Chapter Text
[text to Stiles] my sisters are pissed off that mom made me leave my phone behind
[text to Derek] why? were they bored over the summer?
[text to Stiles] no they want pictures of the hottie who wrote all over my arm
[text to Derek] they think I'm a hottie?
[text to Stiles] they also think you're a girl
Stiles stared at his phone for a long moment before barking out a laugh and composing a reply
[text to Derek] well if it makes you feel any better my Dad wants your full name so he can run a background check on you
[text to Stiles] what? why!?
[text to Derek] dude he's the sheriff he just wants to look out for his little boy!
[text to Stiles] you're ridiculous
Leaving it at that, Derek put his phone back down and stared up at the ceiling. He'd been home a few hours, but he knew that Stiles had beaten him back - his flight was shorter by a good couple of hours. Plus Derek had to contend with the concourse at JFK and then the traffic to get himself into the city, through Grand Central and onto the train to Albany. His mom had greeted him at the station, ecstatic to see him after so long without real contact (he'd sent a few letters, but had mostly been preoccupied with, well, Stiles) and had dragged him directly to his favourite diner (well, the only diner in their town) where his sisters had teased him about how long his hair had gotten, and proceeded to interrogate him about the mysterious 'S' whose number was on his arm.
He'd tried to hide it, pulling on a sweater, but the diner was warm in the middle of an August afternoon and he'd pushed his sleeves up after dinner. He'd managed to keep most of the number obscured, stopping Laura from getting the number and texting it immediately, and had attracted raised eyebrows from his mother, who asked him about the 'sister camp' and how often he'd seen 'this girl'.
He hadn't bothered to correct their pronoun use, just going back to his default state of quiet and somewhat secretive when it came to his romantic entanglements, eaten his pizza quietly and ordered two slices of apple pie when the waitress had come back.
"So you're only home for two weeks before you go to college!" his mother had exclaimed as they walked back home, and he shrugged.
"It's not like it's far. I wanted to go to Berkeley but no, I had to go to school in Boston!"
Laura snorted at that.
"Yeah, well, you're also living in the shitty part of Boston." she pointed out, which Derek mostly ignored. He'd picked his apartment based on proximity to his school, not proximity to Greek Row, like Laura.
"Then it's a good thing I'm not going to school with you." he told her, and she just stuck her tongue out at him.
"Don't argue!" Talia interjected, and Derek relented, even though he wanted to point out, again, that he'd gotten into his first preference school and Laura was going to the place that had been third on her list. They might be going to school in the same city, but Boston was a big place with a lot of colleges. He doubted they'd even see each other that much once they settled into classes.
"Fine. Is Dad going to be home between now and when classes start?" he asked, hoping the redirection would distract his mother from trying, again, to convince him to just live at home and commute for at least his first year.
Talia sighed, Derek clenched his fists and tried not to be disappointed, reminding himself that the measure of his disappointment was only an indication of any hope he'd had... and he should have known better than to hope.
"I'll take that as a no."
"He's stuck in London until October." she explained, and he just waved her off as they approached home, having walked the five blocks home from the diner.
"I'm going to bed, ok? It's been a long day." he told her, skipping up the stairs and pausing on the landing. "Besides, I want to send 'S' a message to say I got home safe."