Author's note:
Sorry for the long wait guys! Work is evil :( So here is the new chapter (longer as an apology) :) Enjoy.
What you need to know:
Italics is anything being spoken in Dutch!
Please comment on what does/doesn't work for ya'll (Amethyst thinks 'ya'll' is lame even though she uses it) (Only in writing-Amethyst)
or on what you want to see! You'll never know what might be incorporated...
The next morning, all was not well. Apparently, Matt was too 'cultured' to sleep on an air mattress, so Stiles was kicked out of his own fucking bed. Damn posh people.
His dad woke him up a while ago, by nudging his side with a clad boot he might add, to say that he didn't have to go to school today. Awesome.
After he recovered from having his side molested by a shoe, the Sheriff told him to entertain Matt. Dammit.
Matt, like himself, hated being bored, and there was only so much to do in a town that doesn't speak a lick of Dutch.
Stiles rolled off the air mattress with a thump. Oh gosh his back hurts! Fuck Matt and his 'cultered' ways! Stiles is sleeping in his own bed tonight, if it's the last thing he does. His hands roam the floor to find his cell phone.
Four unread texts from Scott.
Oh well, he'll worry about that later.
He stands up and makes his way to his cousin who's blissfully sleeping on his bed cuddling a pillow to his chest. Aw, he looks so peaceful, so restful, so serine.
Stiles kicks Matt off the bed.
"Rise and shiiiine!"
Matt hit the floor with a groan, "Ug, what in the world is your problem?"
Stiles just grinned at his cousin's pain. Ah, revenge was sweet.
"That's what you get for commandeering my bed!"
Matt rolled his neck to signal his discomfort, "Don't you have school? Americans have school this time of year, right? The school schedule over here is just so odd."
Stiles sighed and helped his cousin up from the floor. What? He was a nice guy.
"Dad said that I can stay home today, so I'm going to go to the grocery store and you're going to stay here and entertain yourself with my computer while I go get food."
Before Matt can get a word in, Stiles raced down the stairs, grabbed his keys, and went out the front door all while hearing Matt exclaim from upstairs, "The stupid computer's in English!"
Stiles has to love America sometimes.
The school bell rang and Scott raced to English. He couldn't stop thinking about Stiles. Did he not really know his best friend? They've known each other since eighth grade, how could they not know each other?
Maybe, it was his own fault.
He never really asked Stiles about his family while he ranted about the newest videogame that was coming out. They were friends in the sense where they were comfortable being around each other without any judgments. They didn't need to tell each other deep dark secrets from long ago because they knew that no matter what they'll always be friends. That's the understanding that Scott came up with.
Wasn't like that for Stiles, too?
Scott had texted Stiles after the pack meeting, multiple times, but he didn't reply back. He'll ask Stiles what was going on in class.
The teacher, thankfully, wasn't there and irritatingly, neither was Stiles.
He went to take his seat next to Isaac, looking at the empty seat in front of his own.
He hopes he gets a chance to talk to his best friend soon, preferably.
The whole class was chatting, taking advantage of the teacher's absence, and Scott saw a window of opportunity to talk to Isaac.
"Hey, Isaac!"
Isaac turns from his desk and faces Scott.
"What?"
Scott fidgets in his chair.
"I-I just can't believe I don't know Stiles that well. Did you know him before eighth grade?"
Scott needed answers.
"Um, no. I just thought, you know, he's always around."
Did everyone really just overlook Stiles? How could they?
Stiles is a pretty hard person to miss, even if you don't know him.
Jackson, who sat behind Isaac, jumped into the conversation, cutting off Scott's line of thought.
"Stilinski's been keeping things from us, and he ran out after we confronted him."
It wasn't true! Scott knows Stiles, even if he doesn't know his family, he knows the person. Stiles never kept things from them, it was just…they never really asked.
Huh.
Danny, who sat next to Jackson and behind Scott, looked at the three of them with an odd look on his face.
Did Danny know something?
Isaac asks, "What, Danny?"
Danny rests his head in his hand and quirks his eyebrow, "You guys are talking about Stiles, right?"
They all nod in confirmation.
Scott speaks up, "Yeah, we're trying to find someone who knew Stiles before eighth grade and after third. No one seems to remember him."
He has a sad, dejected look after he finishes his sentence.
He kind of blames himself for that.
Danny laughs, oddly enough, "Well, yeah. No one would remember him before eighth grade. He wasn't here."
Who said what now?
They all stare at him with surprised looks and Isaac asks slowly, "What do you mean 'he wasn't here'?"
What the hell is Danny talking about? Scott has never been this confused in his life, and this is after he was bitten by a werewolf!
Danny looks at all of them, "He moved away with relatives after third grade and came back in the summer before eighth grade. You didn't know that?"
Scott didn't.
He was about to ask a series of questions before the English teacher came in and started class.
Isaac whispers to all of them, "We'll finish this conversation at lunch."
Time went all too slowly after that.
Stiles sighed as he entered the grocery store. He didn't know why, but doing little domestic things like this, buying groceries, always lifted a weighted off of him.
It would always remind him of his mother.
She would take him to the grocery store and the market, and when she had to make food for dinner, she would teach him how to cook. She began the old habit of him humming while he cooks, and he doesn't mind at all.
His father joked all the time, back when he was little, that he would be the perfect stay-at-home dad.
The Sheriff just seems to avoid the topic of domesticity now, and just complements his cooking, from time-to-time.
Stiles grabs a cart and pushes through the aisles, snatching things he needs while pondering on what to make at home for him, his dad, and Matt.
He hasn't cooked anything Dutch in a while, so maybe he'll do that.
Hunter's Dish sounds good to make. Ironic as it may be, it's too good to pass up. All he'll have to do is make it more heart-friendly. Goodbye butter, salt, and fat.
As he went to the produce aisles to see what apples to use, he began to ponder about the pack meeting last night.
Did that really happen?
He never knew that the tables would be turned on him, and when he thought about it, he had it coming.
He told Derek that none of them really knew each other, and to be a better pack, they had to be comfortable with one another on a more personal scale.
Pack is family, and as of right now, none of them consider it as so.
He bags the apples, collects anything else that's missing from his basket, and makes his way to checkout and then, home.
Lunch, as usual, is unappetizing, but when you're a teenager that's hungry and low on cash, you eat up the cafeteria crap.
The pack, excluding Derek and Stiles, sat in one table. Danny joined in, sitting next to Jackson.
He looked a bit uncomfortable.
Maybe that was because he had seven pairs of eyes staring at him.
Huh, news seemed to spread around fast.
Jackson nudged Danny, and Danny coughed awkwardly into his hand.
"So…what did you guys want to know?"
Lydia, being smart enough to pack her own lunch, forked some of her salad and asked, "What do you know about Stiles?"
Danny scratched his head.
"Well, the usual. He has a massive crush on Lydia."
That earned a scoff from said girl.
"His Dad is the Sheriff."
Stating the obvious.
"He was in elementary school with us-"
Well, duh.
"-until third, and moved out till eighth grade."
Other than Isaac, Jackson, and Scott, everyone else was confused.
Lydia stabbed her salad.
"What do you mean by 'moved out'? He was always here in Beacon Hills. His dad never moved. If you hadn't noticed, his dad's the Sheriff."
Lydia did make sense.
Danny tugged at his arm sleeves in discomfort.
"Well, yeah, but he lived with his relatives out of town after his mom passed away."
Oh. That makes more sense.
Lydia looked as though she had an epiphany.
"Is that what he meant by 'here' last night?"
That was something to ask Stiles about, after they got the chance to talk to him.
Erica looked a little closer at Danny.
"How do you know all this?"
"Stiles and I were friends in elementary, so I was sad when he left and stuff."
Who knew?
Scott, after hearing Stiles' name, exclaimed, "Stiles!"
The seven pairs of eyes gravitated to Scott.
Allison asked, "Scott, what about Stiles?"
Scott looked frantic.
"I texted him last night and he didn't answer! He's not here today, either!"
Isaac pips, "I'll text Derek to check up on him."
That seems to sooth Scott, and with everyone else, they all had one question in mind.
Why didn't Stiles tell them before?
Derek was frustrated.
Or, more in particular, Stiles frustrated Derek.
Isaac texted him a short while ago about Stiles absence, and now he's in his camero, driving to his house.
Derek sighed, and parked a block away, before he started to walk to the Stilinski home.
He could always hear Stiles heartbeat from a mile away, and it was oddly comforting, in the frustrating way.
He got closer to the house, and concentrated on Stiles heartbeat.
Stiles doesn't need to know what Derek does in his pass time.
Derek takes a deep breath in and stills.
There are two people in the house, one downstairs in the kitchen and one upstairs in Stiles' bedroom, and the Sheriff's cruiser is not in the parkway.
Derek doesn't recognize the scent of the other person, and he can't pinpoint it either.
He takes a guess that Stiles is the one in the bedroom and leaps to the window.
He enters the room and sees a stranger in Stiles' room.
Derek does the first thing that comes to mind.
He grabs the stranger by the shirt, pushes him to the wall, and snarls.
"Who the hell are you?!"
The stranger's eyes are wide behind his frames and chokes out loudly, "Cousin, come up here! There's a strange guy that came inside through your window!"
That wasn't English.
Derek hears a crash from the kitchen and feet racing up the stairs.
Stiles is breathing hard from the excursion as he opened the door, and looks between Matt and Derek in horror.
"Derek, let him go!"
Derek lets go of Matt, walks up to Stiles, grabs his shirt, pulls him to his chest, and growls, "Who the hell is he?"
Matt looks at his cousin and smirks.
"Stiles, I approve. Didn't know you fancy the other team, but nevertheless, I approve. I can leave while you and your three o'clock booty call 'talk'"
Derek has no idea what the hell the guy is saying but he doesn't like it by the sight of Stiles becoming red.
Maybe, he likes it a little bit.
He'll never admit it out loud, though.
Stiles swallows the rest of his blush down and grits out to Matt, "He isn't my 'booty call', Matthijs! Go down stairs while I talk to him."
Derek looks at Stiles in surprise.
That wasn't English, either.
What the hell?
Matt starts to walk out of the room, but says one thing before he walks out completely.
"Sure. I'll leave you guys to 'talk'."
The stupid bastard smiles all the way down the stairs.
Stiles looks at Derek with a sheepish smile and says, "So…what brings you to my homey adobe?"
Hi peeps! So if you guys don't know there is two of us involved in this story. I'm Peridot, who writes, and Amethyst, who draws (she's been lazy). We both conspire together to make the story's plot and what not :) on the comments it's either one of us!
Just a little author(s) intro :)