Author's Note:
Thanks for keeping up with To Build a Home! I have a few days off coming up so I'm hoping to wrap this story up soon and begin the sequel I have planned/began writing for the Stilinski-Hale family. Subscribe/favorite if you'd like to stay updated on all things TBH. And, as always, comments/reviews are greatly appreciated!
"Where the fuck are my keys?" Stiles grumbled as he stormed through the kitchen, Derek just stirring the honey into his first cup of coffee, eyes still ridden with sleep.
"Aren't they on the table in the hallway?"
"If I'm asking you, they're obviously not!"
"That's the last place I saw them," he shrugged, not awake enough to deal with Stressed Stiles; the only reason he was up so early on a Saturday that he didn't have work was to get Isaac off to his game by nine o'clock.
"They couldn't have just walked off by themselves!"
"Obviously," he mumbled before sipping from his coffee cup.
"Yeah, obviously," Stiles sneered, foot tapping before he began to grind his teeth in anxiety.
"Maybe Isaac took them," Derek proposed, more as a joke than anything else. Stiles had just rolled his eyes, turned, and walked out of the kitchen.
Nearly a minute later, the family of three stood in the middle of the living room, Isaac's hands wringing together in front of him as he focused on his feet.
"Isaac," Stiles asked sternly, "did you take Daddy's keys?"
"N-no," he answered after a pause, voice wavering.
"I was supposed to be at the book sale ten minutes ago and I need my keys. Do you know where they are?" Stiles asked with a warning tone.
Isaac blinked, eyes now glued to something behind Stiles, and bit his lip, unsure of what to say or do. His fingers flew up and into his mouth, a nervous habit that Derek had come to know as an overt sign that the child was anxious.
"Daddy is not playing around right now. Go and get my keys, Isaac," Stiles commanded, stress of the situation building up in his shoulder muscles, causing his whole body to feel tight. When his son didn't respond after a few seconds, he yelled, "Isaac!"
The four-year-old didn't even flinch and at that Derek grew nervous; the lack of movement and eye contact reminded him of the way he'd dealt with policemen pulling him out of history class his sophomore year of high school and talking in soft, empathetic tones in the hallway.
"Do you remember where you put the keys, baby?" Derek asked softly as he squatted down a few feet in front of his son. Isaac just stared past him, unwilling to respond. He stood frozen in the paw print pajamas Gampa had gotten him for Christmas, acting as if he couldn't hear what his parents were saying.
Dissociation, Derek thought as he recalled one of the pamphlets he'd read at Dr. Galler's office when they'd had to wait while she finished with a patient; "A defense mechanism in which a person separates themselves from awareness during an event," the brightly colored paper had read.
Stiles was growing impatient. "Don't you dare baby him right now!"
"Can't you just take your spare car key for now?" Derek asked, irritated.
"That would be a great idea except for the fact that my room key is on that lanyard and I have to get into my classroom, which is where I was supposed to be at eight this morning but now it's eight fifteen and I have people sitting in the parking lot waiting for me and calling my phone non-stop!"
"Isn't the janitor there?"
"I don't have time for this!" Stiles panicked, exhaling forcefully. "You have one minute to get the keys and bring them here," he directed at Isaac, his knees bending so that he could meet the child's eyes directly. "Do you understand?" he asked harshly, enunciating each word.
Still, Isaac stared off, not even blinking once until Stiles grabbed his wrist and pulled him towards the stairs, the toddler finally reacting by attempting to pull away.
"No!" he screamed, snapping out of his daze and gripping his daddy's wrist with his other hand to try and wrench his arm away. "No!" he repeated as he felt himself being pulled into the hallway, feet slipping as he moved from the carpet to the wooden flooring.
"Stiles!" Derek yelled, rushing over to separate his husband and son. "He's…," Derek started to say, wanting to alert Stiles to the child's wheezing but pausing when he realized that Isaac was fine. His lungs were managing well despite the sudden sobbing and fast breathing, and Derek realized that it wasn't a valid excuse. For once, Isaac's asthma wasn't in the picture, the thought paralyzing him for a moment before Isaac slapping Stiles' leg repeatedly caused him to intervene.
"I didn't w-want Daddy to weave," Isaac sobbed once he was in Derek's arms, tears falling down his cheeks.
"I know, baby, but you can't just take things and hide them," he soothed, feeling like he was doing something wrong by holding him. "And you can't hit people just when you're upset with them."
"I wanted Daddy to come to my g-game," he cried, little legs tight around Derek's middle.
"Put him down, Derek!"
"He's hysterical, Stiles!" Derek shot back, feeling like he was in the middle of his husband and son. "You scared him!"
"Because he knows he did something wrong and now he's in trouble for it!" Stiles yelled, voice echoing through the house. Isaac continued to sob heavily, sound of his father's voice making him grip Derek's shirt just a little more tightly.
"We're not going to get anywhere with him until we calm him down!"
"Isaac, I need my keys," Stiles said tersely.
"I don't k-know where I putted them!" he sobbed. "I don't remember!"
"Are they upstairs?" Stiles fished impatiently, getting no response. "Downstairs?"
"I sowwy," Isaac finally sobbed, the force causing him to hiccup. "I sowwy!"
"Can't you just take the spare-"
"I'm the only one with keys, Derek!" Stiles explained, exasperated. "Fuck, I don't have time for this!" he yelled, pulling open the hallway closet and looking beneath the mess of shoes for any signs of his lanyard.
"I s-sowwy!" Isaac continued, fingers back in his mouth, spit stringy and hanging down the front of his red, tear-stained face. Derek could feel it soaking through his pajama shirt, the stickiness cold and uncomfortable. "I sowwy!"
"You," Stiles panted in anger as he rose from is squatted position in front of the closet and pointed at Isaac, "are in big trouble!"
"I didn't m-mean t-to!" the child sobbed, more drool dripping from his chin and connecting to Derek's shirt.
Stiles took a deep breath at that and ran a hand through his hair to calm himself down, realizing that his son really didn't understand why his parents were so upset over a set of hidden keys. Isaac had never been taught something as simple as what "I'm sorry" really meant, and it wasn't until just now that he'd even been emotionally able to grapple with the concept of accidental versus intentional. They'd never really yelled at him before, let alone talked about punishments.
"That's the thing, Isaac," Stiles sighed in exhaustion, letting his arm drop. He took a deep breath to try and rid himself of the anger he knew had scared his son just moments earlier. "You did want to take my keys and you did hit me, so that means you meant to."
"B-but I said I was sowwy," he cried, fingers still in his mouth.
"I know, honey, but that doesn't make it okay," Derek added softly, trying to work off of what his husband had said. "You still did something wrong."
"I don't w-wanna be in twuuble!" Isaac cried, turning his head away from his fathers.
"It doesn't feel so great, does it?" Stiles finally asked, going into teacher-mode; he made sure to keep his voice from rising this time, purposely keeping a small distance between them so as not to tip Isaac over the edge.
"N-no," he whimpered, the pain in his voice one that Stiles and Derek knew was actually somewhat-healthy for once. "Don't make me be in twubble!"
"You're going to have to sit in time-out for a little while for hiding the keys and hitting me, Isaac," Stiles explained.
"No!" Isaac sobbed, kicking his legs in Derek's arms to try and escape. "No time-out!"
It took Derek a good ten minutes to wrestle Isaac into sitting in a free corner of the living room, the child attempting to crawl out at every available moment. Stiles was running up and down the stairs, searching for his keys so that he could get to the school.
"Daddy!" Isaac screeched when he saw Stiles dart past the hallway on his way back into the kitchen. "Da-ddy!"
"Five more minutes and you can come out and apologize to Daddy," Derek explained, heart breaking at the sight of Isaac so red-faced and distraught. The four-year-old had just wanted Stiles to spend some time with his daddy, hadn't known that the consequence of hiding the keys would be his first real reprimanding. And while Derek didn't condone the hitting and understood why Isaac needed to be punished, he couldn't hide the fact that he was somewhat angry with Stiles for using physical force to get Isaac to admit to taking the keys.
"I s-said s-sowwy!" Isaac sobbed, fingers filling his mouth as the spit continued to drizzle down onto his now soaked pajama shirt. The toddler repeated those words like a mantra for the next few minutes, his focus on them keeping him busy while Derek watched the numbers on the cable box change. Eventually, Isaac's cries became small hiccups and sniffles, sticky hands pulling his legs against his chest while he caught his breath.
It was the first time Derek realized that not every outburst would affect Isaac's lungs; if he could cry like that for a half hour straight, there was no doubt in his mind that they were stronger than they'd ever been before.
"I'm just gonna have to take my spare set and call the janitor in to open up," Stiles sighed as he entered the room after an exhausting fifteen minute search of the house, cheeks bright red from the stress of the morning. "Make sure you give Ize a treatment before his game; he's been giving me a hard time lately because he says he feels well, but the pollen count is through the roof today and I don't think I can deal with any more surprises."
"Will you be home for dinner?" Derek asked, wishing for things to return to some kind of normal.
"Don't count on it," he said, shaking his head as he looked at his watch. "I really gotta go."
"I sowwy, Daddy," Isaac sniffled from the corner, face blotchy and eyes red from crying. Stiles' breath caught in his throat at how upset his son looked, the guilt pouring over him and making it hard to breathe.
"Thank you, baby," Stiles whispered as he bent down in front of Isaac and held his arms out. The child leapt into them, nuzzling his snotty nose against his shirt, something that surprised Derek. He'd expected him to pull away and roll into a little ball of fear, but he hadn't.
"I know that you're sorry," Stiles continued. "Just please don't take my keys again, okay? And no more hitting. We use our words, not our hands."
"Otay," Isaac nodded, still sniffling.
"Be good for Papa today."
"Mmhmm," Isaac hummed, nodding his head.
"I love you, baby boy. I really, really do."
"I wuv you too, Daddy," Isaac said, finally looking up, the brightness in his blue eyes returning now that his tears had stopped.
"Do I get a kiss?" Stiles asked with a small smile, the child giving him one right on his cheek. When it came time to separate, Stiles could feel Isaac's arms slowly slide away from him, the guilt of everything that had happened in the last half hour returning as he locked the front door behind him and went for the car, tears springing to his own eyes as he backed out of the driveway.