Black Water ↠ Stiles Stilinski [Teen Wolf, Vol. One]

Sunday Funday

'Jane Doe Identified, Likely Killed in Animal Attack'

'Police to Prolong Curfew in Light of Recent Attacks'

'Kardashian Pregnancy Scare: Which One Is It This Time?'

Alright, so the last one hadn't been particularly appealing, but the animal attacks certainly had a way of capturing interest. She didn't manage to plow through much before Lydia wrenched it out of her hands and tossed it across the kitchen, scolding her for not paying enough attention. But not before Charlie seized onto one particular piece of information. The victim's name was Laura Hale. Hale as in Derek Hale. Derek freaking Hale. Derek Hale who kept going and making himself relevant. Usually at the most inconvenient of times.

The breakfast had ended about as abruptly as it began, accompanied by a strategic cough on Lydia's part. Pancakes and gossip came to a close with the redhead's executive decision that they would be spending the day at the mall. Again. Until, that is, Lydia found herself outnumbered—democracy at its finest. Charlie's small victory came with the light entering Allison's eyes as she mentioned her need to repair her car. This spark was accompanied by a statement of interest on the brunette's part. A wicked smile had twitched at the corners of Charlie's lips at the sight of Lydia's jaw clicking.

The crisp fall air swirled through the street, carrying with it fallen leaves. By all rights it could be considered a nice day. Quietly suburban. Positively picturesque. The type of day a child might even have been happy to mow the lawn, so accommodating was the weather. Until, that is, one of those fallen leaves had the audacity to get stuck in Lydia's hair. With a huff she ripped it out, crumpling it to bits before tossing it aside and glowering at her surroundings. Lydia's capacity for dissatisfaction was a thing to be admired or feared—possibly both. Nothing inspired more venom in her gaze, though, than the sight of Charlie's tools gleaming in the late morning sun. A source of aggravation to which Charlie remained most wilfully ignorant.

The screwdriver, torque wrench, plug socket, and plug starter lay next to the car on an oil-stained towel, scratched and worn with time and use, but clean and rust free. Charlie snatched up the screwdriver, one by one removing the screws holding the ignition coil housing in place. The small bits of metal were cold in her palm, a sign of just how long this car had been sitting lifeless in the driveway. Blowing off any dust, she carefully deposited them in a ziploc and put to the side for future use.

"Seriously, Charlie?" Lydia demanded. "How long is this going to take?

The heels of Lydia's shoes clacked against asphalt as she began to pace back and forth across the driveway. Each snap like a ticking clock, her annoyance continued to grow. Lydia looked good in most things, but impatience wasn't her color. "We were supposed to hang out today," she groused, throwing her hands in the air.

Charlie's head remained firmly stuck under the open hood of her car. "We are hanging out," she replied. "We, the three of us, are standing in proximity of each other during our leisure time. That is the actual definition of 'hanging out'."

"I'm sorry," Lydia shot back, "but when 'hanging out' there is a tacit agreement that fun is supposed to be had. Are you having fun? Because I'm not."

While Lydia maintained her distance, putting as much space as she could between herself and manual labor, Allison hovered so closely over the car, her hair threatened to dip into the reservoir of grease pooling in the engine's crevices. While Charlie hadn't expected any of Lydia's belligerence from her, the bright-eyed eagerness came as a surprise. With each note or comment Charlie offered, the girl gave a small nod of understanding, filing the new information away. "Come on, Lydia!" Allison protested, shooting a glance over her shoulder. "This is cool. I mean, don't you want to learn how to fix your car if it breaks down?"