Skin Deep (Are the Secrets I Keep)

CHAPTER 4

"Derek called a pack meeting," An increasingly familiar voice tells him. "You didn't show."

You probably couldn't kill him even if you tried, Stiles reminds himself even as he eyes the river down below on the other side of the railing he's leaning against. He's chosen a park today, a small out-of-the-way one where his only company is a few people out for a stroll and the ducks. Or at least it was.

"I'm not part of his pack," He snarls, snapping his book shut. "Ergo, I did not show. Now what do you want, and why can't you leave me alone?"

Because this is the seventeenth time Peter has crashed Stiles' reading/research time over the past two months, and it went past annoying approximately after the second time when Peter somehow tracked him down to the coffee shop on Wisteria. The time after that – the old archives section of the library. And after that – the movie theatre when Stiles was just coming out, for gods' sakes. And so on and so forth. He doesn't show up every time Stiles is out and about, but he shows up enough that it's become a regular thing. The only place he doesn't follow Stiles to is the ocean when Stiles makes the drive to the coast for a dip.

This is stalking. The is legitimate stalking, and Stiles would've reported the asshole ages ago if not for the fact that that would open a whole can of worms he doesn't want anything to do with. He's been doing so well too! Barring this summer of course. Can't Peter take a hint? Not even a hint; Stiles has – more than once – told him to go play his games with someone else.

Peter just smirks at him and takes a seat on the bench. On Stiles' left side. The bastard's caught on that Stiles doesn't like people on his right, even if he doesn't know why. He's terrifyingly observant like that. Scott never noticed in the six years they were friends. And the Sheriff's not around enough for it to matter whether or not he's noticed. Even when they happen to eat dinner together, they sit across the table from each other, never side by side.

"I was just surprised," Peter continues, heedless of how tempted Stiles is to pitch him over the railing. "Even Scott came," His lip curls with momentary derision. "With his little Argent girlfriend. Or ex-girlfriend perhaps. She smells like she's been fucking the Lahey boy lately. And Derek finally got around to telling them about the Alpha Pack and his kidnapped betas. I simply thought you would've come too. Scott said he didn't know where you were when I asked. He even called but nobody picked up."

Stiles just shrugs, vaguely curious about this Alpha Pack and the two missing werewolves but ultimately dismissing it from his mind. Not his business anymore.

"We're not friends anymore," Stiles says flatly. Maybe if he satisfies Peter's curiosity, the man will get bored with him, although why he's curious about anything to do with Stiles at all is beyond him. "So I don't pick up when he calls."

He doesn't add that yesterday was the first time Scott's contacted him since... actually since Scott asked if he could cover for him with Melissa on one of his midnight rendezvous with Allison back in the early days. All other times since then, Stiles had been the one to contact Scott, to hang out, to study together, to save his life, and three-quarters of those times, he didn't get a reply anyway. The other quarter are exercises in frustration. Memories of Scott hanging up when Stiles was cornered by a kanima, weighed down by the veritable anchor that was Derek, and halfway drowning in the pool because the chlorine was practically choking him and he has next to no strength in human form dance through his mind. God, he was so pissed after that. It was frankly a miracle that he still managed to hold Derek up for over two hours before Scott finally got his butt there to play hero, but did Stiles get so much as a thank-you from their resident Alpha? Or even an apology from Scott for prioritizing dessert with his girlfriend's family over Stiles and Derek's lives? And okay, neither of them would have actually drowned; worse came to worst, his self-preservation would've kicked in, and even if it meant showing Derek what he is, he would've tapped into his other half just enough to save them both. But Scott didn't know that. And that was just one incident in a long line of them where Scott either forgot about him or just didn't give enough of a shit to come after him. Stiles even learned to only contact Scott for urgent matters after he realized asking to play video games or even practice a bit of lacrosse in the backyard would always be turned down in favour of dates with Allison. The two of them haven't hung out since that night Stiles tried to get drunk while listening to Scott moan about his love life.

So Stiles is done. Finished. And Scott clearly is too since he's either not noticed or not cared that Stiles hasn't sent him a single text or phone call or even approached him at school since Gerard dumped him in a ditch and Stiles somehow still saw fit to rush to Scott's rescue.

"Trouble in friendship paradise?" Peter remarks, and Stiles wonders if he can somehow convince Peter to stand on the bench long enough for Stiles to push him over.

"Peter," Stiles grits out. "What do you want?"

Peter finally loses that smugly amused look, eyes cooling to something more calculating instead.

"Derek," he says eventually, "wants you to get the blueprints for an abandoned bank. That's where he thinks the Alpha Pack has those two teens he turned. He'll be swinging by later to ask since you never showed up."

Stiles stares incredulously at him. "Uh, let me think about that... Okay, I've thought about it: no."

He stands and packs up. What a waste of his time.

"They might die," Peter calls after him as he begins walking towards his car, although Stiles doesn't know why – the man doesn't actually sound or even smell like he cares one way or the other.

"Call the cops," Stiles retorts before clambering into his jeep. He's running out of places to kick back in this stupid town.