Ad-Listed // Stiles Stilinski.

chapter four

"Hey Dad." The words left your mouth as you looked on confused at the aging man in front of you. You hadn't seem him in a while, the lines by the sides of his eyes more pronounced than before, the wrinkles in his forehead deepened by the stress of his job. "Gwennie!" He cajoled, your blood running cold as you pressed your lips together in a slight grimace. You haven't called me Gwennie since I was 10. What do you want? You thought to yourself as he reached out his arms awkwardly, his slate grey suit wrinkling unnaturally. You stood plastered to your spot as he dropped his arms, a cool departed look in his eyes. "What are you doing here?" You asked as he stepped forwards, almost barging into your apartment as you took up as much space as you could. "Is it a crime to want to come see my youngest daughter?!" He joked as you blinked slowly, trying to stop the sarcastic thoughts in your mind from spilling out into existence. You bit your tongue as you shrugged, letting him past you as his bodyguards stepped forwards. "Family only. Thanks." You narrowed your eyes as your dad walked past you, heading towards the mess in your living room. Great, I'm going to hear no end of that. You closed the door on his bodyguards, leaving them in the hallway of your apartment complex as you followed your dad into the main space of your apartment.

"I'm paying for this Gwen, the least you could do is keep it tidy." He started complaining as you rolled your eyes, already over the conversation before it had even begun. Right on cue. "Sorry, I was about to tidy up as you came over." You lied, yawning as you made your way into the kitchen. "Do you want a coffee?" You asked as he nodded, looking over the papers strewn on your coffee table. "Law?" He asked, a figurative question mark in his tone as you sighed. "Yes, law. I know you wanted me to go into business but I wanted to do law." You argued as his brow cocked, the salt and pepper hair bushy above his eyes. "Am I paying for this?" He asked as you nodded, your hair falling over your neck as you poured water into your Keurig. "You are, we had a three hour meeting about it over the phone which resulted in you not talking to me for a month before you finally got over it!" You remembered the day well, the ghost of stress sending chills through your spine. He'd threatened to cut you off before he remembered you could help his company in the law department.

You busied yourself measuring out beans as your dad wandered around your apartment, his shoes scuffing on the wooden floor. He tutted audibly as you rolled your eyes so hard you wondered how he didn't hear them grate against your eye sockets. You carried on making coffee in uncomfortable silence as your dad buried his hands into his pockets, making his way over to your kitchen. He didn't fit in the space, all grey and weathered against stark white marble as you pulled at the hem of your shirt. "So, I came to talk to you about something, but seeing as though you're busy making a coffee wrong right now-" He paused, looking over your shoulders as you stiffened, your blood boiling. "-I'll be on the couch." He trailed off, walking away from you as you bit back snarky remarks.

You'd never really seen eye to eye with him, often butting heads over the littlest thing. But you couldn't hate the guy, he put you through college, paid rent on your apartment and left you alone for the most part. But you couldn't help but wish for more of a conventional relationship with him. The sound of your water boiling pulled you from your thoughts; the smell of coffee already brewing in the air. You wiped at your eyes, picking sleep from your inner corner as your dad tapped his feet, impatiently waiting for you to join him. "How do you take it?" You asked, his head not turning as he spoke. "Black, no sugar." You sighed as he left off any pleasantries, his greying head turning to look over the artwork hung on your walls.

"Interesting choice of decor there Gwen." He spoke as you crossed the room, balancing two mugs, praying that you didn't spill them and burn your arms off. Actually, if that would get me out of this conversation then I'll happily take it. You almost sighed in disappointment as you placed them on the messy coffee table, settling into the couch you'd previously sat on with Stiles. Your dad was the opposite of Stiles. If they were shapes, my dad's a square; all hard lines and blocks. Stiles- fuck if I know, something weird probably. You laughed at yourself, hiding your smile as your dad turned to you, his face serious. "So as you might know we're closing in on a deal-" You took a deep breath as you reached for your cup, desperate to silence yourself. "- We've been trying to get Fleming in on this for years and finally he seems to be in a weak spot." You stilled, your blood running cold as you thought of the only Fleming you knew.