Right Beside You | Stiles Stilinski | Two

8 - Jump

Any of the ease that was in the air vanished when we stepped into Sheriff Stilinski's dark office. Stiles let go of my hand and dashed over to the lockbox on the wall. I stood in the middle of the room, squinting around at the plaques and pictures that lined the walls. There was a slight smile on my face as I looked at one of Stiles and his father on the desk, but the smile vanished when Stiles opened his mouth.

"Oh no, no, no."

My head snapped up. "What is it?"

He stepped aside, jerking his thumb toward the box on the wall. The cover had been removed, now showing that the inside was completely vacant. No keys.

"Shit," I hissed, pressing a hand to my head. "So what does that mean? Did the Argents beat us here?"

"I don't know."

He ran to peek both ways out the door again. I went to follow, but paused, looking around the room with a different idea in mind. It was a police station after all, right?

I ran toward the wall, hands searching in the dark. I felt along the walls, along the shelves, until I finally skimmed something promising: hard, textured, black plastic. I gave a small knock to test the strength, but it was unyielding. Perfect.

I grabbed at the edges and tried to haul it off the shelf, and Stiles doubled back in confusion. "Scarlett, come on! We gotta go!"

"Help me with this," I ordered.

He only hesitated for a second, then groaned and rushed to my side, helping me lower the heavy case to the ground. "Geez, what the hell is this?"

"Open it."

"Um, I can't? You see the front here? Two code locks. I don't know..."

"Yeah, and you 'didn't know' the code to the lockbox either. Look, if there's anything you can think of that would fit. Please try."

He held my gaze for a few seconds before sighing. "Okay. Okay, uh...hold on..."

He shifted the case toward him, plugging in a number and testing the lock. It didn't budge. He tried again. No luck. He scrolled the wheels a few more times and tired a few more codes, but nothing seemed to be working. He let out a noise of frustration and shook his head.

"Scarlett, it's not gonna—"

"Stiles. Please."

He squeezed his eyes shut for a moment and took a deep breath. He let the air out in a long, slow stream, and spun through the numbers one more time. His thumbs moved to tug at the locks. And it clicked.

"Holy shit." Stiles gaped as the clasps flicked up, unlocking the case. "Holy shit, I—I got it..."

"You got it," I said with a grin.

I flipped the case open, holding my breath in fear that I'd picked the wrong one, but I wasn't disappointed. The inside was full of Styrofoam padding, revealing several handguns and magazines at the ready. I let my fingers ghost over the surface, selecting a gun and some ammo.

"Holy shit!" Stiles repeated. He waved his hands in front of him, jaw dropping. "I got it! That—that is so unsafe!"

I chuckled, loading the gun and standing up. I kept the barrel pointed at the ground as I walked to the door, checking down both ends of the hallway before glancing back at Stiles. "Come on, we should go."

Stiles stood up and brushed his hands on his jeans, jogging over to the door. I didn't miss the way his eyes scanned my body, just like Derek had done to the woman up front, his eyes lingering on the gun and then my face. I tucked my lips in, torn between embarrassment and pride.