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"You want to tell me why I'm sitting here, Stiles?"
Stiles, of course, grinned up at him with that smile only a seven year old could pull off, eyes wide and puppy like. Deputy Stillinski could practically feel himself melting inwardly, despite the fact that his kid still had sand stuck to his Sketchers and the principal was glaring at him from the other end of the desk.

 

She cleared her throat, sounding less like an impatient principal and more like a 60 year old asthmatic who was done dealing with second graders who... Oh, John didn't even want to think about what Stiles did.
"Mr. Stillinski, are you sure you wouldn't prefer to have Claudia present for this meeting?"
The deputy barely suppressed the urge to glare. His wife was at work, and besides, it wasn't like he couldn't take care of his son. And if, when Claudia was on vacation, all they ate was curly fries and Stiles wore the same Batman shirt for a week, what was the harm?

"Yes, I'm sure. Could you please tell me what this is about? You were a little...vague when you called me."
The woman sighed, keeping a watchful eye on the child, who was now fidgeting and inching closer to the bowl of mints on the desk.
"There was an issue with another student."
"Could you elaborate?"
"The student, another second grader, was building a sandcastle. The teacher tells me he had been working on it all lunch, to show his mom. It was quite impressive, from what I hear."
"And?"
The Sheriff prompted, although he had a sinking feeling he knew where this was going.

 

"He peed on it."
"What?"
"Your son peed on another student's sand castle."
"Oh crap."

John quickly glanced at his son, who seemed oblivious of both the swear word and the fact that he was probably now Beacon Hills Elementary School’s first ever student to have peed on another student, and instead seemed to be focusing on the bowl of mints. He noticed the kid had two in his palms and one in his shoe, without him or the principal noticing the theft. Maybe he should get that kid tested for some sort of attention disorder.

 

Walking out of the office, which smelled vaguely of Play Doh, and ignoring the glare of the young secretary, John finally turned to his kid.
"Really, Stiles?"
Stiles, who by this point was sucking on a mint and not bothering to look regretful, paused to answer then apparently decided not to speak after all, the little wisdom he possessed warning him to keep quiet.
"Can you at least point me out to the kid so we can go apologize?"

Stiles happily pointed him in the direction of a young kid, even scrawnier than Stiles and with floppy hair that made him look younger than he was.
The Deputy sighed and walked over to the kid, who was standing with a pretty woman with curly hair. She was dressed in intern's scrubs and bore a striking resemblance to her son.

 

"Hi, you know my Son, Stiles?"
"Of course, hello Stiles!"
The woman greeted, although the kid still hid behind her legs.
"Stiles would like to apologize for what happened earlier. Stiles?"
The woman's mouth twitched upwards, and he suspected that she knew of what was now dubbed in the administration office as The Incident.

Stiles looked bored.
"Sorry, dude."
Then he ran off, a little plastic Jeep apparently distracting his little brain.
The other small boy looked up at his mom, then ran off after him. He ran gracelessly, but John suspected he would grow into his body eventually. If he cut that stupid hair.

Chapter Text

"Um, hi Stiles."
The little boy greeted, ducking to see under the dark shade of the slide.
"Come in!"
A small, hyperactive voice echoed out.
Without hesitation, the long haired boy slipped under the slide, which proved to have a cool concrete base and a few of the best toys squirreled away near some finger paintings that either were of a wolf or a dragon. Or possibly a cat?
"Hi!"
Stiles shrieked, which was sort of terrifying in combination with the mud he had smeared on his face like war paint.

 

The kid ducked to sit next to him, smearing mud on his own face to match the war stripes of his classmate.
"Why did you pee on my sandcastle?"
He asked, not in an accusing way, more in a curious one.
Stiles pressed his face close to the other kid.

 

"Promise not to tell?"
"Promise."
"I was making a moat. It didn't have a moat."
The long haired boy cocked his head, signaling the boy to go on.
"Real castles have moats."
Stiles explained.
"You said you were making it for your mom. I wanted it to be the best castle ever."

The other boy nodded his head, considering carefully and ignoring the shouts of his mom outside.
"Why didn't you use water?"
He asked at last.
Stiles, who the kid had only known about by now from when his dad referred to him as "that spazzy kid" at the dinner table, looked excited. Perhaps he expected him to punch him, like Jackson Whittemore, or use a bad grownup word, like Lydia Martin when a boy pulled her hair. In any case, he seemed happy to be heard out.

 

"Well, obviously, in medieval times, the water wouldn't be perfectly clear. Like, it would have been all nasty because they didn't have swimming pool service guys and people were gross and didn't take baths. You didn't know that?"
No, as a matter of fact, the kid did not know that. But it was super cool.
"Why didn't you get water from the fountain then put dirt in it?"
Stiles perked up.

"Ooooh, that sounds awesome. But how would we get all the water without a bucket or anything and without the yard supervisors noticing?"
"Well, one person could distract them while the other person uses one of the dump trucks to collect water. They have big trunks, right?"
Stiles grabbed one of the aforementioned Tonka trucks.
"Dude, that would totally work! And I wouldn't even have to drink two juice boxes before so we would have enough!"

Both kids were getting excited now, planning for the most awesome castle ever, and they could live in it and then Scott wouldn't have to hear his dad yell anymore and Stiles wouldn't have to eat any fruits ever. They decided to live off pop tarts and juice forever.
"I like you."
Stiles remarked, staring at the other boy critically. He pulled out two objects from his pockets.
"One is for me, one is for my mom, and you can have the last one."
He bounced up and down, not allowing the other kid to get a look at them until Stiles finally stopped bouncing.
"Want a mint, Scott?"