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Stiles figured it was one of three things; He'd hit the cruisers bumper again after last nights pack meeting, Stiles had left the bathroom sink running...again, or he actually thought Stiles wouldn't smell it.
"Dad?" Stiles asked, coming into the kitchen. He walked over to the coffee maker and pulled a mug from the cupboard. He filled the porcelain cup and added sugar, more than was strictly necessary, but that's how he liked it.
The Sheriff paused for a moment before very slowly continuing to flip the breakfast meat.
"Dad." Stiles said more firmly, approaching his father and leaning against the counter near the burner. He took a drink before lowering the mug down next to his fathers'.
"Yes, son?" The Sheriff said putting on, what Stiles liked to call, his I do no wrong cop face.
"What do you think you're doing?" Stiles asked, arms akimbo.
"It's sodium free." The sheriff edged, checking the progress of his breakfast.
"You're not allowed it." Stiles said, leveling a look at the frying pan.
"It's had most of the fat trimmed." The elder Stilinski replied, moving it onto the paper towel covered plate.
"You are not allowed it." Stiles said slowly, raising his eyebrows. He reached across the burner to take the plate.
"It's Canadian!" His dad flailed, proving again that Stiles energy was not purely ADD.
"You. Can't. Have. Bacon." Stiles said, picking up the plate and moving it to the oven to keep warm. He walked over to the fridge to grab the store-bought egg whites carton. "I'll make you an omelet."
"Fine," The man pouted, glaring half-heartedly at his son.
"I'll make you a 'Mexican' omelet." Stiles said, waving the salsa at his father.
The man perked up instantly, retrieving his cup of coffee and moving over to the table where his morning paper sat.
"Can it have..." the Sheriff began.
"No." Stiles cut in.
"I'm your father." He tried.
"I'm keeping you healthy." Stiles said, adding low sodium cooking spray to the skillet.
"Fine." The Sheriff said defeated.
"You can have pieces in the omelet." Stiles sighed.
"I love you, Son."
"I know, Dad." Stiles grinned, mixing the ingredients in a bowl.
"So," His Dad began, raising his mug as he read the headline story.
"Hmm?" Stiles replied, cutting the "Canadian" bacon into strips.
"Am I supposed to assume the scratch on my bumper was a cat?"
Stiles froze for a moment before pouring the mix into the hot pan. He stirred it around for a moment before taking a swig of his own coffee.
"Baked potato or mashed with your steak?"