Part IV

Stiles

Beacon Hills, California

May 14th 2012

Stiles wondered what Max was doing as the jeep trudged down the busy morning streets. He wondered if he had too many or too little friends, wondered if he felt good about his appearance, wondered if he felt stupid. A laugh left his lips when he realised the kid probably felt too smart, he was just like Stiles was at that age, interested in anything and everything, always asking questions about frogs and planes and werewolves and trains and wondering what cashmere sweaters were.

He parked up the jeep, still chuckling every now and then, and set off at a fast walk on the parks track. It was full of power-walking moms in their pastel tracksuits, muscled guys in vests, girls in tiny strips of pink that barely covered their modesty. Thoughts of Scott's party came back into his head as he picked up the pace, wishing he hadn't forgotten his headphones.

Scott was his best friend, true, but he really didn't want to go out to party. Couldn't they have just had a nice get together at their house, were everyone could talk without the blasting music, could enjoy Scott's – Erica couldn't work her way around a kitchen if her life depended on it – cooking, could sit out in the sunlight, lighting up a fire when it set. Oh yeah, and the most important part – he could take Max with him.

Another grin spread across his face; he never liked leaving Max anywhere. School had been hard enough. On his first day Stiles had been a nervous wreck, asking a nonchalant Max questions over and over, making sure he had his bags, his books, his pens, the emergency numbers, letting him know if anyone was mean to him, if he didn't like his teachers, if anything at all was upsetting him all he had to do was call and Stiles would hire a freaking tutor or something, he'd learn how to home-school and teach Max everything himself if it made him happy.

Max had just laughed, telling him everything would be fine. When he returned he had been grinning from ear to ear, professing his love for the teachers and students and all the colourful decorations that adorned the walls. Stiles had been strangely upset. Max had, and still was, growing up, needing Stiles less and less.

Almost every day he had friends round, a constant slew of kids jumping into the back of the jeep with him after school, more coming over on their bikes or in their parents cars. Stiles let him have anyone over, as long as he knew them. It was better than his own childhood, just him and Scott all day every day, though he wouldn't change it; there was a bond between the two that no one could break. It was like they were twins or something, able to sense each other.

When Erica had confessed that she had cheated on Scott with their old school-friend Boyd he had been able to sense Scott's emotions, driving straight over to give him some company, some reassurance, someone to vent to. Thankfully the two of them had worked it out, Scott had paid her back by sleeping with Allison, who was his ex-girlfriend from high school. Stiles hadn't really felt it was a good trade, an eye for an eye, but it had worked for them, apparently.

The feeling of his phone buzzing against his leg dragged him from his thoughts, looking down and seeing Scott's smiling face framed by his shaggy black hair on the screen.

"Hey, man." Stiles said happily, slowing his pace just a little so he didn't sound like a thirsty, panting dog.

"Ready to party tonight? I'm getting well and truly wasted." Stiles could almost hear Scott's grin and the cheesy fist pump he was sure to be doing. "You better still be coming, you're not missing another party. I come to all your stuff, the least you can do is come to mine once in a while."

Stiles grinned, "That's because I don't have any stuff. Three birthday parties a year, yeah you're really pushing the boat out." The only time Stiles had a get together was for Max's, his dad's, or his own birthday.

"Yeah, well I'd come if you did. Fuck, there's Allison." Stiles heard a commotion at the other end of the phone, imagining Scott falling off his chair and flailing around on the floor of his office.

"Scott, that was two years ago," Stiles said, referencing the time they had slept together, "you don't have to avoid her. I'm sure she hardly even remembers it."

"Oh – nice. I can tell you that she definitely remembers it, I'm not forgettable." Scott's loud laughs were echoing down the phone, Stiles unable to resist joining in.

"Whatever, man."

He could tell Scott was thinking as the line went quiet for a few seconds, "When was the last time you, you know." Scott was sure to be doing those thrusting motions that made Stiles cringe.

"I dunno. Does it matter? No one my age wants to date someone with an eight year old son." Stiles went quiet, thinking about the times in the middle of the night when he yearned for a body next to him.

"Sure they do, plenty of people have kids. Me, for one."

"You're married. You've already got someone." Stiles pointed out with a pang of loneliness in his stomach. He tried to brush it off by increasing his pace, thinking that he shouldn't be feeling lonely when he had such a great kid at home.

"I'm gonna set you up." Scott said happily. Stiles could hear papers being moved around in the background.

"No, not again. Not after last time." With a shake of his head Stiles remembered the date Scott had set him up on, the most awkward date of his life, to be exact. It had been an assistant coach from the school, good looking and easy going, and it had been going pretty well until Stiles mentioned he had a son, thinking Scott would have told him that little detail. Needless to say, his date was blind sighted, his words turning to mush as he spoke, getting flustered and eventually telling Stiles that he didn't like kids. Who didn't like kids?!

"I promise it will be good this time. I'll ask around, see if anyone wants to go out with a caring, handsome, funny twenty five year old who also happens to be a responsible parent and a great carer for his father." Scott had meant the words to sound endearing, but they just made Stiles feel worse, any date would probably think he had no time for them. When he thought about it, it was kind of true.

"Yeah, don't bother. Listen, I might not even be able to come tonight beca-"

Scott interrupted with a series of low, sarcastic laughs, "- Don't even go there. Allison called and told me all about your whole I-can't-leave-my-kid-for-a-few-hours thing, and you're not getting out of it. My mom's gonna watch Iz, you can bring Max over so they can play together." Stiles could just imagine the self-satisfied smirk that was on Scott's face, probably as he leaned back in his chair and kicked his legs out.

"I dunno..." Stiles tried desperately to think of an excuse. Maybe he could get Max to pretend he was sick, or maybe he could say a fish died and he had to console him.

"Don't trust my mom?" Scott countered, quick as lightning.

"I – of course, I just – uh -" There was no way out of that one, Stiles realised with a slight grin. Melissa McCall was the perfect babysitter, he couldn't fault a single thing she did.

"I'm gonna send Isaac over to get you, just to make sure you arrive. Now I'm hanging up before you can change your mind see you tonight bye!" The words were a speedy jumble before Scott hung up, leaving a now panting Stiles with a huge grin on his face; he loved that Scott cared about him, that he made an effort with him. It was more than he deserved, he reflected with a grimace, he never made the effort. Max came before everyone, even Stiles himself.

He continued his jog, sipping a bottle of water and keeping a steady pace, glad that he was back out. He hadn't jogged at all last week, with the stress of school and his dads most recent fall. His body felt out of shape even after seven days of rest.

Stiles had jogged almost every day since his seventeenth birthday. It had started out as a panicked run, trying to work out what he was supposed to do with a baby and all the responsibility that came with it, and running had helped him. It cleared his mind, gave him the answers. Some people thought dropping out of school was the wrong answer, but Stiles didn't regret it.

"Fuck!" An angry shout made Stiles look up, training his eyes onto a very angry looking guy rolling around on the grass, his arms thrashing out this way and that. Very cute too, he noticed as he approached and asked if he was okay, glad when he didn't brush him off. He seemed in pretty bad shape, but Stiles was glad to see he was smiling every few seconds. They seemed like genuine smiles too, he noted happily. Isaac was calling him, but he didn't answer, his motives a little blurred; he genuinely did want to make sure this guy was okay, but he really wanted to just keep looking at his face.

He told him a little about a break up he was dealing with, hoping his breathing didn't audibly increase when he heard it was with a guy. Stiles had met some good looking guys in his time, but this guy was something else. Even with the shiner around his eye, which he was dying to ask about, hardly managing to keep the words in, he was gorgeous. His blue eyes, the defined jaw, those pouty lips. Stiles looked down at his phone, trying to mask the blush on his face as he imaged kissing him. Jesus, maybe Scott was right; he needed to get laid.

At the mention of how unexpected the breakup was his stomach churned a little, remembering Sophie. Sophie, her name made his skin crawl and made his heart break at the same time. The phone vibrating constantly in his pocket was driving him crazy, he felt like lobbing the thing into the distance, never to be seen again. But Max might need him.

When the conversation came to a halt he tried to be all nonchalant about it, but he just couldn't resist asking if he'd see him again, wanting to know if he was staying in town, if he was visiting, who was he and what the hell was he doing here?! He definitely wasn't a local, Stiles knew that much, but he seemed to be strangely comfortable talking to a complete stranger, and looked like he knew his way around as he glanced at a distant sign.

Despite all his best efforts, there was no containing the blush that spread up Stiles' face when he grinned at him and said 'definitely', sending Stiles heart pumping, his dick twitching slightly under his shorts. He wasn't proud, oh boy he wasn't proud, but he watched the guys ass while he jogged into the distance, mouth hanging open, the vibrating phone in his hand forgotten. Scott was right, Stiles needed sex. Okay, so that wasn't exactly what Scott said, but it was what he was saying, and Stiles trumped Scott in this equation.

"Isaac, what?!" Stiles growled, finally picking up the phone.

"Hey, I thought you were dead or something! You always answer your phone." Isaac sounded worried, his words quick and breathy. He was right about Stiles always being able to be contacted, though. He always worried it was something to do with Max, usually picking up on the first ring.

"No – I'm fine, just – uh, in the park, or something." Stiles slapped his palm onto his forehead, trying to stop the numb mess that was his tongue from making any more stupid words.

"In the park or something? You know, I heard there's a glory hole in the toilets there," Isaac laughed down the line, "are you in there or something?"

"As if," Stiles said lightly, "anyway, what's up?"

"I'm picking you up tonight. There's no way you're getting out of it. I might even ask Melissa to pick up Max after school just to make sure you -"

"- No!" Stiles cut him off, stopping the run he had started up again and panicking, "I need to at least have the afternoon with him!" Stiles' heart was racing, he didn't want Max to think he didn't have time for him or wanted to pawn him off on his friends moms.

"Jesus, calm down, fine you can have him," Stiles could almost hear the pout down the phone.

"You were gonna stay there with Melissa, weren't you?" Isaac loved Max almost as much as Stiles did.

He went quiet for a few seconds, Stiles knew there would be a tiny blush on his cheeks at getting caught out, Isaac probably squirming around in his chair, or whatever he was sat in. "Maybe..." He conceded.

"Come over after school if you like." He could see the car in the distance, but that wasn't what caught his eye. It was the sight of shiner-guy jogging across the parking lot, covered in sweat and looking fine.

"Hello? Hello!" Slowly, Isaac's voice came through. Stiles had been so occupied with watching the guys ass. "What's up with you? Stiles!"

"Huh?" Stiles blinked a few times, tearing his eyes away from the retreating figure in the distance and practically sprinting to his car.

"Stiles? You're not having another panic attack are you? You know I'm no good with them." The last time Stiles had a panic attack was when Max drew a rather dark drawing of a skeleton covered in blood; he had panicked, thinking his kid was going to grow up to be a damn serial killer or something.

Stiles laughed, "No, Isaac. No."

"Then what?!" Isaac always wanted to be in the know, the guy was almost as gossipy as Erica was, though he wasn't as bitchy as she was.

"I'll tell you later, come over after school." Stiles hung up before Isaac could interrogate him more, taking a deep breath and starting the engine.

He was still sweaty by the time he reached the veterinary doctors where he worked, a joking Dr. Deaton laughing about how he really needed to take a shower before he got to work so the customers and the animals didn't have to deal with his stench.

"Yeah, yeah, heard it all before." Stiles laughed along with him, heading to the changing areas to get a quick shower. He slipped into his shirt and tie and went to the back office, sitting down at his tiny desk to sort through Deaton's mounds of paperwork.

Dr. Deaton had been the only guy in town who could give Stiles the type of job he needed – something flexible. Stiles didn't delude himself, he was barely qualified to serve coffee, but he had known Deaton all his life; the guy loved Max, and was always trying to push many of the abandoned animals on them for Max to play with. Stiles never took any home with him, it was hard enough getting a fish and knowing it would die; he didn't want Max to have to deal with that.

He only worked three days a week, sorting out files in the back office or occasionally manning the front desk when the usual receptionist decided not to show up; recently he had been out front a lot – Cassie had a new boyfriend and always rang in sick or just didn't show up at all.

Deaton was too nice to fire her, or to fire Stiles when he called in saying he had to take Max to the opticians for a check up, or his dad to the doctors about his back, or that he was going to a parent-teacher meeting, or the washing machine had broken and he needed to be home when the guy came to fix it, or Max wanted his room painting and he was staying home all day to fulfil his desire. Deaton understood, and Stiles loved him for that.

He made pennies, but he only did the job to give himself some sense of self-worth. He could easily qualify for unemployment benefits, but he felt it set a bad example to Max.

The day was quick, his pile only the tinniest bit smaller when he left, instantly topped up by the four new files Deaton placed on top just as Stiles was leaving.

"I'm thinking of hiring someone else." He told Stiles as he was shrugging into his hoody and grabbing the bag full of his smelly jogging clothes. Stiles panicked.

Deaton saw the look on his face and help up his hands, "No, no, I'm not letting you go. I mean to help you, you have quite a big load here." He looked over Stiles' files with a wry smile.

"Oh, well it's completely your choice. I'll try and train them but I dunno how much -" Deaton held up a hand, interrupting Stiles.

"Don't worry about it. You have Max to take care of. You know we have a lost dog in, golden retriever – classic choice for a kid." He wriggled the file in his hand around, showing Stiles a photo of the picture-perfect dog on the front. A dog that would die, Stiles reminded himself.

"No, thanks. And thanks, Alan. Really." Stiles put a hand on Deaton's shoulder before he left, hoping the gesture had shown everything he wanted to say; how thankful he was for him being understanding; how he always thought of Max; how he wasn't letting Stiles go even though he was probably just a drain on his finances.

All the way to school he thought about how lucky he was to have such good friends. He knew he should make better use of their generosity in regards to babysitting and the like, but Max came first. Friends and parties and hot guys with bruises were all such a very distant second that they should be considered the very last number in history.

"Hi, dad." Max grinned as he hopped into the passenger seat.

"Seatbelt." Stiles said, starting up the car and heading out of the lot. Max had no friends with him, which was surprising but welcome, giving him time to joke with him and talk about his day all the way back to their house.

Stiles noticed the chipped paintwork, the loose hinges on the shutters around the window, the broken porch swing. All of it needed fixing, but he didn't have the time, never mind the skill. The inside of the house was better, though still a little run down. Everything could do with a fresh coat of paint, the floors needed redoing, and the tiles around the fireplace were chipped.

The kitchen was in the best and worst state simultaneously. They spent most of their time in that bright room facing the garden, and every wall was plastered with paintings Max had done, photos of the two of them, certificates from his swimming and soccer lessons, and other photos of Stiles and his friends with Max, Max and his friends, Max and the sheriff, or all other manner of picture set ups that could involve Max.

Despite all the colour, the friendly cooking smells, and the happy pictures and photos, the tiles were chipped, the sink broke almost every other day, the dishwasher had took its last breath last month, one of the kitchen stools broke on unsuspecting guests, and it generally just needed fixing up.

"Sit down and I'll make you some food. What do you want?" Stiles rested on his elbows and leant over the breakfast bar, smiling as Max clambered up onto the stool and started pulling books and pens out of his bag.

Max thought for a second, resting his chin in his hands, his eyes looking up in that little thinking thing he did. Stiles thought it was adorable. "Pancakes? Yes – pancakes. Can we feed pancakes to the fish? Can fish even eat pancakes? If I was a fish I'd want to eat pancakes, but don't they have one second memories or something?"

Stiles grinned as Max went on and on about pancakes; both father and son loved them, though Max's enthusiasm may have even beaten Stiles'. "I think we should keep to the fish food I bought. Speaking of fish," Stiles peered over to look in the sink, where Mr and Mrs. Fish were still swimming around, "what shall we do with these? I need water."

"Can't you just cook around them? Or we could put them in a vase or something – yeah, a vase! They could have a really tall house, it'll be fun." Max was set on the idea, throwing some sunflowers Allison had brought over into the bin before Stiles could even protest, filling up the vase, and scooping the married couple inside.

"Um – okay then. A vase it is." Stiles had just stood and watched, making sure he didn't spill the water, or slip when he splashed the ground a little. He and Max talked as he cooked, making mounds of pancakes, each one deposited on Max's plate while he got the next one ready.

"Look who's here! Who's your favourite person in the world?" Isaac's voice rang through the kitchen as he came in through the back door, his hands behind his back and a huge smile on his face.

"Not you." Max joked between mouthfuls of delicious breakfast-food-for-lunch, maple syrup dripping down his chin.

"Well I guess you don't want this then?" Stiles had no idea what the game Isaac pulled out from behind his back was, but it made Max scream, running towards him and leaping into the air to try and grab at the case that had been taken out of reach.

"You're my favourite, You're my favourite!" Max was repeating over and over as Isaac grinned, leaning over to tickle at his ribs. "Thanks!" He grinned, finally getting a hold of the game when he dragged Isaac down to the floor with him.

"You done?" Stiles asked, looking at the overflowing plate of pancakes that still had to be eaten.

"Yeah," Max ran towards him, kissing a leant over Stiles on the cheek, "you're my favourite really."