Storm // Teen Wolf // Scott McCall (Discontinued)

Red Flannel

I came in early that morning through the window, shrugging out of my jacket and sinking onto the edge of my bed.

I huffed, clasping my hands together in my lap. Lydia had seen the Alpha.

"Shit," I murmured, my shoulders slumping.

"Hey, language."

I jumped, whirling. The sheriff stood in my doorway, holding his hands out, palms facing me with a grin on his face.

"Oh- Dad, hey," I gave him a smile. "What're you doing up?"

The sheriff nodded at the alarm clock on my nightstand. "Sawyer, it's six in the morning. I'm going to work," he added, putting his hands on his hips. "You know what tonight is, right?"

I felt my brow furrow as I thought, slowly shaking my head. "Uh, no... no, should I?" I took a step back, my eyes narrowing ever so slightly. I was still processing that I had been looking for the Alpha all goddamn night.

He raised his eyebrows. "It's parent-teacher conferences tonight," he said. "Am I going to be hearing some good news?"

I felt my eyes widen. "Uh... that- that depends on how you define good news," I stammered, hoping I sounded more confident than I felt.

The sheriff sighed, looking disappointed. I hated that expression on him. "Sawyer, you said you were going to do better this semester," he said softly, walking into my room to take a seat on the edge of my bed.

I sat down next to him, nodding. "I know, I... it's just..." I let my head fall forward into my hands, sighing. "Have you found the thing that killed Laura yet?" I knew he hadn't.

The sheriff tensed beside me, but I didn't look up.

"No, not yet. But we will, sweetheart," he promised, putting a hand on my shoulder. "Is this why you're struggling with grades?"

I glanced at my father through my hair, not saying anything. In a way, it was. I was struggling because I wanted, no, needed to find the Alpha, who had killed Laura, and I couldn't do that and maintain a C average in high school.

But I also just had trouble listening to everyone drone on about stuff I didn't really care about.

"Y'know, I don't think I've ever met a kid who's as strong as you are," he murmured. "Your family, Peter in the hospital, and then Claudia... and now this. It's... most people couldn't do it."

I sat up, pulling him into a hug. "I love you, Dad," I croaked, closing my eyes. I could never call Claudia my mother when she was alive, not until she was dying and Stiles was calling for a nurse and I said, 'Mom, please don't go', but I did call the sheriff my dad.

The first time I'd called him Dad, I didn't think he'd ever smiled bigger at me.

It was when Claudia was in the hospital, and she'd been asking about my day, and I told her, 'It was okay... Dad said you were asking about me.'

They'd both smiled these really big smiles, and told me they loved me and Stiles, and then Claudia had dozed off while Stiles was telling her about how Scott had tripped, again. (He was a klutzy child.)

"I love you too, kiddo," the sheriff murmured, pressing a kiss to my head. "I gotta go. I'll see you at the conferences, okay?"

I nodded, smiling at him. "I'll be there," I promised, before my smile turned into a mischievous smirk. "If you got me my own car, I'd get there even faster."

His eyebrows rose, and I smiled sheepishly. "Yeah, I'll shut up now," I agreed.

•

At about seven-fifteen, I was dressed in a charcoal grey camisole and a pair of jeans, my hair contained in a side-braid, and a red flannel folded over my forearm.

"Hey, is that... my shirt?" Stiles demanded from the doorway in his pajamas, pointing at my arm.

I looked down, a piece of toast dangling from my mouth at the crimson piece of clothing, and back up to Stiles.

"It's mine now," I mumbled out, but it sounded more like "If's mi fnow".

Stiles gave me a Look, before lunging forward. I darted back, launching myself across the island and running out of the house.

"Hey!" Stiles yelled after me as I walked leisurely to his Jeep, chewing on my toast. "Give me my shirt back!"

I snorted, calling back over my shoulder, "Suck it up, Stilinski!"

•••

The picture is what I imagine Stiles's Look to be like.