Fandom/Pairing: Teen Wolf/Sterek
Summary: Young!Stiles at the police station after the Hale house fire. Based off of this post on tumblr: post/29101536631/i-have-a-headcanon-that-stiles-was-with-his-dad-at
A/N: In my fic, Stiles's mother is already dead, even though she would probably still have been alive when he was this young. That's the only part of the headcanon that I changed. Also, this is my first time writing Sterek or Teen Wolf anything, so be nice please.
It wasn't a normal occurrence for Sheriff Stilinski to bring his son to work with him. Stiles was only a child, after all - having recently turned eight - and this was no place for children.
But that night was different.
The night of the Hale house fire, the sheriff has been urgently needed at the police station. He'd gotten the call on his way to get his son from school - and had headed down to the station immediately after picking him up.
All that he'd been told was that there had been a fire, and that nearly an entire family had been burned alive. When Stiles asked what happened, he had only told him about the fire, not the deaths. He was much too young to understand something that tragic. Even so, the little boy had been full of fervor - excited to be accompanying his father to work for the first time.
When they entered the building, the sheriff had barely been able to get two words out before Stiles began investigating his surroundings, his eyes darting all around, trying to take everything in. Sheriff Stilinski hadn't done anything to stop him - the child had every right to his curiosity - he'd merely met with his fellow officers to learn more about the case. There had been numerous amounts of paperwork to fill out, and only one member of the family had gotten out of the house alive; Peter Hale. There were also two teenagers who had been at school when the fire happened; siblings Derek and Laura.
The sheriff was informed that Peter had been taken to ICU, due to a fair amount of severe burns on the right side of his body. When he'd asked where the kids were, they'd told him that Laura was at the hospital with her uncle, while Derek had refused to accompany her, and stayed behind at the station.
Stiles had seen the teenager, sitting in a small chair by the door, and asked his father why the boy looked so sad.
"He's going through something very hard," Sheriff Stilinski had whispered, as he watched his son eye Derek curiously. "Don't bother him, Stiles."
Stiles wasn't typically a disobedient kid, but in this case, he found it nearly impossible to follow his dad's orders. He couldn't stop looking at the boy. He was big, with broad shoulders and jet black hair. His eyes were bloodshot, with dark circles just beginning to bloom underneath them. Stiles wondered what could possibly have happened to make this boy so upset. He'd only seen that kind of look once before; on his father's face, the night Stiles's mother had passed away.
Without really giving it much thought, Stiles started to walk over to where the sad boy was sitting. He should have felt nervous, because he didn't know this boy at all, but he didn't. And when he reached him, and was standing right in front of him, he tapped the boy on his shoulder.
The brooding boy had said nothing, so Stiles opened his mouth, taking it upon himself to speak first: "Hi, my name is Stiles. My dad's the sheriff. What's your name?"
The boy had stared at him, with a look of incredulity on his face. Either this was the ballsiest kid he'd ever met in his life, or he was just stupid. Forgetting himself amidst the surprise he was feeling from how forward this little boy was, he found himself muttering, "Derek."
Stiles had nodded, before glancing around to make sure his father was nowhere to be seen, then continued, "My dad said that something bad happened to you. And when my mommy was here, she used to tell me that a band-aid could make any bad thing get better. She used to put one on my hand whenever I was sad, and kiss it - and everything would feel a little bit better." Derek still didn't say a word, eyes focused on his hands, which were resting on his knees.
Slowly, Stiles had reached into his jacket pocket and pulled out a children's band-aid. "My dad puts one in my pocket every morning - just like my mommy used to. I haven't used this one yet, and, uhm… I-I think you need it more than I do."
Derek's eyes had flicked up to meet the younger boys' and Stiles could tell - even as a child - that he was looking for comfort. Admitting to needing it was something that Derek would never do, because he had to stay strong at all times, but there was something about this little kid that made him feel like he could let his guard down - just for a moment. Before he had time to tell himself not to, he was stretching out his hand, palm down.
Stiles understood, and un-wrapped the bandage quickly. His fingers only shook slightly when he reached out to slip the light blue band-aid onto the back of Derek's hand. Once it was applied, he bent down and did what his mother had always done: kissed the spot where the bandage was placed, lightly. He didn't feel embarrassed when he did it, because he knew it was something that the older boy would appreciate, even if he didn't show it.
Derek retracted his hand after that, his eyes catching Stiles's gaze, and breathed, "Thanks."
The younger boy had smiled, and nodded, "No problem."
And, as he turned around to go find his dad, he could have sworn that he saw the tiniest hint of a grin at the corner of Derek's lips.