Derek wished he still had the card the police officer

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Derek wished he still had the card the police officer had given him, but even if he did, there was no guarantee the guy still worked there. Hell, even if he did, there was little to no chance he’d remember this case. It had been bizarre from beginning to end and Derek had been perfectly happy putting it behind him. To have it rear its ugly head again now made him anxious, though he wasn’t sure why. He had no reason to feel anxious, especially given the little fucker was alive . That should’ve been a good thing, having him show up all healthy and smiling. It pissed Derek off, because he’d been worried about him for a while after the call, but at least he could put it behind him. He tensed and whipped his head around to look at Boyd when the other touched his arm. When Boyd looked pointedly past him, Derek turned back to the window and realized they’d stopped at his dorm. Grunting what could’ve been interpreted as a thank you, Derek exited the car and slammed the door without another word. He trudged to the entrance and swiped his keycard before tugging it open and entering the corridor. The first floor common room was loud and rambunctious, people having introduced themselves throughout the day and starting a party before classes began in two days. Derek bypassed the festivities, ignoring whether or not his roommate was there, and headed down the corridor to his room. It was empty when he unlocked the door and he scowled at his half of the room when he realized he’d avoided coming home all day and hadn’t unpacked yet. Slamming the door harder than he was sure it warranted, he moved to his bed and began taking all the boxes off it. He got to work unpacking his clothing and breaking down the boxes. Some were random junk and knick-knacks from home and he just shoved those three under his bed, barely having enough room to squeeze them beneath the frame. He knew they’d fit, they had every other year, but he still hated that brief moment of, “Shit, maybe it won’t fit this time?” He got his items squared away relatively quickly, practised at it by now, and was in the process of fitting sheets and blankets to his bed when the door opened. Derek straightened and turned to stare at Stiles, the other having stopped in the doorway with one
hand still on the knob. He eyed Derek distrustfully before opening his mouth, closing it, and opening it once more. No sound came out. “Are you gonna imitate a fish all fucking night or spit it out?” Derek turned back to his bed and finished with the sheets, hearing the door shut softly behind him, followed by the click of the lock. “What’s your problem with me?” Stiles asked, sounding defeated. “Do you really want to fight all year? I literally did nothing wrong.” Derek straightened and turned to look at him over his shoulder. Stiles’ expression was a mix between miserable and pissed. An impressive combination, if he was honest. Derek turned to him fully, shoving his hands in his pockets, and Stiles crossed his arms over his chest. Derek knew it

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