Chapter 29

"You're a moron," Isaac told Stiles on Friday night. He'd come over for another visit and had practically crowded Stiles in the hallway for scenting and a tight hug, now that Stiles' ribs were no longer protesting. "But I'm glad you're not smelling like misery any longer."

Stiles breathlessly retorted, "I'm glad, too. Still need … to … breathe, though."

Scoffing, Isaac let him go and stomped on to the living room, where Derek was greeting him with a loose one-armed embrace. "It sucks that your dad is still in the hospital. Maybe you should bring Peter's book next time and help him along a little bit."

"Already planned for tomorrow," Stiles called over his shoulder, already on his way to the kitchen. "You want something to drink? Derek made lemonade."

Isaac flopped down on the couch and took out his drawing utensils. "Sure. What's for dinner?"

Since Peter had left money for the care and feeding of the two werewolves, they agreed on ordering from the Lebanese place after some haggling and spent the time waiting for the food trouncing each other at Mario Kart.

"I suppose your house is still warded," Derek said without inflection after the doorbell had rung around the forty minute mark.

Nervously, Stiles crossed his arms in front of his chest. "It is. What is Chris Argent doing here? He does know that there's a restraining order with his whole family's name on it, doesn't he? I mean, it's hard to forget, what with the mention in the newspaper and TV and everything … unpleasant little scandal for Argent Enterprise, whaddaya know."

"Breathe, Stiles. That's not for us to find out." Derek thumbed over the screen of his phone and activated the loudspeaker for Stiles' benefit. "This is Derek Hale. I'm currently at the Stilinski residence. Chris Argent has hijacked our food order and is currently standing on the front porch. I understand that he's in clear violation of the restraining order that was issued. I can spot at least one weapon but he has likely more on his person. Could you please send a dispatch? Thank you."

"Stone cold," Isaac muttered admiringly after Derek had hung up. "You think Argent will wait around for the cops to arrive? Maybe even do something stupid?"

"Dunno, but we'll have clear footage of his presence here," Stiles answered. "I wonder what he wants." He took another step back from the front door, just in case the man suddenly got trigger-happy. "I'll call Peter, he can tell Mr. Whittemore. I'm sure my dad will hear through the sheriff station grapevine."

Stiles was just done relaying the incident to Peter when the sound of sirens cut through the quiet Friday night air. "I have to go, I'll text you later with what went down."

"Be thorough," Peter ordered smugly. "I plan on committing this to memory for years to come."

Despite his apprehension, Stiles just had to grin. "You and me both, dude. See you."

Unfortunately Chris Argent fled the scene before the officers could apprehend him, and to add insult to injury he flung the food he'd been holding like some sort of perverted peace offering onto the porch.

"He'll pay for it," Derek consoled the boys and then opened the door to the officer that wasn't trying to follow Argent. "Good evening."

"Evening. Good lord, the things that are going on in this town," Deputy Keene sighed. He nudged the dropped bag of ruined food with his boot. "Sorry about that, though you probably wouldn't have eaten this anyway after Argent touched it."

"You got a visual?" Stiles asked, peeking around Derek's broad shoulder.

"Sure did, kid. Due to his profession Argent is well known in law enforcement circles. Plus, you have your nifty new home security system now, so that's all sorted, at least where it concerns us. Any idea what he could've wanted?" Keene inspected the wall around the door. "Didn't shoot any bullets, at least, or leave something nasty on the porch."

"Aside from our food," Isaac huffed. "I really wanted that."

"I'll order more," Derek said quietly. "And tell the restaurant to sue the Argents for threatening or bribing the employees."

"I'll put in a request to get your lost food tested," Keene offered. "I don't think he poisoned it, but better safe than sorry, eh?"

"Thanks," Stiles said. "We appreciate it."

Keene grinned. "You'll make it up to us sooner or later. You always do."

"My baking is pretty legendary by now," Stiles explained when the others turned to look questioningly at him. "So yeah, I will."

"Send me the footage, and keep the bill for the food. Whittemore will make Argent pay for it," Keene said. "Stay safe now. Forensics will be by in a few and take the food away. Nothing spilled outside the bag, that's something at least."

Derek kept watch until the colleagues from forensics had come while Stiles and Isaac viewed the security feed on Stiles' laptop and sent the clip to the sheriff station, Peter, and Mr. Whittemore for processing.

"It's so crazy to have this as the new normal," Isaac admitted on the way back down to the living room. "I wouldn't go back - even if I probably could, now - but it's still … shocking."

"I know. Just thinking about how self-righteous those hunters feel about their code," Stiles made sarcastic quotation marks with his fingers, "makes me so fucking angry. They don't even mean it, like true zealots. They're just lying psychos who're looking for an excuse to hurt others."

"Sadistic assholes," Isaac agreed. "Though with the way Argent is acting they're working actively on being banned from Beacon Hills."

"If only that were true. My guess is he's snapped." Stiles steered Isaac back to the couch and flopped down right next to him. "What are we gonna do until the food arrives?"

"Teach me more about handcuffs," Derek said, dropping two handfuls of different padlocks and several lengths of chains onto the coffee table. "I'm still bad with the picklocks."

"Sure," Stiles said easily. "You game, Isaac? Or do you wanna get back to your drawing?"

"Nah, I've got enough of that for today. Show me how that works."

Stiles jumped into the explanations and demonstrated on the various locks how it generally worked. For each of them he needed little more than a few seconds. Isaac was in awe, and cursing himself for not having shown an interest sooner in favour of his comic project. Even Derek, slow as he was, rose even more in Isaac's estimation with each successfully opened lock.

When it was Isaac's turn, Stiles took special care in explaining again how to listen and feel for the tiny indentations in the cylinders. Knowing what had happened to Isaac at his father's hands, both were uniquely motivated.

Finally their replacement food arrived, doubled by the restaurant owner as an apology for the botched delivery.

"It was bribery, then," Stiles concluded as he dished out hummus and pita bread. "But I'm pretty okay with it; we have enough dessert now to make us all puke. Pass me the kafta, Derek?"

They filled their plates and ate with gusto, and after a while they even found some humour in the situation. After all, Argent did jump several fences as he ran away, all very nicely visible on the security feed of the Stilinskis' cameras.

oOo

Saturday was spent at the hospital with Stiles' father. Peter, unfortunately, had a bad day, so Isaac chose to keep him company as he puked up black goo and felt unequal to drink even water, never mind some tea or broth. Derek, however, went with Stiles and was an unobtrusive presence while Stiles first read quietly from Peter's book for a few minutes and then just chatted with his father. They had lunch and an early dinner together and then agreed on another 'healer's appointment' the following Tuesday, right after John had had his next X-ray.

oOo

On Sunday, Stiles felt well enough to meet Erica and Boyd for lunch in the diner and it warmed Stiles' heart how eager both of his new friends were. Boyd had even sent his own text, which was practically a declaration of his regard.

Isaac and Derek came with to keep the outing safe from wandering Argents, and if there were a suspiciously high number of patrol cars driving past the diner, nobody commented on it.

"Uh, wow, and who might this be?" Erica asked upon setting her eyes on Derek. "Did he flee an Abercromby photo shoot or something?"

"That's Derek, a friend of Isaac and me," Stiles said easily. "He doesn't like being objectified, so be gentle, Catwoman."

"I'll do my very best." Erica smiled shyly. "Sorry, Derek. You're just really handsome."

"Thank you," Derek muttered, relaxing his shoulders a little. "It's good to meet you. Stiles and Isaac have talked quite a bit about you both."

They shook hands, and while Boyd's face was impassive, Stiles could see the knuckles of his hand get a little more pronounced.

Smiling smugly at this show of possessiveness, Stiles then led all of them into the diner and chose the booth farthest from the counter so they'd have some privacy.

"It's really good to see you," Erica told Stiles as they settled in. "I was worried sick when I saw the news. Boyd, too, even if he didn't say anything."

"I'm really sorry," Stiles said, like they hadn't texted about it all week already.

"Can you tell us more now?" Erica asked.

"Not really, although I want to, promise. It's just that Scott's a minor, so his case will be heard without the public present, and his criminal file will be sealed afterwards." Stiles huffed. "The first hearing will be in two weeks or so, which means that at least it won't be dragged out for too long."

"It still sucks," Erica said. "Do you suppose McCall will be back in school next year?"

"Honestly? I think so, yeah."

Derek, who was sitting next to Stiles, leaned a little closer against him, lending his silent support. "But maybe not. He shouldn't be, in any case."

"No, he shouldn't, but they're usually lenient with kids," Stiles sighed. "Scott wasn't on anyone's radar until he got involved with Allison and her family, and his lawyer will probably make a very good case for him being their victim or something."

Boyd frowned. "The news about what their people did with our old principal were sick."

"They're still working that case, which is the only reason Allison's parents are still out and about," Stiles admitted. "But yeah, their shenanigans will probably put Scott's behaviour in perspective, from their point of view."

"You're not gonna go back to being friends with him, will you?" Erica half questioned and half demanded. "Because if you do …"

"He helped kidnap my dad," Stiles interrupted her. "I'll never forgive him for that, even if I forgave him for nearly killing me. We're over."

"Good," Boyd said shortly. He raised his arm to flag a waitress down. "You got a friend like that, you don't need enemies."

The waitress appeared at their table and was so instantly smitten with Derek that she got everyone's orders wrong as she repeated them and then nearly flushed to death when Derek wrote everything down for her to put an end to her misery.

When she was gone, Boyd eyed Derek speculatively. "Must be a curse."

"You have no idea," Derek replied.

"On the plus side, I'll bet that the kitchen will throw in some extra fries," Stiles said with a grin. He patted Derek's shoulder. "Anyhoo, let's not talk about Scott and assorted assholes; what's new with you? What about your ROTC placement, Boyd? Didn't you have a talk with someone this week?"

"On Wednesday," Boyd agreed. "It went fine, but they were a little reluctant to answer more in-depth questions."

Erica curled a lock of hair around her finger. "One wonders why."

"I told them that I'd appreciate a more honest talk next time, even at my age," Boyd said, looking steadily at Stiles. "Everyone should have the questions you gave me at hand."

"You really wrote up questions for Boyd's talk with the recruiter?" Derek asked. He looked torn between frowning and smiling reluctantly.

"Yup. I mean, if they go around seducing the really young into entering military service, they'd better be prepared to catch some flack. It's not like the people they're targeting all have a stable home life or are economically secure, no offence, Boyd. Those people need someone to watch out for them."

Boyd merely nodded. "Their reaction was certainly eye-opening."

"So you'll not join the military after high school?" Isaac asked.

"They want me," Boyd said with a shrug, "but I'm not so sure I want them anymore."

"You still have time to decide," Derek said. "The military's fine if that's what you really want, but it's always good to have more options."

"What're you doing?" Erica asked, and all eyes settled on the werewolf. "You're not actually a model, right?"

"No." Derek glanced at Stiles. "I was actually in college in New York."

"Doing what?" Stiles pressed. "He hasn't told me yet, but it can't be that embarrassing."

"Yeah, because at least you knew what you wanted to do, Derek," Erica chimed in.

Derek sighed. "Fine. I went to the Culinary Institute at Monroe College."

"Everything's making so much sense now," Isaac said. "Did Peter do a stint as well? Because damn can he cook."

"He took classes while going to law school in Stanford," Derek supplied. He paused, took another glance at Stiles, and then quietly went on, "He, we, survived the Hale house fire."

"You're Derek Hale," Erica said, horrified, and Boyd's suddenly rigid posture echoed her sentiment. "Fuck."

"Yes, quite." Derek shrugged even as he leaned a little further into Stiles' steadying hand. "My sister, Laura, couldn't stay after what had happened, but Peter was in such bad shape that we had to leave him here. I guess I wanted to keep at least a part of him with us, hence me enrolling in culinary school."

"Did you enjoy it?" Boyd asked.

"I liked the work well enough, but the environment is often loud and stressful, and I worked very long days sometimes. I don't think I'll finish."

"What else are you gonna do?" Erica asked, all dewy-eyed and compassionate. "I mean, everybody's got to do something, don't they?"

"I don't know, maybe some sort of handicraft. Something where people aren't yelling at each other the whole day long."

Their drinks arrived then, and not a minute later their food followed, notably not being brought by the waitress who'd taken their order. And as Stiles had predicted, there were extra fries, although Derek shoved them almost violently at the teens.

For a while, they busied themselves with their lunch, only commenting on the juiciness of their burgers and the crispy saltiness of Stiles' beloved curly fries.

When the first appetite was sated, however, Erica asked, "How did you two meet, Derek? Don't take it the wrong way, but you're older than us and don't seem like the social type."

"He was trespassing on my family's land," Derek answered dryly.

"When was this?" Erica asked, curiously looking at the both of them. "It's been a while, I can tell."

"In January," Stiles admitted sheepishly. "Scott and I … he lost his inhaler during a, uh, nightly excursion in the woods. We went back the next day to look for it and met Derek."

"Your sister," Boyd said, fixing Derek with his steady gaze. "She was found in January."

"Double fuck," Erica offered. She suddenly rounded on Stiles, scowling. "I can't believe that you went looking for her body!"

"Hey, no one said I did!" Stiles cried.

"Uh-huh," Erica said flatly. "I know you by now, Batman, so try again."

"It's okay, I'm over it," Derek said. "Stiles wasn't even the only one, he was just the one to step onto my property."

Stiles grimaced at this. "Man, I'm sorry. I know that I was an asshole back then, but I'm trying to make up for that."

"You're only partially succeeding," Derek told him, but there was a tiny teasing lift to the corner of his mouth, and his voice held no rancor.

"Anyway, I decided that Derek needed people around him, and after some twists and turns here we are," Stiles said, popping another curly fry into his mouth.

"What about you, Isaac?" Erica wanted to know. "Did you just join them when they were hanging out or something?"

Isaac, who'd kept quiet by design, silently asked with a lift of his eyebrow whether it was alright to bring up Peter. Receiving a small nod from Derek, he said, "Actually, a while back Derek's uncle happened to pass my house when my dad was hitting me. He called the cops and took me in once the custody issue was cleared up."

"You're living with Derek's uncle?" Apparently Boyd could show surprise, because his mouth had dropped open a little, and his brows sat high on his forehead.

"I'm seventeen, the state wasn't gonna put me in a home without my consent. They figured that the legal proceedings weren't worth it to get me in and then back out the system a mere nine months later," Isaac explained. He smirked. "It helps that Peter was a lawyer before the fire, and that his advice was still good. Officially, I'm living at my house, but I haven't been there in weeks. My dad's welcome to it when he's released in ten or so years."

"How is he? Peter, I mean. I couldn't care less about your dad," Erica asked, bewildered but curious. "Is he as hot as Derek?"

"Yeah, unfortunately. It runs in the family," Isaac retorted with an eye roll. "Though Peter's dealing well with it, unlike Derek."

When Isaac didn't offer any more information, Erica protested. "Come on, you can't drop this bomb on us and not tell us everything! Do you have a picture? Is he so rich that he can care for you? How is he doing after everything?"

Stiles ceded the floor to Derek and nudged Isaac to convey that he should let Derek take the lead. Even revealing their dealings with the man was already a huge deal; there was no need to drop even more information on Erica and Boyd in their quest of familiarizing them with the Hales.

The conversation was lively enough anyway, especially after Isaac had showed a recent snapshot of Peter to the two teens.

"He looks like a total sugar daddy," Erica exclaimed, making both Derek and Isaac flush with mortification. "And can I say that I love his shirts? They look so soft." She cackled, now fully in her element. "Is it very nice to cuddle up with him? Come on, spill, one of you must have some experience."

Seeing as neither of the werewolves were prepared to answer that question, Stiles raised his hand. "I'll take that one."

Erica beamed, which made it all worth it in Stiles' book.

He smirked. "In one word: yes. He smells good, too."

"I bet he does!" Erica shrieked.

"Stiles," Derek warned, visibly flustered. "He's my uncle."

To his credit, Boyd didn't look the least bit revolted, even as he said to Stiles, "He's not trying to seduce you, is he?"

"Nah, we're just friendly." Stiles sobered a little. "Good of you not to assume the worst, after what the papers have printed about him."

"You're not the type," Boyd said simply. "Plus, as a lawyer he knows exactly what he can and cannot do."

Erica just winked. "I wouldn't dare cast stones after seeing his picture. In fact, I'd probably be very naughty if he showed some interest. Say, when are we going to meet him?"

"You're killing me here," Derek said, voice suspiciously croaky. "Just … no, Erica. Okay?"

Cackling again, Erica hooted, "No promises."

"I feel flattered that you even think I might have a chance," Stiles told his friends cheerily. "Seriously, thanks, you guys. You sure that you don't want your extra fries, Derek?"

And just like that the topic was exhausted and everyone's attention moved to Isaac, who wanted their advice regarding the storyline for the first chapter of his comic.

End of chapter 29