A/N: An advent calendar gift for anirishlullaby! This got way angsty and is more of a family fic than anything. But you said anything, so I deliver!
Scott had begged his mother to let him spend the weekend at Stiles’s house. Ever since his mother died, she had been a little weary to let him go over, always preferring Stiles to come over to their house. She always felt as if Stiles happy to come over to their house and Melissa was just as happy - she could cook the boys dinner, make dessert and keep an eye on them as they watched the latest cartoon blockbuster. Over at the Stilinski house, however, she was never sure what would happen. She knew the Sheriff was trying his best, but she also knew he was struggling to cope with the death of his wife.
Sunday morning, she went over to the house to get Scott. As she went to knock on the front door, she realized something was wrong. She expected one of the boys to answer the door, but no one was answering the door now. She knocked on the door again, before she rang the bell…still no answer. She began to get worried, so she looked around to see if there might be a spare key anywhere. Pulling up the edge of the welcome mat, she discovered an extra key and she decided to let herself in.
The house was quiet when she walked in, too quiet for housing two boys, she thought. “Hello?” she called out, to no answer. She began to get even more concerned as she walked through, not seeing anyone in the living room. When she came to the kitchen, however, she did see someone - the Sheriff, passed out on the kitchen table, a bottle of whiskey close by.
What was worry and concern before, quickly bubbled over into anger at the sight of him. “Hey,” she said, coming over to kick the leg of the table, “Wake up.”
The Sheriff sat up quickly, groaning at the pain in his head when he did so, “Huh?” he slurred, his eyes trying to focus, “Melissa?”
“I’m here for my son,” she said tightly, “Where is he?”
“I don’t…they were watching tv, then…” he said, looking around, as if they boys might be in there.
“Until you decided to have a little drink, hmm?”
“It’s not like that,” the Sheriff said, getting up, leaning heavily against his chair.
“That’s exactly what it is like,” she said, her hands angrily on her hips, “I trusted you. I trusted you, against my better judgement, that could not drink for one night while my son is here.”
“Melissa, it wasn’t…” he tried to explain himself quickly, though she didn’t give him the chance.
“I don’t care when it was or why it was, I just care that it happened,” she huffed, then shook her head. She looked at him carefully - she knew his demons, the reasons he needed a bottle of whiskey to help him sleep at night, but now he was endangering her son and she couldn’t have that. “What if something happened to the boys, huh? Swallowed a toy, stabbed with a pen, fell down the stairs…”
“Everything was fine when I put them to bed.”
“Just because they’re asleep, doesn’t mean you get to start being a drunk,” she spat viciously.
The Sheriff sighed, sitting back down in his chair again, putting his head in his hands. Melissa didn’t want to entertain any more excuses he could come up with and she turned on her heel to leave.
She walked upstairs to Stiles’s room where the boys were still asleep in his bed together. She smiled gently to herself before going over to brush Scott’s hair out of his face, waking him up, “Hmm…mom?” the boy said sleepily.
“Uh huh. It’s time to go, sweetheart,” she said, just as Stiles turned, waking up as well.
“Mrs. McCall?” he said, looking up at her with sleepy eyes, reminding her too much of his father downstairs.
She put a hand through Stiles hair as well, cupping his chin, “Go back to sleep, Stiles. It’ll be okay."