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That Escalated Quickly

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“Hey, is that Danny?”

Stiles peers out the windshield, studying the very attractive backside walking down the street ahead of them. “Looks like.”

Scott starts rolling the window down. “Slow down a little, I need to ask him a question about practice.”

Stiles does, but before Scott can open his mouth, Stiles leans over the passenger seat and yells out the window. “Hey baby, shake that pretty ass!” He snorts to himself, expecting Danny to turn around and roll his eyes or maybe shoot some snarky comment back.

Danny does not turn around.

A very attractive, very angry-looking stranger does.

Stiles hits the brakes and the Jeep stalls to a stop in the street. “Oh, shit.”

Scott seems to be torn between concern that Stiles is going to get his ass kicked, or possibly hauled to jail--although really, that’s nothing new--and trying not to laugh his ass off. Stiles would lament his choice of best friend, but he’s currently too worried about possibly getting his ass kicked. Jail, he can at least talk his way out of.

“Dude, I’m so fucking sorry, I didn’t mean it, I thought you were our friend Danny, who would have thought that was hilarious--okay, no, he wouldn’t have thought it was hilarious, he would find it annoying and probably yell at me like you look like you’re about to do, but he wouldn’t find it harassment--okay, maybe he would, but not, like, an offense worth a beatdown or a call to the cops, but in case you find it one of the latter, I should warn you that I know every deputy in the sheriff’s office and the most they’ll do is laugh at me and line up to see my dad yell at me, because he’s the sheriff, and he wouldn’t actually put me in jail. I hope.” He stops, inhaling a long breath, and the very attractive, not-quite-so-angry-looking-now stranger raises a single thick, inky black eyebrow.

“You done?” Stiles nods vigorously. The stranger glances at Scott. “Does he always talk that much?”

“Regrettably.” Scott holds his palms up and shrugs. “You get used to it.”

The stranger refocuses his attention on Stiles. “So you didn’t mean it?”

“No, absolutely not, I would never do that to someone unless I actually knew them.” Stiles gives the guy his most contrite look, with the big Bambi eyes that usually--well, occasionally--get him out of trouble.

The guy gives Stiles a long, slow perusal. “Pity.”

Stiles’ jaw drops when the guy’s gaze meets his and he can see a slight twinkle in those seafoam-green eyes. The guy’s lips twitch and Stiles is mostly convinced it was a flash of a smile. “Um.”

The guy turns and keeps walking, and Stiles frantically turns the key, trying to get the engine to turn over and catch. The guy keeps getting further and further away, so Stiles throws his door open and stands up, trying to get his attention over the top of the Jeep. “Hey, so can I get your number?”

Hot Stranger turns and considers him briefly. “Not this time, Stiles. Maybe another day.”

Stiles drops back into the Jeep, disappointed, and works on getting the Jeep to re-start while his dream man walks out of his life.

“Hey, Stiles?”

He jumps, having nearly forgotten Scott’s presence in his car. “Yeah, Scotty?”

Scott grins. “How did he know your name?”

Stiles’ eyes widen. “Fuck.”

Apparently he doesn’t know every deputy in the department. But now he would really, really like to.


“Hey, Pops,” Stiles calls when the door opens, and the Sheriff sticks his head in the kitchen.

“Stiles. I hear you had a run-in with my newest deputy today.”

Stiles groans, poking at the chicken breast in the skillet. “Of course he would tell you, like, immediately.”

“Something about cat-calling him, which, may I remind you, is highly frowned upon in polite society?”

He scowls. “I thought he was Danny. They look similar enough from behind. Same dark hair, same general build.” Although Deputy Hotness definitely has a nicer ass, which I would have realized if I would have thought about it a little harder.

He’s very, very grateful he did not say that out loud when he realizes his dad has brought home a dinner guest.

“Hello, Stiles.” 

Whirling around, Stiles clutches at his chest and glares at the hot stranger from earlier, who’s leaning on the door frame and grinning. “You’re lucky I’m holding a spatula and not a gun!” He points said spatula accusingly at the man, who bites his lip in what appears to be an effort to hold back a snicker.

“Which is why you’re never allowed to apply for the department,” his father comments, making his way to the fridge and pulling out two beers. He hands one over to the deputy, who, Stiles realizes with annoyance, he still has not been introduced to.

Crossing his arms over his chest, Stiles gives his father a pointed glare. “What?” Stiles rolls his eyes and gives a much-less-than-subtle nod toward Deputy Hotness. “Oh. Stiles, this is Deputy Derek Hale. He’s new to the department. Derek, officially meet my law-breaking son, Stiles, who you have every permission to arrest when necessary.”

“Just for that, you’re getting broccoli with your plain chicken breast,” he grumbles.

“That’s okay, I had a cheeseburger and fries for lunch.” His father’s voice is entirely too cheery, and Stiles suspects it’s because he knows Stiles is in no position to reprimand him right now.

“Anything I can help with?” Derek cuts in, and Stiles makes a face at him.

“No, I think you’ve done quite enough for today.” He waves them both off as he turns back to the stove. “Go in and sit down, dinner’s almost ready.” Fortunately, he made enough to account for a third party at the table.

He can hear their voices float in from the dining room, and doesn’t even make an attempt not to listen.

“Stiles certainly lives up to your descriptions.”

His dad snorts. “You don’t even know the half of it. Spend a few days with him, you’ll run screaming.”

Stiles doesn’t think he imagines Derek’s voice deepening when he replies, “I don’t know. I like a challenge.” Also, ow. Thanks, Dad. I see how you feel about your only child.

There’s a lengthy moment of silence, and Stiles is dying of curiosity until his dad breaks it. “You know he’s in college, right?”

“You’d mentioned, yes.”

“Which means he’s an adult.”

“I’d noticed.”

Stiles grins. His voice is definitely deeper now.

“Which means he can do as he pleases, and I don’t interfere. Mostly.” There’s another quiet moment, then, “However, I’m still his father, and I’m still your boss. Tread lightly.”

“Should I interpret that to mean he’s off limits?”

Stiles foregoes all attempts to pretend he’s still working on dinner.

“No. It means if you hurt him, I’m very well-versed in how to hide bodies.”

Derek laughs, a full-out laugh, and Stiles thinks he may be in love. “Duly noted, Sheriff.”

“Now with that, I’m going to take advantage of the fact that Stiles’ behavior today leaves me with my own version of a temporary get-out-of-jail-free pass, and getting a steak for dinner. Enjoy your meal, son.”

Stiles waits until he hears the front door close and then sticks his head in the dining room. “Just us for dinner, then?”

Derek’s eyes are hot, and a sly grin curves his lips. “I can think of something more interesting to do than eat.”

“Hell yes. Just let me turn off the stove, wouldn’t want to burn the house down.”

Derek’s sitting back in his chair when Stiles swings back into the dining room after putting the food into the fridge. “I take it you heard all of that.”

“Loud and clear.” He grins at Derek and leans into the door frame. “That cat-calling got your attention, did it?”

Derek eyes him. “Mostly it was the sheriff’s stories of his troublemaking teenaged son. I just didn’t expect that when I finally met him, he was going to have shoulders like a football player, a mouth that won’t quit, and hands that make me want to sin."

Stiles blinks, then laughs. “You don’t beat around the bush, do you? I like that.”

Shrugging, Derek lifts his eyes to meet Stiles’ gaze. “I don’t see any reason to pretend I’m not interested.”

“I definitely like that.” He tips his head. “Want to get out of here?”

Derek grins. “Doesn’t that usually imply going back to your place? How does that work when we’re already here?”

Stiles sniffs, pretending to be affronted. “I’m a gentleman, Deputy Hale. I don’t put out before the first date.”

Derek rises, and crowds into Stiles’ space. He manfully does not shiver when Derek’s lips stop a breath from his. “What about kissing before the first date? You have any rules about that?”

“Mmm, let me think.” He closes the imperceptible distance between them and nearly melts when Derek’s lips mold to his, when Derek’s hands find his hips and pull him in tight. They kiss until Stiles is breathless, and when he starts to feel dizzy, he pulls back. “Nope, no rules about kissing.”

“Sure we can’t skip the first date?” Derek murmurs, leaning in for another kiss.

“Tempting, Hale. But there’s a midnight showing of the original Michael Keaton Batman, and it’s been calling my name. You in?”

“If you’re buying the popcorn.”

“What kind of date are you?”

“I’m not the one who insisted on it.” Derek’s smile is slow, lazy, and accompanied by just enough sparkle that Stiles suspects he may be part woodland creature. “But midnight is several hours off. What do you think we should do in the meantime?”

Stiles thinks for all of two seconds. His dad isn’t coming back from the steakhouse any time soon.

Grabbing Derek’s belt loop, he turns and heads up the stairs for his room, tugging Derek behind him. “Let’s get an advance on our date.”