For the "I wish you would write a fic where..." thing: In a canon setting, except Stiles is older, went to highschool with Derek and was friend with him. He can be a deputy at the beginning, trying to deal with a newly bitten Scott, whom he considers a little brother, and the return of Derek, his friend from school and old (current) crush. Do you think it's a good idea?
So, turns out I love this idea more than anything, and I have so many ideas about this and how it would proceed, but I’m not rewriting the first season, okay. I’m not.
Stiles was very cold, very wet, and very tired, because it was midnight, raining, and he was out in the preserve looking for a body.
Half a body.
They had the bottom half, they just had to find the part they could actually ID.
East side clear, the radio on his shoulder crackled, and his dad’s voice responded for the pair of deputies to head north to meet up with the K9 team. Everything cool was happening on the northside, and yet Stiles was stuck on the southside of the preserve, with Jordan Parrish.
Jordan Parrish of unending optimism and energy.
How he got paired up with the newbie, he’d never know.
Okay, he would, because technically he was also a newbie, except he really wasn’t. Sure, he might’ve been somewhat new to being employed as a deputy of the Sheriff’s Station of Beacon County, but he’d literally grown up in that station; not one person there could say he was really a rookie.
“God, this sucks,” Stiles muttered, sweeping his flashlight back and forth across the wet and muddy ground in front of him. So far he’d found all of two dead rabbits and some dog shit someone didn’t clean up, so, real thrilling night here. Great search.
“Could be worse,” Parrish responded lightly with a shrug, and Stiles rolled his eyes at the darkness in front of him.
“Don’t say Afghanistan.”
The audible smirk in the following pause told him that was exactly what Parrish was about to say.
“I’d rather be a little damp than have sand in my boots, any day.”
“Yeah, well you didn’t step in that puddle.” Stiles’ foot was still freezing and squelched even more than the muddy forest floor beneath it.
It sucked that a woman died, yes, but Stiles was also having a rotten time.
Time passed, there were more updates of nothing found over the radio, a couple dog barks in the distance, and still they found no body.
Given that it was almost one in the morning and everyone Stiles normally talked to was either at home asleep or out in the woods with him on the radio, it took a second for his ringing cellphone to register beyond a mild annoyance that Parrish would have his phone on that loud during his shift.
“You gonna get that?” Parrish asked, and Stiles frowned at him for a second before realizing that was indeed his ringtone, and if someone was calling this late, it was probably something serious.
He only glanced at the caller ID for the briefest second as he answered.
“Yo, Scotty, what’s up?” He was about to add that he couldn’t talk right then when Scott’s panicked babbling steamrolled through his mind.
“Stiles! Oh god, you have to come get me! You’re in the preserve right? Because I’m pretty sure I’m lost, and something bit me, and—”
“Wait, hang on, you’re where?” He was tired, he was struggling to keep up with everything, and Scott was breathing like he would be needing his inhaler in about five seconds. “Why the hell are you in the woods, you know we’re looking for a body right?” he hissed into the phone, glancing briefly at Parrish, who was watching with raised eyebrows.
He shook his head, trying to act casual as Scott frantically rambled out,
“I’m by the west entrance to the preserve, I think? Stiles, I don’t know what the hell it was, but it came out of nowhere, and I’m bleeding, and I can’t find Erica—”
“Erica’s with you?” Christ, it just got better and better. “Okay, stay where you are, I’ll come find you and I’ll tell everyone to keep an eye out for Erica.”
That didn’t calm Scott down at all.
“You can’t do that, her parents would kill her if cops brought her home! You know how crazy they are!”
Stiles rubbed at his forehead. He was cold and wet and tired and now he was getting a headache. “Yes, because she has epilepsy, Scott! She could die out here.” Parrish was coming over, looking concerned. “Just stay where you are, we’re coming.”
He hung up with a frustrated huff.
“Scott’s out here?” Parrish asked, already heading south, so clearly that phone call hadn’t been as discreet as Stiles would’ve liked. At least he seemed to be going with it—despite appearances, not a total stickler for the rules. Good to know.
“And Erica. They went looking for the body.” They must’ve heard the call on the old police scanner in Stiles’ jeep. He needed to stop letting Scott borrow his car. And Scott needed to learn to stand up to Erica’s insane whims, because there was no way this wasn’t her idea.
They walked in silence for a second before Parrish said, “You know you’d do the same if you were their age, right?”