As Allison’s older sister, and an Argent Hunter, you’re supposed to despise everything connected to Scott McCall…including Stiles Stilinski. And you do. Or at least, that’s what everyone believes.
Warnings: making out, implied smut
———————————————————————
School hallways were already loud in the mornings, but nothing was as loud as you and Stiles Stilinski pretending to hate each other.
He was standing beside Scott’s locker, backpack hanging open, talking with the kind of wild hand gestures that usually meant he was trying (and failing) to come up with an elaborate plan for something. You spotted your sister there too, Allison, making goo-goo eyes at Scott. Allison didn’t know he was a werewolf, of course. She didn’t know werewolves existed. But as her older sister by a year, you did. You also knew what your family would do if they found out. Hence, you’d taken it upon yourself to keep the two apart.
Stiles’s voice carried down the hall, and when you turned the corner, his eyes immediately locked on yours. What started as surprise hardened in a split second into annoyance. Then irritation. Then a full-on glare. You raised your chin, returning it.
“Awesome,” you muttered loudly as you approached, “the last person I wanted to see before coffee.”
Stiles straightened up, shoving a hand to his chest in mock offense. “Wow. Starting early today, Argent. Don’t you have knives to polish or innocent people to terrorise?”
You ignored the jab and grabbed Allison’s elbow, tugging her away from Scott, probably harder than necessary. Stiles wasn’t supposed to talk about Hunter business in front of Allison, and his comment was dangerously close to being suspicious. As soon as Stiles and Scott had found out that you were aware of Scott’s…furry alter ego, they’d begged you not to tell your family. You’d agreed but only because you knew Allison had fallen hard and fast for the werewolf, and you knew what your family would do to him. While you were raised to follow the Argent code, you found yourself believing in it less and less.
“Hey!” Scott protested, stumbling forward.
“She has class,” you said sharply. “Which you’d know if you weren’t distracting her every five seconds.”
Allison shot you a glare. “You don’t have to be rude.”
“I’m not rude,” you bit back, eyes cutting to Stiles. “I’m just surrounded by idiots.”
Stiles leaned an elbow against a locker, that smug, infuriating half-smile creeping across his face. “You know you’re being insane, right? Like, medically concerning levels of insane.”
You shot him a look that could kill. “And you’re being loud. As usual.”
“I’m not loud,” he said indignantly.
“You’re always loud.”
“Only because I’m constantly yelling over the sound of you being wrong.”
That earned a dramatic sigh from Scott. “You two need therapy or something.”
Stiles didn’t look at Scott. He kept staring at you like he was five seconds from snapping back with something lethal. “Oh trust me,” he said, “the only therapy I need is not having to see her face every day.”
“Then stop looking,” you shot back.
Allison tugged your sleeve. “Can we not do this every morning?”
“Tell him that,” you said at the same moment Stiles muttered, “Tell her that.”
Allison tugged on your sleeve. “Come on. You’re going to give yourself a stroke.”
Stiles smirked. “One can only hope.”
You pointed at him like you were selecting a target. “Stilinski, if you look in my direction one more time—”
“Please don’t finish that sentence,” Scott begged tiredly. “Not before eight.”
You and Stiles both ignored him. You took a step closer, voice low, heated. “Stay out of Allison’s way.”
His eyes narrowed, pretending anger so well you almost believed it. “Stay out of my way.”
You turned on your heel and dragged Allison off, feeling his gaze burning the back of your neck.
———————————————————————
“You were really harsh today,” Allison said, shutting her locker between classes. “Harsher than usual.”
You shrugged, adjusting your bag, keeping your expression neutral. “He deserved it.”
“No one deserves that level of aggression before lunchtime,” she said. “You two are like rabid dogs.”
“He started it,” you muttered. The irony of her ‘rabid dog’ comment wasn’t lost on you, considering the boy she was interested in.
Allison deadpanned. “You always say that.”
“Well, it’s always true.”
Her eyebrows pulled together. “Do you really hate him that much?”
Your heart thumped once, hard. “Yes,” you said quickly. Too quickly.
Allison gave you a skeptical look. “He’s just, being Stiles. He gets flustered. He says things without thinking. He’s not dangerous.”
“He is to Scott,” you snapped. “He influences him.”
Allison’s expression softened knowingly. “You mean Scott influences me.”
You glared at a crack in the tile floor. “I just don’t trust him.”
“You don’t trust anyone.”
“Exactly.”
She sighed, nudging your shoulder. “Promise me you’ll be civil tonight at bowling? For Scott’s sake?”
You hesitated. Then forced a smile. “For Scott? Never. But for you? Always.”
She seemed satisfied. You pretended to be. But inside, nerves twisted. Because tonight, you had other plans. And they had nothing to do with bowling with Jackson and Lydia.
———————————————————————
“Dude,” Scott groaned as he shut his locker, “you guys can’t keep doing this.”
Stiles threw his hands up. “She started it!”
Scott blinked. “I watched the whole thing. You started it by glaring at her.”
“That doesn’t count!” Stiles yelled.
“Stiles.”
“What?!” He dragged a hand through his hair in frustration. “Look, she hates me, man. She HATES me. Every time she looks at me it’s like she’s picturing where to put the stake.”
“It’s not a stake, it’s a crossbow bolt,” Scott corrected reflexively.
“NOT HELPING.”
Scott sighed. “Allison says you’re being mean to her.”
Stiles stared at him. “Allison thinks I’m mean to her?”
Scott nodded seriously.
Stiles scoffed. “Oh yeah, okay, because she’s so sweet to me! She treats me like gum stuck to her shoe. The other day she literally told me looking at me ruined her morning.”
Scott cracked a small laugh. “It was kind of funny.”
“It was not funny, it was psychological warfare.”
Scott clapped him on the back. “Just try to get along.”
“No promises,” Stiles muttered under his breath.
As they walked off together Stiles tried not to smile, because he knew exactly where he was going tonight while Scott was bowling.
———————————————————————
The preserve always looked like an abandoned forest, but tonight it felt achingly quiet. The kind of quiet that made your pulse thrum in your ears.
You slipped through the trees to the meeting spot, leaving your car well hidden and a decent distance away. Stiles was already pacing and he froze as soon as he saw you. The frustration, the sarcasm, the hostile glare - everything he’d worn like armor all day - fell away instantly.
His voice cracked with relief. “Finally.”
You barely had a breath before his arms wrapped around you, his mouth crashing onto yours with a desperation that burned. Your hands flew to his jacket, fisting the fabric and yanking him closer, kissing him back like you’d been suffocating all day and he was oxygen.
He broke the kiss just long enough to say against your lips, “I thought you weren’t coming.”
“I had to ditch Allison and make an excuse not to go bowling.”
He groaned a little. “She hates me.”
“No,” you gasped as he kissed down your neck, “she thinks I hate you.”
His laugh was breathless against your skin. “Well. You’re very convincing.”
You grabbed the sides of his face, pulling him back to your mouth. “You started it.”
“You spoke to me first.”
“You glared.”
He kissed you so hard you lost your balance, stumbling until your back hit the wall. His hands were everywhere, on your waist, your hips, sliding under your shirt, palms warm and eager.
“Two days,” he murmured between frantic kisses. “It’s been two days. I was losing my mind.”
“I know,” you whispered, clinging to him. “I know. Me too.”
His forehead pressed to yours, both of you breathing hard.
“You looked so angry this morning,” he said, brushing your hair back. “It was hot. Infuriating, but hot.”
“You’re an idiot.”
You kissed him again, slower this time. I t was sweeter and deeper, your hands moving up his back, pulling him impossibly closer.
He lifted you suddenly, your legs instinctively wrapping around him. You gasped, and Stiles grinned against your mouth before kissing you again, walking you back until your spine hit cold bark.
“I thought Scott was gonna notice today,” he murmured between kisses. “I swear I almost kissed you just to shut you up.”
You laughed breathlessly. “I almost threw myself at you in the hallway. You called me insane.”
“You are,” he said, nipping at your throat. “Insanely hot.”
Your hands threaded into his hair, tugging lightly. Stiles groaned and pushed against you harder, pinning you against the tree with your legs around his hips.
You pulled him down by the collar of his shirt. “I want you.”
“You sure?” he asked, brushing a thumb over your cheekbone, breath shaking. “We can just…stay like this. I don’t care.”
“I’m sure,” you insisted.
That was all it took. His mouth found yours again, feverish. His hands roamed your sides, your thighs, your waist. Your fingers tangled in his hair, tugging gently and earning a low groan that went straight through you.
Clothes came off in frantic motions. His hands were everywhere, yours tangled in his hair, both of you desperate and breathless. Every touch felt like relief; every kiss felt like breaking the rules and loving it.
His lips left yours only long enough to murmur against your neck, “Your family would literally kill me.”
You gasped a breathy laugh. “Not if I kill them first.”
He laughed softly, breathless, kissing you again.
“Stiles,” you whispered against his mouth.
“Yeah?”
“I hate pretending.”
His forehead dropped to yours. “Me too.”
You kissed him again. Slowly at first, then deeper, hungrier, months of secret meetings and whispered confessions and stolen touches boiling over. And then there was nothing but tangled limbs, whispered names, shuddering breaths, and the kind of closeness you could never show in daylight.
Only the two of you - Stiles and the Argent girl he wasn’t supposed to touch. The girl he couldn’t stay away from.
As you came apart under the moonlight, there was as loud as you and Stiles and Stilinski.
While Argent sees herself as a cis woman,[nb 68] she has a complicated relationship with gender and her body, considering neither to be entirely real. She considers gender to be an affectation, an act, or a series of attributes which she has studied and experimented with to perfect her self-image with, rather than gender being an emotion or feeling.
- https://fhr.miraheze.org/wiki/Lady_Argent
Lady Argent your relationship to gender means everything to me
Lmaooo I love the idea that the public is just very confused about the Titans' current team name. As they should be. Is it the New Teen Titans? The New Titans? Just the Titans? Who the heck even knows
