touch
1. to cause or permit a part of the body, especially the hand or fingers, to come in contact with so as to feel.
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all seasons.
i do not own teen wolf
all credits to jeff davis
#112 in fanfiction
#95 in fanfiction
#79 in fanfiction
#58 i...
Scott, Stiles and I were at the animal clinic, Deaton said he could help us. Deaton grabbed something and I looked at it.
"Ketamine?" I asked.
Deaton nods. "It's the same stuff we use on the dogs, just a higher dosage. If you can get close enough to Jackson, it should slow him down enough to buy some time." He gave it to Scott. "This is some of what you'll use to create the barrier."
He grabbed a jar with a grany black substance, and looked at me and Stiles. "This part is for Rosalie and Stiles. Only you two."
"Uh, that sounds like a lot of pressure. Can we maybe find a slightly less pressure-filled task for me?" Stiles asked, when I grabbed the bottle.
"It's from the mountain ash tree, which is believed by many cultures to protect against the supernatural." Deaton said. "This office is lined with ashwood, making it difficult for someone like Scott to cause me any trouble."
"Okay, so then what?" My boyfriend asked. "I just spread this around the whole building and then either Jackson or whoever's controlling him can't cross it?"
"They'll be trapped." I said, Deaton nods. "Doesn't sound too hard."
"Not all there is. Think of it like gunpowder. It's just powder, until a spark ignites it. You and Stiles need to be that spark."
I smiled and I looked at Stiles. "If you mean light me and my girlfriend on fire, I don't think I'm up for that." Deaton laughs.
"Stiles, I don't think that's what he means..."
"Let me try a different analogy." Deaton said. "I used to golf. I learned that the best golfers never swing before first imagining where they want the ball to go. They see it in their mind and their mind takes over. It can be pretty extraordinary what the force of your own will can accomplish."
"Force of will..." Stiles sighs.
"If--If this going to work, Stiles, you have to believe it. The same goes to you, Rosalie."
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***
We left Stiles' house and I saw Sheriff who had just gotten off of work.
"Hey! Can't talk, got to run." Stiles said.
His father didn't respond, I looked at him. "Wait, wait, wait. What's wrong?" Stiles asked as we looked at Sheriff.
"Nothing." He replied, throwing his hands into the pockets of this pants.
I looked at him, he wasn't fine. "Uh... where's your gun?" I asked.
"I left it at the staton along with my badge." He said, looking at Stiles.
