𝐃𝐞𝐫𝐞𝐤 𝐇𝐚𝐥𝐞 𝐈𝐦𝐚𝐠𝐢𝐧𝐞𝐬

Trouble

There was a frustrating silence in the police station, nothing but the low hum of the coffee machine and the scraping of pens against the paper as the few officers on call filled out paperwork that was surely weeks behind. You sighed as you pulled up another file from the box on the ground, typing the details into the ancient data system your father, the sheriff, insisted on keeping alive despite how fidgety it was to work with.

"Y/n," the deputy called you from your thoughts, looking up at you expectantly. "Coffee, please," he stated simply, holding out his empty cup with a blank expression. With a sigh and a less than sincere smile, you took the cup, fingers tracing the Beacon Hills police station emblem as you walked to the makeshift coffee station, paying no mind to the little bell that jingled to announce the front door being opened, not until you noticed the two sets of footsteps heading towards you.

"Princess," your father noted from behind you, stilling your actions as you turned around to see him, the cup still in your hand as you swallowed a gasp at the sight, Derek's lips coated with a knowing smirk as he stood handcuffed at your father's side. "What are you doing?"

"Just being helpful," you noted, smiling sweetly as you placed the full cup onto the deputy's desk, making sure to emphasize the entire action as you took an empty arrest form from his desk. "Anything you need?"

"Well," he paused, tightening his hold on Derek's arm with a tired sigh, glancing at the time on his watch before nodding to himself. "I promised to call Stiles after his game, think you can manage writing him up for me?"

"Of course, daddy, just need to grab a pen," you answered, being sure to keep your enthusiasm at bay, missing the entirety of his reply as you watched with curious eyes as he dragged Derek into a temporary cell, giving you a quick peck on the cheek in passing.

You waited for the door of his office to shut before you even dared making your way to Derek, locking the door behind you, and subtly switching off the camera feed before you turned to face your boyfriend whose eyes were already waiting to meet yours.

"You said you couldn't come to see me because your dad is making you work," he mused as you walked towards him slowly, fixing your school skirt with one hand while the other discarded the pen and paper you had no real intention of using. "You also said it was a slow night," he paused as you turned the key to unlock his cell. "Thought I should come and liven it up a little," he shrugged at that, leaning back against the bars, his handcuffs rattling as a result, and you shook your head at his nonchalant attitude.

"You are trouble, Derek Hale," you noted after a beat, sliding into the cell with him as you pretended not to notice the way his eyes raked your body at a speed so slow it nearly made your blood boil, the heat rising to your cheeks before you could fight it. "A good girl like me ought to stay as far away from you as possible," you moved slowly towards him, contradicting yourself completely, as always.

"Is that so?" he teased, brow raised as your fingers traced his own, stilling at the steel bracelets that made it impossible for him to do much of anything, you hummed as you nodded at him.

"Definitely," you insisted and tugged lightly at the restraints, pulling him towards you, far too close to be rational but there was an intoxicating amount of adrenaline coursing your veins purely from said proximity and rationality was far beyond reach.

"And are you?" he demanded, leaning forward to his own accord as he led your bodies to shift positions, forcing you against the bars instead of him. "Are you going to stay away?" there was a deadly, absolutely heavenly smirk dancing across his lips as he almost dared you to do exactly as you threatened to, exactly as you should, but he knew damn well that you wouldn't and so did you.

Derek was dangerous, you were unwaveringly and undoubtedly aware of that point from the very first time you'd met him, in a cell not much different than this one, wearing cuffs identical to the ones you were gripping onto now. He came with a bold print warning to stay clear- but you could never stay away and you never for even a second wanted to. He was a box of matches promising to leave your world in flames as soon as you allowed him to, and you were oh so willing to get burned.

"Couldn't even if I tried," you whispered, looking down at his hands as you released them, eyes filled with a daring excitement as he lifted them to your neck, fingers traveling across your skin, setting you alight in the process as he gripped your chin.

"Neither can I," he agreed, and you smiled almost shyly at the candid admission, carefully reaching up to grip his leather jacket, feeling his body tense under the notion and he scoffed lightly, the sound so low it sounded more like a gasp. "You think I'm trouble, sweetheart?" he demanded, taking advantage of your position to rest his forehead against yours, breathing you in, drowning you in him. "Hell, I don't think I ever really knew trouble until I met you."