Sterek One Shots (manxman)

I Have Faith In Nights *Chapter One*

Tags: Alternate Universe - Human, Cop!Derek, I'm not going to say Prostitute!Stiles because he's not cool with that, Withdrawal, Crime, Drug Use, Tattooed Stiles, No seriously Stiles is a street punk, And Derek is down with that, Angst, Past Abuse, Hurt Stiles, Derek has an inner monologue like the Fight Club narrator but meh, Bathing/Washing, Panic Attacks, Depression,Violence, Graphic Description, Anal Sex, Hand Jobs, Implied/Referenced Self-Harm, Cynicism, So much cynicism, implied mental health issues

Words: 35808

Chapters: 8

Title: I Have Faith In Nights

Author: DaintyBoots

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Summary:

Derek had always thought his ability to pick up strays was a bit of a hindrance. But then he met Stiles.

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Comment (s): There are eight chapters in this story, you know the drill--> if it's good, vote for more. Thank you!!

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Chapter 1

Chapter Text -

On reflection, Derek thought, it was all Greenberg's fault. It had, after all, been his idea to generously promote Derek.

Fucking Greenberg.

Some promotion, Derek thought, as the soles of his shoes snapped against the dirt-grey linoleum floor. Detective Hale, Narcotics Division. Admittedly, it was slightly snappier than Officer Hale, White Collar Division. But with the shiny new title came a shitload of new responsibilities. Responsibilities like leaping over rotting barbed fences and aggressively shoving your badge under some poor whacked-out junkie's red-raw nose. It had taken Derek around three months of chest-puffing and alpha male-bonding over beers to realise that he missed his organised desk. He missed his neutral ties. He missed his nine to five. Although wasn't like he had anyone to come home to, apart from his dogs. Still, it was his right as an American. Also, it meant he could catch up on some reports before watching the Discovery Channel. Sharks were fucking awesome.

But he could give up the sharks for the pay rise. Also, Derek had to admit, he was good at this crap. He could run faster, tackle harder, and slam his hand down on a table better than most people in this division. All those years in the gym and his facial proclivities towards frowning rather than smiling had somehow paid off. His first month in the job, he simultaneously cracked a case and made the key informant piss himself. This particular little triumph earned him a lot of back-slapping and jovial respect around the office. Derek just felt like a grade A asshole.

"The fuck is going on in that pretty little head of yours Hale? C'mon, we got a live one for questioning."

Derek smirked as he watched Reyes, better known to her small army of admirers as Erica, slide effortlessly between the closely set desks in the bullpen before sauntering around the corner. Every male in the vicinity's eyes moved with the sensual sway of her departure. Derek shook his head, feeling his lips quirk up at the corners. Jesus, that girl. She certainly knew how to work them. He regarded her shtick as quite impressive, if he was honest. Narcotics was a male-dominated division, much like every other division, apart from Sex Crimes. If a woman wanted to hold her head above the water (or at least above the gangbang jokes), she had to give as good as she was getting. And Reyes could certainly do that, in her own special sugar-sweet ball-crushing way. Derek understood the appeal, really, he did. If he wasn't into guys he'd probably share his colleagues' slightly concussed expression. With a sigh, he followed her out.

"So, want me to get you a pole to go with that strut?"

Erica rolled her eyes, not looking up from the cream-coloured file she was leafing through.