Trust Danny to point out the obvious. It wasn't like Stiles didn't know that, he did, he just... well he didn't care. It wasn't their fault that some psycho lady had murdered their parents, went all bitey and grrr on them only to yank them across state lines. Besides they had a few days before Derek and the others got back from their trip. He'd think of something then. In the mean time, they could and would stay here. It wasn't like they were too much trouble, since they got here all they did was sleep. Allison's dad suggested it might be some form of PTSD. Stiles thought he might have been right.
"Um... weren't there 5 of them?"
Stiles looked down at the small pile, yep. They were missing someone. From downstairs they heard a door shut, and a crash. glancing from the slightly open door than back to sleeping babies he did a mental recount. Yep. A boy someone.
"STILES."
"Aw crap."
His Dad was home.
~*~ "Holy god..."
The kitchen was a huge freakin mess of powder and chewed up boxes spilled out all over the floor. The cabinet doors were wide open as well as the sliding drawers, there was flour all over the counter tops and floor, complete with tiny footprints. The fridge seemed to be half open with various containers hanging open. In the center of it all was the youngest boy, the legs of his shorts were covered in a mix of flour sludge, his ash blond locks were wet with what he hoped was juice. In his tiny hands were the remains of what could only be...
"Is that the tv remote?"
It would have been hilarious if it weren't for two things. His kitchen was a mess and the baby had done all this without anyone hearing a dam thing.
"Son, you wanna tell me again how this was such a good idea."
"Dad...hey when did you...No."
Nope. He wasn't even gonna try it. Not with the look he was getting at the moment. He gently pushed Alison to the side and asked her to start the upstairs bathtub.
~*~
Trust Danny to point out the obvious. It wasn't like Stiles didn't know that, he did, he just... well he didn't care. It wasn't their fault that some psycho lady had murdered their parents, went all bitey and grrr on them only to yank them across state lines. Besides they had a few days before Derek and the others got back from their trip. He'd think of something then. In the mean time, they could and would stay here. It wasn't like they were too much trouble, since they got here all they did was sleep. Allison's dad suggested it might be some form of PTSD. Stiles thought he might have been right.
"Um... weren't there 5 of them?"
Stiles looked down at the small pile, yep. They were missing someone. From downstairs they heard a door shut, and a crash. glancing from the slightly open door than back to sleeping babies he did a mental recount. Yep. A boy someone.
"STILES."
"Aw crap."
His Dad was home.
~*~
"Holy god..."
The kitchen was a huge freakin mess of powder and chewed up boxes spilled out all over the floor. The cabinet doors were wide open as well as the sliding drawers, there was flour all over the counter tops and floor, complete with tiny footprints. The fridge seemed to be half open with various containers hanging open. In the center of it all was the youngest boy, the legs of his shorts were covered in a mix of flour sludge, his ash blond locks were wet with what he hoped was juice. In his tiny hands were the remains of what could only be...
"Is that the tv remote?"
It would have been hilarious if it weren't for two things. His kitchen was a mess and the baby had done all this without anyone hearing a dam thing.
"Son, you wanna tell me again how this was such a good idea."
"Dad...hey when did you...No."
Nope. He wasn't even gonna try it. Not with the look he was getting at the moment. He gently pushed Alison to the side and asked her to start the upstairs bathtub.
~*~
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