Chapter Text
"Should I push Chester into a large body of water?"
Derek looks up from the table he'd rescued from Erica's dusty attic. He hadn't really felt the need to have somewhere to eat before he had Isaac and while it reduces their open floor space, Derek feels it's important to sit down to meals now. He wants to give Isaac as much normal as he can considering the upheavals he's gone through, the loss he's had.
"What?"
"When you were being an asshole to Stiles, Chester pushed me in the lake. Now Stiles is the asshole-"
"He's not an asshole," Derek interrupts, rubbing at his temples. He hadn't gone back down to the diner after Stiles had left. It was a bit of a dick move to leave Hayley on her own, but she's closed up before and she would have come upstairs and dragged him down by the ear if she'd been really struggling. She'll gleefully gouge him for the overtime and they'll both feel better about it.
"He's not?"
"Bec kissed him. He stopped her."
"Oh, well... that's good?" Isaac says, sounding unsure. "Just, he looked kind of terrible when he left."
"We broke up," Derek says. "I think."
"What? Why?"
Derek can't really articulate the reason. Maybe it was because he suddenly felt like he was driving a wedge between a family, that if he removed himself Stiles and Bec could have a chance, deserved a chance. If he's being really honest though, it's possibly what Stiles had said last that most affected him, that Stiles wasn't Kate.
If he really is doing that, expecting history to repeat itself then it might have been selfishly unfair to get involved because they could never be truly happy while one of them was waiting for the other shoe to drop.
"It's complicated."
"That's not so subtle code for you don't know," Isaac says. "That's bullshit."
"Isaac, not now. Really," Derek says.
"Sorry, just, Stiles can be a bit of a dick, but he's good for you."
"Maybe I'm not good for him," Derek says.
"Derek-"
"Can we just... can we just eat all of the leftover pie from downstairs and maybe talk about this tomorrow?"
"So, the mature approach then?"
"Shut up."
"I'll allow a single day of wallowing before I kick some sense into you."
"Fair enough."
*
"Hello?" he says. He kind of feels like yelling at her, especially since she doesn't look like she's there to apologize, but he resists the urge. He's honestly too thrown to see her to do much of anything.
"Stiles and I are meant to be together," Bec says.
"What?"
"Were supposed to be together I guess you can say now. I was going to get my shit together eventually and it wasn't going to be too late for me to realize he was the one I should have been with all along."
"Is this some kind of weird pep talk?" Derek asks, completely confused.
"Please," Bec snorts. "If there was a way to forcibly eject you from his life that didn't involve jail time I would totally do it, don't think I wouldn't."
"Okay?"
"I keep telling myself that he's with you for now, that it's not forever, but Stiles is kind of a forever guy."
"Listen, Bec, I know you feel the need to vent or whatever it is you're doing, but I'm really not the right target. We broke up."
Bec blinks for a moment, opens and closes her mouth. "What?"
"I've gotta sort some stuff out," Derek says. "I've gotta-" Derek's going to say make sure I deserve him but Bec just holds up a small hand.
"Y'know, that's what I thought too. That's what I told him too. If you're not sure about Stiles, then don't string him along. He doesn't deserve that."
"I told you, we broke up. I think that's the opposite of stringing him along."
"Does he know you broke up?"
It's Derek's turn to fish mouth for a second, because the words weren't implicitly stated but there was definite implication there. "Yes?"
"Wow, you sound so certain. How about you be a man and actually break up with him instead of being vague about it." Bec starts to storm out, turns back. "Don't be a dick and do it over text, either."
"I don't own a cell phone."
"You don't own a cell-?" Bec just throws her hands up in a I give up kind of way.
Half an hour later, Greenburg takes his first sip of coffee for the morning and then promptly spits it out again. "How do you make coffee taste sad?"
"It's an art form," Derek says gruffly.
*
"I know you're in there, Hale!" Erica bawls at him through the door and Derek gets up and yanks it open. Erica waggles a bottle of Wild Turkey. "This is a drinking emergency, right?"
"I don't need to get shitfaced," Derek says, but he steps aside and she breezes in past him. He's not sure how he ended up with Erica as a best friend, sometimes thinks it might be more of a curse than a blessing but he's happy she's part of his life regardless, even if she forced her way in whether he liked it or not.
"Maybe I do, huh? Ever think about that?"
"What could you possibly need to be drinking about?" Derek says, rolling his eyes. "You have a hot doctor boyfriend and an army of sugar plum fairies to order around."
"Boyd proposed."
"He did? That's fantastic!"
"I know, right? That's a normal reaction. I, on the other hand, laughed kind of hysterically and then told him I had to think about it."
"You what?"
"I fail at life," Erica says, throwing herself down on Derek's couch dramatically.
They drink, a lot. So much so that by the time Derek realizes he's detailing exactly what happened with Stiles and then Bec after, pretty much word for word, it's too late.
"You want me to kick her ass?" Erica offers a little soddenly. They'd demolished the bottle Erica had brought, mostly because it was only half full when she arrived and were working their way through the dregs of other bottles Derek had in the apartment. Derek didn't even remember buying most of them. "You can't hit a girl but I certainly can."
"She's Chester's mom, she and Stiles have a history I can't touch."
"Some of that history involves her leaving him, don't forget."
"We can't judge, we don't really know what happened."
"I can judge. I'm judging right now. She knew Stiles was with you and she shamelessly macked on him anyway. Who does that?"
"I don't want you to hit her."
"Pow, right in the kisser!"
"Erica."
"Fine, ugh, you're so vanilla."
"If Stiles and I are meant to be, it'll work out."
"That's very passive of you."
"What's that supposed to mean?"
"You have to fight for what's yours. And honey, Stiles is yours. I saw him that night after Kate got here and-"
"What? When?"
"I picked up his drowned ass. He was miserable."
Derek's heart clenches a little to hear that. Kate had taken him completely by surprise and if she hadn't arrived that night then...
"He mentioned Kate. Said he wasn't her, that I was expecting him to be but he wasn't."
"You nearly married her and she left you at the altar. That's going to make anyone gun shy."
"Am I really just waiting for him to leave me?" Derek asks, although he knows the answer to that. He'd been ridiculously gone for Stiles for such a long time. He'd gotten used to setting it aside. It was safe to keep him at a distance because then he couldn't be hurt. Stiles had told him that Bec treated him like her relationship safe zone, maybe Derek was a little guilty of that too in a slightly different way. He was able to keep any other potential partners at arm's length because Stiles was always a background possibility, a quietly humming yearning.
Perhaps he hadn't been quite as ready as he'd thought to promote Stiles to full time boyfriend.
"Look, you guys had a fight and there was a good reason. Every fight when you're this new feels like the fight, feels like the end."
"I told Bec we'd broken up."
Erica looks at him. She's squinting a little like she does when she's teetering on the edge between delightfully tipsy and utterly trashed. "You told Bec that? Did you tell Stiles?"
"It was heavily implied."
"Derek," Erica groans. "She wants him back so she's going to run right to him and make it sound like you're telling everyone you're broken up before you've discussed it with him. You're second-party dumping him. That's lower than doing it by text."
"Do people actually do that? Break up with someone by text?"
"Focus," Erica says, shooting a hand out and viciously pinching his nipple. Derek is rolling around on the floor in outraged pain when Isaac comes in.
"I don't want to know," he decides, then clomps into Derek's bedroom. "I'm taking your bed!"
"Brat!" Derek yells at him.
*
At eight Chester comes through the door, looking unsure. Derek forces a smile at him and Chester approaches, chewing on the skin around his thumb. "Um, I left a book with Isaac that I need?" he says, eyes darting towards the stairs.
"Go on up, he's in my room," Derek says and Chester darts around the counter and stomps up the stairs. Derek looks out the front window, expecting to see Stiles hovering, but what he's not expecting is to see Amy Tempse handing Stiles one of Derek's to-go coffee cups.
Derek hurtles outside and Stiles nearly drops the coffee in surprise when he spots him, juggles it for a moment before he gets a proper hand on it. "I thought you knew you weren't allowed to send in proxies for your coffee," Derek says as Amy beats a prudently hasty retreat. "I thought the proxies understood the repercussions of their actions!" he yells at her back.
"You can't cut me off. It's inhumane," Stiles says, holding the coffee a little behind himself like he's expecting Derek to make a grab for it.
"You can come in," Derek says.
"Excuse me if I didn't really feel like facing you today," Stiles grumbles, exasperated.
"Look, Stiles, maybe we should-" Derek starts but Stiles' expression closes down.
"No, that's fine. I got your message."
"Stiles," Derek says. Erica was right, damn her, and he's accidentally dumped Stiles via his ex which is the worst thing he could have possibly done. Mostly because he woke up not only with a hangover but the certainty that he had overreacted and if he wrecks things with Stiles... he just can't wreck things with Stiles.
It's not an option.
"You know, I never took you for a coward," Stiles says, breaking into his thoughts.
"What?"
"If you'd decided that I wasn't worth it, you should've told me. Do you know what that felt like, hearing it from Bec?"
"I'm sure she couldn't wait to tell you," is what Derek says, when he should be apologizing. He's not sure what his mouth is doing but it's certainly not taking much direction from his brain.
"Don't try to blame Bec, Jesus," Stiles spits.
"Look, it was a mistake-"
"Yeah, I get that you think this was all a mistake," Stiles says, flailing a hand between them which is not what Derek was going to say at all. Before he can correct Stiles though, Chester's appeared behind him, looking a little worried.
"Everything okay?"
"Fine, kid," Stiles says. "Did you ask him?"
"Yeah."
"And?"
"He said yes. He doesn't want to wear a tux though."
"We'll work something out," Stiles says, dropping an arm around Chester and shoving the to-go cup of coffee at Derek in the same motion. Derek takes it automatically.
"What's happening?" he asks.
"I've got my Winter Formal coming up next month. I asked Isaac. Is that okay?"
"Of course it is," Derek says. He tries to catch Stiles' gaze but Stiles is looking anywhere but at him. "Don't worry, I'll get Isaac in a tux for you, even if I have to sit on him."
"Thanks," Chester says, laughing.
"Well, we'd better go," Stiles says.
"Stiles-" Derek says but Stiles just shakes his head and tugs Chester away.
*
He goes to Stiles' house, contemplates making a cheesy, romantic gesture because Stiles loves that kind of stuff but in the end he just heads over and plans to grovel if need be. He wants to apologize for putting stuff on Stiles that has nothing to do with him. He pulls up, gets out of his truck and then frowns when he notices the jeep is gone.
"Derek, honey. What are you doing here?" Lenore calls from her porch. Derek ambles over to her, kicking at the leaves across Stiles' drive and into Lenore's front yard.
"Hi Lenore. Do you know where Stiles is?"
"He and Chester went on a road trip. Said something about getting away for a few days."
"Oh," Derek says. His heart clenches a little because Stiles only ever runs if he's really hurting. Derek could kick himself.
"What's this I hear about you guys having problems?" Lenore asks. She's a pretty forward woman and Derek winces. "Are you going to sort that out?"
"Yes, definitely," Derek says, nodding.
"Good. How about you come in and have some spaghetti. I always make enough for an army. Lord knows why, it's just me and Boris."
Stiles is always at him to be more of a people person and even though he won't know about it, Derek figures it can't hurt to do something that would please him.
"Sure," Derek agrees.
*
Derek keeps this resolve for all of two hours, before he thinks screw it and heads for his truck. He very nearly backs over Stiles in his haste to pull out of his parking spot in front of the diner and practically falls out of his truck because for a second he can't see Stiles at all and is terrified it's because Stiles is under the truck.
Stiles is mostly fine, standing on the curb and rubbing at his elbow that Derek clipped with his side mirror. "Are you alright?" he demands, reaching for him, wanting to pat him down and make sure that he didn't squish anything important.
"Just winged me," Stiles confirms and he's letting Derek manhandle him to reassure himself which is nice of him. Derek finally relents his grip and steps away, rubbing at the back of his head and grimacing.
"I wasn't trying to run you over on purpose," he offers. "I was actually on my way to see you."
"I didn't really think you wanted to do me in badly enough to flatten me in the middle of the day with a bunch of witnesses," he says, indicating the town common and the cluster of little girls dressed like snowflakes gaping at them. Erica is with them and looks like she's about to storm across the road but Derek waves her off. "You were on your way to see me?"
"I want to know what I have to do to make this right again. I can't... this isn't..."
Stiles pulls a face, but it's more amused than anything else. "Don't hurt yourself there, Der."
"Stiles, I don't think this, us, is a mistake. It's probably the best thing in my life."
"Probably?"
"Apart from Isaac, it is the best thing in my life," Derek asserts and Stiles ducks his head but not before Derek can see that he's biting on a smile. "Were you... did I interrupt you on your way to something with near flattening?"
"I was on my way to see you, dumbass," Stiles says.
"Yeah?"
"How could I not after you poured your heart out to Lenore. She said you were so sad that you nearly made Boris cry. She said you were pining."
"She's an evil woman."
"No way, I love her. Especially when she tells me you were practically crying into your spaghetti."
"I was not!" Derek snaps, embarrassed and Stiles breaks down into hooting laughter, holding his sides. When he recovers, Derek asks, "Do you think we could possibly be okay?"
"I'm still a little pissed at you for second-hand dumping me."
"I didn't... I'm sorry. It was stupid to tell Bec that but she cornered me. She sees me as the only obstacle to her happily ever after."
"You know that's not true, though, right?" Stiles presses.
"I guess..."
"Derek, me and Bec had fifteen years to get back together if we were going to. We didn't."
"Yeah, I know."
"You're it for me, even though you are pretty annoying and your feet smell terrible."
"Lies," Derek says, but now he can feel the smile on his own face.
"Seriously. Odour eaters. Buy some."
"Stiles."
"Or wear socks. It's not that hard."
"Stiles!"
"Yes, I think we'll be okay," Stiles says and he's grinning in that way that punches Derek in the gut every time. Derek moves forward but Stiles puts a hand to his chest. Before Derek can worry about being stopped, Stiles jerks a thumb across the road.
"Snowflakes," he reminds Derek and they do indeed still have a captive audience. As Derek glances over, he also sees Erica giving him a slow clap and Derek only doesn't flip her off because of the gathered small girls in impractical costumes.
"So," Stiles continues, circling fingers around Derek's wrist and tugging lightly. "My dad's coming for dinner tomorrow and I already told him about you..."
"I wouldn't miss it," Derek says and Stiles looks relieved and pleased.
*
The Sheriff shakes his and Isaac's hands seriously, then reaches up to ruffle Chester's hair and actually hugs Stiles after only a brief hesitation and Derek decides that he could like this man a great deal.
Dinner is easy. When you have two Stilinskis in the house, you're never lacking for conversation but three of them has Derek gasping for breath between hiccupping laughter. The Sheriff balances Stiles' outlandish humor with a dryer wit and Derek's left not really minding at all that he can't really get a word in edgewise.
After dinner, when Stiles sets Chester and Isaac to dish duty and has disappeared upstairs to find the most embarrassing baby pictures of Chester he can, the Sheriff sits opposite Derek in the living room and fixes him with a steely glare.
"I didn't really get to be there for Stiles' formative years," he says.
"No, sir."
"He thinks you hang the moon."
"Uh, that's good, right?"
"I'm just saying, I didn't get to do the scary dad routine on any teenage suitors for my son, so you'll forgive me if I catch up now."
"Are you warning me off?" Derek asks, swallowing.
The Sheriff chuckles. "No, nothing like that. Just letting you know that if you hurt him, I know how to cover up a murder."
"Yes sir," Derek says and the Sheriff stares at him levelly for a moment, perhaps taking his measure, before he nods.
"Okay then," he says, just as Stiles thumps down the stairs, brandishing a DVD case.
"Who wants to watch Chester in a Beacon Hills presentation of The Nutcracker Suite?" Stiles crows as Chester launches himself out of the kitchen to tackle him.
*
"We're playing one, two, three, he's yours," Stiles says. "I saw it on a sitcom once."
"What's...?" Derek starts to ask, thinks better of it and says, "Y'know what? Never-"
"You get three chances to find your future husband," Stiles explains because he can never leave a question unanswered, even a half one that someone bailed out of. "You can take or pass on the first or second person you see, but the third one is yours."
"You do realize that you're both in fulfilling relationships, right?"
"It's not real," Chester says and Stiles puts a hand to his heart dramatically.
"You take that back! One, two, three, he's yours is sacred and we are honor bound to abide by its rules."
"Hey, Derek is the third guy-" Chester starts to say.
"He's disqualified because he's aware of the game," Stiles huffs.
"Yeah, you wouldn't want your future betrothed to be aware of it."
"Hush," Stiles says. "I've passed on two already so the next person we see is going to be my future husband."
Derek leans down so he's eye level with Stiles and Chester, then shakes his head at himself. "Why am I looking?"
"You have a vested interest in my future happiness."
"Not that vested if you're marrying someone else," Derek snorts, squeezing the back of Stiles' neck. It's probably an unfair move considering he knows that it makes Stiles melt into a pliable, happy puddle and Stiles smacks at his hand.
"And the winner is..." Stiles says as someone appears at the corner of the window with his back turned. The man turns around and, "Oh no!"
"My new daddy!" Chester cries delighted.
"Jackson?" Derek huffs. "I hope you're very happy together."
"I call shenanigans," Stiles groans, dropping his head onto his arms.
Jackson pushes through the doors into the diner and it's Derek's turn to groan. Jackson wouldn't actually deign to eat inside the diner so when he comes in, it's always in an official capacity. It also always spells trouble when he's carrying a box.
"That better not be decorations of any kind," Derek warns. "We're nowhere near a major holiday and you know how I feel about the ones you make up."
"I don't make up holidays," Jackson huffs. "There is a committee that designates certain holiday-free periods as-"
"Jackson, you have three seconds to reach a point before I toss you out on your over-styled head."
"This is actually something even you can't have a problem with," Jackson says. He goes to set his box down on Derek's counter but Derek bodily blocks him. Jackson rolls his eyes. "Just, look in the box."
Derek does, grudgingly but it's only a bunch of pamphlets. "What are these?" he asks, suspicious.
"We're getting more tourists to the area. I thought, and by me I mean the tourist committee, that it would be prudent to have a map of the local sites, transport options and," Jackson looks a little pained as he adds, "Local eateries."
"That... doesn't sound terrible. What's the catch?" Derek asks, because there always is one.
"There's no catch," Jackson says as Stiles nudges up against Derek, plucking the pamphlet out of his hand and unfolding it.
"Oh cool!" he enthuses. "Everything's here. So many people get lost looking for the..." Stiles' brow furrows and then his expression grows stormy. "Jackson, the Inn isn't on this map."
"It was decided it was outside the designated tourism area," Jackson says.
"What?" Stiles splutters. "Outside the... Jackson! The Inn is the tourism area. You wouldn't have tourism if it wasn't for the..." Stiles' expression grows more outraged which Derek didn't even think was possible. "You have the Glass Tree Inn on here. That's in Silver Lakes!"
"It's close enough for day trips," Jackson says.
"I won't stand for this!" Stiles practically screeches and he even lunges at Jackson. Derek catches him easily, folds Stiles into himself as Jackson startles backwards.
"You can submit in writing a request to have the Crescent Moon Inn included in the brochure when we do a reprint."
"When's that going to be?" Derek asks, smacking a hand over Stiles' mouth when all he does is start to call Jackson something that's a little too colorful for the eight and ten year olds sitting at the table by the window.
"In six months."
"Six months?" Stiles splutters, having liberated his mouth by licking Derek's hand and his body by elbowing Derek in the gut. He darts forward again, this time Derek isn't quick enough to catch him, and snatches the box of brochures out of Jackson's grip. He runs out of the diner with Jackson in hot pursuit, yelling. There's a scuffle outside, the box gets launched into the street where it's promptly run over by a truck.
"Looks like true love to me," Derek says to Chester.
*
Despite being joined at the hip most of the time, Stiles and Chester do fight on occasion because Chester is still a teenager and Stiles is sometimes mentally one. They're so similar that Derek's amazed they don't fight more often, but this looks serious.
"I don't get why you're so bent out of shape about this," Chester says as he emerges from his room, carrying a backpack.
"I don't get why you don't," Stiles snaps, and then he's snatching a sweater out of Chester's grip that he was about to jam into his backpack. "Would you stop packing, you're not going anywhere!"
"I am. They're sending a car."
"They're sending a car? Do you know how pretentious that sounds?"
"It's not pretentious when it's a fact."
"Hey, hello? What's going on?" Derek asks, a little hesitantly because he's not sure if he should step in between a Stilinski showdown but they both look upset and likely to say things to each other they're going to regret when they cool down.
"Darth Maul and Emperor Palpatine-"
"Dad!"
"Fine. Chester's great-grandparents asked him about changing his name."
"You knew they were going to do that, right?" Derek says. Stiles is trying to intercept more clothes going into Chester's bag and they're currently engaged in a tug-of-war over a t-shirt. Derek steps forward and removes both the backpack and the shirt from harm's way. Chester and Stiles cross their arms and glare at each other and it would be funny if they both didn't look so murderous.
"He didn't say no," Stiles grits out.
Derek raises his eyebrows, looks at Chester in surprise.
"Not yet," Chester says, opening his arms and flinging his hands out, obviously frustrated. "I told them I had to think about it. I didn't want to be rude."
"To them. What about me, huh?"
"Dad, I'm not going to change my name."
"Why didn't you tell them that then?"
"Because they do a lot for me and I didn't want to just dismiss it without them thinking that I'd given it some real thought."
"That sounds-" Reasonable Derek is going to say but Stiles throws a betrayed look at him that stops him from finishing the sentence. "Where are you going?" he asks Chester instead.
"He's not going anywhere," Stiles says sharply.
"I'm going to their place so Dad can calm then hell down."
"I don't want to calm down."
"Obviously," Chester says, then hits Derek with imploring eyes. "Can you talk him away from the cliff?"
"Don't try to hide behind Derek," Stiles says. He goes to grab Chester's backpack off the couch where Derek had tossed it but Chester intercepts him and just like that they're back to tug of war again. Derek pries the bag out of both their grips for a second time.
"Chester, how about you go grab some stuff from your room and call your great-grandparents, tell them you don't need a car. I'll take you."
"Derek-" Stiles starts to protest but Derek holds him off as Chester scuttles.
"He's not going to change his name. C'mon, think about it."
"I realized something," Stiles says, low-voiced. "I realized that they're staging a hostile takeover in subtle phases."
"What?"
"First they get him a room, then the name thing, then they'll start hinting about Chilton being much closer to their place and maybe Chester should stay with them during the week and suddenly I'm weekend dad."
"That's not going to happen."
"I don't want to lose him."
"You're not going to lose him, Jesus," Derek says, wraps arms around Stiles and hugs him. Stiles resists for a moment, stiff and miserable, before he relents and slumps into Derek. "I'll drive him over there and talk to him without flying off the handle about it like you're doing. I'll go get him in the morning so you know he's coming back and won't have to sit around fretting."
"They'll be working on him while he's there."
"Chester's a pretty stubborn kid. I don't think anyone could talk him into anything he doesn't want to do. Reminds me of someone actually."
"Yeah, alright," Stiles huffs.
*
"I know," Derek says, throws Chester a grin.
"They just... they looked really excited about the idea and I couldn't say no straight away."
"You didn't want to hurt their feelings. When your dad calms down he'll know it too."
"He thinks I don't notice but I do. They don't get along at all and I wish they would."
"I'm not going to pretend to know what your great-grandparents are thinking or your dad but they all love you. Sometimes it makes them do zany things."
"I think maybe it's because he looks too much like my grandmother. I don't really remember her because she died when I was little but I've seen photos. They don't have any up but there are albums and dad has a couple. He looks just like her."
"Possibly. Folks carry hurt a long time. They can take it out on the wrong people."
They're quiet again for a while and then Chester asks, "Are you guys okay?" He shoots Derek a pensive look.
"Yeah, we're okay," Derek says.
"Good," Chester decides.
Derek's relieved when he pulls up that no one is in the turnaround for the large house that belongs to Chester's great-grandparents. He's a little daunted by it and is secretly glad that it's a woman in a maid's uniform that answers the door when he walks Chester up.
"Thanks Derek," Chester says, surprises Derek by darting in for a quick hug.
"I'll get you at about nine tomorrow."
"Okay. Go look after my dad. He's liable to eat himself into a sugar coma."
*
"Yeah?" Isaac says, tapping his chin. "How about Studly McAwesome?"
"To Hale," Derek clarifies, rolling his eyes.
"Yeah, I know. Just..."
"You don't have to," Derek says quickly.
Isaac rubs over his face with his hands and then offers Derek a wry look. "I know you don't like my dad much."
"That's not what this is about," Derek says.
"It kinda is and I get it, I do. He's just... he's still my dad."
"I know," Derek says, reaches across the table to squeeze Isaac's shoulder.
"He wasn't always so... I remember having fun with him. I remember him making my mom laugh so hard she'd snort. When I think of him, of them, I think of that. I don't really think about him dropping me off here like he can't be bothered with me."
Isaac chews on his lip for a moment before he says, "I do want to be a Hale though."
"You already are," Derek says. "Only a Hale would have these cheekbones, right?"
Isaac snorts when he laughs.
*
"He played the heavy with me already. I think you'll be fine."
"You don't think he'll be more protective of his grandson?" Isaac asks incredulously and Derek pulls a face at him.
"I don't think he'll threaten to shoot you."
"Did he threaten to shoot you?" Isaac asks, his voice going high and hilariously tight.
"There were certain... implications made," Derek admits and then they look at each other and both crack up.
"We're doomed," Isaac gasps out.
"Totally," Derek agrees.
They both startle badly when there's a tap on Derek's window. "Should I be worried you two loonies are sitting out here in your truck cackling?" Stiles asks, raising an eyebrow.
"What are you doing out here?" Derek asks as he slides out of the truck.
"I'm manning the grill."
"You're doing what?"
"That's what my dad called it," Stiles says, waving a hand at a portable BBQ set up on the porch. Stiles has a pair of tongs in hand and an apron that says, Kiss the bad ass. Stiles blinks a little at Derek, repeats, "My dad," like he's getting used to the feel of that in his mouth.
"You getting ready to start calling him that?" Derek asks as he catches Isaac on his way past him, makes him stand still while he straightens his tie and Isaac fidgets.
"I think so? Maybe?" Stiles says. "He seems like a pretty stable guy and I think he likes us. It might be safe to start getting attached."
The way he says that has Derek suspecting that it's probably far too late when it comes to the getting attached part.
Stiles' dad pushes out of the house then, holding a tray of hamburgers and nods at Derek and Isaac. Chester trips out after him, looking Friday-night dapper in his suit. He's got a camera around his neck that the Sheriff liberates from him when he puts the meat down.
"Oh my God," Isaac groans as the Sheriff waves him over and then jostles Isaac and Chester together so he can take pictures. They're extremely awkward at first, but then they start to relax and Derek's pretty sure there'll be at least a couple of nice photos that will be fit for polite society when they're done.
"I want a copy of the one of Chester making bunny ears behind Isaac's head," he says as the Sheriff starts complaining about the boys horsing around when they start to get bored of playing nice.
"No duh," Stiles says, grinning. "The one where Isaac has Chester in a headlock is going on the mantle."
Derek's glad to see Isaac laughing and happy. He'd been pretty nervous before they left, taking Chester to a Chilton dance, being surrounded by stuffy society types and worrying about embarrassing himself and Chester. He'd been partially mollified when Derek told Isaac he could take the truck.
"You know, I can drive them. Send a message," the Sheriff says as he finally sets the boys free and moves over to join Derek and Stiles by the BBQ. He gets his hand smacked when he reaches for the tongs.
"That they're delinquents that need a police escort?" Stiles says, but he looks like he's thinking about it.
"No, they'll be fine," Derek says.
"So, you're staying here then?" the Sheriff asks, raising an eyebrow at Derek.
"Isaac's coming back tonight. I mean, I do stay here sometimes-" Derek says, but at the Sheriff's nostril-flare he amends, "But, um, to sleep? Only to sleep?"
"Dude, we're adults. He doesn't think we lie in bed chastely with a pillow wall between us," Stiles snorts, flipping burgers.
When the Sheriff gives him a steely glare, Derek says, "That's because I sleep on the couch Stiles, with all my clothes on."
"Wuss," Stiles huffs, takes a moment to curl an arm around Derek's middle and squeeze. Then he's fending off Chester and Isaac who are making grabs for the pile of cooked burgers. "No, not for you! You're going to a place where they play stuffy music and serve dry chicken."
Both Isaac and Chester gives Stiles tragic puppy faces.
"Fine, alright," he relents, makes them both plates and then sends them into the house. "Sit at the kitchen table and don't get ketchup on your suits!"
*
"Wha-?"
"Derek."
"Hunh?"
"Derek!"
Derek jolts awake, only just saves himself from rolling off the couch and hitting his face on the coffee table by grabbing the back of it. "Stiles? What the hell?"
"We fell asleep," Stiles says. He sounds far too panicked about that.
"So? Oh god, is your dad here? I'm dressed!"
"No, Derek, listen to what I'm saying! We fell asleep and it's daylight and the boys aren't home."
"Stiles, slow down. I was unconscious like, eighteen seconds ago. What do you mean they're not home? Did they go out to breakfast?"
"No, they were never home. Chester's bed isn't slept in, he's not here and neither is Isaac. They were supposed to be here. They were supposed to be here at midnight and you were going to go back home with Isaac and-"
"Stiles, stop. Breathe for a second. Are you sure they haven't been back and gone out again?"
"Chester's bed isn't slept in," Stiles repeats.
"How do you know that?" Derek asks, thinking about the mess that is perpetually Isaac's bed. Sometimes Derek can't tell if Isaac's even in it or not.
"He's a freak of teenage nature that makes his bed. It's still made from last night."
"Okay, Stiles, stop freaking out because you're starting to freak me out."
"You should be freaked out. Why aren't you freaked out?"
"Did they call you? Maybe we didn't hear it because we were asleep?" Derek glares balefully at the DVD case on the coffee table. Stupid Green Mile, puts him straight out every time no matter how much Stiles insists he would enjoy it if he could just get through the whole thing.
"No, nothing," Stiles says, makes grabby hands at Derek's pocket. "Can you check yours? Maybe Isaac called you?"
Derek yanks his phone out of his pocket, checks and he doesn't have any missed calls or unread texts.
"Maybe they're in the hospital. Maybe something terrible happened," Stiles says and now he's breathing raggedly and Derek's starting to really worry about him. "I should call my dad."
"He's in Silver Lakes."
"He could call the National Guard, or the army. Get some helicopters in here."
"I think you've overestimating the resources of a small town Sheriff."
"Stop being calm! They could be hurt. If they were hurt though they would have called though. They could be dead-"
"Stiles-" Derek starts to say and that's when Stiles' phone rings in his hand, startling them both. Stiles juggles the phone for a second before he's able to get it up to his ear.
"Chester?" he barks, then frowns. "Oh, Erica-what? They were what? Oh, no, thank you," Stiles says, then hangs up. "They were asleep in Erica's studio. She woke them up when she opened for her morning yoga class. Last she saw Chester was running this way like his ass was on fire and Isaac was heading back to your place."
"Thank God," Derek asserts, palming Stiles' head and reeling him in. Stiles is trembling and Derek holds him tighter, squeezes until they both hear the door and then Stiles is leaping for it. Derek hears Chester squawk in surprise at being set on as soon as he's through.
"Where the hell have you-?" Stiles starts to say, then, "What happened to your face?"
Derek doesn't have to ask what that means because Stiles has towed Chester into the living room, possibly because there's better light. As he's manhandling Chester onto the couch, Derek can see that one of Chester's eyes is swollen almost shut and there's some spectacular blackening starting to occur around the whole thing.
"What happened?" Stiles demands again.
"Dad, it's not a big-"
"Don't tell me it's not a big deal. I'm having a heart attack here. Where were you?"
"We had about half an hour before curfew because we had to leave the dance early-"
"Did Isaac hit you?"
"What?" Both Chester and Derek exclaim at the same time, then Chester says, "No!"
"What-?"
"If you'd stop interrupting me, maybe I could tell you," Chester shouts and Stiles grabs his shoulders, shakes him.
"Do you know what that was like, waking up and you weren't here?"
"I'm sorry, okay? It was an accident!"
Derek puts a hand to Stiles' shoulder, squeezes. "What happened kid?" he asks Chester as Stiles' breathing goes a little uneven again. Derek rubs a hand up and down Stiles' back, trying to urge him to be calmer.
"We had about half an hour before curfew, so we went into town and Erica's dance studio has that one window that doesn't lock. We went in and sat on the new giant crash mat she got. I swear we both closed our eyes for maybe a minute and woke up to Erica shaking us and it was daylight."
"That doesn't explain your face. Did you roll over on one of her props in your sleep?" Stiles questions.
"No, that happened last night. The punch wasn't aimed at me if that's any consolation."
"There was a punch?" Stiles says, his own hands clenching into fists.
"Matt Daehler got a little... handsy with me at the dance. Isaac saw him and told him to back off. They shoved each other a little and that would've been the end of it but then Matt called me a Princess and Isaac punched him."
"That doesn't explain your face."
"Isaac turned around to check on me and Matt went to hit him when his back was turned. I got in the way."
"Did you punch him?" Derek asks, ignores the outraged look Stiles throws him.
"Nah. I pushed him into the punch bowl though. We kinda had to get out of there after that. I think maybe Nana will get a bill for the damages."
"I would pay good money to see her opening that particular school letter," Stiles muses, then fixes Chester with a hard glare. "You are grounded, buster."
"What? I told you, it was an accident."
"There comes a time in every young parent's life when they must ground their kid, especially if their kid stays out all night. It might remind you to set an alarm next time you break into a dance studio and get cosy on a crash mat."
"Ugh," Chester grunts, stands and tromps to his room, throwing an annoyed glance over his shoulder.
When he's gone, Stiles and Derek just look at each other and then break out into shaky, somewhat hysterical giggles. "Holy crap. Never again," Stiles says. "Do you think anyone would notice if I bricked him into his room?"
"You'd have to leave a gap to push food and books through," Derek says, wiping at his face.
"Do you think they maybe...?" Stiles waggles his hands.
"Maybe." Derek says. "We should probably save that conversation for when it will be a little less fraught?"
Chester leans out of his room. "I noticed there were no panicked phone calls from you when I was past curfew," he calls.
"We fell asleep!" Stiles yells back.
"Ha! See? It happens. You close your eyes and boom! Daylight through no fault of your own."
"You're still grounded."
"Daaaaaad!"
*
They're sitting on a picnic blanket in the front yard of Stiles' place. It's technically still a little cold for it but it's the first warmish day since the end of winter. They're watching Chester, Isaac and Stiles' dad throw a football around, Lydia and Erica heckling their ball-handling skills loudly from the front porch. Boyd is taking a turn manning the grill while Allison tries to stop Scott from filling up on bread because no one wants to hear him complain about it afterwards.
"I mean, I'm so used to telling people that I'm not, that it's just me and my kid," Stiles continues. He has a hand on Derek's knee, playing with the frayed edges of a hole, twisting a long, loose thread around his thumb. He looks up from a moment before he squints around in the dying light of the day. "But that's not true anymore."
Derek captures Stiles' fidgeting fingers, presses them to his mouth.
"It was never true."