An Archive of Our Own, a project of the Organization for Transformative Works
He wants to text Scott again, say that hey, on second thought, maybe the guy is really a serial killer, and to pleasepleaseplease do something. Unfortunately, the man would easily be able to read Stiles’ phone from his position, unless he awkwardly angled it away.
His skins starts to crawl when he sees the elevator is still four floors from his apartment. He could do an emergency stop, or push the button for the next floor, but the sudden change would look even more suspicious. Normally he dreads being stuck in the elevator with old Mrs. Matthews, but what he wouldn’t give right now to have her and her yappy little Chihuahua bustle in on the next floor…
He’s wrapped up in his thoughts when all the sudden one of the dogs gives a low growl, and a sharp, gruff voice orders, “Sit.”
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"I'm completely exhausted, and when a big, badass-looking stranger gets on the elevator with two huge dogs and gruffly orders them to sit, I immediately drop to the ground, making said stranger laugh hysterically" au.
