What's this? Two chapters in one day!? Think of it as an apology gift. I sure as hell know that a "sorry," isn't enough. This was inspired by the Maze Runner series and movie. It's pretty lengthy.

*All rights go to their respectful owners.

OH! and I added some OC character's in here. Please bear with me.

Stiles lay sprawled on his bed, gazing up at the white ceiling. Summer had officially begun and the teen hadn't planned or premeditated anything. Back in California, he used to go out with Scott and cause mischief all over town because they had nothing better to do. He remembers those restless days of ditching home late at night and trespassing to a vacant lot to play baseball and lacrosse. He still remembers the clandestine trail like the back of his hand. Sometimes, they'd climb the massive tree and drink their lives away, but that was either for a celebration and/or for the hell of it. He and Scott could've gone anytime they wanted to. It was their spot, their property, their secret garden. They even had their initials carved into the abnormally large-shaped tree that stood in the way back to prove it. But that was the old days. This was the new.

Stiles wasn't some mysterious quiet kid at school- yeah right. He was anything but an enigma. He made plenty of friends. A sarcastic person will do that. But out of all of the many acquaintances he had, there was one special soul with the name of Natalie. Natalie wasn't any other teenager. With her bright blue eyes and luscious dark wood hair, she stood out everywhere she went. However looks aside, Natalie was, in fact, very humorous, and could make you laugh your ass off on one of the most depressing days of your life. She just had an annoying habit of doing it when you're freaking drinking something. Yeah, how do you think that turned out? One time Stiles snagged a Gatorade (it happened to be yellow mind you) and leave it up to her to say, "Oh God Stiles, is that piss? Are you seriously drinking piss right now!?" He literally spit tanked on this random guy. Both of them had spent lunch running away from being chased by the dude that was soaked in Stiles's 'piss.' Stiles chuckled. Natalie had gone to Europe with her family, therefore leaving him home alone.

His vacation was now two weeks into June, and Stiles had spent those two weeks all on Ps4 and Netflix. But he grew tired of staying up all night at ungodly hours playing Assassin's Creed and watching Supernatural. Those things had lost its value in his eyes. As he lay here doing nothing, he had the strongest desire to do something. Stiles didn't want this summer to be the usual boring summer like each year. He wanted to go back to school, fit and healthy, and have an adventurous tale to tell his friends. One that would make them all envious- even Natalie. He didn't want to spend his freedom lying in bed all day accomplishing nothing, being a loser. As of right now, his utmost desire is to live and taste life as never before.

BEEP BEEP!

Stiles snapped out of his muse and looked at his cell phone. He frowned at the unknown number, but pressed the answer key anyway.

"Uh, hello?"

"Duuuude, Stiles!

"Riley?"

He knew Riley from detention. They always talked there. Riley was a one of those typical 'crazy' dudes because he was willing to try anything new and extreme- no matter how gross or dangerous. It was either that or his curly red hair. Riley saved Stiles's ass a couple times (by couple he means many) in P.E, covering for him and giving him extra marks during the grueling runs. He didn't really have a chance to hang out with the guy because Riley and his gang were always off doing something wild and chaotic.

"Hey man! Listen, remember how you were bitchin' about how summer's gonna be boring?"

Stiles snorted, "Yeah I remember. And hey I was not bitc-

"Yeah yeah man, whatever. Look, you wanna try something new?"

Stiles's eyebrows knotted together, "Uh that depends on what 'something' is."

Riley laughed, "It's nothin' gross, man. I promise."

Stiles stared at the ceiling for a few seconds then sighed. It's not like he had anything better to do anyway. "Yeah sure, why the hell not?"

"Alright, meet me in front of our school as soon as you can."

Stiles propped himself on one elbow and raised a brow. "Hate to break it to you man, but schools over."

"Yeah, I got that genius!" he retorted.

"Then what the hell are we going to do in front of an empty school? Have an imaginary lesson with imaginary homework?"

Stiles felt Riley's smirk on the other end of the line, "Get your ass over here and find out."

…

Maybe Stiles should have taken the bus. Riley did say As soon as you can, but he shrugged it off. If he really needed to be there ASAP, Riley's tone of voice would have held a bit more desperation. Stiles wondered if the guy even knew any emotion besides chillaxed. One time, he and Natalie planned to go see X-men: Days of Future Past, but he had detention at the time. The only two options was to either ditch, which would result in the school contacting Harvey, and then would result in Harvey kicking his ass, or asking Riley for a favor. Before detention begins, the teacher has to take roll. Riley distracted the teacher, and then marked Stiles present. But the teacher came in and saw Riley at her desk when he finished marking Stiles present. Riley got two more days' worth of detention, but shrugged it off. Stiles felt guilty, he did…somewhat.

He shoved is hands into his hoodie pocket and began to walk faster. School wasn't that far away, but he still took the bus. He really didn't want to bother Harvey by asking for a ride, so he just stuck to public transportation. Truth be told, Stiles hated asking Harvey for anything. It always felt like Stiles was being way to needy and it always seemed as if Harvey would say no. He did everything in his power to avoid rejection- and embarrassment for that matter. Because when it came to Harvey's disapproval, or his curt simple "no", those two traits always seemed to coincide.

Stiles turned the corner, and nostalgia swung a baseball of reminiscence into his gut with a pang. School appeared to remain the same, as expected, but without the touch of adolescence, it seemed to be deserted and maybe even haunted as well. For there was no immense chatter or movement to fill the hallways, no one to caress the railings with tricks and flips, and no teacher to utter malediction on his/her students for being ill-mannered and plain infuriating. It was a strange feeling. He felt like an intruder, or better yet, a trespasser wandering into a desolate area that screamed you're not supposed to be here yet! An apprehensive feeling grew in the pit of his stomach and spread throughout his limbs. Stiles and the vacant school were the only ones standing there. He jogged to the front entrance gate, and scanned the whole area. No Riley. He cupped his hands around his mouth and shouted, "Riley!"

The only response Stiles seemed to get were the crickets in the nearby bushes. "Riley," he tried again, "I swear man, if this is some kind of prank-

He heard a muffling of voices in the distance, and he turned around just in time to see a familiar ginger emerge from the green. He enveloped the other man in a friendly embrace.

"How are you man?" he asked.

"Good good. You?"

"Same," Stiles replied.

"Alright," Riley said, cutting straight to the point, "check this out."

He started jogging ahead and Stiles followed, trying hard to keep up. They seemed to be going around the whole school. When they reached a fence guarding the back of the school, Riley stopped. Stiles also came into a halt, trying desperately hard not to show that he was out of breath. What? It's a big school.

His breath catching stopped when Riley began to swiftly climb the fence.

"Uh, what the hell are you doing?"

"Climbin'." He said naturally. Riley jumped off the top of the fence and effortlessly landed soft on his feet. He looked at Stiles through the other side of the fence and made a face. "What? You think I have all the keys to this damn place?"

Stiles stared at him for a few second then scoffed, "No, but it would have been nice. As well as an explanation to what the hell we're doing here in the first place."

"C'mon man, just hop the fence!"

"Alright alright, Tarzan." He grumbled. Now he really was a trespasser. Stiles grabbed onto the fence and then hoisted himself up with his feet. He planted his foot into one of the many metal-twined hexagons, gradually climbing to the top. Once his body switched to the opposite side of the fence, he jumped and landed ungracefully. Luckily, Riley was already jogging off before he could see Stiles's poor-excuse-of-a landing. He quickly scrambled off the ground, muttering a few curses, and followed Riley once more. They reached to what seemed to be the back of some big grey building. The apprehensive feeling in the pit of his stomach seemed to grow a little more, yet it spiked his curiosity as to why they were here in the first place.

Riley took off his necklace, which had a rustic gold key hanging at the bottom.

Stiles's face twisted into a bewildered expression, "I thought you didn't have any keys?"

Riley put the key into the lock, twisted it, and pulled it out. Stiles didn't need to face him to see the smirk from the corner of his mouth, "Just this one."

Riley swung one arm over Stiles' shoulders, pulling him closer, while his hand rested on the door handle. "Welcome to paradise, my friend," he said, then pushed the door open.

It was absolutely nothing what Stiles expected it to be. Well, he sort of didn't know what to expect in the first place, but certainly not this. The building actually turned out to be a gym, but not a gym with treadmills and weights, no. It was a… gymnasium. There were numerous different sized mats on the floor, and a variety of equipment. There were wall pads placed on one corner of the gym, while many types of boxes and platforms were placed everywhere. Several running bars were placed on different floor levels, and some were attached to railing, which was connected to a set of monkey bars. The ceiling was so high that it had a 60 ft. diving area, and below that was a pit of square foams. Next to that was a giant wall that concaved slightly. Finally, several ropes were attached to the ceiling around various areas throughout the gym.

But this gym wasn't empty. There was at least four guys running around and doing crazy bat shit. Bat shit meaning back flips, front flips, jumping and running from wall to wall, platform to platform, practically raping all of the equipment. It was completely and totally berserk, but…it somehow teased his longing for adventure. These strangers were defying gravity as though it was a mere petty force. It seemed so effortless, graceful, and…free.

Riley pointed at a fellow in a muscle shirt who was currently running up the concaved wall with such swiftness, his eyes would have missed the sprint if he had looked a second later. "That's David," he said. He again pointed at two guys who effortlessly summersaulted off a matt block as if floating in the air. "That's Tim and Jason." Stiles' eye caught one peculiar fellow with a gray ski hat who swung off a rope, performed a backflip, but fatuously splatted on the floor earning a grimace from both Stiles and Riley. "-Aaaand that's Sushi.

"Yo guys!" Riley shouted.

The flipping and mounting ceased and all of Tarzan's spawns shifted their attention to Riley. All except for poor Sushi, who looked up from the floor.

"This is Stiles!" he said, giving Stiles a rough shake.

Man, would these guys survive in an apocalypse!

He was greeted with many "sup's" and "hey man's". Yet, all he could do was continue to look at them with his jaw slackened. He looked back at Riley with a holy-bajesus-teach-me-master look in his eyes.

Riley smirked and guided Stiles, maneuvering him through the equipment. "The school was motivated to teach its students freerunning, or whatever they called it at the time. But because of too many injured students, they had to shut the place down so there was no liability. Can't have parents or the district wanting to sue. They've planned to do something with this place, but…" he shrugged.

"So this place is like, yours?" Stiles asked.

Riley grinned and gave Stiles's shoulders a playful shake, "Ours bro." he looked outwards to the gym.

"Ours."

Riley clasped his hands together, "Okay Stillinski, first things first, you need body conditioning."

"Body what now?" He asked.

"Body conditioning," Riley repeated. "All of us weren't born doing all these flips y'know. We all had to start somewhere."

Stiles squinted. "O-okay-

"First off, say goodbye to soda, pizza, ice-cream, and all that shit that's bad for your body."

"B-but," Stiles stuttered.

He stared at Stiles, his voice more serious, "A good diet will help you perform better."

How the hell could you say goodbye to pizza!?

Unable to keep his strict stone-faced masked on, Riley cracked a grin, incapable of holding it back. Poor kid was in for a "treat."

"Good. Now that diet's outta the way, we get down to training."

"Training." Stiles repeated.

"Training." Riley agreed. "You will do various sets of push-ups, crunches, wall sits, squats, handst-

Stiles stopped the 'brushfire.' "What the hell is this? Boot camp!?" he asked exasperatedly.

"You said you wanted to do something different this summer. Why not this?"

Stiles shook his head, "You've seen me in P.E. man."

Riley rolled his eyes. "So what! You could change all that. No excuses. And like I said, we all started somewhere."

Stiles crossed his arms. He had to hand it to him, Riley did have a point, but could he really do something this advanced? Stiles could barely run a mile let alone a set of push-ups, crunches, etc. But then again…what does he have to lose? It's either this or going back home and watching Netflix for the rest of the summer.

"Alright." Stiles said. "I'll do it."

Riley laughed, happy that his friend agreed.

"When do we start?" Stiles asked.

Riley smirked. "Now."

...

After a grueling circuit training Riley made Stiles do, everyone was ready to go home. Stiles worked for an interminable length, and was completely drenched in sweat. He looked like he dove into the ocean and came back out. He couldn't wait to go home and take a shower. It took every ounce of his will power not to crawl out of the gym. With every movement he made, his aching muscles protested in sore pain. He's probably not going to be able to walk next morning. Or breathe.

"You gotta run home Stiles, and run like your life depends on it."

Stiles looked at Riley like he just grew two heads, and all the boys chuckled around them. "There's no way in hell I'm running home after what you put me through in there," he said, pointing at the gym.

"Hey Sushi," Riley called. Sushi bobbed his head to show that he was listening. "Didn't you run home your first day?"

Sushi nodded. "Yeah."

"And David," Riley called again, "didn't you also run back home on your first day?"

"Gee Ri," David said in a mocking voice, "now that you mention it, I think all of us ran on our first day!"

"Okay," Stiles snapped, "I'm going!"

"Meet us back here at one tomorrow!" Riley cried, "And don't trip!"

Stiles flipped him off and continued running. Despite the aching of his muscles, Stiles smiled knowing that he now had something to look forward to from this point on. He took out his phone to turn on some music, but his heart skipped a beat.

He had seven missed calls from Harvey.

Suddenly he didn't seem tired anymore, and sprinted off into the night, cursing under his breathe multiple times. Now his life really did depend on it. Noting that darkness already fell on New York's busy streets, he pushed through the pain and his body's demands to rest. The only thing that was louder than his breathing was his heart, beating louder than any pair of drums.

...

Stiles carefully took out his keys and gently pried them into the lock. He slowly opened the door, praying to God that Harvey would be sleeping, despite it being 8:46 pm. Had it really been four hours? Time at the gym with the guys seem to pass by with a breeze. Stiles took off his shoes and entered as quiet as a Stillinski could enter- which wasn't all that quiet. He softly treaded to the kitchen, opened the fridge, and took out four water bottles. He quickly downed two within a blink of an eye, and opened another one.

"Ah," he rasped, "nothing beats water."

Stiles kissed the water bottle, but froze mid-kiss when Harvey emerged out of the hallway. Harvey glared daggers at Stiles, but he wasn't sure if the man was as angry as much as he looked confused.

"Where the hell have you been?" Harvey yelled. "And why are you sweating?"

Stiles removed his lips from the plastic bottle. "Uhh, I was out with friends, and we umm…we ran t-together." Harvey gave him one of those 'don't bullshit me' looks. "I swear, Harvey!"

Harvey rolled his eyes. "Look I couldn't give a rat's ass. But when I call, I expect for you to answer. God forbid an emergency happens and I need to reach you. Am I understood?"

Stiles nodded sheepishly. He bade Harvey goodnight, and gathered his shoes and water bottles into his arms and clumsily retrieved to his room. Once he placed his belongings down, he treaded to the bathroom and shut the door. Stiles peeled the sweaty clothes off his body and hopped right into the shower. The warm water massaged his aching muscles and he began to clean himself.

Honestly, he thought Harvey was going to give him a four hour lecture about why it's important to pick up your phone, but he guessed that he was a relieved that he finally went out. The first three days of summer, Harvey didn't do or say anything. But then came the fourth and fifth day, and he started pestering him to go outside and be a "normal" teenager.

"Stiles it isn't normal for you to stay home this long. And it sure as hell isn't healthy. Go outside."

"Harvey I told you I'm fine!"

Stiles kept on telling him that he was fine, and that he liked staying home. Pestering soon grew into demanding, but Stiles told him to leave him alone several times. By the second week, Harvey gave up completely.

Stiles began to scrub his arms a little more harshly. The "normal" comment was a big blow to the self-esteem. It angered him that Harvey didn't think he was normal. Okay, maybe he was a little weird, but that doesn't mean he's some freak. But… what if normal wasn't the word? What if, instead of it being normal, it was loser? Did Harvey think Stiles was a loser because he didn't go out with friends, and was physically fit and robust like most normal teenagers?

He sighed and pressed his forehead against the cool wall of the shower, the warm water spraying his bare back. Stiles was just so thrilled that his days of being a maladroit wimp are over. He would be strong from now on; physically strong. It was more than just having muscles and a six pack. He wouldn't stumble when pushed, and when he falls he would have the strength to stand up and dust himself off. Stiles was, in his opinion, mentally strong. It was easy to shove certain memories and emotions into a closet and never look back. Therefore, he was mentally prepared. All that's left was the physical. He was kind of like a lone wolf, always the type of person to do things by themselves. He wanted to be prepared for anything, and have the strength to deal with anything.

Because people are unfaithful. He thought,

They'll be here today and gone tomorrow.

THREE WEEKS LATER

Harvey breathed in the fresh air, and faced the cold wind that was nipping at his face. A violent yellow sunset poured on the sky, staining the clouds and tinting the city with an orangey hue. It was rare that you would find him leaning over the railing of the balcony in a peaceful solitude, as he was doing now, wordlessly observing the constant movement of life down beneath, and allowing his senses to be engulfed in the sights and sounds. He hardly ever had the chance to savor this stunning view because of business. Not that he was complaining- his work is his life. But there were finally no more firm-threatening cases, dirty vengeful lawyers, and the piling issues with Mike, Louis, and Jessica seemed to be on hold. It was as if everything was at peace and he could finally take a breather.

Well, not everything.

Stiles had been acting a little odd lately. Well for starters, he's not even home half the time, and when he is, he's either sleeping, in his room, or in the kitchen. Granted, that seems normal, but it isn't normal for Stiles who used to have a bed for a throne. Even his stupid video games are collecting dust in the corner, forgotten and untouched as though they were never there.

Harvey reckoned that he should be content. After all, the kid wouldn't budge off the couch the first two weeks of vacation. But he transformed from a couch potato into this teenager who's constantly on the move, faster than he could blink. It was little too quick for Harvey's liking. And sometimes he really wondered what the kid was up too. Harvey even made breakfast onetime and Stiles didn't even sit down like he normally would. He grabbed a toast, shoved it in his mouth, and ran out saying, "Bye 'arvey!"

Maybe it's because he never sees the kid anymore and home felt like it was missing something. The loud explosive scenes weren't blaring from the TV, all the popcorn, ice cream, and chips weren't eaten, there were no more demands for pizza, and he didn't have to stomp in the living room at 2:00 AM, turn off the TV, and drape a blanket over Stiles's sleeping form. And by no means will he tell any living soul (or admit to himself) that he tucked the brat in.

"Harvey I'm home!"

Speak of the devil.

Harvey turned around to see Stiles pull out a water bottle from the fridge and take large gulps of water. He wiped the remaining moisture from his lips with the back of his hand, and gave Harvey an honest grin.

Harvey pulled the glass door and stepped inside.

And another thing he failed to mention. The kid always came back home sweaty.

"Where were you?" he asked calmly.

"Out with friends." Stiles replied naturally, walking towards his room.

This had become an everyday routine for the past three weeks. When Stiles returned from his daily escapades, Harvey would ask him where he was and Stiles would respond with, "Out with friends" reluctantly like a broken record.

"What did you do?" He asked again.

Harvey smirked triumphantly when Stiles froze tensely. He knew the boy was taken aback by his second question because he normally never asked a second question. Which would only mean one thing: it was interrogation time. The teen slowly faced him with a questioning glare.

"We hung out." Stiles said cautiously.

Harvey narrowed his eyes. "Thank you for the detail, Shakespeare. Care to elaborate?"

A moment of silence passed between them. Stiles frowned and studied Harvey, peering deep into his eyes, as if trying to read him; a skill Harvey thought no one could emanate.

"We played baseball." Stiles concluded.

"Where's your gear?" he questioned.

It was Stiles' turn to narrow his eyes. "We leave our gear at the place we always play." He said edgily.

Stiles held the intense gaze for a couple of seconds more, before his eyes softened. "You have nothing to worry about Harvey," he murmured softly.

"See to it that I don't." He spoke just as soft.

Stiles nodded, awkwardly.

"Now go take a shower," Harvey grimaced, "you smell."

Stiles smirked cheekily. "Sure you don't wanna hug first?"

Harvey pinned him with a glare. Stiles gave out a laugh and then entered his room. "Night Harvey." The door closed in on the boy's warm smile.

He walked back to the living room and leaned back into the couch that comfortably hugged his body. He stared into the fireplace, watching the golden orange flames crackle and dance on the wood. Harvey sighed.

Maybe Donna was right. Maybe he was being a mother hen.

*That following morning*

Harvey swallowed the green juice and tried not to grimace at the bitter taste. Once he was done with the healthy vile thing, he placed the glass in the sink. He decided not to make breakfast because of time, and he knew it was going to go to waste. Instead, he just left some money on the counter for Stiles, since he was so keen to go out nowadays.

"Where did I put my damn phone," he muttered, checking his front and back pockets. Harvey scanned the whole kitchen and living room area until his eyes settled onto the vibrating black iPhone. Harvey picked it up and frowned when the background of the phone showed Stiles and a group of friends. The muscly boy (who took the…was it selfie?) clearly took it while they were all caught off guard. They didn't look like gang members, or criminals, but a fairly mischievous group of teens who looked like they were up to no good. Harvey couldn't stop the feeling of distrust and dislike-ness that settled in the pit of his stomach. Where these the friends he always hung out with?

The phone vibrated and chimed with a ring. The text message showed Jason and a video attached to the name. Harvey couldn't stop his fingers from sliding the message, opening it.

Hey man, the text message read, you were f****ing awesome yesterday. And because you twats are plain idiots and never think, I took the liberty of recording you. You're welcome.

Harvey double-tapped the video and it filled the entire screen.

In the beginning, there was a bunch of crackling and crumpling noises, but it finally settled on Stiles and his group of friends, the ones that were on the front cover of the lock-screen. Stiles's skin gleamed with perspiration, and the boy shook his hands in a trembling manner. It was a nervous habit that developed every time he was about to perform something myriad of risk. There were many hoots and shouts of encouragement, and Stiles inhaled deeply, before bouncing up and down on his feet. The minor bouncing quickly morphed into a sprint as Stiles took off. The boy ran until his feet met at the end of the ledge. However, instead of logically running back or stopping, Stiles propelled himself forward and sprung off.

Harvey's eyes widened and his breath caught in his throat. Stiles spread his arms like an eagle's wings and his feet stuck together, his body elongated. After the graceful, impetus soar, he broke the leap of faith by latching onto a rope, and quickly swinging off it. His heart lurched forward with every leap Stiles executed. It was as if everything was in slow motion and time was told to unwind. The boys' body crept into a ball, spinning in the air, before rolling on the matt floor. He quickly recovered from the landing and ran, gliding from insuperable block to block. When he came to the end of the platform, he swiftly performed a front flip, which was quickly equipped by stepping on a wall and executing another backflip; landing so soft on his feet as if the clouds carried him to ground level.

There was a moment of silent before all five friends roared in excitement and pride and charged at Stiles. Stiles gave out a cry of laughter as the muscly boy lifted him up in the air and Jason, the boy holding the camera, ruffled his hair. Another teen with red hair clapped him on the back encouragingly while the two others praised him, completely insouciant that Stiles could have lammed onto the ground and broken every bone in his body.

Harvey dropped the phone on the couch, dumbstruck. The relentless goodbyes, coming home late at night, hell even the sweating! All the puzzle pieces had finally fit together and everything suddenly clicked. Once the revelation registered, Harvey found himself gripping the top of the couch in anger until his knuckles turned white. So not only did Stiles decide to try gymnastics out of the blue and break his neck, but he's been lying to him for the past three weeks! Harvey picked up the phone again and tightly gripped it, inhaling and exhaling. A picture composed of blood and gore bombarded and inundated his mind: Stiles lying on the floor, neck bent in an unusual angle, blood pooling underneath the boy, his amber orbs empty and dead; staring off into nothing. Harvey shook his head at the disturbing vivid image. He could, no, would prevent that from happening.

Harvey marched to Stiles's room and pugnaciously knocked on the door. He didn't need to open the door to see the boy physically jump out of his skin. "Meet me in the living room," he growled loudly. "Now."

It wasn't long before the teen opened the door and slumped in front of Harvey, irritatingly rubbing the sleep out of his eyes. Normally, anyone would have felt sympathy, but Harvey was too swallowed up in fear and fury to feel the slightest pity. He quizzically looked up at Harvey, not fully awake.

Harvey clenched his jaw and threw the phone beside Stiles. When Stiles looked at the text message, his eyes transfixed on the video and his mouth opened and clenched. He looked at Harvey with an expression some people would have guessed as fear.

"Funny," Harvey said, breaking the intense silence, "I didn't know baseball required you to jump off a ledge."

Stiles gulped loudly at his angry burlesque. "H-Harvey I can ex-

"Explain the fact that you tried to get yourself killed or explain the fact that you've been lying to me for the past three weeks?"

"I-it's not like that." Stiles tried.

"I don't care WHAT it's like!" Harvey bellowed, feeling a twinge of satisfaction when Stiles flinched under his tone. "Look at me. Say goodbye to your little gymnastics club because you just hit a homerun straight into grounding."

"But-

"I don't want to hear it!" Harvey yelled. "Now go get dressed. You're coming with me to the office. And hurry up; I don't want to be late."

Stiles stood up, not sparing Harvey a glance, and stomped off to his room and slammed the door with such force; the whole house was left shaking in its quake.

Harvey watched him, appalled. It took every ounce of self-control not to march in after him swatsome sense into him, but he remembered his father's patience while dealing with his own waywardness. No, he would have to wait.

Harvey sighed and rolled his neck side to side cracking a few joints.

It was going to be a long day and his muse proved to be correct.

…

The sound of his fingers brashly drumming against the window never reached his ears. His mind was too filled with words prettily tied with emotions such as unfair, selfish, kill-joy, etc. It wasn't fair. He had finally found a source of accomplishment, something that made him happy to seize the day with the utmost positivity and enthusiasm, and Harvey had to crush it for the sake of his own vanity. He felt like an eagle, after days and weeks of soaring aloft freedoms ubiquitous winds, was snatched by the throat and thrown into a cage only to have Harvey throw away the key. He felt so angry and powerless. As if Harvey even cared in the first place! Those rare sentimental moments were probably used to win clients over by acting as evidence to prove that the great Harvey Specter is a family man. Stiles swallowed the lump in his throat feeling disgusted. He doesn't want to be someone's toy. He knew it would be impossible to refute Harvey. The man was too obstinate for his own good. He didn't even see his reason to be so overprotective now. The only reason Harvey's caring about his safety is because it would damage his perfect reputation if word got out that his son was allowed to do something 'dangerous.' Mine as well ban everything in the world because nothing is safe. Anything and everything can go wrong at any second, so why couldn't he be left alone to do as he pleased?

"Enough," Harvey huffed in annoyance.

The drumming of his fingers hardly ceased, but increased instead. A calloused hand reached over and grasped his in a vice-like grip. His eyes almost immediately shot up and locked onto Harvey's. The intense stare between the two was fierce and challenging. It was like fighting fire with fire. He knew Harvey was increasing the heat just so he could flake, but Stiles didn't back down from the menacing glare; he challenged it instead.

The two were so enveloped in each other's stare off contest that they didn't notice the car come to a halt. Ray held his tongue wisely and watched them through the front view mirror, fascinated. There were many few who challenged Harvey's authority, and those who did wound up losing miserably.

It seemed like hours passed when amber continued to verse amber. Soon, discomfort crept onto Stiles and he felt like breaking the car door open and running away. He knew they would remain in the car 'till he backed down. In the end discipline held. Stiles tore his eyes away from Harvey's and looked down. Harvey continued to glower at him for a few seconds more before stepping out of the car and slamming the door shut.

"Be careful Stiles," Ray warned gently.

The warning did nothing but enhance Stiles's irritation, even though he knew it wasn't the man's intention. He bid Ray goodbye as politely as he could, stepped out of the car, and followed Mr. Stick-up-his-ass, distancing a good 10 meters between them. He eventually had to speed up because he hadn't been to the firm in a long time, and he didn't feel like exploring the hundred floors until he found Hell's office. Stiles pressed against the elevator walls, trying to be as far from Harvey as possible. Even though he was still pissed, Harvey bit his tongue trying not to chuckle at the childish act.

Stiles thanked God when Mike stepped into the elevator, saving them from a long, intense, awkward silence. Any further and he would have melted into the walls.

"Hey Stiles," Mike greeted.

Stiles returned the greeting and fell into 'heavy brood mode' when they started talking about some Ferguson case. Soon, the elevator chimed and the doors opened. Stiles quickly sped off, but was halted by Harvey when he tapped him on the shoulder.

"Stay in my office and behave." Harvey ordered.

Stiles couldn't prevent the eye roll or the curt sarcastic, "Would you like me to polish your records while I'm at it?"

Harvey's mouth thinned into a grim line and grabbed his upper arm roughly; pulling him closer until their faces were merely inches apart. "You test my patience." he growled lowly, punctuating every word. After one of his 'keep yourself in line' looks was made clear, Harvey released him, nudging a curious, bewildered Mike along who opened his mouth to say something.

"Don't ask." Harvey muttered.

…

As soon as Stiles was in Harvey's office he slumped down on one of the nearby couches. For those of you who guessed that his mood hasn't changed, but has grown even worse, have guessed correctly.

He drew an exaggerated sigh and squeezed his left bicep unconsciously. Stiles smiled weakly. It had almost been a month of clean eating and arduous training, and it was starting to pay off. He did have muscle before, lying under a thin layer of fat and stubbornly refusing to show sometimes. Stiles absentmindedly touched the side of his face, feeling pure healthy bone and hollowness instead of his former chubby cheeks that Donna used to pinch to tick him off. Yes, not only has his body shed the extra fat, but his face has been stripped of it as well. His hand slid from the side of his face down to his abdomen area and squeezed again. It wasn't your traditional six-pack per say, but there was certainly toning of the abs and development of the oblique's.

Stiles threw his head back and snorted. Here he was, swimming in the sea of boredom and injustice, stripped of his privileges thanks to Mr. Narcissist, and all he could do was sit here and touch himself. Stiles chuckled at the amount of ridiculousness that could fit in one day- morning. It was ridiculous that he was grounded for doing a sport, ridiculous that Harvey decided to care now, and plain ridiculous that he's sitting here doing nothing while Harvey's out there putting cookies in the "Ego Jar."

His phone vibrated and buzzed on his lap. Stiles looked down at the caller ID that read Tim. He groaned loudly and pinched the bridge of his nose. They were supposed to go out for Korean tacos after freerunning today, Sushi's idea. He cursed silently at his forgetfulness.

"Hello?"

"Stiles, where the hell are you man?"

He groaned. "Tim, I can't make it today."

"What? Why?"

He ran a hand over his mouth. "Harvey found out."

"Who the hell is Harvey?"

"My, uh…. Dad." The word rolled of his tongue with such strangeness that it made him physically cringe. He knew Harvey was his biological father, but it felt so bizarre to speak it aloud as if it was normal- and no way was their complex relationship even associated with the word normal.

Tim sighed on the other end of the line. "Look, my mom isn't cool with me doing parkour either. Neither is Jason's Dad and Riley's and Sushi's parents, too."

Stiles thought of the buff, dark haired, blue eyed, impish teen. "And what about David dearest?"

Tim snorted. "David's parents don't care."

Stiles smirked. Typical.

"My point is not everything you do is going to please your parent's. This is your life not theirs. And besides, you make it sound like we're smuggling drugs across the country. It's just a sport Stiles. Relax."

Stiles breathed and nodded. Timmy's right.

He heard a different voice on the line, but somewhat distanced.

"Yo, is that Stillinski?"

"Yeah." Tim replied.

"Tell him to get his ass here."

Tim laughed. "I'll tell him.

"That was Jason. He said-

He grinned, "I heard."

A pause. "Well, you coming or not?"

He was already in enough trouble with Harvey, and some would consider it wise to "not feed the fire". But what's the point when the fire is going to spread itself anyway? He's going to get burned one way or another, and it's not like he was committing a crime. It's just a damn sport and Harvey's just overreacting. Besides, what is he going to do? Sit here for hours until Harvey remembers that he's here? He'll probably be back before Harvey even notices that he's gone. If Donna can keep her mouth shut, that is.

"Stiles, you still there?"

"Yeah," Stiles replied, "I'm on my way."

TBC…