Chapter Text
Stiles pulled his coat a little tighter around him, scanning the diminishing line of cars for the sight of a police cruiser. By the way the teachers on curbside duty kept checking their watches, he had the feeling it was nearing the dreaded 3:45 mark. This was the third time this week he was going to be stuck in aftercare and he was sick of it. He wasn’t friends with any of the other kids whose parents usually picked them up late, and the teachers in charge of aftercare were grumpy, mean and always yelled at him for running on the tarmac.
A quick glance back at the big clock on top of Beacon Hills Elementary told him it was 3:39. Stiles watched the teachers rounding up the other stray kids and dug his nails into the bench, his legs kicking out stubbornly. No. His dad had six more minutes to get here and Stiles wasn’t going to let the school charge them for another day of aftercare service by going in early.
A pair of adult tennis shoes attached to adult legs made their way over to him and he pretended to be fascinated with a trail of ants marching across the cement. Nope. He wasn’t going anywhere. Not happening.
“Stiles?” The voice was familiar, but not because it was one of his teachers, and he jerked his head up to see Mrs. McCall looking down at him in concern. This was more than a little surprising since he’d just seen her drive away fifteen minutes ago. “Honey, where’s your dad?”
“He’s–” Stiles almost said working, but Mrs. McCall was giving him that look of hers that says she wasn’t about to buy any of his crap. “I dunno…” He muttered, kicking his heels into the underside of the bench.
Mrs. McCall purses her lips the way she does whenever she’s considering whether she should lecture him for something. “Was he supposed to pick you up today?”
She was angry, but at his dad, not him. Stiles wasn’t honestly sure that was better. Nobody should have been mad at his dad for anything. “Yeah,” Stiles admitted and Mrs. McCall’s lips thinned for a second before marching over to the teachers.
Three minutes and a lengthy argument about carpool lists later, Mrs. McCall was ushering him into the backseat of her minivan where Scott was waiting for him with wide eyes and a nervous smile. “Hi!” His best friend waved frantically at him like they hadn’t seen each other for years instead of, well, eighteen minutes. “I’m watching Lord of the Rings,” Scott said, pointing to the backseat dvd player. “Do you want me to start it over?”
“Yeah,” Stiles nodded even though he wasn’t allowed to see any PG-13 rated movies until he was ten. But Scott’s parents and his pare- his dad didn’t really talk that much, so Stiles was able to watch all the scary movies he wanted to at Scott’s house, and Scott could eat all the junk food he ever dreamed of at Stiles’s. It was a good system if he did say so himself.
He was so completely absorbed in the movie that he didn’t notice they weren’t heading toward Scott’s house until they were practically pulling into his own driveway. Alarm bells started going off in his head and he moved to unbuckle his seat belt. “Mrs. McCall? What are we doing here?”
She turned back to them with a tight smile. “Just stay in the car and watch the movie, boys. I’ll be right back.”
Stiles watched her head up to his house and go in through the front door. His stomach twisted into nervous knots. Dad always locked the front door. Always. As soon as Mrs. McCall was out of sight, he pulled up on the door lock and slid open the door.
Scott’s head shot around. “Mom said to stay in the car!” He hissed, looking around nervously.
“I’m just gonna see if I can hear anything, I’ll be right back.” Stiles insisted, jumping out of the car and hoping Scott wouldn’t follow him. His heart pounded in his chest as he went up his porch steps and stepped closer to the front door, which was open just a crack. Through it, he could hear Mrs. McCall’s voice raised in anger.
“…Scott told me this is the third time this has happened this week. This week! You are not allowed to do this. I am so sorry for your loss, Deputy, I really am, but you can’t just disappear. You have a child! You have a son who needs you! He needs you to be there for him and if you don’t stop this you’re going to lose him. If you keep doing this–” There was a crashing noise like breaking glass from deep within the house and Stiles flinched. “–then he’s going to be taken from you, do you understand?”
Mrs. McCall stopped shouting for a second and Stiles thought he heard the low murmur of his dad’s voice. He edged open the door and took a few steps inside but still couldn’t hear what he said.
“No, Deputy, I would never.” Mrs. McCall empathetically replied to whatever his dad had said. “You are a wonderful father, I know you’re a wonderful father, but you need to be there for him. And in order to do that, you have stop this.” His dad mumbled something indecipherable. “I know. I know it’s not easy and that’s why I’m offering you my help. Let me be here for you and Stiles. If you don’t feel like cooking I’ll bring over a meal. If you can’t pick him up from school, let me know and he can come home with us. I can even be sort of an unofficial sponsor if you want. But please, please let me help you because that child out there needs you. He needs you to be his father and not leave him waiting all alone on the curb. Let me be your friend, John.”
They continued talking in lower voices and eventually Stiles gave up on overhearing them. He wiped at his eyes and running nose so that Scott wouldn’t be able to tell he’d started crying, before tiptoeing out of the house, carefully closing the front door so that it was like he’d found it, and getting back in the car.
Scott, being the thoughtful friend that he was, had paused the movie. “You okay?”
Stiles nodded without thinking. “Yeah.” He gave Scott a carefree smile. “I think my mom and your dad are friends now.”
“Dude, that’s awesome!” Scott blurted out, returning the grin. “If they’re friends, that means you can come over to my house and I can come over to your house and we can have sleepovers even more now! This is gonna be so great! I can’t wait for–”
He stopped talking, eyes widening in warning and Stiles craned around in his seat to see Mrs. McCall marching toward the car with red puffy eyes and a stern expression. She pulled open the backseat door, reached over Stiles, and ejected the DVD, ignoring the cries of protest from both boys.
“Stiles, your dad says you’re not allowed to watch Lord of the Rings.” Mrs. McCall informed him in a tone that clearly said you are both so busted. Then she shut the door again and marched right back inside the house, leaving Stiles and Scott to stare at each other, horrified.
“Oh crap.” Stiles said after a minute, voicing the terrible realization they’d both come to. “We’re never going to get away with anything ever again, are we?”