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Derek ducked into the train car, phone pressed to his ear as he listened to his teenage sister whine about how terrible everything in her life was because there was a guy in her chemistry class, or maybe it was her algebra class, that had blown her off that day. Normally, he would’ve hung up and told her to go to bed since it was almost midnight back home in California, but the next day was the first day of Spring Break so he figured she’d be up anyway. He wouldn’t admit it to anyone, but he missed his family.
He’d left California for New York as soon as he’d graduated from high school and once he was done with nursing school, he’d been hired at a hospital near the school, so he’d stayed. Despite living in New York for six years by that point, he hadn’t made that many friends. He had his roommate Boyd he did things with sometimes, although working two in the afternoon to two in the morning three times a week really caused a crimp in his social life. Occasionally, Boyd’s girlfriend would camp out on their sofa and watch movies with Derek, but he wasn’t sure that qualified them as friends.
He came back to himself as his sister screamed into the phone, making him pull the phone away and chuckle. “Yeah, Cora, I’m listening to you. Sorry, just got on the train.”
“Should I let you go so you can feign sleep to avoid human interaction, big brother?” Cora teased.
“Wish I’d never told you that,” Derek muttered as he watched others enter the car, plenty of people who had left the bars and were stumbling home in twos and threes; a couple of the drunker girls were eyeing him up and down reminding him of why he would pretend to be asleep. He backed himself into a corner near the front of the car so he could keep his eye on everyone and glare anyone down that tried to interact with him. He didn’t mind watching people, it helped to pass the time, but talking to them, pretending to be interested in their chitchat, exhausted him in ways his twelve-hour shifts in the emergency room never could. And he knew he was just going to go home and probably have a terrible time sleeping because his most recent upstairs neighbor was obsessed with loud and violent video games.
His conversation with Cora was enough to keep him occupied and other people away for the next few stops. The train pulled into the busiest station at that time of night, located close to a string of bars and clubs as it was, and a lithe young man squeezed through the doors before it should have been possible. His tousled brown hair and wide whiskey eyes gave him a childlike aura, but the black leather second-skin trousers and red mesh crop top gave Derek some very adult feelings. Derek watched as he kept scrubbing his fingers through his hair and tugging on the ends. The boy kept glancing over his shoulder towards the doors and then around the car before his hands twitched and returned to his hair.
“Tweaker,” Derek thought as a crowd of people entered the car as the doors were closing.
Derek tried to focus his attention back on his sister’s voice, but he struggled to drag his gaze away from the boy that had caught his eye. He watched as he kept glancing at the other people in the car, his eyes jumping from person to person while his hands kept tapping against his legs or the bars along the seats. His eyes met Derek’s briefly and his lips quirked in an almost smirk that Derek found himself returning.
Derek pushed himself out of his seat, ignoring his sister calling for his attention again, his body on autopilot as he took a step toward the boy. He stopped when a large man with a shaved head stepped between them, closer to the boy. His large frame blocked the boy from Derek’s view briefly and that just wouldn’t do, so Derek stepped to the right in time to see the man attempt to cup the boy’s cheek in his dirty, trashcan hands. The boy flinched, his shoulders slumping as he made himself smaller. He tried to back away but ended up in a corner, the man following his movements and caging him in. Derek watched his throat bob with a gulp and his eyes started darting around the car with even more abandon than before. Just as the large man reached out to grab the boy’s arm, he locked eyes with Derek again, the panic in them tangible.
“Babe!” Derek called, raising a hand in a wave as he took another step towards the pair.
“What the hell, Derek!” Cora screamed in his ear. “Who are you talking to?”
Derek flinched and pulled the phone away from his ear and held it out to the boy who yanked his arm out of the guy’s grip and raced to Derek’s side. Taking the phone, he gave Derek a grateful look as he allowed Derek to wrap an arm around his shoulders and pull him into his side. Derek watched the boy’s eyes scan the screen before putting it to his ear. “Hi, Cora. It’s Stiles,” the boy said into the phone, voice friendly as Derek glared down the larger man who was getting in his face, appreciating the intelligence of the boy giving his name and hoped his sister would play along, supplying his name to his sister.
“What the hell is a Stiles?” Derek could hear his sister shout into the phone, followed by laughter when the boy...when Stiles...laughed in response. “What has Derek gotten himself into now?”
Derek felt a hand twisting in the back of his scrub shirt beneath his jacket and a face pressed into the side of his neck, the lips brushing and sending a shiver through him as the boy whispered. “What doesn’t Der-bear get himself into?” The nickname was a flash of nostalgia, the name had started from a little boy around two or three years old who used to come over with his mom all the time. He hadn’t thought of the boy, Michael or something similar had been his name, in years; he and his mom had suddenly stopped coming over and he’d never asked his mother why.
He’d always hated the nickname, but the kid had been so pleased with himself when he’d come up with it, Derek let it go, but then his oldest sister picked it up and used it to torture him as a teenager. He shot her down every time she said it and he wasn’t going to let some stranger, not matter how cute, get away with it.
“Yeah, no,” Derek said, surprising himself with how soft his voice came out. “What have I told you about that name, babe?”
The large guy took another step closer, getting completely into Derek’s space. Sighing, Derek turned to him, releasing his hold to move Stiles completely behind him, smiling when he pressed his forehead between his shoulder blades; Derek could feel him trembling and his anger with the jerk in front of him grow. “Is there something I can help you with?”
“Yeah, this little slut was all over me at the club and I’m expecting him to follow up,” the guy told him, an evil glint in his eye.
Derek felt Stiles shaking his head behind him and whispering goodbye to Cora before shoving the phone into Derek’s jacket pocket. “That true, babe?” Derek asked, not taking his eyes off the threat in front of them. “Were you being a bad boy and leading this…” Derek looked the guy up and down before quirking an eyebrow and continuing with a hint of derision in his tone. “This man on?”
“No, Daddy,” Stiles muttered, his breath hot on the space between Derek’s shoulder blades, even through the thickness of his leather jacket. He felt the words shoot straight to his groin.
Smirking, Derek adjusted himself, still eyeing the man glowering. “You heard my baby.”
“I don’t know what kind of sick game you two are playing, but your boy needs to stop promising things he don’t deliver,” the man growled and Derek’s patience snapped.
Pulling himself to his full height, towering over the man, Derek narrowed his eyes and took a few steps forward, forcing the man into the corner of the car he’d backed Stiles into previously. “My boy says he didn’t lead you on, then he didn’t lead you on. Now, get away from us before I make some promises that I will keep.” Derek kept his voice low, but the threat was heavy enough that the man trembled. “Are we clear?” he asked as the car trembled to a stop. The man tried to move and Derek stepped out of his way, chuckling darkly as the man darted through the doors, looking over his shoulder as he went.
The doors closed and Derek tried to turn around to face Stiles, but he had a strong grip on Derek’s jacket and was still trembling. Reaching back, Derek took him gently by the wrist and brought Stiles’ arm around his waist before doing the same with the other until he was being hugged from behind. Holding both of Stiles’ hands against his stomach, firmly enough to let him know he wasn’t alone, but loosely enough so he could pull away if he desired.
“C’mon, Stiles, it’s alright. That asshole’s gone.” Derek looked up when the next stop was announced. “We haven’t missed your stop, have you?” Stiles shook his head against his back.
“Bleeker,” he mumbled.
“Same as me,” Derek responded. “Three stops. Can we sit down?”
Stiles pulled his hands away, dropping into the seat closest to him as the train began moving again. Derek moved into the one next to him, at a loss for what to say. Words had come easy as he’d stood in defence of the slightly smaller man, but once the threat was gone, so were the words. He resigned himself to a quiet ride and was trying to work out in his head how to offer to walk Stiles home without sounding like a creep.
“Thank you,” Stiles said suddenly. “You didn’t have to do any of that.”
“Yeah, I did. No one deserves to feel unsafe,” Derek said, looking down at his hands between his knees.
“Pretending you knew me was one thing, but the other…” Stiles trailed off as the train stopped again. Two more stops.
“I’m sorry if I made you uncomfortable,” Derek told him. Stiles turned his head to study Derek’s face, smirking as Derek felt the familiar warmth of embarrassment in the tips of his ears.
Stiles smirk morphed into a grin between one blink and the next. “I’m the one that called you ‘daddy’.”
Derek chuckled and nodded. “Can’t say I really minded,” he admitted as the train rumbled down the track again, wondering if Stiles had missed the reaction he’d had earlier and when he turned to him with his jaw dropped, he knew he had.
“Really?” he squeaked, his face reddening as he flailed his arms for a moment before falling completely still and clearing his throat. “I mean, Can’t Say I Really Minded. Name of your sex tape.” He laughed at his own joke.
“Did you just Jake Peralta me?” Derek asked, laughing as Stiles choked on his laugh. “What? Didn’t think I watched Brooklyn Nine-Nine?” Derek’s phone buzzed and he pulled it out to see his sister’s name flash across the screen. He made a face at Stiles as he answered.
He turned his attention to his sister demanding an explanation about Stiles and heard him mutter under his breath, “I didn’t think you did anything except work out.” Derek felt his ears grow warm as the train halted and more people poured off.
One more stop and he still hadn’t figured out how to offer to walk Stiles home. “Cora, I’ll explain everything to you later.”
“You’re still with him!” she squealed. “Let me talk to him again.”
Helpless, Derek handed the phone to Stiles who took it with a grin. “How’s my favourite future sister-in-law?” he asked, not missing a beat and Derek warmed at the sound of Cora’s laughter coming through the phone.
Derek listened to the two of them chat, Stiles offering information about himself, he was only eighteen, a freshman at New York University, studying Criminal Justice. The train came to a stop and Stiles was still chatting, giving his life story which Derek was very interested in, but relieved he wasn’t the one having to keep asking questions to get it out of him. As the doors opened, Stiles reached out and tangled his fingers with Derek’s, looking up into his eyes and squeezing his hand gently. Smiling, Derek used the hand to lead the still talking Stiles off the train and up onto the street.
When they reached the top, Derek plucked the phone out of Stiles’ hand. “Good night, Cora,” he said, ready to hang up when her voice, more serious than he usually heard from her, stopped him.
“I don’t know who he is or what’s going on, but if you don’t keep him, I will,” she threatened.
Derek looked down at Stiles who was looking at his own phone, thumb flying over the keyboard as he texted someone one-handed, neither one of them wanting to let go. “I think I just might do that,” he told his sister. “Good night, Cora,” he repeated his earlier statement and hung up before she could prolong the conversation.
“So…” Stiles said without looking up.
“So…” Derek mimicked, laughing when Stiles whipped his head up to glare at him. “Want me to walk you home in case that asshole is around?” They both knew the guy had gotten off the train several stops earlier, but he didn’t know any other way to offer without sounding like a complete creep.
Stiles nodded, smile stretching his lips wide, as he tugged Derek down the sidewalk in the direction of his own apartment building. They walked in silence for a few minutes before Stiles started talking. “I came out to my dad just before I left for New York. He warned me to be careful when I went out to clubs because I didn’t know anybody.” He shook his head and ran his free hand over his arm as he shivered.
Derek released his hand and shrugged out of his leather jacket, draping it over Stiles’ shoulders and smiling as the boy slipped his arms into the sleeves before reaching for Derek’s hand again. “I probably should have listened to him.”
“Probably, but I’m going to be selfish and say I’m glad that you didn’t,” Derek told him as Stiles’ phone began to ring. Derek glanced at the screen; “Daddio” flashing across the top. “You better answer. Don’t want him to worry anymore than he probably already is.”
Stiles smiled, squeezing Derek’s hand as he answered. “Hey, dad. Yeah, I had a good time. No, I didn’t meet anyone at the club.” He grinned up at Derek who chuckled, the laugh dying when he groaned. “Stop being the sheriff for a minute and let me get away with something for once in my life.” Another groan and an eye roll and Stiles stopped walking gesturing for Derek to move closer. He threw an arm over his shoulder and held his phone out to take a picture. “Sorry,” he mouthed to Derek before returning to the call. “His name is Derek....er...uh…”
Derek plucked the phone out of his hands and put it to his ear, laughing when Stiles squawked at him. Holding a palm against his forehead, he kept him at arm's length as he spoke into the phone, attempting to be serious and sound like someone that this man could trust around his son. “Sir, my name is Derek Hale, I was born in Beacon Hill-”
“Derek Hale? As in Talia Hale’s son?” the man asked and Derek froze. “Y...y-es, sir.”
“We’ve only met a few times, thankfully,” Stiles’ dad said. “John Stilinski.”
Derek narrowed his eyes at how Stiles had given up the fight and was just leaning his forehead into Derek’s palm, arms limp at his sides. “Deputy Stilinski?”
The sheriff chuckled in response. “You have been gone for awhile. It’s Sheriff Stilinski, now.”
“Congratulations,” he responded, at a loss for anything else to say. He relaxed his elbow, biting back a laugh when Stiles stumbled into him, bumping his nose against Derek’s chest with a whimper.
“You probably don’t remember, but my wife used to come to visit your mom all the time when you were a kid. She would bring Stiles with her,” John said, breaking the silence. “He used to come home and tell the most outrageous stories about you.”
Derek snorted. “I think I’d remember a kid named Stiles,” he said, wincing when the boy in question’s head snapped up, connecting with Derek’s chin.
“His mother always called him Mischief,” the sheriff provided. “And let’s see if I can remember, he used to call you…” He trailed off and Derek stared down at Stiles who was making grabby hands at the phone now.
“Der-bear,” he interrupted, pulling the phone away from his ear hearing John’s tinny voice agreeing excitedly.
Stiles grabbed the phone. “Dad, I’ll call you tomorrow, we’re almost to my building.” Derek could still hear John speaking as Stiles hung up and pocketed the phone. “Are you alright?”
Derek nodded. “Mischief.”
Stiles took a step backwards. “I can’t believe my dad to-”
“He didn’t tell me. Well, he did, but I already knew it. He just reminded me,” Derek interrupted, startling when a group of people came around the corner laughing loudly, bumping Derek into Stiles again. Looking up to avoid looking Stiles in the face because he knew he’d spend time searching it to find anything familiar. “How far until your building?”
“Another block,” Stiles answered, his voice almost as small as it had been on the train when confronted by the asshole. Derek tilted his head before rattling off an address. “Yeah, that’s it.” Stiles took a few steps back, eyes darting around. “How did you know that?”
Derek held his hands up in as non-threatening a way as he could. “I didn’t. It’s my building.”
“Get out!” Stiles shouted.
Derek laughed and shook his head, his mind reeling at the odds of two people from Beacon Hills ended up not only in the same city but the same building. “Don’t tell me you live on the fourth floor.”
“Fifth. Five-fifteen,” Stiles told him.
“You’re the asshole who plays video games all the time!” Derek said, shoving him in the shoulder. “They invented headphones for a reason!”
Stiles looked embarrassed for a moment before his expression grew shrewd. “What did you mean that my dad reminded you?”
Derek blinked at the sudden change of topic, his exhausted brain struggling to keep up. “Why do you call me Der-bear?” he asked instead of answering.
Stiles shrugged. “I don’t know. It just rolled off my tongue, like…” He trailed off, face twisted in concentration.
“Like a memory,” Derek provided.
They had reached their building at that point and Derek allowed Stiles to unlock the outside door, the two of them heading to the elevator. As they waited for it, Derek reached into his pocket and pulled out his wallet and opened it to show Stiles a photo of his family standing on the front porch of their home in Beacon Hills.
“I know that house. My mom used to take me there,” Stiles said, awed before breaking into giggles. “Oh my god, what happened to you!”
“Puberty,” Derek deadpanned, face flushing at the memory of braces, glasses, acne, and lingering baby fat.
The elevator doors opened and Derek strode into it, more than ready to fall into bed, but not quite ready to say goodnight yet. “Do you want to come to mine for coffee?
Stiles yawned, slumping against the wall. “I’d rather go to bed,” he muttered. Silence fell for a couple of seconds before Stiles jerked upright, his eyes wide and wild. “I mean…”
Derek chuckled. “I know what you meant, Stiles,” he told him. “I’m off tomorrow night, or rather tonight. Why don’t we meet up for coffee then and we can piece together memories.”
Stiles grinned. “Can we make that coffee into dinner, Daddy?” Stiles teased as the elevator doors opened on the fourth floor.
Derek shook his head, a small fond smile on his lips as he leaned in to press a kiss to Stiles’ cheek before reaching down to smack him on the ass. “Don’t be a brat,” he whispered, ducking out and laughing as the door closed on Stiles’ astonished face.