Chapter Text
Pale fingers gripped the edges of the marble counter top, nails trying desperately to dig straight through the polished stone. The tiny pink symbol mocked her from where it appeared, laughing at her stupidity and her fucked up unlucky streak that life just seemed to enjoy messing with.
“Stiles! Stiles, what’s going on!?”
The one time in her eighteen years of living she had had sex and this was the result. She had used a condom just like all those damned sex-ed classes taught her to! No matter how spur of the moment everything had been she thought she had been smart about it. She had always applauded herself on her ability to ignore her body’s urges and go through life safely and the one time she lets it all go this happens. Here was life, slapping her in the face once more.
"Stiles!?"
It wasn’t fair! Why had this happened to her? The amount of times she had been forced to listen to Scott and Lydia drone on about sex and none of them ever had to deal with this. Allison and Lydia had never cried over that stupid pink positive symbol.
Stiles could hear Scott’s voice, pleading with her, yelling to just tell me what the hell’s going on, but the roar of rushing blood and her pounding heart practically canceled out everything else around her.
“I’m… I’m pregnant.” As soon as the words left her mouth the panic that had been building up in her chest reached its full strength; clenching her lungs in a vice as she heaved into the sink, gasping for air and clutching at her shirt.
The phone that sat beside the test was a mess of noise that she couldn't process. She thought she could hear more than just Scott’s voice, but she could barely even comprehend his let alone whoever else was there.
She clenched her eyes shut, reaching down once more to grip at the bathroom counter; forcing herself to drag in uneven breaths, holding tight to the reflexive memory of the breathing techniques Melissa had taught her so many years ago. She was a little rusty with them, it had been years since she needed to use them and her lungs were still struggling to just fucking work. She hadn't had one this bad since just after the Nogitsune. That was two years ago.
For years she’d fought off panic attacks with the help of the pack. Of Scott and Lydia, and Derek, even. She always had someone there to hold her hand and to focus on, to match the gasping breaths with.
But here, she only had herself in the tiny cramped apartment. There was nobody this far north in California to run their fingers through her growing hair, or smile at her when she finally got a full breath in through her throat.
“Stiles, focus on me. Okay, listen, your dad, he had a salad for lunch yesterday! Without anyone even telling him to. He didn’t even get the extra dressing! He did it on his own and he didn’t pick out the tomatoes.” Allison’s voice flooded through the speaker phone, filling the room with rushed stories of the sheriff’s commitment to finally crack down on himself without his daughter there to badger and poke at him. Stiles tried to focus on how her voice dipped and dragged on, barely processing the words as her eyes snapped open and she watched her chest rising and sinking dramatically in the mirror.
It took a few minutes and by the time Stiles could breathe comfortably Allison had moved on to telling Stiles things she remembered that they had done over the summer together. She was regaling the tale of how her, Stiles, and Isaac had spent hours wrapping Scott’s room in tin foil while he had been at work, only to have him come home for lunch and ruin everything.
The brunette cracked a smirk at the memory. She could remember perfectly how Scott had gone from horribly confused, to infuriated, to downright laughing on the floor at the sight of Isaac practically wrapped from the waist up in the metallic wrapping. Allison had said it would be easier to roll everything out already, and from then on they had just laid it out all over Isaac for better access.
“--… Stiles?”
“Yeah, yeah. I’m.” She cut off, grabbing the phone and slumping down onto the toilet, wiping away at the tears that lingered on her cheeks.
“Stiles. You have to tell him.” Scott’s voice returned, hesitant and quiet. Stiles shook her head, pressing her free palm to her forehead, feeling at the sweat that began to gather.
“No--. No, I-.”
“Yes, Stiles! You can’t just keep something like this a secret—“
“Yes I can!" She all but hissed. "He left, Scott. You call him then, maybe he’ll fucking answer!” The line was quiet, and once again Stiles was only left listening to her own ragged breathing. She stopped, closing her mouth and forcing herself to breathe through her nose. “I’m sorry.”
“No, no.” Allison, this time. “Stiles, we. I’m sorry this is happening, okay? But, you can’t do this by yourself.” Something in the other girl’s tone had a sudden flare of anger rising in her chest. “I mean, you’ll have us. And your dad, hell, Melissa too. But Stiles you have to tell him.”
Another long pause ensued, and Stiles knew they were just waiting for her to snap or start up again with another panic attack. Instead she just sighed, clenched her teeth and pushed the hair back from her face. It was short still, just a pixie cut, but her bangs had gotten long at this point, sometimes falling right into her eyes.
“Fine.” Despite her best efforts her voice still shook. “Fine.” Stiles repeated with a little more conviction.
She could practically feel Scott's sigh on the other end.
“We’ll be right here, Stiles. I promise. Call us back as soon as you get him.” Stiles ended the call, taking a few more seconds to just stare across the counter again.
Her finger hesitated over his name, thumb twitching and her palms sweating when she finally pressed the little green call button and held the phone up to her ear. It rang once, twice, a third time.
“The voicemail box of the person you are trying to reach-“
She hung up, squeezing the phone between her fingers and biting back down on a curse. Again.
“The voicemail box-“
Again.
“The voicemail-“
“FUCK!!” The phone bounced off the wall, crashing down to the floor with an audible crack. Stiles stood up, biting hard enough at her bottom lip that she could taste the familiar metallic tang of blood. She glared daggers at the test before snatching it up and breaking it in half before throwing it into the trash can.
Fine. She could do this. She could be a mother on her own. Fuck him. Fuck him and everything he fucking stood for! How could he just screw her and leave like that? Skip town again without so much as a note, a text, anything!
She didn’t need him. She didn’t need him to be a good mother to their child. He would never see a damn hair on the kids head if she had anything to say about it!
Derek could rot in hell for all she cared.