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Scott McCall's Pack


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Stiles gives Ethan a head. It's bad.

Type:

Archived Log

Emitter:

None

Location:

3011 Forrest Hill Park - Beacon Hills


August 12, 2015



Quote

"You have got to be more specific when you ask a guy to give you head."

Quote


Kitchen - 3011 Forrest Hill Park – Beacon Hills

          The kitchen is bright and cheerful. The walls are covered in light-colored brickwork, with white woodwork trim. A stainless steel stove  and refrigerator sit side by side against one wall, with a microwave beside the door to the basement. Dominating the center of the room is a large island with cooking and grilling surface and plenty of counterspace to prepare meals.

          The cupboards above and below the side counters have dark stained doors, contrasting with the bright white finish. Appliances can be found everywhere: toaster, coffee maker, blender, mixer, espresso machine. A dishwasher sits next to the double sink.

          Two large windows overlook the driveway and garage. Though partly shaded by a tree on the other side of the drive, the windows let in plenty of sunlight. A back door leads to the large backyard.



Ethan Carver eventually opens the front door, wearing a cooking apron and with an oven mitt on one hand. "Oh hey, you're here. Forgot to tell you to come to the back door. C'mon in." He turns and heads right back to the kitchen, and once inside the house, the heavenly scents of freshly baked oatmeal raisin cookies fills the air.

 

Stiles is standing there, holding one of those innumerable Macy's bags... and this one has a godawful stench coming from it. Stiles, however, seems oblivious to the smell. "Dude, are you /baking/?" he asks, blinking in surprise. "I didn't... I seriously had /no idea/ that you... baked." His lips twist in a smirk. "In the the non-smoked sense, I mean."

 

Ethan Carver heads right to the oven, pulling out a tray of cookies and carrying it to the island, where a few dozen cookies are already cooling on racks. "What can I say? Someone has to be domestic, and it's sure not going to be Aiden." As he starts sliding cookies off the tray with a flipper, he wrinkles his nose. "What's in the bag? You finally find whatever crawled under your Jeep to die?"

 

Stiles looks genuinely puzzled by the question. "Why do you keep hatin' on the Jeep, anyway?" he asks. "I mean, for real--I even put a car air freshener in there, and it smells all piney. It /doesn't/ stink." Then he holds the bag out to Ethan. "Anyway, Jason--Darth A--well, you know who I mean--left this in my bed the other night. I kinda need somewhere safe to hide it, and... you're the only dude I know with his own house." Besides Derek, but... that's complicated. And Stiles isn't about to ask. So, putting on a playfully charming grin, he asks, "Can we hide it here?"

 

Ethan Carver cocks a brow as he places the empty tray in the sink, pulling off the oven mitt before reaching for the bag. "Jason was in your bed the other night?" he asks, sounding somewhat scandalized. "What the hell was he doing in your bed? Are you nuts? Even I haven't...That is...What the hell, Stiles?" Finally, he peeks in the bag to see what sort of love token the Prince of Werewolves left behind.

 

And, of course, the dismembered head of a vampire--one of the Cold Ones, as Jason calls them--glistens up at Ethan from inside the bag. It doesn't have fangs, and it honestly looks to be made of some kind of stone, but it does have a lingering stench that the werewolf will find quite hideous--much like the expression of terror forever frozen on its (twice) dead face.

 

"I asked for proof," Stiles says in annoyance. "So he left me some." Leaving the bag in Ethan's hands, he goes to locate the cookies and, quite cheerfully, to liberate the plate of at least one and sample them. For science, you know.

 

Ethan Carver lets out a yelp and drops the bag, then gives it a kick for good measure. "Holy crap! Stilinski!" He scowls, taking a few cautious steps toward where the bag has come to rest, then narrows his eyes at Stiles. "You have got to be more specific when you ask a guy to give you head." Because it had to be said by someone, right? Finally, he gingerly lifts the bag again, holding it at arm's length. "It's a vampire, isn't it? Like, a real one. Because of course, vampires are a real thing. Crap, it smells like death. Where am I supposed to hide this thing? Why not bury it in your back yard? Or better yet, the cemetery, where dead things belong?"

 

Perhaps surprisingly, the cookies are pretty tasty. Who knew Ethan could bake?

 

Munching cheerfully on the cookie, Stiles swallows a bite to smile sweetly up at Ethan. "'Cause you're gonna hide it. Think of it as your contribution to the good of the pack." He brushes his hands clean, finishing off the cookie, and then settles back in the chair. "Earlier this summer, while you and Scott and the others were off doing /wolf stuff/, I was attacked by vampires. Only got lucky and survived thanks to some people showing up from out of town. Scott knows, but I've kept it quiet." He shrugs. "So Jason's shit may be... less shitty... than we thought." He lifts his eyes to meet Ethan's, then narrows them slightly. Leaning forward again, his elbows resting against the table edge, he says, "So here's what's gonna happen. You're gonna go with Jason unless Scott says absolutely no. You're gonna learn /everything/ you can about him and his vampire shit. And then you're gonna report back to /me/. Because since I got stuck with the job of being the 'book guy' at some point, I figure that means I'm the one that has to understand all this crap. So I'm putting together sources and gathering data. And I want a /full/ report." He raises his eyebrows significantly, picks up another cookie, and asks, "We good?"

 

Ethan Carver scowls again as he carries the bag to a counter...then thinks better of it and sets the wretched thing on the floor. "Wait, hold on," he says, pulling open a drawer and removing a white kitchen trashbag. "You want me to leave Beacon Hills, just before school starts? Do you have any idea how far away he wants me to go? It's all the way up in Canada or some crap." He shakes open the trash bag, then carefully lowers the Macys bag into it. "I can't just abandon the pack at a time like this. What if Scott needs me? What if you all need me?" He pulls the plastic drawstrings, then lowers the trash bag to the floor, frowning at it. "What am I supposed to tell Liam? And what if Aiden finally shows up?" The tension in his voice increases at that last question, though he keeps his eyes on the bag, not looking anywhere near Stiles as he speaks.

 

"Ethan," Stiles says in a low, serious voice, his expression and body language devoid of their usual energy--he's focused, serious, far more than usual--as he idly breaks the cookie into small pieces. "You're giving me bullshit excuses--except maybe for the part about Aiden--but come on. You /want/ to go. You're afraid, but you /want/ to." He tilts his head, presses his lips closer together for a moment. "So go. But go for the pack. Go for Scott. Go for /you/. Don't just go for Jason. Don't get lost in his world. Maybe he /can/ teach you things. Maybe he /will/ make us stronger... but you /belong/ here. Maybe you didn't always. Maybe there's part of you that will always know a world outside of Scott's world." He meets Ethan's eyes again with his own. They both know Ethan has been in a kill-or-be-killed life, where Scott has always refused it. They both know that Ethan is capable of things Scott would never let himself do. And Stiles shows no sign of judgment for it. "So do what you need to do. Learn what you want to learn. Just... remember. You're doing it /for the pack/. You're making us stronger. And Scott will understand. And if for any reason he didn't..." He cracks a small smile. "You can always tell him I forced you."

 

Ethan Carver kick-slides the bag over to the basement door, then joins Stiles, sitting on the opposite side of the table and wiping his hands on the apron. He frowns for a while longer, then lets out a sigh. "You're right, I do want to go. I don't want to, but I do. What he's offering...If it's for real, it could help us. All of us. If I can learn those shapes he can shift into, be even stronger, better...And if I can then teach them to Scott and the rest of the pack...." He hesitates, shutting his eyes. "It's just sounds too good to be true. It's too tempting. That's what frightens me, Stiles. I had power once, power no one else had. Aiden and I could merge into a monster that was incredibly strong. Terrifyingly strong. We were both Alphas, with all that goes with that. The roar, the red eyes, the ability to make Betas...which we never did, but it was an option, you know?" He shakes his head, looking down at the plate of cookies. "I never -wanted- any of that for myself. But once I had it, it was addictive. And that's why I'm hesitating now, because I know how addictive that power can be. And...I don't really like who I became when I had it. What if I get all this power Jason is offering, and I don't want to come back here anymore? What if it consumes me? I made a commitment to Scott, to all of you. I don't want to lose that."

 

Stiles slides the napkin where he's crumbled his cookie over to Ethan. "Do I need to make the obvious metaphor, dude? Together, we're a pack. We're a /whole/ cookie. Apart, we're just crumbs. A whole cookie is always gonna be better than crumbs, no matter /how/ cool the crumbs are." He picks up a chunk of cookie, popping it into his mouth, and chews. "I'll let you extend that metaphor in your own mind," he says with an edge of snark, his mouth partly full. Swallowing, he shrugs, "Do I need to give you the full Yoda?" Then, in a fairly passable Frank-Oz-as-Yoda impression, he tosses in a "Beware the Dark Side you must, Young Skywolfer." But the humor evaporates quickly, as he's clearly serious. "So /don't/ lose yourself, dude. You're strong. You've /got/ an anchor here." He raises his eyebrows, adding, "More than one. If Scott's not enough, and /we're/ not enough, then think of Liam. Think of those wide, adorably innocent little eyes of his. That outta keep you at least a little bit under control." He munches another bit of cookie, then, "Remember, dude: Fear is the mind-killer. Be careful, be cautious, but don't go up there afraid. Scott's trusting you." He pauses, adding with emphasis, "/I'm/ trusting you. And I'm way more paranoid than Scott. So..." he claps his hand to the tabletop. "Quit your bitching, and suit up. You've got a mission. For the pack."

 

Ethan Carver groans softly, though he does reach for a particularly large crumb, popping it into his mouth. Oooh, he got a raisin! "Crap, Liam. That's a whole 'nother kettle of fish. We only just got to the stage where we can say the L word to each other. We're doing things he never imagined himself doing, and I'm pretty sure he's liking it. But if I run off for God only knows how long? He's going to go right back to thinking he's straight. Find some girl and think of me as a phase that's over and done with. How could I ever get him to trust me again, let alone love me?" He grabs a whole cookie, shoving the whole thing in his mouth in an attempt to hide the fact that he said the L word. Chew-chew-chew-swallow. "Not to mention all the danger I'd be leaving you all in. Vampires and werelions and hunters." He gives his head a hard shake, squaring his shoulders. "You're right though. These are all just excuses. Scott needs me to do this, so I'm going to do this. The rest will either work itself out, or it won't. But I'll do my duty to my Alpha and my pack." His eyes go distant for a few moments, and in a lower voice, he asks, "Can we lie and say I went looking for Aiden?"

 

"That's your call," Stiles says with a shrug. "I'd probably be honest... but I won't mention anything about it if you say otherwise... not unless I absolutely have to, anyway." Shaking his head, he says, "And Liam... will be okay. He's not going to suddenly go all heteronormative just because you were away for a while. Besides, if he knows you're doing this for the right reason... he'll understand. He's a good kid, and way smarter than he looks." He pauses, grimaces, and adds, "Eh, you know what I mean. Point is... relax. Not completely, but relax a little. You're trying to do the right thing. You deserve a little credit for that. So cut yourself some slack." He rises, then, and offers a smile. "I've gotta go drop off some books at the library, but I hope that helped some, anyway."

 

Ethan Carver rises as well. "Lemme give you some cookies to take with," he says, moving to the counter again and taking a white paper sack, the sort one might get from a bakery, from a drawer. He really is the domestic one. "And thanks, Stiles. I hafta say, when we first met, I thought you were joke, but you've proven me wrong time and again. If you tell anyone I said this, I'll of course deny it, but...I respect you, man. Scott's lucky to have you. We all are." And before he can get too much more mushy, he sets about plucking a dozen or so cookies from the cooling rack and popping them into the sack. "And if you tell anyone I bake cookies, like some blue-haired granny, I'll make sure that Youtube video plays on every computer and tablet at school. Just so you know."

 

Stiles accepts the cookies with an air of surprise, shaking his head some. "Wow... thanks. I actually had no idea you could even... cook, but the secret's safe with me. As for 'that YouTube video,' I officially have /no idea/ what you're talking about," he says, grinning a little. Then he tosses off a two-fingered salute and adds, "Anyway, good luck. Hope you don't miss too much class." A beat, and, "Seeya, Ethan." Then Stiles heads out the door, off to go about his library business and whatever else.

 

"Seeya, Stiles," Ethan says, sounding more friendly than he has in a long while, even smiling as he watches Stiles leave. Then he eyes the vampire-head-bag again with a grimace. Shaking his head, he lifts it by the plastic drawstring, then opens the door to the basement, muttering, "You so owe me for this, Stilinski."

 

 


 

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