I got this prompt from a gifset off of Tumblr by dereksassyeyebrowshale

Disclaimer: I do not own Teen Wolf

G is for Guess the In-Law

Deputy Parrish fidgeted in his seat, slowly becoming more and more uncomfortable with the thick silence that filled the room. He'd always been uncomfortable with silence, having to fill it one way or another. As he grew older, he learned how to hide it and grew out of his ADD. He'd grown-up in a loud household where someone was always chattering, so when Sheriff Stilinski simply sat with his face in his hands, Parrish could hardly stand it.

"Dad…" Stiles started cautiously, voice quiet and unsteady, "Deputy Parrish saved us from the witches. If he hadn't been there, we'd probably all be dead."

Sheriff Stilinski ran his hands down his face, stopping with them cupped around his mouth. "Stiles, shut up," he said monotonously, his eyes far off as he stared out the glass of his office door. He didn't even notice the other officers shooting wary glances towards the four. "I need… to let this sink in for a moment."

Sighing deeply, he covered his face again. "What did I do to deserve this? First the whole weird deaths and Lydia disappearing without clothes. Then Gerard and the kanima, the packs and Deucalion, the oni and kitsune, the nemeton and Allison's death. My son belongs to a pack of werewolves and is dating a were-coyote. My son by-proxy is a werewolf dating a kitsune. Scott's an alpha. Lydia's a banshee. What else could possibly go wrong?" His voice had steadily risen to a shout, his eyes focusing on Parrish. The Deputy wished he could disappear through the floor. "What the fuck are you, Deputy? Seriously, what else could there be?"

Jumping in their seats, Scott and Stiles glanced at each other. They didn't want to be here as much as Parrish. Taking pity, Stiles started, "Well, actually, Dad-"

"Out!" Stilinski shot at his sons, shoving a finger towards the door, "I don't need the peanut gallery! Do not leave the station! I'm not done with you two yet!"

Throwing an apologetic look at the Deputy, they scurried from the room and down the hall in search of donuts.

Breathing deeply, attempting to get his temper under control and reel in what was left of his sanity. After a moment, when at least some semblance of his calm had returned, he spoke. "I'm going to ask you the same thing I asked my son when you brought in a 15-year-old Derek Hale. Have you been time traveling?"

Glancing down guiltily at his impeccably shined shoes, Parrish murmured, "Yes, Sheriff."

Stilinski closed his eyes, breathing out for a count of ten. "Who are you?" he finally asked.

"You're my grandfather…" Parrish paused, scratching at his wrist and resisting the urge to wipe his palms on his uniform pants. "I'm your grandson."

Stilinski's jaw dropping to his desk, all the Sheriff could do was stare at the young man before him. It hadn't escaped his or anyone else's notice that they looked like they could be related, but he'd never thought… He blinked quickly. "Wait, you're telling me that my very sexually confused and frustrated son actually procreated? But who…" All of Stiles' pack members flashed through his mind's eye. "Who helped Stiles raise you?"

Parrish did wipe his palms on his uniform pants this time. "Sheriff, the laws of time travel are strict and inflexible. If I make one wrong step, it could change everything in the future. I especially can't tell you things that happen in the family."

Sheriff Stilinski waved him off. "I can figure it out on my own." He pressed his clasped hands to his lips, eyes flitting around his office in search of clues. He spotted his son lurking outside his office door, mouth full of donut, face dotted with crumbs while Scott laughed at him.

He groaned loudly. "How did my son end up with children? It defies logic."

Parrish couldn't help but laugh. "Papa still says that even all these years later."

"I'm not even surprised," Stilinski grumbled, rubbing at his face. "Okay, I've got it. We're going to stake out my son. I'm going to find out who your other parent is if it breaks my legs."

"I can't stop you," Parrish said, finally seeming to calm, "but I won't tell you if you're right or not."

"Fair enough," Stilinski said, nodding. Standing, he moved towards the door. "Let's get rolling."

…..

"So, why did you come back?" the Sheriff finally asked, leaning back in the driver's seat of his patrol car, binoculars pressed to his face, "I mean, if you're taking this huge risk to come back in time, you must have a pretty good reason to." They were down the street from his home, watching as Stiles clambered from his Jeep and went up the steps with Malia. "I'm going to have to have a talk with him later," he muttered to himself.

A thin smile spread across Parrish's face. It was too bad he couldn't tell the Sheriff that his biological mother wasn't any of the young ladies he was thinking of. "Like my father, all I ever wanted to do was follow in your footsteps and his. I wanted to learn everything I could from the two of you, even work with you, but as things stood, I'd never get to do that," he explained as vaguely as possible, leaving out how the Sheriff had been killed protecting him and his siblings from a group of witches looking to skin the entire pack.

"So you came back to work with me?" Stilinski asked, a grin on his face that crinkled his eyes.

"Yeah," the Deputy told him, trying to force down his laughter. His eyes returned to the house. "There are more showing up."

Squinting at the Camaro that pulled up beside the Jeep, he watched as Scott, Kira, Lydia, Danny, a girl he didn't recognize and Derek spilled from the cab. "One of them didn't wear a seatbelt on," he muttered, staring harder at the new girl standing at Derek's side. She looked suspiciously familiar and ridiculously like Derek. "Is that Cora Hale?"

"Yes," Parrish said, watching her closely. Stiles and Malia tore from the house to greet everyone and usher them inside.

"Must be a pack meeting." Stilinski was muttering to himself, binoculars pressed harder to his face as if that would help him see better. "It can't be Scott, he's straight as an arrow. Definitely not Danny, Stiles would be too fairy for him."

Deputy Parrish's laugh cut into the Sheriff's thoughts. "Did you just call your son a fairy gay?" he asked through a soft snort.

Stilinski shrugged. "Sometimes he's straighter than Scott, and then other times… I just have to wonder extremely hard. I'm sure Danny would agree with me."

"Hm," Parrish hummed, glancing back to the group.

"It's not Kira, she's definitely just a friend. That leaves Malia, Lydia, Cora or Derek…" His voice trailed off, his body going completely still. Parrish forced down his smile. Now Stilinski was getting it. "Please, tell me that whole mpreg thing I hear Stiles joking with Lydia about sometimes isn't a real thing. God, please tell me it's not."

"No, mpreg is fictional, something that children like to write about. It's completely impossible, even with the assistance of magic," Parrish reassured him, chuckling.

In the group, Cora shyly pulled Stiles into a crushing hug, sniffing his neck. Malia snarled at her, but didn't rip her off of Stiles. Lydia watched the exchange with a raised eyebrow.

"I can't see Malia ever being able to settle down with children. It just doesn't seem her style. Then there's Lydia… well, I could see her having children for the sole purpose of passing on her intelligence, but…" Stilinski looked over Parrish. "I don't see her in you."

Raising his eyebrows, Parrish looked at the Sheriff.

His eyes grew wide. "Oh dear god," Stilinski whispered, returning to his vigilance just in time to see Derek run a hand unconsciously over Stiles lower back just over the waistband of his jeans. "No, no, absolutely not. I cannot have that wolf as a son-in-law! Please tell me that my son does not marry Derek I'm-emotionally-constipated Hale!"

"I don't know," the Deputy said, shrugging non-committedly.

"Which means Cora is your biological mother. You look too much like the Hales for her not to be!"

"I don't know," Parrish repeated, repressing the smile that threatened to burst forth. At least he'd figured it out. After a spell of the Sheriff's hysteria, he asked, "What next?"

Stilinski lowered the binoculars, glaring at the house. "We're going in." Without a second's deliberation, he started the cruiser and pulled into the driveway as silently as a cat on a tile. He climbed from the car, waving for Parrish to follow. In the house, he stopped in the living room doorway, glancing over the pack.

The pack fell silent as their eyes found Parrish, his eyes moving over the group. It felt odd walking into a pack meeting. Back home in his own time, he hadn't been allowed to attend them. Pack meetings were for adults, not pups.

"Hey, Dad," Stiles called from where he was sprawled across Malia's, Derek's and Lydia's laps, "How's work going? Did you come back to get something to eat?" He didn't miss the way his dad's eyes narrowed on where Derek's hand rested in his hair.

"Something like that, how's the pack meeting going? Everything alright?" he asked in a near uninterested tone, moving towards the kitchen and leaving Parrish to take the brunt of the pack's eyes bugging out of their heads. "Don't mind Parrish, he knows everything. Remember, he kind of saved your sorry asses today." Stilinski returned with a glass of amber liquid.

Scott nodded, running a hand through his hair sheepishly. "Right, thanks for that."

"It was my pleasure," Parrish returned, looking over the young faces of his future parents, soon-to-be parents more like it.

According to his Aunt Lydia and Uncle Scott, he'd been conceived even before his parents had gotten together. He hadn't been anything close to a planned surrogacy, and was way passed an accident. Apparently, he'd been the product of a bad break-up, a bottle of wolfsbane vodka, and an ill-fitting condom before Cora had gone back to South America.

While he'd been growing within his biological mother, his Aunt Cora, his parents were struggling to keep the pack together. Somehow, they'd become a mated pair after a witch attack, or maybe it had been a gryphon attack. He was never sure. His Aunt Lydia and Uncle Scott had always been vague on the details and why it had brought the pack back together.

"Right, so, we were just talking about the latest witch attack. We've been trying to figure out how to permanently repel them," Scott explained.

Stiles shot up, looking up at Parrish with sparkling eyes. "Yeah, like, how did you do that today? We'd been struggling for hours to get them off of us, and then you show up, cast an incantation and they ran like Greenberg after a prank on Coach."

"My dads taught me. I've never really had a use for it until now. I could… teach it to you if you want," he offered, "I know some warding spells too that might be of some help."

Stiles grinned widely. "That'd be awesome."

"Tomorrow then," he said, glancing to Stilinski who hadn't moved his gaze from Derek. "Hey, Sheriff, let's let them be," he suggested, turning Stilinski back toward the kitchen.

Sighing heavily, Stilinski stared into his glass of whiskey. Carefully, he poured it down the drain.

"Sheriff, what are you doing?" Parrish frowned, watching as he took the bottle from the shelf and let it follow the glass' contents.

"If I'm going to have any chance of living to see all of my grandchildren and hopefully great-grandchildren, I'm going to have to kick a lot of this stuff," Stilinski explained as he flipped on the water faucet. Parrish remained silent. "How long are you staying Parrish?"

Startled, Parrish frowned and glanced at his boots. "I don't know. As long as I'm welcome, I guess."

"Won't your family get worried?" Stilinski asked, looking toward the living room.

Parrish grinned. "No, they've got other children to worry about. They knew I was doing this."

"Well, then you better settle in," the Sheriff said, "I've got a lot to teach you."

Glancing out the door to see the happy banter of the teens in the next room, Parrish didn't have the time for a response. He moved back as Derek wondered into the kitchen, looking for Stiles' favorite soda. Before he could grab the can, Sheriff Stilinski shoved the fridge door shut.

Startled, Derek left his hand up, waiting for the can. "Is there something I can do for you, Sheriff?"

"You and me, we need to have a talk about my son right now," Stilinski said, slapping Derek on the shoulder in the most friendly of manners, sliding his arm over Derek's shoulders and pulling him towards the door, "If you hurt my little boy, I will castrate you wolf-boy, and your werewolf powers won't help you one bit."

Parrish could only laugh, murmuring, "I'm already settled right in."

That was an incredible amount of fun. I love all of these characters. Hope it was to your liking.