The Beginning
It was nothing really, a small albeit confusing public scene of early earlymorning crazies. Just any other junkie Derek thought.
The guy snored strangely, like he was dying & I guess if my face (nose prominently) was mushed against the faux wood table like that my snores would probably sound just the same. He didn't look particularly homeless, but his hair looked like he'd been electrified but not in the rare sexy way. If there were any ladies doing their load Derek might have even considered bringing his whites down here just to keep an eye out for them, because you never know what the junkies are on. Some drugs cause violence. It could all be a rouse too, the sleeping.
Shit, I really need to stop listening to Uncle Pete.
He was all done folding his jeans and shirts and was heading towards the door when a song triggered the possibly homeless guy to wake up from his slumber. A few college students turned away from their laundry to give the before quiet peer a glare because they'd been playing their own music for a while now.
The way the guy flinched up was horrifying to watch, knees banging against the table he'd been resting on, neck snapping back in shock. He immediately picked up his phone without saying word to the caller in greeting, except a choking whine after what Derek assumes was bad news.
"I'm coming." He shouted banging his long limbs up from the table bench once again, in a hurry to get out of the contraption, once free he was running for the laundry mats door.
He was barreling Derek's way, as if he didn't see the big guy holding a basket in front of the door. He was able to dodge the crazy for the most part but their shoulders clashed painfully, junkie still running without a look or word towards Derek, down the street.
He stood there rolling his shoulder back when one of the slightly sober college students decided to give Derek a piece of their wisdom, "Duuude, that's why you need a bag, then your whitey-tighties don't spill over when people jump yuh."
Derek's "tightey-whities" did not in fact spill over, but a pair of jeans did flop to the floor. Giving the puke smelling boy his best scowl Derek said some rainbow fluffy choice words, then setting his basket of clean clothes Derek bends down to retrieve his now dirty jeans.
Only he finds that he wasn't the only person who dropped something in the collision. A standard lanyard is holding a work I.D. laying on the floor right be his feet. It clicks and Derek feels a bit guilty, 'cause he understands; he's seen Laura come back looking that bad. Derek was actually considering the guy as a threat, taunting him in his head. Then a string of unsaid curse words when the guy all but bruised his whole right side. Jobs in the industry make you look a bit crazy. He feels slightly sick to his stomach because he sees a washer going right behind the now vacated table. The one had left his clothing behind, woke up after he probably just got off shift, and left his belongings - sprinting off into the lightless morning to save some little kid.
Derek looked back at the Beacon Hills Hospital badge covered in happy stickers hap-hazardly put on with no design barely legible to read through the mass of them; , Pediatric Surgeon. You can only see half his face because of a rogue glittery unicorn plastered over it but even from that sliver you can tell that the guy is beautiful. Smile so wide it looks like it hurts. Stilinski tries to save children, obviously works way to hard, and also happens to be attractive- with a slightly questionably taste in music.
Its going be a long day.
Doctor doctor, Give me the news. I've got a bad case of lovin' you.
