#about 1k

“Hey cupcake, you ready for dinner?” 

John looked up from his desk to see Bobby standing in the doorway with two tupperware containers. He frowned a little- something Bobby immediately caught. 

“I know, I know,” he said as he stepped all the way into the office, shutting the door behind him. “Burgers would be way better, but Stiles handed me these after practice, and I feel like I have to take the little shit’s threats seriously, you know? Or he might change your curfew.” 

John laughed and got up to exchange a kiss for his dinner. As they sat together on the couch in his office, he let out a little sigh. 

“It’s not dinner- well not entirely. Burgers would be better,” he said, scowling at the salad that compromised two thirds of his dinner, “but that’s not why I’m...” 

“A grumpopotamus? Mr. Frowny? Sulk Face the Third, Esquire?” 

John shot a dry look at Bobby’s innocent face. 

“Worried. I’m worried. Stiles...” He trailed off, suddenly unsure of unloading onto Bobby. They’d only been dating a few months, and he didn’t want to run him off with undue burdens of parenting. 

Bobby just rolled his eyes. 

“You can talk to me. After all, you’re his dad, but I’m his lacrosse coach, so if we’re talking about who’s really ultimately responsible for him, clearly it’s me.” 

John gave a rusty chuckle. 

“That’s right, the hierarchy of parental responsibility goes aunts and uncles, grandparents, parents, and lacrosse coaches. I forgot.”

Bobby mournfully gestured at the ceiling. 

“We’re the unsung heroes of child rearing.”

 John eventually sat back with another sigh, a little lighter this time. 

“I just feel like Stiles isn’t talking to me like he used to. I don’t see him as often... usually he would have brought me dinner, you know?”

“Maybe he’s trying to be supportive of us,” Bobby suggested, digging into his own salad. The kid could make a bitchin’ vinaigrette. 

John made a non-committal sound. 

“He’s been pretty clear already that he supports me, and this is a direct quote, ‘banging it out’-” John had to pause for a moment while Bobby choked on a laugh and a piece of lettuce, “but I still feel like he’s hiding something from me. He's definitely got people coming in and out of his bedroom window at all hours. Our neighbors have called me about it six times. But he hasn’t told me anything about it.”

He sounded so dejected. Bobby reached up to rub comfortingly at John’s neck, pulling him down onto his shoulder as he set their dinners aside for a moment.

“Why haven’t you talked to him about the window visitors?” he asked, curious. 

“As far as I can tell, it’s mostly just Scott,” John answered. “Kid grew out of his asthma and suddenly everything’s a jungle gym. But there are at least one or two other new people coming over too, and he hasn’t told me anything about them. It’s... probably nothing. Probably. But I want him to want to talk to me.”

It broke Bobby’s heart to hear him so sad. He pressed a kiss to his forehead. 

“It’s hard, but well. Stiles is sixteen. It’s a pretty normal, expected part of growing up to keep secrets from your parents. He might just... want something of his own.” 

John grumbled a little. 

“He can have things of his own. I respect his boundaries. But these new friends have been coming around for two months! He should at least want to tell me their names, right? God, what if they’re criminals, Bobby? What if he’s selling his Adderall??” 

Bobby snorted a little laugh.

“John, if Stiles is just an hour late with his Adderall, then everyone in a four block radius knows it. He needs that medication, and he knows it. He’s not selling it. Besides, other than a little distance, nothing else is really different, is it? He’s still going to practice, his grades are still good.”

John grudgingly agreed and snuggled deeper into Finstock’s shoulder before saying, “I just thought... after Claudia died...” He had to pause for a moment, focusing on Bobby's hand calmly stroking up and down. “It seemed like we were always going to be first in each other’s corner, you know?”

“If that’s always been true, then there’s no reason to believe it’s different now,” Bobby said. “Which means that whatever’s going on isn’t something he needs you in his corner for.”

John sighed yet again and pressed a kiss to Bobby’s neck. 

“Thanks,” he murmured, “for listening.”

“Anytime, cupcake. Whatever’s going on, he’ll tell you when he’s ready.” They sat there together quietly for another moment before picking up their dinners again.

“God this salad is delicious,” Bobby said. “Maybe his new friend is teaching how to make amazing dressing.” 

“I doubt it,” John said, digging into his own. “Mrs. Anderson, our neighbor, said the person she saw on the roof was a big, rough looking guy. Leather jacket.” 

“Oh. Is that all? I know who that is.”

John looked up in surprise. 

“You do?”

“Yeah. The Hale kid. He came back a few weeks ago. That’s gotta be Stiles’ friend. He’s nothing to worry about, John.” 

The relief on John’s face was evident. 

“Yeah? You’re sure?”

“I’m sure. He’s a good kid. Grumpy, but who wouldn’t be after what happened to his family. That’s probably why Stiles hasn’t talked to you about it.” 

John nodded sagely. 

“I guess I can see that. He doesn’t want to spook Hale away by making him stay for dinner.” 

“Exactly,” Bobby agreed, taking another bite of salad. “Plus, you know how secretive the Hales always were about the werewolf thing.”