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Here's the chapter, sweethearts!
*
"I'm feeling so much second hand embarrassment right now," I say, ringing the doorbell to Lydia's house, Stiles standing next to me with a gift the size of a small elephant in his arms.
"You wouldn't have a gift if it wasn't for me!" Stiles says. "You're not even carrying it, you're the one who's like, trained and has muscles-"
"There's a purse in there, it weighs nothing," I retort.
"The box is heavy," Stiles says.
"You chose the box!" I shout.
"You said we had to have one-" he says, stopping when we notice the front door is open and Lydia's standing in the doorway, watching us with a smirk.
"Happy Birthday!" Stiles says.
"Just come in," Lydia shakes her head at the gift box. "Put it on the floor or something."
"Yeah, okay, sure," Stiles mutters, sighing when he places the box against the wall.
"Don't forget to try the punch," Lydia smiles, leaving us with a wave.
"How about that, Grace?" Stiles asks, pointing at the bowl of punch on the table in the distance. "It's over there."
"I don't really want any," I say.
"Aw, come on, it's a party, you have to try the punch!" he says, wrapping an arm around my waist.
"You know I don't like drinking," I tell him. "Or parties. Or anything."
"Look, I'm not asking you to get drunk," he says with a smile. "I'm just saying, just have one, okay? Just one? Just to take the edge off, you can let loose a little, babe."
I sigh.
"Okay, fine," I nod, smiling as he throws his fist in the air and runs over to the punch bowl, yelling that he'll be right back. I haven't even had one second to my own when Scott walks up to me.
"Have you seen Jackson anywhere?" I ask him.
"No. Seen Allison?" he asks.
"No," I say.
"You didn't come together?"
"No, I came with Stiles," I say, ignoring his smug look. "Besides, wasn't she going with- uh, Matt?"
I tense up at my own mention of his name. I could really use that drink right now.
"Yeah," Scott sighs.
"Keep an eye on her, okay?" I ask quietly. The last thing I want is for what happened to me to happen to Allison too.
"Of course," he says, his eyebrows scrunched up as he observes me. "A-are you okay?"
"Sure I am," I say. "But uh, we should probably tell her what we found."
"I'm still kind of not sure what we found," Scott says.
"We think it has something to do with water. You know, the fact that all the victims were on the swim team, the way the kanima reacted around the pool," I tell him, smiling slightly as Stiles pops up next to me and hands me a glass of punch. I immediately lift it to my lips and drink about half of it, ignoring the weird aftertaste. Stiles just watches me, eyebrows raised in surprise, and then takes a sip of his own glass.
"So whoever's controlling the kanima really hates the swim team?" Scott asks.
"Oh, yeah!" Stiles says. "Hated the swim team. Specifically, the 2006 swim team. So it could be another teacher. Maybe like a student back then. I mean, who are we missing though? What haven't we thought of?"
Allison finds us as well, speaking up with a worried look.
"Uh, Jackson's not here," she says.
"Yeah," Stiles nods, looking at the empty space around him. "No one's here."
"Maybe it's just early," I say.
"Or maybe nobody's coming because Lydia's turned into the town whackjob," Stiles says.
"Well, we have to do something, because we've completely ignored her for the past two weeks," Allison says.
"She's completely ignored everyone who wasn't fashionable enough ever since we started high school," Scott retorts. "We don't owe her a party."
"What about the chance to get back to normal?" Allison asks.
"Normal?" Scott stares at her.
"She wouldn't be the town whackjob if it wasn't for us," she says.
"I guess I could use my co-captain status to get the lacrosse team here," Scott gives in.
"Yeah, I also know some people who can get this thing going," Stiles grins. "Like, really going."
"Who?" I ask.
"I met them uh, a while ago. Let's just say they know how to party," Stiles says.
"You mean the lovely ladies of Jungle?" I smile.
"You read my mind."
*
"So you yelled at her," Stiles says once Allison's gone.
"Well, yeah," Scott nods sheepishly.
"Are you gonna apologize to her or what?" Stiles asks.
"Why should I apologize?" Scott asks.
"Because you're the guy. It's, like, what we do," Stiles says. I chuckle lightly.
"But I didn't do anything wrong," Scott says.
"Then you should definitely apologise," Stiles says. "See, any time a guy thinks he hasn't done anything wrong, it means he's definitely done something wrong."
"I like that theory," I say.
"Oh god," Stiles says with disgust in his tone, looking into the distance where Allison and Matt are standing, talking to each other. I have to remind myself to take deep breaths in and out so I don't stop breathing – or start breathing too much.
"Does he have a bruise on his jaw?" Scott asks, confused. Oh, shit, he does. It's rather small, a purple-red mark on his skin, the proof that what happened wasn't just a vivid nightmare.
"Woah, yeah! Wonder what he was up to," Stiles says. "But I applaud whoever punched him in the face."
"I'm not apologizing," Scott says after a silence.
"Is that the full moon talking, buddy?" Stiles asks.
"Probably. Why do you care, anyway?"
"Because, Scott, something's gotta go right here," Stiles says, raising his voice. "I mean, we're getting our asses royally kicked, if you haven't noticed. People are dying. I got my dad fired. You're gonna be held back in school. Lydia's turned into a nutjob. And if on top of all that, I gotta watch you lose Allison to a stalker like Matt, I'm gonna stab myself in the face."
I freeze, staring down at the floor. Stiles doesn't know how right he is. I down the rest of my drink.
"Don't stab yourself in the face," Scott says.
"Why not?" Stiles asks.
"Because Jackson's here," Scott says, watching the guy come in.
*
"You said-" I begin, leaning my hand against the wall. "I didn't have to get drunk."
"Oh, you're not drunk!" Stiles says, drinking the last drop of punch out of his glass. "You're just having fun."
"Yes, I'm having fun," I say, letting out a small giggle. "But I am also drunk. The two are not mutually exclusive, Stilinski."
"Oh, see, you can still say hard words like mutuw- mutually el- excu-"
I burst out laughing, sinking down and leaning on him in an effort to keep myself standing as the giggles take over.
"Baby, don't laugh at me," he whines. "It's not funny."
"It's hilarious," I mutter between laughs, wrapping my arms around his waist.
"It's not hir- hila-"
That's when Stiles breaks down as well, resting his back against the wall to support both himself and me as he moves a hand in front of his face.
"Think that's enough punch for us," he says once he's finally calmed down.
"Yeah, what the hell is in that stuff?" I ask, watching Stiles put our glasses on the floor and almost stumble before I grab his arm and pull him up.
"Oh, I'm dizzy," he mutters.
"I got you," I say.
Stiles hums with a content smile on his lips, leaning forward and burying his face in my neck.
"Really like this shirt," he says lowly, bringing a hand up to my hip to rub the fabric. "Soft. And you look hot in it."
I laugh a bit, resting my hand on the back of his neck.
"I don't see what's different from the other shirts," I say.
"It's like a little oversized," he mutters. "I'd get it off of you faster."
I hold my breath for a second, feeling a rush of heat spread through my limbs. I want to say something back, but my words die out as soon as his lips touch my neck, pressing soft kisses lower and lower down.
The alcohol really took care of my inhibitions, and my modesty, because before I know it, I let a quiet sound escape and gently pull him closer to me with my hand on his back, even if people might see us. Hell, most of them are shitfaced as well, so it's not like they're paying attention.
Stiles takes in a harsh breath at my movement, and his kisses get harder, pulling the skin between his teeth, trying to find a sensitive spot. But he doesn't get the chance to do so, because I push his face away to pull it closer and press his lips to mine, a little faster, a little sloppier than usual.
He kisses back just as enthusiastically, turning us around to push me against the wall and hold me by the hips, trapping me with his body. And I kind of love it. I grab a fistful of his shirt and try to get him even closer, searching that friction.
"Shit," he breathes against my lips, pulling back to nuzzle my hair, his mouth near my ear. "We should- we should really stop."
"Why?" I whine.
"We're drunk. And in public. And I don't know if I could stop us if we don't stop now," he whispers.
"But I want you."
Stiles closes his eyes, shaking his head a little.
"Don't make it harder," he says. "Wait- God, not in that way!"
"Isn't it exactly in that way?" I ask.
"It's not! But I just mean, it's not right if we do this now," Stiles says, letting go a little. "We're drunk and maybe we wouldn't even remember and... I don't want to be like Matt."
"You're nothing like Matt," I say, feeling a lot more sober than I was a moment ago.
"But I don't want it to happen like this, okay?" he says.
"Nothing's gonna happen if you don't want it to," I tell him, and he nods, letting out a sigh.
"Look... I'm gonna go to the bathroom for a second. Uh. So we don't jump each other again. I'll be right back, okay?"
"Sure, go ahead," I say.
There's a few minutes of me observing the partygoers in silence, watching how they dance around and make out and jump in the pool, screaming all the while. It's a bit concerning, but I do think the punch has a little too much alcohol in it or something, so it's probably not their fault. I mean, I myself am feeling a little weird from the drink, so who am I to judge?
"Hey," a voice says behind me, sending a spike of panic down my spine. I turn around in a flash and take a few steps back, eyes wide.
"You left your coat in my car," Matt says, smiling at me, his hand subconsciously rubbing at the bruise on his jaw. "So I thought I'd give it back."
I stare into his eyes for a long moment, trying to see what he's up to, if I'm safe. Well, we're in public. He can't do anything. Calm down.
"I don't bite, Grace," he says, holding my coat out in front of him. I slowly take a step forward and grab it, keeping my eyes on his to make sure he doesn't move.
"I think it's best we keep quiet about what happened, don't you agree?" he says when I lay the coat on Lydia's chair.
I say nothing, too scared to set him off or to break down myself. Next, he leans forward, making every muscle in my body tense up, and he kisses my cheek, catching my eyes one last time before backing off and walking away.
Fuck. I have to take a few moments to recollect myself and stop my blood from boiling and flooding my veins. But once I look up again, Stiles is in front of me, a less than happy look on his face.
"What was that?" he asks, frowning.
"What?" I ask, a bit startled.
"He just kissed you on the cheek," Stiles says. "You didn't even flinch. What is going on with you and him?"
"Dude, calm down, it's-"
He takes a step closer and I stop talking.
"Why did he have your coat?" he asks slowly.
"I- I can't say that," I stutter, avoiding his eyes.
"Wh- you can't say that? Are you serious? You're telling me you're being all up close and cosy with the creep you lost your virginity to, and I shouldn't be suspicious?" he sneers, a sharp edge to his voice. I've never heard him talk like this to me.
"I'm- nothing is going on, look, he drove me home, that's all," I say nervously, clenching my shaking hands to fists.
"Oh, so you fucked in the car, is that what you're saying?" Stiles retorts, leaning closer again, actually kind of scaring me now.
"No! I did nothing with him!" I say.
"And that's what the bruise was, right? Just an aggressive hickey? Well, I hope you enjoyed it," he says, smiling darkly.
"Stop this."
"Because I also enjoyed sleeping with Lydia yesterday."
"What the fuck?" I cry out. "What the- Stiles."
I look at him again, but all of a sudden there's no one standing in front of me, and I'm alone, left in tears and extremely confused over what just happened.
I look around me, but none of my friends are in the area, and no one seems to notice the state I'm in, drowning in alcohol and loud music. I'm thinking of grabbing my coat and just leaving, but I can't move somehow.
"Hi, I'm... I'm back, sweetheart, are you okay?" Stiles asks when he walks up to me again.
"What?" I glare at him, confused and angry, the tears falling faster. "Of course I'm not okay."
"What's wrong?" he asks, moving closer to pull me into a hug, but I push him away.
"Don't touch me," I say, my voice shaking.
"Woah- okay, okay," he says, taking a step back with wide eyes.
"You can't just say all that to me and then come back and pretend everything's fine," I say. "What the hell are you doing?!"
"What? Grace, wh- what did I say to you?" he asks. "It's like you can't touch me anymore without freaking out lately. I don't get it, what did I do wrong?"
"You slept with Lydia," I answer.
"What?!" he asks, raising his voice. "Where the hell did that come from?"
"You just told me!" I yell.
"I didn't! Are you going crazy?!" he shouts back.
"I'm not, you just fucking came here and you told me!"
Stiles pauses, looking down a bit and breathing deeply, trying to catch his breath.
"Grace," he begins, his voice at a normal volume again. "I just got back from the toilet. I swear I didn't tell you anything else."
"But I saw you," I say, wiping my eyes. "I'm not going crazy."
"Okay," he says. "Let's just calm down a little, o-"
Stiles turns his head as something catches his attention, and I try to see what he's looking at, but I have no clue.
"Dad?" he asks.
I look again and try to find Mr. Stilinski in the crowd, but I really can't see him.
"Stiles?" I ask. He doesn't even acknowledge me, stuck staring into the distance. Staring until his eyes fill with tears.
"Stiles, what is happening?" I ask.
He doesn't react until after a few seconds, looking down and pressing his hands against his eyes as he starts crying, his shoulders shaking a little.
"Oh, baby, come here," I say, pulling him into my arms and rubbing his back. He hides away against my shirt, still sniffling. "I don't know what you saw, but it wasn't real. It wasn't real."
"Mom," he says with a broken voice, and I hold him tighter. Fuck, he must've seen his mother or something. No wonder he's so upset.
"It's okay, it's okay," I whisper, and over time I can get him to calm down, but he doesn't let go of me. And when I want to pull back to ask if we should go home, I realise he's leaning all of his body weight on me and drooling on my shirt, eyes closed.
"Did you seriously just fall asleep on me?" I mutter, kind of happy he's relaxed now. "You really can't handle alcohol."
I struggle a bit before latching an arm under his knees and pulling him up completely with a grunt, carrying him bridal-style to somewhere he can lie down.
"You're lucky I still go to the gym," I mutter. "And you're a lightweight. In both ways."
I can't find an empty couch or chair, so I put him down against a wall near the pool, sitting next to him so he can lean on me. After a while, he mumbles a bit and wraps his arms around me loosely, resting his head on my shoulder.
"Adorable motherfucker," I whisper, pressing a kiss to his forehead. "I hope you're okay."
First I have a whole conversation with Stiles that he says never happened, and then he breaks down just from staring into empty space. There must be something going on here.
"Grace!" someone yells, and I see Scott hurrying over to us.
"You know where Lydia is?" he asks.
"No," I shake my head.
"I need to find her, something's seriously wrong," Scott says.
"Are you seeing things?" I ask, ignoring Stiles' sigh in my ear.
"Uh, yes?" Scott asks. "How did you know that?"
"Because we did too," I say.
"Why is he asleep?" Scott asks, staring at his best friend with a frown.
"It's complicated," I tell him.
"Well, he needs to wake up," Scott says.
"I think it's best if we let him sleep now. The punch really seems to have hit him hard. Excuse the pun," I say.
"Oh my god," Scott says. "The punch!"
"Yeah, you know, the punch hit him. Because it's like a punch," I say, smiling.
"No, the punch is making us hallucinate!" Scott shouts.
"Oh," I say. "That makes sense."
"So how do we wake him up?" Scott asks. "I can get a glass of water-"
"We already have water," I say, whispering a "sorry" into his ear before grabbing Stiles' head and pushing it into the pool for just a second, enough to make him gasp and wake up, his eyes wide.
"What the- Grace?"
"You could get a towel, though, Scott," I say, looking at him sheepishly.
*
The house is in chaos. Everyone is screaming, running around, people falling in the pool or bumping into the tables, making a mess.
"Hey, I can't find her," Stiles says when we find Scott again. "And, dude, anyone who drank that crap, they're freaking out."
"I can see that," Scott says.
"Why would Lydia do this?" I ask.
"Maybe she doesn't know. I- I don't know," Scott answers.
"She told us to drink the punch," Stiles frowns.
"That could be a coincidence," Scott says.
"And the random party? It all seems to be a very weird coincidence. And it's working wonderfully to distract us all," I say.
"Distract us from what?" Stiles asks.
"I don't know. But something's so wrong here. What is she doing now? Why can't we find her? It's the full moon..."
"What the hell do we do?" Stiles asks.
"I don't know, but we gotta-"
"I can't swim!"
We all jerk our heads to the sound of the loud scream, seeing Matt in the pool, wildly moving his limbs underwater.
"What the hell?" Stiles asks.
"No, no, no, no, stop, guys! I can't swim! I can't swim! I can't- I can't-"
Before Matt sinks completely, Jackson gets into action and pulls him out of the water, leaving him standing at the edge of the pool, soaked and panting.
Oh my god. Jackson saved him. The kanima helped him. Is Matt...?
"What are you looking at?" Matt glares at us all before he walks past, and oh my god, I must've pissed him off by putting an end to what he was going to do, and he has the power to kill me, he must be planning to, it would be so easy for him to just tell Jackson and he'd get the poison in me so I wouldn't be able to move, and then Matt could do whatever he wanted with me-
"Grace, it's gonna be okay," Stiles says, pushing my hair back behind my ear. "Focus. Look at me. Please."
It's only now I realise I was indeed zoning out, and I can't get my vision to stop being so vague and blurry, and I can't breathe, and it's the lack of control that's freaking me out.
"Peter," I blurt out, and I'm surprised by my own voice. I wasn't even thinking about him.
"What?" Stiles asks.
He's messing with my mind. Maybe he's controlling me and the panic is a way of fighting it. Maybe he's still coming to get me.
Or maybe I'm not thinking straight right now.
"Must be the punch still," Scott says, a worried look on his face.
Stiles pulls me closer and wraps me into a hug, gently rocking us from side to side a bit.
"I don't know," he says. "This isn't normal. I just don't know what to do anymore."
I focus on his heartbeat, feeling it calm me down, barely noticing what they're saying.
"Well, you're doing something right," Scott says, looking at his two friends. "...uh. But I feel like I'm out of the loop."
"What do you mean?" Stiles asks.
"Either I've been replaced and she's your new best friend... or you two are totally in love."
Stiles stops moving.
"We're not- Scott, please, this isn't the time, she's in the middle of a panic attack," Stiles says.
"Think she's at the end," Scott remarks.
Then the police come, and Stiles doesn't have to answer the question after all.