Noah draped an arm over Stiles’ shoulders as they stepped out of the diner and walked to the cruiser. Noah listened with a mixture of fondness and exasperated amusement as Stiles wildly gesticulated, regaling the mischief he and Scott had managed to get into at school.

As they climbed into the police cruiser, Noah’s phone rang and he fished it out with a weary sigh. “Sheriff Stilinski,” he answered.

“Hey, Noah. It’s Jason over at Woody’s Bar. Sorry to call you personal phone, but I think your favorite jailbird may have had a bit too much to drink. Might need to cool it in the drunk tank a bit. I figured I’d call you before calling the station since she’s not really bothering anyone. Just singing in the corner as usual.”

Noah sighed again. Wren. He was going to tear that girl a new one. “Alright. I’ll come pick her up. Thanks for calling, Jason.” He hung up then glanced over at Stiles. “We gotta make a pit stop before I drop you off at Scott’s.”