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Stiles was enjoying a nice, calm date night when Peter tensed up across from him. Groaning, Stiles thunked his head down on the booth’s table—avoiding his plate of curly fries, of course—and mewled pitifully.
“Don’t tell me we’re being attacked again,” Stiles cried.
One night! He just wanted one night to himself. He and Peter had been “dating” for the last few months, but an observer would never be able to tell because they never actually got to go out on dates! This was the first time in three weeks that they’d actually managed to make it out to the diner outside of town for a date night without being interrupted by some new big bad (or other pack-related emergencies) and he just wanted to enjoy it, dammit.
And now, when Stiles had only been able to eat two handfuls of curly fries, they were being attacked!
“We’re not being attacked,” Peter said carefully.
Which—
Hell yeah!
Only Peter didn’t sound like he was celebrating. When Stiles looked up from where his chin was mashed into the table, his boyfriend’s head was tilted up to the side like he was sniffing out a particular scent.
Interesting.
Narrowing his eyes, Stiles swiftly looked around the room but didn’t see anything noteworthy. They were sitting near the door—should they need to bid a hasty retreat—but he didn’t notice anyone coming in. Narrowing his eyes further, he looked back at Peter.
He was still scenting the air.
Curiouser and curiouser. Carefully, Stiles did another quick scan, noting that the front door was being pushed open before—
“You!” Stiles shouted as he shot to his feet.
His dad—his dad!—stopped in his tracks and turned around with wide, guilty eyes just in time for Stiles to point at him with a full-bodied movement. He was in a dress shirt. A light purple dress shirt. And slacks! He was wearing a dress shirt and slacks! His hair was even combed down in a way that made him look like a total nerd (albeit a handsome one; he was totally secure enough in himself to admit that his dad was a DILF).
For eleven seconds, his dad stared back at him silently.
Then—
“You!” his dad called back incredulously as he pointed his own accusing finger in Stiles’ direction.
Then Jordan Parrish followed him through the door.
He wasn’t wearing a dress shirt and slacks.
No.
Oh no, Jordan Parrish was hoeing it up in an indecently tight polo shirt that made Stiles feel things he probably shouldn’t feel when he was dating Peter, and a pair of black jeans that absolutely had to be cutting off circulation to everything below the waist. Jordan’s hair was also styled differently than how he wore it to the station, and Stiles stared, open-mouthed, as Jordan placed a hand on his dad’s back before looking up and seeing Stiles.
Then his own face did something guilty and incredulous, and he blushed so red that Stiles was a little concerned he was going to combust into flames.
“You?” Jordan squeaked, pointing at Stiles and someone over his shoulder.
Which was when Peter wrapped an arm around his waist and tugged him into his side.
“Me,” Peter drawled with a very villain-esque smirk that made him look ridiculous and kinda sexy.
“Ah!” Stiles yelled, pointing at his dad and Jordan as his brain very slowly computed what he was seeing.
“You,” Dad said angrily, his eyes flicking between Stiles and Peter in a way that reminded him his dad did not know that he was dating a formerly deceased werewolf currently wanted for questioning.
Oh uh.
“Ha,” Stiles said. Loudly.
“Sheriff, Deputy Parrish,” Peter greeted cordially. He didn’t hold his hand to shake, thank god. “What a surprise.”
“Very surprising!” Jordan agreed. His voice sounded a little thin and thready like he wasn’t quite getting enough oxygen.
Stiles sent him a worried look before his father asked, “And just what are you two doing here? Together?”
Stiles hackles raised at the way his dad hissed the last word. Narrowing his eyes, he returned the suspicious looks he was getting as he took in the way his dad and Jordan were standing very close together. That, coupled with the way that they were dressed up, led Stiles to believe that they were not having a work meeting.
Which!
“Don’t together me, mister! What are you two doing here? Together?”
His dad sputtered. Jordan got redder.
Finally, his dad said, “That’s none of your business!”
“None of my business? What the hell! You’re out here interviewing bonus parents and it’s none of my business?” Stiles demanded hotly.
Mostly, it was to deflect from the fact that he and Peter were similarly dressed up in date-clothes.
Well, Peter was dressed up. Stiles was wearing his good jeans and a sweater that belonged to Peter because he’d gotten cold on the driver over. Still, his good jeans were very tight—though admittedly not as tight as Jordan’s were—and the sweater was quite obviously Peter’s since Stiles had never gone to NYU, which definitely could be considered date-clothes.
“I don’t think I’m ready to be a dad,” Jordan said dazedly. His eyes were very, very wide.
“See! He’s not ready to be a dad!”
“No one is a dad!” his own father yelled.
“I am,” Peter interjected. “However, I had the memories of my children forcefully erased from my memory by my sister and missed the majority of their lives, rightfully causing both of them to hold a deep-seated resentment for me that I’m not sure how to overcome.”
Everyone got really quiet.
Stiles gave Peter a quick kiss to the cheek, patted his shoulder, and said, “There there,” as he often did when Malia and Jackson were brought up.
After all, he wasn’t ready to be a dad either!
Dad rubbed a hand down his face. It looked like he also wanted to pull at his hair, but remembered that he had gel in it—which was suspicious, because Dad didn’t even own hair gel which meant that he must have used Stiles’—and stopped himself. Stiles had always been pretty good at causing his dad frustration, and unfortunately, he looked pretty frustrated right now.
Whoops.
“Why don’t we all sit down?” Peter asked calmly. “We already have a table, and it’ll hopefully get the entire establishment to stop staring at us.”
Stiles blinked and looked around, quickly noting that Peter was right. They were being watched by the entire restaurant. Which. Well, that was embarrassing. Good thing that they made the seventy-five-minute drive outside of town for their date night, because otherwise, the Beacon Hills gossip mills would be having a field day.
“A double date sounds kinda fun!” Jordan said with a shy little smile that was adorable.
Clearly, his dad thought so too, ‘cause he totally melted when the deputy turned it on him.
Interesting.
Very, very interesting.
“You can’t eat any of my curly fries,” he told his dad seriously. “Or anything else deep-fried.”
“Stiles—” his dad started, a familiar note of fond exasperation in his voice as he no doubt readied himself for their familiar argument.
Only, now Stiles had a trump card.
Grinning maniacally, he said, “Hey! You’re not going to be able to keep up with Jordan’s youthful stamina if you load yourself up with carbs and drown your arteries in grease!”
“Why are we talking about my stamina?” Jordan squeaked.
God, he was adorable.
“Peter, can we adopt him?” Stiles asked as he slid into the booth next to his boyfriend. Peter laid his arm along the back of the booth, so Stiles slid down and tucked into his side. “I wanna adopt him. He’s adorable.”
“I don’t believe the Sheriff would be too happy with that,” Peter told him sagely.
Which, fair.
Still, Jordan followed them into the booth, tugging on his dad’s hand and giving him wide eyes that totally got him moving. Stiles would make a joke, but he figured now wasn’t the time. Rather, he let them both get situated in the side Stiles had been sitting in, and made sure to pull his plate of curly fries even closer just so his dad didn’t get any ideas.
Dad looked a little more relaxed once he got into the booth. He and Jordan were angled towards each other like they couldn’t help it, and Jordan darted forward to whisper something in his dad’s ear that Stiles couldn’t hear but made Peter smile softly. A mirroring grin appeared on his dad’s face, and Stiles was a little shocked to realize that his dad looked love-struck.
He hadn’t seen an expression like that on his dad’s face in so long that he’d forgotten what it looked like. A smile slipped across his own face, and he leaned his head back on Peter’s shoulder as he watched Jordan and his dad whisper back and forth for another few seconds.
It was… it was really, really sweet.
“I’m glad you’re happy,” Stiles blurted out, which caused Jordan to blush and his dad to roll his eyes at him.
“Thanks, kid, but don’t think we’re not going to be talking about this when we get home,” Dad said, tilting his head towards Peter.
Stiles narrowed his eyes.
Two could play in that game.
“Oh, sure! We definitely need to discuss you dating your younger subordinate,” Stiles replied cheerily.
Jordan choked on his sip of water. Dad glowered at him.
Stiles ordered another order of curly fries.
Double dates! They had been seriously missing out.