Work Text:
"Derek."
Stiles' voice is raw over the phone, and Derek snaps to attention immediately, pushing away from his desk and standing. His co-workers look at him oddly.
"What's wrong?"
"It's- my dad, he. Oh God, he had a heart attack. I'm heading home, I have to go."
Derek is already collecting his things and shoving them into a briefcase. "I'm coming with you. I'll be home in 15."
"Thank you."
Derek hates how vulnerable Stiles sounds. And he probably thinks this whole thing is his own fault, for not enforcing dietary habits on his father sooner. Derek curses as he sends an email to his boss explaining the situation before gunning it back to their house.
Stiles has all of their bags packed when he gets home, and neither of them says a work as they load up the car and make the 5 hour drive back to Beacon Hills. Derek takes Stiles' hand in his as he drives as fast as he can.
"Thank you," Stiles croaks out after ten long silent minutes.
Derek squeezes his hand. "What kind of husband would I be if I let go go all alone?"
Stiles laughs, but it's empty and hollow. "This is m-"
"No," Derek cuts him off forcefully. "This is not your fault, this is no one's fault. These things just happen."
"But if we had lived closer then I-"
"Stiles, stop," Derek demands, and Stiles goes quiet. "We decided as a family to move out here, alright? Your dad was okay with it, ecstatic, even. And he's not alone. He has Melissa with him at all times, now. Even if you weren't concerned, he has people always looking out for him. He's a fine man, and he's smart. And he is okay. He's alive, Stiles."
Stiles lets out a shuddered breath. "I know. It's just- I don't see him often, I can't take care of him."
"That's not your job," Derek repeats. "He is his own man. He can take care of himself. He's fine. I promise you."
Stiles nods, but keeps quiet for the majority of the rest of the drive, and he never lets go of Derek's hand.