Chapter fourty-three: hold you

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XLIII

I couldn't decide on a pic or a gif, so enjoy both please 😩

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I couldn't decide on a pic or a gif, so enjoy both please 😩.

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The flickering fluorescents overhead gave the lounge a clinical coldness, though it was warmer than the rest of the hospital by maybe a degree or two. Still, it didn't help the damp chill that clung to Leo's skin. He sat hunched forward in a worn plastic chair, arms wrapped around his middle, Stiles' oversized plaid button up swallowing his frame. Beside him, Stiles sat in a plain white T-shirt. Their fingers stayed laced together, unmoving.

Around them, the hospital buzzed with low chatter. Officers taping off busted wings, firefighters muttering to each other about fried systems and temporary evacuations. From the outside, it looked like a severe weather incident. But inside... it was something else entirely. Something none of them would ever be able to explain.

Leo exhaled, finally starting to feel his heartbeat slowing. That was until the doors at the front of the building hissed open, and Stiles' entire posture locked up beside him.

"Oh, just perfect," he sighed, voice soaked in disdain as he leaned forward, eyes locked straight ahead.

Leo followed where his gaze had gone and immediately clocked the guy. A guy who stood tall, government windbreaker still glistening from the rain, bold yellow FBI lettering practically glowing under the ceiling lights. He walked like a man who never doubted he belonged in any room. Something about his face tugged at the edges of Leo's memory, familiar but blurry, like a face seen in a photograph from someone else's childhood.

The man didn't even bother to pause before aiming a loaded glare straight at Stiles.

"A Stilinski at the center of this whole mess," he said dryly, hands resting casually in his jacket pockets like he had all night to waste. "What a shocker. Think you can answer some questions without the usual level of sarcasm?"

"If you ask the questions without the usual level of stupid," Stiles shot back, his voice sharp enough to cut glass.

Leo blinked at how fast it came out. He didn't even try to hide the smirk tugging at his mouth.

The man scowled, ignoring the jab. "Where's your dad, and why's no one been able to contact him?"

"I don't know," Stiles replied coolly, lifting a shoulder. "I haven't seen him in hours."

"Is he drinking again?"

Leo turned his head, confused but Stiles didn't flinch.

"What do you mean, again?" he asked, voice colder now, laced with something harder underneath. "He never had to stop."

"But he did have to slow down," the agent countered flatly. "Is he drinking like he used to?"

A bitter breath left Stiles' mouth, barely a laugh. "All right, how about this? Next time I see him, I'll give him a field sobriety test, okay? We'll do the alphabet, start with 'F,' end with 'U.'"

kiss you // S.S.Stories to obsess over. Discover now