Stiles frantically pressed the buttons, trying in vain to get the elevator to open. He'd been on his way home from work, and had decided to be lazy and take the elevator instead of the stairs. Stiles regretted that decision right now. He swiped his hand across the panel, the numbers lighting up. Stiles rubbed the back of his neck, feeling his anxiety level start to rise.

"Come on, come on," He muttered. Please don't have a panic attack, Stiles thought. Not here, not now. But all he could think about was the fact that he was trapped in this stupid, metal box, suspended hundreds of feet in the air by metal wires. He found himself gasping a little, the stuffy air suffocating him. He wanted out so badly.

"Okay, you need to sit down or something," The man behind him spoke for the first time in five minutes since the lift had come to a jarring halt. "Jeeze, you're making me anxious just watching you."

Stiles turned around and squinted at him. "We're stuck, in case you haven't noticed. Of course I'm anxious," Stiles told him.

"Sit down."

"Who are you, anyway?" Stiles asked, glaring up at him.

"I'm Derek. I live in 6B." He said, raising an eyebrow. "Who the hell are you?"

Stiles recognized the older man as one of his neighbours, not like he'd ever spoken to him before. They'd passed each other in the lobby and the mail room a few times. Nothing more.

"I – I need to get out of here," Stiles said, concentrating on his breathing. Deep breaths from the belly to calm his anxiety. No shallow breathing that would rise his shoulders in a terrified hitch – that would just make him more panicky.

Derek shouldered past him, and picked up the emergency phone. He held it to his ear. "Hello? Hello?" Derek called. "I think the phone is broken."

"No shit, Sherlock." Stiles said, watching as Derek hung up the phone.

"Pretty sure we're gonna be here for a while," Derek said, smirking a little. "God, I'm starving."

Stiles' stomach rumbled painfully loud. Ughh, try not to think about the can of Scooby Doo Alphaghetti's in the kitchen cupboard in his apartment. Try not to think about how he hadn't eaten since breakfast, nearly ten hours ago.

"Don't talk about food right now," Stiles snapped. Derek raised his eyebrows at him. Stiles ducked his head a little. "Sorry, I'm just really hungry."

"I'm Stiles," He said, leaning against the side of the elevator. "I live in 6C."

"I'm Derek Hale, from apartment 6B." The man repeated. That was the apartment right down the hall from Stiles.

"Are you the asshole who keeps playing rock music until two in the morning?" Stiles asked. Derek glared at him.

"That would be my sister, Cora." He said, glaring at Stiles. "She's kind of a night owl."

"Oh."

"Umm . . . maybe she should turn it down a notch?" Stiles suggested. Oh God, he thought. I just called him an asshole. Way to go, Stiles.

"I'll tell her. She's pretty stubborn though." Derek said.

"Yeah, normally I don't care if people are really loud. I just started a new job, though. I have to get up at like, six in the morning." Stiles explained.

"Where do you work?"

"Call centre, downtown."

"Nice." Derek said, nodding his head a little.