Scott furrowed his brows and jutted his lips in a childish pout, something even a werewolf disposition couldn’t shake out of him.
“Whatever dude. Don’t even know why you’re burying em,” Scott brooded, leafing through the pages of Lycanthropy and You before something caught his eye and he started smiling with amusement at one of the pages.
Stiles paused to wipe the sweat from his brow once the hole seemed deep enough, slinging his elbow to rest on the wooden handle for a moment to admire his handiwork. He smiled smugly and threw the shovel with a careless swing to the side, laying it to rest by the pile of dirt from his efforts as he squatted to pick up the various books on magic and myths until he tossed them unceremoniously one-by-one into the hole.
It was a warm, summer night and smelled of heady moisture, enough to spawn drops of sweat with little effort at all. They were some few hundred feet behind the skeleton bones of the Hale house in a thicket of tall ash trees, fumbling around with the light from a crescent moon above. Or at least Stiles was fumbling, unaided by wolfy prowess and x-ray vision, or whatever bizarro shit they had going on in there.
Stiles ripped a few rabbit eared sheets from Wolfsbane and other Practical Herbs and crumpled those before tossing them into the pit, deciding soon after to just drop the entirety of the book on top of it. The number of books he had collected was huge, and it took a few trips to the Jeep before Scott and him had rounded them all up to bring them down and into the woods.
Being the only human in a clod of supernatural beings left you with little room for day-saving or town-destroying, so he found his own way to be useful. Stiles had warped himself into a veritable pit of knowledge in the years since Scott first sprouted hair and fangs. The shit he had seen sent shivers down his spine as he hunched over the hole, picking up speed as he tossed the books into their grave.
Scott paused before chucking the one he held in his hands into the pit, watching Stiles occasionally pause to read a title of one almost fondly, the corners of his mouth turned down just in the slightest as he thumbed across the titles. Scott cleared his throat and Stiles promptly tossed the book into the pit and pretend he totally didn’t just have a moment with a dusty old library book. Of course not. They both continued on silently for another moment until the shrill shred of an electric guitar spouted from Scott’s pocket, startling Stiles in a flail of limbs and wide eyes.
“Dude, what the--“ he started, palms out as he sprung up defensively in lieu of Scott scrambling for his phone. He flipped it open and made a face, pressing the lock button and stuffing it back into his hoodie pocket.
“Yo, it’s my mom. She said she’s got another late night tonight and asked if I could grab her food before her break.” Stiles tongued the bottom of his open lips before dusting his hands on his pants and turning a shoulder toward the...