Posted originally on the Archive_of_Our_Own at https://archiveofourown.org/
works/574309.
  Rating:
      Explicit
  Archive Warning:
      Underage
  Category:
      M/M
  Fandom:
      Teen_Wolf_(TV)
  Relationship:
      Sheriff_Stilinski/Stiles_Stilinski
  Character:
      Sheriff_Stilinski, Stiles_Stilinski
  Additional Tags:
      I_am_going_to_the_special_hell, Incest
  Stats:
      Published: 2012-11-26 Words: 1607
****** I Miss Your Mom ******
by Krit
Summary
     This is a fic that explores what happens if you take the amazing
     Stilinski family relationship and twist it slightly to the left while
     turning their codependency up to 11.
The first time it happened, it was almost nothing. Stiles was thirteen. It had
been six months since they buried his mother. Six months since his father had
been sober. John looked at him with watery eyes. He placed his hand under
Stiles’ chin and lifted his face up.
“I miss your mom.” He whispered. “You look like her, you know that?” His thumb
reached up and brushed over his son’s lips. When Stiles opened his mouth to
respond, his father pulled his hand away. “Go to bed kiddo. You have school in
the morning.” He pressed a kiss to Stiles’ forehead and stumbled back down the
stairs, presumably to sleep on the sofa again. He hadn’t slept in his bed in
six months.
~*~
The second time was six months after that. Stiles knew because it was the one
year anniversary of her death. Stiles walked down the hallway and saw his
father sitting on his bed for the first time in a year. In one hand was a glass
of whiskey and in the other was a picture. Stiles could only see the frame from
the doorway, but he knew who was in the photo. He stepped into the room slowly,
as if afraid any sudden movements would startle his father. John looked up and
set the drink and photo on the nightstand.
“Come here kiddo.” Stiles gave him a sad smile and curled up next to him. All
they had left was each other. John pulled him close and kissed the top of his
head. “I miss your mom.” He murmured.
“Me too.”
They sat together like that for a while, Stiles wasn’t sure how long. John’s
hand ran through Stiles’ hair, down to squeeze his shoulder, up and down his
arm. Stiles fell asleep and when he woke up, Johns hand was under his shirt,
running up his spine and over his ribs and back down again.
“Dad?” the hand stilled and rested on his hip.
“Go back to sleep.” John muttered. Stiles pressed his face against his father’s
chest and did just that.
~*~
Stiles lost track of the numbers after that. It became common in their
household. John would come home from work and start drinking. Stiles would make
and serve dinner. They would curl up on the couch and John would talk about
her. His hands straying as he did so. Stiles never said anything about it. He
just pressed his face against his father’s chest and held him tight. They
needed each other.
~*~
When Stiles turned fifteen, he grabbed the glass from his father’s hand and
took a sip for himself.
“Not bad.” He choked out, his face twisting in a sour grimace. John chuckled
and took the glass back.
“Alright, I’m cutting you off.”
Stiles laughed, his face lighting back up, reminding John so much of her. His
own smile fell from his face.
“What’s wrong?”
John shook his head and put the glass down.
“I miss your mom.” John pulled him closer until Stiles was straddling his lap.
Stiles hesitated for a moment before wrapping his arms around him and burying
his face in his dad’s neck.
“I miss her too.” He whispered. They stayed like that for a moment, John
rubbing Stiles’ back softly. Then he pushed gently at Stiles’ shoulders until
he was facing him again. He gave him a sad smile and stroked his thumb along
Stiles’ cheek.
“Happy birthday son.”
Stiles smiled and pressed his forehead against John’s. 
“Thanks.”
John’s hand slid from Stiles’ face to the back of his head and pulled him
forward, their lips pressing against each other gently, before he let him go.
John pulled back with a confused and guilt ridden look on his face.
“I… I’m sorry son. I don’t know why…”
Stiles shook his head and squeezed his dad’s shoulder.
“Shhh. It’s ok. I get it.” Stiles reached over and downed the rest of the
whiskey before putting the empty glass back on the end table. “It’s ok.” He
whispered, leaning forward and reconnecting their lips. His father needed him.
They needed each other. Maybe this was what they needed.
~*~
Christmas was always tough. As much as Stiles tried to fill the void his mother
left behind, it still wasn’t enough. He made Christmas dinner the way she used
to. It didn’t taste the same, but his father still smiled and told him it was
wonderful. Their drinks were more rum than egg nog and by the time they
stretched out on John’s bed to watch Christmas movies, Stiles’ face was warm
and his vision was fuzzy. John’s arm was wrapped around Stiles’ waist, fingers
rubbing his belly. Everything was fine and peaceful until a commercial came on
the tv. A happy family of a dad, a mom, and their son sharing Christmas. Stiles
felt his father tense up beside him and quickly turned the tv off.
“I miss your mom.” He whispered, sounding close to tears. The pain in his
father’s voice broke Stiles’ heart. He pressed close to him and stroked the
side of his face.
“It’s ok.” He kissed him softly, knowing it would make him feel better, trying
not to admit that it made himself feel better to. John held him close and
deepened the kiss, tangling their legs together. He tasted like rum, and
peppermint, and home. When Stiles felt John get hard against his hip he wasn’t
afraid. He felt safe. He didn’t stop to think about what they were doing. What
it meant. What anyone else would think or say. They needed this. They needed to
take care of each other. Stiles arched against him, his own erection growing.
“Stiles…” His father whispered harshly against his lips.
“It’s ok.” Stiles smiled softly, his eyes shining, and he knew if he widened
them just a bit and quirked the corner of his mouth just right, he looked just
like her. “It’s ok.” He kissed him again. This time there was no hesitation on
either side. Hands removed clothes and slid over skin. Their bodies moved and
pressed together until Stiles was on his back and John was above him, kissing
every inch of his face and neck. The little voice in the back of Stiles’ head
that whispered Something’s not quite right here was drowned out and replaced by
one that shouted Safe. Home. Alive.
John pulled back for a moment to retrieve a half empty bottle of lube from the
back of his nightstand. It was more than a few years old, from the more
adventurous days of his marriage. But he was fairly sure lubricant didn’t
expire. Stiles’ eyes fluttered slightly when John rubbed a slicked finger
against his entrance. He took a deep breath and nodded, placing a hand on the
side of his father’s neck and pulling him in for another kiss as the finger
slid inside.
John spent more time than might have been necessary on preparing him, pausing
every so often to make sure he was ok. Finally Stiles let out a noise that was
half laugh and half moan.
“Yes! Alright? I’m ready.” He hitched a leg up and around John’s waist, pulling
him closer.
“Impatient brat.” John chuckled fondly, kissing Stiles on the nose. There was
pain when John finally pushed in, but Stiles breathed through it, his hands
clutching his father’s shoulders. “You’re alright kiddo. That’s my boy.” Stiles
whimpered and moaned as John rolled his hips slowly. The stretch and the burn
filling every void and crack that had formed since his mother got sick. They
clung to each other, Stiles’ hips jerking up to meet John’s. It was slow and
gentle, but frantic at the same time. Choked moans and whispers of; “I love
you.”, “Don’t leave me.”, and “I’m not going anywhere.” echoed through the
room. They stayed entwined together long after they were done, and fell asleep
to each other’s heart beats and the howling wind outside.
~*~
After that night, John’s drinking decreased considerably. They stop talking
about her. Their physical relationship began slipping back into something
closer to father and son. They still took care of each other. They were still
close. But things changed. A body was found in the woods. Scott became a
werewolf. Stiles spent less and less time at home.
~*~
Maybe getting his father drunk to trick him into talking about the case isn’t
the classiest move in the world. But Stiles isn’t the classiest guy in the
world. Then he gets the information he needs and he’s out of his chair with his
phone in his hand.
“You know I miss talking to you. It’s like we never have time.”
“Dad you know, I have to make a phone call. I’m sorry. I’ll be right back.” He
hates walking out on his dad. But there’s so much going on.
“I do. I miss it.” Stiles began to walk away, barely listening. “And I miss
your mom.” That stops him dead. He hadn’t heard those words in quite some time.
He turned back to his father, his voice vulnerable and disbelieving.
“What’d you say?” As John moved to refill his glass, Stiles reached out and
stopped him, placing his hand firmly over his father’s and turning the bottle
upright. John smiled softly and nodded.
“Thanks.” He whispered. Stiles stood there for a moment before walking around
the table and pressing a kiss to the top of his father’s head.
“I love you dad. I just have something I need to help Scott with. Get some
sleep.”
It broke his heart to walk away. But his father wasn’t the only one who needed
him anymore.
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