Guess Who's Legal?

Noah's gift and Mario cart

After breakfast, Stiles trudged back upstairs to shower, his mind still buzzing from Scott's earlier words about Derek. He tried not to think about it too much as the hot water pounded against his skin, but his thoughts kept drifting back to Derek and the weight of the day ahead. He scrubbed shampoo through his hair, letting out a sigh. He had time. It was still early enough, and right now, he could focus on winning a few rounds of Mario Kart.

When he finished and stepped out of the bathroom, he could already hear Scott downstairs, likely booting up the console and prepping for their usual trash-talking during the game. A grin tugged at his lips as he dressed quickly, pulling on his usual hoodie and jeans. Game day meant comfort.

He bounded down the stairs, hair still damp, to find Scott lounging on the couch, two controllers at the ready, the familiar music of Mario Kart already blasting through the speakers.

"Ready to lose?" Scott smirked, tossing a controller toward Stiles, who caught it with ease.

"Please, you're the one who always ends up in last place," Stiles shot back, plopping down next to him, his competitive streak already sparking to life.

Scott was about to fire off another retort when Noah walked into the room, holding something behind his back. Both boys froze, glancing up at him.

"Before you two start destroying each other," Noah said, his voice serious but a small smile on his lips, "I've got something for you, Stiles."

Stiles blinked, sitting up a little straighter. "Oh, uh, okay."

Noah stepped forward, pulling a small, carefully wrapped box from behind his back and holding it out. "Happy birthday, kid."

Stiles stared at the box for a second before taking it, his fingers brushing over the plain, simple wrapping. He glanced up at his dad, who nodded encouragingly. With a curious tilt of his head, he started to unwrap it, careful not to tear the paper. Inside was a small, black velvet box—the kind that made his breath catch for a second, like he was opening something important, something with meaning.

He flicked it open.

Inside was a watch. A sleek, vintage one with a worn leather strap and an elegant, simple face. Stiles blinked, his throat tightening just a little as he looked at it.

"It was your grandfather's," Noah said quietly, his eyes soft as he looked at his son. "He gave it to me when I turned 18, and now... it's yours."

Stiles swallowed hard, his fingers tracing the edge of the watch before lifting it from the box. It felt heavier than he expected, not in weight, but in what it represented. A piece of family, a piece of history, handed down to him. He wasn't sure what to say. He just stared at the watch for a moment, then at his dad, his chest tightening.

"I... I don't know what to say." His voice came out a little shaky, his fingers fumbling with the leather strap.

Noah gave him a small, understanding smile. "You don't have to say anything, Stiles. Just... take care of it. And maybe one day, you'll pass it on too."

Stiles nodded, still lost in the emotion of it all. He carefully slipped the watch onto his wrist, the leather snug against his skin. It felt like it belonged there, like it was meant for him. His dad didn't often show his softer side, but moments like these always caught Stiles off guard, hitting him harder than he expected.

Scott, sensing the moment, kept quiet, his usual playfulness muted as he watched his best friend with an almost proud smile.

Stiles finally looked back up at his dad, his lips quirking into a small, grateful smile. "Thanks, Dad."

Noah gave him a nod, his expression softening. "Happy birthday, kid."

With that, Noah turned and left the room, leaving Stiles and Scott in silence. Stiles stared down at the watch for a moment longer, twisting his wrist to get a better look. It was perfect—simple, meaningful. He could already tell it was going to be something he cherished.

Scott nudged him with his shoulder, breaking the quiet. "So... how's it feel to get old?"

Stiles huffed out a laugh, blinking away the last bit of emotion. "Shut up."

"Nice watch, though." Scott grinned, clearly trying to lighten the mood.

Stiles couldn't help but smile back, a hint of pride in his expression as he held up his wrist. "Yeah. It's pretty bad ass, right?"

"Definitely," Scott agreed, though his eyes gleamed with mischief. "Too bad it won't help you in Mario Kart."

Stiles rolled his eyes, feeling the tension ease from his chest. "Oh, please, I don't need help to beat you."

"Uh-huh," Scott teased, picking up his controller again. "We'll see about that."

With a final glance at the watch, Stiles settled back into the couch, his fingers wrapping around the controller. For a moment, everything felt right—the weight of the watch on his wrist, the game humming on the screen, and the comfort of his best friend beside him.