.fast times at clairemont high.

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Stiles is stoked when he's chosen for an undercover operation to take down a drug ring.

Straight out of high school, he knew he wanted to follow in his dad's footsteps and become a cop. So while most of his other friends spread out across the country and sold their souls to big name Universities, Stiles stayed in his hometown of Beacon Hills and enrolled in the police academy. Six short months later, Stiles was an official graduate. Two months after that, Stiles was straightening his brand new Deputy uniform, a proud smile on his pop's face.

Stiles spent two years serving on the Beacon Hills police force alongside his dad, the Sheriff. And he loved every moment of it. But he needed to grow as a person, to expand his horizons he told his dad, and put in for a transfer to the Los Angeles Police Department. He paid his first months rent for a mediocre apartment and packed his belongings into the back of his old Jeep, arriving in Los Angeles on a humid Monday morning as Officer Stiles Stilinski.

Within the first month, he grew to love LA. He made friends with the officers he worked with and he went out like a grown adult living on his own for the first time. It was at a nightclub called The Jungle (two of the cops he worked with practically dragged him here and forced him onto the dancefloor) that he met Derek Hale.

Derek wasn't like most of the men who Stiles saw at the club. He was tall, mysterious, brooding, and his eyebrows did this incredible thing when he turned down the people who hit on him. And unlike most of the other men who came onto Stiles, Derek didn't plaster himself to the younger man like a leech. Derek didn't grope him, he didn't grab him, he didn't kiss him. He didn't suggest they "get out of here." They just clung together in the crowd as they danced, and then made their way to the bar for a drink. They stayed there for the rest of the night, mostly sober, just talking. Laughing. And when Stiles' friends found him and said they were leaving, Stiles dejectedly parted ways with Derek with a scribbled phone number on Derek's palm and a chaste kiss on the lips.

Derek called Stiles. Of course he did. They met up a few days later for coffee. That date ended with more than just a small kiss when they made out in the front seat of Derek's Camaro when he dropped Stiles off at his apartment. Nothing too hot and heavy, but seatbelts were shed and tongues were introduced.

It moved pretty quickly after that. One date turned into two, into three, into a hundred. Stiles and Derek were inseparable. Stiles learned his favorite everything and his pet peeves and his dreams and his fears, and Derek learned the same. He would sometimes visit Stiles at the station and bring him lunch and they would alternate apartments on the nights Stiles' had off work. They'd been dating for almost eleven months when Derek not-so-subtly suggested that they move in together. Stiles was more than happy to agree.

It was about six months after they found a small house (a real fucking house and not an apartment) a few miles outside of downtown LA that Stiles got the news; Stiles and his partner Allison were chosen to go undercover to infiltrate a drug ring.

He's less stoked when he discovers that he'll be posing as a seventeen year old student at the High School where Derek teaches.

But it's not like Stiles can just turn down the case. This is huge. It's a promotion, he'll earn the title Agent Stilinski, and he'll even get a fancy new badge that he can flash in people's faces (he's always wanted to do that.) He won't be detained to desk work and patrolling; He'll actually get to investigate people. Allison would undoubtedly hate him if he screwed this up for them, and he was dying to bust something big, make a name for himself, make his dad proud. So Stiles confronts Derek, asks him his opinion.

"It'll be awkward," Derek states. He makes a face. "Like... I'll be your teacher. And you'll be my student. But I've had my dick in your butt. I don't wanna be a pedophile."

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