i. food one: burger

He knew that he wasn´t supposed to. He knew that it was in his best interest to desist from what he was doing; that he should resist the temptation, that sweet voice in his mind that run over his soul like warm honey and told him that it was alright, that he shouldn't feel bad about what he was doing, even though deep down he knew that he should.

But he was only human, and above all humans were creatures of the flesh; weak and so easily susceptible to the temptations of this world. At least he was aware of this flaw – one of his many – and could actually try to better himself. That was what he told himself, even though he knew that it wasn't true.

Was he supposed to feel ashamed? To feel guilty for enjoying this as much as he did? Should he seek forgiveness – absolution even? He wondered sometimes, but in the end, he pushed all of it to the back of his mind and sealed it like it was just another evidence locker.

Nobody had to know. Nobody would ever know.

John Stilinski bit into his burger and was barely able to suppress the moan that threatened to escape his mouth as the taste of freshly baked bacon, spicy barbecue sauce, onions and a hint of garlic exploded on his tongue. In this moment the texture of the white bread underneath his fingers felt better than any human touch could and if it had been possible John would have married the burger on the spot.

But, alas, he was too busy devouring it.

His son would pop a blood vessel if he saw him eating such a 'heart attack bomb' as he had coined it, but thank God Stiles wasn't at the precinct, so John could enjoy his forbidden burger in peace. He was sure, though, that Stiles had his informants and spies amongst the deputies which was why John had picked the Burger up himself instead of having it delivered and also why the door to his office was closed and the airing on full blast, so that any traces of burger smell would have vanished once he was finished.

John was pretty sure that at least Tara was on to him, which was bad because he knew that his youngest deputy and his son had their own WhatsApp chat going on. Maybe he could bribe her with the promise of not placing her on any night shifts for the rest of the week if she kept quiet.

Something worth to think about at least.

Thinking about his burger inevitably also led John to thinking about his son. Things at home were still tense sometimes, but not as bad as they had been just a while ago. There were still moments where John was sure that Stiles was keeping something secret from him, still those split-seconds where he looked at his son and didn't recognise the person staring back at him, but they were fewer and far in-between. Stiles seemed to be more…present seemed to be the right word, no longer so closed-off and reclusive. Scott had even been over a few times and they had played their video games like in the good old times.

Stiles also hadn't appeared on any mysterious crime scenes in a while which also did wonders for their strained relationship. There haven't been any incidents at school, either. Whatever his son was currently doing, as long as it wasn't anything illegal or morally wrong, John had decided he would turn a blind eye.

That didn't mean that he wouldn't tell his deputies to keep their eyes out for any Stiles related shenanigans. You could never be too careful with his son.

"Sheriff, the coroner´s report is here and you told me to…" The door opened, and Tara came waltzing into his office as if he had an open-door policy going on – which he had, to be honest. He should definitely change that as soon as possible.

It must have been quite a sight, fearsome Sheriff John Stilinski slowly lowering the burger he was holding with both hands as if he had been caught with something naughty all the while he looked like a child caught with his hands in the cookie jar. Tara meanwhile had a grin on her face that was so wide that it seemed to threaten to split her face into two.

"I guess this means no nightshifts for me this week," she remarked idly, as if they both didn't know that she had John at the balls. From the way she grinned like the cat that caught he canary, she was well aware of that.

"At least I can eat it now without trying to hide," John grumbled and took another bite. "Please continue." Working as police officer you soon developed the ability to eat even during the most disgusting situations. If John stopped eating whenever something horrifying came up, he would have no time to eat at all. During his career he had seen it all and nothing could stop him from eating his food anymore.

"The girl at the pool was Cathy McGrath," Tara began. "She graduated from Beacon Hills High School last year and worked at Whole Foods. It was supposed to be only temporarily until she would go to college in Los Angeles in a few weeks. Which obviously isn't happing now." She cleared her throat. "At first, we all assumed that she died of blood loss because of how much there was around her when we found her at the pool, but the coroner says that she actually drowned."

"She wasn't wet," John frowned.

"No," Tara shook her head, a queasy look on her face. "She drowned on her own blood." John put his burger down. Screw it, he wasn't prepared for that. "Her throat was cut in a way that her blood would also end up in her lungs, which would feel like drowning. The report says that it was ultimately this coupled with the blood loss that killed her. It must have been very painful and cruel, feeling like you are drowning before your brain gives out on you."

"The poor girl," John whispered, suddenly feeling so weighted down by the knowledge how terrifying those last few moments must have been for Cathy as she drowned on her own blood.

"That´s not all," Tara added. "The coroner also found traces of mistletoe in her lungs as well as in her blood." John frowned.

"How would mistletoe get into her blood?" he wondered out loud.

"I don't know, boss," Tara replied.

"Do we know of any new drugs that may contain mistletoe?" John asked.

"I can look it up," Tara said. "I´ll also take a look at Cathy´s stuff. Maybe it´s just a new herbal tea or something. You never know with what crazy things those New Age people come up with."

"Do that," John agreed with her. "Take Donovan with you." Tara pulled a face.

"Do I really need to?" she complained. John just raised an eyebrow at her.

"You may not like him, but he´s still you colleague," John reprimanded her, even though secretly he agreed with her. Donovan was a kind of dick and if the Sheriff could, he would have already fired him. Unfortunately, Donovan did outstanding work and hadn´t yet given him any grounds on which he could fire him.

"You´re only saying that because you agree with me," Tara groused, but she didn't complain any further as she walked out of the office. John sighed and turned back to his burger when his phone started to ring.

Exasperated, he put his burger back down and picked up. "Yes."

"Boss," the voice of the deputy on desk duty said. "We´ve got a missing teenager. Heather Morrigan. Her parents just reported her missing."

John looked at his burger mournfully. Today just wasn't supposed to be their day.

ii. food two: pudding

Stiles didn't really want to go to school, which was a pretty normal statement coming from a teenager, to be honest. Was there really anyone who liked to go back to school every day like Sisyphus had to roll his rock back up the hill every day?

But unlike his peers who just didn't want to stand up early Stiles had a very viable reason for not wanting to enter the nefarious building in front of him. A very good reason, if he said so himself. Namely that he was pretty sure that the two new guys in their class were part of the Alpha Pack.

It had been a nagging suspicion ever since Ms Blake had first introduced them during one of their English lessons. As if electricity had suddenly shot through his body, his wolf had been suddenly at the surface of his mind, barring his teeth and growling as if he wanted to force someone into submission. As the twins had passed his desk, Stiles had to grab onto his desk´s board with all his strength to prevent himself from straight out trying to attack them. There were visible dents in the wood now.

He had felt something when the twins had walked past him. As if the room had suddenly become to small for all their presence, as if it would explode from the power they all wielded underneath their skins. It had been a pretty sobering experience, because unlike his own, the twin´s power had felt sophisticated and controlled while Stiles' was still raw and barely kept in check. He knew that as he was right now, he couldn't win against even one of them, let alone all two.

"Relax," Scott whispered next to him as he clapped Stiles on his back. "They won´t do anything while you´re at school. They´ll at least wait until you´re on your way home."

"Thanks for the encouragement," Stiles deadpanned. Scott just gave him a shit-eating grin.

"You also have me," Scott added.

"That isn't as much of an advantage as you think it is," Stiles pointed out as they made their way across the parking lot. "You aren´t much of a werewolf either."

"Hey, Derek said I´m at least able to hold my own in a fight," Scott protested.

"He also said against a non-moving target like a tree," Stiles teased his best friend. Scott just scowled. They walked on the sidewalk, the benches lined along it occupied by students who still tried to catch a little bit of sun before they were confined into the school buildings for the rest of the day. On the last bench in front of the entrance, Stiles recognised Lydia. The red-head was wearing a lemon-yellow summer dress with a white collar and pumps in the same colour.

Stiles wasn't quite sure how he was supposed to react. They were kind of allies now, he guessed, but did that mean he was allowed to greet and talk to Lydia at school? Was he supposed to ignore her, or should he keep up the pretence of trying to court her, even though any kind of romantic spark between them had fizzled out by now? They hadn't talked about it at all and now Stiles was literally flailing.

"You´re allowed to talk to me, you know?" Lydia said in lieu of a greeting, not even bothering to avert her head from the sun in order to look at him.

"Ah, that´s good to know, I suppose," Stiles spluttered, scratching the back of his head. "I didn't know if you wanted me to."

"I really don't care what others might think, so you might as well talk to me," Lydia shrugged. "We aren´t besties, of course, but we´re also more than acquaintances."

"I guess," Stiles agreed.

"You´re both so complicated," Scott said, rolling his eyes. "Why don´t we just go along with our day as usual and if you meet you can great each other like civilised beings and maybe even talk to each other. No one expects you to suddenly cling to each other like glue."

"Since when did you become the sensible one?!" Stiles exclaimed in shock.

"Let´s be real here, he´s always been the sensible one," Lydia pointed out, much to Stiles' dismay. "Remember incident number three in middle school?"

"And we have to go," Stiles interrupted her while he tried to shove Scott into the direction of the school´s entrance. "We don´t want to miss our first lesson."

"We´ve got Harris in our first lesson," Scott pointed out, slowly starting to move. "You hate Harris."

"Not now," Stiles retorted. Not when he needed to get away before Lydia could start with incident number three from middle school. Even Harris was better than that.

"So, what´s the plan?" Scott asked while they made their way towards their lockers. "You know –" he lowered his voice "- should we meet the alphas?"

"You know that whispering is absolutely unnecessary because they can hear us anyway if they´re around?" Stiles pointed out. Still, he looked up and down the hallways, trying to discern if the infernal twins were in sight.

"Yeah, but I don't feel comfortable talking about it out loud," Scott defended himself. "So, what are we gonna do?"

"Nothing," Stiles replied. When Scott opened his mouth – probably to protest – Stiles continued: "We´re both not good enough to handle them on our own. We – with which I mean myself – are doing some background research first."

"So, I´m just supposed to do nothing?" Scott questioned.

"Yep," Stiles answered. "And now stop questioning me. You´re supposed to fall in line behind me because I have the awesome powers of alphahood." Scott didn't look quite convinced – he outright laughed at Stiles! – but at least for now the discussion was shelved.

As usual chemistry was pretty horrible to suffer through for sixty minutes. Not only because Harris was his usual asshole-ish self who delighted in humiliating his students, but also because ever since Stiles had turned, his sense of smell was especially sensitive. This meant that the smell of the countless chemicals – most of them toxic or otherwise damaging – was hundred times worse for him than it was for the human students. The miasma of rotten eggs, oil, sulphur, chlorine and dozens of other compounds invaded his nose and made him feel like he was about to double over with sickness. Stiles had a lot more sympathy for how distracted and cranky Scott had been during the early times of his existence as werewolf.

High School in general had already been disgusting when he had been human, but now as a wolf it was even more so.

Fortunately, even though it did feel different, time did actually pass and after the morning lessons were finally over, he and Scott found themselves at their usual table in the cafeteria. From where he was sitting, Stiles could also see Lydia. The red-head just nodded at him when she noticed his gaze, but otherwise kept to herself and her group of friends.

"At least they got chocolate pudding today," Scott pointed out quite happily. Stiles looked at the brown goo on his tablet and couldn't quite find it in himself to share his best friend´s enthusiasm for the cafeteria´s choice of desert.

"Does it even taste like chocolate?" Stiles wanted to know, well aware of all the other times the school had tried to give the students a 'treat'. Scott took his spoon and carefully extracted a mouthful of the pudding out of the plastic cup. He put it in his mouth and chewed on it, all the while Stiles stared at him intensely and waited for a reaction. Finally, Scott swallowed it down.

"Tastes like chocolate," he summarised. "Actually, it´s quite good." A took another spoonful.

"It´s a desert, you´re supposed to eat it at the very end," Stiles pointed out, very much aware of the hypocrisy of such a statement coming from him. From the way Scott gave him his 'are you shitting me' expression, his best friend felt the same.

He just opened his mouth – probably to point it out to Stiles – when two figures approached their table. Before either of them could even react, the alpha twins had already seated themselves next to them; one at Stiles' and the other at Scott´s side.

His wolf was surging to the forefront of his mind again. Stiles' control hung on a thin threat as he wrestled the instincts of his wolf side (tear, rip, shred, defend) into submission. It was as if his whole body was suddenly engulfed by this unbearable heat that could only be released through violence. If either of the twins would have even said something – a single word was enough – Stiles would have snapped and attacked them on the spot.

They obviously sensed that because neither of them spoke.

"This table is occupied," Scott pointed out, more or less helpful. At least he didn't look like he was about to literarily shred into the newcomers to their table. Out of the corner of his eye, Stiles could see Lydia watching what was going on at their table with rapt attention, a look of slight alarm on her face.

"There´s only two of you," one of the twins retorted. Ethan and Aiden, but to each of Stiles' senses they felt like one and the same person. There was no difference in their scent, no visible mark that set them apart. Well, one of them had a slightly different hair cut than the other.

"It´s still only polite to ask if you can sit down before actually doing it," Stiles entered the conversation. By now he was confident that he wouldn't attack either of them on the spot.

"What would you have against us sitting down here?" twin number two asked, all faux-innocent. Stiles gave him his best 'are you real' expression. "We´re just newly arrived students who try to connect with their peers."

"Okay, we all know that´s a literal lie," Stiles replied. "I don't know which of you is Ethan or Aiden, but I do know what you are and why you´re here." Twin number one just shrugged and bit into his sandwich, while twin number two just stared at Stiles.

"So, is this some kind of intimidation thing?" Scott wanted to know. "It´s not really working, though." Leave it to Scott to sound apologetic about the fact that they weren't intimidated by two members of the most fearsome werewolf pack west of the Mississippi.

"You would know if we were trying to intimidate you," twin number two spoke. "This is just us getting to know each other."

"Then why don´t you tell us something about yourselves?" Stiles jeered. "Maybe start with the pack you murdered? I´ve heard that's the way to earn yourself a membership for the pack you´re currently in. There must be a special kind of hell for people like you."

"You know nothing!" twin number one snapped at him, red flashing through his eyes before they settled back to his brownish colour.

"I hit a nerve, I see," Stiles said smugly. "So, why don't you two move along and leave us alone."

"You´ll regret this," twin number one seethed. "You won´t stand a chance against us." Before he could say anything else, though, twin number two steered him away, leaving Scott and Stiles sitting alone again at their table.

"That was, like, really unnerving," Stiles admitted, his heart still beating so fast that it felt like it would burst out of his chest at any moment.

"It´s really sad," Scott commented, absorbed in thoughts. "They´re not much older than we are and yet…"

"Stop right there," Stiles interrupted his best friend´s musings. "If we start emphasising with them, we won´t survive this." He swallowed. "We can´t see them as anything else but as our enemies." Scott looked at him like someone had kicked a puppy right in front of him, but in the end, he nodded, albeit very subdued.

"Have you seen the new principal?" Stiles changed the topic. "I´ve heard he started today, but he hasn't even given a speech or something."

"Didn't you listen to what Harris said during chemistry?" Scott wanted to know, and Stiles just looked at him as if just asking if Stiles was listening to anything Harris had to say was stupid.

"So, tell me!" Stiles ordered Scott when the latter didn't just continue.

"The new principal is going to introduce himself tomorrow before lessons. Presence is mandatory."

"Ugh," Stiles moaned. "Well, he can´t be worse than his predecessor, can he?"

iii. food three: pills

Scott didn't know why he had been called out of class in order to visit the principal's office. As far as he was aware neither he nor Stiles had done anything which would warrant getting to know the man on his first day at Beacon Hill High. As he was waiting in the anteroom on one of those ugly as sin and deeply uncomfortable chairs to be called in, he went through all the things he could say in his and Stiles' defence. It was probably Jackson´s fault anyway, so all he had to do was explain the tumultuous history between the three of them and promise amendments so that the principal would turn a blind eye towards them on his first day.

After what felt like an eternity, the door opened. The man standing in the doorway didn't look very intimidating, to be honest: He wasn't very big, maybe five and a half feet, and not very muscular either. Which was probably because he was also old, his sparse white hair only covering the side of his hair. Still, there was something hard, unflinching, about the man. Maybe the way he so rigidly stood in the doorway, his posture more alike to military personnel than a teacher.

"Scott," he spoke with a smile that didn't reach his eyes. "Why don't you come in?" Scott stood up and followed the principal into his office. The man took a seat behind the massive wooden desk while Scott took one of the two chairs that were standing in front of it.

"Am I in trouble?" Scott blurted out, not able to stand the tension any longer.

"Oh, no," the principal laughed. "Far from it, actually." Scott let out a breath of relief.

"Then why am I here?" Scott wondered.

"Let me just introduce myself," the principal replied. "I´m Gerard Argent."

"Argent?" Scott repeated with wide eyes. "Like Allison…"

"She´s my granddaughter," Mr. Argent – and man, that was gonna be complicated in his head, because Allison´s dad was also Mr. Argent. So maybe he should go with Sr. and Jr.? – replied with a fond look on his face.

"The reason why you´re here is," Mr. Argent Sr. continued, "because I wanted to personally assure you that your past dalliance with my daughter will have no influence on my actions when it comes to you and your friends."

"Thanks, I guess," Scott replied, unsure what he was supposed to say.

"I also wanted to meet the boy who had such an effect on my granddaughter," Mr. Argent Sr. said. "That she would still cry and yearn for you, even though she adamantly states that it´s over between the two of you. Only a man of certain calibre leaves such a lasting impression on a young woman."

"She still thinks about me?" Scott asked with bated breath. Maybe he still had a chance with Allison?

"Oh, she tries to hide it, but it´s still there," Mr. Argent Sr. replied. He opened his mouth to say something else, but suddenly he started to cough violently. His whole body was wrecked by the tremors running through him and Scott was afraid that the man would die on him. Still coughing Mr. Argent Sr. grabbed a small box standing on his desk, opened it and threw one of the many white pills that were revealed to be contained within into his mouth. The coughing abated seconds afterwards.

"I´m sorry that you had to see that," the principal apologised.

"It´s alright," Scott assured him.

"As I said, you still have a chance with my Allison. You just have to use it," Mr. Argent Sr. told him. "But I´ve already kept you away from class long enough. Just think about what I said."

"I will," Scott promised. Mr. Argent Sr. just smiled at him benignly.

As he turned around and left the principal´s office, he didn't see the smile slowly vanishing from Gerard Argent´s face.