Out Of Milk

1

Stiles stood at the door to the kitchen, not really believing what he was seeing. His dad was there, talking on the phone - police business, judging by his tone. But what really, really couldn't be real - Derek Hale was leaning against the counter. In jeans and a vest. With a bowl of cereal in his hand. In Stiles kitchen.

Derek was paying him no attention at all as he continued to eat the fruit loops, but Stiles knew that the Were was fully aware of Stiles standing in the door frame.

His dad put down the phone with a resigned "I'll be there in five." Which was enough to make Stiles momentary push aside the fact that Derek Hale was in his bare feet in his kitchen.

"It's your day off." He managed, as his dad gave him a long suffering look.

"Look, kid-"

"It's your day off! We're supposed to be painting the spare room." Stiles tried not to look at Derek who was watching the exchange with interest. Stiles didn't care if he was laughing at him - this was one of the only times he'd get his dad to himself, real father/son time doing something together.

"Stiles." His dad said, holding up his hand. "I know." He ran his fingers through his hair and Stiles just knew, knew that his dad would be gone most of the day, knew that he'd probably miss dinner - knew that whatever was out there was more important than what was left at home.

Disappointment heavy in his throat, he managed to shrug, trying to keep his expression blank. "It's fine, I'll get started and then we'll finish when you get back." His dad looked relived, and Stiles felt it like a blow to the gut. Practice, repetition - that was the only thing that kept Stiles together, to stop him from flying apart at the seams - stop the hot disappointment in his throat rising up like bile.

Unknowing, or unwilling to see, what was going on with his son, his dad smiled. "Derek here was a great help last night - there was a huge fire down at the old subway station, and he managed to help us get some squatters out before the whole place collapsed."

Stiles snapped his head up to stare at Derek - who was all smiles. Oh yeah - that would be the fire that HE STARTED! Stiles wanted to yell. The fire to hide the supernaturally morphed body of Gerald Argent. Who Derek had needed to rip to shreds just to make sure the creep stayed dead.

"That's cool." He managed, between gritted teeth.

"Seems Derek here was sleeping in his car, and saw the fire."

"I just did what any one would do," Derek said, and good god - didn't he just sound like butter wouldn't melt in his mouth?

"I told him that he can't be sleeping in his car, you know - with the colder weather coming in, so I said he could stay here until he found something."

Stiles stared at his dad as though he'd lost his mind. Derek stay here? Derek who a few months ago you had arrested for murdering his sister? Derek who last night ripped a person in half and set fire to the bits that were left twitching? But all he said was:

"Okay."

"You really don't need to do this, Sheriff, I hate to put you out like this." Derek said, and his white teeth glinted in the morning sunlight like some toothpaste advert.