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Octavia McCall was at a crossroads.

She was upset at Scott for dodging her or Stiles' calls and for allowing Sheriff Stilinski to get hurt during the parent-teacher conference. But even she thought Stiles was taking things a bit too far with this cold-shoulder act. She sat beside him in homeroom, noticing how he tensed and shifted uncomfortably the moment Scott walked through the door.

Scott took his seat behind his best friend, dropping his backpack to the floor with a soft thud. Leaning forward, he spoke in a low, almost pleading tone. "Still not talking to me?"

Silence. Stiles didn't even glance back, his eyes fixed ahead, jew set. Octavia stifled a sigh, glancing between them. This whole thing felt ridiculous, but she knew better than to try and end it on her own.

Scott lowered his voice a little more, looking at his sister with pleading eyes, his expression a mix of guilt and frustration. "Okay, can you at least tell me if your dad's okay? I mean, it's just a bruise, right? Some soft tissue damage? Nothing that big?"

Octavia shifted uncomfortably, guilt twisting in her stomach. She reached over, squeezing Stiles' arm in a silent show of support as she felt him tense further. "You know I feel really bad about it, right?"

Scott sighed, "Okay. What if I told you that I'm trying to figure this whole thing out and...that I went to Derek for help?"

Octavia's head snapped toward him. Her eyes were wide with disbelief. "You-"

"If I was talking to you," Stiles interrupted, his voice sharp. "I'd say that you're an idiot for trusting him...But, obviously, I'm not talking to you."

"Obviously." Octavia nodded sarcastically, barely suppressing a smile.

When the bell rang, and as the teacher began to speak, Octavia saw Stiles fidget restlessly in his seat. Finally, he spun around, unable to hold back. "What did he say?"

The trio spilled out into the bustling hallway, Octavia breathing a quiet sigh of relief as she watched Scott and Stiles fall into their old rhythm, their voices weaving through the cacophony of slamming lockers and chatter.

"Wh- He wants you to tap into your animal side and get angry?" Stiles asked, his voice dripping with skepticism.

Scott nodded, casting a quick look at his sister as if gauging her reaction. Her eyebrows knitted together. "Okay, but every time you turn into the Hulk, you kind of try to kill someone." Her hand found Stiles' jaw, gently grabbing it and shaking it side to side. "And that 'someone' is usually him. And I, personally, am fond of him, and I'd appreciate it if we kept him alive."

Stiles blinked, caught off guard by her touch but subconsciously leaning into it. "I know." Scott sighed, glancing between them. His eyebrow raised at his sister as she moved her hand away. "That's what he means when he says he doesn't know if he can teach me. I have to be able to control it."

"Well, how's he gonna teach you to do that?" Stiles asked.

"Give you a self-help book on Becoming Your Own Inner Werewolf?"

"I don't know." Scott shrugged. "I don't think he does either."

Stiles threw his head back in exasperation, "Okay. When are you seeing him again?"

"Just told me not to talk about it. Just act normal and get through the day."

"When?" Stiles asked, smacking Scott's arm.

"He's picking me up at the animal clinic after work."

"After work." Stiles nodded, leaning his body back. "All right. Well, that gives me to the end of the school day, then..."

Octavia and her brother looked at each other, similar frowns drawn on their face. "To do what?" They asked at the same time.

"To teach you myself."

Octavia couldn't help but burst into laughter, her mind flashing back to the last "plan" Stiles had concocted. "Sorry, but after your last plan involved 'borrowing' Lydia's phone, I think I'll sit this one out."

Stiles gasped, feigning offense. "Have a little faith in me, Birdie."

She smirked, tilting her head to the side. "I'd rather go out with Greenberg."

"Greenberg?!" Stiles sputtered, faking a wounded look. "You wound me." He clutched his heart dramatically, stumbling backward as Scott chuckled under his breath. But Octavia noticed Scott's thoughtful look as he watched his sister and best friend, and then his smirk returned as if he'd finally pieced something together that she hadn't.

But he didn't say a word.

Octavia chose to have lunch with Lydia and Allison, deciding she needed some much-deserved girl time—and a break from whatever unconventional plan Stiles had cooked up for Scott.

As Allison spoke, Octavia noticed her friend's enthusiasm and felt her own curiosity grow. She adjusted in her seat, leaning in as Allison shared a new discovery about her family lineage, courtesy of her aunt.

Allison held up a large, worn book, her eyes bright. "It's called the Beast of Gévaudan," she explained. "My aunt found a record of it, and it's...pretty intense."

"The what of who?" Lydia asked, boredom oozing from her tone.

"The Beast of Gevaudan." Allison repeated, holding a large book in her hand, "Listen."

"'A quadruped wolf-like monster, prowling the Auvergne and South Dordogne areas of France during the year 1964 to 1967. La Bête killed over a hundred people, becoming so infamous that King Louis XV sent one of his best hunters to try and kill it.'"

"Boring," Lydia drawled, flicking her fork with a disinterested look. Octavia shot her a light elbow nudge, urging her to listen.

Allison, undeterred, continued. "'Even the Church eventually declared the monster a messenger of Satan.'"

Octavia's eyes widened slightly as she glanced at Allison. Lydia sighed. "Still boring."

Allison pushed on. "'Cryptozoologists believe it may have been a subspecies of a hoofed predator, possibly a mesonychid,'" she read, a glimmer of excitement in her voice.

Lydia rolled her eyes. "Slipping-into-a-coma bored."

"'While others believe it was a powerful sorcerer who could shapeshift into a man-eating monster.'"

Octavia leaned forward, genuinely intrigued but itching to avoid the world of shapeshifting and the supernatural. Her eyes darted across the cafeteria and landed on her brother before fixating back on Allison. "Hold up, 'messenger of Satan'? Allison, does this actually have anything to do with your family?"

Allison nodded, glancing down at the page with a mix of pride and apprehension. "'It does. It is believed that La Bête was finally trapped and killed by a renown hunter who claimed his wife and four children were the first to fall prey to the creature.' His name was Argent."

Lydia's gaze finally shifted, an unimpressed eyebrow-raising. "Your ancestors killed a big wolf. So what?"

"Not just a big wolf." Allison shook her head and flipped through the pages, finding an old illustration of the creature. She turned the book toward Octavia and Lydia. "Take a look at this picture. What does it look like to you?"

Octavia felt a shiver down her spine as she studied the drawing, the monster's eyes dark and piercing. It was a werewolf. But Lydia's reaction worried her more. Her friend went unnaturally still, her gaze fixed on the page, something like recognition flickering in her eyes. Octavia could sense the unease radiating off her.

"Lyds?" she said softly, touching Lydia's arm, grounding her. "Are you okay?"

Lydia's head snapped up, her face back to its usual cool demeanor, but Octavia could tell it was forced. "It looks...like a big...wolf." She said snidely. "See you in history."

As Lydia left, Allison frowned, glancing between Octavia and the book. "Did I just freak her out with that story?"

Octavia shrugged, watching Lydia's retreating figure with curiosity. "I think she just hates anything that doesn't involve a runway."

Octavia squinted against the sun as she followed Scott and Stiles onto the lacrosse field, questioning every step of her decision to come along instead of hiding out in the library. She watched with a mixture of amusement and mild horror as Stiles rummaged through his duffle bag with laser-focused determination.

"Now," Stiles said, handing Scott a worn-looking heart monitor. "Put this on."

Scott raised an eyebrow, inspecting the device. "Isn't this one of the heart rate monitors for the track team?"

Stiles shrugged as if it was the most trivial thing in the world. "Yeah, I borrowed it."

Octavia snorted. "You mean, stole it."

"Temporarily misappropriated," Stiles corrected, glaring at her. "Coach uses it to monitor his heart rate with his phone while we jog, and you're gonna wear it for the rest of the day."

Scott frowned, eyeing the phone in Stiles' other hand. "Isn't that...Coach's phone?"

Stiles gave a small, unapologetic nod. "That, I stole."

Octavia's jaw dropped as she shook her head at him. "You know this is how kleptomania starts, right?"

"I'm just being resourceful!" Stiles said, exasperated.

"Resourceful? You're one step away from sneaking TVs out of Best Buy," she deadpanned, crossing her arms.

Scott sighed, cutting them off. "So...how exactly is this supposed to help?"

"All right, well, your heart rate goes up when you go wolf, right?" Stiles asked, Scott nodded. "When you're playing lacrosse, when you're with Allison, whenever you get angry. Maybe learning to control it is tied to learning to control your heart rate."

"So, Octavia's right." Scott smiled triumphantly. "I'm like The Incredible Hulk."

Stiles rolled his eyes. "Kind of like the Hulk."

"No, I'm like The Incredible Hulk." Scott beamed, eyes twinkling.

"If I hear 'Hulk' one more time..." Octavia interrupted, "I'm punching someone."

"Agreed," Stiles muttered, handing Scott the monitor strap. "Now, shut up and put it on."

Scott strapped on the monitor, and Octavia watched with an amused expression as Stiles pulled out a roll of duct tape, binding Scott's arms behind his back.

"I should've just gone to the library," she muttered, but she felt a hint of worry for Scott despite the absurdity of it all.

"Ready?" Stiles asked, picking up a lacrosse stick, his grin too enthusiastic for comfort.

"No," Scott replied flatly.

Octavia sighed, patting her brother's shoulder in mock sympathy. "Just...try not to get angry?" she said, trying to keep her tone light. She trotted over to join Stiles, who handed her Coach's phone to monitor Scott's heart rate.

The moment he handed her the phone, Octavia could see the glint in Stiles' eye as he scooped up a ball with his lacrosse stick and hurled it straight at Scott.

"129...130..." Octavia read off the phone, glancing at Stiles with raised eyebrows. "Hey, maybe don't aim for his face?"

"Noted," Stiles replied dryly, though he didn't stop. Ball after ball flew toward Scott, who stumbled and ducked with every shot, looking both annoyed and nervous.

Scott was practically begging, "Wait—just hold on—" as he struggled with his taped hands.

"Don't let him get under your skin, big guy!" Octavia called out, trying to stifle her laughter. But as she kept reading the rising numbers, her amusement turned to concern. "157...158...159..." Her eyes widened as she looked at Stiles. "He's at 160."

Stiles' face fell. "Scott?"

Then, with a ripping sound, Scott tore through the duct tape, his breathing heavy, crouched on the ground. Octavia and Stiles took a cautious step back, watching his chest rise and fall as the monitor beeped rapidly before settling.

Stiles moved forward slowly, voice cautious. "Scott...you started to change."

"From anger." Scott groaned. "But it was more than that. It was like the angrier I got, the stronger I felt."

"So it is anger, then." Stiles spoke, "Derek's right."

Scott's face darkened. "I can't be around Allison."

Octavia's brows knit together. "Just because she makes you happy?" She raised an eyebrow, her tone teasing but tinged with genuine worry. "That's the lamest reason I've ever heard."

Scott shook his head, looking more defeated than she'd ever seen him. "No, not because she

makes me happy. Because she makes me...weak."

Coach Finstock dropped a textbook onto his desk with a heavy thud as the bell signaled the beginning of class. As Scott had insisted, Octavia sat beside him, even if part of her felt bad for keeping them apart. "Hey, Stiles, sit behind me, dude," Scott whispered as Stiles walked to take his seat behind Octavia. Stiles had one foot on the seat- until Allison swept past Scott and claimed it with a triumphant smile.

"Let's settle down! Let's start with a quick summary of last night's reading...Greenberg, put your hand down. Everyone knows you did the reading. How about, uh..." Octavia could already feel the tension rise, like static in the air. Her eyes flitted to Scott, sensing his nerves as Coach's gaze locked onto him.

"Boy McCall."

Scott's head jerked up, startled. "What?"

"The reading?" Coach pressed, raising his eyebrows.

"Last night's reading?" Scott asked. Octavia sensed his embarrassment like a prickling heat, her hand instinctively pressing against her notebook as if to ground herself.

"How about, uh, the reading of The Gettysburg Address?" Coach asked, the students laughing lightly.

"What?" Scott asked eyebrows knitted together.

"That's sarcasm." Coach clarified. "You familiar with the term 'sarcasm,' McCall?"

"Very," Scott replied, glancing at his sister and best friend. The two smiled, flattered by what he had said.

"Did you do the reading or not?" Finstock asked.

"Uh, I think I forgot."

"Nice work, McCall!" Coach congratulated sarcastically. "It's not like you're averaging a 'D' in this class." He leaned in closer, softening his tone just a little, "Come on, buddy. You know I can't keep you on the team if you have a 'D'. How about you summarize, uh, the previous reading?"

She watched as Coach began to humiliate Scott even more. From behind, she felt a light tap on her shoulder. She turned to see Stiles holding up Coach's stolen phone, flashing the heart monitor app at her. Her eyes widened as Scott's heart rate ticked up, numbers jumping higher as Coach's words dug in. She felt her brother's embarrassment settle over her lightweight, his pulse racing through her own chest.

And then, out of her eye, she saw Allison reach over and slip her hand into Scott's, their fingers intertwining. His heart rate dipped, the tension around her loosening, melting like snow in sunlight. Octavia watched, a soft smile pulling at her lips as Scott's whole posture relaxed, his breathing leveling out.

Stiles held the door open for Octavia. She slipped through with a casual 'thanks,' her shoulder brushing his arm as they joined the flow of students in the hallway. Scott walked ahead, practically glowing after the moment he'd shared with Allison in class.

"It's her," Stiles said to Scott.

Scott placed his hands on his backpack straps before searching the somewhat crowded hallway. "What do you mean?"

"It's Allison." Stiles repeated. "Remember what you told me about the night of the full moon? You were thinking about her, right? About protecting her."

"Okay..." Scott trailed off, not fully understanding where his best friend was going.

"Remember the night of the first lacrosse game? You said you could hear her voice out on the field."

"Yeah, I did."

"You think that's what brought him back?" Octavia caught on. "And why he didn't kill her in the locker room after the game.

"Well, at least not like how he was trying to kill me." Stiles shrugged, then sighed. "She brings you back, is what I'm saying."

"No, no, no, but it's not always true because literally every time I'm kissing her or touching her-"

"No," Stiles interjected.

"Totally not the same thing," Octavia added. "When you're doing that, you're just another hormonal teenage boy."

Stiles nodded, "Right, just another hormonal teenager thinking about sex, you know?"

Scott had a smirk plastered onto his face as they continued to walk, Octavia and Stiles casting a quick glance at each other, and Octavia suddenly felt like maybe she shouldn't be subjected to the answer to Stiles' next question. "You're thinking about sex right now, aren't you?"

Octavia grimaced as her brother responded, "Yeah. Sorry."

"It's fine," Stiles replied with a sigh. "Look, back in the classroom, when she was holding your hand, that was different, okay? I don't think she makes you weak; I think she actually gives you control. She's kind of like an anchor."

Octavia felt her heart soften, her eyes flickering to Stiles so quickly she hadn't even realized it.

"You mean because I love her?" Scott asked softly.

Octavia's chest tightened at her brother's declaration, her thoughts skipping to a distant 'what if' she couldn't quite catch. Her eyes flickered to Stiles again, wondering if he ever thought about love. He met her gaze, and they shared a look that felt oddly significant to them both before looking away.

"Exactly," Stiles responded, focusing his attention back on Scott.

"Did I just say that?" Scott asked

"Yes, you just said that," Stiles replied, irritation flowing through him as he tried to get Scott back on topic. Besides, Scott being in love with Allison was only real news to Scott and Allison.

"I love her." Scott declared, his face lit up as if he'd just uncovered a secret.

"That's great. Now, moving on-"

"No, no, no, really." Scott cut his best friend off. "I think I'm totally in love with her."

"And that's beautiful," Stiles said, half-sincere, half-irritated. "Now, before you go off and write a sonnet, can we figure this out, please? Because you obviously can't be around her all the time."

Scott shook the thoughts of Allison away, "Yeah, yeah, yeah. Sorry. So, what do I do."

Stiles sighed, pinching his nose as he begrudgingly admitted, "I don't know. Yet." He twirled around in place, jumping as an idea came to him.

"Oh, no," Octavia muttered, knowing glint in his eyes all too well.

"You're getting an idea, aren't you?" Her brother asked though they both knew the answer to that question.

"Yeah," Stiles replied.

"Is it a good idea?" Octavia asked, crossing her arms but unable to stop her own smile.

"Probably not."

"Is this idea gonna get me in trouble?" Asked Scott.

"Maybe."

"Is this idea gonna cause me physical pain?"

"Yeah, definitely."

"Are you going to get Scott neutered?"

Octavia wandered the quiet hallways, each echo of her footsteps a reminder that Scott and Stiles were serving out a detention sentence without her. The faint sound of piano music drifted from the music room, delicate notes threading through the silence. Intrigued, she followed the sound lingering by the door.

Inside, an unfamiliar boy sat alone at the piano, fingers gliding effortlessly across the keys, lost in the melody. His posture was relaxed, his head slightly bowed, and dark hair fell over his face. Octavia couldn't help but admire the way he played—completely absorbed as if he'd forgotten the world outside the music.

"You just gonna stand there all day?" he asked, breaking her trance. His eyes stayed on the keys, and the smugness in his tone made it clear he'd known she was there all along.

Octavia blinked, cheeks flushing. "Oh! I didn't mean to—sorry."

He shrugged his back still to her. "Semi-private place. Free country."

The response caught her off-guard, and she fought to recover with a grin. "Right... that's why my grandpa thinks socks with sandals are totally acceptable," she quipped, then immediately cringed at her attempt.

He shrugged, still not turning to look at her. "Look all you want. It's not like I'm charging for the performance." He finally cast a sidelong glance her way, one eyebrow raised, amused by her.

"That's generous of you," She shot back, feeling her cheeks warm. "Just passing by, anyway."

"Clearly." He didn't miss a beat, fingers returning to the keys as if to dismiss her.

"It's beautiful."

"I'll let Beethoven know. If he ever decides to drop by."

She felt the tips of her ears heat up at his sarcasm. "Good to know he's got you as his spokesperson," she replied, trying to match his tone, but her voice held a slight waver she wished he couldn't hear.

He finally turned to face her, his gaze intense but annoyingly amused. "Didn't think I'd have an audience today, but I guess I can make an exception."

"Glad to know you're willing to be inconvenienced," she retorted, crossing her arms.

"Hey, I'm just saying," he replied, leaning back from the piano as if her presence was some grand interruption. "Not everyone gets to listen."

"Not everyone would want to." Her lips twitched as she tried to keep her irritation in check. The arrogance practically radiated off him.

He gave a light laugh, like everything she said amused him more and more. "Guess I'll count myself lucky, then. Tell me, Miss Unimpressed, you always go around critiquing people, or am I special?"

She held his gaze, trying her best to figure him out. "Oh, you're special, all right. And it's Octavia."

He chuckled. "Well, Octavia, special or not, you're still here. So, anything else you'd like to critique? I aim to please."

She huffed, trying her best not to give him satisfaction. "I think I've heard enough."

"Fine by me." He shrugged, not looking the least bit offended. 'But when you change your mind- and you will- you know where to find me. Unless you're too busy cataloging your grandpa's sandal collection."

With that, he went back to the piano, the tune picking up with renewed intensity. Octavia lingered for a second longer than she meant to, watching as he played. She rolled her eyes and left, but something told her this wasn't the last she'd be running into him.

The moment Stiles parked his Jeep, Octavia's fingers twitched with an unfamiliar, restless energy. The school loomed in the dark, the void of it exuding a strange, haunting calm that unsettled her. Her encounter with the smug piano player flashed through her mind, though she quickly shook it off, choosing to focus on the immediate tension building in her chest- a feeling that her night was about to go terribly wrong.

When Stiles opened the door, she stepped out slowly, her feet touching the ground with a reluctant purpose. Her fingers fidgeted, brushing against her jeans as though she were reminding herself that this was real life. She didn't know what it was- the darkness she felt- but she felt it lingering like static, thickening the air around her.

"This is a terrible idea." Stiles spoke, and for once, she didn't argue. It was a terrible idea. But she couldn't shake the tug to follow her brother and Stiles, even as her mind screamed at her to turn back.

"Yeah, I know," Scott replied, trying to mask his nerves.

"But we're still gonna do it?" Stiles asked, irritation creeping into his voice.

"Can you think of something better?" Scott asked.

Stiles shrugged, "Well, personally, I'm a fan of ignoring the problem until eventually it just goes away."

Octavia scoffed. "That's for things like pimples and unresolved childhood trauma, not the supernatural."

"Just make sure we can get inside." Scott requested as Derek's car approached. Stiles reached into his truck and pulled out bolt cutters and a flashlight. "He's here."

The two followed Scott toward Derek's car. With his arms out in confusion, Scott asked, "Where's my boss?"

"He's in the back," Derek said. The two boys leaned in to look into Derek's backseat. Scott's boss, Dr. Deaton, was unconscious in the backseat, his mouth taped shut.

"Oh, he looks comfortable." Stiles quipped dryly, Octavia rolled her eyes, following Scott and Stiles toward the school entrance.

"Wait. Hey. What are you doing?" Derek called out, making them stop and look back at him.

"You said I was linked to the Alpha," Scott replied. "I'm gonna see if you're right."

"Octavia-" Derek called out.

She turned to him, looking at him as if she already knew what he would say. She felt the anxiety of the people around her and her own fear, too. She knew this was a horrible idea; she spent an hour trying to tell her brother just that. "I know." Was all she could say because she felt how the next few hours would go, what would come next.

As they entered the main office, Octavia felt it again- that strange pull, like her own instincts were blending with emotions that weren't hers. Her pulse quickened, mirroring Scott's anticipation and Stiles' growing anxiety. She wondered if she should tell them, but the words caught in her throat, and she kept quiet, trying to tamp down that feeling that something was lurking just out of sight.

"Okay, one question," Stiles began, his panicked tone not helping either of the McCall siblings. "What are you gonna do if the Alpha doesn't show up?"

"I don't know," Scott admitted.

"And what are you gonna do if he does show up?"

"I don't know," Scott repeated.

"Good plan," Stiles said with a sarcastic nod. Octavia moved toward the PA system, tinkering with it to distract herself.

"All right, you said that a wolf howls to signal his position to the rest of the pack, right?" Scott asked.

"Right, but if you bring him here, does that make you part of his pack?"

"I hope not."

"Yeah, me too."

"All right." Octavia finally spoke, placing the small microphone in front of her brother. "It's all you."

Scott cleared his throat for good measure before nervously exhaling. He let out an awkward, shrill howl. His sister pinched the bridge of her nose as Stiles scratched his head. "Unbelievable." She muttered to herself at the poor attempt at a howl, if one could really call it that.

"Was that okay?" Scott asked, looking at them for reassurance.

"That was... something." Octavia nodded, blinking her eyes as if she were attempting to banish the headache forming. "I think I'd rather take my chances waiting with Derek."

As she headed toward the door, her brother's voice drifted after her, asking, "Well, what did it sound like to you?"

Outside, she leaned against the powder blue Jeep, willing herself to breathe steadily as the nagging sense of dread twisted in her chest.

Derek shot her a sidelong look. "Your brother's an idiot," he muttered.

"Tell me something I don't know." She scoffed, crossing her arms as she tried to shake off the feeling. Before she could relax, a real howl echoed through the PA system, low and chilling. The sound struck her like a physical blow, and she gasped, clutching her head as the flood of emotions hit her.

Suddenly, her world narrowed. Octavia gasped, clutching her head as memories, sensations, and flashes of emotions that weren't her own rushed in, overwhelming her. Shadows morphed and flickered at the edge of her vision, images she didn't recognize and voices that didn't belong to her filling her mind. She stumbled, her breath hitching as she tried to shake herself free from the intense wave of emotions. The world around her seemed too bright and dark like her senses couldn't settle.

"Octavia?" Derek's voice broke through, and he caught her by the shoulders. As he held her steady, his gaze hardened with an understanding she couldn't quite place.

The howl stopped, but a dull ache remained, and Octavia felt as if she'd been on the edge of something she couldn't explain. She straightened, plastering on a brave face just as Scott and Stiles appeared, oblivious to what had happened.

"I'm gonna kill both of you." Derek threatened. "What the hell was that? What are you trying to do, attract the entire state to the school?"

"Sorry." Scott apologized sheepishly. "I didn't know it would be that loud."

"Yeah, it was loud. And it was Awesome." Stiles beamed.

"Shut up," Derek told him irritably.

"Don't be such a sour-wolf." Stiles teased before his eyes landed on the girl. Her head was in her hands as she rested against the Jeep, worry darkening his face. "Hey, Birdie, are you okay?" He stepped close, his hands resting on her shoulders, searching her face.

She nodded, desperately trying to shake off the lingering pain and odd visions. "I'm fine," she murmured.

"What did you do to her?" Stiles rounded on Derek, his expression dark,

"He didn't do anything." She replied quickly, squeezing Stiles' arm for reassurance. "It's just a headache."

"What'd you do with him?" Scott asked, realizing the door to the backseat of Derek's car was open.

"What?" Derek turned to the car before looking back at Scott. "I didn't do anything."

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I think their love language is physical touch

there wasn't much of a need for Octavia in this episode so i decided to somewhat introduce a character who is so near and dear to my heart

𝚍𝚘𝚗'𝚝 𝚏𝚘𝚛𝚐𝚎𝚝 𝚝𝚘 𝚌𝚘𝚖𝚖𝚎𝚗𝚝 𝚊𝚗𝚍 𝚟𝚘𝚝𝚎