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John Stilinski pulls into his driveway at two in the morning with three thoughts on his mind; shower, eat the hot pockets he’d hidden in the freeze and then fall asleep with the happy knowledge that he has the next day off. What he didn’t have on his mind was to nearly crash into a massive wolf that lays on his door step. His hand automatically goes for his sidearm when the wolf lets out a half growl, half whine, his eyes ruby red.
“Derek?” John asks hesitantly, wondering if this, knowing that behind the fur was man was ever going to get less weird. Three months and counting since Stiles had sat him down to reveal the big secret, the rest of his son’s pack there to demonstrate when he didn’t believe them and it still seems something out of a fairytale, the Brothers Grimm version.
The Alpha lets out another whine, the noise pained as he head hangs low over his paws.
“You okay kid?” John asks taking a step forward, the smell of blood hitting his noses as he closes in. “Shit, what happened?”
The wolf looks at him likes he’s stupid.
“Alright, not okay, no need to sass,” John mutters. “Can I?”
The warning growl stops him from touching. “Okay, okay, not touching you, how about Stiles? I’ll get Stiles.”
John side steps the wolf reaching for the door, taking the stairs two at a time.
He pushes into his son’s room shaking him awake.
“Whaa,” Stiles lets out sleepy sound, smacking his lips as he cracks an eye open. “Dad? Too early, sleeping.”
“It’s Derek,” John barely gets out and just like that Stiles goes from sleeping like the dead to on full alert. “He’s outside, shifted and hurt.”
Stiles rushes out of his room, barefoot and in just boxers and a t-shirt. “What happened,” he demands as Derek comes into view, the wolf has managed to drag himself into the Stilinski household but it’s clear it took effort by the way he pants, his tongue hanging out and John knows it’s serious because his son doesn’t take the obvious dog joke shot.
“Hey puppy,” Stiles whispers as he goes to his knees slowly, Derek manages the same scowl he usually sports in human form.
“Eyebrows of doom and judgment,” Stiles teases softly, his hand reaching out to touch the inky black fur and John watches as Derek doesn’t warn him off instead seems to lean into Stiles touch. “Can you shift back?”
Derek growls in respond, his eyes going over Stiles’ shoulder to John.
“Hey,” Stiles says soothingly. “You’re safe here, my dad isn’t going to hurt you, no one is, but you’ve been shot Derek and I need you to turn back so I can help.”
Derek lifts his head, his snout inches away from Stiles face.
John watches as Stiles grips it, pressing his face to the side of the wolf’s head. “I promise I won’t let anyone hurt you, now come back to me sourwolf.”
Derek lets out one more wolfy whine that turns into a human groan as he shifts in their hallway, leaving a very naked and bleeding Derek Hale on their floor.
“I’ll get some clothes” John offers after closing their front door leaving his son with the older man that’s clinging to him. When he gets back he finds Derek on their couch with a towel under him and one on his lap, leaning back while Stiles kneels between his parted thighs, his son is reprimanding Derek.
“You just had to go off by yourself didn’t you,” Stiles mutters angrily as he digs through a canvas bag.
“Stiles,” Derek tries, gritting his teeth when Stiles pokes and prods him.
“Big bad Alpha can handle anything on his own, even wraith,” Stiles talks over him. “Well congratulations you handled the wraith, but the hunters that were hunting it too deciding shooting up a werewolf with wolfbane bullets would have to do since you got to their kill first, bravo.”
“I’m fine,” Derek gets out; biting his lip as Stiles starts to dig out the slug in his shoulder.
“I love how you’re fine with three bullets in your body, that’s fabulous,” Stiles says full of snark, but even from where he stands John can see his son’s hands shaking.
“Just get them out and I’ll get out of your hair,” Derek says tightly and though his back is facing him, John just knows Stiles is staring at Derek with a fiery expression and his heart clenches because he knows it’s identical to the one his wife use to give him when he said or did something dumb.
“Do me a favor Derek, if all you’re going to say is stupid stuff, shut the fuck up.”
“Language,” he scolds stepping in as the two boys glare at each other, shaking his head softly at the picture they make, somewhere in heaven his wife is laughing happily. “Also Derek, if you think you are leaving, well, that’s just the dumbest idea I’ve ever heard, son, that’s not happening.”
“Ha,” Stiles crows smugly and Derek just huffs, before flinching as Stiles pulls out the second bullet and just like that Stiles goes from smug to concern again. “It’s almost over Derek,” Stiles says gently, cupping Derek’s jaw for a moment.
“Sorry,” Derek mumbles as he moves his face to press his lips against Stiles palm. “You were right, I’m sorry.”
Stiles’ shoulders sag as he runs his thumb over Derek’s cheek bone. “You need to stop giving me these scares okay and you need to stop going off alone, we’re a team.”
“Don’t want you to get hurt,” Derek whispers urgently.
“Yeah,” Stiles challenges, but his tone is pleading. “Well back at you, I don’t like having your blood on my hands Derek, okay?”
John clears his throat and watches amused as the two boys jerks their gaze from each other to him, both flushed and it’s obvious that they forgot he was even in the room. “Anything I can help with?”
Stiles shakes his head, his face still pink. “Nah, I got it, he’ll be okay.”
“Okay,” John nods as he points to the kitchen. “I’ll be in there.”
He’s walking away when Stiles calls out. “You better not even think about eating those hot pockets mister!”
Groaning as he head for the stairs instead he can hear Derek’s slight chuckle.
…..
He’s showered, shaved and he should head to bed, now that the excitement is over, but Stiles comes by his curiosity naturally so John heads down the stairs, peeking into the living room.
Derek and Stiles are still on the couch. Derek has the sweats he brought down for him, but is shirtless and John can see that his skin is smooth once more. Free of scars. He’s spread out on the couch, his head in Stiles’ lap, out cold. But while Derek sleeps, Stiles is wide awake, staring down at the man in his lap with so much love and John has seen that face before, it’s the same face he saw everyday in the mirror when his wife was alive.
Stiles looks up from where his carting his fingers through Derek’s hair to look at him.
He stares at his son for a moment before nodding, and the smile Stiles gives him is so his mother, he feels his heart both break and mend.
As he walks back up to his room, he can practically hear her in his ear, laughing teasingly as she whispers that at least Derek will make an interesting son-in-law some day.