Stiles shows up the next morning ready to roll, having successfully managed to push away any and all thoughts of a lonely daddy werewolf and sleep through the night. Derek is his typical, stoic self as he putters around getting ready and saying goodbye to the boys, thank god, so he's spared the terror of potentially embarrassing himself with any abrupt and inappropriate urges to cuddle him. He leaves Stiles with a credit card and a frankly pathetic grocery list and is almost late getting on the road because he insists on staying to make sure that he's got the pups' car seats properly installed in the back of his Jeep.
They're a crazy insane hassle to put in, especially since he'd just taken them out the night before after aborting their trip to the store, and once again Stiles wonders how the heck Derek carts them all around in that ridiculous Camaro of his. Even if he does manage it, it can't be comfortable, and he's already started plotting ways to practice for their road trip in August. He should probably throw the suggestion out there – something bigger, something with better gas mileage.
Hmm.
'Not fair really,' he thinks as he rounds up the boys and gets them laced into their shoes. 'The sports car is a good look on him.'
Not that he needs to be thinking about that.
Not that he should be thinking about that.
Whatever.
The boys all climb into the back of his Jeep with eager excitement – or at least as much as they each normally let show. Angus is practically bouncing off the roof, crawling around and trying to touch everything – the manual transmission and the old fashioned radio dials – while Benjamin just stares around with wide, bright eyes. Sebastian of course is quiet, but he doesn't look uncomfortable with this change in transportation, so Stiles will take it as a win.
He's got a tape deck in the glove box for when he drives kids around. Yeah you heard him, cassette tapes. Popping one in, he backs carefully out of the driveway, and by the time they're halfway to the store the boys have already learned most of the words to Going on a Bear Hunt.
"Alright little guys, you know the rules," Stiles reminds them as he lifts each one down onto the parking lot pavement. "You gotta hold on to the cart or you have to ride in it."
"We know," they chorus in unison, all three immediately reaching a hand up to grab the edge of the cart that he pulls from the rack.
"Cool, cause I think your dad would eat me up if I lost you guys," he says, only half joking.
Angus giggles and lets go to cover his mouth, and yup, Stiles called that one. Still, the arch of an eyebrow and he grabs on again, all three of them walking nicely as he guides the cart into the store. Derek had said they were each allowed to pick a treat out of the bargain bin by the doors if they behaved during the shopping, and he hopes that will be enough of an incentive to avoid serious temper tantrums in the middle of the cereal aisle.
As it happens, they do pretty well, much better than he expects them to. Angus does end up having to ride in the cart after letting go to dart toward some brightly colored packages of candy, but he doesn't grumble about it and droops a bit as he apologizes, so all-in-all, he handles it well. Benjamin and Sebastian behave perfectly, and even ask to help by playing another sort of treasure hunt game. Stiles indulges them by taking them to the correct aisle, then waiting patiently for them to I Spy the box or the bag they're looking for.
Consequently, they're out a lot longer than he'd planned, but he also purchases more than double the stuff Derek had written down – though that's not a difficult thing to achieve. He hadn't gone for sirloins or anything extravagant, but he has a moment of panic when the total comes up at the register. He wouldn't consider it high for a family of four; he just hates having someone else's money in his pocket. Luckily the card goes through just fine, and the boys play quietly with their new Hot Wheels cars while he loads the bags into the trunk.
"That went well," he says out loud, thirty minutes later when they're all back at the house again; Angus, Benjamin, and Sebastian racing their toy cars around the living room floor while he stares at the mountain of groceries on the kitchen island.
Certainly not the worst experience he's ever had.
Not even in the top ten.
He lets the boys play while he puts things away in cabinets and drawers, filled with a stupid sense of pride that this house is more well-stocked than it's ever been. It's not his place really, and it's silly just in general, but a full kitchen, good, homemade meals, they mean something to him. That idea, that warmth is a big part of what family is in his experience, and he's looking forward to sharing that with a family that needs it.
Speaking of sharing food though...
"Hey, you guys wanna come help me? We're gonna make a surprise for dad."
All three boys come thundering in with curious expressions, eyes bright as they lift up on their tiptoes to see over the edge of counter. Stiles shoos them back out again to wash their hands, and when they return with damp paws he's got their booster cushions all set up on the barstools so that they can actually reach and see what they're doing.
"What we gonna make?" Angus demands as Stiles lays out a mixing bowl for each of them.
"We're gonna make some super special brownies," he says, moving the ingredients he'd left out from the counter to the island. "Then when they're all done we'll go take them to dad at work after lunch. Does that sound like fun?"
"We get to visit dad at work?" Benjamin asks, all three pups looking shocked, like their father's world outside of them doesn't exist at all.
"Yup. And my dad too. Your dad and my dad work at the same place."
"The p'lice station," Angus says knowingly as Stiles hands them each a wooden spoon.
"Right. We'll cook them some yummy chocolate brownies and have some lunch while they cook, and then we'll go visit, ok?"
He gets a duo of cheers and a toothy smile in response, and that's good enough for him. He probably should have picked cookies as their first baking project, something that the kids could mold and squish with their hands and that wasn't quite so... wet, but he wasn't taking his dad a whole box of Christmas cookies in May thank you very much, even if he had promised to 'save' Derek's job. No, brownies will have to do, and if he sneaks some black beans and avocado in there to lighten them up, masking them with extra-dark cocoa and chocolate chips, well, he can only hope the pups won't tell.
As it is, they don't seem freaked when he pours the grey and green puree into their bowls along with the flour, cocoa, and eggs. He'd warned them ahead of time to wait before they snuck a taste, and after Angus had yelped and started coughing, having snuck a taste of the cocoa powder anyway, they'd taken his advice to heart and waited patiently. Their little noses do start sniffing the air adorably once everything is stirred up into a dark, glossy, chocolatey batter though, so he gets them each a spoon and lets them have a small taste of the almost-finished product.
" 'S yummy!" Angus declares, diving forward for another scoop, but Stiles neatly whisks the bowl away, collecting their spoons and depositing them in the dish washer.
"You can have some more when they're baked, he promises, sprinkling one pan out of the three with walnuts because he has to keep in Tara's good graces somehow. "We'll share with dad."
He gets a little grumbling in response but nothing too bad, and as he sends them back to the table to wait for their lunch he muses on the difference between the attitudes of today and yesterday.
He'd been expecting some of the same today to be perfectly honest. Kids rarely bounced back so well with someone so knew, so early on with their first babysitter. Werewolf or human, he was a stranger in their home enforcing rules where they'd only ever really had family before, and yet they had adapted remarkably well.
He's not sure if that's a good thing or a bad thing.
Oh, good for him, for sure, but why...
As he brings the boys plates of chicken salad and sits down to the table with them, he wonders again just what had happened to send this family running here and what bruises might be hiding just beneath the skin.
XXX
It's a slow day.
In part he's glad for it, because slow days mean safe days, and quite frankly, he's living in what feels like a state of near-perpetual exhaustion.
The other part of him, the young, stupid, brave, reckless part of him, wishes that there would be a bank robbery, or a high-speed chase, or something that would get his mind off of Stiles Stilinski.
Stiles Stilinski and his father, actually. While his babysitter had assured him it wasn't that serious, the sharp-eyed looks his boss keeps leveling his way aren't exactly reassuring.
He's a grown man, surely he wouldn't hold a grudge just because Derek had brought in a lunch made by his son? Oh god, he should have asked if this would be a problem, if it was too much of a conflict of interest before he'd hired Stiles on. It had only been a week or so and he's already been relegated to the speed trap while the other new deputy, Parrish, got to follow Lapland out to B and E's. He needs to be able to make Detective in a few years, needs to be able to change his hours and earn better pay as the boys get older – he can't afford to have pigeon-holed his career already.
Hell, the only reason he was at his desk right now was because Casey had relieved him for lunch...
"Dad!"
Derek jumps hard enough to hit the roof as the front door opens with an electronic chime and his boys come barreling in, two calling out his name and the third just barreling for him like he's been gone a month. Heart pounding in his chest, he ignores the other officers around him and goes to his knees right there beside his desk, in the middle of the floor where everyone can see. The boys crash into his chest the same way they always do, gripping at his shirt and rubbing their cheeks against his chest, and they're ok, they seem ok, they smell...
Like chocolate?
"Stiles?" he asks, dumbfounded, as the young man comes sauntering up between the desks like he owns the place, a stack of Tupperware balanced on his hip. "What..."
"Afternoon officer," he smirks. "Anyone would think you're not happy to see me."
"I'm not, I... I mean..." he stumbles, "What are you doing here?"
"Saving your job," he replies, drumming his fingers on the lid of the Tupperware, and then the cocky little bastard winks at him. "Told you I would."
"You..."
"We made brownies," Benjamin explains, his fingers hanging on tight to the pocket of Derek's tac pants, calm and collected as he always is.
"An' we helped!" Angus cheered in excited counterpoint, bouncing on his butt hard enough that the desk chair he's climbed into starts to roll away. "They're yummy chocolate!"
"Want one?" Stiles asks, cracking the lid and tipping the container toward him. "There's more at the house, but if you want one of these you'd better get it now. Stuff doesn't last around here."
He doesn't. He wants to refuse just on principle, because he's confused and annoyed and his heartbeat's only just now starting to slow back down to normal. The rich smell of chocolate is thick and enticing though, and they actually look pretty damn good, especially to a guy who's been eating his own cooking for too long.
Stiles has a roll of paper towels under one arm. If Derek hadn't already known what a soccer mom he'd turned into, the little bolt of attraction that laces through him when the guy pulls a packet of wet wipes out of his back pocket would give it away. While he stands there freaking out over that like an idiot Stiles lays out three neat squares on his desk top like makeshift plates, and puts down half a brownie each for the boys, who dig in like the little wolves they are. He manages to get himself together enough that he catches the brownie he's handed, and even though he'd just eaten his own lunch his stomach rumbles.
He breathes in the sweet, buttery scent of the pastry, hums, then...
"Wait, are there black be..."
He doesn't get to finish the thought Stiles grabs his wrist and uses it to shove the bite of brownie he'd broken off mostly into his mouth. There's a smooth, creamy richness to the chocolate that he's surprised by, and an underlying flavor that's not unpleasant, but Stiles is glaring at him like he'd just insulted his baking efforts to his face.
"Hush your lie factory," he singsongs between gritted teeth, a fake smile on his face as he flicks a deliberate glance toward his father's half-open office door. "That would be ridiculous. Why would I, an intelligent human being, bring healthy brownies as a bribe to suck up to the man who hasn't been allowed a cheeseburger in five years?"
Derek blinks, stops chewing.
"Five years?"
"His cholesterol's bad - don't judge me," Stiles sniffs. "He doesn't have all your wolfy healing powers; if I gotta bribe every diner within fifty miles to stop him from eating bacon every morning I'm gonna do it."
"That's... actually kinda nice," he says before he knows he's going to, then because Stiles looks at him with vulnerable surprise on his face, "Creepy overprotective, but kinda nice."
"Hmph," Stiles grumbles, snapping the lid back onto the Tupperware and pulling out a wet nap to wipe down sticky fingers. "And see, here I am doing something nice for you."
Derek doesn't answer, just stuffs some more brownie in his mouth. They actually are really good, and he doesn't know what to say anyways, so it seems like the safer option. He watches quietly while Stiles neatly wrangles Angus and Benjamin into carrying the Tupperware container into his father's office, sitting on the edge of his desk next to Sebastian and tracking their progress surreptitiously as Stiles moves on to distribute the rest of the dessert to the rest of the station all staring less than subtly. It's not that he doesn't trust them, doesn't trust the Sheriff, but all three of his kids have their triggers and they haven't seen all that much of Beacon Hills yet, let alone the police department.
His ears pick up a duet of 'Mr. Stiles' dads' and a low, gruff laugh, and not a three minutes later John Stilinski himself comes out onto the floor with Angus in one arm, holding on to Benjamin's hand with the other.
"These yours?" he asks, his weathered face softened with laugh lines.
"Yes sir."
Stilinski nods.
"Some fine-looking boys," he declares, and stupidly, Derek's throat closes up.
"Thank you, Sir."
"Well young men," he says, lowering Angus carefully back to the ground, "Is my son taking good care of you?"
All three nod solemnly, and that's stupid too, but it's a painful, painful relief.
"He made us brownies," Angus offers up helpfully, and the Sheriff snorts to himself.
"I see that," he says flatly, eyeing the piece Derek still holds in his hand before opening the container the boys had brought in to him. "Which means he either did something wrong or he thinks I suspect that he did something wrong. What weird thing did he put in them this time?"
Derek chokes as he swallows the last bite, eyes stinging. Stilinski just frowns, sighing heavily before picking out his own brownie and turning back to his office.
"Stiles!" he calls, and the kid doesn't even flinch, not the way Derek would have if his mother had said his name in that tone.
"Coming, father mine!" he hollers, slapping Parrish on the back before trotting after.
Derek narrows his eyes, a hot little flame that feels like jealousy licking at the back of his neck as he watches Parrish bite into soft, gooey chocolate, but quickly turns to dousing ice water as he turns his ears toward the closed office door.
"What did you do?"
"Nothing!"
"Stiles..."
"No seriously dad. It wasn't me this time. This one's... kinda on you."
"What did I do?"
"You freaked him out man! He thought you were gonna fire him, the way you were giving him the stink eye over the lasagna."
"What? I wouldn't fire him for that."
"I know, but dad, I get the feeling the guy can't afford to..."
He stops listening.
Deliberately tunes out because he doesn't need to hear the speculation, doesn't want to.
It's true they'd come to Beacon Hills trying to outrun something, but only he and his mother know the entire story. He'd thought that would be enough, that his mother, his Alpha knew, but it hadn't changed anything. She hadn't stood up for them, hadn't fought for his rights as the boys' father, and he knows she was just trying to do the right thing for all her pack, but it didn't...
"Dad?"
Three sets of little hands tug at him and he drops easily into a crouch, scooping all of them up together against his chest, nuzzling and rumbling and scenting left and right.
"Smell sad," Angus murmurs against his throat, and Derek immediately shuts that emotion down, turns it off viciously like the twist of a faucet.
"I just missed you guys," he lies, because they're not old enough yet to know the difference.
"Right here."
Derek chuckles, catches sight of Stiles exiting the office and heading back toward them.
"Yeah you are buddy. But Stiles has to take you home now so Daddy can go back to work ok?"
Three pairs of puppy dog eyes turn on him without mercy, but he murmurs love in their ears and ruffles their hair as he stands back up.
"I'll be home for dinner," he promises, "And maybe we'll watch a movie before bed, ok?"
This earns him a trio of cheers and a relatively easy extraction as Stiles bundles them all together and herds them back outside to his monstrosity of a Jeep, but he'd proposed the idea as much for himself as for them. He might be older but he's just as easily touch-starved as they are, and he spends the rest of the day resolutely not thinking about inviting Stiles to stay and join them.