This is part one of my fic 'Not giving in' I have a lot planned for it, so stay tuned!
Lydia's in a coma and Derek Hale has been assigned to find out who hurt her. Stiles is in custody, and is the main suspect. It's a clean and cut case, apparently, but Derek thinks there's more to it.
Of course Stiles got the hot detective. When the six foot something man -tall, dark and handsome- walked in carrying a satchel and wearing thin framed glasses, Stiles wasn’t sure whether to jump the guy right there. Seriously, it was almost like one of the interrogation pronos Stiles had watched, and being the curious teenager Stiles was he was very well educated on all kinds of pornos.
 Hell, maybe this was a porno, because this guy was seriously hot. Then again, Stiles really should stop thinking about pornos and gorgeous men because he has handcuffs and there’s a camera on the wall. No way does he want a boner when he’s under investigation.
 But holy fuck, Stiles is very much tempted to get on his knees and thank the lord for this bless of a man. He has the body of a steroid abuser and his eyes are magical. Like, he can’t even name the color of this guy’s eyes. Maybe they’d give Stiles the tape of his interrogation to watch when he’s in prison, because damn the camera was getting an unfairly good view of this detective's ass.
 Stiles watches the man eagerly, and the man watches him back. Slowly Mr. Tall-dark-and-handsome rounds the table and lowers himself on the unbelievably uncomfortable metal chair. Stiles deems himself a good judge of their comfortability, because he’d been sitting in his own stupid chair for about 5 hours now.
 The man said nothing, and Stiles stayed frozen for about five minutes as they held gazes before he looked away. He focused on the table, tracing the indentations in the metal like he had most of the day. So much for admiring the incredible human specimen sitting three feet from him. No way Stiles was challenging his gaze, hell if the guy took off his shirt Stiles would probably cave and tell him everything because-
 No. Stiles wouldn’t cave.
 So he continued to trace the indentations, the air becoming thick with anticipation. So far Stiles hadn’t said a word. That made him really proud of himself, because he was an A class rambler. Once he managed 139 words in one breath, Scott had wanted to call Guinness World Records but Stiles had held up his hand, and said quite simply- I don’t want to be world famous for rambling Scott.
 He was once again glad that the interrogation room was air conditioned, because he was starting to think of Scott and- Well he was very close to having a panic attack. He’d been so calm this entire time, and to break with Mr. Sex-on-legs right in front of him? That would be the biggest embarrassment.
 Maybe whoever was recording the interrogation would even submit the tape to Funniest Home Videos or something. Stiles actually liked that show, so maybe it wouldn’t be so bad. He’d once wanted to try and apply for the position for the guy who does the awesome voice overs.
 “I know you didn’t hurt her Mr. Stilinski.” Stiles almost jumped out of his seat, he’d completely forgotten Hotstuff could talk, was going to talk. “That’s not how I’m supposed to start enquiries of course. I should be introducing myself, telling you that I’m Detective Inspector Hale, and I’ve been assigned to your case to help prove that you committed assault to the third highest degree.”
 Stiles flinched at that. Of course he knew what the charges were, but he hated the phrasing. Assault, it hit him like a punch to the gut. “I’m not going to say any of that though, that’s a waste of time. Instead I told you that I believe you didn’t commit the crimes you’ve been charged with.”
 There was something absolutely enthralling about his voice. He spoke slowly, calmly, as though he had all the time in the world to get his words out. It was a nice change from Stiles’s own voice, always quick and babbling. There was also such sincerity to Detective Hale, Stiles was very tempted to look at him.
 Not because he was sex on legs of course.
 Stiles wasn’t that pathetic.
 “You’re a lot nicer than that Mull lady.” Stiles had to forcibly bite his lips from saying anything more. He’d broken his vow not to say a word, but Stiles really wanted to talk to this guy. Well, it was the guy’s job to get people to talk, and Stiles was a blabbermouth at best. Sometimes he could cover up truths with sarcasm.
 He wondered how the Detective would handle his sass. Maybe he could waste the man’s time and get him talking about the latest Zombie Survival game. He’d been playing it non-stop until… Until this shit happened.
 Hale let out a huff of breath, almost a laugh. Stiles was insanely tempted to look up and see if the guy was smiling. Jesus, Stiles wasn’t sure if he’d be able to breath if he saw Sex-on-legs smiling. “Yeah. Agent Mull really enjoys playing bad cop. I don’t work with her very often, but your case is really quite intriguing. She pulled a lot of strings to get assigned.”
 “So you’re the good cop then?” The air was lighter now, the difference noticeable even to the nerve wracked teen. Detective Hale was good.
 There was a shuffle of fabric, Stiles guessed his interrogator had leaned back in his chair. “No,” he denied with a soft laugh. “I mean, I guess some would see it as that? But I don’t really believe in that nonsense. The whole good cop, bad cop thing. I’m guessing she showed you the pictures then right?”
 At the mention of the images, Stiles felt his breathing stop, the whole world around him tilted in horrible angles and there was a startling cloud of darkness covering his vision.
 There’d been so much blood… Stiles took in a shaky breath.
 “Damnit kid, look at you.” He heard the Detective sigh, followed by scratching. His beard perhaps? Maybe it was a habit the man had. Stiles tried to picture the man’s face again, instead of the nightmare inducing images that were seared into his memory. “Have you eaten anything yet? I think they said they moved you in here at ten right? And you’ve been in custody since last night.”
 Stiles’s stomach rumbled and he glared at it pitifully. Traitor.
 At that the Detective spoke again. “Right.” Stiles could practically hear the smug grin on his face. “I’ll be right back. Oh, before I go.”
 Suddenly he pushed away from the table, the chair scraping as he did. Jeans appeared in the edge of Stiles’s vision and he tensed as the Detective crouched down in front of him. He couldn’t help but meet the man’s gaze, his eyes that incredible blend of colors. His hands then lifted up, brushing against Stiles’s clenched hands as he pushed a key into the cuffs.
 “Can’t have you hurting those delicate wrists now can we?” The Detective’s lips quirked before he stood. Stiles couldn’t help but watch as the man left, shutting and locking the door behind him.
