"Come on, move! To your left! No, your other left!" Stiles shouted frustrated at the big tv screen, as he smashed away at the game controller in his hands, and the game player jumped up collecting rings falling from the sky.
"Get it! Get it!" He voiced enthusiastically, completely hooked on the game.
"Ring, ring!"
"Oh, come on! I'm in the middle of something!" The teen argued with his phone, glancing back and forth between his cell and the game at hand, as he moved his player to collect items, gaining points along the way.
"Ring, ring!"
"Ugh! This better be an emergency!" He yelled, as he quickly hit the pause button on his game and grabbed his phone, looking at the caller ID, and sighing.
The name "POPS" dashed across the top of the screen of his cell, along with a picture of an older man in a sheriff's uniform.
This was the call Stiles was trying to avoid for as long as possible. He didn't want to lie to his dad about his schooling and financial situation. It always made him feel crummy when he did, not to mention, his father was pretty good at telling when his son was lying to him.
He took a moment to collect himself, silently preparing himself for what intrusive questions his father might ask, before bringing a finger down and tapping the answer button.
"Hey, Dad."
"Hey, kiddo! It's so nice to hear your voice. I feel like it's been forever since we last spoke. I keep trying to reach you but you're always busy."
Stiles winced a bit, feeling a bit guilty for avoiding his father's calls. His dad had called many times within the past few weeks and Stiles always found a reason to cut the calls short, worried he would reveal some hidden truth about his current situation. The teen thought back to some of the lies he had told, as his father started telling his son about the crazy work incidents he had since the pair last spoke.
"Hey Dad, I can't talk right now, I have class."
"Hi Pops, my lunch break is just ending, I had a shift change."
"Daddo, I wish I could talk but uhh… I'm on my way to church."
And the most terrible son award goes to… me. Stiles thought.
"And when I told the man he was under arrest he said can I have a shake with that?" The sheriff ended with a chuckle.
"Oh, yeah. That's a good one." Stiles replied with a forced laugh.
"You okay son? You sound stressed."
Stiles face palmed at his father's comment, he could never fool his dad, not completely anyway.
"You know me so well Dad. I keep forgetting." He voiced, looking at the paused game in front of him.
"What is it, son? Is everything okay?"
"Yeah, I'm fine. It's just…" The teen froze, unsure if he should tell his dad the truth or not.
"What is it, Stiles? Are you in some kind of trouble?" The sheriff asked worried.
"No, no. Nothing like that. It's nothing. I just have uh… a big test coming up in school and I have a new job. I don't have much time on my hands. I'm always so, so…" He glanced over at the game on the screen once more.
"…busy." He added, sounding defeated, tossing his game controller to the side of the couch as if trying to hide his guilt.
"You found a new job? Would that happen to be the one I told you about at the law firm?" The sheriff asked hopeful.
"Yes, Dad."
"That's great, son. I'm so proud of you. It's about time you left that diner place."
"Well, it's not a big role. I work as an office assistant three days out of the week."
"It's a start and an improvement from working with Mr. Harris." The sheriff said.
Stiles nodded in agreement.
"I'm sorry, I haven't kept in touch, Dad. I'll try harder."
"That's okay son. I know you mean well and I know life can get hectic too. I just miss my son."
"Miss you too, Dad."
"Maybe you could visit your old man sometime? Spring Break is right around the corner."
"Yeah, that sounds good. I'll check my schedule."
After finishing his chat with his father, Stiles ended his gameplay. He told himself it was out of losing interest in it, but he couldn't deny the fact that he felt a touch of guilt after talking to his dad, pretending to be something he wasn't currently, a successful student with a bright future.
Feeling grossed out with his oily, unwashed bed hair, and still wearing his ensemble of Sponge Bob pajama pants, with a white tank top at two in the afternoon, Stiles opted for a shower.
The teen turned the knob in the shower and let the warm water fall onto his skin, erasing all his worries and stress along with some dirt down the drain. He closed his eyes and let out a deep sigh, feeling his muscles become limp under the spray of the water.
Stiles wasn't sure how long he was in the shower, all he knew was when he opened his eyes again, the shower stall was filled with steam. He quickly turned the handle off and pulled the shower curtain open, grabbing a towel off the rack.
Just then, his phone "dinged" with a text.
He wrapped the towel around his waist, leaving a wet trail with his footprints as he headed over to the bathroom counter to look at his phone.
Scott: Hey man, I hope you're not mad at me about last night.
Stiles: That depends. Did you get laid last night?
Scott: Of course.
Stiles: Then yes, I'm still mad.
Scott: Aww, come on man. Don't be like that. You got laid on Saturday and I was happy for you.
Stiles: Yeah, but it wasn't on an official guy's night.
Scott: I said I would make it up to you.
Stiles: Uh-huh. I'll believe it when I see it. Until then, you're on my shit list.
Scott: Well, I will make it up if you let me. My last class of the day ends at 4:30, we can hang out then.
Stiles: I can't. I have to run an errand around that time.
Scott: Well, text me when you're done. I'll bring pizza, and Reese's cups and we can watch as many Batman movies as you want. What do you say?
Stiles: Dude, you had me at pizza.
Right around a quarter to five, Stiles headed inside the large city building with big, bold white letters that said HALE Enterprises on it. At the entrance, he was greeted by a friendly doorman in uniform, with a goofy smile and sandy brown hair, named Liam.
The teen then headed over to the main reception area, where a middle-aged salt and pepper-haired man, with blue eyes, wearing a black suit stood. The man was in charge of checking people in and making sure everyone was going to the right floor, with the proper credentials.
"Excuse me, I'm here to see Mr. Hale. I uhh… have a five o'clock appointment with him." Stiles stated as he leaned against the marble counter.
"What is your name?" The man named Chris, according to his name tag asked, picking up a clipboard.
"Uh, Stiles. Stiles Stilinski."
The man looked down at the list of approved people.
"I don't see your name on here," he said, as he began typing away at his keyboard.
"Oh really. Maybe he forgot to add me to the list? It was kind of a last-minute thing." Stiles replied, fidgeting a bit in his spot.
Chris looked the boy over in disapproval, as if, he was not convinced the teen even had an appointment or a right to be there. He began to dial a number in his phone before bringing it up to his ear.
Stiles gulped nervously as the man began to talk on the line.
"Good evening, Miss Martin. I have a Mr. Stilinski here to see Mr. Hale."
Stiles watched as the older man talked on the phone, eying his facial expressions, hoping for a smile to break out on the man's face, a look of understanding, or even a chuckle, something to ease his discomfort.
"Yes, he's not on the list. Should I send him up?"
Another pause.
"Okay, will do," Chris said, before ending the call.
He then grabbed a special card pass and slid it over the marble counter for the teen to take.
"You will need this card to enter the elevator. You must insert it into the keypad on the wall, in order for the doors to open for you." The man voiced, seeing the teen's confusion.
"Oh, yeah. I remember from last time." Stiles said, scooping it up in his hand.
"Uh-huh, do you know what floor you are going to?" Chris asked.
"It's the top floor…the penthouse," Stiles answered.
The older man wrinkled his face up in stress before replying, "That would be at a hotel, sir. Here, we have actual floor numbers."
"Oh, crap. I forgot." Stiles said sheepishly as his cheeks turned pink with color.
"The top floor in the elevator is 73, which you don't want," Chris claimed.
"Why not?"
"Floor 73 is actually the rooftop. Mr. Hale's office is on floor 72." The older man clarified.
"Good to know. Thanks, man," Stiles called out, before walking off down the hallway passing by the lounge area, where there were business people sitting and drinking coffee, and busy chatting on their phones or typing on their laptops.
He headed over to the closest elevator and took out the card, inserting it into the device on the wall, watching in amazement as the black screen turned green with a checkmark giving him the go-ahead, and the elevator doors soon opened up with a ding noise.
"Hi." Stiles greeted the familiar redhead receptionist as he walked over to her desk.
"Oh goody, it's you again," Lydia replied, looking up from her computer screen.
"Stiles." He answered, pointing to himself.
"Yes, I know."
"Mr. Hale said he had some papers for me to sign, and told me to come by five. It's five o'clock on the dot." Stiles said with a smirk on his lips, standing proudly.
"Yes, and what do you want? A medal?" Lydia snapped.
"No, I was just saying I wasn't late. Remember? Last time I was a bit late."
Lydia eyed him in disbelief.
"So, let me get this straight. You want a congratulations for doing something that is required for people to do on the regular, and already do, without getting any praise or a reward?"
"No, I was just…" He paused seeing her annoyed facial expression. "Never mind."
"Already forgotten, Sweetie."
"It's Stiles." He corrected; a bit annoyed at her attitude.
"Excuse me." Lydia voiced, putting a finger up in the air as if to hush the teen, and grabbed her office phone making a call.
"Mr. Hale, he's here. Ok, will do," She voiced into the receiver before quickly ending the call and directing her attention back to Stiles.
"Mr. Hale will see you now."
"Cool. Should I just head in, or wait for you to open the door?"
Lydia gave him an insulted look.
"Do I look like a doorman?"
"Uhh, no?"
"There's your answer then. Go on, get." She voiced, shooing him away with her hand, before going back to her work.
The teen had some choice words he wanted to say to the snotty receptionist, but found it best to let it go. It was the end of the day after all. Surely, the woman was tired and probably overworked, and perhaps she was having a bad day. Whatever the reason for the redhead's moodiness, Stiles decided to give her the benefit of the doubt. Besides, it wouldn't look good if he picked a fight with Mr. Hale's assistant. He needed this deal to go through.
He walked over to Derek's big office and pulled the door open, quietly heading inside, noticing Mr. Hale was sitting behind his desk on a call. Stiles came over to stand in front of his desk, waiting to be acknowledged.
"Yes, I know Theo. I'll have it to you by the end of the day," Mr. Hale said into the receiver, as he slid a couple of typed-out pages down his desk for the teen to sign, and then, took out a fancy silver pen from his holder, placing it on top of the paperwork, not bothering to look up.
Stiles rolled his eyes, glancing down at the sheets. He couldn't believe Derek actually typed out a contract just for sex. It seemed a bit over the top for a hook-up plan.
"Yes, I know." Mr. Hale answered into the phone.
Stiles leaned down and grabbed the pen, taking the cap off, when Derek suddenly placed a hand over the paperwork, blocking the area where the teen needed to sign.
Stiles gave him a questioning look as Mr. Hale voiced into his phone, "Hold on, Theo."
He then moved the phone away from his ear and placed a hand over the handset, as he ordered the teen, "Read it first."
"That's not necessary." Stiles protested.
"Read it," Derek demanded.
"Okay, okay." The teen said in defeat, grabbing the papers in his hands and bringing them over to the large window across the room, for additional light to read.
Once Mr. Hale was satisfied the teen would thoroughly read the contract, he went back to his phone conversation. "What's that? Yes, I'm still here. I know Theo. I told him, Uh-huh."
Stiles began to read:
This contract is binding. By agreeing to the terms of this deal, you are agreeing to selling your soul.
"What?!" Stiles blurted out, with widened eyes, looking over at an amused Derek.
The older man made a gesture with his hand for the teen to keep reading as he chuckled into his phone.
"What? No, I'm not laughing. I'm clearing my throat, lighten up, Theo."
Stiles continued to read:
This contract is binding. By agreeing to the terms of this deal, you are agreeing to selling your soul.
I'm kidding. I just wanted to make sure you read this. See, I can joke too.
He looked over to Derek and rolled his eyes before going back to reading the rest.
By agreeing to this contract, you are agreeing to the following:
Sexual activity with me at least once a week.
Going to at least two social work functions or group gatherings a month.
You should also be made available to be reached by phone, text, and or email when necessary.
The amount agreed upon is 2,000 a week.
This contract will end when one or both parties agree.
Signature X
Stiles looked it over nodding his head in agreement, before signing down on the line and bringing it back to Derek, who seemed to have finished his call around the same time.
"So, how does it look?" Mr. Hale asked, meeting Stiles's gaze.
"I can work with it. When do we start?"
"I'll contact you when I have free time or when an event comes up. I'll make sure to give you a few days' notice when I can. And I understand if you can't always make it. As long as it doesn't happen all the time." Derek voiced from his desk.
"Yeah, sure. Sounds like a plan." Stiles replied, watching as Mr. Hale took the pen and signed under the teen's signature, and dated the sheet.
Derek opened his top drawer, took out a folder, placing it on top of his desk. He took a copy of the contract and placed it nicely into the binder, before putting it back into the drawer, closing it.
"Well, I should go. I said I would meet up with a friend." Stiles said, feeling weird about the silence that had fallen in the room, wanting desperately to avoid the awkwardness.
The teen turned to walk out when Mr. Hale stopped him.
"Wait. Take this." Derek voiced, holding out a copy of the signed contract in his hand.
"Oh snap," Stiles replied, completely forgetting about his copy.
He grabbed a hold of the paper, freezing mid-way, looking into Derek's eyes.
"What?" Mr. Hale asked curious.
"It's nothing, I just noticed your eyes are green. Nice." The teen said with a shrug and carelessly folded the paper in half, putting it in his pocket for safekeeping.
"I interviewed you, we slept together and you're just now noticing my eyes?" Derek said amused.
"Hey, in my defense, the first and second time we met I was hungover, and the club and my room were both dark, so yeah. That's my answer and I'm sticking to it. Gotta go." The teen voiced before turning to head for the door.
Derek shook his head in disbelief, unable to control the small smile that formed on his lips, before calling out, "Enjoy your night."
"Enjoy your work!" Stiles replied back, before exiting the room.