Summary: Derek needs to start carding the people he flirts with.
“Let’s step into my office, Derek,” the Sheriff says.
Derek feels like a kid being sent to the principal’s office. Except this visit might end with Derek buried in the woods.
“I see you’ve met my son, Stiles,” the Sheriff says. Derek almost squirms at his pointed emphasis on the word ‘son’.
“Yes, sir. I have,” Derek says. He feels like every word out of his mouth is just incriminating him further.
“How old do you think my son is?” the Sheriff says.
“A lot younger that I originally thought,” Derek says.
The corner of the Sheriff’s mouth quirks up for a moment. “Caught that, did you?”
“I thought he was the receptionist,” Derek says helplessly. “I assumed he was around twenty.”
“And if you had known he was sixteen?” the Sheriff says.
Sixteen? Jesus fuck.
“Never would have even thought about it,” Derek says.
The Sheriff must believe him, because he nods and continues on to outline Derek’s duties without another word on the subject.
Derek’s never been so relieved to fill out paperwork in his entire life.