Chapter Text
He hadn't meant to survive this long.
Recklessness.
Theatrics.
A life of Crime and chaos.
He had wanted to go out doing something good.
But it seemed the odds were always meant to be in Stiles' favour, maybe good karma for having to suffer through the murder o his father. Noah Stilinski, a sung hero, one of the few cops in Serpent City that weren't corrupt, murdered by his own coworkers.
Though Stiles had never been able to prove it.
He'd witnessed it, though. Had watched the light leave his father's eyes in a bloody mirror of the way his sickly mother had died in her bed within their tiny apartment when he was just a boy.
So yeah, Stiles never had intended to survive. His moral compass demanded he do something, even i it meant getting his hands bloody in the process. He wasn't a villain, per se, but he was well aware he was no hero either. Heroes didn't wrap their hands around a cops throat and burn them up from the inside out with the heat and light of the sun.
He made a name for himself; Solaris, the spark, the witch with the power to burn. Every witch in Serpent city— around the world really— had a specialty power.
The vigilante/anti-hero Eclipse had moon-based abilities, could drive someone mad with the pull of the moon on the tides, but blood instead of water. His brother Lullaby had a similar moon magic but different all the same, and an affinity for putting people to sleep- be it via magic or poison.
They were just some of the other anti-heroes in the city. Stiles saw them from time to time, got along with them, occasionally worked with them when they were going after corrupt cops and politicians, but for the most part he worked alone.
But… not as alone as he told people.
"It's a cold night, detective. Wouldn't you be better off inside?" Stiles drawled as he dropped down to the precinct roof from a neighboring building.
Detective Christopher Argent tensed, but didn't turn around. He was stood facing out to the city, leaning against the hip-height walls of the rooftop.
"Solaris. I could say the same to you," The detective spoke gruffly.
He was Stiles' favourite cop, probably one of the only ones he actually liked. Chris wasn't corrupt like the others, he had a real sense of justice. He didn't necessarily approve entirely of what Stiles did at times, but he never said anything against it either.
"I have the power of the sun at my fingertips, I'm never cold if I don't have to be," he murmured, right behind Chris now. "How's Peter?"
Peter Hale, a total asshole and a lawyer that Chris had been dating for years. Stiles liked Peter too, Peter was as bloodthirsty as he was and did approve of everything Stiles did.
"Tired, whiny," Chris said, finally turning around to face him.
Gods Stiles have a soft spot for those pale, crystal blue eyes. Like the most dazzling shards of ice.
"So, like usual then?" He drawled, and Chris smirked, looking him over.
Stiles had created a brand for himself a while ago. A domino mask of black with a starburst in the center between his eyes, his hair rough and almost to his eyes but cut short at the back. His "uniform", as it were, was a majority black, tight leather with a starburst in varying shades of gold over his chest. He had a tactical belt and boots and gloves of course, but he liked to keep his outfit simple.
His starburst was painted on alleys around the city. Just like the other Serpents- the vigilantes of Serpent City— the people regarded him as a hero. He wished they wouldn't, but he fought to protect the innocent and destroy corruption, of course they had to view him that way.
Chris, actually taking the weather into account, was dressed in a black wool overcoat and a sage coloured scarf. His leather gloves matched his haggard leather boots, a normal look for the city's finest.
"You got anything for me tonight?" Chris rumbled, a slight tilt to his head that made Stiles want to kiss away that beautiful smirk.
His mind filled with the memory of Chris' heated body under his, Peter's against his back, for just a moment before he pushed it away. Now wasn't the time to think of that. He didn't know what he'd been thinking when he let the couple pull him to bed, but he knew it couldn't happen again. They were informants, that was all. Stiles gave them information to catch serial killers and other criminals the normal way, they gave him the dirty details of the ones in charge of the city to deal with the criminal way. It worked for them, it needed to stay that way.
He couldn't get emotionally involved, couldn't and wouldn't take them down with him. He was going to get caught or die one day, he'd be damned if the two only men he trusted got hurt in the process.
"Mm, Rumours of a witch trading ring in Ash Hollow. the Serpents have been following the lead but there's been… complications."
Two of the Serpents, Helios and Discord, had history, given that they had been within separate witch rings at one point too. Discord had been trapped in a fight ring, forced to fight for her life, while Helios had been raised as a weapon by another, a facility that had been eradicated long ago. The complications were that the trauma the women shared were preventing their group from investigating properly. Because both Reina and Angel were vicious women, who just wanted to destroy anything about the ring they could.
They'd get along with Lydia, he thought idly, should his two worlds of civilian and anti-hero ever cross.
"Anything more than that, pretty boy? It would help," Chris chuckled.
Stiles tried not to let his hackles raise, this was crossing into personal territory. His mask had stayed on when he'd bedded Chris and his boyfriend, but they just- they had all these pet names for him and gods, they were both so dangerous in their own right but getting involved with him more than they already had was even more so.
"Hmm,the ring might be utilizing an abandoned warehouse, somewhere in the east of Ash Hollow, towards the beaches. They've been grabbing primarily women, if our sources are correct. Femme witches from poorer areas, so that cops won't care." he stepped back a little to put distance between them as he spoke.
Chris' eyes narrowed. "Good thing I care then. Thanks, Solaris. I haven't got anything for you, tonight. Most of the others in the precinct seem to be content to turn a blind eye on anything happening at the moment." He sighed, running a hand through his greying hair.
Stiles' eyes followed the moment, heat curling in his guts. He was over 10 years younger than both Chris and Peter. Chris himself was 39, gone grey early and a total silver fox. Peter on the other hand was 35 and looked like he was in his 20s. Good genetics, Stiles supposed. He himself was only 24, an anti-hero for 7 years, in contact with Chris for almost 2 of those years.
He'd run into the detective at a crime scene, a cop killed by a civilian he'd been… assaulting. Both detective and anti-hero had been interested in it. Chris had come back to the scene after hours to try to look at it from a different angle, had caught Stiles breaking in. Stiles had been about to bolt when Chris begged him to stay, promised he wouldn't hurt him, even offered Stiles his notes so far.
Turned out the detective agreed with a lot of Solaris' work.
Their paths crossed little at first. Initially it was maybe once every 3-5 weeks, the it became frequent, then intentional on both sides. Till eventually Chris gained his trust and managed to get a method of contact for Stiles.
Now Stiles saw him at least 2-3 times per week.
Peter, on the other hand, had been on the rooftop with Chris one night when Stiles appeared with urgent information. Chris saw him, and instead of waiting till Peter was gone, beckoned Stiles out and introduces them. That was almost a year ago now.
Peter ended up being with Chris at least once a week when Stiles appeared, and occasionally Stiles found Peter alone to give him relevant information for the lawyers cases.
He already was far deeper than he should have been.
"I do have one thing, actually," Chris mused, breaking Stiles out of memory lane to find the detective had gotten closer to him.
He stopped breathing or a moment, and knew what was coming before it happened. In his mind, he screamed at himself to leave, to pull away, to put a stop to it, but when Chris' lips met his, he pressed into it instead.
Chris tasted like coffee and warmth and a lingering flavour of sweet fruit from an earlier snack. Stiles knew because he was helpless to stop the tongue that invaded his mouth and overwhelmed his senses.
He jerked back when he heard laughter in the rooftop stairwell, gasping, and left Chris alone in the cold of the night, springing off to another roof and beyond with a heavy feeling in the pit of his stomach.
This was so, so not good.
The heating in his apartment was broken again.
Stiles groaned as he forced his arm out from the warmth of his blankets to smack at his phone alarm, feeling like he'd hardly slept. He'd stayed out patrolling till 3am, trying to shake off the jitters that came with the guilt of letting Chris kiss him again. It hadn't been smart, seeing as he had to be up by 7am for classes this morning.
His final year of university in forensic sciences, paid for completely by scholarship, bringing him one step closer to getting to the corrupt system from the inside himself. He didn't have a day job, which meant he was able to focus on vigilante activities and school full time, but he felt exhausted enough that anyone would think he worked.
He still lived in the halls amongst the ghosts of his dead mom and dad, the apartment passed down to him in his fathers will. His dads life insurance policy and family financial payout or dead cops could keep him going for another 5 years at least. Stiles knew he was one of the lucky ones, though, unlike Eclipse and Lullaby.
Their parents had been murdered by cops when they were children- just another way he related to the brothers— and they'd become homeless as a result. Noah Stilinski's job status as a cop gave Stiles rare benefits that most in this wretched city couldn't boast.
He was going to fucking fix it or die trying though, and the other Serpents would continue the work if he did die.
After a second alarm rang, Stiles managed to force himself up and quickly into clothes. His night uniform had been shoved into the back of his wardrobe, hidden by a sneaky bit of illusion magic Discord had done for him a couple years ago. Angel really was an angel, and if she'd liked men and not been in a relationship, he'd of kissed her for it.
Within 10 minutes he was out the door to catch the bus uptown SCU— Serpent City University, the most prestigious uni in the city. He had two classes in the morning, which would be followed by his first placement of the year. He still didn't know what precinct he would be assigned to, but he dreaded and looked forward to it in equal measures.
Stiles dreaded it for the people he would have to work with, corrupt monsters masquerading as human, but also looked forward to it because he would finally have an in.
"Stiles! You're almost late!" His arm was grabbed, a feminine voice hissing at him as he rushed through the doors of building C- the Markems building that housed the forensics lab.
"Sorry Lyd's, heating is broken again," he apologised with a sheepish smile, letting her link her arm with his and drag him to their shared class.
She raised a shrewd strawberry blonde brow at him, lips tight.
"You wat me to get a repairman in?" She asked as they entered the classroom.
"You're not my sugar mommy, I can handle it. I'll call one between classes," he huffed back.
Lydia felt the same way about the system as he did, in which they both hated it. She also wanted to see it fixed, but he'd never had the guts to tell her what he was after hours. Like a third of the Serpent City population, Lydia was a witch. She had an affinity for the dead, which had lead her to the same course as Stiles. He'd been enamored by her smarts and beauty from day one, but the crush he'd formed was quick to go as they melted dow into a feeling of sibling-ship. She'd been born privileged, but was determined to put it to good use instead of continuing the cycle.
"Fine, but if you don't, I will," she relented. It used to cause more of an argument when he wouldn't let her fix everything for him, but stiles was as stubborn as she was and eventually she learnt to pick her battled. "Excited for placements?"
Stiles latched onto the topic change with glee, slumping in his seats a little while pulling his books out.
"Knowing my luck, I'll probably be put in a precinct across the city from home," he grumbled.
Lydia sniffed in amusement, patting his arm. "I heard Doctor McCall say they're based on your living location, I wouldn't worry too much."
Stiles sighed in relief at that. The university had an on-sight hospital, catering to it's students for free and anyone outside that could afford it. Melissa McCall was his favourite Doctor, and one he saw often when his nights on the streets got a little too vicious. He knew she suspected what he was doing, but she never outed him or mentioned it. Her son, Scott, was in a veterinarian course across campus. Sometimes they had lunch together, but Scott was usually trailing lovesick after his classmate Kira.
But Melissa tended to have insight on things in certain courses, like Stiles' own, so if she said the precinct and lab placements were close to students homes, he'd believe it.
Class started after a little more chatter— he had been early, actually, but Lydia considered anything less than 15 minutes early to class as late— and he poured his focus onto it. Between classes they got coffee, Lydia ordering for him while he called his apartments repairman and argued with him for almost half an hour about the heating, till finally it was agreed that it would be repaired by the end of the day.
"Should have just let me call one in," Lydia sassed when he was done, not looking up from the studying she focused on. They'd gotten seats in the corner of the cafe.
"Well it's sorted now so, too late," Stiles replied dryly and stuck his tongue out at her.
She glanced up in time to see it and rolled her eyes.
After some much needed study, they got to their second class, and at the end the announcements were made and info sheets handed out to the students on what lab they were being placed in for work experience. They needed about 360 hours real world experience to graduate- two afternoons/nights per week, 5 hours per shift. Their pay would be minimal, but at least they were getting paid at all.
"Where'd you get?" Stiles asked as Lydia was opening her letter, her name higher on role call to his.
She pursed her lips, looking over the information. "Seraph Crest precinct."
Stiles whistled. Lydia lived in Halo Terrace, a little south of Seraph Crest. Both suburbs were the richest of the rich, very little crime as they were heavily guarded. It probably meant she was going to be bored out of her mind.
"At least you'll probably have the best facilities money can buy," he mused and she scowled at him.
"I hardly care about that. I want to make a difference," she muttered.
"And you will, but we're students right now, how much of a difference can we make?"
Stiles pointedly did not think about the fact that he'd had the same thoughts, and was making that difference with crime.
His name was called next and he jumped up to grab his placement letter, sitting back down and staring at it for a long moment. Inside would tell him where he would spent two nights a week for the next year.
"Well?" Lydia pushed, leaning her arm against his.
He took a deep breath and tore into it, scanning the words quickly till he reached the name of the police precinct and forensics department he would be doing his work experience in.
"Fuck," he whispered, as he read the bold words of North Ash Hollow Station (N.A.H.S) upon his paper.
He was getting placed in Chris Argents Precinct, and he was so, so fucked.