scarfwere​:

Something struck a nerve. Something in the way Stiles must have spoken. Something about all of this turning into an absolute shit show. There was a pulsating headache and he’s sure if he turned his head now he’d see where his head made a crack against the wall. 

But there was more pressing matter. 

He’d honed in on Stiles. Stiles whose heart beat was as loud as a freight train to his senses now. 

Stiles who was….scared?

With a curse under his breath, he finally pulled his gun. He’d hoped he’d manage to subdue him. Bring him back. Something. But there were too many factors no longer within his control. And for some reason or another, his attention is now solely focused on Stiles. And it’s making it even harder for him to think straight. 

With a finger on the trigger and the gun aimed at his shoulder, he shoots. The bullet stuffed with gunpowder and mountain ash hits him through the shoulder. Not enough to incapacitate him but it was enough to momentarily pull his gaze away from Stiles and focus back on him. Only to confirm. Before his eyes are back on Stiles with a promising glare and he flees through the skylight. 

“Dammit! “

     It’s funny how life decides to play you, isn’t it? One moment you’re out on something that seems like a regular mission, another moment you’re thrown back a decade to your teenage times and the first life you’ve ever taken … voluntarily, that is. The first life you took while in control of your body. – Stiles was too focused on keeping it together, holding Colbert’s gaze and trying to keep a leveled head to even wonder for a second if Isaac knew what this meant.

(Later he would wonder. He would wonder if Isaac had known all this time and chose not to tell him cause he wanted him on the case. Later, if they made it out of this, he would yell at Isaac, for sure. He would push him away and tell him to get lost and there probably would be some non-PG remarks involving French bread. But for now, it was just Colbert.)

He could tell that Colbert didn’t care about Stiles’ attempt at calming him down, if anything, he seemed to open that disgusting mouth of his even wider, hissing at him. Stiles was worried that if he blinked, Donovan … – No. Colbert would leap and take him down. So he didn’t blink. He stayed motionless, one hand held up with his palm facing Colbert, the other holding the postcard. He was as still as a statue and he knew this could have been it…

The brain sometimes fails at recognizing the chronology of events. Stiles wouldn’t ever be able to pierce the following events together in the right order. Did Colbert start moving towards Stiles and that’s why Isaac shot him? Or did Isaac shot him and Colbert moved because of the impact? Either way, Colbert moved. Was shot. Made sure to let Stiles know with one final look that he was coming for him and then finally, the one piece Stiles knew belonged to the end: He left.

It took a while to get back to his senses, the voices in his ear getting louder and the number of bodies around them increasing as the members of the team raced towards them, but it was all for nothing. Stiles waved it all off, told one of his teams to try to track Colbert down, knowing fully well no one would manage, and said his goodbye to the team to leave. – There was going to be a lot of paper work tied to this case and considering Stiles wouldn’t get a second of sleep tonight, he might as well return to the office. All this time he hadn’t thought of Isaac once. It was almost as if his mind had been switched off and his body did what needed to be done; all until he was sat behind the steering wheel of his car and pulled the door shut did he come back and remember: Isaac. He looked out on the street, wondering if the werewolf would join him or hunt after the wendigo, unable to move a single muscle as his body coped with the terrors of his minds and memory.

scarfwere​:

He’d managed, somehow this time, to catch him off guard. Just a little. Enough to have him caught up in his arms struggling for more than a minute. But the sudden onslaught of unfamiliar members to his team distracted him somehow enough that Colbert knocked him to the nose with the back of his head. Loosening his grip on him and having him fumbling, panicking with a growled out curse under his breath at the potential body count added he’d have to keep alive now. 

“Dammit Stilinski! “ He cursed, loud enough as his claws flung out finally. Eyes growing only brighter with its golden rings. Lips snarling to reflect fangs. It’s not his fault these agents are going to be inducted to the supernatural world now when it was just meant to be a small team to begin with. 

More paperwork for him.

He tried his best to push the human agents out of the way. One of them pulls out a gun and shoots and while it wasn’t enough to stop Colbert, it was almost enough to distract him. Allowing Isaac the opportune chance to dig his nails into his side, blood seeping through the cloth. But he was what, hundred years younger to his thousand year old history, and even with the deep cut through his side, his strength in anger was still enough to almost break his arm as he grabbed it and threw him out of the way. 

Leaving him with ample opportunity to run away, if he wanted. But he was clearly here for something. And his eyes wandered around the circle of agents around him to focus on one in particular. Walking towards him then with his mouth opening threatening, baring an obscene amount of teeth at no other than Stiles Stilinski. 

Some of the people in the museum were being escorted out, others were more than quick to leave themselves. Stiles couldn’t have known nor expected Isaac to be distracted from additional man-power. – Who even would be? For fuck’s sake! Stiles couldn’t do anything else but watch the back and forth between Colbert and Isaac, the weight in his pocket suddenly much heavier than before.

Blood, sweat, gunpowder, he could smell it all in that moment, but the second Colbert turned towards him, bearing a set of teeth that to this day still haunted Stiles’ dreams, he could smell gasoline, too. – Donovan. The name flashed through his head and he didn’t dare take his gaze off the wendigo. Dammit, Lahey! There was no doubt Isaac didn’t know about this and he chose not to tell them? 

                   If Stiles had known, he would have gotten all of their department here.

He lifted his hand in something he hoped to be a soothing gesture, keeping his voice leveled as he spoke: “It’s over Colbert. Don’t make this worse than it has to be. We’ve got you,” The snarl and growl his words were met with hinted at the fact that Colbert didn’t CARE. There could only be one reason why his attention was on Stiles… Stiles reached into his pocket with his other hand. “Don’t shoot, guys. We’ve got this under control. It’s fine…” Nothing was fine; sweat was already running down Stiles’ temple as he pulled the wrinkled postcard out of his pocket. “I’ll give it to you if you put those nasty boys away, buddy… Come on, man…”

scarfwere​:

His eyes narrowed again on his human counterpart. The urge to smack him across the back of his head stronger and stronger yet somehow he manages. Perhaps truly too distracted on listening in on the true source of his ire. The slippery wendigo that had crossed continents to make fools of them. 

Or more specifically him. 

He hovered just behind Stiles then as he seemed to gravitate on a particular piece on display. The steps stopping, distinctly. Isaac sensing there were extra pairs of eyes on the back of his head just as much as his was focused on Stilinski’s reflection on the glass. The question seemingly obvious but he supposed a clarification would be necessary. 

“ Leave him to me. “ He nodded. Feeling that sense of dread creep up his spine slowly. The footsteps are coming closer. His gaze singularly on Stiles now so as not to drop the ball before it even started. When he catches his scent coming up the stairs and turning the corner. A curse so intense he might as well have said it out loud jumbles around his head.

He waits and waits and waits until he couldn’t wait any longer. And he leaps at Colbert before he could even stop him. 

       And to Isaac, he agreed to leave the tackling. The tension kept growing with every passing second, he could sense Isaac’s body almost vibrating next to him with the tension, his eyes focused. Even though Isaac was looking at him, Stiles knew he was somewhere entirely different with his mind and his other senses. He imagined it must have been more than humiliating having a mere human slip out of his hands several times. Colbert must have been a genius; maybe a mastermind or their generation’s Lupin (–The first season on Netflix was good, really, the second? Meh.).

Isaac moved before Stiles had even spotted Colbert, but with his movement, Stiles is quick to tell his team to move. “Alpha team, NOW !” Isaac’s abrupt movement had the people around them moving out of the way, some people started screaming. This surely was the most action the stamp museum had ever seen. Stiles grabbed the postcard that he knew Colbert was here for, pocketed it and followed Isaac and Colbert’s trace. It wasn’t a surprise that Isaac was fast, but, shit, Colbert was, too!

scarfwere​:

Isaac couldn’t resist letting out the groan that was equal parts childish and annoyed. His nerves were on the fritz. And his claws were itching to be let loose on this guy much sooner than he wanted to pull the trigger, if he was honest. Sure, it was messy. But in his experience: effective. 

And he could sense at least, that whatever unnerving little plan Stiles had up his sleeve, neither him nor Colbert were up to speed yet. Which meant, if he was here, he was still walking around, making that distinct patter of his archaic shoes. 

“ Scooby was right there, man. “ He pointed out, eyes still anywhere but him. Always wandering. Somewhat frantic. Sighing as he forced himself finally to look at him with a nod. His senses weren’t as refined as a werewolf’s. But it didn’t make him any less of a deadly creep, he wanted to say. But if Stiles had a trick up his sleeve; dropping the ball now might ruin whatever this little plan of his was. “ He’s coming close, I think. He’s…loooking around. “ What the hell for? He had no idea.

                  “Of course he is,” even if he had wanted to, Stiles wouldn’t have been able to hide a small but cocky smile from presenting itself on his lips. He could tell that Isaac was tense and he knew that there must be something that Stiles wasn’t aware of where Colbert was concerned. But as long as Isaac wasn’t going to spit out what he knew, Stiles wasn’t going to let him in on his own plan and ideas.

Reaching his arms up abruptly in a big stretch, he yawned. – Why couldn’t it have been something more fun like a roller-skating ring? Or the zoo? At least there he could’ve pointed at various animals and say look, it’s you to Isaac. That surely would get things rolling. As they slowly walked through the exhibition, making their way closer to what Stiles was convinced to be the target. 

“Do you wanna body-slam him to the floor or shall I? I feel like we should agree on this, wouldn’t want it to look embarrassing or anything.” While Isaac seemed stubborn on looking everywhere and anywhere than Stiles, Stiles turned to steal a few glances at Isaac every now and then, the cocky smile on his own lips had grown- The thrill of the mission and the chance to be done with this much sooner than expected already had him in a delighted mood.

scarfwere​:

A shake of his head is all he offers. $9.99 wasn’t really much but a bargain was a bargain, he supposed. Looking around the crowded room then. Eyes narrowed before he turns again to face Stiles. His focused hearing now on him. Every little shift of his body. Every stifle of a noise or intake of breath. Until he caught up on his suggestion after the muttering. 

He nodded then. Fists clenching in pockets. His nerves on high alert. Something amiss. His teeth grated angrily as he followed Stiles up the stairs then. 

    “ Why do I feel like you’re not telling me something? “  

Isaac had mumbled, still looking over his shoulder. A part of him thought it would probably be better if they split. Better chances of finding them with his senses and Stiles’ natural instinct. But knowing what he knew, it probably wasn’t safe to leave anyone with Colbert without him.

                  “You wouldn’t believe me, anyway.” He didn’t even try to deny it. Of course Stiles had his own theories and ideas and of course there was more to him being so certain about the stamp museum being the next target. However, a magician never revealed his tricks, and Stiles wasn’t planning on revealing anything, either.

Isaac looked too busy walking with the stick up his ass, anyway, there was no need to tell him about Stiles’ theory concerning this guy hunting down his ancestor’s trails all over Europe and the states. In this very stamp museum, a special post card was awaiting them. Stiles had already an undercover team up there, one Isaac didn’t need to know about. Turns out as much as they had to work with Interpol, Interpol didn’t need to know their every single step.

Besides, the undercover team was a last minute decision, anyway. “You can call me Houdini once we’re done here.” He pointed towards his ear, urging Isaac on to listen closely. “Can you sense anything yet, Pluto?”

scarfwere​:

Isaac didn’t really need to look to confirm what he could already hear. Blood vessels popping. Jaw clenching. Heart pumping a little angrier. And if he wasn’t completely devoted to looking like the grumpy fool he might have laughed even. Shaken his head and let himself think he looked adorable when he was angry. Fortunately, the distraction meant he could hone in on the abnormal noise. 

He grabbed Stiles’ arm before he could jump out. Just stilling him there with his eyes closed as he tried to figure out where the noise was coming from exactly and only opened them when he’d tuned in on the correct direction. 

“ Don’t forget your gun, dumbass. “ He remarked as he let him go. Pushing his own door open as well and exhaling softly. Expelling everything else for that distinct clinking of his keys and that tap tap noise of Colbert’s welted country shoes. It had to be him. It had to. 

They just needed to catch him off guard in a sea of civilians. Yep. Easy work. 

He takes point then. Hands in his pocket. Casual as he stepped ahead of Stiles. Easier of course with his long legs and mostly stubborn determination. He needed to confirm with his own eyes that his senses was right. 

The hand around his wrist send a shockwave through his body; making him want to jerk his hand away as if Isaac’s mere touch had burned his skin. – But he didn’t. He knew better than to react; knew better than to show his anger, frustration, and whatever else he was feeling that would have to go untitled as he refused to face his own thoughts where Isaac Lahey was concerned. 

He rolled his eyes, ready to meet Isaac’s gaze just to tell him off, only to witness the way the other was focusing; eyes closed, still like the statue of a Greek god. His face had changed; not much, but it looked like a face that had long forgotten how to smile. Stronger eyebrows than Stiles’ remembered. His jawline and neck… – No. “Already have it on me, idiot,” he huffed the words out, snapping out of whatever haze he’d fallen into and clinging onto reality to stay grounded and stay in the present. 

      He needed to think of Isaac as no-one. A random guy from Interpol here to catch another random guy. There was no history between them. Isaac’s touch couldn’t make Stiles’ entire body shiver and burn at the same time. He was no one.

               “Aren’t you glad we don’t have to pay?” He had a hand on his badge as they walked towards the building, trusting Isaac’s instincts fully as he knew what he was doing. Rule number one really didn’t hold any significance; if they could solve this case quicker with super-hearing, they would. They showed their badges at the entrance and pushed through the ‘crowd’, if one may call it that.

                           “We need to take the stairs upstairs to the postcard section.”

scarfwere​:

It wasn’t hard to set it all up like he had thought. Or perhaps Stiles’ supervisor was just a much more sensible man to hold a conversation with compared to the former. There was some paperwork but nothing he couldn’t do reflexively. And in a manner of a few hours, they were gearing up to go. 

The rest of the teams in their position and him and Stiles in their own car, or in this case, Stiles’ car, manning the comms. His glasses off now so he could fully observe and see everything without missing a single detail. He still had the scent of that bastard in his memory. But it was definitely a struggle to compete with the assortment of scents that flooded Stiles car along with the memories associated to it. 

Fucking Stilinski. 

He leaned back and tried to focus on tuning out the noise. Listening out for anything peculiar, anything out of place, anything unnatural. Tilting his head when he thinks he hears a patter that shouldn’t be there. 

“ Heads up, Mieczysław. “ 

It would be a lie to say Stiles hadn’t tried to sign Isaac up with someone else for the stake out. He tried for a second (so he could say he did) and accepted the partnership. At least they had a task and a goal and a criminal on the loos; that helped stay focused on the task and it helped creating a haze around the entire fact that Isaac was here.

     Any minute now Stiles expected to wake up from this weird dream, but it never happened and so he decided the best thing he could do was to roll with it. Forget the past, don’t worry about the future, and focus on the present. It was easier with a bag full of curly fries - the best ones in town - and a mouth full of them. It gave him an excuse not to talk with Isaac and it surely gave the grumpy fool a reason to be even grumpier.

                “I swear to god, Lahey…” the words were muttered out, accompanied by a little bit of potato flying from Stiles’ mouth as he turned around to look at Isaac. Taking the higher-road clearly didn’t work. “It’s Stiles.” He pulled his hand out of the bag, licking his finger clean before taping his ear to activate the connection to the other teams. “Heads up, we might have seen something.” He ended the connection again, pulling his door open. 

                                   “I’m going in. Are you coming along or staying?”

scarfwere​:

He might not have been around him as longer as someone like Scott must have been but Isaac knew enough to be certain of a few things. One and most importantly being that Stiles was leagues better at this than most people, including him. And if they really had any hopes of finding Colbert, it’d be him. Why did everyone think he was floating around his name for as long as he had before they’d dragged him here? He just didn’t really think they’d listen to him. 

Hopefully Stiles  doesn’t disappoint. 

He turned to him again then, nodding. Listening more intently now while forming their battle plan. Lots of paperwork to do after he’s sure. Three groups. One at the entrance. Another on the roof. Him and Stiles near the exit. Plenty of room to catch Colbert should he try to be…more slippery than expected. He nodded his agreement. 

“ It’s probably for the humidifying system. “ He murmured thoughtlessly, following his gaze again. “ To make sure the stamps don’t dry out or something. “ He offered some more before turning away. “ I’ll go talk to your supervisor. I expect you have a team in mind already for this and leave it to you?” 

 Every now and then Stiles ends up having a small off-topic rant. People have grown used to it, few actually listen when it happens. Even Stiles had gotten into the habit of speaking for the sake of hearing his own voice as his mind wandered off the topic. – In short, by the time Stiles had finished talking about the stamp museum and the best days to visit it and ended up sharing his little rant about the entrance fees for the museum, he had already forgotten all about it again. His mind was focused on the placement of the three groups, and if Isaac and him would form one group, or each lead a group.

         Due to the fact that Stiles’ mouth couldn’t keep up with his mind, Isaac’s response about a humidifying system had Stiles frown in confusion, turning to face Isaac. The confusion slowly made space for something else as Stiles found himself nodding in agreement, masking his confusion over Isaac’s decision to offer him an answer to a question Stiles didn’t even remember asking. “Yeah, sure. I mean, maybe.”

                   “I know just exactly which nerds would get excited about a field trip to the stamp museum! – Meet me in my office after? Feel free to sniff me out if I’m not there yet, yeah?” With a small wave, Stiles reached out to his wall-of-mystery and pulled a sheet of paper with different names on them off and left the room for his little manhunt.

scarfwere​:

He watched as his face light up with that smile. Eyes narrowed almost warily. It was never a good thing. But then again, good thing was relative when it came to this job. He just bit his tongue as he bumped past him, making him follow him into another room. 

One that screamed Stiles Stilinski’s den of weird horrors as soon as he walked through the door. This ─ this made sense. 

“Yes, you did.” He murmured slowly, walking around then. Taking in every part of his murder map. Following one trail after another with just his eyes before he’s eventually focusing in again on Stiles. Catching up slowly, one by one, until things line up for him too. 

Stepping closer, hovering just over stiles shoulder to get a better view of said museum. Not quite completely understanding him but understanding Stiles has never really been his strong suit. What he did understand was trusting Stiles on a case. He’s learned that well enough at this point. 

“ Fine.” He murmured, stepping back. Somehow hoping that would give him a better view of the whole thing. “ Stamp Museum. We should set up a stake out. Two or three groups. Too big and he might get skittish. Got any more insight I could use? “

      Stiles was ready to argue his case, expecting Isaac (like many others) to question and doubt him. In his head he was already going through his arguments, almost missing the murmured ‘fine’ that pushed passed the other’s lips. “Fine?” Really? That’s it? Isaac clearly must have lost his fire with age or … – He probably was just desperate to catch the guy. Nothing more and nothing less. Nevertheless, there was no denying the surprise on Stiles’ face as he looked at Isaac with raised eyebrows which he quickly pulled together in a confused frown; watching Isaac who seemed genuinely interested on the ‘Mad Stilinski Collage’, as his co-workers liked to call it. (They did it in good spirits, really, especially since Stiles rarely, if ever at all, was wrong with his theories; but that didn’t mean they wouldn’t call him crazy for it).

“Sounds good to me. Let’s go three groups. We don’t know when we will have a clear shot at him again. He likes to hide for a while between his little acts of crimes and I don’t want to lose him just to avoid him getting ‘skittish’.” The mischievous look was back on his face, one that reached his eyes as he scanned the room for anything else that was of immediate importance. “I think it’s going to happen tomorrow or on Wednesday. He wouldn’t leave it for a weekend, he’s more of a in-and-out while no one is around type of guy. But I might be wrong, he’s had a few cases of slipping into the crowd, too. If he was looking for the crowd, it’d be Friday when the entrance to the museum is free. – Why anyone would ever pay to go in is beyond me, and them charging 9,99 for that is a crime in itself, but that’s not really the point now, is it?” 

He had a few fleeting glances at Isaac, none that lasted too long with the excuse of studying the museum’s opening times on the flyer pinned on the wall.