Chapter 10:

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A/N: Lots of scene changes and jumps, but I've been lacking motivation to write this chapter. Hopefully my motivation will be back soon. For now, here's an almost 3K chapter with sprinkles of Sterek vibes.

"All I'm saying, Stiles, is that you've been...distant. I don't mind it, but you've been a strange distant, not normal teenage distance." John sighed, running a hand through his hair in frustration as his son munched away on Chinese.

"Well, hey, I'm with you right now, aren't I?" Stiles laughed, eyes alight as he shovelled greasy noodles into his mouth. "I'm just being weird like usual, Dad."

"What about your grades? They were always quite high despite your hyperactive nature, but your English teacher said you've dropped a grade."

"Just stress. I promise, dad, you don't have to worry about me."

"What about that episode at your school? You looked petrified, Stiles. Like- Like you thought I was truly dead, son." John sighed, long and exhausted. "If you need to talk, if this about drugs or something-"

"Woah! No drugs, dad, nah- dah. I just...I guess I'm having a hard time coping with all the recent activity. Scared you might get hurt..." He wasn't lying per say...Damn, it felt like he'd been thinking that a lot lately.

"Stiles...-" The radio burst with activity.

"Rental store? Hell yeah! Lets go!" Stiles grinned, thankful he'd gotten out of a heartfelt talk. It would only make him feel guiltier.

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"Derek, thank god you're here, you'll never guess what I just found." Stiles scratched his head, blowing out a large breath to settle his anxiety.

"Stiles, it's one in the morning. What the hell do you want?" Derek answered grumpily, nose twitched. "You smell like...You smell like that kid from the locker room." He muttered.

"Kid from the locker room?"

"When I got shot and came to the school, this kid was in the locker room. Tall, blond hair, blue eyes, the works." Derek rubbed his eyes tiredly.

"Jackson." Stiles rolled his eyes. "Well, I probably smell like him because I just saw him. And Lydia. There was an 'animal attack' at the rental store close by my place. It was the Alpha, I'm sure of it, what else could be these days. Slashed the employees throat and almost killed Jackson. Lydia thinks she's crazy." Stiles explained as Derek's brows furrowed.

"If the Alpha killed the employee, what stopped him from killing Jackson?"

"I don't know. Some kind of fucked up warning? That I'm next or some crap?" Stiles hands beginning to shake as he scratched his head, chest puffing and deflated in a loud sigh. "I hope I'm not next." He groaned.

"I wouldn't think so. The Alpha needs you in his pack to become stronger. It would be the reason he bit you...Or maybe he's rabid and is hell bent on killing you. It would give me a few more hours of sleep." Derek muttered the last past to himself.

"Hey! I'm right here!" Stiles protested with a defensive scowl. "Look, I need your number, in case of emergencies or I'm in a pickle and need your manly brawns to save me." His words were dripping in sarcasm, taking out his phone.

"I...Don't have a number. Or a phone." Derek admitted.

"Seriously?! What century are you in, man? I swear you're secretly a fifty year old." Stiles let out a loud 'ugh', disgusted at his lack of knowledge as he rummaged into his jackets inner pockets for his back up cell. It was a tiny grey Nokia, only having two numbers in it. His dads and the police.

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