"Dad, you're not seriously gonna eat that are you?"
Sheriff Stilinski dug his fork into his plate of gravy fries with a smirk, "Yep," he said with relish.
"Do you have any idea what that's gonna do to your arteries?"
The sheriff paused with his fork midway to his mouth and scowled at his son.
"Stiles, don't you have anything better to do better to do than nag me about the state of my arteries?"
Stiles flashed his dad a grin, "Nope." Sheriff Stilinski muttered under his breath and took a bite of his gravy fries, while Stiles leaned forward taking a sip from his straw.
"You're not exactly eating a salad over there either, y'know." His dad grumbled, jabbing his fork in the direction of Stiles' plate.
Stiles smirked and patted his lean stomach, "I'm seventeen. I've got years yet to worry about my arteries."
His dad squinted at him, "You calling me old, kid?"
Stiles bites the inside of his cheek, "No… I'm calling you forty-eight."
His dad rolls his eyes at him. Then he leaned back in the diner booth and gave his son a fond smile. "Sometimes, y'know, you sound just like your mom."
Stiles ducks his eyes slightly under the weight of the compliment. Then shrugs it off with a joke.
"Yeah, she was a smart-ass too."
His dad guffawed, "Yeah, and she could be a world-class pain in the neck if I didn't do exactly as she wanted." He said with a grin that crinkled around his eyes, as he jabbed an accusing finger at him. "You definitely get that from her."
Stiles let out a huff of laughter, "Yeah." He slumped forward slightly, resting his arms on the tabletop. He got lost for a few seconds staring into his soda glass, watching the bubbles fizz. In his head he could still faintly hear his mom's voice. That soft but firm tone she'd take on when she was fussing over him or nagging the pair of them. The lilt in her voice when she'd be teasing his dad about something. The bubbly sound of her laughter that had always somehow managed to make him feel safe.
"Stiles?"
"Hmm?"
His dad looked concerned for a second and gestured across the table. Stiles straightened up, dropping his eyes to the table where his phone was buzzing. There was a flurry of text messages from Lydia.
He scooped up his phone and read through them. He'd been texting her all afternoon and she hadn't been replying.
{Quit worrying.}
{Scott and I are going to be with her the whole time.}
{We're picking her up to take her to the lake house in half an hour}
{She's going to fine, Stiles.}
Stiles chewed on his thumbnail, his knee bouncing beneath the table as he reread the messages before taking a breath and setting his phone down. She was going to be fine. He lectured himself, willing himself not to be anxious.
He looked up to find his dad staring at him. Stiles was quiet as his dad assessed him. His dad cocked his head to the side, "That, Malia?"
Stiles looked down, rubbing a hand across the back of his neck, "No. It was, uh, Lydia."
"Huh," his dad grunted, his eyes seeming unconvinced. "I could've swore that was a Malia, look."
"Pfft, I don't have a 'Malia-look', Dad."
"Yeah, Stiles," he says with a knowing grin, "You kinda do." Stiles shakes his head sort of hating his father's ability to see right through him. "How did you two leave things, anyway?"
Stiles' blows out a breath before sinking back against the booth. "We're, uh," he cleared his throat, "We're gonna be friends."
"Friends?" His dad asks raising an eyebrow. "And you're okay with that."
Stiles thinks back to earlier today when he'd seen Nathan Pierce leaning against Malia's locker, smirking at her as if he belonged there, and the muscle in his jaw twitches. The only thing that had stopped him from slugging Nathan in his smarmy face right then, had been the fact that he'd been carrying Lydia's books at the time. So it wasn't like he had the right to be angry about some random guy making eyes at his girl—his ex-girlfriend. But it didn't change the fact that he was.
Stiles leans forward and reaches for his glass. "I guess I'm gonna have to be," he admits.
His dad's forehead wrinkles. "I'm sorry to hear that. I really liked you two together."
Stiles nods pushing his food around his plate with his fork, "Yeah, me to." He drops his fork leaning back, "But, uh, at least this way I don't lose her completely, y'know?"
His dad gives him a sad but reassuring smile. "As friends go, that girl is a good one to have."
Stiles hears her voice echoing in the back of his head—"I won't judge. I promise." He clears his throat gruffly and nods to his dad. "Yeah."
"And I wouldn't worry about losing her, Stiles." His eyes cut to his dad, who is watching him with a knowing look. "As long as the two of you keep talking then you'll figure it out."
Stiles nods still not feeling all that confident but he gives him a forced smile anyway, "Thanks."
The bell on the diner door chimes as a few deputies stroll in. His dad looks up and Parrish gives him a nod. "I know you're on your break, Sheriff but could I run something by you?"
His dad looks back at his son and hesitates. Stiles gestures toward the door. "It's okay, dad."
"I'll be back in a minute." He dad says clapping him on the shoulder. Stiles sighs sinking back in his seat. His fingers drumming on the tabletop indecisively as his eyes land on his phone. Then unable to stop himself he reaches for it to recheck his messages.
Just as he taps on his messages a dialogue box pops up on screen indicating 'Storage almost full.' Stiles grumbles under his breath, knowing that he won't be able to receive any new messages or emails till he deals with it.
Annoyed he taps on 'Manage storage' and starts scrolling down through his options. He taps on photos and scrolls down looking for useless photos to delete. He finds a series of blurry, dark pocket photos and begins rapidly junking them until a picture pops up that makes him freeze with his thumb hovering above the screen.
His heart squeezes in his chest as he stares at it. He swallows, looking away for a few seconds, before his eyes dart back to the screen. He lets himself take it in this time, drinking in every detail. He'd forgotten all about taking it. But sitting here now he remembers exactly where he'd been and exactly what he'd been thinking when he'd snapped that shot.
He closes his eyes and he can still hear the rain pattering on the deck. It had been a rainy afternoon last summer.
Stiles was stretched out on the living room couch with 'Return of the Jedi' playing on the flat screen. Malia was laying on top of him with her cheek nestled into his chest with her head turned toward the screen. Malia's toes slid along his calf, before knocking against his ankle. Stiles flicked his eyes away from the screen and down to where she was sprawled across his chest.
She shifted against him again, this time nuzzling into his chest and bunching up the fabric of his sweater in her fingers. He arched his neck, brushing her silky hair back behind her ear so that he could see her face and was met with her long pretty eyelashes. Stiles smiled.
Malia gave a small throaty chuckle in her sleep, before shifting her head and muttering nonsense into his sweater. Stiles tilted his head as he watched her sleep, a warm, peaceful feeling washing over him. His left hand settled across her back again, his fingers splaying wide, his hand rising and falling with her every breath.
Not everyone got to see her like this. With her guard down. Laying in his arms so trustingly. It stirs something in his chest that has been getting stronger and stronger each day. He's not sure what to call it because it's more than just love. It's this impossible urge to get closer to her, even when she's practically right on top of him.
His fingers itch to touch her so he does. He untucks his arm from beneath his head and gently traces her cheekbone with the pad of his thumb. His fingers slip into her hair and he gently massages her scalp. Her eyelids flutter and she grumbles into his chest. He should feel guilty for waking her. But half awake Malia is kind of snuggly and adorable and he can't really help it.
No one would believe him that she gets like this. That his tough as nails, badass of a girlfriend secretly likes to snuggle. Biting his lip he gets an idea. Spying his phone on the coffee table he makes a grab for it and brings it up to hover over Malia's face which is squished into his chest.
Then with a grin he leans down and presses a kiss to her nose. Malia wrinkles her nose and grumpily whines, "Hmph, Stiles." Just as he snaps the picture. He drops his phone back onto the table, his chest rumbling with laughter. Malia swats at his shoulder "Sstop it. M'mm comfy." She mumbles into his chest sleepily.
"Sorry." He chuckles kissing her forehead. Malia growls under her breath and jabs him in the ribs, accusingly "No you're not."
Stiles winces slightly even as he chuckles, "No I'm not," he agrees, dropping a kiss on her hair. "You're missing my favourite movie. It's not the same without you muttering twenty questions every scene." He says with a wink as he reaches down to tickle her sides. She trashes before catching his hands in hers and intwining there fingers.
She brings there joined hands down to his chest and sets her chin on the backs of his knuckles, tilting her chin to look up at him. "M'sleepy." She whines squishing her words together. Stiles slips one of his hands free and cradles her cheek.
"Nightmares last night?" He asks after a few seconds, his head tilting in concern. She'd been at home the night before. Her dad had been getting more vigilant and it was getting harder to sneak out of her house that summer.
She shakes her head leaning heavily against his hand. "No. Couldn't sleep." She says blinking tiredly, "Never can. Only when I'm...with you."
His heart melts and he feels troubled and guilty all over again. He leans down and presses a long kiss to her forehead, "Sorry, baby." He whispers. Then he lets his hand slip to the back of her neck and massages the nape of her neck until her muscles go lax and she nestles back into his chest.
"What about your movie?" She mutters tiredly.
"Shh." He whispers right in her ear, "Go back to sleep."
She makes a soft noncommittal noise in reply and then nuzzles back into his sweater. Stiles just keeps stroking the back of her neck till her breathing evens out. Then he reaches out and grabs the remote off the coffee table and flicks off the t.v. The living room dims without the light of the t.v. and all he can hear is the rush of the rainstorm outside.
Ditching the remote he turns his head back toward Malia. He props his arm behind his head and just watches her sleep, feeling warm and content in a way that he's only ever felt with her. It wasn't always like this...it started out small this thing between them. Until it grew exponentially to the point that even just looking at her now like this made him ache in the best possible way. And the words just slipped out, "I love you," he whispered to her.
He had thought it a thousand times before but that was the first time he ever said it aloud. Just a whisper in the dark with her fast asleep on his chest.
Stiles blinked down at his phone his thumb hovering over the delete button before he snapped back to reality and hit cancel. He blew out a breath and tossed his phone on the table. Leaning his elbows on the table he rests his chin on his knuckles as emotions rush through him.
His lost in his thoughts for a few seconds before his phone starts buzzing wildly. He grabs for it and brings it to his ear.
"Stiles! Where have you been?" Lydia says frantically. "Why haven't you been responding to my texts?"
"What texts?" He asks sitting up, "Lydia what's going on?"
"There was a bear it went after Malia's dog Apollo—"
"—is she okay?"
"She got a little banged up but Stiles...her dad he saw her 'shift'"
Stiles cursed jumping out of his seat and running a hand through his hair. "She's always been terrified of him finding out. Give me five. I'll be right over."
"No! No that's why I'm calling she's not here. She saw her dad looking at her and she just took off. Scott and I we couldn't calm her down. She's running Stiles."