3 Works by petals
Listing Works
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Summary
Derek stares at his neighbor as he peeks in through his balcony door, shouting things like 'give 'em a kick', 'no, no use your sword', and 'watch out, there's one behind you.' Derek curses as he feels his pants dampen and realizes that he's emptied his watering can into one pot and it's overflowed. Great.
"Oh, hey," his neighbor says, pulling his face away from the glass to wave at Derek.
Derek doesn't wave back. "What are you doing?"
"What?" Derek points to the foil hat he's wearing. "Oh, there's an alien invasion in my apartment, and this is the only way they can't take my brain," the man says, grinning.
Derek blinks and finds that he's nodding. It's completely absurd, but Derek doesn't comment. Instead, he slips back into his apartment and locks the balcony door.
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“I could totally stop talking to him,” Stiles interjects, feeling a sudden overwhelming urge to defend himself and brush the whole thing off as nothing. “I could. Easily. That’s the beauty of talking to someone online; you can just, like, talk to them for however long you want and then disappear for however long you want without any real impact on your daily life. It’s not like I’m going to run into him at the grocery store. I could stop at any moment.”
“But you don’t,” Lydia points out.
“No, he doesn't,” Scott replies, forcing Stiles to scowl at him. “He just got a new one this morning and he hasn’t stopped talking about it.”
Or, the one where Stiles has been talking to some guy that he doesn't know online, but that's the least of his worries when a new pack moves into Beacon Hills, and Stiles suspects the alpha of bringing a coven of witches with him.
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Summary
“I think you should stay with me. You’ll be warm. My lights work, and I have access to the internet and a working television.”
“Way to rub it in,” Stiles mumbles under his breath, folding his arms over his chest. “I’m very okay with me and my nest.”
“I’ll call your dad,” Scott counters, mimicking Stiles by folding his arms over his own chest.
Stiles squawks, dropping his arms. “You wouldn’t."
Scott nods. “I would. I’ll even call my mom,” he threatens and Stiles’s mouth drops open.
Stiles glares at him like he can threaten Scott back with his eyebrows, even though there is nothing that could beat the threat of calling Scott’s mom.
“Fine,” Stiles sighs, throwing his hands up in the air. “You win. I’ll stay with you.”