kyrene_writes: (TW: pedobait stiles)
[personal profile] kyrene_writes
Title: The Cool Dad: Chapter Five
Author: [personal profile] kyrenekyorl
Pairings/Characters: Rafael McCall/Stiles, Scott McCall
Rating: R
Word Count: 4,146 (this part)
Disclaimer: Not mine.
Warnings: extreme underage, bad touches from an authority figure
Summary: Rafael McCall considers Stiles Stilinski to be like a second son to him. That doesn't stop things from getting a little bad-touchy. And then increasingly more bad-touchy. Stiles doesn't really seem to mind, though....
Author's Note: Posted on AO3 under the name kyorl


"The Cool Dad"
Chapter Five"

by kyorl


Stiles knew that it was all kinds of dumb to be excited about going out on a "date" with Scott's Dad when it wasn't actually a real date. They were just going to be meeting at a coffee shop near where Rafael worked, right?

But it was sort of like a date, even if Stiles knew that Rafael wasn't thinking of it that way. And while he knew that he shouldn't be calling it a date in his head -- not least of all because things that started out solely in his head had a tenancy to come spilling out of his mouth -- and while he knew that he should still be calling Scott's Dad "Mr. McCall" instead of calling him by his first name....

Well, Stiles knew there were a lot of things he shouldn't do that he did, but that had never stopped him before.

Give him a little break here; Scott and Allison Argent were getting up to all kinds of stuff, they'd been on actual dates as well as groping each other in dark corners and wherever they could find some privacy. Hell, they'd even gone on a double date with Lydia Martin and Jackson Whittemore!

Stiles didn't want that. Not unless it was him with Lydia and Jackson was at the bottom of a deep pond... or maybe just living in England or something As homicidal as Jackson made Stiles feel, and as much as Jackson bullied him, Stiles probably shouldn't wish him dead. For the sake of karma, and so that Stiles didn't grow up to be a sociopathic murderer. That would destroy his Dad, especially since he was the Sheriff and it would be his job to catch Stiles. Although, Stiles was smart, so he probably wouldn't get caught. But then again, this was his Dad, and his Dad was really good at his job....

Wait, what was Stiles thinking about?

Oh, yeah, the not-date he was excited about.

Stiles knew there was no way in hell that Rafael was thinking of this as a date. He was a grown man and Stiles was only fourteen. Rafael was older than Mrs. McCall and almost as old as Stiles' own father. And Stiles was the same age as Scott, who was Rafael's son.

But from the way he looked at Stiles sometimes, Stiles didn't feel as though Rafael was just thinking of him as his son's annoying best friend, either.

Stiles blushed, trying not to stiffen up in his jeans. He had a key to Rafael's apartment and blanket permission to wait there while Rafael was at work and exercising after work. Sure, Rafael said it was to keep Stiles out of trouble... but he'd also said that he actually liked to spend time with Stiles. And he hadn't sounded as though he was lying.

No one had ever said that to Stiles before. Not without heavy sarcasm coloring the words, anyway.

Stiles still felt kind of weird when he thought about it. But weird in a good way. It made him feel all warm in the base of his belly.

He really had better try not to get an erection, though. He was standing outside the coffee place, waiting for Rafael, and that was pretty public. He wasn't even wearing a hoodie, so he couldn't jam his hands in the front pouch and try to hide his threatening hard-on that way. Nope, since he felt like this was a date, even if it wasn't, Stiles had dressed nicely, in a dark button-up shirt over a clean white teeshirt, and his newest, nicest pair of jeans.

Stiles fidgeted, wondering if he should just go on inside.... But Rafael had promised to pay for his drink, and it would be even more awkward hanging around at the counter without ordering than it was hanging around outside the door.

Rafael was going to buy him a pastry, too. He had some making up to do, since he'd been so busy at work he'd not only neglected to come home until after Stiles had given up and left his apartment for the past two days, but he'd also forgotten to text Stiles and let him know, both days.

Stiles was still a little boggled that he had Rafael's cell phone number. The only other numbers he had on his phone were his Dad's work and cell phones, Melissa's home and cell phones, Scott's and Allison's cells, and Lydia's number... which last Stiles had gotten super secretly and would never ever dare to use. Not least of all because Lydia had no idea that he had it.

But Rafael had willingly given Stiles his number, and now that Scott was spending all his time with Allison, he actually contacted Stiles more than his own son did. Which didn't seem right, not when Scott was Stiles' best friend....

Rafael was something else, and Stiles didn't know how to label it, but he sure as hell knew he wasn't imagining it.

Like this coffee date. There was no reason Rafael needed to make anything up to Stiles. Not really. And he definitely didn't need to meet him for drinks. But he was still busy at work even though it was a Saturday, and this was all the time he could take away.

Stiles fidgeted some more and checked the time. Rafael was going to be officially late meeting him in just one more minute... not that Stiles was planning on holding that against him. Not when he'd so often been late himself. The fact that Stiles had arrived here at the coffee place almost fifteen minutes early....

Well, that spoke of an eagerness that made him blush to recognize it, and there was no way he was letting Rafael know!

Stiles wasn't sure why Rafael didn't treat him like an annoying little kid, the way most other adults did. Even Melissa, who loved him, brushed him off more often than she took him seriously. Even his own Dad, though Stiles thought that after fourteen years of dealing with Stiles, his father could probably be forgiven if he sometimes ignored him and didn't always take him seriously.

But Rafael treated him like a person, like he mattered, and he didn't talk down to Stiles. Well, okay, he occasionally did, but he always apologized when Stiles called him on it. And he'd said that he liked spending time with Stiles.

That was such a novel concept that Stiles felt Rafael had earned his undying loyalty for that statement alone. And that was why Stiles had made an extra effort with his hair before setting out for the coffee place today.

Even though this totally wasn't a date. At least not outside his own head.

Exactly two and half minutes after the time he'd designated to meet Stiles, Rafael McCall hove into view. He was so tall, Stiles thought with a certain possessive fondness, that it was always easy to see him coming, even though Stiles himself was still fairly short.

It was exciting for Stiles in ways that he was only just beginning to figure out, that he had the undivided attention of such a tall, strong, older man. Scott might be getting off with Allison in varied ways that he only hinted about to Stiles -- Stiles was torn between being annoyed that Scott wasn't spilling everything and being proud of Scott for being a gentleman -- but Stiles had... he had....

Well, he had something with Rafael.

He knew he wasn't imagining things. From the very first time Rafael had shown an interest in him. Sexually, that was. It had been at the beach; at least that had been the first time Stiles had noticed it. When Rafael had spent extra time rubbing sunscreen on his nipples and then had dipped his fingers under the waistband of Stiles' swim trunks, in front and back....

Touching Stiles with his big hands, smoothing on the sunscreen with slow, lingering strokes, tracing circles around his nipples....

Now Stiles was flushed, even though he was already grinning in greeting as Rafael joined him. And Rafael was smiling, and he looked genuinely happy to see Stiles, and that was so weird but so awesome at the same time.

"Hey, Stiles," he said, squeezing the nape of Stiles' neck in greeting. It felt different when Rafael did it, different from when Stiles' Dad did it. And Stiles was still feeling that warm flush, in his chest and in his belly.

"Hey," he replied, as casually as he could.

"You look good," Rafael said, and he was still smiling and he didn't seem to be teasing Stiles or humoring him.

Stiles flushed more deeply, suddenly embarrassed even though Rafael had just complimented him. After all, it was silly to be dressed up on a Saturday while meeting someone for coffee at something that was most definitely not a date.

"I just didn't want to look all sloppy when you were wearing your work clothes," Stiles said, waving his hands around. Rafael's shirt was a little wrinkled and his tie was tugged down, but he was still looking sharp and sexy. Stiles felt a little silly in his button-up, but he was glad he wasn't in his hoodie.

"Well, I appreciate the thought, and it was worth the effort," Rafael told him, and Stiles smiled shyly, then turned and opened the door because he didn't know what else to say.

They went inside and made their choices while waiting in line. The place was kind of busy, since it was around noon on a Saturday, but most of the people were taking their fancy coffees to go, so there were some tables free.

Once they got to the counter Rafael ordered them some pastries and got himself a large drip coffee. Stiles wanted to get a coffee too, not some silly kid drink, but he also wanted to avoid destroying his taste buds. So he got a decaf mocha with extra cream and some hazelnut added. It wasn't cheap, but Rafael was paying and he had said that he owed Stiles.

Stiles felt like a grown-up, ordering a tasty coffee beverage, and he felt even more like a grown-up when he and Rafael sat at a small table together with their drinks and snacks. Stiles had a chocolate croissant and Rafael had a tomato and cheese pastry.

"That's not lunch, is it?" Stiles asked, frowning as Rafael bit into his pastry with a hungry sound. He knew that no one liked a nag, but Rafael looked tired and worn down and Stiles wanted to make sure he was taking care of himself. He lived alone, after all, so there was no one to do it for him.

Rafael shook his head. "I'll have lunch once I get back to my desk," he said, after he'd chewed and swallowed. "But this will tide me over until then."

Stiles sighed, then sipped his own coffee and tore a piece off of his croissant. He made sure his feet were firmly planted on the floor and that his back was straight. He was sitting in a coffee shop with a tall, strong, attractive man, and there was a bitter taste of coffee on his tongue, despite all the milk and sugar in his drink. He might be only fourteen, but he was feeling almost like an adult right now, and he really liked this. He knew Rafael couldn't spare him more than a half hour, but he intended to enjoy what time he had with the man.

"What about dinner?" he pursued, because it sounded like Rafael would be eating a late lunch at his desk and Stiles hoped he wasn't planning on staying at work super late and not eating dinner. Especially on a Saturday.

"I'm gonna pick up some take-out on the way home," Rafael said, finishing off his pastry in three big bites.

Stiles drank some more of his coffee, staring at Rafael. There were a lot of places that were still open late, and that statement did nothing to set his mind at ease.

Rafael smiled, his eyes crinkling at the corners in a way that was completely different from Stiles' Dad, and also sexy. "Don't worry," he reassured Stiles, reaching under the small table and patting Stiles' knee. "Tonight is the last big push so things should be back to normal tomorrow. And if they're not and I have to work late again Monday I'll be sure to text you and let you know."

Stiles nodded. He wasn't concerned for his own sake, but rather for Rafael's. Granted, he was a grown man who could take care of himself and, in fact, was supposed to be the one watching out for Scott and sometimes Stiles.... but Stiles knew that people like Rafael, his Dad, and Mrs. McCall often worked too hard and didn't take care of themselves, even though they should have.

That was why Stiles made such an effort to make sure his Dad ate healthy. It wasn't much, but it was all he could do. His Dad worked a potentially dangerous job, but Stiles couldn't ask him to quit. He could, however, make sure that his Dad's heart was strong and his health was at its best.

Rafael wasn't Stiles' responsibility, but when Stiles looked at the shadows under his dark brown eyes -- so like Scott's and yet so unlike them -- he couldn't help but worry.

"Okay," was all he said, though, because he might fret but Rafael wasn't his father to boss around. Stiles was looking forward to hopefully seeing Rafael at his apartment on Monday, after school, though. He'd missed him, more than expected.

"You're a good kid," Rafael said, smiling fondly at Stiles, and that was nice but Stiles still bristled a little. It sounded too dismissive, when Stiles was sitting here, sipping his coffee and nibbling on a chocolate croissant, ready to carry on a perfectly adult conversation.

"I hope you're taking care of yourself," Stiles said, because he never knew when to leave well enough alone.

Rafael smiled and reached under the table to squeeze Stiles' thigh, real quick so that no one would notice, and Stiles was so sure that he wasn't just imagining things.

It just seemed so impossible that anyone could want him. Or, well, Stiles knew he wasn't ugly or anything. But he was no Jackson Whittemore, with muscles and money and a stupidly symmetrical face with insane cheekbones. No one at school looked twice at Stiles, girls or boys. And it was weird to think that Rafael, a man who was literally old enough to be Stiles' father, and who was the father of his best friend, might... want him?

Stiles just kept coming back to that day on the beach, and thinking that there was no way he was reading too much into it. Rafael had spent, like, ten times as long putting on his sunscreen as necessary, and had essentially felt him up, teasing Stiles' nipples and tugging at Stiles' scant pubes with his fingertips.

And Stiles was pretty sure that he'd caused Rafael to get hard a few times since then? Not really on purpose, but definitely not accidentally.... That night when he and Scott had spent the night in Rafael's apartment, when he'd been watching a movie on the sofa with Rafael in the middle of the night, Stiles hadn't really meant to put his hand on the man's thigh. He hadn't stopped himself, though. And once he'd realized his palm was practically brushing Rafael's dick... well, he still hadn't moved his hand.

It had been bold, as had been crawling in bed with Rafael, jerking off in his bed while he and Scott made breakfast, and then kissing Rafael on the mouth after he'd fixed Stiles' Mom's jewelry box. Stiles hadn't known he could be so brave.

But Rafael had yet to do anything in return. Well, since those sensual, breath-sapping minutes on the beach, of course, when he'd had his hands all over Stiles' mostly bared body.

Stiles wanted to feel that again, without the chemical tang of sunscreen and without Scott running around, interrupting things, but he wasn't sure how to go about making it happen. He was so afraid that if he did something crazy like straddle Rafael's lap and try to kiss him, Rafael would kick him out of the apartment and tell him to never come back. Or, worse, tell his Dad!

So, even though Rafael watched him with hot, heavy-lidded eyes, even though Stiles was relatively certain he wasn't misreading things, he was scared to death of making a move more bold than the ones he'd already made.

Stiles was just a junior high student who'd never been on a date, after all. Never been kissed -- aside from the quick kiss he'd given Rafael, which didn't really count because he'd taken the man by surprise and then run away -- and he definitely had no experience whatsoever to draw from.

Stiles knew he was pink, his cheeks hot and blotchy, but he couldn't help it. Thinking about sex was getting him all horny, and thinking about making a move on Rafael was making him embarrassed, and he knew this wasn't a real date, but it felt like one, and he wanted it to be one, so badly, and--

"You okay, Stiles?" Rafael asked, and Stiles blushed harder, because he knew that no one could actually read his thoughts, but he felt like they were emblazoned all over his face.

He nodded, taking a big gulp of his drink to give himself a moment.

"I'm fine," he answered, and he'd just opened his mouth to change the subject -- though he had no idea what he was going to change it to -- when a stocky woman with too much makeup on and obviously fake blonde hair materialized beside their table.

"McCall," she trilled, her voice more girlish than her appearance would suggest. "Fancy meeting you here."

She pulled up a chair uninvited and plopped herself down, completely ignoring Stiles' presence, her gaze fixed on Rafael.

"Angela," Rafael said, more in surprise than greeting. His eyebrows were up and he didn't look pleased. Stiles wanted to tell this woman to get lost, but he knew he'd get in trouble for being impolite if he did so. Even though this Angela was the one being really rude right now.

"I wanted to talk to you about Henderson," the woman said, and she was probably one of Rafael's co-workers. They were near his building, after all, and it was lunch time, even if it was a Saturday.

"You can stop by my office any time this afternoon," Rafael told her bluntly. "I'm busy right now."

Angela's eyes flickered over to Stiles and away from him almost immediately, as though he didn't matter in the slightest. Stiles scowled, feeling hurt even though he knew it was this woman who thought that way, not Rafael.

"This will only take a second," she said, leaning forward.

Rafael glared at her. There was no other word for it. "I'm having my lunch break," he said, keeping his voice even, but Stiles could tell he was angry. He wondered if Angela couldn't tell, or if she just didn't care. "And you're interrupting."

His co-worker didn't seem cowed in the slightest, though at least she sat back a little and turned her attention to Stiles.

"Is this your son?" she asked, thin brows rising, looking at him with something approaching actual interest.

"My son's best friend," Rafael told her. "This is Stiles Stilinski."

It was something like an introduction, even if Stiles didn't care whether she knew his name, and he didn't care to know hers, even though he'd heard Rafael say it. He just wanted her to go away.

"Oh, well then," Angela said dismissively, actually waving a hand in Stiles' direction as though to shoo him away. "About Henderson--"

"I told you," Rafael interrupted, his lips thin and brows heavy. Stiles thought that this Angela must be either really stupid or really self-absorbed not to be picking up on Rafael's body language, much less his harsh tone of voice. "I'm on my short lunch on a Saturday. I'll talk about work once I'm back at the office and not a moment before."

Angela's face tightened up in a disapproving expression, but Rafael wasn't done.

"And you are being rude to both me and Stiles. An apology wouldn't be a bad idea."

Stiles hid his smirk behind his coffee cup as Angela's mouth fell open. The barista called out what was evidently her drink, and she rose to get it, then swanned out of the coffee shop without a backward glance, nose so far in the air that she almost ran into the door on her way out.

"Are you going to get into trouble for that?" Stiles couldn't help asking, even though he knew that Rafael was a grown man who could pick and fight and win his own battles.

"For what; pointing out that she was being rude to both you and to me?" Rafael snorted, drinking more coffee. "No, Stiles, but thank you for the concern."

"Thank you for sticking up for me," Stiles said softly, fingers clenching around his cup.

"There was no call for her to be that rude," Rafael said, reaching out one of his long arms to shove the chair Angela had briefly sat on back to the table beside theirs. "Not to either of us, but especially not to you. It was clear that I was here with you, and she just acted as though you didn't exist."

Stiles shrugged. "I'm just a kid," he offered, even though he one-hundred percent agreed with Rafael about his co-worker's rudeness.

Now Rafael was glaring at Stiles. It didn't scare him, though. Instead, it made him feel warm all the way through; the more so when Rafael said;

"I'm here to spend my half hour lunch with you, Stiles. This is my choice and it's how I want to spend my time."

Stiles couldn't stop the grin that broke over his face, and he straightened from the slump he'd fallen into while Rafael had been dealing with Angela.

"Thank you," he said, the last word ending in a little bit of a squeak as Rafael reached under the table and palmed his knee. It wasn't a squeeze, and the touch didn't linger, since they were in a public place and the table was too tiny to hide anything, but it was definitely meant.

Stiles was still red, but he was also still smiling, and he still felt like a grown-up on a date even if it wasn't true. He sipped some more coffee, tasting the sugar and sweet on his tongue, and he could feel the phantom echo of warmth on his knee even though Rafael had removed his hand.

"So what have you been working on so hard?" he asked, because that was what a grown-up would ask about, right?

Rafael grinned and shook his head. "I'd like to get away from that for this half hour, Stiles. Besides, you'd be bored if I actually answered your question."

Stiles nodded, recognizing the truth in those words. "What do you want to talk about, then?" he asked, and he fully expected that Rafael would ask him how school was going, how Scott was doing, maybe about how his Dad was....

"Have you played any good games lately?" Rafael asked, and he sounded as though he actually cared about the answer, his eyes fixed intently on Stiles' face.

Well, he had asked, and so Stiles told him, and Rafael remained interested and engaged, which Stiles had not been expecting. But, really, how was this different than when they were hanging out in Rafael's apartment? It was true that some of the time Stiles was doing his homework, but they talked too, and played games, and watched movies.

The half hour went by way too quickly. A couple of minutes after Rafael's coworker left, Rafael slouched a little and stretched his long legs out under the table, and the next thing Stiles knew, the inside of one of Rafael's thighs was pressed against his knee, warm and solid. It wasn't an accident and Rafael didn't move it through the rest of their time in the coffee shop, and Stiles was sure, was sure that it meant something.

This was so totally a date.

Stiles was going to have to step things up, though, if he wanted anything more. And he did, he wanted more.

Now, he just needed to come up with a plan of attack.

Well, if there was one thing Stiles was good at, it was coming up with plans.
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