Chapter Text
Beacon Hills High School was a picture of small town sensibilities. Clipped grass, slightly skewed notice board and garish sports team banners propped at odd intervals along the fence.
Stiles took one look at it and groaned. “You know, one day I’m going to grow into my chiseled good looks - then where will you be?”
"Wondering who swapped my son out for a changeling." John said, not missing a beat as he hefted the painfully high school backpack into Stiles’ lap.
Stiles glared at it like it’d been the one to insult him. “I’m pretty sure it’s your job as parent to encourage my self esteem or something.” He pointed out. “The teenage ego is a fragile thing.”
"Good thing you’re not really a teenager then." His dad said, having far too much fun with the situation as far as Stiles is concerned. Stiles was going to make sure their next job required undercover work at a retirement home - then they’ll see who’s smirking. "You all set?"
Stiles was already half-way through his final checks, making sure the hidden pockets of the backpack are secure but readily accessible.
Number one million and seventy seven on the list of why Stiles hates high schools: they tend to frown on concealed weapons. His Glock nine mil is at home as a result, making Stiles feel like he’s walking around without skin. He’s had to make do with only a smuggled switchblade and a few charms. Not ideal while investigating possible werewolf activity but still better than nothing.
"Ready as I’ll ever be." Stiles said and hauled himself out of the Land Cruiser. Beacon Hills High was even more garishly cheerful in full sunlight. He actually had to squint at the school to save his eyesight, Screw his life so hard.
Then his dad grinned and said, “Have fun at school!” Because Stiles has been cursed with an asshole for a father.
Stiles gives him the stinkeye as he hefted the bag over his shoulder. “Be safe.”
His dad sobered a little, as he always did with those words. With jobs like theirs it’s hard not to. “You too. Call if you’ve got anything.”
On his list of things to get:
- Find Derek Hale. He had left New York in his sister’s blue Mustang but they hadn’t seen him since Ohio. He wasn’t an alpha so he wasn’t the one to turn Scott McCall. All indications pointed to the fact that he was out to avenge his sister’s death and was deemed dangerous.
- Find Scott McCall. After a late night walk through the woods after a lacrosse game, McCall had been attacked and bitten by a rogue alpha.
- Find the rogue alpha. Capture, if possible. Kill if not.
- Find the Argent family. Keep them under close watch. Do not attempt to infiltrate. Do not attempt to befriend.
Stiles nodded and tapped the door twice. He stepped back and his dad pulled away from the curb with a final nod.
He turned and looked around. Beacon Hills High was like almost every other high school he had gone to. Square buildings, two story, and a weird underground tunnel system that couldn’t be correctly mapped because apparently the tunnels moved.
Yep. Exactly like all the other high schools he had gone undercover in.
Except New Mexico. New Mexico was its own class of weird. Stiles shivered in the morning light when he thought about the three sleepless months he spent there.
“Excuse me,” A girl said. She was looking up at the building with speculative eyes. “Can you tell me where the front office is?”
She was pretty and way too wholesome to be near Stiles.
“No.” Stiles said.
The girl’s face fell. “Oh.” She said. “Sorry, I didn’t mean to-”
“No!” Stiles said and laughed. “Sorry, I’m new. Today’s my first day.”
The girl’s face lit up and she laughed. “Figures I would find the only other new person. I’m Allison Argent.” She said and stuck out her hand.
Of course you are.
There went mission rule number four, right out the window. Stiles checked his watch. He broke his own record time for rule breaking.
Stiles shook her hand and then gestured to the front doors. “Stiles Stilinski. Maybe we can find it together?”
Stiles knew exactly where it was. He had spent the last week studying the blueprints of the school and probably knew it better than anyone else.
“Yes, awesome.” Allison said. “I don’t know about you, but we move a lot and the whole stepping-into-school-for-the-first-time-and-everyone-staring is super unnerving. Especially in a small town like this where everyone has gone to school together since they were like, in diapers.”
“Dad was former military so yeah, we moved a lot.” Stiles said. He pointed at the front doors. “I could break out into Gaston’s song from Beauty and the Beast as we walk in so that everyone is staring at me, if you’d like?”
Allison laughed and Stiles had to wonder if she really did belong to the Argents. Maybe she was adopted. That would make more sense. The intel that HQ had on the Argents had taken Stiles and his father a week of reading just to get the highlights. Allison was a wild card, untrained and apparently ignorant in what her family really did.
Which honestly made no sense to Stiles since, after her mom, she was the one to be in charge.
“That’s ok.” Allison said and looped her arm through Stiles’ and walked confidently the way that only beautiful girls knew how. “I’ll just pretend like one of us knows where we are going.”
Stiles opened the door for her (his mom raised him to be a gentleman and he did what he could to honor her memory) and they walked in.
Everyone stared.
“My god.” Stiles muttered.
Allison flipped her hair over her shoulder and Stiles directed them to the office. Allison collected their schedules (because she had somehow become the person in charge in the last five minutes) and they huddled over them even as the bell rang.
“Oh god, we’re late. Being new and walking in late to class is even worse than walking into school.” Allison muttered.
“We have first hour together. My offer to sing still stands.” Stiles pointed out. He pulled out a pen from his bag and scribbled his given name from the schedule.
“What was that?” She asked.
“Something we will never speak of again.” Stiles said. He straightened up. “It’s now or never, kid.” He said.
They got directions from the secretary and made their way to the class. Outside the class Stiles took a deep breath and nodded. He looked to Allison who looked at the door and nodded. “Let’s do this.” She muttered.
Stiles opened the door first and Allison went in. Stiles followed behind and their teacher looked incredibly unimpressed.
“Yes?” She prompted.
Allison and Stiles handed their schedules over.
As she wrote their names down and grabbed books for them, Stiles looked over the classroom.
He saw Scott McCall in the back of the room, looking from Allison to Stiles back to Allison. Stiles met his eyes for a brief instant before he looked back to the teacher handing them both books. There were seats in front of and next to Scott. Stiles took the one next to him and Allison sat in front of him.
“Hey, Stiles. Do you have a pen?” Allison whispered.
He did. About twelve of them in his backpack.
“Sorry.” Stiles said and held up the one in his hand. “All I got.” Then he turned to Scott who was watching them both with wide eyes. He looked like a caged puppy, one who didn’t know who he wanted to greet first. “Hey, buddy. Do you have a pen my friend can borrow?”
Scott handed the one in his hand over wordlessly.
“Thanks.” Allison said and turned away.
Scott blinked at the back of her head a couple of times before turning to Stiles who was already holding a pen out to him. Scott looked at it, then to Stiles, who grinned and gave him a thumbs up.
Scott laughed.
Stiles reached into his bag once more and saw the redhead next to him eyeing him.
“Hey, Red.” Stiles said and smirked. “How’s it goin’?”
She rolled her eyes and Stiles chuckled. Then he sat back and proceeded to not pay attention.
***
Whoever did the schedule for Stiles should have been given a high five. Maybe a pat on the back. He was in five of Scott’s classes and lived two streets over from him.
“So.” Scott said and leaned against Stiles’ locker.
“I’m free this Friday at seven. You can pick me up. I haven’t seen the new Marvel movie. But be warned, I do kiss and tell, so bring your A game.” Stiles said with a small grin.
“What?” Scott said and blinked. “You haven’t seen the new Marvel movie?”
Stiles looked at him. “That’s what you got from that?”
Scott shrugged.
Stiles looked at him and shook his head.
“What I was going to say is that lacrosse tryouts are tomorrow. You should come.” Scott said. There was an unsubtle way of Scott looking at Stiles from head to toe. “You look like you could make the team.”
Stiles felt like he was being checked out but all the research on McCall said that his tastes were distinctly towards the female kind-
But hey, who was Stiles to judge? He was pretty sure he was completely straight until Alaska, 2015.
“Lacrosse? Dude. Is there a douchier sport?” Stiles asked and shouldered his bag. They headed out the front doors and Allison waved at him from her sporty little car. Lydia was talking with her and gave Stiles a mean side eye. Scott and Stiles waved back. Scott sighed.
“Not really but it’s all we got.” Scott said with a shrug. “Come on. It’ll be fun.” He said.
Stiles chewed on his lower lip and scanned the quickly emptying parking lot. There wasn’t a lot to see. A blue mini van in the back corner. A black Camaro near the exit. A silver truck in the middle of the lot and Stiles’ baby, near the front. Someone from HQ must have dropped it off after lunch. She was in the shop for weeks after the last mission’s debacle. He pretended that he was considering the offer.
“Fine.” Stiles said. “But I can’t promise I’ll be good or anything. I don’t even know what to do. Is it the ones with the nets on the sticks?” He mimed throwing a ball from one stick to the other.
Scott laughed. “You’ll learn. So yes?” He asked.
“I’m there.” He finally said. He pulled his phone out and checked the messages his father and him had been sending all day.
“Awesome!” Scott said and started to turn away. “See ya!”
“Hey, where are you going?” Stiles asked. Scott was making his way to the other end of the school, near the forest. The Camaro near the exit roared to life. Stiles didn’t like the way the Camaro idled, waiting for Scott to move in a direction.
“Home.” He said and pointed in a vague direction.
Stiles rolled his eyes. “Get in.” He said and tipped his head at the Jeep.
“Oh, no. It’s cool. I’m used to walking.” Scott said.
“It’s not a problem. Get in.” Stiles said.
Scott finally relented and got in. Stiles sent one final message to his dad and tossed his phone in the console. He left the parking lot and asked for directions, like he didn’t know exactly where Scott lived.
The black Camaro followed him.
Stiles nodded along with the conversation while keeping an eye on the Camaro behind him. He couldn’t see much beyond black aviators and he was starting to become concerned. He didn’t want Scott to find everything out so quickly. He needed to build a rapport with the kid before he broke the news to him.
Because Stiles was about 89.5% sure that Scott had no idea what was going on with him or what kind of world he had stepped into.
Stiles pressed a small button hidden behind his steering wheel and he thanked god that his father was on patrol. HQ had designed a number of upgrades for his Jeep and his dad’s Land Cruiser. Along with GPS that both Stiles and his dad could use from nifty watches they always wore, there was an alert system installed. One long press of the button meant,This is important, get here as soon as possible. One short press meant,I need you here right now. Three short taps was a life or death situation. Stiles had never pressed that button more than once.
They were still ten minutes away from Scott’s house when he saw the red and blue lights flashing in his rear view mirror, behind the Camaro that was still tailing them. Whoever was in it, was not subtle.
Scott saw them as well. “Dude.” He said. “You weren’t even speeding.”
Stiles sighed and pulled over, just like the Camaro did behind him.
The patrol car pulled up behind them and the Sheriff got out of his car.
“Shit, that’s the new Sheriff.” Scott hissed at Stiles. “I heard he is such a hard ass.”
Stiles pressed his lips into a thin line and rolled down his window.
“Son.” The Sheriff said and surveyed the inside of the Jeep with a grim smile. The Camaro turned back on and went around them at a reasonable speed. The Sheriff watched it and Scott handed Stiles his insurance and registration. “What do you think you're doing?”
“Just driving my new buddy Scott McCall home.” Stiles said. He gave his father a winning smile.
The Sheriff took his glasses off and sighed. “Did you even unpack your room yet?”
“No.” Stiles muttered and sighed. “I was going to work on it tomorrow-”
Scott cleared his throat.
“The day after tomorrow.” Stiles corrected.
“What’s tomorrow?” John asked but looked to Scott this time.
“I invited Stiles to come to lacrosse tryouts tomorrow.” Scott said. “Sir.” He added.
“Lacrosse?” John looked confused. “What in the hell- is that the one with the sticks and the nets?”
“That’s what I asked.” Stiles said. Then he shrugged. “You wanted me to do extracurriculars.”
“Be careful what you wish for.” John said. He shook his head. “Get what you can done tonight. Get your clothes out of boxes, at least. Ok? For me?”
“Will do, daddy-o.” Stiles nodded.
“There’s frozen lasagna-”
“Oh, my mom wants to meet Stiles.” Scott said as he scrolled through his phone. “She has dinner on the stove.”
“I-” Stiles started and shot a panicked look at his dad. He had to unpack his tactical gear that night and apply runes to the house.
“Really, he can eat you out of house and home-” John started.
Scott’s phone rang. “Hey mom.” He said.
Stiles looked at the Sheriff.
“Yeah, he’s right here. His dad pulled us over. No, not speeding. I think he was just wondering where Stiles was going. Well it sounds like he has some chores-” Scott stopped dead. “I-I don’t know, mom. I- uh, yes?” Scott looked at John. “He’s right here- yes, ma’am. Yes. Yes. I will. Ok. Uh-huh. Yes. Ok, I will. Yeah, hold on.” Scott looked wide eyed at the phone. “She wants to talk to the Sheriff.” Scott whispered and stared at his phone in abject fear.
Even John looked a little scared as he took the phone.
“This is Sheriff Stilinski.” He said. “Yes! Oh, it’s nice to meet you too. Beacon Hills General? Yeah, yep. Yes ma’am, overnight shift. Oh-” John looked to Stiles and he could read the apology on his face. His father was not getting him out of this one. “I couldn’t trouble you. No- it’s just. I mean, of course. Yes. Yes ma’am. He will be there. Well, thank you . Uh-huh. Bye.”
John handed the phone back to Scott and looked to Stiles. “If you are not on your best behavior, that woman might have you arrested. And I might have to do it.”
“Right.” Stiles said and let out a breath. Then he turned to Scott. “So. Dinner? Your place?”
Scott nodded.
“Son, don’t molest Scott in front of his mother.” John said and put his sunglasses back on.
“I can’t make any promises.” Stiles said. Scott gave the Sheriff a wide grin and waved.
John sighed and they left.
***
Melissa McCall was not what Stiles expected. But the deference that Scott showed her and the way that she had cowed his father (a professionally trained killer, once married to another professionally trained killer, who raised a professionally trained killer, and hunted supernatural creatures for crying out loud), made Stiles especially careful around her.
Scott put his bag down on the bench near the front. Stiles followed him to the kitchen where a woman that was shorter than both Stiles and Scott was putting tamales on a plate.
“Hey mom!” Scott said.
“Hi Scott.” His mom said. She eyed Stiles and Stiles felt immediately exposed like she knew he was not in high school and was there hunting werewolves. If she had asked right then, he probably would have confessed everything. “And you are Stiles.”
“Yes ma’am.” He said and waved, rather awkwardly.
She gave him a soft smile and that was it. Stiles was done.
Mothers were his soft spot.
The doctor that debriefed them after each mission theorized that it was the loss of his own mother so early in his life that gave him this weakness but there wasn’t a particular way to address that problem.
“Well, come on. Let’s go sit. I’m sure you boys are starved.” She waved them into the dining room and Stiles had to blink when he saw the spread. There was rice, tamales, red chile, homemade tortillas, and posole.
“Oh my god. I’ve died. Did I die? Did we get into an accident on the way home?” Stiles asked Scott.
“What are you talking about?” Scott said as he sat.
“It’s food. Like, real food.” Stiles said as he sat.
Scott looked at him like he was crazy.
“Unless I cook, there isn’t a lot of this happening.” Stiles said. “And I don’t really feel like cooking after school that much.”
“Well, you have an open invitation.” Melissa said as she sat. She waved at them. “Go on. Eat.”
Scott and Stiles fell on the food like starved animals.
By the time they were done, Stiles was groaning and holding his stomach. Scott was half asleep on the table. Melissa looked pleased.
“So Stiles. I hear you came all the way from Chicago.” Melissa said and leaned forward on her hands. She took a drink from her lemonade.
“Yes ma’am.” Stiles said.
“Elaine Vanderwert was telling me what a bright student you are. That you came from a private school?” Melissa prompted. HQ had seen to his education and technically, he had graduated at fifteen. He wasn’t a genius or anything, but HQ handled education like they handled everything else - there were no frivolities, no niceties, you showed up, did your work, got help when you needed it, finished, went on to the next task.
“Yes.” Stiles said and tried to straighten up. “My mom knew the headmaster and he thought that I wasn’t being challenged enough and opened up a spot in his school.”
“Why did you leave?” Melissa asked.
Stiles sighed and looked away. “My parents lived there their entire marriage.” He paused. “My dad said stuff about the crime rate, about retiring after I am off to college, slowing down a bit-” He cleared his throat. “But it was the house. It was where we lived. Mom was still there in a way, you know?”
Melissa nodded.
“So here we are.” Stiles said.
“Leaving didn’t bother you?” Melissa asked.
“Mom.” Scott muttered.
“It’s ok.” Stiles said. “No, it didn’t bother me. Dad needed it. I’d do anything for my dad.”
“Well, like I said, you are welcome here anytime.” Melissa said. She stood. “You two got the dishes?”
“Yes, mom.” Scott said. He was already eyeing an empanada. Stiles would never not be grossed out by werewolves appetite.
They stood and cleaned the kitchen and did their homework. Melissa left later that night for the overnight shift at the hospital and waved at them.
It was close to nine when they finally called it a night. They had done homework and played some video games before Stiles realized how late it was.
“Hey, I can drop by and pick you up in the morning?” Stiles asked on his way out.
“Oh, don’t you have to pick Allison up?” Scott asked.
Stiles furrowed his brow. He thought back to his day, to how he walked into the school with Allison’s arm through his, how she walked near Stiles and bumped shoulders with him, how she would smile at him brilliantly-
“Dude. Ha.” Stiles scratched his nose and crinkled his brow again. “Not that Allison isn’t beautiful and smart and so nice, but like-” He waved his hand around, hoping to get the point across.
Scott looked like a confused puppy. He even tilted his fucking head.
“Dude, I’m bisexual but totally lean a little, a lot , towards the masculine end of the spectrum.” Stiles said.
“Oh!” Scott said and nodded. Then he brightened. “Wait, so you would be ok with me asking her out?”
“Dude, I will even put in a good word for you.”
Scott’s grin was just as blinding as Allison’s. If they had kids, their smiles would render people utterly useless. “You’re the best.”
Stiles headed home and there it was again, the black Camaro. It sat on the corner and Stiles drove past and sang along badly to Bon Jovi. Stiles watched in his rearview mirror but the Camaro didn’t start up and it didn’t move.
Stiles called his dad.
“How’d it go?” His dad asked.
“Oh, you know. Melissa fed me. So much, dad. You should marry her. I don’t think you understand the depth of her mastery of food .” Stiles sighed.
“Yeah? That’s good. I’m glad you got a home cooked meal.” His dad sounded distracted.
“So, hey. I meant to tell you, the clutch is sticking.” Stiles added casually. It was one of their old phrases. The clutch was fine, but there was a tail that was certainly sticking to him.
“That right? I told you to get rid of that old thing.” His dad said.
“Well, see, I tried, but it just keeps sticking.” Stiles added. “I just can’t seem to shake it loose.”
“Yeah. I heard it earlier. Couple times actually.” His father must have seen the same black Camaro out on patrol.
“Do you have a mechanic?” Stiles asked. Did they have any way of knowing who was behind the wheel? Intel, anything to give Stiles a heads up?
“It’s still sticking?” His dad asked. “Persistent.”
“Yeah well, I’m not sure the garage will keep it.” Stiles said. He was driving down his street. The house was unwarded. He didn’t want to fight off a crazed werewolf without being armed and his tactical gear was still packed up. All he had on him was his switch blade, a few charms, a small bag of wolfsbane, his back up in the glove box, and his sparkling wit.
“Do what you have to, son. We’ll figure it out later. Probably talk to the mechanic tomorrow.” His dad paused. “Do I need to pick you up?”
Stiles considered it. “No.” He said. “I’ll be out late tonight, dad.”
“You have school in the morning.” His dad said.
Stiles passed by his house without even stopping. “I’ll be there.” He said.
“Call me.”
“Love you, dad.”
“Love you, kid.”