mortala || stiles and the avengers (CURRENTLY UNDER EDITING)

chapter one {edited}

i would just like to point out that i don't know what i'm doing

friday, november 7
stilinski residence; beacon hills
third person pov

Dad,
I'm sorry that I'm leaving. I won't tell you where, but let's just say, I'll be safe where I'm going.
Keep out of trouble.
Seriously, for me, dad. I need you alive.
Love you,
Stiles.

Stiles folded the note and set it on the counter next to a large platter of spaghetti and meatballs that would get his dad to eat something better than burgers for at least a week. He stepped away and sighed, heart seizing in his chest as he tucked the photo of him, his dad, and his mom into the pocket of his faded jeans.

As much as he wanted to stay, Stiles knew that it would only remind him of his humanity. It was a weakness. He was a weakness, and he would just do everyone a favor and leave.

The garage was cold and smelt of the oil leaking from his jeep's radiator. It broke his heart knowing that he would have to leave her in the airport parking lot until eventually they towed her away. Stiles frowned as he watched drops of moisture form on the worn leather steering wheel and then fall in little streaks down the surface. He looked up to see if his roof was leaking, but the smooth surface mocked him as he lifted a hand to his face, feeling the wetness that was falling from his eyes.

He was crying.

The tears came faster and Stiles' breath caught in his throat as he desperately tried to keep himself from remembering. For a moment it worked and he could breath, but then he caught sight of the triskelion medallion hanging from a chain on his rear view mirror.

Dammit.

friday, november 7
derek's loft, earlier that evening
third person pov

The pack went silent when Stiles came into the loft. It was unnerving having all of them stare at him like that, some of their eyes flashing with invisible luminescence, predators who had sighted prey.

Willing his hands not to shake, Stiles forced a smile to spread across his face, "Don't tell me all of you are turning into Sourwolf over there."

He gestured to Derek who was leaning against the brick wall, his face pinched into its usual scowl as he stared at Scott. Stiles' gaze went between the two of them, heart rate skyrocketing which was not the best considering he was in a room full of weres.

They were all there. Allison was near Scott as usual, though her posture was hostile and uninviting towards the alpha. Jackson and Lydia were sitting on the couch and judging by the mess of their hair and swollen lips, they were previously on their way to x-rated. Peter was smirking in that nonchalant way that never failed to remind him how much of an asshole the creepy wolf was. Kira was sharpening her sword from her seat on the rug. Isaac was leaning back against the couch wiping at his red eyes with that stupid scarf.

Derek rolled his eyes at Scott, "If you're not gonna do it, I will."

Heart dropping, Stiles glanced around the faces of his closest friends, his family, "Do what?"

Scott finally looked at him and while there was no emotion written on his face, there was that look in his eyes.

"Oh."