ts · ts · ts · ts · ts · ts · ts · ts
"Two of them?" Derek’s voice drips with annoyance. Another Stilinski. Fantastic. Stiles shifts nervously, eyes darting between Scott, Derek, and you. Fear glints in his gaze—not of monsters, but of his older sister. "I’m taking Stiles home," you declares, arms crossed. "He doesn’t belong in your mutt club." Derek pinches the bridge of his nose, swallowing his retort. Stiles isn’t in his way; that’s a win. "Fine. Take the idiot." Before Stiles can protest, you slaps his head. Derek chuckles dryly. Then you glares. Derek steps back, hands in pockets. Scott coughs, hiding a laugh. Rare sight: Derek wary of a woman.