Rekindle The Flame || Stilinski || Book Four || WATTY's 2022

Twenty-Five

WHEN STILES WOKE UP THE NEXT MORNING, IT FELT LIKE AN AVERAGE DAY.

He followed the same routine, taking a quick shower and getting ready for school within half an hour. After adjusting his watch on his non-braced wrist, he scanned the room for his backpack.

Finding it by the window, he lazily shoved some pieces of homework sticking out inside before he zipped it shut. He hoisted it over his shoulder and straightened his back.

But before he left, he paused. His gaze flicked back to the window, his head tilting to the side. His feet guided him back over and he took a glance across the lawn.

It was the same yard and neatly trimmed bushes. His neighbors were still home, he deducted, from seeing two cars in the driveway. What Stiles couldn't understand was the side of the house facing him.

He recognized a tall tree sprouting from the ground, leading his focus to a window that matched his. Except it wasn't open.

His heart flipped in his chest the longer he stared at it, and he wondered if there was something he was supposed to do. He quickly shook his head.

What he possibly have to do regarding the house beside his? Granted, he knew Derek and Jemma well—but not well enough to go over to their house at all.

"Stiles?"

The boy turned, snapping out of his confusing thoughts. "Yeah, what's up?"

Noah stood in his son's doorway, dressed in his sheriff's uniform and holding a mug in his hand. "Just wanted to make sure you were ready for school," he said with a shrug.

"Yeah," Stiles nodded, casting one more glance to the window before deciding to step away from it. "I, uh, I was just on my way downstairs."

"Well, there's breakfast on the table," Noah informed him, moving back as Stiles flipped off his light and exited his bedroom. As the senior headed down the steps, Noah caught his attention once more. "Oh, one more thing. If you're gonna sneak home late, at least try to be quiet."

Stiles winced, thinking of the last time he arrived past his curfew. "I woke up mom again, didn't I?"

Noah chuckled from the look on Stiles' face, but nodded to answer his question when they arrived in the kitchen. "Yeah, you did. Luckily, she's doesn't work till later so she can sleep in. You know we don't care if you're out late, but be respectful of the hour."

Stiles playfully saluted him. "Will do, pops."

He brightened at the sight of a waffle ready for him to eat on a plate. While he munched on it, his father enjoyed another cup of coffee.

Stiles only headed for the door when he caught sight of the time on his wrist. If he didn't leave now, he'd be late. He walked over to the front door, expecting to grab the keys to the jeep like any other morning.

But the keys weren't on the hook.

Stiles frowned. He always placed them there when he came home. Searching his pockets and backpack proved useless, as did checking his bedroom.

When he came back down the steps Noah stood by the door, shrugging on his coat. He noticed Stiles' worried expression and spoke up. "What's wrong?"

"My keys," Stiles huffed. "I can't find them."

"Just ride with me, then," Noah suggested, opening the front door and motioning for Stiles to leave. "You can find them when you get home."