AN: Inspired by an amazing gifset by simplystiles on tumblr. I hope I did it justice.

Disclaimer: I don't own Teen Wolf, or anything else. I'm a poor, broke college student. Don't sue me.

Honestly, Derek felt that the whole thing was getting a bit ridiculous. The first time had been understandable. They had found Laura's body - or half of it - buried behind his house, after all. The second time too, seeing as how Scott and Stiles had actually told the sheriff it had been him who was attacking them in the school. Irritating, but understandable. But really, what reasoning did they have for dragging him in now?

The death had been pretty normal, likely the victim of a standard mugging. No weird animal marks or a sliced in half body lying in the woods. She'd been found stabbed to death in an alley. Simple enough. But the police apparently didn't have any leads and Derek seemed to have become their default murder suspect. He couldn't even blame this one on any of his betas. Just the Beacon Hills police department making up leads where they couldn't find any.

The sheriff didn't appear all that sympathetic or intimidated by Derek's disgruntled glare as he sat down on the other side of the interrogation table. The Alpha let out a long, aggravated sigh. "Are you going to haul me in for questioning every single time someone drops dead in this goddamn town?"

The sheriff didn't appreciate Derek's attitude. "Just tell me where you were last night between eleven P.M. and two A.M.?" It was half a polite question, and half an order with a vague threat behind it. Derek wasn't sure how he did that, but it was sort of impressive.

"I was at home," Derek told him, an unspoken 'duh' lingering behind the words. He was trying to use a bit of self-preservation and common sense to be polite to the man with the ability to put him behind bars, but he really wasn't feeling it at the moment. Even when he forcibly reminded himself that this was Stiles' father he was talking to, and he really should try to get onto his good side.

"Of course," the sheriff sighed with a resigned air. Not like Derek was going to have said anything else. Granted, where else would someone be in the middle of the night, if not at home or out murdering people? "I don't suppose you have someone who can verify your alibi?"

Sheriff Stilinski's tone made it only too clear that he didn't expect Derek to have one. Whether it was because he fully believed that Derek had committed the murder or simply because he didn't think that Derek had enough of a social life to have company he didn't know, but he found himself somewhat rankled by the implication. His answer came before he'd thought it out properly. "Actually I do."

The sheriff looked at him in surprise, but recovered from it quickly. He was a professional, after all. "…Then you'll have to give me a name."

That was when what he'd said hit Derek fully. "I can't," he said, swallowing hard. He doubted that was going to fly with the sheriff, but nothing about telling the older Stilinksi who he'd been with the night before sounded like a good idea.

The man's face hardened, anger seeping through enough to make even Derek just a little bit nervous. "Son, this is the third time you've been considered a murder suspect. If you don't want to end up in jail, you better give me the name." He was almost shouting by the time he was done speaking. If he'd been a werewolf, his betas would have been cringing on the floor by now.

Derek gulped. He couldn't lie, the alibi would be blown apart in no time and he'd look even guiltier than the police already considered him to be. Telling the truth didn't sound delightfully attractive though.

He gave one last weak attempt to make the sheriff back off from this line of questioning. "You won't like it," he warned.

The sheriff glared him down, uncaring, and repeated his question once more. "Who were you with last night?"

Derek took a deep breath in preparation. There was really no way that this was going to end well. "Stiles."

There was a long silence as the sheriff stared at Derek, who was now staring at his hands in his lap. The sheriff spoke first, voice cautious as he broached the potentially volatile subject.

"Stiles said he stayed over at Scott's last night." It wasn't a question looking for confirmation, it was very clearly a statement that Derek was being dared to contradict.

And he had to contradict it. It was too late to keep it secret any longer, and, if Derek was being completely honest, he wasn't sure he wanted to. He'd never felt right about hiding him and Stiles from the sheriff, for multiple reasons. He looked up at the sheriff, but lowered his eyes back to his lap at the first risk of eye contact.

"He didn't," he replied, trying not to seem too much of a threat to the police officer seated across from him, who was growing progressively angrier. "He stayed at my place. We've… he's done that a couple of times now." He let the sheriff draw his own conclusions from that statement.

The sheriff's face had turned into a sight that anyone - werewolf or not - would have the good sense to be wary of. "Are you insinuating you're in a relationship with my underage son?" He wasn't shouting. He was speaking quietly and tensely, which seemed a hundred times more threatening right now. Derek could handle anger, he was used to anger. He wasn't so good with… Well, with much of anything else.

The fact that this man had possession of a lethal weapon - not lethal to werewolves, but even regular bullets hurt like a bitch - had never been quite so apparent. Drawing up all the courage he could Derek replied, "Yes, I am." He was careful to not make it sound like some sort of challenge.

Derek could see the man change from law enforcement officer to father right before his eyes, almost instantaneously. "You - Give me one good reason why I shouldn't shoot you on the spot!" He was screaming at Derek and had stood up from his chair to lean over the table, both hands flat on its surface.

Derek's instincts were trying to make him smaller, less of a threat. Protective fathers were terrifying, whatever supernatural abilities one might possess. He bowed his head, ashamed as the sheriff voiced the very concerns Derek had been trying to ignore since this thing with Stiles had started. "I don't have one," the werewolf said quietly, barely loud enough for the sheriff to hear.

Stiles was actually in the act of pulling on his red hoodie when his dad walked in the door after work.

"Hey, Dad, can't talk, gotta run," Stiles called out to him, even as he was in the act of reaching for the door handle.

"Oh, yeah?" Something in his dad's tone caused him to freeze mid-step. "Where to this time? Actually to Scott's, or do you want to go to Derek Hale's again?"

Stiles felt his stomach drop and his brain started to work through a thousand different lies, excuses, imaginings for how his dad knew, anything and everything. All that came out of his mouth, though, was, "Sorry, what?"

His dad had walked over to him by now, so that they were face to face. His face was sterner than Stiles could remember having seen it in a long time. "I'm only going to ask you this once, so I want you to think about the answer very carefully. Are you or are you not in a relationship with Derek Hale?"

"Why would you-"

"The truth, Stiles!" his dad shouted. Stiles gulped. He didn't know how his dad knew about him and Derek, but he clearly did. Stiles couldn't make himself say anything, but when he broke eye contact, bit his lip, and started staring at the floor, it was enough of an answer for the sheriff. "Oh, Jesus."

"How did you find out?" Stiles asked, a little timidly.

"I'm asking the questions now." He wasn't quite shouting, not yet, but it was close. It was clearly not a good idea to interrupt him just now. "What the hell are you thinking? Do you know what statutory rape is?"

"You can't just arrest him!" Stiles shouted, his voice squeaking a little.

"Arrest him? The only reason I didn't shoot him is that I didn't think he'd be worth the paperwork!"

Stiles' mind was going faster than a cheetah on speed by now, and that threat zeroed all those thoughts in on one track. "If you press charges against him, I swear I will declare under oath that he never touched me."

The sheriff's eyes softened a little in hurt and betrayal, inciting a twinge of guilt in his son, but Stiles didn't take his words back. He had to help Derek, if he could.

"Why are you doing this?" his dad asked, voice quieter than before, worry lacing the words.

It took Stiles a few false starts before he could make himself respond. The truth may not have been the best decision, but they were the only words he could seem to find. "I love him."