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    Summary

    His Dad had sent Derek to fetch him from the plane and Stiles’ jaw had hit the floor when he came around the corner in the airport, clutching his rucksack.

    Deputy Derek Hale in full uniform had been standing waiting for him, looking surly as ever and his brain was not computing.

    Stiles still hadn’t recovered from it, if he’s honest. You think you’ve put a silly teenage crush behind you and wham, suddenly it’s in your face, stubblier and grumpier than ever, dressed in your Dad’s clothing.

    It was super confusing for him, thank you very much.

    So when Derek had refused to let him leave after the meeting, it didn’t bother Stiles as half as much as that realisation had.

    “You smell so bad,” Derek had growled, folding his arms.

    “Well I must say if you’re trying to get into my pants, your charm could use some work,” Stiles had rolled his eyes.

    Derek had stalked toward him, backing him up against the wall and leant into him, absurdly close.

    When Stiles had tilted his head without even thinking about it, he knew he was screwed. Damn his pack instincts, and damn the sheer sexiness that was Derek Hale.

    Language:
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