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He was late. On the first day of his new job. Something like that could only happen to him.
Stiles tried to run just this little bit faster that would allow him to catch the bus.
He really didn't need to miss that one and then having to wait half an hour for the next, but there were several people in his way, that he couldn't simply run into and knock down. The crowd around him was like a labyrinth, that he had to wind through.
Just when he rounded the last corner on the way to his destination, Stiles saw the bus starting to leave.
He groaned inwardly and sprinted the last few meters, waving like crazy and hoping that he didn't have to yell. He was already making a fool out of himself.
He was lucky. The driver had obviously seen him and the bus came to a halt not far from him. Stiles slowed down and quickly got in when the doors opened, thanking the bus-man for waiting.
While he was recovering his breath, he looked around, trying to find an empty seat.
As he swiftly walked through the bus, a man caught his attention and next to him the stranger's briefcase on the last free seat. Stiles sighed and made his way over to the older one.
At least he was good-looking and not an overweight guy with fast-food leftovers on his shirt.
The moment he reached the stranger, the bus started and, still wobbly on his legs, he lost his balance, effectively falling into the other man's lap.
“Damn,” Stiles muttered under his breath and looked up, finding himself staring into incredibly blue eyes. Awkwardly straightening himself, he cleared his throat, “Sorry, man.”
The older one took his briefcase, pointed to the now empty seat and smirked, “You could have simply asked instead of throwing yourself at me. However, I'm pleased to meet you. My name is Peter.”
“Sure,” he laughed, relieved, and shook the offered hand, “I'm Stiles.”