Why Not? (Sterek/Scissac)

Chapter 1

It's been two years since we graduated. Two long hard-ass years. Not because anything supernatural, freaky, or life-threatening happened, no. But because I was working the entire time with my dad, and the only friend I got to see consistently was Scott. Of course people dropped by, little get togethers, go bowling once in a while, but overall it's been lots of work, boring work might I add, and a boring social life, since the last girlfriend I had was Lydia, and that was nine months ago. Frankly my life sucked right now, that didn't stop me from trying to make it interesting though.

"Scott..." I mumbled looking up from the case I was absorbed in.

"What?" He asked quietly, he didn't even look up from his textbook.

"Can we go on a road trip this weekend?" I asked, trying my best to put an innocent puppy dog face on. He sighed heavily, and looked up finally.

"Stiles, you know I need to study for my test next week." He said almost with no inflections. His eyes drifted back to his work, and gazing disgustedly at my own I huffed loudly.

"Yeah, I know. But come on, one trip, just one. You have your nose in books way more than you should. What happened to adventuring?" I asked. I was sick of nothing happening. Sick of Scott always working. Sure he wanted to be a vet, but jeez he hasn't gone out on a weekend in like two months.

"I'm going to school, you have a job, I have a part time job. There's no time for adventures. We're busy, at least no one's trying to kill us!" He said, growing more agitated with each word.

"You're no fun." I said. He was being such a dick. I mean he was right. No one was trying to kill us, and that was cool. But at least when that stuff happened it was interesting. Being a police officer in training is only fun when something bad happens. Can't really wish for bad things to happen, can I?

After like ten minutes of trying to go through the case file I looked up at Scott, and then back to the images of the crime scene. A store was robbed, the perp stole a shit ton of sleeping medication. I didn't know why, maybe they had a strange form of insomnia. I knew it would be boring though. Nothing had happened to Beacon Hills in like a year. I thought that this place was a supernatural hotspot, a place that needed our protection from murderous bad guys. But not anymore.

"Ugh...... fine, you know what Scott, I'm going home. See you later." I said, picking up my materials. Scott nodded.

"Yeah, see you later." He said, immediately shoving his face back into that book.

I walked outside, and jumped into the jeep. I turned on some rock music from the radio and tore through the streets back to my apartment. Blasting music like I was trying to be a public menace.

I parked in my yard, and turned off my car, the lull of the steamy, junk pile of a motor dying down. I still loved Roscoe to pieces though. Sometimes literal pieces.

Jumping out of my pride and joy I slammed the door shut, hauling my backpack with me. Running up the stairs to my apartment. It was a tiny one bedroom apartment filled to the brim with papers, and unsolved cases, not to mention my theories about the supernatural. Just cause nothing was going on didn't mean I couldn't still investigate. Like how that one family were wendigos and no one noticed till that kid actually tried to eat Scott's mom. That was a night.

I was trying to figure out if there were more supernaturals. Looking back on that list of people in the dead pool there were names I didn't recognize, and maybe now that it's been a while there could be more. Sleepy little Beacon Hills never stayed too sleepy after all.

Unlocking my door I swung open the creaky wood plank, the hinges needing some oil, and stepped inside my familiar dungeon of me. My apartment wasn't perfect, it need some repairs, maybe some paint, drywall here and there, but nothing I couldn't handle, I thought it had charm. Of course the first few weeks I had to be cautious in case it was haunted or something, but it seemed completely normal. With all my stuff in it it really felt like home.