Heavenly. Teen Wolf (s.s)

xviii. to bear no malice

"Hey, maybe it's like-maybe it's like not needing your inhaler anymore, you know?" Stiles theorized, rolling onto his back as he rested the whiskey bottle down. "Maybe you can't get drunk as a wolf...Am I drunk?"

Scott looked over at Stiles, noticing his furrowed brows, and shook his head. "You're wasted."

"Yeah!" Stiles cheered, held his fist up so Scott could bump it, Scott sat there with his shoulders slumped. "Come on, dude, I know it feels bad. I know it hurts. I know..." Stiles paused, remembering that he never actually had a girlfriend. "Well, I don't know. But I know this. I know that as much as being broken up hurts, being alone is way worse."

Scott went through Stiles' words in his head and looked over at his best friend. Stiles chuckled. "That didn't make any sense. I need a drink."

Before he could grab the whiskey, another hand reached out and took the bottle. Stiles and Scott looked up, seeing two unfamiliar men standing in front of them.

"Well, look at the two little bitches getting their drink on," one of them taunted. It was some man, wearing a funny hat.

Scott glared at him. "Give it back."

The guy with the hat scoffed and exchanged a smirk with his friend. "What's that, little man?"

"I think he wants a drink," the other guy spoke up with an amused look.

"I want the bottle," Scott demanded.

"Scott, maybe we should just go," Stiles suggested, sitting up.

"You brought me here to get me drunk, Stiles," Scott said, never tearing his eyes away from the two men. "I'm not drunk yet."

The first guy scoffed and took a sip from the bottle. Scott's glare sharpened as he stood up to face the men. He was a couple inches shorter than both of them, but he didn't seem to care. He was a werewolf; he could overpower them any day. 

"Give me the bottle," Scott commanded. When the first guy shook his head, Scott flashed his golden eyes at him and lowered his voice into a growl. "Give me the bottle of Jack."

Stiles got to his feet, seeing Scott's claws start to break through his nail beds. "Scott?"

The first guy slowly held out the bottle of Jack Daniel's out to Scott. Scott ripped it from his grasp and whipped it at a nearby tree, shattering the bottle completely. The men took off, not daring to look back at Scott as they ran away.

"Okay, please tell me that was because of the breakup," he pleaded as he started to sober up. "Or 'cause tomorrow's the full moon."

Scott, a few feet ahead of his best friend, didn't answer. When they arrived at Stiles' Jeep, he opened the passenger door and gestured for Stiles to get in.

"Going home now, yeah?" Stiles asked, promptly falling back in the seat behind him.

Scott rolled his eyes and slammed the door shut.

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          "BEAUTIFUL MONDAY MORNING!" GRACIE'S ALARM SOUNDED loudly. She groaned as her eyes fluttered open. "Beacon Hills High School is back open after being closed since last Monday. Police search continues for alleged killer Derek Hale--"

The brunette slammed her hand down a few times until the alarm turned off.

"Should've set it to buzzer," Gracie grumbled as she got out of bed.

After finishing her usual morning routine and getting dressed, Gracie grabbed her bag and swung her hair over her shoulder as she left. She headed towards the one of the Hale family's vaults, where had Derek been hiding since he couldn't stay at the loft. She had visited him every morning and had to be careful. She wasn't sure -- she could've just been paranoid -- but she had a feeling she was being watched.