FIC Unusual Friendships
21/2/14 10:37![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
shanachie_quillTitle: Unusual Friendships
Characters: Stiles Stilinski, John Stilinski, Neal Branson
Fandom: Teen Wolf (TV)
Series:
Written For: whogeek
Prompt: From a conversation at Comic Con with Linden Ashby and Dylan O’Brien (it’s the last point)
Summary: For his sixteenth birthday, Stiles gets a new friend for life. But probably not what most of you were expecting.
Rating: PG
Spoilers: most likely for the entire TW series, but only obliquely
Warnings: Stiles is Stiles, Stilinskis are awesome, family bonds
Disclaimer: No one recognizable belongs to me, not making any money off this.
Author's Note: When I was linked to the Comic Con clips and saw the bit about the Jeep and the Stilinskis, I knew I had to do something. And while it didn’t turn out exactly the way I thought it would when I started, I think I like the way it ended up.
“So, Dad,” Stiles said as he slid into his seat at the kitchen table. “Am I going to have to wait until after school to get my birthday present?”
John raised an eyebrow as he glanced up from the report he’d been reading to look at his only child. “Who says you’re getting anything but some comics and maybe new lacrosse pads?”
Stiles just favored him with a look. “First of all, I don’t need new lacrosse pads because the old ones haven’t been used at all. Second of all, I’m sixteen, oh Father of mine.”
“And that means what exactly?” John asked dryly.
“Driving!” Stiles said gleefully.
“Do you think you’re getting your license?” John asked as he noticed the time and began to gather up his files.
“Da-ad,” Stiles tried not to whine. “I’ve had my permit for almost six months. I passed driver’s ed. We made the appointment for…”
John couldn’t keep up the charade any longer. “You have to attend your morning classes, Stiles. I’ll pick you up for lunch.”
“Aaaand?” Stiles asked.
“We’ll go to the Burger Barn and you won’t complain about what I’m eating. Then I’ll take you for your test.”
Stiles huffed. “All right. Thanks, Dad.”
John grinned. “And after you pass, we’ll go look at cars.”
Stiles punched the air. “Yes! Thank you, Dad!” He flung himself around the table, just managing to miss the corner, and into his father’s arms. “You’re the best dad ever!”
“All right.” John laughed as he hugged his son back. “Get going to school.”
“Can you drop me off so I don’t have to ride my bike?” Stiles asked as he grabbed his backpack.
“You’d rather arrive in the sheriff’s car than on your bike?” John asked.
“Well, then I don’t have to cram it into the back later when you pick me up,” Stiles replied logically.
“All right, fine. If you’re ready to go now.”
“Five seconds, Dad!” Stiles yelled as he ran back upstairs.
Despite taking his Adderall when he ran upstairs, Stiles found he had a hard time sitting still through his morning classes. By the time lunch rolled around, he was almost wiggling in his seat. Things hadn’t been this bad since before they had diagnosed his ADHD when he was seven. When the bell rang that signaled the students' release from the last class before lunch, Stiles practically bolted from his seat. "Stiles!" his best friend, Scott, yelled after him. "Wait up!"
"Can't talk now, Scott!" Stiles yelled over his shoulder. "Dad's picking me up."
"But what about lunch?" Scott asked.
"Yeah. Tomorrow, buddy," Stiles responded. He thought better of just blowing his best friend off, turning back to talk to him. "Dad's taking me out to lunch and then my test and possibly to get a car."
Scott grinned. "Awesome. So good luck?"
Stiles avoided shaking his head. "Thanks, bro. Lunch tomorrow." He fist bumped Scott before turning and hurrying towards the office.
John was waiting for him in the office. Stiles was glad to see he'd changed into civilian clothes (not that he had a problem with his dad being the sheriff, he was in fact proud of him, but it was slightly less awkward when he wasn't dressed as the sheriff.) "Should I be worried that it took you this long?" he asked as Stiles almost tumbled into the room.
Stiles rolled his eyes. "Da-ad, I was talking to Scott. Seriously? You think I'd get in trouble today?"
"No I think trouble finds you." John motioned towards the door. "Ready to go?"
"Absolutely. Food, test, new car."
"Well, used car. And only if you pass."
"Details, Dad, details."
Stiles looked down at the freshly minted license in his hand. "I passed. I actually passed."
"I knew you would. I'm proud of you, Stiles."
"Thanks, Dad." Stiles looked up from his license finally. "So. Car?"
John motioned towards the used car lot he'd just pulled into. "Here ya go, kiddo. Branson's. Take a look around."
"Anything on the lot?" Stiles questioned as he got out of the sheriff's car.
"Within reason," John pointed out.
"Your reason or my reason?" Stiles asked over his shoulder as he started to prowl the lot.
"Stiles. Just. Reason."
"Yeah okay," Stiles said. He waited for John to catch up, pointing towards a sporty little coupe. "What about something like that?"
"Stiles, I write enough speeding tickets in a given month without adding my son's name to the list."
"Yeah okay," Stiles repeated. "It's not really me anyway."
He moved away from the coupe, almost tripping over a rock. When he looked back at John, the expression on the other man’s face was clearly that he didn’t expect anything else. Stiles just shrugged in response.
“Sheriff,” someone hailed. “How are you today?”
“Good.” John turned, shaking hands with the man who’d come up to them. “Neal, this is my son, Stiles. Stiles, Neal Branson. We’re looking for a vehicle for Stiles,” John explained.
“Pleased to meet you, sir,” Stiles responded promptly.
“What type of vehicle are you looking for?” Neal asked.
“Something safe,” John replied. “It is Stiles’s first car.”
“Da-ad,” Stiles whined.
“Well, he can have a little fun,” John allowed.
Neal considered it for a minute, rubbing a hand over his bristly red hair. “Well, I’ve got a two-door Charger. And we just got a Rav-4 a couple of days ago. Also got a few pick-ups if you’d rather. Both full-sized and the smaller ones.”
They were walking away from the second pick-up, having vetoed the Charger, Rav-4, and a full sized pick-up already, when Stiles caught a glimpse of blue. “What’s that?” he asked, already heading towards the color.
“Oh, you don’t want that one. It’s old and the engine’s been replaced,” Neal protested.
Stiles was already pulling the tarp off the vehicle to get a better look; his eyes lighting up as more was revealed. “Dad?” he asked.
“Does it run?” John asked.
“What?” Neal looked surprised. “Yeah. Of course.”
John eyed him suspiciously. “As in, I won’t be pouring money into it? Or Stiles won’t be?”
“It’s a 1980s’ Jeep. It’s not perfect. And I’m not going to promise things won’t break.”
Stiles was still running his hands across it. “It’s a 1980s CJ5, Mr. Branson. Not just a Jeep.”
“This is the one you want?” John asked, slowing beginning to walk around the Jeep.
“Yeah, Dad.” Stiles looked through the Jeep at his dad. “This is it. I want a Jeep.”
“We can get a different Jeep,” John pointed out. “It doesn’t have to be this one.”
“But I like this one,” Stiles protested.
“What kind of guarantee can you give me, Neal?” John asked. “Because it looks like we’re taking this one.”
“Can the kid drive stick?” Neal asked as the two adults walked away to take care of the paperwork.
Stiles opened the door as the two adults walked out of earshot and climbed into the driver’s seat. For a moment, he just sat there with his hands on the steering wheel before running a finger around the inside of the wheel. He gripped the steering wheel, imagining for a moment that he had already started the Jeep and was driving down the road. After a minute, he reached out, running a hand across the dashboard. “I think this is the start of a beautiful friendship,” he whispered.
“Sure you don’t want to drive it before we take it home?” John asked, leaning in the window.
Stiles jumped, letting out a little yelp. “Dad!” he complained. “And, no, I know this is what I want.”
John’s face softened. “You know it’s not hers,” he said. “It’s not even the same model or year.”
“I know. But it’s still a Jeep.” Stiles looked at John. “This is what I want.”
John leaned forward and gripped Stiles’s shoulder for a minute. “If that’s what you want, son. It’s what you’ll have. But if you have too much trouble with it…”
“Yeah. Yeah.” Stiles rolled his eyes. “So we’re good?”
“We’re good.” John smiled. “Is this going to get a name, too?”
“Why would I…” Stiles grinned as his father just stared at him. “Of course. I just…” He shook his head. “I’ll think of something.”
“I’m sure you will.” John tapped him on the nose. “You think you can drive home? I’ll follow you.”
“I can.” Stiles took the keys out of John’s hand, almost bouncing in the seat. “Hey, Dad?”
“Yeah, Stiles?”
“Thanks.”
“You’re welcome, kiddo.”
“Roscoe!” Stiles exclaimed as John got out of his cruiser at the house.
“What?”
Stiles patted the side of the Jeep. “His name’s Roscoe.”
“Okay. Why…? You know what? I don’t want to know.” John motioned to the Jeep. “Are you happy with it?”
“Yeah, Dad. It’s perfect.” Stiles stepped close to him and hugged him. “Thank you.”
“You’re welcome, kiddo.” John hugged him tightly. “I think your mom would be happy you picked a Jeep.”
“Is it… Are you okay with it?” Stiles asked.
“My only concern is you’re safe, Stiles. If a Jeep is what you want, I’m fine with it. And don’t worry about could we afford it or not. It was fine.” John pointed towards the house. “And now dinner.”
“Absolutely, Dad.”
Characters: Stiles Stilinski, John Stilinski, Neal Branson
Fandom: Teen Wolf (TV)
Series:
Written For: whogeek
Prompt: From a conversation at Comic Con with Linden Ashby and Dylan O’Brien (it’s the last point)
Summary: For his sixteenth birthday, Stiles gets a new friend for life. But probably not what most of you were expecting.
Rating: PG
Spoilers: most likely for the entire TW series, but only obliquely
Warnings: Stiles is Stiles, Stilinskis are awesome, family bonds
Disclaimer: No one recognizable belongs to me, not making any money off this.
Author's Note: When I was linked to the Comic Con clips and saw the bit about the Jeep and the Stilinskis, I knew I had to do something. And while it didn’t turn out exactly the way I thought it would when I started, I think I like the way it ended up.
“So, Dad,” Stiles said as he slid into his seat at the kitchen table. “Am I going to have to wait until after school to get my birthday present?”
John raised an eyebrow as he glanced up from the report he’d been reading to look at his only child. “Who says you’re getting anything but some comics and maybe new lacrosse pads?”
Stiles just favored him with a look. “First of all, I don’t need new lacrosse pads because the old ones haven’t been used at all. Second of all, I’m sixteen, oh Father of mine.”
“And that means what exactly?” John asked dryly.
“Driving!” Stiles said gleefully.
“Do you think you’re getting your license?” John asked as he noticed the time and began to gather up his files.
“Da-ad,” Stiles tried not to whine. “I’ve had my permit for almost six months. I passed driver’s ed. We made the appointment for…”
John couldn’t keep up the charade any longer. “You have to attend your morning classes, Stiles. I’ll pick you up for lunch.”
“Aaaand?” Stiles asked.
“We’ll go to the Burger Barn and you won’t complain about what I’m eating. Then I’ll take you for your test.”
Stiles huffed. “All right. Thanks, Dad.”
John grinned. “And after you pass, we’ll go look at cars.”
Stiles punched the air. “Yes! Thank you, Dad!” He flung himself around the table, just managing to miss the corner, and into his father’s arms. “You’re the best dad ever!”
“All right.” John laughed as he hugged his son back. “Get going to school.”
“Can you drop me off so I don’t have to ride my bike?” Stiles asked as he grabbed his backpack.
“You’d rather arrive in the sheriff’s car than on your bike?” John asked.
“Well, then I don’t have to cram it into the back later when you pick me up,” Stiles replied logically.
“All right, fine. If you’re ready to go now.”
“Five seconds, Dad!” Stiles yelled as he ran back upstairs.
Despite taking his Adderall when he ran upstairs, Stiles found he had a hard time sitting still through his morning classes. By the time lunch rolled around, he was almost wiggling in his seat. Things hadn’t been this bad since before they had diagnosed his ADHD when he was seven. When the bell rang that signaled the students' release from the last class before lunch, Stiles practically bolted from his seat. "Stiles!" his best friend, Scott, yelled after him. "Wait up!"
"Can't talk now, Scott!" Stiles yelled over his shoulder. "Dad's picking me up."
"But what about lunch?" Scott asked.
"Yeah. Tomorrow, buddy," Stiles responded. He thought better of just blowing his best friend off, turning back to talk to him. "Dad's taking me out to lunch and then my test and possibly to get a car."
Scott grinned. "Awesome. So good luck?"
Stiles avoided shaking his head. "Thanks, bro. Lunch tomorrow." He fist bumped Scott before turning and hurrying towards the office.
John was waiting for him in the office. Stiles was glad to see he'd changed into civilian clothes (not that he had a problem with his dad being the sheriff, he was in fact proud of him, but it was slightly less awkward when he wasn't dressed as the sheriff.) "Should I be worried that it took you this long?" he asked as Stiles almost tumbled into the room.
Stiles rolled his eyes. "Da-ad, I was talking to Scott. Seriously? You think I'd get in trouble today?"
"No I think trouble finds you." John motioned towards the door. "Ready to go?"
"Absolutely. Food, test, new car."
"Well, used car. And only if you pass."
"Details, Dad, details."
Stiles looked down at the freshly minted license in his hand. "I passed. I actually passed."
"I knew you would. I'm proud of you, Stiles."
"Thanks, Dad." Stiles looked up from his license finally. "So. Car?"
John motioned towards the used car lot he'd just pulled into. "Here ya go, kiddo. Branson's. Take a look around."
"Anything on the lot?" Stiles questioned as he got out of the sheriff's car.
"Within reason," John pointed out.
"Your reason or my reason?" Stiles asked over his shoulder as he started to prowl the lot.
"Stiles. Just. Reason."
"Yeah okay," Stiles said. He waited for John to catch up, pointing towards a sporty little coupe. "What about something like that?"
"Stiles, I write enough speeding tickets in a given month without adding my son's name to the list."
"Yeah okay," Stiles repeated. "It's not really me anyway."
He moved away from the coupe, almost tripping over a rock. When he looked back at John, the expression on the other man’s face was clearly that he didn’t expect anything else. Stiles just shrugged in response.
“Sheriff,” someone hailed. “How are you today?”
“Good.” John turned, shaking hands with the man who’d come up to them. “Neal, this is my son, Stiles. Stiles, Neal Branson. We’re looking for a vehicle for Stiles,” John explained.
“Pleased to meet you, sir,” Stiles responded promptly.
“What type of vehicle are you looking for?” Neal asked.
“Something safe,” John replied. “It is Stiles’s first car.”
“Da-ad,” Stiles whined.
“Well, he can have a little fun,” John allowed.
Neal considered it for a minute, rubbing a hand over his bristly red hair. “Well, I’ve got a two-door Charger. And we just got a Rav-4 a couple of days ago. Also got a few pick-ups if you’d rather. Both full-sized and the smaller ones.”
They were walking away from the second pick-up, having vetoed the Charger, Rav-4, and a full sized pick-up already, when Stiles caught a glimpse of blue. “What’s that?” he asked, already heading towards the color.
“Oh, you don’t want that one. It’s old and the engine’s been replaced,” Neal protested.
Stiles was already pulling the tarp off the vehicle to get a better look; his eyes lighting up as more was revealed. “Dad?” he asked.
“Does it run?” John asked.
“What?” Neal looked surprised. “Yeah. Of course.”
John eyed him suspiciously. “As in, I won’t be pouring money into it? Or Stiles won’t be?”
“It’s a 1980s’ Jeep. It’s not perfect. And I’m not going to promise things won’t break.”
Stiles was still running his hands across it. “It’s a 1980s CJ5, Mr. Branson. Not just a Jeep.”
“This is the one you want?” John asked, slowing beginning to walk around the Jeep.
“Yeah, Dad.” Stiles looked through the Jeep at his dad. “This is it. I want a Jeep.”
“We can get a different Jeep,” John pointed out. “It doesn’t have to be this one.”
“But I like this one,” Stiles protested.
“What kind of guarantee can you give me, Neal?” John asked. “Because it looks like we’re taking this one.”
“Can the kid drive stick?” Neal asked as the two adults walked away to take care of the paperwork.
Stiles opened the door as the two adults walked out of earshot and climbed into the driver’s seat. For a moment, he just sat there with his hands on the steering wheel before running a finger around the inside of the wheel. He gripped the steering wheel, imagining for a moment that he had already started the Jeep and was driving down the road. After a minute, he reached out, running a hand across the dashboard. “I think this is the start of a beautiful friendship,” he whispered.
“Sure you don’t want to drive it before we take it home?” John asked, leaning in the window.
Stiles jumped, letting out a little yelp. “Dad!” he complained. “And, no, I know this is what I want.”
John’s face softened. “You know it’s not hers,” he said. “It’s not even the same model or year.”
“I know. But it’s still a Jeep.” Stiles looked at John. “This is what I want.”
John leaned forward and gripped Stiles’s shoulder for a minute. “If that’s what you want, son. It’s what you’ll have. But if you have too much trouble with it…”
“Yeah. Yeah.” Stiles rolled his eyes. “So we’re good?”
“We’re good.” John smiled. “Is this going to get a name, too?”
“Why would I…” Stiles grinned as his father just stared at him. “Of course. I just…” He shook his head. “I’ll think of something.”
“I’m sure you will.” John tapped him on the nose. “You think you can drive home? I’ll follow you.”
“I can.” Stiles took the keys out of John’s hand, almost bouncing in the seat. “Hey, Dad?”
“Yeah, Stiles?”
“Thanks.”
“You’re welcome, kiddo.”
“Roscoe!” Stiles exclaimed as John got out of his cruiser at the house.
“What?”
Stiles patted the side of the Jeep. “His name’s Roscoe.”
“Okay. Why…? You know what? I don’t want to know.” John motioned to the Jeep. “Are you happy with it?”
“Yeah, Dad. It’s perfect.” Stiles stepped close to him and hugged him. “Thank you.”
“You’re welcome, kiddo.” John hugged him tightly. “I think your mom would be happy you picked a Jeep.”
“Is it… Are you okay with it?” Stiles asked.
“My only concern is you’re safe, Stiles. If a Jeep is what you want, I’m fine with it. And don’t worry about could we afford it or not. It was fine.” John pointed towards the house. “And now dinner.”
“Absolutely, Dad.”
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