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Maybe With A Chance of Certainty

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Sheriff Stilinski sighed, closing the front door behind him with a soft thud.

What a day.

He threw the keys to his cruiser on the bench as he walked through to the kitchen, his hat following close after.

He wanted nothing more than to recline on the couch in his daggy old track pants, a cold beer in one hand and a full bag of chips in the other.

Maybe he'd catch the end of the news. Or maybe the start of one of those drama cop shows.

He grinned.

They could learn a thing or two off him, he thought.

He flicked on the kitchen light, opening the fridge and pulling out a beer. Maybe he should pass on the chips and slap something together for dinner instead.

He reopened the fridge, surveying his options.

Or lack of.

Half a litre of out-of-date milk and a couple of furry carrots.


He was no culinary expert, but he was fairly certain even a miracle wouldn't get him a meal out of that.

The sheriff closed the door and drummed his fingers on the bench.

He'd forgotten to go grocery shopping.


He smiled to himself, realising that he would have to order pizza for the third time this week.

And it was only Wednesday.

Oh, but...

Stiles would lecture him about his heart again.

Or his cholesterol, or something like that.

Probably try to get him on one of those green smoothie diets again.

He shuddered at the thought.

There are some things you just shouldn't drink.

But, unless Stiles wanted to go and get groceries at seven o'clock at night, pizza it was. And it's not like Stiles didn't like pizza anyway, he loved the st –

Wait a second.

Where was he, anyway?

His jeep was parked in the driveway.

Obviously it was his because no one else would drive such a thing.

And the house was in darkness.

Must be studying in his room.

He smiled to himself.

Good kid.

The sheriff moved out of the kitchen, stretching his arms above his head and stifling a yawn as he began to climb the stairs.

He'd have to check what sort of pizza Stiles wanted. He seemed to order some weird, different combination every time.

He reached the top, stumbling a bit on the last step as he grappled around looking for the light switch.

He gave up after a minute and seeing the faint glow from Stiles' lamp he walked blindly down the hall towards it.

The door to his son's room was ajar, so he pushed it open as he reached it, his eyes adjusting to the light.

Heck, didn't Stiles know how to clean up? There was stuff everywh -

Hold up.

The sheriff paused.

Stiles was lying on his bed, looking very asleep.

That was fine. Stiles would sleep twenty-four hours a day if he let him.

Which he didn't.

But there was another body on the bed, facing his son.

A larger body, more built than Stiles.

Kind of like how the Sheriff hoped he'd looked back in his prime.

Wait, was that –


Derek Hale?

His eyes widened a little bit.

Why did Derek Hale have his arm draped across his son?

And one of his legs?

He squinted his eyes. Maybe that would help clear things up.

It didn't mean anything. Maybe they were studying and happened to fall asleep.

Oh, wait. Derek doesn't go to school.


Perhaps Derek's arm had landed protectively around Stiles' waist accidentally.

It probably just felt like hugging a pillow.

He snorted to himself, looking at his son.


Probably more like hugging a sack of bones. All limbs and no padding.

Ah, well. Seemed innocent enough.

Stiles probably looked at Derek like an older brother. After all, there were a couple of years between them.

Yeah, brothers.

That made sense.

It didn't mean he was gay just because he was kind of hugging another guy.

He nodded once to himself, as if confirming the fact.

Placing his hand on the doorknob, he turned to leave, pausing when a slight movement caught his eye.

In his lightly unconscious state his son's hand moved up Derek's side slowly.

Underneath his shirt.

The sheriff's eyes widened.



Maybe not not gay.

But Stiles wasn't gay. He would know if his only son liked guys.

And Stiles would tell him, anyway.

Well there was that one time when he'd said he was gay, but that was obviously a joke -

Alright, maybe not obviously.

But he didn't really think it was a coming out moment either.

The sheriff scratched his head in confusion for a moment as one of the young men in question stirred.

Derek moved forward, almost subconsciously, and placed his face in the crook of Stiles' neck, kissing him lightly.

The sheriff started upright.



Most certainly gay.

Stiles turned his head, resting his own face against Derek's neck as the older boy (man? no - the sheriff shuddered - definitely boy) encircled his arm even further around his son, drawing their bodies closer together.

Stiles' hand started creeping dangerously low down Derek's back.

No doubt about it.



He'd seen enough.

More than enough.

He clapped a hand over his eyes and backed out of the room, his eyes welcoming the darkness of the hall as they tried to purge out what they'd just witnessed.

He stood in the dark for a moment and let out a deep breath.

He rolled his neck and flexed his fingers, shaking them out before creeping silently back down the hallway.

Mm. A thought popped into his mind as he was going down the stairs.

Derek was a fair size.

Maybe he'd better order a couple more pizzas.