DEREK/STILES AND DYLAN/TYLER H POST!

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FILL: Beside You (1/?)

[anonymous]

The first day of school is the worst. Stiles realised this early on his first day of kindergarten as a scrawny brat with considerably less moles than he has now, and even now that he's the teacher, it rings true.

Still, Stiles is good with children. He's active, he's fun, he's basically the best kindergarten teacher on Earth. If need be, Stiles can be jumpier than a four-year-old on a sugar high. Mr. Stiles is awesome.

The only thing Stiles isn't super awesome at is dealing with the first day crying. He can be the concerned teacher waving blocks and princess coloring books in front of their faces, but if they don't bite, there's nothing Stiles can do.

In Stiles' many years (read: two) of experience as a kindergarten teacher, he's always dealt with crying children the same way. Eventually they do stop crying. Eventually.

Thankfully this year, the children are done crying by ten fifteen. Stiles is done marking the register and giggling inwardly at the unfortunate names.

The children are busy coloring hearts and drawing family portraits for their kissing hand lesson. Stiles takes a moment's break to check his phone. Lydia's supposed to meet him for lunch today. Stiles loves Lydia, even if she's five foot three of barbed tongue and sharp nails.

(Lydia, incidentally, is also a kindergarten teacher. She's the fancy kind, though, in the kind of schools that have waiting lists for over a year and require three rounds of interviewing with the child and their parents. Lydia teaches math. Stiles can also teach math. He honestly doesn't see why Lydia gets paid ten times his pay check.)

There's a knock on the door, and Stiles looks up so fast he almost gets whiplash.

"Hi," the guy at the door says. "Sorry we're late. There were... complications."

Stiles stands, ever the welcoming kindergarten teacher. It's important to set a good example, after all.

"It's alright," he says. "We're pretty relaxed on the first day." He bends down to be at eye level with the little girl clinging on tightly to her -- father? -- father's hand. "Who might you be?"

"I'm Laura," she announces, standing up straighter. Then, turning to her dad, she says, "It's okay, Daddy. I can take care of myself."

Stiles likes her already. She's not crying.

"Laura Hale?" he confirms. She nods, brown hair bobbing. "Alright. Just take a seat next to the boy in blue and I'll be with you in a moment, okay? Evan, do you mind showing Laura what we've been doing?"

Laura nods, dropping her father's hand and walking confidently towards Evan. Stiles watches as Mr. Hale's hand clutches around empty air before curling into a fist.

"Don't worry," he says. "Lots of parents get first day jitters. You aren't going to cry, are you? I usually save my blocks and princess coloring books for the children, but if they'll make you feel better --"

Mr. Hale's expression remains stoic. Stiles sighs inwardly. Okay then.

"I'll see you later," Mr. Hale says quietly. "I love you."

Wait, what? Stiles gapes at him for a moment, before Laura says, "Love you, Daddy!"

Oh, right. Stiles thinks the kid probably has supersonic hearing.

"We let out at 2.30," Stiles reminds Mr. Hale.

Mr. Hale merely nods before turning on his heel and leaving. Stiles is a little thrown off his game, but he can deal with standoffish parents. It's not like he hasn't had them before.

Okay. He hasn't had them before. Beacon Hills is a nice place where everyone at least smiles. Mr. Hale looks like he doesn't understand how facial muscles work. Or common courtesy.

Stiles closes the door and takes a deep breath.

"Is everyone done?"

He's greeted with a chorus of Yes, Mr. Stiles,.

"Who wants to go first?"

Hands go up all around the room and he thinks to himself, ah, kindergarten.

--

the kissing hand lesson can be read about here.