#detective!derek

[celestialvoid-fanfiction]

@loveyprophet Imagine a sterek Brooklyn 99 AU. Derek would be Santiago, he dresses like Rosa but is very much like Amy, a by-the-book cop.

Meanwhile Stiles would be Jake, the energetic guy who considers playing the guitar and screaming at a suspect an effecting interrogation method.

Derek is dating Paige, and while he is attracted to her (the brown eyes and moles), he knows that there’s no chemistry between them and their relationship soon dies. Meanwhile, Stiles is dating Theo Raiken, a defence lawyer who is also an abusive asshole. Stiles tries his best to get out of the toxic relationship, but he has no one to turn to (feeling ashamed if he had to tell his dad or the others about what happens behind closed doors). Despite their differences, with time, Stiles and Derek grow closer and end up falling in love with one another.

Boyd would be Terry, he looks tough and everyone expects him to be a hard-ass cop, but he’s very much in touch with his feelings and is a sweet, sensitive guy (who’s madly in love with Erica and nothing will ever change that).

Erica would be Gina, the sassy civilian administrator (who gets away with dating Boyd becasue technically she’s not part of the unit).

Cora as Rosa becasue she’s the Bi Queen™ and is a total badass, although slightly reserved. (And no matter how tough Cora and Derek may act, Derek is a huge softie when it comes to his sister and always worries about her).

Scott would be Charles, he’s smart but awkward and often relies on Stiles or Derek to help him close a case becasue he underestimates himself.

Sheriff Stilinski is the leader of the 99th precinct and Stiles loves teasing his dad while they’re at work. However, no one takes Stiles seriously as a policeman becasue they all think that his dad gave him the position and he didn’t work to get there. 

One of these non-believers is Derek, who is determined to put Stiles in his place or prove that he doesn’t belong there. Derek and the others make a bet to see what it takes of Stiles to earn his place, but they soon learn otherwise, that Stiles worked twice as hard to get there, to prove to his dad that he could be a good cop.

As for the others, Malia would be Pimento, a detective returning to the unit after years of undercover work, but her rebellious nature causes issues among the team.

Kate would be Captain Wunch, determined to take down the 99 division becasue Derek rejected her. However, Sheriff Stilinski has no tolerance for her or how she treats his unit and often resorts to childish (and creative) insults (apparently it’s genetic).

[missisjoker]

Captain Finstock is furious. “Great job, you bunch of morons! Got yourself into a hostage situation, almost got half of the team killed, and now we have to babysit a pack of FBI agents because you are so damn incompetent! And no, Hale, you do not get to opt out of this bullshit because a fed stole your beanie! In fact, I’mma pair you up with him, what was his name, Bilinski? Yes, the doe-eyed one. How old is he anyway, do they hire kids right out of kindergarten now? God, I don’t have enough booze to cover this shit. Could be better off coaching teenagers in a high school. Now, get out of my office!” What a way to start a Monday. ** “I didn’t know a beanie and a hoodie are new FBI style,” Derek all but seethes. “Says a detective wearing his own initial on his belt.” Derek follows Stilinski’s gaze to his crotch and blushes, “That’s not … that’s not for “Hale”, it’s for “Hermes”. “Oh, an officer who knows couture? I’m impressed!“ And then the bastard winks. Derek mentally punches a wall. ** In theory, having a team of FBI agents helping you with a case can be a good thing, because, well, they have more resources, and a much larger database, and cooler toys. On practice though, it is a giant pain in the ass, mainly because Derek hates his new partner. Well, no, Derek doesn’t hate him, it’s Derek’s balls that hate him. The brat (what kind of a name is Stiles Stilinski anyway?) is not just cute and smart and knows how to make killer lattes, he is also obnoxious and flirts with Derek all the time, and has an obscene mouth and fingers Derek can’t even look at, because those long dexterous fingers do things to Derek, and at this point Derek’s balls are not just blue, they are pitch black and about to fall off. Derek might have ripped several bedsheets with his erection and may or may not have considered billing Stilinski for them. He decides against it, and instead chooses to channel his frustration into anger and into being a dick. That doesn’t help. In fact, it just makes things worse. The more frustrated and angry Derek gets, the flirtier Stiles becomes. It’s ridiculous, like trying to put out a fire by throwing gasoline at it. Finally, frustration boils over and Derek all but slams the younger man into a wall while no one’s looking. He gets into Stiles’s face, pointing an accusational finger at him like a gun, and tells him all he thinks about flowers, handcuff hearts, chocolates, winks, air kisses and all other crap Stilinski has been pulling on him since day one. He has enough, he doesn’t like it, he doesn’t want it, and … Derek is surprised to see how hurt Stiles looks. He expects anything from a sucker punch to a fist to his face, but Stiles just whispers liar and leaves. Derek would’ve preferred a sucker punch. ** I’m such an idiot! Derek cusses himself while camaro slithers through empty streets. What a shitty detective is he if he can’t recognize a genuine crush over a prank? Worse even, Stiles is right- he is a liar. He should be sucking Stiles off right now instead of going back to an empty loft. His self-loathing is cut short by a truck ramming into his side. ** Derek loses track of time after about a week. After all, it is hard to tell day from night when you are lying semi-conscious in a windowless basement. Well, if it is how Derek goes out, so be it, he can’t cheat death forever. He wishes he could cheat it long enough to tell Stiles he likes him though. May be even loves him. But, with Hale luck ™ , he likely won’t even have a chance to say good bye. He hears his captors chatting near the cell, clanking tools. Oh, another round of torture, how terrific. And then something goes wrong, there are screams and shouting and gunfire and the cell door busts open and it’s actually Stiles, his Stiles, hair disheveled, with stubble and dark circles under his eyes, and he looks livid. Derek tries to scream, to warn Stiles one of the terrorists is launching at him from behind but Stiles just grabs the man and breaks his neck without even looking because his eyes never leave Derek’s face. Derek would probably coming all over himself now if not for the extensive blood loss. ** Stiles drags him out through fire and dead bodies and drops him into an ambulance before Derek gets a chance to say thank you. ** When Derek comes back, things are different. Stiles is still friendly and cooperative but now he is, for a lack of a better word, professional. No winks, no kissy faces, no more trying to sit on Derek’s lap – only business. Basically, this is everything Derek had asked for. And Derek wants to scream. When Captain Finstock calls him to his office and tells him, “I don’t know what the hell you did, Hale, but you better fix it soon, because your lovers spat is freaking me out”, Derek realizes how royally he screwed up. ** It takes a mind of a genius and a healthy dose of gay juju to properly apologize to Stiles, and Derek now owes a case of champagne to Dr. Martin and a new Prada wallet to Danny from cyber crime, but sleepy warm Stiles is cuddling him in his bed, so all of that was totally worth it. Stiles nuzzles Derek’s neck and mumbles, “I can hear you thinking.” Derek smiles, kisses him and goes back to sleep.

[missisjoker]

Detective Derek Hale and Special Agent Stiles Stilinski crossed paths only once, and that was enough for them to hate each other’s guts. Now, due to a threat to national security, NYPD and FBI New York field office are teaming up. Neither Derek nor Stiles are thrilled about it, while their teams run a poll on how long it will take them to bone each other.

[queerchester-from-beacon-hills]

An Archive of Our Own, a project of the Organization for Transformative Works

Chapters: 1/1 Fandom: Teen Wolf (TV) Rating: Explicit Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply Relationships: Derek Hale/Stiles Stilinski Characters: Sheriff Stilinski, Scott McCall (Teen Wolf), Lydia Martin, Kate Argent Additional Tags: AU, Detectives Stilinski & Hale, brief angst Summary:

There is a moment, right when they meet, that Stiles thinks, I could really fall in love with this man.

And he doesn’t even try to fight it.

[ackleholics]

Not giving in

This is part one of my fic 'Not giving in' I have a lot planned for it, so stay tuned!

Lydia's in a coma and Derek Hale has been assigned to find out who hurt her. Stiles is in custody, and is the main suspect. It's a clean and cut case, apparently, but Derek thinks there's more to it.

Of course Stiles got the hot detective. When the six foot something man -tall, dark and handsome- walked in carrying a satchel and wearing thin framed glasses, Stiles wasn’t sure whether to jump the guy right there. Seriously, it was almost like one of the interrogation pronos Stiles had watched, and being the curious teenager Stiles was he was very well educated on all kinds of pornos.

  Hell, maybe this was a porno, because this guy was seriously hot. Then again, Stiles really should stop thinking about pornos and gorgeous men because he has handcuffs and there’s a camera on the wall. No way does he want a boner when he’s under investigation.

  But holy fuck, Stiles is very much tempted to get on his knees and thank the lord for this bless of a man. He has the body of a steroid abuser and his eyes are magical. Like, he can’t even name the color of this guy’s eyes. Maybe they’d give Stiles the tape of his interrogation to watch when he’s in prison, because damn the camera was getting an unfairly good view of this detective's ass.

  Stiles watches the man eagerly, and the man watches him back. Slowly Mr. Tall-dark-and-handsome rounds the table and lowers himself on the unbelievably uncomfortable metal chair. Stiles deems himself a good judge of their comfortability, because he’d been sitting in his own stupid chair for about 5 hours now.

  The man said nothing, and Stiles stayed frozen for about five minutes as they held gazes before he looked away. He focused on the table, tracing the indentations in the metal like he had most of the day. So much for admiring the incredible human specimen sitting three feet from him. No way Stiles was challenging his gaze, hell if the guy took off his shirt Stiles would probably cave and tell him everything because-

  No. Stiles wouldn’t cave.

  So he continued to trace the indentations, the air becoming thick with anticipation. So far Stiles hadn’t said a word. That made him really proud of himself, because he was an A class rambler. Once he managed 139 words in one breath, Scott had wanted to call Guinness World Records but Stiles had held up his hand, and said quite simply- I don’t want to be world famous for rambling Scott.

  He was once again glad that the interrogation room was air conditioned, because he was starting to think of Scott and- Well he was very close to having a panic attack. He’d been so calm this entire time, and to break with Mr. Sex-on-legs right in front of him? That would be the biggest embarrassment.

  Maybe whoever was recording the interrogation would even submit the tape to Funniest Home Videos or something. Stiles actually liked that show, so maybe it wouldn’t be so bad. He’d once wanted to try and apply for the position for the guy who does the awesome voice overs.

  “I know you didn’t hurt her Mr. Stilinski.” Stiles almost jumped out of his seat, he’d completely forgotten Hotstuff could talk, was going to talk. “That’s not how I’m supposed to start enquiries of course. I should be introducing myself, telling you that I’m Detective Inspector Hale, and I’ve been assigned to your case to help prove that you committed assault to the third highest degree.”

  Stiles flinched at that. Of course he knew what the charges were, but he hated the phrasing. Assault, it hit him like a punch to the gut. “I’m not going to say any of that though, that’s a waste of time. Instead I told you that I believe you didn’t commit the crimes you’ve been charged with.”

  There was something absolutely enthralling about his voice. He spoke slowly, calmly, as though he had all the time in the world to get his words out. It was a nice change from Stiles’s own voice, always quick and babbling. There was also such sincerity to Detective Hale, Stiles was very tempted to look at him.

  Not because he was sex on legs of course.

  Stiles wasn’t that pathetic.

  “You’re a lot nicer than that Mull lady.” Stiles had to forcibly bite his lips from saying anything more. He’d broken his vow not to say a word, but Stiles really wanted to talk to this guy. Well, it was the guy’s job to get people to talk, and Stiles was a blabbermouth at best. Sometimes he could cover up truths with sarcasm.

  He wondered how the Detective would handle his sass. Maybe he could waste the man’s time and get him talking about the latest Zombie Survival game. He’d been playing it non-stop until… Until this shit happened.

  Hale let out a huff of breath, almost a laugh. Stiles was insanely tempted to look up and see if the guy was smiling. Jesus, Stiles wasn’t sure if he’d be able to breath if he saw Sex-on-legs smiling. “Yeah. Agent Mull really enjoys playing bad cop. I don’t work with her very often, but your case is really quite intriguing. She pulled a lot of strings to get assigned.”

  “So you’re the good cop then?” The air was lighter now, the difference noticeable even to the nerve wracked teen. Detective Hale was good.

  There was a shuffle of fabric, Stiles guessed his interrogator had leaned back in his chair. “No,” he denied with a soft laugh. “I mean, I guess some would see it as that? But I don’t really believe in that nonsense. The whole good cop, bad cop thing. I’m guessing she showed you the pictures then right?”

  At the mention of the images, Stiles felt his breathing stop, the whole world around him tilted in horrible angles and there was a startling cloud of darkness covering his vision.

  There’d been so much blood… Stiles took in a shaky breath.

  “Damnit kid, look at you.” He heard the Detective sigh, followed by scratching. His beard perhaps? Maybe it was a habit the man had. Stiles tried to picture the man’s face again, instead of the nightmare inducing images that were seared into his memory. “Have you eaten anything yet? I think they said they moved you in here at ten right? And you’ve been in custody since last night.”

  Stiles’s stomach rumbled and he glared at it pitifully. Traitor.

  At that the Detective spoke again. “Right.” Stiles could practically hear the smug grin on his face. “I’ll be right back. Oh, before I go.”

  Suddenly he pushed away from the table, the chair scraping as he did. Jeans appeared in the edge of Stiles’s vision and he tensed as the Detective crouched down in front of him. He couldn’t help but meet the man’s gaze, his eyes that incredible blend of colors. His hands then lifted up, brushing against Stiles’s clenched hands as he pushed a key into the cuffs.

  “Can’t have you hurting those delicate wrists now can we?” The Detective’s lips quirked before he stood. Stiles couldn’t help but watch as the man left, shutting and locking the door behind him.

[trilliath]

hey hey hey if you're bored you could go read Scene of the Crime... because... BECAUSE REASONS.

Yes that.

There are slippery bottoms involved at some point, if that helps.

[clownelefou]

"You're 25," says the curly-haired cherub of a man sitting next to you, "and you're choosing now to have your gay crisis?"  As you stare at the phone in your hand, dial tone loudly reminding you that you haven't even managed to hit a single button, you force out, "it's not a crisis."  Lahey snorts dismissively in response, rolling his bright eyes and sinking further back into the couch, doodling absently on the notepad that you should be using to figure out this case.  Instead, the only thought you can grasp; which is singing loudly in your ear, which is beating a constant beat against your skull, is of that damn boy.