Derek woke up with his nose in Stiles's armpit and with Sheriff Stilinski in the doorway.
The next thing he noticed was the gun; he tried to leap off the bed, but found out in the least-dignified way that Stiles had looped his leg around Derek sometime in the night.
"Waugh!" Stiles woke up flailing, and he elbowed Derek in the nose. That was when he noticed the sheriff, and the gun, and much in the same way that Derek had tried to fling himself away Stiles jerked away from Derek and slammed into the wall.
"Dad why wouldn't you knock?!" Stiles shrieked.
Derek scrambled off of the bed and stumbled to his feet. He edged towards the window, just in case, his eyes still on the sheriff's gun. The alpha in him wanted to stand and fight, but he knew that was stupid and quashed the impulse immediately.
"Oh my god dad why is your gun out," Stiles continued, going into full-on panic mode. Which meant rambling. "we do not fire off our guns in our son's room okay dad this is a brand new rule I'm making up right now—"
The sheriff's eyes widened a little bit as Stiles shouted, and he moved quick to put his gun back in his holster. He sent a strange look Derek's way, but spread his hands out in front of him in the traditional I'm-unarmed gesture. "Whoa, okay, Stiles—"
"What?!" Stiles yelped.
"…uh. Can we talk?" Sheriff Stilinski put his hands on his hips, gesturing with his chin towards the hall. His eyes kept flickering between Derek and Stiles, and Derek could smell the confusion and the frustration in the air.
Stiles finally caught on, and his head whipped around. He stared at Derek, eyes wide, mouth working wordlessly. Derek could see the gears turning in Stiles's head, could see that Stiles was finally realizing what it looked like. Derek ground his teeth, and he shrugged.
After a moment Stiles threw his head back and groaned. He clambered out of bed and stomped into the hall.
Sheriff Stilinski finally turned his full attention on Derek. Derek stiffened, standing a little straighter and lifting his chin. He was an alpha, and he wasn't going to be cowed. Even if this situation was completely ridiculous.
"Just… stay," Sheriff Stilinski said, pushing a hand towards Derek like he was using some psychic power to enforce the command. Then he went into the hall to talk to his son.
Soon as Sheriff Stilinski was out of hearing range, Derek let out a frustrated growl. He glanced at the window and deeply considered running for it anyways. He hadn't done anything illegal, so if he ran there would be no reason for Sheriff Stilinski to hunt him down. Then he remembered that the keys to the Camaro were on the coffee table in the living room. He couldn't just leave the Camaro.
"Dad—" Stiles started, out in the hall. With one more little growl, Derek crossed his arms and eavesdropped.
"Uh-uh," Sheriff Stilinski said, his voice no-nonsense. "I get to ask the questions here—"
Stiles, being Stiles, didn't listen. "Dad, hold on, it isn't what it looks like. Me and Derek aren't sleeping together. We were just…sleeping together." Derek winced at that. "I mean—no wait okay so that, that still sounded bad, huh. Okay, no, really—"
"—Stiles—"
"—Look I was in a bad place—"
"—Stiles—"
"—and I just needed a ride—oh my god that still sounds dirty doesn't it—"
"STILES!" Sheriff Stilinski snapped. Miraculously, Stiles shut up. Derek was trying very hard not to jump out the window and just run for it. Stiles was not the sort of person who could get out of this without sounding like a complete idiot, and Derek was suffering severe contact embarrassment just listening in.
After a moment's hesitation, Sheriff Stilinski continued. "…look, son, I'm sorry."
"Dad what—" Stiles started.
"At the club." There was vague frustration in the Sheriff's voice. "When Danny got hurt? I'm sorry I didn't believe you. I was stereotyping, and that was wrong."
Stiles started making noises like the squeaky wheel on a shopping cart. Sheriff Stilinski continued on, the stilted awkwardness clear in his voice.
"It's completely all right if you're gay, son. There's nothing wrong with that, and you don't need to hide it, all right? Just… tell me next time—someone's staying the night. I about had a heart attack when the jeep wasn't in the driveway and someone else's was."
Stiles was still making broken shopping cart noises, which gave Sheriff Stilinski the chance to say one more thing.
"But…Stiles, Derek Hale?" Derek could hear the cringe in the Sheriff's voice.
Stiles made another offended squeaky noise. "W-what's wrong with Derek Hale?"
Derek pinched the bridge of his nose, only just holding back a groan.
"Well, you and Scott fingered him for murder, for one," Sheriff Stilinski said. "And he's older thank you. Like, a lot older."
Derek could hear Stiles clap a hand to his face. "Oh my god dad don't use the word 'fingered' ever again," Stiles said. "and I already said we're not sleeping together!"
For a moment the silence dragged out between them. Then, the Sheriff continued. "…this been going on long?"
"No, it's a pretty recent development," Stiles grumbled.
Once again, that awkward brand of father-son silence that seemed to run in the Stilinski family filled the hall. Derek scowled. He really wished that he hadn't picked up the phone last night.
"Well," Sheriff Stilinski said, voice gruff. "To be honest, I thought you were bein' kinda squirrely because of a drug problem. But if it's just dating someone older… I'll let it go. Rather it be that instead of drugs."
"Oh my god, dad," Stiles muttered again. The mortification was clear in his voice. Derek could sympathize.
"Guess that's all there is to that," Sheriff Stilinski muttered. Derek could hear the sheriff give Stiles an awkward pat on the shoulder.
Derek stood a little straighter as the Stilinskis returned to Stiles's room. It was hard to keep his expression neutral, like he hadn't heard the conversation at all, and even harder not to glare at Stiles when Stiles looked between Derek and the window with an expression that clearly said he'd have been happier if Derek had bailed out.
"So," Sheriff Stilinski said, standing in the door with his hands on his hips. It didn't disarm the tension in the air at all. He looked between Stiles and Derek, brows wrinkled just a little as he noted the not-quite-glares. "Who wants breakfast?"