GEORGIA HUMMED THE theme song to Criminal Minds as she walked down the school hallway. It was the end of the day, meaning she was on her way to meet Stiles at the bike rack.
"Hey, psycho," Jackson Whittemore appeared in front of her out of nowhere. Georgia raised her brows.
"Hello, cockalorum," Georgia went to walk around him before he suddenly grabbed her upper arm. Georgia shoved him off with a huff.
"Colton told me how you tried to throw yourself at him at the grocery store," Jackson tried to brush it off, instead getting to what he wanted to say, "Stay away from him, freak. He doesn't like you."
Georgia grit her teeth, wanting to beat the living shit out of both Jackson and Colton at the moment.
"For starters that never fucking happened, he approached me. And who are you—his little body guard or his pillow princess?" Georgia snapped, annoyed by Jackson's entire existence. Jackson scoffed, adjusting his bag up higher.
"Just leave him alone or I'm gonna make your life miserable," Jackson threatened darkly.
"If your gonna keep spewing out empty threats I suggest you pop a mint in that ass-licker of yours," Georgia patted his cheek before finally walking past him. She was thoroughly annoyed.
"Hey Georgia, come walk with us!" Allison and Lydia tried to flag her down only a minute later.
Georgia forced a tight lipped smile, tossing her thumb up over her shoulder, "Sorry, Stiles is my ride and he'll totally ditch me if I'm late."
Georgia didn't stick around to get a response, instead darting outside and towards the bike rack. She really didn't have a problem with Allison but Lydia was a whole other scenario.
Georgia helped Stiles get her bike onto the back of his jeep before they both hopped in, Georgia sitting shotgun as always.
"I think Kurdish is the only class I'm not failing," Georgia confessed as Stiles whipped out of his parking spot.
"Why the hell are you taking Kurdish?" Stiles had furrowed brows and a baffled look.
"Ji ber ku ez sarkerê de ji we im, bitch," Georgia told him it was because she's cooler than him. Stiles was about to respond when suddenly a ghastly figure appeared right in front of his vehicle.
"Oh my god," Stiles slammed on the breaks. Derek Hale was remarkably pale as he stood there, one arm raised. Out of nowhere he collapsed to the floor causing Georgia to shriek.
"Did he just fucking die?!" she exclaimed.
"You've gotta be kidding me, this guy's everywhere," Stiles put the jeep in park before they both got out and rushed to Derek's side, Scott appearing out of nowhere.
"What are you doing here?!" Scott demanded while Derek struggled to keep his head up.
"I was shot," Derek said weakly, Georgia noticing the few drops of blood near by.
"He's not looking so good, dude," Stiles remarked.
Georgia hummed in agreement, peering over his shoulder, "It looks like we should probably start looking for a coffin."
"Why aren't you healing?" Scott ignored both of his annoying friends.
"I can't," Derek said, irate, "It was-It was a different kind of bullet."
"A silver bullet?" Stiles asked almost excitedly.
"No, you idiot."
"Ooo, I know—wolvesbane?" Georgia attempted.
"Wait, wait, that's what she meant when she said you had forty eight hours," Scott had a sudden revelation before Derek could comment.
"What? Who? Who said forty eight hours?" Derek stammered.
"The one who shot you," Scott replied before Derek's eyes started flashing bright blue, "What are you doing?! Stop that!"
"I'm trying to tell you, I can't!" Derek said angrily.
"Well then just close your eyes," Georgia suggested, the other three sending her matching glares.
"Derek, get up!" Scott slung one of Derek's arms over his shoulders, "Help me get him into your car."
"Georgia, get in the back," Stiles nodded at her while helping Scott move Derek.
Georgia rolled her eyes as she climbed back there, "Once again giving my shotgun to a straight man."
Derek huffed as he took her seat, turning to Scott, "I need you to find out what kind of bullet they used."
"How the hell am I supposed to do that?" Scott shut the door behind him, Stiles going around to the driver's seat.
"Cause she's an Argent. She's with them," Derek insisted.
"Why should I help you?"
"Because you need me."
"Fine," Scott gave in, "I'll try. Hey, get him out of here," he aimed the last part towards Stiles.
"I hate you so much for this," Stiles grumbled as he pulled out of the parking lot.
"How do you think I feel?" Georgia jerked her head between the two up front, "All I wanted was a study session and now I had to give up my seat to a rotting corpse."
"Can you shut up?" Derek spoke through clenched teeth. He already couldn't stand the teenage girl.
"Not if you'd prefer that," Georgia sassed but still sat back.
She was clearly stuck with Stiles and the injured, grumpy werewolf.
* * * * *
They had been driving for a little while by then, Georgia typing and clicking away at Stiles' phone in the backseat. Up front, Stiles was periodically glancing over at Derek.
"Hey, try not to bleed out on my seats, okay? We're almost there," Stiles was protective over his jeep as always.
"Almost where?" Derek's words were almost slurred in a way.
"Your house," Stiles said like it was obvious.
"What? No, you can't take me there," Derek said quickly.
Stiles pulled over on the side of the road, "I can't take you to your own house?"
"Not when I can't protect myself," Derek answered.
"I'm offended you don't think we're enough protection," Georgia finally looked away from Stiles' phone.
"I don't think you two could protect me from a fly," Derek turned to look back at her while she gasped dramatically.
"All right, what happens if Scott doesn't find your little magic bullet? Hmm, are you dying?" Stiles interrupted their dispute.
"Not yet, I have a last resort," the raven haired man said ominously.
"What do you mean? What last resort?" Stiles questioned before Derek had tugged his leather jacket off.
"Ooo," Georgia cooed at the newly revealed wound. There was a large hole in his arm with blood pouring out of it and the veins surrounding it were prominent and dark.
"Oh my god, what is that? Is that contagious?" Stiles frantically looked away, about ready to gag, "You know what, you should probably just get out."
Georgia on the other hand had pulled out her polaroid camera with fresh film, snapping a shot of the disgusting wound, "So rad."
"Will you stop that," Derek flinched at the flash before turning back to Stiles, "and you—start the car. Now."
"I don't think you should be barking orders with the way you look, okay? In fact, I think if I wanted to, I could probably drag your little werewolf ass out into the middle of the road and leave you for dead," Stiles rambled on, not liking the sass Derek Hale possessed. Georgia swallowed down a giggle.
"Start the car, or I'm gonna rip your throat out," Derek leaned in, "With my teeth."
That was all it took for Stiles to do as told and pull back onto the road.
"Well I've got good news," Georgia moved between the seats again, showing them Stiles' phone screen, "I found a funeral home nearby if this doesn't work. Kinda shitty looking but it's got a really good price point."
Derek pursed his lips as he yanked the phone out of her hand, instead plopping it in the nearby cup holder. Georgia pouted as she flopped back, crossing her arms.
Stiles drove around aimlessly for a while longer until the sun set and he pulled over again. Not sure what else to do, he called Scott for backup. Georgia pressed the side of her face against his, the phone between them, so she could hear too.
"What am I supposed to do with him?" Stiles asked once Scott answered, almost acting like Derek wasn't even there.
"Take him somewhere, anywhere," Scott wasn't much help either, however.
"And, by the way, he's starting to smell," Stiles grimaced.
"Like-Like what?" Scott asked for an unknown reason.
"Like death!" Stiles wasn't exaggerating much.
"I tried to recommend a funeral it's so bad," Georgia attested to the statement.
"Okay, take him to the animal clinic," Scott decided.
"What about your boss?"
"He's gone by now. There's a spare key in the box behind the dumpster," Scott shot down the worry.
"You're never gonna believe where he's telling me to take you," Stiles passed the phone to Derek once Georgia backed off.
Scott and Derek had a brief conversation about Scott having to find the bullet and Derek going on about his own importance again. Once they were finished, Stiles headed for the veterinarian's office.
About half an hour later the odd trio entered the clinic. Scott had texted them the name of the bullet, Derek saying he needed it brought to him to survive. Now in the main room with the light overhead turned on, Derek pulled his shirt off.
"Okay hottie with a body," Georgia did a catcall whistle before she spoke, eyeing the freshly exposed torso of Derek's
Stiles huffed, "Okay, you know, that really doesn't look like anything some echinacea and a good night of sleep couldn't take care of so why don't you put your shirt back on?" Stiles suggested, leaning against the metal table. Georgia snickered.
"When the infection reaches my heart, it'll kill me," Derek was rummaging through the nearby drawers.
"Positivity just isn't in your vocabulary, is it?" Stiles remarked.
"If he doesn't get here with the bullet in time: last resort," Derek finally found the proper tool.
"Which is what? We shoot you up with ketamine and doggie vitamins?" Georgia crossed her arms, her camera sitting on the table just in case.
"You're gonna cut off my arm," Derek whipped around, placing a small saw on the table. Stiles' face broke out into a grimace while Georgia's jaw dropped in excitement.
"Bro—I totally call dibs," Georgia said giddily.
"Can you at least try not to be excited about cutting my arm off?" Derek glared at her while using a rubber glove as a tourniquet.
"Hey, my way or the highway," Georgia said, plugging the saw in.
"Oh my god. What if you bleed to death?" Stiles was still appalled by the idea.
"It'll heal if it works," Derek placed his arm on the table.
"Look, I don't think I can be in here for this," Stiles was about to exit the room before Georgia sent him an exasperated pout.
"Stiles, I'm not doing this unless you video it."
"Are you kidding me?!"
"Why not?" Derek asked Georgia, knowing there was no chance Stiles would be able to.
"This is a once in a life time opportunity, I need something to show my grandkids so they know I'm awesome," Georgia raised a brow at him.
"All right, fine, how about this? Either you cut off my arm, or I'm gonna cut off your head," Derek finally snapped at the brunette.
"Right, because I'd love to see your zombie-lookin' ass try to do that," Georgia wasn't buying it. Derek suddenly lunged forward and grabbed her by the collar of her jacket, tugging her forward harshly. Georgia blinked up at him, "Are you trying to threaten me or turn me on?" she wasn't phased.
"Okay, I'll do it," Stiles pulled her back to his side, "I'll do it, I'll video it."
Derek barely heard him as he bent over the table, throwing up a chunky black goo onto the floor. Stiles nearly threw up next at the sight.
"What are you doing? Holy god, what is that?" Stiles was entirely grossed out.
"It's my body trying to heal itself," Derek panted out, still hunched over with his bad arm extended.
"Well, it's not doing a very good job of it," Stiles pulled out his phone and got up the camera app.
"Now, you gotta do it now," Derek determined.
Georgia grinned wickedly, turning the saw on, "You ready, bitch boys?"
Georgia was just lowering the saw when someone started shouting Stiles name.
"Scott?!" Stiles called back, lowering his phone.
"What the hell are you doing?!" Scott took in the scene before him. Georgia groaned as she turned off the saw again and set it back down.
"Oh, you just prevented a lifetime of nightmares," Stiles was actually glad Scott got there in time.
"Did you get it?" Derek cut to the chase.
"What are you gonna do with it?" Scott asked as he handed over the large golden bullet in question.
Derek was now standing to his full height as he had the bullet in hand, "I'm gonna," he trailed off woozily, "I'm gonna—"
Derek plummeted to the ground, the bullet rolling away.
"Derek!" Stiles and Georgia raced to his side for the second time that day while Scott went after the bullet, "Derek, come on, wake up. Scott, what the hell are we gonna do?!"
"I don't know, I can't reach it!" Scott was against the floor, trying to retrieve the small object from the vent it fell in.
"Oh my fuckin' god he's fuckin' dead," Georgia said while shaking Derek's motionless body.
"Come on," Scott whispered to himself, more focused.
"He's not waking up!" Stiles was equally stressed.
"Just hold on! Come on," Scott started before he managed to pick it up, "Oh! I got it! I got it!"
"Move aside, noodle arms," Georgia laced her fingers to crack them all before forming a fist and punching Derek in the face. Stiles yelped when Derek jerked awake, looking delirious, "Ow, woo!" Georgia cheered as she shook her hand out in pain.
They helped Derek up, giving him the bullet again. Everyone watched wide eyed as Derek cracked it open, dumping out a herb of some sort that looked like it belonged in a joint. He used a lighter to set it on fire, proceeding to scoop up the ashes and press them into his wound.
Derek was in such bad pain that he was on his back on the floor, withering around for a minute or so. When he stopped, the hole had closed and he was panting.
"That. Was. Awesome!" Stiles slapped a hand against Georgia's in a high five, "Yes!"
"Still would've been cooler if I got to cut off his arm," Georgia shrugged, satisfied enough.
"Are you okay?" Scott took matters more seriously.
"Aside from the agonizing pain," Derek had his signature dark look as he used the table to stand up.
"I'm guessing the ability to use sarcasm is a sign of good health," Stiles concluded.
"Okay, we saved your life, which means you're gonna leave us alone, you got that?" Scott continued to despise Derek for whatever reason, "And if you don't, I'm gonna go back to Allison's dad, and I'm gonna tell him everything."
"You're gonna trust them? You think they can help you?" Derek couldn't imagine trusting a hunter over a fellow werewolf.
"Well, why not? They're a lot freaking nicer than you are," Scott didn't note the obvious problem being the fact that they were hunters.
"I can show you exactly how nice they are," Derek said vaguely.
"What do you mean?" Scott asked right before Derek pulled his shirt back on and led Scott out of the clinic.
While they went off wherever, Stiles and Georgia hopped in Roscoe. Stiles began driving her back home.
"I swear his stench still lingers," Georgia frowned as she sat where Derek used to be decomposing.
"Be honest, back there with Derek when he passed out did you quote a vine?" Stiles interrogated her.
"Miss Keisha? Miss Keisha?! Oh my fucking god she's fuckin' dead," Georgia repeated the lines, both of them cracking up laughing.
Stiles loved this side of Georgia. When she was all playful and not so brooding. It was actually the first time he heard the girl laugh, and he found himself wanting nothing more than to hear it over and over again.
"You don't laugh or smile enough," Stiles said once they fell into silence again. He then got all worked up as always, "But I don't mean that in, like, the creepy way where guys say smile more as some type of pickup line."
"I get what you meant," Georgia dismissed it, "But I also don't study enough, so I could really use that help some other day when Derek Hale doesn't show up looking like some run-away from the cemetery."
Stiles could tell she didn't want to talk about her constant resting bitch face, going along with her new topic, "Right, I'm sure I can fit you into my schedule somewhere."
Georgia just snickered, leaning back in her seat. They rode in a comfortable silence the rest of the way to her trailer where Stiles helped her get her bike off the back.
Georgia now sent him a tired smile, "Goodnight, Stiles."
Stiles, too, grinned at the look on her face, "Night, Georgia."
a/n
hehe here you guys go. this chapter was so much fun to write so i hope y'all like it <333