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You Don't Even Know My Name

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So maybe Stiles had been thinking he'd like to get the attention of BCSD's newest deputy, Derek Hale. The man was spectacularly good-looking. His shoulders were broad, his biceps bulged against his uniform shirt, and his ass was perfect. He carried himself like he was always on alert but smiled kindly at the children he met and spoke softly to witnesses while questioning them.

Yes, Stiles had already been to a crime scene where he could see the man at work. His dad was there too, he was just waiting to check in on his favorite sheriff, and if he just happened to be waiting where he could observe Hale, that was only a coincidence.

Apparently it was finally time for the New Deputy Introductions, because Hale had been making his way between area businesses all afternoon and introducing himself. Stiles recognized the route; he had helped his dad plan it, after all. So when Deputy Hale entered the bar that afternoon - hey finals were done, Stiles didn't have to grade another shitty freshman essay until next semester, that called for a little day drinking - he hadn't thought much of it besides having a chance to ogle the man in his uniform again.

Getting arrested was somewhat of a surprise.

 

 

Deputies Clark and Parrish were standing near the front when Hale walked him into the station.

"Hey Parrish," Stiles called. "Valerie. Someone want to help me out here?"

"You know their names?" Hale hissed, clearly scandalized. Stiles ignored him.

Deputy Clark frowned. "Hale, what-"

Parrish pinched her arm, startling her. They exchanged a look and Parrish had a glint in his eye when he turned back. "Whatcha got?"

Stiles rolled his eyes. "He's got nothing."

Hale glared at him and gestured for Stiles to precede him into the station. Stiles looked back at the other deputies. "What, seriously? I hate you both." Valerie looked like she was at least trying to hide a smile, but Parrish was smirking wide and openly gleeful. "Welcome back to town!" he called.

Stiles shook his head. "Yeah, funny boy."

Stiles let himself into the back. He did know his way around the station, and without a name he couldn't be processed, so he headed straight for one of the holding cells. Hale asked his name again. "No."

"No?"

"Yes."

Hale managed to even sigh aggressively, who does that? Stiles shook his head and pretended to ignore him. He started flicking each finger just to have something to do, then he tried snapping his fingers. He could get a nice loud snap from the middle and fourth fingers, not so much from the pinky and none at all from his index finger, which just sort of slid against his thumb. "Huh," he said aloud. "Can you snap all of your fingers, Deputy?" He laughed when Hale brought his hand up as though he was going to try before remembering himself and scowling instead.

Stiles's stomach rumbled. A thought occurred to him.

"Dude, I want my phone call."

"No," Hale said. "Name first."

"Fuck's sake," Stiles muttered and took out his cell. He selected Scott, ignoring Hale's indignant demands that he hand over the phone. He did put it on speaker, mostly to annoy Hale.

"Sup, bro?"

"I need a pepperoni pizza and I guess you should bring my ID, too. I'm getting way beyond carded. Think it's in the jeans I wore last night."

Scott laughed. "Sure. Where am I delivering?"

"Just bring both to the station," Stiles said. "Actually, make that two pepperoni and one veg, wheat crust, light on the cheese. For the Sheriff," he told Hale in an exaggerated whisper, putting his hand over the phone.

Hale looked like he was going to burst a blood vessel. It was pretty satisfying, Stiles decided, and moved on to cracking his knuckles. He liked the way the noise made Hale twitch.

 

Derek left the boy in lock-up and went to the Sheriff. Taking a deep breath, he knocked on the door. This was either going to validate his instincts about this kid or make him regret ever leaving the old force. But the Sheriff seemed like a genuinely good guy. It'd be fine. He steeled himself and let himself into the office.

"Hale," the Sheriff smiled. "What can I do for you?"

He didn't bother to wrap the question in niceties, too perturbed to think of a way to phrase the question delicately. "Sir, are you in the habit of taking bribes?"

The Sheriff didn't seem to know how to take the question, only managing a confused noise and wrinkled brow. Derek hurried on.

"The young man in the holding cell seems to think he can feed you and your deputies and get out without charge," he explained. "I know it's ridiculous, but his confidence is kind of...unnerving." He gestured helplessly. They stared at one another for a long, uncomfortable moment.

"Excuse me?" the Sheriff finally said.

"I brought a kid in for underage drinking and he used his phone call to order pizza," Derek summarized, leaving out the part where Derek hadn't gotten his cell phone off him. He expected the Sheriff to be as confused by this as he was, or maybe get annoyed at the insolent behavior. He did not expect the Sheriff's question:

"What kind of pizza did he order?"

Nevertheless, he could answer it. "Two pepperoni and one vegetable, wheat crust, light on the cheese."

The Sheriff rubbed his hand down his face hard. "Goddamn it, Stiles."

"I take it he's been arrested before."

"Well, technically, but he's never been charged with anything. Wait. What did you say you brought him in for?"

"Underage drinking."

"Stiles isn't underage. He's 22."

"He refused to show ID, sir."

The Sheriff rolled his eyes skyward. "Of course he did."

"What would you like me to do with him, sir?"

"Where is he now?"

"In the holding cell."

The Sheriff chuckled. "Leave him there and wait for the pizza."

Derek raised his eyebrows, but accepted this with a nod of his head and stepped out of the office. He looked around the pen and zeroed in on Parrish.

"What kind of name is Stiles?"

Parrish grinned. "It's a nickname. Taken from his last name. Stilinski," he added, significantly.

"He's got the same name as the Sheriff?" Derek frowned, not liking where this was going.

"It's not that surprising that he does, being his son and all."

His son? Oh shit. Derek was so fired. He was still in his probationary period. Hell, he had barely started his probationary period.

A young man walked into the station with three pizza boxes, smiling brilliantly at the Deputy who held the door and followed him in. He walked right past the desk and on toward the Sheriff's office.

"Another son?" Derek asked Parrish, a sinking feeling in the pit of his stomach.

"Practically, yeah. Scott and Stiles have been best friends since they were little."

"Great."

The young man, who had to be Scott, came out of the Sheriff's office one pizza box lighter and proceeds toward the back, where Stiles was. He returned shortly, setting two pizza boxes down on one of the more centrally-located desks, and approached Derek.

"You," Scott accused. "You're new."

Derek nodded.

"Stiles isn't underage," he said. "I brought him his ID but he said you don't get to look at it."

"What?"

"I'm protecting your delicate sensibilities, Deputy." Stiles strolled into the room looking very casual for someone who should still be in lock up. "My name is not for the faint of heart."

"How did you get out?" The locks were all electric now; he'd have to know the day's code to be able to open the door.

Stiles smiled. Combined with the rest of Derek's day so far, it was slightly unnerving. He didn't answer the question, just opened a box and took a slice before turning his back on Derek and heading into the Sheriff's office. His voice carried in a way that had to be deliberate when he greeted his father, "Hey, Dad! Guess who got arrested?"

Derek didn't hear the Sheriff's response. He had a feeling he didn't want to. He couldn't even be annoyed at Scott, who stared him down for another few seconds before taking two slices and following Stiles into the office. As soon as the door shut behind him, the other deputies made for the pizza.

Derek sighed. Maybe Laura was right. Maybe small towns were worse.

 

Almost an hour later, Stiles and Scott were leaving.

"Come on, I'll give you a ride back to Roscoe," Scott said, heading toward the door.

"Sure, sure. Be right there," Stiles said before he walked over and stood in front of Derek's desk.

"Can I help you?" Derek sighed. He'd taken the teasing from the other deputies with as much grace as he could muster. They'd assured him that arresting the Sheriff's son was practically an initiation rite, but he wasn't sure he could handle any more mocking.

Stiles handed him a card. It was one of the sheriff's business cards, with a handwritten addition. The card read: Sheriff John Stilinski('s son who you arrested that one time) and had a cell number written in underneath.

Derek raised an eyebrow.

"In case you want to get a drink. A totally legal drink. Unless you're 20 or under, in which case I have questions but none of them are invitations to get drunk."

The chuckle slipped out without Derek's say-so.

The slow smile that graced Stiles's lips was the most genuine thing he'd seen all day. "Welcome to Beacon Hills, Deputy."