Three Piece Suits and Plaid Button-Ups...Chapter 17
They finally made it back to Beacon Hills a while after the sun had set. By the time Neal parked his car in front of Stiles’ house, the darkness was oppressive with almost no light from the moon and stars. Stiles shifted to unbuckle his seatbelt, and his fingers brushed against his freshly-laundered white dress shirt. Neal had arranged for his new suit to be cleaned up while they rested at the hotel.
Spurred by the memory, Stiles took a moment to look Neal in the eyes with sincerity. “Thanks.”
Neal responded in kind, “You’re welcome, Stiles. Give my regards to your father; I hope he bought that excuse about staying with Scott.”
While exiting the car, the teen scoffed in a self-deprecating tone, “Well, who else would he believe?” After closing the car door, Stiles turned around, expecting to see his front door and definitely not an incredibly pissed off werewolf.
With red eyes.
Shit.
“Where were you, Stiles.” Derek demanded. His nostrils were flared, and the Eyebrows were reaching Meltdown-Mode.
Stiles’ mind was frantically trying to find some plausible excuse without jeopardizing Neal’s investigation and still manage not to escalate this unfortunate situation. But with every second of Stiles’ blank look seemed to provoke Derek into more displays of hostility.
Stiles mentally threw his hands up and simply said, “Out.” He tried to say it in a wary, guarded, totally spy-movie-like way, but it probably just came out as “sullen teenager.” Either way works for him.
“Out for days and a night with a federal agent? What would your dad, the sheriff, say about that?” Why yes, that was Jackson’s completely aggravating and whiny voice. The last time Stiles heard Jackson’s voice like that, he set him and Scott up and officially filed a restraining order against them. Not that Stiles had a grudge about it, no, of course not.
“I’m pretty dead sure the sheriff wouldn’t heed the word of a past murder suspect and a teenager who completely looked the other way when his own neighbor was being beat to shit.” It was a low blow, even for him, but it was worth it just for Jackson to shut up.
At this point in the now-becoming-a-conflict-event, Neal had left his car. He could barely believe these jerks were actually preventing Stiles from going into his own house. He circled around to the three younger men, fully ready to use a little force.
“Fellas, we’ve had a very long and stressful weekend, so I suggest we let Stiles go, and the two of you can address your problems with me. I’m the one who asked Stiles to help in my case.”
Derek glared at Neal, probably because 1) his lie detector was busy at work, and 2) was unhappy to find that Neal was telling the truth. Though not quite all of it. Not that Derek needed to know. Stiles felt strangely elated that for once, Derek was on his No-Need-to-Know list.
Derek looked like he was about to argue again when he jerked his head to the side in full-alert. Stiles followed his gaze, knowing better than to question the alpha’s instincts. And the teen could’ve sworn that his heart full-on stopped after hearing the same growling noise from the basement of Mercury headquarters.
Spurred by the memory, Stiles took a moment to look Neal in the eyes with sincerity. “Thanks.”
Neal responded in kind, “You’re welcome, Stiles. Give my regards to your father; I hope he bought that excuse about staying with Scott.”
While exiting the car, the teen scoffed in a self-deprecating tone, “Well, who else would he believe?” After closing the car door, Stiles turned around, expecting to see his front door and definitely not an incredibly pissed off werewolf.
With red eyes.
Shit.
“Where were you, Stiles.” Derek demanded. His nostrils were flared, and the Eyebrows were reaching Meltdown-Mode.
Stiles’ mind was frantically trying to find some plausible excuse without jeopardizing Neal’s investigation and still manage not to escalate this unfortunate situation. But with every second of Stiles’ blank look seemed to provoke Derek into more displays of hostility.
Stiles mentally threw his hands up and simply said, “Out.” He tried to say it in a wary, guarded, totally spy-movie-like way, but it probably just came out as “sullen teenager.” Either way works for him.
“Out for days and a night with a federal agent? What would your dad, the sheriff, say about that?” Why yes, that was Jackson’s completely aggravating and whiny voice. The last time Stiles heard Jackson’s voice like that, he set him and Scott up and officially filed a restraining order against them. Not that Stiles had a grudge about it, no, of course not.
“I’m pretty dead sure the sheriff wouldn’t heed the word of a past murder suspect and a teenager who completely looked the other way when his own neighbor was being beat to shit.” It was a low blow, even for him, but it was worth it just for Jackson to shut up.
At this point in the now-becoming-a-conflict-event, Neal had left his car. He could barely believe these jerks were actually preventing Stiles from going into his own house. He circled around to the three younger men, fully ready to use a little force.
“Fellas, we’ve had a very long and stressful weekend, so I suggest we let Stiles go, and the two of you can address your problems with me. I’m the one who asked Stiles to help in my case.”
Derek glared at Neal, probably because 1) his lie detector was busy at work, and 2) was unhappy to find that Neal was telling the truth. Though not quite all of it. Not that Derek needed to know. Stiles felt strangely elated that for once, Derek was on his No-Need-to-Know list.
Derek looked like he was about to argue again when he jerked his head to the side in full-alert. Stiles followed his gaze, knowing better than to question the alpha’s instincts. And the teen could’ve sworn that his heart full-on stopped after hearing the same growling noise from the basement of Mercury headquarters.