Out Of Milk

17

Stiles woke up on the floor for the 4th time that week. Angling his head so he could see the alarm clock on his table, he saw it was only 3am. Derek was there, although after Isaac's interruption he'd made sure he wore a little more than his boxers – a vest and a thin grey pair of bottoms now – but the main difference was the mass of people. Erica and Boyd had shown up on the second night about a half hour after Isaac – and Scott the next night. Jackson had arrived too – after being seriously pissed when he found out that there was a pyjama party he wasn't invited to.

Derek had actually been pretty okay with it, not really complaining about the new arrangement, and Stiles was pretty happy with the newer side of Derek he was seeing. The one that wasn't trying to pull away all the time. He'd made out with Stiles, and hadn't treated him like shit afterwards - things were great.

Stiles rolled over, causing Isaac to mutter a sleepy complaint, and snuggled deeper into Derek. Things were great.

Things were not great. Stiles snapped open his eyes and saw his dad standing at the door of his room, looking at the sleeping group – eyes focused on him. Who was half naked and wrapped around Derek. He didn't say anything, just stood in the door frame and stared. Stiles looked at him, trying not to panic. They weren't doing anything. It wasn't like he'd walked in on them having sex or something… but Stiles knew that it didn't look great. They all looked much too familiar with each other's bodies, and he had no way of describing the whole 'pack' mentality without telling his dad about things he was much safer not knowing about. His father stood for a few more seconds before closing the door behind him with a click.

This was going to be awkward.

"I think you should leave." His dad said, when Derek and Stiles walked down stairs. He'd woken everyone up and told them what had happened. If his dad wondered where everyone else had gone, he didn't say anything. They'd bailed through the window, throwing apologetic looks over their shoulders as they silently dropped to the grass under his window. His dad was sitting at the table, expression unreadable – a cup of coffee in his hands.

"Yes, sir." Derek said, voice calm and collected. As though he knew what was going to happen before he'd even walked down the stairs.

"No, no, no." Stiles burst out. "The house isn't even ready, you can't throw him out."

"This doesn't concern you." His dad said, and Stiles saw red, anger and panic that Derek would really leave.

"Like hell it doesn't." He snapped. "He's got nowhere to go until the house is finished."

"He can afford a hotel."

"It's okay." Derek said, glancing at Stiles.

"No it's not!" His dad suddenly roared. Stiles rocked back on his heels, not expecting the reaction. "That's my boy. My baby!" He got to his feet and glared. "I invited you into my house! I trusted you with my son." He flung open the backdoor and pointed outside. "You are going to leave right now. And if I ever see you hanging around those kids again I'll arrest you for peodpihilla and the coercion of minors. You make me sick!"

Stiles couldn't believe that Derek just walked out. He didn't even try to argue or fight, just walked out the door and shut it silently behind him. His world was falling apart around his ears. He needed Derek. His dad locked the backdoor – a stupid gesture, really, before turning to face Stiles. He started yelling – yelling about Derek and Isaac and the rest of the pack. Talking about trust and boundaries and how Derek was some kind of sexual predator. Stiles head was throbbing with frustration and anger, he needed his dad to understand, but every time he tried his dad would just raise his voice louder. Stiles head was bursting – spots forming in his vision.