Lunatics ➳ Derek Hale/Teen Wolf [1]

5. homicidal werewolf gentleman

Disclaimer: I do NOT own any parts of Teen Wolf or its plot or characters. I do not own Derek Hale. However I do own Skylar McCall and some of the things that come along with her plot (Like Harv & Kelly's, etc.).

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     The party is already in full swing by the time Stiles and I pull up in his jeep. We split ways immediately, following our pre-discussed plan. We aren't here to pester Scott, or piss him off to the point of him turning. A rabid werewolf on the loose isn't what we want—so we're just here to watch and wait. If something seems wrong with him, we'll figure out a way to get him to leave with us. As for what happens after that, I'm not sure. I think in the back of our heads we're both hoping we're wrong, and Scott will make it through the night just fine. We both want this to be something for us to laugh at in the future.

Stiles stays inside with a group of his geeky friends, while I go to the backyard. The party is so packed that I struggle to squeeze my way through the clusters of drunk teens, who are splashing around the pool and making out in dark corners. That's where I (unfortunately) find Lydia and Jackson—her and I make eye contact over his shoulder while he drunkenly sucks on her neck. I cringe and fake a gag, and she rolls her eyes at me.

I huff as I finally free myself from the sweaty crowd, finding the beverage table in its usual spot. Lydia has these types of parties pretty often. She practically uses everything as an excuse to party, which can sometimes be exhausting. Tonight's supposed to celebrate the start of the lacrosse season, and the reclamation of team captain by her all-star boyfriend.

I go to pour myself a small cup of the punch, deciding to sniff the ladle first—it's already spiked. Of course. I don't like to drink much—our dad was an alcoholic growing up, which is why he's no longer in the picture—but even if I wanted to, tonight isn't the night to get drunk. Or even tipsy. I need to be at full alert. A hand clasps my shoulder softly and I turn to find our lacrosse team's goalie, Danny. Despite being Jackson's best friend, Danny is the most likable person I have ever known—everyone loves Danny.

"Do you want a water?" he shouts over the booming music. Normally I wouldn't take a drink from a guy, but like I said, this is Danny. He grins, slipping his drawstring pack from his shoulder and reaching in. He hands me an unopened plastic water bottle.

"Thank you." I give him a grateful smile and gulp down the cool liquid. Before either of us can say anything else a boy with slicked back hair snatches Danny away for a dance and I'm left alone again. I use the time to scan the crowd for Scott, and after a solid few minutes of picking through the grinding teens on the dance floor, I spot him and Allison together. So far, he seems okay—he doesn't have glowing eyes or fangs, anyway.

Usually I manage to stay relatively under the radar at these things, but tonight a familiar face from the team approaches, smirking from ear to ear. I can't remember his name, but I remember Lydia introducing us once. He's relatively attractive, with blonde hair to contrast against his nearly black eyes. I expected him to hold a hand out and reintroduce himself when he walked up, but instead he yanks me into a hug. He reeks of alcohol and marijuana. The unsolicited affection immediately throws me off and I pull away, only slightly sugar-coating my discomfort.