Noah Stilinski is sat staring blankly at the mounting paperwork on his desk when Parrish rushes in, knocking only once the door is already half-open, he looks out of breath as he pants, "you won't believe who just walked in," but there's a smile on his face, like maybe for once he might be storming into the sheriff's office with good news.
That'll be the day, Stilinski thinks with a bitterness that he presumes is inevitable when ageing in a job like this, in a town like Beacon Hills, when pigs fly. There's a sort of resigned acceptance in the idea that he doesn't want to inspect too closely, like maybe he's realised losing residents to creatures he'll never understand is something that just happens now. Something he can't stop.
Regardless, Parrish is rambling, eyes wide, and Noah can't figure out what it is the man's trying to say behind all his blinding excitement so he stands up, rounding his desk and opening the door to his office fully to see for himself.
There he sees a sight he never thought he'd see again, his son stood rubbing the back of his neck as he looks up to him - or down, has he grown? - his face is sharper in every way, eyes harder and hair much, much longer but it's undoubtedly him and he's right there.
He walks toward him and his son rears back, like maybe he's scared Noah's going to hit him - or like he's preparing to hit Noah - but he just grabs him by the arms, tugging him into a tight hug.
Mitch stands there, staring over his father's head into the office behind him and wraps his arms around his trembling form, because it's what Kennedy would want, what duty allows - to play the son returning home, kind and considering and loving, acting as any son should.
As he pulls back to look into his father's watery eyes he gives him a smile that feels foreign on his own face, says, "Hi, Dad," and pretends - not for the first time since he's arrived back - for the sake of his sanity, not to feel a thing at all.
"Stiles- son," the sheriff says, in a way that suggests he never expected to say it in this context again, "look at you, where have you been," then again, like he can't believe it, "look at you," his voice is loving and warm and he almost winces and the cold, harsh glare of the man in front of him - because yes, he's smiling, but it doesn't come close to reaching his eyes.
Noah looks into eyes that used to be open and wide and amber, like sunlight hitting whiskey, now hard and dark and closed off to the world as he tries not to ask himself - to question the one thing his mind is screaming at him; how much of his son really made it home?
()()()()()
They sit in the office together, with the door locked shut and the blinds drawn as a father bombards his son with questions he doesn't know how to answer.
The one he doesn't see coming, the one he hadn't even considered - "what happened to your face?"
Stilinski is reaching over his desk to pull Mitch's face in closer, turning his head in his hands like he's inspecting him and Mitch fights the urge to grab him by the wrists and flip him over said desk with ease. The head is one of the most vulnerable parts of anyone's body and he'd be an idiot if he didn't have a problem with people grabbing at it whenever they feel fit.
He points out scars and marks that Mitch barely sees when he looks in the mirror, because they are barely there anymore. A small notch along the side of his nose, a sharp line along the crease of his eye, a sharp ridge against his opposite eyebrow and if they concern the sheriff then Mitch dreads the day he notices the jagged scars and cuts across his torso, the ragged circle on his thigh that never really faded. Hopefully, he's not there long enough for it to become a problem.
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𝑅𝐸𝑄𝑈𝐼𝐸𝑀 - M.R.
قصص الهواة[Teen Wolf x American Assassin Crossover] "and the kindest thing you can do for a rabid dog?" "put it down." --- --- --- --- --- --- --- --- --- Not long after defeating the nogitsune, Stiles flees Beacon Hills without so much...
