Work Text:
"Sorry, sir. This box is restricted," the usher said firmly.
Stiles waved his pass with an innocent look. Now wasn't the time to get indignant, although Stiles was capable of throwing an epic fit when needed. "WAGs, right? That's me!"
The man frowned and peered closely at the pass. "Oh. Right. I heard about the new player. Okay. Welcome!"
All the women in the box turned to look at Stiles. He waved. None of these could hold a candle to Lydia Martin's iciness. He'd be fine.
"You must be Derek Hale's husband," a blonde said.
"Yup! That's me!" Stiles grinned.
