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Alone again, Stiles sags heavily against the hot metal of his jeep. While saying their goodbyes in the parking lot, Ennis had politely refused to leave until they exchanged numbers. Of course, the first thing he does after saving Stiles’ number is to send him a cheeky text with a winky face. The Alpha is incorrigible, but in the nicest way. In fact, he’s so nice that if not for the proof in his hands, Stiles would be hard-pressed to believe this entire surreal afternoon had even happened.
But anyone can fake being nice for a date that doesn’t last more than two hours. Firming up his resolve, Stiles decides that it’s time to pull out the big guns. He’s definitely going to need custard for this.
“Jordan, old buddy! How’s my favorite deputy on this fine, summer evening?”
Jordan - Parrish to the rest of the station - lifts a skeptical brow at the effusive greeting. “What did you do, Stiles?”
Stiles deposits the paper bag on Jordan’s desk before staggering and clutching at his chest. “Your cynicism wounds me to the very core of my being. I just thought I’d be a pal. Bring you back some custard from Mona’s. Say hi like friends do.”
The deputy darts a glance at the bag before frowning back at Stiles. “You only bring me custard when you want something. Now spill.”
“It’s a kitchen sink sundae,” he wheedles. “Your favorite. I even asked for extra gummy worms.”
Jordan purses his lips in thought. “A kitchen sink, huh? Just how illegal is this?”
“It’s not illegal at all!” Stiles backtracks, “Well. Okay. It won’t be unless you don’t know anything about the Blackwood pack and Ennis Declan, in particular… then maybe I’d ask you to run a tiny background check on the guy. As a favor.”
“You, of all people, are after gossip on an Alpha?”
“I may have, sort of, gone on a date with him without realizing it?”
“Kid, how the hell do you go on a date without knowing?”
At the sheer incredulity in Jordan’s voice, Stiles turns bright red and shrugs. “It all happened pretty fast after he put Jackson in a dumpster. Then he invited me for burgers. And curly fries. It was this whole date thing even after two of his pack members crashed for a little while. Apparently, Peter screeched at them.”
“What.”
“Uh. He was really nice? To me? He paid for everything and traded numbers and didn’t touch me inappropriately?”
Jordan frowns in concern, “Are you asking me or telling me, Stiles? If he made you uncomfortable enough to want a background check, then you can make a report to me right now and tell your dad.”
“No! He was great. I just. Fuck. I want to make sure that he’s for real.” He widens his eyes and tries to look earnest but piteous. Historically, the sad Omega eyes have at least a 60/40 chance of working on Jordan, and the custard should only increase his odds.
“Ohhh.” He grins at Stiles and unpacks his giant custard cup. “You actually like this guy. Look at you. Are you blushing over this?”
“Oh, for fuck’s sake. Yes,” he hisses. “He’s stupidly attractive with his everything. He has to be over six feet and he looks like he builds muscle for a living and has really soft looking hair and nice eyes and he kissed my wrist when I gave him my hand. Who even does that anymore? That’s a move straight out of Regency England.”
Jordan pops open the lid on his barely melted sundae and fishes out a sprinkle and oreo encrusted gummy worm with the spork Stiles had so thoughtfully provided.
“Sounds like you had a terrible time on your date,” he says casually.
“It was the best.” Stiles groans and drops his head on the desk. “Like, it’s awful how stupidly awesome it was. We danced all night to the best song ever. It was like every One Direction song at once. Flowers bloomed. Birds burst into song. What do you think happened? We ate burgers. Can we move on to the part where you help me?”
“Sure, no need to get snarky about it.” Jordan replied cheerfully, “I just wanted to let you get all of that out of your system first. Letting things fester can be terrible for your emotional state.”
“Fine. Yes. Tell me everything you know while I watch you eat your frozen monstrosity.”
He makes a show of slurping down a few more custard laden gummy worms before facing Stiles again. It’s clear that Jordan is savoring the rare moment when he has the upper hand.
“Peter Hale. Twenty four years old and an Omega. He’s been engaged to Deucalion Blackwood since he was eighteen, but they agreed not to marry until he had a master’s degree. Peter is a manipulative little prick, but he’s also the best friend you could have at your back.” Jordan smiles lopsidedly at that, like he’s remembering something.
“So you were friends in high school? I guess I forgot that you’re only, like, two years older than him.”
“We were pretty good friends in high school, but there’s a lot less of the dynamic bullshit now because we’re both adults and he’s as good as mated - not that he hasn’t been with Blackwood practically since he hit puberty. The guy is five years older, and he was doomed the second Peter set his sights on him.” He shakes his head. “I’ve never known Peter to settle for anything less than what he wanted.”
“That sounds exactly like what I remember… since I already know Peter. He used to babysit me and call 'the perfect child'.” Stiles blinks hard to dispel the long ago memories of Fight Club and blood brothers and being used an armrest. “What about Ennis Declan? Did they ever mention him? Have you met him before?”
“Hmm,” Jordan pauses and lets a slow smirk creep onto his face. “Yep. I’ve met him.”
Stiles flails out of his chair and grabs Jordan by the shoulders. “Stop being a complete dickface and tell me what you know!”
There’s something very satisfying about shaking Jordan so he looks like a bobble head. Stiles gets it. He doesn’t get crushes on Alphas or anyone really except that one, weird time with Lydia Martin. It’s not his usual thing, so, of course, Jordan is going to pick on him a little bit. They’re like brothers who happened to share a slightly more than platonic cheek kiss on his sixteenth birthday. But holy fuck he will end Jordan if he keeps toying with his delicate emotions right now. No one’s ever asked him out on a date before. This is serious.
The deputy opens his mouth and seems to think better of it. Maybe something in Stiles’ face betrays his anxiety because suddenly, he’s being wrapped up in a comforting hug.
“Hey now. You know I was just messing around. Right, Stiles?”
“Whatever,” he mutters.
“It’s my right as a big brother to tease a little bit. I didn’t think you’d like him so well after only meeting today.”
“You’re telling me. He came out of nowhere and threw Jackson in the trash… for me. I’d be lying if I said I wasn’t charmed, but…”
“But you have your paranoid thing against Alphas, so you need to know he’s not just messing with you.” Jordan says in understanding and directs Stiles back to his seat. “I’ve met him a few times before. He’s a nice guy. Really laid back and old-fashioned about the Binary. He might not look it, but he’s actually all about the whole ‘protect and serve’ thing.”
“I thought that was your purview,” Stiles jokes.
“I went with what I know, but it’s still an accurate description of his view.” Jordan grips Stiles on the shoulder now. “You want the plain truth, Stiles? He’s never given me a reason to think he’s not a good guy and a good Alpha. He was raised to treat Omegas and Betas properly - werewolves are good about that. Peter and Duke would never keep a pack member who’d mistreat someone like you, but I’ll still look him up if you need it.”
Stiles gnaws on his lip before deciding, “No… I’m okay without all that, but I don’t know about my dad. How about you just tell me how old he is?”
“I’m pretty sure he’s twenty-five. I just know that he’s not older than me.”
“Okay. Eight years. I can work with that.” Stiles hops up from his chair and sloppily salutes Jordan. “Thanks for the intel.”
“Wait… Stiles! Did you mean he threw Jackson Whittemore into an actual, real dumpster? That’s not some cutesy metaphor?”
“Yeah. Why?”
“I would have really enjoyed not getting a visit from Ray Whittemore today.”
Jackson seems to be of the opinion that his father being an attorney affords him certain perks, like a loyal stable of police officers ready to get him out of DUIs and speeding tickets. This is not the case. There’s not an officer in the department that likes seeing Ray Whittemore waltz in the door.
“Just switch with Maria for like five minutes when you see him coming. She’s still pissed about that last cross. Who the hell even goes that far for a drunk and disorderly?”
“The same douchebag that thinks ‘I wasn’t drunk, I’m just an asshole’ is a viable defense.” Jordan sighs. “I’ll see you around. Be safe, all right?”
“Will do.”
The Sheriff comes out after Stiles rushes through the door, and asks if something’s wrong. His kid usually takes the time to harass him when he stops by the station.
“On a scale of one to Ray Whittemore…” Parrish begins.
“Aw, crap.”
Thankfully, the drive home is completely normal. Stiles is absolutely not prepared to deal with anymore excitement or emotional turmoil today. As he toes off his sneakers, he decides to enact a plan of extreme laziness for the rest of the evening. True, the sun isn’t even down; but it’s never too early to throw on his comfiest pajamas and waste some quality time on the internet.
It’s just after Stiles shucks off his summer uniform of cargo shorts and graphic tee that his pile of laundry begins to buzz angrily from the floor. He nearly trips onto his face trying to fish it out of the heap.
It’s a text alert from Ennis.
You get home all right?
Ya I’m fine
Thank you for letting me take you out today.
U didn’t take me out the diner was literally 5 ft away
In that case, can I take you out?
omfg r u real?
Pretty sure. You want me to double check
it is too early in this relationship to send me dick pics
But it is a relationship?
U are a pushy fucker
Stiles bites his lip, then sighs.
But also disgustingly perfect to my disgustingly imperfect. Who could say no?
The only disgusting thing about you is the number of fries you can fit in your mouth and still finish a sentence.
LIES. THAT IS A SKILL.
Only in a house with like twenty siblings.
Yoooo speaking of full house were u still trying to avoid Peter?
YES.
Cool okay so there’s this bakery
There are lots of bakeries in this town.
Only one of them is Iwonna’s
As in ‘I wanna’?
omg no it’s Polish ee voh nah she is the most amazing old lady and she sells kolaches and they’re the shit
Kolaches?
They’re a dessert I used to eat them with my mom all the time
I’ll check them out.
If you go say hi to miss Iwonna for me k? I haven’t seen her in a long time
Ennis doesn’t reply.
Obviously, the only recourse is to bury his feelings in mindless farming with his Asura in the Straits of Devastation. So what if he nearly dies when a group event pops up around him while he’s willing his phone to produce a new text? His inventory is full of cayenne peppers and lemongrass. He’ll be a few gold richer if nothing else. Thank you, emotional turmoil.
He’s moved on to the frustration that is underwater combat, when he’s interrupted by his dad knocking on his open bedroom door. Stiles finishes off the last zombie manatee and logs out before he turns to face the man. “What’s up Daddy-o?”
“Right. You wanna tell me why the guy who tossed Jackson Whittemore in a dumpster came by the station to make a statement and then asked me how to get to Iwonna’s? And why I found these on the porch?”
“Found wh--no way.”
There’s a pretty, pastel lavender box in his father’s hands, the name of his mom’s favorite bakery written in delicate cursive on the top. There’s a little note taped to it in the woman’s distinctive copperplate script, and he can’t be out of his chair fast enough.
“Yes way,” John sighs. “Do I have to talk to you about being careful with older men who want to buy you things?”
“Uh…no? It’s just dessert, not diamonds or a lifetime commitment. And so far he’s ridiculously nice? Plus, now you have his information, so he can’t get away if you decide to have the entire department bury him under pointless tickets.”
“I have no idea what you’re talking about.” He takes a step back with one last longing glance at the pastry box Stiles is clutching to his chest. “I’m gonna go get changed. Pizza tonight?”
“No meat.”
“I dealt with Ray Whittemore today. I deserve all of the meat.”
“Chicken. You can have chicken.”
John rolls his eyes. “Right. You call in the order. And Stiles?”
“Yeeees?”
“Good job, kid.”
The note from Miss Iwonna says:
Stiles,
I am very sorry not to have seen you! This Alpha is a very nice young man, but a little old for you, I think. You must come visit soon and let me see how tall you have gotten, and also to give you trouble over your new boy. Let an old woman have her fun.
Enjoy your kołacz.
Love, Iwonna
