You're just as bad as Stiles

Chapter 12: You're just as bad as Stiles.

Stiles and Hope walked toward the van, but the moment Stiles got a clear look inside, his stomach dropped.

"Oh no!" he groaned, rubbing his hands over his face in pure frustration. The van was completely empty—Jackson was gone.

Hope swayed slightly beside him, still tipsy but observant enough to register the problem. "Huh," she mumbled, tilting her head. "I feel like we should've expected that."

"Yeah, well, I was busy making sure you didn't wander off into an existential crisis in the middle of the woods!" Stiles shot back. He spun around, running a hand through his hair as he tried to think. "How the hell did he even get out? He was shackled, locked up in a damn prison transport van, and—ugh! I hate my life."

Hope squinted at the van and then at the faint marks on the ground. "Well… either he figured out how to pick a lock with his tail or he is strong enough to break the shackle" She sassed.

"Great. Just great," Stiles muttered sarcastically, already marching toward Scott and Allison, who were passed out in the parked car. He rapped his knuckles against the window, making Allison jerk awake while Scott groaned in protest.

"You guys might want to see this," Stiles said, his voice dripping with exasperation.

Allison blinked blearily at him before looking around in confusion. "See what?"

Scott rubbed his face. "Ugh, Stiles, it's too early for—" Then he sat up abruptly, eyes narrowing in concern. "Wait… where's Jackson?"

Stiles crossed his arms. "Oh, you mean the homicidal lizard we locked up in a police van? The one that, oh I don't know, vanished while you two were taking a nice little nap?"

Allison's eyes widened, and she scrambled out of the car. "Oh my God—how did he get out?"

Hope, still leaning slightly against the van, scrunched her nose in disgust. "You both smell like sex."

Scott and Allison immediately stiffened, their gazes snapping anywhere but at Hope. Allison turned a shade of pink, while Scott suddenly found the ground incredibly interesting.

Stiles blinked. Then a slow, knowing smirk spread across his face. "Oh. Ohhh. So that's why you guys were knocked out so fast. You were—"

"Shut up," Allison snapped, clearing her throat and looking determinedly away.

Hope hummed, taking another lazy sip from her bottle. "Sounds hot. We should try car sex." She smirked at Stiles.

Stiles choked. His face turned red so fast it was almost comical. "What?!"

For once, the boy who always had a snarky remark was rendered completely speechless. He stared at Hope with wide eyes, his brain clearly short-circuiting.

Hope just gave him an innocent, almost dreamy look. "What? I'm just saying. Equal opportunities and all." She wouldn't have been so bold if not drunk.

Scott groaned, rubbing his temples. "Oh my God, can we focus?"

Hope sighed dramatically, waving a hand. "Fine, fine. But seriously, You two reek."

Scott ran a hand through his hair, already scanning the area. "This is bad. This is really bad."

"I need to tell my father, Scott. Jackson is going to kill someone," Allison said firmly.

"And I need to tell mine," Stiles added, the flustered look from earlier completely gone.

"Okay, tell them. Tell them everything. This is all my fault," Scott sighed.

"It's not," Allison and Hope said in unison.

"We're just a bunch of teenagers—we can't handle everything alone," Allison continued.

"Yeah. It's not your responsibility, Scott. It's better that they know what they're dealing with rather than stumbling in blind," Hope added, for once, her voice free of sarcasm.

Allison turned to Stiles, concern etched on her face. "How are you going to make your dad believe all of this?"

"I don't know," Stiles admitted, rubbing the back of his neck.

Scott exhaled sharply, his expression hardening. "He'll believe me." His eyes flashed gold.

"And me," Hope added, extending her hand as a fireball flickered to life in her palm, her irises shifting to a glowing hue.

Stiles stared at her, both impressed and intrigued. "Right. That should do it."

Scott, however, had frozen. His brows furrowed as he focused on Hope. "Wait. Your eyes… they changed."

"Yeah, you've seen me do magic before," Hope said nonchalantly, twirling the small flame in her fingers.

"No, not that," Scott insisted. "Your eyes. They weren't just glowing like when you use magic. They changed like mine."

Hope blinked, the fire flickering out as she lowered her hand. "So?"

Scott took a cautious step closer, his instincts buzzing. "You're not just a witch, are you?"

Hope tilted her head, an amused yet unreadable smile playing on her lips. "You're catching on slow, McCall."

Allison, catching on as well, looked between them. "Hope… what are you?"

Hope sighed, stretching her arms above her head like this was the most casual conversation in the world. "Let's just say… I'm a bit of a special case."

"Special how?" Stiles asked, his eyes narrowing.

Hope pursed her lips, considering her words. "A witch and a Wolf, A werewitch. Basically a-"

"Hybrid." Stiles completed for her.

"Smart." She smiled at him.

Allison went home and it was just the trio who were on their way to the Police station.

Scott, Stiles, and Hope stepped into the police station, only to be met with an infuriating sight—Jackson was already there, sitting smugly on one of the chairs like he owned the place. His father, Mr. David Whittemore, stood beside him, arms crossed and looking distinctly unimpressed.

Sheriff Noah Stilinski let out a sigh the moment he saw them. "Scott, Stiles, and Hope. Perfect timing." He gestured vaguely toward Jackson's father. "Have you met Mr. David Whittemore? Esquire."

"That means lawyer," Jackson said with a self-satisfied smirk, as if anyone had asked, like we didn't already know that. Maybe Scott didn't know because he is stupid, and he is a stupid influence on Stiles or maybe it's just Derek, He is more daft then Scott. I miss Derek. Why do I miss Derek?

Hope barely held back an eye roll, but Stiles couldn't resist the urge to mutter, "Yeah, thanks, Jackson, we totally needed that information. Maybe Scott didn't know, but the rest of us can read."

Scott frowned. "Hey!"

Noah's voice cut through her thoughts. "You two—" he pointed at Scott and Stiles, "Wait in one of the rooms. I need a word with Miss Hope."

Hope straightened slightly, her usual air of confidence flickering just a bit. "Mikaelson. Hope Mikaelson," she supplied when the sheriff looked at her expectantly.

Stiles, however, immediately tensed. "Wait—why does she have to—"

Noah fixed him with a pointed stare. "Because I said so, Stiles. Now go."

Stiles hesitated, glancing at Hope. She gave him a subtle nod, but he still lingered, only moving when Hope sent him a look that clearly said don't make this worse. He sighed in defeat and followed Scott into the other room.

Once they were alone, Noah leaned against his desk, arms crossed as he studied her. "Hope Mikaelson," he repeated slowly, like he was testing the name.

Hope forced a polite smile. "That's me."

"I looked into you," he said casually. "Nothing invasive, just the usual background check. Considering how often you and Stiles manage to get caught up in things, I figured it was worth knowing more about you."

Hope forced a polite smile. "That's… understandable, I guess."

Noah tapped a folder on his desk. "Funny thing, though. There's not much to find. No records of your parents. No family history. No past addresses. Just that Lydia's mom adopted you out of nowhere. You kind of just… appeared."

Hope kept her expression neutral, but her mind was racing. "I was in the system for a long time," she lied smoothly. "Maybe some records got lost."

Noah hummed, clearly unconvinced. "Maybe."

Before he could press further, he suddenly frowned, sniffing the air slightly. His eyes narrowed.

"Are you drunk?"

Hope blinked. "What?"

Noah leaned forward slightly. "You smell like alcohol."

Hope scoffed. "Excuse me? That is insulting."

Noah raised an unimpressed eyebrow. "You reek of it."

Hope gasped dramatically, placing a hand over her chest. "Wow. Accusing a minor of drinking? That's slander."

Noah pointed at her. "That's exactly what a drunk person would say."

Hope crossed her arms. "I am not drunk. I'm just naturally this charming."

Noah sighed. "Hope."

"Okay, okay, maybe I had a sip," she admitted, holding up her fingers in an exaggeratedly tiny measurement. "Like a teeny bit. A baby sip."

Noah gave her a long, tired stare. "I should be scolding you right now."

Hope gave him her most innocent smile. "But you won't. Because deep down, you actually like me."

Noah exhaled sharply, shaking his head. "You are just as bad as Stiles."

Hope grinned. "Thank you!"

"That was not a compliment." He exhaled in exhaustion.

"Am I getting sued?" Hope asked, crossing her arms.

"No," Noah said, "but I can't say the same for the two boys currently trying to eavesdrop on our conversation."

He glanced toward the window, where two familiar sets of eyes were peeking in. The second they realized they were caught, there was a frantic scramble of footsteps as Stiles and Scott bolted out of sight.

Hope snorted. "Subtle."

Noah shook his head, but then his expression softened. "Hope." His tone was serious now, and she felt a nervous knot form in her stomach.

"You know you can tell me anything," he said gently. "If you had trouble with your parents, if the system didn't treat you well… If there's something wrong, I can help. And if not me, you can talk to Stiles. I'm sorry for looking into your past, but I was just worried. You know how small towns are—everyone knows everyone."

Hope's breath hitched as warmth wrapped around her like a long-lost embrace. She hadn't realized how much she craved it until now.

"Thank you," she whispered, her voice unsteady. A lump formed in her throat. "For worrying about me."

Before she even realized it, tears slipped down her cheeks.

Noah immediately panicked. "Oh—no, no, don't cry! Did I say something wrong? I shouldn't have invaded your priva—"

He stopped mid-ramble when Hope suddenly hugged him. He froze, caught off guard, before awkwardly returning the embrace.

He wasn't used to this. He had no idea how to console a crying teenage girl. But after a moment, he sighed, relaxing into the hug and hesitantly patting her back.

"Uh… there, there?" he tried.

Hope let out a watery laugh, clutching onto him tighter.

Noah sighed in relief. Maybe he didn't know how to be a father to a daughter, but there was a first time for everything. So, he stayed still, patting her shoulder gently until her tears finally subsided.

After her embarrassing meltdown, Hope didn't wait for anyone to ask questions—she went straight home to Lydia.

"Finally decided to spend some time with me, huh? I was starting to think you weren't coming back," Lydia said, focused on painting her nails.

"You sound like a wife waiting for her husband to come home from work," Hope teased as she collapsed onto the bed, promptly ruining Lydia's freshly painted nails.

"HOPE MIKAELSON!" Lydia screeched in frustration.

"Nothing a little nail polish remover can't fix," Hope said nonchalantly.

Lydia shot her a glare but quickly forgot about her nails when she finally looked at Hope properly. Her eyes were red, and her nose was even redder.

"You were crying," Lydia noted, immediately jumping onto the bed beside her.

Hope quickly changed the subject. "So… did you do what I told you to?"

Lydia narrowed her eyes. "Ah… so we're doing that now? Keeping secrets from each other? Avoiding me?"

Hope sighed, turning her head to face Lydia, who was stubbornly avoiding eye contact.

"I was just… missing my family," Hope admitted softly, staring at the ceiling. If she even had one.

Lydia studied her face—her cheeks were still flushed, her skin glowing in the dim light. Without thinking, Lydia reached out, gently cupping Hope's cheek and turning her face so their eyes met.

"I'm sorry," Lydia murmured. "I was just jealous… You've been spending more time with them than with me."

Hope's lips curled into an amused grin, her eyes lighting up.

"You know, I did translate those five pages of archaic Latin like you asked—without so much as a thank you, by the way—and I'm still kept in the dark," Lydia huffed.

Hope chuckled. "They'll have to tell you eventually."

"Why didn't you just do it yourself?" Lydia asked curiously.

Hope shrugged. "I was mad at Scott." It was a white lie. Some things were better left unchanged. She was already tampering with the timeline—she couldn't alter everything without consequences. And she had yet to pay the price for interfering with the universe.

Lydia wrinkled her nose. "You smell like cheap alcohol."

"Yeah, my bad. Mint gum didn't do the trick. I feel like I need a long, hot shower."

Lydia hummed in agreement, then suddenly leaned forward and pressed a quick peck to Hope's lips.

Hope froze. Lydia froze.

They stared at each other, wide-eyed.

"I didn't mean to do that! I'm sorry—shit!" Lydia panicked, scrambling back.

Hope snapped out of her daze, a small smile forming. "It's okay. I liked it."

"You did?" Lydia sighed in relief, then immediately backtracked. "But we're never doing that again!" She buried her face in her hands, mortified.

Hope laughed at her. "Do you like girls, Lydia?" she asked, more curious than anything. After all, people didn't normally kiss their friends on the lips.

"Of course not!" Lydia huffed. "You just looked like you needed some love, and you were sad, so I did what I did." She meant every word. Lydia didn't like Hope romantically—she was in love with Jackson. But Hope was family. And family took care of each other.

Hope smirked. "That's a relief. I wouldn't want to break your heart."

"As if you could," Lydia scoffed. "Even if I did swing that way, I'd never date you. You're an insufferable ass."

"Now that's a lie," Hope said smugly. "You would've fallen for me the moment you laid eyes on me."

"Never." Lydia threw a pillow at her face.

Hope gasped dramatically. "Lydia Martin, you've just declared war."

With a mischievous glint in her eyes, Hope raised all the pillows in the room using her powers.

"That's cheating!" Lydia squealed, laughing as she dodged the floating pillows.

"Everything is fair in love and war, darling," Hope smirked.

Her smirk disappeared when Lydia suddenly charged at her, arms full of pillows, ready to strike.

"We're going down together!" Lydia cackled evilly.

"NOOO!" Hope shrieked, laughing as they collapsed in a tangled heap, giggling until their sides hurt.