Title: My Head is an Animal - Side A
Author: ANTchan
Fandom: Teen Wolf
Rating/Genre: Romance/T
Pairings: Derek Hale/Scott McCall/Stiles Stilinski
Summary: There's a lot of things John Stilinski wants. He wants his family safe, he wants people to stop dropping violently dead in his town, and most importantly, he wants his son to stop. Lying. To him. But John can't have everything he wants. So he's forced to chase after his son and his almost-son and do his best to keep them safe, even if that means running into the town's sweetheart-turned-delinquent, Derek Hale, more times than he's comfortable with.
OR the s2 AU where Sheriff Stilinski accidentally adopts a werewolf pack.
Hi everyone! In an effort to make reading this fic (in conjunction with Side B) I've done a little restructuring of the the chapters. Over today and tomorrow I'll be doing some tinkering with the chapters, so please bear with me. There IS a brand new chapter in Side B coming at the end of this. Thank you to everyone who's shown this fic so much love! It brightens my day every time I think about it. :)
Side A - The wolf and I, we share the same cold meal
Chapter 4
Before:
Side A, Ch3
Over the course of the next week, John is approached not by one, but three sets of adults worried about the sudden and potentially dangerous behavioral changes in their respective teenagers.
John doesn't see Derek in the weeks following, and he no longer gets approached by concerned parents. But Beacon Hills is anything but quiet. Bodies continue to drop. And the boys continue to be secretive, ending in the kidnapping of Jackson Whittemore and the end of John's patience. By the time he's asked to turn in his badge, even his anger has fizzled out.
Which is why seeing Stiles at the scene of the next killing, one during an illegal rave no less, doesn't elicit rage, but just cold, bitter knowing. He catches Stiles' arm as he tries to pass through the crowd of rapidly dispersing partygoers. His son jumps as if John were someone else entirely, his free arm flying blindly in a counterattack. It's actually a good one, and John has to lean out of the way to avoid getting an elbow in the ribs. Genuine fear flashes through Stiles' eyes in the instant they land on him, and it makes John's chest burn. What is Stiles so afraid of?
The fear closes off once Stiles recognizes him, but it's useless because John has already seen. "D-Dad?"
He can't even muster enough anger to scold him. "Aren't you supposed to be at Scott's?" he says, voice low and flat.
"Aren't you supposed to be… uh… not at work- a crime scene?"
"I'd ask you that, son, but this isn't even the third time I've found you at one."
Stiles flinches, his eyes flickering towards the ground. The fingers of his free hand tap, tap, tap along the outside of his thigh. Fidgeting. His mouth twitches, chewing over the words that are about to spew out. Lies.
The thing about Stiles is that, when he lies outright, he's awful at it. When he's asked a direct question that he can't deflect or subvert, he's worst liar John has ever seen. He can see the awful excuse forming even before he opens his mouth. But give him room to verbally dance around the truth, and Stiles is a master of deception. And for that reason, John lets go of Stiles' arm in favor of holding up a hand to stop him.
"Don't. Whatever lie you're about to tell, I don't want to hear it." The words come out with far more bitterness than John intends.
Stiles looks as if he's just slapped him. "Dad, I…"
He wants to be angry. He wants to feel anything other than resignation and hollow and guilt. But John's never wanted to be the cause of Stiles' pain. "No, look, just… are you hurt?"
"What? No, no, Dad, I'm fine."
John briefly considers debating what Stiles considers fine, but decides against it. So far in whatever this is, challenging Stiles on every white lie has only resulted distance and even more secrets. And John is just plain tired of fighting. "Okay. Are you here with someone? Did you bring the Jeep?" He's not dressed for a party. He hasn't even changed out of the clothes he came home in, by the look of it. And Stiles, no matter how John jokes about it, understands the concept of how to dress. His sense of fashion is a little… questionable, but Stiles is at least obsessive enough to change his clothes before meeting some girl at a party.
Or some boy.
John… John still doesn't know how to handle that particular deflection of Stiles', or even if it was one.
"Y-Yeah I… met some friends here. Jeep's just a-around the block and…" Stiles trails off abruptly. "Uh- yeah, so, Dad, I'm just gonna go. Sorry for not- and for- yeah, just gonna go." The rest of it comes out in one dizzying rush of air, his voice cracking on the words. He's doing a laughable job at not looking at something over John's shoulder, too.
"Seriously?" John mutters.
His son's eyes widen. "Wait, Dad, no-" He lunges just as John turns, and only manages to swipe uselessly at his jacket.
And there is Derek Hale, standing just out of sight of the crowd. Of fucking course it's Derek Hale. But John doesn't have time to call Stiles on his lies - that "some friends" is not an acceptable substitute for "a man five and a half years my senior who I've sworn I don't know that well" - because there's something far more alarming to focus on.
Scott is hanging limp in his arms. Derek has him cradled against his body, one arm under his knees and the other supporting his upper body, holding Scott to his chest. They're far enough back into the alley that Scott's face is obscured, and even more so because he's got it lolling against Derek's throat.
"So Scott's uh, obviously had a bit too much to drink," Stiles is chattering behind him. He's edging around John, not even being subtle about his attempt to escape. "Sorry! I know, it was dumb. And it was dumb of us to sneak out to an unsanctioned rave. But hey, we had Derek come with us to keep us out of trouble. Semi-responsible adult and all that. So I'm just gonna… drive Scott home, 'kaybyeDad!" Stiles takes his chance, scurrying the final few inches around him and dashing away. He doesn't give John a chance to call after him - to yell, to scold, to do anything, really.
Not that John has any idea what to say. Not anymore.
Instead his his focus is drawn to the way Stiles' hand lands in the crook of Derek's elbow as he passes him, no hesitation in physically pulling the man further down the alley, and to how close he's standing to the man. Derek seems to notice it too. His expression is tense, even as he meets John's eyes through the crowd of passing deputies and onlookers. He looks sick, even heavily draped in shadow, like the look of a man who knows exactly how much shit he's in. And then he's pulled away by Stiles' insistent tugs, the three of them disappearing down the alley.
John watches them go, his jaw clenched so tight his teeth grind together. For the first time in days, the defeated chill has given way to anger.
Next:
Side B, Ch2
Something's wrong with Scott. There are hunters running around shooting up the alleys at everything that moved and lizardy revenge monsters chasing them down and ripping through walls and people and Stiles has done some freaky magic shit and his dad has showed up with that disappointed look on his face and something is wrong with Scott.
End Chapter 4. Walk on, Traveler of Worlds.
