amnesia

The minute the radio had buzzed in the front of his dad’s patrol car Stiles had known the plans for lunch were over. There’d been an apology written all over his dad’s face as he’d reached for it but he was already fumbling for the door release. His dad might not’ve been sheriff here but it didn’t mean he wasn’t still tied to the job in a way that made it come first while he was on the clock and despite the ‘I’m heading to the Grill with my kid’ he’d tossed at the Sheriff as they’d headed out of the station, technically the clock was still ticking.

Dispatch. We have reports of a possible body at the quarry. All units requested.”

Seeing the interest in his face his dad had already been reaching past him to the door release, practically shoving him out when Stiles had tried to cling to the seatbelt, sputtering out some offer to go with him. He’d still been considering it when he’d growled and slipped out, running towards the jeep. He buckled up, trying to get the engine to turn over. As the lot had emptied out around him he’d cursed. Dead as a damn doornail. Scrambling out, he’d spent close to half an hour trying to baby Roscoe back to life without an ounce of success. Calls were thrown out in desperation for a ride but those in the pack that did pick up either weren’t close enough or were neck deep in things.

Trailing out of the lot Stiles had eyed the road through the woods, wondering if he could hoof it in time. Maybe if he ran … damn it. Stomach rumbling, resigned to not having a clue what was going on until he could call his dad later from Whitmore, Stiles started back towards the square on foot. Either he was gonna have to cave and pay for someone from the garage to look at the jeep later or he’d be back in the parking lot of the station later, growling and barking his knuckles on the engine until he could get Roscoe to cough back into life. For now coffee and at least a sandwich were on the menu. Even his broke ass could afford that much and it’d take one edge of when, who was he kidding, he ended back at the station for that marathon repair job later.

The line at the Coffee Bean had been long enough to wring a sigh out of him. The slow shuffle forward leaving him twitchy, feet shuffling restlessly, hands popping in and out of his pockets with each slow hop forward until he was leaning on the counter. Stiles’ smile beamed in relief, hands clasped together on the counter. ”Hey, can I get a … toasted ham and cheese and a latte, caramel, no … wait, hazelnut, two pumps, thanks…” His hands released, one digging back into his pocket for his wallet. A hand appeared in front of him, cash dropped in and disappearing into the register before he could protest. ”I had it…” he protested, the argument drying up as he twisted around, hopping out the way of the customer behind him. ”Hey … Hey!” Not hesitating, Stiles darted forward, pulling Allison into a hug. ”I shoulda … did you want something? I mean…” He flapped his hand back in the direction of the barista like it was some sort of explanation. ”It’s good to see you pop your head up.” Stiles slipped his hands into his pockets almost ruefully as he eased back. What had happened hadn’t been easy for any of them, people drifting, popping in and out after all that had happened, like corks caught in a tide they wouldn’t quite control.

Tagged: ALLISON ARGENT * Word Count: 626

You clung onto the things that mattered. Sometimes you did it a little too hard, but when you lived every day knowing how easily things could be taken, you did it … and put up with the squirming that came with it.

Stiles heard Allison’s question, clung on anyway. She’d been taken, cause of what had happened in his head after the three of them had gone under to try and find the solution to one of those never ending problems. One door closed, thank God, another opened to reveal a fresh nightmare. Maybe it had been closed after and assurances made that Allison’s death wasn’t on him but when it was your body being used like some sort of sick hand puppet, you still felt the guilt.

They’d got her back, got that thing out of her and Henrik had pulled her out of the coma but Allison had been pretty damn AWOL for a year and there was no shoving that jack in the box of relief back in his chest for a minute. ”Pffft, forget the vanilla,” he said with a grin. ”It’s all about the caramel and the hazelnut now … or a combo … a pump of each …” His brain short circuited on it again, a squint at the menu board that had him reconsidering whether or not he had popped an Adderall that morning or not.

He grinned at her as he pulled back, tilting his head like he was question it ever being just coffee. He shoved his wallet down in his pocket anyway, half glad he now had cab fair back to school if he needed it. Stiles listened to her order and leaned back against the counter beside her. ”You ever known me not to worry about something?” he asked, only half kidding. Worry should’ve been his middle name – with good reason, thank you very much.

Working his way down to the end of the counter, Stiles frowned faintly as Allison began to explain. Pulling a hand from his pocket, he squeezed her arm lightly. It hadn’t been the same, not anywhere near the same for him, but there were still those nights he woke screaming, the ones where Lydia was shaking him from the dreams rather than the other around. Anxiety could still pop like a bubble in his chest and leave him fighting to get his heart rate under control in the back room of a lecture theatre. ”Hey, no, I get it,” he promised. Drawing a hand back he scrubbed knuckles over his mouth, tried for a slanted smile as they dropped away. ”There’s no timetable on that and … there’s nothing wrong if things don’t go back as they did. You’re … working through it and that’s the important thing.” As was knowing when to shut his mouth about it.

The wince worked its way over his face as he thought about what waited for him back in the parking lot of the station. ”Nope,” he said instantly. ”Definitely not in a rush. You want me, you got me.” He stepped up as the barista started pulling together the coffees, passing off the plates to Allison as they emerged, snagging the cups himself. ”So, uh, how’s your dad?” he asked, a segue that’d ease into ‘and how are you?’ without feeling like he’d taken over Ms Morrell’s job at a fumbling amateur level.

Tagged: ALLISON ARGENT * Word Count: 576

Tucking his chin, Stiles glanced away from the board and looked at Allison with his lips pursed. It felt like years since they’d been able to do this. No talk of what had happened or what was lurking out there, getting to pretend for just half an hour like none of that even existed. Bliss, for as long as it was gonna last – nope, he wasn’t even gonna start coming up with time frames just because this was Mystic Falls. ”Not if you get the mix right,” Stiles said sagely, finger held up. ”It’s all the best kinda sweet.” Like he needed anymore sugar. Between what he’d already had that day and what naturally happened in his squirmy little brain adding more to the pot was always bordering on a bad idea.

Caffeine had gotten them out of a lot of sticky spots though. Keeping him awake when some crap hit the fan and there was no sleep for anybody, sparking what he liked to think of as his best ideas. Everybody else had probably thought about cutting him off cold turkey at the same time but he always came through in the end. Stiles’ grin slanted at Allison as he crossed his legs at the ankle, worn Converse toes tapping against the tile as he waited. ”The whole history of the world given in five seconds flat? Yup, comedy gold,” he promised. The knots in his gut he could’ve done without. The dreams too, all those little reminders that there were still things out there to worry about. It was a curse, but one he tolerated.

Stiles’ smile slanted faintly, his hand dropping away from Allison. He knew she had those same worries, felt the same knots pulling tight after everything that had happened to her. Nogitsune, demon, was there much difference between them? They’d both been possessed by something, left with those images in their heads of someone else pulling the strings, making them do horrified things. ”Any time,” he told her honestly. He’d had people around him willing to listen after he’d come back, friends who’d reassured him, Scott, Lydia. If she wanted it Allison would have the same in all of them.

Grabbing the cups Stiles followed Allison over to a booth by the windows. His usual spot, whiskey eyes fixed on the street, taking note of everything that went on in this town. Stiles didn’t care if the coffee was probably still too hot, the minute he scooted into the seat Allison had pulled out for him and her cup was down on the table he was gulping at his own. His brows rose, worry biting deeper at her admission. ”He’s not home or you’re not?” he asked tightly. He’d seen first hand, just like the others, how Chris Argent had hollowed out after his daughter had died. It’d been a broken man who’d come to town to try and free her from the thing that had invaded Allison’s body. ”I’ve seen him around a few times. I guess he’s still … working, right?” Scott had probably had more contact, or Derek, especially with everything that had gone on with the Dread Doctors. They were all still chasing their tails about that with no sign of a way out.

Tagged: ALLISON ARGENT * Word Count: 544

Even without the crazy crap that seemed to fuel their lives these days, his existence was a total rollercoaster. It was what happened when you were born with a brain wired differently to everybody else’s. Stiles had known exactly where it was likely skitter years ago and was wise enough to stick to the meds that managed to lasso some of the crap going on in his head at least. Still, it wasn’t like he just woke up in the morning with everything in some perfect zen rhythm up there. The others knew it too, he was never gonna be the cool and collected type – and none of them expected him to be. They loved him for who he was, not worrying about who he wasn’t, and in his book, that was about as good as it got.

Stiles didn’t bristle at Allison’s question. He snorted, shrugging it off with the sort of chest puffed pride he probably couldn’t entirely carry off. He wasn’t exactly Superman or Captain America here. ”Daily but hey … don’t you want it to taste good on the way down at least? The sugar just gives it a …” He made a small sound, shivering like this was gonna be the best thing he’d ever drunk and not just an average-to-pretty-good energy boost that, she was right, he didn’t exactly need. It’d get him through the lecture he threatened to give. Stiles hitched his brows, his lips pursing for a moment as Allison threatened to time him. ”Am I gonna get graded too? I could do with a little boost to my GPA. A 3.9 oughta keep my dad happy.” And it would keep him on course for the scholarship he needed to keep if he didn’t want his dad to end up bankrupt by the time he graduated. They didn’t all have parents whose dealings with the government meant a pretty cushy life.

Money wasn’t the be all and end all though. No matter how much you had in the bank bad shit could still get to you. Allison’s family were proof of that. Her parents had been rich, well trained, damn fierce – kinda batshit in her mom’s case – but still her mom had died, her dad had been reduced to kind of a wreck and Allison had died. Pretty much at his hands. Stiles swallowed hard at the thought, taking another gulp of the coffee, clearing his throat as it scalded its way down. He made a low sound, the lines between his brows deepening. ”Working more than sight-seeing, I guess.” Maybe on the things he wouldn’t want to drag Allison into after everything that had happened to her. It was shitty, but protective and understandable.

Setting the cup down on the table, Stiles spread his hands in the air. Like he was gonna be able to ward off the lies Chris Argent had probably told to keep his kid safe. Understanding where the guy was coming from and defending him were two very different things. ”He probably just wants to keep you safe. What happened was … shitty, and scary.” And it left its marks carved deep where you couldn’t see them. Stiles raked his teeth over his lower lip as he settled his hands on the table. ”Do you really wanna go back to what you were doing before?” It took time to heal, oh he knew that, but in the end he hadn’t been able to walk about from it. Allison had gone through something twice as bad. Would loyalty to the pack beat out those scars?

Tagged: ALLISON ARGENT * Word Count: 597

If he’d bothered to dig into it, there was probably a whole science to coffee – percentages balanced, a thousand names for the equations you could create with them. The perfect ratio to get you all kinds of hyped up for school work, another to mellow you out after, as if that was possible with a crap ton of caffeine and sugar in your system. Stiles stared at Allison for a moment, a trace of confusion in his eyes before his gaze shot to the barista. ”Two shots of syrup? Damn.” His frown cut deep for a moment before he shook his head. If he ended up needed another on the way out it’d be a double pump and maybe by the time they got to midterms? Just make it half syrup, half coffee.

What sugar hadn’t melted into the coffee would settle like sludge at the bottom of the cup, just waiting to give him a little boost at the last. Stiles peeled his fingers off of the mug, pressing his hands together in thanks to Allison, his grin surging back. ”That means everything,” he murmured, humour lacing his words. They were probably all in the same boat – except for Lydia, she could miss a month of classes and still come out valedictorian, her GPA impeccable. Between him and Scott and Allison, even Malia, it was a matter of dancing that line between trying to juggle all the shitty life stuff and keeping grades up high enough that they didn’t drop out.

Mr Argent might have softened a little from the drill sergeant he’d been when they’d arrived in Beacon Hills, but he was still the sort of guy you wouldn’t wanna meet on a dark night. There was something in the guy’s eyes that left Stiles shuddering a little now. He wrapped his hands tight around his cup, his shoulders hunching beneath the layers of cotton and flannel. ”I’d say do tell me about it, but it’s probably not the place ….” Not in the middle of a coffee shop where half of the things Chris was interested in were probably listening in. This was bad enough, thinly veiled suggestions of things that made that spot between his shoulders itch. He’d squared off against enough things in Beacon Hills and they’d mostly just been the ones he’d known something about, Mystic Falls was a smorgasbord of the new and terrifying.

Waking up in the middle of that with no idea of how she’d got there musta scared the crap out of Allison. He could relate, although Stiles wasn’t sure that was a conversation for now either. Those reminders cut at the centre of you, left wounds that should’ve been healing bleeding again and nobody wanted to find themselves with that scab gone before they were ready. Mr Argent’s must’ve taken up half his heart. Losing his wife, then Allison.

It probably wasn’t up to him to defend the guy, but he’d started to do that anyway and ended up with his hands hitched like he was warding off an argument over the guy’s intentions. Allison understood though, reassuring him after a moment that he hadn’t jumped right on a hot spot with an opinion that was pure BS. Stiles tilted his head, his teeth releasing his lip before he managed a slanted smile. ”He can try … it doesn’t mean someone else can’t bring you into the loop. Or you can’t change his mind.” That would probably take some sort of force of nature. He scratched a hand through his hair, flopping back in his seat as he studied Allison. ”Have you tried sitting him down and telling him you want back in?” Mr Argent probably wouldn’t have remained seated for that conversation for long. He’d always seemed pretty anti Allison getting involved in the first place, with the worst having happened, maybe he’d just double down on his refusal to let her get her hands dirty alongside them all.

Tagged: ALLISON ARGENT * Word Count: 661

Stiles stared at Allison for a moment longer before he was pulling his phone from his pocket to type the recipe in. Making a note about something didn’t mean he’d end up remembering it, or even coming back to it, but it increased the chances. His thumb hovered over the screen for a moment, his attention tugging at the leash that kept it in check for a second before he tapped it to save the note. Nope. That was the way of the rabbit hole. If you didn’t manage to restrain yourself immediately you went tumbling down it Alice style. There weren’t any talking white rabbits in town to lead him on some crazy chase, but … damn, what if there were? He had to resist the urge to glance over his shoulder like Harvey himself mighta been standing there. If there was one thing they’d learned in Mystic Falls it was that shifters here didn’t stick to just being wolves, coyotes or jaguars – Mystic Falls’ shifters were practically a zoo of creatures, most of them big and mean enough that you didn’t wanna be anywhere near the woods when the moon was full.

The coffee that he doctored now would do for the moment, but next time he’d try out the syrup route. Anything for the energy rush he didn’t need. He was willing to bet that Allison felt the same at times – you didn’t want to stop and think too hard when you’d been through the sort of thing she had. Those pauses just gave your brain too much breathing room, even when it was typically filled with a million things that shot around like pinballs. Eyes that were a couple of shades darker than the coffee in his cup flicked up towards the clock on the wall at Allison’s response to his offer. Maybe they didn’t have all day, but hey, he was king of shuffling things around to make time for the things that really mattered – at least in his head. ”Pretty sure I could come up with someone here in town who could make time stop … they’d give you an opening here, right?” He would’ve glanced around, like he was honestly trying to track down a time kitsune here in the coffee shop – not an impossibility giving just how many different kinds of people were calling the place home now, but the look on Allison’s face as her smile slid away stopped him.

His brows furrowed, his hand dropping away from his hair to settle on Allison’s arm, squeezing lightly, almost cautiously. There was a line between something feeling comforting and it disconcerting you enough to have you twitching away. After they’d squashed the nogitsune it had taken him time to feel like he could settle in his skin again. Tiny things set him off, left him counting his fingers or his eyes wheeling as he tried to find something, anything, to read, just to reassure himself that he wasn’t stuck in a corner of his mind again. Stiles tried to smile as Allison did, his brows hitching. ”That might take a little more courage than the Cowardly Lion here’s got, but … yeah, maybe I can be that someone else. If you want me to be.” Stiles clucked his tongue as he reached for his cup. He knew what it was like to keep walking into an empty house too, although these days his dad was home more than he was, rattling around all on his own while his kid was at college. ”If he’s not home, get him there. He’d come if you’d ask right? Just be open with him, tell him that it’s time you guys got … you know … settled again. Maybe make dinner, just keep it totally chill.” Did the Argents do chill? Considering what Chris had been like when they’d first come to town, maybe not.

Tagged: ALLISON ARGENT * Word Count: 649

From anybody else a ’perhaps’ would’ve been meant as just a brush off, but when it came to the Argents, there was a weight to it, as there was with everything with them. You ignored that sort of stuff at your own peril, and he’d been through that with them enough to know to hang onto every word now. Stiles dragged his gaze back to Allison, smirking faintly as she shifted in her seat. He wasn’t gonna take that as permission to go looking for time kitsunes now. It’d just been a joke, that was all, but it was one with potential.

Filing that away in the back of his mind, Stiles tried to play a shoulder to lean on instead. It would’ve been big headed to say that he knew exactly what Allison had gone through, but he’d been through enough to guess at it all. Thanks to his friendship with Scott – and the fact that he’d been the sheriff’s kid – he’d had a ring side seat for all the crazy crap that was happening in Beacon Hills before the nogitsune had dragged him into it kicking and screaming. Stiles guess it’d toughened him up a little, but it still only took Derek lifting him off the ground to have his belly turning yellow. His brows remained high, humour tugging at his mouth a little harder as he stared at Allison. ”I’ve met your dad remember, facing down him, I’m definitely gonna stay the Cowardly Lion.” The joke wasn’t doing much to dispel the tears that had glittered there in Allison’s eyes before she blinked them away though. Crap.

Mr Argent would probably have something to say about any of them dragging Allison back into things again, but he figured he’d rather take that ice cold stare and the breath stealing feeling of her dad threatening him to leaving her hanging around the edges of what was going on, completely unaware of what was coming. ”Any time,” he promised, nudging her with his elbow before he dipped his head to meet her eye again. ”Honestly, anything you need, OK?” Coffee and a chat was the least of it. They’d all gone through too much together to just leave one of them on their own in all the craziness that Mystic Falls had to offer.

He'd have pushed again, but Allison already felt like she was on some sort of brink and he wasn’t about to push anybody over it. Stiles slumped down in his seat, watching her mumble her begrudging agreement over the top of his mug. Eyes narrowing, he took a gulp from it, almost choking on it as he laughed a moment later. It was like she’d read his mind. He twisted one hand, still clutching onto his mug as he swiped the back of his hand over his mouth. ”Things change … maybe he’d mellow a little if he thought that things were … you know … normal between you guys. Like any other parent and child. You could pull that off at least Like fake it ‘til you make it? I’m sure it’ll be like an avalanche, once you start trying to open this stuff up it’ll just snowball. Has he got like a set time that he’s home?” Probably. Mr Argent seemed like the sort of guy who lived under a strict timetable – unless things happened to get crazy and then it all went straight out the window.

Tagged: ALLISON ARGENT * Word Count: 574