Joan » S.Stilinski [1]

22 ; You're Hot When You're Protective

          "What do you mean by 'I can't help'? You're gonna need all the goddamn help you can get!"

          Scott sighed on the other end of the phone, only wanting to protect his friend. "Joan, it's going to be a bloodbath here. It's not safe for you here."

           "Are you saying that 'cause I'm a girl or because I'm human?" Joan asked in frustration, her anger boiling as she paced around in Stiles' room. Malia and Stiles watched the Arcs girl in concern as she continued to pace and run her fingers through her hair.

            "No– no! I'm not– that's not what I meant..."

           Joan scoffed, "Sure sounded like it, Scott. I just want to help. I may not have claws or a fast metabolism, but I know how to protect people..."

           Scott stayed silent for a moment, unsure of what to say. Knowing Joan she'd be mad for awhile, but she'd forgive him and understand why he said no, but on the other hand they did need more help. "Give it here, Scott," a voice commanded.

           "Joan, I know that you want to help," Argent spoke softly, understanding what Joan was feeling since that was exactly how Allison once felt. "But, you're not ready, especially for something like this. We're not just facing a couple assassins or one lone guy who has just picked up a gun. We're facing a group of highly trained people that were once hunters. There are always going to be people that need protecting, Joan. 

          "This isn't your fight, no matter how much you want it to be. Think about her. She wouldn't want you to come here and risk your life when you could be helping stop this from even happening. She would have wanted you be alive and prepared than you coming here and potentially getting killed. Allison would have wanted you to help Malia and Stiles stop the Dead Pool, and you know that."

          Joan stood silently, taking in Argent's words. She sighed softly before nodding, knowing that he couldn't see her. "Fine, I'll stay. But if something happens one of you has to call Malia or myself, okay?"

            Argent chuckled, "Of course. Now go help Stiles and Malia. We'll handle things here."

           "Yeah, yeah," Joan replied mockingly before ending the call. She turned around towards Stiles and Malia, the two staring at her patiently. "Okay, fine! You were right, blah, blah. Let's go to the Lake House."

          The two laughed, grins spread across their faces as they made their way out of Stiles' room. Joan slowly followed behind, pushing her reluctance aside. Stiles slowed down his steps and turned towards Joan, sending the girl a caring smile.

          "There's always gonna be a next time," Stiles explained, grabbing Joan's hand and interlocking their fingers. "Plus, I probably wouldn't have let you go anyway."

          Joan laughed, shaking her head, "Then I would have flipped you over my shoulder and gone anyway. You're not as badass as you make yourself seem, Stilinski. But, I will admit that you'd look pretty hot trying."

           Stiles gapped at Joan, watching as she jogged up to Malia and fell in step with her. "I could so stop her if I wanted to," Stiles muttered to himself. "I'd show her just how hot I'd be!"

           "What's that, Stiles?"

          "Nothing!"

»

           The trio stared at the record player expectantly, boredom filling the minds with every passing second. The record player continued to buzz as both Stiles and Joan's patient slowly dwindled. "What are we doing? This room wasn't even made for us," Stiles explained in exasperation. He stood up abruptly and began to wave his hands around spastically. "We need someone like Lydia or Meredith, and we're just sitting here listening to a stupid record player play a record that doesn't play anything!" Joan nodded, shutting of the record player and beginning to follow Stiles out of the room. "Come on. There's plenty of other things we can be totally useless doing."