Rise

Chapter Three

       *I don't own Teen Wolf.*

~edited~

☾☾☾

        Approaching the Stilinski residence, I began to feel nervous.  My heart sped up and I swallowed the lump in my throat as memories flooded me.  All the times I'd previously climbed these steps, it'd been my father next to me, carrying a six pack of beer and wearing one of those polo shirts with a pocket in front- he had a billion filling his closet.  Now it was Uncle Bobby to my left, wearing a blue t-shirt who was carrying a six pack of coconut water, looking mildly uncomfortable.

        I gripped the plate of brownies I was carrying in my left hand so I could reach up and ring the doorbell.  I met Bobby's eyes as we heard cursing and fumbling from the other side of the door, and I was surprised that I felt a smile trying to tug at my lips as he rolled his eyes.

        The door flew open and a breathless Mr. Stilinski was there, leaning on the frame for a moment.  He pushed himself off it, and waved us in.  "Come in, come in!  Coach, good to see you," he said, standing back out of our way.  "No, don't worry about taking your shoes off."

        "We're not early, are we?" I asked, wide-eyed at his dishevelled appearance.  His hair looked eerily like Bobby's, like he'd been running his hands through it too much and he was still in his uniform- which was very wrinkled and looking worse for wear.

        "No, no!  It's just that I-uh, well, I was trying to track down my son," he said, his cheeks coloring slightly.  "He was out late with Scott last night and gone this morning before I woke up, and I didn't get the chance to tell him about dinner, and now he's not answering his phone... I'm sorry, Rory, I know it would be nice for you two to catch up."

        "Oh... did you try texting him?" I asked, following Mr. Stilinski into the kitchen and ignoring Bobby's scoff and muttering behind me.

        A look of consternation crossed his face.  "Text?"  He pulled out his phone- an iPhone, and sheepishly looked up at me.  "I didn't think of that.  Smartphones, texting, it's all kind of..."

        "Say no more," I replied, forcing a reassuring smile.  I remembered all too well trying to walk my dad through learning the ins and outs of smartphones.  Totally painful.  Though, it was even worse when he became addicted and wouldn't stop texting me all the time.  He had an emoji obsession.  "These are for you!"  I shoved the plate of brownies at him once he'd sent a text and set his phone on the counter.

        "Oh, that's sweet of you, Rory, you didn't have to bring... anything," he said, eyes latching onto something behind me.  "Did... did you bake these yourself?"

        I turned in time to catch Bobby waving his hands in the air- almost like he was sending a warning.  I glared at him as I felt my cheeks begin to glow with heat.  "Yeah," I replied, turning back to Mr. Stilinski.  "From scratch."

        "Great!  We can have some after dinner," said Mr. Stilinski.

        Bobby snorted and muttered, "Your funeral.  I caught her before she accidentally used salt instead of sugar, so you're welcome."

        I felt my face grow hot at the memory of that.  I wasn't really experienced in the kitchen, and both the sugar and the salt were stored in cannisters on the kitchen counter.  Also, Dad and I had basically lived off of food from the local diner and whatever our neighbor, Mrs. Harriet sent our way back in Sandpoint.  Bobby, however, was a total foodie and the Food Network was basically the official channel of the house.  He had it on 24/7.