Derek and Stiles’ two year wedding anniversary was coming up, and Stiles was determined to give Derek the best gift ever.
Their last anniversary, Derek had made them a fancy home-cooked meal (including some homemade curly fries, who knew they could taste so good even without the grease?), bought him the entire box set of Star Wars on blu-ray, and then watched all of it in one sitting with him. Derek didn’t even like Star Wars.
All Stiles did was get some fancy massage oil (the non-scented kind, because he found out early on that Derek hated anything with scents in their bed, said he only wanted to smell them) and the promise of some sexy times. It certainly wasn’t the worst gift in the world, and Derek assured Stiles he loved it, but Stiles was frankly embarrassed his gift was so much worse.
But this year... this year, Derek wouldn’t know what hit him. Stiles was going to give him the greatest anniversary gift to ever be, and there would be no chance Derek could top it.
Or, at least that was the plan. It turned out gift giving was harder than it seemed. Sure he could spend a ridiculous amount of money on something, but the problem with that was 1. It would mostly be Derek’s funds, since their accounts were joined now (yay marriage), and a majority of it was from Derek’s inheritance, and 2. Derek didn’t care much for money and expensive things. For as much as he growled and scowled, he really was a big softie. And after all of his past, awful relationships, Stiles knew he really just wanted to be loved.
So Stiles was going the sentimental route. After spending hours on Pinterest, he determined a scrapbook was the best move. He would make a scrapbook filled with photos and mementos from their dates and different memories with the pack, and Derek would tear up, god-dammit. It was going to be beautiful.
Unfortunately, working on the scrapbook made him realize just how few photos he had, and soon enough he realized he could only fill out a couple pages. Stiles was more of a “live in the moment” kind of guy. He was always moving and thinking and experiencing and photos just didn’t seem that important to him. Derek, on the other hand, loved photography. After the pack began to feel less like a band of misfits and more like a family, he bought a fancy camera to take photos of all of their events and outings, even the ones he only begrudgingly went along with. Stiles liked to live in the moment, but Derek was afraid of losing the past. That’s what happens when you’ve had your whole life ripped away once before.
So, yes, it was a bit sad his reasoning behind the photos, but as far as Stiles was concerned, he was just happy about his husband’s healthy coping mechanism and was going to take advantage of all of these photos. Plus, his love for photography seemed like pretty clear evidence he would appreciate something like a scrapbook.
The obvious solution was to look through Derek's photos. So that led to Stiles going through Derek’s laptop. Having been married to Derek for almost two years, he was pretty familiar with his schedule. He knew he had a solid three hours before he would get back. Stiles didn’t really care that much about if Derek knew he went through his stuff, he really just wanted to hide the reasoning so the gift would be a surprise. Derek didn’t even have a password on his laptop, so Stiles didn’t feel bad at all about going through his files.
Stiles spent about an hour combing through photos and videos of the pack (he figured if the scrapbook thing fell through, he could always just make a cheesy montage) and downloading all of the ones he liked onto a thumb drive. Eventually he moved away from the folder labeled “pack,” wanting to see if there was anything else that could be of use.
He soon stumbled upon a file labeled “John.” He automatically assumed it referred to his father, not knowing any other Johns. That was weird, since no one else in the pack had their own folder, but Stiles figured it made sense. Since Derek didn’t have much family of his own, John made sure to make it clear to everyone that Derek was part of the family, even before they had officially married, even if it did take him a while to warm up to him when they first got together. Stiles personally thought it was very sweet, and any pictures of his father would be a perfect addition to the scrapbook.
Stiles tried to open the file, but found it was password protected. That was... weird. Stiles briefly wondered if this was secretly his porn stash, and he used “John” as a cover. He snorted at the thought.
Stiles wasn’t that concerned about the password. Derek wasn’t the best at technology, and he used the same password with a couple different variations for everything so he wouldn’t forget. Stiles just had to try a couple of times before he was able to enter.
In the folder, there was only one video. All Stiles could see was an empty bed, but the picture was too small that he couldn’t really make out any details. Now Stiles wondered if maybe the whole porn thing was actually right. It would definitely be weird that his husband kept porn under his father’s name, but maybe it really was just a creative cover, or it could even be the name of the porn actor. Who knows. Stiles figured it was either something to do with his dad, which he would be able to use for the gift, or it was porn, which could give Stiles some ideas on how to experiment with Derek in bed. Win-win situation.
Stiles opened the video.
There was panting that could be heard off screen, and then two men fell onto the bed, harshly making out.
Looks like it was porn.
The man on top had dark black hair, and seemed like he might have been a little bit bigger. The second man had light brown hair, and looked like he was also big in stature, but a bit smaller and with less muscles. Their frantic kissing obscured their faces.
The kissing went on awhile, and Stiles skipped thirty seconds ahead, eager to see what porn Derek had that he liked so much he had to keep it on his laptop.
The dark-haired man finally pulled back and sat up, both of them heavily panting. First, he pulled off his belt, his biceps rippling even with that simple maneuver. He slowly began to pull off his shirt, clearly putting on a show. As his shirt rose, he revealed a tan, muscled back.
Stiles shivered, his arousal starting to arise. He could definitely see the appeal of this porn so far, if that’s what one of the men looked like.
Finally, he pulled his shirt off all the way, revealing a large black tattoo at the top center of his back.
Wait- That tattoo looked really familiar. Like intimately familiar. That was a triskelion. That man was Derek. There was no way, though. Derek wouldn’t cheat on Stiles. They loved each other. Maybe there was an explanation. Maybe the other man in the video was actually Stiles. It hadn’t looked like him, but no one really knows what they look like, right? You’ve never actually seen your face, and all that. And sure, it would definitely be concerning his boyfriend filmed them without his permission, but maybe he had an exhibitionist kink or just needed to add something to the wank bank and was embarrassed. Stiles wouldn’t judge. That had to be it. Or maybe Derek just happened to find his doppelgänger. Stiles would definitely download any porn that had an actor who looked just like him. That’s less crazy than him cheating on him, right? The video continued, ignorant to Stiles’ internal panic.
“You like what you see?” The black-haired man asked after removing his shirt, the smirk clear in his voice.
Okay, so that definitely also sounded like Derek. Stiles had heard that gruff voice in all sorts of compromising situations, there was no mistaking his “sexy-times” voice. Stiles could feel his heart rate speeding up. Surely he wouldn’t... surely there was some explanation.
The second man let out a long groan in response, sounding both irritated and aroused.
It didn’t sound like Stiles, but it also didn’t not sound like Stiles. Besides, who even really knows what their voice sounds like?
“You know I like it, you little slut. I love seeing how desperate you are for me. Now get your pants off before I make you.”
Wait. That voice sounded so familiar. But there was no way- “
Yes, sir,” Derek easily responded, sounding smug as ever, and rolling over onto his back to lay on his back beside his companion so he could remove his pants, revealing the other man’s face to the camera.
That was Stiles’ dad. Stiles felt physically ill with how quickly his blossoming arousal died. He wanted to not believe it, but it was so clear. That was Derek and that was John. Those were their voices and that was his father’s bedroom. Stiles could feel his hands shaking, his breathing reaching an unhealthy tempo. But like a bad car crash, he couldn’t look away. No matter how badly he wanted to look away, no matter how disgusted and horrified he was, he couldn’t stop.
Derek fumbled to take his pants off. The sheriff unbuttoned his shirt, calmer but still clearly in a hurry. As soon as Derek was down to just his underwear- He was wearing a fucking pair Stiles had bought him. -he looked up, making direct eye contact with the recording camera.
Stiles gasped, it was like Derek could see him. He almost felt guilty, like he was intruding and had just been caught, but he quickly pushed those thoughts away. Obviously, he was not the one in the wrong here.
“Oh my god, is your laptop on? Are you recording us?” Derek asked, apparently having been unaware of the device. John blushed, halting his movements, his earlier confidence evaporating. “Uh,” he began to stammer out, “yes? I- I just thought I could maybe... just, you know, when I was lonely again... I could- I’m sorry, I don’t know what I was thinking, I shouldn’t have done that.” He started moving as if to get up, only stopping when Derek tugged him back on to the bed. “Don’t you dare. That is so hot. You need to send me that after this.” John perked up, his face lighting up, before he jumped onto Derek, opening his mouth with his tongue and seemingly trying to cover every inch of him he could with his hands.
Somehow, that made it so much worse. Knowing that they both knew. If maybe this had been blackmail material, someone had secretly filmed it, then Stiles might have been able to convince himself it was just a mistake, or even that there was something more nefarious at play. But this made it so obvious this was purposeful. They were fucking because they wanted to fuck, and they were filming because they wanted to remember.
John finished taking off Derek’s underwear while Derek attempted to pull off John’s belt. Before Derek could pull off his pants, John flipped him onto his hands and knees. He began palming his cock while he reached with the thumb on his other hand to Derek’s hole. “Oh my god,” John exclaimed, and Derek’s laughter could be heard in reaction. “Did you open yourself up this morning?” “Well, I had to clean myself out anyway. I didn’t want to have to wait.” “Then you won’t,” and with that, John slammed into Derek. Derek let out a scream, clearly not open quite enough, but it quickly morphed into a moan. All that could be heard was the sounds of panting breaths and slapping skin. The pounding lasted a few minutes, before John grunted out “I’m about to cum.” Derek reached around to stroke his cock. John stopped his movement with a loud groan, throwing his head back. At the same time, Derek let out a shout. “Daddy!”
Stiles didn’t even realize he had thrown the laptop until he heard the crash. He looked to the side, and through his haze of shock, saw the laptop laying on its side on the floor. He could faintly hear low voices coming from the speakers. He needed it to stop. He stomped on it, and then again, and again, until he was practically jumping on it.
He was vaguely aware that this isn’t what he should be doing. You shouldn’t handle relationship problems by destroying your partner’s property. That can be a classic sign of a toxic and sometimes abusive relationship.
But you also aren’t supposed to fuck your partner’s dad.
Stiles may have been biased but one of those felt way worse than the other. He had hoped that the destruction would help ease his rage a bit, and in a way it did, but now that he wasn’t blinded by anger, he was consumed with the images and sounds. His father and his husband, fucking. His husband calling his dad Daddy.
Stiles barely made it to the toilet before he started vomiting, the disgust overwhelming him and turning into nausea. He emptied his stomach out, and then rested his head on the cool toilet seat, like he was a hungover college kid again. He thought he had grown so much, but now he realized just how stupid and naive he had been. Two years married and completely ignorant.
With the self-hatred that was coursing through him at his own foolishness for ever thinking he could actually have something good in life, he was left with the icy pain of the stinging betrayal. The two men most important to him had knowingly broken his trust. He thought about the fact that neither had told them. They should’ve, but of course, how would that have gone? It’s pretty hard to forgive such an egregious crime.
So maybe what hurt wasn’t that they hadn’t told him, but that they hadn’t ever seemed guilty. There was no point in his relationship with Derek where it even occurred to him that Derek was having an affair. Aren’t there supposed to be signs, like them pulling away? Did he really not regret it at all?
Stiles was spiraling, and he knew it wouldn’t help anything. He just needed to think rationally, approach this from a logical point before doing anything drastic. He briefly wondered if maybe it had happened before he and Derek were together. He stupidly hadn’t checked the time stamp before destroying the laptop.
But even if it was from before, that means they both hid it from him. And that Derek still enjoyed it enough to keep it as (assumedly) jack off material. And really, Stiles knew how unlikely it was. Derek and the Sheriff barely knew each other before Derek started dating Stiles, and they certainly didn’t get along. From what Stiles had seen in the video, it didn’t seem like fucking someone you didn’t like. It had seemed intimate.
He tried to think of a timeline. Derek and Stiles met when Stiles was 16, and that was also when Derek met John, after he was arrested. It wasn’t until Stiles was 18 that Derek and Stiles became official, and even then it took at least a year until John started warming up to Derek. So maybe... maybe Derek and John did fuck in the couple of years before Derek and Stiles dated? It would be weird, since their main interaction was when John arrested Derek for homicide, but maybe it could explain why John had been so upset by Stiles and Derek’s relationship in the beginning? But even as he thought about it, Stiles just knew that wasn’t the case. The sheriff had genuinely believed Derek to be a murderer, and, even if his opinion of his dad wasn’t so great at the moment, he just didn’t believe his father would sleep with a suspect. He was always rigid in his morals as an officer of the law.
Stiles tried to think if there was any indication in the video of when it happened that he could remember. Suddenly it hit him. The laptop.
In the video, Derek had said that they were being filmed with John’s laptop. Stiles knew exactly when he received it. For years John had stuck to a desktop, much to Stiles’ chagrin, insisting he didn’t want to mess with any new technology. Stiles always insisted that he needed a laptop, that it would make his life so much easier. Of course, Stiles couldn’t afford to buy one for his father while he was in high school, and in college, even working part time, he had too many bills to cover. It was the first Christmas that Derek spent with the Stilinskis that the problem was remedied. Leading up to their visit, Stiles had been complaining about the fact he didn’t feel like he could get an adequate gift for his father with how little finds he had. He was in his second year of college, and money was tight. Derek had said he also didn’t know what to get John, and was worried about it because he wanted to leave a good impression. Stiles said not to worry about it, but after Derek’s insistence, had suggested they just give a joint gift. Derek had smirked like that had been his plan all along. “Great, you’re always talking about him needing a laptop, we’ll get him one together.” Stiles had argued with him, saying that was way too much money, but eventually relented because he felt his father deserved it. His father had also rejected the gift when he first got it, but they had convinced him it would help with work. That Christmas was when they started to really feel like a family.
Stiles smiled fondly at the memory, before quickly remembering what that meant. That meant they had most certainly slept together after Stiles was with Derek. There was no rationalizing or explaining this away. Derek had cheated on him, and his father had betrayed him.
That’s when the tears came. He fell down to his knees as sobs wracked through him, not having the strength to stay standing. He’d tried anger, he’d tried logic, now he was just left with this all encompassing pain and panic. Panic because things could not continue as they were. It was funny to think, it actually would have been less painful if Stiles had been unhappy. But he had been so happy, so content, and it’s like he now realizes that it was all just an illusion.
He couldn’t but wonder what else he had been wrong about. Did Derek even enjoy their sex life, or his time with Stiles in general? Was this a recurring thing? Something that happened right under his nose? When his father invited them over for dinner, was it really just so he could see Derek? Did either of them even really love him? He couldn’t see how you could do something like that to someone you love. Why was Stiles not enough? Did he not deserve love and happiness? Was this his fault?
His breaths came in short gasps, and tried to focus on his breathing when he felt like he was going to pass out. He counted down from ten a few times, until he felt slightly steadier. He looked down at his watch. He wasn’t entirely sure, but it looked like he had been on the floor for close to an hour. He had panic attacks when he was younger, but he hadn’t had one in quite awhile, and certainly not one so bad. Glancing at his watch again, he realized Derek should be home in about an hour. He felt physically ill at the thought of seeing him, and at that moment he decided he needed to get away. He wanted to just grab his keys and bolt, but he also doesn’t want to go back anytime soon.
He rushed to his bedroom, quickly grabbing a suitcase and stuffing it with all the clothes he can fit. He’s worried that if he tried to actually spend time packing all of his stuff, he wouldn’t get away soon enough to avoid Derek, so he just takes what he can fit in his bag. He also grabs his toiletries and medication, along with anything he might need for work. In the end, he had a full suitcase and an overflowing backpack. He’s sure there’s more he needs, but it’s more important that he gets away. He can always go to the store later.
Stiles didn’t think Derek deserved any sort of explanation, but decided to leave a note anyway. He was worried that if his husband (ex?) came to the apartment in disarray and unable to reach Stiles (because Stiles would certainly not be answering any calls or texts from him) he might do something drastic like call the cops. Stiles grabbed the notepad they kept on the fridge, the one they have to leave reminders and love notes. Stiles spotted one said note on the fridge. “Remember today is trash day and also that I love you. Your Wolf. xoxo” Stiles tore the note off the fridge and crumpled (and resolutely ignored the fact that he couldn’t bring himself to throw it away, instead pocketing it), leaving his own note in its place.
“I’m leaving. Do not contact me again.”
Stiles took a minute to just breathe once he’s in his jeep, his luggage safely stored in the back. He needed to make a game plan before he left. He would just be hurting himself if he drove to his father’s house without an idea of what to do after. It wasn’t like Stiles was familiar with the hotels Beacon Hills had to offer, as he had always had his father’s to stay at. But this time, Stiles intended to spend as little time as possible at his father’s.
The drive from Sacramento to Beacon Hills was only about an hour, but Stiles was pretty sure that would give him enough time to get to his father’s home, pack all of his stuff, and get away without Derek catching up. Assuming Derek even went after him. Perhaps Derek would actually see this as a blessing. Still, Stiles knew it was likely that Derek would come after him. Even if Derek did want to end the relationship, there years of supernatural drama had made him paranoid, and he probably would want to make sure Stiles wasn’t actually kidnapped or possessed (Stiles may or may not have made his not as vague as possible just to scare Derek. He figured he had earned the right). The knowledge that Derek would likely come after him made Stiles consider finding a hotel to stay at, either in Beacon Hills or outside the town, just so it would be harder to find him. However, Stiles knew how bad of an idea it would be for him to be alone. He didn’t trust himself not to do something drastic.
With that in mind, he decided to call Scott, who still lived in Beacon Hills with Kira and their little girl. He felt bad about putting Scott in this position when he had his own family to worry about, but after all of the shit he had been through for Scott, he felt like he deserved this at least. Stiles briefly wondered if Scott knew that Derek had slept with his Dad. He quickly pushed the thought away, refusing to go down that path.
With a shuddering breath, Stiles called Scott. He answered after a couple rings. “Hello?”
“Hey, Scott? Uh… I’m sorry to bother you, but I was wondering if I could stay at yours tonight?”
“I mean, I’ll have to check with Kira but it should be fine. Will Derek be with you?”
Stiles couldn’t help but let out a sob at that. “No, uh, just me.”
“Stiles? Are you okay? What’s going on?”
“I- I can’t. I’m sorry, I can’t do this right now. I will explain later, please, I just-” his voice broke, but he powered through, “I need somewhere to go. Please.”
“Of course, yeah. I’ll let Kira know. You can come by whenever. I’m always here for you.”
Stiles let out a sigh of relief. “Thank you. I- I’ll see you tonight. I’ve got to go. I’m sorry. Thank you.” Stiles hung up, not sure he could handle hearing anything else. He didn’t have time to have another breakdown. The sooner he got to his Dad’s the sooner he could cut off the two men who betrayed him from his life. Not needing directions and not wanting to be tempted if Derek decided to call, Stiles shut his phone off.
He took a steadying breath, turned on music loud enough to drown out his thoughts, and drove to Beacon Hills.
As soon as Stiles pulled up to his old house, he felt like he couldn’t breathe. His heart started pounding and his lungs seized up. He knew it was another oncoming panic attack, but he refused to go through that again. He focused on his breathing, and let his anger consume him. Let his anger cover up the pain and sadness and betrayal he was drowning in.
He marched up to his house, entering without knocking because he still had his home key on his key ring. Because once upon a time, this was his home. Now it was just a building, inhabited by a man who raised him and who he thought loved him, and where said man fucked his husband.
When Stiles got inside, he immediately saw his father. He was laid back, relaxing in his recliner, a beer in his hand while some game played on tv. It was such a normal position, something he had seen so many times growing up, that it felt like a sucker-punch right in the gut. He watched the flickers of emotion coming over his father’s face as soon he saw Stiles. There was first shock at the intrusion, then joy when he realized who it was, then confusion as to why he was here, ending with concern when he seemingly noticed the stoic look on stiles’ face, or maybe he was even able to make out the faded tear tracks from his recent panic attack. Either way, it hurt. Because until today, he never would have questioned that concern. Until today, he thought his father really did care.
“Stiles!” the sheriff exclaimed, turning off the tv as he stood to approach his son. “I had no idea you were coming. What’s going on? Is something wrong?”
Stiles didn’t bother answering. He rushed to the stairs and went up two at a time. By the time John was able to make it to Stiles’ room, Stiles was already rummaging through his closet. “What’s going on? Do you need help finding something?” Stiles remained silent, only letting out a grunt when he pulled a duffel bag free from a pile in the back of his closet. He immediately started looking for the items most valuable to him. He wanted to pack lightly, mostly so he could get out as quickly as possible. He only needed to get the necessities so that he could leave and then never come back.
He looked through all of the photos on his wall. The only ones he really cared about were the ones with his mom. The rest were either ones he already had copies of, or were filled with people who had betrayed him.
He could hear his father speaking the whole time, but didn’t bother trying to comprehend any of the words. He just let them flow in one ear and out the other. After the photographs he went through some old books. Most were ones he didn’t bother packing, but he grabbed a couple from Deaton that he knew would be difficult to get his hands on elsewhere.
Stiles was snapped out of his silent reverie when he felt a hand clap down on his shoulder. “Stiles, you’re scaring me. I need you to tell me what’s going on. Did something happen? Is Derek alright?”
That... that was what really broke Stiles. He harshly jerked his shoulder away. “That would be what you would care about. Why don’t you ask him yourself, since the two of you are so close?”
His father made a confused noise from the back of his throat, clearly unsure what Stiles was referring to. “What’s that supposed to mean? I care about both of you. I see you both as my sons, you know that. But you’ll always be my top priority. I just want to know what’s going on.” Stiles scoffed at that, almost bursting into laughter when he called Derek his son. Laughter seemed better than the bile at the back of his throat. How could something that once made his heart soar feel so perverted now?
“Oh, shut the fuck up. I’m not your top priority. In fact, I don’t think I’ve ever been your top priority. So just stop the bullshit, and leave me the fuck alone.” Stiles had never spoken to his father like that, and never really wanted to, but now it felt freeing. In fact, it was the first thing that actually made him feel good since he had watched the video that morning. Stiles could practically see his dad’s shocked face, and he didn’t have to imagine it anymore when his dad grabbed him by the shoulder and spun him around.
“I have no idea what has gotten into you, but I will not have my son speak to me like that, especially not in my home. You are all of the family I have left and you have absolutely no right to doubt the fact that you are what’s most important to me,” John was huffing angrily by the end of his spiel.
Stiles rolled his eyes, keeping an air of nonchalance to hide the hurricane of emotions inside of him. “Actually, I think I have plenty of right. I always put you first, not the other way around. I was the one who always made you eat healthy. I was the one who dealt with supernatural bullshit while I was in high school to keep you and this godforsaken town safe. I did everything for you. But me? I was always second at best for you. Let’s see, when I was little, mom was your top priority, especially when she got sick. Which I never faulted you for, but it still sucked as a kid. And when she died, alcohol was your top priority, so you wouldn’t have to remember. And it sucked having a negligent dad, but I forgave you, because I felt that pain too- even though that should have meant you were there for me. And then it was your job, always working and caring more about your position than me and my safety. And still I forgave you, still I understood because I thought it was noble and a good cause or whatever the fuck because I still thought you were a good person and that maybe it was my fault for not being a good enough son. But this time, this time I won’t forgive you. Because there’s nothing understandable or noble or at all justifiable about what you did, and nothing I have ever done that was bad enough to deserve it.”
“I don’t know what the fuck you’re talking about!” The sheriff finally exploded, apparently choosing to ignore the rest of the spiel.
“I’m talking about you putting your dick before your own son. I’m talking about you fucking my husband!” Stiles returned with just as much vitriol and anger, no longer able to contain his feelings. He got a bit of satisfaction, watching the blood drain out of his father’s face. John began to stammer out some semblance of words, probably trying to decide between apology and denial, and Stiles felt sick being reminded of how he had stammered just like that in the video when he had been caught recording. Is that how it was going to be now? Would everything his father did just be a reminder of the video? It didn’t matter now. Stiles had no intention of seeing his father again for a very long time. Maybe he would forgive him one day, but it wouldn’t be soon.
“Save it,” Stiles said, before his dad could start making excuses, “I’m sure you want to deny it, but I know what you did. And I can’t be around you anymore. I don’t know if I’ll ever be able to.”
If possible, John got even paler. “No! You don’t mean that. Please, son, I’m sorry.” Stiles wasn’t really listening to his dad’s rambling apologies. He heard the usual excuses- “you must have misunderstood” and “it was a mistake”- all desperate attempts to make things right, some contradicting the others, all clearly meaningless. Stiles could barely hear it over his own rushing blood and pounding heart (he briefly wondered if the panic attack ever actually ended. Will this feeling ever go away?). Stiles did a quick cursory glance of his room to make sure there was nothing important he was leaving behind, before exiting the room with his packed bag over his shoulder. His dad trailed behind him as he marched down the stairs. When Stiles finally made it to the front door, his father clasped onto his wrist, and the noises in his head all quieted, finally focusing in on what his father was saying.
“Please son, you’re the only family I have left.”
“That’s not my fault,” Stiles replied, sounding far calmer than he felt.
“Please, we are all we have left. You can’t just leave like this. This isn’t what your mother would have wanted. You have to know that.”
Stiles turned sharply to his father, his voice like ice, “You’re right,” John looked surprised for a moment at his son agreeing with him, “She wouldn’t have wanted this. She would have been disgusted with you. She would have wanted you happy, but never at my expense. If she could see what you’d done, she would hate you.”
John let go of Stiles as if he was burned, stumbling back. The devastation was clear on his face, but Stiles couldn’t find it in himself to care. With nothing holding him back, he exited the house towards his Jeep.
When he drove away, he refused to look back.