Chapter Text
Stiles wasn´t a particulary nice guy. Really he wasn´t!
For example Danny, Danny was a nice guy! Because everybody likes Danny!
So back to the point: Sitles wasn´t nice.
He was a rational guy, who wouldn´t hesitate to kill someone if it was to protect the ones dear to him.
The same time he was probably also pretty irrational because he would literally go through fire for every single one of his friends.
And there he was at the point where he was definetly and one hundred percent crazy!
Because no sane person would hang out with a bunch of teenage werewolves or fall in love with a sourwolf of an Alpha.
Oh and not to forget… there was his most famous character trait. He was sarcastic!
He probably hurt a lot of people with his side comments but he couldn´t help it . He really didn´t have any brain-to-mouth-filter.
Despite all these quite negative attitudes Stiles still had a good heart, which actually had lead to his current situation.
He was standing in an old dusty attic covered in spiderwebs and stared at the glinting shards of a broken mirror. Well shit!
“Stiles honey, is everything alright?” came the sweet, loving voice from downstairs, the exact same voice that not even two hours ago lured him up here.
Slowly and carefully he stepped around the mess to the root hatch and looked down in concerned blue eyes surrounded by crinkles.
“Ehm yeah. I´m sorry Mrs. Redwood… I broke that old mirror but it wasn´t really my fault! I really tried to catch it and I even had it in my hands but it just….” Stopping his stumbled apology he took a moment to think.
It just did what? He couldn´t possibly tell anyone that there had been some strange figure, who definitely wasn´t himself, staring back at him.
It was an impossible supernatural occurrence. Not that he wasn´t used to impossible supernatural things like werewolves and kanimas and so much more but haunted mirrors were a little bit too abstruse. Even for him.
It was probably just his imagination, his hypervigilance as Ms. Morell would say.
“I´m really sorry, Mrs. Redwood.” He finally repeated, this time giving a proper apology to the old lady.
And of course, of fucking course, the old woman gave him the best reaction ever. She started to laugh.
“Oh Stiles don´t worry about that. Why don´t you come down so we can drink some coffee together? I also made some cookies.” she suggested and who was Stiles to say no to that?
God why couldn’t this woman be his grandma instead of this old hag next town, who always complained about his jumpiness and his never ending monologues. He had a medical condition, dammit!
Mrs. Redwood was completely different. She always invited him over for coffee and clearly enjoyed his company. She listened to his constant talking about school, Scott and endless other stuff and also told him many things herself.
For example how she met her husband, who sadly died a few years ago. Or all those stories about her time as a teacher at Beacon Hills High and Harris as a student.
Spending his time with the old lady was a welcomed change to his normal stressful everyday life, especially since the whole werewolf business started and he had to fear for his life regulary.
The times with Mrs. Redwood were quite the opposite. They made him feel at peace and it was definitely more therapeutic than his stupid sessions with Ms. Morell.
So despite that he had to clean the old dusty attic, he had a nice afternoon with the old woman, who even made him the Goddess of Hot Chocolate and the Cookies of Doom, names he had given this special combination when he was barely eight years old. It was the only fitting description because honestly noone could resist Mrs. Redwoods hot chocolate or her cookies.
Stiles was already bugging her for years to give him the recipe so he could have his wicked way with everyone around him, maybe even with one Derek Hale.
So when he went home after hours of talking and laughing it was already dark and both, he and Mrs. Redwood, had aready forgotten about the mirror shards lying scattered in the attic.