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“Stiles!” Noah stared into the shed, coffee mug in hand. He looked away, blinked. He looked back. It was still full of goat. One goat, to be precise, life-sized, and cast from concrete in perfectly disturbing detail. “Stiles, why is there a goat in the shed?”
“Dad!” Stiles came barreling into the yard, arms flailing. At twenty-two years of age, he had finally grown into his limbs, but graceful would never be his middle name, Noah thought.
“Good thing you’re cute. And smart,” Noah said, accidentally out loud. He winced.
“What?”
“What.”
Stiles frowned. “Look, you weren’t meant to see it. Why are you here, anyway?”
“It’s my shed.”
They stared at each other. “Fair,” Stiles admitted. “And it’s not a goat. It’s a transdimensional being. This is just its… travel shape? Carcass? Ship? It’s to contain and disguise its true shape.” He scrubbed at his hair with a hand, making it stick up even worse than it usually did. “I don’t exactly know; the humming isn’t super precise.”
Now that Stiles had mentioned it, Noah could hear the humming. It was faint, and quite musical. It was coming from the goat. “How do you communicate with it?”
“I touched it.” Noah reached out but Stiles slapped his hand away. “No. Bad father. You don’t just touch the transdimensional being.”
“You touched it.” Noah took a slow sip of his coffee and grimaced. It had gone cold.
“Yeah, but I have the,” Stiles waggled his fingers, “magic stuff going for me. You’re just human.”
“Hmm. Fine. So, what does the goat want? Does it have a name? I can’t keep calling it ‘goat’, it feels disrespectful.”
“Monkey Estrella.”
Noah almost dropped his disappointing coffee. “What?”
“Yeah, I think something got lost in the, you know, hum-to-human translation. But it definitely said its name is Monkey Estrella. And it wants to establish communication between our peoples. That’s as far as I got before I went upstairs to consult the bestiary and ring Deaton.”
“Any luck?” Noah went to sip his coffee again and remembered just in time it was cold. “Bleurgh. I need fresh coffee. Let’s talk this over in the kitchen. Is—it? He? They? Are they okay to stay in the shed for now?”
“Yeah, they’ll be fine. Coffee sounds good.”
#
Deaton was unavailable. He’d been increasingly unavailable since retiring and moving to New Mexico. Something about Stiles having to stand on his own two feet now that he was the official emissary of Beacon Hills. Noah secretly suspected this was payback for all the gray beard hair Stiles had given Deaton over the years. Hell, if Stiles wasn’t his kid, he’d probably join Deaton. Running a mini-golf empire in New Mexico with a bunch of retired druids sounded pretty restful right now.
He left his son, the emissary, researching in his room and returned to the shed. No matter what Stiles said, this was his town. He was still the Sheriff, and if any transdimensional beings were visiting, he was honor-bound to formally welcome them. He reached out and gently touched Monkey Estrella’s concrete head. The humming swelled. Noah gasped.
#
“So, I found nothing.” Stiles joined Noah at the kitchen table, fresh mug of coffee in hand. Noah himself was on his third cup, not counting the one that went cold. Some days were just like that.
“That’s okay. Monkey Estrella and I have an understanding. We’re now engaged.”
Stiles spat out his mouthful of coffee. It was most satisfying to watch. “Daaaad. I told you not to talk to it. Them. Him?”
“They liked they/them once I explained pronouns to them. They don’t have pronouns in their language, apparently. Anyway, they’re my fiancé now, so show your future stepbeing some respect.”
“Ugh. Why?” Stiles began gently hitting his head against the kitchen table, so Noah figured the question was rhetorical.
“If it helps, I figured out what they want. You were right about establishing communications. It’s supposed to be mutually beneficial to our peoples. Our marriage will serve as a bridge for knowledge and trust.”
Stiles eyed him suspiciously. “You’re very calm about this.”
Noah was in fact enjoying himself immensely. Usually it was Stiles and the pack giving him ulcers. “They’re a calming presence. And it’s only a political union, not an actual marriage. I think this relationship will be good for me.”
“You can’t—” Stiles lowered his voice, as if the humming presence in the shed might overhear and take offense. “You can’t marry an interdimensional being!”
“Transdimensional. And I think Monkey Estrella is a great catch! I offered to find someone else. A politician, maybe, or a scientist. But they liked the idea of a Sheriff. It’s a very respectful leadership position, you know. You should respect me more.”
“I respect you plenty. Except right now.”
Noah grinned. “Accept your fate. And your new stepbeing. Monkey Estrella and I have transcended to a higher plane of love.”
“Yeah, you’re having way too much fun with this.” The doorbell rang. Stiles got up to answer. “That’ll be Derek. He’s going to welcome your fiancé to town on behalf of the pack.” As Scott’s second, Derek handled pack leadership when Scott was away. He also handled Stiles, which was a much more useful skill as far as Noah was concerned.
Noah put his coffee down when he heard voices. That was not Derek. He thought with some regret of his handgun, locked away in the gun safe and temporarily out of reach. But Stiles, much as Noah hated to admit it, was a powerful mage. And Derek took his role as Alpha’s second and emissary’s boyfriend very seriously. Also, there was always Monkey Estrella.
Noah pressed a hand to his sternum, where he could feel a buzzing connection to the dimension traveler. He felt sure that, concrete goat carcass aside, Monkey Estrella would come to his aid if needed. He wasn’t entirely sure what form that aid would take, but the reassuring and slightly possessive warmth that emanated from his fiancé’s humming bond seemed like a promise he could count on.
The two people who followed Stiles back into the kitchen were definitely some sort of law enforcement. They wore dark suits, and the guy was holding an instrument that beeped and flashed with very many small red lights. The woman kept her sunglasses on, even inside. It made her extra annoying and Noah knew werewolves, he had a PhD in annoying creatures.
“It’s the Men in Black,” said Stiles, presenting them with a flourish. “They’re tracking an alien.”
Noah thought of Monkey Estrella and held back a wince.
“That is not the name of our agency,” the woman said waspishly. She turned to Noah. “Sir, we need to do a full sweep of your grounds. We have reason to believe you have been visited by an alien power.” Her colleague waved the handheld device, which was a blazing mass of lights. “This will help us narrow down its hiding place.”
Behind their backs, Stiles’ eyes flashed briefly gold. The lights blinked out. The device made a sad beep and died.
“Huh,” the guy said. “It’s never done that before.” He shook the device and then banged it against the table.
“We have an interesting configuration of leylines in this town,” said Stiles, eyes thankfully back to normal. “You know, magnetic earth lines? Sometimes they make electronics go a bit nuts.”
“It’s not leylines,” the woman said. Behind the sunglasses, Noah was sure she was rolling her eyes. Maybe that’s why she wore them. He wondered if he could get away with that too, especially around his son and his moon-challenged friends. Plus, Noah did look hot in sunglasses. “It’s not leylines,” she repeated. “It’s the alien. It’s doing this!”
Noah finished off his coffee before this mug could get cold, too. “Maybe it goes by they/them, have you thought about that?”
“I— What?” The woman stared, nonplussed. At least, Noah assumed she was staring. It was a bit hard to tell, because, you know. Sunglasses.
“You’d think Area 82 operatives would be more respectful of a being’s pronouns,” Noah complained to Stiles.
The woman spluttered. “We’re not— Area 82, that doesn’t exist!”
“Yes it does,” said a new voice. Chris Argent walked in through the open slider that led to the yard. “I sell weapons to you lot sometimes. You’re definitely Area 82.”
“I thought it was Area 51,” said Stiles.
Noah shook his head. “No, that’s a decoy. Area 82 is the true base of operations. It’s in downtown Fresno. Chris, coffee?”
“Yeah, thanks.” Chris helped himself.
“Do we get coffee?” the government guy asked hopefully.
Noah nodded for Chris to serve him. “You can have some. Not her, though. She’s wearing sunglasses indoors.”
“Oh, for the love of—” She pinched the bridge of her nose. Noah was familiar with the sentiment. She removed her sunglasses, revealing storm-grey eyes that promised pain. A lot of pain, if she didn’t get coffee too.
The doorbell rang again. Stiles ran to get it and moments later Derek joined them. Noah sighed. “I’ll put another pot of coffee on.”
#
Agent X, sans sunglasses, checked the house first, but found nothing suspicious apart from Stiles’ wolfsbane stash.
“Biology project,” he said. She clearly didn’t believe him but weed was legal in California so she returned the baggie to him with an air of judgement that would have made Lydia Martin proud.
“Nothing downstairs,” said her colleague, Agent T, and really, Noah had to agree with Stiles. They were totally ripping off the MiB franchise. “We should check the yard,” she said, rushing off in that direction.
“Oh, damn,” said Stiles, but it was too late. Agent X had found the shed.
“What’s this?” she said, staring at Monkey Estrella.
“Lawn ornament,” Noah replied. Monkey Estrella was thankfully quiet. The humming was barely noticeable unless you knew what to listen for.
“Lawn ornament.” She stared at it in disbelief. “Why isn’t it on the lawn, then?”
Noah gestured at the life-sized concrete goat. “Would you put that on the lawn?”
She scrunched up her nose in thought. It was kind of cute, in a feral sort of way. Monkey Estrella sent a disapproving hum down their bond and Noah sent back a soothing pulse of his own.
“Good point,” Agent X conceded. “Why would you even buy that?”
“Pyramid scheme,” Noah answered blithely. He caught Derek’s are you shitting me glance and shrugged. Honestly, where did Derek think Stiles learned it from?
“All right,” she said. “I give up. Agent T, bring out the big guns.”
The big guns turned out to be a small square box. It was made of dull metal. It had one large red button. Agent T pressed the button. “Now we wait.”
Chris looked equal parts spooked and excited. “That’s one of the new quantum disruptors! It’s still experimental!”
“Yup!” Agent X smiled, sharp and ferocious. “Should wipe out any camouflage tech within a one-mile radius. Let’s smoke this alien out into the open!”
Behind her, the cement goat casing that housed Monkey Estrella began to crack, small hairline fractures that crept up the sides and down under the goat’s belly. Noah cleared his throat, trying urgently to think up a distraction. But Derek was faster.
“Holy hell!” Agent T shouted, dropping the quantum thingy. Noah had to admit, finding a large werewolf suddenly standing in front of you was quite a shock for the uninitiated.
“Are you the alien?” Agent X demanded.
“Yes,” Derek answered, deadpan. The furrowed ridges of his transformed face looked extra grumpy. “It is I, the alien. I come as an ambassador to my people. I have borrowed this man’s body as my vessel with his consent. But I’m, uh, done here. I’ve already imparted all my wisdom to my chosen counterpart. Christopher Argent.” Noah bit back a grin at the done look on Chris’ unimpressed face. Watching Derek mess with Chris was never going to get old.
“I’m leaving,” Derek continued. “Be well and, um, do better.”
Noah missed whatever signal Derek had sent Stiles, but a soft golden light wrapped around the werewolf. Noah knew that if he turned to Stiles right now, his eyes would be glowing that same gold, but luckily the agents were too busy gaping to notice. The glow grew brighter and brighter and then faded away, leaving Derek behind looking fully human again.
“What happened?” Derek asked. It wasn’t very convincing, but the eager agents didn’t notice.
“You were possessed by an alien, son,” Agent T said. “How are you feeling?”
“Everything is beautiful and nothing hurts,” said Derek. Behind Noah, Stiles smothered a snort. “I remember nothing.”
“We still need to interview you, though” said Agent X.
Chris cleared his throat. “As the appointed counterpart, I’ll take over the debriefing. Come, Derek, let’s take the nice agents to my office. On the other side of town.”
Derek flashed Stiles a look that clearly meant you owe me. Chris flashed Noah a similar look, but one that said that there had better be expensive whiskey involved. A LOT of whiskey. They left, the agents trailing in their wake.
In the shed, the cracks on the cement goat were glowing pure silver.
#
Monkey Estrella stood in the middle of the yard, since the shed was way too small for their seven-foot body. They were still glowing a smooth and lovely silver, enough to make it hard to really focus on what they looked like, though Noah could see they were pretty buff under all that starshine. There were… appendages? Noah wasn’t sure if they were arms or legs or what, but they were mesmerizing to watch as they gently weaved back and forth in a subtle sort of dance.
“My fiancé and I need to spend some time together,” he told Stiles. “We have transdimensional communications to complete.” He eyed the appendages appreciatively. The bond between him and Monkey Estrella hummed in response with a burning sort of warmth that started in his chest and curled slowly south. “It might take some time.”
Stiles followed his dad’s gaze. “Oh, ew. I didn’t need to know that. Uh, have fun communicating, I guess? See you later Monkey Estrella.”
Moments later, the front door banged shut. Stiles’ jeep started up and spluttered down the street. They were finally alone. Noah was buzzing, both from the bond and from the excessive amount of caffeine he’d had that day.
“Thank goodness for coffee,” he told Monkey Estrella. He had a feeling he was going to need the energy. “Now, where were we?”
Noah held out a hand and let the silver gather him in.