That Escalated Quickly

Chapter 1

Of all the days to be running late, today should not be it.

And yet.

It's 8:15 and Stiles is just barely running out the door even though he planned on being at work at 7:30 to go over a few things before his big presentation to the visiting colleagues and higher-ups. As he rushes to work, definitely going over the speed limit, he mentally sighs in relief over the fact that he has an assigned parking space. The day he got that with his promotion was a happy day indeed.

He's not technically late yet as the presentation is not until 10, but there are things he has to review and print out and he needs time to psych himself up before it happens. He runs through his list of things to do in his head as he pulls into the parking lot, driving to his spot only to slam on his brakes to avoid a collision.

His spot, his spot, is not empty and waiting for him. No, it's occupied, a sleek black Camaro with its lights still on idling there.

The douche must have just pulled up because Stiles watches, dumbfounded with his mouth hanging open, as the jerkface turns off the engine and slowly swings open the door and steps out of his fancy-ass car. He's wearing a tailored charcoal gray business suit and tinted sunglasses, a briefcase in one hand, his car keys in the other. And while Stiles can recognize that the guy looks damn good in that suit, he's too livid to fully appreciate it. That is his parking space!

The anger and frustration in Stiles is mounting so much that he doesn't even know what to do but sit in his car and stare as the douche rocket gives him a smug grin while he walks around the front of Stiles's car. Finally, before the guy can disappear into the building, Stiles rolls down the window and yells, "Hey, that's my spot!"

The asshole doesn't even turn around; he shrugs, so clearly he heard Stiles, but he obviously doesn't give a damn and keeps walking into the building.

If Stiles were a more vindictive person, he'd ram into the guy's car or get out and key it, but he'd rather not have to pay money to that dickbag. He might have more money now that he got that promotion, but it's not like he has tons of expendable cash.

He drives over to the unassigned parking lot on the other side of the building and parks in the first available spot. He rushes into the entrance, flashing his badge at the security guard, who waves him in.

There's a few people milling about outside of the coffee stand in the lobby, and Stiles slides past them on the way to the elevators. He has a coffee machine upstairs outside of his office, and while the one in the lobby tastes way better, he'll suffer with the office brand this morning. He punches the up button for the elevator and when it finally chimes and opens, he steps in, already pushing the button for his floor.

He hears someone call out to hold the elevator, and he moves to hold his hand out to stop the doors from closing but drops his hand when he sees who it is.

It's the guy who stole his parking spot.

Stiles pushes the close button on the doors and purposefully stands in plain view so that he can give the asshole a smug smirk. The man stands, a little dumbfounded, but quickly frowning as he watches the doors close, leaving Stiles alone in the elevator. Serves him right, Stiles thinks. No way in hell is he going to share an elevator with the asshat that took his parking space.