Sterek One Shots (boyxboy)

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Apparently, Derek is being stalked by a renegade graffiti activist. Because that's a thing now.

Most people on campus range from mildly amused to downright impressed with the things "Red" stencils onto bare walls and fences, but Derek just doesn't get it. He didn't even care about it until this morning, when Red's latest creation showed up on the cement wall running alongside Murray Hall.

"You're making that face again," Erica says, breaking his reverie.

"What face?" Derek tries to school his features but knows he's failed if Erica's smirk is anything to go by.

"The constipated grouch face," Erica says, and Isaac makes his presence known by snickering right along with her.

Derek shoots them both a glare. "Really not in the mood today, guys." He pushes off the wall and begins to walk toward the sociology building, and Erica and Isaac follow since that's where they're meeting Boyd for their next class.

"Oh, come on," Erica says, looping her arm around Derek's elbow. "There's no way they can actually pin this on you."

"You weren't there," Derek insists miserably. "God, I don't think I've ever been more embarrassed than I was at that meeting with Dr. Deaton and Dr. Harris. The dean was there, too!" He sighs. "I'm pretty sure half the administration is convinced I'm to blame for this guy's spray paint doodles."

"I think the technical term is tags," Isaac pipes up. "Not doodles."

"God, this isn't funny, guys," Derek says, exasperated. "I heard Harris talking to Deaton about revoking the last year of my art fellowship funding. There's no way I can finish my thesis without it." Never mind that Derek has no idea what his thesis is going to be about. He plans to worry about that later, after he secures funding.

"That's ridiculous," Erica says, unimpressed. "I mean, they don't even have any proof you did it."

"Red spray painted me," Derek says, patting his own chest. "In their eyes, this is the most concrete piece of evidence they've come across linking anyone to Red's identity."

"Why would an anonymous street artist leave the equivalent of a selfie?" Isaac asks, scrunching up his nose. "Kinda defeats the purpose of being anonymous. If anything, this proves you're the one person who isn't Red."

That's what Derek had said, but the dean hadn't looked convinced. "Even if I'm not Red, this makes them think I know who he is." He pauses, looking uncertain. "She? He or she?" Derek shakes his head. "Whatever."

"Do they think you posed for him or something?" Isaac laughs at the thought. "Tag me like one of your French girls, Red!"

Erica pulls a face. "Okay, that was terrible," she remarks, then turns to Derek and says, "So, what are you supposed to do?"

Derek's spent the last couple hours thinking about his next course of action. "Well, logically, there's no way no one knows Red's identity, right? How is that even possible in this day and age?"

"I dunno. It just is." Isaac shrugs. "He's practically like an urban legend now. I bet even if people figure out who he is, they keep quiet about it. Y'know, to keep the legend alive."

Derek frowns hard. "He's probably some undergrad anklebiter with no respect for the rules," he says vehemently. "It's not like this is a CIA level undercover operation. There are thousands of students here every day. It can't possibly be that difficult to figure out who he is. Someone has to know something."