l - teen wolf imagines

Stiles- You Don't Have To Explain

5. "My car slipped on ice and slid off the road, and you stopped to help me, but I'm kind of worried you might be a serial killer so I locked myself in my car and now I'm talking to you through the window."

"Shit," Stiles swore to himself, banging on the hood of the jeep. "Come on, not today! Not now!"
He ran a hand through his hair and sighed, glancing down at the blue hunk of metal that he loved so much. It wasn't entirely the Jeep's fault that it had broken down. It was more due to the cold weather and the ill-fated patch of ice that had caused Stiles to slip off the road than anything else. He knew it wasn't starting again anytime soon, and since the roads of Beacon Hills were pretty much deserted at this time of night, he hopped back in the car to call Scott, or anyone else willing to pick him up.
He slammed the door and sat there for a few seconds, glancing out at the snow falling from the sky. Even though it was partially the reason he was camped out on the side of the road, Stiles still took a few seconds to appreciate how beautiful it was.
He pulled out his phone, ready to call Scott, but as he scrolled through his contacts, he saw the flash of headlights behind him. He watched in the rearview mirror as a car slowed down, the driver inside glancing at him before pulling over to the side of the road in front of him.
Stiles blinked, surprised that someone would even be out at this time of night, let alone on one of the backroads of Beacon Hills. Nevertheless, he was grateful that someone was kind enough to stop, or at least he was until he saw who was hopping out of the car.
Stiles froze when he realized that you were the person who had pulled over to help him, and then he quickly scrambled to make sure all the doors were locked.
You smiled to yourself as you watched him floundering around in his jeep, and shoved your hands in the pockets of your coat to protect them from the cold. You had a feeling you would be standing out there for a while.
Your boots crunched in the snow as you walked up, and Stiles finally stopped moving and gave you a defiant look through the window. You gestured for him to roll it down, and he stubbornly shook his head. You rolled your eyes.
"Stiles, in case you hadn't noticed, I stopped to help you," you called to him, your voice muffled by the glass.
"That's what you want me to think," he stated. "Either that, or you are trying to help me, but you're just trying to get on Scott's good side."
"If I really wanted to, I could rip that door off its hinges," you reminded him, raising your eyebrows.
Stiles frowned, narrowed his eyes at you, and then finally reached out to roll the window down. He only cracked it a few inches, causing your lips to twitch.
"I don't know why you think you can't trust me," you told him.
"We've had bad experiences with new alphas coming to town," he informed you. "And with new people in general. And old people too."
"So what you're saying is that you don't trust anyone?"
"Exactly," he said firmly. "And honestly, if you turn out to be a serial killer, I don't really want to be out on a deserted road with you in the first place."
You shrugged. "I'm not a serial killer, but if it makes you more comfortable, I'll stand out here in the cold while you call your friends."
Stiles' frown deepened. "I'm just going to call Scott. He can probably pick me up, so you can leave."
"Well, what if he can't?" you asked. "I'm not just going to leave you stranded."
"Why would you say that?" he questioned. "Did you do something to him?"
You huffed. "No. I'm trying to help, Stiles. That's the whole reason I'm in Beacon Hills."
"Likely story," he remarked accusingly.
"Fine," you said. "But I'm not leaving until I make sure you're safe."
"I'll just get a tow," he said. "If Scott or Lydia can't come get me."
"Are you crazy?" you demanded. "No one's going to come out in this weather."
"You did," he fired back.
"Well so did you," you told him. "And look how well that worked out for you."
"Well I'm going to a party, for your information," he said haughtily. "It's not like I'm just driving around like some serial killer."
"What party?" you asked.
"None of your business."
Stiles glared at you, and you rolled your eyes once more. "Whatever. I'll be in my car."
You trudged back over to your car and slammed the door, leaving Stiles to quickly pull out his phone. He scrolled through his contacts, eyeing your car the whole time in case you decided to come back.
Stiles listened to the phone ringing over and over, his eyebrows knitting together in annoyance before Scott finally picked up the phone. "Hey, dude, look-"
"Uh, Stiles? Is this important?" Scott asked breathlessly. "Me and Kira are kind of in the middle of something."
"Yes!" Stiles cried. "Look, the jeep crapped out on the side of the road and Y/n stopped to help me-"
"Great, Dude," Scott said. "Can she give you a ride to Lydia's party? We're gonna be a little late."
"Wait, Scott, no. You can't leave me alone with h-" Stiles protested, but before he could finish, the call dropped.
He swore to himself and shot a glance toward your car before dialing Lydia. She picked up on the second ring, but from the yelling voices and loud music in the background, he could tell she had her hands full.
"Stiles, what is it?" she asked in annoyance. "I'm a little busy."
"I need you to pick me up," he told her. "The jeep broke down and I'm on-"
"Stiles, I can't just leave my own party," Lydia protested.
"Lydia, please," he begged. "Y/n stopped to help me, but I really don't trust her-"
"Stiles!" Lydia scolded. "What the hell is the matter with you?"
"What?" he cried. "She could be another Theo!"
"She's not," Lydia protested. "She's helped us so much. And Deaton's known her family forever."
"Well, I don't care," Stiles told her indignantly.
"I'm not picking you up," Lydia told him. "Besides, Y/n is coming to my party too. So you're going the same place anyway."
"I-wait, what?" he demanded. "You invited her?"
Stiles heard Lydia sigh through the phone. "Goodbye, Stiles."
"No, Lydia-"
She ended the call quickly and Stiles groaned in frustration. He glanced back up at your car, still idling in front of his, and sighed.
He made sure he had his keys and phone, and then reluctantly opened the door. He stalked over to your passenger side and lightly tapped on the window, causing you to grin.
You rolled it down and raised your eyebrows at him. "Can I help you?"
"I didn't know Lydia invited you to her party," Stiles grumbled, but you heard a hint of regret in his tone.
"It's open," you stated, nodding to the door as you rolled up the window. Apology accepted.
"Oh god," Stiles breathed as he shut the door. "It's so warm in here."
"Oh, do you want me to-?" you asked, reaching to turn down the heat.
"No, no," he said quickly, reaching out to grab your hand. "I like it. The Jeep doesn't really put out much heat in the winter. Even when it's running."
You smiled and glanced down at his hand on yours. Stiles blushed and pulled away. "Sorry. I'm just cold."
You nodded. "I get it. So, uh, do you want to head to Lydia's?"
"Yeah," Stiles told you. "But before we go...I'm sorry I thought you were a serial killer."
You shrugged. "It's okay. I'd be suspicious of an outsider too."
"But Scott and Lydia obviously trust you," he stated. "I'm just too obsessive for my own good sometimes."
"I can understand that," you told him. "It's hard to know who to trust sometimes. It's even harder when that decision could end up getting someone killed."
"How'd you become an alpha?" Stiles asked suddenly.
You sighed, knowing this question would have come from one of Scott's pack members eventually. "Well, I'm not a true alpha, if that's what you're asking."
Stiles paled. "What happened?"
"I was an omega," you explained to him. "And one day the alpha of the pack I was hanging around with decided that I was deadweight. He tried to kill me, and I would have been dead, but one of the pack members stood up for me. He was awful to them, even though they were a part of his pack, so we fought. I'm the one who ended up landing the killing blow. Since he hadn't bitten me, I think I was the only one who could go against my instincts and do it."
"Did you want to?" he asked softly.
"Part of me did," you whispered. "Part of me wanted him dead, for all the awful things he had done. I knew he wasn't going to change...but then I also didn't want to lose a part of myself. And that sounds dramatic, but it really does feel like you lose something."
Stiles nodded, and without thinking, he whispered. "It does."
You blinked, shocked at his words, and Stiles swallowed. "Uh, wait, that's not-"
"Stiles," you said softly. "You don't have to explain."
He took a deep breath and nodded, his shoulders relaxing as he slumped backed into the seat.
"You ready to go?" you asked casually.
He nodded once more and pulled on his seatbelt, and you threw the car into drive. You pulled back onto the road to head toward Lydia's, but you glanced back at Stiles for a few seconds.
He smiled gratefully at you, and you reached out slowly, placing a hand on one of his cold ones. To your surprise, he didn't pull away. You smiled to yourself as you drove, and Stiles glanced down at your clasped hands, thinking that maybe having you in Beacon Hills wouldn't be so bad.