Standing over the kitchen island, Stiles clutched his mobile phone as he caught up on missed text messages from the night before and earlier that morning. Occasionally, he observed Derek maneuvering around his peripheral as the other man prepared breakfast for the rest of the house.
From Isaac at 9:42PM: Everything ok, man? U said ud call w updates 2nite. From Isaac at 10:38PM: R u ignoring me bc ur 2 bz falling on Jackson Douchemore's dick? Plz say no. From Isaac at 11:23PM: Assuming u have touched Jackson's penis now. From Isaac at 11:24PM: Gross. From Isaac at 7:16AM: Srsly worried, everything ok? Plz call.Stiles wasn't even sure how to go about explaining Derek to Isaac. He wasn't even sure he wanted to – the beta werewolf had a hard time trusting other people, much less other supernaturals.
"Concentrating pretty hard over there," Derek said, throwing a banana slice at Stiles to break his thoughts, "Someone I should worry about?"
Stiles's stomach twisted with the meaning behind Derek's question. They definitely weren't in a relationship, and Stiles was not down for any illusions Derek might have otherwise. Their sex had been just that, sex – great sex, but just sex between two strangers.
"No," Stiles said, shaking his head, "Derek, about last night–"
"Morning," Stiles's father said, wheeling into the kitchen with a scowl on his face.
"I notice you left out good in that greeting," Derek said, a grin on his face as he angled toward Stiles's father from the oven.
"Because it's not," his father said, "Are we eating in here, or did I waste my energy for no reason?"
Stiles winced internally at the presence of his father's temper, something he hadn't been subjected to in years now. Surprisingly, Derek didn't seem bothered.
"You're going to be a real treat today," Derek said, still grinning at his father, "And you know where we're eating. You can tell us why you're really here, it's okay to say you got lonely out there waiting for us."
To Stiles's greater surprise, his father huffed noncommittally but remained silent otherwise. Derek shot a wink at Stiles, pulling the pan of scrambled eggs up from the stovetop.
The interaction began looping in Stiles's mind as he tried to figure out where the fuck he was. Stiles wasn't even sure he'd ever seen his father allow someone to tease the man about his attitude before.
"Let's eat!" Derek said, layering several items onto a large platter.
Stiles savored the last bite of the waffle Derek had prepared, layered with a variety of fruit from the gardens. He couldn't even remember the last time he had tasted blueberry from an actual blueberry.
Not that they weren't offered in Seattle – they were – he just hadn't personally made it a priority himself yet to seek out locally sourced fruits and vegetables. And Isaac would probably eat cardboard if there were enough marshmallows on top of it, so it wasn't like there was any hurry.
"What did you boys do last night?" his father asked, disturbing his thoughts, "Anything fun?"
Stiles choked on the fork in his mouth. He attempted to hurry through the reaction in an effort to answer before Derek could.
"Went straight to bed," Derek said, offering a smug smirk to Stiles.
"Sometimes I wonder who the old man is in this house," his father said, shaking his head.
Stiles noticed that his father seemed to wince slightly at the motion, and he remembered the scowl on his father's face earlier that morning. When he thought about it, his father's movement had seemed stiff throughout breakfast.
"Uh... Dad, I'm going to contact Dr. Deaton today," Stiles said, moving away from the discussion on last night's activities, "You seem a little... Sore today. Would you like me to ask him to stop by the house?"
"The less I see of that man, the better," his father said, scowling back at Stiles, "It's just a little back pain. Nothing I haven't handled on my own before."
"Dad–" Stiles said.
"No!" his father said, slamming a hand down onto the table's surface, "God damn it, Stiles! Let a man die in peace."
Stiles reeled back in his seat, his mind flashing warning signs learned from having lived similar scenes too many times in his younger years.
"Sorry," his father said, taking a shallow breath, "I'm sorry. I didn't mean to lose my temper like that."
Stiles pushed back the instinctive response to assure his father that it was okay, because it wasn't okay. Stiles felt something knock against his foot, and he looked up to see Derek offer a look of concern. He shook his head curtly before pushing his chair back from the table and standing up.
"I'm going to go call Dr. Deaton," Stiles said, "When we're done, I want you to walk me through any medicine you're currently on. Maybe you could think about if there's anything you need done outside of the house today, too."
Stiles paused for a response from his father but received nothing more than a head nod. He started to collect the flatware and plates around him, organizing the dishes onto the empty breakfast platter to be cleaned.
"Leave it," Derek said, stretching his hands out to take the plates from Stiles, "I'll cleanup, that's what I'm paid to do. Go on and make your call."
Derek watched Stiles make a thin lipped smile of thanks before turning to leave the room.
The second day had barely begun, and already it pained him to watch the interactions between the two Stilinski men. It was evident that all this tension wasn't something either of them wanted, but they also didn't seem to know how to act otherwise.
"I'm not sure I can do this," John said, frowning down at the mostly full plate in front of him.
"It's only the second day, John," Derek said, "You'd be a fool if you thought this would be easy."
"I don't know how to make him love me," John said, "Not without fixing the past, and there's not enough future right now to correct it all at a pace I like. A glacial one, where neither one of us has to lose pride or cry god damn tears about it."
"John, your son already loves you," Derek said, shaking his head, "But he doesn't like you, and that's what you need to focus on. You might have to scrape your pride a little bit, but if you don't... Well, I don't want to imagine the damage it'll do to that man when he loses you. I'm pretty sure it would wreck him."
John released a sigh as he pushed the wheelchair back from the table.
"This would be easier if you had a joint we could smoke," John said.
Derek laughed as he tried to picture what Stiles's face might look like if he ever saw his father smoking marijuana.
Stiles pulled his mobile phone out of his pocket as he shut the door to the study on the first floor. A new text message notification prompted before he could search for Dr. Deaton's phone number, and he opened it as he settled into one of the large dark leather chairs next to the window looking out on the greenhouse.
From Unknown Number at 8:47AM: Hey, is this Stiles phone? If so, this is Jackson. From Unknown Number at 8:49AM: Was hoping I could take u out to lunch 2day.Stiles hesitated as he stared back at the screen. Originally, he had hoped to use Jackson to ignore Derek, but he was already up the creek without a paddle. He definitely wasn't looking for friendship in Beacon Hills, and Jackson was probably one of the last people he would seek that from even if he were.
Before Stiles could respond, another message notification prompted.
From Unknown Number at 8:51AM: I no ur still mad me but we need 2 talk. From Unknown Number at 8:51AM: It's Scott btw.Stiles swiped to delete Scott's text messages before returning to Jackson's.
To Jackson at 8:53AM: Okay.