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It had been so long since Derek had fallen asleep in a house full of people that the sound of footsteps would have startled him wide awake, even if it wasn't shouted curse words and the faint smell of smoke. He jumped off the bed and stumbled over the desk chair in the middle of the cozy room, unaccustomed to so much furniture in such a small space.
"It's okay, Kira. I've got it."
"I'm so sorry, sheriff. I just thought if we were all going to be home this morning, it would be nice.."
"It was a nice gesture, dear. It's ok. Just let me get it."
'I'm sorry.."
Derek turned the corner into the Stilinski's kitchen, not finding quite the brand of chaos he'd expected. Kira had her hair pulled back in a messy bun, apron splattered with pancake batter and hands clad in bright orange oven mitts that flapped ineffectually, trying to fan the smoke from her face as Sheriff Stilinski carried the pan of smoking pancakes out the back door, resting it on the railing of the back porch and closing the door behind himself to keep the smoke from billowing back in. Blood still pounding in his ears, Derek shifted in his feet, desperate to do something but unsure of how to help in a crowded kitchen with counters covered in eggs and flour and no immediate threat.
"Good morning, Derek," Kira coughed. "Sorry about the mess. I thought maybe since we were all going to be home this morning that I would make breakfast, but I underestimated the firepower of Sheriff Stilinski's electric stove."
"Electric?" Derek raised an eyebrow.
"I know, I know, all the cool kids have gas burners now, I just don't cook enough to bother upgrading," Sheriff Stilinski sighed heavily. "Had I anticipated that we would be having a slumber party, I would have considered doing some renovations beforehand."
"I'm so-"
"Kira if you apologize again I'm going to make you sit outside with the burnt pan," the Sheriff warned, giving her shoulder an affectionate squeeze. "I told you, it's ok. Besides, we've got plenty of batter left, right? We can always start over."
Kira smiled, tucking a stray bit of hair back behind her ear. The sheriff sighed heavily. "Sorry, did we wake you?"
"It's ok," Derek shrugged. "I'm usually up earlier than this anyway." He stared down at his bare feet, the blush in Kira's cheeks making him acutely aware of his lack of a shirt. "Has anyone heard from Scott?"
"Nothing much yet," the Sheriff sighed. "Got a pretty useless text this morning. He's ok, so are the Argents, but it's still not safe for anyone to go home."
"I still don't get why he wouldn't just let me go with him," Derek grumbled.
"Something about werewolves not being particularly helpful in this situation. Chris tried to explain it to me but whenever he starts talking about supernatural stuff it tends to put me to sleep no matter how hard I try to pay attention. The man has a way with words like that of my high school chemistry teacher." Stilinski shook his head. "Speaking of useless werewolves, where's Isaac?"
A gentle tap at the back window almost went unnoticed. Derek turned to see Isaac huddled meekly at the back door, hugging his arms for warmth.
"Isaac?" he raised an eyebrow. "What are you doing out on the porch?"
"There was yelling, I panicked," Isaac answered bashfully, his voice muffled by the door. Derek opened the door, shaking his head.
"Get back in here, it's cold."
"Just because Scott isn't here doesn't mean you're in charge," he huffed.
"Isaac. It's cold out. You don't have a shirt or shoes on. Please just get back in the house," Derek rolled his eyes. It was far too early in the morning to be this exasperated.
"Okay," Isaac ducked through the doorway, carefully navigating into the living room without looking up even once, and an uncomfortable silence fell over the crowded kitchen. Derek glanced at the clock over the store. 8:45am. He pinched the bridge of his nose. It was definitely too early for this nonsense.
"I'm going to go…" he fumbled, wanting an excuse to leave but unsure of what to say.
"Put a shirt on?" the Sheriff offered. Kira frowned for a split second before she caught herself and opted to stare at the floor.
"Yeah. I'm going to do that."
"Okay. Ready to give this breakfast thing another shot, kiddo?" Kira nodded enthusiastically, clasping her oven mitt-clad hands together. "I think there might be a bag of blueberries in the freezer, why don't you look for it?"
Derek trudged back up the stairs, dragging one hand over his face in a lame attempt to rub the sleep from his eyes. Perhaps a shower was in order first, then a shirt. He moved to push the door open and heard a startled yelp,followed by frantic scrambling. Wary, he pushed the door open gently. His eyes scanned the room quickly, but Stiles had so many things pinned to the wall and stacks of books covering every surface, which made it hard to discern what belonged from what didn't. A pile of cloth on the floor that looked like a crumpled sleeping bag shifted.
"Doesn't anyone in this house knock?" the muffled voice from the sleeping bag had to be Isaac.
"Why are you hiding in a bag?" Derek raised an eyebrow.
"Oh good, it's just you," he flung the top of the sleeping bag back with a heavy sigh. "Kira and the Sheriff have both walked in on my changing already this week."
"You could just, you know, use the bathroom. Like everyone else," Derek suggested flatly, leaning on the doorway with his arms crossed. His bag was across the room, and he was certainly not climbing over a naked teenager to get to it.
"Who does that? That's weird."
"People who share a room, for one."
"Well, it's still weird."
"But changing in a room that isn't even yours and not locking the door first isn't?"
"Well when you put it that way," Isaac shrugged, shifting to stand and hesitating. "In or out, dude. I'm kinda naked here."
Derek sighed heavily. "Can you just.. throw me my bag or something?"
"Can't reach it without getting up," Isaac held up his hands in surrender. "And I, for one, do not want to risk flashing the whole house. Again."
"Oh for crying out loud," Derek grumbled, stepping back out into the hallway and closing the door. He stood there awkwardly, listening to the shuffle of Isaac scrambling out of his sleeping bag and rummaging for clothes before he heard the soft thump of his duffel hitting the door. Cautious, he eased the door open just enough to hook two fingers around the strap of the bag, pulling it through the open door and softly shutting it again.
Derek had been blaring hot water on his back for longer than was courteous but not as long as he'd like when a shout of "Boys! Breakfast!" broke through the white noise of the shower and, begrudgingly, he turned the tap off and reached for a towel. He briefly considered shaving before deciding he didn't care enough and, once dry and clothed, returned to the battlefield once known as the Stilinski's kitchen. A platter of pancakes was dumped unceremoniously in the middle of the dining room table on top of a pile of papers. Kira scurried around the table, trying to clear space and set plates down at the same time, a frazzled mess of papers stuck under her arm and her apron pocket stuffed with assorted silverware, pile of plates just barely balanced on one hand.
"Need a hand?" Derek offered. Kira nodded and sighed, deflated, handing over her armload of plates so that she could use both hands to clear the folders and papers scattered over the table.
"Look out, hot plate coming through," Sheriff Stilinski announced, brandishing an odd platter that didn't match the rest of the dinnerware, crackling with hot bacon and sausages. As soon as the platter hit the table he was gone again, darting back into the kitchen. Kira and Derek made themselves busy trying to set four places at the table that could be used to eat without risking getting syrup on case files.
"Mr. Stilinski kicked me out of the kitchen and I don't know what to do with all this," Isaac moped from the doorway, barely able to hold the syrup, butter, salt, and pepper at the same time without dropping something. Kira took the small spice shakers from him carefully, setting them down as close to the middle of the table as she could get them.
"Isaac!" the sheriff barked from the next room. Isaac hastily put the syrup and butter down before skittering back into the kitchen. Kira chuckled.
"Has he been like this all morning?" Derek asked carefully. Kira laughed.
"Isaac or Mr. Stilinski?"
"You know what? I'm not even sure which one of them I meant to ask about anymore," Derek tried to stifle a laugh as Isaac fumbled back into the room, trying to balance a carton of orange juice, a gallon of milk, and a plate of toast at the same time and failing to the point of requiring intervention. Kira grabbed the plate while Derek grabbed the carton of juice threatening to escape Isaac's elbow, and the younger werewolf sighed with relief.
"Why don't I go see if there's anything else that needs to come in here?" Kira offered.
"Breakfast is a lot of work," Isaac sighed. "I miss cereal. Cereal is easy."
"Isaac. You didn't even cook anything."
"I know, right? It's like.. a LOT of work. I'm tired and all I did was carry stuff." Both boys perked up at the sound of the front door being fumbled with, and were at the door before it was even open, Derek grabbing the edge of the door and pulling it open so hard the keys clacked against the deadbolt.
"WHOA. Whoa. Dudes. Calm yourselves," Stiles held up his hands in defeat. Lydia released her deathgrip on his sweatshirt and fiddled with her hair, trying to pretend she hadn't been wide-eyed in fear when Derek ripped the door from Stiles' hands.
"What are you guys doing here?" Isaac asked, eyes narrowed in suspicion.
"I live here," Stiles pointed out. "And we've both been kicked off of Team Useful. Do I smell bacon?"
"Kira and your dad made breakfast. Do you have extra chairs somewhere around here?" Derek asked. "I think your dining room table only has four."
"Wow, did you guys excavate the layers of papers and old jackets covering two of them?" Stiles asked, incredulous, as he pushed past Derek and into the house. "We haven't actually cleared the table off since.."
"Stiles?" Kira stuck her head around the doorway from the dining room. "Welcome home!"
"Uh, thanks," Stiles chuckled awkwardly. "I guess I'll go get the chairs from my room. They should be the right height. It will be a tight squeeze, but I think we can manage."
"I'll help," Isaac volunteered. "I mean, someone else will have to help set the table.."
"I've got it," Lydia shrugged, then glanced at Derek expectantly. "Lead the way."
Derek sighed and closed the door behind her, gesturing toward the dining room.
Ten minutes and a cavalcade of mismatched plates, cups, and chairs later, Derek was about to sit down in a rolling computer chair when the doorbell rang and startled everyone so badly that Isaac missed the chair he was aiming for and fell in a heap on the floor. Lydia stood next to him, shaking her head and giving him a motherly 'tsk, tsk.'
"Can someone get the door?" Sheriff Stilinski asked. "That's probably Melissa."
"Scott's mom?" Stiles' nose wrinkled in confusion. Kira quietly stood and slipped out of the room, heading for the door.
"Well, yeah. If Scott insisted we all stay here for our safety, I don't think he would want her home alone, either," Lydia pointed out.
"Valid."
"Aren't you supposed to be the smart one?" she countered, arms crossed.
"Good morning, kids," Melissa forced a smile, clearly tired from working all night. The door clicked shut and Kira shuffled back in.
"Good morning, Mrs. ah, Ms. McCall," Isaac stuttered awkwardly, pulling himself to his feet as Sheriff Stilinski entered with a plate heaped with scrambled eggs.
"Hi, Melissa," he smiled. "Hope you're hungry. Kira and I figured a big breakfast was in order if we were all going to be stuck here for the day."
"My heroes," she smiled. Kira blushed. The Sheriff and Melissa made their plates and retreated to the island in the kitchen to eat. Doing a quick head count and realizing there was an extra chair, Stiles pushed one of the wooden chairs back to the corner of the room to make extra space, and everyone sat down to start eating. Only two or three minutes had passed before Stiles cleared his throat.
"So. Who am I disappointing by coming home early?"
Derek raised an eyebrow. "I'm not sure I follow."
"Well, I'll be taking my bed back. And I can do basic math, so I figure some people were already sleeping on the floor. Which means whoever has been utilizing my bed is now sleeping on the floor, too."
Isaac chuckled. "Derek took the bed. He made me sleep on the floor."
"Because you can't keep your hands to yourself."
"What? I'm a natural cuddler. Girls love it."
"Do I look like a girl?"
"…No?"
"Then what made you think I would want to spoon?" Derek asked pointedly, aiming his fork at Isaac for emphasis. Stiles and Lydia both choked in unison, Lydia carefully covering her mouth with a napkin while Stiles nearly spat his food into his hand.
"Oh god, what the hell, guys? That's my bed! Is nothing sacred?"
"Again. This is why he sleeps on the floor," Derek stated, deadpan, before taking a sip of milk.
"I'm washing my sheets. I'm going to figure out how to operate the washing machine strictly to wash my sheets."
"Oh come on. It's not like I did it on purpose."
"You boner-sharked Derek on my bed. That is not ok."
"No one said anything about boners," Isaac raised his hands in defense.
"Isaac. I'm a dude. I know what happens when dudes spoon."
"Who said I was the big spoon?"
An awkward silence fell over the table. Lydia and Kira exchanged a glance of exasperated horror.
"What are the rules about food in the living room?" Lydia asked, alarmingly chipper.
"Go nuts," Stiles sighed dismissively.
"Look, there were no boners. Just… uncomfortable closeness. So Isaac sleeps on the floor," Derek sighed loudly. "Now can we please not discuss this while people are trying to eat?"
"Listen, I have a rule about erections on my bed."
"Oh my god, Stiles-" Derek buried his face in his hands. He didn't see the girls leaving, but he heard the abrupt scrape of chairs.
"I'm just saying. No boners on my bed. Unless they're mine. And I use the term 'mine' to cover both boners from my body and caused by it."
"You're not gay, Stiles," Isaac sighed.
"You don't know that."
"Goddammit Stiles, we have company. Can you please just.. not be you? For like.. five minutes?" the Sheriff called from the next room.
"Yeah, dad. One second. I just have to assert my dominance over these animals. Territory thing."
"Oh for fuck's sake, Stiles."
"You know, Derek, those are big words from someone who spooned another dude in my bed."
"I didn't-!"
"Whoa. Whoa. Not what happened," Isaac dropped his fork.
"Thanks for breakfast, Mr. Stilinski," Derek said quietly, getting to his feet. He was out the front door before anyone could stop him, and closed it with just enough force to imply that following him would be unwise. He'd quit smoking six months after the house fire, and he hadn't wanted a cigarette so badly in a very, very long time.
"Hey," he heard a quiet voice from behind him a moment before Lydia sat on the step beside him.
"What."
"Nothing. Just… hey," she played with the hem of her skirt. They sat in silence for a few minutes, and he felt the edge of his rage start to dull. "So. Stiles is a huge jerk sometimes."
"I noticed."
"He means well."
"Really?"
"…Well, I think he does most of the time," she shrugged. "I think he's just annoyed with not being able to help. Sorry he took it out on you."
"Is that what happened in there? Because I thought it was more 'gross accusations' than 'venting,' but what do I know?"
"Not everyone has as healthy of a way of dealing with anxiety as your family, Derek," she sighed. "Those of us who can't just put our fist through something have to use our words. And it doesn't always come out nice."
"Fair enough," he grumbled.
"Now then," Lydia stood and dusted herself off. "Kira challenged Isaac to a game of Mario Kart, and I, for one, want to witness him getting his ass kicked. You coming?"
"Sure," Derek chuckled, getting to his feet. He followed the redhead back into the house, closing the door behind himself, leaving the cold autumn air behind.