burned ➷ stiles stilinski [1]

22. empty expressions

I hummed. "Not to me." My lips broke out into a small smile. "I was just thinking it's funny if you say it out loud. 714 year old Blaise is in love with, and technically dating, 17 year old Stiles."

Surprisingly, he chuckled. "You're a cougar."

A laugh bubbled out of my mouth, but it faded when the pain from my wound came back. Ignoring the feeling, I smirked at Stiles. "What would you tell people at school?"

"Hm," he said, putting his hand to his chin in mock thought. "I'd tell them I'm getting it on with a really hot college chick." He nodded to himself. "That sounds good, yeah?"

My smile grew. "You haven't gotten a taste of anything yet, Stiles. I don't think you understand how many tricks I've got up my sleeve."

At that, he truly laughed; the noise a mixture of a snort and chuckle. It was cute, and it sounded like music to my ears. Finally, this boy was smiling again.

But our sarcastic comments ceased when I tensed, my sensitive hearing picking up on a noise outside. Stiles quickly noticed my change in demeanor and stood, making his way to look out the small ambulance window. I didn't dare try and move, for fear of falling off the bench I sat on and drawing attention to the truck.

I leaned my head against the wall, squeezing my eyes shut hard and concentrating on making my breaths quieter. If a werewolf was outside the ambulance, they would definitely pick up on my labored breathing.

Stiles peered out the window, but slowly inched back towards me when a low growl resonated through the air. I pulled my legs to my chest, making room for him to sit next to me, out of the werewolf's line of sight.

I poked him with my shoe to make him look at me. Who? I mouthed.

Twins. He frowned, creating creases to form on his forehead. Did they do this to you? He gestured to my stitches.

Bringing up my wound only made me remember the pain. With a grimace, I nodded. Suddenly, Stiles placed his hand on my stomach, right above the stitches. I glanced up at him to see why he was openly touching me, but he gave me a pained look.

I'm sorry.

I winced. He shouldn't feel sorry for me. Pity was something that I didn't usually accept, but Stiles was an exception.

Instead of telling him to take back his apology, I simply put my hand over his, running my thumb back and forth across his soft skin. The gesture made me comfortable, even relaxed me a little bit.

But the moment only lasted so long.

Stiles turned away from me, putting his ear to the wall of the truck to hear better. Whatever he heard, I didn't pick up on. I hoped it wasn't because my powers were fading...

Stiles' eyes grew wide as he faced me again. Someone is out there, he said silently.

My mouth hung open. I couldn't defend myself in my current state, let alone Stiles and Cora. I hated myself for not being strong and I simply loathed the fact that if someone was going to attack us, there was nothing I could do.

Just as Stiles was about to push open the ambulance door, two hands slammed against the window. I almost peed my pants from the shock.

"Stiles, open the door!" I peered around the wall I was leaning on to see a weak-looking Peter holding onto Scott's shoulder for dear life. "Open the door!"

"Oh um - sorry sorry sorry," Stiles muttered, pushing the doors open. Scott practically threw Peter on the pale boy, just so he could drag him into the truck and sit him next to me.