desolation//t.w

|Three.|

Isaac

"Oh, I should've got a haircut." The Sheriff says, checking himself out in the mirror of his office as the guys and I stand beside him.

"Well, you know someone your age should be happy you still have hair to cut." Stiles tells him.

"I think you look great." Scott tells him.

"Yeah, I agree, Sheriff Stilinski." I smile.

"Well, thank you, sons I should have had." Sheriff smiles at us as Stiles frowns. Sheriff soon rips off his tie off, "Oh, what the hell am I doing? This is a terrible idea."

"What, Dad... Dad, it's one date, okay?" Stiles reassures him, "The town of Beacon Hills won't implode while you're out with one woman. Or man."

"It's a woman, Stiles. Okay. A very beautiful woman." Sheriff smiles.

"What beautiful woman, by the way?" Stiles asks.

"None of your business. Either of you." Sheriff chuckles.

"I want to know. " Stiles say as we walk out of the office.

"Stilinski!" We look over to see a guy about our age, handcuffed by Parrish. "I'm going to kill you."

"Donovan, if you think that shocks me, remember it was well-documented in your Anger Expression Inventory." Sheriff tells him, "Deputies, escort the prisoner out."

"I'm not angry like I'm gonna throw a brick through your window. I'm angry, like I'm going to find you, I'm going to get a knife and I'm going to stab you with it until you're dead. And when you look at me and you ask me why, remember right now. Because this is why." Geez. And I thought I had anger issues.

"Wow, that was awesome." Stiles slowly claps, "That was awesome. That was great. We do one more? Give us another one, maybe like Christopher Walken this time, you know. Okay, you know what? It's fine. You'll have plenty of time to work on it when you're in your tiny, little cell, you know. Just stuck there, forever."

Donovan smirks, while slightly turning before turning back and lunging forward towards Stiles. Parrish grabs and pulls him back just in time.

"Get him out of here!" Sheriff yells as Parrish leads Donovan out, alongside his lawyer.

"What the hell's an Anger Expression Inventory?" Scott whispers to Stiles, "It's a test you take when you're applying to become a deputy."

"That guy wanted to be a cop?" I raise my eyebrows.

Stiles nods, "At least now he's getting the full law enforcement experience... Come on, let's go."

"Have fun on your date, Sheriff." I smile, walking backwards.

"Ah. Thanks, Isaac." He nods as we walk out of the sheriff's station.

All three of us pile into Stiles' jeep. I sigh as Stiles struggles to start it up but I also get the feeling like something's up with him.

"It's anxiety." Stiles says and I frown.

"What is?" Scott asks him.

"The chemo signals? Oh, I'm well aware of how you all monitor my emotional state. Yeah." Stiles says, still trying to start up his car but failing, so he hits his fist against the steering wheel in frustration.

"You okay?" I ask, leaning forward from the backseat, looking over at Stiles.

"All right." Stiles pulls out his phone, showing us a picture of a man bloodied and dismembered literally to death, "I got this from Braeden a few hours ago. That's the first real bit of information we've gotten on the Desert Wolf in months."