A few Days Ago — Stiles' POV
Stiles leaned back against the worn leather seat of his dad's cruiser, juggling a burger and a large soda in one hand, while trying to keep his precious curly fries out of his dad's reach with the other. Outside, the world was quiet, bathed in the glow of streetlights as Beacon Hills settled into the night.
"Dad, seriously. These fries are off-limits," Stiles protested, swatting away his father's hand. "I'm only looking out for you, you know. Health is important!"
Sheriff Stilinski chuckled, a twinkle of mischief in his eyes as he reached for the fries again. "Kid, I carry a lethal weapon for a living. That gives me every right to eat whatever I want." He flashed Stiles a grin before grabbing a couple of fries, much to Stiles' dismay.
"You're abusing your power, you know that?" Stiles grumbled. Just as his dad opened his mouth to respond, the radio crackled to life, the dispatcher's voice cutting through the comfortable silence.
"All units, possible 187 at Video 2*C. Immediate assistance requested."
Sheriff Stilinski's face hardened, fries forgotten. "That's a homicide," he muttered, quickly shifting the car into drive as he turned on the lights and siren. Stiles, heart racing, stuffed the burger in his mouth and buckled up. He knew what was coming next.
Within minutes, they arrived at the video rental store. The red and blue lights from the other patrol cars painted the scene in an eerie light. A small crowd had gathered outside, whispering and pointing at the broken front window. Yellow police tape was already being strung up, and Stiles spotted Jackson and Lydia near the entrance, looking visibly shaken.
Stiles hopped out of the car, trying to get a better look at the scene, but his dad held him back with a firm hand on his shoulder. "Stay put, Stiles. This is police business."
Stiles watched as his dad approached Jackson and Lydia, who were speaking to an officer. Jackson looked irritated, as usual, while Lydia seemed distant, her eyes fixated on something far away. Sheriff Stilinski moved in closer, trying to calm Jackson.
"Are you alright?" the Sheriff asked, glancing at Jackson's head.
Jackson, still reeling, muttered, "I'm fine. Just... just wanna go home."
Sheriff Stilinski looked doubtful. "A shelf of DVDs fell on you, son. You need to let the EMTs check you out first. Head injuries aren't something to take lightly."
"I'm fine! You're just a minimum-wage rent-a-cop; you don't know anything!"
The insult hung in the air, and Stiles felt his blood boil, hands clenching into fists at his sides. He wanted to march over and give Jackson a piece of his mind, but his dad kept his cool, nodding to the officer to let them leave. Jackson stormed off, Lydia trailing behind him.
As the ambulance and officers started to clear out, Stiles couldn't help but feel a chill run down his spine. His dad had been investigating strange animal attacks for weeks now, and he couldn't tell him that a psychotic Alpha was the cause of all of those incidents.
The following morning, Stiles was woken up by a loud knock on his door. His dad stepped in, a tired but hopeful expression on his face. "So, am I going to hear good news at your parent-teacher conference tonight?"
Stiles blinked, still half-asleep, before groaning. "Good news? Um…depends. What's your definition of 'good'?"
"Straight A's and no notes about behavior," his dad replied, raising a skeptical eyebrow.
"Uh…then, yeah…probably not," Stiles muttered, scratching the back of his head sheepishly. His dad just sighed, giving him a pat on the shoulder before heading downstairs. Stiles watched him go, a small smile on his face. As much as they bickered, he knew his dad only wanted what was best for him.
Later that day, Sheriff Stilinski stopped by the animal clinic to see if Deaton had made any progress with the animal that had killed Laura Hale and mauled Garrison Myers and Leveque. Sheriff Stilinski's face was tense as he approached Deaton, and his questioning was straightforward but pressing.
Deaton shifted uncomfortably. "Sheriff, I'm really not an expert in wild animal behavior," he insisted.
Sheriff Stilinski frowned. "Last time we talked, you were pretty sure it was a mountain lion, Deaton. And now, after that attack at the video store, we need answers." He handed over some surveillance footage, his expression unreadable as Deaton reviewed it.
Deaton studied the video closely, and for a brief moment, recognition flickered across his face. He cleared his throat, trying to mask his reaction. "I've never seen an animal like this, especially one that can move from all fours to walking on two legs."
Sheriff Stilinski's eyes narrowed. He sensed Deaton was holding something back, but before he could press further, Deaton nodded toward the back room, saying, "Well, I've got a sick dog I need to treat. Good luck with your case, Sheriff."
Sheriff paused, studying Deaton's uneasy demeanor, then gave a short nod. "Thanks for your time, Doc." he replied, heading out. As he left, a nagging feeling told him there was more to Deaton's story, but for now, he'd have to let it go.
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By evening, Stiles found himself reluctantly at the school for the parent-teacher conference, trying to hold his tongue as his dad met with Coach Finstock. The coach, forever in his chaotic mode, had his usual struggle with Stiles' name.
"Stiles Stilinski," Coach muttered, squinting at his clipboard. "Wait, that's your name? I thought that was your last name!"
"It's a nickname, Coach," Sheriff Stilinski said, his tone strained as he glanced at his son. "His real name is after his grandfather."
Coach just shrugged. "Well, the kid's got spirit. Smart, too—when he's actually focused. But let's just say he's a tad…distracted. Do you know he wrote an entire history of male circumcision on his economics exam?"
"Wait… what?" Sheriff Stilinski's face turned beet-red. He looked at Stiles, horror and disbelief warring in his expression. "On an economics exam, Stiles? Really?"
Stiles just grinned, shrugging. "It was relevant…in a roundabout way."
His dad covered his face with his hand.
As they left the conference, Stiles tried to play it cool, but he could see his dad's concerned look out of the corner of his eye. As they were heading out, a low growl echoed through the parking lot, making Stiles' heart skip a beat. Sheriff Stilinski's instincts kicked in, and he pulled out his gun. Stiles' pulse quickened as he watched his dad and Chris Argent move toward the sound, bracing himself for whatever might come out of the shadows.
But it was only a mountain lion.
"Dad…we should back up," Stiles whispered. Sheriff Stilinski held up a hand, signaling him to stay still as he aimed his gun, but in the rush of movement, another car backed out of its spot, catching his dad off guard and bumping him off balance. Sheriff Stilinski fell to the ground, and Stiles rushed to his side, relief flooding him as the mountain lion ran off into the dark.
Later, Stiles met up with Scott, still stewing over his dad's close call. Scott noticed his expression and asked, "How's your dad doing after, you know…that car thing?"
Stiles crossed his arms, narrowing his eyes at Scott. "He's fine. Not that you seemed too worried about it when you were running off to save Allison."
Scott held up his hands defensively. "Stiles, come on. It was just a mountain lion, and your dad has a gun. You know if it was something dangerous, I would help—even if it meant shifting in front of everyone. I wouldn't let anything happen to your dad."
Stiles' frustration softened, and he let out a sigh. "I know, Scott. I'm sorry. I was scared, I just… I just don't want to lose him too, you know." He knew his best friend would've helped if it had been the Alpha or some other supernatural creature.
Scott sighed, reaching out to pat Stiles on the back. "I know, man. And don't worry too much; your dad will be fine."
That evening, Stiles lay in his room, staring at the ceiling. He felt restless, caught between too many worlds—the kid his dad wanted him to be, the friend he was supposed to be, and the person who knew way too much about the shadows lurking in Beacon Hills.
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