To those who've asked, yes, this will stay gen. It's not my fault that Derek and Stiles are so touchy-feely with each other. I just like my boys touchy-feely! Or something like that. Also Derek has no modesty.
Chapter Seven
The next morning, nothing about Sheriff Stilinski has changed. He's still in the exact same position. The doctor comes in and checks him over, does some tests, makes some notes. "Is he in a coma?" Stiles asks. The doctor sits down and explains how 'coma' is a very broad term (which Stiles takes as a yes) and that his father is still reacting to outside stimuli in ways that suggest he will regain consciousness.
Not long after that, his deputy, Carmichael, comes in. He brings some flowers that people at the station went in together to buy, and talks with the doctor. "Any luck finding the driver?" Stiles asks.
"Well, we got some paint flecks off your father's jacket," Carmichael says, "so we know the car was black, and from the position of his injuries, it was either a truck or an SUV. We're checking in around repair shops in the area."
"Did you see that the tire tracks went off the road?" Stiles asks.
Carmichael gives him a 'well duh' look and says, "The sheriff wouldn't have been jogging down the center of the road. Whoever was driving was probably drunk, or maybe fell asleep at the wheel."
"No, but, what if they ran him down on purpose?" Stiles protests.
"Can . . . you think of any reason someone might have done that?" Carmichael asks, obviously skeptical.
"I don't know, there was some crazed guy who attacks ambulances running around, you tell me."
Carmichael lets out a sigh. He sits down next to Stiles and gives him a reassuring pat on the shoulder. "Look," he says, and there's a note of patronization in his voice that Stiles really doesn't like. Apparently Derek doesn't like it either; there's a barely audible growl from the corner of the room he's lurking in. "I know you're still shaken up about what happened to you, buddy. But there's no evidence that someone maliciously ran your dad down last night. It was an accident. They freaked out and took off. We'll see if we can find the car, and the driver. There are protocols in place for this sort of thing. Okay?"
Stiles thinks about asking about the phone, but decides it's a better idea to get Carmichael out of the room before Derek tears his arm off. "Okay," he says. "Sorry."
Carmichael gives him another pat on the shoulder, then stands and leaves the room.
Stiles raises his eyebrows at Derek. "What was that about?" he asks.
Derek just glowers at him.
"Okay," Stiles says. "Pack. No touching. I got it." He fidgets. "Carmichael's not a bad guy, you know, he's just a little . . . oblivious, sometimes."
Derek folds his arms over his chest and mutters, "He had no right to talk to you like that."
"Hah! Try telling him that. He's like fifty years old." Stiles hunches up a little more in his chair. "You keep that up, and I'm gonna think you like me or something."
At that comment, Derek rises to his feet. "I have things I need to do," he says.
"Sure, have fun," Stiles says. "If you're capable."
Derek just skulks out of the room without another word. Stiles can't help but be amused at his behavior, despite the way everything else is going. He looks over at his father, and immediately chokes up. He doesn't even look like his dad anymore, between the equipment and the pallid color of his skin, the way his wrinkles are more pronounced without his smile or worried frown to hold them in place.
Melissa comes in around seven, not dressed in her scrubs as it's her day off. "Stiles, I'm going to take you to school," she says.
"But – " Stiles immediately begins.
"No buts," Melissa says, but her tone is gentle. She sits down beside him. "Stiles, honey, your father is a single dad. Which means that while he's in the hospital, you don't really have a legal guardian. Now, given the givens, I think everyone's willing to overlook that at least for a little while, since you're sixteen, not six, and I'll help make sure you're taken care of. But if you start doing stuff like skipping school, people will notice. So for your own sake, you need to do this."
Stiles heaves a sigh. "Fine," he says. "But if Harris makes any sort of obnoxious comment, I might break his face." Melissa, who's still smarting at Harris' comments about Scott's lack of father figures, finds this amusing. "My car's still in the parking lot," he adds.
"No way are you driving right now," Melissa says. "You can't have gotten more than a few hours of sleep."
"If I'm not safe to drive, I'm definitely not safe for school," Stiles says, but Melissa ushers him out to her car anyway. Scott is in the front passenger seat, obviously half asleep, which is fairly normal for Scott in the morning hours. Melissa drives them to school and promises to call or text Stiles if his father's condition changes.
Life descends into what feels like a bizarre parody of normal. He turns in his homework, pays attention to lectures, eats lunch in the cafeteria, all the while unable to believe that this is actually happening. Scott has lacrosse practice after school, so Stiles asks Allison if she'll drive him to the hospital. "If you promise to get some sleep tonight so Mrs. McCall will give you your keys back, sure," Allison says. But when they leave the building, Gerard is leaning against her car. "Oh, crap," Allison says. "I forgot that we were starting the training today. He was going to take me out to practice my archery."
Gerard greets them both with a smile, and Allison says, "Gerard, do you mind if we make a quick stop at the hospital? I told Stiles I would drop him off."
"Of course," Gerard said. He looks at Stiles and says, "Everything okay?"
Stiles has been fending off questions all day, and he really doesn't want to answer any more, but says, "My father was in an accident."
"Stiles is the sheriff's son," Allison adds.
"Oh, I heard about that," Gerard says, nodding. "A hit-and-run, wasn't it? It's terrible the way some people don't accept responsibility for their actions."
"Yeah," Stiles says, and then doesn't say anything else, hoping that the old man will get the point and stop talking about it.
"Well, I hope you can still come train with us," Gerard says, as they get in the car.
"Yeah, I, I'll try," Stiles says. He's suddenly exhausted, and lapses into silence for the rest of the drive. Allison waves as she drops him off, and he jogs inside. Entering his father's hospital room is surreal. It's as if no time has passed at all. Everything is exactly the same as it was before he left it. He sits down and starts doing his homework.
It's late before he knows it. He wonders if he had fallen asleep. Slowly, he packs up his things. Since nobody's looking, he presses a kiss into his unconscious father's forehead before leaving the ICU, making the nurse promise to call if anything changes. He's not waiting around for Melissa to come shepherd him back to her house. He wants his own shower, his own bed.
But when he reaches his house, he finds it impossible to go inside. He hasn't been there in thirty-six hours. Who knew what could have happened in the meantime? It might not be safe. Somebody else could be inside. Peter could be lying in wait for him, knowing that he had figured out who was behind his father's 'accident'. He sits down on the front porch and texts Scott.
It's dumb, but Scott doesn't make him feel dumb. Scott goes in first and checks every room, every closet, even under all the beds. He pronounces the house safe, so they lock the doors and windows. Ten minutes later, they're unlocking them, because Lydia has showed up, and of course Derek stalks in about half an hour after that. Stiles makes everyone cocoa – even Derek, who looks at it like he has no idea what planet Stiles is from – and they fall asleep in a pile in Stiles' bedroom.
The next day is somewhat exciting, or at least more exciting than the day before. Stiles gets a call from the hospital at about ten AM – fortunately in the middle of history, not chemistry – to let him know that his father woke up briefly, was able to give his name but got the date wrong, and then lapsed back into unconsciousness. Stiles wants to go back to the hospital, but the others persuade him not to.
Derek, meanwhile, has been prowling around the same area where his father was hit by the car, about four miles from the Hale house, further out of town. He finds two traps that the Argent family has set, but nothing else. Stiles spends most of the afternoon trying to hack into his father's cell phone account, but no matter how many variations he tries, he can't get the username and password correct. It seems that his father has actually heeded all those warnings about not using a loved one's name, and putting in at least one number and at least one symbol.
Sheriff Stilinski wakes up again in the evening, and again only briefly. He tries to count backwards from ten and gets it right except for flipping six and seven. But he doesn't know where he is, doesn't remember what happened, and for the few minutes he's awake, will only call Stiles by his given name. He can't seem to remember the nickname.
The doctor sits down with Stiles and Melissa to talk about Stilinski's prognosis. Scary words like 'traumatic brain injury' and 'cerebral contusion' are used. Stiles takes copious notes so he can research on his own, and asks intelligent questions. The gist that he gets is that at this point, they are no longer worried about his father's survival but about his long-term functioning. Impairments to motor coordination, memory, and speech are possibilities. Rehabilitation is discussed and specialists are recommended. Stiles can barely take it all in, so he continues to take notes.
Melissa absolutely refuses to bring him home after that conference; she drives them both back to the McCall house and makes them macaroni and cheese. Stiles tries to eat, he knows she's worried, but the food sticks in his throat. Scott comes home from lacrosse practice and wherever he went with Allison afterwards in a good mood, but takes one look at Stiles and drops all his stuff on the floor.
Derek sneaks in around ten, coming in through the upstairs window, and eventually puts Stiles in a headlock to get him off the computer so he'll stop terrifying himself with research on traumatic brain injuries. Once Stiles is on the bed, pinned underneath two hundred pounds of extremely irritated wolf, he doesn't try to get up.
Instead, he says, "Hey . . . if I had died in the trunk of Peter's car, do you think my dad would be okay right now?"
Derek is wolfed out, so it's Scott who replies with, "Oh my GOD, you fucking idiot, never say anything like that again."
"It was just a question," Stiles mutters. Derek makes his opinion clear by putting a paw over Stiles' mouth.
"A stupid question," Scott says. "Look, I have to go shower. Derek, if he says anything else retarded . . . hug him or something."
Stiles sputters a little, but he waits until Scott's gone and the water's running to speak again. "It wasn't a stupid question. He wouldn't be involved in any of this if it weren't for me."
Derek shifts back, abruptly, and says in a tone that approaches impatient, "And you wouldn't be involved if Scott wasn't a wolf, and Scott wouldn't be a wolf if Peter hadn't wanted a pack, and Peter wouldn't have wanted a pack if Kate hadn't burned the house down. So can you stop assigning blame to yourself like your father wouldn't kick your ass just for implying that you'd rather be dead?"
"I didn't say I'd rather be dead," Stiles says, "and stop shifting back when you're in bed with me, for Christ's sake."
"Stop saying idiotic things and I won't have to."
"You remember that you're naked, right?"
"You're under some mistaken impression that that matters to me," Derek says. Then he huffs out a sigh. "Look. Stiles. You know that if you asked your father, there's no way in hell he would rather that have happened. You could go back and forth with it for ages. Do you think I don't know about survivor's guilt? I ran through every scenario in my head after my family died, all the different things I could have done, sacrifices I could have made. But you'll only drive yourself crazy doing that, because the past can't be changed. If you want to make things better, you have to do it going forward."
Stiles stares at him. "Look, uh," he finally says. "I know that you're probably making all sorts of really good points, but let me tell you that I'm not hearing a word of them because you're naked and on top of me."
"Oh." Derek looks at him for a moment, then clears his throat and rolls over, being careful to pull the sheets with him. "Sorry."
"Well, on the upside, you've successfully made me no longer wish I was dead," Stiles says.
"That, uh, that's good."
"Why don't you just go back to being a wolf so we can never speak of this again?" Stiles suggests, so Derek does, and by the time Scott comes in from his shower, they're both asleep.
Stiles has heard all about how awkward Argent family dinners are from Scott, but he figures that he has a leg up where that's concerned. After all, Chris Argent doesn't have to worry about his daughter's potential defloration while he's there. That's what he thinks, at least, until Gerard seems to decide that Stiles and Allison would be a wonderful couple during their first training session, when he sees how at ease and comfortable they are with each other. "That's the key to a great relationship," he declares, with a grandfatherly twinkle in his eye.
Allison finds this rather hilarious, until Stiles quietly takes her aside while Gerard is looking for something he wants to show them and suggests that they play it up. After all, Gerard is the one who cut the omega in half; Gerard is the one who has declared jihad on all werewolf-kind. The more they can do to keep Scott from attracting his attention, the better. Allison reluctantly agrees, and even manages to blush on command a few times, and Stiles keeps himself intentionally clumsy if they get too close to each other.
Chris obviously doesn't believe this show for an instant, and Stiles isn't sure whether he should be amused or insulted. After all, why would Allison ever want to date someone like him? He can clearly recall Scott saying that about nine hundred times when he and Allison first got together. He sort of had a point. But Stiles doesn't think that has anything to do with Chris' attitude; he just thinks that Chris knows his daughter better than that.
Either way, he doesn't care. It's been a hell of a long week.
His father is still in the intensive care unit, due to the extent of his injuries. He's been conscious on and off, and never for very long. He improved steadily for the first two days after waking up the first time, but then lapsed back into what the doctor called a 'depressed state of consciousness'. Stiles spent another panicked night in the hospital while the doctors did tests. After that, Stilinski's recovery had been slow and unsteady, with what felt like more loss than gain.
Some nights, Stiles sleeps at his own place, and sometimes he stays at Scott's. It doesn't really matter to him where he goes. He lets Melissa steer him around. But as the days drag by and his father doesn't make a miraculous recovery, and no sign of Peter Hale is found, Stiles becomes increasingly aware that he is going to have to handle himself.
That's why he's currently at the Argent's dinner table.
It's an interesting family dynamic, now that he has a chance to observe it up close. Chris, who seems angry about everything all the time, who loves his daughter but won't directly meet Gerard's gaze, who brings up uncomfortable topics and then watches everyone squirm. Victoria, who can switch between terrifying ice queen to warm mother figure faster than Stiles can blink, who wants to know his real name because she thinks nicknames like that are silly, who thinks that werewolves are not an appropriate subject for the dinner table but can't hide the bloodthirsty gleam in her eye whenever they're mentioned. Allison, who has her streak of rebellion well-tamped down but still becomes awkwardly silent much of the time, who winces every time someone makes a comment that would make Stiles uncomfortable if he hadn't already been prepared for what a disaster this was going to be.
And Gerard. Gerard, who dotes on his granddaughter and tries to set her up with the average boy who wants to become a hunter. Gerard, who cut an omega in half. Gerard, who makes jokes about his age and constantly takes pills. Gerard, who wants most of the people Stiles cares about dead, and is training Stiles to help make it happen.
The first training session was rather eye-opening, Stiles has to admit. One of the men who Stiles has taken to calling the 'Argent lackeys' came in to help with a demonstration. He's at least six foot three and built like a tank. "The trick," Gerard said, "is to use their strength against them. You have to be fast." And he showed Allison and Stiles how to move with an opponent, how to use their momentum and avoid their blows. Stiles was skeptical at first, and the first time he ducked underneath a hit and sent the man careening over his shoulder, he stopped and stared. "That's the ticket!" Gerard crowed.
"So how did you like your first training session?" Gerard asks, once they're all sitting down over pork chops and mashed potatoes.
"It was really amazing," Stiles says. "I totally get what you mean now, about fighting against a stronger opponent." He takes a drink of his water as Gerard beams at him and adds, "I want to thank you again for being willing to teach me, sir."
"Nonsense!" Gerard says. "This world needs more young men like you. Men with conviction."
Chris sets his glass down with a thunk and gives Stiles a narrow-eyed look. Stiles just gives him an innocent look in return. He finds it interesting that Chris hasn't told Gerard that he doesn't think Stiles should be trained. That he doubts Stiles' loyalty. Why? Is he afraid of what Gerard would do? Or does he not want his own father to know that Allison was dating a werewolf right under his nose?
"It's too bad I can't apply that conviction to my chemistry homework," Stiles says with a sigh. Harris has been increasingly obnoxious lately, almost smug about Sheriff Stilinski's condition. He had divided the class into pairs and then deliberately given Scott and Stiles an assignment that would require three times as much work as everyone else.
Seeing Gerard's questioning look, Allison says, "Mr. Harris, our chemistry teacher, likes to take his bad moods out on Stiles."
"Oh? Why is that?" Gerard asks.
Stiles heaves a sigh. "My dad had to question him about his role in a crime. I guess he took it personally."
"Was he guilty?" Gerard asks.
"Yeah, and actually my dad said he had enough evidence to press charges, but I guess he decided not to because it was a long time ago, and Mr. Harris was pretty young then," Stiles says. "Apparently, he didn't appreciate the gesture."
"What sort of crime was it?" Gerard asks.
Stiles wonders what would happen if he looked the old man in the eyes and said 'arson'. He doesn't, though. He knows instinctively that Gerard is dangerous, in a way that Kate was and Chris isn't. He's still not sure about Victoria; he finds her so hard to read. So instead he just shrugs and says, "I don't really know the details. My dad doesn't talk about work stuff a lot."
"How is your father doing?" Chris asks from his end of the table.
Stiles forces a smile. "He's doing really well," he says. "Still having some speech difficulty, and he gets confused a lot, but the doctors say that's normal and hopefully it'll pass. They're hoping to get him out of the ICU by the end of the week, and into rehab after that."
"Have they come any closer to catching who did it?" he asks.
It feels like his eyes are boring into Stiles' skull. Stiles just keeps the same fake smile plastered on his face and says, "Not yet, but the police out here are great. I'm sure they'll find whoever did it."
"There hasn't been much about it in the papers," Chris says. "What was he doing out there so late at night?"
"Dad," Allison says, "I don't know that Stiles is really comfortable talking about this, everyone at school has already asked him so many questions . . ."
Stiles reaches over to her and puts his hand over hers, giving it a quick squeeze. "It's fine," he says. "I don't know what my dad was doing out there. There had been an attack on the ambulance, so I guess it probably had something to do with that."
"Was he looking for somebody?" Chris asks.
Stiles just shrugs.
"They still haven't found Peter Hale, have they?" Chris presses.
Stiles puts his fork down and says, "No, they haven't. But they will."
Victoria clears her throat and says, "Allison, how is your chemistry assignment going?"
"It's finished already," Allison says. She gives Stiles a shy smile and says, "I can help you with yours, if you need me to . . ."
Gerard gives them both a pleased smile. Then he says, "Well, I'll see what I can do about this chemistry teacher's behavior. Seems pretty unprofessional, to say the least." When both teenagers give him a blank look, he says, "Oh, I must have forgotten to tell you – I'm going to be the principal at your school."
"Wow," Stiles says, before he can think better of it. Allison is staring at Gerard with an expression that approaches horror on her face, probably thinking of how her whole family is going to be spying on her to make sure she's not spending time with Scott. In an effort to take attention off her, Stiles continues, "That's uh, I didn't know you had that sort of work experience."
"My boy, I've been all over the worlds and done all sorts of things," Gerard says. "I think I can handle some high school students."
"You say that like someone who has never met Jackson Whittemore," Stiles says. "Beacon Hills' resident jock extraordinaire."
"He's not that bad, Stiles," Allison says, regaining some of her humor.
"You only think that because he did all that sucking up to you because he wanted to, hey, can I have some more of those potatoes, Mrs. Argent? Because they are spectacular."
Chris glares at Stiles while Victoria passes him the potatoes. Then he glares at his daughter. "Allison?"
"It's nothing, Dad. Jackson's a nice guy."
Chris doesn't look convinced, but Gerard gives a little laugh and says, "Come on now, Chris, it can't surprise you that the boys fight over her! As long as she doesn't let it go to her head, there's no harm in it. But I still say you two should think seriously about what I said earlier," he adds to the two teenagers. "Finding someone who's willing to live the hunter lifestyle can be tricky, Allison. You shouldn't pass this young man by just because he's not the star lacrosse player."
"Gerard," Allison protests, clearly embarrassed.
"All right, all right," Gerard says. "Just offering my advice, as someone who's older and wiser."
Victoria changes the subject, asks Allison about her weekend plans, and the rest of dinner is fairly painless. "So . . ." Allison says to Stiles, as they're saying goodbye on the front porch. Gerard is conspicuously lurking, so Allison pastes on a smile. "Do you want to go running with me tomorrow morning before school?"
Stiles thinks it over. He's already getting up at five AM so he can spend some time in the hospital with his father before school starts. If he tries to get up any earlier, he suspects that one or more wolves won't actually let him leave the house. "Can't," he says. "Gotta go see my dad."
"Oh," Allison says. "Maybe some other time then."
Stiles leans over and kisses her on the cheek. "I'll see you tomorrow."
