theproblemwithstardust:

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24. “Is that a tattoo?”

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Derek got to his feet slowly, wiping mud and monster guts out
of his eyes. It was almost the same as any other day in Beacon Hills, save for
one thing. This time, Stiles was home for the summer.

And he turned out to be the perfect secret weapon against the
pixies that had been plaguing the town for weeks. Unfortunately, werewolves weren’t
equipped to deal with small flying creatures. So Scott and Derek had
implemented failed plan after failed plan, finally resorting to calling Lydia
to test if a banshee scream would work over the phone. It did, but it only
bought them a day of reprieve.

“You good?”

Derek startled, ears still ringing from the concussive force
of the banishing spell. Stiles was standing just behind him, blood soaking
through his plaid shirt.

It took a moment for Derek to find his voice. “Is your dad
home?”

Stiles shook his head. “He’s on a double tonight.”

“I’ll drive you.”

“What?” The confusion meant Stiles was too hyped on
adrenaline to realize he’d had half a tree collapse on him.

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