lassiter marlowe

anonymous asked:

So much Yes to your TeenWolf/Psych mashup :) Consider an alternate interpretation with Derek as Jules, and Sherrif as the Captain. Boyd could be Lassiter with Erica as Marlowe and basically everyone I love is back and solving crime as they were meant to be.

Originally posted by the-narddog

I can’t even begin tell you how on board I am with that! I was drinking and tired last night, I don’t even know what I was talking about with Derek being anyone but Jules. And the sheriff would just be perfect.

Like, the Sheriff knows, alright, he raised the kid, and if Stiles is psychic then he’s the damn Batman. But even knowing what he knows–that his son has a detective’s mind and an eye for detail that’s frightening, and could easily be the best detective in the department if he just stuck with something for once–he also knows his son is dangerously curious and could very well stumble into a life of crime just to experience it firsthand–for science, dad.

He’d heard that excuse far too often raising Stiles. 

He always had to try everything for himself. He couldn’t just watch the other kids fall out of that giant oak tree in the park and recognize that it was too hard to safely climb; he had to do it and break his leg and spend the summer alone because he couldn’t go to camp with Scott with his leg in a cast. That was just who he was. He tried things, just to see.

Like the one time he shoplifted when he was nine, just to see if he could get away with it. Or when he suddenly picked up worrying knowledge and skill in lockpicking, because it was a handy thing to know. Hotwired a car just to try. He’d “accidentally” tasered both Scott and himself.

So when Stiles started turning up at crime scenes and somehow giving them the key piece of evidence to catch their perp every time…

It was Hale who first made the suggestion of bringing in Stiles to chat, carefully and without glancing away from the board of suspects for a murder. And looking at the evidence, the way Stiles had wandered in to bring his dad a garden salad, glanced at the board, and flicked his nail against one of the photos as he passed while stating shoelaces and suddenly they had their damning evidence? Again? There was a brief and terrible moment where the Sheriff had actually wondered if maybe he’d escalated, just to see.

Nothing in his life could ever compare to the moment he stood behind the mirror of an interrogation room and saw his son sitting in the suspect’s chair across from Hale and Boyd. It was worse than his wife passing, watching Stiles’ disbelief turn to an all too familiar mental scramble for a reason to explain his too flawless track record of crimesolving and the steady stream of reward money going into his bank account. The Sheriff knew that look; he’d seen it countless times on criminals, and suddenly realized Stiles had always had that look.

What would his excuse be this time? 

For science? 

I just wanted to see what would happen?

I had to try it once?

He’d heard his innocent little excuses so many times, in so many situations, the thought of hearing one of them here, in an interrogation room, made his blood run cold. He didn’t want to hear it, he wanted to leave and pretend this wasn’t happening, but he couldn’t leave because he had to know. But he didn’t want to. So he stood there on the other side of the glass, arms crossed and too overwhelmed to move, and was so caught up in what he knew Stiles was going to say that he almost completely missed what he actually said:

“I’m psychic.”