(please read part i first :)
Stiles is acting strange after waking up from the coma, even when he gets his memories back. Sometimes he's a completely different person: aggressive, distant, and cold. Others, he's back to his old self. Once the pack n...
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please remember that everyone with epilepsy and TBIs is different, and that there are various types of both. this is just a story. <3
"You're...babysitting me?"
"No!" The sheriff drummed his fingers on the steering wheel of his squad car, squinting at the road ahead of him. "I just don't want you to be home alone yet. That's a perfectly reasonable request, for hundreds of reasons."
Stiles sighed in defeat, playing with the strap of his backpack the sheriff had made him pack with the pamphlets and papers the doctor had given him, insisting that he 'study.' His fingers were still weak as he tugged at it, and he couldn't seem to make them move independently.
"Can I get...fifty down on paper?"
The sheriff rolled his eyes. "No. I have to work, Stiles, and this is the only way we'll keep both things running smoothly: your safety and my bills."
Stiles shifted uncomfortably in the seat. "Don't you mean m--my bills?"
"You heard what I said." The sheriff sent him a withering glare. "It wasn't that much, Stiles. I'm more concerned about the electricity bill; you weren't around to remind me to switch off all the lights."
Stiles laughed. "You are super bad at that."
As they pulled into the station, Noah patted a comforting hand on his son's shoulder.
"Look," he started sternly, "I don't want you to feel like you're getting babysat, okay? I just don't want you to be home alone and have a--an outburst or something, or forget where you are, or---"
"Or trip and...get another brain injury...while I'm trying to put on my pants," Stiles offered with a smile, but Noah wasn't laughing.
"I'm serious, Stiles. It's not that I don't think you're responsible enough to be left home alone, obviously. I just don't want something to happen. I have to make sure you're alright with yourself, maybe for the next couple of weeks."
Stiles nodded, jumping out of the car and following the sheriff into the station. "Yeah, I--I know, Dad."
He hoped his dad was noticing that he was getting better, slowly but surely. Just yesterday, his dysarthria had been significantly worse, and now he was almost back to rambling. His voice still slurred a little, sure, but that wasn't something that couldn't be fixed by some practice.
As they walked into the station and past the desk officer, Stiles was met with a wave of applause. He stumbled in shock as his dad joined in, Parrish cupping a hand around his mouth and whooping.
"Gee, thanks, Dad," Stiles said sarcastically, feeling his face turn red. But he did feel a little flutter of happiness as he looked at all the officers who were clapping for him. "It's not even my...birthday. How'd my dad put you all up to this, bribery?"
