Howl at Midnight// Teen Wolf// Stiles Stilinski

VI

"You smell nice." He said under his breath and my face heated. I probably smelled of blood and the school bus, but the sentiment was appreciated. Leaning back, I looked up at him with the biggest smile I could muster. Which wasn't all that hard considering the flurry of emotions circulating through me. He looked down at me, a small smile on his own face. I could have stood there all night, counting his moles and enjoying the feel of his arms around me, but I didn't.

"Goodnight Stiles." I pulled out of his arms, the cold biting at my skin as I walked inside of my house. It was 2am, Stiles and I had lost track of time at the Arcade and only left once we had been kicked out. Somewhere during the night my phone died. Which meant I hadn't texted Jackson to let him know I was alive, so he was probably infuriated. I crept as silently as I could to the staircase but one of the floorboards creaked. The living room light turned on and I slowly turned to see Jackson sitting in a chair facing me. He looked like every sitcom dad ever. It took an extraordinary amount of self-control not to laugh at the sight of his crossed arms and stern expression. Just from his composure I could tell his night hadn't gone well, and I was about to be on the receiving end of him needing to lash out. Scott had definitely beat him at bowling. Jackson tapped his foot impatiently as if he was waiting for me to explain myself to him, my jaw ticked.

"This is extremely cliché." I raised my eyebrows, "How long have you been sitting here?"

"Too long Clarissa." I restrained myself from rolling my eyes the way I wanted to. "Where have you been all night, it's 2 in fucking morning." It was a fair question.

"Sorry about that, I was with Stiles. We got distracted at the arcade and he ate way too many slices of pizza. Then he had to check in his tickets, and we took some photo booth pictures. All in all we tried to squeeze way too much in for one night." I didn't mention the long venting session we'd had. It didn't feel necessary. I'd shared too much already. "My phone died so I didn't get to check in with you."

His eyes glinted with annoyance in the dim light of the living room, "You and Stiles were at an arcade until 2am?" I shrugged. The drive to the arcade itself was like 45 minutes, so we hadn't spent entirely too much time at the arcade. "I don't believe you." My spine straightened as my eyes narrowed.

"Good thing I don't need you to." He just kept watching me expectantly and despite my statement I did feel the need to prove myself. I opened my purse and took out the photo strip of me and Stiles and tossed it to him. I expected it to float to the ground, since it was just paper, but it sailed straight towards him quickly. He snatched it from the air and examined it in silence. When he seemed satisfied he nodded and flung it back to me, I copied his earlier actions and snatched it midair. His shoulders had relaxed and the anger slowly faded from his eyes.

"You might think I'm being an annoying hardass," he was an annoying hardass, "but we live on our own with practically no supervision. I didn't know where you and Stiles went or when you'd be home. You didn't even bother to text me. So yeah, I was a little annoyed." Annoyed was as close to saying worried as he was going to get but I would take it. I didn't say anything to him because he was right and if the situation was reversed I would have bit his head off the moment he walked through the door. Jackson had at least given me a chance to explain myself. I opened my mouth to apologize but Jackson started to speak again, "And anyway, you've been so weird recently that I don't know what you're capable of doing anymore. You could have been off killing someone." My heart sank in my chest at the distrust that crawled into his voice, "You're just as weird as McCall and maybe that's because you're spending time with Stilinski. I think it's time you get back on your medication." I jerked back, feeling as if I'd been slapped almost.

"Well I'm glad you're not my father and your opinion of me doesn't affect what I do with my life."

His eyes narrowed into little slits, "Since when do you talk like that?" He shook his head at me but I didn't bother to answer, "It wouldn't matter if it was our father saying this to you anyway, you still wouldn't listen. You insist on being dramatic."