Stiles picked up the pair of scissors that were laying in his bathroom sink and sneered at them. He hated how his hair looked now, it brought back too many upsetting memories, so he planned to get rid of them. With each snip of the scissors he could practically hear the moans that he made when Derek had tugged on his shaggy locks. All of that disgrace came flooding back to him and it only made him hack at his hair even harder than before. After his hair was in a messy pile surrounding him, he rubbed his hand over his newly bald head and opened the bathroom window to scream At first it was just random screams but then Stiles couldn’t hold it in any longer. He screamed Derek’s name, throwing a few curse words in just to make himself feel a little better.
He shut the window and walked to the basement where he knew the booze was kept. As his father was a recovering alcoholic, Stiles was the only one with a key to the liquor cabinet and was silently thanking his father for trusting him with it even though he never would never be trusted again after this. He picked up the nearest bottle of whisky and blew the dust off of it, reading the label as Bourbons Whisky. He walked back upstairs and grabbed his father’s favorite glass and poured himself as much as it could be filled. He sat down at the kitchen table and tossed back the shot, quickly pouring himself another. Stiles doesn’t remember how many times he had to fill the small glass to drain the whole bottle, all he knows is that he didn’t stop until it was empty.
It’d been a month since anyone had heard from Stiles so Scott had decided to finally go over and see what was wrong for himself. He knocked on the door and when no one answered he just opened the door. Scott walked inside to find Stiles asleep, his head on the kitchen table, and was surrounded by the stale stench of Whisky. Scott went over to Stiles and prodded him with one finger. “Stiles?” He whispered.
Stiles grumbled and picked his head up to look at Scott. “Whadayouwant?” Stiles slurred, still drunk or at least hungover.
“To see if you’re okay. Which you’re obviously not. What happened Stiles?” Scott asked, holding onto the back of Stiles’ head to help keep his friend balanced.
“DoesnmatterScotttt.” Stiles smiled up at his friend. “‘Mokaynow. Whissyhelpedme.”
“Stiles, get up. I’m taking you to Derek’s.” Stiles whined and banged his fist loudly on the table.
“How’d you even know I was here?” Stiles asked, suddenly sober. It occurred to Scott that Stiles had just been faking drunk the whole time.
“The teachers at school and all the other workers around town were talking about the fucked up Sheriff’s kid who can’t keep it together.” Scott explained.
“So word got around to the workers and the werewolves, awesome.” Stiles snarked sarcastically. “Can you go now? My dad’s coming home soon and I’m pretty sure he’s gonna give me a ‘Stern Stilinski talking to’.” Stiles groaned, rubbing his temples. “I’ll call you later, I promise.”
Scott looked hesitant but nodded and made his way out the door, still worrying about his friend.
John Stilinski was driving to work in his police cruiser when his phone started ringing off the hook. It was call after call after call, so he finally decided to pull over on a side street and check the calls. Ten, nope, make that eleven voicemails, all about his son, Stiles Stilinski, and how he needs to pull himself together or John has to force him to. The citizens’ concerns were all the same, their town needs a Sheriff who can look after his own family, who can pull things together when times are tough. Let’s just say that when the Sheriff got back in his cruiser fully intended to have a talk with his son, he was not a happy camper.
“Stiles Stilinski get your ass down here and don’t make me use your real name!” John called up the stairs. He heard a door slam shut and his son mumbling under his breath about his father being a cockblock.
“Yes, Father of mine?” Stiles asked sweetly, fluttering his eyelashes up at his dad.
“I’ve gotten eleven, nope, thirteen, voicemails. Would you care to guess the subject?”
“Um...suspicious homicides?” Stiles was looking at the ground to avoid his father’s gaze.
“No Stiles, they’re all about you. All about you losing it and needing to pull yourself together. Is there something you’re not telling me?” John raised an eyebrow and Stiles shook his head. “Really? Because I’ll get Scott and have him tell me the truth if you don’t.”
“I’ve been having a few drinks now and then, completely harmless, I’m fine.” Stiles assured his dad.
“Apparently the law means nothing to you so I won’t even bring up the legal drinking age and so we move on to the next order of business. Everyone seems to be convinced that the ‘occasional drinking’ isn’t as harmless as you say it is. Teachers have been saying it’s sending you on a downward spiral. Your pack has said they haven’t seen you in a full month, that you’re avoiding any contact with them and your Alpha boyfriend, Derek Hale.” Stiles practically growled at the mention of Derek’s name but luckily for him his dad was oblivious to the noise.
“I promise you I’m fine, those teachers are wack. I’m avoiding the pack because I need a break from the supernatural once in a while. I have college transcripts to fill in and send out, choices to make about my future.” Stiles stressed but his dad didn’t buy it.
“I’m not gonna have this, Stiles!” John slammed his fist down on the table, making Stiles jump. “I’m not gonna have my only son be the town drunk and ruin my reputation, your reputation, the Stilinski reputation! Now tell me what the hell is going on or I’m going to Scott right now.”
“Derek broke up with me!” Stiles yelled. “Are you happy!? I told you, congrats! Would you like a medal?” Stiles was laughing maniacally. “I’m coping Dad, and this is how I do it.”
“I said it before, Stiles! I’m not gonna have this! It doesn’t matter how you feel it only matters how you look! We have a reputation to uphold and I’ll be damned if some pity crush ruins it.”
“Dad!” Stiles whined. “You’re being unfair!”
“We’re done with this Stiles. I’ve only got some things to say and then I’m gone.” Stiles rolled his eyes. “Go and try to make-up son it’s just break-up. Run and hide your crazy and stop acting like a baby! Honestly, I raised you better, gotta keep it together, even when you fall apart.” And John walked out without another word.
“But this isn’t your broken heart, Dad.” Stiles sighed, sitting down at the table and picking up the hidden whisky bottle and the pack of matches next to him.
“Wish I could be just a little less dramatic.” Stiles said in a sing-song voice as he drove up to the newly refurbished Hale Mansion. “Maybe like Danny, he seems to always keep his calm.” Stiles got to the house and was grateful that no one was inside so he could go along with his plans.
He pulled the box of matches out of his pocket and looked for the wire he pulled last night. He crouched down when he heard a noise but he was concealed by darkness so it wasn’t likely an animal would find him. He hit the match several times against the coarse side of the box and it lit up the dark forest like it was a firework. He got a hold of the stray wire and placed the lit match to the end of it. The wire quickly caught fire and Stiles ran back to where he parked his Jeep. He sat on the hood of the blue car and watched as the fire spread throughout the whole house with a sense of accomplishment. He started that fire and he was damn proud of his skills.
About ten minutes later, after the first layer of housing was almost completely burned, did the sirens start wailing, warning Stiles. He couldn’t be bothered to leave, just stayed on the hood playing with the box of matches in his hands, turning them over and over, too mesmerized by the fire to do anything else. “Leave it to me to be holding the matches.”
There was an ugly cacophony of voices as the sirens stopped and the drivers got out. The firemen, and very hot firemen, Stiles might add, attempted to put it out but the flames were too strong. They decided no one was inside so they didn’t bother with going inside. The ambulance got the okay to leave and it did, sans siren. The next siren Stiles heard was familiar in a way that chilled his bones. He laughed again when he saw his father step out and all heads turned to him, their eyes on the box in his hands. “When the fire trucks show up and there’s nobody else to blame.”
John Stilinski immediately looked away and made his Deputy put Stiles in handcuffs and into the squad car. He also opted out of taking him to the station for questioning, saying he’d rather walk home and have some time to think.
As Stiles got put into the car, he heard his father’s words again. “Go and try to make-up son it’s just break-up. Run and hide your crazy and stop acting like a baby! Honestly, I raised you better, gotta keep it together, even when you fall apart.”
“But this ain’t my Daddy’s broken heart.” Stiles whispered to himself before the sirens were blasting in his ears.
Stiles woke up drenched in sweat with the scent of whisky mixed with smoke lingering in the air.
“It was only a dream.” Stiles told himself, breathing more easily now. He looked over at the clock, 6:30 am, he groaned, it was time for school and he had to pick up Scott after the two having made up.
Stiles went through his daily routine without saying one word to anyone, not even his teachers who were all still appalled at the teen’s behavior. As he went about his day he kept thinking about his dream and wondering how he could do the exact same thing without getting caught. “Can’t get revenge and keep a spotless reputation at the same time.” He said to himself as he drove home. “Sometimes revenge is a choice you gotta make.” Stiles smiled maliciously, maybe he was going to do something after all. “My Daddy came from a softer generation.” He said as he opened the front door, only to go straight to the stash of whisky under the kitchen table. “Where you had to get a grip and bite your lip just to save your little face.”
The Sheriff’s words kept coming back, like they were some ghost that wouldn’t stop haunting him. “Go and try to make-up son it’s just break-up. Run and hide your crazy and stop acting like a baby! Honestly, I raised you better, gotta keep it together, even when you fall apart.”
John got home and could almost taste the whisky from his son’s clothes. He saw his son passed out on the couch and slammed the bottle of whisky against the kitchen sink. “Genim Stilinski get the fuck up, now!”
Stiles looked around and saw his dad angrily standing there, glaring the way his wife had taught him so many years ago. “Change your clothes, the whisky smell burns my nose. And wet your lips then keep ‘em closed, don’t say one word. Uncross your legs and dry your eyes, don’t you know not to let people see you cry?”
“Dad, I’m handling this break-up how I want. Go away.” Stiles threw a hand over his forehead and moaned sickly.
“Go and try to make-up son it’s just break-up. Run and hide your crazy and stop acting like a baby! Fuck, your mom and I raised you better, gotta keep it together, even when you fall apart.” His dad repeated the same mantra that had been haunting Stiles.
“Well this isn’t your broken heart!” Stiles screamed, throwing a pillow. “This isn’t your broken heart.” He repeated in a softer voice, tears streaming down his face now.
“Give me the bottle, son. We can fix this together, we don’t need Derek or the pack, just the Stilinski men.” John sat down next to Stiles on the couch and Stiles immediately buried his face into his father’s chest and sniffled, crying loudly. “Shh, son, it’s okay. I’m not angry. You helped me. Now it’s time for me to be the father again and you to be the teenage boy.” Stiles nodded, a silent agreement and his dad held him closer. “God I miss your mom, she would’ve known what to do with these things.”
“So setting his house on fire is out of the question?”
John laughed. “That guy’s had more than enough fires burning his house down. How about just be the bigger person and show him you’re better off?”
Stiles huffed, clearing displeased with the answer his father gave him. “I guess it couldn’t hurt to try. Just no pack for a while, maybe individual friends, but no pack.”
John nodded. “That’s okay, Stiles. It’s a perfectly reasonable thing to want to do.”
“Movie night tonight? You order pizza I’ll go and get a movie?” Stiles asked and his father smiled at him.
“Just like old times.”
“I’ll be back soon, Dad.” Stiles hugged his father tightly before getting into his jeep and driving to the movie rental store.
So his heart might’ve not been put back together from all the crimes he’s committed to his liver, but was sure in the process of healing it.