#stilinski family feels

I can just imagine Stiles pulling the same move when he’s sheriff, only to a more extreme.

He’d be up for impeachment, because despite being able to solve so many cases, he can’t go listing the official reasons why, and has to put down flimsy excuses that only hold up because there are no other believable explanations. The federal agent leading the investigation is under the firm belief that Stiles has been making things up simply so he can boast a higher rate of solved cases.

Unfortunately the board ends up agreeing with the agent.

Stiles stops checking his email because that’s how they’ll try to notify him of being fired first. The second will be a warning phone call. The third a fax — but faxes can’t come through if the machine is jammed and out of ink. The final step will be sending someone in person to escort him off the premises.

It buys Stiles just enough time to pack up a few of the more incriminating cases — the ones that have a tad too much evidence that point towards his friends, the ones that make it pretty obvious he’s been covering for those he loves.

He almost gets away with it until Deputy Bloomberg pokes his head out of his office.

“Hey, Stilinski!”

Stiles pauses, annoyance flooding through him. “It’s still Sheriff Stilinski to you. And to…everyone else. For the next…fifteen minutes at least.”

Bloomberg seems pretty skeptical, but nods. “What’s, uh, what’s all that stuff?”

Stiles looks down at the box in his arms. “Oh, you know. Stuff.”

“Stuff…that you plan on looking over outside the station walls?” Bloomberg hazards to guess when Stiles refused to follow up on the prompting.

“No, stuff that I plan on burying out in the woods where no one will find it,” Stiles snaps, shifting his posture to the defensive. “You guys haven’t touched these cases in months; why the hell do you care?”

Eyes wide, Bloomberg points a hesitant finger at the side of the box. “…Because it says ‘Sheriff’s Station, Do Not Remove.’”

Blinking, Stiles looks down. Thinking quickly, he remembers his father’s words from years ago. “Well, yeah, unless you’re the sheriff.”

The flat look Deputy Bloomberg levels him with is furthered into a pointed glance out the window, which has a clear view of the parking lot. Several people in suits are climbing out of a sleek black car.

Mentally cursing, Stiles adjusts his grip on the box and decides to pretend he didn’t see anything.

“Anyways, I’m heading out to lunch.” He starts to walk away. Towards the back entrance. “Call me if anything important happens. Deputy Hale! You owe me chicken fingers!”

Derek Hale jumps to his feet a bit too quickly to seem like he had actually been doing any work on his computer previously. But that doesn’t matter. Because Stiles and Derek have gotten into enough fights and carry enough animosity within the workplace that no one will question Derek’s later testimony of “What missing case files? He put the box back in storage before we left.”

Plus, as long as he has a man or two still on the inside, he can still go into the private investigator field with no problems.

He may have been taking however he never really disappeared