#musing about writing

When Stiles sees a black 1967 Chevy Impala roll past him while he’s going to his favorite diner for his weekly serving of curly fries, the hairs on the back of his neck prick up, and he gets an uneasy feeling.

It’s a nice car, sure, but it rings a bell in his mind, like he’s seen it or heard of it before, but he can’t be sure where exactly. It’s a very distinctive car, one that would not blend in with the surroundings of Beacon Hills, and Stiles would know if there was someone that had that kind of car. He might not be good at fixing cars (namely his Jeep), but he likes cars, enough to know when one is very out of place.

The car turns a corner out of sight, but seeing it bothers Stiles the whole time he waits at the diner for Scott to join him and the entire time he drives back home. He knows he’s seen the car before somewhere, but he can’t for the life of him remember where.

At the last minute he decides to drive to the station instead of home, with the flimsy excuse of checking on his dad and making sure he’s eating the much healthier lunch he insisted his dad take, rather than getting take out somewhere. When he pulls in and sees that same car parked in front of the station, the uneasy feeling increases.

Casually (yet cautiously) he walks into the station and sees two men in suits talking to his dad in his office. The blinds are partially closed, so he can’t make out their faces, but he can tell that his dad is definitely putting on his “everything is under control and even if it isn’t, I’m going to make you think it is” face.

This is not good.

Stiles makes small talk with Janice at the front desk while he waits, and finally when his dad pulls open his office door, he shuffles over to see who these dudes are.

“...yeah, well any assistance you can provide would be much appreciated, Sheriff,” the shorter one says as he steps across the threshold.

“I’ll be happy to provide the FBI with anything they need. You just let me know,” his dad replies with a nod and a smile that is more professional than genuine.

FBI?

Because Stiles can’t help it, he steps in front of the two men, eyes narrowed. “Did McCall send you two? What? Could he not find it in himself to come back here again?”

“Stiles,” his dad hisses with a stern look, but it doesn’t make Stiles back down.

The shorter man looks confused, but the taller one replies with, “Oh, we’re a different division. He’s on another case elsewhere.” He adds with raised eyebrows, “I can pass on your regards?” 

Stiles snorts. “Pretty sure he already knows what my regards would be. Don’t need to tell him to fuck himself again.”

“Stiles!” his dad yells, and Stiles shrugs in apology, face a picture of chastisement. He definitely catches the shorter agent whisper “I like him,” to the taller one with a smirk.

“Agents, I apologize for my son,” the Sheriff says, giving Stiles a glare before frowning at the two suited men.

The shorter one laughs. “It’s alright. Teenagers, huh?”

Stiles rolls his eyes at the comment.

“Stiles, was it?” the taller one says, holding out his hand. Reluctantly, Stiles shakes it and nods in reply. “I’m Agent Hamill; this is my partner Agent Ford.”

With the introduction, the other holds out his hand as well, and Stiles shakes it. Ford, Stiles thinks, why does that sound familiar?

“We’re just following up on a few things, some reports that involve the school and the preserve, and your dad, here, has been kind enough to help us out. Hopefully, when the time comes, you’d be willing to extend the same courtesy?” Agent Ford says after he lets go of Stiles’s hand.

“Uh, yeah sure, whatever… you need,” he quickly adds the last part because his dad is giving him the “don’t be rude, we’ll talk about this later” face.

“Awesome,” Agent Ford says.

“We’ll be staying in a hotel a few miles up the road. Here’s our card,” Agent Hamill says, whipping out a small business card from his inside suit coat pocket and passing it to Stiles. It looks legitimately from the FBI, and there’s what looks to be a cell phone number scrawled in pen on the bottom. “If you see anything odd while you’re at school, or think of something we might need to know, give us a call.”