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Stiles yawns, moving his hand to cover it up, as he walks to the back of the coffee shop. He quickly removes his apron, and puts it away.
“Okay, Lydia, i'm leaving. You good to clean up on your own?” He asks the redhead, currently wiping down the counter.
“Yes, Stiles, just go. You better text me tonight, though. I was serious earlier. I am going to make you go out tomorrow with me and Jackson.”
“But, Lyds, you know I can't stand that douche bag.” Stiles whines, leaning against the counter, in front of the female.
“Don't care. Now get out of here before I make you mop the floors.”
Stiles stood up straighter, and walked to the doors, waving to the other worker, before walking outside. He opened the doors, and walked out. He grabbed his keys out of his pocket, as he walked to his car.
“Hey, Baby? You miss me?” He spoke quietly, moving his hand to caress the hood of his jeep. He cussed, noticing he left his window rolled down. He got inside, and quickly rolling up the window. Right as the window was up, it started to sprinkle. “Awesome.” He smirked, nodding, and put the key in the ignition.
He whistled as he drove down the street, only other sound being the rain. He yawned again, and heard it.
A faint squeak and scuttling.
Stiles slowed the car down a bit, and turned to look in his back seat. Something jumped onto his arm, and Stiles screamed, foot slipping onto the gas. The car collided with a tree, and could swear, right before passing out, he saw a squirrel climb onto the steering wheel, and jump out the window.
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“...ir?” Stiles groaned, something bright shining into his eyes. “Sir, are you alright? Sir?” Stiles closed his eyes tighter, trying to escape the light. The light was turned off, and Stiles heard the person start to walk away, probably back to their car.
“Dispatch, i'm gonna need a bus at...” The officer's voice became to quiet to hear as he walked further away.
Stiles groaned again, trying to sit up, and gasped in pain. His arm moved up to his forehead, and felt something slick and warm. He opened his door, cussing, his voice gravelly. He put a foot out, and almost fell, but was caught before he could hit the ground.
“Stiles?” He heard the man ask, voice familiar. “Jesus, Stiles, you should have stayed in the car.”
“'Dun wanna. Not comf'ble.” Stiles slurred.
“Of course not. Here, let me at least help you onto the ground. You need to lay down.” Stiles nodded, before once again losing consciousness.
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Stiles woke up, once again, light shining bright in his eyes. Though, this time, he heard a faint beeping.
He tried to open his eyes, but stopped, hissing in pain, light causing his head to hurt more.
“Stiles?”
“Light.” He croaked out.
The person moved out of the car they were perched in next to Stiles, and moved to dim the light.
Stiles slowly opened his eyes, happy to see the light dim. He looked around the room, finally noticing that he was in a hospital.
The cop, finally recognizing him as Deputy Peter Hale, held a cup of water for Stiles. He helped Stiles sit up, and take a few sips.
“What happened?” Stiles asked Peter.
“Was hoping you could tell me. All I know is that I was out, patrolling, and I saw your jeep lodged into a tree.”
“Shit, no, Betty.” Stiles gasped, trying to get out of bed.
“Stiles, calm down. The sheriff took the jeep to my nephews garage. He's gonna make sure it's back to it's original condition.” He said, hands on Stiles' shoulders. “Now, I need you to tell me what happened.”
“I don't know, man. All I know is I left work, got in the jeep, was driving, and then, I wasn't. I was attached to a tree and you were shining a bright ass light in my eyes. And did nobody ever tell you, don't shine giant ass flashlights at poor unconscious people with concussions? Because they really should have.”
“Stiles. What caused you to crash?” Peter asked, rolling his eyes at Stiles' rant.
“I don't.....” Stiles' voice drifted off, remembering why he crashed. “Fucking squirrels.” He mumbled.
“What was that? Did you say squirrel?”
“Yeah, dude, it was in the jeep. It attacked me!” Stiles said.
“You crashed because of a squirrel?” Peter snorted, hand coming up to try to hide his smirk.
“..... Are you laughing?” Stiles looked scandalized. “You know what? Fuck you, Peter. It is sometime after two in the god damned morning, I have a fucking concussion from crashing my jeep, am in the hospital, and you are a damn cop. Stop laughing and do your damn job!” Stiles glared at the offending officer.
Peter coughed, trying to stop the chuckles from escaping, but failed. Stiles grabbed the handheld device, and called for a nurse. A few seconds later, Peter still laughing, Melissa McCall walked in.
“Yes Stiles?” She raised an eyebrow at the scene. An officer of the law, almost in tears, laughing so hard, with Stiles shooting him looks that could kill.
“Punch this asshole in the face.” He said, still glaring at the officer. “Actually, give me something to throw at his ugly face.”
“You weren't saying it was ugly last night.” Peter smirked, finally calming his laughter, and wiped his eyes.
“You finally stop laughing, and it's to basically tell my step-mom i'm sleeping with you? That's it. Melissa, I need a phone. I have to call my dad, and Scott, and tell them to bring guns. This fucker's gonna die tonight.” He downed the last of his water, and threw the empty cup at Peter, who dodged it easily.
“Stiles, calm down. We already knew you two were seeing each other. You aren't exactly subtle. Now, get some rest, Stiles. I'll be back in two hours with pain medicine.” Melissa spoke, then turned, leaving a wide-eyed Peter, and a slack-jawed Stiles in her wake.
After a few moments of silence, Stiles' voice cuts through.
“Dad is gonna kick your ass.”