Posted originally on the Archive_of_Our_Own at https://archiveofourown.org/
works/11434821.
  Rating:
      Explicit
  Archive Warning:
      Graphic_Depictions_Of_Violence, Major_Character_Death, Underage
  Category:
      Multi
  Fandom:
      Teen_Wolf_(TV)
  Relationship:
      Derek_Hale/Stiles_Stilinski, Scott_McCall_&_Stiles_Stilinski, Past_Scott
      and_allison, Allison_Argent_&_Isaac_Lahey, Ethan/Danny_Mahealani, Aiden/
      Lydia_Martin, Past_Erica_Reyes_and_Vernon_Boyd
  Character:
      Stiles_Stilinski, Derek_Hale, Scott_McCall, Allison_Argent, Lydia_Martin,
      Isaac_Lahey, Vernon_Boyd, Aiden_(Teen_Wolf), Ethan_(Teen_Wolf), Ennis_
      (Teen_Wolf), Kali_(Teen_Wolf), Deucalion, Derek_Hale's_Pack, Jennifer
      Blake, Other_Character_Tags_to_Be_Added, a_lot_more_-_Character
  Additional Tags:
      Stiles_Stilinski_Doesn't_Know_About_Werewolves, Stiles_was_in_Poland_his
      whole_life, Tension, Awkwardness, Sheriff_Stilinski_&_Stiles_Stilinski
      Feels, Stiles_has_a_dog_named_Rosco, Stiles_is_gay, Stiles_Stilinski_is
      Not_Amused, Stiles_is_Not_a_Virgin, Scott_McCall_&_Stiles_Stilinski
      Bromance, Stiles-centric, Kidnapped_Stiles, The_Alpha_Pack, Stiles
      Stilinski_Speaks_Polish, Stiles_Stilinski_is_a_Tease, stiles_curses_a
      lot, Isaac_Lahey_&_Stiles_Stilinski_Friendship, Vernon_Boyd_&_Stiles
      Stilinski_Friendship, Cora_Hale_&_Stiles_Stilinski_Friendship, Other
      Additional_Tags_to_Be_Added, a_lot_more_-_Freeform, Don't_Examine_This
      Too_Closely, Don't_Judge, also, Stiles_Stilinski_and_Alan_Deaten
      Friendship, Kinda, Eventual_Smut, Magical_Stiles_Stilinski, eventually
  Series:
      Part 1 of The_Zduhać
  Stats:
      Published: 2017-07-08 Updated: 2017-07-10 Chapters: 3/? Words: 3216
****** Sink Or Swim ******
by KaraArgent
Summary
     "So, how many more sacrifices are there going to be?"
     "What?"
     Stiles stared the Veterinarian in the eye, a glare on his lips, his
     eyes serious as he walked around Deaten's medical examination table,
     running his fingers along the large shelf with different herbs. Herbs
     that a regular Vet shouldn't keep around.
     Deaten's usual polite gaze flicked to his hand with narrowing eyes,
     and Stiles could see his posture change.
     "Look, maybe no one else around here is willing to tell me what's
     going on, but I recognize these symbols. These herbs. They're ancient
     Celtic, like Celtic druid. And I know that some psycho is going
     around trying to recreate the ways of the ancient druid's by
     sacrificing innocent people." His gaze lit up like a flame as Deaten
     eyed him with a slightly widened gaze, like he didn't expect him to
     figure things out. Please, after all he was the son of a cop. "And if
     no one else is going to tell me what's going on, then I'm going to
     find out for myself," He then gestured to Deaten who's gaze grew
     weary and cryptic in a matter of seconds. "Starting with you."
     Deaten stared at Stiles with a strained look, eyes narrowed as the
     teen continued to glare.
     "....Where do I start?"
***** Author's Note *****
Like my "Let Me Go", this will be updated when I can. This will be apart of
small series and I hope you'll like it. And yes, I'm a heavy Sterek shipper.
But I sorta ship Stiles with everyone. Updates will be slow.
***** Official Summary *****
Chapter Notes
     This isn't a chapter, my apologies.
Mieczysław, or Stiles Stilinski moves from Poland to live with his biological
father after his only remaining uncle from his mother's side dies. He doesn't
really care about anything other than his life back at home and making it to
graduation and his eighteenth birthday so he can go back and forget ever
leaving. Everything changes when he becomes friends with Scott McCall,
evidently leading him to meet Derek Hale; a gorgeous man with shady green eyes
and a sharp smile. As he spirals into the supernatural world without knowing it
dangers arises and innocent people start getting killed. No, sacrificed. And he
always somehow seems to find a pair of red eyes lurking around every corner.
 
******************
 
"So, how many more sacrifices are there going to be?"
"What?"
Stiles stared the Veterinarian in the eye, a glare on his lips, his eyes
serious as he walked around Deaten's medical examination table, running his
fingers along the large shelf with different herbs. Herbs that a regular Vet
shouldn't keep around.
Deaten's usual polite gaze flicked to his hand with narrowing eyes, and Stiles
could see his posture change.
"Look, maybe no one else around here is willing to tell me what's going on, but
I recognize these symbols. These herbs. They're ancient Celtic, like Celtic
druid. And I know that some psycho is going around trying to recreate the ways
of the ancient druid's by sacrificing innocent people." His gaze lit up like a
flame as Deaten eyed him with a slightly widened gaze, like he didn't expect
him to figure things out. Please, after all he was the son of a cop. "And if no
one else is going to tell me what's going on, then I'm going to find out for
myself," He then gestured to Deaten who's gaze grew weary and cryptic in a
matter of seconds. "Starting with you."
Deaten stared at Stiles with a strained look, eyes narrowed as the teen
continued to glare.
"....Where do I start?"
***** Hey daddio's and new homes *****
Chapter Summary
     Stiles meets his "long lost" dad, and goes to his new house.
Chapter Notes
See the end of the chapter for notes
He wishes he was back in Poland.
 
Stiles had spent his entire life in Krakow Poland, a naturally cold place that
he loved, born and raised. He had lived with his mother; Claudia, up until he
was eight years of age before she had been put into the long term care ward of
the local hospital. She had been diagnosed with Frontal Temporal Dementia. It
was a disease that slowly changed her memories into lies and dreams.
 
She had died not a year and a half later while he had been living with her
younger brother; Bronislaw. He was a good man, hell, the best man that Stiles
ever knew. And he had been the only one there for Stiles when he had to grieve
her loss. They had been there for each other.
 
Bronislaw had raised him the rest of his life up until recently, teaching him
the ways of the world even when he didn't know everything himself. Stiles had
then started seeing similarities between his uncle and the time when his mother
had started getting sick and when he had been just fifteen he forced him to get
checked by the doctors.
 
Sure enough, it was there. Just like his mother, Bronislaw had gotten the
Dementia that just seemed to keep taking the people he loved.
 
He had spent almost another two years with Bronislaw before he passed on too,
leaving Stiles homeless and broken with no family, staying with some friends
till he found a stable home.
 
A few months had gone by before the state alerted him of his biological father
who lived in sunny California who didn't even know he existed. Well good he had
thought, because Claudia had told Stiles that his father was dead. Died in a
car accident as most lies tend to go. But after a long distance DNA test proved
that the man was indeed his father, the state awarded the man full custody if
he wanted it. And just Stiles' luck that he did.
 
At first Stiles refused to go, simply because he didn't know the man nor want
to, and because he had no desire to leave the place he spent his life, but when
he learned that it was either that or the foster system until he was eighteen
he reluctantly agreed, packing up and leaving the only home he knew behind. But
four months couldn't be that bad right?
 
Stiles sighed as he carded his fingers through his damp hair, sweating as he
closed his eyes against the too warm air. The heat was something he wasn't used
to since he had never been outside of Krakow his entire life. First time for
everything they say. Well, his first time was sucking.
 
He stripped off his jacket, wiping away the sweat from his forehead as he tied
it loosely around his waist, glancing around at the passerby's who were
chatting or laughing, seeming completely unfazed by the warmth surrounding
them.
 
A loud bark got his attention as he focused his eyes ahead, silently
apologizing to the startled woman who slowly skirted past him as he pulled taut
on his dog's leash, speaking quietly and quickly. "We're at an airport, pięty."
 
His dog, or better, his uncle's dog; Roscoe quieted down almost immediately at
the Polish word, and Stiles knew that it was because Bronislaw had only ever
spoken Polish to him.
 
He was a Chesapeake Bay Retriever which wasn't common in Krakow, his fur a
sleek black color that covered his entire body. The only thing that stood out
was that his left ear was a soft golden color, no other odd spots found. He
wasn't that big, only coming up to Stiles about mid-thigh. And was as sweet as
bunny, the only thing that truly scared
people was his bark. And man it was a mean bark. But he was all bark and no
bite.
 
Stiles sighed as he glanced around, knowing that soon he'd just eventually
leave and find some random motel to crash at. That is if they excepted Polish
Zloty. He glanced around again at all the people who were paying for tickets
with sharp and crisp green bills and grimaced. Guess not.
 
He leaned back against the wall he was at towards where his departing gate had
been, wondering how long he had until one of the security guards told him that
he couldn't stay there with his dog, therefore having to make him explain that
he was waiting for his father, a man he had never met before to come pick him
up and take him to a place that he was supposed to be calling home for the time
being. Yeah, that would go over well.
 
Stiles looked at the clock for the millionth as he thought that the man who's
name he knew to be Noah after a case worker gave him a description of his
father-a few years older than mom, in law enforcement, well a Sheriff, and a
good person-wasn't going to come.
 
Just then a voice called out not too far away from him, deep and alerted like
it was used like that every waking hour. "Stiles!"
 
Stiles' head snapped up as Roscoe barked and he pulled the mutt back as he
stood straight, growling a quick heated few words in Polish before looking at
the approaching man as the dog splayed his body down on the floor compliant. He
felt like he was going to be sick as he looked at him because this man was no
doubt his father, and there was definitely no going back now.
 
He was in casual clothing, dark jeans, a deep red and dark blue plaid button up
shirt. He looked comfortable, and it was probably because he was usually more
than likely in a uniform with a Sheriff's badge.
 
It was different from the leather jacket that Stiles had wrapped around his
hips, adorning a navy blue and maybe tight plain long sleeve T-shirt. He had on
black jeans and his worn down converse's and he realized that he might be hot
because of all the dark colors. Dark colors soak up the heat dumb ass. But then
again Noah seemed to be just fine.
 
Noah had the same nose as him and lips though, his hair the same texture even
if Stiles' was darker. He had the same smile which made Stiles' lips tip upward
even though it felt odd. He was glad that the man didn't share the same eyes
though, he wanted that to be something that he could keep with his mother and
uncle. But he was tan where Stiles was pale, and his skin was clear where
Stiles was speckled with little moles. They were similar, yet they couldn't be
any less different.
 
Noah stood in front of Stiles, his eyes crinkled around the edges from his
smile as Stiles stared back. "Stiles." 
 
"Yep, that's me." Stiles said a little awkwardly, a blush coating his pale
cheeks even though he was already flushed from the heat. He glanced down when
Roscoe move, pulling at the dog's leash when he started to sniff Noah and get
in his personal space. "Roscoe, pięty."
 
Noah looked at him as if he were surprised that Stiles spoke Polish, but then
knelt down to one knee to ruffle the retriever's fur, grinning when his tail
starting wagging and the dog licked at his hand. Noah glanced back up at
Stiles, still grinning as Stiles gave the man a tentative smile in return. "So
this is Roscoe?"
 
Stiles rubbed the back of his neck, sarcasm crawling up his throat in a
deadpanned; 'yeah', but he forced it down to save even more awkwardness between
them. It was bad enough that this was the first time they were meeting in his
whole seventeen years and eight months of existence. No need to add the pot to
the kettle. "Uh, yeah. I hope it's cool if he stays with us?"
 
The case manager had already informed Stiles that Noah had been fine with it,
but Stiles wanted to make sure that he asked him face to face. He didn't want
to intrude the man's life any more than he already was doing.
 
Noah looked back up at him, raising an eyebrow as he stood back up. "Yeah, yeah
of course Stiles." He glanced back down at the dog again who seemed to be
content with licking his hand, not that Noah seemed bothered. "It'd be good to
have a guard dog around anyway."
 
Stiles laughed lightly causing his dad to look at him in confusion, and Stiles
just shook his head. "No, Roscoe isn't a guard dog, if anything he'd probably
run and hide with his tail between his legs," before he knew what he was doing
he lightly hit Noah's shoulder, "Don't worry though pops, I'll protect us."
 
Stiles froze as he pulled away, expecting it to be awkward at what he just
called the man but Noah just smiled and laughed, glancing back down at Roscoe
with a shake of his head as his threaded his fingers through his almost graying
hair.
 
Noah seemed alright Stiles decided as he watched his dad pet Roscoe again,
knowing that the dog was going to like him more in do time seeing as Stiles in
usually yelling at him in Polish. Maybe he should be a nicer person. Hah, like
that'd ever happen. 
 
When Noah stood back up he looked as if he were about to pull Stiles in for a
hug so Stiles quickly intercepted by placing Roscoe's leash in his hand, not
meeting his eyes. "Can you hold this?"
 
Stiles didn't wait for a response as he reached down and grabbed the handle to
his suit case, and slinging his dufflebag over his other shoulder. He pulled
the handle up and after hearing the sharp click he turned back to the man who
was standing there just staring at him.
 
When Stiles reached for the leash and his bag started sliding down his arm Noah
pulled it back from his reach, shaking his head. "No, no, I can handle him." He
then gave Stiles a smile as the teen adjusted the strap again, smiling
tentatively back. "Come on, I'll show you to the car."
 
Stiles just nodded and followed, eyeing the passerby's as he and his dad left
the airport to go to his new 'home'.
 
 
                                                                               
                                           **********
 
 
The car ride had been mostly silent except for Roscoe barking at times and Noah
asking him the occasional question on things from Poland, and the life he just
left behind. Stiles had answered them all honestly, but he had refused to talk
about his mother or his uncle. He didn't want to bring up old feelings that he
had pushed down years ago, and he didn't want to rip open a wound that hadn't
even begun to heal. They were both touchy subjects, and he was glad when Noah
didn't pry.
 
When they had arrived at the house Stiles could honestly say that he liked it.
From the exterior he could tell it was smaller than his uncle's house, but
wasn't too small, something that a normal sheriff could afford, and it had a
good feeling. It was a deep cream color with a dark roof, two floors, and had-
from the view of the driveway-a nice sized back yard. One that led to a lot of
trees, but Stiles had always liked taking walks in the woods back in Krakow
when he would take Roscoe out.
 
They both got out of the car, Noah taking the dog again while Stiles grabbed
his things from where he put them in the trunk. He smiled at his dad when he
let him walk through the door first, taking in the interior of the house. It
was warm, and not just because of California's terrible heat. The walls were a
soft eggshell color in the front room, a large grey couch with darker grey
throw pillows, and a love seat turned to the side to face the TV next to it.
The stairs where close to the door, so that if someone were to enter they could
go right up if that's the direction they pleased to go. It was easy and
manageable, something that Stiles liked in a home.
 
"Would you like to look around?" Noah asked and Stiles looked at the man who
was watching him.
 
"Uh, no, no," Stiles gave Noah a tired smile, "I'll look around later, I'm kind
of jet-lagged right about now." He lied straight through his teeth, though it
wouldn't be a first. Although he was positive he must at least look it somewhat
tired due to the fact that he never sleeps that much on a normal basis. But he
wasn't tired, not really, and he had slept through most of the plane ride here,
so he knew that he wouldn't be able to go to sleep for awhile.
 
He didn't particularly like sleeping, and it's not because he had insomnia or
because he liked to stay up all hours of the night, it was mostly because he
always had weird dreams. Not weird dreams as in people being slaughtered or
burned at a stake-because his mind couldn't make up or supply any better
examples-but dreams with him just floating, unable to come down. It was like an
out of body experience, and whenever it happened it took him awhile to wake up.
He hated it, and he didn't like the way it made his skin crawl. There were
people who could control their dreams who started out like this and they
thought it was great, but he just wanted to be rid of it.
 
"Okay," Noah started, gaining Stiles' attention, and Stiles glanced at him,
wondering if the man always smiled or if he was just being polite. "I'll show
you to your room."
 
Anything but under the stairs. Hah, Harry Potter pun. He wasn't afraid to admit
that he was definitely Hermione in most cases. Okay, every case. 
 
"M'kay."
 
He followed Noah up the stairs, Roscoe trying to lick his face every few
seconds as he playfully batted the dog away, eyes glancing at the photos of
what he assumed to be a younger Noah and his parents. It was obvious that Noah
didn't have anyone else living here with him, even if his case manager hadn't
already mentioned it. Did that mean that he wasn't seeing anyone, or that he
didn't have any other children or family? He could have other kids that just
didn't live with him, right? And it's not like couples had to share the same
house.
 
"Here you are," Noah said as they stopped in front of a room, opening the door
to see a decent sized bedroom. "I...hope it's okay."
 
Stiles looked to Noah with wide eyes as his dad shifted on his feet nervously,
staring at the inside of the room. "Hey," he said, catching Noah's attention
who looked to him, "It's perfect, really." He rested a reassuring hand on the
man's shoulder and gave it a squeeze, pulling it back when Noah gave a small
sigh of relief.
 
Sure, he hadn't want to come here, and was absolutely positive that he would
take the next plane home if he could, but that didn't mean that he had to be an
asshole like those cliched kids and make everything difficult on the parent. He
was a reasonably nice person when he wanted to be, and Noah seemed nice enough
to not get his crude remarks. Well, he was still sarcastic though, and Noah
would learn it soon enough.
 
"Okay," His dad said, clapping his hands together as they shared a smile and he
started to head toward the stairs. "I'll let you get to it, but let me know if
you need anything okay?"
 
Stiles nodded, giving a thumbs up as he witnessed from the corner of his eye
Roscoe jumping up onto the bed that was pushed against the far wall. 
 
Noah nodded, then with one last smile headed down the stairs and out of Stiles'
eye line. Stiles turned back to the room and Roscoe as he walked inside and set
his stuff down. The dog looked to be making himself comfortable on the queen
sized bed and Stiles waved it off since Roscoe usually slept on the bed with
someone anyway, and instead glanced around the room.
 
The walls were a baby blue color, matching the thick cover that the dog was
currently cuddling with. The walls were bare and Stiles glanced at his suit
case where he had a few band posters like Falling in Reverse and Pierce the
Veil, and also one large and very graphic 'Walking Dead' poster rolled up and
shook his head, deciding to do it later. He sighed as he plopped down next to
Roscoe, scratching between the dogs ears before lying back beside the dog and
staring at the ceiling. 
 
These four months better be worth it.
 
 
 
                                                                               
                                        **********
 
 
 
Chapter End Notes
     I don't know if you guy's want the translations for the Polish words,
     but i'll do them.
     Pięty- Heel.
Please drop_by_the_archive_and_comment to let the author know if you enjoyed
their work!