Yeah, Stiles might be running a little on the paranoid side lately. But really, who could blame him, the way things have been going thus far? Not just this summer, but...in general. He'd just gotten used to the one monster under his bed (or, y'know, coming through the window) and then he finds out there's also one in the closet, another under the sink, a third hiding under the stairs, and they're each worse than the last. Lizardmen and fairies and vampires. Oh my.
Besides, there's also the fact that despite the sheer terror and the years he's sure all the adrenaline's taking from him, he still finds all this stuff really freaking cool. Like, he's totally a real-life Xander Harris. Which, kinda cool. Although Lydia would probably argue that. But, whatever, she's totally the Cordelia of his dreams, so. Point is, there's way more to life than just school and college and a minimum-wage purgatory and God knows what else. This is that something else, and it's a hell of a rush sometimes.
For an instant there, he focuses in on that 'we' of Derek's, a quick funny feeling in his stomach like a tug on a fishing line, before he dismisses it entirely. Derek's clearly talking about we as in he and other werewolves in general, it's obvious from the rest of the words he uses to clarify. Not we as in 'Derek and Stiles.' There is no Derek-and-Stiles, and he's getting really, really good at grabbing those sorts of thoughts before they go careening down a track that doesn't seem to be getting any less embarrassing--or less familiar. He really needs to get laid.
In the meantime, a snort of disbelief from Stiles. "Seriously? You realize just by saying that you've probably doomed us to an infestation of them, right? What do you even call a group of vampires? A Lugosi?" He kinda likes that one. A Lugosi of vampires.
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Besides, there's also the fact that despite the sheer terror and the years he's sure all the adrenaline's taking from him, he still finds all this stuff really freaking cool. Like, he's totally a real-life Xander Harris. Which, kinda cool. Although Lydia would probably argue that. But, whatever, she's totally the Cordelia of his dreams, so. Point is, there's way more to life than just school and college and a minimum-wage purgatory and God knows what else. This is that something else, and it's a hell of a rush sometimes.
For an instant there, he focuses in on that 'we' of Derek's, a quick funny feeling in his stomach like a tug on a fishing line, before he dismisses it entirely. Derek's clearly talking about we as in he and other werewolves in general, it's obvious from the rest of the words he uses to clarify. Not we as in 'Derek and Stiles.' There is no Derek-and-Stiles, and he's getting really, really good at grabbing those sorts of thoughts before they go careening down a track that doesn't seem to be getting any less embarrassing--or less familiar. He really needs to get laid.
In the meantime, a snort of disbelief from Stiles. "Seriously? You realize just by saying that you've probably doomed us to an infestation of them, right? What do you even call a group of vampires? A Lugosi?" He kinda likes that one. A Lugosi of vampires.