Work Text:
Stiles opened the screen of his phone as surreptitiously as he could. In a few months time no one would blink twice at him using it, even if they weren’t supposed to have the damn things on during briefings. He was a rookie at the moment, though, and under even more intense scrutiny than Deputy Mitchell, the other new recruit. Mitchell got to hear all the good gossip and had been told all the good tips because he wasn’t the boss’ son. Stiles already knew all the good gossip and tips, so he got to suffer all the ribbing and teasing.
He tapped open the message that Derek had sent him and bit back the whimper he automatically let out. He clicked the side button to darken the screen, then long pressed the damn thing to shut it off completely. He really didn’t want to open his phone later in public and have someone cop an eyeful of the width of Derek’s cock, even if it was mostly trapped in his jeans and nowhere near completely hard in that picture.
Stiles looked up and Deputy Brown, a third year in the department, tilted his head sideways and said, “You’re looking a little peaky, there, Stilinski the second. You feeling okay?” He’d emphasized the word peaky. He’d also been at the poker game Derek was a regular at last night while Stiles was on the late-shift.
Someone else snickered, and Stiles narrowed his eyes. It couldn’t be. He looked down at his phone, rebooting in his hand, and wondered. Derek had been all ears and keen to hear about just how his first weeks at work had been. He’d all but tutted and cooed over the fact that Stiles was still firmly at the bottom of the totem pole. Stiles would be until the next new guy came in, of course, but that didn’t mean he had to like it. Derek wouldn’t have done anything that might make his life more uncomfortable, would he?
“You aren’t finding anything a little hard to deal with?” Brown straightened in his seat and grinned.
Derek Hale was a brilliant man, and a fucking amazing wolf, but for some reason he really, really sucked at cards. He’d promised Stiles he’d not bet too much cash, on principle, and all the guys here knew that was the case. Apparently they’d found something else for Derek to bet with. Stiles really, really wished he hadn’t introduced the idea of truth-or-dare as a form of currency to the Deputy’s card game when he was sixteen. He hadn’t known about werewolves then, of course, or the fact that he’d one day be married to one who couldn’t tell a bluff from a challenge when it game to poker.
“Sheriff’s coming, guys. You might wanna, ah, zip it,” Deputy Welsh said, barely keeping a straight face as she did.
Stiles opened the damn photo again and quickly fired off a response: You are going down, husband. And I don’t mean in the fun way.