A/N: So, this stemmed from a conversation with a friend where I mentioned something I would have "liked to see on the show" and we laughed about how it would never happen and she told me to write it and well, here it is. My hand slipped. A lot. Also, unless said friend and I missed it in any episode, since the Sheriff hasn't been given a first name as of yet, he's John for now. If someone did say his first name, feel free to PM/review and tell me what's what so I can swap it out.
If you had asked John Stilinski what he expected to be doing on a Sunday afternoon in May, it sure as Hell wouldn't have been acting as moderator for two full grown men who had resorted to slap-fighting in the backseat of his squad car for the last ten minutes. But no, there he was- and he was starting to question his sanity in the process.
It had all started two hours prior when he had stopped to air out the back of the car. Some suspect he had to be taken in smelled of every illegal substance in the book and he didn't have long to get it properly cleaned and by some stretch of the imagination, there were no other squad cars that he could use.
And then came the shouting. He was by the high school, so he didn't think much of it. Typical teenagers making as much noise as possible because they thought they were entitled to it.
And then the squad car shook violently. And the back doors slammed shut with a metallic thud. And the cage dividing the front seats from the back ripped right off its fasteners.
John snapped his head around to see one man pinned to his side of the car, hissing at another man who was doing the pinning. Together they were two middle-aged men who John had a sneaking suspicion he should've arrested ages ago, if he had to go by looks alone. The one doing the pinning was moving so fast he was practically a blur clearly had some mileage on him, with a hardened, weathered face with the iciest blue eyes John had seen and he was trying to land as many punches to the other one as possible. The one literally growling was a typical pretty boy- man, whatever. Slicked back brown hair, blue eyes, a decent suit and- HOLY SHIT, WERE THOSE FANGS?!
He scrambled back and went to open his door, only to find that he couldn't. Not good. Not good at all. He slumped down when he saw the blurred man deliver a punch followed by the sound of bone breaking.
"AGH! You and the face!" the pinned one snapped before kicking the blur in the stomach and lunging, which didn't work out in the limited space, because he got a boot to the stomach right back. "The Hell?! Why can't I…?!" The pinned one demanded.
"Squad car- can't open from the inside with you," John cut in, and a millisecond later mentally kicked himself. Two men had literally somehow managed to lock themselves in the backseat of his car, were attempting to kill each other and probably didn't even notice him until then. Why the Hell did he have to give himself away?
The pair stopped in mid attack and turned to look at him, and John realized he knew the blurred man. "… Chris?!"
The pinned man looked between them for a moment and then bared his fangs again and his eyes flashed blue and he lunged at Chris Argent once again.
Chris, on the other hand, punched him square in the mouth again without looking away from the Sheriff, taking the pinned man by the throat and pinning him to the seat this time around.
John gaped at him, then motioned at the pair. "What…?!"
Chris narrowed his eyes. "You mean your son hasn't told you…?"
John's half confused, half terrified look morphed into one of complete exasperation. "What has my son not told me this time?"
Chris paused. "You know, maybe it's best if I-" he caught the other man's knee before it reached his stomach and shoved him down. In one fluid motion he followed the motion up with grabbing the man's neck and twisting it, and John almost gagged in the process of having his heart skip several beats when he heard the telltale snap. Chris Argent- sweet little Allison Argent's father had just killed someone in the back of his squad car. He felt the bile coming up. "Wha-"
"He's fine, I just bought us ten minutes. The way things are going, you're going to need to know anyway, because we could use another on our side."
"… 'Our' side?" John choked out, staring at the other man. He wasn't going pale- why wasn't he going pale when Chris had just snapped his neck? At least some of the nausea was leaving for shock.
"This town's become werewolf central, Sheriff. They're all moving in. Why do you think there's a spike in murders on the full moon?"
John was completely aware he probably looked like some idiotic fish out of water at that, and more so when Chris lifted the other man's hand to show that he had claws to go along with the eyes and the fangs. "If… this is… some … some kind of sick joke?"
"Have I ever lied to you, John?" Chris countered.
John gawked at him. "… At this point, now I'm not so sure!"
Chris stared, then raised his eyebrows as if to say 'I'll give you that one.' He heaved a long sigh, then nodded at the doors. "Your doors work?"
John opened his mouth, then shut it firmly. Of course he didn't think to use the doors to run when he should've. He turned and pulled the handle- which, in turn, didn't budge. Oh, hell no. Not now. He reached over to the other one and the same thing happened. What had they done to the car when they landed in it? Had it gotten that damaged?!
Chris grunted, then lifted his leg in order to kick at the window.
"Bulletproof- all six. We figured we needed it after everything," John supplied weakly.
Chris forced a laugh, then leaned back, casting a quick glance at the other man before contuining. "Then send out an SOS and sit back, Sheriff. You're in for a ride."
John wasn't sure whether to stare at Chris, out the window, or at the other man- Peter Hale, apparently, who was finally starting to breathe again. "So… you're a hunter… going after what used to be this guy's pack… my son's been helping a pack of werewolves, one of which is his best friend… and this guy came to you when you were unaware… and now you're both in here, trapped, with me?"
"That's the gist, yes," Chris replied.
"…. Huh," was all about John could let out after that.
A low groan came from Peter, and a moment later, he looked up before groaning again and letting his head fall back. "I thought you hunters were supposed to know we can't die like that," he forced out, swiping his claws at Chris again, but coming back to consciousness threw off his accuracy and speed and Chris easily batted his hand away. Peter glanced up at John. "And who the Hell are you and why do you look familiar?"
"Rumor has it you know his son, Hale," Chris forced out. He wouldn't admit it, but he was as tired as Peter looked. He really was getting too old for this shit.
"You know Stiles?!" John blurted, regretting his words instantly once again.
"Stiles is your kid?" Peter scoffed after a moment, and then, "… … You need to invest in some therapy for that kid,"
"I've tried," John deadpanned.
"What? Typical teenager refused to talk to them?" Peter asked.
"No. He never shut up and the therapist couldn't take it anymore and quit," John admitted.
Peter laughed. "Yeah, that… sounds like styles,"
John frowned at him. "You're on a first name basis with my kid and know him enough to know that?"
Peter lifted his pointer finger weakly and jabbed it at Chris. "Blame that one's daughter's boyfriend."
"So I've heard," John replied.
Another few minutes passed in absolute silence.
They all figured they might've been a sight to see for any passerby. A cop leaning as far away from the backseat as possible, looking like he was reliving all of his childhood's myths being proven wrong by his parents, and two men in the back on opposite ends, both bloody and disheveled and tired-looking, occasionally using quite a lot of effort in order to kick, punch or slap weakly at each other as the cop watched with apparently no desire to stop it.
And it barely progressed an hour later, with John finally deciding to risk whining at the other two to stop when they resorted to a full on slap fight instead of anything else. Peter only fought harder when Chris nearly ripped his leather jacket and scratched his face, and Chris got a cracked lip and a bruised cheek in retaliation.
"Guys, stop. You're gonna ruin the interior of this thing and we just redid it…" John continued to protest, and then promptly realized just how much he sounded like his son there, and Peter confirmed as much a moment later when he told him Stiles only cared about his jeep in the latest fight with him, Derek, Scott and a lizard man- who was apparently Jackson, no less. Goddamn it. He was so having a talk with his son about everything later.
The best and most believable part of the following few moments, however, was that the other two actually apologized and separated again. A werewolf and a werewolf killer apologized for almost wrecking the interior of a car because they were all tired. In what world would that ever happen? Then again, as far as John was concerned, there weren't actually werewolves and supernatural-creatures outside of fiction in this world until ten minutes ago.
And so another few minutes passed that were filled with small talk or more question and answers about the werewolf drama and murders and how fed up they were being the oldest in their respective jobs or social circles until some poor patrol officer spotted them and managed to jimmy a few of the locks and get enough equipment to undo whatever the men had done to the car and got the three of them out. Peter was the last out and disappeared within a matter of seconds, much to the young officer's confusion and the other two's exasperation. Chris and John parted without much more than an awkward nod and went on with their lives.
When John got home, he sat Stiles down and the pair had a long, long talk about certain friendships of his and secrets being kept. Stiles, in turn, was nearly terrified at how okay his father was with everything.
And if from that point on, Peter and Chris' fights included more banter and less nearly killing blows, and Peter just happened to intercept an attack from a rival beta who was about to kill John when John's attention was elsewhere, or John tended to cover up any mishaps of questionable legality that Chris had, or Chris happened to slip information about some case or another to John, none of them said anything, and that was perfectly okay with all of them.