Work Text:
Stiles was out of breath as he sprinted across the foyer towards the closing elevator doors, trying desperately to balance his tray of lattes.
“Hold, please!” he shouted as he neared the diminishing gap between the sliding doors. Just in time a manicured hand reached out and stopped the door from closing. Stiles could cry, in fact he might actually do it.
“Thank you so much! You must be an angel here to save my job,” he praised his savior, who simply nodded at him with a polite smile and a small chuckle. Stiles will take it, this mousy haired businesswoman was his champion of the morning.
Stiles did not wake up late. He awoke at 7:00 am on the dot, even impressing himself that he didn’t sleep through the alarm. The issues started to arise after that however. When he went to shower the pipes made a wretched lurching noise before releasing a semi liquid that was decidedly not clean water. So Stiles had to deal with calling his landlord who is less than helpful with these kinds of things, even if it is sort of his job. After arguing for 20 minutes his landlord finally said he’d be by to check on it in a couple of days, meaning Stiles is out of luck in the shower department for the near future. Frustrated with this outcome he had to try to clean himself up as best he could with scent neutralizing wipes before getting dressed. He made a quick breakfast and left his apartment disheartened, but not late.
Then Rosco, of all the mornings, decided to be a deceitful little roach by working fine until Stiles was on a long stretch of road by the Preserve where he then decided to break down.
“No no no, baby you gotta be kidding me!” he had pleaded with his beloved jeep, but no dice. He had to call a tow truck and a taxi. This really ate into his time the most. Luckily he likes to get to work early so even with this delay he had hope of making it in time for his 9:00 am meeting, which was really when he absolutely had to be at work. He worked at a video game development company, which was literally his dream, and his team was presenting first this morning. He can’t let his team present without him because, no offense to them, but it would be a disaster. They know all the ins and outs as well as he did but no one has a knack for selling it quite like Stiles and they all know it. He messages them while waiting for his taxi and they say as much. At the very least they have a bit of time to prepare in case Stiles truly doesn’t make it, but with the timing he should be able to.
He takes his taxi to the coffee shop that sits right across the street from his works offices in downtown Beacon Hills. He knew he probably should have skipped the coffee, but he wouldn’t be useful to anyone without it anyway, so it was a necessary sacrifice that should have only taken him five minutes, but of course not. He ordered lattes for him and his team and waited restlessly for them to be done. They would have been too if not for the absolute Karen who kept demanding that they give her a new drink as there was something wrong with her order, several times. Stiles felt bad for the barista who was very sweet about the whole thing despite this rude woman shouting at her, but more than anything he just wanted the woman to fuck off so he could get his drinks and book it to his meeting.
He was just debating leaving without the lattes when his name was finally called, (well not his name obviously, even “Stiles” was too confusing for the poor staff, so he rotated through his favorite superheros’, this morning it was Bruce, which was a personal favorite of his). He grabbed the 4 coffee tray and left the building as fast as he dared, knowing his clumsy nature and his horrible luck this morning the last thing he’d need was to face plant and spill the drinks all over himself.
He made it to the lobby of the building he worked in only to see the elevator starting to shut, he wasn’t about to wait for the next one when his presentation started in less than five minutes at this point.
Luckily he had been saved by that women and now he was trying to straighten himself out and catch his breath. There were three others in the compartment with him. The sedate woman who had held the door for him, what seemed to be a delivery man, and a curly haired man in a dark burgundy suit and several bulky jewelry items. Bold style, Stiles could respect that. Stiles’ company was a bit more casual on dress code as they were more of a creative and geeky startup. Stiles was hired last year as they started expanding after the success of their first game, but it was still relatively small. The office space they rented took up only a third of the sixth floor of the ten story building.
That being said Stiles had made an effort to look presentable for his presentation. His version of that was dark wash jeans, a graphic tee, and a blazer. He was practically fancy by his standards.
He nibbled his lower lip as the elevator creeped up at a snail’s pace. He savior and the delivery man get off on the second floor. The third floor is when burgundy suit man leaves and a woman with silky straight black hair and another women in an alarmingly fuchsia dress get on, continuing to discuss some office gossip that Stiles couldn’t care less about on this particular morning, though usually he was pretty nosy. The elevator doesn’t stop on the fourth floor but it does on the fifth. The two women get off and someone else enters while Stile peers down at his watch. It 8:58, he has two minutes to get to the next floor and reach the meeting room where his team is no doubt already set up.
The doors slide closed and Stiles looks over to see it’s just him and another man in the elevator. This guy looks to be having a rough morning too, if his scowling brows are to be any indication. He’s wearing a sleek grey suit with a purple patterned tie. By all summations he could be modeling the suit, he just had that manicured rugged look, but the way he shifted uncomfortably in the clothing led Stiles to believe it may not be all that manicured and this man was just naturally a lumberjack Adonis who is simply trapped temporarily in a businessman’s sheath.
Stiles looked away quickly as the man looked over at him with cursory interest that didn’t put a dent in his scowl one bit. Stiles huffed after a few seconds and looks at his watch again. It still said 8:58 luckily. He glances up at the elevator’s display after they still haven’t reached the sixth floor, only to find it stagnant.
He watches for a few seconds to make sure. But yep, its definitely not moving. No dings as the reach the next floor, no feel of motion at all. Perfect, just perfect.
“Oh you’ve got to be kidding me,” Stiles groans into his free hand. Mr. Angry Brows seems to catch on too and let’s out a huff. “The elevator stalled,” Stiles can’t help stating the obvious, no matter how unhelpful it is.
Mr. Angry Brows sets down his briefcase and walks towards the panel. He tries pressing the sixth floor’s button and when nothing happens he tries some of the others to the same ends: nothing. Then he picks up the emergency phone to call the reception desk in the lobby about it in case they haven’t noticed yet.
Stile hadn’t thought it possible, but Mr. Angry Brows’ brows actually get angrier as his scowl deepens. “Its not working,” are the first words he grunts out.
“Fuck!” Stiles exclaims, “I’m already about to be late,” he mutters. He raises his arm to look at his watch again and it says 8:58, amazingly. “Is this thing broken,” Stiles says aloud in his confusion.
“Obviously,” Mr. Angry Brows admonishes as he continues to examine the elevator panel for some other way to fix it.
“Oh, I meant my watch, but yeah,” Stiles scratches his head as the man turns his steely glare at him instead, “Um, I’ll see if I can call reception on my phone,” he says scrambling for some way to fix this. Not only is he late to work after the worst morning ever, but now he is trapped in a metal box with no way out with some incredibly hot but positively murderous looking stranger.
“Crap, my phone isn’t working, not even turning on. Try yours,” Stiles suggests. Mr. Angry Brows takes his phone out of a pocket without complaint.
“What the hell,” he grunts at his own cell, “mine won’t come on either.” They look at each other in exasperated confusion.
“What are we supposed to do now,” Stiles ask as his shoulders slump.
“I don’t know. None of the emergency protocols are working, so I guess we wait,” Mr. Angry Brows says sounding less than thrilled, and Stiles is right there with him.
They stand around for what must be several minutes, despite Stiles’ defective watch still saying 8:58. He is definitely late for his big presentation now. Stiles paces back and forth the long way as The other man leans against the corner surveying the scene with his ever present scowl shifting until he simply looks bored and irritated. He approaches the panel and tries all the buttons and phone again to no avail then returns to his corner, this time he slumps down to sit on the floor, its probably filthy but Stiles understands the urge, even his pacing is getting tiresome.
“I’m Stiles,” he decides to introduce himself finally seeing as they’re stuck together for who knows how long.
“Derek,” responds the other as he takes Stiles’ proffered hand. Instead of simply shaking it as Stiles expected he lifts it to his nose and takes a brief inhale and flashes yellow eyes at Stiles. This is the customary greeting when a werewolf introduces themselves. It allows them to get a sense of the other person’s scent and let them know if they are alpha, beta, or omega, though you rarely run into lone wolves in civilized society. Also, as is the case currently, it let’s humans know that the other is a werewolf at all, as their weaker senses can’t distinguish who is and who isn’t.
Stiles is only moderately surprised by this new information. On one hand meeting a werewolf is quite rare as they are only 2% of the population and tend to keep to themselves and their packs, but on the other hand Derek is a lumberjack Adonis, of course he would be a werewolf too.
What is far more surprising is the earth rattling growl that Derek releases upon inhaling Stiles muted scent - most people, Stiles included, use some form of scent neutralizing soap or spray as it’s only polite in a professional environment where there might be werewolves who are very sensitive to scents. This leaves them smelling somewhat neutral until further inspection, like upon a greeting such as this. Stiles feels his center of gravity shift as he is yanked down into the werewolf's lap as he deeply inhales Stiles’ wrist several more times.
“You okay there big guy?” Stiles asks shakily after calming his racing heart marginally.
“Mmm,” the other hums as he moves his nose to Stiles’ neck instead. Stiles is at a loss as to what is happening right now, so he just kind of lets it happen until he feels lips at his throat then the light graze of teeth has fear rushing in.
“Woah buddy, we haven’t been here that long, no need to resort to cannibalism just yet,” he stutters trying to break free of the werewolf’s tight grasp around him.
“Stiles,” Derek growls, stilling the human’s movements instantly.
“Yes?” he squeaks.
“The elevator isn’t broken.”
“What do you mean? Of course it is-"
“And neither are our phones.”
“What? But you saw-"
“And your watch is fine.”
“But it stopped, I don’t understand. What do you mean,” Stiles froze as a thought hit him. A myth that everyone knows about werewolves, but no one really believes anymore because it has only been denied by the werewolf community. It couldn’t be. “You don’t mean… do you?”
“You’re my mate,” Derek confirms as he looks up into Stiles’ frantic eyes.
“I’m your mate,” he repeats, “and time has fucking stopped!” he screeches, and after seeing Derek nod calmly at this he starts to hyperventilate just as the elevator dings as they reach the sixth floor, because apparently the world hates him, and as soon as both parties realize what’s happening time starts again. Very rude if you ask Stiles. Time should definitely give him another ten fucking minutes or so.
……
Stiles made it to his presentation only 2 minutes late, after Derek had to spend a few minutes calming him down. It went surprisingly well all things considered, and that night Stiles had a date with a werewolf to look forward to. He has so many questions and he can’t wait to make his mate answer all of them in great detail.