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Stiles tried to be neither a leader nor follower, but here he was, following his father's footsteps...sort of.
Where John was the Sheriff of the small town where Stiles grew up and lived until moving to Washington, DC for college, Stiles went a different, much grander route. Shortly before he was to graduate from Georgetown University, Stiles decided he wanted to join the FBI, but no sooner had he made that decision than the CIA came knocking on his door.
Apparently, his studies in political science and social psychology hadn't gone unnoticed by those in high ranking positions within both the FBI and CIA. Stiles thought long and hard about what he wanted to do. Both agencies would give him the chance to finish up his degrees, as to not raise any questions with his father, and also allow him to decide, once and for all what he wanted to do.
And what Stiles wanted to do, quite literally, came in the form a tall, dark and handsome man wearing a charcoal suit with blue pinstripe tie who just entered the coffee shop where Stiles got his morning coffee every day.
Stiles watched as the man looked around the room before heading to the back of the shop where the more private tables were and sat down...right next to where Stiles' messenger bag and laptop were sitting.
Cursing his luck, or thanking the gods, Stiles grabbed his coffee and made his way back to his table.
“Oh, were you sitting here?” Tall, Dark and Handsome asked. Stiles was briefly thrown by the sound of his voice. It wasn't what he was expecting. Soft, yet commanding at the same time.
Stiles pointed to the table with his belongings, “Nope, you're fine...I mean, you're okay there.” Stiles hastily corrected.
The man laughed and moved to the side so that Stiles could get into the other side of the booth. “Sorry for hogging the whole bench,” Stiles added as he slid in. “I didn't realize I sprawled all my papers out.” He quickly moved the books and papers, hoping that the man didn't see what they were.
But, he wasn't so lucky. “Applying there?” Stiles was asked.
“Research for school, actually,” Stiles replied.
The man nodded his head. “Georgetown?”
Stiles raised an eyebrow wondering if this was some sort of test from the FBI or CIA to spill the bean, so to speak.
“Uhh, you don't have to answer,” the man added. “Just ignore me or tell me to shut up or whatever.”
Stiles gave a tight smile and tried not to dismiss the man, but now he was paranoid and didn't want to keep talking, even with the extremely hot man.
“Going the ignoring route,” the man said with a smile. “Good choice.”
Stiles huffed out a little laugh. “Yeah, I attend Georgetown. This is my last year and I already have job offers so I'm kind of stressed about everything going on.”
The man shook his head, “That's okay. I know the feeling. I was in the same position a few years ago.” He stuck out his hand, “I'm Derek.”
“I'm Stiles. Nice to meet you,” Stiles said reaching out his hand to shake it.
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After that fateful coffee shop meeting, Stiles and Derek continue to meet up. Sometimes at the coffee shop, sometimes at a bar when Derek finished work.
Three months later, they went on their first date.
Derek had just returned from a business trip that had him in China for nearly two weeks. Stiles didn't realize how much he missed him until he got a text saying that he was coming back and they should go out. On a date.
Stiles was equal parts nervous and excited. He told his father and Scott all about Derek, sparing his father the information about the date. Scott was happy for him and the next day, sent via overnight mail from New York where Scott was going to school, were several boxes of condoms and some top quality lube, with a scribbled note to have fun and be safe. Stiles loved his best friend, be he was going to kill him the next time they saw each other.
But Stiles didn't have time to think about that. He was now interning within the Directorate of Analysis at the CIA and couldn't tell anyone about it, had weeks left before graduation, which was mostly put on for show for his father and friends, and now add on the date with Derek. Stiles was a walking, talking ball of stress.
Who was now going to be late in meeting Derek for dinner.