Noah doesn’t know what to say as he looks between his son and Derek Hale. Young Derek Hale. 15 year old Derek Hale… Of course he had remembered the boy, the night of the fire being especially clear to him. He had been crying then, sobbing in Noah’s office and repeating the same question over and over. “Are they alive? Are any of them alive?”
It had been tragic. At the time, it had been suspicious but later it had been ruled an accident and Noah had been content with that. Not anymore. Not now as he remembers Stiles’ chessboard. The hunters bathed in white pieces. Kate Argent’s name ringing in his head, clear as a bell, and he understood. Understood what had transpired, can see the past event that had yet to happen to the boy in front of him.
Boy. Because he’s only two years younger than Stiles is now. Rounder face, shorter stature. Derek Hale… Angry, tall, muscular, stoic alpha werewolf looking as young and uncertain as a freshman in high school. The thought has bile rising to the back of his throat.
That woman… the things she had done to Derek… It was different, knowing now. Different seeing the teenager before him, looking so young and vulnerable and too close to Stiles’ age. For an adult to do that to a child… Any child! Rage fills Noah’s vision, his hands falling to brace himself against the desk before him and he sees Derek flinch back to Stiles’ side.
“Dad?” Stiles says warily, taking a step in front of Derek. “We think it’s some sort of spell. Deaton is looking into it.”
Protective. Stiles was always so damn protective of his friends. His family. The correlation has dread filling Noah’s chest even more. Thinking once again of Stiles standing in front of a hunter.
“G-Good.” He manages to say, words strangled by the knot in his throat. “Take him to the house. He’ll be safe there for now.” Stiles looks surprised at that but Derek pushes passed him.
“What about my mom? Where’s my mom?”
Noah can’t say those words either and Stiles saves him from trying.
“They’re not here. They left after the fire. Scott’s trying to figure out how to get you back to them.” Stiles replies, looking pointedly at his best friend.
“Y-Yeah. I’m working on it. You can trust Stiles and the Sheriff. We’ll get everything straightened out.” It’s a lie. All lies. Always lies. Broken and struck words that shoot out like a bullet. Stiles’ favorite weapon, and he’s wielding it as fiercely as he ever has to protect the 15 year old at his side. Pride and dread and grief fill Noah’s chest as he nods, trying not to show the tears burning his eyes.
“You’re safe with us Derek.” He says fiercely, resolutely and the young werewolf must read the honesty in that statement if nothing else because he relaxes for the first time since he’s entered the office.
It takes a few days. Noah isn’t privy to everything that’s happened but Derek is adult Derek again, standing just as impassive and calm within the circle of the pack. He raises his head to look at Noah as the sheriff exits the police cruiser, a small nod of acknowledgement sent his way, but it’s not enough.
Noah can’t get the image of teenage Derek out of his mind. Can’t stop the paternal instincts to wrap both of his boys in blankets and lock them up safe and warm and happy. It’s too much. The Argents, the monsters, the danger… Too much threatening the small little family he has left.
He stalks towards them, urgent and desperate and sees the surprise light the alpha’s face. Derek almost seems worried as he motions Erica and Boyd to step aside, reaching a tentative hand out to try and either stop or steady Noah. “Sheriff, what’s wr-”
He doesn’t finish. Noah brushes past Scott and Lydia and Peter and Chris, reaches around Derek’s shoulder and pulls him forward, into his arms. The alpha freezes, shuttering into a statue as Noah embraces him, lets himself be pulled and guided to the human’s chest in the warmest hug he’s ever received.
“It’s okay son.” Noah murmurs. “It’s okay. You got us.” He says thickly.
Derek is still for a long moment, confusion and shock overriding every one of his senses but Noah doesn’t pull away, doesn’t say anything more, just grasps him to himself and slowly, unbidden, Derek crumbles.
He can’t stop the tears from falling. Can’t stop the pain in his chest as Noah holds him. He closes his eyes and buries his face into the human’s neck, let’s the warmth and fatherly arms lull him and the scent of protection and possession seep into his very bones from the comfort the man is so willingly giving him.
Of course it’s Noah. One of the only two men he’s ever really trusted since the fire. One of the only two men who he’s valued as his family. Of course it’s the other Stilinski whose saved his life yet again.
romaincrisis
areudirty
blakekathryn
tangentwithtanner
kianamaiart
