(Super-fast idea, because I found this
picture and, after laughing at the Sheriff’s face for two minutes straight, the
idea hit me straight in the face)
Several years in the future, Derek and the
Sheriff are kind of buddies.
Derek is now a consultant for the Beacon Hills
police for any kind of supernatural crime or when they need his super
sniffer in critical emergencies (Derek found the lost little girl almost
immediately, while the K9 unit from the next town was still lost in the woods.
The Sheriff was so proud. They never talk about the fact that they had to circle
the town in John’s police car, Derek’s head hanging out of the window like
a poodle on a roadtrip).
So John and Derek sometimes hang out,
watch football match together, they have a beer, talk about Stiles’ news
from college. They enjoy each other’s company in a very quiet, simple way.
Then, Stiles comes back to Beacon Hills for
Christmas, and immediately comes out as bisexual to his dad.
The Sheriff blinks, then hugs him.
And that
should be the end of it. John is genuinely glad that Stiles told him, and happy
that he seems to grow up happy in his own skin.
John honestly doesn’t mean to search stuffs
online, but he’s bored, and one innocent question about LGBT rights in California turn into a quick google search and quickly devolve into a spiral of links. John falls deep. Too
deep.
He manages to keeps his anxiety at bay all
the way to Derek’s home, and his knocks on the door are barely frantic. But Derek
opens the door as if he is expecting the Sheriff to be on fire, so John guesses
that he didn’t control his panic-stricken heartbeat as well as he thought.
After a few minutes of assuring Derek that
no, Stiles is fine, John is fine, everyone is fine, no Stiles isn’t hurt,
nobody’s kid got missing again, Melissa is fine, there is no monster eating
anyone, Stiles is totally ok, and
getting a glass of perfectly good whisky from Derek (who apparently keeps it
around just for John), John finally explains.
Because Derek? Derek is bisexual.
They have talked about it in passing
several times. Talked about Derek’s ex, Jeff, who used to be a cop in New Jersey until he got
shot on duty and became a teacher. Talked of the creep Derek had to call the police on one night while he was drinking at the Jungle
and despairing over the shitty techno music. Talked about the association for LGBT kids Derek gives money to, and that he goes help from times to times.
To the Sheriff, it never seemed like a
detail more important than knowing that Derek hates cheap beer or that he is a
sore loser when his sport team gets slaughtered.
But now, now it is important. Because the
Sheriff needs someone with answers,
precise answers, about things that he can’t ask directly to his kid.
About giant sex toys and trips to the ER and
drugs use and STDs and biphobia and bullying.
He kind of blurt it all. Derek’s eyes look
gigantic and his eyebrows almost fly off his forehead.
So that’s how Derek becomes the Sheriff’s mentor
in everything LGBT.
It’s not as weird as it could be.
Derek answers all the questions as best as
he can, tries to reassure him. When he doesn’t know (and he wonders where the Sheriff got these informations), they look for answers
together online, while staying far away from certain websites.
(All the while, Derek tries to ignore really, really hard, that Stiles is bisexual
and apparently single. He fails).
Then maybe the Sheriff brings Derek back home in
the hope that Derek will talk to Stiles about all these stuffs (because he’s
not sure he has mastered the details enough to give the bisexual version of the
Talk. Also, the image of the humongous dildo is still haunting him).
So they end up all around the kitchen table,
Stiles looking bewildered and a little bit lost, Derek resigned and awkward and the Sheriff looking
at them with crazy eyes (again, gigantic dildo. And ER trips. Melissa works there, this can never
happen to them) until they start talking.
Stiles knows all those things. Derek knows
that Stiles knows. They talk about it anyway because, well, the Sheriff is starting to turn grey in worry.
After a little while, Stiles finally understands that Derek
is talking from experience. That Derek is bisexual. And single.
And Derek knows that Stiles is bisexual. And single.
The awkwardness quickly turns to vague innuendos, then obvious flirting, then
eyefucking over mugs of coffee.
The Sheriff gets his colors back progressively.
He wonders for a second if he should protest this development (the whole, 7
years older and a werewolf thing could be a problem), but really, Derek is a
great man.
And he apparently knows how to use lube,
condoms, and would never be stupid enough to use a gigantic dildo then lose it
somewhere in his son.
All in all, he’s ok with the direction this whole thing is taking.
(You can find my other headcanons/not fic here and my fics on AO3. Please come say hi on tumblr when you want people :D)
John knows he promised Stiles never to dive
into the deep end again (he had trouble looking at eggs and different
vegetables when going shopping for weeks).
But this time, he really didn’t mean it.
He is exhausted after an entire day looking
for clue for an unsolvable case, but his body refuses to let him sleep. So it’s
5 AM, there is nothing on the TV, and his brain is wandering. He doesn’t even open
consciously the search engine he just has questions floating in his brains that
need answer.
Like how pack dynamic works, how do you
know you are an official pack member, and can he calls the alpha “son” if he’s
almost his son-in-law, and are there werewolves wedding traditions? His brain
wants answer, and Derek is asleep, and he’s tired.
It starts innocently, with gamers forums and
weird occult blogs and then. Then, he starts following links.
Knotting in these new ages involves way
less craftsmanship and way more bodily fluids than he thought, and oh god it’s the whole possible trip to the ER again.
He tries to reassure himself by looking at
other links, but it keeps getting worse, and now there is biting, and blood,
and ass pregnancy and OH GOD HE DIDN’T HAVE THAT VERSION OF THE TALK WITH HIS SON.
Cue the sheriff opening Stiles’ door in a
panic at 6AM, computer under his arm and muttering things about supernatural
pregnancy and people getting stuck in his son in times of emergencies.
Stiles opens one eye, sighs, and buries his
head under his pillow. He kicks Derek in the flank.
“Before 8AM, he’s yourdad, go take care of
it.”
Derek, all mussed up, wants to retort
something witty but he’s half asleep and in the light from the hallway, John
looks like a hangovered raccoon and is mumbling something about heat
and rut.
Derek jumps out of bed.
(Then there is herbal soothing tea, and
Derek explaining things with minimum cringing, and one or two sketches drawn on a
napkin.
Stiles finally gets up and drapes himself
over Derek’s back, and just listens, appalled but loving them both so much it
hurts)
Below is footage of Erica after telling Derek the Sheriff would probably be asking him about “werewolf mating ceremonies” later tonight.
Stiles: Why do I get the feeling that’s not the type of ceremony where you get to eat chicken and dance to Thriller after saying ‘I do’?
Derek: *isn’t sure whether he’s more concerned about having to deal with Stiles’ dad or the fact Stiles clearly wants their first dance to be to Thriller when they get married like THAT’S not a disaster waiting to happen?????*
(For the lovely anon that wanted more in
this verse, a little something (wrote it really fast)
It’s 4 AM when his bedroom door opens
slow. The noise is almost inaudible, but John has been a cop for years and a
single father for too long not to wake up on the spot anyway. It takes him a
few seconds of blinking to recognize the shadow at his door.
Derek.
John would have been quicker on
the uptake if Stiles (and consequently Derek) hadn’t left his home for their new
flat five years ago.
John looks back at the clock. Still 4:03.
He can do this.
He gets up to join Derek in the corridor. The
man looks twenty years older and, at the same time, like the kid John found covered in ashes in
front of the Hale fire, all those years ago. No man should look that pale. No
werewolf should look that frightened. He’s wearing one of Stiles’ shirt,
distended and faded, his hair is flat and there is a bundle of fabric held
tightly against his chest.
“Son?” asks John simply, one of his hand
clutching Derek’s shoulder. After years of knowing him, John knows well
how important touch can be for Derek.
Derek stares at him for a long second,
silent.
“She…She’s still coughing and she doesn’t
sleep and. She’s too warm. And her breath doesn’t sound right…”
His voice is only a whisper, ashamed and terrified.
He’s clearly fighting against the shift, red crawling in and out of his eyes,
but his hands don’t show a hint of claws. Against his chest, there is a wet whimper
and Derek tenses a little more.
“Ok, you are ok. Son?” he waits for Derek
to looks him in the eyes, “you are both ok. The doctors told you it would take
time for the antibiotics to operate. Did the fever go up?”
Derek shakes his head. John smiles at him
encouragingly and takes the bundle from Derek’s hands.
From the middle of the nest
of covers, Laura looks up at him, pale eyes wide opens and her little face
creased and red after hours of crying. John kisses her nose (Claudia’s nose,
Stiles’ nose), her cheek, and props her against his heart. With his right arm,
he gathers in son-in-law against his side.
“I know that this is stressful for you, but
everything is fine. It’s only a little cold, nothing abnormal. Humand babies are more
resistant than they seem.”
“She’s so tiny,” breathes Derek, following John obediently down the stairs
but his eyes glued on his daughter. “And I tried to sing to her but she doesn’t
stop crying like when Stiles does it, and he isn’t coming back for 36 hours and…”
John grips his neck and Derek deflates. John tries to make him sit at the kitchen, but Derek’s muscles are so stiff he seems unyelding. John puts Laura back in Derek’s hands and the effect is immediate. He melts into the chair and nuzzles her face, clutching her close.
“It’s gonna be ok,” John repeats, crouching besides the chair, “You can
both stay there until Stiles comes back. Melissa is supposed to pass in a few
hours, she can look back at her if it reassures you, and we will both be there in case of problems. In the meantime: coffee?”
Derek nods with a pale smile.
John hugs him sideways before getting up to make us both coffee.
theproblemwithstardust 