chapter twenty

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put a finger up if  you were practicing for a dance comp when it's so hot outside that your shoes, which are black, heat up to the point that they burn your feet

*flips off the the sun*

saturday, august 2
the lupus lacum
third person pov

Stiles woke up around two a.m. to find Thomas laying next to him, eyes wide open and staring at the ceiling.


Thomas turned his head at the groggy voice, watching Stiles rub at his sleep filled eyes.


Propping himself up on an elbow, Stiles studied his boyfriend's face for any sign that would clue him in on what was wrong.

"Why are you up, baby? It's two in the morning," his voice got quieter when he asked, "Was it another nightmare?"


"Hey, look at me."

A hand on his chin made Thomas turn his head to look up at the brunette that was gazing at him with concern.

"I was just thinking about the murders," Thomas admitted after being subjected to Stiles' unnerving stare. Stiles hummed in acknowledgement and began tracing patterns into the blonde's shirtless torso, waiting for him to continue.

"It doesn't make sense to me. I mean, I understand that they want war, but bloody hell what's with the whole sacrifice thing? Why do they feel the need to murder people individually even though they're just going to end up fighting and killing us anyway?

"The way the kill their victims, the whole pattern of the bodies, it's just all so bizarre, so so —alien."

Thomas' eyes widened, "That's it!"

He flung the covers off him and left the room, not even bothering to explain what he found out to a very confused Stiles or put on a shirt.

Grumbling about his boyfriend, Stiles got out of bed quickly and followed Thomas out of the room. He found Thomas in their "work room," which was basically where they had set up all their tech and where all the solving had been happening.

"Tommy, what are you doing? Can't this wait til the morning?"

"It is technically two in the morning," he pointed out, too busy typing on a computer to really pay any attention to the brunette, the doctor waved a hand absentmindedly, "Go back to bed, love."

Continuing to receive answers that were zero help, Stiles huffed and stopped asking questions, settling on the couch that was in the room. He watched as his boyfriend switched between typing and scribbling furiously on a notepad.

Despite trying to stay awake to make sure that his Tommy didn't overwork himself, Stiles couldn't keep his eyes open once the clock hit three. Before he fully drifted off, he felt a blanket being draped over him and kiss being pressed to his temple, but he was out before he could hear Thomas' whisper of "I love you."


saturday, august 2
the dream world
third person pov

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