BFFS [Edited]

"What's wrong? Don't like the grub?" Ryan and Stiles knew each other well. When Stiles suddenly stopped eating his food, appearing pensive, Ryan asked. Unlike his cousin, he was enjoying the dish the Cohens served them. It was a chicken roast with mashed potatoes.

It was milky and smooth. Very juicy.

Stiles randomly switched on and off the Heart Reading.

Switching it on when they put their luggage in the beach house earlier, he noticed how Ryan didn't mind that they were kept from dining at the Cohen family table. He was glad, even, since, like in the show, he was still somewhat awkward in the new home.

… Stiles reckoned that Ryan didn't know how to correctly grab tableware, so it was a good thing. He was a table pig with no table manners.

In the show, he was wretched holding a fork.

Speaking of, Stiles was also being an unmannerly little pig right now.

Picking out the thin slits between his teeth with his fingers as he dug for residuum food, he answered, snorting a bit, "Are you serious? There's nothing wrong with the food, haha. I just recalled how I needed to make a call. Forgot to reach out this morning."

When was the last time he had the chance to eat such a dandy meal?

It was a simple dish, but the kitchen it was cooked probably caused the difference.

Food served by different chefs could seem to have been made on drastically different planets.

"Cora?" Ryan inquired about a name. It was at the tip of his tongue.

He knew Stiles for a decade and a half. So, computing two and two, he understood what his cousin meant.

After all, except those two back at Chino Hills, Stiles, who had hardly finished mourning his parents, had no reason to call anyone.

Those two had his back when he was in a difficult spot.

"Yep, she will give me Hale if I don't. Got a phone?" Stiles punned and asked with brief hope.

He wished that Ryan had stolen a cell phone somewhere around the house.

Who knew? Some of Trey's habits could've rubbed off on him. It was unlikely, but it didn't hurt to inquire...

Ryan didn't chortle at the pun.

He just shook his head and showed his empty jeans pockets.

Pathetic.

He was tragically poor, like Stiles.

He was even poorer than Stiles since he didn't have a part-time job.

He was fired from his last one, thanks to his older brother.

It was sad.

But their current poverty was just a fleeting bad dream.

*****************

Stiles had known Cora and her older brother for so long that he didn't even consider not giving them the call.

He and they were birds of the same feathers.

Even more now that his parents died in this urban crossover—a crossover where, for some reason, he had yet to meet Scott or Allison.

Or even Lydia.

They weren't in the neck of the woods he was reborn in. Or were they?

He couldn't tell.

Beacon Hills was also California, but it was Central, not Southern.

The lifestyle was different.

He still had a different mother weeks ago, after all. It wasn't the mom original Stiles was supposed to have.

Sigh*

Stiles decided to test his hormonal skill because he had a call to make.

He was trying to be a decent human and guest, but some things couldn't be helped.

He didn't find Seth at the house's dining table when he walked back to the main house and imposed on the dinner.

Kirsten blinked curiously.

She saw Stiles standing at the entrance of the large dining room when she asked, "Stiles? Is everything okay for you and Ryan? Did you need something else?"

She noticed Stiles's intrusion before Sandy because her seat faced the terrace.

Sandy was serving her some wine previously.

He was turning his head when Stiles scratched his cheek and replied, "Yes. Everything's fine, I just need a phone... If I can bother...

"I got an important call to make to a friend who housed me for a while, if that's not too much to ask."

Stiles didn't hide the purpose of his call at all. He even dubbed it "important."

Because he was attracted to Kirsten, he wanted to exhibit some of his good traits.

Considering the situation, what better way than to show that he was grateful to charitable hosts like her?

Sandy didn't speak. He eyed his wife, waiting for her answer.

She quickly and generously said, "Of course, take my phone. It's over there." Stiles was curious to know if her attitude had changed thanks to the powerful male hormones his body was sending out, or if it was because she had more time to talk with Sandy.

... Using another ability, he found out.

Her ice-cold mood changed because she learned more about him and how he and Ryan did in school.

They did well.

Well... Moderately well, in his case, without Stiles's brain. He was a B+ Student.

Before he was forced to drop out, he didn't collect straight As like Ryan did.

Kirsten wasn't exactly a hateful woman in, to begin with, anyway. She was just a protective mother, closer to what a husband should be than her actual husband often was.

In the relationship, she wore the husband-pants and made the big-cash.

Stiles walked.

He noticed that the turquoise color seemed to be a theme in the house.

The device he was shown was lying on a flashy turquoise-green couch. Right next to the windowed wall at the Veranda facing the pool and the sea.

The whole house was a veranda, to be honest... Sumptuous verandas.

Being rich was neat.

More so in a beach town like Newport Beach.

In his past life, many A-list-celebs owned properties in this specific beach town. Like Steve Aoki or RIP NBA Legend, the one, the only—with all due respect for MJ fans—the goated Kobe Bryant.

... One of the goats, since Stiles didn't believe in just one goat.

That controversial sports argument was overly subjective. It was all about eras to him.

Not just in Basketball. In all sports.

Dialing the number, Stiles recalled how real estate was Kirsten's and her dad's jobs. Caleb had a shit ton of houses to sell... Or to have extramarital affairs in...

The old man knew his stuff.

Too bad he took the decision to marry a Cooper at one point.

'Money, money, money. Money's good...'

Stiles was thinking about the lifestyle when the call connected.

"Hello?" Stiles heard a voice. A masculine voice.

"Yo, Derek." Stiles wasn't surprised. He immediately said to the biker gang's leader in this universe.

That was how Derek was wasting his youth, for some reason, here. He was a tough biker and a bar punk.

He was probably some extortionist, too, if Stiles wasn't wrong about how he fed his little sister.

Not that she needed to be. She was more of a menace to society than her brother was.

But Derek didn't need to figure out some things about his sister. It would be better if he never did.

He, Stiles, wished he never found out some things about her in recent weeks... Or helped her hide the skeleton in her article of furniture.

Quite literally, in fact.

Those last few weeks were hectic in more than a few ways.

Not just for him.

He accidentally witnessed how she was pushed to kill her stalker in a dark alley near her house. To protect her virtue.

Though she ended up a killer after the accident, where she ironically saved her virtue, and yet blood was still shed in the process, Cora wasn't linked.

She wasn't linked to or responsible for what happened to his parents.

He knew because they shared an old deep friendship; they were pinky-finger childhood friends.

She was too proficient with sharp edges to use guns too...

She really had a troubling talent in that regard.

"Stiles?" Derek inquired.

"Yeah, that's me. Can I talk to Cora?" Stiles asked. Kirsten was munching slowly and crossing her hands together, sending him furtive glances when he walked about and spoke.

Not looking the least flustered, she innocently turned her head and refocused her gaze on her plate when he caught her doing so.

He smirked at her action, figuring out why with the heart reading. It wasn't just because she was surveying what he did with her mobile phone.

His hormonal abilities were working.

In the distance, she and Sandy were casually discussing something he could only hear—without reading hearts—after he became a Werewolf when, on the other end of the phone, Derek said, "Cora's out... Where you been?"

Stiles couldn't read him through the phone, but he knew Derek enough to know that he was actually concerned. If he wasn't, he wouldn't ask.

He was actually a great guy.

"Everything's okay; I'll explain later. Tell your sister I called." Stiles told and hung up.

It wasn't his phone, so he didn't have a long chat with his previous house host.

He and Derek weren't that close either way. He was more BFF with the guy's sister.

His call over, on his way back to the beach house, Stiles walked by the dining table and said, "Thanks for the phone. Good night, Mr. and Ms. Cohen."

"My pleasure," Kirsten said, trying not to smile genuinely.

Testosterone was a hell of a thing.

Sandy told him, "Good night, Stiles. Get a good night's rest; we're gonna have a long day and evening tomorrow."

Stiles didn't ask why, since he knew already. He nodded and left through a specific walled window seconds later.

Going back to the Beach house, Stiles took a shower, but he didn't sleep immediately like Ryan.

He was impatient to meet the man of the house tomorrow morning—NEET and socially awkward Seth—but he had something important to do tonight.

That was why he waited until all the lights were out to leave toward the beach.

He was going to find a good hiding place to absorb the Werewolf's Blood.