John clenched his jaw out of frustration for what had to be the eighth time since he had began speaking with Talia on the phone. Leaning against an exterior wall of the Sexual Recovery Center, John shifted his gaze to the windows of the center's community room. Stiles hadn't seemed to notice John's absence just yet.
"Talia, I understand that you're an Alpha," John said, "And that means you're used to people bending over backwards for you, but it also means you speak in ultimatums. So, here's one for you – you can speak with Derek now about your history with Isaac's father, or you can let him find out in court, while he's being cross-examined."
"John–" Talia said.
"No, Talia," John said, "I've kept my foot out of my son's relationship for far too long, and your son has made me realize that tonight. Derek is sending texts to my son threatening to pursue full parental custody, and we both know that's not what Derek really wants. He's trying to drive Stiles back to him out of fear of losing Scott, but I won't let that happen either."
"John, Derek has some very strong objections to his son's relationship with Jackson Whittemore," Talia said, "Surely you can understand that as a father–"
"I understand that Derek's objections are some bullshit specist ideologies that you fed him, Talia," John said, "Correct him quickly, or I will."
"But, John, surely you can see that Scott would receive more support living with the Hales, both you and Stiles spend most of your days at the station," Talia said.
"Which Hales are you referring to, Talia?" John asked, "Your three children that have already moved out to avoid Derek, or Rick who spends at least an hour at the station every day after school?"
"You can't expect me to–" Talia said.
"I expect you to be a parent," John said, "Which sometimes means supporting your child by pointing out his errors. Derek is not the wronged party here, and the faster the both of you figure that out, the better off our two families will be."
"I need more time, John," Talia said, voice wavering, "Derek is just filled with so much anger, it's difficult to reason with him right now."
"That's because you've indulged his insolence, Talia," John said, "That's your own spilled milk to cleanup."
John waited as Talia remained silent for several seconds.
"Fine," Talia said, "Under one condition. Stiles will not pursue or further a romantic relationship with Jackson Whittemore."
"Talia," John said, snorting, "Even if I could, Jackson is the last man I would ask Stiles to step away from. And if you paid any attention to your grandson, you wouldn't either. Your and Derek's attempts to control my son end here and now. It's time you both face reality, Derek needs professional counseling, and that's not going to be a condition of Stiles performing some idiotic sense of duty to your family."
"But what about Isaac?" Talia asked, voice trembling from either anger or fear, John wasn't sure which.
"Isaac has already moved out of your house, Talia," John said, "Whatever support he needs following your conversation with Derek will come from Stiles, Scott, and me."
John watched as Stiles approached one of the windows in front of him, a look of concern on his face. John raised a finger to indicate that he needed one minute.
"John–" Talia said.
"This is not up for debate, Talia," John said, "Derek will immediately sign the divorce papers I delivered to him, and he will not pursue full custody of Scott. I think you're forgetting that you also don't want our sons' issues argued in court, since I doubt you're prepared to face the full number of extramarital affairs Derek has had. And I'll be damned if Stiles has to face that count as well."
"I'll see what I can do," Talia said.
"You do that," John said, "And you might also want to explain your behavior to Stiles, I think it would help him understand that your hostility has not been a result of his own actions."
The only response John received was the clicking sound of the call being disconnected.
Stiles released a deep sigh as he settled into the passenger seat of the Sheriff's patrol car.
"Everything you expected it to be, son?" his father asked, pulling the car out of the parking spot.
"That's an understatement, Pops," Stiles said, watching from the window as the center grew further away, "I'm glad we did this though."
"Good," his father said, "I was worried this might be a mistake."
"Well," Stiles said, "It definitely affirmed some of my concerns, but… This is going to sound weird, okay? It's just that… I feel kind of less... alone?"
"Oh," his father said.
"I mean, I know I'm never alone," Stiles said quickly, "Not really alone. But before today, I felt kind of like I was drowning in my own problems. It was hard to breathe or focus. I felt like a shitty father."
"Stiles, you are not a poor father–" his father said.
"I know, Pops, I know," Stiles said, "But you can't always control your feelings. I related to Erica's story a lot – even though I'm not in the exact same position as her. It gave me hope, hope that maybe there's something I can do to help Derek. To give my son back his papa, even if it's not in the same capacity as before. That's a big deal for me. For both of us."
"Yeah, son," his father said, "That's good."
"I'm just worried now that Derek won't be open to seeking help," Stiles said.
"We'll have to wait and see," his father said, "You can't discount Derek just yet, I have a feeling he might be coming around here pretty soon."
"I hope so, Pops," Stiles said, digging his hands into the pockets of his pants, "Hey, did you grab my phone on our way out? I don't seem to have it."
"Uh… Yeah," his father said, "I did grab it."
"Will you hand it to me?" Stiles asked, stretching a hand out, "I want to call Danny to see if there's something I can do to help Erica. I may not get my happy ending after all this, but she seemed to really understand the depth of the pain caused in her relationships. I would kill for Derek to comprehend that."
"Sure," his father said, "But I think we need to discuss Derek first."
"Okay…" Stiles said, uncertain where his father was directing the conversation.
"While you were busy with Erica, I noticed that your phone kept buzzing with new messages from Derek," his father said.
"Oh," Stiles said, "Did you read them?"
Stiles watched as his father's face pulled into a slight cringe.
"Unfortunately I did, son," his father said, "But only because there were so many, and the phone kept vibrating."
"Okay, so I assume that's why you still have my phone," Stiles said, "What did he say?"
"I don't want you to freak out about this, son," his father said, "So just try to remain calm–"
"Dad, just tell me what he wanted, you're freaking me out more by delaying," Stiles said, stomach already twisting from the look of discomfort on his father's face.
"Well, it seems that Derek ran into Jackson and Scott this afternoon," his father said, "And now Derek is threatening to seek full custody in the divorce proceedings."
"What?!" Stiles yelled.
"But it won't happen, Stiles," John said, briefly looking away from the road to lock eyes with Stiles, "There's not a judge in the county that would award Scott to Derek over you."
"We don't know that for sure, dad!" Stiles said.
"Well, that's why I stepped outside to speak with Talia," his father said.
"You did what?!" Stiles yelled.
"I know it was a bit of an overstep, Stiles," his father said, "But someone needs to reason with Derek, and trust me, it has to be Talia."
"Talia has hated me since we announced our separation, dad," Stiles said, "She blames me for ending our relationship. You're insane if you think she's going to help me, not to mention that Derek is her golden child."
"Stiles," his father said, turning to make eye contact again, "Trust me, Talia doesn't want a messy court proceeding anymore than we do. She will talk with Derek. You don't need to worry about that."
Stiles bit nervously on his bottom lip. There was simply no way Talia would help him. Pigs would fly before Talia assisted him in leaving her son, especially when she equated that to taking away her grandson.
Another twist of anxiety ran through Stiles at the thought of Scott, who was with Jackson, the pair alone against the Hales.
"I need to see Scott before Derek does something stupid," Stiles said, "How quickly can you get us home?"
Jackson squinted in the dark hallway leading to the front door of his house. An incessant pounding on the door had roused Jackson from his bed. At first he had thought it had just been the thunder of the storm outside, but the haste and nearness of the knocking forced him out of his warm bed.
He was surprised that Scott hadn't also been woken yet, but maybe the little boy thought it was just the storm, too.
"Coming," Jackson said, half stumbling into the right wall, a flash of lightning helping him to see the path in front of him, "I'm coming."
The pounding stopped just as Jackson reached the front door, hand set to undo the two locks. As Jackson opened the door, he realized that he probably should have been more cautious about who was behind the door before opening it.
The fresh scent and whirl of pouring rain filled his senses. He raised a hand to rub sleep from his right eye as he focused on the person in front of him.
"Stiles?" Jackson asked.
Stiles assessed the heavy-eyed Jackson in front of him. Wearing only a pair of pajama pants that looked soft from wear, the man's chest and feet were bare. The usual artfully-crafted wave of his hair was arranged in various directions.
He looked warm and comforting, something Stiles had been missing for a while now. And the slight bulge in the man's bicep as he lifted his arm to touch his eye was more noticeable than Stiles would have liked.
The whole image was distracting Stiles from the reason he was there – Scott.
"Stiles?" Jackson asked, voice still dazed from sleep.
"Fuck," Stiles thought.
"Scott," Stiles choked out.
"What?" Jackson asked, tilting his head in curiosity.
"Scott," Stiles repeated, mind still frantic with worry, despite the distraction that was Jackson Whittemore, "I need to see Scott. Is Scott still here?"
"Stiles, calm down," Jackson said, reaching out both hands to grab onto Stiles, pulling him into the house, "Are you okay? Why are you here at this hour? I thought you said you wouldn't be back in town until tomorrow."
"I know," Stiles said, trying to explain to Jackson why he needed to see Scott right now, "But you ran into Derek, or Derek ran into you. He wants to take him from me, Jackson. I just needed to be sure. I need to see him right now."
"Okay," Jackson said, nodding, "Okay, let's go check on him. I can sense him here though, you know. He's knocked out, I'm pretty sure the little guy is blocking all of his senses to ignore the storm. We wore ourselves out after school."
Stiles followed Jackson up to the second floor, where Jackson stopped quickly at a door just off the landing. Jackson slowly opened the door for Stiles.
"See?" Jackson asked, nodding at a still sleeping Scott, "He's fine, Stiles. I wouldn't let anything happen to him."
Stiles let loose a deep breath at finally seeing Scott in front of him. It was difficult to tell which limb was which, as the little boy tended to octopus himself across any surface he was sleeping on, but the large dark head and light pattern of snoring were unmistakable. Scott was fine.
"Okay," Stiles said, nodding, "Okay, I'm sorry I ran over here like this. I was just worried. I didn't…"
Stiles looked down at his feet, noticing that he had left a trail of rain water on the hardwood floors, which he was still dripping on.
"Christ, Jackson," Stiles said, raising a hand to cover his face, "I'm really sorry. I woke you up, and I've made a mess of your floor – I don't know what to say."
"Hey," Jackson said, lifting Stiles's hand away from his face, "It's okay, you were worried about your kid, I get that."
Stiles snorted.
"No, really, I do," Jackson said, nodding, "I may not really be a father, but I worry about the kids at my school. And I can sympathize with your situation, even if I can't exactly empathize."
Stiles remained silent but made eye contact with Jackson.
"We did run into Derek," Jackson said, "But it was fine, he said some words, I said some words, and we went our separate ways. No big deal."
"Jackson," Stiles groaned, "I'm really sorry, this isn't your mess to handle."
"A little mess never hurt anybody," Jackson said, shrugging his shoulders.
Shoulders which, Stiles noticed for the second time, were bare. Stiles looked left to avoid a lingering gaze, but he landed on the bed peeking out of the open door across the hall. A little wrinkled and unmade from sleep, it looked just as welcoming as Jackson did right now.
"Are you okay?" Jackson asked, hand reaching up to force Stiles to look back at him.
Stiles was not okay. The rollercoaster that had been his visit with Erica was nothing compared to the stress of thinking Derek might have decided to take Scott from Jackson while Stiles was away. He was cold from being wet and tired from driving most of the day. He wanted to wrap himself up in something warm and just call it a day. And Jackson looked pretty warm.
"Stiles?" Jackson asked again, brow furrowing with worry.
That was the final straw for Stiles. The sincerity of the concern on Jackson's face was simply too much for Stiles to continue resisting. Day 1, Stiles 0. Stiles could admit it – this day had kicked his ass, and he wanted to forget about it. Anyone would.
Stiles reached a hand out to rest on the back of Jackson's neck, and he pushed himself forward until his lips met Jackson's. Once the man seemed less startled, strong arms wrapping around Stiles, Stiles licked into the other man's mouth, exploring the taste and texture.
Day over, Stiles 0, but at least he had found a little warmth and comfort at the end.
