Nature and Nurture: Finding the Perfect Blend

Chapter 12: The Pretending

To say that Stiles' dad was happy when he found him in the house was an understatement. He walked in the door from grocery shopping and promptly dropped the bags on the floor. "Stiles?"

"Yeah, Dad. I can come in the house now. Everything's going to be fine." Stiles held his hands out placatingly.

His dad stepped over the bags of food and pulled him into the roughest hug they'd had in a long time. He then held him at arms length, looking him over. "How? Where? I don't care. Come here." He was pulled into another hug.

Derek stood up from the couch. "Noah, Stiles is doing a lot better it's true, but —"

"I can see that," his dad interrupted, all smiles.

"Dad, I'm doing better," Stiles began.

"Like I said, I can see that. So you got it all worked out? Everything's fixed?" His dad went back to collect his dropped groceries.

Derek and Stiles traded confused looks.

"Um, Dad?"

"You can stay for dinner, right, Derek?" his dad asked over his shoulder.

"Sure, I guess?" Derek shrugged at Stiles behind his dad's back.

Stiles gave Derek a 'What the hell?' gesture, as his dad walked into the kitchen. Derek gave a slight shake of his head in return, just as nonplused, and followed Stiles into the kitchen where his dad was putting things into the fridge.

Stiles noticed the food he'd already put on the table. "Woah, woah, woah! What is this?"

He held up a box of frozen pizza with extra cheese and three kinds of processed meat and stared accusingly at his dad. His dad had the grace to look a bit guilty but was also trying not to smile. Stiles shook the box a little, demanding an explanation.

"It's dinner."

"No, this is a heart attack with thick crust! Just because I said we'd revisit your diet doesn't mean you get to ignore healthy eating choices!"

His dad genuinely smiled, then sat down at the kitchen table and waved a hand at his son. "And what, master chef, are we having, if not pizza?" He looked so frighteningly comfortable and happy, that Stiles took a mental step back to figure out what was going on. Unaware of Stiles' confusion, his dad continued, "What would you like for dinner, Derek?" While he waited for an answer he went back to pulling items out of bags.

Derek cast Stiles a quick look, silently pleading for help.

Stiles just waved a hand absentmindedly, still thinking.

Derek gave him a dark look in return, then glanced at what was on the table. "Pasta? With meat sauce? And salad?"

Stiles' dad groaned out, "Salad! Derek!" But he got up to put the rest of the food away, his smile bigger than before. He went out to the car to bring in what he'd forgotten.

Stiles used his absence to lean up against the counter. He was a little woozy.

Derek asked, "Are you okay?"

"Yeah. It's a bit much in here, that's all." He'd already been in the house for a few hours before his dad got home. Being in the kitchen was edging his tolerance into the red zone. "I need to sit down," he admitted.

Derek put his arm around him, drawing him into his side. Stiles leant gratefully against him. Derek put his hand on the back of his neck and started a gentle rubbing motion up into his hair that Stiles appreciated in every nerve of his body.

"God, that's good," he couldn't help but moan as the churning inside him stilled and turned into a much more interesting feeling, if not less intense. His hands gripped Derek's hips of their own volition.