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Stiles hates waiting. He loathes it with every fiber of his hyperactive being. He doesn’t understand why his father would ask him to have lunch with him, but schedule a meeting with the new recruits at the same time. He’s thumbing haphazardly through a magazine with his knee bouncing up and down when he gets a text from Scott.
Scott: pixie emergency. meet at my house. hurry.
He throws the magazine onto his dad’s desk and quickly texts Scott that he's on the way. Stiles digs the styrofoam containers containing his dad’s soy burger and carrots out of his bag and quickly shoves them on top of the forgotten magazine.
Grabbing his bag and pocketing his phone, he tries to make a run for it out of the office, but slams right into his dad’s chest.
“Son…?”
“Okay first, you’re late. And second, I gotta run. Pack stuff about those pixies. Your lunch is on your desk. I’ll eat at Scott’s.” Stiles slips past him and makes for the exit and shouts out, “I’ll text you later!” and then he’s off without a second thought.
The sheriff sighs and waves at his son’s retreating back, then moves into his office to sit down at his desk. He eyes the containers with the sinking suspicion that he’s not going to find a single tasty calorie when he looks inside. When he sees the carrots inside the first container, he doesn’t even bother with the second container that he assumes will have some horrid soy concoction. The doctors told him months ago that he was in the clear because of his new diet and exercise routines, but Stiles refuses to back down.
With thoughts of making a run for Chinese take-out, the Sheriff grabs the offensive containers off his desk, only to notice the magazine that was obscured by them. With another sigh directed at his absent son, he picks up the magazine to throw it away also. He doesn’t mind when Stiles’ leaves his belongs scattered all around the house, he understands Stiles has a system, but it becomes a problem when his stuff finds its way into his office. The Sheriff has a system too.
He throws the items in the trash beside his desk, but the magazine slips and falls open onto the floor. As the Sheriff bends down, he notices a familiar face on one of the pages. With a newly sparked curiosity, the Sheriff sits back in his chair and starts reading.
---
He’s already read the magazine from front to back twice and is re-reading a particularly interesting column when the very person he’s reading about walks into his office.
“Sheriff, Stiles is back and he seems to be covered in glitter. He keeps muttering something about pixi- what are you reading.”
Without even looking up from the magazine the Sheriff says, “I never knew you liked to swim with sharks.”
There will be songs sung in great halls to commemorate the different shades of red the Deputy’s face turned in the fraction of that second.
“Um sir, I don’t. I mean. It’s more of a hobby. I mean, not the pictures. The sharks. I mean. Sir, it was for charity!”
There’s a short bark of laughter behind them and both men see a sparkling Stiles in the doorway.
“People do not pose like that in magazines for charity.” Stiles says to the Deputy with a smug look on his face.
“So, you know all about different types of shirtless poses?” the sheriff asks as he fully takes in his almost iridescent son.
“Yep,” Stiles says while popping the ‘p’, “Now, come on. We have bigger issues than what Mr. Parrish likes to do with his free time and cameras.” And let it be known, if a black hole had opened up and swallowed Deputy Parrish at that very moment, it would've been happily welcomed.
“Ah yes, the pixies,” the Sheriff says as he stands and tucks the magazine into his desk drawer. As he moves to follow his son Parrish sputters and says, “Sir, you don’t mean to keep that, do you?”
The Sheriff winks as he passes his Deputy. “I do, but only for charity.”