Beacon Hills was a misnomer. It's actually a valley surrounded by the coastal mountain range of the Californian North coast. It's pretty secluded. Miles away from civilization. If you aren't an avid outdoors person, it's the most boring place on Earth.
Stiles loves it.
Winter brings snowboarding. Summer heralds mountain biking. The seasons that fall in-between are slow enough that he doesn't feel too bored by actually doing his job. Though being a forest ranger is pretty slow in a town as small as Beacon Hills.
Like every town, there are problems. Usually the show-stoppers in Beacon Hills are whether Mrs. Argent will clean out blue ribbon wise at the harvest festival or if Scott's going to man up and make an honest woman out of Allison.
Though recently, it's gotten dire, what with the news of Dr. Deaton actually retiring and moving down South to live with his daughter in San Diego.
"We need a doctor," sighs Stiles' dad over Sunday supper.
"I thought we were getting one from Seattle," says Stiles, stealthy taking the fries off his dad's plate.
"No," grumbles his dad. "Hey, leave me some."
"Nuhuh - doctor's orders," grins Stiles cheekily, stuffing them all in his mouth before his dad nabbed them. "I thought it was a sure thing."
"Stiles, chew before talking," his dad chides him. "And no, apparently Beacon Hills is exile for competent doctors."
"So we need a doctor?" Stiles frowns.
Doc Deaton was leaving by the end of the month. The closest hospital was three hours away. And hunting season was about to kick off, which always was a sure fire time for someone to try to shoot their eye out in the woods.
"That doc in Seattle was our last sure bet," says his dad in defeat. "It's not like applications are pouring in."
"Don't worry, dad. I'm on it," promises Stiles. His dad has enough on his plate being sheriff.
"Just leave the doc out of it," says the sheriff. "Your attempt to woo him to stay with pie didn't end well."
"How was I supposed to know that it would attract wolves?" he says guilelessly. "They only like it when I make pecan and the doc has a nut allergy."
His dad shoots him a blank look. "You left them out on his porch."
"How else was I going to get the room to spell out "don't leave us"?"
Stiles decides to get the best people on the job. His first stop is the school house.
"Mention the slopes for boarding," he says over Lydia's shoulder.
"Am I writing this job placement, or you?" glares Lydia from her computer. She elbows him in the stomach. "Let me do this, or you'll need more than an orange vest out in the woods to protect you from being shot."
"I can't believe I ever liked you," he pouts, rubbing his ribs. Lydia has really boney elbows.
"I'm irresistible," says Lydia dryly as she continues to type. "Even to closeted gays."
"Hey, I'm not closeted!" he sputters.
"I was talking about Jackson," she sighs.
"Aren't you dating him?" he asks squinting at her.
"Oh honey, he's still a Whittemore."
"I'll never understand women," he sighs.
"Then it's a good thing you like men."
"Amen to that," he agrees. "Did you mention the hiking trails?"
"Get out of my classroom before I staple you."
He mopes out in the rangers' station waiting to hear back from Lydia for a bit before he decides to go annoy Scott.
"Stiles," greets Scott, he head ducks out from the exam room. "Got another patient for me?"
"Nah, did a sweep before I clocked out," he says jumping over the counter in lobby of the animal clinic.
"Just finishing off with Mr. Harris' dog," shouts Stiles back before leading a Labrador out on a leash.
Stiles immediately gets down on one knee. "Aw, who's a brave girl? Putting up with mean Dr. McCall."
He rubs underneath the dog's stomach and she wags her tail merrily.
"Ha, ha," glares Scott.
"Have you considered treating people?" muses Stiles.
"Is this about the doctor problem? Because I told you, that one time I stitched you up was a fluke," Scott declares vehemently.
"Okay, sheesh. Ixnay on talking about that," glares Stiles.
"Yeah, like I want the town to know why you needed stitches in your ass," laughs Scott.
Stiles groans. So sue him, he's klutzy. And he wasn't about to go to Doc Deaton, especially when the cause was bedroom related. Who knew handcuffs were that sharp?
"You, my friend, are a terrible person."
"At least it doesn't keep me up at night," Scott grins with a waggle of his eyebrows.
Lydia proudly announces at their next standing coffee date, after she's ironed out the school's field trip to the nature center, that she's got them a doctor.
Well, another hopeful.
"I'm an elementary school teacher, Stiles," she sighs over her vanilla latte. "Not a professional head hunter."
Stiles snorts. "You couldn't seal the deal?"
She merely quirks her left eyebrow. "I can't work miracles. But he's coming for a visit. Which is better than most of the responses I got. If he can be convinced to sign a contract, we've got a doctor."
"That's what happened with the last, and look where that got us," groans Stiles looking out the window where he can see the moving truck loading Dr. Deaton's piano. He's leaving next week. "He took one look at the town and hightailed it out back to Washington."
"Well just don't bake him pie," says Lydia patting his right hand.
"Everyone loves pie," grouses Stiles. The other doctor took one look at Stiles' homemade pie and sniffed in disgust. It was his mother's prize winning recipe for Pete's sake.
"Clearly not doctors from Seattle," snorts Lydia.
So in true Beacon Hills' fashion. He calls a town hall meeting. Well he gets Danny to. He wouldn't what to go over the mayor's head.
"Well, that settles the business for the autumn harvest festival and the elementary nature hike in the coming month," says Danny over the dine of the town assembly. He opens a new powerpoint. A head shot of a scruffy hazel eyed man in a white lab coat appears on the overhead projector.
"Now next week, Dr. Derek Hale, from Los Angeles, is coming for one month. He's a graduate from Johns Hopkins University and currently an attending surgeon at Cedars-Sinai. We need him to want to make Beacon Hills his new home. We have one month to convince him the best place to live in the world is Beacon Hills. We all have to do our part."
"You didn't say he was hot," whispers Stiles hotly into Lydia's ear from where they were sitting in the back on the hall. She pushes him away from her in disgust.
"Because I actually want him to stay," says Lydia, dryly. She looks right at Stiles.
"I'm not that bad," mumbles Stiles, slouching in his seat.
"Please, if you could you would have followed me home."
"That was high school," he mutters.
"And we need him to love it here," Danny continues. "So I open the floor to suggestions."
"I heard he likes baseball," says Allison, raising her hand timidly. Half the town was googling the good doctor on their smartphones as she spoke. "We could start a league."
"Baseball?" murmurs most of the room.
"It's kinda of like lacrosse," she shrugs.
In Beacon Hills, the only sport worth playing is lacrosse. They had fierce rivalries between the North and South side of town.
"Coach Finstock, are you up for setting up a league?" asks Danny from the podium. Everyone turns to look at the high school coach sitting at the far right of the room.
"Fine, but it's a stupid sport. No contact, what kind of game is that?" snorts Coach Finstock. The town hall murmurs in agreement.
"Alright, so I expect everyone to familiarize themselves with the game," Danny nods. "Thank you Allison."
Allison beams a dimpled smile up at Danny.
"Showoff," mutters Lydia darkly.
"Aren't you friends with Allison?" asks Stiles. Everyone loves Allison. Even old Mr. Henderson who still hasn't forgiven Stiles for tee-peeing his house when he was in high school.
"You can hate your friends," says Lydia, fluttering her eyelashes at him. "I'm friends with you, aren't I?"
"Heart of gold, Lydia," says Stiles.
"Darn right," she smiles.
"And we need a volunteer to lodge Dr. Hale," says Danny. "The Red Inn is still under construction from water damage."
"He can stay at my family's cabin," Lydia offers, as she holds down Stiles' arm by twisting it.
"Alright, Lydia, that's great," Danny smiles.
"What the fuck Lydia?" Stiles hisses, rubbing feeling back into his arm.
"We want the doctor to stay, any long term exposure to you would be counterproductive."
"And your cabin? It's the fugliest house ever," says Stiles.
"If you mean, a fine example of modern decor and architecture, then yes, the perfect place to woo a city doctor," she replies archly.
Stiles just rolls his eyes.
"If you keep doing that they'll roll out of your head," she says using her teacher's voice.
"Yes, Jackson," Danny points to another raised hand.
"Oh, look, your boyfriend made it," Stiles says.
"Yeah, this plan is doomed to fail," Jackson says blithely, ignoring the shouts of protest from the crowd.
"Now, I think-" Danny starts off.
"No, there's one crucial thing," says Jackson, cutting off his friend. "Without it, the plan will fail."
"This aught to be good," whispers Stiles.
The town assembly quiets, waiting for Jackson to finish.
"We have to hide Stiles."
Stiles leaps from his chair. "What?" he squawks, arms flailing. Lydia is almost falling out of her chair laughing.
Danny's face is pulled into a pensive frown. "No, you are right."
"You've got to be kidding me!" Stiles shoots disbelieving looks at the room. Across the room, Scott is biting his fist to hold in the laughter.
"It would be a disaster," Lydia chimes in from the floor between giggles.
"He'd never stay if he knew Stiles lived here," says another person from across the room.
A murmur of agreement seems to wash over the hall much to his disbelief. Danny looks sympathetic but his lip is quirking in a smile.
"Hey! C'mon guys!" he pleads. "I can't believe this, you're listening to Jackson. Jackson."
"He does make a valid point," someone murmurs.
"Sorry, Stiles," Danny frowns. "But we need him to want to live here."
"And meeting a competent charming forest ranger, wouldn't?" he asks, trying to catch the eye of anyone in the room. This never would have happened if his dad was here. But he's on-call.
"You're usually at the rangers' station anyway," says Danny. "It will just be for a month."
"Oh my God!" Stiles groans. "You guys officially suck. See if I rescue you when you get lost in the woods. Yeah, I'm talking to you, Greenberg."
He grabs his jacket and storms out of the town hall, ignoring the protests from the crowd.
Stiles shouldn't be surprised. Beacon Hills is the same town that held a town meeting for a contingency plan to divide up the town if Scott and Allison ever broke up. He deeply considers moving. Except the slopes are amazing in the winter. Plus, who else would take care of his dad.
And save the backstabbing turncoat townsfolk from wolves.
Oh, yeah. Him.