get your worlds out { 2021 } yahtzee tracking

[iluvroadrunner6]

Running Score: 260 (8/8)
Word Count: 36,286

<b>Title:</b> <b>Fandom/Original:</b> <b>Prompt:</b> <b>Rating:</b> <b>Word or Line count:</b> <b>Summary:</b> <b>Warnings/Notes:</b>

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set 6 | let me shoot a seven with every shot ~ darkest timeline ~ 1,968

[iluvroadrunner6]

“Hey, partner.”

“I’m not your partner, Stiles.”

Okay, making the approach in a coffee shop when Derek is just doing his thing is probably not the best move that Stiles could have made. Derek tolerates him on a good day, and he can’t tell from the scowl on his face whether this is a good day. Derek is frustratingly hard to read that way, but the dismissal didn’t come with a full-on Hale glare, so he’s going to take it.

“Wanna get out of town for a couple days?”

That seems to get his interest. It briefly shows from behind his usual mask of indifference, a spark of curiosity about what Stiles might offer if it means leaving Beacon Hills.

“And go where?”

“Vegas?”

Now, Derek looks confused. “Why are we going to Vegas?”

“Because Aunt Rose said there was something funky going on at one of the smaller casinos, but she can’t get in because psychopomp.” Stiles steps in closer, lowering his voice. “Whoever is doing this is smart enough to ward it against ghosts.”

Derek takes a long sip of his coffee, before tipping his head to the side, indicating that they should probably take this conversation out of the local Beacon Hills coffee shop. Stiles nods before following, moving to lean against his Jeep on the opposite side of the parking lot from where most people are hanging out.

“Did she give more specifics, other than ‘funky’?” Derek asks, leaning against the hood of the Jeep as he takes another sip of his coffee.

“She said that people are going in, but they’re not coming out. And that the people who are out are… off. They’ve lost time and their brain chemistry is all off.”

“It’s Vegas. Did they take something?”

“Not that kind of off.” Stiles shakes his head. “A doctor friend explained it to me, but basically it’s like their brains have been OD-ing on serotonin. They’re just… deliriously happy—literally—and it’s killing them. The doctor says they usually see this with people who take too many antidepressants, but none of these people have a history of treatment.”

“And you traced all the cases back to the same casino?”

Stiles nods. “It’s capital-W Weird and since I’m the closest Price to the problem, they want me to take care of it.” He flashes Derek a grin. “Whadaya say? Partner? Road trip?”

Derek looks like he would rather stab himself in the face than commit to a six-hour road trip with Stiles. But he nods, before stepping away from the car. “We can leave tomorrow. I’m driving.”

“Great! Wait.” Stiles turns to watch him as he goes. “What’s wrong with my car?”

“I will not die in the desert because your car breaks down, Stiles.”

“Rude!” Stiles turns back to Roscoe, resting his hand on the hood of the Jeep gently. “Don’t worry, Roscoe. He doesn’t know what he’s missing.”

* * * * *

The Golden Lights Casino sits at the far end of the strip, a glimmering lure in the face of the other run down or abandoned casinos on that end of the strip. While it doesn’t have the dazzling lights of some of the main attractions like the Bellagio or the MGM Grand, it still has a certain amount of welcoming flair that you would expect from most casinos looking to rob you blind and make you lose track of time. Stiles can already feel his ADHD flaring into overdrive with sensory overload, but he keeps it together as they make their way through the front door.

It helps that Derek is less than pleased with the situation as well—sensitive werewolf hearing.

Booking a double hadn’t been that hard despite how full the floor seems, and after a few days of investigating, he can’t say he’s getting anywhere. A few jinxes here and there, messing with the gamblers, but not badly enough to break the bank and get themselves caught. A couple of Lilu trying to land themselves a whale in a shotgun Vegas wedding. Nothing that makes sense of anything Rose had mentioned. He’s frustrated honestly. And he’s not having a good time.

He would not say the same for Derek. He seems to be having a blast.

Stiles would have thought that Derek was incapable of having a good time anywhere, but given how little he gets out of Beacon Hills, he’s not one to begrudge him that. However, he’s seen Derek smile more in the last three days than he has in the last ten years—since Cora and Peter left town—and it’s a little creepy.

Still, he will not take it away from him.

Derek strides into the kitchenette, whistling—whistling—and Stiles can’t help but stare. “You’re in a good mood.”

Derek shrugs in response, pouring himself a cup of coffee. “I’m having a good time. Isn’t that what Vegas is for?”

“I guess.” Stiles’ brow furrows curiously before shaking it off. Let the sourwolf be happy for a few days. Who could it hurt? “Anyway, I’m coming up empty around the casino, so I’m going to go check in with Murphy, see if she has any additional details from her patients.”

“Cool. I’ll keep looking around here, see if I uncover anything.”

“Great. Go team.” Stiles still can’t help but find Derek’s attitude strange, but he’s willing to let it go if it gets the job done faster. “Mind if I take the car?”

“Not at all, go for it.”

If he’s honest with himself, that should have been his first clue that something was wrong.

* * * * *

Dr. Angela Murphy isn’t really his friend so much as a friend of Alex’s who knows a little more about the world than most. Still, when he makes his appearance, she seems relieved to see him. “Any word on what this is?”

“Not yet,” Stiles shakes his head. “I was hoping you might have some more details.”

Murphy shakes her head before taking his arm and guiding him through the hospital to somewhere more private. “Nothing. All the M.O.’s are frustratingly similar, that it has to be the same thing, but I don’t understand why these people.”

“Maybe that’s what we have to do. We have to go back to the people. Do you have files on all of them?”

Murphy nods. “Yeah. I’ll dig up what I can find.”

A few hours later, Stiles is putting together a pattern. He sorts through the stacks of files, pulling out the pertinent details and frowns. Looking over at the doctor, he frowns. “Did any of them have puncture wounds?”

Angela blinks before nodding. “Yeah, actually.” She lifts her hair with one hand so she can show with the other. “At the base of the skull. None of them could remember how they got it.”

“A lot of these people have just come from life-changing events. They lost a job, broke up with a long-term significant other, a family member died. Depressed, even, but once arriving, they felt better. Even seem happier. Until it becomes too much and they overdose on the good chemical.”

Murphy squints at him. “Do you know what this is?”

“I think it’s a wraith. Usually they flood the brain with dopamine and induce insanity, but maybe they’re a distinct branch of the family tree and they work with serotonin instead. And who wouldn’t be happy on a Vegas vacation? No one would know the…” His voice trails off as a horrible realization comes over him and he gets to his feet. “I gotta go.”

Murphy frowns. “Stiles?”

“This wraith is feeding on the bad chemicals. The things that make you sad. And I’ve left them alone with an isolated, depressed werewolf with no friends, a terrible life, and a working healing factor.”

Murphy blinks again. “Meaning?”

“Meaning I’ve just handed them an endless juice box and I need to go get him back.” And with no time to debate it further, he takes off to book it back to the casino.

Good thing Derek was delirious enough to let him take his car.

* * * * *

Stiles emerges from the hospital to several texts that show Derek might be in more trouble than he expected. He should have figured that when the wraith figured out what they had, they might take drastic measures, but he didn’t anticipate this.

This, being kicking down the door to the Golden Lights Wedding Chapel with a loud and pained: “I object!”

Standing next to Derek at the altar is a very dramatic looking Elvis impersonator, and a tall ginger woman who looks peeved that someone’s interrupted her special day. Derek turns towards the sound of Stiles voice, and a bright smile flashes across his face.

“Stiles! You made it!” A beat. “Wait, did you say object?”

“Yes. Yes, I object. Derek, you do not even know this woman. What do you think you’re doing?”

“When you know you know, right?” Derek is on Cloud Nine, and not in a good way, leaving Stiles scrambling to figure out how to bring him back down. “I just… I know Gina is the one for me.”

“Gina” flashes Stiles a smile, but he can see the daggers from her eyes, daring him to separate her from her all-you-can-eat buffet. “We’re in love, Stiles. Can’t you support us?”

He sees her eyes glow, and he takes a sudden step back. “Oh, no, sweetie. Your hoodoo will not work on me. For one thing, I’m a Price. Brainwashing me will not end so well for you.”

Gina falters, confusion crossing her features. “You’re a descendant of Francis Brown.”

“You betcha.” He’s never been more grateful than he is right now for his family line to be recognized. “And another thing, because I don’t think you guys had the chance to exchange last names: this is Derek Hale. As in the only son of Talia Hale. You picked the wrong werewolf to snack on.”

Gina lets go of Derek’s hands like he burned her, because she did not sign up for this much of a bad day. She holds up her hands and tries to reason with them. “Look, don’t kill me, okay? I’m just trying to survive, and when I noticed he was handling it better than most…”

“You wanted a meal ticket that wouldn’t cause you any trouble. I get it. But this guy ain’t it. And I don’t want to have to kill you either, but you’re attracting attention.” Stiles crosses his arms in front of his chest. “Maybe there’s another juice box out there for you somewhere, but… I can’t let you have this one.”

Gina looks furtively between the two of them for the moment, before nodding her agreement. “Got it. Leave Vegas.” She glances over at Derek. “Are you sure I can’t take him? He seems a lot happier.”

“Yeah, maybe he does.” Stiles notices his blissful smiling, watching the ping-ponging conversation with no understanding of the consequences. “But that doesn’t mean it’s real.” Gina frowns as she accepts that, then nods.

“Yeah, I get it. I just wanted to make people happy instead of making them crazy.”

Stiles gets that too, but he lets her go. Instead, he places a hand on Derek’s shoulder and gives it a squeeze. “C’mon, big guy. We gotta get you home.”

Derek blinks, confused. “Did we find the monster already?”

“Yeah, you’re in for a rude awakening.” Stiles glances after Gina. “This is gonna wear off, right?”

She nods. “Oh, yeah. He’ll sleep it off, but he’ll be in for a hell of a crash.”

Stiles makes a face before turning and steering Derek towards the front desk so they can check out. “Yeah, this is gonna be a fun ride home.”