Alan was so used to using Stiles as a go between for him and Scott that it had actually become a habit to go to him first. At first it was because they were trying to keep their relationship off the radar, then because it was just awkward for him to have to talk to him when he'd been the one to break up with Scott in the first place.

So when he had things he wanted to find out and information to share, Stiles' house was the one he found himself going to. He'd been about to knock when the door had opened suddenly, the sheriff's surprised face looking at him, neither of them expecting the other. He let Alan in since he was heading off to work, telling him that Stiles was up in his room.

Up in his room, not 'up in his room jerking off', which was what Alan found out all by himself when he gave the door a perfunctory knock even as he was opening it. "Hey, your dad let me i-- Jesus! Shit! God, I'm sorry. I'm so sorry."

He was frozen in the doorway, one hand on the doorknob, the other held out, fingers splayed in an attempt to ward off what he was seeing. But it was too late. The image of Stiles on his bed, cock in hand, face flushed, body straining... that was all seared into his cortex. Shit.