I am so sorry for the late update everybody! I have no excuses for the lateness my friends- I hope I didn't lose to many readers! Now- onto the story!

Stiles walked down the hall toward lunch, still relieved beyond belief that he had gotten his phone back. Ms. Blake had let him off with a warning, which was unusual for her. But, considering that as of late she was playing tongue tag with their Alpha, it wasn't all that surprising.

His lips twitched upwards into a smirk when he saw Scott ahead of him. He was scurrying about, clearly anxious for the students in front of him to move faster. It always amazed him that no matter how crappy and disgusting school lunches were, Scott always managed to scarf down everything that was placed in front of him, even if that thing was considered inedible by most.

Lost in his musings, Stiles was startled by the hard hand that dropped down onto his shoulder. The inhuman strength was familiar; however, the grip was not. His head whipped around, expecting Ethan or Aidan to be skulking behind him.

Considering his expectations of getting shoved into a locker, he was pleasantly surprised when the sight of a bald, hulking mass greeted him.

"Boyd," Stiles sighed, the stench of relief reaching the tall werewolf's nose. A few seconds of awkward silence greeted him back as the large black man seemed to struggle to get out what he wanted to say.

"Can you text Cathy that my phone died? So she doesn't think I'm ignoring her." The kind look in his eyes clashed with the aggravation in his tone.

"Cathy?" Stiles started. Well at least now he knew who his sister had mistaken for a teacher. It was slightly irksome to him however, that his sister- who had been here all of one day- had managed to befriend Boyd. Something Stiles hadn't even accomplished throughout all of the battles and mishaps they had been through together.

"What class do you have together?"

"What?"

"Cathy said she made a friend that showed her around the school- and that she had a class with them. I'm assuming that's you. Which. Class?" The last part was said slow and deliberate, the stench of his sarcasm sweetening the air like caramel apples.

"Culinary," he paused,"…. It's hard to think you two are related, you don't look alike. "

His voiced held an accusatory undertone, that practically screamed - 'Why can't you be more like her!?'- That Stiles did not miss.

Anger rising up he quickly snapped that- yes, he would pass the message, before hurrying down the hallway. The displeasure rolling off his body was sensed by his peers as they created a small gap to let him though peacefully.

'It's true,' Stiles thought. 'We aren't alike.'

She was a nicer, gentler person, than he. Cathy rarely- if ever- got angry at anyone, or even disliked someone if his memory served him correctly. She was patient (to a point) and was the kind of person who liked to sacrifice her free time to take care of people. Him. His Dad. Even his Mom when she was alive.

He particularly liked a memory he had of her taking his temperature as an 8 year old. He had been sick, and she had put a cold rag on his head and made hot him soup. He didn't know why, but those were the times he enjoyed most. Strikingly similar to a spoiled child crying for their mother's attention, he had always wanted her warm hazel gaze to be focused solely on him. When they were younger that is.

Now he wasn't sure what he wanted.

-v-

Cathy stared hard at the bright menu up on the wall, frustrated that she couldn't seem to decide if she wanted a swirled frozen yogurt, or her usual triple dip with two scoops of mint chocolate chip topped with one scoop of strawberry. Quickly singing eeny-meeny-miny-moe under her breath she decided on her usual and paid.

Glancing out the corner of her eye, she saw an old man seemingly entranced with the way her pink tongue darted out to lick the already dripping cone. As the cool strawberry goodness soothed her throat, she debated whether she should go out to Stiles's car to finish her treat in privacy, or stay and be practically molested by the man's large orbs.

She quickly made her decision when he licked his lips perversely. So, willing to risk dripping her sticky indulgence on his seats, she retreated to the blistering hot confines of her baby brother's jeep.

Getting in she looked around and studied the inside, not surprised to see it was almost obsessively clean (like most men's cars). The only thing that made it even remotely dirty was the slight footprints left with mud on the gas petal.

She smirked amusedly around her ice-cream, picturing Stiles getting in her own car. She could see him getting pale as death in her mind- fainting at the stacks of paper, school work, receipts, and the occasional coffee cup that had wondered into the boundaries of her lovely little vehicle, and had never felt the need to leave.

The interior of Stiles's jeep smelled like axe and boy and sweat. It was a good smell but, for reasons she couldn't explain, she wanted the car to smell like her too. So she took her perfume out of her purse and sprayed the back seats. Inwardly proud as the scent mixed and settled.

Sniffing, she frowned. She still didn't feel it was enough to say to others "Cathrine was here!" finishing off her ice-cream, she started rolling around like a lunatic in the backseat and rubbing herself against all the material.

Since she was going to be living here a while, she wanted the place to feel as much like home as possible. And for it to feel like home, her Dad and brother had to feel comfortable around her. For them to feel comfortable around her, she had to get them use to the little stuff (like her girly scent).

Next step: Her cooking.

While she wasn't one of those women who thought all wives better 'be in the kitchen makin' her husband a sandwich!' she did enjoy cooking, and she wanted to cook for her family.

She had ransacked the pantry and fridge to see what she was dealing with as far as food went.

She ended finding what she had expected from a house containing only men. Lots of Hamburger Helper, various cans of soup and Chef Boyardee, chips, donuts, pretzels, candy, popcorn, ketchup, various other condiments, Coco Puffs, Frosted Flakes, and lots of ramen noodles. In other words- a bunch of crap.

So she went to the grocery store, buying lots of fish, frozen vegetables, and fresh fruits. She also bought some orange juice- but that was for her own indulgence.

On her way to checkout she saw big boxes full of ripe, juicy strawberries. They filled the air with a tart, sweet sent that sent her mind down memory lane-

Stiles sat in a small plastic high-chair, a green bib with a blue and orange dinosaur trekking across the fabric. Their mother had carefully cut up some strawberries and laid them on a paper towel, the juices thick and sweet coating the thin cloth. Leaning over from her own seat, Cathy drizzled warm honey over the slices.

Mommy had told her she hadn't wanted Bubba to get sticky, but it had made Cathy sad that she could have honey on hers but Stiles couldn't have any on his. So she snuck him some, little baby hands eagerly diving for sustenance as Stiles then shoved his whole hand in his mouth. Sucking on his fingers as if they were the source of the sweetness.-

If she remembered correctly- Cathy had then gotten a reprimanding smack to the cheek, courtesy of her Mother afterwards.

Almost in defiance, reaching forward Cathy got the biggest, reddest strawberries she could see and put them in the basket, along with a bottle of organic honey, and headed to check out.

-v-