John woke up with the hangover from hell. His mouth tasted like a cat's litter tray. Damn it he was not going to throw up. Stiles would never let him hear the end of it. And right now he couldn't cope with his son's snarky sarcastic ass. An image of Stiles pale face popped into his head as well as memories of a hell of a lot of shouting and accusations. What the hell? Christ he was going to have to look at his alcohol consumption if he couldn't even remember why or what he had said to… Well fuck he did remember. And right now he wished he couldn't.
A spike of pain shot through him that had nothing to do with the hangover and everything to do with the fight he had started with his teenage son. Fuck it he hadn't meant to go off on Stiles like that, but the rage disappointment and downright hurt that he had been swallowing for the months that Stiles had been lying to him had overflown like a goddamn overheated volcano when he had been given his marching orders by that smug smirking son of a bitch Whittemore. The bastard had even come to the station to do it though he hadn't been best pleased when not one of his Deputies had followed the order to "escort Mr Stilinski from the building after a body search".
Parrish had looked at the guy as if he had just crawled out from under a rock. Then the rest of the Deputies had turned their back on the infuriated DA and got back to work. John had nearly laughed out loud as Parrish had offered the Sheriff a lift home because he would have to leave the cruiser at the station, but that had been his only amusement for the whole of that shitty day. He had taken Parish up on his offer, told the rest of his people to stick to the roster and duty schedules as far as possible and to make sure the temporary replacement Sheriff had their support until this misunderstanding was all sorted.
John might not be a traditional politician, it would stick in his craw. He was too much of a cop, he actually believed in the law and justice for everybody. He won his elections because he was a damn good one, but he could still play the stupid game if he needed to. He ignored the suited piece of work who snorted at the word misunderstanding, just like the rest of his crew left the guy standing there like a useless spare piece of furniture.
Whittemore might have enjoyed coming in person to suspend him but he sure wasn't getting his monies worth from John's reaction or the rest of his officers.
John forced the rage and humiliation down into his gut, he wouldn't give the asshole the satisfaction of losing control. But it bubbled and spat like searing hot lava and unfortunately Stiles was the one who bore the brunt of the emotional eruption. God damn it, he would have to apologise to the kid, even if he had tried to lie yet again with even more outlandish stories. What the hell Stiles. What was so bad that the kid had to make up fairy tales as his excuse for his behaviour? And fucking drag Scott into it for corroboration, not surprisingly Scott had denied it. Seriously Stiles, how the hell were you going to get Scott to provide evidence of being a god damn werewolf?
Christ his whole body ached, even his god damn eyelashes and he stank to high heaven, he needed a shower.
After downing a bottle of cold water from the refrigerator and some painkillers, he made his way gingerly to the bathroom. He turned the water temperature up to the highest he could stand and stood there under the downpour, letting the heat, steam and slight sting of the water pressure on his tense muscles work its magic.
He washed himself quickly and then just stood there, mindlessly watching the small bubbles drain away, wishing that all his problems were so easy to get rid of as the sweat and grime of the previous day. The beautiful image of David Whittemore shrinking under the water like the wicked witch of the west and being flushed away down the shower drain actually made him snort out loud with genuine but short lived amusement. Short lived because his mind finally snapped back into focus and that damn question popped up again, nagging at his cop instincts like Stiles on a tear about his annual cholesterol scores.
He frowned, Stiles wasn't stupid. Stiles was manipulative, cunning, canny and incredibly clever. Not stupid, never stupid so why would he ask Scott to be his evidence. It didn't make sense. The way Scott had denied it also didn't make sense, there had been real anger in his face, he had been angry at Stiles and there had been an almost vengeful expression in those puppy dog eyes. What the hell? Scott never looked at Stiles like that, but what was even more odd was that Stiles had looked betrayed but unsurprised as if he was expecting Scott to let him down.
Worry began to creep through his veins. Where was Stiles? He had left the house last night and John had assumed he had gone to Scott's house. That's what too much booze and anger did for you. Made you fucking stupid. Jesus there was no way after that little scene that Stiles was at the McCall house, so where was his boy?
He left the bathroom in a hurry, still dripping as he went to collect his cell. Damn it, he had left it at the station with the rest of his equipment except for his badge. No way were they taking his goddamn badge unless they fired him and right now he was more concerned about his son that his damn job. Time to wise up Stilinski, Claudia would have kicked your ass for letting the whole damn thing get this far.
He reached for the house landline, but Stiles wasn't picking up. He glanced up at the hallway clock, of course he wasn't picking up, the kid would be in class right now. It was still a weekday, Friday so he had school. God damn his hung over clearly deteriorating brain cells.
When the answerphone kicked in, John cleared his throat, suddenly unsure what he wanted to say, residual guilt eating at him as he remembered the expression on Stiles' face when he yelled at him.
"Hey kid, ring me when you get a chance yeah, just want to know you are safe. We'll talk after school and sort this all out" The recording stopped just before he muttered "Love you Stiles"
His headache was coming back with a vengeance. What was it Stiles had said to him last night? Something about talking to Melissa McCall. He had plenty of time before Stiles was home from school. He would go and have a chat with her and then get take out on his way home, soften the kid up with some curly fries and then they would get to the bottom of this shit before he dealt with the clusterfuck at work. Yesterday he had been too angry and disappointed to get his priorities straight, in the cold light of day even with a god damn hangover he knew he had fucked up with his kid.
Stiles had been acting out but he was the parent, the adult. All the lying, the deceitful and borderline criminal behaviour for months. Somehow he had managed to lose his son's trust and respect, and he was damn well going to get it back. If it meant begging Melissa McCall for information about his own kid then so be it. The realisation that right now, his work didn't need to come first, that he could concentrate all his efforts on dealing with Stiles was filled with a bitter relief. He would get something right in his life and that meant Stiles.
There had to be a reason for all this. Thank the good lord that he had insisted on Stiles undergoing a test to determine if he would be prone to the same disease that had killed Claudia, not that the ten year old had understood what it was at the time. At the end she had been paranoid and delusional. When Stiles had mentioned werewolves, for one wild terrifying minute he had considered that Claudia's condition was genetic and the gene testing results had been wrong. But then his anger and disappointment had gotten the better of him. Stiles was still lying to him and this time not even his best bud was backing him up.
He knocked on Melissa's front door.
"Come in John, I've been expecting you for a while. Thank God they finally told you"
Alan Deaton slowly brought up his hand to his nose. He knew it was broken, and blood was seeping through his fingers as he stared with shock up at the coldly enraged man looming over him.
"Sheriff" he tried to speak but had to stop to spit out the mouthful of blood.
"You are a piece of work Deaton. You hung those kids out to dry and I'm including Hale in that. Now my Stiles is missing. I'm going to make your life as fucking miserable as you made my son's"
For once Deaton spoke without thinking "You are suspended Stilinski, you can't do anything to me"
The smile that crossed John's face made the blood in the Druid's veins turn to ice.
"Hello David, Marie. Nice place you have here"
"Are you out of your mind Stilinski, I am going to have you fired and sent to jail for breaking in to our home"
"No Whittemore what you are going to do is reinstate me and then forget the Sheriff's department exists until we sent you any cases. No more interference, no more obstruction, no more vendetta"
"You are insane, I'm calling the police now"
"Before you do that let's talk about a murderous lizard man boy called a Kanima aka Jackson Whittemore. I have even brought pictures for your edification"
"Gerard Argent, you are under arrest for the abduction, false imprisonment and torture of minors"
"You can't be serious, I am a respected Educator"
"As serious as you are about getting an Alpha to bite you so that you can recover from your terminal cancer"
"What?"
"I'm doing you a favour really. Young Scott has been feeding you wolfsbane so even if you did get Hale to bite you, it would be an immediate agonising death. My way you get to live a little longer but the downside is that you feel it eating away at your body"
"Let me speak to my son"
"See now, I can't speak to my son because he's missing, so no you don't get to speak to yours."
"But Sheriff, please I need my bike to get to work"
"Then you need to pay the fine at the compound, and pay to fix all the defects to make it road worthy Scott. You have seven days to pay the fine or it will be sent to be crushed. Its not a storage yard and we need the space. Now if that's all, I have work to do."
"Sheriff please I don't have that kind of money"
"That's a shame Scott. Of course I'm sure that Stiles would have come up with a solution for you but Stiles isn't here is he? Betraying your brother doesn't get you special treatment Scott, maybe that nice Argent family you are so fond of can help."
"Stiles, please please please Son come home"
