Archive of Our Own ^beta

Stiles walked through the open garage door of the firehouse, lips vibrating against each other in a hum. He was in a good mood. Things had been rough since his boyfriend had lost his mom and decided to travel the world ending the first serious relationship that Stiles had ever had. One man had managed to put an end to his promiscuous days of running around and never sleeping with the same person twice. He was a changed man and then a destroyed man by his departure, but this morning he'd woken up with a skip in his step and hopeful feeling in his heart. Laughing at himself, he searched out his father, the chief of Ladder 30, BHFD. 

The station was large, housing two full size trucks and two ambulances along with an upper floor full of bunks, a living area, enormous kitchen and dining room. Glancing up, he spotted his father in the kitchen, stirring something in a pot. Whistling loudly, his father looked up with an eye roll and a wave. "What's got you in such high spirits?" Scott, his best friend, and second in command at the station asked as he exited the weight room, towel wrapped around his shoulders as the echoes of Salt-n-Pepa and En Vogue shouting the praises of a "mighty good man" flowed out after him. 

Stiles opened his mouth to answer when his eyes fell just beyond Scott's shoulders on someone he didn't recognize pulling a department tee over an impressive set of pecs and abs. He reached up to make sure there was no drool on his chin as Scott stopped in front of him, waving a hand in front of his face. "Earth to Stiles," he said.

"Who the fuck is that?" he asked and Scott followed his gaze over his own shoulder, letting out a loud guffaw drawing the attention of the Greek god currently inhabiting their gym.

"I think he's actually Swiss-German," Scott responded making Stiles realize he'd let his thirst out of his mouth. Slapping a hand over his eyes, he backed away slowly hoping to disappear into the side of one of the trucks and backed into his father instead.

"Stiles, I see you've met our newest recruit. Derek Hale. Hale, this is my son, Stiles," the Chief called out as the man joined them in the main room of the station, hand held out and a smile on his face. Fuck the man had bunny teeth. He saw the tips of Hale's ears turn pick and Stiles' mortification grew.

"Nice to meet you, Stilinski," he said, recovering and if he could pretend that Stiles' brain-to-mouth filter wasn't malfunctioning, then so could Stiles.

"Stiles. Stilinski's the Chief," he teased, taking Hale's hand and trying to ignore the tingle it sent up his arm and straight through his chest; someone needed to do something about the static electricity in the station.

He watched Hale's mouth open to respond when the alarms started going off. "Everybody suit up," Chief called out and the activity level ratcheted up to ten. He focused on getting his uniform on and not Hale who somehow ended up with the locker right next to his. 

Five minutes later, he was climbing onto the truck and swinging into his normal seat, only to find it already occupied. "Uh..."

"I'm sorry, is this your seat?" Hale asked, moving to stand when Scott shoved him back into place. 

"You got here first. Stiles can find somewhere else to sit," Scott said, smirking because he knew damn well that Stiles couldn't sit in one of the rear facing seats, the only ones left, without running the risk of blowing chunks all over everyone in the truck.

"No, I can move," Hale said, looking between them, eyebrows lowered over his shifting green eyes.

"No. First come, first serve," Scott insisted as the truck roared into action throwing Stiles off balance and face first right into Hale's lap.

The new recruit jumped to his feet and moved around where Stiles was now knelt on the floor of the truck to sit in one of the rear facing seats, reaching out to help Stiles into his regular seat. "I hope your coordination is better in a fire," Hale said, smirking and Stiles flipped him off before punching Scott in the arm.

"Stiles," his father admonished from the driver's seat without even turning around and he sat back, arms crossed over his chest, huffing out in irritation. He didn't know when his great day had turned so bad.

Looking up when he heard an unfamiliar laugh, he saw Hale talking to his father and he was reminded of the moment it had all gone to hell. Why did the pretty ones always do the most damage to his life?

<hr />

The call had been a bit on the crazy side, a YouTuber who had decided encasing his own head in a cement block sounded like a great way to get views. It probably would've been if his father hadn't, after they'd just barely managed to save the jackasses life, 'accidentally' knocked the video camera into the pool frying the footage. He was still chuckling when he climbed off the truck and was once again stunned into inaction.

His sister, Allison was standing in the middle of the station, looking confused until the Chief called her name and pulled her into a hug that Stiles piled on top of a moment later. "What are you doing here?" he demanded, frowning when he saw tightness around her eyes and the way they flitted around the room constantly. Allison was never nervous.

"I just thought I'd come for a visit," she said, her smile wide but something off about it as she rubbed over her arms, wincing as she reached her left shoulder. "Can't a girl come visit her family?" Her voice held a pleading quality and all of Stiles' questions went out the window in the face of excitement for seeing her.

Allison had gotten married about five years earlier and moved across the country. If not for the one time he and their dad had flown out to see her, the last time he would've seen her would've been her wedding day. There was always one reason or another that she couldn't come visit, so he squeezed her tightly, trying to ignore the little gasp she gave when his arms wrapped around her ribs and he spun her around, setting her down again, one arm draped over her shoulder.

"Guys! This is my sister, Allison!" he said, smiling proudly.

"Step-sister," the Chief reminded, but smiled fondly at them. Even after divorcing Allison's father, he'd still treated her like his own daughter despite there being no blood between them; after all they'd been a family from the time he and Allison were ten years old until college.

"Nice to meet you," Scott said, holding out his hand, smile wide and Stiles groaned. He knew that look and he knew that tone. He opened his mouth to say something when Scott shot him a glare before looking at Hale and back to him.

"Nice to meet you, too," Allison responded, shaking his hand and tugging gently when he didn't let go right away. "All of you," she offered a little wave to the rest of the station as they all headed into the locker room leaving them alone in the main area. “Um, I don’t want to interrupt, I was hoping to get your key and I’ll wait at your place?”

“Yeah, sure,” Stiles responded. “Let me grab it real quick from my locker.” She nodded and followed his dad up the stairs to the living area while Stiles went into the locker room where Scott was lying in wait and grabbing him around by the biceps and shaking him violently.

“Why didn’t you tell me you had a hot sister?” he screamed in Stiles’ face.

Stiles rolled his eyes and pulled out of Scott’s grasp heading for his locker. “A - I don’t judge the hotness of my sister because gross and B - I don’t judge the hotness of my sister because I’m gay and C - she’s married, dude.” Hale’s head snapped up at reason B and he filed it away for investigation at a later date as he dug his key out of the pocket of his jeans hanging in his locker.

Scott’s face was downtrodden when he turned back around and he shook his head. That boy fell faster and harder than anyone he’d ever met, himself included. “Hey, doesn’t mean you can’t be friends with her,” he comforted. “Maybe we can do a bar night.”

“Yeah! We can do a welcome party for Hale and invite Allison!” Scott said, already racing away to start making plans. Stiles frowned at his back trying to figure out how Scott’s obsession had turned into a party for the new guy.

Looking up, he caught Hale’s eye who looked as confused as he felt. He opened his mouth to say something but Hale’s attention was stolen away by Jackson Whittemore, the company asshole who had strutted into the room with a piece of paper over his head.

“Guess who dropped another half-percent on the DXA scan?” he called out, shouldering Stiles as he walked past.

“Shouldn’t be bragging about losing IQ points,” Stiles grumbled.

Whittemore rolled his eyes in a rather impressive manner and shoved the paper in Stiles' face. The words were all blurred together at that close proximity but it looked pretty official. "A DXA scan measures your body fat and mine is down a half-percent!"

Scott let out a groan. "No fair!" he shouted. "You're already top dog in the competition!"

Hale looked up, brows pulled together as he spoke. "What competition?"

"The Hot Days, Smoldering Nights: Men of Beacon Hills Public Service wall calendar," Scott said, eyes sparkling with excitement.

"Do you really need to use the whole title? You could just say 'that idiotic, reductive, sexist calendar that insults the dignity of this and every other public service organization and furthers the myth that all public servants are male,'" Erica Reyes spoke up from her side of the partition in the locker room before coming around, uncaring of the state of undress of the other firefighters, negating the need for the partition in the first place.

"Yeah, that's not any less words," her boyfriend Vernon Boyd pointed out, ruffling her hair, the closest to PDA they displayed at work. 

"Reyes, it's for charity," Whittemore said and it was Stiles' turn to groan.

"Since when do you care about charity, Whittemore?" he asked before rolling his eyes. "It's that time of year again?" He ignored the looks he got from the rest of the team that had seen him work himself nearly to death in the weight room the year before to enter the competition to represent the fire department in the calendar, eventually losing to Whittemore and ending up destroying all the hard work by consoling himself with milkshakes and curly fries until he puked, swearing he'd never put himself through that again. And he wouldn't. Really.

Whittemore was strutting around like he'd already won when the Chief walked in. "I wouldn't be counting your chickens until they're hatched, kiddo," he said. "I hear that they say a man is at his sexiest when he reaches 50." 

"Is that what they say?" Stiles asked, arms flailing. "Is that really what they say? I can't believe you are doing this!"

"Afraid of a little competition, son?"

"Who says I'm competing?" Although now he wanted to enter just to make sure he beat out his father, the idea of seeing him dressed, or undressed, like past calendar was too much for him to bear.

"Yeah, why should he bother when my Latino good looks are going to cinch the spot?" Scott asked, flexing his muscles and trying to give his best Blue Steel.

Stiles reached the door of the locker room and looked back at Hale who had his lips pressed together, eyes dancing merrily as he pulled his shirt over his head, a slight snicker escaped. "Don't know why you're even bothering to enter. Hale's got ya'll beat, hands down," he said, leaving the locker room to the sound of shocked indignation.

He found Allison sitting on the couch in the living room, a cup of coffee in her hand. "Hey," he called as he came up the last stair, freezing when she jumped and dropped the mug, the ceramic shattering, spilling coffee and shards all over the hardwood at her feet.

Her face paled and she dropped to her knees, grabbing for pieces and apologizing profusely as Stiles hurried over to pull her away before she hurt herself. As his hand wrapped around her shoulder, she gasped and pulled away, curling into herself in a way he'd never seen her do, but he had seen other people do and his heart clenched with suspicion. 

"Allison," he spoke softly as he got her to stand up and move away from the mess, settling her into one of the chairs at the large table where the company shared dinners. "How's Matt?" If he hadn't been looking into her face, he would have missed the minute twitch by her right eye, something that had always been a sure sign that she was under stress. "I'm gonna kill the bastard," he said, rising to his feet, ready to gather the troops.

Allison grabbed at his hand, pulling him back towards her. "No. Don't, please. I've left him and I'm filing for divorce. Don't make it worse," she pleaded and Stiles gave into the tears on her face, but he was going to tell his dad as soon as she was settled into his apartment. "And don't tell anyone, especially not your dad."

"Alli," he whined and she squeezed his hand harder. "Please, Stiles." 

He stared at her, his gut telling him all the reasons he shouldn't agree, all the reasons he should march right down the stairs and tell his father everything he suspected but then she started to cry and he fell for it as he always did. "Alright, I won't tell him." He paused, studying her face when the tears didn't stop as they normally would have if she were just manipulating him. "Yet." The small nod of her head told Stiles that she understood his promise would mean nothing if he felt she was in greater danger than she was already.

Stiles was getting ready to leave for the day, his mind already on Allison and everything going on with her when a hand on his shoulder startled him out of his thoughts. Turning he found Hale looking at him with a small smile. "I can help you," he offered.

"Help me?" Stiles was confused. Had he somehow figured out what was going on with Allison and was offering to help him kill Matt? He had no clue what else he could possibly need help with, especially from the rookie.

"With the competition." He looked over his shoulder to Whittemore and Scott holding their phones out in front of them trying to take selfies while simultaneously attempting to ruin the other's photo. "I could help you work out, show you how to take a really good selfie."

"God, could you be more full of yourself?" Stiles asked, grabbing his bag and shouldering it, pushing past Hale with an eye roll before waving at Scott and flipping off Whittemore as he pushed out the door next to the garage door and headed to his Jeep, mind still going over the absolute arrogance of the rookie.

The weeks went by and the more Hale fit in with the rest of the company, the more Stiles hated him. He thought back on his rookie days with Ladder 30 and the hazing he'd been through, none of which seemed to be happening to Hale. The bastard wore a smug look ninety percent of the time and barely deigned the company worth of talking to, except for Boyd and Reyes who seemed to have become his best friends.

"Why the hell did you hire him?" Stiles moaned to his father on one of the rare nights they got to eat together outside the station. Allison was going to join him but had been hired as a 911 dispatcher, taking the place of Stiles' ex-boyfriend actually, and had started training that day. She'd come home exhausted and fallen into bed, pleading for Stiles to bring her takeout. He'd promised and met his dad where he was now complaining about the rookie.

"He served several tours in Afghanistan as an Army medic. He's got experience that we wouldn't get with your average rookie. He also graduated top of his class at the academy. He's a good man," his father explained, studying his son with the considering look he'd given him when he used to complain about Lydia Martin in high school. 

Stiles really didn't have an argument against that so he took a really vicious bite out of his slice of pie, wincing when his teeth hit the tines of the fork a little too hard. He ignored his father's muttered comment about karma and stabbed his fork into his pie pretending it was Hale's face.

The next morning, Stiles was in the workout room trying to tune everything out around him. Scott was trying to take selfies for the calendar competition on his left and Hale was bench pressing a ridiculous amount of weights on the bench to his right. He heard the clank of the bar hitting home and saw Hale sitting up out of the corner of his eye.

“You’re in the wrong light,” he said, his voice loud enough to be heard and Stiles wanted to tell him to shut up. He just pressed the bar up again with an extra loud grunt.

“What d’ya mean?” Scott asked.

Hale stood up and moved past Stiles to Scott and Stiles had to fight the urge to kick him as he did. “The light in this room is flat and blue. Makes you look soft. If you want to look lean and muscles to pop, you need warm side light. I can show you.” He pulled his phone out of the pocket of his baggy basketball shorts, sliding through the photos. “These are the ones I had someone take and was thinking about submitting, if I decide to do the calendar.”

Scott let out a low whistle that pushed Stiles over the edge. He slammed the bar back into place and sat up, rubbing his hands against his thighs. “Don’t you think it’s cheating to submit pics taken by a professional?”

Hale turned his gaze on Stiles and wrapped his arms over his chest, looking thoroughly unimpressed. “The photographer’s twelve. She’s my niece and is a master at iPhone filters.”

“Your niece did these?” Scott said, showing the phone to Reyes who wiggled her eyebrows and let out a low growl as Hale nodded, eyes locked on Stiles. “You think she’d be willing to take mine?”

“Yeah. I’m sure she would,” Hale said, his thumb flying over his phone without looking.

“You shouldn’t get his hopes up like that,” Stiles said, pushing himself to stand, over being stared at by the rookie. “No offense, Scott.”

“Full offense taken, Stiles.”

“What’s your problem?” Hale snapped, the blank expression giving away to confused anger.

“Okay? We’re doing this?” Hale nodded. “My problem is you, dude! Okay? You’re my problem.”

“I’m your problem? How am I your problem?” Hale took a step forward, eyebrows lowering into an impressive glower.

“Your comfort level!” Stiles hands flailed as he talked and Hale took a step back when a hand gets too close to his face. “You’re...you’re not supposed to just walk in here like you’ve been here for years. There should be a getting-to-know-you period. You have to show respect to your elders until you earn it in return.”

“You’re not his elder, Stiles,” Boyd said quietly from where he was cleaning off the treadmill he’d been using.

Hale opened his mouth and closed it a couple of times before his voice found its way out. “Look, I, in no way, meant to be too familiar or step on anybody’s toes,” he said, his voice calmer than the look on his face. “And I know you’re going through some stuff right now, so I’ll for-”

“What personal stuff?” Stiles demanded, glaring at Scott who was suddenly far too interested in his own phone.

“I know your boyfriend dumped you and fled the country and you’re coming to terms with that.”

“You have no idea what you’re talking about. This is something a rookie shouldn’t know about!”

“Look, I'm just saying I hear you're a good guy, and I'm sorry you're going through pain, but you don't need to take it out on me or-or be threatened by me. We're on the same team.” Hale’s voice was growing softer in direct counterpoint to Stiles’ anger.

“Why would I be threatened by you?” he sneered.

“Exactly. There's no need to be. We do the same thing. I've just done it while people are shooting at me is all.” He said it so smugly and even gave a shrug at the end that Stiles clenched his fists to keep from punching him in the face.

“I’m not going through anything!” Even Stiles knew that was a weak comeback but he was done with this conversation and he hoped that he never had to see Derek Hale again. Maybe the earth would open up and swallow him whole; he’s sure no one would miss the asshole.

“All right,” Hale muttered as Stiles stormed out of the gym, throwing his towel at the hamper hard enough to knock it over, but there still wasn’t the feeling of satisfaction he’d expected after giving Hale a piece of his mind.

The next day, a 7.1 earthquake hits California. Although Beacon Hills is not at the heart of it, they still get hit hard enough that the high rise hotel in the center of town breaks, the top ten floors falling over until they are resting parallel to the ground, the top resting on a McDonalds across the road. Looking up from where they had parked the truck, Stiles can see a man pressed against the windows of one of the higher floors. “Yeah, that’s gonna be fun,” he muttered.

“Stiles! Hale! You get the man on the top floor. He’s in the room with the woman who called 9-1-1. You’ll have to be quick!” the Chief shouted.

“Seriously?! Hale!” Stiles snapped and his father leveled him with a look that told him he wasn’t too old for grounding.

“If you don’t think you can set aside whatever feelings you have for or against Hale and do your job with some modicum of professionalism, you can march your butt back to the station and start packing your gear.”

Stiles swallowed, his Adam’s apple bouncing so hard that he thought for sure it was trying to jump out of his mouth. “Yes’sir,” he said, turning on his heel and running smack into Hale who was giving him a blank look, rappelling equipment over his shoulder. 

The Chief held up a hand, silently asking them to wait as Stiles looked back up the man above the street, just a few inches of glass between himself and certain death. He could feel Hale's glare on the back of his neck as they waited for the Chief to finish up what he was doing and let them go do their jobs.

"Fuck," Hale said and Stiles snapped his head around to find him glaring at his phone, lips pressed together hard enough that they were lined in white.

"What's your deal, dude?" Stiles hissed. "Put your phone away."

"There's no service. Texts won't even get through," Hale said, his face growing paler as his thumbs kept flying over the keys.

"Dude, who the fuck is so important that you have to get hold of them right now?" Stiles gestured to the buildings literally falling down around them.

"My son," Hale said, meeting Stiles' eyes for the first time, the green glowing with panic. "I'm trying to reach my son."

"You got a kid?" Stiles asked, his gut clenching as he remembered the terrible thoughts he'd had about Hale the day before. Guilt started creeping into his system, twisting his gut even more until he wanted to puke.

"Max. He's seven." Hale nodded, holding out his phone to show a picture of a small child who looked exactly like him, except blond. 

"And super adorable," Stiles offered with genuine affection. The kid was damn cute and his smile on his face made Stiles' heart grow three times like the Grinch. He looked back up at Hale, at Derek , who was still looking panicked. "I, uh, I love kids."

"I love this one," Derek said, smile tight. "I'm all he's got. His mom's...well, she's just not around."

Stiles nodded, wondering if she'd passed away leaving Max without a mother at a young age like he had been, but the fissure of anger running underneath Derek's words made him think there was a lot more to the story. The only thing that mattered was that this kid only had Derek and he was going to make sure that he got back to his kid.

"He's at school?" Derek nodded. "Then I'm sure he's fine."

"You guys ever deal with anything like this before?" He looked around at the building and Stiles recognized the calculating look in his eyes. "We didn't have earthquakes like this in New York."

They watched a man trying to get back into the building, hollering about finding his daughter and he saw Derek nearly vibrating and knew he had the urge to go running in there like Stiles did, but he put a hand on his arm to stop him as Scott and Boyd went inside to look for her.

The Chief came back out and shared what he'd learned from the manager and the engineers. The hotel was between check out and check in so occupancy was low but there were about a half dozen people inside. The reinforced steel was still working enough to keep it from collapsing, but one good aftershock and they might be screwed, so they had to move fast.

They looked up again and Derek started talking. "We could get a bag underneath him in case the window gives and then go in and try to get him from the inside."

The Chief sent Reyes and Greenberg off to get a crew to set up the bag while Derek continued. "Stiles, you say that's the eleventh floor?" Stiles pursed his lips in consideration before nodding. "I bet we could take the ladder to that fourth floor. Cut the distance in half and then use the ropes to get the rest of the way up."

He was barely done speaking and they were in motion, getting the ladder where they needed, crawling in through the fourth floor and stepping on the sashes between panes of glass to get through the maze that was a sideways building. They were almost to the eleventh floor when Stiles looked back to see Derek looking pale, phone out and curses slipping through his lips as they moved.

He knew he had to try and get Derek's concentration back on what they were doing or they would be risking not only their lives up there. "After the last big one, FEMA spent millions retrofitting every school in Southern California. Derek, your kid is in the safest place he can be."

"I thought this was a high-rise!" Derek shouted.

"Well, it was," Stiles said, smirking and counting it as a win when Derek's lips twitched. "We'll get you to your kid when this is done."

They reached the floor and opened the door, finding a woman grasping a pillar in the room, mascara streaking her face. "Thank God!" she screamed. "Please, please get me out of here."

"Whoa, whoa, ma'am, I need you to just sit tight, I will come and get you," Derek assured her looking at Stiles with wide eyes.

"Okay, we can attach the ropes here and I'll hold this end while you go get him and then we can get her," Stiles said, frowning when Derek did. "Can't you just trust me?"

"You don't even like me," Derek said, but he started attaching the ropes to his harness and moving past the woman who was still screaming. 

"Uh, no offense, but I think this might be a situation where 'women and children first' does not apply," the man said from where he was lying flat against the glass, pinned by a large sofa.

"No offense?" the woman shrieked. "Everything about you is offensive!"

"First date?" Stiles asked, trying to distract her while watching Derek moving carefully and allowing slack when needed.

"He wishes! That fat pig is actually married with five kids believe it or not! Although that didn't stop him from trying to sleep with me!"

"You're going to have to work out your issues later because I would say this is a massive dose of karma biting him in the ass," Stiles said, allowing a bit more slack just as Derek reached the end of the sofa pinning the man.

"I'm going to toss you a rope and I need you to secure it around yourself," Stiles said to the woman, maneuvering another rope out of his bag with one hand. "Can you do that?" The man nodded and Stiles tossed. 

The woman got the rope around her waist and struggled to tie it while still managing to keep a hold of the pillar, but Stiles couldn't keep his focus on her as he turned to look at Derek who had his head tilted as he studied the man. "Okay, now I'm going to come to you and tie this webbing around you to pull you-"

Derek's words were cut off by an aftershock and the glass beneath the man shattered, sending him plummeting to the street and Stiles didn't even have to wonder what happened to him when the screams grew louder. At the same moment, the woman lost her grip on the pillar and started sliding along the window towards them, the rope Stiles had tossed her hanging loosely in his hand. Just as she went over the edge, Derek let go of the rope and grabbed her, the both of them tumbling through the hole.

"Shit!" Stiles screamed as the rope around his waist that was attached to Derek jerked him forward to the edge of the broken panes of glass, just his feet digging against the window frame kept him from going over. "Hold on, Derek!" 

Twisting around carefully, he managed to get to his knees still holding the rope. He looked over the edge and saw Derek dangling and staring up at him, one arm wrapped tightly around the frantic woman. "Okay, I can do this," he said to himself and started hand-over-handing the rope up with Derek attached.

A few minutes later, the woman's hand appeared over the window frame and Stiles grabbed for it and pulled. "Give me your other hand!" he shouted and grabbed it as soon as it appeared, pulling the woman up onto the glass where they collapsed for five seconds before he wrapped the other rope around her waist and pushed her gently toward the door of the room. 

Once she was moving, Stiles flipped over onto his stomach and spun around so that he could reach both arms over the edge to grab Derek's hands and pull him up into the building with him.

They got back to the ground quickly and as soon as they did, Derek dug out his phone and Stiles ran up to the Chief. "Chief, Hale and I've got to go!"

"In case you haven't noticed, there's a disaster-"

"Dad," Stiles said, something he almost never did on the job and his father froze, nodding. "Thank you."

Stiles grabbed Derek who was still on his phone and not paying attention as he was dragged through the streets until they found one that was open and a cab sitting on the corner. "Dude, we need a ride," Stiles told the cabbie who looked like he was about to complain but when he saw the uniforms, he nodded. "Derek, what school?" he demanded after he'd pushed him into the backseat of the school.

"What?" he asked, head jerking up and looking around in confusion for a second before blinking and rattling off the name and address of the school. "Get him there and then get him and his son to Ladder 30," Stiles told the cabbie, reaching into his pocket for his wallet, but was waved off.

"On the house for heroes," he said and put the car into gear and Stiles stood, watching as Derek stared at him out the back window. 

A few weeks later, they were called to a bar where a co-ed had gotten her head stuck in the tailpipe of some guy's truck. Stiles really did not want to know how that had happened, but while his father argued with the owner of the truck that he would indeed have to cut through the twelve-hundred dollar tailpipe, he'd assigned Stiles and Hale the job of talking to the witnesses.

As soon as they approached the crowd, three girls surrounded Derek, none of them looking old enough to be in the bar and Stiles wondered if he should card them or point them out to Allison's dad who was currently directing traffic away from the parking lot of the bar, not wanting more vehicles in the small space than necessary. He was just about to call Lieutenant Argent over when a small blonde approached him. She had her phone out and a flirtatious smile on her face. "I'm gay," Stiles said before she could say a word and then he moved over to where Derek was getting a little too up close and personal with a dark-haired girl who couldn't keep her hands to herself. He refused to call the feeling inside him jealousy, but it was definitely dark and ugly. 

He had his mouth open, ready to make Derek look stupid in front of the girl when he looked at him with wide eyes, mouthing the word 'help' and Stiles felt guilty for not stepping in right away. The guilt was soon replaced with pure mirth at Derek feeling overwhelmed by a tiny slip of a girl that didn't even reach his shoulder.

"Look, I'm not what you're looking for," Derek said to her, removing her hand from his bicep where she was trying to caress it with a little too much familiarity.

"I think you're exactly what I'm looking for," she purred and Stiles pretended to stick his finger down his throat, hearing Reyes bark out a laugh from somewhere to his left.

Moving closer, ready to step in because even though he and Derek had only recently become civil towards each other, he hated witnessing such a complete disregard for consent. "I have a son."

The girl shrugged. "That's great, so do I."

"Hale! Stiles!" The Chief barked from his place by the truck where he'd gotten the tailpipe removed from the truck, head still stuck inside the tailpipe. "Clear a path for the ambulance."

"Thank god," Stiles heard Derek mutter under his breath and they moved together to clear a path, Stiles watching him work.

They were back at the station and Reyes started ribbing Derek about the girls back at the bar. "So, is your son really the reason you don't date?"

"That and they weren't my type," Hale said, rubbing a hand over his face and glancing over at Stiles who looked away just before their eyes could meet. "Not anymore."

Reyes started to say something, but Derek's phone rang and he fumbled it as he grabbed it, the first sign of clumsiness that he'd ever displayed. He spoke rapidly into his phone, hand rubbing over the back of his neck as the locker room emptied out, leaving just him and Stiles who was focused on getting his boots tied. They both still had about half of their shift left so his mind was on going upstairs and finding something to eat when Derek hung up the phone.

"Stiles," he said, his voice hesitant and Stiles looked up in surprise; it wasn't the first time he'd spoken to him directly outside of work-related things, but it was the first time outside the earthquake when he'd sounded so desperate.

"You have a car, right?" Stiles nodded. "I need a ride. Like right now."

"We still have-"

"Right now," Derek repeated, his eyes were wet. "My Nana, who watches my son, fell and broke her hip. My son had to call 911 and wait with her alone." His breathing was growing shorter and shallower, a sure sign of a panic attack and Stiles acted quickly.

"You got it," he said, tossing his keys at Hale. "Blue Jeep. I'll go tell the Chief." Derek nodded, opening his mouth and closing it again before leaving the locker room, Stiles following him out and heading into his father's office to explain why they were leaving in the middle of a shift.

Pulling up in front of the hospital, Derek climbed out. "Thanks for the ride," he said. "I'll see you at work tomorrow."

"No," Stiles said. 

"No?"

"No. I'm coming in with you. You are not going to sit here alone," he said. "Let me just go park."

"My sister is here. My son is here," Derek said.

"And I'm here," Stiles told him, not sure what was behind this need to stay with Derek beyond the memory of the other members of the company taking turns sitting with him when his dad had been hospitalized the year before. Once they had a better grasp on the situation, he would head up planning the rotation to sit with Derek himself if necessary.

"Yeah, you are." Closing the door, he stepped away from the vehicle and actually waited for Stiles to park and join him at the entrance before heading inside. 

They were only a few steps in when a woman came running up, throwing her arms around him. "Derek!" she said, the two of them squeezing each other before he pulled back. "And friend."

"This is Stiles. We work together."

She quirked an eyebrow in a way that reminded Stiles of Derek as she looked them both up and down. "Here I thought you just dressed alike." 

They looked at each other in their matching BHFD shirts and rolled their eyes. "This is my sister, Laura. This is Stiles."

" This is Stiles?"

Laura knew who he was? Derek talked about him? Fear ran through Stiles as he thought about what the other man could possibly be saying about him to his family. A question formed on his lips, quickly cut off by Derek requesting to see his grandmother.

“You can’t. She’s sleeping right now. Max is with her,” she said, voice soft but her expression was firm, slipping only slightly when she sighed. “You can’t keep leaving him with her. She’s too old to-”

“I know. I know and I’m sorry,” Hale interrupted and Stiles could tell by his tone and slump of his shoulders that the words were sincere but oft repeated. “I’m trying to get it figured out but there’s so much paperwork. It’s worse than the VA.”

Stiles smirked, he remembered all the paperwork his ex would complain about when it came to long-term care for his mother. In fact, until the last home health aide he’d hired, who happened to be Scott’s mom, it had been overwhelming to the point he’d almost had her admitted to a home despite it being the one thing she’d demanded not happen when she still had enough of her mind to speak it. He wondered if Melissa would be willing to help Derek out with his son.

“I can’t believe your psycho ex stuck you with this," Laura muttered, her face stoney and Stiles shivered when their eyes met.

“Well, psycho ,” Hale said with a forced laugh. “And I’m not stuck.”

“Do you have to go back to work?” Laura snapped and Hale’s chin dropped to his chest. “And you’re not stuck.”

Stiles started to argue, tell Derek he could stay, they’d get him covered when he heard a tapping sound from down the hall behind him and everyone’s demeanor changed. Laura laid a hand on Derek’s shoulder and spoke softly, “I’ll take him tonight, but you have to get this figured out.”

He nodded and when he turned, his face transformed into a smile that Stiles had never seen before, catching him off guard and stealing his breath when Derek leaned down and opened his arms. A second later, something hit Stiles' shoe and he looked down to see a titan-haired boy with a grin that he recognized from the photo on Derek's phone. He was even cuter in person, but Stiles' gaze caught on the white cane in his hand, the culprit in the assault on his shoe.

“Sorry,” the boy said, his head slightly turned into Stiles’ direction before Derek grabbed him and pulled him into his embrace. “Daddy!”

“Hey, buddy,” Derek said and Stiles turned away from the dampness he caught in green eyes before they were buried in the young boy’s shoulder. “Rumor has it that you’re a hero.”

“I dialed 9-1-1 just like you told me!” he said. “I spoke to a nice girl named Allison and she sent the ambulance for Nana.”

Stepping back to give them room, he ran into Laura who was watching her brother and nephew. “It must be tough,” Stiles said, just to break the awkward silence as he gestured toward the cane.

“Raising any child is tough. My brother is a saint, but that doesn’t mean he doesn’t need help,” she said, giving Stiles a pointed look.

“Stiles,” Derek said, drawing his attention back to where he was now standing with a hand on his son’s shoulder. “This is Max. Max, this is my...coworker Stiles.” The pause wasn’t lost on Stiles and his disappointment in not hearing the word friend confused him.

He took the hand Max held out and laughed when the boy shook it up high and then low, pulling Stiles off balance. “Man, that’s some grip you got there, kid,” he said, smiling up at Derek who turned his head away as soon as their eyes met. “Might have to start calling you Mad Max.”

“Yeah!” Max said, fist pumping the air and then launching into the story of calling 9-1-1, getting excited when Stiles told him there was a really good chance he’d spoken to his sister. The two of them settled onto a bench in the hallway when Derek excused himself to go talk to his grandmother.

When Derek returned, Stiles was nodding off and Max was playing with a fidget cube Stiles had given him from his pocket; he had more at home and the kid seemed to enjoy the toy. “I hope you don’t mind,” Stiles said as he stretched.

“Not at all.” He smiled softly down at his son when his head jerked up and he waved the toy in his general direction. “How much trouble are we in?”

“None,” Stiles explained. “I called the station and they got a couple of the guys from the other shift to come in early and cover us. However, that means we have to cover the end of their shift tomorrow.”

Derek groaned, but nodded. “Thank you.”

“No problem, dude. It’s what we do,” Stiles said, hoping his cheeks didn’t look as red as they felt.

“Yeah, but you hate me.” Stiles gaped and sputtered. “You’ve been a dick-”

“Dad,” Max admonished.

“A jerk to me since I started,” he corrected himself.

"I-I...we...I mean..."

“You’re mean to my dad?” Max said, giving a pretty good impression of his father’s glare in Stiles’ general direction. “I don’t like you anymore.” He held the fidget cube out. “I don’t want this.”

Derek reached out and closed his son’s hands around the cube. “I think that maybe it’s been a misunderstanding,” he told his son looking up at Stiles who did his best impression of a bobblehead. “So why don’t we give him another chance?”

“Fine,” Max said going right back to playing with the cube.

Laura came back then, a bag of food in her hands that she passed to Derek. “This is for you guys to eat on your way back to work,” she explained and reached for Max’s hand. “Ready for a sleepover?”

“Yeah!” Max cheered and allowed Laura to lead him out of the hospital, waving his arm over his head as Stiles and Derek called out goodbyes.

“Cute kid,” Stiles said.

“I think so.”

A few days later, Stiles was standing next to one of the firetrucks with Max next to him, the both of them running their hands along the side as Stiles explained each part that they touched. “This feels like a fat seatbelt!” Max said and Stiles laughed at his description of the hose curled up on the inside of the truck. Derek laughed as he watched the two of them, but froze when a throat cleared behind him.

“Kid any good with a hose?” the Chief asked, arms crossed over his chest as he watched the scene in front of him.

“I can try!” Max said. “I’ll probably be better than Stiles!”

“I thought we were buddies! Why are you dogging me?”

“All right, you’re hired,” the Chief called out before turning a dark look on Derek.

“Sorry, Chief,” Hale said. “My sister’s trying to get off work early to come get him. I didn’t have anywhere to take him.”

“Sure you did,” he said, breaking into a smile. “Right here. Stiles gave me the heads up. Now let me meet this young man for-”

The alarms started blaring and Max covered his ears. As the Chief and all the other firefighters rushed to the locker room, Stiles scooped him up into his arms and started whispering to him, watching Derek put Max’s booster seat into the truck in the seat that was usually Stiles’.

“Hey,” he said, laughing when Derek smirked.

The Chief came back and took Max, talking to him the entire time as he put him into the truck and into his seat. He jerked his head towards the locker room and Stiles and Derek hurried to change, making it back to the truck as Scott was outfitting Max with a headset. They were barely in their seats when the truck jumped into motion, siren blaring.

“Police on scene with possible entrapment.” Allison’s voice came over the headsets and Max clapped his hands.

“Allison!” he shouted when she was done speaking and the entire company laughed at her confusion.

“It’s Max! You sent an ambulance for my Nana!” he reminded her and she gave a soft laugh. “I’m in the truck!”

“Well, you make sure and be a big help and stay in the truck and out of trouble, you hear me?” she said and Stiles couldn’t help smiling back at Derek when he mouthed, “She’s the best” at him.

“Hey, Max,” Scott said once Allison disconnected. Max’s eyebrows pressed together in the center. “This is Scott.” Max nodded. “We can talk to each other over these too, not just the dispatcher.”

“Although sometimes I wish I had a mute button for Stiles,” Derek said, earning a laugh from everyone except the man in question and Max.

“No you don’t, Daddy, you said-”

“So, entrapment,” Derek shouted, cutting his son off and Stiles made a mental note to question Max later. “That means someone is stuck somewhere, probably in a car in this case.”

Stiles sat back in his seat, listening to and watching over his company and Derek’s kid interacting. He always loved being at work, but today there was something special going on and he was glad to be a part of it. He shifted his eyes to the left a bit and could see Derek watching him and he wondered what was going on inside his head, if he was feeling the same thing as Stiles.

He focused back on the actual words of the conversation as Scott was talking about the stitches he’d gotten on a rescue once when he’d fallen through a plate glass window and a shard had gone through his bicep. “I had to get a ton of stitches. You ever have stitches, kid?”

“Two times,” Max said proudly, touching a spot by his left eyebrow that showed a faint scar and then his knee through his jeans before another spot on the back of his head. “Actually, three times but I don’t remember this one.” He tapped the spot a couple more times.

Stiles shot a look at Derek who looked pale and his mouth was moving but no sound was coming out. Reaching out, he tapped Hale’s knee and then jerked his head towards Scott who looked impressed, trying to distract him from whatever thoughts were disabling him.

“You’ve got me beat. Now I feel kind of lame,” Scott said.

“That’s ‘cause you are,” Stiles and Max said at the same time and Stiles smacked a high five to the hand Max held out.

The call went quickly, the Chief staying on the truck to explain to Max what was happening. When they climbed back on, Max was happily chattering about the Jaws of Life and how his Daddy was a hero. Scott was trying to convince him he wasn’t the only one but Max could not be swayed except to say that Stiles was one, too, which just upset Scott even more.

“You are, you know,” Derek said, pulling Stiles’ headset away from his ear so he could speak into it. “A hero.”

Pulling his headset off completely, Derek did the same and they turned to face each other. “You did all the heavy lifting out there.”

Derek jerked his chin towards Max who was starting to quiet down, his eyes blinking sleepily, the fidget cube Stiles had given him in his hands. “It doesn’t always take heavy lifting to be a hero.”

When they got back to the station, Laura still wasn't there to get Max, so the company spent their downtime playing with him. The Chief helped him bake cookies and Scott had a box of toy cars in his locker for some unknown reason and they sat on the floor of the living area until Max had curled up on Stiles' jacket and fallen asleep.

For the hour he napped, everyone in the station found quiet activities, Stiles' was to research local activities that Max might enjoy while sitting on the couch near where the boy slept. He'd only been at it for ten minutes when Derek dropped down on the other end, leaning his head on the back of the couch with a quiet groan. "That good, eh?" Stiles asked.

"I just got off the phone, again, with social services about the special programs for Max and I'm even more confused than when I called. I don't know what I'm going to do. Laura can't keep watching him. It's not really safe for him to be here all the time," he said, smiling down at his son who rolled over in his sleep, one hand coming out to curl around the ankle of the leg Stiles had resting on the ground. "No matter how much he and we like having him here."

Stiles nodded to himself and clicked on the email he'd received earlier in the day. "Hey, I want you to come 'round my place tonight. I've got someone I want you to meet."

"Stiles, you didn't set me up, did you?" Derek whined.

"No! No. Just-just trust me," he pleaded, knowing the words the last time he'd said them hadn't been met with the best reaction. "This woman is exactly what you need."

Derek rubbed his hands over his face and groaned again. "Alright, I trust you."

"Hale! There's a hottie here to see!" Whittemore shouted up from downstairs, waking Max up. There was an injured grunt followed by raucous laughter from downstairs and when Derek and Stiles approached the railing and looked down, Whittemore was on the floor in a fetal position with a pissed off Laura standing over him.

"Uh oh," Derek said, approaching Max and gently rubbing his arm and whispering to him. "Auntie Laura's here to pick you up. Time to go with her."

Max's face turned down into a frown. "I don't wanna go. I wanna stay here with Chief and Scott and Stiles and you, Daddy."

"It's just for a little while," Derek said and Stiles could tell it was breaking his heart to tell Max 'no' even though it was the right thing to do.

"I've got an idea," said Stiles and he leaned in to whisper just loud enough to Max for Derek to hear, earning wide matching grins from both of them. 

Stiles slid down the pole and landed a few feet from Laura, shouting to the company. "Time for our newest recruit to be heading home, but first it's time for his first ride down the pole!"

The entire company gathered round as Derek helped Max hold onto the pole and jump to wrap his legs around it, sliding down to where Stiles caught him and helped him off the pole before calling up to Derek to slide down. 

"There's my sunshine!" Laura said, smiling and reaching to hug Max but the company beat her to it, all of them taking turns hugging him goodbye and telling him to come back soon before Stiles was kneeling in front of him and putting a child-size hat on his head.

"You come back real soon, alright?" he told Max who nodded and threw his arms around Stiles' neck. He held him for a minute and if he had to hide his eyes from the way Derek was looking at them, that was his secret and no one else's.

Stiles was cooking dinner when the buzzer sounded. He glanced around the apartment and wiped his hands off on his jeans. For the first time since his ex had moved out, allowing Stiles to sublet the apartment he'd shared with his mom, he'd actually taken the time to give it a thorough cleaning and finally boxing up everything his ex had left behind. The place didn't look as lived in as he would've liked but it looked less like it belonged to an old lady.

He wished Allison would hurry up and get the last of her boxes over to the apartment she'd rented not far from the call center, but he didn't have the heart to rush her, so they were shoved into the corner of the living room. The buzzer sounded again and Stiles snapped out of his thoughts and hurried to answer it.

Derek stood on the other side of the door, soft burgundy henley hugging his body in a way that Stiles tried his very best to ignore. His hands were shoved in the back pockets of his jeans and when he pulled them out, Stiles gaped at the thumbholes; it was unfair for a man built like Derek to look that adorable.

Clearing his throat, he stepped back, gesturing for Derek to enter the apartment, jerking his eyes upward when he found them wandering lower. As Derek walked around the apartment, hands brushing over objects, Stiles tried to give himself a mental talking to for his behavior, he wasn't even sure where it was coming from; he'd always objectively thought Derek was attractive, but this was something different.

"So, where's this woman you're setting me up with?" Derek asked, stepping into the kitchen and taking the beer Stiles offered after grabbing one for himself, suddenly extremely thirsty. 

The buzzer went off again and he headed towards the door. "She's right here," he said, grabbing the knob and pulling the door open. "And I'm not setting you up with her."

"Stiles!" Melissa said, pulling him into a hug as soon as the door was opened. "I missed you."

"I missed you, too," he said, burying his face in her neck for a minute, enjoying the hug. She'd become the closest thing to a mom he'd had since his own had passed away when he was a kid. Pulling away, he wiped at his eyes and led her into the apartment by a hand to the small of her back.

"Derek, this is my friend Melissa," he introduced. "Also known as Mama McCall aka Scott's mom."

"Nice to meet you, Derek," she said, crossing the room and pulling him into a hug that took him a second to return and Stiles bit back a laugh at the look of panic on his face. 

"L-likewise," Derek stuttered out as he was released and he hurried to stand slightly behind Stiles.

"Melissa is Beacon Hill's finest nurse slash home health care aid," Stiles explained. "She's got years of navigating giant bureaucracies and I thought she could help you figure out how to get Max was he needs."

"I'm red tape's worst nightmare," she told Derek with a smile. "Now, let's go sit down and see what you're working with...besides that perfect bone structure," she teased.

"Down, Melissa!" Stiles teased, ignoring the stab of jealousy in his gut that disappeared completely when the tips of Derek's ears turned pink and he all but ran to the table, pulling Stiles down to sit between him and Melissa.

"I don't bite, Derek," she said, reaching into the bag she'd brought with her and pulling out a laptop. "I've bookmarked a few places to start looking for assistance."

Once Derek's shoulders relaxed, Stiles excused himself from the table under the guise of checking on dinner. He plated up the pasta, carrying it back to the table, smiling at Derek sitting in the chair he'd vacated. Settling the plates down, he left the room to eat at the island in the kitchen, sipping at his beer and letting the quiet hum of the conversation in the other room provide a backdrop to his internal freak out.

Chewing slowly, he thought back over the time since Derek had joined Ladder 30, about the anger he'd felt when he'd waltzed in and made himself at home. The level of anger had been nothing compared to the terror he'd felt when he saw Derek go through that window and the relief when he'd made it back up the rope and to safety. He'd convinced himself then that it was because he was worried about Derek's son, who at that point was just a faceless blob in his head.

Then he'd met Max and everything changed. That little boy wormed his way into Stiles' heart, pulling his father in alongside him. Rubbing at his chest, Stiles glanced over his shoulder when Derek laughed, the lightest sound he'd heard from him outside an interaction with his son since Stiles had met him. Smiling, Stiles knew he would do anything to keep Derek laughing like that.

Once he was done eating, he cleaned up his plate and then went to clear the others. He was just loading the dishwasher when Derek and Melissa came back into the kitchen. Melissa had her coat on and bag over her shoulder as she hugged Derek again, this time the man melting into it and hugging back. 

"Thank you," Derek said when he pulled back.

"Don't thank me until we get everything settled," Melissa stated. "We made a good start today, but you need to call those numbers I gave you and then call me and we'll get together to start on the correct paperwork."

"You got it."

"Bye, Stiles," Melissa said, pulling him into a hug as well. "You tell that father of yours to give me a call. He owes me dinner."

"I'll be sure to pass on the message," Stiles said, escorting her to the door and getting another hug. 

When he walked back into the kitchen, Derek was standing where they'd left him looking shell shocked. "Alright, dude?" 

"Don't call me 'dude'," Derek said, smiling at Stiles.

"Sucks to be you. I use the word dude as a noun, or an adverb, or an adj-"

"Are you seriously quoting Camp Rock to me?"

" Camp Rock 2 , technically," Stiles said, pride filling him at the laugh that Derek let out. "Do you have to go get Max or do you have time for another beer?"

"Max is staying at Laura's again tonight. My niece is having a birthday party with her friends and invited him," he explained as he looked at his watch and the door and then finally back to Stiles. "Another beer sounds great."

They settled on the couch with their beers, the silence stretching between them as Stiles realized that hanging out wasn't something the two of them had done before. He glanced around the room, frantic for something to talk about which normally is not a problem but he was so afraid to say the wrong thing and send him running. He was just about to go with small talk when Derek broke the silence.

"Thank you." 

"For?" 

"For that day of the earthquake when you got me that cab to get me to my son. For taking me to the hospital when my Nana broke her hip. For making arrangements for Max to hang out at the station when I couldn't find a sitter. For introducing me to Melissa." Derek swallowed, running a hand through his hair. "You did all of that and never asked for anything in return and you don't even like me."

"Who said I didn't like you?" Stiles demanded, his temper flaring as he starting planning who to kill at the station; he decided he'd kill Whittemore just because he was an asshole, even if he wasn't to blame. 

Derek raised his eyebrows and tilted his head. Stiles tilted his head in response before he realized what he was trying to say. "Me? I don't hate you! I may not have been your biggest fan in the beginning but...now, well...after everything we've been through..." Derek still looked disbelieving, so Stiles just ended with, "I don't hate you."

"Alright," Derek responded, taking a drink of his beer and then they fell into a discussion about what he and Melissa had talked about and what the next steps were.

"Just let me know how I can help," Stiles told Derek when he was getting ready to leave, having called an Uber after a third beer, leaving his keys with Stiles to bring his car to the station the next morning. 

"I will." 

Derek headed down the hall and Stiles wanted to call him back, ask him if there was ever a chance for them to be something more than friends, or even just friends but the words got stuck as soon as he called his name and Derek looked back at him. The sight of him walking away reminded him far too much of the last time he saw his ex and he couldn't bring himself to risk it all again.

The next day, Stiles drove Derek's car to the station, wishing he could just take the day off and drive the Camaro to the coast and along it for a few hours, take a day off and try to clear his head of all the nightmares he'd had about his ex leaving him the night before. He'd spent the morning talking to himself in the mirror, talking himself out of any silly notions of relationships and already planning a night out that would hopefully end up in him getting laid by some faceless guy he'd never have to see again.

He pulled into the station, waving at Derek who was waiting by the back door. "Morning," he called out, tossing the keys at him.

"Thanks for bringing it. I'll drive you home later," he offered.

"Actually, I think I'm gonna go out tonight, get drunk and take an Uber home or somewhere else," he said, trying to sound upbeat but the look on Derek's face told him he wasn't convincing.

"Sounds like a plan," he said.

"I thought so."

"I didn't say it was a good one," Derek said, storming away from Stiles, calling out to Reyes just as the alarms went off.

They arrived at the scene, one of the McMansions in the older part of town, not too far from where Whittemore grew up actually. An older gentleman stood by the side of the road waving his arms as they pulled in and climbed off the truck. 

"Thank God you're here!" he called. "My husband, Mitchell, he..." The man trailed off, tears streaming down his cheeks as he gestured to the gate at the end of the driveway where another older gentleman was pinned by an SUV. "He...he's not breathing!"

Derek and the Chief ran to his side while Stiles stayed with the first man. "Sir, what's your name?"

"Thomas. I'm Thomas," he said, looking at the gate and Stiles gently turned his face to his, keeping him from looking at where the others were moving Mitchell to the ground and starting CPR. "My Mitchell. He's not breathing. He can't go." 

"How long have you been married?" Stiles asked.

"Not long enough. We've known each other since we were kids, but it took until we were in our fifties for us to get our heads out of our asses and confess our feelings. We just got married a few years ago because we couldn't bear not to be married anymore." 

Stiles caught the Chief's eye over Thomas' shoulder and swallowed down a gasp when he frowned and shook his head. Derek was gripping his hair hard with two hands, eyes wet as he looked up at Stiles.

Thomas looked at Stiles' face and his own crumpled even more. "No. No. He can't...he's my heart, my everything. We swore we'd do everything together and we did. Mitchell would lead the way and I would follow. I swore I'd follow him everywhere."

Stiles reached out to rub a hand over the man's shoulder, not surprised when he was pulled into a hug. "That's love. If you ever wonder if you're in love, just look for the person you go out of your comfort zone for, that you would do anything for."

"I'm so sorry for you loss, I really am. I can only hope I find something that good," Stiles said, his own eyes spilling over.

Thomas pulled out of the hug and grasped Stiles' face gently in his hands. "You don't find it, son. You make it." Stiles nodded the best that he could while his face was held in place. 

Thomas walked away from Stiles, approaching Derek who looked as destroyed as Stiles felt. "Do you mind if I have just a few minutes alone with him?"

"Of course, no problem," Derek said, stepping away and approaching Stiles, the both of them turning their backs as Thomas knelt next to Mitchell and pressed their foreheads together. "Alright?"

"No."

"What did he say to you?" Derek asked, laying a hand on his arm.

"He just said all this stuff about love and making it." Derek made a face. "Not like that, you perv," he said, smacking him on the arm but it was enough to make the tears stop. 

He looked at Derek's face, his green eyes looking back and his breath hitched. He thought again about everything that had gone through his mind the night before and how even before he'd stopped hating Derek, he was already following him.

"Sir?" the Chief said from behind him. "Sir!"

Thomas and Derek turned around to see the Chief standing next to where Thomas was slumped over Mitchell. They raced over and pulled him onto his back. Stiles checked for breathing and pulse, finding neither, he started CPR. He lost himself in the routine of chest compressions between Derek's breaths. A litany of "Come on, Thomas. Stay with me," flowed from his mouth.

He didn't know how long he was trying before Derek pulled him backwards off of Thomas. Stiles fought him until he collapsed back against Derek's chest sobbing, his arms wrapped around Stiles' chest. His voice was nonsense in his ear but his hand pressing over his heart was a focal point so that eventually he was under enough control to get back on the truck, fighting off the oxygen mask until his father threatened to ground him.

He spent the ride back to the station leaned into Derek's shoulder while he held an oxygen mask to his face. He didn't even stop the tears that were falling down his face because he knew there was nothing wrong with crying over what had just happened.

They got back to the station and Derek climbed out of the truck, taking a few steps before turning back. "You coming?" he asked.

"Yeah, yeah, I am," Stiles said, getting out of the car to follow Derek.

Stiles spent the rest of the shift curled up in a corner of the couch with a cup of tea that seemed to be bottomless, but he suspected that Derek was refilling it each time he set it down. Although he'd never actually caught him in the act, he seemed to be around the entire time, moving in and out of Stiles' peripheral. 

"Is Stiles alright?" Whittemore asked, coming upstairs at the end of their shift.

"No," Derek responded. "So, don't give him a hard time." Stiles smiled at the defense.

"I wouldn't," Whittemore said. "I've known him since we were kids. If I wasn't an asshole, he'd think I was sick, but even I won't kick him when he's down." He crossed the room, squeezing Stiles' shoulder when he passed.

The Chief came up and checked on him, asking if he wanted to come spend the night in his old bedroom, but Stiles refused, saying he only wanted to go home and to his own bed. "Call if you need me, kid." 

Stiles nodded and waited until it was mostly quiet in the station before pushing himself to his feet. He was down the stairs, Uber app open on his phone when he ran into a brick wall. "Ow," he said, looking up into green eyes. "You're still here?"

"Ready to go home? Or did you still want to go get laid?" Derek asked, an unreadable expression on his face.

"After seeing true love die, it's tough to see the appeal in anonymous sex," Stiles said. "You think there's someone for everyone? Or were Thomas and Mitchell just lucky?"

Derek looked thoughtful. "I used to think there was only one person for everyone, but now I think that's not quite right."

"So, you're a cynic, like me?"

"Stiles, you are the least cynical person I've ever met," Derek told him. "If you were cynical, you wouldn't be as affected by what happened today as you are." He had to give him that and it made Stiles feel a little bit better about himself. "I don't think there's just one person for someone, I think there's a lot of potential people."

"Makes sense," Stiles said. "I wonder where my potential people are. I just wish I knew where to look."

Derek smirked and took a deep breath, reaching one hand up to grasp Stiles' shoulder. "You could try right in front of you."

"What?"

"You heard me," Derek said. "You stop me if I'm wrong about this," he whispered, moving his hand from Stiles' bicep to gently grasp his chin, leaning in slowly until Stiles couldn't take it anymore and pressed his lips against Derek's.

"Do you still need a ride home?" Derek asked when the kiss ended.

"Depends," Stiles responded, wrapping his arms around Derek's waist.

"On?"

"If you'll come home with me," he answered. Derek's lips turned down and Stiles tried to pull away, but he grabbed Stiles' hip firmly and wouldn't let him go.

"I have to go pick up Max," Derek explained. "I can't leave him at my sister's again."

"Bring him," Stiles said, without hesitation. "We can get pizza and I got the new Avengers movie with audio description. I have the spare room for the both of you if it gets too-"

Derek's lips cut him off again. "Stop being so perfect," he said against his lips.

"I'll try, but I can't make any promises." They broke into laughter and headed towards Derek's Camaro.

A few months later, Stiles stood next to Derek as Max made his way up to Santa Claus with the help of a cute little elf. Stiles grinned when Derek snuck a quick kiss to his cheek. They'd been dating since the day Thomas and Mitchell had died, but were both pretty restrained with PDA, especially around Max, but everyone around them was focused on Santa.

When Max was done, the elf brought him back to them and Derek led him away, listening to him babbling about everything he'd asked Santa for. Stiles watched them go as he paid for the photos since he was the one that wanted to bring Max in the first place. 

"You two have the cutest son," the elf said as she handed over the photos. 

Stiles froze, looking between the elf and where Derek was standing with Max. Derek looked up at him and smiled, moving his hand in a 'hurry up' motion. Stiles grinned and turned back to the elf. "Thank you," he said, turning on his heel and hurrying off to grab Max around the waist and hug him close, laughing as Derek wrapped his arms around them both.