Joan » S.Stilinski [1]

10 ; Full Moon Etiquette

There's a certain way you should act when dealing with a bloodthirsty and uncontrollable were-coyote. You don't want to show your fear, 'cause that'll only make them stronger. You also don't want to get attached/ lovey when around them. Acting like a mother figure when a were-coyote is attempting to claw out your throat is one of the worst things you can do, and Joan learnt the hard way. You must stay sharp and knowledgable about your surroundings.

Her heart pounded within her chest as she tightening the leather bound around Malia's left wrist while Stiles tightened her right one. The were remaining as calm as they possibly could, trying not to show their fear of Malia escaping and possibly killing the large group of freshman upstairs.

"Too tight?" Stiles asks, looking at Malia. She growled lowly, her eyes bright and angry, "Tighter." The two humans nodded, tightening the already tight bounds before standing up. Malia pulled against her restrains, growling and baring her fangs at the two.

"You can leave if you want," she says lowly, once again attempting to free herself.

Joan shakes her head, grabbing a seat, Stiles doing the exact same. "We're not going anywhere. And to be honest, I'm probably safer down here than in a party with fifty freshmen and a very pissed off Lydia."

Joan nodded, "Believe me, a mad Lydia is probably the most terrifying thing in the world." Nearing the end of her sentence, she began to raise her voice thanks to the electric dance music. She hated parties with a burning passion. The ones that she's gone to always ended terrible.

For example, the first party she really ever went to was because it was Scott's first full moon. It's not like it was a bad party, but it was defiantly short lived thanks to Scott's inability to believe that he was in fact a werewolf. Also there was the time when she and the pack went to Lydia's party during their sophomore year and she ended up having a terrible hallucination thanks to the drugged punch. The image of all her friends hating her with a burning passion had terrified her and haunted her dreams. Then there was Stiles' old childhood friend's birthday party where she was hit on by multiple guys and ended up having to kiss Scott to get them off her back. Let's not forget about the party that was held at Derek's house on Halloween. Let's just say that Joan tries to forget that night as best she can.

So, no, parties where not a place Joan enjoyed being a part of. Just like Stiles said, she'd much rather be down in the basement with Malia then upstairs with a bunch of rowdy teenagers.

Joan tapped her foot along with the beat of the music mindlessly, occasionally looking at Malia to see if she'd calmed down yet. Every time her eyes connected with the were-coyote's she'd growl and attempt to release her arms from the chains unsuccessfully.

"Please go," Malia begged, anger and fear coursing through her veins. She didn't want to hurt her best friends, the ones that let her into their homes and helped her reenter society. Without them she'd be nothing, so she couldn't rick hurting them.

"We're not leaving you, Malia," Joan said in a defiant tone. "Plus, we hate parties, so what's the point of joining one."

Stiles nodded, "It's a social anxiety thing. Have you ever had a panic attack?"

Malia growled, glaring at the two humans in front of her, "I'm having one now."

"Just breathe, okay," Stiles says calmly, bring his seat a bit closer towards Malia. "We're not going to leave you."

"What if I hurt you?"

Joan shook her head, "You're not going to, Malia."

"But I want to!" Malia yells, her anger and bloodlust getting the best of her. "I look at your faces and I want to slash at them. I want to tear at them. I want to feel your bones crack between my hands." She pulls against her restraints, the leather beginning to crack and pull apart the more she pulls.

"Surprisingly enough, you're not the first person to ever say something like that," Stiles replies, trying not to show that he's fazed by her graphic threats. Malia growls in response, tugging and thrashing at the two humans.

Joan curled her hands into fists, wanting nothing more than to help Malia. She just didn't know how. She was just a human. She couldn't magically heal if Malia cut her, she couldn't brainwash Malia into changing her mind of brutally murdering herself and Stiles, and she defiantly couldn't let her free and hopes Malia had a changed of heart. "We're not leaving you. And I'm not going to let you hurt anyone. Neither is Stiles."

"You're not going to have a choice," Malia mumbled lowly, raising her wrist to show the two the that the restraint wouldn't last long. The two humans looked at each quickly, trying to think of something to do to help Malia.

"Okay, Malia, I know you can hear me. Just listen to my voice," Stiles explained, trying to calming Malia down. The were-coyote growled and snarled at the two, successfully breaking the bound that was restraining her left wrist. She lunged at Stiles and Joan, causing the Stilinski boy to push Joan behind him protectively.

"Listen to mine," Malia demanded, trying to catch one of the two humans. "Run!"

Stiles kept his arm out, making sure Joan doesn't get between himself and Malia. She hissed lowly at Stiles, watching Malia continue to pull against the chain keeping her connected to the wall. "You're an idiot," Joan mumbled, concern and fear replacing her anger.

Stiles shook his head, looking over at Joan. "But, I'm a smart idiot," he mumbled before turning back towards Malia, praying that what he was about to say would work. "I'm not going to run. We're not gonna run, Malia. Because I don't think you're going to hurt us. And I think maybe you're so afraid of hurting us because of what you did to your family. I know what that's like. I remember everything I did," Stiles spoke, his voice sincere and calm. "And the worst part is I remember liking it. Because I felt powerful. I felt fearless. And most of all, in control. But when I came through it, I learned something else... Control is overrated."

Joan never knew this about Stiles. Majority of the time she tried to forget what the Nogitsune had done. She knew it wasn't her place to ask questions or talk about it, so she never did. But now hearing what Stiles was saying, Joan was speechless.

Stiles slowly began to move forward, taking out the key to unlock Malia before slowly doing so. Joan followed behind, now standing beside Stiles. The two looked at Malia hopefully as Stiles unlocked the lock keeping Malia connected to the wall. The moment the lock became undone, Malia lunged at the two, holding each of their shirts in her hands.

Joan's hand instinctively grabbed a hold of Stiles', as if it had a mind of its own. Their fingers intertwined and tightened around the other, as if they were holding on for dear life. Joan's hand felt cold compared to Stiles' warm hand. Time seemed to slow down as Joan looked down at her hand in his. It was as if she had filled a puzzle piece that connected the two, causing a strange yet satisfying feeling to fill her chest.

Joan was brought back from her thoughts when she felt Malia's hand tighten around her shirt and pulling her a bit closer. Joan's grip on Stiles' hand tighten, awaiting for Malia to do something now that she was free. But instead of killing the two humans she paused and let go of their shirts before looking down at her now clawless hands. Malia slowly looked up, her eyes now their normal hazel color and her fangs now gone.

Large smiles of relief spread across Stiles and Joan's face, thrilled that Malia had controlled herself before she had killed them or the people upstairs. "You did it!" Stiles said gleefully, subconsciously dropping Joan's hand and pulling the brunette and Malia into a tight group hug.

Joan wiggled uncomfortably, but nonetheless stay in their embrace. "I think we can officially state that you've graduated werewolf academy!" Joan joked once the three stepped away from on another. Stiles and Malia laughed, thankful beyond belief.

"I'm so proud of you," Joan explained, a large smile gracing her lips. Malia's smile widened, happy to have made Joan proud.