whatisastiles: (this is my trustworthy face)
Elsewhere in the country, students might dream about a snow day delaying their return to school in January, but Stiles has lived in Beacon Hills, where the temperatures seldom fall below freezing, his whole life, so he grew out of hoping for snow a long time ago. He expected to spend his last night of freedom at home with his Dad. Dad would watch college bowl games on TV while Stiles finished his winter break homework—he's only halfway through reading The Metamorphosis—while providing commentary on why lacrosse is superior to football.

It's after dark on Tuesday evening when ESPN's halftime commentary is interrupted by Dad's ringing phone. He glances briefly at the caller's name on display before answering, "Sheriff Stilinski."

Now clearly in Sheriff mode, Dad frowns, then leaves the room. Stiles knows that's a clear symbol that something serious is going on, because Dad only ever tries to hide the good stuff. This isn't just shoplifters at the 7-Eleven. As soon as he's sure Dad's not looking, Stiles slides his book onto the coffee table and stalks after him as quietly as possible. Dad's pacing the kitchen, but if Stiles stands just to the side of the doorway, Dad shouldn't see him. Not for the first time, he's thankful that Dad keeps the volume on his phone so loud. It's just loud enough that Stiles can follow most of the conversation.

Some of the world's dumbest joggers—the deputy doesn't use those exact words, but they went jogging in the Preserve after dark, so it's apt—found a dead body in the woods. Or, more accurately, half a dead body. They think it's a woman, probably in her 20s, possibly murdered, definitely gruesome looking.

As Dad puts in a call to the state police requesting extra manpower to look for the other half of the victim, Stiles retreats back to the couch. He props his feet on the coffee table casually and feigns interest in his book. Even if he hadn't listened in on the conversation, it wouldn't be surprising when Dad comes back into the room and apologizes that he's been called back in to work. Stiles is the only son of the Sheriff, so he's used to shit like this cutting into Stilinski bonding time.

Scott has to hear about this. Dad's barely out the door before Stiles is pulling out his phone to alert his best friend. Why isn't Scott answering? The night is still young, and they've got half a dead woman to find!

whatisastiles: (but also all the scary shit don't go in)
Stiles Stilinski has a very active imagination. Nobody, least of all his parents, is surprised when their six year old son says there's an intergalactic restaurant in his closet, and it was awesome Mom, and the pancakes were almost as good as yours, and there's even a lake outside and he fell in and that's why his clothes are kinda wet, and he met Batman.

It's just that they don't actually believe it's true.

Which, okay, so there aren't really ghosts in the McCall's attic, and just because Mrs. Alvarez who lives next door has a black cat doesn't actually mean she was a witch and he and Scott didn't actually hurt the cat, okay, and, no, Stiles, for the last time, there aren't wolves in California and so, no, they're not out there howling at the full moon, but this is real! There really IS a restaurant in his closet.

I mean, not really in the closet. The closet door is just the entrance. And it's only there sometimes. Inconveniently, never at any of the times he's tried to show anyone.

But whatever, what do his parents and Scott know? Milliways is awesome, whether they believe him or not. It doesn't show up often—usually his closet is just full of t-shirts and sneakers and the red suitcase on wheels he basically only ever uses when they go to visit his grandparents—but over the years Stiles is a regular, if infrequent, visitor.

Until he isn't, and that's okay. Starting high school is rough enough, especially when your Stiles Stilinski, always a little weird, a little distracted, a little hyperactive, and still missing his mom like crazy—not that he will ever, ever say that out loud. He has friends, he does, though most of them are Scott, but he doesn't really need to push the weird envelope by sneaking off to a place that he's long since given up on trying to convince anyone is real.

High school isn't bad, though. Lydia Martin's in a bunch of his classes, and even though she never notices him, being around her is still pretty awesome. A guy's gotta start somewhere, right? (Scott thinks Stiles should set his sights a little lower, but Stiles insists one day Lydia will fall in love with him.) They play JV lacrosse and discover that it's a lot harder playing on a team than just tossing balls at each other in the backyard, but it's a lot of fun, and they're determined to make varsity next year. They both make the honor roll, which is reassuring to both Sheriff Stilinski and Mrs. McCall and assures that they'll actually be allowed to play sports again next year.

The summer after freshman year they start the most ill-advised lawn care business ever. Between Stiles's lack of focus and Scott's asthma, it's a miracle they make any money at all. Luckily some of the neighbors take pity on them and hire them to cut lawns and plant flowers, even if their work is slapshod and inefficient. It's not like Stiles can be blamed that when Scott wraps a bandana around his face he looks straight out of a Western and they have to stop to have a standoff in the the noonday sun.

So things are pretty good. Beacon Hills still isn't the most exciting town in California, but it's home. Anyway, Stiles has plans to make sure that sophomore year will be more eventful and more socially rewarding—and, no, he won't be deterred by the rumors that Lydia is dating Jackson #@*$(! Whittemore—than last year, so help him. All he's gotta do is convince Scott of the genius of his plans, and they're golden.

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Stiles Stilinski

January 2015

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