Chapter Text
The noise that woke Stiles was faint enough that he wasn’t sure at first what it was. He nearly dismissed it and went straight back to sleep. Then he saw the shadowy form drop in through the open window.
He leapt from the bed, hurrying to the light switch and grabbing the first thing he could find as a weapon: his lacrosse stick. In the sudden brightness, a strange man was standing by the window, which Stiles was certain had been closed when he went to bed. He was a young man, with dark hair above chiselled features, along with a body apparently athletic enough to let him climb up the side of the house.
“Who the hell are you?” Stiles demanded. The man looked puzzled.
“Stiles?” he said.
“No. I’m Stiles. Who the fuck are you?”
“I’m…” the guy started. Then he stopped and looked down at the lacrosse stick in Stiles’ hands, brandished in front of him like a club.
“Are you threatening me with a lacrosse stick?” the guy asked, clearly surprised. It wasn’t much of a weapon, even Stiles could admit.
“I can do better,” Stiles said. Then he yelled: “Dad! Bring you gun!”
There was movement elsewhere in the house. The mysterious intruder swore under his breath and made a dive for the window. He swung his legs over the frame and dropped down to the ground below. Stiles’ dad burst into the room as Stiles ran to the window. He expected to see the guy in a puddle of agony on the ground below. Instead, he saw a shadowy figure running at full speed into the darkness.
“What is it?” his dad asked.
“There was someone in my room,” Stiles said. Stiles was still holding tightly onto the lacrosse stick. As his dad came over to him, Stiles realised his hands were shaking.
***
“So who was he?” Scott asked, when Stiles told him the story the next day. There were walking towards the school, Scott giving him the details about his night-time encounter.
“No idea,” Stiles said, “but you know the weird thing?”
“Do I know the weird thing about a strange man breaking into your bedroom in the middle of the night?”
“He seemed surprised that I didn’t know him,” Stiles said.
Scott considered this for a minute as they walked up the steps and into the school.
“You’re right,” he said. “That is weird.”
“Exactly,” Stiles said. They paused their conversation briefly while they went to their lockers to grab the books required for the first class. It was weird how normal everything seemed today. People going to school and chattering like they would on any other day. It was almost enough to convince Stiles that last night had been just a strangely vivid dream. Almost.
When they started down the hall towards chemistry, they continued with the conversation as if the pause had never happened.
“Maybe you met him queuing for coffee or something,” Scott said, “and he thought you’d made a connection and that’s what made him go all stalkery.”
Stiles shook his head, “No. If I’d met this guy before, I would have remembered. If someone like him had shown any interest in me, I’d have been shouting it from the rooftops. He looked like he could be a model for body spray commercials.”
Scott shot him a look, “Stiles, please tell me that you’re not developing a crush on this creeper.”
“It’s not like that. I’m just saying that, from a completely objective perspective, this guy is a smoking pile of hotness.”
Scott gave him another look, one which clearly translated into a feeling that Stiles was being an idiot. He was probably right, but Stiles couldn’t ignore the fact that the guy who’d broken into his house had been gorgeous. Yes, he was absolutely terrified about the fact that someone could get so close to him while he was sleeping and that he might do anything, but there was still some little part of Stiles’ brain that was a little bit flattered that he might have a hot, crazy stalker.
They reached the chemistry lab and found seats near the back, the other spaces gradually filling up with students as they came closer to the bell. Mr Harris was at the front of the classroom, bringing out sheets of paper. Stiles hoped it wasn’t a test. He knew Mr Harris wouldn’t take ‘emotional distress on account of being stalked’ as a suitable excuse.
“Did he say what he wanted?” Scott asked.
Stiles shook his head, “He was in my room in the middle of the night. I wasn’t going to give him a chance to demonstrate.”
“Fair enough.”
Mr Harris started handing out the sheets of paper. Not a quiz, thank god, but instructions for an experiment they were going to be carrying out. He shot Stiles and Scott a glare as he handed over their sheets and walked past them. Scott waited until Harris had passed and then continued the conversation.
“Is your dad freaking out?”
“Big time. He’s started talking about getting security cameras fitting.”
“In your room?”
“Yeah. Can’t say I’m too thrilled at the concept.” He would be happy knowing he was safe and he could understand why his dad would be too, but cameras in his room were not an option he wanted to consider. He really, really didn’t want his dad seeing some of the things he got up to when he was alone in his room.
“Mr McCall, Mr Stilinski,” Harris said loudly, “if that is what you think counts as a hushed whisper, I suggest turning down the volume on your headphones from time to time.”
He gestured for them to move to seats further apart, which pretty much killed the conversation between them for the rest of class.
***
They had lacrosse practice that afternoon. They headed out to the pitch, where a handful of students were gathering to watch the practice and Stiles spotted a particular strawberry blond, pulling a stylish coat around her against the wind.
“Hi, Lydia,” he said. “That’s a really nice…” She walked past him. “…coat.”
Lydia didn’t seem to notice that he’d even spoken to her. Time and again, she didn’t even see he was there. He might as well be invisible. Scott gave a snort of laughter and shook his head.
“When are you going to give it up?” Scott asked.
“Maybe I should move on,” Stiles said. “After all, I’ve got myself a crazy, hot stalker. Or possibly a hot, crazy stalker.”
“You shouldn’t be enjoying this so much.”
They reached the field and, under a torrent of coach’s yells, they began practice. As Stiles took a run down the field, aiming a shot at the goal, he thought he saw someone out of the corner of his eye, a figure under the trees at the edge of the pitch. He hurled the ball and then turned to get a better look. But there was no one there. A trick of the light? His fear making him imagine things?
“Bilinski!” Coach yelled, “Get your ass out of the way unless you want it to be used as target practice!”
Stiles moved out of the way, heading to the back of the line for his next turn.
“Stiles, what’s wrong?” Scott asked as he passed him.
“Nothing. I just thought I saw him.”
“Him? The creeper from last night?”
Stiles looked towards the trees. There was no one in sight. Stiles was probably losing his mind. Maybe the guy from last night had been a thief breaking in and nothing more, maybe he was letting his fear make this into something bigger than it was.
“McCall!” Coach yelled. “Get moving!”
Scott picked up a ball and ran towards the goal. Stiles moved back into line and watched his friend. Scott’s throw was off-target at the end because he’d started wheezing. Stiles still thought it was stupid that Scott kept trying at lacrosse. This was the inevitable result: an asthma attack on the field.
“Oh for god’s sake, McCall,” Coach said, “you’re worse than Greenburg! Get your inhaler and take five.”
***
Stiles was eager to get home after school. He wanted to be somewhere he could lock all the doors and make sure that scary creepers weren’t going to stalk him. He headed to his jeep and climbed into the driver’s seat, tossing his bag in beside him. He buckled himself in and put the keys in the ignition.
He heard the sound behind him only a moment before he felt something sharp against the side of his neck. There was someone in his jeep with him. They must have been waiting in the back seat. Stiles’ heart raced in his chest and he stared out in front of him, at where everyone else was more interested in getting to their own cars than looking and seeing what was going on in his.
He tried to calculate the odds of getting out of the car before he got his throat cut. He didn’t think they looked very good but maybe he should take the chance anyway.
“Don’t make a sound,” said a man’s voice from the back seat. “Just start the car and start driving.”
Stiles turned the key, offering a silent prayer that his jeep would behave itself for once. His hand was shaking on the key, but the engine started up. Stiles put the car into gear and clenched his hands on the wheel. He could feel himself shaking and he was worried that he might accidentally slit his own throat or something just from his fear. He glanced up at the mirror with the least possible movement of his head, and then backed out of the parking space.
“What do you want?” Stiles asked quietly.
“Just drive towards the nature preserve.”
Stiles pulled the car out of the school parking lot, still staring straight ahead. He saw a few people walking away from the school grounds but no one seemed to be looking in his direction. No one seemed to be seeing him being carjacked from a busy parking lot.
As he pulled onto the road away from the school the sharp something disappeared from his neck. He once again considered his chances if he tried to run. He would have to stop the jeep, undo his seatbelt, get the door open and run before the guy could stab him from behind. He wasn’t sure he’d be quick enough.
There was movement behind him. Stiles’ hands tightened on the steering wheel, and then the guy was scrambling between the seats, climbing from the back and into the passenger seat. Stiles gave a sideways glance. Unsurprisingly, it was the guy from last night. In the light of day, he looked no less menacing, and no less hot, all tight muscles and rough stubble. There was no sign though of whatever weapon he’d used. Maybe Stiles would have a chance of running after all.
“Don’t even think about it,” the guy said.
“How do you know what I’m thinking?” Stiles asked.
“It’s written on your face. Don’t.”
The guy looked perfectly serious, but also strangely calm. He didn’t look like this was at all difficult for him, physically or emotionally. There was a confidence about his posture that told Stiles that any attempt to run would be over pretty damn quickly. Besides, run where? They were heading away from the school, away from most of the people who might have helped him. If Stiles tried to run, this guy would probably catch him in moments.
“Are you going to kill me?” Stiles asked.
“No.”
“Are you going to… rape me? Because, let me tell you, with a body like yours you really don’t have to resort to these tactics. You could just go to any club in the country and guys will be lining up round the block, eager and willing. So, you know, rape really isn’t necessary.”
“Why the hell would you think I’d want to rape you?” The guy sounded astonished by the mere concept.
“Gee thanks,” Stiles muttered.
Creeper guy raised an eyebrow in his direction, “Are you seriously offended that I don’t want to rape you?”
“Of course not. It’s just the way you said it, like the idea of sleeping with me is so disgusting that you’re horrified I even raised the subject.”
“I didn’t say it like that,” he said.
“Yes, you did. Look, I know I’m not the most attractive guy on the planet but there’s no reason to sound quite so shocked by the possibility of sleeping with me.”
“Fine,” said creeper guy. “I find you very attractive, Stiles, and if I were going to start raping people, I’d start with you. Happy now?”
“Of course I’m not happy! You just said you’d rape me!”
Creeper guy gave a frustrated sigh. He glared at Stiles. Stiles wondered if he should have just kept his mouth shut. A guy who could climb up the side of his house could probably do all manner of painful things to him.
“Is it your secret plan,” creeper guy asked, “to irritate me so much that my head explodes?”
“Not really,” Stiles answered. He didn’t have a plan, secret or otherwise. He tried to think about the advice his dad had given to him about what do it if he ever got kidnapped or taken hostage. Surprisingly enough, he had actually had that conversation with his dad. He guessed it came from having a father who worked in law enforcement. Apparently, he was supposed to stay calm and try to make a connection to his kidnapper. If creeper guy saw him as a person rather than a target, it would be harder for him to kill him. Assuming he wasn’t a complete sociopath.
Stiles’ pocket started ringing and he nearly jumped out of his skin. It was his dad’s ringtone. Maybe this was his chance to get help. He tried to keep that thought from his face. He looked towards creeper guy, who seemed surprised by the call but not alarmed.
“Take your phone out of your pocket and hand it over.”
Stiles reached into his pocket, keeping his other hand on the wheel. For a moment, he considered just answering the phone and yelling for help, but then creeper guy had it out of his hand and looked at the screen.
“It’s your dad,” he said. “Tell him you’ll be studying with Scott and will probably have dinner at his place. You won’t be home until later. Pretend everything’s normal. If he doesn’t get involved, he doesn’t get hurt.”
The guy hit the answer button and held the phone up to Stiles’ ear. Stiles tried not to think about the implied threat in that last statement because otherwise he wouldn’t be able to sound normal on the phone.
“Hey, Dad,” he said.
“Everything OK, son?”
“Yeah. Everything’s fine. I’m just going over to Scott’s. Working on some homework together.”
“You’re with Scott now?” There was an edge to the question. Did his dad already know something was wrong? Stiles had to think quickly. He had to think of some way to get a message to him without creeper guy knowing that he was doing so.
“Yeah, we’re heading to his place,” Stiles said. “I’ll probably be there late, play a few games with his dad after dinner. You know, the usual.”
Before his dad could say anything in response, creeper guy opened the jeep’s window and hurled the phone out of it.
“Hey!” Stiles protested, as his phone went flying into the trees that edged the road. His phone was probably in pieces now. For some reason, Stiles was more angry about that than about the fact he was being kidnapped.
“Playing games with Scott’s dad?” creeper guy said. “What kind of idiot do you take me for?”
“The kind of idiot who would kidnap the sheriff’s son. Seriously, my dad will kill you for this.”
Creeper guy gave another annoyed sigh.
“Turn here,” he said. He pointed to a dirt track that led off into the nature preserve. There was nothing up this track apart from the ruins of some old house that had burned down years ago. Stiles couldn’t imagine where creeper guy would be taking him in these woods.
“Oh god,” Stiles said. “You’re going to murder me and bury my body in the woods, aren’t you?”
“Stiles, I said I don’t want to kill you, but I’m strongly considering duct taping your mouth shut. Just drive.”