Having Stiles around helped.

True to his word, Stiles ran a non-stop commentary on the show they were watching and John leaned back in his chair, letting his words wash over him. He didn't even try to follow Stiles' jumps in thought and Stiles didn't expect him to. It was meant as an easy distraction and it worked.

Around eleven they turned in. Stiles even took him up on the offer to sleep in the guest room and John went to bed with the good feeling that the house was not empty. Stiles hadn't given back his glass and he had put the bottle back in the cupboard in the kitchen when he'd gotten them soda to drink so John went to bed sober.

The doorbell woke him up way too early. Blindly John reached for his alarm clock and it took him way too long to realize that it was not the clock making that noise.

Whoever was at the door was persistent so with a groan John rolled out of bed and padded barefoot down the stairs.

"What's going on?" Stiles peeked out of the guest room, his hair disheveled and with bleary eyes, he looked even younger than usual.

John was surprised to see him still here but the person at the door was too persistent to be ignored so John just waved Stiles off and headed for the door. Of course, Stiles did not go back to his room and followed on his heel instead.

"John, get your ass down here!" Mark yelled through the door.

"Did something happen?" John asked before he'd even opened the door fully. He was pretty sure that it was way too early for his shift, he did not oversleep this time.

"Big accident on the interstate." Mark lowered his voice once there wasn't a door between them any longer.

Mark looked as if he'd fallen out of bed too but at least he was in uniform. He'd dressed in a haste, though. His shirt wasn't buttoned correctly and it wasn't neatly tucked into his pants but at least he wasn't wearing pajama pants and a worn t-shirt like John.

"The others are already on the scene, Thompson needs us to handle the traffic." Mark ran a hand through his hair in an attempt to straighten it out while he was shifting from one foot to the other.

"Give me a second." John gestured for him to come in. "Sort out your shirt while I get dressed."

Taking the stairs two steps at a time, John hurried upstairs. The last thing he heard from the hallway was Mark asking: "What are you doing here?"

John cursed under his breath. For a second he'd forgotten about Stiles who'd been hovering in the background. Nothing he could do about that now so he hurried to at least brush his teeth and throw on his uniform. He even managed to button it up correctly with his first try.

He heard their voices from downstairs but they were too muffled to make out words. At least Stiles and Mark were not yelling at each other, he took it as a good sign.

Stiles stopped mid-sentence when John came back down the stairs, though. They stood as far apart as the hallway allowed and John doubted that it was a coincidence that Stiles had the open door to the living room in his back while Mark had stayed close to the front door.

Mark was fiddling with his shirt while Stiles glared at him, the tension between them palpable.

"Stay as long as you want," John said to Stiles. "It's still early, you should go back to sleep."

"I'm done sleeping, thanks." Stiles didn't take his eyes off Mark. "Might take a shower if that's okay." Now his eyes did flicker over to John who fastened his belt with the gun around his hips. He still had no clue what he was dealing with here. He just hoped that nobody had done anything stupid, he was thinking of Agnes and the Winchesters here.

"Of course, make yourself at home," John renewed the offer that his place was Stiles' as well now. "I think I have waffles somewhere. Or pancakes. You'll find something, take whatever you want."

He didn't know how long Stiles had but he must be running out of time soon.

"Don't let Derek drag you back without something in your stomach," John told him and fought the urge to tousle his hair. Aside from the death glare he had for Mark, Stiles looked like a toddler who'd woken up too early.

"Yes, Dad," Stiles mocked him and then he shooed them out. The door fell shut behind them with a final thud but John doubted that the rude kick out was directed at him.

"He's sleeping at your place?" Mark asked when they climbed into the cruiser he'd parked askew in the driveway.

"Sometimes." John wasn't in the mood to talk about Stiles.

"Derek would drag him back to the lake without breakfast?" Mark asked with a disapproving frown on his face.

"No." John shook his head. "I was joking, Derek would let him finish." He did not doubt that. Even if Stiles had to cook his breakfast first, Derek would patiently wait until he was ready.

Mark threw him a glance as if he didn't believe him.

"What were you two talking about earlier?" Since they were on that topic John could satisfy his curiosity.

"I tried to apologize." Mark suddenly sounded tired. "You know, face to face and not just in a letter."

"He didn't accept?" John guessed.

"He told me to stay on my side of the town and to leave him alone." Mark took a left turn, at least it looked as if he knew where he was going.

"I offered the help of the pack," Mark continued. "We don't need to tell them who Stiles is, just that he's somebody I owe."

John knew how ingrained the pack was in Beacon Hills. If the pack as a whole decided to take care of Stiles he would never have to worry about anything ever again. They could offer so much more than John ever could. It stung. John was doing his best but even if he were at his best, which he was clearly not, far from it, he wouldn't be able to offer Stiles anything like that.

"He threw it in my face," Mark said as if he couldn't believe it. He sounded insulted.

"Can you blame him?" John wondered if Mark really didn't understand. "After what your people have done to him? First the alpha back then and now you. He doesn't like you for a reason. He doesn't want to interact with you or your pack and for sure he doesn't want your help."

Mark had answered all his questions about werewolves and the way Mark acted since the incident with Nancy gave John a pretty good read on him now. Mark was a born werewolf, he didn't know anything but being a werewolf. He'd lived in the pack his whole life. On some theoretical level, Mark understood that other people were not like him but he wasn't thinking logically right now. He felt guilty and he wanted to make it up to Stiles. He was treating Stiles like a werewolf, like a pack member but it didn't work that way.

"Stiles is not a werewolf," John said. "You can't expect him to act like one."

"I'm not." Mark threw him an angry glare.

"Tell me if I'm wrong but if you have a problem or if you're hurt you seek comfort in the pack," John tried to explain his train of thought. "You're there for each other, you help each other."

"That's what the pack is for," Mark admitted with a small nod.

"Stiles is not like that," John said. "His solution is to go into the lake. He seeks comfort in Derek. He doesn't need anybody else." John liked to think that he was on his way to becoming a second source of comfort for Stiles but he knew that he could never compete with Derek. "He doesn't want anybody else. And let's be frank, the last people he wants to be close with is your pack."

"But …"

"More often than not your pack is the reason he needs comfort," John interrupted him harshly. He didn't want to hurt Mark's feelings but his priority was Stiles.

Mark's shoulders slumped down at that and he didn't seem to know how to deal with that fact. John let him sulk for a few minutes and leaned back in his seat. It was way too early and he didn't even have a coffee yet. He stifled a yawn.

"Okay, where are we going and what are we supposed to do when we get there?" John brought them back to the matter at hand.

For a long second Mark didn't answer, still deep in thoughts, but then he shook that off and focused on what he was doing.

He didn't know the details either, just that there had been an accident on the interstate with several vehicles involved.

"At least one truck has lost its load, something flammable, dunno." Mark chewed on his lower lip. "They called in everybody from five different counties. Our guys, the firefighters, and every ambulance available are already at the scene. It's our job to handle the traffic on this site. The interstate is closed and we have to set up a detour."

A part of John was disappointed that he wouldn't even see the whole thing but the more rational part of his brain was glad. A crash with several vehicles, something flammable spilled all over it, and every ambulance available needed at the scene … John didn't even want to picture it. Shit like that tended to haunt one for years.

It was not quite the morning rush hour but some early birds were already on their way and the traffic had started to back up.

John and Mark had their hands full with redirecting the traffic and it didn't get better when the rush hour started for real. This wasn't New York but people had to get to work. And this early they drove on autopilot. John lost count on how often somebody just drove past the signs they had put up until they had to stop at the barricade blocking the road. One guy even hit the barricade and then he screamed at them for putting it in his way in the first place.

Way too many people were incapable of just following the detour, they wanted to know what was going on. Aside from the fact that there had been a major accident John didn't know anything himself which led to lengthy discussions and wild speculations. One young man even offered to drive up to the scene to have a look for them. And to record something he could put on the internet later. He didn't say the last part but John knew the type.

A lady in an SUV tried to get past the barricade by driving on the side of the road but she ended up stuck in a ditch. They had to call a tow truck to get her out.

The whole morning they had to deal with these people. John would have loved to leave, they probably needed everybody at the scene but he knew that if he left the blocked road unattended, somebody would just clear it and drive straight into the scene. So he gritted his teeth, answered the same questions over and over again, and got yelled at for making people late for work.

"Don't leave home at the last minute, then, " John muttered under his breath but didn't say it right into the asshole's face. Instead, he made a move-on gesture and thankfully the man did put his car into gear and left.

"I'm going to shoot the next one who yells at me," John said to Mark when they had a moment to breathe.

"Too much paperwork," Mark growled, his eyes flashing in electric blue.

John sucked in a breath, this was grinding on both their nerves but that it was bad enough for Mark to lose control …

But then Mark grinned and the blue faded away. His features had stayed completely human and John didn't catch a hint of fangs behind his grin. He was in complete control.

"Asshole." John shook his head but then he jumped because right behind him somebody laid on the horn.