Chapter Text
Stiles laced up his tactical boots with an air of pride; he looked forward to every morning now, getting ready for work and his day with a feeling of everything is just right. When he'd left for college, things had at least been settled in Beacon Hills, well at least all the ridiculous werewolf crap. Looking back on it sometimes feels so surreal, like it was some video game they'd all been way too into and it had taken over their lives like the tv evangelists all said D&D would poison the youth of America. The funniest thing was, it was Derek who'd been the most right. Not that any of them had been capable of believing it, believing him! Derek had said life, even for werewolves, is not usually so over the top ridiculous with villains and horror, or a new monster always showing up to terrorize them all. Maybe they'd just not wanted to believe it, when you're a teenager everything seems so much more intense and overwhelming, so of course if it is insanely overwhelming it becomes more so. And really after a few years of that sort of thing it was hard to remember that none of them had any idea werewolves had been in Beacon Hills since the 20's.
So when life quieted down to just worrying about silly things like human hunters it was a strange denouement for the whole gang. Even that had scaled back when Stiles read his dad in on the whole werewolf thing. It had taken a few stiff drinks, Scott and Derek shifting for him, and the calm admittance of Mrs. McCall that she knew about it to bring him around to acceptance. But the Sheriff was nothing if not a pragmatic man, accepting the pack of werewolves his son considered friends with an aplomb that startled everyone, including Stiles who often admitted he should've known better and trusted his dad. The most shocked was Derek, no, strike that, the most shocked was every hunter who came into Beacon Hills thinking they could throw their weight around trying to force a werewolf into acting against them. The Sheriff made it well known that he classified that sort of crap as a hate crime and the only monsters he could see were the ones antagonizing his law abiding, if occasionally more furry, citizens. Yeah, Stiles was extra proud of his dad.
Shockingly, or not really so shockingly, Stiles had been the first of everyone to return home. He'd finished his degree in criminal justice with a minor in forensics in a dizzying three and a half years. His dad had worried at him, trying to convince him he wasn't expected to just rush through his college years in a haze and to try and enjoy himself but, that was Stiles enjoying himself! He devoured his classes with greater focus than usual because it was actually what he was interested in and he would have graduated earlier if not for school policies about credit overloads! Sheesh, micromanaging universities! Plus he'd been driven because what he wanted to do he knew he'd have to work hard for and put in the time. So he had to start putting in the time as fast as possible. You didn't just sign up to become a K-9 officer, you had to bust ass and earn it. Research is a wonderful thing and Stiles had put his cunning mind to work for his career, fresh out of the academy he had to wait for a deputy opening since nepotism only works when your dad is unscrupulous. Biding his time Stiles put himself to work volunteering at the kennel where command dogs are trained and working as a security guard then a prison guard to gain experience.
When a deputy spot opened up there was no one even a quarter as qualified as he was - especially there in little old Beacon Hills, and after a few years he'd been moved right into the position he'd been chasing - a K-9 Unit. Stiles grinned at the memory and grinned at his partner, already suited up in his ballistic vest with his badge and BHSD on the side.
"Ready to go Booker?" He chuckled and asked the tawny eyed German Shepard who sat and waited patiently for him to hurry up and get ready. Booker barked and sighed so much like Derek that Stiles pointed at him sternly, "Hey now, I'm the Alpha in this relationship!"
Booker snorted at him and Stiles ruffled his fur, getting up and finishing getting ready by checking and holstering his sidearm. He motioned for Booker to heel as they headed down to his cruiser, opening the door for his partner who eagerly leapt inside, tail wagging. Honestly, if Stiles had a tail it would be wagging too. They get into the Sheriff station in time for Stiles to intercept the donut on its way to his Dad's face.
"Stiles..." The Sheriff says warningly, holding out his hand for the donut. "Give me the damned donut."
"Dad, you have to consider donuts a gateway drug to diabetes. And while I'm not saying you aren't a very fit man, which I mean really, we Stilinski men age really well if we avoid heart disease, but you know these are no good for you." Stiles grinned and started to eat it himself.
The Sheriff smacked Stiles on the back of the head and rescued half that he quickly ate himself. "It's a goddamned plain donut Stiles! And if you seriously want to keep this up why don't we start discussing your dietary habits? You're not a teenager anymore you know."
Stiles grinned at his dad, "You want to go to war again old man I can have Booker start checking you every morning to see if you're eating bacon and sausage again."
The Sheriff looked down at Booker who stared up at him with bright interest, his tail thumped twice like he's eager to go back to that routine. Not for the first time the Sheriff wondered what he did to deserve this, and definitely not for the first time he had to hide a smile brought on by his masochistic response to his son's sadistic love. "This is why you can't keep a relationship." He sallied, turning to go get coffee before the morning meeting.
Stiles squawks like a teenager, Booker yipping at the noise and thumping his leg with his tail as they follow behind. "No I think you'll find that is because I'm a COP Dad!"
The Sheriff grinned over his shoulder at him, pouring a cup for the both of them, being sure to use Stiles' Special Cup that his friends had given him when he'd been hired. "Funny... I never had that problem, neither do Jenkins, Thomas, Beauchamp, Willia-"
"Funny. Ha ha Dad!" Stiles cut him off, taking his coffee with a scowl before the Sheriff can list the whole roster.
"I'm just sayin', son. I put up with your good health crap because I'd love to live to see a grandbaby." The Sheriff took a drink of his coffee so he could hide the huge grin spreading over his face.
Stiles almost dropped his coffee, sputtering and burning himself on the hot liquid, "Dad!! Jesus!! You do recall I might not fall in love with a woman right?!"
"You need a partner to adopt." The Sheriff pointed out blandly and chuckled at his son's discomfiture.
"Damnit!" Stiles whined exasperatedly, "Really Dad?? While I'm glad you're fine either way as long as I'm happy, the only partner I feel like handling right now is Booker!"
Booker barked hearing his name half shouted and he danced in place until Stiles calmed him with a bit of petting.
The Sheriff opened his mouth to say something but Stiles held his hand up warningly, "I swear Dad if you say anything about beastiality it will not be worth the scars I get hearing it for you to reassert your Alpha status, ok?"
The Sheriff laughed at that, "Son, I don't even know how you made the jump to that."
Stiles settled Booker and grumbled, "Ask Scott and Allison."
"Do I even want to know why that's a comeback?" The Sheriff laughed harder.
"No, and neither did I." Stiles said but grinned a little, taking a spot at the back where there's room for himself and the other K-9 officer Evans.
As mornings go, the meeting is a good one. Not much happened the night before, aside from some arrests of kids trying to vandalize Coach Finstock's house in celebration of the lacrosse team's championship win; it had been a quiet night. Stiles almost let himself think it'll be a good day then, but he squelched the thought before it's anything more than a warm pleased feeling in the pit of his stomach. The last thing he wanted to do is jinx himself. He scratched behind Booker's ears and smiled, yeah, definitely the best job ever.
Stiles and Booker returned to their cruiser after the meeting and after Stiles replaced the monstrosity heart attack sandwich his dad had in the fridge with a massive salad he'd made that morning for him. Of course he takes the sandwich for himself, Stiles rationalized he can handle it, he IS still young thanks dad! Booker grumbled with interest as Stiles shoved it under his seat but settled easily making Stiles grin.
Stiles can still remember everyone asking him why he wanted to work with dogs and of course he'd made the obligatory joke about he'd been working with "dogs" since high school and he was used to it. Which really only his dad and Derek hadn't given him crap over because they knew it was true and not his usual joking bullshit. Stiles WAS used to working with someone. He was used to having someone have his back, someone fierce and loyal that he could trust and just tune out to do his job. Being a deputy meant that you worked alone once you were done being a rookie. You had to handle things alone while waiting for backup or just alone without backup on the bad nights. Stiles had weathered that waiting for a K-9 position to come up because he wanted the dog. He wanted the partner. He couldn't have someone from the pack so he wanted someone, the dog was perfect. Hell, Booker was perfect. From the moment they'd met Stiles knew everything was going just right. Not to mention how freaking charming Booker was, he was a cool dog and seeing him leap clear over a car to take down a fleeing suspect is seriously one of Stiles' top ten memories of all time.
Booker wagged his tail in the seat next to him, the steady thump thump made Stiles shake off his thoughts and look out the passenger window to where he could see Derek's camaro parked outside of the small cafe that had opened up in a renovated strip mall on the edge of town. Not for the first time Stiles chuckled and pushed the German Shepard by the shoulder, "Christ Booker, you seriously know everyone's cars?!"
Booker just wagged his tail and Stiles checked the clock, calling in to dispatch his location and that they were stopping for early lunch. He parked in time to see Derek already moving himself and his order to one of the outside tables.
"You know I might not want to eat lunch with you." Stiles calls over to him, letting Booker out his side and snapping the lead on him. "I happen to digest better with pleasant company."
"I'm the nicest person you know Stiles." Derek counters, "I don't mind that you stink like dog all the time."
Booker made a grumbly noise which was probably more wanting a treat than a reaction to the idea smelling like dog is bad. Stiles just laughed and took the open chair opposite Derek as he stole some chips, "Probably because it makes me smell like family to you."
Derek made a face at him and shook his head, "That was weak, Stiles. You need to work out that muscle between your ears more and focus less on your abs."
"Says the guy who takes any opportunity to lose his shirt?" Stiles laughed, glancing at the menu on the table after getting Booker to sit between himself and the building. "So what's good here?" He asked, nodding at Derek's sandwich. "Is that?"
"Not really." Derek shrugged, "This place is close to home."
Stiles chuckled, "No it's not."
Derek rolled his eyes, "Ok, detective - I picked up a job from the printer Isaac uses and delivered it to his client. Nothing for you to get your five-oh senses tingling over."
Stiles smirked hugely and laughed, "My what senses?" He was still laughing when the waitress appeared and took his order. "No seriously though." Stiles continued when she'd gone. "That's adorable you run errands for Isaac. It's still weird to me that he went into graphic design."
"It's weird to me that he's good at it." Derek agreed, "But he likes working from home. I like leaving because he's acquired your habit of talking a lot but he mumbles. I didn't think it could be worse but the mumbling makes it worse!"
Stiles laughed into his cup of coffee. "Look, I'm not to blame for Isaac relaxing enough to be chatty. I'm sure he picked that up in art school."
Derek gave him a wry look that Stiles returned, really after everything, Isaac going to art school to study design had been shocking. "I still keep thinking he was going to be a vet." Derek said, shaking his head.
"I know right?!!" Stiles laughed hard, "I thought he and Scott would be work wives and put Deaton out of business. I mean come on, right??"
Derek laughed into his sandwich, Stiles joined him as his grilled panini appeared. It's an old conversation. One that never fails to upset Scott and make Isaac laugh.
"You are still such an idiot." Derek said, wiping his mouth and shaking his head. He leaned over to look at Booker, "You poor damn dog, trapped in a car with him all day."
"HEY!" Stiles squawked, offended. "My partner happens to love me!!"
"Your partner can't tell you to shut up."
"Rude!!"
"Your partner depends on you for food. And for walkies."
"Holy crap dude, did you seriously just say walkies?"
"Shut up, Stiles." Derek said and shook his head with a grin, staying and chatting while Stiles ate.
It's casual, normal, and friendly. The easy way Derek smiles back when Stiles waves when they part, the see you laters that have built up over the years; everything had blended into a normalcy that made Stiles chuckle and tug on Booker's ears as they continued their patrol.
—————
Once a week Stiles would meet up with Isaac on his day off out at the rebuilt Hale house. Nobody had asked Derek why he'd built a completely different house when he'd finally had the old one torn down. Stiles liked to think he understood. He also liked to think it was more reflective of Derek himself, letting go of all that horror, building a sprawling single story home with stunningly high ceilings, large airy rooms, and a central atrium.
The atrium was a huge teasing point for Stiles, because come on, it's an atrium!! There was even a potted garden in it and who would have ever thought Derek could take care of plants?! Or that he did his own landscaping. It was so at odds with the camaro and leather jacket bad boy image he'd portrayed for years. And furniture, Derek had actual store bought furniture. It not only matched and looked good - but it was comfortable! Half of the teasing Stiles dished out was to cover for the fact that the tiny house he rented looked only marginally better than his college apartment had. Which is why no one was ever invited over ever. Ever. And if someone ever did find out he was still sleeping on a mattress and box springs on the floor it was solely because Booker slept with him and not because he couldn't be bothered to get a headboard and frame.
Stiles smiled and hauled the large padded suit over to Isaac for him to put on. "Thanks man, I still really appreciate this. I'm sad I'm going to have to switch training dummies soon because Booker knows it's you and won't properly attack."
Isaac laughed and sighed. "I won't miss this but I'll miss being paid in coffee and pastries."
"You're going to get pudgy in the middle and that'll be a terrible look for you." Stiles laughed, helping him into the padded suit. "Like a toothpick stuck in an olive."
Derek snorted a laugh from up on the porch, "It's a little frightening how accurate that description is Stiles."
"Well Yanno I'm nothing if not observant." Stiles laughed and shrugged, "Plus I went through it freshman year."
Both Isaac and Derek laughed at that until Stiles flipped them off and called Booker over from where he'd been laying at Derek's feet. Derek had been Booker's first werewolf training buddy since Scott was so busy working as an ER nurse to have enough time, and really of all of them Derek had the most free time. That still made Stiles wonder where Derek got his income from. It's not like he'd be independently wealthy from the life insurance payouts, a lot of that had to have gone to Peter's care when he was catatonic and the new house. But it's not like he made Isaac pay him rent - did he? It was a mystery for another time.
Isaac pulled on the head piece and shifted, crouching and snarling at Stiles and Booker. It was a credit to Booker's puppy training that he didn't turn tail and run at the shift itself let alone the snarling growl. Stiles felt a stab of concern still, of all of the werewolves he knew, Isaac concerned him the most. Not that Isaac didn't have full control, and looks-wise he was less horrible looking than Derek, but inside of Isaac lurked something. It was buried and locked down but sometimes Stiles felt like he could sense it, lurking under that floppy bored disguise.
Stiles went through the motions like they were real, "POLICE!! SHIFT HUMAN AND LAY FACE DOWN ON THE GROUND NOW!" Booker barked and danced in place but he wasn't lunging at the lead like he should be.
It just confirmed what Stiles already guessed, Booker had figured out the assailant is a friend and can't get into work mode, yipping like they're playing a game. Stiles relaxed and looked away from Isaac to try and talk Booker into doing his job when Isaac pounced on him, knocking Stiles flat of his back with a strangled yelp. Isaac snarled into his face and he flails like he's an uncoordinated teenager again with a small scream. To add insult to injury, Booker licks him in the face instead of saving him.
"Auuuugh!!!! Booker!!" Stiles groaned as Isaac sat on him laughing. Stiles shoved at him to get him off. "ASSHOLE!!! No coffee for you!!"
Isaac laughed and flicked Stiles' ear before letting him up. "It's not my fault! I was playing omega really well thanks."
Stiles stood up and rubbed his ass, "Thanks for not method acting more than that, Brando!"
Derek was in hysterics up on the porch, Booker ran from Derek to Stiles, his tail wagged wildly as he bounced and wanted to keep playing. Stiles snorted and just started laughing too before he chased his dog around and wrestled with him while the werewolves watched indulgently. It was a testament to their long friendship that neither wolf brought up the old argument that a werewolf wouldn't surrender to arrest. Stiles hadn't disagreed with it either, which is why his boot knife was carefully coated in wolfsbane oil every night. He liked his human bits as they are, and this way if a werewolf did allow himself to be arrested, he was either treated like the petty criminal he was and released to the courts or he was brought to Derek to deal with since this was his territory.
Stiles finally flopped down on the steps and panted, petting Booker who leaned on him companionably, his tail thumping hard. "Well crap." Stiles chuckled. "I guess that's that."
"Are you going to ask Boyd next?" Isaac grinned, pushing a bowl of water to Booker and sipping an iced tea that made Stiles' mouth water to look at.
"Nope. And not just because I know he'd say no." Stiles sighed, pushing his ball cap back on his head, "I think Booker is about as acclimatized to werewolves as he can be."
"I'll say." Derek added, enjoying his porch swing in the shade, "I'd hate for him to be as dumb as you and run into a situation his instinct say run from."
"HEY!" Stiles laughed, his head falling back to glare at the alpha, "Where you say dumb, I say proceeding with swift caution."
Isaac snorted into his tea, "OK even I'm callin' bullshit on that one."
Stiles waved a hand dismissively, "I actually have training now if you two would goddamned remember. I didn't back then, I'm a grown up now."
"Only on the outsides Stiles." Derek shook his head, "Don't think I haven't seen the inside of that rathole you call home."
"CREEPER!!" Stiles shouted, making Booker bark. "Did you break into my place?!"
Derek just laughed, "No! I had no idea until you just confirmed it."
Stiles turned bright red and just started shaking a finger at Derek, Isaac laughing all the way inside to go back to work. Stiles left shortly after and Derek relaxed outside a while longer, enjoying the end of a good afternoon before going inside to work. It was an extremely well kept secret that Derek painted. It was something he'd done in New York as therapy that had actually become something he enjoyed. It was Laura who'd collected all his landscapes and paid for a small gallery to show them. He hadn't known until she took him there. If Derek hadn't known Laura loved him he would have thought she was trying to kill him that day. His heart had seized up, lodging in his throat as she dragged him inside and he marveled at the small dots that she told him meant they were sold. The prices under those dots had made his head spin.
So Derek still painted and his local landscapes sold just as well in that gallery in New York as his pieces painted in Central Park had, better in most cases. He almost had enough for a new show now, he'd been going out at night to paint, the moonlit woods of his youth a tribute in many ways to those times. The few photos he'd sent the gallery had them very excited. He stood in the small studio off the atrium and spread them out, looking at places that had meant something once to his whole family and now just held memories for him.