Work Text:
If you had asked Noah Stilinski what he expected to be doing on a Sunday afternoon in May, it sure as Hell wouldn’t have been acting as moderator for two full grown men who had resorted to slap-fighting in the backseat of his squad car. But no, there he was- and he was starting to question his sanity in the process.
It had all started two hours prior when he had stopped to air out the back of the car. Some suspect he had to be taken in smelled like a drug den. He and he didn’t have long to get it properly cleaned, and by some stretch of the imagination, there were no other squad cars available for use in the meantime.
And then came the shouting. He was by the high school, so he didn’t think much of it. Typical teenagers making as much noise as possible because they thought they were entitled to it.
And then the squad car shook violently. And the back doors slammed shut with a metallic thud. And the cage dividing the front seats from the back ripped right off its fasteners.
Noah snapped his head around to see one man pinned to his side of the car, hissing at another man who was doing the pinning. The one doing the pinning was moving so fast he was practically a blur. He clearly had some mileage on him, with a hardened, weathered face with the iciest blue eyes Noah had ever seen. He was trying to land as many punches to the other one as possible. The one literally growling and clawing at the first man's hands was a typical pretty boy- pretty man, whatever. Slicked back brown hair, blue eyes that looked like they were glowing, wearing a decent suit and- HOLY SHIT, WERE THOSE FANGS?!
Noah scrambled back and went to open his door, only to find that he couldn’t. Not good. Not good at all. He slumped down when he saw the aggressor deliver a punch followed by the sound of bone breaking. And then he realized he knew the aggressor. It was Chris Argent, doing an apparent perfect job at beating a man to what should've probably been death by now. "Chris?!" he demanded, but apparently went unnoticed.
“AGH! You and the face!” the pinned one snapped at Chris. He kneed Chris in the stomach to knock him back, then lunged at him. It didn’t work out in the limited space the car provided, because he got a boot to the stomach right back. “The Hell?! Why can’t I…?!” The pinned one demanded.
“Squad car- can’t open the back from the inside,” Noah cut in, and a millisecond later mentally kicked himself. Two men had literally somehow managed to lock themselves in the backseat of his car, were attempting to kill each other, and by the looks of it, didn't want collateral damage. Why the Hell did he have to give himself away?
The pair stopped in mid attack and turned to look at him. Chris squinted. "Stilinski?!”
"Chris?!"
The pinned man looked between them for a moment and then bared his fangs again and his eyes flashed blue and he lunged at Chris once again.
Chris, on the other hand, punched him square in the mouth again without looking away from the Sheriff. He took the other man by the throat and pinned him to the seat this time around.
Noah gaped at him, then motioned at the pair. “What…?!”
Chris narrowed his eyes. “You mean Stiles son hasn’t told you…?”
Noah’s half confused, half terrified look morphed into one of complete exasperation. Of course he should've known something that Stiles was supposedly keeping from him. “What has Stiles not told me this time?”
Chris paused. “You know, maybe it’s best if I-“ he caught the other man’s knee before it reached his stomach when the other man had tried to knee him again and shoved him down. In one fluid motion he followed the motion up with grabbing the man’s neck and twisting it, and Noah tried not to gag, let alone pass out when he heard the telltale snap of a neck breaking. Chris Argent- Allison's decent if not overprotective father had just killed someone in the back of his squad car and had no reaction to speak of. He felt the bile coming up. “Wha-“
Chris waved his hand dismissively, and Noah tried not to scoff. “He’s fine, unfortunately. I just bought us ten minutes. The way things are going, you’re going to need to know anyway, because we could use another on our side,” Chris explained
“'Ten minutes'?! You just KILLED A GUY!" Noah objected. Then, after a few moments. "… ‘Our’ side?” he went on. He stared at the other man. He wasn’t going pale- why wasn’t he going pale when Chris had just snapped his neck? At least some of the nausea was leaving for shock.
“This town’s become werewolf central, Sheriff. They’re all moving in. Why do you think there’s a spike in murders on the full moon?” Chris asked.
Noah was completely aware he probably looked like some idiotic fish out of water at that, and more so when Chris lifted the other man’s hand to show that he had claws to go along with the glowing eyes and the fangs. “If… this is… some … some kind of sick joke?”
“Have I ever lied to you, Noah?” Chris countered.
Noah gawked at him. “… At this point, now I’m not so sure!”
Chris stared, then raised his eyebrows as if to say ‘I’ll give you that one.’ He heaved a long sigh, then nodded at the doors. “Your doors work?”
Noah opened his mouth, then shut it firmly. Of course he didn’t think to use the doors to run when he should’ve. He turned and pulled the handle- which, in turn, didn’t budge. Oh, hell no. Not now. He reached over to the other one and the same thing happened. What had Chris and the other guy done to the car when they landed in it? Had it gotten that damaged?!
Chris grunted, then lifted his leg in order to kick at the window. When it didn't shatter, he looked at Noah expectantly.
“Bulletproof- all six. We figured we needed it after everything. There's no way of getting out of them by kicking them, unless you have some bag of tricks you're not showing me,” Noah supplied weakly.
"No, this bastard took me before I could grab 'em," Chris replied.
Noah forced a laugh.
Chris leaned back, casting a quick glance at the other man before continuing. “Then send out an SOS and sit back, Sheriff. You’re in for a ride.”
Noah wasn’t sure whether to stare at Chris, out the window, or at the other man- Peter Hale, apparently, who was finally starting to breathe again. “So… you’re a hunter… going after what used to be this guy’s pack… my son’s been helping a pack of werewolves, one of which is his best friend… and this guy attacked you when you were unaware… and now you’re both in here, trapped, with me?”
“That’s the gist, yes,” Chris replied.
“…. Huh,” was all about Noah could let out after that.
A low groan came from Peter, and a moment later, he looked up before groaning again and letting his head fall back. “I thought you hunters were supposed to know we can’t die like that,” he forced out, swiping his claws at Chris again, but coming back to consciousness threw off his accuracy and speed and Chris easily batted his hand away. Peter glanced up at Noah. “And who the Hell are you and why do you look familiar?”
“Rumor has it you know his son, Hale,” Chris forced out. He wouldn’t admit it, but he was as tired as Peter looked. He really was getting too old for this shit.
“You know Stiles?!” Noah blurted, regretting his words instantly once again.
“Stiles is your kid?” Peter scoffed after a moment, and then, “… … You need to invest in some therapy for that kid. Even I think he deserves it after all he's been through- and I caused most of it."
Noah stared again, at a loss. Everything he had heard in the last few minutes made so much make sense. So now he wasn't sure if he wanted to deck Pretty Boy, or hear his side, since things had apparently cooled off. Considering the guy was apparently a werewolf who could kill him instantly, he went with the latter.“I’ve tried. He never shut up and the therapist couldn’t take it anymore and quit,” Noah admitted.
Peter laughed. “Yeah, that… sounds like Stiles.”
Noah frowned at him. “You’re on a first name basis with my kid and know him enough to know that?”
Peter lifted his pointer finger weakly and jabbed it at Chris. “Small town. Not many werewolves yet."
Noah merely hummed again, at a loss for words.
Another few minutes passed in absolute silence.
They all figured they might’ve been a sight to see for any passerby. A cop leaning as far away from the backseat as possible, and two men in the back on opposite ends, both bloody and disheveled and tired-looking, occasionally using quite a lot of effort in order to kick, punch or slap weakly at each other as the cop watched with apparently no desire to stop it.
And it barely progressed an hour later, with Noah finally deciding to risk whining at the other two to stop when they resorted to a full on slap fight instead of anything more violent. Peter only fought harder when Chris nearly ripped his leather jacket and scratched his face, and Chris got a cracked lip and a bruised cheek in retaliation.
“Guys, stop. You’re gonna ruin the interior of this thing and we just redid it…” Noah continued to protest, and then promptly realized just how much he sounded like his son. Peter confirmed as much a moment later when he told him Stiles only cared about his jeep in the latest fight with him, Derek, Scott and a lizard man- who was apparently Jackson, no less. Goddamn it. He was having a talk with his son about everything later.
The best and most believable part of the following few moments, however, was that the other two actually apologized to him and separated again. A werewolf and a werewolf killer apologized for almost wrecking the interior of a car because they were all tired. In what world would that ever happen? Then again, as far as Noah was concerned, there weren’t actually werewolves and supernatural-creatures outside of fiction in this world until ten minutes ago.
And so another few minutes passed that were filled with small talk or more question and answers about the werewolf drama and murders and how fed up they were being the oldest in their respective jobs or social circles until some poor patrol officer spotted them and managed to jimmy a few of the locks and get enough equipment to undo whatever the men had done to the car and got the three of them out. Peter was the last out and disappeared within a matter of seconds, much to the young officer’s confusion and the other two’s exasperation. Chris and Noah parted without much more than an awkward nod and went on with their lives. Noah went home and had a long, long chat with Stiles about his friends and secrets, and Stiles was reasonably suprised and concerned about how okay with everything his father was. It was terrifying, as far as he was concerned.
And if from that point on, Peter and Chris’ fights included more banter and less nearly killing blows, and Peter just happened to intercept an attack from a rival beta who was about to kill Noah when Noah’s attention was elsewhere, or Noah tended to cover up any mishaps of questionable legality that Chris had, or Chris happened to slip information about some case or another to Noah, none of them said anything, and that was perfectly okay with all of them.