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Everything seemed to unravel for Octavia McCall on her final day of freedom, as if the universe had decided to play one last cruel joke before school started again. It had started with the warm bustle of Deja Brew, her sanctuary amidst the chaos of Beacon Hills. The rich aroma of fresh coffee mingled with cinnamon and cocoa, the hum of quiet conversations, and the cozy glow of string lights usually wrapped her in a calming embrace. But not tonight.

Rhiannon May, the café's eccentric owner, had called Octavia in for a last-minute shift. "Just a few hours," Rhiannon had promised, but Octavia knew better. Hours later, she was covered in sticky syrups and spilled lattes, with Marco giving her the same disapproving look he reserved for customers who tried to order pumpkin spice out of season.

By the time Octavia finally dragged herself home, her hair smelled like caramel drizzle, and her favorite sneakers squeaked ominously. All she wanted was a hot shower to rinse off the chaos. But as she stepped under the steady stream, sighing in relief, the water abruptly turned icy, making her yelp and leap out, goosebumps breaking across her skin. "Perfect," she muttered through chattering teeth, glaring at the ceiling as if the pipes had personally offended her.

She pulled on a sweatshirt, still shivering, when her phone buzzed. She answered on autopilot, the screen pressed awkwardly against her damp cheek. "'Ello?"

The line crackled with soft rustling, a sound that prickled unease along her spine. "Hello?" she said again, louder, her voice edged with irritation. When no response came, only that same eerie sound, she groaned. "Listen, I'm having a pretty shitty night, so if this is your idea of a Scream moment, just go ahead and get it over with."

Silence.

Heart thumping, she hung up and tossed the phone onto her bed. But then there it was again.

A faint sound—like something shifting outside.

She moved cautiously to her window, nudging the curtain aside. The backyard was shrouded in shadows, moonlight cutting faint beams through the trees. Nothing moved. She told herself it was probably a raccoon or the wind. But when Scott appeared at her door, wide-eyed, with a baseball bat in hand, her unease deepened.

"So, you heard that?" she asked, nodding toward the window, trying to keep her voice casual.

Scott nodded. "Yeah, I think there's something out there. A predator, maybe." He handed her a baseball bat before turning toward the stairs. "Stay behind me. Just in case."

"A predator?" Octavia scoffed, biting back a grin. "It's probably just a raccoon."

"I think someone's trying to break in," Scott muttered, glancing over his shoulder, his voice low and serious. "Be my backup."

She rolled her eyes. "And what are two teenagers with baseball bats supposed to do, exactly?"

"Octavia, please."

"Scott, if someone out there has a gun, what are we gonna do? Throw the bats at them?"

"Maybe," he shrugged. "Better than nothing."

Octavia twirled the bat in her hands. "Great. We're so getting murdered."

"You're really not helping," Scott hissed, his jaw clenched with frustration.

They scanned the yard in tense silence until something rustled near the trellis. Both siblings raised their bats as a figure suddenly dropped down in front of them, limbs flailing like a deranged spider monkey.

They screamed in unison.

"Whoa, whoa! It's me!"

"Stiles?!" Octavia's bat wavered as relief crashed over her, followed quickly by anger. "What the hell is wrong with you?!"

Stiles, hanging upside down, shrugged. "You weren't answering your phone! Birdie answered but I dropped mine when she did." He glanced at the bats in their hands and snorted. "Why do you guys have bats? No offense, Birdie, but you're about as intimidating as a five-year-old playing Whack-A-Mole."

Octavia rolled her eyes at the childhood nickname, which Stiles had never let go. "I might just have to hit you like one," she threatened, only half joking.

Scott grabbed the bat from her hands before she could follow through and tossed it aside. "I thought you were a predator."

"A predator?" Stiles scoffed, shaking his head at Scott's logic. "Never mind that! You guys need to hear this." His voice turned serious. "I saw my dad leave twenty minutes ago. Dispatch called in every officer from Beacon Department. Even state police."

"For what?" Scott asked, leaning over the banister.

"Two joggers found a body in the woods," Stiles said, voice hushed with excitement.

"A dead body?" Scott asked.

"And you decided to break into our house to tell us this?"

Stiles rolled his eyes, flipping down to land on the ground, though not as gracefully as he might have hoped. "No, a body of water. Yes, dumbass. A dead body."

Scott leaned forward. "Wait, if they found the body, what are they still looking for?"

"That's the best part!" Stiles beamed, his excitement palpable.

Octavia raised an eyebrow, sensing something bad was coming. "Oh no."

"They only found half," Stiles announced, way too thrilled for the gravity of his words.

"That's the best part?" Octavia asked incredulously.

"We're going," Stiles declared, leaving no room for argument.

Scott blinked. Octavia stared.

"Absolutely not," Octavia said, but she already knew she'd lose. "That's the worst sales pitch for 'let's go break the law' I've ever heard," she deadpanned.

"Birdie," Stiles pleaded, his wide eyes practically sparkling with adventure. "This is a once-in-a-lifetime opportunity!"

"For what? Trauma? I'm not getting arrested because you and Scott want to play detective."

In no time, the trio arrived at the preserve in Stiles' beat-up powder-blue Jeep, the tires crunching over the gravel road as the headlights pierced through the thick forest. Octavia grimaced as she stepped out, immediately brushing off imaginary dirt from her fluffy pajama pants, which were covered in blushing cartoon cows. The fabric rustled softly as she moved, the light of Stiles' Jeep illuminating her ridiculous but somehow endearing outfit.

Stiles, ever the gentleman (in his own way), hopped out and smirked as he swung her door open, his expression teasing. "What's with the face, cupcake?"

"Shut up." Octavia shoved a flashlight into his chest with an exaggerated grunt, trying to avoid his amused eyes. "I'm only here because when your dad inevitably catches us, and he will, he'll believe me. You two suck at lying."

"Whatever you say, cupcake," he said, his voice dripping with sarcasm as he let the word hang in the air like an inside joke only he found funny.

"I hate you so much right now," she muttered under her breath, trying to ignore the way his grin softened at her irritation, the edges of his smile softening, but only for a moment.

"I think I'm a great liar, actually," Stiles added, the gleam in his eyes still mocking her.

"No, you're really not."

Before Stiles could retaliate, Scott, who had been quietly observing the back-and-forth, finally spoke up. "Are you two done? And are we seriously doing this?" His voice was a mixture of exhaustion and disbelief.

Stiles, never one to let a little thing like sense or reason stop him, swung the flashlight over his shoulder like he was leading an expedition to uncharted lands. "You two are always complaining that nothing ever happens in this town."

"Yeah, but I was thinking more like... someone winning the lottery or a carnival coming to town. Not a dead body," Octavia grumbled, squinting as the light from Stiles' flashlight hit her square in the eyes. She tried not to blink against the intensity, but it didn't stop her from rolling her eyes. "Definitely not this."

Scott added, with a slight huff, "And I was trying to get some sleep before practice tomorrow." He squinted, rubbing his eyes, clearly not thrilled about being here at all.

"Right," Stiles countered without missing a beat, "because sitting on the bench is such a grueling effort."

"Hey!" Octavia exclaimed, crossing her arms over her chest. "I've mastered the art of sitting on the bench, thank you very much."

"And you do a beautiful job," Stiles teased,his eyes lighting up as he watched her get all defensive.

Scott ignored them both, his voice flat. "I'm playing this year. In fact, I'm making first line."

Stiles snorted, disbelief written all over his face. "Hey, that's the spirit. Everyone should have a dream, even a pathetically unrealistic one."

Octavia shot him a look, raising an eyebrow. She knew Scott had improved over the break, at least a little. "By the way, what half of the body are we even looking for?" she asked, her voice laced with dry humor.

Stiles froze for a beat, clearly not having thought that far ahead. "Huh. Didn't even think about that." His nervous chuckle did nothing to ease the growing tension in the air.

"And what if the murderer is still out here?" Octavia asked seriously, her tone shifting as she crossed her arms again, not out of defense this time, but to keep warm. The crisp night air bit at her skin, and she couldn't help but feel the weight of their situation.

Stiles winced, clearly feeling the same unease. "Also... something I didn't think about."

"Stiles Stilinski, drive me home right now. I am far too pretty to get murdered, especially in this outfit."

Stiles was already grinning, as if that was the response he'd been waiting for. "Don't worry, I'll protect you," he said, slinging an arm around her as they made their way up a small hill. She could feel the weight of his arm, the warmth seeping through the fabric of his old black hoodie—the one she'd stolen from him without asking.

"It's comforting to know you've planned this out with your usual attention to detail," Scott panted from behind, his voice strained. "Maybe the severe asthmatic should hold the flashlight."

Octavia snorted, shooting him a playful look. "Yeah, let's give the guy wheezing like a 90-year-old smoker the flashlight." She moved closer to Scott, gently patting his back as he struggled to keep up.

Up ahead, Stiles suddenly dropped to the ground, flicking off his flashlight as police lights flashed through the trees. "Guys, come on!" he whispered, barely containing his excitement.

"Stiles!" The twins hissed in unison, but Stiles was already sprinting toward the flashing lights, practically vibrating with adrenaline.

Octavia groaned, exchanging a glance with Scott, who gave her a resigned nod. If anyone could talk them out of trouble with Sheriff Stilinski, it was Octavia.

"Guys, wait up!" Scott called, breathless from the sprint to catch up.

Just as Stiles slowed, a bark from a K-9 unit startled him, and he toppled backward, the flashlight slipping from his grip. A beam of light swept over him.

"Hold it right there!" an officer barked.

"Hang on," came the familiar voice of Sheriff Stilinski. The flashlight lowered, and the sheriff stepped into view, his expression a mixture of amusement and exhaustion. "These delinquents belong to me."

"Dad!" Stiles beamed, oblivious to the seriousness of the moment. "How are you doin'?"

"Sheriff," Octavia greeted with a playful salute.

Sheriff Stilinski gave his son a long, exasperated look before turning to them. "So, do you listen to all my phone calls?"

Stiles feigned offense with a dramatic gesture, hands on his hips. "What? I have no idea what you're talking about."

"Uh-huh. And where's your usual partner in crime?" the sheriff asked, scanning the area.

"Scott's at home," Stiles said with more confidence than he should've.

"So you two are just alone in the woods? Like a... date?" The sheriff squinted, clearly suspicious.

Octavia froze, caught off guard by the question. Then, as if on cue, she burst into tears, wiping her eyes dramatically. "This is all my fault!" she sobbed, clutching onto the sheriff's arm for effect. Stiles and his dad both froze, wide-eyed, unsure how to react. "Stiles was just being a good friend."

"Octavia..." Sheriff Stilinski started, clearly unsure whether to comfort her or question her sanity.

"I've had the worst day," she wailed, throwing herself onto the sheriff. "Greg Manning broke up with me because I'm too pretty for him, I spilled coffee at work twice, and I can't decide between a red or white sweater. Not to mention my period is—"

"Okay, okay!" Sheriff Stilinski interrupted hastily, patting her back in a nervous attempt to calm her down. "You two, back to the car. Now. We'll talk about this later."

In the safety of the Jeep, Stiles glanced over at her, incredulous. "Who the hell is Greg Manning?"

Octavia wiped the last fake tear from her cheek, grinning. "Greg Manning is a character from Degrassi. I spent my break binge-watching it."

Stiles shook his head, chuckling. "The crying was genius. You totally had him freaked out."

"I know," she said smugly, her grin wide and knowing. "Being the Fifth-grade lead in Beauty and the Beast really paid off."

"And period talk always works on guys," she added, flashing him a wink.

Stiles grinned at her, starting the Jeep. "You're dangerous, Birdie."

It took some time for Stiles to convince Octavia that her brother would be fine as they drove back to the McCall house. He could see the worry etched into her face, even through her sarcastic quips and eye rolls. As much as he wanted to head back into the woods and figure out what was happening, he knew his dad would catch him for sure, and without Octavia's clever improvisation, he'd probably be grounded for a month.

After walking her to the door, Stiles reassured her one last time before heading off, leaving her pacing by the front door, anxiety building with every passing minute. She barely registered Stiles' Jeep pulling away as she anxiously checked the window every few minutes.

When Scott finally trudged through the door, dirty and soaked, she breathed out a long sigh of relief.

"Oh, thank God," she muttered before taking a good look at him and grimacing. "You look terrible."

"Yeah, well, I feel terrible," Scott groaned, clutching his side as he shuffled into the living room. "I almost got hit by a car, ran through the woods, and got trampled by a stampede of deer. Oh, and then something way bigger than a mosquito bit me."

Octavia's eyes widened as Scott lifted his shirt, revealing a huge, raw bite mark just above his hip. Her stomach dropped at the sight of it. "I think it was a wolf," he added weakly.

"Jesus," she breathed, rushing toward the bathroom to grab the first aid kit. As she returned, the worry in her voice was clear. "We should go to the hospital, Scott. This looks serious."

"No, no, if Mom finds out, we're screwed," Scott insisted, sitting on the couch with a wince. "She'll never let me leave the house again."

"And if that bite gets infected? We don't know what bit you!" Octavia shot back, her hands shaking as she opened the kit and fumbled for some alcohol wipes.

"Just not tonight, okay?" Scott pleaded. "We'll clean it, and if it looks any worse tomorrow, I'll get it checked out. I promise."

Octavia hesitated for a moment before reluctantly nodding. She hated this—hated the uncertainty—but she trusted Scott. "Fine," she muttered, gently cleaning the bite.

Scott winced as he pedaled into the school parking lot, his bike wheels crunching against the gravel. He regretted—deeply regretted—turning down the ride Octavia had offered him with Lydia. His side throbbed with every movement, and just when he thought it couldn't get worse, Jackson Whittemore swung the door of his shiny Porsche wide open, clipping Scott's handlebars.

"Dude! Watch the paint job." Jackson drawled as Scott stumbled to steady himself, barely catching the bike before it toppled over.

With an annoyed grunt, Scott muttered something under his breath about rich kids and finally made his way to the front of the school. Stiles was waiting for him, practically vibrating with impatience.

"Okay, let's see this thing," Stiles demanded, his brown eyes wide with curiosity as Scott approached. He tapped his foot on the sidewalk as if he couldn't wait another second.

Scott sighed, glancing around to make sure no one was watching, and reluctantly lifted his shirt. The bandage covering the jagged bite mark was tinged with faint spots of red.

"Whoa," Stiles breathed out, leaning in close like he wanted to examine it under a microscope. His fingers twitched, and Scott quickly swatted his hand away before he could poke at it.

"Yeah," Scott muttered, grimacing as he lowered his shirt. The skin around the bite still ached with a dull, persistent throb. "It was too dark to see much, but I'm pretty sure it was a wolf."

Stiles snorted, his face twisting into a disbelieving grin. "A wolf bit you? No. Not a chance."

Scott frowned, his brow furrowing. "I heard a wolf howling."

"No, you didn't."

"What do you mean 'no I didn't'? How do you know what I heard?"

"Because California doesn't have wolves, okay?" Stiles stopped walking and turned to face Scott, raising an eyebrow like this was common knowledge. "Not in, like, sixty years."

Scott blinked, caught off guard. "Really?"

"Yes, really," Stiles replied, rolling his eyes. "There are no wolves in California."

Feeling a bit embarrassed, Scott sighed. "All right, well, if you don't believe me about the wolf, then you're definitely not going to believe me when I tell you I found the body."

Stiles froze mid-step, his jaw dropping. His eyes lit up with an excitement that only Stiles Stilinski could summon in response to horrifying news. "You—are you kidding me?"

Scott shook his head, the memory making his stomach churn. "No, man. I wish. I'm going to have nightmares for a month."

Stiles practically vibrated with energy, the corners of his mouth twitching as he fought back a grin. "Oh, God, this is freaking awesome!" he blurted out, bouncing slightly on the balls of his feet.

"I mean, this is seriously the best thing that's happened to this town since—" Stiles stopped mid-sentence, his eyes catching on something—or rather, someone.

Scott followed his gaze to where Octavia McCall was walking across the parking lot, arm in arm with Lydia Martin. Octavia tossed her head back, laughing at something Lydia had said, her wavy hair catching the sunlight in a way that made her seem almost untouchable.

"Since the birth of Octavia McCall," Stiles declared, his voice louder than necessary and dripping with exaggerated reverence.

Octavia, hearing her name, stopped mid-laugh and turned. She raised an eyebrow at him, her expression unimpressed. Then, without missing a beat, she flipped him off, a sly smirk tugging at her lips.

Stiles clutched his chest dramatically, staggering backward as if she'd shot him. "Ouch, Birdie," he called after her, his grin never wavering.

Scott groaned, rubbing the bridge of his nose. "You guys are so weird."

"You're weird," Stiles shot back automatically, turning his attention back to Scott like nothing had happened.

The dull hum of chatter died down as Mr. Curtis strode to the front of the classroom, his heavy footsteps echoing in the silence. Octavia leaned back in her seat, her pen lazily twirling between her fingers, Stiles directly behind her and Scott on her right. As the bell rang, Mr. Curtis's gravelly voice filled the room.

"As you all know, there indeed was a body found in the woods last night."

A ripple of excitement buzzed through the classroom. Octavia felt Scott stiffen beside her as she and her brother instinctively turned to Stiles. He leaned back in his chair, wearing a wide, smug grin like he was the star of a crime drama. Stiles winked at them, his eyes sparkling with mischief.

Octavia rolled her eyes, biting back a smile, while Scott shook his head, his lips twitching in amusement.

"And I'm sure your eager little minds," Mr. Curtis continued, scanning the room with a sardonic glance, "are coming up with all sorts of macabre scenarios about what happened.are coming up with various macabre scenarios about what happened. But I am here to tell you that the police have a suspect in custody."

Octavia caught the way Stiles froze, his head tilting like a confused puppy, and then threw his hands up in silent protest. Scott's brows knitted together as he leaned closer to Octavia. "Did you hear anything about this?" he whispered.

She shook her head. "You think Stiles would've kept that quiet if he knew?" she muttered back, gesturing to the boy in question.

"Which means," Mr. Curtis droned on,"You can give your undivided attention to the syllabus, which is on your desk outlining this semester."

The class collectively groaned, and Octavia picked up the stapled sheet of paper from her desk. Her eyes scanned the dense block of text, though her mind wasn't absorbing any of it. From the corner of her eye, she caught Scott flinching like something had jabbed him.

"Scott?" she murmured, her brows furrowing as he shifted uneasily in his seat.

He didn't respond. His gaze was locked on something outside the window, his lips slightly parted in confusion.

Octavia followed his line of sight and spotted a brunette girl sitting on a bench, digging through her purse with one hand while holding her phone between her ear and shoulder. A light breeze tugged at her hair as she shifted, her expression distracted.

The sound of the classroom door opening snapped Octavia's attention back. The vice principal stepped inside, followed by the same brunette girl, now looking a little nervous as she glanced around.

"Class, this is our new student, Allison Argent," the vice principal announced. "Please do your best to make her feel welcome."

Allison gave a small, shy smile, clutching the strap of her bag as her eyes darted to the only empty seat—right behind Scott.

Octavia couldn't help but smile at her. There was something open and unassuming about the girl's expression. When their eyes met, Allison's shoulders relaxed a little, and she returned the smile before sliding into her seat.

Allison took her seat, and Scott immediately turned around to hand her a pen. Allison looked surprised but took the pen with a smile and thanked Scott. Scott smiled before turning around in his seat again.

Octavia raised an eyebrow at him, a knowing smirk tugging at her lips. "Really smooth, Casanova," she teased, just loud enough for him to hear.

Scott shot her a sheepish look. "Hey, O, do you have a pen?" he asked, his voice desperate and a little too loud.

Octavia snorted. "Seriously? You just gave her one!"

"Yeah, but that was my only one," he whispered, scratching the back of his head.

Stiles leaned forward, grinning like a kid at a magic show. "You sacrificed your one and only pen for a girl you haven't even met? I mean, Scott, that's true love."

"Shut up, Stiles," Scott hissed, glaring at him.

Octavia reached into her bag, pulling out a pen and handing it to Scott. "Here. Try not to give this one away, Romeo."

As Scott took it, Stiles smirked behind her. "Aw, you're such a good sister, Birdie."

Octavia turned in her seat, her glare cutting through him. "Do you want me to stab you with this pen?"

Stiles tilted his head, grinning wider. "You're all talk, McCall."

Octavia opened her mouth to retort, but Mr. Curtis's sharp tone interrupted. "Stiles, Octavia, unless you'd like to teach the class, I suggest you focus on my voice instead of your ongoing comedy routine."

Stiles leaned back in his chair, holding his hands up in surrender. Octavia turned around, her cheeks warming slightly as she muttered under her breath, "He started it."

"Don't drag me into your inability to handle my charm," Stiles whispered back, earning a soft scoff from Octavia.

The hallway buzzed with the usual chaos of a Beacon Hills morning: lockers slammed, snippets of gossip floated through the air, and the sharp clatter of heels announced Lydia Martin's arrival.

"That jacket is absolutely killer! Where did you get it?" Lydia's voice cut through the noise, her tone a perfect mix of admiration and possession.

Allison smiled, her fingers brushing over the soft leather of her jacket. "My mom was a buyer for a boutique back in San Francisco."

"And you are my new best friend."

"Excusez-moi?" Octavia appeared beside them, her arm looping casually through Lydia's. "You're replacing me that quickly? I'm wounded."

Lydia rolled her eyes with exaggerated flair, though her lips twitched into a smile. "Don't be dramatic, Octavia. I have multiple best friends."

"Right," Octavia said with mock seriousness, glancing at Allison. "In that case, hi, I'm Octavia McCall. Lydia's original best friend."

Before Allison could reply, Octavia caught sight of Jackson striding toward them, his ever-present smirk in place. He leaned in to kiss Lydia, who accepted it like it was her due. Octavia scrunched her nose.

Across the hallway, Harley crossed her arms and scowled. "Can someone tell me how New Girl is here all of five minutes, and she's already hanging out with Lydia's clique?"

Stiles, leaning against a nearby locker, chimed in without hesitation. "Because she's hot," he said matter-of-factly, his eyes briefly flicking to Octavia.

Octavia, scanning the hallway, caught his gaze and raised an eyebrow. Stiles shrugged, the corner of his mouth quirking into a grin. She rolled her eyes but couldn't suppress the small, amused smile that followed.

"Beautiful people herd together," Stiles added, just as Octavia turned back to Lydia and Allison.

On the lacrosse field, Lydia dragged Allison toward the bleachers, her heels sinking slightly into the grass as she gestured grandly. "You have to know the rules. It's practically a requirement if you're going to survive here."

Allison, clutching her bag, followed with a polite smile, but her attention wandered to the field. Players were scattered across the green expanse, some stretching, others shouting orders. The rhythmic thwack of lacrosse sticks echoed in the air.

Octavia trailed behind them, amused by Lydia's theatrics. She settled beside the two girls, her eyes instinctively finding Scott, who was pulling on his goalie gear. She didn't miss the way his gaze darted toward Allison, lingering a little too long before he fumbled with the strap on his helmet.

Lydia continued her monologue. "So, there's offense, defense, and—honestly, it doesn't matter. Just know that Jackson is the star." She flipped her hair over her shoulder.

Allison's gaze shifted again, this time landing on Scott. "Who's that?" she asked, pointing subtly toward him.

"Him?" Lydia glanced at Scott, her expression blank. "Uh..." She paused, clearly wracking her brain. "That's...um..."

"Scott McCall," Octavia supplied with a knowing smirk, leaning back against the bleachers.

Allison turned to her, brow arched. "McCall? Like you?"

"Unfortunately for me," Octavia teased, though her tone was warm.

Allison bit her lip, clearly trying to piece together her next question without overstepping.

"It's okay," Octavia said, waving a hand as if to ease her. She glanced at Scott, who was still sneaking looks at Allison, his face growing pink under the helmet. "I think he thinks you're cute."

Allison blinked, her cheeks flushing faintly. "Really?"

Octavia nudged her playfully. "But you didn't hear that from me. Not until I'm making the toast at your wedding."

Allison laughed, the sound light and genuine. "You're already planning that far ahead?"

"Of course." Octavia winked. "I have to secure the maid-of-honor role before Lydia claims it."

"Excuse me?" Lydia cut in, her voice sharp with mock offense. "If anyone's getting that role, it's me."

The girls dissolved into laughter, their voices mingling with the faint whistle from the coach on the field.

The woods were alive with the crunch of leaves and the faint rustle of unseen creatures as the trio followed Scott's lead. Octavia's laughter rang out, breaking the tension of their task. She reached for Stiles's hand to steady herself while navigating a patch of uneven rocks.

"That was insane! Scott, I knew you were improving, but catching that ball like it was nothing? You're like a superhero." Octavia teased, her grin as bright as the sunlight filtering through the trees.

Scott rubbed the back of his neck, clearly uneasy. "I don't know what it was. It was like... everything slowed down. And it's not just that. I can hear things I shouldn't be able to hear. And smell things, too."

"Smell things?" Stiles asked, his curiosity piqued. "Like what?"

"Like the mint mojito gum in your pocket," Scott said with a knowing glance.

Stiles froze, patting his jacket before pulling out a crumpled, lint-covered stick of gum. "How do you even—" He frowned. "Okay, yes, it's mojito, but I don't even like it." He tossed it aside and muttered, "I only bought it because someone—" his eyes darted briefly to Octavia "—said it was amazing."

Scott smirked. "And Tav's cherry lip balm. Left pocket."

Octavia gasped, reaching into her jacket. "I knew I lost this somewhere!" She twisted the cap and applied a generous swipe across her lips. "You're a lifesaver, Scotty."

"So all this started with the bite?" Stiles asked, trying to shift focus back to the serious topic at hand.

"What if it's some kind of infection?" Scott pondered. "Like my body flooding with adrenaline or something."

"I told you we should have gone to the hospital."

"I think I've heard of this," Stiles declared, puffing out his chest. "It's a specific kind of infection."

Scott froze mid-step. "Are you serious?"

"Yeah," Stiles responded, placing his hands on his hips. "Yeah, I think it's called Lycanthropy."

Octavia couldn't help but stifle a laugh, realizing where Stiles was going.

"What's that?" Scott asked almost frantically. "Is that bad?" He looked at his sister with a panicked expression, "Is it?"

"Oh yeah, the worst," Octavia teased. "But only once a month."

"Once a month?" Scott repeated. Octavia almost felt bad about how worried he was, but it was too funny to give up.

"Mmm-hmm." Stiles nodded.

"On the night of the full moon." Octavia continued, both she and Stiles letting out an unplanned howl.

"There could be something seriously wrong with me!" Scott exclaimed, panic rising.

"I know! You're a werewolf!" Stiles laughed, pretending to growl, clearly enjoying the moment. "Okay, obviously, I'm kidding. But if you see me in shop class trying to melt all the silver I can find, it's because Friday's a full moon."

"Really helpful, you two," Scott snapped, glaring at them both.

"Hey, lighten up," Octavia said, nudging his arm. "If anything, it'll make you the weirdest member of the family instead of me."

Scott halted, scanning the area for the spot where he'd seen the body. "No, I-I could have sworn this was it. I saw the body; the deer came running. I dropped my inhaler..." He crouched down, sifting through leaves.

"Maybe the killer moved the body," Stiles suggested.

"If he did, I hope he left my inhaler," Scott muttered.

"Thanks, O. Super helpful," Scott retorted, straightening up.

Stiles snorted, but his laughter died as his eyes fixed on a figure emerging from the trees. He instinctively nudged Scott and stepped in front of Octavia.

The man was pale, his dark eyes scanning the group with unsettling calm. "What are you doing here? This is private property," he said, his voice low and steady.

"Uh... sorry, man," Stiles stammered, his protective stance not faltering. "We didn't know."

Scott fumbled for an excuse. "We were just looking for something...But never mind."

Before he could finish, the man tossed Scott's inhaler onto the ground at his feet.

"Excuse me," Octavia said, stepping out from behind Stiles. Her tone was light, almost playful, as she squeezed past the boys. "Hi. I'm Octavia. Virgo. Coffee enthusiast. Single, in case you were wondering."

"Birdie-" Stiles hissed, exasperated. "What are you doing?"

"Not now, Stiles. The grown-ups are talking," she shot back, flashing the stranger a practiced, disarming smile.

The man's expression didn't change. Without a word, he turned and walked away, disappearing into the woods.

"Okay, dude," Stiles muttered, running a hand through his hair. "Do you even know who that was?"

"Someone who clearly needs my number," Octavia quipped, earning a groan from Stiles.

"That was Derek Hale," he explained, his voice low. "You guys remember, right? He's only, like, a few years older than us.

"Remember what?" Scott frowned, confusion evident on his face.

"The ones from the fire?" she asked, a chill creeping into her voice. "I thought they all... y'know." She made a slicing motion across her neck.

Stiles nodded. "My dad said there were only a handful that survived it."

"I wonder what he's doing back." Scott pondered, tension radiating from him. Octavia felt her twin's anxiety through their bond, if Scott bled, she did too.

Octavia's gaze lingered on the spot where Derek had vanished. "He's broken," she said softly, almost to herself. "I could fix him."

"Okay, that's enough of that." Stiles snapped, grabbing her wrist and pulling her along as Scott led the way out of the woods.

Octavia stood beside her brother at the lacrosse field benches, trying to uplift his spirits after his frustrating encounter with Jackson in the locker room. Jackson had always rubbed her the wrong way, and she only tolerated him for Lydia's sake. "Honestly, I think he's gay," she'd often tell Lydia, who would roll her eyes, insisting that their relationship was perfectly fine.

"Scott!" The shrill call broke through their conversation. They turned to see Stiles barreling toward them, tripping over his own feet. "Birdie!" he exclaimed, trying to regain his composure.

"Stiles, I'm playing the first elimination,man. Can it wait?" Scott replied, attempting to walk away, but Stiles grabbed his shoulder.

"Just hold on, okay?" Stiles pleaded, breathless. "I overheard my dad on the phone."

Octavia couldn't help but smirk. "This'll be good," she muttered to herself.

Ignoring her comment, Stiles pulled Scott to face him. "The fiber analysis from the lab in L.A. came back. They found animal hairs on the body from the woods!"

"Stiles," Scott said, bending down to grab his lacrosse stick and helmet. "I gotta go."

"Wait! You won't believe what kind of animal it was!" Stiles rushed to keep up, frustration building as Scott ignored him. Turning to Octavia, he added, "It was a wolf!"

After tryouts, Octavia found herself dragged into Stiles's chaotic whirlwind of research. She lounged across his bed, her head propped up by a pillow, her eyes lazily skimming the book Stiles had forced her to read. The entire room seemed alive with disarray—papers piled high on every available surface, with a few fluttering off to join the rest scattered across the floor. Stiles, meanwhile, was an unstoppable blur, pacing back and forth in his small, cluttered room, occasionally diving into his desk chair to scribble some barely legible note.

"Do you really think Scott could be a werewolf?" Octavia asked, her tone betraying an almost bemused curiosity. She flipped a page, the crisp sound cutting through the tense silence as Stiles paused, leaning over the desk, head buried in his hands.

"I don't know," he muttered, rubbing his temples before spinning around dramatically in his chair. His eyes looked sleep-deprived, but the excitement in them hadn't dimmed. "If he is, maybe we can sell him to the government. Make a quick million or two."

Octavia smirked, a hint of laughter bubbling under her breath. "Just promise me you'll remember me when you're famous, Stilinski."

He turned to face her fully, locking eyes with her from across the room. For a split second, something changed. His typical boyish grin faltered, and there was a softness to his voice, a sincerity, when he said, "It'd be impossible to forget you, Birdie."

She swallowed. The nickname should have made her roll her eyes, should have made her shoot back with some sarcastic jab, but for some reason, she found herself speechless. She broke the gaze first, fidgeting with the crystal pendant around her neck.

"Octavia," he began, voice quieter, almost hesitant. She raised her head, meeting his eyes again, an eyebrow quirked. He rarely called her by her actual name. It caught her off guard every time.

He hesitated, and she could see the words get lost somewhere between his brain and his mouth. He blinked, eyes falling on the necklace she had just been fiddling with. "Where'd you get that?"

"This?" She touched it lightly, holding the small crystal between her fingers. "Rhiannon gave it to me yesterday. It's Black Tourmaline, I think. Pretty, huh?"

Stiles squinted at it, his mind racing, jumping from one tangent to another as he tried to recall the little occult shop next to the café. He rubbed his hands over his face, groaning lightly. "Do you— If werewolves are real... Do you think other things can be?"

"Like what?" she asked, her voice carrying a mix of genuine curiosity and skepticism. She sat up straighter, eyes narrowing as she tried to read him, trying to figure out where this question was coming from. Before Stiles could answer, a knock pounded at the door.

Stiles jumped up, sending papers flying as he stumbled over to answer it. Scott stood on the other side, backpack slung lazily over one shoulder. He flashed Octavia a goofy smile before glancing back at Stiles.

"You've gotta see this. I've been up all night reading—websites, books, all of this information." Stiles practically yanked Scott into the room, his excitement at a fever pitch.

Octavia sat up more fully, tucking her legs beneath her. She watched, amused, as Stiles rattled on, seemingly unaware of just how manic he looked. "How much Adderall have you had today?" Scott teased.

"A lot," Octavia called out, deadpan, eyes glinting with mischief. "I had to take the bottle away from him."

"Yeah, she threw a shoe at me when I reached for it," Stiles shot back, glaring playfully at her. She just gave him an innocent smile in return.

Scott dropped his backpack onto the bed, plopping down beside Octavia, his expression shifting from playful to serious. "Is this about the body? Did they find out who did it?"

"No, they're still questioning people. Even Derek Hale."

"The hot guy from the woods?" Octavia interjected, her voice rising with an enthusiasm that had both boys turning to stare at her. She grinned, unfazed by their disbelief. "What? He's hot."

Stiles shook his head in annoyance, muttering something under his breath about 'questionable taste.' Octavia shot him a sideways look, her smile widening.

"But that's not it, okay?" Stiles continued, turning his attention back to Scott. He looked more serious now, his voice dropping. "Remember the joke from the other day?" Stiles began, his nerves palpable. Octavia moved beside him, placing a reassuring hand on his shoulder. He smiled up at her. "Not a joke anymore," he said, turning serious. "The wolf, the bite in the woods... We started doing all this reading." He jumped up from his chair, excitement taking over. "Do you know why wolves howl?"

"Should I?" Scott asked, genuinely puzzled.

"It's a signal! When a wolf is alone, it howls to let the rest of the pack know where it is. If you heard a wolf howling, others could be nearby. Maybe even a whole pack of 'em!"

"A whole pack of wolves?" Scott repeated, exasperated.

"No!" Stiles snapped. "Werewolves."

Scott stood up, clearly growing more frustrated by the second. "Are you seriously wasting my time with this? You know I'm picking up Allison in an hour."

Stiles stepped forward, placing a hand on Scott's shoulder to keep him from leaving. "I saw you on the field today, Scott. Okay, what you did wasn't just amazing; it was impossible."

"Yeah, so I made a good shot."

"No, you made an incredible shot!" Stiles insisted, tossing Scott's backpack onto the bed. "I mean, the way you moved, your speed, your reflexes? Y'know, people can't just suddenly do that overnight. And there's the vision and the senses, and don't even think I don't notice that you don't need your inhaler anymore."

"Okay! Dude, I can't think about this now. We'll talk tomorrow."

"Tomorrow?" Stiles exclaimed, exasperated. "What? No! The full moon's tonight. Don't you get it?"

"What are you trying to do? I-I just made first line. I-I got a date with a girl who I can't believe wants to go out with me, and everything in my life is somehow perfect. Why are you two trying to ruin it?"

"I'm trying to help!" Stiles thundered, causing Octavia to jump. He took a breath, looking at her before turning back to Scott. "You know, and it's not just the moon that will cause you to physically change. It also just so happens to be when your bloodlust will be at its peak."

"Bloodlust?"

"Yeah," Octavia interjected, trying to find the right words. "It's your urge to kill."

"I'm already feeling an urge to kill, guys."

"Listen to this," Stiles said, gesturing to the book Octavia had been flipping through earlier. She handed it over to him. "The change can be triggered by anger or anything that raises your pulse." Stiles nodded and closed the book, looking at Scott. "I haven't seen anyone raise your pulse like Allison does."

Stiles dashed to Scott's backpack, rummaging through it. "You gotta cancel this date."

"What are you doing?"

"I'm canceling the date!"

"No! Give it to me!" Scott shot back, pinning Stiles against the wall, his fist clenched. The panic in Stiles's eyes made Scott release him, flipping his chair in frustration.

"I'm sorry!" Scott stammered, breathing heavily. "I have to go get ready for that party." He grabbed his bag, looking between the two before apologizing again.

"I'm sorry," he whispered, grabbing his bag and bolting out the door.

The room fell into silence, the air thick with tension. Octavia moved closer to Stiles, her hands trembling slightly as she cupped his cheeks, tilting his head up to look at her.

"Are you okay?" she asked, her voice barely a whisper.

Stiles stared at her, his breath shaky. "Yeah. Yeah, I'm fine." He tried to smile, but it didn't quite reach his eyes.

For a moment, they just stood there, frozen in place, the world around them fading away. Octavia could feel the warmth of his skin beneath her palms, his pulse slowly calming. She dropped her hands, stepping back awkwardly, her face flushed.

She turned away, trying to shake off the strange feeling, her eyes falling on the chair Scott had flipped. Her breath caught in her throat as she saw the three distinct claw marks gouged into the wood.

"Stiles," she said, her voice trembling as she pointed to the chair. "Look."

Octavia arrived at Lydia's house over an hour early, the ever-reliable best friend, ready to dive into party prep. The Martins' backyard glowed with strings of twinkling lights that draped gracefully over tree branches, casting a warm, magical glow across the space. The tables were adorned with a rainbow of drinks, snacks, and small floral arrangements, while the pool reflected the shimmering lights above. Everything felt alive and electric, a promise of a night to remember.

Octavia moved between tables, energetically handing out drinks, her lavender dress swishing around her knees. She directed a few of the more enthusiastic lacrosse players to the designated cooler area, nodding towards the stash of beer and wine coolers. The laughter of early guests filled the air, and the bass of pop music thumped softly in the background, slowly building the energy.

"You look incredible!" a voice called from behind her. She turned to see Danny Mahealani approaching, his smile bright and easy. He wrapped an arm around her shoulders, giving her a playful squeeze. "It's a crime you don't have a boyfriend. If I were straight..." He let the sentence trail off with a dramatic sigh.

Octavia rolled her eyes, taking a sip from her drink. "I don't need a boyfriend, Danny," she said, her eyes scanning the crowd that had begun to gather. "Nor do I want one."

Danny raised an eyebrow, a mischievous grin on his face. "Really? Not even a spastic, sarcastic one who's terrible at lacrosse?"

Octavia frowned, looking genuinely confused for a moment as she followed Danny's gaze. Her eyes landed on Stiles, who was awkwardly navigating his way through the crowd, waving when he spotted her. She furrowed her brows at Danny, her confusion deepening. "What are you even talking about?"

Danny chuckled, shaking his head. "How can someone so smart be so oblivious?" He nodded towards Max Erikson, a junior midfielder who was clearly waiting for Danny. "Save me a dance later, gorgeous."

Octavia smoothed down her lavender dress just as Stiles arrived beside her, his presence replacing Danny's arm around her shoulders. He rested his own arm there casually, as if it was the most natural thing in the world.

"Hey, have you seen Scott?" he asked, his voice low, his eyes scanning the yard urgently.

Octavia narrowed her eyes at him, her lips curling into a sarcastic smile. "Hello, Stiles. Yes, this is a new dress. Yes, I do look amazing, thank you. And yes, it's a beautiful night. My day was fine, by the way. How was yours?" Her voice was dripping with sarcasm, and she gave him an exaggerated flutter of her lashes.

Stiles shook his head, a grin tugging at his lips. "Hello, Birdie. That dress is stunning. You look absolutely breathtaking," he said, deadpan, though there was a genuine warmth in his eyes. Then, without missing a beat, he added, "Now, have you seen your brother, who might be about two freaking seconds away from maiming everyone at this party?"

Octavia blinked at his words, her expression softening. "You think I look breathtaking?" There was a hint of surprise in her voice, but she quickly masked it with a smirk.

"Absolutely insufferable," Stiles shot back, a teasing glint in his eyes. He gave her shoulder a light nudge, but Octavia just laughed, shaking her head as she scanned the backyard.

Finally, she spotted Scott, dancing with Allison near the edge of the pool. His movements seemed relaxed, the usual anxious energy replaced by something surprisingly carefree. "He looks fine," she said, her head bobbing slightly to the beat of the music. "Well, as normal as Scott can be."

"Yeah, but for how long?" Stiles muttered, worry etched across his face as his eyes followed Scott's every move.

Octavia, sensing the tension, decided to shake things up. "Long enough for a dance, maybe?" she suggested, turning towards Stiles with a mischievous smile. She extended her hand towards him. "We might have to bail at any moment, so we should party while we can, right?"

Stiles hesitated, a nervous laugh escaping him. He looked at her outstretched hand, then up at her smiling face, his heart doing an unsteady flip. Just as he opened his mouth to stammer out a response, Scott walked past, his expression pained and conflicted.

"Scott?" Stiles called, but Scott ignored him, his shoulders tense, eyes fixed somewhere beyond the yard. Allison followed a few steps behind, her face clouded with concern. Stiles and Octavia shared a look before attempting to catch up to her.

"Allison!" Octavia called out, but the other girl kept walking, her disappointment palpable as she watched Scott climb into his mother's car and drive off.

Octavia reached out, gently touching Allison's arm, drawing her attention. "Hey, you okay?" she asked softly, her tone kind, her eyes searching Allison's.

Allison sighed, her shoulders slumping slightly. "Why didn't he just cancel?" she asked, her voice small, hurt. "If he wasn't feeling well, he could've just said something."

"Because he likes you, Allison," Octavia said, a soft laugh escaping her lips. She squeezed Allison's arm reassuringly. "He likes you so much that he didn't want to disappoint you. He probably thought it was just nerves, you know? First-date jitters and all that."

Allison's lips curled into a sad smile. "Really? He has a funny way of showing it."

Octavia nodded, her eyes warm. "Oh, he's definitely not the smoothest guy around," she said, her voice light, trying to make Allison laugh. "But trust me, he'll make it up to you. Somehow."

Allison looked at her, her expression softening, and she let out a small laugh. "You really think so?"

"Absolutely," Octavia nodded. "Besides, if he doesn't, you and I can always team up to make his life miserable. I'm his sister, after all—I have access to all the embarrassing childhood stories."

Allison laughed at that, the tension visibly easing from her shoulders. "I might just take you up on that offer."

"Octavia. Allison." A gravelly voice interrupted from behind, the sound instantly catching Octavia off guard. She turned to see Derek Hale standing there, his face unusually relaxed, almost charming.

"Derek?" Octavia blinked, her surprise evident.

Allison shot her a questioning look. "You know him?"

Octavia opened her mouth, her eyes darting between Allison and Derek. "Uh..."

"We go way back," Derek cut in smoothly, his eyes meeting Octavia's with an unspoken understanding. There was a strange sense of familiarity there, something that made Octavia's gut tell her that, despite everything, she could trust him.

Allison raised an eyebrow. "Really?" She looked back at Octavia. "Because you looked pretty shocked to see him."

Octavia let out a breath, trying to think quickly. "I, uh... I forgot I messaged him," she said, glancing at Derek for backup.

Derek nodded, his lips twitching into a faint smirk. "Yeah, her text was totally incoherent," he added, shrugging. "She must have just started sobering up. So, about that ride?"

"Right." Octavia nodded, quickly turning to Allison. "What do you say? Want a ride?"

Allison's expression shifted, the corners of her lips curling back into a smirk. "Okay. But I'm not going home without chocolate ice cream. And I expect at least an hour of trash-talking your brother."

Octavia grinned, extending her hand. "You drive a hard bargain, Argent. But you've got a deal."

The girls followed Derek towards his car, their footsteps echoing softly in the night air. Just as Allison climbed into the backseat, Derek pulled Octavia aside by her arm, his voice dropping to a low growl. "If your brother doesn't get his act together soon, I'm going to kill him. And you," he added, though his tone held a hint of something almost teasing.

Octavia scoffed, rolling her eyes. "No, you won't."

Derek raised an eyebrow, his gaze narrowing. "And what makes you so sure?"

"Because you need us," she replied, her lips curling into a satisfied smile. "I don't know how or why, but I know you need us. And that means you're not going to do anything to jeopardize that."

Derek stared at her for a moment, his expression unreadable before he let out a low chuckle. "You're pretty confident, aren't you?"

"Absolutely. It's a blessing and a curse." she shot back, her eyes sparkling. She turned and climbed into the car beside Allison, glancing back at Derek, who shook his head with an exasperated smile before closing the door.

As they drove off, Allison looked over at Octavia, her curiosity evident. "So... you and Derek?"

Octavia laughed, shaking her head. "Oh, no. It's not like that. He's just... well, let's just say he's an acquaintance with a flair for dramatic entrances."

Allison grinned. "Good. Because I need you focused. We've got a lot of trash-talking to do."

The tension in the Argent household was thick enough to cut with a knife as Octavia stepped inside behind Allison. She could feel her senses tingling, the prickling awareness of eyes on her—a subtle unease she couldn't quite shake. Mr. Argent gave her a polite smile, though his eyes seemed to measure her, weigh her, as if assessing if she was a threat. Mrs. Argent, however, was different. Her gaze lingered a beat too long, her smile not quite reaching her eyes.

"Nice to meet you, Mrs. Argent," Octavia said, her voice steady despite the nervous flutter in her stomach.

Mrs. Argent tilted her head, her smile thin and deliberate. "Likewise, Octavia. Allison's mentioned you."

"Well, I hope it's all good things," Octavia replied, attempting a smile. Allison quickly grabbed her by the arm, pulling her up the stairs.

Octavia exhaled in relief, her shoulders finally relaxing. "Your mom is... intense."

Allison shrugged, a sheepish smile on her face. "Yeah, she gets that way sometimes. Don't worry, she's just protective."

"Feels like she might be ready to chase me out of town with a pitchfork," Octavia muttered, but there was humor in her eyes.

"Only if you cross me." Allison grinned, trying to lighten the mood as she gestured around her room, which was still filled with unpacked boxes. "I haven't exactly finished unpacking. Or, you know, really started."

Octavia flopped onto Allison's bed, her eyes drifting across the room that still felt half-empty, boxes stacked against the walls. "I guess that happens when you move around a lot, huh?"

Allison nodded, leaning against her dresser. "Yeah, kind of. It's like, after a while, you just stop unpacking fully. Makes it easier to leave again."

There was a moment of silence between them, the kind that didn't need filling. Octavia nodded, her fingers playing with the comforter. "I get it. Sometimes I feel like I'm stuck here. Beacon Hills... it feels like a cage sometimes. I think I've wanted out for as long as I can remember."

"Big cities aren't always what they're cracked up to be, either," Allison offered, her voice soft. There was something in her eyes, a distance, like she understood Octavia's feeling all too well.

Octavia shrugged, giving her a half-smile. "Maybe not. But still. Grass is always greener, right?" She sat up suddenly, her eyes brightening. "Anyway, I believe there was mention of chocolate ice cream and trash talk?"

Allison's face lit up, and she grabbed Octavia's hand, practically yanking her off the bed. "Right! Let's go," she said, leading her down the stairs, the mood instantly lightened.

They padded into the kitchen, Allison pulling open the freezer and grabbing a tub of chocolate ice cream. She set it on the counter, retrieving bowls from a cupboard. "I'm still not sure how I feel about Scott bailing like that," she admitted, her tone frustrated. She dug into the ice cream, her movements a little too forceful. "I mean, I'm angry. If he had just called and canceled, I think I would've been more understanding."

Octavia grabbed a spoon and started helping herself. "Yeah, he's an idiot," she agreed easily, her tone casual. "I'm the smart one, obviously."

Allison laughed, rolling her eyes. "Clearly." She paused, giving Octavia a curious look. "Speaking of idiots... what's going on with you and Stiles?"

Octavia groaned, her spoon dropping back into her bowl as she flung her head back dramatically. "Oh my god, you're the second person to bring this up today. What is with everyone?"

Allison grinned, her eyes sparkling. "Oh come on, it's so obvious. He soooo likes you." She sing-songed, her smile widening. "I've only been here a week, and I can tell. Aliens probably know from space."

Octavia gasped dramatically, pointing her spoon at Allison. "You're an alien conspiracist! I knew it."

Allison shook her head, her grin not fading. "And you're avoiding the topic."

Octavia sighed, leaning against the counter, crossing her arms. "He's my best friend, Allison. From the moment we met, we just... clicked. It was like, ten seconds in, and we were inseparable. That's it. He's just... Stiles."

Allison shook her head, her expression a mix of amusement and exasperation. "Oh my god. You're so blind."

"No, I just got my vision checked last month," Octavia shot back, her lips curling into a teasing smile. Allison opened her mouth to retort, but before she could say anything, her mother's voice called from the hallway.

"Allison! Octavia! Someone's here for you."

Allison's eyebrows shot up in surprise. "Who would be here for us?" she asked, looking at Octavia, who shrugged.

They made their way to the staircase, and as they descended, Stiles stood at the door, shifting awkwardly, his eyes lighting up as he spotted them. He looked relieved, like a weight had been lifted off his shoulders.

"Well, speak of the devil," Allison muttered under her breath, a smile tugging at her lips.

Octavia sighed, shaking her head, a small grin playing on her face. "What are you doing here, Stilinski?" she called, her tone teasing.

Stiles shrugged, trying to look nonchalant. "Uh, I'm here to pick you up," he said, his eyes darting towards Allison's mom, who was watching the exchange with a curious expression.

Octavia raised an eyebrow, playing along. "Oh, right. How could I forget?" She turned to Allison, her eyes twinkling with amusement. "Guess I'm leaving you with the rest of that ice cream. Try not to eat it all."

Allison laughed, giving Octavia a quick hug. "I'll save you some. And we'll continue this conversation later," she added, her eyes glinting meaningfully.

"Looking forward to it," Octavia replied, her voice dripping with sarcasm as she followed Stiles out the door.

After they had successfully tracked down Scott and made their way back to the McCall house, exhaustion finally set in. Octavia collapsed next to Stiles, face-first onto her bed, her lavender party dress still on, her limbs feeling like lead.

"Scoot over," she mumbled, her voice muffled by the fabric of her comforter. "I need to sleep for the rest of my life."

Stiles sighed but complied, shifting over and making room as Octavia flopped beside him. "That's called a coma," he pointed out, his voice laced with amusement.

"That sounds amazing right now," Octavia replied, her eyes closed, her face pressed into her pillow. "I could totally go for a light coma."

Stiles snorted, shaking his head. "You're impossible."

They lay there for a while, the room growing quiet save for the soft hum of the ceiling fan. Octavia felt the warmth of Stiles's shoulder against hers, his familiar presence oddly comforting after the chaotic night they'd had.

"Hey, Birdie?" Stiles said, his voice softer now, almost hesitant.

"Mm?"

"You really did look... breathtaking tonight." The words slipped out before he could think twice, and he immediately regretted it, his face heating up as he stared up at the ceiling.

Octavia's eyes flickered open, a small smile tugging at her lips. She turned her head just enough to catch a glimpse of him out of the corner of her eye. "I know," she said, her tone teasing, though there was something else there too, something warm and genuine beneath the sarcasm.

Stiles let out a breath, shaking his head, a grin spreading across his face. "Absolutely insufferable," he muttered.

"And yet you're still here." She yawned, her eyes fluttering closed again.

"Yeah, well... someone's gotta make sure you don't actually go into a coma."

"Mm. Goodnight, Stiles."

"Night, Birdie."

┗━━━━━༻❁༺━━━━━┛

i love them i love them i love them i love them

and

i love you

𝚍𝚘𝚗'𝚝 𝚏𝚘𝚛𝚐𝚎𝚝 𝚝𝚘 𝚌𝚘𝚖𝚖𝚎𝚗𝚝 𝚊𝚗𝚍 𝚟𝚘𝚝𝚎