Spray Paint | Stydia & Scisaac [ON HOLD]

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Chapter One: Spray Paint

"Did you get those files in?" Sheriff Noah Stilinski asked as the car slowed down for a red light. When the car was completely stopped, Stiles Stilinski looked over at his father.

"I already gave them to Deputy Parrish, don't worry," he told him, a hint of sarcasm prominent in his voice. "I'm responsible, remember?" A smirk tugged at the right corner of his lips.

Noah rolled his eyes. Multiple memories of Stiles doing ridiculous, and even odious, things flashed in his mind. Actions spoke louder than words, and they proved Stiles' statement wrong.

"Just yesterday, you had almost let the robbery suspect free, Stiles. If that's what you call responsible, I think it would be in your best interest to buy a dictionary."

The light turned green and Stiles lifted his foot off of the break. His right stepped lightly down onto the gas pedal, sending the car into motion.

"That wasn't completely my fault. The handcuffs didn't lock. Sometimes the old ones get rusty and malfunction, which is something beyond my control." Stiles smirked. He was only trying to get a rise out of his father.

"Malfunction?" Stilinski laughed, "The handcuffs were perfectly fine, Stiles. You just didn't check to see if you locked it right."

"No, no. I don't think so, Dad."

"I know what you're doing," Stilinski said with an exasperated look, "So quit it. You're twenty-four years old, Stiles, and yet you continue to poke at me like a child. If you aren't going to take your job seriously, I can and will take your badge away, Son. This job is a privilege, not a righ—"

"I was just joking with you, Pops. I know and I'm sorry, alright? And you know better than anyone that I take this job seriously. I have big shoes to fill," Stiles told him, and he meant every word. Stilinski softened and nodded his head.

"I'm proud of you," he told him, "And I know. Just be a little more aware, alright? It's always the little things that really screw things up." Stiles nodded.

The radio's music filled the car as the two sat in a comfortable silence. As Stiles drove, he couldn't help but glance at the bridge they were approaching. It had the oddest of shapes and words spray painted onto the metal beams. The paint appeared brighter at this time of day due to the sunset in the distance. The Sheriff stared at it all in disbelief.

"Look at this garbage," he muttered. "Kids these days, always acting out to prove something. It looks like a mess!"

Stiles peered at his father while he looked out the window. Stiles didn't particularly agree with what his father had said, but he didn't want to start an argument by telling him so. He decided to drive the conversation elsewhere.

"So, what's the problem this time? Theft? Stoners? Domestic?" he asked, referring to the reason why they were called out to this part of town. They were no longer in the city, but still in their force's domain. Stilinski shook his head.

"Some kid graffitied a side of the Grab and Go again. There's been multiple calls made from around here by many businesses reporting the same problem," Noah explained, moving his hands as he talked. "I'm assuming the kid's a local. Lives around the outskirts."

Stiles raised an eyebrow. "What makes you think it's a kid? And how old?"

"Forensics has a few spray cans that we found. Whoever it was left them behind. They got a few fingerprints, but they weren't in our systems already. Even still, fingerprints tell a lot about a person, unidentified or not. They were smaller than that of an adult's, but everyone's different in size. Outliers and such exist. But the ridges of these fingerprints were very prominent. Almost like they were new. As you get older, the ridges fade out — or get smoother, and some people even have a bit of scarring from every day activities. So, I think it's safe to assume it's a young kid, or younger person, that we're looking for."