Season Of The Witch (Stiles Stilinski)

Marvel has a Better Deadpool

Stiles and I hopped out of his jeep and headed into his house. It was quiet between the two of us the whole way home, but I think Stiles was just tired after the events of tonight. I was far from tired, my mind was currently whirring with thoughts about what he told Malia. I was on autopilot as I went through my nightly routine of washing my face, brushing my teeth, and brushing my hair.

I had pulled on my Stanford sweatshirt and had one leg in my pajama shorts when I figured I'd just buck up and go talk to him about it. I finished putting on my shorts when I treaded outside of the guest room and down the hall to Stiles' room. His door was open and I stopped in the doorway. I smiled to myself watching him bite down on a toothbrush as he glanced down at his phone. He was clad in sweatpants, and I bit my lip when I realized that he wasn't wearing a shirt.

I cleared my throat and Stiles looked up in surprise. Spittle from his toothbrush dripped down onto his phone, and I smiled affectionately. He quickly realized that he was in a compromising situation, and held up a finger as a one-minute kind of gesture. He went into his en-suite bathroom, and I heard water run, as well as several clatters. He was back in his room in no time, and pulled on the tee shirt that was sitting on his bed.

"Sorry," I began, "I totally could have knocked or something."

"Don't worry about it, it's fine. Uh – do you want to come in?" I nodded at him, and walked into his bedroom. I sat down on the edge of his bed. He slowly sat down beside me and I stared down at my hands. I started fiddling with my thumbs, and looked around his room. I started looking around anywhere but him.

"I - um – I guess that murder board was a good idea, huh?" I said quietly. I saw Stiles turn his head and look at the board. The same board that he kissed me for getting him. I glanced back down at my hands, and started bouncing my feet as well as fiddled with my hands. I stilled when I saw Stiles' hands cover my own.

"What's going on June?"

I stood up quickly and started pacing in front of him, "I don't – I don't really know. Just what you were saying to Malia tonight got me thinking."

"Okay - um – that's never really a good sign, is it?" I gave him a pointed look. "Sorry, not the time for jokes. What were you thinking about?"

"When you were talking about the nogitsune."

"About how I liked having that power?" I stopped pacing and looked over to him. His gaze was cast down this time. He stared at the floor in a manner that reflected the obvious shame he felt with that confession.

"No," I told him, and he looked up at me, "Funnily enough, you being possessed by a trickster spirit and liking the power you felt is not what confuses me."

"Then what does?"

"Right before you were saying all that, you told Malia you remembered it all. You remembered being possessed. And also right after we separated you from the nogitsune, you said you remembered everything."

"Yeah, I do."

"So you remember right before we split the two of you then? When Peter came over?" I said hesitantly.

Stiles, as clueless as ever, nodded.

I shut my eyes pinched the bridge of my nose, "So then you remember Peter basically telling everyone how I was in love with you?"

I peeked an eye open, and I saw Stiles' rigid posture. His face was flooded with remembrance, and overall he looked like a deer in the headlights.

"Stiles," I said his name again, and he broke out of his trance.