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John realized all of this had become a new normal.
Someone -- Derek was the primary suspect -- had installed additional towel bars in the bathroom, to accommodate the room being used by multiple people. Derek and Jordan had 'assigned' John the original towel bar and they used the new bars. It did help with keeping towels sorted.
"I'm doing laundry," Jordan called up. "Bring down the towels when you're done?"
"Sure," John agreed. He gathered up the various sets of towels and dropped them in the basket in his room. He needed to do some laundry himself.
"Here you go," John said. "Let me know when you're done and I'll do my stuff."
Jordan shrugged. "Not a big deal, I can throw your things in when this load is done."
"You don't have to..." John started to protest. It was largely underwear and it had never bothered him to have Stiles do the underwear. The thought of Jordan washing his underwear was faintly discomfiting.
"Nah," Jordan waved. "You've thrown in things for each of us. It's really not a big deal."
"Okay," John nodded. He was thinking too hard.
John went into the kitchen, following the smell of coffee. He found fresh coffee in the pot and coffee cake on the counter.
"Who baked?" John asked.
"Derek did," Jordan admitted. "Said something about an old family recipe."
"This is good," John said as he ate a bite of the piece he cut.
"You want some eggs or something?" Jordan asked. "I need more than just carbs at this point."
"Whatever you're willing to make will be fine," John replied. "You're going to sneak vegetables into it anyway, you might as well just go for it. But..."
"No mushrooms!" Jordan laughed. "Got it!"
While Jordan made up omelets, John opened his laptop and read through the overnight reports.
It was unusual that John and Jordan had a weekday morning off at the same time. They tried to cover different shifts between them, to help keep an eye on Beacon Hills in general. But Jordan had just come in from an overnight shift and John was going in for the afternoon shift. They'd actually be home in the morning for the next several days, until the next time shifts were changed up.
"Anything I should know?" John asked. "Anything not in the reports, that is?"
"Nah," Jordan replied. "Erma Readling called about something making noise in her back yard but it was only a raccoon. Even The Bar on Seventh was quiet."
The Bar on Seventh, an unimaginative but accurate name, had turned into a teen-magnet. It was owned by Tyson Landon who was new-ish to Beacon Hills, having moved in three years ago. He had thought that bar tending would be 'fun' in his retirement. In an effort to draw in business, he had allowed the local teens to hang out, drink non-alcoholic drinks -- he was good about carding patrons -- and dance. It had been a success... too big of a success. The bar was often over-crowded, which then led to, at a minimum, noise complaints and sometimes fights.
"We have to get Tyson to cut back on the teen crowd somehow," John rubbed his forehead in frustration.
"Just not a lot of places for kids to dance and let loose," Jordan said. "If that had been here when Stiles was in high school, he would have been all over it."
"Too true," John admitted. Jordan slid a plate in front of John. "Thanks."
"You're welcome," Jordan nodded. He sat down and they ate their breakfast.
"Okay, I'll throw the next load into the laundry and then I'm going to get some sleep," Jordan announced with a yawn.
"I'll take care of that when it's done, then," John nodded. "Sleep well."
John cleaned up the dishes from breakfast, and sat down to finish the reports and have another cup of coffee.
Due to their the Sheriff goes nowhere alone policy, John had no plans to leave the house and, in reality, had enough to do until it was time to leave for work. He started by scouting out what was available to take to work for lunch. With more people in the house, the refrigerator and the pantry was full of options. He made a tuna salad, throwing in some extra radishes and cucumbers. There was a hearty multi-grain bread to eat with it. Knowing he'd need something crunchy at some point, he put in a sleeve of some of the rice cakes someone had bought and a small tub of peanut butter. He made enough for two, since Derek would be on duty the same time he was.
John emptied the dryer, folding towels and stacking them to take back to the bathroom. He moved his clothes to the dryer.
In the small room John used as an office, he organized some of his personal paperwork. Somewhere along the line, Derek had taken over paying the house utilities -- I'm living here, too! -- but there were enough personal bills that needed to be organized. He paid off his credit card and scheduled a payment to his insurance company.
Knowing there was yard work that should be done but aware of Jordan sleeping, John put off that and went into the living room and turned on the tv. There was a baseball game recorded from yesterday that he could watch. He already knew the score but he knew he would enjoy the game.
In the middle of the sixth inning, Derek came in from what John had assumed was Derek's morning run through the Preserve. As the local Alpha, Scott should be doing something about that, but they all knew it wasn't happening. Derek had taken that on.
"Everything okay out there?" John asked.
"Pretty quiet," Derek replied. "I'm going to shower..."
"Take the clean towels up with you," John said. "I got them to the stairs and not all the way to the bathroom."
"Sure," Derek nodded.
John heard the water go on and then off. Derek came back shortly.
"There's still some of your coffee cake left. Thanks for making that," John said. "I packed lunch for both of us for later."
"Oh. Good," Derek replied. "Do you want anything?"
"I'm fine. Jordan made breakfast," John said. "Just watching last night's game."
"Okay," Derek wandered into the kitchen and came out with a huge bowl of Cheerios. "I put milk on the shopping list. We're down to the last half-gallon."
Derek had tried to buy groceries for all of them but John had put his foot down at that point. "We all kick in," he had said firmly. "Set up a fund for it and we'll use it as needed. Keep a running list of what we need and whoever goes shopping takes it out of the fund."
John knew Derek would occasionally buy groceries with his own money but since he only did it occasionally, John let it slide.
"Who's playing?" Derek asked.
John recounted the beginning of the game, which was tied 2-2 at the bottom of the sixth. At one point, John got up to take care of the laundry. He hung up what needed to be hung up and folded underwear as needed. He re-started the game as Derek finished his late breakfast.
"The Preserve feels better since Stiles and Peter left," Derek reported.
"Better how?" John asked.
Derek considered. "Safer, maybe? Definitely lighter. But there's also an underlying tension that I can't describe any better than that. It's not good or bad, just there."
"That will have to do," John said. "I'll settle for not good or bad to be honest."
John's phone rang. "Hello?"
"Are you home? Can I stop by?" Chris Argent asked.
"Sure," John replied. "I have to work in a couple of hours, I'm on afternoons."
"Shouldn't take long," Chris said. "See you shortly."
Derek picked up his breakfast dishes and took everything into the kitchen. John could smell fresh coffee brewing.
Chris tapped at the front door and John invited him in. "Coffee?"
"Yes, please," Chris nodded. He rubbed a hand over his face. "It's been a long night."
"Then get some coffee first," John said. "Derek, any of that coffee cake left?"
"One last piece," Derek said. He put it on a plate and put it in front of Chris. "Coffee's just about ready."
"Thanks," Chris said.
"What's up?" John asked.
"I spent the night following the two men you've identified and found there's at least four more in town and another half dozen on their way," Chris said.
John winced. "That's not good."
Chris shook his head. "I know a couple of the other four, and I'm going to see if I can get them away from the rest and talk to them. They're... a better sort than some of the others and I'm pretty sure I can convince them this is a losing proposition so they leave town."
"That still leaves the others," John said.
"Yeah," Chris admitted. "I'm not sure who else is headed this way, but even if I can get rid of two, that leaves ten mercenaries in town. And that doesn't mean more aren't headed this way. We'll be outnumbered, even if we have supernatural help on our side."
"What kind of resources will they have?" John asked.
"I'm not sure," Chris replied. "I'm hoping the two I can talk to have information on that. If someone is bankrolling this operation, we might be screwed."
John drummed his fingers on the table for a moment, to give himself a chance to think.
"Did you get to talk to Melissa?" Derek asked.
Chris shook his head. "Not yet," he said. "I'm going to talk to her tonight. Scott has a Pack Meeting scheduled, I guess, so he'll be out of the house."
"You should meet her somewhere outside of the house," Derek advised. "Scott's not really good at scents but he'll definitely recognized your scent. Unless we want him to know you're in town."
"What do you think?" John asked.
Chris shrugged. "That can go either way," he said. "If Scott doesn't know I'm here, he can't tell Deaton. But it may make them cautious if they realize you may have help."
"Or, Scott may try to recruit you to his side," John said. "I'll bet he has a really great sob story saved up and would love to try it out on you."
"Ugh!" Chris shuddered. "That has to be so self-righteous that it would be laughable."
"Could you even listen with a straight face?" John laughed.
"Probably not," Chris shook his head.
"It would be interesting to learn what Scott thinks they are doing," John said. "We know Deaton won't be telling him the truth but knowing what Scott's delusions are might be helpful. Up to you."
"If Deaton is behind this," Derek added, "I don't know what kind of resources he'll have to pay anyone he's recruited."
"There is the chance he has a war chest that he's using," John guessed. "He may be desperate since you say the Preserve feels lighter."
"That lightness is pure Stiles," Chris said. "As the Guardian, he's protecting the Nemeton and is essentially neutral on everything else."
"But as Stiles, he'll be on our side," Derek said.
"Too true," John nodded agreement.
"I'm going to suck it up and see if I can talk to Scott, too," Chris decided. "Maybe we can get an insight into Deaton's plans. Even a small clue would be helpful."
"If Deaton really is the person behind all of this, he wouldn't let anyone else be in charge," John said. "He has a goal of some sort and he wouldn't let anyone else be in a position to stop him."
"True," Chris nodded.
"If you need a bolt-hole at any point, you're welcome to come here," John offered. "We keep too odd of hours to offer you the couch for an extended time, but there's space in the basement. It won't be elegant but it would give you a modicum of privacy and it's better than nothing."
"I should be okay where I am, but I appreciate the offer," Chris said.
John saw Derek typing on his phone and figured another bed was being ordered. He'd let Derek handle that.
"Anything else?" John asked. "We need to get ready for work."
"Not right now," Chris replied. "Is this a good time? I'll stop by tomorrow and let you know what I found out from Mel. I could swing by the station but, well, it'll be quieter here."
"It is," John nodded. "Derek and I are on afternoons this week. So, if not now, then late at night, depending on how the shift has gone."
"I'll let you know if something comes up," Chris nodded. "Thanks for the coffee."
"I'll be very interested in what you learn," John nodded.
After Chris left, John went up to his room to change into his uniform. Derek was doing the same across the hall.
John realized that it felt good not to be living alone. Stiles had been away to school and he had gotten mostly used to the quiet that came from being the only person in the house. But the idea of others being around was unexpectedly comforting.
He'd have to talk to Jordan and Derek at some point. Maybe they'd like to stay, even after whatever is happening was over.