Broken But Mending; Scott McCall [1] ✔

1.40 In Which Stiles Is Consulted

DISCLAIMER: I Do Not Own Teen Wolf

Stiles Stilinski was used to listening to Scott talk about Ellie Argent. He knew that his best friends was in love with the girl, and wanted nothing more than to kill the alpha and hook up with her again. He tried to be as supportive as he could, honestly, he did, but that wasn't very easy. Watching Scott get first line, get a girlfriend and get Lydia Martin to kiss him wasn't fun. It was down-right horrible. Sometimes, Stiles wondered what it would be like if he was the one who was bitten. Maybe Lydia would be interested in him.

Ah, Lydia Martin. Beautiful, strawberry blonde, smart, sassy, perfect... the list of amazing traits just went on and on. Stiles was totally in love with her, like, completely, but she'd barely spoken more than two words to him, even after Scott's transformation.

But, even with his excitement about the supernatural, Stiles did want a couple hours off to just search the net, and he deserved it. He deserved a break for everything he'd done.

Of course, he never got the things he wanted, so , as he sat in front of his laptop at home, he just had to find Derek Hale.

"Hey, Stiles!" he heard his dad yell form down the hall, presumably in his bedroom. He'd gotten the night off to watch his son's first game on first line (Stiles was so excited, whenever he thought about, he peed a little).

"Yo, D-" he stumbled over his words, catching sight of the older werewolf behind his door. "Derek!" the beta in question made a few violent gestures as the teenager stumbled quickly to his feet and to the door. He ran so that half of his body was in the hall, half in his room, and the door was digging into his shoulder. He couldn't have his dad finding out about harbouring a (wrongly accused) fugitive in his room.

Sheriff Stilinski stood outside, a frown on his face, "What did you say?"

"What?" Stiles asked, voice an octave higher than usual as panic gripped him, "I said 'you, d-dad'."

"Listen," the sheriff said, deciding not to ask why his son was acting weird. His son was always acting weird, "I've got something I need to take care of, but I'm going to be there for your first game."

"My first game," Stiles repeated, a large, manic smile on his lips. "Oh, that's great. Great, awesome, good."

The sheriff gave him a tight smile, eyes questioning, "I'm very happy for you, and I'm really proud of you."

"Thanks!" he awkwardly hung from the door frame, "Me, too. I'm happy, and proud... of myself."

"So..." John jammed his hands in his pockets, "They're really going to let you play, right?"

A really grin found its way onto Stiles' face, "Yeah, I'm first line." He made an odd noise at the back of his throat, one that made him wince slightly. Oh my God, couldn't he be cool for like one second? This is why Lydia didn't want to know.

"I'm very proud," The older man said again.

"Me, too." Stiles agreed, "Again. I'm..." he trailed off as his dad hugged him. "Huggy." He said, leaning on the door protectively, "Huggy, huggy."

"... See you there."

"Take it easy."

Sheriff Stilinski gave him an odd look before walking back down the hall and down the stairs. Stiles stood for a moment, watching him go, before rushing into his room. He slammed it shut, and then was forced backwards into it by Derek, who had a murderous expression on his face. His hand gripped the teen's jacket, and one of his fingers jabbed him painfully in the chest.

"You say one word-"

"Oh, what, you mean 'Hey, dad, Derek Hale's in my room, bring your gun'?" He said smartly, and the wolf's glare faltered for a moment. It was enough to inspire confidence in the teen, and Stiles let a smirk tilt his lips upward. "Yeah, that's right. I'm harbouring you're fugitive ass, my house, my rules, buddy." They were both silent for a few moments, and Derek let him go. He walked passed the older werewolf, mockingly straightening his leather jacket. Derek jerked his head in Stiles' direction, causing him to flinch and curse on his way back to his desk.