Chapter Text
“Do you remember when summer vacation used to mean being on a break and not having to do anything?” Stiles asks anyone who will answer.
“I always worked during the summers,” Boyd answers, nose in a book.
Stiles snorts and raises an eyebrow. “Really? How about middle school? When you were in middle school you worked?”
“Paper route. Baby-sitting. No time to slack off,” the wolf answers with a grin.
“Well, I for one miss middle school. Didn’t have to do anything all day, could sleep late and then watch TV or play video games.” He sighs loudly and runs a finger down the page of the book in front of him. “First year of high school, too. Did a few chores and stuff, but didn’t have to do summer reading lists or this…stuff.”
Lydia looks up from her laptop and replies, “Some of us like taking summer courses, Stiles. It means we’ll graduate sooner. And in your case, since Chico State doesn’t offer courses in being an emissary, it means you have to study during the summer.”
“Hmm,” he snorts. “I didn’t think emissary training would be all reading. I thought that I’d get to do some spell work or something.”
“Deaton probably doesn’t want you to blow anything up, even yourself. Theory then practice,” Boyd says ignoring another snort from Stiles.
Stiles’ phone rings and he jumps to answer it. “Hey, Dad, what’s up?”
“You busy, Stiles? I need you down here as soon as you can,” his father answers and Stiles can hear the worry in his voice.
Boyd and Lydia both look up, hearing the Sheriff and seeing Stiles’ posture stiffen.
He shuts his book and shoves it in his backpack along with the shirt he removed earlier. “I can be right down, I’ll leave now. Are you okay?”
“I’m fine, Stiles, it’s…can you bring someone with you? Like Scott or Derek?”
Stiles looks around the room and says, “Like Scott or Derek? They’re not around, does it have to be them or just someone like them?”
“Whoever’s available is fine.”
“I’ll see who’s around,” he answers, looking at Boyd with an eyebrow raised. “See you soon.”
“Can’t, man.” Boyd shakes his head. “Scott’s orders, I’m supposed to stay here and wait for Isaac and Erica to report back on whatever was down at the train station.”
Stiles sighs and picks up his phone, ready to call one of the other pack members when there’s a hand on his shoulder.
“Is there something you need, Stiles?” Peter whispers in his ear.
“Jesus, do you have to do that?” He rubs his chest and mutters about heart failure and zombies while digging his keys out of his pocket. “You coming?” he calls over his shoulder and sees Peter smirk.
“As you wish,” Peter replies. He smiles at Boyd and Lydia on the way out, ignoring the glare from both of them.
“Okay, you’re here to be helpful, so behave yourself, because you know my Dad has lots of wolfsbane bullets,” Stiles says over his shoulder when they’re walking into the Sheriff’s department. He stops when he sees Peter’s stopped, looking around the lobby and subtly sniffing the air. “What? What’s wrong?”
“I’m not sure; it’s odd. Let’s go find your father.”
“He’s okay?” Stiles asks quietly, stepping closer to Peter.
Peter runs a quick hand down Stiles’ back and smiles before he says, “He’s fine, Stiles. And he has company.”
Stiles knocks as he enters his dad’s office, Peter following close behind. His father and Deputy Parrish are standing by the desk, looking at a baby. A crying baby, sitting in a car seat.
“Hey, Dad,” Stiles says, giving his dad a one-armed hug while he looks at the baby. “Who’s your friend?”
“I was hoping you could tell me. Or you’d bring someone who could tell me,” he says, giving Peter a skeptical look.
Peter scratches his neck and shrugs. “It looks like a baby. It’s not my baby, if that’s what you’re thinking.”
The sheriff and Stiles both turn and look at him. “No one thinks that. But he is …” he whispers, “he’s something, isn’t he?”
Stiles steps forward and looks at the baby. “Why do you think that? Where did he come from?”
“Melissa McCall brought him over. Someone left him in the ER this morning, just like this, in his seat and with a bag of some supplies.” Parrish pulls a small diaper bag off the Sheriff’s chair and hands it to Stiles. “It’s just a few diapers and some baby formula. And a stuffed toy,” he says, holding up a stuffed bunny. The baby reaches out and whimpers, stuffing the bunny’s feet in his mouth when Parrish gives it to him.
“And a note,” Andrew says, picking up a piece of paper from his desk and handing it to Stiles.
“’I can’t do this,’” he reads. “’Please take care of him. I can’t keep him safe.’ Okay, so why’d she bring him here and not send him to social services or something?”
“One of the nurses who found him said that his eyes looked weird in the light. Melissa says she saw them flash, so she tried to call Scott and couldn’t get him, so she brought him here,” Andrew says and looks at the baby, who is chewing on the bunny’s ears. “What do you think?” he asks Peter.
Peter steps forward and leans over the desk, studying the baby. He cups the boy’s cheek and then flashes his eyes, a cold, bright blue. The baby makes a noise like a giggle and flashes his own hazel eyes back at Peter. “Interesting. I’d say he’s a fox.”
Stiles turns white and croaks out, “A fox? That’s a fox?”
“Don’t worry. He’s not a kitsune or a nogitsune, just a simple werefox.” Peter looks back at the baby and pokes him gently with a finger, getting a smile and gurgle. “You don’t see a lot of werefoxes; they’re solitary. They don’t live in packs, just with their immediately family.”
“Sure, if you say so,” Stiles says and looks at the smiling baby suspiciously. “So Dad, what are you planning on doing with him?”
Andrew shakes his head and shrugs. “Honestly, I don’t have a lot of ideas. I just know that he can’t go into regular foster care. It wouldn’t be safe for him and I’m thinking it could come back to the pack. So until we figure out what to do with him long term, we need to figure out the short term.”
“What’s your short term plan then?”
His father smiles and picks up the diaper bag, handing it to Stiles. “Well, kid, you’re off school and decided you don’t need a summer job, so until we figure out what to do with him, I think your job is baby-sitter.”
Stiles sighs and looks at the baby who gives him a toothless grin. Other than the way he’s chewing on his bunny, he looks harmless, but nothing in Beacon Hills ever really is. “Really? Me? How old is he?”
Andrew shrugs and says, “A couple of months? I’m trying to remember what you looked like when you were a baby. So far, he’s quieter than you were.”
“That age seems about right,” Peter says and waves a finger in front of the baby, watching as he reaches out to grab it. “Weres develop faster than human children, so probably two to three months.”
“You’ve babysat kids before, Stiles, you know what to do. And there’s some of your baby stuff in the attic – crib and a high chair, stuff like that.” Andrew scratches his head and nudges the carrier closer to Stiles. “You’ll both be safer if you’re tucked away at home.”
“We’ll look through the tapes from the ER and see if we can determine who dropped him off, but it was crowded this morning.” Parrish studies the baby and then looks towards Stiles, shaking his head. “Not sure what we’ll get, with the crowd. Plus, do we give a supernatural baby back to someone who abandoned him in the first place?”
Stiles looks down at the giggling baby and says, “You really think I’m the best bet for this kid? I didn’t babysit any real babies.”
Andrew says, “For right now, I think you’re available and you’ll keep him safe.” He looks over at Peter and asks, “Will you be around? Or maybe Derek’s available?”
“I’m not sure of his schedule, but he’s not one for children, especially not babies. I’ll be able to help Stiles get the little one settled in. I know how to take care of a child,” Peter answers, picking up the baby’s carrier and handing it to Stiles. “Meet me out back, I’ll pull the car around.”
Stiles snorts and pulls the carrier closer to him, looking at the little shifter. “You taking care of a baby? Like that’s safe? You shouldn’t be around adults, let alone a harmless little baby. Like a baby’d be safe with you…”
“Stiles. Stiles…” Andrew says, trying to interrupt.
“Maybe I can find Scott or Erica. Or Allison, she seems kind of maternal or something. More than me or Peter at least.”
Peter shrugs and quietly says, “I’ll be outside. Hurry, please.”
“Dad? Really? Peter and me and a baby?”
Andrew sighs and says, “Stiles, Peter had a child. He had a two year old who died in the fire. He does know about babies and maybe you should try to remember that.”
“Oh. Sorry. I didn’t know that. Believe it or not, Hales aren’t really chatty about the fire.”
“This won’t be long, I promise. And you’ll be okay?” Andrew asks his son, using his chin to gesture towards the wolf walking out the door.
Stiles shrugs and puts the baby’s bag over one shoulder as he picks up the carrier. “Not sure how helpful he’s willing to be, but he won’t hurt us. If only out of fear for what’ll happen to him if he does. Just get home soon, will you?”
Andrew checks to be sure the back hall ways is empty and escorts him to the door. “I’ll do my best, kid,” he says.
Peter’s waiting in the car by the back door of the office and throws open the passenger door. “Come on, get in and hurry up.”
“What’s the rush? It’s not like we’re stealing this baby, we have official permission,” Stiles says, wiggling to buckle his seat belt. “Although I’d feel a lot better if we had a real car seat.” He settles the carrier on his lap, diaper bag at his feet. “Try to avoid a car accident, okay?”
“I’ll feel better once we get him to your house and off the street,” Peter says, pulling off the main road and taking side roads to Stiles’ house. “You saw the note, it said to keep him safe. Which means she felt she wasn’t able to keep him safe from something, meaning there’s something out there that’s a danger to shifters. I’m not sure if you’ve noticed, but that includes your pack and me.”
Stiles looks at Peter and back at the baby dozing off in his lap. “Oh shit. Then drive, Peter.”