Chapter Sixteen

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You love me for my hella long updates admit it I’m super bomb

I don’t own Teen Wolf, thanks Obama

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“Good morning, Jessa.” I rolled over, rubbing my eyes and opening them to see Mister Stilinski standing over me with his arms crossed over his chest.

“Good morning, Mister S. How much less trouble will I be in if I make breakfast?” I asked hopefully, sitting up and stretching. He thought for a moment before leaving.

“I like my eggs scrambled.” He called over his shoulder, already walking down the hallway. I let out a laugh and rolled out of Stiles’ bed, pulling the blankets back into place and heading into the bathroom. I welcomed myself to some of Stiles’ face wash and deodorant, getting myself cleaned up as best I could before heading downstairs. Mister S was at the table sipping coffee and looking through a case report, so I headed to the kitchen and made some bacon- baked, with the grease dabbed off because Stiles was watching what his dad ate- and scrambled eggs with no salt.

I carried the plate into the dining room and set them in front of Mister S, plopping myself down next to him and sipping a cup of orange juice.

“Anything interesting happening at work, Mister S?” I asked, crossing one leg under myself.

“You’re just as nosy as my son.” He responded, flipping through the folder and not answering my question. “Speaking of,” He set the papers down and tilted his glasses down on his nose, looking at me. “Should I talk to your mother? I mean, is that the responsible parent thing to do when your kids are having sex?” Mister Stilinski asked, and I choked, spitting my orange juice out into my cup and hacking very cutely for a minute before recomposing myself.

“I am not having sex with your son.” I assured him with as much seriousness as I could muster.

“I’m going to believe you.” Mister S decided after a moment, and I nodded furiously. “Can you go wake him up? You should probably get going if you don’t want to be late to school.” Mister S added, nodding at the clock. I looked around to see that school started in an hour. Shit.

“STILES GET UP!” I shouted, pouring my juice into the sink and running into the front room. I paused before yanking the blankets off of Stiles, I mean he was so adorable all cuddled up with them, his mouth hanging open slightly and his butt sticking in the air like an inch worm or something.

“GET UP!” I shouted again, tugging the blanket away and hitting Stiles in the face with a couch cushion. He sprung up, looking around frantically before relaxing that there was no world disaster occurring. “School starts in an hour and you’re my ride home.” I informed. That got him up.

Stiles was in and out of the shower as well as partially dressed in under ten minutes, and we were at my house in under fifteen. My mother’s eyebrows shot up when Stiles and I sprinted through the door and up the stairs. Within five seconds she had Stiles by the ear and I was taking the stairs three at a time.

My shower was cold and I don’t think I’d been more awake in my entire life than I was when that water touched my skin. Shampoo and soap were my bitches, and I was out and shaved in about five minutes. The clothing part was a slightly bigger issue, because in order to stay friends with Lydia I could not be seen in public in leggings.

I valued Lydia’s friendship enough that I decided on some skinny jeans, rolled twice so that I could wear my beige laced chukka heels and maroon socks, as well as a flowy forest green tank top and a green, blue, and maroon flannel rolled to my elbows. I grabbed my makeup and a hairbrush, waving to my mother as I sprinted through the kitchen, dragging Stiles along with me.

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