- Discussion-Sexual Abuse
- Canon Divergent
Cinnamon rolls. Bacon. Eggs. Coffee. Stiles was dreaming he could smell all of them. He was drooling. He knew it because anyone would be drooling at those smells. He stomach growling woke him up from his foody dream. As he opened his eyes he waited for the smells of the dream to vanish like they should, but they didn’t. Instead he turned to find Scott beside him. Golden eyed and drooling. They looked at each other. “Breakfast!” They whisper shouted and scrambled out of bed, pushing at each other to get down the stairs faster. They ran into the kitchen at the same time, coming to a sliding stop at the table. Peter was at the stove, pushing cooked bacon onto a plate. Derek was sitting on the counter, ripping a cinnamon roll in half.
Stiles didn’t think twice. He walked right over to him and bit into one half of the cinnamon roll while Derek was still holding it. “Mmmmm.” he hummed and chewed. Then swallowed and went in for another bite.
“Stiles!” his father exclaimed.
Stiles blinked himself into reality just as his lips closed around Derek’s finger. He pulled away blushing furiously. He chewed and swallowed looking down. “Excuse me while I go drown myself,” he muttered and started shuffling out of the kitchen mortified. He felt something snag the back of his t-shirt, making him stop.
“Just sit at the table Stiles. It’s okay Sheriff. Peter’s cooking has strange effects on some people.” Derek slipped off the bench and pushed Stiles into a chair. He slid a plate in front of him and Stiles saw it slowly fill up with bacon, eggs and cinnamon rolls. Then a full mug of coffee was placed in his line of sight and Stiles gave up all pretence and dove for it.
“I’m pretty sure I’m going to be apologizing for my son’s behavior before his first cup of coffee for the rest of my life. It doesn’t matter if it’s just us, but…” Noah let it trail off.
“You never apologize to pack, Noah. Therefore there is no need to apologize to us. However that was rather entertaining. Thank you, Stiles. It’s nice to know I haven’t lost my touch even after all these years.” Peter turned from the stove, a crispy rasher of bacon in his fingers.
“Pack?” Stiles pulled his face out of his mug long enough to ask.
“Yeah Peter. Pack?” Noah asked.
Peter ate his bacon carefully. Licking his fingers clean once he was done. He lifted his eyebrows as if he was all innocence. “I think Derek and I are in agreement here. You are involved in this now. More involved than you probably ever wanted to be, but you are. You’ve taken it onto yourself to acquire justice for our pack, our family. Perhaps however I should ask you. Sheriff Noah Dominik Stilinski, would you and your son like to be a part of the Hale Pack?”
Noah narrowed his eyes at Peter. Then held out his travel mug. “I’ll think about it. I can’t make a decision until I’ve run a full investigation into the fire. Now coffee me.”
Peter took two steps forward and took the travel mug from the outstretched hand. He passed it to Derek who sighed but took it and filled it from the coffee pot. He sealed it then handed it back to Peter before starting another pot of coffee.
“I’m missing something…” Stiles said slowly, now that he was more awake.
“It’s pack stuff,” Derek answered, sitting beside Stiles with his own full plate of food and pushing a chair out with his foot for Scott. “Don’t worry about it too much. The Alpha has a protect and provide for instinct with his or her Pack. Mom couldn’t cook, but she made a very good living, so her way of providing was financial. Peter hasn’t gotten access to his funds yet, so his way of providing is to make sure we, his Pack eat well. He’ll probably hit a cleaning frenzy after you all leave,” Derek explained. “Since I’m his nephew and the only Beta he has that he knows and trusts, I get to be his hands when he needs something done, like fill your dad’s cup, or fill up a plate for you, that sort of thing.”
“Why didn’t you fill mine?” Scott asked between getting food into his mouth.
“Cause you’re a werewolf. You’re expected to be able to look after yourself and protect our non wolf pack mates. Stiles and his dad are human. We protect the humans.” Derek finished off his own breakfast and stood from the table.
Stiles watched him return to the bench where he looked into several brown paper bags. He folded one closed and handed it to Noah who was eating a breakfast sandwich while he leaned against the door jamb. “Your lunch, sir.”
Noah took it skeptically. “Son, you didn’t have to.”
“Yes Noah, we did.” Peter interrupted. “And Stiles before you have a coronary. Your father is eating a turkey bacon and eggwhite omelette toasted sandwich with sundried tomatoes and grated carrot for breakfast. It’s healthy but doesn’t taste healthy. For lunch he has rice noodle salad with spinach pesto and a Mediterranean vegetable Panini. All he has to do is microwave the Panini for two minutes to warm it through, or warm it in a sandwich press or even eat it cold. In fact you all have the same thing for lunch. Now isn’t it time you and Scott started getting ready for school?”
Stiles blinked then with a startling grin glanced at Derek. “Was your uncle like the pack mom or something?”
Derek choked holding back his laughter while Peter started throwing dish clothes at Stiles, who ducked and ran out of the kitchen and up the stairs, Scott hot on his heels. They heard Noah laugh his way out of the house, the door slamming shut behind him.
A half hour later they sat in Stiles’ jeep. Stiles turned the key in the ignition again, muttering under his breath. “Come on baby, come on, please.” he turned the key a couple more times before admitting defeat. “Looks like we’re walking Scotty.”
They climbed out of the Jeep to see Derek coming out of the front door, twirling a set of keys around his finger. “Need a lift?” he asked, hopping down the porch steps and walking across the lawn to a black car parked on the street.
“What? What? How? When?” Stiles spluttered, touching the car reverently.
“This morning. I went and got it. Come on. Get in. I’ll drive you to school. Let me know when you’re done so I can pick you up.” Derek took Stiles’ bag and dropped it in the boot. “Scott, where’s your bag?”
“At home. Can we drive by and pick it up?”
Derek nodded and slid into the driver’s side, leaving Scott and Stiles fighting about who got to ride shotgun. Scott won only because he had to jump out of the car and get his school bag from his house before they could even get to school. Scott scrambled out a few minutes later, running for the front door while fishing for his keys.
“So you finish at three thirty?” Derek asked.
“Ahha. But we can catch the bus back. It’s fine,” Stiles told him.
“No. It’s really not. Peter and I haven’t had much in the way of pack for a long time. We’re going to be over protective for a while. I’m sorry if that’s going to freak you out, but we can’t really help it yet. It’ll cool off in a bit though. So I’ll pick you up at three thirty. Peter will probably cook dinner and I’ll look into fixing your car. Although I should probably wait until we have Laura back before I do that. She’s the actual mechanic,” Derek said as they waited.
“Really a mechanic? What did you do?”
“I was, am, a photographer. I’ll show you some stuff some time, and I really need to go back to New York to get my things.” Derek sounded thoughtful.
Stiles checked his phone. “Come on Scotty! Times awastin’!” he called out of the window just before Scott came running back to the car.
The next couple of days followed the same routine, almost. Derek would drop Stiles off at school. They’d pick Scott up on the way since Peter had told him it was fine for him to sleep at home. Then after school Derek would be there to pick them up again. Scott would spend the afternoon hanging out at Stiles’, doing homework, playing video games and being a highly annoying baby brother type to Derek. Up until Stiles’ dad would walk in the door and minutes later Peter would call them into the kitchen for dinner.
It was about the third night that it hit Stiles. He was getting ready for bed in the bathroom. The only full bathroom the house had when he noticed the four toothbrushes standing together in the glass by the sink. Another glass held three types of toothpaste. One was the brand he and his father had always used, the others had to belong to Derek and Peter. Stiles gripped the edge of the counter and sucked in a deep breath. He blew the air out and did it again and again. His heart started beating. Faster and faster. There were black spots forming at the edges of his vision and his knees started to feel weak.
His mental voice understood what was happening. The nausea inducing headache running in a sharp blue line right behind his eyes, from temple to temple, told him he would black out before the panic attack chasing him down could run its course however. That little mental voice wondered vaguely what would happen if he passed out before a panic attack hit. He’d find out soon enough. Hopefully he wouldn’t crack his head open on something on the way down.
He felt his knees give way then there was his fingers losing their grip on the counter and falling backwards, with a tilt to the side. His vision was gone. His heartbeat was running a marathon and loud as a jet plane. Then suddenly it all stopped. The falling. The pain. Only his heart kept its tap dance. He felt weightless and drifting. Soon he felt surrounded and could smell his father’s aftershave. He sought out the scent and buried his nose in it. Something soothing was moving along his back. Something soft stroked his temples. Something strong wrapped around his wrist and whispers sounded in his ears.
He tried to concentrate on the sensations enough to get his bearings.
Eventually he opened his eyes. He was in his father’s room. In his father’s bed. His face buried in Noah’s pillow while Noah sat beside him, obviously stroking his back and whispering calm words to him. He wasn’t surprised by his dad.
“Hey kid. This hasn’t happened for a while,” Noah smiled at him sadly.
Stiles shook his head. “You used to stroke my back to calm me down when it did though. Guess it still works. What happened?” Stiles looked beside him on the bed. “Ah. Hey.”
Derek lay beside Stiles. One hand wrapped around Stiles wrist, the other stroking his temple slowly. “Hey. Feeling better?” Derek asked.
Stiles nodded. Derek pulled his hands away and sat up. Stiles followed. “What happened?” he asked again.
Noah looked to Derek, who looked to the doorway as if looking for permission. Stiles followed his gaze to see Peter standing there. The man looked pale, his lips pinched. He looked upset. Stiles sent him a small grin and wave. He saw Peter relax a little and grin back, before nodding to Derek and leaning back against the door jamb.
Derek let his shoulders slump then without looking at anyone started talking. “I heard your heartbeat go crazy. I tracked you down to the bathroom. It’s lucky you don’t lock the door or I’d have broken it down. As it was you were passing out when I walked in. I grabbed you as you fell, called your dad and Peter. Your dad had me bring you in here. I took your pain. Your dad did his bit and now we’re here.”
“Wow. Okay. There are questions, but I’ll ask them later,” Stiles said. Then he looked at his father when he tapped his shoulder.
“Stiles. What happened?” Noah asked.
Stiles sighed and shrugged. “Not really that sure, you know? I was brushing my teeth and I noticed the extra toothbrushes and toothpastes. And then I realized what life has been like for the past few days. Getting dropped off at school then picked up again. Scott hanging out before Derek drops him back home. Peter, cooking every day. It’s all very domestic. All really great. Then I remembered mom and sort of lost it. I felt guilty at how good this all felt, without her here. I still miss her so much. But a little of the hole she left behind in me is healing. That made me feel guilty. Which led to a panic attack and blacking out.”
Noah sighed and lay down beside Stiles. He wiggled enough to pull his son into his arms and ruffled his hair for a second before hugging him tightly. Stiles burrowed into the offered love and safety, letting himself relax. He ignored the tears sliding from his eyes and onto his father’s shoulder. He felt the bed shift as Derek got up.
He didn’t hear Peter and Derek leave the room. He did hear when the door snicked close behind them. “They probably think I’m an idiot,” he sniffed but didn’t change his position.
Noah chuckled slightly. “Those two have no foot to stand on when it comes to judging someone else. Peter’s reaction to emotional trauma is to plan mayhem and murder and Derek’s been taught to run before trying to deal with it. No Stiles a minor panic attack and passing out is probably a better way to go.”
Stiles huffed and poked his father’s shoulder. “At least I come by that naturally,” he scoffed.
“By what?” Noah asked innocently.
“Oh no kiddo. You don’t get that from me. That’s totally your mom. She even infected me with it. All Claudia’s fault,” Noah said a grin in his voice.
Stiles looked up to see his dad smiling fondly. He shook his head at his dad then struggled up to sit cross legged on the bed. Noah raised his eyebrows then pushed himself up until his back was against the headboard. He crossed his arms behind his head and waited.
“I miss her you know?” Stiles rubbed his fingers together and started to watch them fascinated. “This might sound really selfish, but I miss having someone look after us, after me. Self centred huh?”
“Not in the least kid. You were so young when we lost her. Then I went off the rails. And you had to grow up so fast to look after yourself and me. To keep us going until I got my head out of my ass. That’s on me kid and I’m truly sorry. But missing someone looking after you? That’s not self centred. That’s someone who knows the importance of others in his life, and someone who understands loss. We’re a whole damn house of people who get it kid. Every last one of us.”
Stiles nodded. “So Derek heard me having a freak out huh?”
“Heard it. Had a freak out himself trying to get to you. Almost broke down the door trying to get to you. If Peter has been a second later in getting to the door, we’d need to replace the thing. He opened the door for Derek who was half wolfed out by then. Derek scooped you up before you could hit the floor and I got him to bring you here,” Noah’s voice was calm. Relaxed. Deliberately so.
“You remembered?” Stiles asked softly.
“I always put you in my bed. On my pillow when you had an attack. Yeah kid I remember. So question. Where d’you wanna sleep. Here like you used to or back in your own bed?”
Stiles stretched his arms over his head and groaned. “I think I’ll head back to my room. Might get a hot chocolate first. You want something?”
Noah shook his head. “Nah. I’m good kid. You feeling better?”
Stiles nodded. Then looked uncertain again. “It’s okay to still miss mom right? But feel okay about being looked after?”
“Perfectly okay kid. Perfectly okay. I’m kinda liking it too. But don’t tell Peter. It’ll go to his head.”
Stiles laughed and scooted off the bed. “Good night dad. See you in the morning.”
The kitchen wasn’t empty when he got there. The ingredients for his special hot chocolate were on the counter and Derek was sitting at the table, playing solitaire on his phone. With a small grin Stiles started making the hot chocolate. “So werewolf hearing?”
“Heard everything. He did a little dance too. I heard him. He’s sleeping now.”
“Don’t tell dad. Let him keep his illusion of hiding something from Peter.” Stiles stirred the warming mixture with the cinnamon stick carefully. “Do you think dad knows Peter is putting the moves on him? Does Peter?”
A plastic clang met his question. He looked at Derek who looked like he could pass out any second. “What?” Derek choked out.
“Seriously dude? In the past few days? Dad gets his coffee handed to him. His lunch handed to him. His shirts, pants etc laundered and ironed and placed where they belong. The rest of us have to grab our own coffee and breakfast, even though it’s already been made for us. I have to put my own clothes away. Even though they’ve been washed and ironed. Peter is totally taking care of my dad. He even serves him first at dinner and he pouted yes pouted the other night when dad was late. But, I sorta got the idea that Peter was married. You know. Before?” Stiles finished, taking the saucepan of hot chocolate over to the sink where two mugs were waiting.
Derek came up behind him and took the saucepan. He poured into one mug then with a grin started to stretch the hot chocolate from one mug to the other. “He was. But it was an arrangement. He loved Olivia. She loved him. But they got married because aunt ‘Liv was in a bad situation. Getting married gave her a safe place to be. They were thinking about kids when the fire, happened.” Derek handed Stiles his drink then stretched the remaining hot chocolate for himself.
He leaned on the counter next to Stiles while they drank. “Peter is going to do the ritual for Laura tomorrow night. It’s Friday and just before the full moon. It’s supposed to be the right time.”
“Does he have everything?”
Derek nodded then shrugged. “Says he does. Don’t really know, but it’ll be good to have Laura back. She can look at your car too.”
“What? You’re sick of playing chauffeur?” Stiles elbowed him.
Derek grinned and finished off his drink. “Goodnight Stiles.”
“Goodnight Derek.” Stiles smiled his way into bed that night.