I do not own Teen Wolf or any of its characters. I only own Celeste. If I did I'd have a Scott Appreciation episode bc my baby deserves it.

Song - Deep End // Coucheron

Celeste's POV

Celeste wanted to die. And also mac and cheese.

She dragged her feet down the school hallway, headphones blasting angry Childish Gambino music in her ears as she avoided making eye contact with people.

The idea of facing Harris' class, especially in light of such important happenstances occurring outside the school's walls, was despicable.

She grumpily opened her locker, having messed up the combination twice before achieving entry, and began shoving her books inside when a timid tap on her shoulder pulled her out of her reverie.

"Oh my god, what?" Celeste groaned, spinning around.

Her eyes widened as she took in the sight of a rather discouraged looking Isaac Lahey.

"Oh sorry," she shouted over her music, causing the boy to wince at her volume, "what? Am I yelling? Sorry. I should stop yelling."

The girl sheepishly pulled out her earbuds as Isaac wrung his hands and tugged at the sleeves of his sweater.

"What's up, buttercup?" Celeste referenced back to the first time Isaac had come over.

"I- ah, never mind," Isaac ran a hand through his sand colored curls, jabbing a thumb behind him, "I should, uh, go. Let you get back to your brooding."

"Isaac," Celeste allowed the corners of her lips to tilt downwards at the realization that her friend was still shy around her, "don't be the season finale of Scream Queens. What's up?"

"Well, I just," Isaac clenched his jaw tightly, before taking a shaky breath, "you, me, winter formal, please?"

Celeste blinked, processing the shaky compilation of words that had bubbled over the lanky boy's lips.

The boy pulled out a white rose from his bag, the petals slightly crushed from the weight of his other belongings.

"I, uh, got you this," Isaac's hands were shaking as he thrust it forward, "you know, because you're really pretty, but also scary, because of your thorns."

Celeste smiled, delight shining through her eyes as she took the flower.

No one had ever given her a flower before.

"I'd love to," she assured, causing the boy to exhale in relief.

"Great, good, cool," he stuttered out, backing away from her, "I'll just, uh, talk to you later then? Thank you, for not laughing in my face and stuff."

"No problem," she laughed slightly, "congrats on state, by the way. Go hurricanes, and stuff."

"Uh, we're the cyclones," Isaac laughed softly, "I have to go, but I'll see you. Thanks again."

Celeste really needed to get in touch with her school spirit.

"Hey, you ready to wish we were pouring acid into our eye sockets- what the hell is that?"

Stiles stopped himself midsentence, his eyes bugging out as her skirted to a halt in front of Celeste, staring at the rose in her grasp like it had punched him in the face.

"A rose, Stiles," Celeste said sarcastically, earning no recognition from the spastic boy, "you know, a Rosa rubiginosa? Native to Asia? From the family Rosac-,"

"I know what a rose is," Stiles interrupted her crossly, "I just- why do you have one?"

"Isaac gave it to me," she smiled softly, "when he asked me to winter formal."

Stiles' eye twitched.

"Oh," he said, speaking a little too loudly, "well isn't that just divine? Just absolutely swell."

"Okay," Celeste frowned at his behavior, "anyways, ready to go see professor dickhead?"

"What?" Stiles frowned, blinking himself out of a daze, "Oh, yeah. Just give me a second."

Celeste nodded, watching curiously as Stiles jogged over to the nearest trashcan.

Hesitantly, he reached into his backpack and tossed two rectangular slips of paper into the trash.

☾ ☽

"Allison," Lydia wheezed from beside Celeste, "when you said you needed to stop for an errand before we went shopping, a five-mile hike in the woods was not what I was expecting."

Celeste giggled from beside the strawberry blonde, linking her arm through her friend's as the girl stumbled on the terrain in her heels.

She would have been in the same predicament, had it not been for Derek "the traitor" Hale and his endless reps of sit-ups.

The three girls were currently trekking through the Beacon Hills Preserve, Allison having dragged them along with a very vague explanation and a black duffle bag.

"Before I forget, I wanted to ask if you're okay with something," Allison addressed Lydia, and Celeste frowned at the iciness in her tone, "Jackson asked me to the winter formal."

"Did he?" Lydia's voice went an octave higher as she tried to cover up her discomfort.

"Mm," Allison responded, and Celeste was exposed to a darker, cattier version of Allison she hadn't seen before, "Just as friends, but, I just wanted to make sure you're okay with it first."

Celeste bit her lip as the heated tension between the two girls warmed the cold air surrounding them.

"Sure," Lydia squeaked out, her grip on Celeste's arm tightening considerably, "as long as it's just friends."

"Well, yeah," Allison spoke coolly, "I mean, it's not like I would take him into the coach's office during lacrosse practice and make out with him or anything."

"Oh my god," Celeste sighed irritably, "is this about the lipstick thing? I swear to god I smudged it-,"

"Not you," Allison said sharply.

Celeste's eyes widened, and she turned to look at Lydia in surprise.

"Did you?" she mouthed at her best friend silently.

"Don't judge me," Lydia mouthed back.

Allison stopped suddenly, shirking the duffel bag off of her shoulder and dropping it onto the forest floor.

She sat down beside it, digging through the bag and pulling out an arrow shaft with a corkscrew top and a pointed metal bulb.

"What does that do?" Lydia asked as the brunette began screwing the bulb onto the shaft.

Celeste was silently freaking out as her taller friend came closer and closer to the truth.

"We're about to find out," Allison said helpfully.

Allison reached out a hand and Celeste helped her up, the girl smiling in thanks before retrieving a black and red bow from her bag.

She pulled the bow taught, setting the arrow Oliver Queen style and aiming at a tree up ahead.

Releasing, the arrow flew forward and hit its mark expertly, exploding on impact in a flurry of sparks and bright lights as it pierced through the bark.

"Poor tree," Celeste frowned once she recovered from her initial shock.

"What the hell was that?" Lydia whimpered.

"I don't know," Allison spoke with a smirk in her voice.

"What a wonderful thing to say about deadly weapons you're carrying around in the woods unsupervised," Celeste said sarcastically.

"Well," Lydia clasped her glove-clad hands together, "that was fun. Any more lethal weapons you want to try out?"

The girls fell silent as a snapped twig was heard from beyond the ember-lit oak tree.

Celeste was more fearful than her friends, knowing the dangers that could lay just steps away from them.

"Hold this," Allison pressed her bow into Lydia's arms.

"What?" Lydia panicked, "Why?"

"Because I thought I heard something," Allison whispered.

"So what if you heard something?" Lydia inquired.

"So, I wanna find out what that something is," Allison declared as she undid her archery gloves, "Don't worry, it's probably nothing."

"What if that nothing is something and that something is something dangerous?" Lydia fretted.

"Shoot it," Allison spoke abruptly, before disappearing into the trees.

Celeste gently took the bow from a whimpering Lydia.

"And what the hell are you gonna do with that?" Lydia spoke incredulously.

"Shoot it," Celeste shrugged.

☾ ☽

Celeste sighed out in exhaustion, collapsing into an armchair in her living room, shopping bags filled with "I'm sorry I kissed my friend's ex-boyfriend" presents.

She had the house to herself, and with everything going on, she was ready to take a night to herself and binge watch all the Harry Potter movies.

That is, until the doorbell rang.

"What did I do to deserve this?" she complained chastely to her Beta fish, Frank.

She staggered tiredly to the door, swinging it open in a huff.

Her mood did a 360 at the sight of a puffy-eyed Stiles.

"Hey," she said cautiously, stepping aside to let him in, "What's wrong? What can I do?"

Stiles ran a hand over his closely shaved head and began pacing throughout her living room.

"My dad," he started rambling in typical Stiles fashion, his voice hoarse, "I figured I could loosen him up with a few drinks, and then he started talking about her and then there were more drinks and I can't- I can't breathe."

"Okay," Celeste spoke soothingly, though her heart was breaking, "It's okay. Everything is going to be alright."

She repeated calming phrases, gently pulling him down onto the couch and sitting beside him.

Celeste grasped her friend's hands in her own, steadying her own breathing.

She looked into honey colored eyes, lines of red forming shaky patterns in them like unsolved cases, and knew that there weren't words to soothe the hole in his heart, formed by years of grief and suffering.

So instead, she hugged him.

She allowed him to bury his face in the crook of her neck, his body shuddering as a hurricane was created inside his soul from the unshed tears he had built up throughout his painstaking lifetime.

She closed her eyes as his filled with water and dropped onto her sweater like tiny pangs of sadness, like the little bit of turmoil she could extract from his suffering mind.

She held on tight as they found home in each other's arms.

They stayed that way for what felt like an eternity, though Celeste could have held on for longer, before Stiles stopped shaking and started breathing, before Stile stopped surviving and started living.

Slowly, they pulled apart, but when Celeste went to let go of his hands completely, he simply held on tighter.

"Better?" she spoke softly; afraid he might break at her words.

"Better," Stiles nodded tentatively.

Celeste smiled at him, and he smiled meekly back.

"Hey Cel?" he spoke.

"Hm?" she hummed in response.

"Do you remember? When we met at the beach?" Stiles asked, and Celeste nodded fondly at the memory, "Do you remember how you made me float on my back and give my problems to the sea?"

"Of course," Celeste assured.

"You make me feel that way all the time," Stiles looked straight into her eyes, "You make me feel weightless."

Celeste was taken aback by the sincerity in his eyes, the two just inches apart.

She could make out the gradient of purple in the bags under his eyes, she was close enough that she could make out every individual pore that made up the masterpiece of his face.

They leaned even closer, the pink of their lips melding together in the soft glow of the sunlight shining through the blinds.

Their lips were so close, and Celeste thought he might have leaned closer if it weren't for his cellphone blasting a familiar ringtone.

Stiles let out a whining sound from the back of his throat, squeezing his eyes shut to calm himself before he answered the phone.

Celeste blushed as she realized how close they were just moments ago.

"Scott McCall you better have a damn good reason-," Stiles stopped himself, and Celeste heard yelling over the line as Stiles' face changed from one of annoyance to worry, "woah, hey, okay, yeah, we're on our way."

"What's wrong?" concern laced Celeste's tone as Stiles hung up the phone with a grim expression.

"It's Scott's mom," Stiles clenched his jaw in worry, "she's on a date. With Peter Hale."

☾ ☽

"Up there," Celeste pointed through the windshield at Peter's car, parked on the side of the road and currently containing one Melissa McCall.

"I'm so sorry baby," Stiles whispered to his Jeep, his face squishing up like he was sucking on a lemon before he rear-ended the vehicle.

"Stiles," they heard a frustrated yell and the slam of a car door as Scott's mom confronted the jeep.

The two teens glanced at each other nervously before scrambling out of their car.

"Ms. McCall?" Stiles acted as though it were a surprise to see her, and Celeste threw her hands in the air in mock-surprise.

"Yes," she snapped.

"Wow," Stiles nodded, hands on his hips awkwardly, "well this is just crazy, what a coincidence."

Melissa fake laughed shadily.

"What the hell are you guys even doing here?" she sighed, as Peter stepped out of the car and started muttering, presumably to Scott.

He looked like he belonged in Eichen House to anyone unaware of the supernatural.

"We, uh, we're just," Stiles stuttered, wincing before word vomiting, "we're on a date."

Celeste choked on air.

Stiles frowned, hitting her on the back softly as she wheezed for air.

"Really?" Melissa raised a nicely plucked brow.

"Yep," Stiles nodded feverishly, "isn't that right... honey?"

Stiles awkwardly put his arm around Celeste's waist.

"Yes alright," Celeste was screaming inside, "that is a relatable teen activity that we are commencing in. Cool. Cool, cool, cool."

They both looked at her, and she shrunk into Stiles' touch awkwardly.

"Well, finally," the mom sighed out.

"Finally?" Celeste blinked in confusion.

"Yeah," Melissa smiled at her slightly, despite the situation, "every time Stiles comes over he won't shut up about how much he-,"

"Ha," Stiles yelled loudly, "let's go back to how I hit you with my car."

"Right," Melissa frowned in annoyance again.

"I mean," Stiles acted terribly, "I do not know how it happened, you guys just came out of nowhere."

"Came out of nowhere?" Melissa scoffed as Peter joined their little huddle, "We were parked on the side of the road, Stiles."

"How crazy is that?" Stiles wheeze-laughed, his arm still around Celeste's waist, "I mean, we should probably call the cops, you know? Do, like, an accident report thing?"

"I don't think that's necessary," Peter drawled out.

"Are you sure?" Stiles panicked, "I think I'm feeling a little whiplash."

Celeste was too busy freaking out about the whole arm-on-waist situation to be helpful.

"Whiplash?" Melissa snapped, "You hit us."

"I don't know," Stiles dramatically winced and held the back of his neck, "there's definitely something wrong with my neck. Celeste, what about you?"

Stiles looked at her pointedly.

"Just two teens doing normal teen things," she blurted out.

"Okay," Stiles blinked at her.

They were interrupted by the sight of a teenage boy running rampant down the street.

"You go Scotty," Celeste whispered to herself, "run for your dreams."

☾ ☽

Celeste needed a hobby.

Her life seemed to now revolve solely around werewolves, and as she sprawled across her couch, her body relaxed for the first time in weeks.

It was nearly midnight, and her mother was off doing god knows what.

It seemed the woman liked to spend as little time with her daughter as possible.

Stiles had dropped her off at around nine, and since then she had taken a nap, woken up from her nap, and taken another nap.

She wasn't sure if she was sleeping or if her body was slipping in and out of mini comas.

Rain sprinkled on and off outside periodically, as though it couldn't make up its mind.

Celeste was about to take another nap when the ring of her doorbell sounded out.

Tentatively, she scurried to the door, opening it only a little and peeking outside.

She swung the door open to reveal Isaac, covered from head to toe in rain drops and bloodied wounds.

"Oh my god," she refrained from recoiling at the horrific sight, gently pulling her friend inside, "Isaac, what the hell happened?"

"I- I didn't know where else to go," Isaac stuttered, shivering from the cold air outside.

Celeste ushered him up to her bathroom, trying her hardest to withhold from spouting the millions of questions on the tip of her tongue.

He sat on the counter as Celeste pulled out her alarmingly well-used first aid kit, her fingers shaking slightly as she began to pull out supplies.

She worked in silence, carefully cleaning his split lip and bandaging the gash above his eyebrow.

Once she had finished tending to the wounds scattered across his face, she sighed and stepped away from him.

"Is that it?" she fretted.

Isaac clenched his jaw nervously, before tugging off his baby blue sweater.

Celeste teared up at the sight of the almost blackened bruise taking up over half of his torso.

The best she could do was to wrap his entire torso in a bandage to avoid accidentally injuring it further.

"That's all I can do," Celeste worried, "but you should really go to the hos-,"

"No hospitals," Isaac shook his head adamantly.

The two existed in tension filled quiet, Celeste sitting on the counter next to Isaac.

"So," she cleared her throat, causing Isaac to flinch, "care to tell me what the hell happened to you?"

"I-," Isaac cringed, obviously searching for an explanation, "I was mugged and-,"

"Please don't lie to me," Celeste said softly, her voice thick with emotion.

Isaac stared at her in shock, before his eyes fluttered closed as he tried to muster up the courage to tell the truth.

"My dad," he whispered hoarsely.

Celeste took his hand in her own silently, nodding as tears streamed down her face.

"You can't tell anyone," Isaac panicked, "You can't- I just-,"

"Because if you tell anyone, they'll take you away from the only family you have," Celeste spoke with a cracked voice.

Isaac frowned, but relief soared through his being at the idea of someone getting it.

There weren't any more words to be said, there was nothing except comfort.

There was nothing either of them could do except for coexist, nothing except for understanding.

In that moment, they were in their own bubble of mutual protection, not penetrated by werewolves, or shitty parents, or any of the problems that usually burdened them.

In that moment, they were just two teenagers.

For the first time in what seemed like centuries, the two felt content.

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Lol I'm so sorry I'm such a tease.

Sorry if there hasn't been so much humor lately, it's just that these upcoming chapters are really action packed and it is difficult to balance the two mediums.

Love you all so very much.

Stay hydrated,

-Belle xx