanima, he decides it's safe for us to go in.

I climb in after him, holding a bag of sandwiches.

We might have locked him up, but I'm a strong believer in food being necessary in EVERY situation.

Stiles grabs the bag from my hands and starts digging through it, "Ok, we brought you some foo—"

"LET ME OUT NOW!" Jackson demands, lunging at him furiously, except with his wrist restraints, he can't reach him.

"You know, I put those pants on you, alright buddy? One leg at a time, and you were naked. Being all up close and personal with your junk wasn't exactly a highlight of my day. So, don't think this is fun for me, either. You know, we're actually doing you a favor."

"This is doing me a favor?" he asks incredulously, motioning to the chains.

"Yes!" Stiles yells, "You're-you're killing people... to death."

"I think he got it." I whisper quietly, trying to contain my laughter at the comments he's making.

"Yeah. And until we can figure out how to stop you, you're gonna stay in here."

"I'm sorry." I genuinely add, "But... we did bring you some food, I mean, we didn't want you to go hungry. I even asked Lyds what your favorite sandwich was."

Jacksons eyes meet mine, and they immediately soften, "Thanks, I guess."

I send him a light smile and hand him his turkey club, then pass the ham and cheese to Stiles and keep the one ordered for me.

It's quiet for a few moments, until Jackson speaks up, "You actually think my parents won't be looking for me?"

"Uh, well," Stiles smugly answers, pulling a phone out of his pocket, and shows him, "Not if they don't think anything's wrong. Yeah."

The next couple hours pass faster than I expected and are surprisingly uneventful. We've all kinda moved around and gotten more comfortable. I even persuaded Stiles to loosen Jackson's cuffs, but that's all I could do for him. As for us, Stiles' legs are propped up on the bench Jackson is sitting on, and I'm laying down, with my head in his lap, letting him play with my hair, which seems to keep him from lashing out at Jackson more than usual.

We're explaining to him what the kanima looks like, but the more we say, the more Jackson seems to not believe us.

"Scales? Like a fish?"

"No, more like a reptile." Stiles corrects him, making him roll is eyes.

"And you have these weird claws with this nasty clear liquid-goop stuff that paralyzes people." I add, keeping my eyes closed, and enjoying the therapeutic sensation of my boyfriend messing with random locks of my hair as he continues on my description,