Inferno - Stiles Stilinski

Chapter 12

Tonight, I have the unbelievable pleasure of getting to go on patrol with the Sheriff, and it just so happens that Stiles got to come along too. Lucky for me, the department has a car with three seats in the front. Otherwise, I would have to sit in Stiles' lap... awkwarddddd.

I mean there's always the back but I hate sitting back there... it makes me feel like a perp.

We just stopped for some food and while we were inside ordering, Stiles completely ignored his father's requests and instead got him "healthier" options.

I do agree that Sheriff should eat better, only because I want my father-figure around for as long as possible. Buuuuuut, when Stiles is in the passenger seat inhaling curly fries and Stilinski is in the driver's seat WANTING curly fries... it's not exactly helpful.

"Mm, did they forget my curly fries?" Stilinski asks.

"You're not supposed to eat fries," Stiles reminds him, "Especially the curly ones."

What being curly has to do with it... I have no clue... but that's Logic-de-la-Stiles, so I don't question it.

"Well, I'm carrying a lethal weapon. If I want the curly fries, I will have the curly fries."

"Oooohhhh Stiles. He got rid of the contractions... you're in trouble now." I say, watching the scene unfold before me from the middle seat.

"If you think getting rid of contractions in all you sentences makes your argument any more legitimate, you. are. wrong." He emphasizes the space between "you" and "are" to make his point. Believing he has won the conversation, he lets out a victorious "Heh" before returning to his drink, where he takes the straw in between his upper teeth and his lips, and slightly puckers to take a sip... it was a totally Stiles thing to do... taking something as completely ordinary as drinking through a straw and making it adorably funny.

The Sheriff, however, turns to me and whispers, "Do you really put up with this crap on a daily basis?"

"Yes sir... unfortunately I do."

He doesn't get a chance to respond, because the police radio beeps and a dispatcher comes over the radio, "Unit one, do you copy?"

Stiles reaches for the radio, only for his dad to clear his throat and smack his hand away.

"...Sorry." He mutters and retracts his hand, causing my face to break out in a smile.

Seeing the interactions between these two always warms my heart, especially since I don't have a good father to interact with.

"Unit one, copy." Stilinski responds, while Stiles begins stuffing an unhealthily large number of curly fries in his mouth at one time.

"Got a report of a possible 1-8-7."

"A murder?" he excitedly whips his head around to look at his father, with fries falling out of his mouth.

"Oh, my God, really Sti? Let's try to keep the food IN your mouth next time, huh?" I laugh, catching a few of the fries that drop, and putting them back in his fry container, causing Stilinski to laugh along, while also preparing the car to leave.

After driving a few minutes, we arrive to the scene of the crime.

Seriously? The Video Store? Out of all the places to murder someone... the Video Store?

"Stay here." Sheriff instructs us, as he gets out to do his Sheriff thing. Meanwhile, Stiles and I sit in the car, looking around at the scene.

Not too long after Stilinski exits, I see an ambulance, and a familiar head of strawberry blonde hair sitting in the back, "Lydia?"