Stiles Stilinski, Spider-man of Beacon Hills

Six

It only took him a half hour to repack everything he had taken out at his old house back into his suitcase. After a couple more tries of convincing he drove back to his house with Scott, Isaac, and Liam, because apparently now he needed twenty-four hour protection.

"So, you," Stiles gestured to Liam who was leaning awkwardly on his own desk, looking around the old room covered in posters and pictures of dead bodies. "Did you ever handle your anger issues?"

Liam turned red, the tips of his ears burning, but he nodded, his lips pulled into a thin line as if he was embarrassed. Stiles laughed slightly, feeling slightly guilty he made the boy feel that way.

"See, that was a test, you know, to make sure that you wouldn't wolf out on me." He tapped Liam on the chest aggressively as he walked by towards his closet. "And you passed. Flying colors. Congratulations." He turned back to Liam with a soft smile on his face, feeling better knowing he made the boy feel better.

Stiles turned back to his closet, where his two suits sat on the floor. He decided to just drag his suitcase close to the closet and put them in quickly, as they were the last thing he needed to pack up.

He quickly tossed them in, closing the suitcase with a snap and zipping it up in record time, glad nothing got caught in the zipper.

"Are you ready?" Isaac asked, trying to peer over Stiles' shoulder as the boy finished putting everything in his quite small, compact, suitcase. "That's all you brought for six weeks?"

"I pack light, Lahey." Stiles said, grabbing his backpack. "Now, let's head back to sourwolf's dingy loft."

Scott snickered, enjoying the company of his old friend who still seemed to retain his sarcasm after all these years. But he was still cautious, because Stiles was Stiles- the boy who had left because being possessed was too much.

He knew that it was ridiculously hard for his friend, obviously, and he applauded him for surviving something no one has survived before- but he didn't know how his friend was feeling, or what he was thinking. It was like Stiles was a different person.

Stiles knew how the pack felt about him. He barely spent an hour with them and he could tell they weren't really sure how to react. He understood of course, if your friend who was possessed disappeared and reappeared after two years, he would be cautious too. He knew he acted different too, but he didn't quite know if that was because he was more mentally sound or because he was Spiderman.

He decided that was too much thinking for a quiet ride in the Jeep, so he decided to ask Scott about what had happened in the two years that he had been gone.

"Well, not much surprisingly," Scott began, making Stiles frown. "There were a few packs that we had to get rid of but besides an odd kanima or wendigo, nothing big like this has happened, since, well..."

"Nogitsune," Stiles said, peeling his eyes off the road to reassure Scott with a smile. He knew his friend still felt guilty for letting him get possessed, although it was his fault for leaving the goddamn door to his freaking mind open, but he couldn't think about that, instead pulling into the closest parking space he could find a hopping out.

"I got it-" Stiles began, his voice dying off as Liam grabbed his suitcase. He knew it would be heavier than expected, because of the heavy canister that contained his Iron Spider suit, but Liam didn't seem to realize because of his supernatural strength, carrying it up to the elevator. "Thanks, Liam."

"It's no problem," Liam smiled, glad he helped. He didn't know Stiles that well, but Kira, Lydia, and Malia had told him stories of when Scott and Stiles had first discovered Scott's powers, how he swam for two hours in order to save Derek's life when the blue-eyed werewolf was paralyzed, how he stopped Scott from committing suicide at some haunted motel, the list went on. Stiles was a great person, Liam could see already, and he wanted nothing more than to befriend the older boy.

They stood quietly in the elevator, Stiles looking through his phone for news reports of any crime in New York (hopefully it hadn't collapsed without him) but he was glad to see that the only news was about Deadpool, who he had asked to be more alert because he had to go away for a bit.

They walked into the loft, which was considerably more quiet, and Stiles assumed it was because Kira and Malia were nowhere to be seen, as they probably had to go home. Instead of them sitting on the smaller couch, sat a familiar Hale uncle reading a book, looking up as the metal door opened up to reveal Stiles and the other boys.

"Stiles," Peter's drawling voice came as he softly closed the novel. "I heard a rumor you were back in town."

"And I heard a rumor that Eichen house is accepting applications," Stiles responded sarcastically. "I can help with your resume if you'd like." Peter looked down, a face of amusement showing as Stiles took his bag from Liam, setting it down behind the spiral staircase, figuring he would put it somewhere else later.

"Well," Stiles sat down on one of the chairs, watching the other three boys sit down on one of the couches. "I'm bored."

Lydia's gaze flickered up towards him for a moment, before going back to where she was typing on her laptop. "You've been here for five minutes."

"That doesn't mean I can't be bored." Stiles said, standing up. His wrists ached, and he knew he was going to need to get away if he didn't want to start losing control of his webs and have them start shooting out of his wrists uncontrollably (it had happened a few times before, and it wasn't pretty).

Yeah, he did not need to explain that to the pack.

He quickly walked over to the staircase, zipping his suitcase half open and pulling out his mask, stuffing it into his pocket, and quickly shutting the bag once again. He looked up, glancing around the room to see that pretty much everyone was absorbed in homework or a book or their phone- they took notice no of the boy who they just promised to protect twenty-four seven.

Some guardians they are, Stiles thought to himself as he eased open the door next to the staircase that led out to the balcony he had fallen onto just twelve hours before. He laughed quietly to himself, pulling himself to the small roofing area that he sat on the night before so he could slip his mask on without being seen by the pack inside.

He stood up, glad he had his black Midtown high sweatshirt on, pushing the sleeves up past his elbows so the sleeves wouldn't be webbed up (it had happened before, and it was always a pain in the ass to get out) and quickly ducked off the building, snapping his wrist towards another tall building and letting himself swing from building to building, letting out a sigh of pure relief as he felt the freedom of swinging through the air.

This was the thing he loved most about being Spiderman.