UNFINISHED Stydia AU - Room Mates - Teen Wolf.

Fire and Ice.

Some say the world will end in fire
Some say in ice
From what I've tasted of desire
I hold with those who favor fire
But if it had to perish twice
I think I know enough of hate
To say that ice
Is also great
And would suffice.

- Fire and Ice, Robert Frost.

....................................................

Stiles faded back into consciousness with the metallic taste of blood in his mouth. The light stabbed black stars in his eyes, and there was a throbbing spot on his temple from where he had been hit. He tried to move, but his hands and legs were tied together with multiple loops of a harsh rope that rubbed at his skin like sandpaper.

"You're awake," a cold voice said from somewhere behind him. "Good."

A tall figure stepped next to his head - Stiles caught the faint scent of expensive leather - and moved into the light.

He had the distinct look of someone who was attractive and knew it. Dirty blond hair that stood in harsh spikes, an arrogant smirk, and cruel, steel-gray eyes.

"Who-" Stiles' voice came out as a croak. "Who are you? Why- Why are you-"

"Spare me the clichés," the stranger drawled. "Who are you? Why are you here? Wah wah wah." His voice turned high and mocking. He paused, seeming to collect himself before he spoke again. "I'm Jackson Whittemore." He said the name with implied self-importance, and Stiles' brain took a second to process.

Lydia had never told him her ex-boyfriend's last name. Stiles momentarily wondered what the possibility was that this was her Jackson. He ignored the stab in his stomach that now came from the thought of her.

"Oh, right." The stranger - Jackson - cleared his throat. "How rude of me. I'm here because of this." His eyes suddenly morphed from gray to neon blue, and the pieces fell together one by one.

"He dumped me two weeks after he got bitten."

'A BETA FROM THE NORTH.'

"So I told Allison, and her family drove him out of town."

'COMING FOR SCOTT.'

Stiles regained full consciousness immediately.

"Where's Scott?" he demanded, looking around the dark room with poorly adjusted eyes, frantically scanning for his best friend. He found a male profile in the shadows and found a momentary rush of relief. Then he realized that it wasn't Scott. It was too short, too burly to be Scott.

Then he caught another profile a few feet away. This one was too tall. His eyes flicked around the room until he had found what seemed to be all of them. There were six. Not including Jackson. And Scott was nowhere to be seen.