Work Text:
The report's been sitting in his inbox for three days before he can stand to review it. With all the craziness of the past week, the delay in getting to it is accepted without question. His deputies are loyal to him and they know this one is personal. Even as they get ready to bury their own dead, they know the subject of the report is a loss to the Sheriff equal to that of the deputy they lost in the bizarre ninja attack.
They're all good men and women and they accept his absence from the station and being behind on paperwork. He was injured in the attack, but more importantly, his son, recently hospitalized, lost a close friend.
Even the newer deputies like Stiles, so the Sheriff needing to spend time with him is encouraged.
But, now he's back to work.
Back to face a load of lies and half-truths in too many reports, some written in his own hand, but this one...this one hurts.
A mugging gone wrong, a girl in the wrong place at the wrong time, her friends surviving by luck. They saw nothing. It happened too fast.
A stabbing with an unknown blade and a girl dying too quickly in the arms of a boy too young to deal with such loss.
The last is true.
They're all too fucking young.
With a trembling hand, John signs off on the unsolved report on the murder of Allison Argent and quietly closes the file before placing it in his outbox. That it will remain unsolved, that he's covering up the truth, doesn't bother him one bit.
That this town took one more young life makes his heart ache.
Hours later, the day shift finally over, he places a call to Stiles, makes sure he's okay and not alone--Lydia's there with soup and sandwiches, comfort food for both of them--tells him he'll be a bit late, and leaves the station. John could go to the local LEO bar, have a few drinks, commiserate with the other off duty law officers; could go get a fattening burger or chicken fried steak at his favorite diner; but...
It started before John learned the truth about his town. Claudia's death wiped away all desire for another woman, but he still has physical needs, one of them being companionship. The Jungle isn't the only gay bar in town, although the other one is a more discreet gentlemen's club, and John has been a member for five years.
They met there a few months ago, both surprised for different reasons at the others presence. In each other they found mutual interests, mutual concerns, definitely mutual attraction. They began before John found out the truth about Beacon Hills and its occupants. Once he did, it should have stopped for so many reasons, but, sometimes, mutual desire can't be thwarted by a pesky thing like the truth.
Driving into the parking lot of a small apartment building, John gets out of his car and goes to one of the doors. He knocks.
With a beer in one extended hand, Peter Hale pulls him into a tight embrace with the other.
The report is soon put aside for comfort, low voices, good food and drink, and a quiet night of passion.
It's never forgotten.
End