Chapter Text
The trees passed by in a blur outside the windshield. Stiles was grateful that the interstate was nearly empty this late at night his mind wandering away from the stretch of road in front of him. He could still feel the weight of his equipment on his shoulders and the heat in the truck couldn’t keep the shaking of his hands at bay.
He turned up the radio a bit more the cheesy pop music better than the thoughts echoing in his head.
He knows he shouldn’t be blaming himself; his teammates have already told him this every time he so much as sighed. Not even the police saw the connections between the fires until they were uncontrollable. In the seven years Stiles has been a firefighter he had never been in a fire so hot.
Walking into that building with Morgan behind him was second nature, but the cries they heard were playing from a speaker and the crack of the ceiling above them had become all the louder. The didn’t make it out, but Stiles had managed to pull himself from the rubble and crawl towards the exit.
His shoulder was dislocated, four bruised ribs, a twisted ankle, and the worst whiplash he’s ever had but he was alive. Morgan hadn’t been so lucky. They had tried to get Stiles off the scene before they dragged Morgan’s body onto the sidewalk.
He had pushed through the crowd limping and wheezing to find one of closest friends with a piece of rebar sticking through his chest his uniform caked in blood and ash. It was the first time he puked on a scene.
Two days in the hospital later he was stood beside a cemetery plot watching Morgan’s family cry. Something in Stiles broke at the sight, he wanted to console them, but he knew he had nothing to offer them. He knew better than most that comforting words and stories only made the wounds bigger. So, he went back to the station.
He woke up hours later to the panicked faces of his coworkers and a hoarse voice from screaming in his sleep.
So now the road lay ahead of him at four in the morning. A warning to take some time to clear his head before it comes off from his captain and four months of paid vacation saved up from seven years of skipping them.
He had stopped at a motel late yesterday to get some sleep, but after five hours of tossing and turning he just decided the keep driving. The 14-hour drive was easiest this early in the morning would be his reasoning when his dad inevitably asks when he gets in tonight.
The GPS chimes startling Stiles so bad he spilt a little bit of the red bull he was trying to drink, “Take exit 95A in one mile.”
“Jesus, Siri, don’t sound so excited,” he sat down the can wiping the dribble off his chin with his hoodie.
The town was just a speck off in the distance, but he felt something pull in his chest. He hadn’t set foot inside Beacon Hills in almost two years and something heavy and wet wedged itself in his chest.
The rest of his red bull and an hour later he finds himself passing the run-down gas station on the outskirts of town. It was painted a dull sun faded blue and the glowing logo sign was a unnerving smiling raccoon. Passing the ‘Welcome to Beacon Hills’ sign made him feel like he was sixteen all over again. Driving the jeep with Scott in the passenger seat.
The jeep had broken down for good a year after graduation and she still sits in the garage of the Sheriff’s house. The town had changed there was no denying it. closed up storefronts where shops used to be, a new grocery store there, and a new Starbucks every five blocks. He reached down and turned the heater lower the temperature change from Washington to California in February noticeable.
“Honey, I’m home,” he pulled the truck into the parking lot of the Beacon Hills Police Department. His hands started shaking again and he pulled on his gloves to hide the tremor. His dad had a sneaking suspicion on his sudden vacation, but he hadn’t asked yet. He knew it was coming, but he didn’t want to have this conversation at the station.
He pushed open the door that still squeaks even after all these years and the sound of chatter and keyboards washed over him like a balm. Tina waved from the front desk her dark hair now streaked with gray that some of his teenage antics are responsible for.
“Hey Tina Bean,” he leaned against the desk with a cheesy charming smile, “be honest how many cheeseburgers has my dad eaten in the last month?”
She laughed and it always reminded him of bells, “Sorry, Sti, I’m not snitch.”
A deeper laugh boomed from behind her and part of that knot in Stiles’s chest released. Noah Stilinski stood in the doorway of his office hands on his hips. “Remind me about that comment around Christmas bonus time, Chen.”
His dad opened his arms and Stiles most certainly did not run into his arms, he sauntered confidently. His dad was still slightly taller than Stiles and being wrapped in his arms made him feel even smaller; he breathed in the familiar coffee and cinnamon scent and felt his shoulders drop.
He hadn’t realized how much he had missed his dad. Noah wrapped one arm around his son’s shoulders guiding him into the office. A couple files sat atop his desk along with a ‘World’s Greatest Dad’ mug. The theme of today was making Stiles feel like he was seventeen again, apparently.
“How long are you going to be in town for, son?” the sheriff plopped down in his desk chair. Stiles mirrored him in the cushioned chair in front of the desk.
“I have a lot of vacation days saved up so it might be a couple weeks, if you don’t mind me being around?” he hadn’t told his dad he’d been staying more than a few days.
“It doesn’t matter if you’re ten, thirty, or fifty you will always be able to come home,” he took a drink not realizing he almost made his only son cry in one sentence.
“You should go home and get some rest, you look like you’ve been hit with a bus,” the sheriff looked genuinely worried. He was prying, he knew his dad didn’t miss the way he limped or favored his right side no matter how well he hid it.
“Just the hazards of the job, dad, I’ve had worse from lacrosse in high school,” it was a lie, but his dad didn’t need to worry anymore than normal. Hiding this from Melissa will be much harder, but that’s a fight for later.
“I suppose saving kittens from trees is dangerous work,” they both laughed the mood lightening, “but you still get some rest.”
Stiles nodded and both stood embracing again for a prolonged moment. He ruffled Stiles’s hair like he was a kid again and it made Stiles smile so wide his cheek hurt.
He got a couple waves, but no one stopped him to talk, and he worried he may look worse than he thought. Catching his reflection in the window of truck he grimaced. The bruising on his cheek was turning a sickly yellow and the bags under his eyes looked like bruises all on their own.
His stomach growled and the caffeine headache started creeping across his temples. He’s lived on weirder schedules, but the emotional exhaustion was catching up to him. He feels like he hasn’t been able to catch his breath since he woke up in that hospital bed.
The knot in his chest tightened again when he sat behind the wheel unsure where to head. His dad’s house wasn’t far away, but the three miles felt like a canyon between him. His hands made the decision for him turning left instead of right at the intersection.
He hoped the coffee shop was still there. He had spent so much time there in high school crammed in the back corner trying to absorb as much of his notes as possible or just hanging out with Scott. The once bright yellow doors where now a faded but the same hanging sign fluttered above the door in the winter breeze. The Beacon Bean his lighthouse in the dark ocean.
The bell above the bell jingled and the smell of vanilla and strong coffee filled his nose. The mismatched tables and chairs framed by twenty plus years of Beacon High School memorabilia covering every inch of wall space.
A tall woman stood in front of him with two small kids. The pantsuit she wore contrasted heavily with the overalls and pigtails the girl clinging to her hand wore, it was pretty cute honestly.
The little boy on her left was rambling energetically, his hands waving around. It reminded Stiles of himself when he was younger. He had given himself a nosebleed from whacking himself in the face on more than one occasion.
The woman turned to look at the boy and Stiles nearly shouted out loud. The power pant suit was none other than Cora freaking Hale.
Cora once scared the living shit out of Stiles, but after partnering up in Harrison’s chemistry class they had become friends. Well, more like terrors if anyone else asked. They had very similar senses of humor and between Stiles’s ideas and Cora’s ingenuity they created various pranks that went down in the BHS history books.
“If that isn’t Cora Hale in a pantsuit,” his smirk was a little manic.
Cora turned her smile turning to reflect his own, “Biles Bilinski all grown up? Well, he’s at least a bit taller now. How long has it been”?
He was indeed at least a head taller than the Cora now. “In the flesh, well mostly I have a pin in my shoulder now. I think it’s been nearly ten years since we’ve seen each other on anything but Twitter.”
Another building a couple years ago… it still aches when it rains.
“Never pictured, Cora the mighty anti-babysitter, with kids.”
“I have since revoked my anti-babysitter status because my niece and nephew are adorable, and their dad is hopeless.”
The girl at the counter cleared her throat and before either grown up could chime in the little girl with the pigtails leaned her chin on the counter, “Two kid hot chocolates and one cappuccino, extra hot, extra foam. Please Mary.”
That was unexpected, she couldn’t have been more than four and she was already a small businessperson. Extra adorable. The baby fever had reared its ugly head a lot lately. Something about being a couple months from thirty makes a single man think.
Cora paid and the little girl claimed the bench seat by the window small pink sneakers swinging idly. The little boy was still holding Cora’s hand half hidden behind her leg. The previous rambling ball of energy reduced to shyness. Something in Stiles heart tugged and he remembered when he was younger his mom would pet his head and call him her moon-bloom. A social flower when they’re comfortable.
Stiles crouched down bringing himself eye level with the boy. He hid farther behind Cora’s leg, but his eyes were bright and curious. “I like your shirt. My name’s Stiles,” he kept his voice soft.
A hand released its grip and stuck out for a handshake, “My name is Robert Hale Junior.”
“That’s a good name, I know your grandpa Robert, too.”
His smile could’ve powered the Las Vegas strip with its brightness. He fully let go of Cora’s now wrinkled pant leg. “Are you a superhero fan?”
Stiles pulled the sleeve of his sweater up revealing a portion of his half sleeve, Captain America mid shield throw on his upturned forearm. “I love superheroes, Robert.”
Small hands shot towards his arms with the same energy of his handshake, but his grip was surprisingly gentle as he turned Stiles’s arm side to side to see the other side where Groot and Rocket were inked.
He guided them both to the bench the boy’s sister was occupying and without hesitation Robert slid into his lap. Stiles resisted the urge to aww aloud. The rambling energy was back full force and Stiles had a moment to wonder if this is how his dad felt all the time when he was growing up.
He wasn’t sure how long they sat talking Marvel, but his leg was rapidly on its way to numb, and his cheeks hurt from the goofy smile he no doubt wore. Mid-sentence Robert jumped off his lap and ran towards the bathroom which made both he and Cora let out laughs.
He leaned forward hand rubbing feeling back into his leg when two pink shoes filled his vision. He pulled his head up and the cutest scowl stared him down her arms extended. Stiles understood, she wanted in his lap now.
“I like how pink your shoes are, they remind me of flowers,” he reached down plucking the much smaller kid onto his other leg, “are you a superhero fan too?”
She shook her head her pigtails waving about, “No, I like princesses and monster trucks.”
Stiles nodded bring his hand under his chin like he was thinking really hard making the little girl in his lap finally laugh. She had a laugh that reminded him of bells or maybe windchimes. “Alright then I can work with that. My name is Stiles, and yours? Or should I just call you princess?”
Her hand came up to mirror his previous position and Stiles laughed. She was pretty sarcastic for a four-year-old, he wonders who she got that from. “I know, my name is Isabelle Cordelia Hale.”
She seemed like she had something else she wanted to say, but she shook her head and dropped her hand. Stiles had never been great with kids he always attributed it to his energy. He was always moving around too much or talking to fast.
“I think princess is a good fit, Princess Isabelle Cordelia Hale. My favorite princess is named Belle.”
Maybe he’d been wrong, while Robert’s smile could power Vegas the dimpled smile he got from Isabelle rivaled the sun with its warmth.
“She’s my favorite too! She likes to read like me and only hangs out with the beast instead of stinky Gaston.”
Stiles agreed Gaston was stinky and the Beast was great to hang out with. Prince Adam had been his first boy crush too. After talking about Belle, she sprung her opinion about Ariel which was that she should’ve stayed home like her dad asked her.
He almost hugged her relieved for her poor dad that she thought boys were stinky and dads were right all the time. Robert had come back sometime in their conversation and was holding Stiles’s unoccupied arm tracing over the tattoos with focused intensity. He heard a camera shutter go off and all three of their heads popped up looking at a guilty Cora.
The bell above the door chimed and the most attractive man Stiles is pretty sure he has ever seen walked through the door. Tall, dark, and handsome fell flat when graced with this Greek god of a man. Bright eyes, dark stubble, broad shoulders encased by the tightest white button up, and dear god his ass had to have been carved from marble.
“Daddy!” both kids shot from his lap latching onto one leg each babbling over each other about anything and everything.
Looking at them together it’s obvious that Mr. Greek God had to be their father. Rob was a spitting image of him and the permanent scowl on Isabelle’s face mirrored her father’s.
Stiles wasn’t sure he could stand up without his knees shaking, he felt like an awkward teenager all over again. A large, tanned hand came into his vision breaking him away from his daydream, this family sure likes handshakes.
“I’m Derek Hale and Robert here says you’re Captain America.”
Despite the scowl on his face his eyes were bright with laughter. Stiles reached out his own hand suddenly very conscious of the rough callouses that adorned his palms, “Nice to meet you, Stiles Stilinski. Bells says you’re her Beast.”
The laughter finally bubbled out of the man-Derek- and Stiles swears his heart literally skipped a beat. What the actual fuck?
“Well, we have to get going or we’ll be late to dance class.”
Hearing the words late Isabelle hastily grabbed all her things hugged Cora and grabbed her brothers hand tugging him towards the door. Derek let out a sigh and waved goodbye following his kids out the door.
Stiles whipped towards a smirking Cora who immediately started laughing, she even snorted. “I don’t remember Derek being that-that?!”
She snorted again and nearly fell out of the chair, “One, ewe that’s my big brother you’re talking about he’s always dorky. Two, oh my god your face was priceless when you saw him with the kids. If you were a chick, I would’ve sworn I saw your ovaries explode.”
Stiles grimaced at the mental image, “Cora, all due respect but your brother is one of the most attractive people I have ever seen, and I work with sweaty, shirtless, firemen every day.”
“I don’t think I’ve seen Derek laugh at anyone besides his own children and my misery in forever. Also, those kids aren’t usually that friendly either.”
“Really? I usually make kids nervous, I just thought they were normally that friendly.”
“As a baby Bells would scream every time Peter even came near her and he’s her uncle. Somedays, I think Bells might be plotting my murder, but she just opened right up for you.”
“Well, if I’m honest that was probably the easiest conversation I’ve had in years.”
Cora looked at Stiles like he had grown a second head and it was Stiles’s turn to laugh. “I’m a single thirty-year-old gay man, Cora, I love babies and hot men respectively but put them together and I am weak.”
“Well, how long are you going to be in town” he knew that smile from anywhere, she had a devious plan, “Derek is looking for a nanny.”