Chapter Text
“Stiles!” Noah called and knocked on his son’s bedroom door for the third time that morning. “If you don’t get your lazy ass out of bed in the next five seconds, I swear I’m gonna drag you out of there by your ear!”
The sheriff paused when he heard Stiles’ muttering voice through the door, and he was pleased when it was followed by the sound of shuffling footsteps. The door slowly opened with a squeak, revealing a yawning Stiles who was rubbing at his half-lidded eyes. The kid was clad in black pajama pants and a faded grey tee shirt. His feet were bare. Noah had to purse his lips to refrain from smiling at his son’s sleep-tousled hair, which was sticking out in all sorts of directions, and the crisscross pattern of sleep wrinkles that decorated Stiles’ left cheek. The kid had always looked extremely cute when he’d just woken up. Like a sleepy puppy. That clearly hadn’t changed when he’d become a teenager.
“What?” Stiles asked in a rusty voice, eyes squinting against the hallway’s bright light. He brought a hand to his mouth as he yawned again – the other one was still holding on to the doorknob.
“Did you stay up all night again?” The sheriff berated, although his tone was mild.
There were usually two possible reasons for his kid staying up way past a decent bedtime; either Stiles was engrossed in research, or he dreaded the nightmares that had only intensified since the Nogitsune had possessed him. Noah knew that Stiles also worried about the Deadpool, which was currently a huge threat to several of his friends. The crime board, that took up space in the middle of Stiles’ room, bore witness to all the time the kid spent trying to solve the case.
Like father, like son, Noah thought and his heart swelled with pride. If the kid ever wanted to, Stiles could have an excellent career in law enforcement someday – just like his old man.
When Stiles just blinked owlishly at his question, Noah let the subject drop and instead said: “Hurry up, kiddo. You’re late for school.”
“But… it’s Saturday.” Stiles protested, his forehead wrinkling in confusion. He suddenly looked unsure and added: “Isn’t it?”
“Yes, and you have the PSAT today, remember?”
“Oh...” Stiles said. Then his eyes widened as realization seemed to dawn on him and he released the doorknob to quickly look at the time on his wristwatch. “Oh, shit!”
“Language, Stiles.” The sheriff reprimanded, but Stiles didn’t seem to pay attention to his dad any longer as he began rummaging through his messy bedroom - which only seemed to get messier as Stiles rushed to grab the stuff he needed. It was impressive, really, how the teen had gone from being drowsy to bouncing around in mere seconds.
Sheriff Stilinski shook his head as he watched his energetic kid. There was never a dull moment with Stiles in the house, and Noah honestly didn’t want it any other way. He decided to let his son get ready without causing him distractions, so Noah went downstairs to pour himself a cup of coffee. He’d already had one cup while eating his breakfast, but a little extra caffeine wouldn’t kill him. After all, he had a long shift ahead of him at the station and he didn’t possess his son’s ability to go from zero to one hundred – especially not so early in the day.
Not even three minutes later, Noah heard Stiles’ footsteps stomping down the stairs. Leaning back against the kitchen counter and taking a sip of his coffee, Noah watched his seventeen-year-old rush into the kitchen like a whirlwind. The kid was now dressed in a pair of jeans, a white tee shirt and a zip-up hoodie. However, Noah noticed that Stiles had put the hoodie on inside out, and he was only wearing a sock on one foot while the other remained bare. Stiles had a toothbrush in the corner of his mouth, the missing sock in his hands, and had his cell phone pressed between his shoulder and his ear. Stiles’ dark hair was still a mess. It moved in sync with the kid’s motions as he hopped on one foot to put on the missing sock.
“I’m just gonna be a few minutes late, Malia, but I’ll still pick you up as promised.” Stiles spoke into the phone, voice slightly distorted by his toothbrush, while he tried - and failed - to open the fridge without using his hands.
Noah poked his kid on the shoulder and when Stiles turned to look at him with a questioning expression, Noah gestured to the kitchen table where a bowl of cereal and a carton of milk were already waiting for him. Stiles sent his dad a grateful look as he ended the conversation – then pocketed his phone and spit out his toothbrush.
“Thanks, Dad.” Stiles said, dropped the toothbrush on the table and began pouring milk on his cereal.
“Don’t mention it. So, are you ready for your test today?” The sheriff asked. He put down his mug of coffee and expertly managed to maneuver Stiles’ arms out of his zip-up hoodie, while the kid wolfed down his breakfast standing.
“I think so.” Stiles answered with his mouth full of cereal. A little frown line appeared between the kid’s eyes and, in typical Stiles fashion, the teen quickly brushed over himself and instead started talking about his friends. “I’m more worried about how Malia will handle it. She doesn’t do well under pressure, and things are still a bit difficult for her after, you know, having lived in the woods as a were-coyote for eight years. I’m sure Scott and Kira will be fine. Scott has really improved this year, Dad, which is good because he almost failed two classes before the formal. Between being bitten by the Alpha and chased by hunters, he really didn’t have a lot of time to study. And hey, Lydia won’t even be at school today as she was smart enough to take the PSAT in her freshman year. I wonder who’ll administer it today. At least we know Harris is out of the picture permanently…”
While listening to his son’s ramblings, occasionally humming or nodding to let Stiles know he was paying attention, Noah pulled the sleeves through his son’s hoodie, turning it the right side out, before he dropped it on Stiles’ shoulders. The kid quickly put his arms back through the sleeves and finished his breakfast in record time – which was quite an achievement considering he’d been talking the entire time.
“When are you gonna be home today?” Stiles wanted to know. The teen dumped his empty bowl and spoon into the sink - then grabbed the glass and the tablet Noah had laid out on the kitchen counter for him.
“Late.” The sheriff sighed heavily. There were still a lot of loose ends to tie up after the murders the assassins had committed. While Stiles let the faucet run for a few seconds and then filled the glass with cold water, Noah added: “But text me when you’re done, alright? I want to know how it went.”
“Sure thing, Daddy-o!” Stiles replied with a lopsided smile before popping the Adderall tablet into his mouth and washing it down with the water. The sheriff hummed approvingly, knowing his son would’ve had a really hard time focusing on the PSAT if he’d forgotten to take his medicine this morning.
When Stiles was younger, his grades had been horrible, and Stiles’ teachers had mistakenly believed the kid didn’t give a damn about school. Noah was aware that there’d even been whispers at the time of Stiles not being the sharpest tool in the shed – which couldn’t have been further from the truth. Stiles had always been a bright kid. He was a quick thinker, curious as hell, asked a million questions, and had built up an impressive vocabulary before he’d even turned three. The issue had been his extremely short attention span and his inability to sit still for more than five seconds at a time.
It was actually Melissa McCall who’d tentatively approached Noah and Claudia with the possibility of Stiles having ADHD as she’d recognized the symptoms in the boy. Back then, Stiles had already spent a lot of time playing with Scott at the McCall house, so Melissa had had plenty of time to observe their kid. Noah and Claudia had decided that if there was any way for them to help Stiles become the best version of himself, they had to ensure it happened, so they’d decided to make an appointment with a pediatrician for an evaluation of their son.
It had taken a surprisingly short amount of time for Stiles to get diagnosed and as soon as the kid had started on the required medication, his grades had improved significantly. Even though Stiles could get lost for hours diving into topics that fascinated him, it still wasn’t easy for him to stay focused. Hell, the sheriff had learned that from both personal experience and from the parent-teacher conferences he’d participated in over the years, but the Adderall did help his kid a lot. At least when Stiles remembered to take it.
Said kid was now waving his hand in front of Noah’s face to get his attention. Noah blinked a couple of times, realizing Stiles must have been talking to him while he’d been lost in his own thoughts.
“Dad, are you listening? I’m in a hurry here!” Stiles lifted his eyebrows as he waited for an answer.
“Nope. I was too distracted by your hair.” Noah replied nonchalantly and picked up his mug again.
“I was just - wait, what’s wrong with my hair?”
“Oh, nothing.” The sheriff said, feigning innocence. A smile tugged at the corner of his mouth when he saw the expression on his son’s face.
“Daaad! You better not be messing with me!” Stiles scowled, eyeing his dad suspiciously.
“All I’m saying is that I think you should take a look in the mirror before you leave, if your goal is to impress any girls today – or guys.” The sheriff replied and hid his smile behind his mug as he downed the last of his coffee.
Stiles cursed, glanced at the time and cursed some more.
“Anyways, I was telling you to drop the curly fries today and eat a veggie burger or something. I mean it, Dad! Do I need to remind you what the doctor said about your cholesterol levels again?”
“How can I forget when you keep pestering me about it?” Noah muttered grumpily.
“Dad.” Stiles crossed his arms and stared him down until Noah reluctantly agreed to make healthy food choices for the day. Seemingly satisfied with the answer, the kid was about to take off when Noah quickly grabbed Stiles’ arm, halting his son’s rushed steps.
“Hey, hang on a second.” The sheriff said, needing to get something off his chest before they both had to leave. “I know you’ll do well today, Stiles. You’ll do your best as you always do and I’m proud of you no matter what.”
“Thanks, Dad.” A soft, dimpled smile spread across his boy’s face. Noah’s heart melted as it always did when Stiles smiled at him like that, and he clapped his son’s cheek in a loving way. He then cleared his throat, let go of Stiles’ arm and waved him off, so the kid could get to school on time. As soon as he was released, Stiles immediately sprinted off.
“Your keys are on the top of the fridge!” Stiles shouted, already halfway up the stairs. “Love you! Catch some bad guys today!”
“Love you too, kid!“ Noah shouted back. “Stay out of trouble!”
“No promises!” Came the reply from upstairs, and Noah shook his head - a fond smile playing on his lips. He and Claudia had sure done well when they’d created that kid.
The sheriff grabbed his keys from the top of the fridge, knowing he would have spent too much time searching for those if Stiles hadn’t told him where to find them. Noah then grabbed his uniform jacket, walked out the front door, and headed to his car while whistling a happy tune.
Mornings spent with his son were always special to him. Maybe this day wouldn’t be so bad after all.
The day turned out to be horrible.
It had started out well enough though. Everything had been quiet and normal, but that had changed only a few hours into his shift. The sheriff had been out on patrol when the call came; the CDC had shut down the Beacon Hills High School and required immediate backup from the Sheriff’s Department. There hadn’t been any known details besides that.
“Ah, hell…” Sheriff Stilinski had mumbled and pinched the bridge of his nose, instantly worrying about his son.
That worry only intensified when he pulled up in front of the High School and saw the chaos that was unfolding. The school grounds had been sealed off; there were several people walking around in yellow hazmat suits and wearing gas masks. Gurneys had been prepared and were rolled into position, lights from emergency vehicles flashed - and tents had been set up as a basecamp for the CDC workers. As the sheriff exited his car, he eyed a group of official-looking people and approached them with determined steps.
“Excuse me.” The sheriff spoke up as he reached the group. One of them, the woman who seemed to be in charge, turned around to face him. “Can anyone tell me what we’re dealing with here?”
“Hopefully, a false alarm. The details provided have concerned us and your local health authorities enough to order a quarantine.” The woman – a Dr. Wentz, according to her nametag - explained. “We're going to need your help ensuring that no one gets in or out of the school.”
Sheriff Stilinski’s heart sank as the seriousness of the situation dawned on him. He wanted to check in with Stiles, wanted to make sure his kid was safe and sound, instead of having to prevent anyone – including his son - from getting in or out of the high school. At the very least, he wanted to get Stiles on the phone to let him know that his dad was right outside and that everything was going to be alright, but Noah knew that all sorts of communication had already been shut down at this point. Unfortunately, it was standard protocol in these types of situations to avoid panic. Noah gritted his teeth, already hating that he couldn’t provide his kid with comfort. He just prayed Stiles was alright – and his son’s friends too. Those kids had already got enough on their plates as it was. Couldn’t they at least catch a break while taking their damn PSATs?
“My son is in there.” The sheriff told Dr. Wentz.
“Is this gonna be a conflict for you?” She asked.
”Conflict? No. Stressful? Yeah.” The sheriff sighed, knowing he had to remain clearheaded if he wanted to stay on the case. He took a deep breath, pushed down his panic as a concerned father and instead tapped into his calm professionalism. “Alright. What happens now?”
“We’re trying to prevent the spread of disease by testing the teachers and the students inside the school and isolating the sick.” Dr. Wentx explained. “Then we need to analyze and identity what we’re dealing with here, and hopefully how to cure the people who’s been infected.”
“And you don’t know what it is yet?” The sheriff asked.
“From the little details we’ve got, it could be smallpox, but it’s hard to say at this point. If you’ll excuse me, I’ve got some testing to do.” As Dr. Wentz stepped inside the nearest tent and was handed a hazmat suit, the sheriff tried to process the information he’d just been given.
He couldn’t help wondering if this was somehow connected to the Deadpool and to the assassins who’d started to bring down the population of supernatural beings in Beacon Hills. First, there’d been the mute axe murderer - then the Orphans. Could this somehow be connected? Could the mysterious outbreak at the school be the work of another assassin? If that was the case, the sheriff doubted they were dealing with smallpox which, as far as he knew, had been eradicated a long time ago. No, it had to be something more dangerous – something that was bad enough to take out werewolves.
Maybe I should call the vet, Noah pondered.
Dr. Deaton probably knew more about this stuff than most people in the town did. What was it Stiles had called the man again - a Druid? Whatever the hell that meant. The sheriff was pretty sure his son had also compared Alan Deaton to a character from Star Wars, but Noah couldn’t recall which character or why that was even relevant.
He also considered getting Derek Hale on the phone. Now that the werewolf had turned back into a full-grown man instead of a teenager (the sheriff still didn’t understand how that was even possible), he could be a real asset in cases like these. Admittedly, the sheriff was still a little wary of the guy sometimes; after all, Hale had been a murder suspect at one point. However, Stiles seemed to have a lot of trust in the werewolf and Hale had proved himself to be an ally on multiple occasions. If that was good enough for his son, it should be good enough for Sheriff Stilinski too.
The sheriff clenched his jaw and reluctantly joined his deputies in the task of securing the surroundings. The phone calls would have to wait for now. The commotion in front of the school had already begun to attract a growing crowd of curious people – probably some concerned parents as well. Noah could relate to the latter, but he knew he had to remain calm and try to avert a mass panic from breaking out among the spectators.
Speaking of parents, it didn’t take long for a familiar face to show up in the middle of the crowd. The sheriff waved at one of his deputies to let Rafael McCall pass the barricade tape, although the FBI badge alone would have been enough to allow the man access. Even though Sheriff Stilinski was still a bit cautious around the agent, the two of them had been working together to investigate the recent cases involving the assassins. The sheriff hadn’t completely forgiven McCall for the role he'd played in the impeachment where he almost got fired - or the way the agent had stalled the process as an excuse to stay closer to Scott. However, the man had at least redeemed himself a bit when he’d saved Stiles from freezing to death – back when the kid had gone missing and had sleepwalked into the coyote den. Noah’s chest still tightened when he thought about how close he’d been to losing his only son in the weeks that’d followed that rescue.
“McCall.” The sheriff greeted and gave the special agent a curt nod when the man approached him.
“Stilinski, do you-” McCall began, but their conversation was interrupted when some turmoil seemed to be happening by the entrance doors of the high school. The two men briefly glanced at each other before they both rushed over to see what was going on.
“What happened in there?” The sheriff asked when a bunch of people in yellow hazmat suits surrounded Dr. Wentz and started helping her out of her suit. He immediately worried something bad had happened in there and that Stiles was somehow involved.
“I don’t know. It must have been static electricity.” Dr. Wentz replied. The sheriff inspected the scorched mark on the woman’s hazmat suit with a pensive look. He doubted static electricity could cause such a mark to appear, but he refrained from vocally objecting to the woman’s words.
“Any breach of the interior layer, doctor?” A technician from the CDC asked.
“It’s okay. It just broke the top layer.” Dr. Wentz assured.
“Any verdict on what we’re dealing with yet?” McCall cut in impatiently. “My son’s in there.”
“Your son and his son.” Dr. Wentz gestured to the sheriff. “Great. You can debrief each other.”
Sheriff Stilinski frowned as the doctor walked away. He knew it wasn’t easy dealing with worried parents, and that it could be a waste of precious time in crisis situations, but Dr. Wentz should probably work on her ‘people skills’ as Stiles would say.
“I heard smallpox. Any truth to that?” McCall asked him, leaning closer to make sure no one overheard their conversation.
“You want my opinion? I don’t think the Orphans were the only professional killers in Beacon Hills.” Sheriff Stilinski revealed. He couldn’t tell McCall about the Deadpool, but he could at least let the man in on his theory; that the cases they were working on could be connected to whatever was happening here.
“So, you think this is some kind of chemical attack? Who’s the target?” The agent asked.
“I’m guessing someone inside the high school. A teacher or perhaps one of the students.” The sheriff answered with a grim expression, knowing full well that Scott could be a major target if he was right about his theory. “The assassin could still be inside too… with the boys.”
McCall grimaced at the words and asked, “So, what do we do?”
“What can we do?” The sheriff sighed. “Aside from ensuring no one passes the barricade until the CDC greenlights access to the high school. You know the rules. We’re doing the best we can here with the cards we’re dealt.”
“I don’t like this.” McCall shook his head, gesturing wildly with his arms so his FBI badge swung back and forth from its place around his neck. “We should at least do something! My son could be in danger, and the Beacon Hills finest are out here picking their noses!”
Sheriff Stilinski’s mouth tightened into a thin line. He guessed he could ignore how McCall threw shade at the entire Sheriff’s Department – he was kind of used to it by now. But the way the agent only mentioned his own son, completely disregarded Stiles’ existence, and at the same time made Noah feel like the worst father in the world, made the sheriff’s temper flare.
“Listen, I know you don’t think very highly of me - or my kid - but if you think I’m perfectly content with just sitting on my ass while Stiles could be hurt or in danger, then you’re out of your goddamn- “
“I didn’t mean it like that!” Agent McCall quickly cut in and raised his hands in a placating way. At least the man had the decency to look a little apologetic. “I’m just… I guess I’m just worried.”
“Yeah… I know the feeling.” Sheriff Stilinski admitted, anger slowly deflating. He clenched his eyes shut and rubbed at his forehead, feeling a headache brewing. He knew McCall was right; the kids could be in some serious danger, and it didn’t feel right to let them handle this on their own. Especially if there was an assassin involved again.
“If you have any bright ideas on how to solve this, let me know,” he added.
Rafael McCall nodded his head, and the two men fell silent for a little while. The sheriff glanced through the windows of the school’s entrance doors, hoping to catch a glimpse of his son but seeing nothing.
“I don’t… dislike Stiles, you know.” McCall suddenly muttered, which made Noah turn his head and stare at the other man with a doubtful expression. “I mean, the kid always runs his mouth and seems to know exactly which buttons to push to piss me off, but… I know he’s always been a good friend to Scott. Especially after I… left. And I guess I can live with the sarcastic remarks if it means my son is happy with Stiles by his side.”
“He’s a good kid.” Sheriff Stilinski emphasized with a pointed look and elaborated, “I know Stiles doesn’t always make the best choices, but he has a big heart, and he’s always got good intentions. I could say the same thing about Scott.”
McCall slowly nodded in agreement.
“I hope they’ll both walk out of there unscathed by the end of this.”
“Me too.” The sheriff agreed. He scanned the High School’s large windows again in hopes of seeing a glimpse of Stiles, but his son was still nowhere in sight. He just hoped the kid was alright.
Dusk had fallen, and floodlights lit up the area, when Special Agent McCall rushed inside the High School in a yellow hazmat suit. Deep furrows lined Sheriff Stilinski’s forehead as he watched the doors shut behind the agent, and he nervously paced back and forth as he tried to calm his flayed nerves.
Melissa had just called with urgent news; Deaton, Derek Hale and herself had discovered what sort of virus they were dealing with - and luckily knew of a way to cure it too. McCall had looked utterly confused when Melissa had told him to tell Scott about the antidote in the vault. The tone of Melissa’s voice (as she’d yelled at him through the phone, loud enough for the sheriff to hear), had at least made her ex-husband understand how important it was that Scott immediately got this piece of information, and he’d suited up straight away.
While Rafael McCall had been on the phone with Melissa, the sheriff had received a text from Derek Hale. They were dealing with a variant of smallpox that wouldn’t kill any of the humans who got infected by it but was extremely deadly to the supernatural beings inside the school. The sheriff processed the news with mixed emotions. He was very worried about Scott and the others but was also relieved to know that Stiles should be fine even if his son did catch the virus.
A loud gasp suddenly interrupted his thoughts and made Stilinski stop pacing and turn his attention to the girl who was standing a few feet away from him. For a while now, Lydia Martin had been staring intensely at the school with wide eyes and a frown on her face. When she’d appeared in front of the police barrier earlier that day, worrying about her mom and her friends, the sheriff had immediately let her through. He’d pulled her aside and asked her if she could somehow sense whether someone inside the high school was going to die. The sheriff still didn’t completely understand how the girl’s powers worked but, according to Stiles, Lydia could often detect when someone had died… or was going to die.
“Yes. And it's not just a feeling.” Lydia had replied, and the sheriff’s blood had run cold at the words.
“Do you know who it is? Is it… Is it Stiles?”
“I don’t know. It could be anyone. Even my mom.”
Lydia’s bottom lip was now quivering and her big eyes filled with unshed tears.
“Lydia?” The sheriff asked cautiously, not liking the way the color seemed to have drained from her face. “What is it?”
“It’s happening right now! Someone is about to die!” Lydia cried out and clenched her eyes shut.
“Who?” The sheriff asked and, when Lydia didn’t answer, he grabbed her shoulders and gave her a small shake. “Lydia, who?”
“It’s St-” The girl began, but suddenly tore herself away from the sheriff, stumbled a few steps back and released a high-pitched scream that immediately made him – and the nearby people - cover their ears in horror. Sheriff Stilinski stared wide-eyed at Lydia when she stopped screaming and turned towards him again. She was breathing heavily and a couple of teardrops were stuck to her long eyelashes.
“What the hell was that?” The sheriff demanded to know as he let his hands drop from his ears, still reeling from the horrible sound the girl had made. To the people who was close by and had heard Lydia scream, the sheriff quickly shouted, “Everything’s fine! There’s nothing to see here!”
“I don’t… I don’t understand. For a second, I thought… but it wasn’t him. It was someone else.” Lydia mumbled to herself while staring straight at the ground. The horrified expression, that had been on Lydia’s face before she’d screamed, had now turned unsure and confused. “But I could have sworn I felt him die.”
“Lydia?” Sheriff Stilinski asked and carefully put a hand on the girl’s arm. “Lydia?”
The redhead – or strawberry blonde girl, as Stiles always emphasized – finally lifted her head and looked the sheriff straight in the eyes.
“What’s happening? Are you… do you feel something?”
Lydia opened her mouth but before she could answer, the sheriff’s attention was diverted when Dr. Wentz suddenly approached them.
“Quarantine is officially over.” She happily announced. “All the sick, who’d been isolated inside, are on the mend, so you have the approval to enter the school and let the students be reunited with their families.”
“Thanks Doctor.” Sheriff Stilinski shook her hand. He then immediately used his shoulder mic to pass on the information to his deputies, before he led Lydia inside the High School.
The hallways were filled to the brim with students, teachers and CDC-workers who were all filing out, which made it a little hard to maneuver through the entrance doors.
“Excuse us! Excuse us! Pardon me!” The sheriff called out as he and Lydia made their way through the moving crowd.
Lydia still seemed a bit shaken but that changed as soon as the girl caught sight of her mother, and she immediately took off running. Sheriff Stilinski was happy to watch Lydia be reunited with her mom, but his chest tightened with the need to find his son.
The sheriff passed by student after student but couldn’t spot Stiles’ spiked dark hair anywhere. In fact, the more time he spent looking for his missing boy, the more his concern increased. He even tried calling Stiles’ phone but, when he only got his son’s voicemail, he started asking around for the kid instead.
“Where’s my son?”
“Has anyone seen Stiles?”
“Stiles Stilinski? Do you know where he is?”
However, it wasn’t until Sheriff Stilinski caught up with Kira’s father, Mr. Yukimura, that he finally got some intel on where Stiles could be.
“They were all hiding in the vault.” The teacher explained. “It was Stiles’ idea, actually. When Scott and Malia got sick, they shifted into their werewolf forms, but the virus made them unable to change back so, to avoid unwanted attention, they hid down there. Kira is with them too. I’ll show you the way.”
“Thank you.” The sheriff sighed in relief and started following the teacher.
“Excuse me, Sheriff Stilinski?” Noah halted his steps when he felt someone touch his arm. He gave Natalie Martin a questioning look, noticing Lydia was right behind her. “Hi. I’m sorry to bother you but… I spoke with Stiles half an hour ago and he was looking very sick. He was obviously running a fever, and I tried to tell him to lie down and get some rest like the other infected students, but he was looking for Ken and seemed to be in a hurry for some reason. I haven’t seen him since, but I have to admit I’m a little worried about him.”
“I’m sure he’s fine, Natalie. All the sick kids are better now.” Mr. Yukimura assured them both.
“Thanks for letting me know. I’ll make sure to get him checked out as soon as I find him.” The sheriff said and gave the teacher a warm smile which she returned. She was quite a looker, that Natalie Martin, he had to admit.
“Dad!” Someone shouted and the sheriff turned his head to see Kira run into Mr. Yukimura’s waiting arms.
“Kira!” The teacher greeted and hugged his daughter tight. “We were just about to go find you. Is Stiles with you? And Scott and Malia?”
“Malia… left. And Scott and Stiles are right-” She gestured behind her but then frowned. “Well, they were right behind me but… Oh, there’s Scott!”
Sheriff Stilinski followed her pointing finger and spotted Scott a little further down the hallway in a conversation with his dad. Stiles wasn’t with him though. As if sensing he was being watched, Agent McCall suddenly looked up and caught the sheriff’s gaze - then waved him over.
“Great…” The sheriff muttered sarcastically, then excused himself before he approached Scott and his father. Stiles was still nowhere in sight, Noah noticed as he walked down the hallway, which made his concern reappear.
“Can we do this later, McCall? I’m trying to find my son.” Stilinski sighed when he’d reached the pair. He gave Scott’s shoulder a gentle squeeze, taking in the tired expression and the unusual paleness on Scott's face. “Good to see you, kid. Where’s Stiles?”
“You haven’t seen him yet?” Scott asked with surprise, scanning the now emptier hallways with a confused frown. “He was here a second ago. He… He was right behind me.”
"I'm sure he hasn't gone far then." The sheriff concluded when Scott's dad spoke up.
“Well actually, this is about Stiles and it can’t wait.” He said which made both Sheriff Stilinski and Scott turn their heads to stare at him. Rafael’s expression was grim and the sheriff suddenly feared what the other man had to say.
“What about Stiles?” He asked warily.
"Dad?" Scott chimed in when the agent hesitated for a second too long.
“It happened when I went inside the school to look for Scott…” Agent McCall began.