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Blue Moon

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Derek has anticipated getting the call from his superiors for some time now. It’s been a few weeks, and he was initially concerned that they were going to pair him up with Argent, or someone worse (if it was possible), but they don’t.

They don’t pair him up with anyone he’s familiar with - the name on the form is ‘Stilinski’ - and Deucalion talking to him on the other side of the phone keeps saying things like ‘young’ and ‘fresh meat’ and ‘a new perspective’. He doesn’t really get it for a couple solid minutes before he realizes that he’s been partnered with a rookie, a child - a brand new agent that has just had their training wheels installed.

He looks at the empty desk in front of him as his rage starts taking over, his blood boiling until the phone snaps in his hand like a toothpick and he stands up, the legs of his chair scraping along the carpet until it falls backwards and he moves quickly towards the back office.

He opens the door without bothering to knock and shoves passed the boy in the seat in front of the desk, slamming his palms on the surface as he looks at Mr. Deaton, “Are you fucking serious?” He all but shouts, his body shaking as he fights the instinct to shift.

The assistant director looks up from his papers slowly and smiles at Derek like he’s dealing with a disgruntled child, “Derek-”

“Don’t ‘Derek’ me,” The werewolf interrupts him, “I’m a senior agent and you’re partnering me up with this… This-” He looks at the new agent and shakes his head, “If you pair me up with him, I’m quitting.”

Stiles openly takes offense to his new partner/man bear’s words and bristles a little in his seat, sitting up straighter as he stares up at the older man, “Calm down there, Bruce Banner,” He says cooly, glancing at Deaton with his brows drawn tight. It took him a while (and copious amounts of encouragement) to even get to this point, and he’s not planning on letting some constipated senior agent scare him off.

Derek pointedly ignores the boy and stares firmly at Deaton, “I’m not gonna be assigned to watching after this kid and making sure his messes are cleaned up. I’d rather work alone.”

Mr. Deaton motions to the second chair, “Sit down, Derek.”

Derek lets out a huff of breath through his nose, pressing his lips together as he lifts his brows in challenge.

“Agent Hale,” Deaton says, lifting his own brows, “Sit down.”

As much as he wants to argue, Derek sits, his body still shaking as he looks away from the both of them, “You’ve gotta be kidding me,” it can’t be legitimate. He’s not sure what he did and who he managed to piss off in the company to get shafted like this, but taking the boy under his wing is about as embarrassing as being assigned to paperwork.

“Kidding you he is not, partner,” Stiles does his best Yoda voice and slouches a little in his chair, glancing back and forth between the assistant director and Derek, “And besides,” He says, leaning closer to the jilted agent, “I’m a big boy, I can clean up my own messes.”

Derek looks at Deaton again, “Why?”

“Don’t ask ‘why’, just deal with it,” Mr. Deaton says as he looks back down to continue signing the papers and filling them out, “He’s your partner now, Derek, and I’d hope that you show him as much respect as your last partner.”

“My last partner didn’t make Star Trek jokes and wear a shoulder holster,” Derek responds stiffly, “Assign him to someone else, I’m quitting.”

“No you’re not,” Deaton says and gives Derek an intense, meaningful look, “He might be the one making jokes, but you’re the one acting underage.”

“I’m the one getting the short end of the stick, anyways,” Stiles chimes in and crosses his arms, pulling his holster tight across his shoulders and back, “Any well educated person up to date with pop culture knows it was a Star Wars reference, not Star Trek, dude. And I'm better with a shoulder holster, don't hate.”

Deaton smiles to himself, “Agent Hale’s only familiarity with pop culture consists of Hercules, and The Three Stooges.”

Derek rolls his eyes, “You don’t think he’s better suited with Argent, instead of me?”

“If I put him with Allison, he’d be dead within a week.”

“You honestly think it’ll be different with me?” Derek asks suddenly, and then frowns at the concerned look Deaton gives him.

“Derek,” Alan starts, and then looks at Stiles, “I think if I had every agent available to put him with, I’d still partner him with you, now will you stop saying you’re going to quit? You’ve been saying that for the past ten years.”

Derek considers the older man’s words and sighs, it’s typical, he should be use to being insulted and then excused. He puts his hands in his lap, “Can we go?”

Stiles looks from Derek to Deaton then and leans forward to gather the rest of his paperwork from the edge of the solid oak desk before sitting back, staring hopefully at the assistant director. He’s kind of anxious to stretch his legs and get comfortable around the office, maybe even get his desk situated and catch up with Scott.

“Go ahead,” Deaton says as he looks back down, “Don’t do anything big with him for the next couple weeks, someone else can handle those cases.”

“I was in the middle of one,” Derek starts to argue.

“Give it to McCall,” Deaton responds dismissively, “Your partner is more important than a case, get him settled at his desk first.”

Derek stands up, looking at the other agent and shaking his head before walking out of the room and waiting on agent Stilinski to follow.

Stiles nods to Deaton as he stands up as well and tucks his papers under his right arm, stepping out of the room after his partner, “Where are we stationed?” He asks conversationally.

Derek looks down at Stiles and doesn’t bother saying anything, motioning instead to the desk where Erica is already replacing his phone, looking up at him suggestively as he walks to his seat, “Thanks,” He says stiffly as he nods to her.

“No problem, sweetheart,” Erica responds and winks at him before gathering up the broken phone, stopping briefly next to Stiles to lean and whisper in his ear, “He doesn’t play well with others. His bark is worse than his bite, though,” She says, smiling at Derek before stalking off.

Stiles clears his throat and lays his papers down on the desk parallel to Derek’s, nodding subtly to himself, “She seems friendly.”

Derek narrows his brows and takes his seat, “She’s the receptionist,” He says informatively, watching as the young man sets his papers down and Derek tightens his hand into a fist as he checks the new phone.

“Get… Comfortable,” It takes everything he has to say the words, even though he doesn’t like the idea of Stilinski sitting there. The thought of looking across desks and seeing the kid looking back makes Derek want to punch him, or flip his desk, but he remains otherwise silent.

Stiles nods to Derek’s seemingly forced words and sits down at the desk, scooting his seat closer as he goes through all of his paper work quickly before stuffing it into a small filing section within a drawer.

The top of the desk is fairly empty, aside from a calendar, monitor, phone and lamp - no real signs of anyone who sat here before him, but he knows that’s not the case. He can gather that Derek previously had a partner, he’s just a little fuzzy on the details of what happened.

Glancing to the nameplate on Derek’s desk, Stiles quirks a brow and gestures to it, “When do I get one of those?”

“In a week,” Derek says as he hangs up the phone and concludes the work on his latest case. He’d actually been looking forward to it until this mess with a new partner happened, but it’s somewhat relieving to drop it entirely, even though he’d rather be out on a job than babysitting a rookie agent.

Stiles nods again and picks a pen up off of the surface of his desk, tapping the end of it against said desk noisily as he makes a mental note to pick up a pen holder on his way home, “So, how long have you been here?” He asks, leaning forward and watching his new partner curiously. Getting to know the other man is kind of in the job description, even if he’s not particularly gung-ho about it.

“Twelve years,” Derek responds shortly, giving the other agent a pointed look as if to say ‘and now I’m stuck with you’. He looks back down to the file, cleaning the debris from the last phone off his desk and dumping it into the trash. He’s broken a few in his time with the FBI, unfortunately. But he’s big enough that it doesn’t raise much suspicion.

“That’s a really long time,” Stiles says idly and props his elbows on the desk as he continues to watch the other man, “How long were you with your last partner?” He asks and, in all honesty, he doesn’t expect much of an answer.

Derek sighs in annoyance and looks at the boy, settling his forearms on the desk as he stills, “Eleven years.”

“Wow,” Stiles says tactlessly, eyes widening as he continues to tap away, unphased by the older man’s piercing gaze, “That’s-what happened to them?”

“Him, and it’s none of your business,” Derek says, patience finally running thin, “Did you ask so many questions during your training?”

“Yeah, probably,” Stiles tells him honestly and resigns himself to asking Scott what happened to Derek’s old partner, “Got a wife or kids?”

Derek frowns even more, “No.”

“That doesn’t really surprise me,” Stiles says under his breath, because he can’t really imagine Derek being the ‘family man’ type, “I have a girlfriend,” He offers, figuring why not, because it’s not like his new partner is asking any questions about him.

“Good for you,” Derek responds, ignoring what Stilinski says otherwise. He couldn’t care less, and the more the boy talks the more Derek wants to shove his phone down Stilinski’s throat.

“It is,” Stiles nods and decides not to acknowledge the sarcasm, “It is good for me. I think you could probably benefit from having someone in your life, a leading lady. Maybe you wouldn’t look like you have a stick shoved up your ass all the time.”

“I think if you don’t shut your fucking mouth, I’m going to shut it for you,” Derek says as he glares at the boy, “You’ve known me for less than five minutes and you’re already making assumptions. You’re barely cutting teeth, save the quick profiling for someone with a few more years on them.”

“You know,” Stiles muses and to be honest, he should be terrified of this guy, because he’s built like a brick wall and he’s just as tall, but he can’t help being irked by the senior agent’s ‘cold’ facade, “I think it’s pretty hypocritical of you to say something like that when I could practically hear you thinking about how inept I am. You’re probably assuming I’m going to be shit at my job because I’m so young. But you don’t know me either, Hale, so you can shove the scary, tough guy act.”

“Do you ever stop talking?” Derek asks rhetorically, then stands up and moves to Scott McCall’s desk, setting the last case file he was working on down on the other agent’s desk before moving back to his, “You comfortable enough, yet?”

Stiles snorts in amusement at how the other agent can go from wanting to forcefully shut him up to asking him if he’s comfortable enough, but he nods anyway, “It isn’t really cluttered enough for my liking, but yeah, I guess I’m good for now.”

“Good, let’s go,” Derek says as he grabs his paddle holster from the side of his chair and puts it on his belt.

Stiles’s mouth drops open and he gapes a little bit in confusion, glancing down at his credentials and patting his side to make sure his holster’s in place, “Where’re we going?” He asks curiously as he stands.

Derek takes up his coat and tucks his chair in before walking around to the boy, “Lunch,” He says as he grabs the top folder from the pile on his desk and walks out of the front room, to the elevator as he opens it.

Stiles follows mindlessly and reaches out to hit the button once he’s in the elevator with Derek, glancing at the file as he wonders if it’s mandatory to actually have lunch with your partner, “What do we got?” He asks, nodding to the manila folder, because he hasn’t gotten a chance to look yet.

Derek sighs and closes the file in annoyance, suddenly remembering why he’d been interested in the last case he’d taken, “Stakeout,” He says simply, fighting the urge to roll his eyes as he checks his watch, “What do you wanna eat?”

“Whatever doesn’t make you gassy, dude,” Stiles shrugs and dreads the idea of being stuck in a vehicle with his new dickbag of a partner, “Because I’m not gonna sit and waft in your ass gas the whole time.”

Derek’s eyes widen and he looks at the boy in annoyance, “Right,” He says and walks out of the elevator, leaving the building and walking passed agent Whittemore and his partner. As if it wasn’t bad enough that Stilinski looked like a child, acting like one has clearly become his priority.

“I see you got stuck with a rookie, Hale,” Jackson turns and calls out to agent Hale, a shit eating smirk plastered to his face as he feigns sympathy, “That's harsh. Maybe you should’ve been watching Boyd’s back a little better, yeah?”

Stiles watches the exchange, or watches the agent he doesn’t know, rather, speak to Derek’s back as he wonders if his partner’s even going to acknowledge the jibes.

Derek clenches his jaw and doesn’t bother looking back as he walks to his car and takes out his keys, unlocking it and sliding into the front seat. Jackson’s nothing more than a coward, and he knows better than anyone that there’s no heat to the agent’s words, he’s just a dumb, ignorant jackass with no filter.

Stiles glances back at the other agent once more before following Derek, somewhat admiring the other man’s restraint to not do anything, especially when he could tell it pissed him off by the way he stiffened slightly at the words.

He climbs into the passenger side seat of the vehicle and looks at his partner, “Who’s Boyd?” He asks.

Derek glances at Stiles before he pulls on his seatbelt and puts his keys in the ignition, “My partner,” He says as he starts the car and pulls out of his spot.

Stiles nods and kind of wants to correct the older man, inform him that it was his previous partner, but he decides against it, figuring it would probably seem insensitive, “So I’m guessing that guy’s a little bit of a bitch,” He says, gesturing back towards the building.

Derek looks at Stiles, “Yeah,” He says as he clears his throat, “Agent Whittemore, he talks before he thinks... Or he doesn’t think at all.”

“I can kinda relate to the whole 'no filter' thing,” Stiles mumbles, “But yeah, he definitely kinda seems like a dick. I think I remember Scott saying something about the guy, think he said Whittemore was shady or something.”

“Scott?” Derek raises a brow, “Agent McCall?”

“Uh, yeah,” Stiles says and looks at Derek, “We’ve been best friends since before we could walk. You talk to him much?”

Derek shakes his head subtly, “No, but he’s an agent,” Which he figures the boy already knows, “He’s a good agent.”

“Yeah, Scotty’s a pretty solid guy,” Stiles agrees and it’s kind of nice to know that Derek doesn’t completely loathe everyone, “I had a crush on his wife from like, kindergarten all the way to high school.”

Derek nods as he considers the comment, Lydia Martin is particularly attractive, at least to most of the men of the FBI, he’s heard more than he’s ever wanted to hear about what they think of her.

He checks his rear-view mirror and changes lanes, “He’s been here for a couple years, what took you so long?”

“Um,” Stiles is kind of taken aback by the fact that Derek’s actually asking a legitimate question, “A lot of things held me back, I think,” He explains, knowing he doesn’t have to go into great detail, “I think my dad kinda wanted me to follow in his footsteps, become sheriff… And I wasn’t really sure if working with my best friend would be a good idea or not.”

Derek pulls into the McDonald’s and parks, looking at the other agent and staring at him for a moment, “Your father’s a sheriff?”

Stiles tilts his head and looks at his partner, nodding slowly, “Yep, Beacon Hills,” He says, then gets out of the vehicle abruptly.

Derek does the same, leaving his coat in the car and locking it up as he follows the boy. He remains silent, holding the door open for a group of women walking out and only speaking to make his order before they’re seated at a table.

Even though he doesn’t really care, and he’d rather be doing about anything else, he decides to ask more, “Why become an agent of the FBI if your dad’s a sheriff?”

“Because,” Stiles starts and rips the foil off of his barbeque sauce for his nuggets, “It’s-I dunno, it’s something I’ve always wanted to do… The cases are bigger, it’ll be more of a challenge and I think that that’s something I need.”

He shrugs, “I could’ve been a sheriff, growing up I think I solved most of my dad’s cases before he did. It just got kinda boring after a while.”

Derek starts in on the first of four of his big macs, barely listening to Stilinski but nodding and taking a sip of his coke, “Good point,” He says and watches the younger man before opening the file he’s set aside, reading it over as he eats.

Stiles is about ninety percent sure that Derek didn’t really hear a single thing he said, so he rolls his eyes and opts for shoving his nuggets into his mouth instead, chewing around a mouthful as he points to the file, “Why’re we staking out?”

“Ashley Franco,” Derek mutters as he reads the case, “She’s wanted for questioning in two murder cases, one being a retired cop.” He licks his lips before taking another bite of his burger, “Some hotel about thirty minutes from here.”

Stiles swallows and takes a drink of his soda, bending the straw between his lips before sitting it back down, “Deaton wasn’t kidding when he said nothing big for a while, huh?”

Derek shrugs, “We don’t get new agents often,” He says as he closes the file, “The last one we put on a real case their first day got shot. We have a lot of small cases for that reason.”

“Just a precautionary measure then, I guess,” Stiles muses, even though he’d rather be knees deep in a big case right about now, instead of staking out to bring a girl in for questioning.

Derek nods and looks at the younger man, “It’s boring work, but even on some of the easy stuff, things can get out of hand. Speaking from personal experience,” Probably more personal than the boy understands, and probably ever will, “She’s irate, she’s armed, and she knows that she’s wanted - it’s simple only on the surface.”

Stiles is exceptionally thankful for the thin kevlar vest he’s got on under his work shirt, because with all of that being said, it seems like it could get pretty hairy, “You’ve been with the bureau for twelve years, I’m assuming you like what you do?”

“I did,” Derek says as he lets out a tight breath and starts on his second burger. He was already getting a little worn down when he was still partnered with Vernon, this setback has only made it more difficult to be passionate about his work.

Deciding to take the response at face value, Stiles nods minutely and decides to change the subject, brows raising as he gestures to the boxes the older man’s big macs came in, “Are you like, a bottomless pit or something? Who even eats four big macs? It’s like a heart attack waiting to happen.”

Derek shrugs and looks at the food, “I eat about twice this for breakfast and dinner,” He says dismissively, eying the large fries and reaching out for a few.

“That’s insane,” Stiles says as he shoves two chicken nuggets at a time in his mouth, “I’m just gonna assume you’re like me in that regard, you can eat and eat, but never really gain any weight. You must work out like a boss, though, you seem pretty built.”

“I don’t have a ‘leading lady’,” Derek responds, “I have lots of free time.”

The boy has no clue, considering he’s worn nothing but his dress shirt around Stilinski, and he hasn’t even bothered to roll back his sleeves, “The job motivates you to work out, too, once you get to my age eating isn’t the only thing your body requires.” Granted he has a distinct advantage there, but that doesn't stop him from going to the gym and playing basketball at least once a week.

“What’s that supposed to even mean?” Stiles asks, snorting at his partner, “‘My age’. I get that you’re older, but there’s no way you’re like, over thirty or thirty-two.”

“Thirty-six,” Derek clarifies and finishes his second burger, “Once you finish we should probably get going, I can eat the rest in the car. It’s not like we’re going anywhere for the next few hours.”

Stiles narrows his eyes at Derek thoughtfully and silently works on finishing off the rest of his food. It seems kind of insane that his partner is literally ten years older than him and he doesn’t even look like it. All he can really chalk it up to is good genetics, and after a moment he drops the thought and takes a drink of his soda, “Okay, I’m good. Let’s go.”

Derek tucks the rest of his food in his bag and stands up, taking the file from the table and his soda before walking out of the front doors, holding it open for his partner as he glances around and then follows the younger man back to his car.

Stiles waits until Derek unlocks the car before climbing in, putting his cup of soda in the cup holder and pulling his seatbelt on, “What if I have to piss or something during the stakeout?”

“That’s why there’s two of us,” Derek responds as he starts the car and glances at the other man, “But you should probably hold it, if you can.”

“I have a small bladder, Hale,” Stiles scoffs, “I’m not gonna be able to hold it if I have to go. You got any bottles in here?” He asks, and even though he’s joking, he doesn’t smile.

“You’re not taking a piss in my car,” Derek says at once as he pulls out onto the main road.

“It wouldn’t technically be in your car,” Stiles says and at this point, he’s purposefully trying to fuck with the guy, “It’d be in a bottle, my piss wouldn’t even touch your stupid seats.”

Derek looks at Stilinski firmly, not reacting to the boy’s words more or less before he turns back to the road.

“It was easier to get a rise out of you back at the office,” Stiles mumbles to himself and decides to give up, grabbing the case file to read the details and to get a good look at the wanted suspect.

Derek rolls his eyes as he drives in silence. He has half a mind to tell the agent that he shouldn’t try to get a rise out of a werewolf, but it’s pointless. He’s managed to keep his secret from the entire FBI, including Boyd, the last thing he’d want to do is clue Stilinski in.

Stiles takes advantage during the drive and continues sifting through the file, noting the suspects known acquaintances and reading the reports to pass the time.

Derek parks finally, shifting the angle of his seat for comfort before he starts in on his last burger, glancing around the lot as he eats, “Find anything interesting?”

Stiles hums noncommittally at first and looks up from the file with furrowed brows, glancing at Derek briefly, “Just conflicting statements, I think someone was trying to cover for her.”

“Likely, even if she’s here, she’s probably not alone.”

“I’d be surprised if she was,” Stiles admits and closes the file before sitting it back down, watching their surroundings warily.

“Like I said before, easy on the surface,” Derek repeats himself as he shakes his head, “If we see her, and she’s not alone, it’s still our job to bring her in. I doubt she’d come willingly,” He looks at Stiles, “It’s just as dangerous as any other case.”

“And what if she’s not alone?” Stiles asks curiously, even though he’s still pretty much okay with trying to bring the suspect in regardless.

Derek shrugs, “She’s the target, another person isn’t important… Unless they’re armed,” He finishes the burger and takes up one of the large fries, “If we can tell they’re carrying a gun, any of them, we need to call in for further instruction. If not, we have to approach her and… Hope it doesn’t get out of hand.”

“Actually sounds pretty exciting,” Stiles says and he hates that he comes off sounding like some inexperienced rookie looking for a thrill, but this is something he’s wanted to do for a long time, and the fact that he’s actually getting to do it is still a little surreal.

Derek raises a brow at Stilinski but doesn’t bother commenting on the boy’s enthusiasm, “Most hope for the call; it’s safer. But how many people that are wanted walk around holding a gun in the open? The chances of them concealing it is a lot higher. If we see them, or just Ashley, let me do the talking, that way you get the idea of how it’s done.”

“Gotchya,” Stiles nods and blows out a heavy breath, vibrating his lips with it as he slouches a little and continues to keep an eye out for the girl.

“Otherwise, it’s boring PI work, not really for FBI.”

“Why did you get into the FBI in the first place?” Stiles asks, because he’s divulged why he did, but he’s still not sure what the older man’s motive was.

Derek frowns and shakes his head, “Personal reasons,” He says and sips his coke, “I wasn’t like you, I didn’t aspire.”

“Must be a Hell of a reason if you’ve been with the bureau for twelve years,” Stiles muses conversationally.

“It was,” Derek mutters as his brows tighten together, as the years have went on, though, the reason becomes less and less important. He’s poured the last half of his life into getting revenge and finding things out, and gotten absolutely nowhere.

“Was?” Stiles asks and looks at his partner then, wondering why the older man keeps using all these past tense terms.

Derek glances around the parking lot and then looks at the boy, “Things change after twelve years. Eventually you start wondering why you do the things you do, once they’ve become habit.” It’s as honest as he’s going to get, but he figures if he answers enough questions then the other agent might actually shut up.

“Then why still do it?” Stiles asks then, because even though Derek had threatened to quit earlier, he knew somehow that the older man had been bluffing.

“Old habits die hard,” Derek says, “If I didn’t have this, then I wouldn’t… I’d be bored.”

“If you didn’t have this then maybe you could actually contribute a little time towards finding a friend of the female variety,” Stiles smiles genuinely, “You know, maybe actually have a family before your balls shrivel up and fall off.”

Derek narrows his brows, “That wouldn’t be the case. It isn’t my job that keeps me from making… Familiars. Stop assuming you know or understand me.” In all honesty, if he didn’t have the FBI, he wouldn’t have anything at all, he probably wouldn’t even have his sanity.

“Well, to be honest, dude, you’re not really making it easy to get to know you,” Stiles responds, raising his brows at the older man, “If it’s not your job, then what is it? I mean, you gotta wanna settle down, get married and pop out a few kids. Isn’t that like, the American dream or something?”

“I’m sure the American dream is to not have to pay taxes,” Derek responds sarcastically because he’s getting fed up with the boy’s way of thinking, “Either way, I don’t care for it.” He rolls his shoulders and looks away finally, “I’m as settled as I wanna be.”

“The lone bachelor,” Stiles chuckles, “Yeah, I can admire that a little-hey isn’t that her?” He asks, sitting up straighter and leaning more towards the dashboard as he narrows his eyes.

Derek looks at the woman walking around from the back of the hotel and frowns, “That’s her,” He says as he waits, watching the man behind her, but as he expected he doesn’t see a gun in sight, “Ready?”

“Not even remotely,” Stiles answers honestly, but meets Derek with a nervous smile, anyway, “Let’s do it.”

Derek climbs out of the car, leaving the rest of his fries as he pulls on his coat and walks around to the front, straightening his tie before he starts forward. He stares at the target, watching her closely and trying to appear as intimidating as possible as they cross the parking lot.

They’re about five yards away when she looks up, cigarette dropping from her lips as she sees them and turns to run away.

Derek reaches back, grabs his Glock from it’s holster and bolts after her, “Ashley Franco!” He shouts, passing the guy she was with, “FBI!”

Stiles really should’ve anticipated the suspect to run, considering it’s pretty common, but it catches him off guard at first and when he finally gets with the program, he takes off after them, tailing the guy chasing after Derek as he struggles to get his gun from the shoulder holster, “Footwork on my first day,” He pants as he runs, “This is ridiculous.”

Derek catches up with Ashley quickly, grabbing her arms and forcing her to the ground before someone barrels into him and he turns to knock the man away, “FBI,” He says again and points his gun at the other man, “In case you didn’t hear me the first time.”

The girl scrambles for her pant’s leg though, pulling out her own gun and aiming at Derek. He manages to dodge it, just barely, and he turns to her, “Freeze!”

Stiles knocks into the suspect’s alleged boyfriend and they both go tumbling to the ground - but if any one asks him, he’s totally just going to say that he tackled the guy. He points his gun between the man’s eyes and struggles to catch his breath.

“Don’t move,” He says sternly, then glances up at Derek as he rolls the guy to his stomach to handcuff him, “You okay, Hale?”

“Yeah,” Derek says as he helps Ashley to her feet, taking the gun from her as he looks at Stilinski finally, “Check him.” He glances at the man and frowns, “Joel Carbaugh, how about that?”

“Fuck you,” The man says back, practically shaking from head to foot.

Derek puts his gun back in it's holster and finally allows himself to relax, “That’s nice.”

Stiles follows Derek's example once he has the handcuffs in place and pats Joel down, pulling a knife and a little bag of weed from the man’s pocket, “Dimebag and a blade,” He says, grunting as he stands up and bends back down to maneuver the other man to his feet as well.

Derek pats down Ashley as well, but turns up nothing else, guiding her back to the car as he reaches up and checks his ear subconsciously. The last thing he needs is to get shot in the line of duty - having to explain something like that would be difficult. He’s actually impressed with his new partner’s capabilities, considering it’s his first case, but he doesn’t bother saying anything.

Stiles follows his partner back to the vehicle, all but shoving Joel the entire way because the guy seems to want to put up a little bit of a fight. So he doesn’t feel the least bit of remorse when he accidentally hits the other man’s head off the car when he’s ushering him into the backseat.

Derek helps Ashley in beside Joel, closing the door and moving to the front as he glances at the other agent before ducking into his own seat and starting the car.

Stiles does the same and moves to climb into the car as well, not even bothering with his seat belt this time and he wipes a slight sheen of sweat from his forehead, “How long does it usually take you to come down after something like that?” He asks.

“Already down,” Derek says and shrugs, pulling out of their spot, “But after a while that’s expected. You’ll get there.”

“I got cuffed by a fucking baby FBI agent,” Joel mutters in annoyance, “Just my luck.”

Stiles turns a little and smiles at the guy, “Yeah, and doesn’t that just burn your ass?”

“You’re a mouthy little shit,” Joel says as he looks at the kid, “You know, you got a pretty nice mouth, you ever considered using it the right way?”

Stiles chuckles at that and turns back around in his seat, “I bet you’d like that, wouldn’t you? You piece of shit.” He sighs and glances over at Derek, “Am I allowed to call him a piece of shit?” He asks seriously.

Joel chuckles and sits back in his seat, “Just my fuckin’ luck,” He says again.

“You can call him whatever you want,” Derek responds, shaking his head, “I think it’s poetic justice, considering how many agents you’ve put in the hospital,” He glances back at Joel, “It’s his first day.”

Joel frowns and glares at Derek’s back, “An’ he’s your partner, who’d you piss off to get landed with’a baby?”

“First of all, you inbred looking asshole,” Stiles starts and turns back to look at the guy again, voice getting all squeaky from getting so worked up, “This baby knocked your ass down. Second of all,” He looks at Derek then, “I’m not incompetent.”

“You caught me off guard, you were lucky,” Joel says back, “An’ you keep callin’ me names an’ I’ll put you in the hospital next.”

“Don’t let him bother you, it’s words.”

“Aww, you taking care of your partner now?” Joel comments in a whiny tone, “Gonna hold the boy’s dick while he’s takin’ a piss too?”

“If you don’t shut your mouth,” Derek glances back, “I’ll do it for you.”

“You wouldn’t,” Joel says and chuckles, “You’re about the only agent that wouldn’t. All talk for a man that big, God wasted his time makin’ you that big an’ keepin’ your balls.”

“He’s probably just jealous he doesn’t look like a brick wall of muscle,” Stiles informs Derek flippantly, otherwise ignoring the ignorant asshole in the backseat.

Ashley rolls her eyes and stares out the window, “Are you three done with your pissing contest yet?”

Derek doesn’t respond, there’s literally nothing Joel could say that could actually get to him, balls included. He speaks a little lower to Stilinski, though, “They like it when you talk back, it’s best not to give them the time of day unless you can help it. Perps will do just about anything to piss you off and get you upset.”

“Yeah, I’m starting to get that,” Stiles grins and nods, adrenaline still pumping through him, “We got ‘em, though. This means paperwork, right?”

“A lot more than I’d like to admit,” Derek says honestly, “We’ve been after Carbaugh for a while now.” He shrugs and wets his lips, “Most of our work is paperwork.”

“Great,” Stiles says sarcastically, even though it’s not really that big a deal to him.

“Most jobs won’t be over that quickly.”

“So, you’re basically just bursting my bubble and confirming that Billy-Bob in the backseat was right,” Stiles raises his brows, “I just got lucky. Thanks, Hale.”

We got lucky,” Derek responds, “It’s all about how every person involved reacts and responds, it could’ve been anyone.”

“Wouldn’t really kill you to say ‘Good job, Stilinski. You’re not the inept rookie I thought you to be’,” Stiles says dryly, convincing himself that he’s not fishing for compliments - really, he’s not - but a little acknowledgment would be nice.

Derek frowns and tightens his hold on the steering wheel, “Next time we approach a perp, or perps, anticipate chasing them down. If I was anyone else, I could’ve been shot and killed. And it’s your job as my partner to have my back.”

“And now you’re busting my balls even more, dude,” Stiles flails a little, “What the Hell? You’re alive, I count that as a win.”

“A gun was shot within two feet of an agent,” Derek says back, “The bullet nearly hit me, it’s not a win,” He looks at the younger man, “You should be your strongest critic on the field, Stilinski, not me.”

Stiles wants to whip out some kind of smart ass remark, but he keeps his mouth shut and huffs out a heavy breath. He’s really not taking things as seriously as he should be, especially considering this is his dream job.

“You got good people skills there, Agent Hale,” Joel speaks up suddenly, smiling as he watches the backs of the two men in the front.

“Shut up, Carbaugh,” Derek says back.

“See, that’s my point,” Joel responds, “Maybe if you worked on that some, you might have a personal life outside of watching motel rooms and getting your partners killed.”

Stiles wouldn’t really pay Joel any mind, but what the guy says catches his attention and he furrows his brows in confusion and looks at Derek. He doesn’t straight out ask, though, because it’s not really the time to bring up something like that in front of the perps.

“Why are you trying to push my buttons, Carbaugh?” Derek asks rhetorically, “I don’t have buttons. So shut your fucking mouth already.”

Joel doesn’t respond back, just smirks and settles into his seat as he watches the senior agent.