Heathens |-/ Teen Wolf

migraine

migraine

The start of June swaddled Northern California in warmth, sunlight leaking through every window in every home.

A dark haired boy rustled in his sleep, only a day into his summer and spending it by sleeping for hours on end. He took an absent breath in, the wafting scent of waffles causing his eyes to open. He rubbed his brown eyes, rolling off his bed and hitting the floor.

Downstairs, Sheriff Stilinski's attention averted from the chocolate chip waffle mix to the thud above him. "You good?" he called questionably, pouring the mix into the iron. His eyebrows lifted, no response coming. "Stiles?"

The figure in a loose gray tee surfaced in the doorway of the kitchen, still looking a little out of it. "I'm good, I'm fine." He yawned, droopy eyes falling on the fresh batch of waffles, "God bless."

"Long walk off a short pier?" Stilinski asked as he flipped the iron over.

"Something like that," he replied, running a hand through his hair as he took a seat on one of the island benches. "Why are you in such a chipper mood?"

"Because I didn't fall off the wrong side of the bed."

"Hilarious, Dad," remarked Stiles as he pulled a plate with two waffles towards him. "What's the occasion?"

"I was thinking maybe a trip out to East Bay?" Sheriff Stilinski offered, "I've got the day off from the station and if they have something bad enough to call me in, we wouldn't be too far away."

"Yeah?" asked Stiles with a soft smile, liking the idea of going in towards the coast. "That'd be pretty cool."

"Great, we can go after breakfast." Stilinski flipped the waffle iron, soon going over his shoulder to adjust the station on the small tv on the kitchen countertop. "I hope the weather's not bad," he halfly said to himself as he grabbed the news channel.

"Should be up in the 90s with a breeze," Stiles told him as he poked at his syrup-covered food. He looked when his father had grown increasingly quiet, finding Stilinski with his eyes glued to the television and steam rising from the sides of the waffle iron. "Dad-"

" - his fighter jet seemed to falter in flight, causing the entire team to make an emergency landing. Although making it to the ground, the USAF technicians investigating the remnants of the plane say that something was triggered in the engine that caused an outburst once landing. The FBI has in fact been brought in to evaluate the situation but have assured the public that they don't believe this was an act of terrorism. Leaving behind a wife and daughter, Colonel Norm Patton of the Air Force Thunderbirds will be honored in an invite only ceremony in Winchester, MA next Friday. The location of his burial has not yet been released."

Both Stiles and the Sheriff sat in silence for a moment, shaken down to their Massachusetts roots.

"Holy shit," Stiles mumbled, running a hand along his jaw just before the footage of the explosion vanished off the tv screen.

Stilinski looked astonished, his words completely taken as memories of his close friendship with Norm riveted across his eyes. "No," he whispered.

Little league, high school football games, first jobs at the local gas station before Winchester had expanded, the two of them disjointing from the hip only upon choosing different branches of the military at 18.

Norm had been the only friend from high school that Stilinski had kept in contact with, and now he was gone.

"Maybe," Sheriff Stilinski softly said, "maybe we should push back the trip." He backed away from the counter, looking as if he'd been thrown from a moving car. "I, uh, I'm gonna go upstairs. Would, would you finish the waffles?"

"Yeah, yeah of course," Stiles said after clearing his throat. He stood from his spot, going to the iron and opening it as his dad scattered. His eyes still drifted to the tv as he let the smoke hover off the burnt waffle, footage from the fair dashing across the screen.

Unmistakably, he saw a distressed photo of Danielle being restrained by a man in ABUs, under a canopy on the edge of the air field her father had perished on.

Stiles had never seen such a horrified look on her face in the entire time he had known her.

Soon enough, he would see a side of her he never thought he would, either.

|| || ||

"You've known her since you were born, right?"

Stiles walked along the creek deep in the Beacon Preserve on a fallen tree cautiously, his mind still spinning. He softly nodded, knowing his best friend Scott was following behind. "Our dads were friends since elementary school. We both lived in Boston as kids while my dad was still in the Army and Nathan was stationed close by. I just, I want to say something to her, I just don't know what."

"How long's it been since you've seen her?" Scott questioned, jumping off the end of the log once reaching land.

"Maybe a year?" Stiles said in more of a question than statement. "Last summer we all met up in Nevada while they were visiting her dad during training at Nellis."

Scott pocketed his hands in his cargo shorts, walking alongside Stiles in the woods they'd shared so many memories in. "She came for your mom's, didn't she?"

Stiles nonverbally agreed, running a hand through his hair. "They flew in for the funeral."

"Are you and your dad going?" the alpha asked as he glanced over to him.

"I haven't talked to him much today. He...he kind of closed himself off in his room after he found out. I didn't want to push him." Stiles stared slightly up at the tops of the trees, the sun beginning to flush the sky with pink. "She was the hardest part of leaving. Once my dad retired we came here since this was where my mom was from, but I fought tooth and nail to stay. Our moms would even call each other and then give the phones to us and we would talk for just as long as they had."

Scott softly smiled, knowing he'd heard more than a few stories of the infamous Danielle that he'd met once at 10 under terrible circumstances at Claudia Stilinski's funeral.

"We'd visit when we could, but before her dad was in the Thunderbirds, they moved around all over and it was kind of hard. They stayed in Winchester once Norm got on the team, though, and that made it a little better." Stiles was getting lost in his own head, recalling the box in his room full of trinkets and post cards from countries all over the world. "I just wish I knew what to say to her."

Scott thought for a moment, "What did she say to you when your mom died?"

A soft smile hit Stiles, glancing down to his shoes as they walked on. "When she hugged me at the airport, she said, 'This is shitty.'"

Failing at trying to hold in a laugh, Scott offered, "Well, how about you start there?"

Stiles laughed, imagining the situation in reverse. Before he could speak, his phone went off in the pocket of his jeans. He scrounged for his cell, half hoping it was Danielle.

However, it was his father.

"Dad?" he asked without formalities, slowing his pace through the dirt path in the Preserve near the Lookout Point.

"I've got two tickets booked for Boston, pack a bag."