Stiles had been out, getting a pair of new headphones ( as well as some other stuff ) when his Dad had sent him a text and asked him if he was coming home anytime soon. That had of course surprised Stiles, seeing as his Dad never really texted him, unless something was up. Something bad. So, he quickly texted his Dad back, telling him that he would be back in thirty-forty minutes or so. Here you go. Lifting his gaze, the young, dark-haired male smiled softly at the man in front of him, standing on the other side of the desk. “Thank you,” Stiles said and grabbed the plastic bag, before making his way out of the store and towards the parking lot, where he had left his car behind twenty minutes ago. What on Earth was it that his Dad wanted him home for? Was something wrong? Had something happened to him at work? Was he having trouble with some of the managers again? Had they noticed how his breath would sometime smell like alcohol? He shook his head and as soon as he got to the jeep, he quickly climbed inside of the vehicle, closing the door behind him.
Of course he was running late, but in his defense, it wasn’t because of him for once. The road back home were undergoing some developments, so it was getting closer to forty-forty five minutes instead of the usual thirty-thirty five that it took to get back home. Approaching the house, Stiles parked in front of the garage, jumped outside with his newly bought stuff in his hands before he walked over to the front door. Opening the door, he entered the hallway and quickly got out of his shoes while leaving his things on the bench they had there. “Dad! I’m home! What on Earth was so important that I had to rush home, huh?” he questioned as he walked into the kitchen, but the sight that had met him had almost knocked him over. “K-Katherine? What are you – what are you doing here?” Stiles asked and narrowed his brown eyes a little, analyzing the scene happening in front of him. Noticing the drinks that they had in their hands, and obviously shared, and the stupid grin his Dad had on his face made him roll his eyes. Stiles. Come sit. Your Dad was just telling me a little more about you.
Stiles let an awkward huff leave his lips while he crossed his arms over his chest. What on Earth was Katherine doing in his kitchen? Talking to his Dad? Obviously she had some sort of ulterior motive. That had to be it, right? After-all, Katherine didn’t seem like the type of person who just showed up at people’s houses for a little chat. He walked over to the table, grabbing the back of the chair, leaning his hands down against the frame while he looked at Katherine the whole time. Mouthing at her, “what do you think you’re doing?” Stiles blinked and turned to look at his Dad, who looked like a fourteen year old boy in love. Katherine was pretty and it was obvious that his Dad thought so too.
Katherine shot Stiles a subtle smirk, refraining from playing a game of charades in front of his father. Mr. Stillinski narrowly missed the puzzled look on his son’s face, and though it was a good thing that Stiles’ initial reaction to her dropping by hadn’t been to expose her, she knew for act to work, she’d have to take the reigns. Even if Stiles did agree to play along with her, there was no sure way of telling whether or not he’d back out of her pretend somewhere down the line, or wind up ensuring that his dad would stick around while she tried to play catch up. And though compulsion was always handy, Katherine mostly used it for insurance.
“We made a meeting, remember? To go over your options for college.” She hinted, her tone lacking in it’s usual smokiness. But before Stiles could back out or play along, Katherine piggybacked on his confusion. “Wait, did I get the date wrong?” She asked, before lifting her bag off the side of the dining chair and rummaging through it as if looking for a planner, or a phone. “I could have sworn it was today. I wrote it down somewhere--”
“I’m uh, sure Stiles can do today, right?” His father interrupted then. Katherine lifted her gaze from her purse and watched as the older man moved to stand beside his son. “I mean, y’came all this way, Kathie.” With a pat on Stiles’ back, Mr. Stillinski muttered the three words she had been counting on. “He’ll do it.”
Katherine placed her purse back on the end of the chair and smiled gratefully at the man who had eaten right off the palm of her hand. “Great.” She smiled. “I’ll let you two get started.”
“Thank you, Mr. Stillinski.” Looking over at Stiles, Katherine let a hint of smugness show through her facade for the first time. “We’ve got so much to talk about.”
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