“He told me he understood, and that he was happy we were both happy, and that if I hurt you he knew how to kill a Werewolf and where to hide a body.”
Stiles paused in his task of spooning rice onto one of the plates, giving Derek a weird look. “My dad had a similarly confusing discussion with me this morning,” he admitted.
“Yeah, I’m not sure I understand what he was talking about.”
They stared at one another for a long while in silence.
“Dude,” Stiles finally said. “Does my dad think we’re dating?”
“You did a favour for a stranger?” the sheriff asked, surprised. “You won’t even do a favour for me.”
“Your favours involve chocolate and salty snacks, damn straight I won’t do you any favours,” Stiles insisted, pointing an accusatory finger at his dad while leaning back against the counter, taking another large sip of coffee. “Some guy lost his phone and was calling it hoping someone would answer. That someone was me. He said he’d had some drinks and couldn’t come grab it right then, so we agreed to meet at the station this morning. I didn’t realize ‘this morning’ meant the ass crack of dawn.”
“It’s not the ass crack of dawn, that was at five thirty-seven, according to the weather app on my phone.”
Stiles let out a sarcastic laugh and flipped his dad off. The sheriff gave him a look, but he didn’t reprimand him, clearly able to tell Stiles was miserable.