Legal Disclaimer: I own my stuff, but not the original source material. That belongs to whoever. Also, the opinions and interpretations I use here may not reflect the same in said whoever that owns the source material. Look, I'm just a poor college librarian. Suing me isn't going to get you anything but tears.
Warning: This work may be offensive to some readers. Additionally, there are references to Claudia's canon health issues, including the aggression towards Stiles. Feel free to back out if need be.
Author's Note: [drops a bunch of plot all over the place] Oops. Also sorry, not sorry about the Claudia sad. Maybe Noah being awesome will make up for it? Also, the next finished section is a real heartrender, too. Just as forewarning.
Submitting Info:
Stacked with: Quidditch League (Post S10); Hogwarts 2.0 (Term 01); RAVEN (2023); MC4A (Wi-Y6)
Individual Challenges: Red Instead (Y); Straight Outta Myth (Y); Condiment Shelf; Missing Link; Pet Food; Me Matey; Vegetable Broth; Coupons; Gift Wrapped; Fruit Stand; Quaffles; Bludgers; Purple Scholar; Feather Head; Polygon; Mercy General (Y); Colors of the Sky; Magical MC [x2]; No School MC; New Fandom Smell (Y); Cinematic; Binger; Alpha & Omega; Feathers & Such; Tiny Terror; Tossed Chum [x3]; Nonhuman MC; Shifter MC; Ethnic & Present; Neurodivergent; Rian-Russo Inversion; Short Jog; Bucket Listing; The Story Goes On; Eating Cake (Y); Exchange (Y); Greatest Gift; Green Ribbon; Two Cakes (Y); Vial Collector; Ship Sails; Claimed; Zed Era; Rainbow Connection; Hold the Mayo
Hogwarts House: Ravenclaw
Assignment: Term 01-08
Subject [Task (Prompt)]: Global Warming [Task#2 (choosing to ignore the warning signs about something or someone)]
Other Hogwarts Challenges: Gather [Bonus (Cleric)](hurt/comfort);
Post Season QL Challenges: Bingo [D2](Love Triangle)
RAVEN Challenges: Colors [55](Ginger); Items [51](Flip Flops); Settings [79](Humid)
Other MC4A Challenges: Ship (n/a)[SpMic1 (Omegaverse); FaMic1 (Fusion/Crossover); WiMic1 (Fusion/Crossover); WiMed2 (Hospital/Medical Ward); WiMic2 (Blue); 2C (Public Declaration)]; Chim [Bugwort]("The Anonymous Ones" – Dear Evan Hansen; Turned Left Instead AU; Race Bend); Hunt [Fa WD (Middle Eastern); Wi WD (Dementia); Wi Items (Uniform)]; Fire [x3](Just Keep Stimming); Garden [Service Sector (Cuddling/Snuggling); Zinnias (Prussian Blue); Pot Garden (Solarium); Aya's Hexadic Blend (Crossover/Fusion); Remember (Night); Network (Purple)]; Harvest [A&B (Cuddling/Snuggling; Lying); AUs (Pre-Canon Divergence); C&CT (Adult; Child; Muslim); Descriptions (Plum); Items (Restraints); R&E (Doctor & Patient); Settings (Greenhouse/Solarium)]; Hang [Phrase2](n/a); Soup [N (Night)]; Shop [ReCu (Islam)]; Swap [Shoes (Leather Flip Flops)]
Representation(s): Noah Stilinski/Claudia Stilinski & Mieczysław "Stiles" Stilinski; Omegaverse AU; Alpha Claudia; Beta Noah; Hospital; Frontotemporal Dementia;
Primary & Secondary Bonus Challenges: Red Night; Esbat; Hot Stuff; Mermaid; Second Verse (Persistence Still; Nontraditional; Middle Name; Nightgale; Spinning Plates; Unwanted Advice; Brooms Only; For the Vine; Lovely Coconuts; Trickster's Union; Lyre Liar; Most Human Bean; Muck & Slime; Hot Apple; Dog Star; Under the Bridge); Chorus (Odd Feathers; Pocky Pockets; Wabi Sabi; Machismo; Peddling Pots; Mouth of Babes; Tomorrow's Shade; A Long Dog; Larger than Life; Unicorn; Creature Feature; Abandoned Ship; Head of Perseus; In the Trench; Surprise!; Turtle-Duck; Sitting Hummingbird)
Tertiary & Generic Bonus Challenges: T3 (Tether); SN (Rail; Negate); FR (Gestation); O3 (Ox); SHoE (Onus); AC (Sacrosanct; Tactile; Orchard; Rampant); War (Obstruction; Sanctuary; Ennui); TY (Enfant); Mea (Ennui; Bisect; Rampant); Wings (Bower); Share (Nepenthe; Dragoman; Augur); DP (Yearn)
Space Address (Prompt): AU [5B](Lycantrophy); FaB [2A](Mystery); Set [4D](Quarantine); Wi [5C](Blanket); Vocab [2D](Gumption);
Word Count: 1247 words
(^^)
Small Things
(^^)
Mischief knew when he had first started school that he was not like most of the other boys in his class. It went beyond just being smarter (he learned quick to hide just how much in order to avoid being picked on) or how much harder it seemed to be for him to sit still. It wasn't even that no other than annoying Cora Hale seemed to be bothered by how the lights buzzed constantly (and she was able to ignore it most of the time).
He was smaller than most of them for one thing. The only boys smaller than him were Scott McCall and Jackson Whittemore. And that wasn't even true after winter break! Both boys had returned slightly bigger in different ways. Scott had only gained an inch in height but his shoulders had gotten wider. Jackson hadn't gained any width but he was three inches taller. (He still wasn't big enough that Mischief couldn't get Scott's inhaler back from him. He hadn't even needed Annoying Cora's help, no matter what she tried to claim.) Mischief could remember complaining to his mother about how unfair it was to be the smallest boy in kindergarten.
"Just remember, my Mischief," his mother told him as she snuggled with him on the extra deep couch in the orangery attached to the back of the house. Her leather flip flops had long since been discarded off to the side of the ginger and Prussian blue monstrosity (still so comfy, though). She blew raspberries against his neck to make him giggle. "Some of the best things come in small packages."
"Like cookies!"
"Just so," Mama agreed before tweaking his nose, "and also pierogi."
"And dynamite!"
"Yes, kitling." She kissed the tip of his nose which always made his eyes cross. "Dynamite, too."
(^^)
It wasn't until after his mother had gotten sick enough that his parents couldn't hide it from him any longer that Mischief had finally gotten a clue to why he was likely different than the other boys in his age group. No one really talked about dynamics, at least not in the small town of Beacon Hills. Sex and gender were only in the most perfunctory way necessary to explain which bathroom they were expected to use while at school. Or maybe it was covered but Mischief just hadn't paid attention because there were so many other things to learn.
(Daddy's eye had twitched when Mischief recited the ways to make napalm from things around the house, but he didn't take away the big red book that Mischief had gotten from the library in Redding when they had stopped in after Shabbat services.)
Mischief had noticed things, of course. Like how Scott's mother had a slight sweetness to her personal scent that got stronger every three months around the same time that Scott would come stay with them for a few days. Or his own mother had a sharpness to hers that dug into him like claws whenever she got upset with him, which had become increasingly common as she got sicker.
"Do you know what your son's dynamic is?" Dr. Ikthar asked Mischief's father a little ways down the hall from the room where they had his mother sedated and restrained to her hospital bed. (That wasn't fair. Mama hadn't meant to hurt him. She just wasn't herself. She was sick. It wasn't her fault.) Mischief peeked carefully through the slight gap between the door and its frame. He could only see his dad whose uniform was so rumpled and his face was so pale that looked like he might be sick himself. The very idea made Mischief cold inside.
"You know nothing's certain until presentation," Daddy said. He rubbed his hand over his face like he did when he had had a particularly hard shift at the station. "But Claudia is fairly confident that he's gonna be an omega."
"Male omegas are very rare," Dr. Ifteqar said with the same amount of caution as someone trying to navigate a laser grid. Mischief bet that he would have been allowed to make a real one and not one with strings instead of lasers. The world was so unfair. "The offspring of an alpha and a beta isn't likely to be an omega at all. To be a male omega would be exceedingly improbable, even with an alpha female as a bearer."
"He's been throwing curve balls since before he was born." Daddy's expression hardened like it did whenever he was going to dig in his heels on something. Dr. Ifteqar definitely wasn't going to be allowed real lasers, not even ones couldn't burn things. "If you're suggesting that my wife was unfaithful—"
"Not at all," Dr. Ifteqar interrupted. A part of Mischief wanted to bite the man for his gumption. How dare he lie and be so obvious about it?! "However, I do recommend doing basic genetic testing. Your wife's condition is possibly inheritable. Best to check, just to be sure. This is not a accusation, Mr. Stilinski, but checking familial DNA at the same time wouldn't be amiss. Just to rule out any unexpected abnormalities."
"He's my son," Daddy said between gritted teeth. A little ball of something got stuck in Mischief's throat. It felt like Mama had her hands wrapped around his throat again. He couldn't breathe. "I was there when he was born, and I'm listed on his birth certificate. No DNA test required; that's my kid. Got it?"
Mischief watched as his father's face went through a series of complicated changes that Mischief couldn't interpret. He wished that he could see the doctor's face, but his angle just wasn't right. Eventually, the doctor gave a forceful sigh.
"I wish that I could give you a better prognosis," Dr. Ifteqar said, apparently dropping the topic, "but acts of aggression are likely to continue to escalate as her brain deteriorates. It is not uncommon in dementia patients. Unfortunately, children are especially vulnerable, especially unpresented omega children. I believe it might be time to consider moving Claudia into long term care outside of the home."
"I don't know, Doc," his father said. He rubbed his hand over his mouth. "I don't want to separate them." He let out a sharp laugh. "I don't think I could even if I wanted to. He has a way of slipping into places regardless of security measures when he's determined. I definitely can't have my eight-year-old exposed to some place like Eichen House."
"The long term care ward attached to the hospital is equipped to handle both aggression and the deterioration," Dr. Ifteqar countered, "perhaps even better than Eichen House would be, all things considered."
Growing bored, Mischief turned away from the door. He crawled onto the wide hospital bed beside his mother just as he would if they had been at home. It took a couple of breaths before the tension melted out himself and his unconscious mother.
He was fast asleep when his father returned and pulled the scratchy blanket up over them. Then Noah Stilinski sat in the visitor chair and watched as the collar of bruises around Mieczysław's neck deepened briefly into plum before fading away just as quickly.
He kept a silent vigil over his wife and his son as the sky outside the window briefly lit up with fireworks from the display the city put on to celebrate the New Year.
It was already shaping up to be one hellish year.