Everything or Nothing

Chapter 5: All Work and No Play

"Oh, what the hell is this?" Noah demands, grimacing as he drops the sandwich back onto its to-go box.

"Veggie burger," Stiles replies, still plopping down the rest of their takeout onto his dad's desk. It's common, by now, to have dinner at the precinct. Being the sheriff always tended to glue his dad to the desk, keeping the man's mind occupied and his time elusive.

"Stiles, I asked for a hamburger."

"Well, veggie is healthier," Stiles counters, briefly wavering around his salad, "We're being healthy."

Noah shakes his head, forcing himself to chew on the bite of food he regrettably took from his son. He should have known Stiles would do that; the boy has been obsessed with keeping Noah healthy ever since Claudia passed; keeping him away from high cholesterol, high blood sugar - anything a man his age should be able to embrace. Noah reaches over, carefully taking apart the paper trays that encase the rest of his order.

"Oh, hell, why are you trying to ruin my life?" Noah snaps, losing it when his order of fries comes up as sticks of celery and dry carrots.

"I'm trying to extend your life, okay? Could you just eat it, please? And tell me what you found," Stiles demands exasperatedly gesturing to Noah's crime board.

"No, I'm not sharing confidential police work with a teenager."

"Is that it - on the board behind you?"

Noah grimaces, slowly turning his head to look behind him. Sure enough, every piece of evidence Noah has just happens to be displayed to the one teenager in town that probably knows more than some of Noah's cops. The latter squints over at his son, grimacing as Stiles straightens up in his seat and starts trailing his eyes over the information. "Don't look at that."

"A'ight," Stiles accepts, slouching in his seat. Only, his eyes are still set firmly behind Noah.

"Avert your eyes. Hey!"

"Just–it's just–I see arrows pointing at pictures," Stiles accentuates, exaggeratedly moving his body around to get a closer look at the board, ignoring his father's complaints.

"Okay, okay, stop! Fine. I found something," Noah allows, staring at his son with a compressed feeling of pride. Stiles is already a better cop than most of Noah's men - already working his way to the top in manipulation tactics that are usually reserved to law-breaking kids. "Mechanic and the couple who were murdered. They all had something in common."

"All three?" Stiles demands, his attention solely focused on his father.

"Yeah. You know what I always say. One's an incident. Two's coincidence."

Stiles nods along, fervent and sure as he finishes, "Three's a pattern."

"The mechanic, the husband, the wife - all the same age. All 24."

"Wait a minute, what about Mr. Lahey? I mean, Issac's dad isn't even near 24."

"Which made me think that were either 'a', Lahey's murder wasn't connected or 'b', the ages were a coincidence. Until I found this, which would be 'c'." Noah grunts slightly, leaning over the desk to hand his evidence folder over to his son. Yes, it's illegal. Yes, Stiles isn't even considered an adult yet. But the way his son's mind works - connecting dots and problems faster than Noah had - Noah needed to allow his son to embrace that. His boy was going to be the world's greatest detective one day. His boy would take over the world piece by piece before anyone even realizes it. And the way Stiles immediately grabs the folder and starts scanning through the papers only solidifies the thought. "Did you know that Issac Lahey had an older brother named Cameron?"