The firm's building is slick, all glass and chrome, impersonal and too shiny. Does he have the right place? He checks in at the desk and yes, he's supposed to be there. Mr. Lauden is running late, though, and Stiles should have a seat in the plush waiting room.

It's not until he sits down (accidentally banging his arm cast on the chair as he does) that he realizes he's feeling suddenly at ease. His magic is practically purring. He frowns to himself and looks around, his eyes falling on the man seated across from him.

The man looks like a model. He's scowling at his phone, which does nothing to take away from his overall gorgeousness, and Stiles wonders what about him has his heart beating suddenly twice as fast as normal. It's not like Stiles has never seen a beautiful man before.

As if he's wondering the same question, the man looks up, nostrils flaring, and pins Stiles with an intense stare.

Stiles waves nervously. His good hand needed something to do. He waved. That's not too bad, right?

Now the man just looks confused. The little furrow between his eyebrows is adorable and Stiles wants to maybe smooth it with his thumb. He tries smiling, instead.

The man isn't looking away. Did Stiles mention how intense his eyes are? He can't tell what color they are at this distance but — whoa! The man's eyes flash red.

Stiles is staring an alpha werewolf in the eye and doesn't know what to do. He gulps audibly. The werewolf smiles.

Oh. Oh. That smile is devastating. Stiles couldn't look away at this point if his life depended on it. And it might!

What the hell is going on, Stiles wonders, but his magic is moving beneath his skin like it knows exactly what's up. Well, Stiles wishes it would tell him because he's completely clueless.

The alpha werewolf gets up, walks over, and sits next to him. His nostrils flare again. He's sniffing Stiles, and Stiles is so grateful he took a shower before heading into the city.

"How'd you do that?" the gorgeous alpha asks him, gesturing to the cast on Stiles's arm.

Stiles flushes. He's still embarrassed. "Fell off a roof."

"What were you doing on a roof?" the alpha asks him. "That's dangerous. You could've been killed."

"Warding a friend's house," Stiles says defensively, wondering where the hell this guy gets off acting like he cares what happens to him. It's weird.

The gorgeous alpha frowns. "You're a witch?"

"A spark, actually," Stiles says. "I'm sorry, do I know you?" His magic has been purring since the alpha sat next to him.

"I'm Derek," the man says, looking at him intently. He leans in, nostrils flaring again.

Stiles isn't sure if he's creeped out or flattered. Maybe both. "Dude. Are you smelling me?"

Derek leans back, an abashed look on his face. "I'm sorry. You just… I've never…" Instead of finishing the thought, he trails off. He looks frustrated.

"I'm a wannabe emissary, I've been around plenty of werewolves. I'm assuming this is some wolfy thing," Stiles says dryly.

This close, Stiles can see the color of Derek's eyes. Or rather the colors. They're beautiful, like everything else about him.

"Stiles Stilinski and Derek Hale?" someone calls, and the moment is broken. They stand and follow the young assistant to Mr. Lauden's office, and Stiles is only a little confused why they're going together. The day keeps getting weirder and weirder.

Hale, Stiles thinks as he's seated in front of Mr. Lauden's desk. That's the name Lydia said when she tried to explain this mess. Not that Stiles understood at the time. He doesn't understand now, either.

He manages to bump his cast again on the arm of the chair when he sits, and this time he winces as a throb starts up around the broken bone.

Mr. Lauden clears his throat but Derek doesn't seem to be paying attention. He reaches out and brushes Stiles's fingers, the ones that are poking out of the cast. Derek's veins go dark gray as he pulls Stiles's pain.

Stiles relaxes in his chair, blinking at the alpha he only just met. "Thank you," he says gratefully, though he's never had someone drain his pain without asking before, no one but Scott, and not often at that.

"So you do know each other?" Mr. Lauden asks.

"No," Stiles says, his words tripping over Derek's.

"He's my mate," Derek says softly. At least that's what it sounds like. Stiles blinks at him and drops his jaw.

"I thought this was a case of accidental bonding?" Mr. Lauden says with a frown.

But Stiles is still staring at Derek. "What did you say?" then to Lauden, "Wait, what?"

Stiles's magic is rushing under his skin. Purring. Urging Stiles to move closer to Derek Hale, the man he only just met, the alpha werewolf who just maybe said they were mates. How is that possible? What is going on?

"As far as I can tell, there was a paperwork mixup about two years ago, and the two of you were put into a legal alpha/emissary bond," Mr. Lauden is saying. Derek nods. Stiles thinks this sounds like a simplified version of what Lydia tried to explain to him. The attorney goes on with, "But now you're telling me it wasn't accidental? Are you wasting my time, here?"

"No, it was definitely some kind of bureaucratic mixup," Derek says. "But when we met just now, I recognized him immediately." He looks at Stiles, a little shy now. "My wolf did."

Stiles realizes Derek's still touching his fingers, and where their skin is touching, Stiles's magic is very happy. Could it be true? Could they be mates?

"But mates are so rare," Stiles blurts out without pulling his hand away.

Derek smiles. "So are sparks."

"And so is the kind of mixup we're looking at here," Lauden says. "Apparently a clerk in the Beacon County Supernatural Relations office spilled something, made the paperwork stick together, passed it on to someone else… I'm not sure. But in the end, you were legally bonded, and because of the length of time that's passed, if you want to dissolve the bond you're looking at hundreds of billable hours and at least two appearances before a judge."

"I don't have an emissary," Derek says slowly. "But I do need one."

Lauden gives a hopeful smile. "Because of your apparent mate status, it might just be easier to see if you want to keep the bond…"

Stiles's magic is doing somersaults. He looks at Derek, his heart in his throat. Mates. "I need some time to get my head wrapped around this, I think." That little furrow between Derek's brows shows up again and Stiles immediately wants to smooth it away. "There's a coffee shop next door, I saw."

The furrow disappears as Derek gives him a smile that looks like a sunrise. Stiles smiles back helplessly.

Lauden huffs. "I see I'm not actually needed here. I'll send the bill to…?"

Derek nods at him, then turns back to Stiles. "I'll take care of it."

"I have money," Stiles says. He may not get paid well for filling in for Deaton, but he takes enough side jobs that he's comfortable.

Derek shrugs. "Let me pay the attorney's fee and I'll let you buy me a cappuccino."

"That's hardly the same," Stiles says wryly, but he really doesn't care. He just wants to sit down with Derek and learn everything he can about him.

"Is your arm feeling better?" Derek asks, and Stiles looks down at the cast. For a long moment, he'd forgotten about it.

"Much. Thank you," Stiles says, and watches as Derek reluctantly draws his hand away. Stiles's magic sulks.

"What's wrong?" Derek asks.

Stiles shakes his head, then holds out his good hand. "Hi. I'm Stiles Stilinski. It's good to meet you."

Derek looks surprised, then takes Stiles's hand in his own. He doesn't so much shake it as squeeze and caress it. "I'm Derek Hale. I've been waiting to meet you all my life."

Stiles feels his cheeks heat. He squeezes back. "Yeah. Um, let's get out of here, yeah?"

Derek turns to the attorney and smiles. "Thank you."

Lauden smiles at them both. "My pleasure."