Chapter Text
“Hey, Daddio how are you doing?” Stiles smiled at his father’s shocked face. Any time that Stiles could get his dad to make a Pikachu face was a good day.
“Stiles, what are you doing home?” Noah closed the door behind him.
“Can’t I come home for spring break?” Stiles put on his best pout.
“You never have before. In fact, I recall asking you to come home your freshman year, and I got a two hour explanation of all of the legal aid cases you were working on. I didn't even know legally let freshman in college help them.”
Style shrugged. He had played a little fast and loose with the truth when he first went to volunteer, but if they assumed he was in his first year of law school and as opposed to his first year of university, that was entirely on them. And once he'd proved his chops in the investigative realm, they forgave him. “Legal aid helps me learn the law, and they needed help with investigations. Do you have any idea how bad some lawyers are at actually investigating crimes?”
“I do. That's why you have separate police and DA’s offices.”
“Yeah, but the defense side doesn't have police to work for them, and some of those people really have no defense other than they didn't do it. The only way to prove that is to prove who did.”
His dad dropped his keys on the side table before he headed for the kitchen. “I’m proud of you for your work, Stiles. You’re a good man, but you’re also avoiding the question.”
“No I'm not.”
His father stopped with one hand on the refrigerator and gave Stiles a dirty look.
“Okay, maybe I am because it's really awkward.”
His father's hand fell away from the refrigerator and he turned to face Stiles. “Is this the awkward conversation where you tell me you’re dating Peter Hale?”
“What?” Stiles yelped. “Why would I date Peter Hale?”
His father crossed his arms over his chest. “I don't know. Personally, I would avoid dating a mass murderer, but he moved across the country to be with you while you're in college and you have lived in his house for the past three years. I kind of assumed that that's where this conversation would end up eventually.”
“Ew. He's old.”
“And the older you get, the less that age gap is going to matter to you. How old is he, anyway? I found two sets of documents, one listing him as thirty five and the other as thirty nine.”
“Exactly. Old. Geez, I slept with the guy’s daughter. And he’s actually thirty five, but lots of his official paperwork lists him as thirty nine because he was like fourteen when Malia’s mother got pregnant. The Hale family is apparently wolf-sized catnip for predatory women who like their men young. It’s really creepy.”
“First, I agree that sleeping with anyone underage is creepy. I’ve given you that speech before.”
“Traumatized me with it just because I had a little crush on my junior high teacher.” Stiles held up a finger and thumb an inch apart to show the tininess of his crush. Besides, he’d gotten over it and started crushing on Lydia not long after that, in part because his father had emotionally traumatized him. He hadn’t been able to look poor Ms. Smith in the eye ever again.
“Uh huh.” Noah crossed his arms. “Two words. Derek Hale.”
Stiles scrunched up his nose. “Okay, I’ll give you that one. Teachers who sleep with their students are psycho, even before burning the family alive.”
“And thirty five isn’t that old. I’m only forty seven, so don’t put me in the grave yet.”
Stiles narrowed his eyes. “Are you trying to encourage me to date Peter Hale?” His father had just taken an awkward conversation and turned it into an impossibly awkward conversation. Parentals. They were so damn parental.
“Definitely not,” Noah said firmly. “Not only would I prefer to avoid dating a mass murderer, but I would really prefer my son not date them. The fact that he is a high-priced defense attorney is just the cherry on that particular sundae. So if you are telling me you're not dating him, my day just improved dramatically.” His father turned back to the refrigerator and pulled out a bottle of beer before popping the cap off.
“Well, I am definitely not dating Peter Hale. Us living together is a pack-bond issue, not a love interest issue. I told you that at the time.”
“And it didn't make sense then either. Most of his pack is here.”
“Actually that's part of the uncomfortable conversation I needed to have with you.”
His father lifted a single eyebrow, and Stiles felt a sort of nostalgia for the expression. It reminded him of the trouble he used to get in all the time. However, this time, he wasn't the one in trouble. This trouble was all Scott’s making—Scott’s and Derek. Once Derek got his alpha spark, he could have invited his uncle back, but there had been a lack of invites. “Peter doesn't have pack bonds with anyone here. When he left, Scott was the only alpha, and he rejected any pack bond with Peter. And then he pushed everyone else to reject Peter because he's not a fan of mass murderers, as you so eloquently put that, although I could argue that there was a valid case for both an insanity plea and justifiable homicide. Kate, for example, was entirely justified.”
Noah sighed. “I know that, Stiles, or else I would've thrown a bigger fit when you announced that you were taking him with you to university. I still can't believe he went with you, but if you were his only pack bond, that makes a little more sense.”
“Exactly.”
“However, that is not an awkward situation. We could've talked about over the phone, although perhaps using less direct language so that there was no chance of someone overhearing a discussion of werewolves.”
“Werewolves… that’s closer to the awkwardness. You see, Scott is kind of screwing up.”
His dad took a long drink a beer. “You're just now figuring this out?”
“That is unfair. Scott is usually awesome, but cutting Peter off from pack bonds meant that he was running the risk that Peter could fall into insanity again. Wolves are pack animals, and he was cutting Peter off.”
Noah frowned. “Then I'm glad you maintained a bond with him. I would much rather deal with Peter Hale, the defense attorney with a vicious reputation than I would Peter Hale, the demented killer werewolf.”
Stiles understood that. Stiles had not been fond of Peter's omega killing spree himself. “But there's a little more. You see, until Peter established a pack bond with me, I hadn't realized that the gaping hole in my chest that kept giving me nightmares wasn't left over from the void. It was the place where I had lost my pack bonds.”
“Scott, cut you off?” His dad thunked the beer down on the counter harshly enough that Stiles was kind of surprised the bottle didn't crack.
“No, in fact, the best hypothesis Peter and I can come up with is that the Nogitsune starved out the pack bond to make sure that no one noticed that it was infecting me. But before I left for college, I asked Scott to reestablish a pack bond because once I had one with Peter I realized how much I needed those bonds.”
“Needed?” His father jumped on the word, his eyes narrowing suspiciously.
Stiles grimaced. “This is where the awkward part starts to come in.”
Noah scrubbed his hand across his face and picked up his beer again before he headed to the living room. “I'm a Band-Aid off fast kind of guy. Whatever weirdness is going on, just lay it on me.” He dropped onto the couch.
“It turns out that normal humans may feel a pack bond, but they don't feel a need for one.”
His dad screwed his eyes up tight. “So, are you not human?”
“What!? No. I didn't say that.”
Noah’s eyes came open. “You kind of did. I would love it if you would get to the actual explanation part of this explanation before I give myself a heart attack.”
“Way to overreact,” Stiles muttered.
“Stiles!”
Stiles threw his hands in the air. “Okay. Fine. I am human, but it turns out I'm a little more magical than most people. When most people want to develop their magic, they start with little spells like the mountain ash I showed you.”
His dad sat up. “You don't have to be magical to use mountain ash.”
“You have to be a tiny bit magical. There are some people called cinders that have zero, zippy do da, nada for magic, and their mountain ash line will be so weak that a vampire or werewolf would be able to push through it rather quickly. But most humans have enough of that spark of magic that they can fuel a mountain ash line.”
“So their magic is the fuse that sets the mountain ash?” his dad asked.
“Awesome analogy, Daddio. And then if they want to become more magical, they have to take that little tiny muscle and they have to exercise and exercise and practice and practice and run magic through that spark over and over and over again until they develop that muscle strongly enough that they can actually use it for more powerful spells.”
“Are you talking Deaton levels of magic or Jennifer levels of magic?” His dad’s voice had a flatness that made Stiles’s palms sweat. This is why his dad was the master of the interrogation room.
“It turns out that Deaton levels and Jennifer levels are pretty much the same, which is why Jennifer had to use multiple human sacrifices to power herself up. There are other magic users that have more stable energy sources than Druids. Druids? Not that respected in the magical world.”
“And would you be respected in the magical world?”
“Only totally and completely. Or at least I will be when my spark catches into a flame, which I have it on good authority will happen really soon. I have a mentor, someone Peter hired to train me because of the potential danger that's on the horizon. When I started working with her, she realized I could skip all of the tiny muscle building exercises because someone had been running magic through that muscle for a really long time.”
His dad studied Stiles, frowning. Stiles waited for his father to make the only rational connection.
“Deaton,” his dad said, his voice utterly flat.
Stiles nodded. “Peter figured that after I finished my education I could train my magic. He wasn’t saying anything until then because he didn't want me distracted from class. He’s weirdly obsessive about my GPA.”
“It sounds like you are attributing more altruistic motives to Peter than he actually possesses.”
Stiles shrugged. He didn't have any evidence to disprove his father, but that wasn't an unreasonable conclusion. Noah nodded and oh-so-carefully set his beer on the stained coffee table. “So what is this new danger that's on the horizon?”
“It's not a danger as much as it is a potential for a lot of people to be really unhappy.”
“Stiles.” Now his dad sounded exhausted.
Stiles took a deep breath. “It is possible, just possible, that the FBI is interested in opening a case against Kate and the Argents. The investigation might even broaden out into Argent Arms. And Peter is afraid they may want to counter attack, which is why he wants me to get my magic up and running ASAP.”
“Why would the FBI be investigating the Argents?”
“They may believe that Kate and Gerard were serial killers who were using Argent Arms as a mercenary crew to clean up their mess.”
His father's eyebrows went up. “You used your insurance file?”
Stiles dropped into a chair. “You know about my insurance file?”
“Of course I knew. You are not as subtle as you think you are. Why in the world would I sign off for logging surveillance video from a crime blocks away? As soon as I noticed what you were logging, it wasn’t difficult to figure out what you were doing.”
Stiles grimaced. “I didn't get you in trouble with that, did I?”
“If I were a deputy, I would've gotten in serious trouble. Luckily, I'm a sheriff. So there was no one around to question why I was doing insane things with my evidence logs. However, that doesn't answer the question, which is why did you use your insurance file?”
“Because the Argents were coming after Peter.”
Noah scrubbed his hand across his face again. “And you wonder why I thought you two were dating? Don't get me wrong, I'm very happy you are disgusted at the idea of the Argents committing murder, but Peter is a big boy. He can handle himself and the Argents without your help.”
“Actually, he’s quietly freaked out that I used the file, because he's afraid that if the Argents have nothing left to lose, they are more likely to come after us. That’s why we came here—to warn everyone and maybe get ready for any backlash.”
“He's not entirely wrong.” For a second, Noah let his head hang as he braced his elbows against his knees.
“Yeah, he has explained that in enough detail that I definitely get the feeling that I screwed up. But, what's done is done, and that's why Peter hired a magical tutor for me. He wanted to make sure that I could defend myself if the Argents came after me.”
His dad looked up. “What are the odds that will happen?”
Stiles shrugged. Peter was of the opinion that this legal counterattack had Stiles’ fingerprints all over it, especially since he had already called Chris to get the Argents to back down. Peter said that his counterattacks were known for either being far more bloody—in the case of his feral episodes—or far more nuanced, like the ones he’d engaged in more recently. Stiles wasn’t sure what threats Peter had dealt with in the last few years, but Stiles trusted that he had a certain reputation and the FBI plot wouldn’t match that. However, none of that would make his dad feel any better.
“Peter feels safer here, at least for the initial blow up. My primary reason for coming back is to make sure that Derek doesn't get blindsided with all of the Kate drama.”
“Maybe I should handle that situation,” Noah said. “You are not the most diplomatic when it comes to…”
“Crime victims or Derek?”
His dad scoffed. “For you to be as successful as you are with legal aid, I have to assume that you have improved with crime victims in general, but you do tend to railroad Derek. And Derek vacillates between letting you railroad him and getting really aggravated.”
“Yeah, that's why Peter said he was going to handle that end of things.”
Noah sat up. “Peter came back with you? Is this threat serious enough that you need the pack’s protection? How seriously should I be taking the threat? If there are going to be fights on the street, I need to brief my deputies.”
“More like Peter is invested in making sure that the pack isn’t a liability.”
His father had his suspicious expression on again. “Define liability.”
“Well, you know how I said that Deaton had been messing with my magic a bit? At least I assume it was Deaton.” Stiles wrinkled his nose. He hated that Deaton did this, but he was even more bummed that Scott trusted the dorkface. After all the platitudes and non-answers and petty silences that Deaton used like freakin’ bludgeons, Scott still put Deaton on a pretty damn big pedestal. Stiles had mommy issues in spades, but Scott had twice as many daddy issues. “I’m going to know if it’s Deaton pretty quick.”
“Oh Lord, that is your ‘I have a plan face’.”
“If it makes you feel better, it's more the Peter has a plan face.”
“Sadly, that does make me feel better.” His father shook his head and leaned back. “So what is Peter's plan?”
“If Deaton is siphoning off my spark magic, then he has to send it somewhere. Druids have all these rules about keeping magic and balance, so they can't move power into themselves without moving power out. So Peter's assumption is that Deaton has transferred the power to Scott since Scott is definitely his favorite son. He told me to take Scott on a visit and see if Deaton tries that trick with my new witch tutor watching from the parking lot.”
All traces of exhaustion vanished as his father sat up. “Deaton is stealing your magic? That sounds like a serious assault.”
“Ironically that is the exact same face Peter made. Sadly, I suspect Deaton just thinks he's helping,” Stiles said. He was helping Scott, but that was still some subset of helpful. The problem was that if Deaton was going to throw him and Peter under the Argent bus, they had to know before the Argents showed up.
“Sadly, I don't care what his motive is. Motive is not an essential element of the crime,” his father said.
His dad had him there. “So anyway, I'm heading over there with Scott and my magical instructor is going to wait just outside the office to see whether Deaton starts pulling on my spark.”
“And if he does?”
“Well here's the thing, Deaton is a druid, so he has little bits of magic he accumulates through carefully maintaining a slightly off balance magical status. However, Celeste is a witch. Specifically, she is a nature witch. She soaks up the potential energy from any change of state in nature and that becomes the reservoir that she can pull from. And Beacon Hills is surrounded by a lot of nature. She said that short of Deaton doing a fivefold knot of sacrifices, he's not going to be able to touch her power base. So Deaton versus Celeste, I am voting Celeste.”
Noah shook his head. “That doesn’t mean I want my son in the middle.”
“Face it, Dad, I’ve been in the middle since I was sixteen.”
His father stared at his empty beer bottle. “I need something stronger.”
Stiles sighed.
His dad pushed himself to his feet. “But I can do that later. If you’re going to confront someone who has been assaulting you, I’m going to be there at your back.”
“Whoa.” Stiles bolted to his feet and planted himself in his father’s path. “No offense, but if you’re there glaring at him, he’s going to know something is up. So you can’t come along.”
“I’m not going to sit home while you put yourself out as bait and see if Deaton assaults you.”
“Um, considering that you and I wouldn’t be able to see the assault, I don’t think we’re the important parts of this plan. Let Celeste do her job.”
His father clenched his jaw so hard that the muscle bulged.
“I’ll be fine,” Stiles said. “Promise.”
His father snorted. “I hate this.”
“Yep, but I’m Peter’s only pack bond, so he’s homicidally protective of me. He’s put other lawyers in charge of his cases so he could take a leave of absence. He either blackmailed or threatened my university so I could finish my courses online. He’s not going to risk my life around Deaton.”
For one second, his father looked ready to not only charge over to Deaton’s office but to shoot him in the face. But then he sagged. “If he hurts you, I’m going to shoot his dick off,” his father said.
Stiles laughed. Of all the things his father might have said, Stiles hadn’t expected that. “I know you’ll always have my back.” Stiles wrapped his arms around his father’s waist. A half-second late, his father caught him in a strong embrace.
“Oh, kiddo.”
Stiles let himself soak up all the father love. He didn’t really want to confront Deaton or Scott, but he appreciated the fact that he had people in his life who loved him enough to commit body harm to others. It was a twisted love, but Stiles was fine with that. Love was love in any of its forms.