Yours (Stiles Stilinski)

Chapter Seventy Two

"Ohhh, I should've gotten a haircut," Mr. Stilinski groaned. I shook my head at him, as Stiles chuckled.

"Well, you know, someone your age should be happy you still have hair to cut!" Stiles said enthusiastically. I patted Mr. Stilinski's chest after straightening his tie.

"You look great," I comfort. Scott patted his shoulder.

"Like, awesome-great," Scott adds. Mr. Stilinski grinned at us.

"Well, thank you, children-I-should-have-had!" He said. Stiles gave him a playfully sour look. I move back towards him, linking my arm with his. After a minute, Mr. Stilinski shakes his head, putting a hand on his face. "Oh, what the hell am I doing? This is a terrible idea."

"What? Dad. Dad, it's one date, okay? The town of Beacon Hills won't implode while you're out with one woman. Or man..." Stiles adds the last part with quirked eyebrows. I roll my eyes, as Mr. Stilinski gives him an exasperated look.

"It's a woman, Stiles," he retorts. Stiles nods suspiciously, and Mr. Stilinski frowns. "A very beautiful woman."

"What beautiful woman, by the way?" Stiles asked. Mr. Stilinski gave us a cheeky grin.

"None of your business. None of you," he said while wiggling his eyebrows. I raised my eyebrows at him, giving him a knocking look, and he shakes his head. Stiles looked between us.

"Ah— What!? Y/n, you know?!" Stiles exclaimed. I blinked innocently at him.

"I have no idea what you're talking about," I reply slyly, as I pull the door open for Mr. Stilinski. He winks at me as he walks out, and I smile at Stiles. My next words were interrupted by an angry kid and his lawyer.

"They want you for three to five. So, why don't we get in the van and discuss a plea bargain that gets you out in two?" the lawyer said. The kid looked over to us, specifically at Mr. Stilinski.

"Stilinski! STILINSKI! I'm going to kill you!" He shouted. Mr. Stilinski raised his eyebrows at the kid, clearly unimpressed.

"Donovan, if you think that shocks me, remember it was well-documented in your Anger Expression Inventory. Deputies, escort the prisoner out," the Sheriff ordered. They went to move him, but the kid looked back at us.

"I'm not angry, like I'm gonna throw a brick through your window— I'm angry, like I'm going to find you, I'm going to get a knife, and I'm going to stab you with it until you're dead. And when you look at me and you ask, "Why?", remember right now. Because this is why," the kid threatened. My eyes were wide with surprise. I'd never heard someone talk like that before. It seemed like such a distasteful thing to say, because it was obviously. I could feel Stiles' temper flaring, as he looked the kid over.

"Wow, that was awesome. That was awesome. That was great. Can we do one more? Give us another one, maybe like Christopher Walken this time, you know? Okay, you know what? It's fine. You'll have plenty of time to work on it when you're in your tiny, little cell. You know... just stuck there... forever," Stiles said mockingly. The angry kid glared at us, and I stared back. I blinked at him, trying to project calmness across the room. The kid seemed to relax a little bit, and Stiles nudged me. "Hey— Quit it," he muttered. Mr. Stilinski looked back at me before turning to the deputies.

"Get him out of here!" He ordered. Scott looked over to me.

"What the hell's an Anger Expression Inventory?" Scott asked. I glanced back at the kid.

"It's a test you can take to evaluate your response to anger and how you manage it... It's also a test you have to take when you're applying to become a deputy," I explained. Scott looked at me with wide eyes, and Stiles had that familiar flicker of proudness in his eyes. I grinned at him, as Scott took a deep breath.