#someone give me a spoiled rich boy!stiles AU (~blacktofade)
Derek worked for everything he ever got, fourth kid down of seven kids, wore Wranglers from Goodwill that weren’t even cool when they were new and his Dad’s hand me down sweaters with patched elbows and his feet were always growing out of his sneakers for a month or two before they scraped together the money for a new pair and there was always enough for food, they were never hungry, but they ate a lot of meatloaf and bean soup and homemade applesauce from when someone his mom knew would give them a bushel of apples every once in a while, and ice cream on special occasions when it was on sale at the grocery and Derek hates rich kids, fucking hates Stiles on sight, sprawled out next to the pool barefoot, reading a brand new textbook that Derek knows for a fact cost $243.50, because he’s been going to the library after he finishes his workstudy shift to get the reading done with the reserve copy which some asshole already highlighted everywhere.
But he needs the money, and the money’s good, because Stiles’ Daddy wants someone to babysit his kid when he’s on campus, thinks it’s useful that Derek’s in a few of Stiles’ classes and said he’d clear it for Derek to be there for the others, like it was nothing, even though Derek’s petition to audit one of them had been turned down flat with no explanation. He’s someone important enough that he’s concerned about Stiles’ security, and the money is good because Stiles has run off every single other body guard he ever hired.
Stiles lifts his head and looks at him coolly, and then turns back to the book, no recognition in eyes at all, even though they’re in a couple classes together. Later, Stiles makes Derek sneak out to the marina and go with him when he takes the boat out, under the moonlit sky.
"Wouldn’t want me to fall in, right?" Stiles says. "You’d lose your meal ticket."
Derek frowns and says nothing, watching Stiles’ confident hands on the wheel, his hundred thousand dollar watch. What a fucking asshole, he thinks.
The boat is named The Claudia Jean.
BUT WAIT: can we talk about the Sheriff in this situation? (Let’s agree that he’s called the Sheriff because it was the breakout role that led to his stardom and fortune, or, oh, oh, wait, maybe his nickname is the ‘Sheriff of the U.S.’ due to his big-town politics and his small-town charm.)
The Sheriff never meant for Stiles to grow up the way he did––isolated, too smart, all rough edges and gaunt, growth-pained cheekbones––but he’d been a wreck after Claudia died, ruthless, dangerous, not a good person for a kid to be around. He’d only looked away long enough to get control of the drinking and to secure his candidacy, but when he’d looked back, Stiles had suddenly shot up six inches and grown out his hair, developed a smirk cruel enough to cut.
"Don’t worry about me, Dad," he’d say, "I’m just growing up," and it was true, their baby, Claudia’s baby, was all grown up, and the Sheriff didn’t know how to tell him no anymore, how to smack the cigarette out of his hand or shake Stiles back into himself. The Sheriff has made a career out of his competence, but in the face of Stiles’s studied apathy, how poisonous and deep his self-hatred runs, he finds himself fumbling and hamstrung.
When Derek shows up in four of Stiles’s classes, the Sheriff recognizes the name; it’s not exactly unusual, but it only takes a little digging to figure out he’s Talia’s son, one of the Hale brood from the town back in California where the Sherriff’s grassroots career had started. Derek Hale is hungry for more than he’s got, and what’s more, he’s a good kid who’s kept his nose clean, a responsible older sibling. He probably won’t be able to reach Stiles––god knows what can, now that the Sheriff’s lost him for good––but he’ll keep him out of trouble.