Just some warnings before you read this... English is not my first language so this will most probably sucks. And, it's my first fanfiction ever, so take it easy, okay?
Just a random idea I had during my math class.
The boy leaned even closer to the TV screen as he watched the pitcher throw the ball towards the catcher, the ball was so fast he couldn't even notice it leaving the pitcher's grip if not from his body language. However, another sigh left the little boy's mouth. The same sigh that left this same mouth five seconds ago. Man, his favourite team was batting and the batter had already missed two balls.
"Dylan! The lunch is ready!" he heard his father screaming from the kitchen, shouting back a "I'll be there in one sec, daddy!" without even realising, without even looking away from the TV.
The green eyes blinked nervously and his body stiffed with anticipation. He will hit it, he must hit it, he has to hit it, God dammit! Then, there it was, the ball, flying through the pitch and the batter was free to make a home run.
"YES! FUCKING YES! FINALLY, GOD DAMMIT!" the kid shouted, punching the air whilst smiling widely.
He heard a amused laugh coming from the couch and a not-so-amused hemming coming from the kitchen door. He slowly turned his head, already preparing his best puppy-eyed face, just to see the reprimanding expression in his daddy's face. Oh, there he goes.
"How many times have I said to you that saying those things isn't cool, Dy?"
"Hum... A lot?" he moaned, trying to sound bored, innocent and upset at the same time. "So... how about Satan bless it?"
He smiled, what the boy would like to think was a very "don't be mad at me, I'm just a teenager and swearing because of feelings is natural" kind of smile. His dad didn't, though.
"Dylan!" he said, sounding totally annoyed, whereupon he turned around glaring at his father. "And you? Are you just going to support him on it?"
"Ah... You do realise that you're making a fuss over an absolutely tiny subject, right?"
"What? No, I'm not!"
"Yes, you are. And, by the way, you and me both swear all the time, we can't expect Dylan not to follow it" he pointed out warily.
"Anyways, the thing is, you both, get to the table right now. But wash your hands first. Please, you animals" he sighed.
Derek stood up, walking past Stiles after leaving a kiss on his lips, heading to the bathroom. At the same time, Dylan stared at them, waiting to get some attention.
"Dad, you do realise that I'm thirteen and swearing is the most normal thing in the world, right?"
"Yes, I do. But I still don't want to hear you doing it randomly, it's rude. For fuck's sake, you already go running in the woods and keep clawing each others all day long, I want some kind of humanity in my son too, y'know." Stiles said, watching his son nodding and then wrapping his arms around his own waist. Besides not having heightened werewolf senses, he could clearly hear the whispered "Love you, daddy" before he ran to the bathroom.
Okay, his son might not be the politest person (or werewolf) in the world, but he was the most adorable one, for sure. And the most addicted to baseball, but that was Derek's fault. He was way more into that than into lacrosse. However, seeing both of them sitting in the living room's floor teasing each others during the matches was totally worth it.
Even though he had to hear some not so beautiful or refined commentaries.