The Price (or Cinder-stiles)
So I went and saw Cinderella yesterday.
And then, because I’m me, I stereked it. With sciles bromance. And then it became almost 11k. I have a problem.
As always on his trips to town, his first stop is the blacksmith.
Not because he ever needs a blacksmith but because Deaton opened his own shop when he was fired from the Stilinski estate and Scott is now apprenticed there.
“He’s just finishing up something,” Deaton tells him as he enters. He doesn’t quite look up from his work but his face flickers into a smile. “Go wait in the back.”
Stiles nods agreeably and heads to the back room. The one time he’d tried to talk to Scott while he was working, they had both ended up with pretty horrific burns. And there may have been a small fire. Granted, they had both been twelve at the time, but five years later, Deaton still doesn’t risk it.
Stiles doesn’t blame him. The small fire had been fairly large.
“Jeez,” Scott says, swinging into the room a few minutes later. He’s already frowning. “Stiles, you look terrible.”
“C’mon,” Stiles replies. “Is that really how to greet your dear friend who you’ve not seen for almost a month?”
Scott pulls him into a rough hug but when they break away, he is still frowning.
“Has she been feeding you at all?” Scott demands and Stiles shrugs one shoulder but doesn’t stop Scott from reaching up to where he keeps his lunch on the top shelf.
“Technically, yes,” Stiles offers. His stepmother always makes sure to leave him enough food so that he won’t technically starve. Just not enough that he hasn’t dropped a considerable amount of weight in the eight months since his father had died. Not enough that he doesn’t dig into the half of a sandwich the instant Scott waves it in front of his face.
“I still don’t think you should stay there,” Scott grumbles, eating his own half at a much slower pace. “You know that you could stay with me and my mom. She worries about you.”
“You know I have to,” Stiles replies. He doesn’t bother to elaborate. They’ve had this conversation before. First, when his ever-so-lovely stepmother fired the entire staff (which at that point, had already whittled down to Scott, his mother and Deaton) and then every time Stiles manages to sneak away for half a day or his chores actually gave him a valid excuse to be in town.
Today it is to collect new parasols for his stepsisters. They apparently don’t have enough money to pay for any repairs to the house or to buy a sufficient amount of food so that he can eat properly three times a day but clothing and accessories, they can afford. His stepmother has a very selective idea of poverty.
“It’s my house,” Stiles finishes, as he does every time. “If she wants to stay there, she’s going to pay a price.”
“And the price is you,” Scott says and he’s smiling a little bit now. Stiles grins.
