Stiles is furious. And panicking. And furious. But mostly panicking. A broken ankle isn't anything he hasn't faced before. He could, at this point, even call it commonplace. No the issue isn't the broken ankle.
The issue is also not his broken wrist. That too has been dealt with many times before. The real issue here is construction company idiots who don't know how to watch where they put their big feet when they walk. Fucking construction workers. So here he is in the middle of a power outage sitting in his wheelchair on the fourth floor of the library with no fucking elevator. No goddamn elevator.
He thinks about crying but it will just tire him out. He already needs a nap and any more hysterics today will set him at his quota. There is a pack meeting tonight, he probably needs some hysterics saved up for that.
So stairs... And wheelchair. He could sit and push himself down if not for his wrist. Then again, he has done more for less. A refractured wrist could mean 2 more months of wheel chair, but if he doesn't get down he is going to be late for HIS OWN DAMN LECTURE.
In the midst of him contemplating getting out his emergency climbing rope and creating a pully system to lower himself down, a soft voice interrupts him.
"Can I help you?"
The hottest librarian he has ever seen is offering to help him.
"Possibly? I am in this wheelchair but we are on the fourth floor."
Sweater Vest looks confused. "And?"
Stiles huffs. "And the elevator won't work because of the power outage."
Wetdream looks confused once more. "Isn't there a backup generator for the elevator in case of emergencies?"
Stiles is thinking the same goddamn thing because you would think that wouldn't you. But apparently 85 year old small town libraries don't have money or time to follow the Americans with Disabilities Act. He refrains from telling Literary Fantasy this.
"The library is old and underfunded so it doesn't have its own. Plus the one they should be using here has to be used at Beacon Bank to prevent robberies and panic."
The Muscled Wonder nods. He steps closer amd suddenly Stiles is finding it harder to breathe.
"Well in that case. What can I do to help? I assume you need to get down the stairs?"
This time it is Stiles' turn to nod. Though he would love to be whisked away by Dreamy Eyes over here, he knows four floors with his not inconsiderable weight plus the second trip for his wheelchair and stuff is not going to be easy on Handsome's muscles.
"I would ask you to carry me down, but then you would have to come back for my stuff and the wheelchair and I'm sure straining your muscles isn't helpful when you are probably going to have to use them to stack books later and you can just call for some backup if you want but I don't want to inconvenience you when you seem like a great guy for trying to help my crippled ass but-"
Four Eyed Angel held up a hand abruptly stopping the babble overflowing from Stiles' mouth.
"What's your name?"
"Stiles. Stiles Stilinski."
"Well Stiles, not that I don't appreciate your concern, but it is completely unnecessary as I, Derek Hale by the way, am a werewolf."
Stiles blinks. Then blinks again. Did he just-
"Did you just- ?"
Male Model- Derek looks like his smile could power the damn elevator on those watts alone.
"I can smell the rest of your pack on you. I figure you won't out my little secret. So, anything I can do to help?"
This is the series of events that leads to Stiles Stilinski being bridal carried down the stairs of Beacon Public Library in the arms of the hottest werewolf librarian this side of the Mississippi.
It makes a great story to tell at their wedding reception