Work Text:
"Welcome to Beacon Bank, how can I help you.“
Derek cringed at his tone he could just tell was irritated. He’s had three meetings with the owner of the bank about how, when he’s a teller, he can’t just act like he’s irritated and pissed off all the time. Derek tried to tell Mr. Loveits that it’s just his tone, he can’t help it, but he didn’t seem to care.
Still, the pay was decent and he really didn’t have any other skill. Except ripping people’s throats out with his teeth. Surprisingly, being a werewolf didn’t get you high paying jobs though.
The person who had come up to his counter, though, didn’t seem too put off by Derek’s voice. Although he did take a step back before saying, "Dude, you ok?"
Derek ground his teeth, "Don’t call me dude."
The guy just huffed and smirked, "Yeah well I could call you grumpy cat, but I don’t think we’re friends enough to warrant you a nickname.”
Derek raised his eyebrow. Did this kid need help with something? “Don’t you need help with something?”
“Oooo question mark, I like it.” The guy chuckled, “Yeah I just need to deposit something.” He reached into his pocket and pulled out-
A coin jar.
Derek gave the kid an incredulous look, but he didn’t seem to care, “I need this put in my account. I won it at our big work party for guessing how many jellybeans were in the camera case - 1568, close enough to my 1540 guess by a mile, but I don’t really need to carry around spare change all the time so I-”
“Account number?” Derek decided to just ask. It seemed easier than just punching him in the face.
Even if he wanted to.
The guy’s mouth hung slack-jawed before his brain apparently caught up, “Oh sorry du-man, I get on tangents a lot.” He put the jar down on the counter and rubbed behind his neck with his newly freed hand, “Uh, here’s my deposit slip.” He pushed the deposit slip over to Derek.
After a quick peak, he saw that the amount written in the deposit box was-
“Whatever’s in the jar.” Derek read aloud incredulously.
“Yeah.” The guy shrugged, “I didn’t count it, I just came straight here from the party."
Derek sighed and pushed the jar back, "I can’t accept this until I know how much it is."
The guy swore under his breath and leaned forward, "I don’t normally do this, but…"
Derek rolled his eyes, "You’re Stiles Stilinski, weatherman for channel 4 action news, both at 6 and 11, bringing you all the action for Beacon Hills all the time.” He put his stare into Stiles’ eyes, “I know who you are. But I cannot accept this until you count it.” He gestured over to where there was a little living room set up, complete with a coffee table and uncomfortable sofas, “Just sit down and count it all for me."
Stiles grumbled, words that even Derek were impressed he’d know, and stomped over to the couches.
Derek didn’t casually sweep his eyes down to check out Stiles’ ass.
Nor did he covertly smell him as he walked away.
And if he did, it was for security reasons. In case he tried to hurt Derek.
Yeah.