Chapter Text
Stiles decided, when he started sleepwalking again, he needed a break. A longer break than he had been expecting. His supervisor stared at him from across that massive, mahogany desk like… the only thing that came to him was a principal of a school. Beacon Hills High, Principal Martin with her arched eyebrows and harsh lips. This wasn’t Principal Martin though. This was Supervisory Special Agent Alexandra Khan and she was looking at him with a soft gaze that spoke of… something like pity and Stiles hated it. More than he hated anything else in this room.
He shifted uncomfortably on the chair. Alexandra let out a long sigh, “Agent Stilinski,” Stiles flinched away from the title, “I don’t understand. Doctor Lucas said that you had made headway in your therapy sessions.”
“Yeah, I—” Stiles rubbed his eyes, choking back tears and his fear, “I… I’ve been sleepwalking and it’s…”
“Your file says that you had a period in high school that you sleepwalked. You were hospitalized for a Major Depressive Episode your…” A flutter of papers, “Junior year?”
Stiles nodded, staring at his hands, the fingernails bitten to nubs, “... It started with sleepwalking.”
Alexandra let out a knowing hum and then closed the file, “I understand and I’ll grant you a longer leave. Tell me that you’re going to get help , Stiles. Where will you be going?”
Stiles shifted again, “Um… I’m going to visit my dad first… and then… I’ll work on Help -Help. I promise, Alexandra.”
Alexandra’s smile softened to something motherly. She was nearly 20 years his senior, it made sense. She stood and Stiles stood with her, accepting the hand that was offered, “You’re a good kid, Stiles. Please, please, let me know if there’s anything I can do to help. The FBI is here for their agents.”
Stiles’ smile tightened around the edges, “... Thank you.”
“Of course. Please, travel safely.”
Stiles cleared his desk, he shoved everything into a box and lugged it down to his car. Just in case, he told himself, this is just in case I don’t feel better. Just in case. His car wasn't a Jeep on the verge of breaking down but a good car that looked like an FBI Agent’s car. He shoved the box in his trunk. Just in case.
Just in case , he packed a large suitcase. He had three months of leave saved and a little extra for bereavement.
Just in case , he booked a ticket for the next morning out to California and texted his dad the itinerary. Then his finger hovered over the contact that he wanted to call the most. Just in case, just in case, just in case, Stiles took a deep breath and pressed call. It rang three times and Stiles wanted to hang up, wanted to pretend that he hadn’t even called, maybe he could pass it off as a butt-dial.
Click. “HEY! Special Agent Stilinski!”
A smile grew before Stiles had the chance to squash it down, “Hey, it’s Doctor McCall.”
Scott laughed, “Hey, Man. What’s up? You don’t usually call at… what is it there? Like 12:30? Shouldn’t you be at work?”
“Shouldn’t you be at work,” Stiles shot back easily, “It’s 11:30 there.”
Silence fell over the line and Stiles could hear dogs barking in the background. Scott popped his lips, “Okay. Well, maybe I’m taking an early lunch. Whatever. What’s up?”
“I…” Stiles took a deep breath. He couldn’t tell Scott everything that had happened over the phone, he could barely bring himself to talk about it with his therapist. The day he looked Scott McCall in the eyes would be the day every fear of his would come tumbling off his tongue like water out of a broken dam. “I have a lot of vacation days saved up and I was thinking of taking an extended leave from work.”
“Yeah?!” Scott coughed before lowering his voice, “Yeah?”
“Well, I have to go visit Dad… You know. He’d be pissed if I didn’t. Um… anyway, I was thinking, I know I haven’t come out to see you and your new place.”
“No but, you know, I’m not upset about that, Stiles. You’ve been super busy doing your work and you love your work—”
“Yeah. I do. I just… I wanna come see you… Maybe stay for… a few weeks… maybe longer?” Stiles cringed at his own desperation seeping out through his voice but he craved that familiarity, craved the easy friendship that he and Scott had always had, “I mean, if that’s okay. You and Ally have a whole kid now and I know I’m dropping this on you really suddenly. I can’t expect to stay with you guys so quick—”
“When would you fly in?”
“What?”
“When would you come in? You’re coming now. Allison and I will clean out the guest bedroom and Camilla can meet her Uncle Stiles. Allison’s gonna love to see you, Dude.”
“Scott…”
Stiles swallowed hard, blinking back tears. Easy, easy , loving friendship. It was safe and warm and he couldn’t believe it had been nearly five years since he last saw Scott in person. Scott’s voice was a cold balm on a fresh burn, “Come to Ashburn, Stiles. You can stay with us for as long as you like. I know this diner that has the best curly fries. Just… when would you fly into Nashville?”
“Well, I was thinking I would actually do a roadtrip. Try to make my vacation days count.”
“Damn, that sounds awesome. See the biggest yarn ball for me! Take pictures!”
“I will, Man,” Stiles shifted on his feet, “ … Scott, you’re… the best.”
“Oh. I know,” Scott’s smile was audible through the phone, “You let me know when you get on the road towards Ashburn and I’ll send you my address when you’re closer. I’ve gotta go now. I’ll see you soon, Stiles.”
“Yeah, see you.”
Stiles left his phone pressed to his ear long after Scott had hung up, taking deep breaths. He blinked and the cold of a freshly fallen tear shocked him from his stupor. Stiles couldn’t stop the choked sob that broke from his throat. His knees shook before they gave out. He sank to the floor, clutching his hair as tears kept falling.
━━━━━━ ☾ ━━━━━━
His first stop was Los Angeles. He knew that if he didn’t stop by Tech Tones at least once, no one would be able to stop the full force of Lydia Martin. Not even the strongest unit in the FBI. He got off the plane with crusty eyes and stale breath. He felt stuffy and slightly sore. He had taken a heavy sleep agent to pass the five hours by quickly. Stiles didn’t want to twitch and fidget his way through a flight. Sleeping, a blissful, heavily medicated sleep, was as good of a pastime as any.
Stiles meandered his way through the airport, blinking sleep from his eyes. He tugged his bags off the carousel, trying desperately to remember how to function as a human. He knew he looked rough. He had slept in his clothes for the flight the night before and had barely enough thought to brush his teeth that morning. So, all-in-all, he was mussed, ruffled from travel, and half-asleep. You , he thought to himself, are looking great, Stiles.
He flashed his passport at a nearby hotel and let the front desk lady lead him to the gym and showers. Stiles knew that Lydia had gotten used to how… he was but showing up at her office in sweats and a wrinkled shirt was not a good way to start this string of reunions. He took a long, slow shower, standing on unfamiliar tile and taking deep breaths of body wash that wasn’t his. It was too… musky, too thick, compared to his mint soap that he preferred over everything else. He stood under the water for too long, feeling more and more lost with every passing swipe of soap. This was a bad idea. Stiles had been gone for so long between all of his friends. The last time that he had seen his own father was Christmas.
He tugged on a plaid shirt, covering his arms fully. He hadn’t felt the need to hide like that since his early high school days. California falls in Los Angeles were warm but Stiles would suffer through the sweat if it meant he was covered. He felt better once he was out of the locker room. Okay. Next stop, Tech Tones.
The receptionist looked at him like he was a lost puppy. Which, to be fair, he carried two suitcases and a duffle bag with him. His hair was still damp but he put on his best smile, “Hi. I’m here to see Lydia Martin. My name is—”
“Stiles!”
Stiles turned and caught the strawberry blonde that had launched herself at him. Lydia was light and she was laughing, “Oh! Look at you!”
Lydia gripped his arms as Stiles set her back on the ground. For a second, he could still smell the Chanel No. 5 clinging to her before he gave a weak smile, “Hey, Lyds.”
Lydia’s smile slowly diminished and she squeezed his hands, “Stiles, are you okay?”
He nodded, forced himself to pull his smile together for his teenage crush turned best friend, “Yeah. Just… wow, I missed you.”
“You’re the one that moved all the way to DC,” She said with a coy smile and she pulled away fully to turn to her receptionist, “Cancel all my meetings until three, I am taking an old friend out to lunch.”
The receptionist smiled and nodded, “Yes, Miss Martin.”
Stiles found himself at a high-end restaurant, sitting at a table with a tablecloth. Lydia was carefully chewing a mouthful of salad, “So… you’re here to see me, obviously.”
“Obviously,” Stiles picked at a piece of spaghetti, “I just wanted to see everyone.”
“ Everyone,” Lydia repeated with raised eyebrows, “ Everyone -everyone or just… California?”
“Well… I’m gonna catch a bus to Beacon City, see my dad.”
Lydia nodded, taking a sip of her drink, “Good. You should. I was in Beacon a few weeks ago. He had a whole barbeque for the block. Melissa was there.”
Melissa. There was something so warm and soft about the mention of Scott’s mom, Stiles’ second-mother. He should see her too. Stiles nodded back and worked his jaw, “Yeah. I’ll see her too.”
“Good,” Lydia leaned forward a little bit, one curl falling over her shoulder, “But you didn’t answer my question. Just California?”
“I…” Stiles swallowed and then shook his head, “I’m picking up Roscoe from Dad and I’m driving to Tennessee… to see Scott and Allison.”
Lydia’s smile brightened and she leaned back in her seat, “Good. That’s good. Ashburn is a lovely place.”
Stiles hung his head with a soft laugh, “Of course, you would call it lovely.”
“You’ll get to see a beautiful small town and your best friend and a niece. You’ll love Camilla. She’s sweet—”
“How do you find the time?”
Stiles’ voice cracked and he put down his fork with a little more force than necessary. Lydia’s face was soft, non judgmental, just open communication, “Well, it was hard. Especially when Tech Tones was just getting started but Allison needed support through her pregnancy that wasn’t weird and wolfy about his baby.”
Stiles bit back a startled laugh and then rubbed his face. That makes sense. Lyds has always been good at planning travel. Lydia continued, “You could have that time too if you tried. Stiles,” He looked up at her and she smiled softly, “What’s wrong?”
Stiles swallowed and then shook his head, “It was… a lot, Lydia… I don’t… I don’t feel like… I know what I’m doing. This was my dream and I… feel like I don’t know if I’m doing the right thing.”
Lydia smiled softly and reached out, taking his hand, “No one knows what they’re doing. I don’t,” Stiles opened his mouth to call her bullshit but she shook their joined hands, “I don’t. Jackson and I are talking about kids and I don’t know if I want kids. Jackson doesn’t know if he wants to be a dad. We’re thinking about moving from an apartment into a house. I want to adopt a cat , Stiles. My husband is a werewolf and I want a cat,” Stiles blinked back his tears and Lydia rolled her eyes, “Some of us pretend better than others. It sounds like you’ve taken the time off at just the right time. Maybe Ashburn and Scott will have something that… helps.”
Stiles laughed wetly and then shook his head, “What type of cat?”
“A white one. I was thinking… a Birman. One of those big… fluffy ones.”
“That’d match your aesthetic.”
“Aw, thank you, Stiles.”
Lydia hugged him tightly before sending him off in his bus. She pressed a soft kiss to his cheek and then wiped away the lipstick mark, “You are going to call me when you get into Ashburn. I love you, Stiles.”
If he was still a highschooler, that statement would’ve buckled his knees but now… it just warmed the icicle in his chest. He pressed into her embrace, hiding his fear and tears in her hair, “I love you too, Lyds.”
“You’re going to call me, yeah?”
“I will call you.”
“Good boy.”
Stiles smiled, “I’ll see you later.”
“Be safe.”
━━━━━━ ☾ ━━━━━━
Stiles took a step off the bus and ran for his dad. He could see the worn maroon shirt and the familiar, warm blue eyes. He threw his arms around him, clutching onto his father like a child. Noah let out a slight grunt as Stiles pressed his full weight against him, “Hey Kiddo.”
“Hey Dad.”
There was a hand at the back of his head, gently scratching through the baby hair at the base of his neck. “It’s good to see you, Stiles.”
Stiles squeezed his eyes shut, letting a few tears drip free, “I missed you.”
“Oh… I missed you too, Son.”
Dinner was a normal affair. Stiles found himself smiling as Melissa dished up mashed potatoes and grilled chicken and chided him for looking skinny. Even if Stiles had always been skinny, his stint in the FBI had thickened and broadened his muscles. He had nothing on Scott but he felt that he had… grown into himself. He wasn’t that awkward lanky kid anymore. He looked like an FBI agent.
Melissa piled green beans onto his plate and Stiles smiled at her.
Stiles did try to sink into the couch cushions like he did when he was younger. He wanted to slip into dreams and then wake up in his bed but he was much too big to expect that. He was an adult now. That was obvious, given the beer bottle that appeared over his shoulder. Stiles squinted at it and then up at his father, “What’s this?”
His father raised an eyebrow, “A Heineken. What? Don’t want it?”
“I never said that,” Stiles whisked the bottle from his father and twisted the top off, “Thanks.”
“You’re welcome. Now,” His father let out a gust of breath as he settled into his armchair — retirement looked good on him, “What’s going on?”
Stiles sighed and took a drink, “What’s not going on.”
“Stiles.”
It was a warning, a warning that Stiles knew well, and suddenly he was 17 again, bracing up a limping Scott McCall and learning how to burn Wolfsbane from bullet wounds. And, while it should’ve worried him, it just made him… comfortable. Stiles smiled slightly, “Just taking leave, Dad,” He couldn’t tell Noah, not in a million years, “You know how the job gets.”
“I do,” Noah nodded, taking a sip from his own bottle, “Which is why I know it’s not just leave but… if you don’t want to talk about it, we don’t have to.”
Stiles nodded too, staring down at his bottle. Silence reigned for a moment before, “ … How’s the Lacrosse team?”
“It sucks.”
Stiles choked on his next swig of beer. He wiped his chin after coughing his throat clear, “Yeah?”
“Yeah,” His dad took another sip of his own beer, “Coach Finstock retired last year. They’ve got a new guy some… Coach Lopez.”
“Never heard of him,” Stiles smiled, “I can’t believe you still go watch the games.”
“Chris, Melissa, and I all go once in a while. Just to… relive some old days.”
Stiles hummed, “You miss the days of us almost dying every weekend?”
“No. But I do miss my kiddo sometimes.”
It was said with a glance that meant a lot more than could be said aloud. Stiles smiled softly, apologetically, “Sorry, Pops. I’ll make sure to visit more often. I promise.”
“I’m going to hold you to it.”
“I expected that.”
Stiles shoved his last bag into Roscoe and slammed the trunk shut. He turned to look at his father and smiled, “Alright. Think that’s it.”
Noah squinted at him and then cast a wary glance at the Jeep, “Stiles, are you sure—”
“We’ve had this conversation how many times?” Stiles smiled, “Trust me, Dad. Roscoe will get me there.”
“It’s a three day drive, Stiles. As your father, I have every right to be worried.”
Stiles patted his old girl’s side, feeling the chalky texture of sun-worn paint and rust, “She got me through all of high school, Pops. Trust me. She’ll get to Tennessee.”
“And if she doesn’t?”
Stiles shrugged, “I’ll call whoever’s closer.”
“Stiles,” Noah took a breath in through his nose, “Goddamnit, son. Please be safe.”
Stiles couldn’t stop his laughter but he nodded and did a two-fingered salute, “Yes, Sir!”
“Don’t do that,” Noah chided softly and then drew Stiles into a tight hug, “Don’t be a stranger, Kiddo.”
The embrace didn’t send Stiles to his knees. It felt safe and comforting. There was a hand at the back of his neck, pressing him closer. Stiles nodded into his dad’s shoulder, “I won’t… I’ll visit more often. Promise.”
There was a kiss pressed to his hair and Stiles pulled away, sniffling slightly, “I love you, Dad.”
“I love you too. Get on the road. Be safe and call me when you get to Ashburn.”
“I will.”
━━━━━━ ☾ ━━━━━━
Stiles stretched his drive. He stretched it as long as he could, stopping at every place that looked even remotely interesting. He stopped at Barstow, Flagstaff, a Wigwam Motel, museums, cafes, malls, and any place that a local would point out as something fun to do. He took so many pictures that his phone yelled at him about storage at one point. His dad and Scott liked the pictures. Every stack that he sent got him a paragraph in response.
It felt nice, like the break year that he had never had. Roscoe had also held up on the long road trip. Stiles checked the engine every morning and at every stop, tugging at some of the duct tape that was left from the many high school breakdowns. He had been in Nashville for an extra night, eating barbeque and tasting beers. He passed out in a motel room, barely taking the time to turn on the heater before collapsing onto the bed.
The two hour drive that should have brought him to Ashburn was interrupted by a squeal from under the hood. The lights on the dash flashed before a warning code blinked on. “Oh, you’ve gotta be,” Stiles pulled over just as soft gray smoke started to billow from under the hood, “fucking with me.”
Just as he pressed his foot to the brake, a grinding shook the jeep’s body. Stiles groaned, letting his head fall back against his seat. He pushed the parking brake and shoved himself out of the car, “Some type of fucking car. How far away are we, Roscoe? Like ten minutes? Couldn’t just make it to Scott’s place, you just had to break down in the middle of nowhere. God-fucking-damnit.”
He popped the hood and reeled back as smoke billowed up. He waved it away, already feeling the chill starting to leech into his bones. Stupid, stupid, stupid. Heat from the engine had him crowding closer even through the smoke. Stiles scoffed into his hand, blinking away tears. Frustrated and tired from a long fucking drive, he kicked the tire, “Fucking— God, sorry, Roscoe. What happened, Old Girl? Finally give up? You made it so far. Is it the alternator again?”
If it was the alternator, Stiles was well and truly fucked . He couldn’t fix that by himself and certainly not with duct tape. His wallet cried at the notion of having to replace a part like that. Stiles stood on his toes to lean into the engine. All the tape was in place, nothing was leaking, and that in-of-itself was a bad sign. Nothing leaking meant that it was definitely a hefty part that would cost way too much money and… that Stiles would have to walk the last leg of his journey. He pulled his head from under the hood, glancing at a passing light blue truck. The one truck to pass him in five minutes and it hadn’t even pulled over.
Just great. Stiles pulled out his phone and then muttered a curse at the blinking “No Signal” at the top of his screen. He looked back over at Roscoe, “You’re the worst. I’ll have someone come back and save you. Maybe. Depends on how I feel after a walk,” He let out a breath, closing his eyes against the tears of frustration that were coming to the surface, “ Fuck. ”
“You alright?”
Stiles whipped around, hand going for the nonexistent gun on his hip. The man standing a few feet away took a slight step back, boots crunching against the gravel. Stiles blinked and then forced himself to look up at the guy’s face. Hot. Stiles swallowed at the light green eyes below dark eyebrows and a clean-cut beard. His hair had to be dark too but the Stetson that he was wearing covered it completely. Those eyebrows arched— unfairly attractive in Stiles’ opinion, “Are you alright?”
Should I be turned on by an accent? God, could I marry him just on his voice alone? I think that should be allowed in court. I’ll make an appeal because Wow. He’s so handsome. Jeez. Stiles shook his head quickly to clear his thoughts, “I… My Jeep broke down. I— It’s been a long day.”
“Looks like it,” The man gestured towards the Jeep, “Mind if I—”
“If you can bring her back to life, I’ll give you my next five paychecks, Man. I swear.”
“Don’t think that’s necessary,” The man stepped up beside Stiles at the hood of the Jeep, “ … mmh.”
Stiles swallowed slightly, “Stiles.”
“Mmh?” The man glanced over at him.
“My name. Stiles.”
“Oh, right. Sorry,” The man took the offered hand, “Derek.”
It was accompanied by a slight tilt of his head, like he was tipping his hat. Stiles reined in a little giggle. It felt so… polite and instinctive. Like Derek had been trained to do it from a young age. Derek leaned back into the engine, fidgeting with a few knobs, checking the oil, and then tugged on the tape, “How is this thing still runnin’?”
“Hopes and prayers,” Stiles sighed.
“Looks like your luck ran out.”
The tears were coming back in full force and Stiles turned from Derek, wiping his cheeks. Jesus Christ. This can not be happening. Derek’s voice was soft and low, “You’re not from ‘round here. Who’re you visiting?”
Stiles spoke past the lump in his throat, voice coming out rough and wet, “Scott… Scott McCall. He’s the… He’s—”
“Yeah, I know Doctor McCall,” Derek looked a little relieved, “He’s at our barn with the cattle right now. I’ll give you a ride.”
Stiles ground his teeth and nodded, “I’d… really appreciate that. Thank you.”
Stiles leaned into the seats of Derek’s truck like he was exhausted. If Derek didn’t have the nose that he did, he’d say that Stiles was tired from getting stuck on the side of the road but he smelled… frustrated and sad. This sadness wasn’t baseline. It was deep and cold, like sticking his nose in a vat of liquid nitrogen. Derek had refused to mention the fact that he had noticed Stiles’ tears that came up when he spoke about the broken down jeep. If Stiles was really a friend of Scott’s… “How long have you known Scott?”
Stiles flinched at the sudden breaking of silence. He glanced over at him, hands fidgeting with the long sleeves of his jacket. It was cold enough for their breaths to fog the air. Derek had been worried to see a kid— not a kid but a younger guy— standing out without a thick jacket. It hadn’t been the only thing he noticed.
Of course, he had noticed that Stiles was… really fucking pretty. Pretty with a slightly thin figure, lean where Derek was bulky and broad, his face was clean shaven with soft cheeks and beauty marks under amber eyes. How could a man be so pretty? He was… scared and sad though. His scent of clean sheets and mint marred by a deep grief. Derek didn’t have the courage to make a move especially on a visitor. Stiles swallowed, his heartbeat thudding loudly in his chest, “Our whole lives. We grew up together.”
“How long are you in town?”
“I…” Stiles glared out the windshield like it personally offended him, “I don’t know yet…”
He was telling the truth but he was upset again. Stiles shook his head quickly, “Anyway, doesn’t really matter. Thanks for… driving me to Scott.”
“‘Course,” Derke cleared his throat, watching the road go by.
Stiles took a deep breath, “Did you… grow up in Ashburn?”
“Yeah.”
“Know any good places to visit around town?”
“The Steakhouse.”
“Steakhouse?”
Derek nodded, “Called On the Bone. My sister works there, Cora, she makes a mean ribeye. She ain’t much for ranching but she’s a great cook.”
“Anything else?”
Derek took a shaky breath. He hadn’t really… left the ranch in nearly a month and, even then, he didn’t like wandering too far from familiar places, “I wouldn’t know… I don’t really… wander from the ranch too often.”
Stiles hummed, “Well—”
“If you’re wanting food, Mary’s has the best apple pie in the county.”
“Apple pie? Like cinnamon, sugar, ice cream?”
“Mhm,” Derek nodded again, “The best I’ve ever eaten.”
Stiles let out a soft laugh, leaning his head back, “Man, that sounds so good right now. Maybe I’ll talk Scott into letting me eat myself into a food coma.”
Derek found himself smiling as Stiles muttered about food comas and apple pies. The tires rumbled across the cattle-guard, “Do you like pie?”
Stiles nodded in reply, “Yeah. My mom used to make it a whole lot before she… yeah. Dad was never much of a cook, I've tried to make pie before but I don't pay enough attention and it burns and it's just a situation."
Derek gave a small chuckle before sobering, “You said Scott was a…”
“Friend. Best friend, actually. More like a brother. We went to high school together.”
Highschool. Of course, Scott had gone to highschool but trying to imagine the serious man that checked on his cattle with the utmost care and attention as a reckless teenager was hard . “He’s a good vet, Thorough, takes good care of the animals, real nice to ‘em too. They keep real quiet around him.”
Stiles chuckled, “Yeah. He’s got an uncanny ability to connect with furry friends.”
It felt like a small joke, an inside one that sparked warmth in Stiles’ scent. Derek felt a little cautious though. Does Stiles know? Has Stiles seen the supernatural side of the world? Stiles was human, it was obvious. Did he know that Scott was a werewolf? “Where did you go to highschool?”
“Beacon Hills,” Stiles answered easily, “California. We played lacrosse. Well, he played, I kept the bench nice and cozy. High school was tough for us, but we pulled through and got out of there."
Derek hummed before adding, “Never heard of it.”
“Yeah. It’s a small town but… you know, it wasn’t too bad. Scott met his wife there.”
“Allison lived in California?”
“Yeah. You’ve met her?”
“Once or twice,” Derek said easily.
He liked Allison. She was easy to talk to, a level head in comparison to the golden retriever that was Scott McCall. Stiles turned to look out the window, “Beacon was tough on her but… she got out. I’m happy for her and Scott. … What about you? You said that you grew up around here.”
Derek nodded, “Yeah. My family has been here for ‘while. But my mom, Talia, runs the ranch, keeps the books, I just make sure the herd doesn't wander too far afield."
It went quiet in the truck. Stiles shifted in his seat, obviously uncomfortable. Derek took a deep breath in through his nose, sticking the scent of grief-soaked clean linen and mint to the back on his nose. He was used to newcomers not liking him, he didn’t know why the thought of Stiles not liking him hurt so much.
The barn that Derek mentioned came into view about five minutes after they had stopped talking and Stiles sat up a little straighter, craning his neck to try to see Scott. Derek shifted the truck into park just as a dark-haired man came out of the barn, wiping his hands on a raggedy towel. Stiles’ heart leapt into his throat. Scott had a five o’clock shadow and his dimples were on full display as he shadowed his eyes with his hand. Stiles’ hand grappled with the door handle before flinging himself out of the truck, “SCOTT!”
“Stiles?!” His converse flung gravel and Scott’s smile was blinding, “STILES! Wait! Wait! I was working on a cow—”
Stiles flung his arms around his best friend, slamming into him at full-speed. He didn’t care. He didn’t care about the musky smell of sweat and animal that clung to Scott’s shirt and jacket. He didn’t care that Scott had froze for a moment before hugging him back just as tightly. He was held a few inches above the ground, his toes barely scraping the gravel as Scott swung him in a way that reminded him of the Championship Game, Senior Year. Stiles took a deep breath and… He sobbed, resolve crumbling in the safety of his brother’s arms.
Scott’s hands gripped his jacket, rubbing circles between his shoulders, “Hey. Hey… it’s okay. You’re here now. You’re safe. I’ve got you.”
“ … I missed you…”
“Missed you too, Man.”
Stiles kept his face pressed into Scott’s shoulder until he was sure that his cheeks were mostly dry and then pulled away with an awkward laugh, patting Scott’s chest, “Jeez. Don’t let Allison catch us. She’ll castrate me.”
Scott’s eyes shone with worry but he just shook his head, “You’re on my list. It’s fine.”
“Dude,” Stiles put a hand on his heart, “I’m touched. Seriously? I made the list? You’re so sweet.”
“Yeah. Yeah,” Scott glanced behind him and then nodded, “Derek.”
The deep voice behind him spooked Stiles. He had forgotten that Derek was there. “Doctor McCall. How’s Penelope?”
“She’s fine. She’s overeaten but… she’s a cow. It’s to be expected.”
Derek nodded as Stiles slid over to Scott’s side. Derek’s eyes glanced at him and then he spoke, “Hope it’s alright that I brought Stiles here.”
“Oh, yeah. Totally. I appreciate it actually,” Scott’s hand grabbed Stiles’ shoulder, “Speaking of, where the hell is Roscoe?”
Stiles’ smile grew sheepish, “About… ten minutes down the road.”
Scott’s gaze sharpened and Derek spoke again, “About five miles out from the cattle guard on the west end of the ranch.”
Scott sighed and then looked back at Stiles, “ Stiles— ”
“I just need to call a tow!”
“I’ve told you that you need a new car,” Scott huffed at Stiles good-naturedly, “I’m surprised that she’s still running considering how much of her is being held together by duct tape!”
“Well,” Stiles noticed that Derek’s smile was growing, “I’m not gonna get a new car right now, am I? I’m in the middle of Butt-Fuck-Nowhere, Tennessee!”
“ Stiles , I’ve been begging you to get a new car.”
This was a constant argument between them. Stiles knew that there was a lot of push and pull in this. Roscoe had saved their asses so much during highschool and there wasn’t a thing that the world could give Stiles to make him give up his precious Jeep. Derek let out a sigh, “We could just push it here.”
Stiles' gaze snapped over to the rancher and he smiled, gesturing at the man, “See?! Derek barely met her and he understands that you don’t just throw away greatness that is Roscoe,” He put a hand on Derek’s bicep— whoa, muscles — and grinned up at the slight pink on Derek’s cheeks, “Thank you.”
“It’s… not that big of a deal, Stiles, ‘sides you said that you were gonna be staying ‘while. We’ve got time to fix it.”
Scott interjected quickly, “Whoa, whoa. Fix might be a strong word. You might wanna keep a running tally of how much he owes you for the duct tape that he’s gonna use,” Silence fell for a moment before Scott sighed at the offense passing over Stiles’ face, “Or… you could buy replacement parts.”
Stiles gasped, “ Oh. You’re right . Replacement parts. Of course! Why didn’t I think of that?”
“Alright, you don’t have to be—”
“I’ll just spend the extra 10 grand that I have laying around!”
Scott threw up his hands, “Jesus Christ! I am not having this conversation with you again! You and I will take a look under the hood and see if it’s worth it, okay?”
Stiles glared at his friend. Roscoe was always worth saving. That was his jeep, his mom’s jeep. He couldn’t just leave it— Scott put a soft hand on his shoulder, rubbing a thumb in small circles, “Listen, Stiles. I know that you love that Jeep. Alright? We’ll look at it. We’ll try our best.”
Stiles crossed his arms over his chest, “Alright but I don’t wanna hear any complaining. Roscoe has saved our ass too much for you to diss her.”
Scott rolled his eyes, glancing over at Derek with a look that screamed, “see what I have to deal with? Do you see this shit?” Stiles squinted at his oldest friend, ready to defend Roscoe but then Derek spoke, “Scott, you should know that Mama will kill you if you don’t join us for dinner.”
Scott laughed easily, “Yeah, I know. I’ve already texted Allison. Our sitter is already at the house. Trust me. Last thing I want to do is piss off Mama Hale.”
Hale? Stiles thought for a moment. Why does that sound so familiar? Hale? Hale, Hale. Think, Stiles. Derek tacked on, “Stiles, you’re coming too.”
“No doubt,” Stiles said with a smile, “A home cooked meal sounds like heaven right now.”
Derek took the lead back towards the house. Scott and Stiles fell in behind him. He could hear their conversation but they were only five feet behind him. It wasn’t hard. “How’s your dad?”
" Finally retired!" Stiles brightens. "Got a pension from the county and the city and everything. I visited him before coming out here. They still ask him to help out now and again when things get... weird. But overall, he's taking it easy."
Scott’s voice was happy in his response, joy sweetening his scent, “Good! He deserves it. How’s the house? Oh! And Lydia?”
“House is Good. Lydia is beautiful and powerful. As expected,” Stiles smelled happier too, “She’s running a tech company somewhere in LA.”
Scott cackled, “As expected. Jackson still…”
“She’s walking him like a dog ,” Stiles’ voice picked at something in Derek’s ears, like an inside joke and Scott laughed.
"She always had him on a short leash." Scott added, Stiles' scent went wild, happy and light, and the two laughed harder.
Their conversation fell into something light and easy, trading stories of their lives. Stiles seemed to skirt around “work.” He stayed away from it and when Scott tried to ask about it, Stiles’ scent soured. That bone-deep grief seeping into the air, cold and burning at the same time. Scott seemed to notice it, brushing over it easily. Derek held the backdoor open as both men moved past him, “Go ahead and sit in the dining room. Laura is in the kitchen.”
Stiles mouthed Laura’s name and then looked at Scott with a question loud in his eyes. Scott just nudged him and gestured with his chin towards the dining room. Derek moved into the kitchen, finding Laura cutting up the potatoes. She glanced over her shoulder and smiled slightly, “Hey Teddy. Do we have an extra for dinner?”
Derek hummed with a nod, leaning against the counter, “Yeah. An old friend of Scott’s, just drove into town. Name is Stiles.”
Laura hummed her acknowledgement and then sniffed the air. Derek knew what she caught in the air, a soft scent of laundry detergent and mint. Her smile grew mischievous, “Cute?”
Derek swallowed thickly, looking away from his sister, “ … Sorta. … His car is mostly duct tape…”
“You offered to fix it up for him.”
It should’ve been a question and Derek wanted to call his sister out on it but… she also knew him too well to even try to dodge her interrogation. “No,” Derek chewed on his inner cheek, “I did tell him he could park the jeep here. And maybe offered to help push it. But he's fixin’ it."
Laura looked at him with a raised eyebrow. Like she knew that he was lying to himself. Derek liked working on things with his hands. A broken down old jeep was the perfect passion project for the nights that Derek couldn’t sleep. Laura’s voice, however, was soft and teasing, a polar opposite of her slightly judging expression, “Alright, Softy.”
Derek scrunched his nose at her, “Yeah, yeah. You can tell him about all the good spots in town over dinner."
Laura nudged him gently, offering a knife, “Will do, Brother Mine. Chop the lettuce.”
Derek’s nose wrinkled for an entirely different reason but he accepted the knife from his sister. He walked into the kitchen willingly. He should’ve known that Laura would put him to work. The silence around the house— outside of the quiet conversation between Scott and Stiles— sank in around him. “Laur… where’s Ma?”
Laura glanced at him, eyes flashing gold for a moment as she looked at the door for a second before speaking in a hushed tone, “Pack stuff. Someone might’ve crossed the border last night…”
Worry sparked in his chest. Talia was an alpha, yes, but dealing with an Omega alone was always a bad idea. “Is it peaceful so far?”
Laura nodded and then raised her voice, interrupting the conversation in the next room, “Scott! How was Carol?”
“She,” Scott chuckled at something in the dining room, “is my favorite cow to work on.”
Stiles laughed and then teased, “You have a favorite cow? ”
“Of course , I do,” Scott answered easily and then tacked on, “She’ll be okay in a few days. Just watch that back hoof and make sure she doesn’t strain it more.”
Stiles and Scott’s conversation blended back into the background as Derek slid the knife through the lettuce. He kept thinking about the short conversation in the car. He didn’t… like going out and spending a lot of time in town. It was always overstimulating and loud. He’d go with Laura to help with groceries but other than that, he kept his head down and out of the town as much as possible.
Cora had tried to get him to come out a lot of times, always offering a willing invite to parties or bar nights or… just for a drink with her. He couldn’t… bring himself to step out into the public.
“ — erek? Earth to Derek.”
Derek blinked, turning to look at his sister, “Huh? What?”
Laura raised an eyebrow, “I think that lettuce is chopped enough. Don’t you think, Teddy?”
She gestured at the cutting board under his hands with her own knife. Derek followed her indication and winced at the sight of the smallest cut of lettuce that he’d ever seen, “ … Sorry… Sorry. I don’t think my mind is here…”
“You alright, Kid?”
“Yeah, I just,” Derek paused, gathering his thoughts, “Is Cora comin’ to dinner?”
“Mom’ll have her stuffed if she doesn’t. Why?”
“Nothin’ … I told Stiles that she works at the steakhouse. Figured he could ask her about it… maybe some other places too.”
“Uh-huh. I’m sure she’d be thrilled to,” Laura muttered, casting a look at him.
She didn’t press any further and Derek shrugged it off, sliding the lettuce off the cutting board and into a serving bowl. He could feel her gaze digging into the side of his face as he started washing the tomatoes for the salad. She was always the perceptive one. She knew everything from just a glance. It didn’t help that she had helped raise him when Talia and Robert got busy with pack business.
“Did ya tell him about the fair at the beginning of next month?”
Derek looked over at her, blinking, “ … That soon?”
Laura groans, eyes rolling, “Yes! I told you that this morning!”
“Huh.”
Laura’s eyes narrowed, “You made such a fuss about not wanting to go…”
“I never said that I didn’t want to go,” Derek turned his head slightly, staring at the doorway of the dining room.
He could hear Scott speaking to Stiles in a hushed, gentle voice. Laura hummed slightly and then spoke in a knowing tone, “I know that look though,” Derek tried not to react outwardly but he knew that his scent had spiked, uncomfortable, “You know Mom just wants you to be happy, right? Cora too. It’s why she’s always trying to set you up with her waitstaff.”
“I know that. I know. I just…” Derek took a breath, loosening his grip on the knife, “He’s not gonna be here long… It doesn’t seem worth it.”
“It might be…” Laura offered with a soft smile, “Might be worth a roll in the hay.”
Derek blanched, “Laura, gross. ”
“Oh, don’t be a big wuss,” Laura teased, “You know what I mean.”
“ Still , it’s gross. I don’t wanna talk about it with you.”
“Fine,” Derek was surprised that she had let it go for just a second before Laura continued forward, “Go do something about it and we won’t have to talk about it.”
“You’re not gonna let this go, are you?”
“Nope.”
“Fine,” Derek huffed, “ Maybe , I’ll ask him to dinner tomorrow.”
Laura grinned victoriously, “Great. Cora will be thrilled.”
Derek whined, “We’re not goin’ there. She’ll… hover.”
“Where you goin’ then, Big Guy?”
“Like I’m gonna tell you .”
Laura smirked, like she knew. She always knew. She placed a hand on his shoulder, “Hey. Just don’t chicken out.”
“I said maybe,” Derek gently shrugged off Laura’s hand, “He looks like he’s going through some shit.”
“Everybody is going through some shit, Teddy. It’s good to find someone to go through it with.”
Derek shot her a look that he hoped would shut her up, “I’ll think about it.”
Laura held up her hands in a mock surrender and turned back to the cutting board. The back door slammed open and Cora skipped happily into the kitchen. Her black shirt was only slightly stained with sauces and food, “Hey Laura, Der-Bear. Where’s Mama? And who’s the new guy?”
“Hey, Mama’s out, and the new guy is Scott’s friend, Stiles,” Laura answered swiftly, “You’re just in time to help me with the food while Derek entertains our guest.”
It’s said with a pointed look towards her little brother. Derek stiffened as Cora groaned, “ Laura! I just got done cookin’ all day. Can’t Derek finish up?”
“Yeah,” Derek leaped at the opportunity, “Give Cora a break!”
Laura brandished the knife, “No. I gotta talk to Cora. I’ve already talked to you. Out. Out. Get Scott a beer or somethin’.”
Derek groaned under his breath before walking to the dining room. The scents were muddled and cold, like they had been talking about something awful. The grief was back at full-force. There was a massive table, big enough to fit at least ten people, but Scott and Stiles were pressed together at one corner. Stiles had his eyes closed tightly as he pressed his forehead against Scott’s. Their hair mixed together, dark auburn shining with dark brown. To Derek, it looked like Scott was offering support as an alpha, mixing their scents and trying to ease Stiles’ grief.
It’s private. This was supposed to be a private moment between packmates. I should go. I should just turn around. Scott glanced up, eyes shining red before he blinked it away, “Hey, Der,” He pulled away from Stiles and then looked over at his friend, “We’re talking about this later.”
Stiles nodded, scent sticky, salty — he’s been crying— and crossed a hand over his heart, “Promise.”
Derek still wanted to leave. He had obviously interrupted a private moment but walking away now would lead to a different conversation. He cleared his throat instead, “Anybody want a drink?”
“ Desperately ,” Stiles let out a breath, “Whatcha got?”
Derek looked embarrassed to walk into the room to find Scott and him pressed together. Stiles didn’t have the energy to try to pull up the shame. He had started crying after Scott had asked what prompted this trip and… that had been that. Scott hated having him in unprotected areas while he was vulnerable. Something about his wolf instincts, Stiles didn’t really understand. “Uh, we’ve got some beers, whiskey, margaritas if you’re into that but we’d have to make ‘em,” Derek offered.
Stiles sniffed, wiping his nose, “Whiskey sounds great. Thank you.”
“Scott?”
Scott shook his head, “Nah. I’m okay. Thanks,” He smiled and it's lopsided and Stiles loved him for the familiarity that he brought, “Sounds like Cora’s home.”
Derek let out a small, self-deprecating laugh, “Yeah, the salad might be a bit of a struggle… I may have gone overboard with cutting the lettuce. Guess Laura figured Cora would be a bit more helpful.”
Stiles thought for just a second, “Well, she’s the chef. Yeah? Of that steakhouse?”
Derek nodded, “Yeah, she is. Her restaurant is gonna have a booth at the County Fair next month.”
“Oh!” Scott perked up at the mention of a county fair, “I’ll have to let Allison know. She loves those little dishes they make for the fair. She should be around soon. Sounds like she met up with your mom.”
There was a hand rubbing at his back and Stiles looked over his shoulder at his friend, nails scratched at the ache in the small of his back. Derek offered a whiskey glass, ice clinking against the sides. He thanked him quietly, taking a sip and letting the burn settle in the back of his throat. He stared at the amber liquid clasped between his hands. He felt like he was drowning again. It was cold and Stiles wanted to bury himself in a bed or a couch. He just wanted to hide.
“So,” Derek, Stiles pulled his gaze up from his drink, “What kinda name is Stiles?”
Ah, this again. Stiles smiled slightly, “It’s a nickname. My first name is very Polish. It’s easier to just go by a shortened version of my last name. Even my part—” Stiles cleared his throat, “Everyone calls me Stiles.”
“Last name?”
“Stilinski,” It rolled off his tongue so easily and Stiles chuckled, “My mom was the first person to call me Stiles. It stuck.”
Derek nodded like it made sense. The silence felt deadly and the question that was asked next froze Stiles in his seat, “What do you do for work?”
“I’m an FBI agent,” The answer used to come so easily but it felt like he was choking on it, “I’m on leave right now. What about you? Can’t all be home on the range.”
The last few sentences rushed out of him like the start of a panic attack and Scott’s hand was the only thing keeping him from spiraling.
Derek shrugged with a small laugh, “No. That’s about it for me. I don’t get out much… but I do odd jobs around town, carpentry, construction, a little bit of everything.”
Stiles hummed, taking stock of Derek. His hands were calloused from hard work and he was built for manual labor. He smiled slightly, “A handyman? I bet the people in town love you.”
Derek cringed, eyebrows creasing, “Ah… not really.”
Scott interrupted, sounding offended on behalf of Derek, “Don’t even. Derek helps out in town a lot. Last weekend, he helped Miss Charlotte and the police find her missing kids when they got stuck in one of the wells out in the sticks. And then he helped Mr. Vennly put up his fence. Don’t believe anything Derek tells you about himself, Stiles. The man is the king of downplaying when he’s talking about himself.”
Stiles laughed softly, shaking his head, “Wow, Derek. Sounds like you’re quite the man around town.”
Derek scowled at Scott, “Scott doesn’t know what he’s talking about.”
Scott scowled right back, “Don’t lie. Or I’ll misdiagnose Sunny.”
“You love my horse as much as I do. You’d never .”
Scott’s scowl broke, dimples shining through again, “You’re right. He’s a great horse. But still,” There was a warning in his voice and he glanced at Stiles, “You shouldn’t lie to Stiles. He’ll always figure out the truth. He’s crazy like that, Derek Hale.”
It clicked then and Stiles sat up straight, eyes widening, “Oh! Wait! You’re all wolves! You’re that Derek!”
Derek looked shocked, “What? What ‘that Derek’?”
Stiles pointed at him and nodded, “You totally are! Scott’s told me all about you guys! Nice ranch, yellow horse named Sunny. The Hale Pack with the hermit son, Derek.”
Derek looked offended, turning his scowl to Scott again, “I’m not a hermit! I go places.”
Scott shook his head at the statement, “Yeah, sure. When Cora or Laura drag you out of the house. When I first met you, I was worried you hated me for a month because you never talked to me.”
“I… don’t hate you,” Derek mumbled, looking at the ground.
“Well, I know that now .”
A girl’s voice sounded from the kitchen and Stiles had to assume it was either Laura or Cora, “He’s just shy!”
Derek’s ears were pink and his voice got softer, “I’m just… particular about who I spend time with…” He glanced at Stiles, eyes guarded and scared, “ … you… uh… already know about the…”
He made a vague gesture with his hand but Stiles could piece it together. He nodded, “Glowy eyes? Extending fangs? Built in nail extensions? Yeah. I was with Scott when he got bit Freshman year,” Stiles grimaced, “Might have been my fault actually.”
Derek’s Adam apple bobbed and he looked down at his hands, “Oh.”
Ah… Poor guy. He looked so small for a second and then Stiles cleared his throat to draw those light green eyes back up to him. When Derek looked at him, he smiled softly, “It really doesn’t freak me out. Hard to think of you guys as the Hollywood Monster when my best friend turns into Fido.”
Scott’s cheeks glowed crimson, “Stiles, that was one time.”
“You,” Stiles turned to his friend, “ chased a stick I threw.”
“It was on the full moon! ”
Stiles cackled, “You still chased it! Like a puppy.”
Scott whined into his hands, hiding his face. Stiles couldn’t help it and reached over to ruffle the hair that he could get to. Derek laughed loudly, covering his mouth with a hand. The heaviness around Stiles’ shoulders evaporated. It was easy. It was safe.
Laura and Cora, who Derek introduced as they came into the dining room, filled the table with food, plates, and bowls. Just as the last plate hit the wooden top, the front door opened and Cora’s head snapped up. Knowing that they were weres, Stiles knew that she was listening for recognizable footsteps. Then she called, “Momma! You’re just in time. We finished setting the table.”
Stiles had just enough sense to stand before he had an armful of brunette curls and a happy yell, “STILES!”
Stiles hugged Allison back just as tightly, burying his face in her hair, “Hey, Ally. God, it’s so good to see you,” Allison drew back just enough to look at him, eyes bright, “How are you? Been keeping busy?”
Allison rolled her eyes, “Ugh, so busy. But it’s the off-season right now so I only have a few private clients from the city. They pay well.”
She shrugged just as another woman came into the room, tall with graying dark hair falling over her shoulders. Her eyes, as light as Derek’s, found Stiles immediately and he offered a hand to her, “You must be Talia.”
Talia smiled in response and took his hand in hers. Her smile is warm and motherly, “And you must be Stiles. It’s a pleasure to meet you,” Stiles nodded in response but Talia hadn’t let go of his hand just yet, “From what Allison and Scott have told me, it sounds like you’re already acquainted with the supernatural. So no catching up is needed. Is that correct?”
Stiles nodded again, “Yep! Scotty, Allison, and I dealt with a lot of the spooky side in Beacon. It was always something new.”
Scott scoffed, “Amen to that.”
“We always managed through it, Scotty.”
“We almost died a couple times,” Scott grumbled.
Allison’s answering sigh was a warning of a replicated argument, “ But we didn’t.”
Stiles points at her, “We did not die!”
Scott looked at Stiles, eyes narrowed but unguarded. It’s a look that screamed, “it was worse. It was bad and you know it.” Stiles swallowed nervously and then shrugged, “We didn’t.”
Talia gave a small laugh and then shook her head once. It’s a motherly move like she knew what kind of friendship Scott and Stiles had forged. “Enough about that. Let’s eat and Stiles, you can tell us about life in the big city.”
Stiles’ heart plummeted but he nodded, “Sure.”
Dinner passed easily. Well, easily for Derek because his mother was grilling Stiles about life in DC. Then Stiles stiffened like someone had rammed a steel rod down his throat, “You work for the FBI, yes?”
Stiles nodded, “I— um… Yeah. FBI. I’m… I’m on leave. Just leave. I had a lot of vacation days and I d-d—”
Scott cut him off, “He needed to see his dad. Sheriff Stilinski just retired, right, Stiles?”
Stiles nodded again, scent sour and panicked, “Y-yeah… My dad was sheriff of Beacon Hills for most of my life.”
“Oh, how nice.”
Derek caught the look of concern that Allison shot Scott, eyebrows pinched. Scott just shook his head. There was something that Stiles couldn’t talk about, something he didn’t want to talk about, and Scott was covering for him. Stiles talked about getting into the FBI, the internship, the training. He talked about Beacon Hills, lacrosse, and high school with Scott and Allison. The stories were wild and fun. Talia didn’t ask about battles or the scars that laced Stiles’ hands and arms.
She knew better than that. Battles that Stiles fought were the same battles that Scott fought as a young wolf, a young alpha with no guiding hand. Cora, next to Derek, seemed to be struggling with not asking something. Stiles and Scott had just finished a tag-teamed story about how they had wandered into the forest and got caught up in a fairy ring when Cora’s question burst from her lips, “Why did y’all leave Beacon Hills?”
“Oh, well,” Stiles started but he looked lost.
Allison took over, “Too many memories. Especially after high school and,” There’s a quiet, strangled pause, “The Nemeton…”
Scott’s hand landed on hers and Stiles’ scent dropped and turned particularly sour, like an old wound being picked at. He looked down at his hands, fidgeting with the tablecloth. Talia nodded slowly, like it made sense, “We’ve felt the pull too. We managed to stay away though my brother, Peter,” Scott’s nose wrinkled at the mention of Derek’s uncle, “followed it… He must have his scars as well.”
Stiles huffed out an unamused laugh, “Yeah. … Scars .”
Laura cut off whatever else was about to be said with a harsh look at Cora, “I’m sure it was tough. We’re glad you’ve all made it here.”
“I am too,” Scott said easily with a smile.
The conversation took a different turn from there. Scott and Allison covered up how quiet Stiles had gotten and… that was it. Dinner passed. The group of friends stayed and helped clean but Scott steered Stiles out before Allison had even finished her glass of wine with Cora with a gentle kiss to her forehead, “I’m gonna get Stiles to the house. He needs some sleep.”
Allison nodded, “Yes, of course. Don’t worry about me. Drive safe, okay?”
“I will.”
Allison watched her husband and one of her oldest friends leave and Cora asked what had been bothering Derek all day, “What’s up with Stiles?”
Allison looked at her and then shrugged, “I’ll be honest. I don’t know. Scott probably knows and then I’ll hear about it later. … I just hope he’s okay. Stiles has… been through a lot.”
━━━━━━ ☾ ━━━━━━
Scott’s house was a small two-story but it was cozy and warm when Stiles stepped into it. Scott dropped his bags and suitcases next to the door of the guest bedroom, “This is your bedroom! I’ve gotta let the sitter go. Camilla is probably already asleep. I’ll be right back.”
Stiles nodded and dropped onto the bed. The mattress was soft and covered in a thick blanket. He looked up as Scott stopped next to the door, “ … Do you want to talk tonight?”
Stiles stared at him. He was holding a baby girl with a headful of dark, curly hair. She was wearing a pink onesie. He… looked like a dad and Stiles wanted to sob. He shook his head, “Get your girl to bed, Scotty. I’m just gonna turn in.”
Scott’s smile was soft and understanding in a way that Stiles could never imagine being directed at him, “Okay. Get some sleep, Stiles. I’m just down the hall if you need anything.”
Stiles nodded, “Yeah. Will do.”
The door shut with a quiet click and Stiles flopped onto his back, staring up at the ceiling. “Okay,” He whispered to himself, “okay… you’ve got this. It’ll be okay, Stiles. You’re safe. … You’re safe. ”