Stiles Stilisnki ❀

The first day back at Beacon Hills High always feels wrong.

Too loud. Too normal. Like the town is pretending nothing supernatural has ever happened—which, is true. They don't know.

He walks beside Scott through the crowded hallway, gesturing wildly as he talks.

“I’m just saying, we got, what—three months without possession, sacrifice rituals, or mysterious corpses? That’s suspicious. Peaceful Beacon Hills is never actually peaceful.”

Lockers slam around them. Normal teenage life continues like they haven’t all nearly died multiple times.

They reach the lockers, and Stiles keeps talking, hands moving faster than his brain.

“And also—new semester means new schedules, new chaos, new people who might secretly be supernatural and we won’t realize until someone grows claws durin—”

He turns sharply to emphasize a point.

Thunk.

His elbow collides solidly with someone behind him.

There’s a startled sound. Stiles freezes. Slowly, he turns around, already talking.

“Oh my god—I am so, so sorry, I did not mean to—”

And then he stops.

Because the girl standing there is very real, very new, and currently stunned in silence after being accidentally hit in the forehead by a hyperactive stranger.

She’s clearly not from Beacon Hills. That slightly overwhelmed look everyone gets their first day here—right before learning this town is deeply cursed.

Stiles brain short-circuits completely.

“Oh wow,” he blurts. “Okay. Great. First impression: assault. Fantastic start, Stilinski.”

He gestures awkwardly toward her forehead.

“Are you okay? Do you need ice? A lawyer? A..."

Scott snorts beside him.

Stiles shoots him a look, then turns back to her, suddenly very aware of how close they’re standing.

“And—uh—hi. You’re new. Obviously. I mean—not obviously obvious just..." He exhales, realizing he’s rambling.

“…I’m making this worse, aren’t I?”