Chapter Text
It was the eyelashes that threw him every time. They reminded him so much of Claudia it sometimes made his whole body ache. If he half closed his eyes and sort of focused he could almost see her, the pale skin, the large brown eyes fringed by long lashes. But then Stiles would shuffle or sniff or just move in some way and the spell would brea and instead of looking at the image of his long lost sweetheart he would be looking at their son. The sense of loss would lessen, but would complicate as he mourned both his wife and their daughter, while celebrating the son who was all he had. Nights like tonight were when he had to stop himself from reaching for the bottle.
"Dad"
Somehow Stiles always knew, it was uncanny. These were the nights that he would drop around unannounced with some healthy something or other for dinner, full of energy and noise and warmth and the house would seem a little less empty.
"Dad!"
"I'm listening, son"
"No you're not, you're thinking I look too much like Mum and it makes you not want to look at me"
"No-"
"You said so."
"I'm sorry Stiles, I didn't mean it. Christ, I was three quarters of the way through a bottle of scotch, you know I didn't mean it. I love you son, and you are my son. Claudia believed you were our son and I do too. It's just sometimes....."
"I miss her too Dad"
"You look so much like her."
Stiles ducks his head, eyes hooded for a moment before looking up, a sad smile twisting the corners of his mouth almost painfully.
"But I got my brain from you."
Sheriff chuckles. "That you did son. Now any chance you brought some ice cream or something with you to wash down all those vegetables?"