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These are the things that John Stilinski knows:
He graduated at the top of his class from the California Highway Patrol Academy out of Sacramento, which boasts the most rigorous law enforcement training course in the country.
Over the past seven years, Beacon County has achieved the lowest unsolved crime rate in Northern California, all since he’s been in office.
John has worked in some form of law enforcement for twenty-five years. (Ten with CHP, seven as a deputy for the Beacon Hills Sheriff’s Department, and eight years as Sheriff of Beacon Hills.)
And that despite all of this, his kid still manages to surprise him.
*
John was in the living room watching an old baseball game on his DVR list when Stiles called.
“’lo?” John mumbled, trying to muffle the crunching of the last handful of chips he’d shoved in his mouth. Chewing as quietly as possible, John figured he could tell Stiles he was eating carrot sticks if he asked. The most important thing criminals always forget when facing an interrogation is to never change their story. Guilty people have stayed out of jail by sticking to their guns.
‘Carrots, carrots, carrots,’ John thinks to himself, willing himself to remember, in case Stiles tests him later.
“Yeah, dad,” the sound of muffled murmuring in the background, a soft laugh from Stiles, “I met up with some people from Beacon Hills who are already going that way…so you don’t have to drive over to Eureka to get me.”
John hears the same low murmur again and Stiles say something unintelligible back, an offended noise bursts out in the background and then the sound of a tussle.
“What happened with the kid from your psych class?” John asks curiously, glancing at the bag of chips on the couch next to him and wondering if he should risk it.
‘Carrots, carrots, carrots,’ John thinks again before taking another chip.
Risk factor found acceptable.
Stiles is laughing quietly, obviously muffling the mic on his cell phone because the noise level drops down suddenly to almost nothing before Stiles speaks again. “He and I had a uh – disagreement over the terms of our – um agreement.”
“Well are you okay? Did you two have a fight?” John asks, wondering if anyone could blame him for empathizing with the other kid. Stiles on extended car trips – not for everyone. Though the people he's with now, cause there has to be more than one of them if the background noise is anything to go by, must find Stiles an acceptable companion if they agreed to take him home with them.
“Oh - yeah, no, it’s fine, dad. Really. This is better,” Stiles says softly, genuinely.
John pauses the game that had continued playing mutely in the background.
“So who did you run into?” John wonders; no one he knows from Beacon Hills is in Oregon right now, as far as he knows. ‘Cept maybe the Hales – he hasn’t been out by their property lately to see if the RV is there, though.
The same low murmur is back again; closer to the phone than ever, so that John can almost make out the words spoken, but not quite. The voice doesn’t sound familiar either. John can hear the smile in Stiles’ voice when he answers though, “just some people. New friends.”
Then a sound John doesn’t need to be a trained investigator to identify and a heated outburst in the background. A sharper tone from far away and everything settles again.
“I’m good, dad. Don’t worry about me. I’m safe as houses,” Stiles says quietly, an old expression his mom used to use that John hasn’t heard in a long time. “I’ll be home in like, four hours, okay?”
“Alright then, if you’re sure. I’ll see you soon, son,” John says, pressing ‘end call’ and un-pausing the game.
John sighs and grabs a handful of chips.
He has three and a half hours to finish the bag and go hide it in their neighbor’s garbage bin.
*
What John was not expecting when four hours later rolled by, was for the Hale’s distinctive RV to pull up outside their house.
“Hello, Sheriff!”
David and Talia both get out of the vehicle to wave and greet him; as well as to seemingly take the opportunity to stretch their legs. A long car ride with Stiles, and John would probably be taking the opportunity too. Let alone a long RV ride with Stiles, Derek, and Laura Hale if John’s ears were to be believed.
John waves back, “David. Talia. Good of you to give my boy a ride. He give you any trouble?”
John sees the couple exchange a secret smile before David responds, “oh no, Sheriff. We barely heard a peep out of him. He was a pleasure.”
“For some more than others,” Talia says, winking at John, who has a slight idea of what she means.
What John would have expected, had he known just who Stiles had “run into”, was for Stiles to stumble down the RV’s steps for holding the hand of the man behind him too tightly. Even in the darkening light of the setting sun, Stiles’ face is bright red like it only gets when he sits in the sun too long without sunscreen. John might have assumed that was the cause, it being summer; had Oregon not been having the rainiest season on record. And sure enough, Derek Hale is being towed down the RV’s steps and up the drive behind Stiles.
The closer they get to him in the lengthening twilight, the harder it becomes to hide John’s smile. Yeah, this he would have expected.
Derek is clasping one of Stiles’ hands tightly, while the other holds Stiles’ not exactly small duffel bag, though seemingly without too much effort. Derek seems to be having a hard time actually looking at John, however, and it isn’t difficult to guess why.
Stiles’ entire neck is as red as his face; though John has a strong suspicion the reasoning might be slightly different. His theory is confirmed when Stiles and Derek finally reach him and John spies the large bruise hiding under Stiles’ left ear, not to mention the one peeking out from under the edge of Stiles’ shirt collar.
John decides a little teasing might be in order, to break the ice.
“Friends, huh?” John asks, smiling and waving at David and Talia as they head back into the RV.
“Dad,” Stiles mumbles, sneaking a glance next to him at Derek, who smiles helplessly back.
Lord help him, Derek Hale is smitten with his son. And vice versa, if the conversation John and Stiles had when he was fifteen still holds true.
John thinks it does.
“Sheriff Stilinski,” Derek says, putting down Stiles’ duffel to hold out his hand for a handshake.
“Derek,” John returns, reaching out his own hand to shake with Derek. Firm grip. Nice execution. 9/10. You can tell a lot about a person by their handshake. He deducted a point because Derek opted to use his left hand rather than let go of Stiles’. Then added it back because Sarah would have thought that was sweet. 10/10.
David and Talia are already back in the RV and it looks like Stiles and Derek will need a minute to say goodbye, so John picks up Stiles’ discarded duffel – Good Lord, Derek must lift weights to make it look so effortless – before heading back inside to give the pair some privacy.
Some privacy; meaning he goes to stand by the front window. He does have common decency laws to enforce, after all.
Stiles and Derek are standing on the front porch with their foreheads pressed together, whispering so quietly it’s a miracle if they could hear each other at all. Derek actually nuzzles Stiles’ forehead, before placing a light kiss on his brow, then his eyelid, then his cheek, lingering a little while on his lips.
And John is starting to feel like an actual creeper, as Stiles calls it, when the RV’s horn honks and Derek pulls away.
Stiles leans forward to press his lips once more to Derek’s before turning away to head inside.
Derek’s voice is just loud enough for John to hear him say, “I’ll see you.”
John doesn’t see or hear Stiles’ response, but Derek must, because he smiles sweetly before turning around and walking back down the driveway to his parent’s waiting RV.
Stiles comes in the front door and shuts it, leaning back against it with his eyes closed, smiling softly in a way John’s never seen before.
John looks back out the window just as Derek steps into the RV and a loud, indignant voice that John knows must be Laura rings out, “Derek Tiberius Hale – YOU ARE THE ACTUAL WORST!”
The RV’s door swings shut behind Derek and it pulls away; with the fading sounds of Laura Hale haranguing her brother still echoing.
*