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Stiles was being lectured, which wasn’t something out of the ordinary. He was at it pro by now. He could sit, look guilty, and nod with the best of them.
He nodded all through Mrs. Argent’s checklist of why he would never ever pull one of these stunts again. He will no longer be stupid and reckless. He will now understand that he is not invincible and will proceed with caution on all future missions, which are as of now on hold as punishment. He will consider others when deciding his actions, both as a friend and as a valued member of this resistance and blah blah blah. As angry as Mrs. Argent was, she couldn’t be too angry at Stiles. They obtained much needed, quality weapons from Stiles’ rescue.
“As to the matter of Derek Hale,” Mrs. Argent said after a spiel on what exactly happens to rebels who are sloppy enough to catch Peter Hale’s attention.
Mrs. Argent paused, still as stone and severe. Stiles waited for the punch line.
"I’m sure Allison will tell me the reason why he and his team are still alive in her formal report, but if you ever see the opportunity to put to ground someone of his standing in the militia, you will do it."
Stiles wanted to jump to Allison’s defense. As the leader of their group, it was her responsibility to see to the success of the mission and though it technically was a success, Allison was going to catch the blame for not killing militia when they had cause and opportunity to do so. Derek Hale was on the resistance’s short list of ‘Kill On Sight’. Stiles really wasn’t sure why he stopped them from killing Derek and his men. All he knew is that he saw Allison standing over Isaac, ready to put an arrow through his eye and he had to stop her. It was a moment of weakness on his part, but it wasn’t like he could say any of that, so he just bit his tongue and stayed quiet.
Mrs. Argent was possibly the only person in the whole Republic that Stiles would do that for because she was that scary. He was known for mouthing off at anyone and everyone, but not her. Out of respect and fear in equal parts, he almost never talked back to Mrs. Argent. It was incredibly hard because Stiles was always talking and moving around. He couldn’t help it and it took all of his self control to sit still and quiet for their leader.
She narrowed her eyes just so and Stiles stood. He knew a dismissal when he saw one.
When he opened the door, Allison and Scott scrambled back from where they had pressed themselves against the door to eavesdrop. Stiles rolled his eyes and bent so he was face level with Allison’s stomach.
"Hey there, little monster. It's Uncle Stiles!” he cooed, bringing his hands up to rub Allison’s belly, “Your mommy's totally crazy, but I still love her.” She was only three months along, so Stiles was cooing to more of a bump than a baby, but that didn’t stop him from nuzzling it. He was going to be an awesome uncle.
"Hey, that's the future of the Republic you're speaking to!” Scott said in a voice mimicking anger, but lacking any heat to make it effective. The smile on his face gave him away anyway. He always got a little dopey when the subject of Allison came up, but bring up Allison and his baby and he was a lost cause.
"You're next Allison Marie!" Mrs. Argent called. Stiles winced and stood aside so Allison could pass him. She gave a small smile and closed the door behind her.
After a moment, Stiles turned to Scott. "I can't believe you let her come with you to get me. She’s supposed to be on lockdown. No dangerous field missions until after the baby comes. And a rescue mission? Pretty damn dangerous.”
"You try telling that woman no,” Scott said, “She can be scary when she wants to. And we were all really worried. Even Lydia almost came."
Honestly, Stiles doubted Scott could ever say no to Allison, whether it was for her own well being or not. He would have been more surprised if she hadn’t shown up shooting arrows and shouting orders like the front line commander she was. Stiles could tell Scott was beating himself up about it so he let it go and went with, "Thanks for getting me. Speaking of Lydia, I should probably go see her. She's probably wants to rip my head off by now."
"At least you don’t have to face Chris and Mrs. Argent,” Scott pointed out. Stiles could wholeheartedly agree with Scott there. On their own, the senior Argents were intimidating, but their combined wrath was enough for anyone to want to jump ship for the militia. Scott barely survived the aftermath of telling them he knocked up their seventeen year old daughter.
Stiles laughed and turned to leave, but Scott’s hand on his shoulder stopped him. “What’s up, man?”
“I saw you and Derek before we moved in,” Scott said, sounding both nervous and determined.
Stiles shook off Scott’s hand and crossed his arms over his chest defensively. “And?”
“It’s just-,” Scott started and Stiles knew where this was headed.
“No,” he interrupted, “I know what you’re going to say and I don’t want to hear it.”
“Well that’s too bad!”
This wasn’t the first time Scott tried to have this conversation with Stiles. “You don’t have to do that anymore.”
“Thanks, dad,” Stiles teased, keeping his tone light and joking, “I’ll keep that in mind.”
“I mean it, Stiles!” Scott hissed. “I don’t know why you keep doing this to yourself. We’re not alone anymore. You don’t have to...”
When Scott trailed off, Stiles couldn’t help but sneer a little bit. Scott was like a brother to him and he loved him like one, but sometimes he was just stupid. How could he talk about this to Stiles when he couldn’t even say out loud?
Once he got Allison to say it for him, but that hadn’t ended well and it was awkward for everyone involved. It wasn’t like it was a huge secret that Stiles used to sell himself, but it was one of those things that no one brought up - like what happened to Jackson’s parents or Lydia’s stint as a militia prisoner.
But Stiles knew Scott kept bringing it up because he cared, and he always looked so earnest when he tried that Stiles couldn’t fault him too much.
So instead of saying ‘fuck you’ and storming off like he wanted to, Stiles sighed heavily. “I didn’t have sex with him. It was just kissing. Whatever you saw, that was it. You guys needed a distraction to sneak up on us, so I gave you one.”
Scott looked doubtful, so Stiles shot him a broad smile and threw up his hands. “Nothing happened so forget it, Scotty boy. You have bigger things to worry about right now.”
Right on cue, the Argent womens’ argument drifted through the closed door. “If you insist on being pregnant, then you do not leave this base for anything more than hunting and collecting supplies!”
“I'm not that far along yet! I can still help my friends. They needed me last night.”
Yes, Stiles could definitely sympathize with Scott because no one deserved to be thrown in the middle of a fight between Allison and her mom. Sure enough a second later Mrs. Argent was yelling, “Get in here, Scott!”
Stiles gave Scott a pat on the shoulder and a “good luck”. Poor Scott looked like he was walking to his death, but he bravely joined the Argent women in what used to be the library of Beacon Hills High School, forgetting about his worry for his friend. Stiles headed towards the science wing.
Beacon Hills wasn’t the biggest rebel base in the Republic, but it was where a few of the major players like the Argents lived. About sixty people were holed up in the high school and the majority of them were fighters - the people who planned and sent orders to other rebel bases within Hale territory, and made big moves against the militia.
Stiles made his way to room 214, a chemistry laboratory, and sure enough, Lydia was there grinding herbs in a big bowl. Her hair was tied back and she wore baggy clothes that had seen better days. It looked like she hadn’t slept all night, but she was still as beautiful as Stiles had ever seen her. When Stiles came in, Lydia acknowledged him with a, “Hand me some mint.”
Stiles did so, immediately recognizing the concoction Lydia was making as Scott’s asthma medicine.
“So...” he started after a minute of quietly watching her work.
“Shut up, Stiles,” Lydia said. She was calm in her anger. “I’m tired getting you out of your messes. You do it again and I’m letting you rot.”
That was as close as Stiles was going to get to a “I missed you. I’m glad you’re ok.” from Lydia, and he was happy to take it.
“Good job with the toxin, by the way,” Stiles said, “It worked like a charm.”
“Was there any doubt?” Lydia scoffed, but looked pleased with herself from the complement anyways.
The door opened and Jackson walked in. “Not from me,” he said.
“Are you allergic to shirts?” Stiles had to ask because Jackson was more often seen without a shirt than with one, “Just because we’re back to the dark ages doesn’t mean we have to revert to being cavemen.”
“I was going to give your computer back, but if you want to be a pest...” Jackson held a chunk of metal in his hand but ready to snatch away if Stiles actually reached for it in a game of take-away. Jackson was a jerk like that.
Stiles waited patiently for him to hand over his computer instead of trying to take it. It wasn’t a real computer like the ones Lydia and Stiles read about and tried in vain to recreate. It was a bit of mixed and matched pieces of metal attached to a screen with a few buttons. No one Stiles showed it to could figure out how to work it, but every now and then it would flicker on and send whatever electronics that were around haywire. Paired with Stiles’ necklace, it could become a tracker when it felt like turning on, which helped the gang find Stiles the night before.
When Jackson finally handed it over with a huff, Stiles grabbed it and checked it for damages. He wouldn’t be able to tell if anything was wrong with it other than superficial scratches, but it made him feel better to see it was still in one piece. He wasn’t sure what happened to it when he captured and it was left behind. It was the last thing he dad had ever given him.
“I like you better without a shirt,” Lydia smiled to Jackson and he smiled back. No one exactly knew what Lydia and Jackson were to each other, because they weren’t together like Allison and Scott were, but everyone who lived in Beacon Hill High had walked in on the two of them going at it at some point. Either way, they were disgustingly sweet to watch so Stiles made exaggerated gagging noises. Did all of his friends really have to pair off and act so cute around each other? The other night, Stiles caught Scott strumming a guitar and singing to Allison’s stomach. Scott didn’t have a bad voice, but his lyrics needed some work. They were all variations of “You’re so beautiful”, “I can’t wait to meet you”, and odes about big brown eyes. It was sickening and might have made Stiles tear up a bit.
“Don’t be jealous, Stilinski,” Jackson taunted.
Stiles started listing reasons why he would never be jealous of any relationship involving Jackson, which turned into a play fight on the floor with Lydia yelling at them not to break anything. After a while, Scott and Allison came in carrying rations of soup for everyone. Scott seemed quiet and so unlike himself. He just leaned into Allison like she was going to disappear, one hand lying protectively over her stomach. If Stiles had to guess, he would say Mrs. Argent put the fear of God into Scott and made him realize what could have happened to Allison and his baby out there.
Good. It was about time he woke up. If there was anything in this stupid republic worth protecting, it was that innocent mini-Allison. Or mini-Scott, but Stiles was betting on a girl.
“I wish we could gag you,” Jackson said, mouth full of soup, when the conversation turned to Stiles’ time with the Derek Hale and his gang.
“You would miss me talking,” Stiles joked, gesturing a bit too wildly and spilling a little soup on his shirt. Lydia looked at him with disgust.
“Hey,” Scott piped up, “That’s actually what Jackson said after you were caught. That he missed you talking.”
Jackson blushed. “Shut your mouth, McCall. At least I know how to use a condom!”
Everyone laughed and Scott pouted. Stiles let his head fall on Lydia’s shoulder and enjoyed another night with his family.