Chapter Text
“Oh come on, it’ll be just like an exchange program.”
Derek sets his glass on the table and levels his son with an even look usually reserved for his mate.
From his left, Claudia snorts unhelpfully.
“Don’t be an idiot, idiot. It’s nothing like an exchange program.”
Whoever said siblings have each others’ backs was obviously an only child. Talia, looking up from her homework, smiles sweetly.
“I think it’s an awesome idea.” And then, before Parrish has a chance to feel properly grateful, ruins it with: “I get to go too, right?”
Well, there went that.
“It’s not a vacation,” he says evenly. “And you’re both too young.” Then, back to his papa (who’s leaning back in his chair now, arms crossed and silently skeptical) “I’ll just be there for a few months, I’ll stay under the radar, won’t get involved in any major events and I won’t let anyone know who I am.” And then, more eagerly: “I’ve been studying time travel theory for the past year with Deaton—“
“Which I told you was a waste of time, didn’t I?”
He had, repeatedly. But as one of only two humans in a family constantly bombarded by the supernatural, Parrish had made it one of his major projects from a young age to learn as much as he could about spells and magical theory to help out. Wolves have a lot of advantages on humans, but a grasp on magic definitely isn’t one of them.
His papa has always grumbled that he’d inherited way too much of his dad’s investigative genes, but there's always a smile in his eyes as he says it.
Now he turns to his dad for help. Stiles Stilinski-Hale had been hovering behind his husband’s chair since the start of the conversation, a vaguely amused, contemplative look in his honey-brown eyes.
He had shifted forward even as Derek leaned back, their body movements adorably in-sync as always. Even now Stiles reaches out to caress Derek's nape soothingly as his expression goes taut with tension.
“Honestly, Der, I’ve been kind of waiting for this for a while.”
Derek rolls his eyes, leaning back into the placating palm.
“So have I. So I can shoot him down.”
Sometimes, Parrish thinks his parents forget that he’s twenty-four years old. Coming to them is a courtesy more than anything… except he’s been raised with a pack instinct, human or no, and he’s sure he won’t be able to bring himself to go without their blessing.
He settles for sighing, opening his mouth to run through the long list of precautions he plans on taking – this is a big deal to him, he’s not running into it blindly – but his dad holds up a hand and then leans slowly forward, tipping his papa’s chin back until they’re staring, upside-down, into each other’s eyes.
“And you know how I love to see you go alpha-wolf on the kids, Der, but think with me for a minute. Think about the time he’s asking to go to.”
Derek sighs at the pointedly soothing tone, but goes along with it.
“After your father learned about the supernatural. So your junior year.” Stiles smiles down at him, miles ahead of his husband on something and clearly loving it. Talia, impatient as always, starts in on variations of “what? What, dad?” but Parrish is the one who’s studied time travel theory in detail, and it hits him suddenly, sharp enough to send the air whooshing out of his lungs. His dad catches his eye, winking and grinning.
His papa stares between them, not nearly as pleased. He purses his lips and then, sounding nearly just like his youngest daughter:
“What?”
“Think about it, babe. What’s our son’s name?”
Derek sends Stiles a look like he’s completely lost it. It’s a familiar expression; it tends to show up at least once a week.
“I’m not going to dignify that with a response.”
Stiles smirks.
“Ok, well just hold that name in your head then, Der. Now take a nice, long look at our kid.”
Parrish knows exactly where this is going, and tries not to wilt at the weight of the knowledge as his papa levels that same, skeptical look on him.
They’d known him.
“Yes,” Derek says a little tightly, hands clenching over his biceps. “I see our son. This isn’t new information, Stiles.”
“Right, obviously.” Stiles leans forward against the back of the chair, wrapping his arms over his husband’s shoulders. “So what kind of a job were you thinking of going for when you land back in 2011? Thinking of maybe becoming a… deputy, Parrish?”
Everything in Derek’s stance stiffens at once. Stiles has obviously been waiting for it, running a soothing hand down his husband’s arm and pressing a kiss into his cheek while Derek stares at his son like he’s suddenly seeing a stranger.
“That… he’s…”
Stiles smiles.
“Yup.”
“How long have you…”
“I figured it out a few months back, once he started getting seriously invested in the concept.” Derek twists his neck to shoot him a fast, sharp look, and he smiles innocently, not giving an inch on his embrace. “To be fair, I hung around the station a lot more than you did.”
He doesn’t add anything about being the far keener observer, or revel in holding one over his husband. Obviously he senses that Derek isn’t quite in the state of mind to take it well.
Claudia rises quietly, padding to her parents’ side and rubbing her cheek against Derek’s shoulder soothingly. She has always been the most nurturing of the pack, sensing just what the rest of the family needs. His papa really must be reeling.
Again Derek turns to stare, eyes narrowing thoughtfully. He looks like he’s trying to line up what he knows of his son with the person he remembers from thirty years before.
“We weren’t trying to… we named him after my…”
“I know,” Stiles says, shaking his head and grinning, his eyes crinkling. It’s a more comforting expression by far than the dull shock his papa’s sending his way, but then again, Stiles has apparently had months more to process.
Derek clears his throat.
“So if I forbid it I’ll basically end up destroying the time-space continuum.”
Stiles beams, taking his mate’s chin and kissing him gently on the lips.
“Pretty much.”
His papa seems more or less mollified by the kiss, leaning back into Stiles’ embrace and shaking his head at Parrish.
“Magic…” The word comes out with the usual hint of disdain, but his lips are tilting, a disbelieving smile starting to creep over his face. Parrish grins back.
“Magic,” he repeats, far more brightly.
He’s actually going to do this. He’s going to go back in time, meet his parents before they were his parents. And become a deputy under the grandfather he idolized, who’d died back when he was a child.
And apparently, since it had happened once already, he isn’t going to screw it up.