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Nate’s first day of kindergarten is, according to him, a complete success.
“It’s not even as boring as you said it would be!” he accuses from the kitchen table, his small index finger extended in the air to emphasize Stiles’ obvious deceit on the matter.
“You just said they have mandatory nap time," Stiles points out.
In a chipper tone, “Yeah, but we’re allowed to set our sleep mats anywhere we want.”
“Oh?” The corner of Stiles' lips twitches as he scrapes the chopped hot dogs off the cutting board and into the macaroni and cheese pot. Nate makes an emphatic noise of confirmation and sprawls across the table to reach the orange crayon that rolled to the opposite edge. “Hey,” Stiles gestures to him with the wooden spoon, “Butt back in your seat.”
Nate rolls his eyes but does as he’s told. And really, Stiles doesn’t understand why his dad says Nate is an almost carbon-copy of Stiles as a kid - Stiles would never do that to his dad. (He always rolled his eyes after his dad had turned his back.)
“Me and Sadie Hale put our mats under the big window in the back of the classroom.”
Stiles turns to lean back against the counter as dinner cooks. Hale... that sounds familiar.
“Sadie?”
Nate nods like a spring in his neck has sprung loose, “Yeah! S-A-D-I-E. You’d like her, dad, she makes plans and stuff. Like the one she had to get to the back window first! We made a run for it and everything. But I’m always faster than other kids, so that was easy.”
“Nathan,” Stiles warns, carrying the pot over to the table. “What did we talk about.” Nate makes grabby hands towards the bowl, only stopping when Stiles lifts it out of reach and raises two expectant eyebrows. “Hmm? What did I say.”
Nathan makes a put-upon noise and drops his head back, “I know. I can’t go furry unless I’m with you, grandpa, or Uncle Scott and Aunt Allison. I just can’t help that I’m so fast!”
Stiles snorts. “Right. Put your coloring book away, I bought some apples. They’re on the counter.”
As he takes his seat, Nate jumps down in a flurry of excitement and races over to grab himself one of the fresh fruits.
He really is fast.
-
The second day of kindergarten is decidedly not a success.
Well, Stiles assumes the actual day was fine considering how excited Nate was when Stiles had picked him up. He couldn't stop talking, going as far as talking through the door once Stiles went to the bathroom; To be sure Stiles had been listening, Nate stuck his fingers underneath the door and wiggled them.
No, it’s hours later when Stiles goes to make dinner that the day turns from success into full-blown nightmare.
He’s coming into the kitchen when he spots them. Piled off to the side of the back door is the tell-tale sight of a tiny bundle of discarded clothes.
Stiles opens the door and peers out into the backyard, but Nate is nowhere to be seen.
“Nate?” Stiles calls once he comes back inside, knowing he’ll hear if if he’s in, or anywhere near, the house.
No answer.
Panic trip hammers Stiles’ heart into a frantic race.
He grabs his phone and keys off the counter before racing out the front door.
-
He drives up and down the entire neighborhood. He calls everyone Nate’s ever met. There’s no sign of him anywhere.
“I don’t even know how long he could have been gone before I noticed,” Stiles says over the phone to his dad, tearing at his hair. He feels more like a kid than he has in five years. “I’m a horrible parent,” Stiles starts, but doesn’t get very far before his dad is cutting him off.
“You’re not a horrible parent, Stiles, just a little more human than previously thought.”
Stiles stares blankly out through the windshield. “You’re choosing now of all times to make Were jokes?"
Muffled through the phone is the sound of his dad guiltily clearing his throat.
“You’re right, I’m sorry. Listen, Stiles, he couldn’t have gotten far. I remember you used to run off all the time -“
His voice is cut off as the phone emits three low beeps in a row, signaling a call on the other line.
“Someone’s on the other line, call you right back,” Stiles says, switching over to the incoming call in record time and pressing it back up against his ear. “Hello?”
“Hello,” a voice greets, “This is Derek Hale-”
“Oh my god,” Stiles interrupts, his stomach dropping like a dead weight.
Of course! He knows why 'Hale' was so familiar before. He's heard his dad mention Deputy Hale enough times to know exactly who’s calling. “You found him. Is he okay? What happened? Where is he? Where are you?”
There’s a beat of stunned silence, then: “Yes, your son is fine. He’s at my house-”
Stiles is yanking the car out of park and is back on the road before Deputy Hale even finishes the sentence.
“I’ll come pick him up. Where do you live?”
-
Stiles makes it to Deputy Hale’s house in record time.
He may or may not have broken a few dozen traffic laws to accomplish the feat, but he arrives in one piece so he really can’t muster the effort it takes to give a shit.
There’s a nice shaded spot under a wide canopied tree at the front of the house. Stiles tucks his Jeep neatly underneath it. He throws the door open before he’s fully taken the keys out. His legs are thrown out next. He makes his way up onto the sidewalk and peers up at the house. It’s a quaint little home, complete with a white picket fence and a bed of tulips under the front windows. It’s also out in the middle of fucking nowhere, but hey – to each their own.
Stiles races up onto the porch and knocks twice.
Two heartbeats later the door opens, a tall, broad man bracketed by clean natural light standing on the other side. Stiles sees the dark beard first, groomed close but full, framing a pair of soft pink lips spreading into a quiet grin.
Those lips say something that he doesn’t catch, shaking Stiles out of his funk and snapping his gaze up to meet the deputy’s eyes. They’re blue, but the emerald Henley squeezing his upper half almost makes them look green.
That’s when it dawns on Stiles that Deputy Hale isn’t in uniform.
His eyebrows crease. “You’re off duty?”
Before the Deputy can respond, Nate comes racing out past him, crashing right into Stiles.
He wraps his arms around Stiles’ middle and bounces up and down. A girl – who’s incredibly tall for her age – with long, raven black hair giggles in amusement from where she has come to stand inside the doorway. She’s wearing a red leotard and tutu, and Nate appears to be wearing the matching black one.
“Dad, dad!” Nate is saying, “Sadie let me borrow her ballet clothes, look it!”
“Nate,” Stiles says, and the smaller boy stops moving immediately. “You scared me. You’re lucky Deputy Hale found you –“
“But he didn’t!” Nate says quickly, as if he’s letting slip a revelation that’ll clear up this entire mess. “I came here myself!”
It takes only about two seconds for Nate to realize that this isn’t actually a good thing. Stiles’ deep frown is probably the first indicator for the five year old, and he sheepishly ducks his head.
At least now it makes sense why Deputy Hale found him off duty.
Stiles turns back to Sadie’s dad. “I’m so sorry about this,” he says, trying to excuse them. He figures it’s probably best to scold his kid in the privacy of the jeep instead of a complete stranger’s front porch.
Deputy Hale smiles.
“It’s fine,” he says, seeming completely unbothered by the entire situation. “He’s welcome anytime.”
Stiles lets out an embarrassed sort of laugh. “Yeah, well, hopefully next time I’ll be the one bringing him over.”
God, he really is a terrible parent.
Deputy Hale nods, placing a hand on his daughter’s shoulder and offering the other to Stiles. “We’d like that.”
Stiles shakes it graciously, relieved that at least he’s being cool about the whole thing. “Thanks again. Have a good night.”
“Goodnight Nate!” Sadie calls.
“Goodnight Sadie!” Nate waves back to her with the hand not enclosed in Stiles’ grip.
As Nate’s punishment, he doesn’t get dessert. To Stiles’ disappointment, he doesn’t actually seem all that bummed out.
-
It occurs to Stiles once he takes the leotard and tutu off Nate to give him a bath that night, that he must have changed back before knocking on the Hale’s door (he must have, right? Otherwise Stiles and Deputy Hale would’ve been having a very different conversation upon meeting, starting with having to explain the whole ‘werefoxes are real’ thing) which means that Deputy Hale opened his door to a wild, naked five year old inches shorter than his five year old daughter, and was immediately faced with how to dress him.
Stiles lays up that night for hours embarrassed about it.
He is definitely not winning any father of the year awards in Deputy Hale’s eyes after that.
-
After kindergarten the next day, Stiles and Nate drive out to the Hale’s to give Sadie back her leotard and tutu.
When Deputy Hale answers the door this time, Nate immediately shoots past him and up the stairs, going at them on his hands and feet.
The thought comes again: He really is fast.
“Nate!” Stiles admonishes, but he has already reached the landing and is racing off out of view. Stiles can hear a door open, followed promptly by Sadie’s squeals of excitement.
Deputy Hale turns back to Stiles from where he’d watched Nate race up the steps, finding Stiles rubbing the back of his neck in a sheepish manner.
“I’m sorry,” he says desperately, “I swear he’s not normally like that.”
And Deputy Hale, the son of a bitch, chuckles.
It draws Stiles’ attention to the crows feet at the corner of his eyes.
“Making a new friend is a pretty big deal,” Deputy Hale shrugs. “I’m Derek, by the way.”
Stiles gestures to himself, ”Stiles.”
“I know.”
Stiles raises a teasing eyebrow.
Derek smiles and rolls his eyes, “I work for your dad, remember?”
Stiles exaggerates a wince. “So I guess you know all the good bad and embarrassing, huh.”
Derek’s smile softens, his eyes doing this thing that makes Stiles feel like ducking his gaze, or blushing. “He only speaks very highly of you.”
“Oh, uh, good,” Stiles says, and nope, yep, he’s definitely warm in the cheeks now, his stomach suddenly tighter.
Derek opens his door wider as an invitation. “Want some coffee?”
Stiles smiles. “Hell yeah.”
As he follows Derek in through his house, he tries to remind himself that he’s twenty six and making new friends should only be exciting when you’re five.
(That doesn’t stop him from feeling fluttery through all three cups of coffee he and Derek share at the island bar in his kitchen. But Stiles has a feeling the way the man looks with his head thrown back in laughter is more to blame for that.)
-
The Sheriff department hosts a picnic for faculty and family members one sunny Saturday.
They’re well into August and the beat of the sun is palpable, to put it lightly. But there’s a soothing breeze that wafts through the backyard every now and again. It’s bearable.
It’s on this breeze that Stiles catches Derek’s scent.
Stiles’ heart upticks, turning just as Derek walks through the sliding glass door.
He smells like nature and pine and clean sweat and chocolate.
He’s wearing a pair of dark wash jeans and a fresh white shirt, strained from having to contain his broad chest, and in his hands are what appear to be a pan of home-cooked brownies.
A hot ache resounds low in Stiles’ abdomen.
Beside Derek is Sadie, who immediately zeroes her sights on Nate and runs off to play with him. Derek watches her for a moment, smile private and fond, before lifting his head and catching Stiles’ eye.
Stiles grins quietly, giving him a small little wave.
Derek sets the brownies down on the food table and makes his way over.
“Stiles,” Derek greets, looking and smelling even more like chocolate and pine up close. “Sheriff.”
Stiles blinks, shaken as he realizes he’d actually forgotten he was standing and having a conversation with his dad before Derek arrived.
Stiles glances down at the grass, ears reddening as the two of them shake hands. He can smell his dad’s amusement as clear as day.
The bastard.
“Glad you could finally make it, son.”
Stiles feels a pair of eyes on him, but Derek’s looking at the sheriff when he glances up.
“Thought I might finally attend this thing after all these years,” he says, cool and kind.
“Better late than never.” The sheriff takes his hand back from the shake and claps Derek solidly on the shoulder. “I should go start the burgers, don’t want Greenberg getting his hands on the grill.”
The two of them chuckle over what’s probably an inside joke at the station, and then the Sheriff is walking off, throwing one last contemplative look back at the two of them.
With him gone, Derek turns his full attention on Stiles. That same anticipatory flutter yanks at his insides.
He clears his throat and shoves a hand into his pocket. “So you’re a barbecue virgin, huh?”
Derek rolls his eyes.
Stiles gestures to the backyard at large with the other. “Well, now that your cherrys been popped? Thoughts? Critiques?”
Derek shrugs, the corner of his lips twitching. “Not a huge fan of a lot of people.”
“That I can understand. I only come every year because my dad holds pardoned parking tickets over my head.” Derek laughs, and Stiles pushes at him. “It’s not funny! I’m pretty sure he purposefully sends deputies to pull me over just so he can pardon the tickets and have even more leverage.”
Derek presses his lips together, raises an eyebrow. “Sounds pretty devious. Want me to keep a look out?”
Stiles nods solemnly, “Oh, definitely. And if you see him eating any fast food, let me know.”
“I promise,” Derek says, that same soft smile on his lips.
Whatever keeps fluttering inside of Stiles needs to kindly fuck off.
Feeling like a kid, Stiles blinks away so that his smile can subside. When it doesn’t feel like it’s splitting his face in two, he turns back.
“How’s Sadie?”
“She’s good.” Derek lets out a breath of laughter suddenly, as if remembering something. “She keeps trying to teach Nate some ballet moves so he can be in the recital with her.”
“She has a recital?”
“Next weekend.”
Stiles snorts, “That makes sense then, why Nate keeps trying to make me buy him ballet clothes before ‘it’s too late.’”
Derek’s eyes wander until they find Sadie and Nate playing. He looks content at the sight.
“Sadie has a lot that she’s grown out of,” he tells Stiles, “Nate’s more than welcome to have them.”
His heart constricts inside his chest. “Really?”
“Of course.” Derek looks between Stiles’ eyes for a moment, “If you two wanted to come to the recital, he could wear one and not feel left out.”
Between wondering how it would look if Stiles latched himself onto Derek in the middle of his father’s back yard, he feels the fox inside of him preen.
“Yeah,” Stiles agrees finally, “We’d love to.”
-
When they reach the dance studio, both Sadie and Nate are dressed and ready for the show.
Sadie’s dark hair has been secured in a beautiful, tidy bun, glitter shimmering anytime the black strands catch the right light. Derek had done her hair, and Stiles had tried not to kiss him when he heard.
When the show is about ready to start all the ballerinas line up at the edge of the stage, along the staircase there, all best in a row. Sadie, being taller, is at the back. Nate, inches shorter and in his own footed leotard, squeezes her for good luck and runs back down the row to where Derek and Stiles are sitting. The dark hall lights up as the tiny bulbs in his shoes go off.
Stiles hauls Nate up onto his lap and he scooches to the edge of Stiles’ knees, gazing up at the opening curtains with wonder and amazement.
Stiles ruffles his hair and leans back in his chair.
His and Derek’s shoulders brush, they’re sitting so close. Stiles can feel the heat of Derek’s thigh. Today he smells like leather and pine; Stiles imagines he’d been chopping wood while decked in the sleek, signature black leather jacket he never goes without. In the fantasy Derek is shirtless underneath the jacket. Stiles wants to move in closer.
So he keeps his hands wrapped around Nate’s middle, just in case.
God, when did his life get so domestic.
Sadie is beautiful on the stage. She twirls and bounces with ease and grace, so much so that Stiles can’t believe she’s only five. Nate seems to agree. He’s so captivated by all the dancing swan princesses and princes that he hasn’t moved a muscle throughout the entire performance.
When the halfway point passes, Stiles turns and leans towards Derek in the dark, nothing but the stage lights ahead.
“Thanks for inviting us.”
Derek shifts in his seat, and their thighs brush once more. He bows his head towards Stiles, who feels his warm breath when he says, “Thanks for coming.”
They look at each other.
“No way I’d miss swan lake.”
Stiles can’t tell if it’s because of the dark, but Derek’s usual swirl of greens and blues has been almost entirely swallowed up by black.
Stiles’ skin is on fire. Itching to lean forward -
The curtains drop, and the audience erupts into applause.
Stiles sits bolt straight. Nate has launched himself off of Stiles’ knees and is jumping up and down as he roars in awe. Belatedly, Stiles falls into the rhythm of clapping, too.
Derek’s presence feels like a physical thing that's wrapped around Stiles for the rest of the night. Until they’re saying goodbye in the parking lot and walking back to their separate cars.
Even then, Stiles shakes with it until he’s falling into bed.
Cool sheets and pillows, a thrum of the fan, and a warm hand running over his front down into his pants.
-
Three weeks later, Derek shows up at his doorstep carrying Nate in his arms.
Nate has big, wet tears running down his cheeks and Stiles can immediately smell the blood coming from somewhere on his body.
“Oh my god.”
Stiles opens the door so that Derek can step through, and following immediately after him is Sadie. If possible, she’s crying even harder than Nate is.
“What happened?!” Stiles races after Derek, who brings Nate into the kitchen.
Derek sets Nate on top of the table and in an instant Stiles is there, zeroing in on the deep teeth marks along his thigh.
Nate’s bottom lip trembles as Stiles gingerly inspects the wound.
“He and Sadie were playing,” Derek starts to explain as Stiles brings over a damp dish towel.
“He and Sadie?!” He asks incredulously, and at the mention of her name, Sadie starts crying even louder. She pushes her way past Derek so she can hold Nate’s hand.
“I’m sorry,” she sobs, “I didn’t mean it! It was an accident!”
Nate nods, sniffling as he squeezes Sadie’s hand. “S'okay,” he says, voice wobbly from crying, “Just hurts.”
“I can help with the pain!” Sadie exclaims suddenly, swiveling on Derek with expectant eyes. “Can I?”
Curiously, Stiles looks up from where he’s cleaning the surrounding area of the bite. Derek looks uncertain, face scrunched in contemplation as he glances at Stiles.
He turns back to Sadie and nods, and there’s something sheepish lurking behind his gaze.
Sadie’s features, on the other hand, harden with determination. She turns back to Nate and takes his hand again, only this time, taunt, black veins rise up from their point of contact all the way up Sadie’s forearm.
And just like that, Stiles understands.
“You’re werewolves?” he splutters, his mouth dropping open in shock. “How is that -” he stands, turns to Derek. “I can’t…” personal space momentarily over-looked, Stiles steps up and presses his nose to Derek’s neck. Something twists in his scent, like heat and want, but that’s all there is. “You don’t smell anything like werewolves.”
He should know, considering he’s been best friends with one since they were kids.
Derek at least has the decency to look ashamed. “I hadn’t… It wasn’t that I wanted to lie. Alphas have the ability to block others from being able to sense them. Our,” he motions between himself and Sadie, “Emissary helped teach me how to extend that ability to block others from sensing Sadie as well.”
“But you can sense others.” Derek nods. “You could sense me and Nate from the start?” For all that Stiles tries not to care - and deep down, he feels grateful that they'll never have to have the 'sometimes I turn into an actual hand to god fox' conversation - he still can’t help but feel a little exposed. Like finding out you’d changed clothes in front of a two-way mirror.
Derek’s lips twitch. “Well, the fact that I found Sadie playing with a werekit while she was in her wolf form really eliminated any semblance of secrecy you might’ve been going for.”
Stiles purses his lips as Derek smirks. And, like any reasonable parent and adult would, he starts taking his shirt off.
That wipes the smirk off of Derek’s face real fast, and Stiles in turn grins smugly at the gutted noise he makes.
To top it all off, the tips of Derek’s ears go pink.
“Why - I, uh.”
“Don’t get too excited,” Stiles deadpans, “I just prefer not to shift while fully clothed.” He gives Derek a mischievous look as he starts on the button of his pants.
Derek clears his throat and looks desperately away.
Belatedly, Stiles is very thankful that the two five-year-olds are to preoccupied with each other to pay any attention to the flirtatious - and ridiculously bizarre - exchange going on between their parents.
He’s pretty sure nothing like this happened to his dad while he was raising Stiles. So there. Carbon copy his ass.
In the end he’s left with just his boxer briefs – and is eternally thankful he went with a solid red instead of the Star Wars ones he could have chosen. Though making Derek blush like a damsel isn’t the only upside to stripping in the middle of his kitchen.
He has a job to do.
“Hey buddy,” he says gently, stepping up to Nate and ruffling his hair. “You up for a shift?”
Derek makes a noise of understanding. “You’re going to clean his wound.”
For some reason, it makes Stiles laugh. “You’d think buying a house in the suburbs would make it easier to live a normal life, but…”
“You’re totally normal,” Sadie pipes up, face still streaked with tears, but she’s stopped crying now that she’s helped with Nate’s pain. “As normal as me and my dad!”
Stiles flicks his gaze over to Derek and feels something warm swell in his chest to find that he looks almost… proud.
God, he really is fucked.
-
Stiles can’t imagine what would have happened if Nate had been hurt at another friend’s house and had been taken to the hospital. He may not heal as quickly as werewolves, but he sure as hell heals a lot faster than any normal human should. The last thing they need is suspicious doctors asking questions.
For this reason he’s thankful as he shifts back into his own skin and slips into a pair of sweats and an old t-shirt.
Nate’s leg is healing sturdy and thoroughly, and once Sadie is able to see this for herself the two of them snuggle up with a movie on the living room couch.
Stiles can hear Aladdin sing One Jump Ahead as he walks into the kitchen,where Derek is leaning against the nearest counter.
“Coffee?” Stiles gestures to the pot.
Derek nods, making a humming sort of noise as he crosses his arms over his chest.
Stiles brings Derek a cup when it’s ready, leaning against the counter beside him. For a moment or two, they enjoy the silence – save for singing Arabian’s – as they each drink their fill.
It feels so new, having someone know his secret and not have to care about any fall out. Aside from Scott, he’s never been able to share what it’s like to be just this side of not-human.
“Thanks for looking out for him,” Stiles says, breaking the silence.
Derek’s close enough that their shoulders rub together. It reminds him of the night of Sadie’s recital, and the sense memory kick starts his heart.
He can feel the warmth of Derek, his strength and broadness as he turns to look sidelong at Stiles.
“He’s a good kid,” he says, in his soft way.
“Mmm,” Stiles agrees, eyes lingering for a moment on Derek’s soft, pink lips before forcing his eyes up. “So is Sadie,” Stiles nods, “I’m glad they have each other, he needs a friend who he doesn’t have to hide from.”
“Yeah,” Derek says.
Stiles echoes, “Yeah.”
“I’d really like to kiss you,” Derek admits, the confession breathless and weighted as it hits Stiles square in his chest.
“Oh, thank god.”
Stiles barely has the sense to set his coffee cup down before he’s yanking Derek forward with a hand twisted in the fabric of his sweater.
Derek’s hands come up to cup his face, thumbs pressing against the hinges of his jaw as their lips come together hard and fast. His entire scent surrounds Stiles like a mist. It sizzles over his skin and lights every nerve ending in his body on fire.
Derek’s moving him, and he lets him - feels the counter press into his back as their mouths come together again and again until they have to breathe in through their noses just to avoid pulling away. A noise reverberates out from Derek's throat and down till it tangles hotly inside of Stiles; making him gasp into Derek's mouth.
"I want you," Derek breathes, "I've wanted you, wanted this..."
The words make Stiles throb, his head falling forward, forehead pressed against Derek’s. He feels like he might shake apart. So he holds on tighter, their arms and bodies so wrapped up in one another that all Stiles is in that moment is this.
Derek. Comfort. Warmth.
It feels like bounding through the forest in his fox skin. It feels like the first time he held Nate. It feels like every wonderful thing joined into one perfect moment.
He hears Sadie and Nate laugh from the living room, and he knows.
This is home.