♡ 𝙩𝙖𝙨𝙩𝙚 𝙤𝙛 𝙮𝙤𝙪 ♡
𝘤𝘩𝘢𝘱𝘵𝘦𝘳 𝘵𝘸𝘦𝘭𝘷𝘦

love is a neurochemical con job

─── ･ ｡ﾟ☆: *.☽ .* :☆ﾟ. ───

DALLAS GARCIA hummed absent-mindedly as she walked down the halls of Beacon Hills High, her bag was held up by her elbow and she pushed the straightened brunette hair out of her face.

"Dallas!" She was pulled to the side by Lydia Martin, who had Jackson Whittmore stood in front of her with a bored expression laid across his face. "Tell Jackson to stop playing around."

She quirked a brow and let out a small chuckle, crossing her arms. "Aw, what did you do this time?" Although, her lighthearted attitude didn't seem to fit the tone of the discussion.

"Lydia," she read out from her phone and to Dallas. "Please give up my spare house key at your earliest convenience.. as we are no longer dating." She seethed, Dallas glared up at Jackson who nodded his head along to the text nonchalantly.

"You didn't lose it, did you?"

Dallas narrowed her eyes at the popular boy. "No, but you'll lose your goddamn head if you're serious."

She linked arms with the strawberry blonde, who seemed to appreciate the extra comfort. "What the hell is this?"

He avoided Dallie's signature glare. "Well, Lydia, in preparation for some big changes, I've decided to drop some of the dead weight in my life - and you're just about the deadest." He then peeped at the Garcia. "And if this means I lose you too, Dal, then so be it."

"Are you breaking up with me?" Lydia spoke sternly, trying to hide the heartbreak and pain in her voice.

He grinned. "Dumping, actually. I'm dumping you." he tried to walk away, but Dallas clutched him by his leather sleeve and spoke through gritted teeth.

"You are going to walk away, like the ball-less, cowardly little creature you are - and you are going to rot in whatever bad 90s movie you climbed out of, Jackson Whittmore." she boiled, her words filled with venom.

"Dumped by the co-captain of the lacrosse team, wow, I wonder how many minutes it'll take me to recover from that." Lydia snapped from beside her. "Seconds, actually, seconds!"

He shrugged and blew a kiss to Lydia before fading down the corridors. "Do you want me to slash his tires? Because I want to slash his tires." Dallas let out a deep inhalation and turned to the strawberry blonde. She shook her head and linked arms with her.

"No, but I think this calls for an emergency sleepover."

⊱ ──────ஓ๑♡๑ஓ ────── ⊰

Stiles Stilinski shed his backpack to the floor while he relaxed at his computer. He didn't regard the looming of Derek Hale behind him until his father hollered up to him.

"Hey, Stiles!" Sheriff Stilinski addressed from downstairs, Stiles swayed on his chair and met the eyes of the Hale.

"Yo, D-.. Derek!" he observed as he held his finger up to his lips and gestured to his father who could be heard making his approach to his son's room. Thanks to Scott McCall, he was one of the most wanted fugitives in the state. "I, um.." he moved toward his door, keeping it closed tightly as his dad stood in the hall.

"What'd you say?" Noah knitted his brows at his descendant.

"What? I said 'Yo, Dad.'"

The man nodded his head gradually before moving on to another subject. "Listen, I've got something I've got to take care of, but I'm gonna be there tonight. I mean, your first game."

"My first game." Stiles beamed. "Gosh, great. Awesome, uh, good."

Stiles listened as his father gave him a suspicious look before awkwardly grinning. "I'm very happy for you, and I'm really proud of you."

"Thanks." Stiles rambled. "Me, too. I'm happy and proud.. of myself."

"So they're really gonna let you play, right?"

"Yeah, Dad. I'm first line... you bet." he tried to keep up the embarrassing chat with his father.

Noah let a proud smile waver his exterior. "I'm very proud."

"Oh, me too... again, I'm.." he trailed off as his father leaned in to hug him. "Huggie. Huggie, huggie."

Noah granted his son an odd look before opting to leave. "See you there."

"Yeah, um, take it easy." he waited until his father was out of sight before scrambling back into his room. He groaned heavily and panted when Derek slammed him against the wall by his windpipe intimidatingly.

"If you say one word.."

"What, you mean like, 'Hey, Dad, Derek Hale's in my room. Bring your gun'?" he noticed how the man loosened his grip on him but still had a stern look in his eyes. "Yeah, that's right. If I'm harboring your fugitive ass - it's my house, my rules, buddy."

Derek nodded slowly, lifting his grip on his clothing completely and smoothing out his jacket. Stiles tittered arrogantly to himself but stumbled backward as Derek frightened him by stepping forward for a second. "Oh, my god!"

He squatted down at his desk and turned to the Beta who had begun to speak. "Scott didn't get the necklace?"

Derek had detected a sketchy symbol somewhere, something he knew that had a link to the Argents - and he was right, as Allison had an exact necklace with a replica of it.

"No. He's still working on it." he breathed. "But there's something else we can try. The night we were trapped at the school, Scott sent a text to Allison asking her to meet him there."

"So?"

"So, it wasn't Scott." Stiles gave him a bewildered look.

Derek shoved his hands in the pockets of his leather jacket. "Well, can you find out who sent it?"

"No, not me. But I think I know somebody who can."

⊱ ──────ஓ๑♡๑ஓ ────── ⊰

Lydia lay back on Dallas's bed, gawking up at the fairy lights that were twisted above the towering bed frame. Dallie rooted through her wardrobe while the strawberry blonde propped herself up on her elbows. "I mean, with me, Dallas, - he broke up with me."

"He's stupid, Lyds, pay no attention." she analyzed the pink, leather jacket she had bought from their last shopping trip. "Most men are."

"I can't believe you said that to him." Lydia giggled at her best friend. "He's gonna rage on about you to Danny, you know?"

Dallas shrugged. "Oh, let him. He's not the first lacrosse player to be mad about something I've said to him. You have to remind them whos the Alpha and whos the Beta, if not, your whole world falls into chaos."

"Is that why you don't have a boyfriend?"

"I don't have a boyfriend because I set my standards too high - so if you ever see me with one, its because he's a good one," she answered, seemingly unbothered and peeped towards Lydia. "And if things fall flat, I'll just marry Danny."

⊱ ──────ஓ๑♡๑ஓ ────── ⊰

"You want me to do what?" Danny Māhealani ridiculed Stiles Stilinski who begged from his desk.

"Trace a text."

The boy groaned aloud. "I came here to do lab work. That's what lab partners do."

Stiles ran a hand over his buzzcut and whirled in his chair. "And we will, once you trace the text.

The Māhealani bestowed him a skeptical look. "And what makes you think I know how?"

"I looked up your arrest report, so.." The Stilinski trailed off.

"I was 13." he defended. "They dropped the charges. Whatever, no, we're doing lab work."

Danny perched beside Stiles at his desk and glimpsed at Derek Hale who sat behind them, pretending to study from a biology book. "Who's he again?"

Stiles stared back at Derek. "Um, my cousin... Miguel."

Derek looked up at the duo while his teeth gritted at the terrible excuse.

"Is that blood on his shirt?" Danny narrowed his optics and grumbled to the lanky, buzzcut boy who gave him another peek.

"Yeah.. Yes." he hesitated. "Well, he gets these horrible nosebleeds." He then called to Derek. "Hey, Miguel."

The lycanthrope glared up from his book and listened to him. "I thought I told you that you could borrow one of my shirts." he nodded to his dresser. Derek - or Miguel, - thumped the book shut and arose to his feet, launching the paperback book upon his bed and elevating his shirt from his chest.

He stood with his back turned to them and rooted through the wooden dresser. "So anyway, I mean, we both know you have the skills to trace that text, so we should probably-"

"Stiles?" Derek hooked their attention.

"Yes?"

Derek stood shirtless, fumbling with one of Stiles's shirt's in his hand. "This... No fit."

"Then try something else on." he turned back to Danny, who was still gaping at 'Miguel's body. "Sorry.." Stiles trailed off as he regarded where his friend's attention had wandered to and turned back to Derek - who now wore a stripey brown and blue shirt. "Hey, that one looks pretty good, huh?"

He nudged the Māhealani with his hand. "What do you think, Danny? Huh?" he motioned to Derek. "The shirt."

"Its.. It's not really his colour."

Derek held a sour look on his face as he removed the shirt. Stiles sent the boy a knowing look. "You swing for a different team, but you still play ball, don't you, Danny boy?"

"You're a horrible person."

"I know," Stiles muttered remorselessly. "It keeps me awake at night... anyway, about that text-"

"Stiles!" Derek barked repeatedly. "None of these fit!"

Danny glanced at the shirtless man-wolf before glancing back at the Stilinski. "I'll need the ISP, the phone number, and the exact time of the text."

⊱ ──────ஓ๑♡๑ஓ ────── ⊰

Once Stiles and Derek had traced the text, they had discovered that it came from none other than Melissa McCall. The Stilinski hung up on the other werewolf, listening to Derek criticize him from the passenger seat. "You didn't tell him about his mom."

Stiles groaned heavily. "Not till we find out the truth.

They were stationed in front of the Beacon Hills Medical Hospital and were determining their next move. "By the way, one more thing," Derek spoke up which caused Stiles to shoot him a waiting look.

"Yeah?"

Derek seized the back of the human's head and hurled against the driving wheel. "Ow, what was that-" The human whimpered, holding his forehead in pain.

"You know what that was for." The werewolf scolded the teenager before gesturing to the hospital. "Go."

⊱ ──────ஓ๑♡๑ஓ ────── ⊰

James Garcia tapped on his daughter's bedroom door before opening. He took notice of how his daughter tried to hide the bottle of Cinnamon Schnapps behind her bed as he walked in. "You have a game tonight and you're trying to get drunk?"

Lydia tried to hide her snicker with a cough as he crossed his forearms at the girls. "At least you're doing it in the safety of your own home." he sighed. "Sorry to be a buzzkill, Dallie, but you made a commitment when you signed up for Cheer." James then took a sight at Lydia. "And you, Miss Martin, are very lucky that Im not mentioning this to your parents."

"Come on, dad. You used to be fun." Dallas whined. "Hey, at least its not drugs or something."

He squinted his eyes at her rigidly. "If it were drugs id have you checked into Eichen House, or better yet, Id have Sheriff Stilinski lock you up." he warned. She rolled her brown eyes and passed him the bottle. "Now, both of you get your asses to that game - I've done enough parenting for the night."

⊱ ──────ஓ๑♡๑ஓ ────── ⊰

"Yeah, I said I can't find her." Stiles huffed into the telephone, while the Hale was on the other line. He wandered down the empty halls of the hospital while his shadow danced across the plastic flooring.

"Look, ask for Jennifer. She's been looking after my uncle."

He directed to Peter's room, but surprisingly, it was completely empty - along with his wheelchair. "Yeah, well, he's not here either."

"What?"

"He's not here. He's gone, Derek." The human snapped somewhat.

Inside of Stiles's blue, rusted jeep, Derek Hale came to a terrifying awareness. "Stiles, get out of there right now." he panicked. "Its him! He's the Alpha!"

Stiles Stilinski dropped the phone from his ear and shoved it in his pocket. He turned to leave, but met eyes with a man who had his hair slicked back with gel. His body was tightly tailored in a suit and he had a long burn mark piercing the surface of his face.

It was Peter Hale.

"You must be Stiles."

☆ word count: 2,157. ☆

a/n: Has anyone figured out what dallas is yet?