Author's Note: Hey guys! Thanks for the responses! They really are our motivation to write and create more of the story. Same questions apply: what was your favorite part and how can we improve? Enjoy.

How is it that the person you thought you knew the most is the one that is an abyss of secrets?

After Isaac's comment, a cell phone goes off.

Soooooo, tell me what you want what you really really want and I'll-

Lydia scrunches her nose in distaste at the song.

Stiles scrambles to get his phone and looks at the caller ID.

It's his dad. He never really thought that his dad calling him would ever be a good thing.

Ever.

Huh, how times have changed.

Stiles answers his phone.

"Yo, Pop. What's the word?"

A shuffling noise comes out of the other end.

Was that a groan?

"Stiles. Promise me you'll never say that again. Ever."

"But, dad-"

"I'll eat the poptarts you hid in the back of the cupboard."

"Okay, okay! Sheesh. What's a guy got to do around here have a little fun, and how'd you know about my secret stash, huh?"

Because, apparently, having the whole pack stare at you while you're talking to your dad is always the latest form of entertainment. Yeah right.

"Stiles, you need to come home."

And, of course his dad would ignore his second question.

Derek is doing his glaring thing at him, now. Great.

"Um, dad? I know summer just ended and have school tomorrow, but it's barley seven thir-"

"It's an emergency."

Stiles jumps out of his stool and the rest are on guard.

He frantically starts spitting out words a mile-a-minute, "Are you alright? Are you okay? Are you in the hospital? Oh my stars, you're in the hospital. Are you dying? Knowing my luck, you're probably dying! I told you not to eat-"

"Stiles."

"-those fries but you still did anyways. And, now I'm going to be alone-"

"Stiles."

"-working the corner to support myself all because you ate those greasy, artery-blocking, little sticks of-"

"STILES. I'm not dying."

Stiles sighs, "And that's because I've got you eating right."

All the Sheriff can do is groan at that. Tofu burgers taste like shit, okay? A man's got to have some real beef, sometimes, and not that processed healthy looking crap.

Stiles calms down and regains his seat on the stool. The others look at Stiles with an air of ease, and with that, the tension of the room seemed to have cleared up, even if it was by a small margin.

The Sheriff continues, "Stiles, you just need to come home, okay? We have a problem we need to deal with that's a royal pain in my neck."

Great word play, Sheriff.

Stiles catches on, "Okay, dad I'm on my way."

The line cuts off.

Stiles puts his phone away and makes his way to the door.

"Well, you guys, this was fun and all but I've got to leave."

Scott gives him a small, unsure wave goodbye and the rest follow.

Derek speaks up, "Don't think you're off the hook, Stilinski."

Oh, fuck you, Derek.

And, with that, Stiles makes it out the front door, into his jeep, and drives home.

Everyone inside the Hale house hears the jeep leave, until only the werewolves can hear the sounds of the jeep's tires on the dirt road.

The pack's eyes seemed to have gravitated to the empty stool laying on Derek's left.

He lets out a frustrated sigh towards the vacant space.

Jackson is the first to speak.

"McCall! How is it you don't know Stilinski's first name, anyways? You guys have been losers together, for like ever."

Scott looks confused.

"Um, no. Stiles and I became friends the summer before eighth grade."

Erica adds, "Yeah, I remember that."

Everyone looks at her.

"What? I use to like Scott before Stiles, okay?"

Scott looked a cross between amazed and scared. It was hard to tell.

Erica cleared her throat.

"Anyways, my point being is that Stiles didn't come into the 'Epic Bromance' until eighth grade."

Boyd then speaks up, "And, everyone remembers Stiles declaration of love to Lydia in third grade."

Isaac starts cracking up, "Yeah, Lydia was so mean to him afterwards."

Lydia looks at her nails, inspecting them.

"Yeah, I remember that. He didn't bother me after that until eighth grade."

Allison asks, "Wait and hold on a minute. He actually left you alone after that?"

Lydia dropped her gaze from her nails and looked at Allison.

"I may or may not have been blunt about declining his affection."

Scott mutters, "…or really really scary."

Derek scowls, "So none of you remember him?"

Everyone shifts the gaze away from Derek.

Derek gets up from his arm chair and says, "We'll ask Stiles tomorrow. Now, everyone get out, and Isaac, clean up."

Isaac may or may not have pouted.

Stiles parks his jeep in the driveway next to his dad's cruiser and heads to the door. He was about to grave the handle of the front door before it opens.

Fuck.

A guy two or three inches taller than Stiles answers the door.

Shit.

His hair is more on the light brown side framing his face and nestling on the frames of his glasses on a part. A pale blue polo adorns the male, tucking into his fitted khakis held by a slim brown belt. His eyes are dark brown, and he has two moles on his face; one next to his right eye and the other placed on the side of his chin.

The guy grins.

Yup, he looks like an asshole and unfortunately, a familiar one.

Without even acknowledging the guy in front of him, Stiles pushed him to the side to enter the house. He sees his dad. At least he looks sheepish.

"I owed your grandmother a favor?"

Great just great.

Stiles looks back at the guy and groans, loud and long.

The guy's grin only gets bigger and proceeds to speak in Dutch.

"Why so rude cousin? I haven't seen you in, what, four years? Where's my warm welcoming?"

Stiles sneers back in his mother tongue, "In The Netherlands, where you, cousin of mine, are going back to!"

The Sheriff sighs, "Stiles, be nice."

Stiles sputters at him, "But you don't even know what I'm saying!"

Sheriff Stilinski looks at Stiles.

"Son, I know you. I don't need to understand what you're saying."

Said son grumbles underneath his breath in displeasure.

The Sheriff put his hand on his shoulder and says, "Stiles, you know I can't speak Dutch very well, and you know your cousin can be irritating without being able to understand him."

Stiles nods.

"Okay, Son, as long as we're on the same page, then don't throw a fit when I tell you that your cousin is staying here, and by 'here' I mean the inflatable mattress I just put up in your room, for a little while."

All Stiles can do at this point is grab his cousin's wrist and pull him up the stairs with more force than nesesary.

He'll figure out later why Matthijs, or, for short 'Matt' was staying with them after they settled in.