Going...home? (TW/AA)

Long Lost Son (3)

Back to 3rd person

The Sheriff let out a low sigh as he unlocked his front door and stepped inside the house. He made his way into the kitchen and over to where the plug sockets in the wall were. His phone was laying there, charging. On a normal day the Sheriff (A/N should I keep calling him the Sheriff or should I call him Noah/ Stilinski?) wouldn't dream about leaving his phone behind, mainly because his wife would give him an earful when she got back home after trying to call him all day from work. But today was not a normal day. Today was the day that he would go to the cemetery to remember his dead son. The son should put live the father not the other way arou- The ringing of the door bell broke him out of his depressing train of thought. 

Who on earth could that be? He wondered. After all, everyone in the town knew not to disturb the Sheriff on the day that his son died. The Sheriff grabbed his phone off of the kitchen counter and unplugged it before making his way back to the front door.

He opened the door with his brows furrowed and froze. Any colour on his face faded as he paled and his next breath seemed to be stuck in his throat. His mouth opened and closed like a fish as he tried to find any words to describe what he was feeling. The person at his door was tall, around 6ft, he had whiskey brown eyes and hair that looked like it hadn't been cut in a while. He was well built, his T-shirt filled out with the muscle that only came from training everyday for several years. A slight stubble dotted his face and the only resemblance to the hyperactive spaz, was when he reached up to scratch the back of his neck awkwardly.

"Hey dad..." Mitch trailed off, looking thoroughly uncomfortable with the situation he was in.

"Hey dad? Hey dad!? You don't contact me for 5 years, we bury an empty coffin with your name on it, we mourned you, we CRIED for you and you have the nerve to just knock on my door and say HEY DAD!" By now the Sheriff resembled a very ripe tomato. The shock of seeing his son had worn off to be replaced with a burning anger that he didn't even know he had within him.

"Apparently I do.. right got it, not the time for a sarcastic comment." Mitch stopped himself from saying anything more after his father shot him a look that really made him feel like he was buried six feet under.

"Do you mind if I come in?"

"You better have an excellent explanation for everything." The Sheriff stepped to one side to allow Mitch into the house. He shut the door behind them and they made their way over to the living room. They each sat on a different sofa opposite each other, waiting for someone to start the conversation. The Sheriff was looking at Mitch expectantly as he tried to wrap his head around the fact that his son was alive.

A look seemed to cross Mitch's face and he straightened his posture and cleared his throat before beginning his explanation.

"Well you know everything that happened up to when I went to Ibiza, right?" The Sheriff just nodded in agreement.

"Well after Katrina died, I wanted revenge on the men that killed her. I was enlisted into the CIA and have been working for them ever since" it was a very brief and shortened version of everything that had happened but Mitch didn't want to overwhelm his father. He also felt that mentioning that he was a world famous assassin nicknamed the 'Angel of Death' wouldn't go down too well.

"CIA... well I wasn't expecting that. But that still doesn't explain to me why you didn't call me or send me a message, just to tell me that you were still alive." The Sheriff still had a shell-shocked look on his face, however when he looked at Mitch, he could see a sea of emotions, churning in the irises of his eyes.

"My job comes with a lot of perks. But it also comes with its downsides. I have enemies. People that will use you against me, and I don't want to see you get hurt." Mitch replied, a hint of regret in his voice. When the Sheriff searched his face and eyes however, he couldn't see any emotion. Mitch's face was a black canvas that gave absolutely nothing away.

"Well then Stiles, I guess you should go and see everyone else." The Sheriff spoke with a reserved tone and his forehead creased in confusion as he watched his son flinch at the name Stiles.

"Stiles?" He asked him.

"I also changed my name to Mitch when I joined the CIA. I needed a new identity anyway and I thought Mitch made more sense as a nickname for Mieczyslaw (A/N this was the spelling I got off of google but feel free to correct me if I'm wrong) rather than Stiles." Mitch explained. "But I suppose I should probably go back to Stiles whilst I'm here to avoid confusion and more questions being asked." At this point Mitch (a/n I'm going to be referring to him as Mitch but the other characters will still think of him as Stiles) was just thinking out loud.

"Well what are you gonna tell your ex-pack when you just waltz up to the little service we hold every year to commemorate the day you apparently died? And you know what, whilst I'm interrogating you, if you were so happy being dead to us, why did you come back?"

"Well to answer your first question, I won't tell them the whole truth. I'll tell them that I'm in the CIA but I won't go into detail about it. As for your second question, I came back because I didn't have a choice. If I didn't come back, Beacon Hills would've been safer but I'm needed here, my mission is here. And before you ask, I can't tell you what my mission is, it's classified" Mitch answered his questions in a way that sounded almost robotic. The flight to LA and then the drive to Beacon Hills was long so he had a lot of time to kill. He spent most of it imagining the questions he would most likely be asked and preparing an answer for them. The questions his father had asked him so far were all on his list.

"Where are you gonna stay? I left your room exactly as it was, if you want to stay here." The Sheriff asked, a sudden hope in his eyes at the prospect of his son sleeping under the same room as him once again.

"I'd love to dad, but I've already got an apartment downtown and I don't want to impose on you and Melissa."

"H-How did you know about me and Melissa?" The Sheriff stuttered out.

"I work for the CIA dad" was all he got in reply from Mitch. It was, of course, accompanied by his signature smirk. Mitch stood up looked around the living room with a fond smile on his face before his mask came back down and he turned towards his father. "I'm not going to see the pack today, I'll wait until tomorrow."

All the Sheriff did in response was nod his head and put his hands in the pockets of his jacket. There was an awkward silence hanging in the air between them before Mitch just turned around and left, leaving a shocked, confused and broken father behind him.

A/N
In case you hadn't figured it out yet, I'm very bored. I legit just updated twice in less than 3 hours. Ngl this is probably gonna be rare but I'm not in school atm so I have more time in my hands over the next week.

Please vote and comment!!