#rrowr

Stiles nods. “Yeah, hence the sexual crisis. I mean, obviously I wouldn’t care who he dated, but it’s just kind of weird to me, considering he hasn’t dated anyone since Mom died.”

"Well," Scott says fairly, "sometimes it takes people some time to figure out what they like. Took you a while, didn’t it?"

"Yeah, I guess," Stiles agrees, chewing on his bottom lip. "Hm. Yeah, yeah, you’re right. It’s just strange - I mean, he still wears his wedding ring. I kinda thought that he’d resigned himself to a single life forever."

"Everybody gets lonely," Scott says judiciously. 

"True," Stiles nods. "Okay. Operation Support Dad is a go."

Scott grins. “Guess we’ll never be stepbrothers at this rate, huh? Anyway - you want to order pizza?”

"Oh brother," Stiles sighs, flinging an arm around Scott’s shoulders, "you know me too well."

-

The next morning, Stiles drags himself into the kitchen after a late night playing video games with Scott. His dad’s already in there, washing his dishes from breakfast. 

"Regular shift today," he tells Stiles, who nods blearily and pulls himself over to the coffee machine. All of his classes the last semester were at eight in the morning so his body’s settled in a dumb routine that his mind definitely is trying to fight now that it's summer. "Should be home by six."

"Okay," Stiles says, scooping sugar into his mug. "Have a good day."

His dad dries his hands off but doesn’t move. “Are you going to be home?”

Stiles shrugs, narrowing his eyes at the leading tone in his dad’s voice. “I didn’t have any specific plans.”

"I thought I might invite Deputy Parrish over for dinner," his dad says. "If you’re interested in meeting him."

Stiles’ eyes widen. Like he’s going turn down the opportunity to meet the dude his dad’s crushing on? No way. “‘course I want to meet him, Dad.”

His father smiles. “Good. Can I trust you to make something good for dinner?”

Stiles salutes him cheekily. “You can count on me, sheriff.”

-

Stiles makes salmon burgers because they’re kind of fancy and his dad can show off his barbecue skills or whatever, and then he makes a pasta salad because he can and he’s feeling benevolent so he uses the normal pasta instead of the whole-wheat stuff his dad hates (and really, Stiles hates it too; it’s got the weirdest texture). He has to go to the grocery store to get the salmon and the veggies for the pasta salad. He sees Lydia there and has to fight his way out of an invitation to come over later and go swimming (“No, seriously, I have to spend tonight supporting my dad’s life choices.”), even though it’s hot as balls out and a swim sounds really nice. 

After he gets the food all prepped and ready to go, there’s still time before his dad’s supposed to come home so Stiles throws himself into cleaning the entire downstairs because he doesn’t want his dad’s maybe future life partner to think they live in filth. Stiles feels weird, jittery, like he does when he forgets to take his Adderall. He thinks that it’s the thought of his dad dating; for the beginning of Stiles’ life, it was his dad and his mom and him, and then it was just him and his dad, and adding another person to the mix now just seems…off. He knows that’s unfair to his dad - he deserves love just as much as anyone - and Stiles knows that; it’s not like he’s going to make a big deal of it unless this dude seems like a dick. It’s just going to take some getting used to. 

It’s definitely going to take some getting used to, Stiles realizes an hour later when his dad comes home, because the dude trailing behind him is earnest-looking and handsome and young, so fucking young - like, he’s got five years on Stiles max and that’s just - that’s weird, right? What does it mean when your dad has a crush on a dude that’s barely older than you? 

Stiles forces a smile onto his face when his dad waves a vague hand toward the deputy and says, “Stiles, this is our new deputy, Parrish. Parrish, Stiles.”

"Hi," Parrish says with a faint smile, offering his hand to Stiles.

"Hey," Stiles replies, his heart sinking. It’s not - it’s a little unfair, he thinks, watching his dad steer Parrish toward the kitchen so he can offer him a beer. Unfair because Parrish is hot - he’s got these sort of sleepy green eyes that are killer, and he looks pretty fit under his uniform. Unfair because if his dad hadn’t said anything, Stiles probably would have been interested in him himself if he’d, you know, seen him across the room at the grocery store or Jungle or wherever. He tries not to be bitter and pulls the salmon burgers out of his fridge so his dad can show off his barbecue skills and snags a beer for himself because he’s going to need it. 

Stiles does need it. Parrish is nice and interesting in a completely normal, un-supernatural way. Stiles’ dad asks him leading questions while he stands at the grill and Parrish is happy to tell them about the little Midwestern town he grew up in and Stiles likes him so much he swings right around to hating him because there’s no other option; he’s not going to sit there and develop a crush on his dad’s crush, no fucking way. His dad’s done way too much for him; he doesn’t deserve that and though Stiles might be an asshole, he loves his dad way too much to do that to him. 

(It’s hard, though, because Parrish looks at him a lot while he talks, looks at him with those too-green eyes, and Stiles has to look down at the condensation beading on his beer bottle to keep from making too much uncomfortable eye contact.)

Dinner’s worse, because Parrish asks Stiles questions and Stiles has to talk to him. It’s all perfectly innocent stuff - like where he’s going to school and what he’s majoring in (not like his dad hasn’t told him a million times already, probably, but kudos for trying), but Stiles keeps his answers short and brisk, like if he gives too much away about himself he’s going to fall in some hole he’ll never be able to get out of. Parrish is trying hard and Stiles’ dad’s looking disappointed and Stiles feels like shit. He thinks maybe he’ll leave soon, head for the sanctuary of Lydia’s pool after all, leave his dad and Parrish to - whatever. It doesn’t bear thinking about. Thank fuck he’ll be going back to school in two months. 

When Parrish excuses himself to go to the bathroom, he’s barely out of the room before Stiles’ dad is leaning over to him, saying heavily, “You don’t like him.”

"That’s not true," Stiles replies, fiddling with his napkin and, really, it’s not, though he wishes it was. "He’s just - I mean, he’s kind of young, isn’t he?"

His dad’s eyebrows draw together in a frown. He looks like Derek. Stiles despondently wonders what Derek’s up to these days. Maybe he’ll be at Lydia’s. “Young?”

"Yeah," Stiles mutters, rubbing at a spot of oil from the pasta salad that’s been splattered on the table. "Like, really young."

"He’s twenty-four," his father replies, and that’s even worse. Only three years between them. What’s his dad thinking? "What’s wrong with that?"

Stiles bites down on his bottom lip, chooses his words carefully. “I just always thought your first foray back into the world of dating would find you someone…” He gestures vaguely. “A little more mature.”

His dad’s mouth opens and closes twice before he says expressionlessly, “Me. Dating.”

Stiles nods. 

"Stiles," his father says pointedly as, down the hall, the bathroom door creaks open, "Parrish is not here for me.”

Stiles looks up at him, his mouth falling open. Parrish comes back into the room and Stiles looks at him blankly, his mouth still open. “Uh - “

Stiles’ dad gets to his feet, nodding at Parrish. “Why don’t you two take care of the dishes while I go clean the grill?” And he abandons them just like that, the kitchen door swinging shut behind him. Stiles shuts his mouth, his cheeks burning dull red, and he and Parrish clear the table in silence. 

He’s fucked. He’s so totally fucked. He acted like a total asshole for the last hour and there’s no way Parrish is interested in him any more, if he even was in the first place (he was; Stiles knows how to read signals but he totally ignored them because he was so fucking stupid). Stiles sneaks a glance at Parrish out of the corner of his eyes; his expression’s neutral as he calmly stacks plates and utensils and carries them over to the sink. Stiles follows with the bowl of pasta salad, desperately trying to think of something he can say, but his infamously untethered tongue’s failing him now for the first time in his life. 

"Fuck," Stiles hisses feelingly, cutting his finger on the plastic wrap dispenser. 

Parrish glances over at him, eyebrows raised. “Sorry?”

"Nothing," Stiles mutters, his cheeks flooding with more color. He puts the leftover salad into the fridge, closing the door with more force than needed, and straightens with a deep breath. "Um - you want a hand?"

Parrish looks over at him again, a faint smile curving his lips. “I’ll wash,” he says, “if you want to dry.”

It’s an olive branch. Stiles doesn’t need to dry; there’s a drying rack right there next to the sink, that’s what it’s for, but he’s happy to accept it, stepping up next to Parrish and accepting every dish that’s passed his way. This close, he can almost feel the warmth of Parrish’s body and, oddly, it settles him enough to put the words he needs together. 

"Do you, uh, like to swim?"

Parrish turns his head, his green eyes steady and depthless. “Why?” he asks. “Do you have a pool?”