Okay, first off I want to apologize ahead of time for this cliched plot. I know it's been done to death, in several different fandoms, but I just can't seem to shake this plot bunny, so it's being written anyway.
Anyway, for the purposes of this story, I have named Stiles' dad Jack. To me, he looks like a Jack, and as funny as it would be to see his name really be 'Sheriff' I have a feeling he actually has a name. I'll most likely be wrong, but oh well.
So, thanks for reading. If y'all want a second chapter let me know, and if not well I'll just mark this as complete and let you guys speculate.
I do not own these characters!
P.S. For the purposes of this story, Stiles' dad is in his mid-forties. I'm not sure how old they've made him in the show, so I am using creative license.
Jack Stilinski hated grocery shopping. Actually he hated shopping in general, but shopping for groceries reminded him of his wife, and sometimes it was almost unbearable to wander through the store, remembering how she would drag him down every aisle just because it annoyed him. Talia had this habit of comparing ingredients, prices, brands, and overall quality and then asking 'what do you think?' It usually didn't matter what he said to the contrary, she'd eventually get the brand she preferred, but it was a thing that they shared, and he continued to allow himself to be dragged to the store, every third Thursday, because he loved his wife and it made her happy. He would have done anything to make her happy. Sometimes he still couldn't believe she was really gone.
Usually, Stiles would do the grocery shopping, and come home with bags full of that organic crap that Jack despised, but his son was on some class trip with the rest of the juniors, and wouldn't be back until the end of the week. So, that Tuesday afternoon, Jack found himself wandering the aisles, trying to stop himself from associating every aisle, every item with Talia, but to no avail. It was almost as bad as sitting around his empty house, but, at least at the grocery store, there weren't pictures of Talia covering the walls, or small touches of her scattered around each room. He didn't have to see the ghastly painting she wanted to buy even though she swore, up and down, it clashed with the décor. 'There's just something about it…'
Jack was jolted back to reality when he collided with someone. Shaking his head to clear it, Sheriff Stilinski's eyes settled on a familiar face, a pair of blue/green eyes watching him with a mixture of wariness and curiosity.
"Sorry," Jack apologized and received a nod from Derek. He should have just left it at that, but he knew Derek and Stiles were sorta friends, and it wasn't going to do him any good avoiding the kid. He had been the one to arrest him, back when they thought he had killed his sister. Some of the deputies still believed he did, but Jack just didn't buy it. In fact, he never fully believed Derek did it in the first place. Some part of him just couldn't believe he could do something like that; like with the painting, there was just something about the kid.
So, the sheriff glanced at the basket in Derek's hand, taking in the six pack of soda, a box of graham crackers, three Hersey bars, and some marshmallows and said, "Having a party or something?"
"What?" Derek glanced at the items in his basket and shook his head. "No, uh…" something akin to unease crossed the kid's face and he ran a hand through his hair. "I'm…" his locked on the floor, and for a second Jack was reminded of Stiles when he was caught doing something that reminded him of his mother.
It took him a moment to remember what day it was, and he nodded in understanding. "Is that for Laura?"
"She liked…" Derek bit his lip, still refusing to look at Jack. "Yeah," he muttered sheepishly, rubbing the back of his neck with his free hand.
"Stiles and I have root beer floats on the anniversary of his mother's death," Jack confided, figuring the kid needed something to ease his discomfort. "She called them her guilty pleasure."
"S'mores and soda was Laura's," Derek muttered looking up, a small smile crossing his face. It was the first time Jack had seen the kid smile and it made quite a difference from his usual scowl. When he smiled, Derek looked younger, less burdened. He also reminded Jack of someone he had known in college, a few years before he met Stiles' mother. Someone he hadn't thought about in, what felt like, a million years.
"Yeah," Jack stated softly, giving Derek a forced smile.
The kid must have sensed something had changed, his smile dropping. He swung his basket awkwardly, hooked a thumb behind him, and said, "I should probably go."
"Yeah," the sheriff repeated nodding, still trying to shake the image of a dark haired, blue eyed girl. Why did Derek remind him of her?
"See you around," the kid said slowly, eyeing Jack cautiously, and walked away, sparing a single glance over his shoulder. Jack waited until Derek was out of sight before abandoning his cart and rushing towards the exit. He had to get home, check something out, just to be sure.
TW
It had been years since he had looked through his old college stuff (and he didn't even want to think about his high school days), but they were still in the attic, in the box neatly marked, in Talia's handwriting, Jack's Glory Days. Taking a second to admire his wife's sense of humor, and compare their son to her, he collected the box and left the attic.
He carried the box to the kitchen table, setting it down on the surface, and flipped it open. He began searching through the contents, brushing past old awards, his old lacrosse uniform, and some odds and ends from high school and college. He eventually found an old tin box, at the bottom, and gently lifted it out of the box.
Slowly, he opened the top, listening to the old and rusted hinges creak slightly, and looked down at the contents. There was an old, wrinkled, faded ticket stub from some movie, an I.D. bracelet that said 'Marina's guy,' a golden locket that, if Jack remembered correctly, contained a picture of a kissing couple, and a few other odds and ends. None of that mattered to him at that moment. What mattered was an old drawing, drawn by some artist at a carnival.
It was folded, hidden underneath everything else. Jack slowly took it out and carefully unfolded it, trying to avoid tearing it. He set it on the table, smoothing it out, and looked down at the couple in the picture.
The young man resembled Stiles, if the kid had bluish/green eyes, instead of brown, and long, blond hair. The guy had his arm around a dark haired, blue eyed girl. She was smiling slightly, enough to make her look younger than her twenty-two years. And the smile looked familiar, really familiar. It matched Derek's to a T.
Jack got to his feet, heading into his office. He dug out the copy of Derek's arrest record and carried it back to the table. Sitting down again, Jack set the page on top of the drawing, scanning it for a date of birth. His eyes zeroed in on the line, his eyebrows furrowing at the month and year.
He did some quick calculations, his stomach clenching as stuff started falling into place. She had broken up with him a month before graduation with no explanation and then spent the majority of the time avoiding him. Her roommate wouldn't tell him where she was, she wouldn't take his calls, and for the longest time he had thought it was something he had done. But what if it was something else? Some mistake that she hid from him, so she wasn't locking him into anything?
Jack leaned back in his chair, running a hand through his hair, shock settling down around him. There was a chance, a very slim chance that he had…? Could he be…?
No, he was jumping to conclusions. It could easily be a coincidence; a very strange, weird, unlikely coincidence. He just had to confront the kid, get confirmation that he didn't know Her. Her last name wasn't even Hale for cripes sake; it was Shaw.
She could have put him up for adoption, a small voice said, in the back of his head, but he shot that whim down fairly quickly. He had seen pictures of Derek's uncle Peter and the rest of the Hales that burnt to death in the fire. He had seen the similarities; Derek was definitely a Hale.
Getting to his feet, snatching his keys off the table, Jack started towards the door. He had to get to the bottom of this before jumping to anymore conclusions, and the only way to do that was to go and talk to Derek.