Black Water ↠ Stiles Stilinski [Teen Wolf, Vol. One]

Tooth and Claw

Disclaimer: 'Teen Wolf' isn't mine. Shocking, right? But it's true. If there are any similarities in content or dialogue, it has probably originated with the show.

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Chapter 9 - Tooth and Claw

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Charlie needed a hobby.

It wasn't that she had no hobbies to begin with. Car repair, guitar, Krav Maga—all those hobbies she kept telling people she had did, in fact, exist. They were not, as Lydia loved to suggest, falsehoods conjured to mask her intense laziness. She had invested two, seven, and nine years in them respectively. But all of those hobbies had fallen by the wayside. Car repair was an activity of necessity. Guitar had become a literal pain with her callouses sheared off. And Krav Maga? If Jackson agreed to be her punching bag it might be worth her time, but he wasn't volunteering to get his ass kicked and Charlie was all out of sparring partners. So what did that leave her with?

Derek Hale. Derek freaking Hale and his decimated family home and his dead sister and his giant, gaping pit. Maybe that pit didn't signify anything sinister at all. Maybe someone had decided to take up some high intensity gardening. Perhaps they dug up a tree stump—who knew? But Charlie needed a hobby and volunteering to be the single member of her own Scooby Squad seemed to be the option that kept presenting itself. Nothing like a good, healthy obsession to help pass the time in this sleepy little town. And Donald was absolute shit at dissuading her—the asshat kept prodding her into it. He thought it was funny.

Her first question that needed answering? What the hell was going on between Derek Hale and Scott McCall.

The only discernible connection between Derek and Scott that Charlie could find, other than the odd social encounters and creepy laser eyes, was his and Stiles's ill-advised quest to find Derek's sister's body. And that they thought that he could have killed his sister. Not that they had known that it was his sister at the time. Anyways, her complete lack of progress in comprehending that bizarre dynamic meant that soon enough she was going to be forced to do something she really, really didn't want to do. Straight-up ask. But did that mean she expected a straight answer? No, no it did not. In fact, she expected more evasiveness. But with Scott at least it would be incompetent evasiveness. And the nature of that evasiveness might provide some insight into mystery numero uno. All she had to do was wait for the right time to ask.

Overall her investment in this drama was putting a toe past the line of normal. Which was why the following few days were so frustrating.

Most of the week had progressed fairly normally. Aggressively normally, actually. No murders, no Derek Hale sightings, no biblical plagues, no nothing. Meatless Monday involved a shitload of studying. Taco Tuesday came with a chemistry test. Mac n Cheese Wednesday was boring as hell until her evening was hijacked for more froyo and chick flicks, which ended in touch ups to her already chipped manicure, Lydia deploring her lack of femininity the whole way through. In fact, everything reeked of such bland normality that Charlie began to wonder if all the weirdness was just in her head. But then Thursday morning happened.

Charlie had actually been enjoying her morning, excepting, of course, the fact that she wasn't still wrapped in the comforting embrace of her bedsheets. Having access to a functional car meant liberation from Lydia's early morning dictations of tastes. Complete windows-down, wind-in-the-hair freedom. Her ride to school featured no scoffs or wrinkled noses. For the first time in upwards of a week she was able to wear something casual, and dare she say sloppy—a black, oversized Mia Hamm jersey she had owned since she was twelve, a frayed pair of denim shorts, a green, lumpy zip-up hoodie, and those green Converse that had been effectively retired since school started. Virtually care-free, she had climbed into her Impala and began blasting 'The Specials' as loud as her speakers would allow, shouting out the lyrics as she zoomed down the thoroughfare. The most dramatic thing on her horizon was Donald's soccer game that night.