Chapter Text
Stiles is having a pretty crappy night.
Chester had come home full of angry woe at being paired up with a kid who'd made his life a misery at school for a project. He'd stormed into his bedroom and slammed the door when Stiles had suggested it was possibly a case of pigtail pulling on the other kid's part. His jeep had refused to start when he'd tried to set off for Derek's and even though it had been a nice night for a stroll when he set out for the diner from his house, it was pouring by the time he reached it.
He might've gotten a little soggier than necessary as he hovered outside the diner chanting to himself don't fuck this up a few times.
"Sorry, I'm late I-" Stiles starts to babble as he falls through the diner door, only to falter when he notices that Derek isn't alone. There's a pretty, dark haired woman sitting on the counter who smiles at him when he manages to right himself and scrub water out of his eyes with his shirt sleeves.
Derek's body language is screamingly defensive, but he's still curled towards the woman like he can't help it, expression closed off.
"Am I, um, interrupting?" Stiles asks, because even though he was invited and expected, he still feels like an intruder.
He wants Derek to say, of course not, this strange woman was just leaving but something inside him knows that this isn't going to happen. He looks at the drop cloths and paint cans scattered about forlornly, tries not to let it show on his face how disappointed he is when Derek says, "Sorry Stiles, can we... rain check?"
"Heh, rain check, literally," Stiles says, swinging an arm behind himself and then at his sodden state. He's been completely drenched in front of Derek before but the last time was a lot more pleasant than this. Derek had been all hot eyes and pink ears when he'd been at the Inn, Stiles boldly stripping off his shirt just to see what kind of reaction he got.
It was a good one. This though, with Derek not even looking at him, pretty much sucks.
"Yeah, sure," Stiles says, already apparently dismissed. The woman is looking at him like she's just waiting for him to leave and Derek is a bowed line of misery, unmindful of the outside world. Stiles pushes back out into the street and the deluge, resigned to a very wet walk home again.
A truck pulls up beside him when he's at the end of the block and Stiles recognizes Erica before she sticks her head out. "Oh my god, Stilinski, you're half-drowned. Get in here before mother nature can finish the job."
"Thanks," Stiles says, grateful, and jumps up into the passenger seat of Erica's truck. "Did you um... did you happen to pass the diner?"
"Yeah, I..." Erica is looking at him with big, sad eyes. She hasn't pulled back out onto the street yet and Stiles hunches down further, feeling pathetic. "That's... I mean wow, terrible timing or what?"
"Do you know who that was?" Stiles asks, because Erica seems to be confirming Stiles' worst fears, that the woman isn't just some random stranger that's going to disappear as quickly as she'd come.
"You don't?" Erica says, then smacks herself on the forehead. "No, of course you don't," she groans. "That all happened before you got here."
"What all happened?" Stiles demands, suddenly very tired and feeling chilled to the bone.
"That was Kate Argent," Erica says.
"Kate Argent? Left-nineteen-year-old-Derek-Hale-at-the-alter Kate Argent? That Kate Argent?"
"There's only one, hon," Erica says, grimacing.
"Has she been back here since...?" Stiles makes a helpless gesture with his hands. He doesn't ever remember seeing her but she must have been back because she has local family.
"She visits the Argent farm about once a year. Usually Derek gets prior warning and makes himself scarce."
"Wait. Is that the reason he takes those annual fishing trips and always looks really pissed off about it? I thought for someone that hated fishing that much he sure went a lot."
"Yeah. She must have snuck in this time."
Stiles wrings his hands for a moment, feeling young and stupid. "Can you take me home?" he asks in a small voice and Erica takes a moment to squeeze his shoulder before she does.
*
"The jeep died and I won't be able to get Beth to look at it till next week," Stiles says. "Scott's going to swing by and pick me up."
"Isn't he supposed to be on a honeymoon or something?" Chester asks, squinching his face up.
"They're waiting till the end of the year when they can both take a proper break," Stiles says.
"Hey, Isaac could look at the jeep. He's pretty handy with car stuff."
"I'm sure he is kiddo, but I think I'll wait for Beth to free herself up." He hates lying to Chester about anything, but the truth is, Stiles can't afford to get the jeep fixed until his next paycheck. All his money went on new school supplies and into the pay-the-grandparents-back-so-they-can-get-their-hooks-out fund.
"But-"
"It's fine, really," Stiles says. "Scott's improved. I only saw my life flash before my eyes the once last week."
"Fine," Chester grumbles. "Hey, can we get a dog?"
"You want a dog?"
"Just thought I'd slip it in there when you were distracted," Chester says, grinning.
"I've already got one shaggy monster eating me out of house and home. I don't need another one."
"Ha, ha," Chester grunts, touching at his hair self consciously. He's been trying to grow it out, something about being more mysterious and Stiles takes every opportunity possible to tease him about it.
"So, tell me about this project and the horrible human you've been saddled with."
*
The diner is dark when Scott pulls up though, townsfolk milling around outside, disgruntled. "There's no notice," Harris Trilby says, waving a confused hand at the door that just has the regular Closed sign turned outward. "Usually there's a Gone fishin' when he disappears."
"Good townsfolk," Stiles calls. "The Inn's breakfast service will start in half an hour if you want to swing on by."
The people milling about give Stiles odd looks. They're creatures of habit, locals going to Derek's for breakfast and the Inn only for special occasions, leaving it for the most part to the guests. Scott doesn't do the breakfast service, but Andy Mayfair does and he might not be Scott or Derek, but he's no slouch.
"Er... I guess that's okay?" Harris says, looking at the others for confirmation and they all nod slowly.
"Great, see you there," Stiles says, clapping his hands and jogging back to Scott's car. Scott is hanging out the window, puzzled frown on his face.
"Where's Derek?" Scott asks.
"Dunno," Stiles says, shrugging and hoping he sounds more flippant than he feels. Scott's good at reading him though, his eyes narrow suspiciously. "To work, Jeeves," Stiles orders when he slides into the passenger seat.
"I suppose I'm going to have to help Andy considering you just invited half the town up," Scott grumbles.
"Think of it as a challenge," Stiles says. "There's far too much resting of the laurels if you ask me."
*
"Just how many damn festivals does this town have?" Isaac asks from the kitchen table he and Chester are hunkered over, studying.
"This one's a fundraiser," Scott says.
"For what?"
"Oh, um...?" He looks at Stiles who shrugs. The beneficiaries of the festival change every year, depending on Jackson's whims.
"Puppies and orphans," Stiles offers and Isaac pulls a face at him, before his attention is drawn back to his books by Chester smacking him on the knuckles with a ruler.
"C'mon, you've been Sour McGlower all week," Scott opines.
"No Allison tonight?" Stiles asks. He's very tempted, having missed quality bro-time with Scott because of the whole marriage thing.
"She and Lydia are having a girl's night," Scott says, giving a little shiver because the prospect of that frightens him, as it should.
"Well, I can't really leave-"
"Oh my god, Dad, we're fine. Isaac is going in an hour and I'm sure you'll hear from Derek if he doesn't."
"I don't think-"
"Dad, we're not doing anything, and we're not going to do anything," Chester says. Isaac kind of twitches at that, looks like he's straining himself to keep his eyes down. Stiles is actually starting to feel sorry for the kid, that he's been worrying about the wrong boy getting his heart broken.
"Alright, fine. Just, don't burn the house down," Stiles says.
"You're such an amazing parent. I swear, I'm taking notes here for my own kids," Scott says as Stiles grabs his jacket from the hall closet. Stiles huffs and gets Scott in a headlock on their way out, Chester yelling at them to grow up as they go.
*
"Um, hey! I thought you were going to take Stiles somewhere tonight?" Allison says, bounding over to them as soon as they hit the main part of the lit town center thronged with people and booths. Lydia is sauntering over a little more slowly, cotton candy in hand that she delicately plucks pieces from and pops into her mouth.
"This is somewhere," Scott says, looking confused.
"We'd be the worst spy team ever," Allison groans and Stiles is about as confused as Scott, until he looks over Allison's head and catches sight of the elusive Derek, navigating through lines of tables with Kate attached to his arm.
"I'd agree with that assessment," Stiles says and Allison grimaces as Scott finally catches on, smacking a hand to his forehead. "So, they're just back together now? All's forgiven?" Stiles says, hates that he sounds so bitter.
"No, of course not," Allison says, gripping his arm. "Kate's only here for a few days. They just... they worked some stuff out."
"Really," Stiles says flatly. He's heard about Kate Argent from everyone in Beacon Hills except Derek.
Derek spots him then, and Stiles braces himself for the mother of all awkward conversations, but then Derek leans down and says something to Kate, she smirks in Stiles' direction and they turn and walk the other way.
"Wow Stiles, burn," Lydia remarks.
"Lydia!" Scott snaps.
"I'm going to head home," Stiles says.
"Wait, I'll drive you."
"Nah, dude, that's okay," Stiles says when Scott starts digging for his keys. "I kinda feel like walking."
Scott looks stricken, but Stiles just gives him a quick hug and walks away as fast as he can, trying not to look back and ignoring the people who call out to him on his way.
When Stiles gets back to his house, the jeep is gone from the drive and that is it. Stiles is completely done with this night and Chester is going to be grounded for six consecutive lifetimes without chance of parole. His phone vibrates in his pocket and Stiles gets it out and see Chester's number. When he answers, he starts yelling immediately. "Chester, I swear to-"
"Don't freak out."
Chester's voice is pallid and meek and he's never sounded that way. Stiles immediately freaks the fuck out.
"What the hell happened? Where are you? What's-?"
"Dad! Just, promise you won't go nuts."
"I'm not promising a damn thing! You have three seconds to tell me where the hell you are kid or I'll-"
"I'm at the hospital."
Stiles' blood turns to ice water in his veins and for a second his whole world narrows to a tiny, black spot. He fights off the edge of panic because his kid needs him, but it sideswipes him pretty good and promises to return the moment his guard is down.
"-just a sprained wrist," Chester is saying, when the rushing in Stiles' ears ebbs enough for him to be able to hear him. "They're going to X-ray it just to be sure but Doctor Boyd said it looked like it would be fine."
"You... I... I'll be right there," Stiles says.
"It wasn't Isaac's fault!" Chester blurts in a way that tells Stiles that it was but he doesn't want to address that now. He just wants to get to Chester, maybe wrap him up in cotton wool and stick him in a giant human-sized hamster ball for good measure for the rest of his goddamn life.
"I'll be there soon," Stiles says and hangs up with an effort, even though he'd rather stay on the phone until he can see Chester with his own eyes. Stiles changes trajectory from his own house and heads to his closest neighbors. Lenore and her husband Boris have been their neighbors since they moved in and adore Chester.
Stiles runs up their steps, bangs on the door. He's raising a hand to knock again when Boris yanks the it open, wearing sleep pants and with wild hair. He squints for a second before he's gripping Stiles' shoulder. "Hell son, what's happened?" he demands, which tells Stiles that he looks as awful as he feels.
"My... it's... Chester's in hospital and I have no-"
"Christ, don't worry. We'll take my truck," Boris says, and he's leaning back inside the house to yell for Lenore before Stiles can say anything else.
*
"He was in a car accident, how can he be fine? What if he's bleeding internally?" Stiles knows he's acting crazy, will later probably be embarrassed about it, but he can't care right now.
"Oh my god, Dad," Chester groans from the bed he's sitting on with his legs dangling off the side. His left hand is wrapped in a bandage and he has a small cut on his forehead that's been taped over. "We hardly even hit the tree. The jeep's barely dented."
"You're dented," Stiles says, frowning hard. "I'm going to wring Isaac's neck. Where is he even?"
"I told him I was fine, that he should go home," Chester says. "He stayed until he knew you were coming. He figured you probably wouldn't want to see him."
"He's a giant chicken."
"Dad!" Chester says, dropping his face into his hands, forgetting the cut on his forehead and making a hurt noise when he connects.
"Kiddo, just... you don't understand how dumb this was."
"I do actually," Chester grumbles.
"Yeah, you really don't get to give me attitude right now."
"Sorry," Chester says, sounding contrite.
"Stiles, you wanna go out and sign his paperwork so I can get you guys home?" Boyd offers and Stiles glares at him for a moment, before he agrees.
"I swear, if there's some kind of skeletal bruising-"
"Stiles, buddy, trust me. He's fine."
"Alright," Stiles grunts and pushes through the doors that lead back out into the main area of the ward. It's here he sees that Boris and Lenore have been replaced by Derek. "What the hell are you doing here?"
"Isaac told me what happened. I came straight over," Derek says, like it's that simple.
"We're fine. You didn't have to come."
"I wanted to. I told Lenore and Boris they could go home, that I'd drive you guys back." Derek's clenching and unclenching his fists, jaw tense.
"You shouldn't have done that. I don't want anything from you right now," Stiles says. He wants to be angry at someone and Derek has stepped up to the plate.
"What's that supposed to mean?"
"It means that your unlicensed kid, that you're responsible for, drove a car with my kid and crashed it."
"I'll pay for the repairs."
"I don't care about the jeep!" Stiles yells. Three of the nurses sitting at their station turn to look at him concerned, but he ignores them.
"Why are you yelling at me?"
"You're a placeholder until I can yell at Isaac."
"Look, he told me what happened. If you'd listen for a second-"
"I do not want to hear you make excuses for him," Stiles seethes. "Not when he broke my kid."
"Maybe I should wait until you calm the hell down," Derek grates, always unable to resist getting angry when Stiles does. Stiles knows they fight a lot, more than normal friends do, but he doesn't exactly have the brain capacity to analyze what that means right now.
"Dad!" Chester hisses from the doorway, looking horrified.
"Chester, hey, are you-?"
"Just go, Derek," Stiles says, overriding Derek.
"How are you going to get home?"
"I'll call Scott."
"He never answers his cell."
"I'll call Allison then. Just... leave us alone."
Derek flinches like he's been slapped, then prudently retreats. Stiles watches him go, manages to hold onto his anger until Derek turns a corner and disappears and then he completely deflates.
"Dad?"
"You ready to go?" Stiles asks, turning on Chester and offering a wan smile.
"Yeah, just... are you and Derek okay?"
"Fine," Stiles says, shrugging. Chester doesn't look like he believes it and that's pretty much okay, because Stiles doesn't believe it either.
*
"We were trying to do something nice," Chester says from behind him.
"Not now, okay?"
"Seriously, Dad. Isaac got it running. We were literally just taking it down the road and back to make sure it drove okay and wouldn't die in thirty seconds and a deer ran out in front of us."
Stiles turns around slowly, looks at Chester who's hunched into himself. He can appear small and defenseless when he wants to which is a neat trick for such a tall kid. The whole bandaged wrist and scraped forehead doesn't hurt the aura of pathetic that's hard to resist forgiving.
"I told you I was going to get Beth to look at it when she was free."
"She was free. I asked her yesterday. She said she hadn't seen you."
"Chester-"
"Look, I know why you... I know why you put things off, stuff that you need."
"You don't have to worry about that," Stiles says, feeling his heart ache uncomfortably.
"Am I banned from seeing Isaac?" Chester asks, and he looks so disheartened by the prospect that Stiles feels himself relenting even though he knows he should stand firm.
"No," he sighs, defeated.
"We wanted it to be a surprise," Chester offers again as Stiles approaches, gets an arm around his kid's shoulders and squeezes him.
"I know."
*
"What's up?" he asks, pasting on a smile and trying to rally. Chester is slowly tearing his toasted sandwich apart without eating any and usually Chester is a relentless nomming machine.
Chester mumbles something that sounds worryingly like-
"Did you just say that Isaac kissed you?" Stiles demands. When Chester just nods, looking at his hands, Stiles frowns at him. "Okay, I know why I'm not exactly thrilled with that news, but you should be, right? It's your first bad-boy kiss. You should be nauseatingly cheerful."
"I pushed him into the lake," Chester says.
"You what? Doosey's Lake? Why?"
"Because Derek is being an asshole!" Chester explodes. Stiles is glad not many people brave Finstock's so there's few witnesses to Chester's outburst. He doesn't need any more gossip or judgement in his life.
"Hon, why do you say that?" Stiles asks gently. When Chester just keeps worrying at his nails, Stiles sits back, tosses his napkin and says, "Well, that's it. I'm just going to have to figure out a way to kill the entire town. Maybe poison in the drinking water or explosives in the foundations of the buildings. That worked in Batman, right?"
"No one told me," Chester snaps. "I just figured it out. Everyone's mad at him and being super nice to us. You guys haven't seen each in a while and we're eating at Finstock's even though Derek's got pulled pork sandwiches on his specials board today and that's your favorite."
"So what does that have to do with Isaac?" Stiles asks.
"If Derek is being an asshole to you, I don't want to like Isaac either." Chester's mouth sets in a grim little line and he holds up a fist. "Stilinski solidarity."
"Oh my god, kid, I love you so much," Stiles says, dissolving into helpless giggles even though Chester continues to glare at him. "You know Derek and I fight all the time, right? We'll be fine soon, I swear."
"It's a bad one this time. Usually you won't stop ranting about him for ages to anyone who'll listen when he does something to annoy you but you haven't talked about him this time at all."
Stiles looks at Chester levelly, at this boy who's grown up despite him, even though he wanted to keep him tiny and sheltered his entire life. "Yeah, it's a bad one. It's got nothing to do with you or Isaac though. You shouldn't punish Isaac for Derek and I being uncommunicative dumbasses. He's probably sitting in his room crying to Celine Dion right now."
"Shut up," Chester groans.
"Just, cut him a break when you see him."
"Okay," Chester finally sighs, looking a little happier.
*
"Oh god, what?" Stiles says.
"I've been looking for you all day. I kept missing you-" Derek starts to say and then Stiles notices where they happen to be, right by Doosey's Lake. He thinks that it can't be a coincidence, that it has to be a sign so when Derek gets close enough to him, Stiles reaches out, plants two hands firmly on Derek's chest and shoves.
Derek looks comically surprised as he goes into the lake. Stiles suddenly feels better than he has in days, especially when Derek emerges, spluttering and with his usually perfect, gravity-defying hair flattened to his skull making him look enjoyably dorktastic.
"I was going to ask you why you thought Chester pushed Isaac into the lake but apparently it's genetic!" Derek yells.
"I'd call it cathartic," Stiles calls back. "Maybe a Stilinski has to shove a Hale into a large body of water every now and again to maintain balance in the world."
"Lahey," Derek grunts.
"What?"
"Isaac, he's a Lahey after Laura's deadbeat ex. I want him to be a Hale but I'm not sure if he'll want to be. I've been meaning to ask you-"
"Derek, are you seriously trying to have a heartfelt conversation with me while you're blobbing about like an apple in a rain barrel?" Stiles asks, incredulous. Derek looks around for a moment, like he's re-registering where he is.
"Oh, um, help me out?" Derek paddles over to the wooden walkway that crosses the lake and Stiles goes to meet him, but hesitates when he's just outside reaching distance.
"Uh, maybe I should leave you there."
"What? Stiles!"
"Just to give myself a head start."
"Why do you need a head start?"
"I can see a punching in my imminent future, no need to hurry along proceedings."
"I'm not going to punch you," Derek huffs, sounding more aggravated than angry. "I probably... deserved that."
"Okay, I'm totally rescuing you only because this should be fascinating," Stiles says drily, offers Derek a hand and they both manage to pull him up onto the deck. Derek lays on his back for a moment, panting and dripping and Stiles thinks that it's fortunate that he's only wearing a Henley instead of his usual all-weather-leather because it would be a pity to ruin a jacket Stiles has wet dreams about.
"Lydia said-"
"You had a conversation with Lydia?" Stiles asks, surprised into interrupting. He'd mostly thought Derek and Lydia had a relationship based on glaring (Lydia) and wishing he were anywhere else (Derek).
"A conversation would imply that I was allowed to speak," Derek says, sitting up and wincing. Stiles knows wet jeans aren't much fun in sensitive places.
"So, basically Lydia yelled at you."
"Yes. She's very protective."
"Of me?"
"You look surprised."
"Because I am."
"Most of the town's protective of you. I was starting to worry that people would throw rocks at me and boo as I walked by in the streets."
"Ugh, kill this whole town, I swear," Stiles grumbles but Derek just looks amused.
"Nah, it's nice."
"So you say."
"Anyway, I hadn't realized how what I was doing would look to you," Derek says. "I was too much in my own head."
"That never happens."
"Stiles, would you let me be the talker here for once?"
"It's a little odd for me, but sure, go ahead," Stiles allows. Derek shuffles around so he's sitting cross-legged in front of Stiles.
"When Kate surprised me, I felt all that old anger. It was like this cycle I couldn't escape. She'd pop up, I'd get mad and on and on and on. Except, when she came to the diner, I was going to throw her out and then make myself scarce like I normally do, but I thought of you."
"You thought of me?" Stiles says slowly. "So much so that you bailed on our da-" Stiles swallows, corrects mid-sentence. "Our plans so you could hang out with your ex."
"It seemed logical at the time." Derek says and Stiles frowns down at his hands, at the bitten nails, a habit he can't seem to break no matter how old he gets. "I didn't want to be that angry, bitter guy anymore. Not... I wanted to be better than that for you."
Stiles looks up, mouth dropping open. "What?"
"Most of my adult life, I've had the specter of Kate hanging over me, over all my decisions. I didn't want to be like that anymore, so I let her in, let her say whatever she had to and then spent some time with her."
"I'm getting less thrilled about this by the minute."
"She always said she'd done the right thing, for both of us. The anger and the hurt were so close that I could never see it. Getting a little distance from them, I finally could." Derek pulls a face for a moment. "She did it in a completely crappy way and I don't pretend to understand how someone could do that but..." Derek shrugs helplessly.
"So what was blanking me at the festival about?" Stiles asks.
Derek grimaces. "Kate's not... she's not Allison okay? I just didn't want her anywhere near you because she knew how completely dopey I was for you and she would've been mean about it."
"Oh," Stiles says as Derek looks back at the lake.
"You and Chester have some impulse control problems," he muses.
"I kinda have the impulse to kiss you. Is that one I should control?" Stiles asks, makes a surprised noise when Derek grasps the back of his neck with a large hand and grins at him, so close his breath splashes across Stiles' cheeks.
"Next week. You can learn some control next week. Maybe," he says and pulls Stiles in.
*
Derek had pressed the issue of paying for the damages again but Stiles had waved him off. "I'm starting to understand the Isaac-Chester dynamic and I'm pretty sure that little adventure had Chester's idea written all over it," he'd said.
Derek rolls his eyes, but he steps up to Stiles and drops a kiss on his cheekbone.
"Ugh, old people smooching," Chester groans and Stiles cuffs him on the back of the head.
"Go bother Isaac," he huffs and Chester trots over to the jeep where Isaac is propping the hood up and checking out what he has to deal with.
"Look how cuuuuute," Stiles gushes, hugging Derek's arm.
"Can you stop being a limpet so I can go and fix that wobbly porch railing that's been driving me crazy for months?"
"Is it weird that I find it really hot when you're fixing things and being crabby?" Stiles asks as he follows Derek up to the front of the house.
"Why do you smell like berries?" Derek asks when Stiles sneaks in another kiss to the jaw.
"It's my strawberry lip balm. I figured I needed to take lip condition seriously since there'll be a lot of kissing in my future."
"Chester, I like you a lot but I think I have to break up with your dad!" Derek calls towards the jeep.
"I don't blame you!" Chester yells back.
"Ugh, I balm for you. I expect some gratitude."
They work in silence for a while, or Derek works and Stiles kind of hovers around him and then drops onto the porch steps so he can lean back and admire the play of muscles over Derek's torso and back as he twists and shifts. Stiles likes that he can just look now, that it's not creepy, or at least less creepy because he's pretty sure Derek is a willing participant in the ogling. He's practically flexing under the attention.
"You never told me why you picked Beacon Hills," Derek says a little later as Stiles is zoning out, morning sun warm on his face.
"What?"
"Did you just end up here at random or...?"
Stiles blinks for a moment, trying to parse what information Derek wants. Derek's never really asked him anything personal. They tend not to go there with each other. Derek knows hardly anything about him pre-Chester which is kind of what Stiles prefers for most people, but he figures that this is Derek trying to nudge himself more firmly into Stiles' life, knowing about stuff that others might not.
Derek would completely drop the subject and never mention it again if Stiles told him to, but he wants to open up to Derek. He's not sure he's ready to talk about Chester's mom yet, but he finds himself wanting to talk about his own.
"When my mom was getting sick, she started talking about the one that got away, my dad. She'd never really talked about him, but I was always sure he was a good guy, even though I'd never met him. Her whole face would just soften when she mentioned him."
Derek's stopped working, frozen into inaction by Stiles' words. "Just before she... just before, she told me where he'd lived when she met him."
"Did you contact him?" Derek asks.
"All I had was his last name and an old address," Stiles says.
"What's his last name?" Derek asks and Stiles just looks at him for a second, before he remembers that there's no way Derek would know, that anyone would know.
"Stilinski."
"What?" Derek says, genuinely surprised. "How-?"
"My mother didn't want to lump me with the Worthington name and all the strings attached to it. She and my dad weren't together very long but to hear her talk about him..."
"Where did he live?"
"Silver Lakes," Stiles says, watches the way Derek's face goes through a mixture of things when he recognizes the name.
"Stiles, that's the next town over," Derek says slowly. "Oh my god, were you on your way there when you stopped in my diner? When I sent you to Deaton?" Derek's starting to look horrified and Stiles can imagine that he's wondering if he had a hand in derailing Stiles' original plan.
"I stopped because I'd already chickened out," Stiles says, trying to reassure him. "Man, this guy probably didn't know I existed and for me to turn up on his doorstep, eighteen years old and with a baby in tow? Nightmare."
"You have no idea-"
"I'd already been rejected by my own grandparents," Stiles interrupts to say. "I just... I don't think I would have survived being rejected by my dad too. It was better not to know."
"You could find out now?"
"I think that window of opportunity has well and truly passed. He's probably got a family. He probably doesn't even remember my mom."
"He'd remember her," Derek says and Stiles remembers his words. Most of my adult life, I've had the specter of Kate hanging over me. "If she was anything like you, it'd be impossible not to remember."
"I used to make up stories about him, in my head. When Mom got sick, I'd imagine him finding out, crossing deserts and streams, battling dragons just to get to us. Everything would be magically better and we'd be a family. What a loser, right?"
"Of course not, Stiles, Christ."
"I was brave enough to get here, to get this close but the bravery ran out. I had no idea what I was going to do when I came in here. I was just going to ask for a glass of water and maybe have a very quiet panic attack but then you... you were so kind and Deaton took me in and... "
"Stiles," Derek says, gently.
"I never thanked you properly, for that I mean. You really saved us."
*
"Ugh, Dad!" Chester complains as Derek comes over to drop their coffee mugs on the table.
"Is that a proposal?" Derek asks, smirking and Stiles waves a dismissive hand.
"When I'm proposing, you'll know it. I'll propose the hell out of you," Stiles says and Derek chuckles, putting a warm, indulgent hand on Stiles' nape.
"Hey, what's this?" Stiles asks. There's a folded piece of paper under his cup.
"Promise you won't get mad?" Derek says, which sets off all kinds of alarm bells to Stiles, especially with the kind of carefully freaked out way Derek's hand tightens on the back of his neck.
"Derek, did you pay for the jeep? I told you not-" Stiles' words die in his throat when he sees what's written on the piece of paper.
"I just figured it can't be a coincidence," Derek says.
"There's a um, Sheriff Stilinski in Silver Lakes?" Stiles says, voice breaking.
"I just thought, if it were me... no matter how much time had passed, I'd want to know. We can call first, give him the opportunity to say that he doesn't want any contact but-"
"What if he doesn't?" Stiles' voice is barely there but he smiles a little when Chester's hand takes his, the one that's not currently crumpling the hell out of the paper Derek had given him.
Derek's fingers thread through his hair, tug briefly the way Derek knows makes Stiles go heavy-lidded and pliable. "Then we'll deal with that, as a family," he says gently.
"Okay," Stiles says. He feels hands come down on his shoulders and he looks up and back at Isaac. He suddenly feels alive, like a completed circuit. Stiles carefully smooths out the piece of paper again on the table.
"Okay."