It turns out that having a tumultuous relationship with law and order during your adolescence – even if it was only to save lives – meant that the police force was reluctant to accept you. He couldn’t imagine life working 9 – 5 in some office, and honestly wasn’t sure how long he would survive between his own pent up energy and the rage of his co-workers at his incessant fidgeting. He had thought about going back to study, post-grad, but while he loved to research and learn and could spent hours holed up in a library reading about the history of the world never, he couldn’t imagine spending years working on one paper.
He was twenty-three, and it was officially socially unacceptable to not know what he wanted to do when he grew up. (Just quietly he missed the days he could pronounce he was going to astronaut AND the president AND a ninja and people had patted his head and said of course of course).
“I never should have let you read Hardy Boys,” his dad said when Stiles informed him of his brilliant plan. Private Detective Stilinski, reporting for duty.
“We can be a crime fighting duo! I operate outside the confines of the law,” Stiles paused for a moment, fixed by his father’s glare. “I operate within the confines of the law but without the suffocating strictures of bureaucracy! I am a lone wolf! Or, or, a scouting wolf! This is going to be awesome.”
“Hopefully less chloroform than was in Hardy Boys and Nancy Drew, though,” Stiles offered.
“And less alcoholism than Bogart films,” his father added.
And that was that: Stiles Stilinski, BA in Crimonology and unofficial BA in the Supernatural, was going to open his own detective agency.
“Scott, I need your help to word this advertisement so people will know that I can help with ~supernatural mysteries without sounding like a lunatic. Nothing is too weird! I’ll always believe you! Howling investigated?”
“I don’t think any of those sound particularly good, Stiles,” Scott said, his eyebrows twisted together with concern.
“Stiles, what are you – You know what, I don’t even want to know.”
“I’m researching,” Stiles said, turning to beam at his father. “Oh wait, no, my face is going to look more like this from now on,” he amended, and furled his faced into a frown.
Film noir films really were a wealth of knowledge. He was going to have to buy some scotch for his office, and a heavy wooden table which he would litter with notes, and maybe he should find a photo of Lydia and rip it up a little and then keep it in his desk draw. He wondered who the femme fatale in his life was going to be.
“What are you doing?” Derek said flatly.
“Why does everybody keep asking that? Is it not obvious?” Stiles asked, gesturing his arm at the piles of film noir books and DVDs lining the coffee table, at the laptop opened to a page on premium scotch (and a million tabs open about how best to angst; cigars; fedoras; and possible offices around Beacon Hills).
“Derek! Derek! This is perfect – you can teach me how to brood. I need to learn, it’s an essential component of being an effective detective. I need to be operating outside the confines of,” Stiles paused for a moment, looking hastily to his left and right, and then lowering his voice, “the law, which is corrupt and I will walk alone on the streets bringing some measure of justice to this messed up place and you can – “
“Stiles. What are you doing?”
For a moment Stiles thought Derek was just trying to get a rise out of him. He had discovered, over the years, that Derek was in fact not a big gloomy ball of sourwolf all the time. He had a sense of humour (so dry it threatened to strip your tongue of moisture like a lemon), and apparently enjoyed setting Stiles off.
“Oh, right, I haven’t told you yet. I’m going to be a detective! Isn’t that great?”
Derek’s eyebrows tried to become even more intimately acquainted with each other. Stiles sensed disapproval and so responded as any rational human would in this situation: he let forth a deluge of words.
“Dude, look at the last seven years of my life. I’m used to being in danger. I may as well put my ‘hypervigilance’ to use. Vigilance! All the time! But also while detecting. I’ll still have time for pack time too. I’m really honing my skills. You should be thankful.”