hold me closer

04

"We're just going to wait here for Scott," Stiles commanded. "We're going to sit quietly. We're not going to call or talk to anyone."

"Do I talk to you?" he asked.

"No."

"Do I talk to her?"

Stiles glanced at me. "Definitely not."

"Fine."

"Good."

"Who's going to talk to him?" he asked.

Stiles was surprised by Scott's father. "Ah! Are you getting taller?"

"What are you guys doing here?" he asked us.

"We're waiting for Scott," Derek answered.

"Yeah, so am I," he said. He had a bag in his hand. "We're supposed to have dinner. I brought extra. You guys hungry?"

"Yeah- "

Stiles interrupted him. "No. We're not hungry."

"No, I'm starving- "

"Neither one of us are hungry," Stiles said. "Thanks, though."

"Actually, I kind of need a bite," I said, looking at Stiles.

"Okay... " Agent McCall trailed off. "Well, if you're not hungry, Stiles, your friends can still eat with us." He looked at Derek. "What's your name?"

"Miguel," Stiles said, interrupting Derek again. "My cousin Miguel. From Mexico. So... "

"Es usted natural de México, Miguel?"

"Oh, my God... " Stiles said quietly.

To our surprise, Derek answered back. "No soy nativo, sino que pasé un montón de tiempo allá."

"Fantastic," he replied. "Egg roll?"

"Hell yeah!" he smiled, walking towards the table.

"Shrimp fried rice or pork fried rice?" he asked.

"Shrimp fried rice," he said.

"I'll take pork," I told him, sitting down. Stiles looked betrayed and I shrugged. I smiled in thanks, taking the container of food.

"I can't believe you," Stiles muttered, watching as I dug into the food.

"Can you really pass up food?" I questioned and took another bite.

"So, uh, Miguel," Agent McCall began. "What did you say your last name was again?"

"Oh, it's Juarez... Cinqua... Tiago," Stiles answered.

"That's a - that's a mouthful." Agent McCall was stupid for not finding anything suspicious. "How do you spell that?"

Derek looked at Stiles, expecting him to answer and continue with the lies.

"Phonetically," Stiles stated.

"Mr. McCall, you're an FBI agent?" Derek asked.

"He's low-level," Stiles told him. "Very low-level. He doesn't even have a voice."

"So, do you investigate murders?" he asked, ignoring Stiles.

"Sometimes. When it's a federal crime," he responded.

"What about fires?"

"Oh, my God," Stiles exclaimed, trying to change the subject. "I wonder where Scott is. Shouldn't Scott be here by now? We should call Scott."

No one was listening. He looked at me and I shrugged. Stiles had no right to judge me. I had barely eaten since Mexico. Right after we found him, it was straight to Beacon Hills, then to the animal clinic. It was past midnight and I didn't eat anything at night and in the morning.