"Dude, you're gonna have to come down eventually. Might as well rip the band-aid off and get it over with as soon as possible." Stiles stood against his bedroom door smiling at the Derek-shaped lump underneath his bed sheets that didn't seem to be making any indication at moving. "Come on, Mister Big Bad Wolf. Don't tell me you're afraid of my dad. A couple of weeks ago you shrugged off razor sharp teeth on the side of your stomach from a crazed omega. I think sitting at the table with my old man won't kill you."

"Shut up, Stiles. He has bullets mixed with wolfsbane poison. He actually can kill me." Derek countered.

"He won't." Stiles repeated with a whining tone, tired of having to convince the supposed adult to join him downstairs. He walked over to Derek who pulled the sheets over his head as Stiles came close to sit on the edge of the bed. Stiles had to actively steel himself against the breathtaking sight of Derek laying in his bed with mussed up bed hair. Instead, focusing on the worried expression on the werewolf's face. "Derek, I know it's rocky right now but it will get better. We just have to give him some time and take it step by step."

"'We?' It's me that he hates." Derek argued.

"No, it's we," Stiles stressed. "We're in this together. Sorry to say but you're stuck with me for the long haul, big guy." He smiles and places a hand over what he assumes is Derek's chest, since most of his body was still wrapped in linen, in a comforting gesture. Then Stiles stands up as he waits for Derek to do the same.

Derek closes his eyes and exhales loudly as readies himself for breakfast with the sheriff and his son. Going over in his head on what he should say and how he should act. "Nope. Not doing it."

"Oh my God!" He says in a normal volume, not wanting to alert his father, as he throws his arms up in the air. "Aren't I supposed to be the younger, immature one in this relationship?"

"We'll take turns being immature. Right now it's my turn." Derek pulls the covers back over his head, back pedaling the little progress he made coming out of his shell.

"Derek!" He hissed. "You have to meet Deaton before he opens this morning. So, whether you want to or not you need to come down stairs. And don't even think about jumping out the window. He's already seen you and you'll just make things worse for yourself…and me." As he exited the room, Stiles added, "you giant five year old with stubble."

"I had to fall for a son of a sheriff." Derek groans to himself.

Stiles joins his dad at the kitchen table after he leaves Derek alone in his bedroom, dressed in his pajamas. "The age, and serial killer face, and leather, and the tattoo." The sheriff starts and Stiles wonders how his dad knows about the tattoo but then remembered how the sheriff was there when Derek was attacked by the omega that left him in shredded clothing. "The only thing missing is a motorcycle to complete the image of the boyfriend every parent dreads their kid winding up with. Although, that Camaro is cutting it kind of close." Stiles' dad twists his face in pain.

"Okay. Dad, three things. Stop making your oatmeal meal face. Not a kid, I'm eighteen. And Derek is a great guy with a great face." Stiles listed.

"Who stayed over at my house when I was busy working the night shift."

"I said sorry before, Dad. It was late and we were just making sure there was no connection to the constant storms drenching Beacon Hills with the warnings Derek received from a pack two towns over about an escaped Rusalka."

"Ru…" His father tries to pronounce.

"Rusalka," he corrects, "they're these creatures…"

John sighs wearily and interrupts. "Is…that thing," still unsure of how to say the name, "here in Beacon Hills?"

"No."

"Then I don't need to know what it is." John takes a sip of his coffee and then adds. "I think I almost miss when you were lying about all of this supernatural stuff."

Stiles knows his dad doesn't mean it. The words 'the truth will set you free' were very accurate in their case. As soon as the sheriff was in on the secret life that Stiles was leading behind his back, the tension and stress in their relationship soon resolved itself. Stiles felt better than he had in a while to have his dad back in his life without the secrets.

"I'll let it slide it slide this time since it was pouring buckets into the morning. But next time, because I know they'll be a next time, at least leave a message that we have company."

Derek decided to alert the two Stilinski men of his incoming arrival by stepping heavier than his usual silent gait, something Stiles constantly berated him about. His presence was noticed as he came toward the kitchen wearing an undershirt and boxers with the Batman logo checkered across. The sheriff took a quick gander at Derek's attire and centered a look of 'why is he wearing your underwear and were you around when he put them on' that Stiles pointedly ignored to greet the new presence standing awkwardly in the entryway.

"Morning, sunshine. Take my seat and I'll grab you an English muffin." Stiles used his hospitality as an excuse to seat Derek across from his father, the furthest he could place Derek at the small table unfortunately.

As Derek took the newly vacant spot, he greeted the man sitting in front of him. "Morning, Sheriff. Sorry for the late night intrusion."

"Good to see you well rested, Hale." Derek was surprised to hear the steady heartbeat of John, indicating he meant what he said. "Don't worry - my kid here," Stiles injected from his place at the toaster that he wasn't a kid again while his dad continued. "explained the whole thing to me. Never did explain why the couch wasn't good enough though." John sipped his coffee giving the two, with their mouth's flapping open and closed like a fish, a chance to come up with an excuse for their overnight cohabitation.

"He, uh, he is a guest, so I gave him the bed. Can't have a guest on the couch, right? We're not savages." He explains as he plates the food and places it in front of Derek, standing beside him. "I know what you're gonna say next. 'Why didn't you stay in my room, kid?' Nailed my impression of you, by the way," sending a fist through the air at his self-perceived achievement. "And I'm not a kid." Taking a second to sit between the two important men in his life (Scott's an overgrown puppy; he doesn't count as a man). "To answer the question I asked me as you, well…I didn't want to be in your way for a decent night's sleep when you came back home after a long, hard day."

He takes a second to inhale before diving back in, as Derek and John eat and drink, respectively, while watching the one-man/Stiles performance on display. "Didn't know when you were coming back, so I didn't want to be in your way. Remember the whole 'leave a message' conversation a while back? About 10 minutes ago. Didn't get one on my end either, bucko. And the couch - I see how your mind works, dad – is fine for a quick nap but the whole night? No way. I'd be cranky and irritable the whole day long. Just sniping viciously at innocent people. So, that is why we…uh, shared the bed." Satisfaction plastered itself on Stiles' face as leaned back in the chair.

"Hmm." John hummed as he set down his now empty mug.

"'Hmm', what?" Stiles repeated suspiciously.

"I'm just thinking if you know how mind works so well… then, why didn't you think about grabbing a sleeping bag from the garage and camping out on the floor. As I recall, you and Scott seemed very satisfied with the comfort quality just a couple of years ago." John leaned back in his chair, as Stiles slumped down in his, with a checkmate air about him.

Stiles was stunned silent as his father clearly bested him. Derek, much to both of the Stilinskis' surprise, jumped in the conversation. "You went camping? Somehow I can't imagine that."

The motor mouth jumped at the chance to deflect from his father's interrogation. "Well, it was technically in the backyard but it still counts. Scott and I were nervous about what creeping things lurked out in the woods. Turns out we were right. Also, Scott's asthma was a big factor for him. And having to squat behind a tree and wipe with leaves was a big factor for me."

"That's a really great visual to have of my boyfriend." Swept up in the easy nature of their banter, he almost missed that it was the first time he acknowledged out loud Stiles as his boyfriend. The soft look and warm smile on his lips Stiles' eyes as he looked at Derek, told the werewolf that it wasn't missed by him either. Derek was really seeing that Stiles meant being stuck with him for the long haul, if one accidental declaration could produce that much of a blissful expression.

Stiles told him that sentiment a number of times as they stumbled into this relationship together but Derek was told a lot of things and preferred actions over words. And that look…that was definitely an action that made him a true believer and caused to smile right back at his…boyfriend. It seemed to be just the two of them, Stiles and Derek, smiling at each other with a soft intensity, until John's coffee mug blocked their eye gazing path.

"Kiddo, could you fill 'er up for me," jiggling the empty cup in front of Stiles' face.

Stiles extracted himself from the table, muttering about being called a 'kid' in front stubble-ly hot dudes, and set a course to the pot of coffee at the kitchen counter. Once again leaving Derek without a buffer.

"So, Hale," John started as Derek pushed around the crumbs left on his plate. "Are there any sexual diseases that are specific to werewolves that Stiles should know about?" Derek immediately raised his head to stare at the nondescript look plastered on the father of his boyfriend.

"Dad!" Stiles hissed as he made his way back with a full cup of coffee, he set down in front of John. He places his hands on his hips in irritation, "what kind of question is that to ask this early in the morning?"

"A perfectly reasonable one seeing as I found you in bed with him nearly an hour ago."

"But I told you nothing happened! And nothing has happened yet!"

"See that? 'Yet', as in will happen in the future. And with the way you two were mooning over each other a minute ago, pun intended, I would say in the very near future." He calmly stated the facts before him.

Stiles ran a hand through his hair and sighed tiredly. "Time and place, Dad. You don't just ambush people at the table in the wee hours of the morning! Speaking of the time, Derek you should go if you want to catch Deaton before he opens his clinic."

Derek moves to leave the room but quickly pecks Stiles and says goodbye to the Stilinskis. "Your clothes are dried on the back of the couch."

As he puts on his now dried clothing in the living room, he hears John say. "Deaton. Why didn't I think of him first? I bet he knows all about werewolf-related STDs."

"Don't you dare, old man. I don't want him knowing about my sex life…My nonexistent sex life." Stiles stammers out.

"Yeah, I think I'll head over there now with Hale. Hale! Wait up a sec!" he calls out to Derek who had his hand on the door, so close to freedom.

Which is how instead of relaying the confirmation of the info Stiles found out last night (Derek mostly slept through the whole night, the overwhelming scent of the Stiles soothed him to the point of no return), Derek is discussing how apparently, during full moons, ingesting werewolf…'fluids' can have minor healing effects. And will only have negative effects if the subject has serious allergies to canines. Stiles is going to have a field day with that tidbit of knowledge to Derek's dismay. Of course, with Derek's luck, this would be the one time the usually cryptic vet is completely thorough and clear with the answers the sheriff sought after.

"Are any more parents in need of this talk? Melissa already came to me with these issues before. Perhaps I should start making pamphlets." Deaton asks after filling the sheriff in, and by proxy Derek who waited for his chance to talk to the vet.

"Melissa," John muttered. "Why didn't think of her to ask about this stuff? 0 for 2, John," chastising himself. "Deaton, not sure if you're joking about that but with the way those teens seem to switch partners every other month I think some kind of…packet explaining this stuff might be needed. Hale, have you talked this stuff over with your…pack?" The term coming uneasily out of his mouth, not yet used to using a word like that to describe a group of teenagers.

Derek stared blankly at his boyfriend's father and hated how much he was willing to do to stay on the man's good side, which meant having to have a 'sex ed' talk with his pack. "I'll—I'll bring it up at the next meeting tomorrow."

"Good, Hale. If you need…protection…to hand out, just ask Melissa." With that said, John gave his farewells and left Derek wondering how he was going to explain the do's and don'ts in werewolf foreplay. Light scratching and hickeys – okay. Super strength while wolfed out and rough sex – terrible combo. On the bright side, at least he knew had a magic dick. Stiles was most definitely going to a field day with that to Derek's delight.