Chapter Text
It was a Saturday.
The first day of his last Spring break as a student of St Charles Academy, Newport, Oregon. Stiles Stilinski was on his way to his hometown. A hometown he had almost forgotten about since his moving from California to Oregon. His father had been named Sheriff in Newport at the end of his 8th grade. He abandoned his home, his school and his friends.
Well, he had only one friend there; Scott McCall. Again, Stiles didn't think he could call the dark-haired boy a friend anymore. At first, they exchanged some emails and texts, but they stopped after a couple of months when Stiles started making friends in Oregon, while, Stiles supposed, Scott had carried on with his life.
Stiles was not ecstatic about the prospect of going back here. The town where he lost his mother, where schoolmates had bullied him and a city where the crime rate was abnormally high for such a tiny city. It was blessed when his father announced that they were moving to a quiet little city close to the ocean.
But, he insisted on coming back to Beacon Hill. Not for the good time's sake, but because he needed a calm and quiet place to study for his finals and prepare for his future life as a Berkeley student next September.
So right now, he was on a train going to Beacon Hill, not knowing or expecting anything from this short trip of a thousand miles (at least!).
When he arrived at Beacon Bill Central Station, Deputy Jordan Parrish greeted him. Well, Sheriff Parrish since the prior Monday. His father trained him before they left, and since then, he was living in the Stilinski old house that his dad was renting him at a friendly price. Jordan was more family than coworker at that point, always calling Stiles for his birthdays, sending him Gifts for Christmas and always an attentive ear to listen to Stiles rants. That's what Stiles did two days prior when he asked Jordan if he could crash there for a week. Of course, he accepted - only after asking his dad.
It was the first time they've seen each other in four years, and of course, people change in four years. But the new Sheriff was... big? Jordan had always been a big fit guy, but like some Greek God statue with muscles shaping his uniforms, heavily influencing Stiles sexual awaking. But now, there was a substantial belly hugged in an even tighter uniform. The statuesque Jordan he had remembered, always in a quest to enforce the law, looked like the parody of an overfed policeman, chasing the doughnuts instead of criminals, which was surprising given the city's records on security. He was not colossal per se, but he was at least 250 pounds, classing him directly in the overweight category.
"Hey, kiddo!" The Sheriff greeted him with a big smile accentuating his double chin and pulling him into a bear hug. "I'm so glad to see you. How are you? How was your trip?"
"It was so long, Sheriff", Stiles moaned, exaggerating. "But I'm pretty hungry, and I bet you cooked me a perfect diner at yours."
"Haha! Well, I just got out of work, actually, so no big guy."
Stiles wondered who he was calling big guy, given the blonde man had a good hundred pounds on Stiles, but he still enjoyed the contact of the softer but still firm body that was hugging him. Stiles grinned at the older man insisting that he needed food after such a long journey.
"Well, let's get out of here. We'll call for delivery at home. They are pretty quick when The Sheriff asks".
"Oh, I bet they do," Stiles said, following the bigger man to the cruiser.
Stiles realised it might have been rude to point out his weight gain, but Jordan laughed and the cruiser's door. "Don't mind the mess", he warned, "Had to eat in the car today."
It was hard to disregard empty boxes of pastries filling a good part of the back seats. Stiles supposed Jordan had accumulated the containers because of a busy schedule; however, given the round stomach he was now sporting, the young Sheriff could have been able to polish them off during his shift.
Jordan started to make some extra room for the teenager when he realised he had forgotten a chocolate eclair. He quickly pushed the whole pastry in his mouth, making his round cheeks bulging out.
"I'll take you there soon", he told Stiles after gulping down, "Best bakery of the county", he continued as he was already turning on the car and pulling out of the parking slot. "It's Talia Hale. Do you remember her?" he asked, making eye contact with Stiles in the mirror. "She opened it few months after your departure. She and her wife have real talent. All the other city bakeries went bust, her brother bought them, and they have a pretty good business." He told Stiles, who was trying to remember the Hales.
Yes, it was the golden family of Beacon Hill with a good fortune and a mansion on the Preserve side. People of Beacon Hill also knew them for the terrible tragedy they had suffered, ending the life of most of the members of the family. It had been one of the many reasons why the Stilinkis had left town. Stiles could remember Talia's kids, a boy and two girls, despite never interacting with them. It was a surprised Talia had remarried, especially with another woman. Not that it was a problem, and, as Jordan had said, if they were that good with pastries, people would not mind.