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Cool Dad

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Their teacher was fifteen minutes late, which in Beacon Hills probably meant he’d been eaten by something. Or was busy eating someone. It was a strange place; most people stopped questioning it by the time they hit puberty.

There was a drone of noise in the classroom, the loudest of which was coming from a ball of energy barely contained in the long limbed body of a teenager. “I’m just saying, he’s a Hale. Nobody gets fostered by a Hale just randomly, you know?” Stiles was multitasking; while he talked, his hand was otherwise occupied doodling what distantly resembled a fluffy wolf under the full moon.

Scott kept his eyes glued to his chemistry textbook. He had at some point decided he wasn’t going to fail this year, because he didn’t want his mum to have another thing to worry about on top of her son being inducted into the world of werewolfism, by means of being taken in by a member of said world. It was only for a year or two, until he was ready for…release into the wild or whatever, and deemed safe to be around his human family again. It was a process all of the Bitten had to go through if both parents were human. “Stop saying Hale like he’s royalty.” he groaned, trying very hard to concentrate on his textbook despite the incessant noise emanating from his best friend.

“Uh, he basically is? And he’s adopting you. You must have some sort of secret hidden potential, like you’re going to sprout wings or something.” With a smirk, he added wings onto the drawing and shoved it under Scott’s nose. Scott shoved it away and glared at Stiles with no real malice.

“A winged werewolf? Oh, yeah, that’s likely.” He directed his eyes back to his textbook. Great, now he’d lost his place. Of course, Stiles was still talking.

“Derek Hale. Dude, you’re special.” Stiles’ mouth spread into a grin and he reached out and attempted to ruffle Scott’s hair before his hand was batted away.

“You’ve been saying that since I was five.”

“Yeah, but this time I mean it in a nice way. Derek Hale, Scott!” Stiles’ legs flailed out in excitement and he kicked the chair in front of him, earning a glare and some choice swearwords from Jackson.

“I didn’t even know Talia Hale had a son. How is it you’ve heard of him and I haven’t?”

“Because you’re special, in a not-nice way.”

Scott resisted sticking his tongue out at him and returned his gaze to the book. “You suck.” he muttered.

A wink from Stiles, “Only when asked nicely.”


Three months later, and Scott had lived with Derek for way too long for Stiles not to have met the guy.

“I know you’re trying to hide me from him!” he finally burst out when Scott insisted for the hundredth time that they go to Stiles’ house instead.


“Don’t bullshit me, Scotty, you’re a terrible liar and I’ve been pretending to believe your terrible excuses for way too long because I know this is a hard thing to go through at this tender age, and you’re fighting werewolfey instincts and blah blah blah…” Stiles rolled his eyes while he said that, “All the wikihow pages say I’m not supposed to question you about all of this because it’s awkward or whatever, but it’s been three months.”

“Wait, so the reason you’ve just been letting me go to your house everyday and not pressuring me into taking you to Derek’s house…. is because you read it on wikihow?”

“What can I say, I’m a good friend.”

“But now you want to pressure me into taking you to Derek’s house?”

“Okay, so I’m a bad friend. Can I meet your new dad now?”

It was an offhand joke, a word slipped in there by Stiles, who was comfortable with the word because he has a dad, but Scott’s expression shifted and Stiles immediately knew he’d fucked up.

“Sorry, I shouldn’t have…I know he’s not your dad, but…sorry.”

“It’s okay.” Scott said, softly. “If I tell you something, will you promise not to make fun of me?”

“I’ll try my best.” Stiles replied, half-serious.

“He kind of almost feels like one. Like a dad. I mean, more of one than my biological one does, anyway. I know it’s only been a few months, but… he’s a really great guy, actually. I thought he’d be all…Hale-y but he’s nice.”

“Yeah?” This was the first time Scott had said more than ‘it’s fine’, or ‘it’s okay’, so that was something. But Stiles was still curious. “So what’s he like?”

“Sort of grumpy? Like, he’s a real softie but he acts all tough. He’s such a grumpy old man, but then he turns around and helps me through a shift or something and he’s so nice.

Well, that was good. Scott was way too kind a guy to be saddled with a dick foster dad. Which begged the question…

“So why can’t I meet him?”


Stiles stared up at the mansion – yes, mansion – in awe. The place had to have at least eight bedrooms, and Stiles had already made up his mind to claim one for himself. Derek had better be nice, because Stiles intended to spend some serious quality time with this house…for Scott, of course. All for Scott.

“Oh my god, Scott McCall, you’ve been living in this place for three months and you’ve been keeping it to yourself?! You are the worst friend ever.”

“Remember the wikihow, you’re not allowed to blame me for that.”

“You live in a mansion!”

“It’s not a mansion! It’s a house, that just happens to have seven bedrooms.” There was no way Scott could talk himself out of it, but he was trying.

“Only seven?”

“They’re big.” Scott muttered. He sighed, and opened the door. Of course, Derek was waiting, trying to look casual but coming off as very deliberately placed near the door.

“Oh my god.” is the first thing Stiles said, and then there was silence as it seemed he was dumbstruck. It was an unusual occurrence.

Then, Scott’s pleading voice, the embarrassment in it already seeping through. “Don’t. Stiles, don’t.”

“You said he was an old man.” Stiles murmured out of the corner of his mouth.

“I was being metaphorical.”

“You said he was an old man.” Louder this time.

“Stiles, seriously.”

“You didn’t say he was hot.”

“He can hear you. He’s standing right there.”

“Oh my god, is this why you weren’t letting me come here? Afraid I’d take one look at your foster dad and decide I want to, you know, come here.”

“Stiles, please stop talking?” Scott begged, as Derek took a step forward, smiling gently. God, it was a nice smile.

“Stiles. Scott’s told me all about you.” If the conversation regarding him had bothered Derek, he didn’t let it show.

“That’s funny, because he’s been impressively vague about you.”

“So I’ve heard.” Derek’s mouth twisted into a smirk, and oh, that was hot too. Stiles was so done for. “You two want to order pizza?”

“Oh,” Stiles already felt comfortable enough to crack a smirk, “So you’re a cool foster dad.”

“I guess so?”

“You should watch that diet, though. Too much pizza and you’ll start to lose that…what is that, like, a six pack?”

Stiles.” Scott interjected.

“I’m just asking, a concerned citizen and all.”

“Well, you look like you could do with some pizza.” Derek replied, and Stiles was pretty sure he should be offended at that, but hey, he was never going to turn down pizza. “You two got any plans for tonight?”

“Not really.” Scott replied, “Going to watch a movie.” Derek’s eyebrow quirked like he was surprised.

“If I had my way, we’d be watching six movies. Or at least three.” Stiles mumbled.

“Dude, when you said we’d watch Star Wars , I didn’t think you meant all of them.” Stiles couldn’t see Scott roll his eyes, but he was 90% sure he did.

They phoned for pizza (Derek got in on a meat feast, though he had no intention of joining their Star Wars party.) and traipsed upstairs to wait for it to arrive.

“So…” Stiles started, trailing off indicatively.

Scott raised his eyebrow. “So?”

“He’s cool.” Stiles ventured.


And that was it, “Seriously, all you’re giving me is ‘yeah’?”

Scott sat down on his bed and kicked off his shoes, one flying past Stiles. “What do you want me to say? It’s good, he’s taught me a lot.”

“Okay. Well, is he trying to do, you know, dad stuff? Because I heard that a lot of the Bitten who’re taken are, like, literally made a part of the family, they’re totally adopted into the family.”

“I’m only fostered. My mum is still my legal guardian.”

“Yeah, but you don’t have a dad. Sorry.”

“Stop saying sorry. No, I don’t. And yeah, I think he’s trying. He’s always asking me about school and my friends and stuff.” He paused for a moment, “He did give me a really weird talk though, yesterday when I said you were coming around.”

“Yeah? Like, werewolf stuff weird or what?”

Scott’s nose wrinkled, “Um, not exactly…more like, the talk.”

The talk?”

The talk.”

“Oh, dude. Did he think we were going to go out to some wild crazy party and bring people back with us?”

“Maybe? He did seem shocked when I said we were just watching a movie.”

“A movie.” Stiles muttered. “Could have at least watched the three.”

“Stiles,” Scott let out a frustrated groan, “I promise we will watch all of the Star Wars movies. Just not all at once.”

“We’ll see.” Stiles said, already looking smug, “You’ll change your mind after the first one.”

“I’m not going to change my mind.” Scott insisted.

(He changed his mind.)


After the second movie, Kira phoned, and Stiles volunteered to fetch snacks mostly to get away from the gross sappiness of the conversation. Of course, being Stiles, it turned out to be a difficult task.

Derek had quick reactions, Stiles realized as he dropped one of the two cans he had balanced at his elbow and Derek caught it just before it hit the floor. Stiles hadn’t seen him enter the room, let along move to grab the falling can. Damn werewolves.

“Wow, thanks.”

“Need some help there?” He gestured to the armful of nachos and dips that Stiles was attempting to hold onto.

“Nah, I’m alri–” Stiles said, as he dropped everything. Derek caught most of it, save for the one bag of Doritos that fell to the ground with a plop. “Oops.”

“You could make two journeys?”

“Through this house? It’d be a hike!”

“It’s not that big.”

“I’m really lazy.” Stiles grinned, scooping up the packet of Doritos. Derek raised his eyebrows and Stiles put up his hands defensively, almost hitting himself in the face with the chips. “Oh, no, don’t judge me, I have good qualities too.”

Derek’s eyebrows settled, and he gave a small smile. “You seem like a nice guy. Scott’s obviously a good judge of character.”

Stiles snorted at that. Scott was a pretty terrible judge of character, really. He was way too nice, Stiles was always telling him that, even if it was one of his favorite things about his best friend. “Not really, he just likes everyone.”

“Right.” That soft smile again. Derek really did look like a proud dad when he did that. It was sort of crazy how quickly the two of them had settled into this strange situation. “So how long have you two been together?”

And suddenly the impromptu sex talk Derek had given Scott made sense. Stiles stared at Derek for a moment, trying to decide whether to make a joke or be a little shit and play along with it. But he didn’t decide quickly enough to stop himself from bursting into laughter.

“You’re not together.” Derek said, slowly. “I’m an idiot. Just, the way he talked about you…”

“Yeah, I know what you mean. And he should be so lucky. Don’t get me wrong, he’s an attractive young man and I’d be all about that if he wasn’t straight and totally into totally problematic girls.”


“I’ll let him tell you about his ex. And he’s currently wooing a kitsune. It’s complicated. He probably doesn’t think you’d approve.”

“It’s not really my place to say anything. I’m somewhat known for falling for problematic people myself.” He sets his eyes on Stiles with a steady look, as if to say ‘so don’t even think about it.’

Stiles wasn’t thinking about it. Much. Maybe a little. Because Derek was really, really hot. And that was all. “I should probably get back to Scott. Don’t want to be a bad boyfriend.” The wink was probably overdoing it, but Stiles couldn’t seem to contain himself around this guy.

Maybe he had a thing for problematic people too.


Derek started appearing in Stiles’ dreams after the second time he met him. He was used to it, after all, he was a teenager and his unconscious mind was about as horny as his conscious mind, but with less morals. And unconsciously, he really wanted to fuck Scott’s foster dad.

Then unconsciously became consciously, and beating off thinking about what Derek would look like when he came became a common occurrence, and at some point Stiles would look at his life and wonder how he got to this point. Having feelings for someone with such a significant age gap was one thing – one thing that didn’t seem to bother Stiles or his dick – the guy being his best friend’s sort of dad was another. Sometimes Stiles just thought about him as Scott’s mentor, and that made things a bit better but he doubted Scott would see it that way.

However, trying to explain to his libido that Derek Hale was not suitable jerk off material due to the moral implications of screwing his best friend’s foster dad was, unsurprisingly, ineffective.

Instead, his libido countered with the argument that Derek had thick, strong thighs (thank you, mysterious godly entity, for creating tight jeans) and just the right amount of stubble that had lately grown longer, just enough that the black shadow of a beard neatly complimented that unfairly chiseled jaw, and that his beard and hair were just slightly speckled with grey hairs, and hey that shouldn’t be a turn on for a 17 year old but really there was no arguing with Stiles’ libido.

And Derek wasn’t exactly helping, with that adorable grumpy face, that lit up with the occasional warm smile and the way he pulled away from Stiles every time he made even the slightest bit of contact, even accidentally. As if Stiles wouldn’t notice. As if Stiles hadn’t caught his eyes fixed on him way too many times for it to be a coincidence. Or perhaps it was a coincidence and Stiles was just being too damn hopeful; it wouldn’t be the first time that had happened.

So he’d continue whacking it out for Derek and feeling horribly guilty, because of Scott dad reasons and that Derek might just find him physically repulsive and want to avoid touching him at all costs.

And he just wouldn’t touch or look at Derek, he could just not talk to him at all. Mostly because Stiles was becoming increasingly unable to look at that face without imagining what it would be like to cum all over it.

Yeah, that would work. Ignore the problem until goes away. That one never goes horribly wrong.


The drinking had been Stiles’ idea. Scott’s mess of a relationship with Kira had hit a speed bump when her mum had found out about her daughter dating a werewolf, and it was such a shit storm that Stiles concluded the only solution was the warm oblivion of inebriation. He didn’t mention that the real reason he wanted to get smashed was in the hopes that Scott would take the news of Stiles wanting to spread his legs for Derek slightly better when tipsy.

Derek was supposed to be staying at the main Hale household that night. But apparently that hadn’t happened. Because when Stiles crashed into one of the million bathrooms in this house, he found himself face to face with Derek. Or did he stumble into the bathroom, only to be picked up off the floor by Derek? Oh, maybe that was it. He had probably made a lot of noise.

“Of all the bathrooms in all the house…” Stiles started to say, until his brain caught up and he realized that reference didn’t work anymore. So instead he laughed, not entirely sure why Derek wasn’t laughing with him.

Derek wrinkled his nose, “Are you drunk?”

“Did you know werewolves can’t get drunk? ‘Course you did. Couldn’t have told Scott, could you? Because now I’m wasted and he’s stone cold sober and kind of pissed off about it.” Oh, wow, Stiles was closer to Derek than he meant to be. Did he just fall onto Derek or was Derek moving towards him?

“Well, if I’d known my underage foster kid planned on getting drunk, I might have told him that you guys bought the wrong brand of vodka. You need the ones with the moon label them – means they work on werewolves.”

“Right…moon label. You’re clever.”

“You’re smashed.”

“Mnnhmm. Scott’s gonna come looking for me in a minute, you know. We’d better get this road on the show.” Stiles giggled to himself, and let out a little snort. “Road on the show. Rodeo on the show-deo.”

“I’m not sure I want to know what you’re talking about.”

“Oh, you know. You’ve always known.” Stiles said, and leaned forward to kiss Derek.

Stiles was too far gone to grasp any sense of time, but it definitely felt like Derek hesitated before pushing him away. If he’d been sober he’d probably have sworn that Derek, for just a moment, had kissed him back. But only for a moment, before Stiles was shoved rather too violently backwards. He stumbled and fell, but big hands caught his shoulders, an embarrassed Derek looking guilty for almost knocking him to the ground.

“S-sorry.” Stiles felt his face heat up like a…like a really humiliated person. “I’m so stupid, I shouldn’t have…” he tripped over his words, feeling like the world’s biggest idiot. The sharp realization of what he’d done was mortifying and sobering.

Before he knew it, Stiles was out of the bathroom and stumbling through the halls back to Scott’s room. His best friend had fallen asleep, his hands still wrapped around the ineffective vodka bottle, his sheets half draped over him. Stiles didn’t go to “his” room, but instead found himself crawling under the covers and curling himself up in a ball. Somehow, here, in his intoxicated haze, he could convince himself that nothing had happened.

He’d deal with that shit later.


‘Later’ turned out to be another two months away. Scott hadn’t questioned why Stiles had suddenly refused to come to his house anymore, and how Stiles was the one making stupid, unbelievable excuses. Maybe he’d been on wikihow too.

However, Stiles had to give credit to Scott for being sneakier than he’d ever anticipated. Because when Stiles got home to the smell of food way too good to be cooked by his dad, finding Derek in his kitchen was probably the last thing he expected.

“Scott said you knew about it, why wouldn’t he tell you?” Stiles’ dad asked when Stiles tried to subtly ask why the hell his best friend’s foster dad was cooking in his kitchen. And yes, ‘his’ was correct because the Sheriff had forfeited the rights to the room when he’d ignored all of Stiles’ protests about his horribly unhealthy diet.

Although apparently now it was Derek’s kitchen because he was navigating the room way better than Stiles’ dad could, and he and Scott had actually brought their own ingredients and were cooking together, which was sort of weird. Stiles couldn’t really help but gape at how smoothly they coexisted, as if Derek had always been a part of Scott’s life, and oh, yep, there was the guilt Stiles had been repressing.

“So, this is a surprise.” Stiles tried to keep his voice level and not sound pissed off, but he probably wasn’t succeeding.

“A surprise? Scott said…” Derek glanced over at Scott, who looked shamefaced. “Right, of course.” And then he gave Stiles a look that definitely meant something along the lines of ‘we’re never going to talk about that kiss so don’t even fucking think about it’.

And of course the dinner tasted amazing and Derek was perfect and sweet and funny and Stiles sort of wanted to punch him because this wasn’t fair. So slowly over the evening, Stiles got angrier and angrier until he seriously needed to talk to Derek alone just to tell him to stop being so fucking great.

But this was Stiles’ house and he just couldn’t find a reason to speak to Derek alone, until suddenly Derek was forcibly volunteering to do the dishes and Stiles’ dad wouldn’t even consider it, until Derek gave that smile and said that Stiles can help him. Of course, Scott jumped up to help too but Derek insisted that Stiles was enough, and Scott may be an angel but even he wouldn’t beg to do dishes.

Then they were alone, and suddenly Stiles had forgotten everything he wanted to say. But that was okay, because Derek seemed to have something to say himself.

“You need to back off.” That friendly smile was gone and replaced by a cold, hard line. Derek’s entire body seemed tense, now, like he was barely holding himself back from shifting and killing Stiles.

need to back off? I’ve been doing a pretty good job at avoiding you until you turned up at my house.

“I only came here because Scott’s getting suspicious! I couldn’t exactly say no!” Derek half-growled, and Stiles wished he wasn’t getting really turned on by angry Derek but there you go. “Will you stop that?!” the older man suddenly hissed, and Stiles flinched.

“Stop what?! I’m not doing anything!”

“The fuck you aren’t!” It was the first time Stiles had heard Derek swear and damnit if that wasn’t hot too. “You’re doing everything, Jesus, Stiles! Everything about you is seductive and you have no clue you’re even doing it. Even now, you’re practically presenting yourself to me and I bet you don’t even know it.” Derek’s voice had become low, even keening, as if Stiles was causing him pain.

“Seductive? Seriously, seductive?” Stiles tried to resist laughing but it was impossible. Derek gave him a look that said ‘are you fucking kidding me’, but Stiles wasn’t. The idea that Derek found him seductive was ridiculous.

“You really have no idea what you’re doing, do you?” Derek asked, a soft laugh suddenly breaking through his anger. Yep, ridiculous.

“What am I doing?” Stiles blinked at Derek, and opened his mouth to say something else but Derek was already kissing him.

There probably should have been some sort of hesitation from either of them, but they were toodesperate to hold back. Stiles had pretty much no idea what was happening other than the fact that Derek was warm and it felt so nice to grip his upper arms and feel the muscles there tensing. And, god, Stiles pulled back just to drag his lips across Derek’s, leaning up just a little to feel Derek’s stubble, rough and spiky against him. He’d never actually imagined what it would feel like to run his fingers along Derek’s cheek and against that stubble. There were so many things about Derek that Stiles hadn’t even considered, one being that Derek was surprisingly forceful with his hands, squeezing Stiles’ hips tight enough that Stiles just couldn’t help but imagine what those hands would feel like guiding his hips as he rode Derek. And his hair never looked soft to Stiles but it was, and of course Stiles had to pull it, which made Derek groan and oh fuck, Stiles had never thought about the werewolf thing. He took just a moment to lick his tongue across the fangs Derek was trying to hard to keep from growing out, and bucked his hips against him, which make Derek lose control because fuck, fangs. But Stiles could only get a glimpse of bright shining blue eyes, before the sound of a smashing plate brought him crashing back to reality.

“Oh fuck.” Derek choked out, stepping back like Stiles was a poisonous snake and he wasn’t a fearless werewolf. “Oh, fuck.” And Stiles looked ravished; his shirt was hunched up on one side to reveal a dark pink handprint and his lips were wet and pink and Derek was definitely, definitely going to jail or hell, depending on whether the Sheriff arrested him or just shot him where he stood.

“Everything alright in here?” Stiles’ dad asked, as he pushed the door opened and Derek attempted to compose himself.

“Sorry, dad. My fault, but then you should know by now not to put me on dish duty.” Stiles, somehow suddenly completely calm, gave his dad a grin and leant down to pick up the pieces of broken plate. “Ow, crap!” He lifted up his now bleeding hand, swore a few more times and ran towards the bathroom.

The Sheriff rolled his eyes. “That kid, sometimes.”

Derek tried very hard not to concentrate on the fact that the Sheriff was talking to him like a dad to a dad, and the crippling guilt that came with that. “I know what you mean.”


Stiles waited until Scott had eaten two burritos before he said it: “I did a thing.”

And of course Scott knew right away because Derek had been teaching him about scents and Scott really wished he hadn’t because he did not need to smell Stiles’ dick getting all lusty-scented every time Derek was in the same room as him. And his foster father’s own scent wasn’t much better, though at least the older man had some sort of self-control. “Oh my god, please say Derek’s not the thing.”

“Derek’s the thing.” Stiles admitted, having at least the decency to look sort of half guilty.

“You had sex with my dad?!

“No! I just…made out with him a bit. And you said he wasn’t your dad!” Stiles defended weakly. Scott kicked him off the bed.

“I said he felt like my dad!” he shouted, and this was probably the most anger Scott was capable of. “Stiles, that is so messed up!”

A cheeky grin. Stiles was such a dick. “But you still love me, right?”

Scott groaned. Of course, Stiles was right. He was also one of the most frustrating people in the world.

“Ugh, fine. Go seduce my foster father. But I don’t care if you love him and get married or whatever; I’m never, ever calling you dad.”

“I would be an awesome dad to you.”


“Hey, son!” Stiles lowered his voice and swung his arms out. “No homework for you! Sure, play Xbox all night, I don’t mind at all! Oh, you got someone pregnant? No worries, I’m a cool dad!”

Scott fixed him with a serious look. He stared into Stiles’ face for so long that Stiles was sure he was about to say something really important. “Stiles.” He said, “Never have kids.”


“We’re not having sex until you’re legal.”

Stiles was caught between being pissed off that Derek wouldn’t have sex with him, and heart numbingly happy that Derek had basically just put their relationship timeline at a whole year.

“I’m not going to stop seducing you. I mean, I would, but I’m not entirely sure how I’m doing it.” Stiles had some idea of how he was currently doing it, since he was pressed against Derek, with his arms looped around Derek’s shoulders. Plus the whole kissing thing they’d been doing until about five seconds ago, that probably counted as seduction too.

“And I’m not going to stop trying to convince you this is a terrible idea.” Derek said, but his hands were already in Stiles’ hair, softly mussing it.

“You’re doing a pretty bad job of that.”

“Yeah, well,” Derek murmured, and lay a soft kiss on Stiles’ lips. “I didn’t say I’d try hard.”