Gracie Hale, the youngest Hale
child, just wanted to finish her
sophomore year in peace. But
that all changes when Scott
McCall becomes a werewolf.
Disclaimer: Be aware of mature
language and violence.
( 𝘵𝘦𝘦𝘯 𝘸𝘰𝘭𝘧: 𝘴𝘦𝘢𝘴𝘰𝘯 𝘰𝘯𝘦...
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˗ˏˋ⋆ H E A V E N L Y ⋆ˎˊ˗ ↳ 𝒙𝒊. 𝒅𝒆𝒂𝒅 𝒊𝒏 𝒕𝒉𝒆 𝒘𝒂𝒕𝒆𝒓 𝘵𝘦𝘦𝘯 𝘸𝘰𝘭𝘧, 𝘴𝘦𝘢𝘴𝘰𝘯 𝘵𝘸𝘰
(𝔄𝔟𝔬𝔪𝔦𝔫𝔞𝔱𝔦𝔬𝔫)
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STILES GRITTED HIS TEETH, BECOMING VERY ANNOYED AS HE LISTENED to the whirling of whatever drill the mechanic was using. He had been waiting there for almost two hours now when he was only supposed to get a starter.
Having enough with the waiting, Stiles stormed into the garage and over to his Jeep, which was still hoisted in the air.
"Hey!" He called to the mechanic. "Hey? Wh-what do you think you're doing? All I needed was a starter."
The mechanic didn't even pop his hand from the Jeep to look at the teen boy. He was a greasy-looking guy who may have been a few years older than Stiles.
"Yeah," he shrugged, tightening bolts. "...but it looks like your whole exhaust system has got to be replaced here."
Stiles looked up at the bottom of his Jeep and his jaw tightened, seeing that the mechanic wasn't tightening bolts like he thought. He was actually loosening them to take down the exhaust system that looked fine to Stiles.
"Why do I get the feeling you're slightly over-estimating the damage?" Stiles scowled.
"It's probably gonna run you around like twelve-hundred parts and labor," the mechanic estimated.
"Are you kidding?" Stiles exclaimed angrily. "This thing doesn't have a catalytic converter. And yes, I know what a catalytic converter is."
The mechanic lowered the tool he had been using and popped his head out. "Do you know what a limited slip differential is?"
Stiles hesitated, but eventually sighed, the answer written all over his face. "No..."
As soon as he admitted that, he regretted it when the mechanic turned back to the car, saying, "Yeah, coming on more like fifteen-hundred."
"Okay, just finish," Stiles let out an aggravated breath. He left his Jeep and started walking back to the waiting area. "I'll be back here, seething with impotent rage!"
As Stiles reached for the handle of the door that led out into the waiting room, he cringed when a sticky, clear goo covered his hands. He grunted in disgust and wiped the goo off his hand.
"Oh. Nice. That's real sanitary," Stiles complained, raising his voice loud enough for the mechanic to hear. "Quality establishment you're running here."
