Lupine// TW Imagines

Stiles

Stiles walked through the station, ducking around an anxious deputy as he scurried back towards the front door. Stiles was grateful for the tight grip he kept on his dad's dinner, otherwise he would have dropped it an effort not to run right into the deputy.
He moved through the station, walking into his dad's office only to find him shrugging his bulky station jacket on. The sheriff looked up, catching sight of Stiles holding the huge brown paper bag of Chinese food. He shot his son an apologetic look, his tired eyes crinkling.
"Sorry kid," he told him. "Me and Parrish just got called out on a domestic dispute."
Stiles sighed. He knew the nature of his father's job and this had happened time and time again, but just because it was familiar didn't mean he wasn't going to complain about it.
"But I got you kung pao chicken," he whined. "Who else is gonna eat it?"
"Call Scott," the Sheriff suggested. "Lord knows that boy will eat anything."
Stiles sighed once more, setting the bag down on his father's desk. "I'll walk you out I guess."
"Don't look so upset," the Sheriff told him as they walked out of his office. "Most teenagers would rather be out with their friends than bring their father dinner on a Friday night."
"Well, I would have done that, but Scott is with Kira and Malia and Lydia are having a sleepover."
"Well it's good to know I was your first choice," his father said as he pushed open the station door. "Oh! You know, Y/n dropped dinner off to Parrish a few minutes ago. I know you two don't like each other very much but-"
"Dad," Stiles cut him off. "No. No way."
The sheriff held his hands up in surrender. "Alright, alright. Sorry I said anything."
The sheriff turned to leave, but before he could push open the door Stiles called out to him.
"Dad," Stiles said, stopping him from leaving and pulling him into a tight hug. "Be careful."
"I always am," he told Stiles. "And you too. If anything happens-anything with werewolves or kanimas or god knows what else, you call me okay?"
Stiles nodded, and with one last hug, his father was walking out the door. Stiles headed back towards the office, no doubt to dig in to the Chinese food when he heard a voice hiss his name. He looked around, but he couldn't see where the whisper had come from, and he half-believed he was imagining it.
"Stiles!" the voice hissed again, and before he could turn around, he was being grabbed by the back of his hoodie and pulled into the supply closet directly behind him.
"What the fu-"
He cut himself off as the white light of a cellphone flashlight illuminated the pitch black space around him. He looked down to see you grinning at him with bright eyes, your face sparkling with amusement.
"Hey," you grinned.
"Hey," he breathed, his own face lighting up too. "What were you doing in the closet?"
"Waiting for you to pass by so we could do this," you told him, grabbing the collar of his hoodie and pulling his lips down to yours.
His arm wrapped around your waist as he brought you closer, ignoring the musty smell of the closet you were in. He closed his eyes as your arms wrapped around his neck, but it wasn't like he could really see much to begin with.
"Wait," he whispered suddenly, pulling away from you for a brief second. "Why are we hiding if your brother just left?"
"Because if one of the other deputies sees us together, they'll tell Jordan," you told him. "That's why you said we shouldn't tell your dad either. We talked about this remember?"
Stiles sighed. "I know, but you know we can't keep this up forever. We can't keep pretending to hate each other, Y/n. Besides, what's the worst that could happen?"
"Stiles, do you remember what my brother said to you the first day I came into the station?"
"That I had a great sense of humor and rugged good looks?" he asked with a smirk.
"You know, I don't think anyone's ever said that about you," you deadpanned.
Stiles huffed. "Ok, I'll bite. What did Parrish say about me? Cause I've heard a lot of things but-"
"He told me to stay away from you because you were trouble," you told him.
Stiles shrugged indifferently. "I've heard much worse."
"We also had an agreement," you reminded him. "If I'm going to live with him, I need to focus on school and not boys. He can't know Stiles. He'd freak. He-he'd send me back to foster care-"
"Hey, hey, hey," Stiles told you, bringing his hands up and running them down your arms to try and stop your burgeoning hysterics. "He'd never let that happen. But I get it. We'll keep it from him."
You swallowed, leaning forward and burying your face in his neck.
"You're right," you admitted. "He's going to find out."
He sighed as he wrapped his arms around you, running a hand down your hair and pressing a kiss to your forehead. "Not if I can help it."