"You're really good at first-date conversation, huh?"

Laura's intense expression fades at Stiles' forced levity, and then she smiles. "Is this a date?"

Stiles chokes on a fry, his cheeks turning a brilliant red. "That's not, I mean—I, you're you and I'm just me so I didn't—"

Laura saves him with a casual wave of her hand and a knowing sparkle in her eyes. "I'm just messing with you. Don't worry about it." She winks. "It's definitely a date."

That really doesn't help with Stiles' blush. He coughs a few times, clearing his throat. Stiles looks out the window. "I'm not really…good with most people, and I don't even know you—but, for what it's worth, I'm sorry about what happened to your family. If…if you need anything or want to talk to someone, I can be that guy for you. Or if you need a partner in crime," he turns his head back towards Laura and shrugs, "I'm down for that, too." He gestures around the empty diner. "My schedule is pretty clear these days."

Laura leans back in the booth, crossing her arms across her chest. She looks at him searchingly for a few minutes and then says, rather disbelievingly, "You really would, wouldn't you? You'd just…help me, for the sake of helping."

He slurps up the last of his milkshake and nods, "Yep."

"And why, exactly, would you do that?"

Another shrug. "Because I think what happened to your family was horrible. Because I've read the case file and no way is an arson report completed in two days. Because I know what it's like to lose somebody—what it's like to lose yourself in the aftermath of that loss," he clears his throat. "Because you stopped and asked if you could give me a ride, even when I invoked 'stranger danger' at you. And, honestly, because I'm a curious asshole with inadequacy issues and a friend problem at the moment, and I could use an outlet."

Laura blinks owlishly at him. "Fuck, an honest teenager? What a rare species I've discovered."

Stiles snorts, "Nice try, but I'm not that honest. In fact, I'm usually the opposite. You've just caught me at a weird, all-too-self-aware moment in my life, and I have this feeling like I couldn't really lie to you even if I wanted."

"Really?" she leans forward, a strange grin on her face.

"Uh-huh," Stiles finishes his fries. "I think it's the leather jacket and the weird smiles. You look like you could squish me in five seconds flat, and that you know you could." He shivers. "It'd be more unsettling if you weren't so hot."

Laura chokes on her water, spluttering and wheezing across the table. "Is that so?" she croaks.

Stiles just smirks.

Wiping her face with a handful of paper napkins, Laura flags down their waitress. "Give me your phone."

"Uhhhhh…"

She sighs dramatically. "You big, paranoid baby—just, c'mere." And then she reaches across the table and grabs him, snaking a hand into his pocket—he yelps in an embarrassingly high-pitched voice—and snagging his phone. Laura crows victoriously as she waves it at him from her side of the booth. She pauses in her gloating to smile sweetly as she takes the cheque from their waitress.

"What's your password?" she demands once they're alone.

Stiles lowers his eyes and mumbles.

She leans forward, brow furrowing. "What was that?"

Annoyed, Stiles looks at her and pouts. "NinjaVsSharkVsAlien, with every word's first letter capitalized."

He can see she's stifling laughter, so he gets up from his seat and says, "I'll just let you pay for all of this then." And then he stomps away.

"Awww, don't be like that!" Laura scrambles from the booth, slapping a $50 down on the table and chasing after Stiles.

Once they both reach the sidewalk, Stiles turns to her and holds out his hand. Laura smiles at him, typing quickly before slapping it into his palm. "Don't go putting that in any gas station bathrooms."

Stiles looks at his phone. A new contact, Your Favorite Hale , has been saved into his phone. The corner of Stiles' mouth quirks up, "Even better, I'll write it all over the high school locker rooms."

Laura smacks his shoulder and giggles, and he can't help but laugh, too.

They walk side by side to the Camaro, bumping each other's shoulders the whole way. When they both settle into the car, Laura starts the engine and glances at Stiles. "So where to?"

"Uh, I actually needed to stop by the police station first. I was bringing my dad his dinner when my car died." He rubs the back of his head sheepishly.

Laura looks back at the diner, "Wait, did we need to go and get—"

"No, no!" Stiles waves his hands wildly. "He doesn't get to eat diner food anymore, not after his last check-up. I've got him on a strict diet of 'dirt and tree bark,' his words not mine, until his cholesterol goes down." He pats the small lunch box sitting at his feet. Laura leans over, just now spotting it.

"How did you sneak that into my car without me noticing?" She looks impressed.

"Well, I did a lot of card tricks as a kid."

Laura raises a brow, now unimpressed.

"No, really!" Stiles continues. "I wasn't, like, great at them, but the idea behind magic tricks is to keep peoples' attention focused on something else." He waves his arms around again for emphasis, and Laura perks up, interested. "I've kind of adopted that idea for when I want to be sneaky."

She tilts her head critically. "Okay."

"Okay?"

Laura nods. "Okay."

He directs her to the station, both of them bickering happily as they drive. On the way, Stiles spots the hospital coming up on the left. "Hey, didn't you say that you wanted to go there?" He gestures at the building.

Laura stops at the red light. She grips the wheel a little tighter. "Yes, but I don't—I can't ask you to do that with me."

Stiles drums his fingertips against his thigh. "You know, visiting hours are long over, but I know someone that works there. She'd let you visit Peter."

"How did you—right, Sheriff's kid." Stiles doesn't correct her assumption. She looks out the window. "I didn't even think about visiting hours," she whispers. "I didn't, I've been so—" Laura quiets, lost in thought. The light turns green. She looks at Stiles and asks quietly, "You'd go with me?"

"Yeah."

She takes a deep, shuddering breath and flicks on the turn signal. "Well, alright then."

They take a left.