The Spark of a Wolf

Unaccepted truths and dreams that follow...

Stiles gets a text from Scott when he's just down the road, so he heads down to meet him outside. Scott waves to his best friend as he pulls up, unlocking the passenger door to let him in.

"Sup." Stiles greets with a nod of his head as he pulls his door closed.

"Hey man, how's it going?" Scott asked with a tentative smile.

"Fan-fucking-tastic." He says, wiping a hand over his face.

"So, Derek freaked on you?"

"He went full bipolar. Seriously, I think he needs some professional help." Stiles grumbled, leaning back in the seat.

Scott smirked slightly. "Walk me through everything, like just the bullet points from when you left with him last night." He pulls the car back out onto the road, heading toward the center of town.

"Okay, well I got a ride from him because I couldn't stop my hand from shaking. We got dinner- he made me eat a salad." Stiles throws a disgusted look at Scott. "Wasn't terrible, I guess. Whatever, I told him I wasn't up for going home, he offered to let me crash at his place but I like froze in the car when we were leaving cause it seemed weird you know? But I didn't want to go home, so I thought maybe I could have him take me to Malia's but as soon as Derek suggested it I didn't want to go there either. I was totally freaking out like all last night."

"So you were going to go to Malia's until Derek said something?"

Stiles shrugged. "I guess, that's weird right? I don't know, the whole night was weird because Derek was all nice and calm and shit and I don't know how to handle that Derek. He was like...I don't know...touchy feely? I guess, but not? Like I was throwing myself a pity part at the diner when he just reached over and took my hand."

"Hm. Weird." Scott said flatly.

"Yeah, but what's actually weird it that is wasn't weird, like I wasn't weirded out by it; it actually chilled me out." I really hate the word weird. Stiles thinks to himself. "And back at the loft, I had half a panic attack thinking about the prospect of Peter being this anchor. Cause you know he'd find a way for me to fuck shit up for him, but Derek was completely sure that there was no way it was him. I wasn't buying it though because how does he know, you know? I got really worked up, was on the edge of a panic attack but he was in front of me in seconds, pulling me into a hug and rubbing circle on my back like my dad used to do when I first started having them. The panic like melted away, dude, it was just gone." Stiles gazes down at his bandaged hands. "I think I fell asleep on him." He says after a moment.

Scott shot Stiles a confused look. "Like, standing in the middle of the loft?"

"No, I was sitting on the counter." Stiles' tone tells Scott that it should have been obvious. "I woke up in his bed, I guess he carried me or I stumbled there. I tried to make breakfast, like I told you. Burnt my hands a little." He says, raising his hands up to show Scott the evidence.

"Yeah, I was going to ask about that."

Stiles shrugged. "It's no big deal, just some light burns; hurt like a mother though. Derek took some of the pain and wrapped them up, that's around when I said something about Malia and he got all pissed off. Maybe because we don't really know her or know much about her? He got weird, practically leapt off the couch and started throwing shit in the sink. Then got shitty with me, which I didn't even do anything so...the fuck?!"

"You sound mad." Scott points out curiously.

"I'm not mad! It's just...fuck! Here I am, full of Spark shit, not knowing what the fuck to do. I figure out who this anchor probably is, cause logically it should be Malia, and he's pissed at me like I fucking wrecked his car or something. So no, I'm not mad! I'm frustrated because what does he even have to be mad about?! He's an asshole, plain and simple." Stiles crosses his arms over his chest, wincing slightly at the added pressure on his hands.