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Apple Horse, "Devil’s Land" (AKA the "going into the woods to get drunk" track from Teen Wolf episode 1/8, "Lunatic.")
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Brandon McCall returns from an extended vacation, and Stiles decides they need to catch up. Determined to normalize things with his best friend's changeling twin, who is also his best friend because things are complicated like that, Stiles brings the curly fries.
July 18th
Lookout Point, Beacon Hills
This scene takes place during the Unchained Plot.
Roscoe the Jeep is parked up on Lookout Point. It's not at the very peak, the spot that so perfectly overlooks Beacon Hills and provides an almost implausibly good perch for a werewolf to howl out over the city, but it's close enough for a decent view. It's the kind of place where kids might go to make out in cars, if Beacon Hills weren't the kind of town where it would seem suicidal to do that. Plus, do kids even do that anymore? Stiles, having never exactly been a "normal" teen, isn't especially sure. But Stiles is parked there, now.
It being a warm summer night, he's thrown a folded blanket over the hood of the Jeep and sits perched on it. A bag full of fast food--mostly curly fries, of course--sits beside him. It's not that unusual a moment, really. He's done this kind of thing plenty of times before. He and Scott used to come up here all the time. Sure, it's been a while, but that's basically what he's doing, isn't it? Sitting here, waiting for his best friend to show up.
Except, this time it isn't Scott.
Not that Scott isn't still Stiles' best friend. He damn well is! But that's where it's complicated. Brandon McCall, the twin brother Scott never had, the changeling who took his place some time ago, has all of Scott's memories. He and Stiles lived the reality of being best friends. Then, it got weird when Scott returned. Stiles didn't trust him, feeling betrayed. But Brandon had taken steps to try to make things right, and things had stayed quiet between them. Stiles had plenty of time to think.
Now, Brandon's back from touring Europe--or Faërie, or wherever--and Stiles has made up his mind to make amends. So, he called Brandon up--because texting seemed like it wasn't enough, somehow, after weeks apart--and asked to meet him, just to hang out. It totally wasn't awkward at all. At least, Stiles was determined that it wouldn't be.
So, here he sits, waiting for his other best friend, the shapeshifter who's not a werewolf, to arrive.
The friend in question is heralded by the sound of a throaty, low motorcycle engine. Brandon was reluctant to take such an expensive gift from Rey, but he had to admit, life was just better with transportation. And the bike itself was a beauty. A Yamaha Cruiser in pearl gray and chrome. It was a few years old, but looked like new. And was a fraction of the cost of a Harley. He pulled up to the spot, headlight clicking off and peeled off the helmet he didn't really need.
The young changeling looked like Scott. Well, a slightly younger Scott, without the ink. He was wearing jeans and work boots, a white t-shirt and a leather racing jacket that was old and weathered to a gray sheen, with pale blue stripes across the shoulders. He grinned as he put the helmet on the bike's seat and wandered over to Stiles. The way he levers himself up to sit on the hood, nodding, giving his friend the same slightly crooked smile as he looks over over the lights, it's all familiar. All echoes Scott McCall. As does the way he pretends to try to be subtle about stealing a curly fry.
"Nice night."
Stiles can't quite keep the smirk from his lips as he hears the motorcycle approach. Scott or Brandon, seems that the McCall boys like their bikes. He tucks away the phone he was idly playing with, though to be honest it had been more of a habit to have it in his hand. Mostly, he'd been staring up at the cloudy summer sky. He raises a fist to lightly bump Brandon on the shoulder, smirk turning to a grin at the fry-stealing, and says, "I think I actually brought enough fries to feed us if we were werewolves, so don't be shy about it."
He looks back up at the sky, then, and gives a quiet laugh. "And yeah, it actually kinda is. I was hoping for stars, but I dig clouds, too. Maybe we'll get a thunderstorm soon. Summer thunderstorms are the best." His gaze strays to the bike again, and he cocks an eyebrow. "So, how was the world tour? Nice souvenir."
That punch gets a rock rocking motion, as though Stiles had hit with heavy weight force and Brand snorts with amusement. There is something easygoing about him, almost tranquil, like his 'twin' at rest. Which stands to reason. He eats another fry and lifts his head to sniff at the air and then shakes his head, "No ozone or water. I think we're gonna stay dry." And then, looking back at the bike, he shrugs and says, sounding a little embarrassed, "Rey wouldn't let me borrow his. You try to phase through one tree and almost make it and suddenly you're not trustworthy with the cool toys." He looks over to grin at Stiles, "And the trip was good. Let me get my head together. And see some amazing stuff. Here and in Faërie both. Also? Drinking laws are totally different in different places. So, there were hangovers. But it was good. Anything exciting happen while we were gone?"
Stiles laughs some, listening, and teases, "You're lucky he even lets you out of the house after doing something like that. If I rode a magic bike halfway through a tree, Derek might lock me in the basement until he was convinced I wouldn't do anything like that again." He chuckles through the discussion of hangovers, then exhales sharply at the mention of current events. "Well," he sighs, "I didn't really get to see much of it, but there was the whole thing with Angelus. I guess Angel's evil half came back from Hell, kidnapped Buffy, and there was a whole thing about it. Good news is, they got her back." He grimaces. "And they're healing her. I guess it was... y'know. Brutal." It's a massive understatement, but then, it's Angelus. Hardly a surprise, there.
Brandon smirks and said, "I think Derek would just like to lock you in a basement, period." He manages to waggle his eyebrows in a completely stupid way to turn to that into adolescent sex joke. He listens to the update, brows lowering and his jaw setting a little pugnaciously, "They handled it, though? Or do we have to go kick some vampire ass?" And then, sighing, "Why am I the only non-evil twin? I mean, shouldn't the law of averages mean there are SOME other non-evil doubles?"
Stiles puts a hand on Brandon's shoulder, recognizing all too well that heroic streak asserting itself, and he says, "Angelus' ass is thoroughly kicked, for now at least." He squeezes the shoulder, just lightly. Squinting up at the sky, he moves his other hand in the suggestion of a shrug, "But I'm pretty sure it's not over, yet. So, there's a good chance we'll have to throw down in one way or another, sooner or later." He snorts a humorless laugh. "I know--so vague, right?" He considers the question of non-evil doubles and wonders aloud, "Do Ethan and Aiden count?" Then he laughs again, more genuinely, and teases, "And hey, from what Lance tells me, you're the one more likely to get locked in a basement by his boyfriend." But, from the look in his eye, he's probably not entirely opposed to the idea. One doesn't date an alpha without getting used to certain dominant behaviors.
Blushing a little at that last bit, Brand says, "Alright, there's a point there. Also, Lance needs to learn that happens in Faërie stays in Faërie. It's like a law or something. I'm pretty sure." Well, it should be anyway. He clears his throat and says, "Which one of them counts as evil, though? I mean, they're both okay. So yeah, I'm not a unicorn!" That thought seems to cheer him up a little, oddly enough. He eats another fry and says, "So, we're pretty much good right now?" He pauses a moment and adds, "Not Beacon Hills. I mean us. We're good?" There is more than a little wistfulness in his voice and his expression is one of careful, hopeful worry. He's missed the hell out of having his best friend in his life. Even if, technically, it wasn't 'his' life.
Stiles grins, wide and shameless. "Look, dude, Lance knows better than to keep secrets from me. I always find out, sooner or later." He pauses, then flings his arm around the back of Brandon's neck in a goofy half-hug. "Dude," he says in a more serious tone, "we're good. Actually, we're more than good. I started figuring it out back when you pulled that idiot stunt with the shovel. You're still my best friend, got it? All that's changed is I'm best friends with twins, now." The math of that sentence might be a bit wonky, but then so's life, anyway. Then, grinning as he releases his hold, he adds, "I mean, at least as long as you don't eat all my curly fries." At which point, he snags a couple for himself.
Snorting with amusement, Brand nods. There really isn't much point in trying to hide something from Stiles. Pretty much everybody knows that. And then he leans into that hug and there is something suspiciously shiny about his eyes as he pats Stiles on the back. The other young man can see Brand's shoulders slump a little in relief. "I'll buy you more fries. You can have ALL the fries!" He swallows and gets himself back together as he says, "I was really afraid you were still going to think I was some creeper, up to something. I missed you, bro." He grins and adds, "And I'm the superior McCall, because I won't shed on your couch when we do movie nights." His tone is entirely earnest at that.
Stiles breaks into an unrestrained laugh at that, managing not to choke too much on fries, though there is sputtering. Once he's gotten a bit more control of himself, he sags against Brandon's shoulder, just slightly, without any hint of unease. "Oh, god," he snickers, "don't tell Scott that. He'd pout forever." He looks back up at the clouds again, a light smile on his face, and seems contented. Things are good. Naturally, they'll never stay that way, but at least for right now, things are good.
But since when does Stiles leave things alone?
"I wanna hang out more," he says, not even pausing to think about it. "I know you, and you know me, but it's weird 'cause you were 'Scott' for most of that time. And you're not Scott, you're you. So I wanna... y'know. It sounds lame, but I wanna get to know you better."
Brandon looks over at Stiles, "Hm. That makes sense. We already know each other, but maybe we don't know each other the way we are now well enough? Does that even make sense?" He shrugs and rubs his hand through his hair, smoothing it down, "But yeah, whenever you want to hang or whatever, I'll make time." Unspoken is 'because you're important to me'. But they both understand that. "We just have to find stuff to do." After a moment, he adds, hesitantly, "If you want to see me doing something that is just me and has nothing to do with Scott, you could come train with me. I, um, I'm not exactly the same as a werewolf in a fight."
Stiles perks up and says, "Hey, that's a good idea! I mean, I love training with the pack and all, but I'm not a werewolf. Maybe seeing how you train would be helpful, too. I mean, I'm a magic guy with healing powers and a weird... magic... Christmas... sword. Thing." He snorts a laugh, but he can't pretend he's not still jazzed about that. "So it might make sense."
Grinning, Brand nods and says, "I'd like that! I need to learn more techniques for dealing with people with weapons. And you actually just said, 'I have a magic Christmas sword' almost completely straight-faced. Our lives are weird." He says that with a meditative air that suggests that he's just now realizing that to be true. "But yeah, I'm a little more fluid than the wolves, when it comes to fighting."
Stiles turns to look back at Brandon, grinning, and says, "They are. Cool, huh?" He bobs his chin (sideways, kinda, since they're laying back like that) and says, "Then let's definitely do that. I might learn something useful, and it's a good reason to hang."
Brandon nods again and lets the minutes flow by in companionable silence, enjoying the night and the sense of familiar companionship that is uniquely the province of spending time with Stiles. He laces his fingers over his flat stomach and waits until Stiles seems to be completely unprepared before asking, "Hey, do you think I should try to grow a goatee? I mean to go with the whole twin thing?" He'd actually thought of that one on a beach in Fiji, but saved it for Stiles. Because the best bad jokes are just for his best friend.
Stiles has just about settled into that comfortable silence, mostly pushing any and all kinky thoughts well beneath the surface, so he's definitely unprepared for the joke. His immediate reaction is a half-bark, half-snort of laughter, followed by a sputtering of even less dignified giggling, ending with a kind of wheezing snicker. All in all, it might be more than the joke deserved, but it definitely shows that Brandon's instincts were right on. "I mean," he laughs, "it'd make you easier to tell apart, but I'm not sure you wouldn't look kind of like... I dunno... you fell face-first into some coffee grounds or something."
Brandon soaks in that laughter. It wasn't a great joke, but was a joke that was dialed into Stiles' nerdy frame of reference. And then it's his turn to laugh and make a face. "Ug. I don't know. I can shift my appearance older or younger, but I'm pretty sure I'd look weird all scruffed up. And I think Rey likes me baby-faced." He grins and shrugs at that. "But hey, I can pretty much do anything I want now. Having that whole 'True Alpha' thing gone is like getting a reprieve from a life sentence." He sighs and shakes his head, "Poor Scott." And he means it. The burden is too damned heavy.
"Yeah," Stiles drawls after his laughter tapers off a little more, "I think Rey may have a point." Then, more thoughtfully, he says, "Scott's got a lot of support. Us, the pack, Derek--y'know, everybody." His considering expression lingers, and he adds after a moment, "Maybe that's another way you two are different. Maybe for some reason, for him, being a True Alpha's not so bad, but it's just not who you are." He turns his head, grinning, to face Brand. "See? We're already making progress on the 'getting to know you' thing."
Brand nods, "He does have us." And then he rolls over onto his side, propping himself up on an elbow as he considers Stiles' words. "Hh. I never even thought of that, to be honest. Maybe being the True Alpha for real gives him some kinda, I don't know, special mojo or something. Like makes it more bearable for him than me?" He shrugs and sighs, "Or I could just be weak compared to him. But either way, it is a difference."
Stiles reaches out to deliver a light punch to Brand's shoulder. "Dammit, Brandon!" he growls, looking legitimately annoyed. "Don't start with that self-doubting crap. I know you better than just about anyone, and you're not weak."
Laughing softly, Brandon shrugs and says, "Alright, alight. I should be getting back. Rey should be back from his faerie meeting stuff." He grins and says, "I'll text you tomorrow, we can figure out where to train. It should probably be someplace where nobody's going to walk in on us doing stuff we shouldn't be able to do." He slides off the hood of the jeep and saunters to his new bike, pausing before he puts on the helmet. "And dude, It's good to chill with you again. Um, for the first time, I guess." That makes him give that crooked grin before he puts on his helmet, kickstarts the bike to life and waves before heading out.