His Cinnamon

Chapter 24

Running into his room, Stiles rushes to his desk and swiftly rips his bag off his back. He leaps towards his computer, his fingers flying across the keyboard as he types furiously. At the same time, he attempts to kick his chair underneath him.

"Stiles?" His dad yells out. "Yes–" He turns around to face. "Derek?" Stiles snaps his mouth shut, feeling caught off guard, while Derek rolls his eyes in response. The door clicks open, Stilinski peering inside to find his son smiling up at him from his seat at the desk. "What did you say?" His dad asks him.

"Yes, Dad?"

"Just headed back to work. But I'm coming tonight. Your first game."

"Great." Stiles's Dad doesn't make a move to leave. "I'm so unbelievably proud of you."

"So am I. Very proud. Of myself." Stilinski turns to go. Stiles gets up to close the door.

"They're really going to let you play this time?"

"Yes, Dad. I'm First Line."

"So proud." Finally, Stiles clicks the door shut revealing Derek on the other side.

 "Scott didn't get the necklace?" Derek asks just as Adeline's voice breaks through the conversation.

"Stiles, did you steal my—" Adeline begins, but her sentence is abruptly cut off as she barges into the room, her eyes widening as she spots Derek. "Oh, hi," she greets awkwardly, waving a hand as Stiles quickly closes the door behind her.

"He's still working on it. But there's something else we can try. When we were trapped in the school that night, Scott sent a text to Allison telling her to meet him there," Stiles explains, picking up where the conversation left off.

"So?" Derek prompts, his gaze shifting between the two teenagers.

"So, it wasn't Scott," Stiles responds slowly. 

"Can you find out who sent the text?"

"No. But I know someone who can," Stiles replies.

"He's not going to be happy," Adeline remarks to Stiles, who simply shrugs in response. "Happiness is a choice, Ads," He says, causing her to roll her eyes as she takes a seat on his bed wanting to know how this will go.

School bag slung over his shoulder, Danny stands in Stiles's room, a puzzled expression on his face.

"You want me to do what?" Danny asks, clearly confused.

"Trace a text," Stiles repeats, his tone firm as he explains the task at hand, prompting Danny to glance at Adeline, who offers him an apologetic smile.

"I came here to do lab work. That's what lab partners do," Danny retorts with a hint of exasperation, his tone carrying a sense of disbelief.

"And we will. After you trace the text," Stiles insist.

"What makes you think I know how?" Danny questions.

"I saw your arrest report," Stiles responds matter-of-factly.

"I... that was... I was only thirteen. The charges were dropped," Danny stammers, his cheeks flushing with embarrassment. "No. We're doing lab work," Danny sits down next to him at the desk.

 Behind them, Derek sits in a chair by the bed, trying to look inconspicuous while flipping through a magazine. "Who is he again?" Danny whispers to Stiles. "My cousin... um... Miguel," Stiles replies hesitantly making Adeline smirk. Derek glares over the edge of the magazine in disbelief even Stiles cringes at his own stupidity.

"Miguel," Adeline repeats with a grin, her amusement evident as she watches the awkward exchange unfold, causing Derek to shoot her a pointed look.

"Is that blood on his shirt?" Danny asks, his eyes widening in concern as he notices the torn and blackened fabric of Derek's T-shirt, stained with dried blood. "He gets horrible nosebleeds. Miguel, I thought I told you to just borrow one of my shirts?" Derek's glare intensifies as Addeline adds on. "Yeah Miguel, your poor nose."