Two young men rush into the reception area from alternate entrances to the front desk of the Beacon Hills High School trying their best not to be later than they already are - set back by inconveniences in their daily routine.
One dressed in a striped blue hoodie over a slimmer gray hoodie who at first glance looked as if he still attended the school. "Hi, I'm Stiles Stilinski, you called to see me."
The second man looked like an ad for cologne come to life donned in a leather jacket over a buttoned shirt, exuding a gruff expression and huffing in exertion. "Derek Hale, I was bothered during work to come here."
"You?!" The two young adults exclaim when they take notice of each other.
"You owe me a parking space." Derek claims roughly, remembering how the only good spot close to the school was taken from him by a speeding blue Jeep. Running at full speed was the man's saving grace for arriving at the same time as Stiles.
"And you owe me a fresh turnover. With raspberry!" Stiles responds, giving the glare directed at him an equally intense look. The last batch of pastries for the late morning disappeared as Stiles stared longingly at it on line, purchased by the man in front of him. Stiles could have substituted with a bagel or anything else but he had standards, even if hadn't eaten since yesterday.
"Um, excuse me gentlemen." The receptionist draws their attention halting their squabbling and glare showdown.
Both men answered with a booming, "what?!"
Only Stiles has the decency to apologize to the woman startled by the unnecessarily harsh attitude of the two men.
"The principal will see you now." She answers, pointing a finger to the door, eager to send the men away to be the principal's problem.
They both try to enter the threshold of the principal's office at the same time, causing them to jam between the wooden frame of the doorway. Once they forcefully push themselves inside, neither wanting to relent passage for the other, their eyes target the reason for their summoning to the school.
"Lydia Stilinski, what's going on here? This isn't like you."
"Jackson Hale, what stupid thing did you do now?"
The principal spoke in an authoritative tone. "Mr Stilinski, Mr. Hale. Please, if you both would take a seat, we can get to the bottom of this."
Both guardians sit next to their charges and await details they were not privy to over the phone about their need to come here.
"Call me Stiles. I was here not so long ago." He jokes.
"Yes, I remember. Well, It seems Ms. Stilinski and young Mr. Hale skipped their class to...fondle each other in the janitor's closet. And this wasn't the first time."
The older Hale smacks the back of the head of the younger Hale. "Idiot."
Stiles scolds Lydia, "Lydia, why would you do that? You are too smart to do something that stupid on school grounds...and kinda skeevy, to be honest. I expected more from you."
"Well, I was already twelve chapters ahead. There's only so many times I can reapply my makeup before I go crazy with boredom." Lydia uses as an excuse.
"Then text in class, go on Tumblr, take a few selfies, catch up with a celeb on Twitter..."
"Actually, she really shouldn't any of those things in class. It's against school policy-"
Stiles continues as if the principal hadn't said anything. A trait that hadn't vanished in his time attending college. "Or whatever you crazy kids do these days."
"Stiles, you're only two years older than me." Lydia interjects with an exasperated moan, tired of Stiles constantly pretending to be older than he is.
Stiles resumes, "but don't go missing class and wrecking your perfect attendance record for Abercrombie over there."
"Abercrombie? Pfft. Please, I could get Tommy Hilfiger easily if I wanted." Jackson states, a scolding scowl on Derek's face promptly shuts his mouth.
Derek is the first to issue an apology to the principal on behalf of his charge. "I am very sorry for this inappropriate behaviour and I will make sure it will not happen again. Right, Jackson?"
"Yeah, sure. Whatever. Supply closet wasn't comfortable anyway."
"Uh, yeah. Same here, never to happen again." Stiles promises.
"Good to hear, you two may return back to your class. And I expect you to go straight there with no detours." The principal instructs.
"Yes, ma'am," both students answer dutifully in a monotone.
"No lip gloss for a week, young lady. I'll see you at home."
"Jackson!" Derek calls to stop the fast moving student hoping to escape any punishment. "We'll talk more about this at home tonight." Jackson rolled his eyes and hastily walked to his class. Not trailing behind Lydia, Derek hopes for his sake more than Jackson.
Derek decides to text his boss before leaving to let him know he would be back in the office shortly.
"Now I need to head back to the bakery on the other side of town before I go to class because SOMEONE STOLE THE LAST TURNOVERS!" Stiles shouts out at Derek and is promptly shushed by the perturbed receptionist.
"Stole? I think the reciept I have might prove otherwise. And you should talk, I saw you a second ago taking that hoodie from the lost and found box." Derek states, looking unimpressed at his accuser. "Like you need anymore."
"I attended here not so long along, it could be mine. Or my kids."
Derek wonders to himself who would allow this guy authority over not one teenager but multiple, hearing Stiles' use of 'kids'.
Stiles' response is put on hold when a woman speaks from the open entry of the school hallway.
"I'm sorry, is this student bothering you, sir?" A woman asks with concern, directed towards Derek.
"Hey! I'm not a student!" Lowering his voice at the second insistence of the receptionist, "Well, I am a student but a college one. Because I am an adult." Puffing up his chest at his claim then releasing the air when he looks at the clock. "An adult who will be late if he doesn't make a move this instant, so later all. Hope to never see you again." Stiles speed walks out the door past the woman who side steps quickly to let him pass.
When Derek tries to do the same, the woman steps back in front of the doorway to impede Derek's exit.
"We didn't formally meet. Hi, I'm Kate Argent - the math teacher. AP Calculus. I haven't seen you before, Mr…" waiting for Derek to fill in the blank.
"Hale. Derek Hale," he supplies, firmly shaking the hand offered to him with a smile. "My kids and I just moved here."
"Oh, are you and your wife enjoying Beacon Hills?"
"I am liking it here so far, minus the hooded menace, but I'm not married."
"Good to hear...that you're enjoying your stay here, I mean," flashing a smile full of teeth. "I'm new here myself, maybe we can explore," roaming her eyes up and down Derek's form, "what this town has to offer. Together."
"Uh, sure. That sounds like a good offer. I'll see you around, Kate."
"Yes, you will Derek." She imparts as Derek squeezes around her to leave the premises. Kate stares at the back of the man and murmurs to herself, "Sooner than you think, just you wait."
"Ms. Argent, did you say something?" The receptionist inquires.
"I was talking to myself."
"Ms Argent, why are you talking to yourself?"
"Mind your business, Becky! I'm forming a plan."
"Well, can you do it somewhere else? I have calls to make and the weird conversation with yourself is distracting." Kate leaves the office but not before turning a stink eye on the woman sitting behind the desk. "This is why I suggested to the principal we should give psych tests to new teachers," Becky muses before picking up the phone.
A/N: This was originally going to be the summary description but I didn't feel too strongly about it:
Here's a story about a man named Derek, who was bringing up three teenage abandoned boys.
All of them hair of brown gold, like their crazy mother who left them all alone.
Till the one day when the man's loft went up in smoke, and he had no place to call home.
Then the Sheriff asked his son to allow this group under his dome.
That's the way they all became a big ass bunch.
A big ass bunch.
A big ass bunch.
That's the way they all became a big ass bunch.
Anyway I hope you enjoyed. As always, criticism is welcomed.