Chapter Text
“… Say yes Stiles… Just say yes.” The voice echoes.
The scene before him is blurry, a memory that Stiles wishes he could forget. He watches the scene play out before him, an outsider observing his own memory. His past self pushes apart from the other man and walks away.
He cries as the memory plays out, remembering yet another instance where he let down someone he cared for… someone he loved. “I’m so sorry…” He tries to tell the man standing abandoned in the empty parking garage; he knows it’s just a memory and the other man can’t hear him, but he calls out to him regardless. “I’m sorry Peter…”
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Stiles wakes up abruptly, shaking off memories he’s tried to forget. It’s only been a few months, but he still can’t move on from everything that happened that night. Lying on the floor of the Argents’ basement, he realizes he must’ve passed out during the beating from Gerard and his goons. Opening his eyes slowly, the dim light of a single bulb hanging from the ceiling does little to illuminate the room around him. His vision is unfocused and spotty, but the muffled screams have him clamoring to his feet; only to fall once more as his legs buckle beneath him. Stiles tries again, slowly, and is able to drag himself up off the cold concrete. Each step is pure agony as he limps to the other side of the basement, every movement feels like fire in his veins, but the sound of the chains rattling keeps him going.
They’re still here. They’re alive.
There’s no telling how long it takes him to make it to the other side of the basement, but once he does he is able to finally see just how bad of shape Erica and Boyd are in. Gagged with duct tape and chained to the electrified wall, the two werewolves don’t look any better than Stiles. He doesn’t know how long they’ve been stuck here, but it’s obvious they haven’t been allowed to heal from any of the torture with a constant current of electricity running through them. Quickly, Stiles rips the duct tape off their mouths, causing both wolves to groan.
“How long was I out?” He asks, not beating around the bush.
Boyd finds his voice first, “About 20 minutes I think, it’s hard to tell time down here. I think Gerard’s had Erica and me for a few days.”
“Shit, okay, let me see if I can get you guys down from this.” Stiles looks at the wires hooked up to Erica and Boyd, he starts following them around the basement until he finds the electrical box that the wires are hooked to. There’s no way to unplug the damn thing, it’s jerry rigged to the main power line.
He’ll have to break it.
He sluggishly walks back to Erica and Boyd, “I think I can get you guys down from here. Once I knock this thing off, Gerard will hear the commotion and come down to check. So we’re going to need to get out of here fast, okay?”
Boyd and Erica both nod their heads.
“Okay, there’s a small basement window over there that I think we can get out of if one of you can reach it to break it.” Stiles looks at Boyd. “It’s gonna be a tight fit and the broken glass will probably cut you up worse than Erica and me, but you have to get through the window. We will not leave you here. Understand?” He speaks to both of the wolves with a level of determination that they’re not used to from little hyperactive Stiles.
“I’m pretty sure I can handle some glass after everything else…” Boyd huffs. He’s exhausted and in pain and just wants to be able to heal.
Finally, Erica manages to speak, tears in her eyes and a whimper in her voice, “Come on batman, get us out of here.”
Stiles nods at them both, then listens for any sign of movement upstairs. Not hearing anything, he slowly makes his way back to the electrical box, grabbing a large hammer he sees on the floor near some other heavy equipment. There’s no hesitation in Stiles's movements, just desperate and pained determination. Each swing pulls at his ribs, and Stiles bites his tongue to mask his screams as he swings the hammer again, and again, and again. He keeps hitting it until that damn buzzing current of electricity finally stops.
When he looks back to the two wolves they briefly nod at him to indicate that the electricity is indeed off. He grabs the lock keys from a hook near the basement staircase and makes his way back over to the wolves, the need for survival overshadowing the searing pain radiating through Stiles's body. He tries each of the keys until he finds the one for the chains. Once both Erica and Boyd are unhooked, their bodies slump to the floor; both extremely weakened by days of captivity.
“Don’t quit on me now. We’ve got to go!” He whispers as he pulls Erica to her feet and props her against the wall near their escape window. “Come on, Catwoman, you got this. I need you to take this and bust out that window. You and Boyd are the only ones who can reach it.” Stiles holds out the hammer to Erica.
Managing to recover a small amount of strength and stand on her own, the she-wolf nods and proceeds to bust out the window, trying to knock as much glass out of the way as possible. She turns back to see Stiles helping Boyd to his feet as well.
“Erica, go out the window first, I’m going to need you to help pull me out while Boyd gives me a lift.” Stiles instructs her. They’re running off of adrenaline at this point.
Going back over to the weapons table that Gerard and his men left behind, Stiles grabs a taser and a few knives and stuffs them in his pockets before returning to the window. Erica’s already out and giving the ‘all clear’ signal. “Come on big guy, let’s get out of here.”
Boyd lifts him as best he can due to his weakened state, but it’s enough to allow Stiles to grab the windowsill and pull himself up to Erica. He ignores the tiny shards of glass embedding themselves into his skin; that’s a problem for later. For when he’s certain they’re all going to make it out of here.
Once Stiles is out, Boyd hoists himself up, not wanting to spend another second in the nightmare basement. Stiles grabs one arm, Erica the other, and they both pull. The broken and rough-edged window-pane tears into Boyd’s flesh as he fights to squeeze his way through, but the werewolf doesn’t even wince.
All three finally out, Stiles looks around the Argents’ backyard. It’s too quiet. “Something’s not right… Gerard should’ve been after us by now.” He looks back at the other two. “Did you hear anything about what he was planning? He wouldn’t leave us unattended without a reason.”
Erica shakes her head, “He just mumbled about how everything was going ‘according to plan.’ And said he was going to get what he wanted from Derek.”
“Shit, okay.” He looks towards the woods behind the Argent house. “I think if we cut through the woods, my house is in the neighborhood on the other side. Can you scent track?”
Both wolves nod.
“Good. I’ll need help navigating back to my place, you two can help find my house; my scent should be strong there at least. I can barely see anything, it's so dark out.” Stiles squints and tries to focus on his surroundings, but it’s too difficult. The concussion he’s trying to ignore pulses behind his eyes.
Boyd nudges him and points in one direction towards the woods. “That way. Let’s get out of here.”
They start walking, Erica and Boyd leading the way due to their enhanced sight and sense of smell. Stiles stays behind them with the stolen taser and knives ready just in case they run into any hunters along the way. He’s not sure, but he thinks it takes them about half an hour before they make it through to the other side near his neighborhood. Now that he can see due to the streetlights, he’s easily able to lead the rest of the way back to his house. Pleased to find that the house is empty, they’re able to sneak in the back door.
Once safely up in his bedroom, the wolves strip out of their torn and bloodied clothes, not caring about Stiles seeing either of them naked at this point. Stiles can fully see the extent of their injuries now and is enraged and shocked at the damage to the wolves. If he thinks his injuries are bad, what was done to Erica and Boyd is 10 times worse.
“Shit, Gerard did all of this?” he asks, concerned, as he inspects their injuries, grazing his fingers along the slowly healing gashes on the wolves’ torsos. This can’t just be from one hunter.
“And Allison…” Erica informs him, eyes downcast.
His eyes go wide at the news. “Allison?” When both the wolves confirm that the youngest Argent was the main instigator of their torture, Stiles's face becomes steely and emotionless. His eyes narrow, gaze hard, as he finishes checking them over. Erica and Boyd share a knowing look.
Going over to his dresser, Stiles tosses Erica a pair of sweats and a t-shirt and points her toward the bathroom across the hall. “Go get washed up, try to rinse that wolfsbane out of your wounds. If you’re not healing up after that, we may have to burn the rest of it out.” He looks over at Boyd. “Let me check my dad’s room for something that’ll fit you.”
By the time he gets back from raiding his dad’s room, Erica has already showered, changed clothes, and is sitting on Stiles's bed waiting. He hands Boyd the pajama pants and t-shirt and lets him get cleaned up as well. Once Boyd has retreated to the bathroom, Stiles looks at Erica.
“How are you feeling? Let me see your back.” Prompting her to lift her shirt, he’s pleased to find that she seems to have been able to wash out the remaining wolfsbane. “You’re looking better, Catwoman. I’m going to go downstairs and scrounge together something for us to eat. Just rest until Boyd gets out of the shower.” Stiles can see the dark circles under her eyes, the she-wolf is exhausted and running on survival instincts. He gestures for her to lie down.
Once she’s situated, Stiles goes to the kitchen and makes some sandwiches with everything he can find in the fridge. Piling the sandwiches up with deli meats and veggies, he grabs a family size bag of chips from the pantry before heading back upstairs. Boyd is out of the shower and on the bed with Erica. Stiles sets the sandwiches down on his desk and proceeds to check over the boy’s wounds as well. The wolves are healing quicker now that the wolfsbane is out of their system.
“Okay, you both seem to be doing better. Eat up and then you can rest while I figure out where the hell Scott and Derek are.” Stiles hands each of them a sandwich and opens the bag of chips before joining them on the bed with his own. Erica and Boyd scarf down their food in a matter of seconds, and Stiles realizes that the wolves likely weren’t fed during their few days of captivity.
Once Boyd finishes his last bite, he looks at Stiles. “We can go with you. We can help.” Erica eagerly nods her agreement.
Stiles shakes his head. “No offense, but neither of you are in any shape to fight right now. You need to rest.” He grabs the wolves some bottles of water from the box he keeps beneath his bed. “Stay here, try to sleep and recover. I’ll find Derek and bring him back here.” If he’s still alive, Stiles thinks but doesn’t say.
“Derek won’t take us back into the pack… we abandoned him…,” Erica says softly, sadness and pain tainting her voice.
He strokes her hair soothingly. “Yes he will. Sourwolf cares about you, even if he sucks at showing it. And once I’m done telling him to pull his head out of his ass, I promise he’ll be more than happy to have you two back. Isaac definitely misses you guys.”
He gets up from his bed and changes his clothes before heading out. “My dad’s working the night shift, so he shouldn’t be back until morning. Lock my bedroom door once I’m gone, okay? Don’t open it for anyone but me. I’ll be back later, with Derek.” He grabs his backpack, the bag of mountain ash he got from Deaton, and heads out. Making a detour back to the Sheriff’s room, he gets his dad’s personal handgun and a round of bullets. With the gun, taser, and knives, he should be okay.
Opening the front door, he comes face to face with Lydia, who looks distraught and confused.
“Lydia? What are you doing here?”
“I… I don’t know… something’s happened with Jackson. His body disappeared from the morgue and there’s all this stuff going on that I don’t understand!” It’s obvious the redhead has been crying.
Stiles sighs, he’s bruised and bleeding and not in the mood to appease her right now. “I don’t have time for this. There’s a lot of shit going on, okay!?” He rubs a hand down his face in frustration. “Just… get in the Jeep. I’ll tell you what I can on the way.” He unlocks the jeep and they climb inside. Stiles digs his phone out from his backpack and checks his texts, finding several from Scott asking where he is and telling him that they need him at the abandoned warehouse. Fuck… “Scott… what the hell are you doing?” He mumbles before cranking the Jeep and driving towards the warehouse in the old industrial district.
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Back in Stiles's room, Erica and Boyd curl up in the bed, taking comfort in being surrounded by the human’s scent as well as one another’s. Erica listens as Stiles talks to Lydia outside the house before leaving with the redhead, presumably to track down their Alpha and the missing Kanima.
She looks at Boyd, a bit worried, “Stiles is going to kill them, isn’t he? He had that look in his eyes.”
Boyd nods and pulls her into a hug as they lie on the bed. A far-off look in his eyes as he kisses the top of Erica’s head to calm her down.
Stiles will do whatever it takes to protect the list of people he cares about, and both wolves can’t help but smile at realizing that they’re on that list.
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Arriving at the warehouse, Stiles hears a commotion inside. He checks the doors, but they’re bolted shut. Shit. He runs back to the jeep, yelling at Lydia as he climbs inside.
“Hold on!”
He slams his foot on the gas and drives his Jeep straight through the walls of the warehouse. Not paying attention to where he’s going, he unintentionally rams into Jackson in Kanima form, knocking the creature out momentarily. Stiles climbs out of the jeep and runs towards where Derek is crouched on the ground in pain, Peter trying to help the Alpha up.
Peter.
Peter… The man that Stiles has so desperately fought to keep out of his mind the past few months, is standing in front of him in clear view. Peter is alive.
Stiles's brain struggles to catch up, unable to process every bit of information he’s being hit with right now. One problem at a time. “What the fuck happened!?” Stiles asks, to no one in particular, as he looks to where Scott and Allison are standing off to the side. Glancing around the rest of the warehouse, Isaac’s slumped over against the wall and Lydia’s checking over Kanima Jackson while the jock’s unconscious.
It’s clear that Peter is holding himself back by a very thin thread, but the older Hale fills Stiles in about Scott’s betrayal.
But when Stiles is told that his best friend forced Derek to bite Gerard? That’s when he loses it.
“You. Did. WHAT?!” There’s an undercurrent in his voice that he knows Scott isn’t used to having directed at him. Stiles watches Scott stiffen and swallow nervously under his gaze.
Bravely (dumbly) Scott opens his mouth to defend himself and Allison, but Stiles cuts him off.
“I don’t want to hear it, Scott. Do you have any idea what the hell Gerard did to me? Do you know what Allison did to Erica and Boyd?” Seeing the look on Scott’s face, he knows that the idiot is clueless. “Gerard took me after the game! I was trapped in the Argent basement for hours while some old fucker beat the shit out of me! And guess what else?” He gestures wildly. “Erica and Boyd were down there too! Your darling little Allison helped capture and torture them in her bullshit quest for revenge! She was going to kill them!”
The young beta shakes his head. “No, that’s not true! Allison wouldn’t do that! And neither would Gerard, we had a deal!”
“They’re goddamn Argents, Scott! That whole fucking family tree is poisoned! Look at what they did to the Hales! They’ve been destroying packs for decades!” Stiles seethes, “Do you realize how many lives you’ve risked just for this fucked up Romeo and Juliet fantasy you have?!”
Before he can verbally tear into the duo further, Stiles notices Allison slowly backing away in hopes of escape. He quickly grabs the bag from his pocket and throws a mountain ash circle around Scott to keep him trapped.
“What are you doing?” The young wolf’s brow furrows.
“What I have to.” Stiles's voice carries no emotion or affection towards Scott right now. He knows that the reality of this will hit him later on, but right now he’s a man with a mission. Turning his heated glare back to Allison, he approaches her slowly. There’s no need to run or rush now, the huntress is without weapons or a means of escape. “You’re not getting away from this, you bitch. I am so fucking tired of your family hurting the people I love.” He wants to see what she has to say for herself. “Why did you do it?”
Allison stands tall, attempting to seem confident in her actions. “Derek killed my mother!”
Stiles lets out a dark chuckle, “No, he didn’t, Allison. Your family’s fucked up code killed your mother!” Pulling out the taser he stole from the Argent house, he points it and pulls the trigger, enjoying Allison’s screams as she falls to the floor in agony. He bends down and grabs her chin, tilting her head up so he can look her in the eyes. “I’m going to be honest with you, simply because no one else has. Your mother deserved a worse death than she got; she was an evil bitch just like your Aunt Kate. She was trying to kill Scott, and Derek bit her to save your boyfriend. And then because she couldn’t bear the thought of becoming the thing that she hunts, your pathetic excuse of a mother killed herself.”
Allison tries to pull herself off the ground, so of course he has to tase her again. “Doesn’t feel too good, does it? But this isn’t even a fraction of what you put Erica and Boyd through.” A sadistic grin spreads across his face, “Should I make you cry for help and beg me to stop. Just like they did when you shot them with arrows and cut them with wolfsbane-laced blades?”
During all this, Scott howls and charges the mountain ash line he’s trapped behind. He begs for Chris to help, but the elder Argent shakes his head. Chris’s voice is wracked, he wipes tears from his eyes as he tries to maintain his stoic hunter charade, “She must be punished for breaking the Code. For her actions, the acceptable punishment according to the Code…” he lets out a broken sob, “is death.” Unable to bear watching, the hunter looks away from the scene in front of him, turning to face the wall instead.
Stiles pauses in his torture to observe the exchange between Chris and Scott. Turning back to the huntress, he has a cold, calculating expression on his face. “Don’t worry, Gerard will get what’s coming to him. But this… this is for Erica and Boyd.” Without a second thought, he pulls the gun out and puts a bullet between her eyes.
For a moment, not even a breath can be heard as silence fills the warehouse. Even Scott has fallen into a grief-stricken silence, eyes flaring gold and fangs showing as the young wolf loses control over his shift. Stiles lets out a deep breath once he sees the blood start to pool around her corpse. He holsters the gun again and walks over to the only Argent that will live tonight. While obviously upset at losing his daughter, Chris is compartmentalizing as best he can. “I’m not sorry for what I did, but I am sorry that you’ve lost a child.” Stiles offers the only consolation he can, seeing no point in lying.
Chris nods his head, silent tears trailing down his face. They briefly discuss plans for Allison’s body; Stiles agrees to not go to his dad and the police about his, Erica, and Boyd’s torture, on the condition that Chris keeps his mouth shut about how Allison actually died. They work out the logistics; Chris will contact his aunt, the Argent matriarch, in France and inform her of everything his daughter did and what led to her death. She can arrange discreet transport of Allison’s body and stage an appropriate fake death, allowing her to be buried in the family cemetery back home and preserving her reputation within Beacon Hills.
While everything between Stiles, Scott, Allison, and Chris is transpiring, Derek and Peter have moved to where Lydia is with Jackson and have helped the young redhead recover Jackson into his werewolf form. The jock is now standing there nude, embarrassed, and missing large chunks of his memory. Lydia goes to the destroyed Jeep and digs through Stiles's gym bag in the backseat until she finds a pair of lacrosse shorts for her boyfriend to put on. The reformed Kanima tries to act upset about wearing Stiles's clothing, but Lydia rolls her eyes and gives him a look that brooks no argument. Isaac has regained consciousness and is currently being caught up on what’s happened.
Once the necessities are worked out, Chris gathers his daughter’s corpse and puts it in the back of his SUV. Stiles walks over to where Scott is still trapped within mountain ash, crying and howling in rage. Stiles just shakes his head at his friend. If we can even be called friends now.
“Scott, look at me.”
The young wolf stares at him, sadness and anger burning in his eyes.
Stiles sighs, “I’m letting Chris take care of Allison’s body because he deserves the chance to bury his daughter, even if she was a psychopath.”
Before Scott can try to argue with him about that, Stiles holds up a hand to silence him. “Stop, no matter how much you think you loved her, she was one step away from becoming Kate, and then what do you think would’ve happened?” He looks to Scott for an answer, but the wolf is silent. “She would’ve snapped and burned your house down with you and your mother inside, just like Kate did to the Hales.”
Scott is shaking his head, refusing to listen to reason. So Stiles decides to be blunt with him.
“I know you heard everything Chris and I discussed, so you know what’s going to happen. We’re all going to keep our mouths shut about everything, Chris can save his family’s reputation, and I don’t have to deal with telling my father about this shit.” Stiles looks around at everyone else in the warehouse to be sure they are also paying attention to everything he’s saying. “And this goes for all of you, do you hear me? I’m not in the mood to deal with anyone running their mouths and attracting more psycho-hunters here.” He catches Peter’s gaze and finds the older Hale watching him with a longing expression.
He considers that as he turns back to Scott. “And you… you’re going to go home and pretend that nothing ever happened. Got it? Because I swear to god, if you try to come after me or Derek or this pack because you think you need to get revenge for Allison, then I will tie you down myself with wolfsbane rope while Derek wipes the memories from your brain. Do you understand me?”
Scott nods meekly, still visibly upset.
“Good. We’ll worry about everything between us later. Maybe one day you’ll see that I did what I had to today to protect my friends and family. But right now, I have one last Argent to hunt…” Someone walks up behind him. Stiles turns his head and sees Peter.
“You just couldn’t stay dead, could you?” He tries to hide his shock with some mild teasing, but it’s futile. The heat of the man’s body as their arms brush brings up feelings that he’d hoped would stay buried. Every fiber in Stiles's being screams for him to wrap his arms around the resurrected wolf and never let go, but there isn’t time.
Peter smiles wide, fangs on display. “Nothing could keep me away from you for very long, sweetheart.” The older wolf slips a hand underneath Stiles's shirt and leeches some of his pain, wincing when he feels the extent of the teen’s injuries. “Anything broken?”
Stiles shrugs, “I’ll worry about it later… after I have Gerard’s head on a stake.”
“You don’t have to. I can take care of that cretin.”
“No! You got to kill Kate. Gerard is mine.” Speaking with authority, he notices how Peter just barely tilts his neck before nodding his acceptance.
Before letting Scott out of his trap, Stiles walks over to where Derek stands with Isaac, Lydia, and Jackson. The Alpha tenses up as he approaches.
“You okay, Sourwolf?”
Derek coughs, clearly not expecting the question, “Uh yeah, I’m… I’ve healed.” The Alpha stumbles over his words.
“Good…,” Stiles nods. “Now, care to explain to me what the fuck you were thinking by scaring away two of your betas? You turned them into walking targets!”
Lowering his head in shame, Derek’s voice is almost a whisper, “I know… I should’ve done better to protect them.”
After chastising the younger Hale for another few minutes, Stiles tells him where the two wayward betas are and that they’re willing to rejoin the pack. Isaac’s eyes light up when he hears that his packmates are safe and still in town. There’s obvious concern and worry in Derek’s eyes.
“They don’t hate you. They’re scared. They’ve had their lives turned upside down. You have to be better for them.” At his words, Derek sighs and nods, offering reluctant acceptance. Stiles smiles gently and reaches out to grasp the Alpha’s shoulder reassuringly. “For now, you need to take these two home.” He points to Lydia and Jackson. “Then you and Isaac can go to my house and wait outside for Peter and I.” Checking the time on his phone, he sees that it’s about 3 am. “It shouldn’t take us long.”
Chris informed him of a safehouse nearby where Gerard would go to hide.
Stiles goes over and breaks the ash circle around Scott, staring him down the entire time. “Go home, Scott. Tell your mom that everything’s fine and not to worry. Then I want you to sit and think hard about what your options are now as an omega. You’ve burned the only bridges you had.”
The omega wolf gets up and runs off, presumably heading home. Looking back at Peter, Stiles takes a moment to let his brain process the fact that Peter’s alive. He’s not the type of person to regret a lot, but he’ll always regret how things turned out between them before. He takes a deep breath, “Let’s go. You’re driving, my jeep is totaled.”
“Happily.” Peter always keeps up the stone-cold facade amongst others, but Stiles can clearly see the emotions behind the man’s eyes. As they walk to the car a block from the warehouse, he feels the former Alpha take more of his pain.
Stiles is unable to hide the shift in his demeanor once they’re in the car. Leaning his head back against the passenger seat, he cuts Peter off before the wolf has the chance to get overly concerned. “I’ll be fine. The night’s just starting to catch up with me.”
Seemingly satisfied with that answer, Peter starts driving, following the directions Stiles provides to lead them toward Gerard’s supposed safehouse.
As they near their destination, he instructs Peter to pull the car over. “We need to walk from here. If Gerard’s there, he’ll be listening for any cars. It should be about a mile and a half east into those woods.” He pulls up the map on his phone and points Peter in the direction they need to go. Gathering what weapons he has, he secures them as best as possible in his clothes.
“Are you sure you wouldn’t prefer for me to handle this myself?” Peter asks again.
Stiles scoffs, “Do you really think that the Argents won’t have taken precautions to keep supernaturals out of their own safehouse? They’re evil motherfuckers, but they’re not stupid.”
The wolf puts his hands up in a sign of surrender. “I’m only trying to offer you some support, sweetheart. You’ve had a rough night and I don’t want you to worsen your condition.”
“Says the man who literally just rose from the dead.” Closing the car door, he catches Peter’s gaze, “Don't think that I’m going to just let you get away with that either. You owe me several explanations. Now, come on, let’s go.” He takes off towards the tree line, Peter trailing behind him.
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Traipsing through the woods, Peter can’t hold in his curiosity any longer. “So… what do you have planned for dear old Argent?” He whispers while they navigate towards the safehouse. When the boy gives him an annoyed look, he continues, “I know you well enough to know that you aren’t going to give the old man a quick death.”
“You don’t know me, Peter…” Stiles tells him curtly.
The older Hale stops the teen in his tracks, grabbing Stiles's wrist and pulling him close. “Don’t be like this… I may not know you very well now, but I knew you then…” He tilts Stiles's chin up, forcing the boy to look him in the eyes. “And I didn’t crawl my way back from the dead just for you to brush me aside again, so tell me your plan.”
Stiles shakes his face free of Peter’s grip, staring at the wolf for a moment before his face softens and Peter’s reminded of the boy he once knew. The teen pulls out a lighter and flicks it on, holding it up for Peter to see. “I think burning is a fitting end for an Argent, don’t you?”
He stares at Stiles's face, illuminated by the small flame. Reaching out, he closes the lighter in Stiles's hand before pulling the boy back against his body. “Why’d you turn me down that night? You didn’t want to say no, so why?” Running his hands up the back of Stiles's shirt, he smells the low level arousal thrumming beneath the boy’s skin, sweetening the sour smell of pain, as their bodies are pressed together.
“You were going to die… I wasn’t going to be bound to a man on death-row.”
His eyes flash icy blue at the boy’s statement, claws prickling the skin on Stiles's back. While his eyes may no longer be red, it’s clear who the predator is at this moment.
Stiles pushes away from their embrace and averts his gaze, “We don’t have time to talk about this right now. Let’s take care of Gerard and then deal with this later, okay?”
He’s still a little pissy about the rejection, but Stiles is right. There are more important things to handle right now. Nodding, he gestures for the boy to continue their trek.