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Derek is absolutely exhausted. It had been a long day of work, shuffling between important meetings and barely having time to eat, let alone rest. It didn't help that the school had called midday to inform him that Isaac was sitting in the nurse's office with a low grade fever after having thrown up during recess. Derek was minutes away from a major presentation with some investors, so he had to call Stiles, begging him to take care of Isaac. Stiles, of course, agreed without hesitation.
Now, Derek’s finally home. He hasn't seen the front door in over 10 hours, and he isn't exactly looking forward to what is sure to be an even longer night making the kids' dinner, helping with homework, and taking care of his sick child. With his luck, they'll all wake up with the bug tomorrow.
As he fits his key in the door, Derek notices that there's a distinct lack of the usual chaotic noise that fills his household. No obnoxiously loud cartoons, no shrieks of Erica chasing Boyd around the kitchen, not even Stiles' raised voice as he attempted to corral the little monsters.
When he finally steps inside, he freezes, shocked, at the door.
Erica and Boyd are sitting at the kitchen table, quietly working on homework it seems. Stiles has his back to them as he stands at the stove. He's stirring a big pot of...something. In the background, Louis Armstrong is crooning softly from the television speakers. Isaac's nowhere in sight.
Derek walks into the kitchen. The familiar smell of onions and chicken broth catches his nose. The warmth of the room helps ease his shoulders from the tight position they'd been cramped in all day. He sets his briefcase in one of the open chairs and comes up behind Erica and Boyd. He places a hand on both of their backs, Erica's head whipping up to greet him at the touch.
"Daddy!" Erica's beaming as he smooths his hand over her golden curls.
"Hi, sweetheart. How was your day?" He leans down to kiss her forehead before she can respond.
"It was good," she replies, "I had Art today and we talked a lot about colors. That's what I'm working on now!" She holds up a messy color wheel filled in with crayon.
"That looks beautiful Erica. You'll have to tell me more during dinner." He turns to face Boyd, who's focused on the packet of schoolwork in front of him. "And what're you doing, bud?"
Boyd sighs and shrugs his shoulders before looking up at Derek. "Math. We're learning division. I don't like it." The boy has a scowl on his face.
Stiles turns away from the stove. "I promised I'd help him once I'm done here. There's never been a math problem a Stilinski couldn't solve." He grins while continuing to stir the what Derek assumes is soup.
"That's really not necessary, Stiles." Derek already feels guilty enough having him pick up Isaac and then coming home to find him making dinner. He couldn't ask him to do more. "I'm sure I can help him after we eat. You've already done so much. I really can't thank you enough, as is. And you probably have somewhere to be anyway."
Stiles scoffs. "C'mon Derek. You know the closest I get to plans these days is pizza night with Scott, and we haven't even done that since he and Allison got back together two weeks ago. I'd much rather spend a night with the four of you than sitting alone in my apartment with Mythbusters reruns."
Erica's head pops up. "Hey!"
Derek continues on, ignoring her, "Speaking of my little monsters, where can I find the last one?"
Stiles is sticking out his tongue at Erica. "Isaac's on the couch in the living room. I gave him some medicine a couple minutes ago, and he's been resting all day."
Derek nods his thanks and heads for the living room. Behind him he hears Stiles continuing to antagonize Erica. She's criticizing his "funny music" in retaliation. They'll be fine.
He finds Isaac exactly where Stiles said he would be. The little boy is curled into a cocoon of blankets. His closed eyelashes brush against his flushed cheeks. Derek slides his hand onto Isaac's overheated forehead; his temperature has probably gotten higher since he was sent home. Kids are always warmer at night.
At Derek's touch, Isaac's eyes start to flicker open. "Daddy?" His voice is soft and sleepy, with the slightest scratch likely left from earlier vomiting. His eyes are at half mast and glassy with fever. Derek can tell he's not going to stay awake for long.
"Hey, buddy," he whispers, "How're you feeling? Any better?"
Isaac's eyes flutter and he shakes his head. Tears are starting to appear, and Derek was totally expecting this to happen. "My tummy hurts, and my head. I'm really tired." Isaac wraps his arms up around Derek's neck. Derek can feel the wetness pressing against his collar bone as he rubs Isaac's back. His curls are damp where they meet his neck. Derek makes a mental note to grab the thermometer from his bathroom later.
"I'm sorry, baby. It's okay. I'm here."
After a few minutes, Isaac seems to have calmed. Derek leans back. "Isaac," he asks, "do you think you could try to eat some of Stiles' soup for me?"
Isaac pouts, but Derek won't be deterred. "You need to try to eat something, buddy. Otherwise you'll just get sicker."
Isaac still doesn't look happy, but he nods, willing to try. Derek smiles at the little victory as he scoops the boy into his arms.
He can see bowls sitting out on the counter in the kitchen. Stiles is leaning over Boyd's shoulder, guiding him in his homework. Erica's still coloring ferociously. The TV radio has switched to Ella Fitzgerald by now, and Derek may need to consider leaving this channel on all the time if it'll keep his kids this calm.
As he steps back into the kitchen he thinks that this night is already a lot better than he could have hoped for.