Sterek One Shots: Book Two

4th of July Fireworks

4th of July Fierworks by PacNWatheart
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"I still say I should be driving one of the cars," Stiles whined to his father. Father and son were waiting at the start of the annual Beacon Hill 4th of July Parade and Stiles was making one last ditch effort to get out of candy tossing duty. It was a sweltering hot summer day and Stiles would rather be in the comfort of the air conditioned cab. He didn't mind participating in the parade. He'd been doing it since he could walk. But now he was a High School graduate with a license and felt he had earned the right to drive a vehicle. Plus, it was just so damn hot. "I have my license and no tickets. Come on, I'm practically a cop anyway." Stiles was waiting for the next Police Academy training to begin, deciding early on he was going to follow in his father's footsteps.

"Not gonna happen," the Sheriff said, not bothering to say anything else. Stiles had already heard all the reasons he couldn't drive one of the Sheriff's Department vehicles. Well the one reason really. Only actual law enforcement officers can drive police vehicles. Not family. No matter how much of a mascot to the department you are. And while the "mascot" status prevented him from driving a vehicle, it didn't prevent him from walking with the other officers and throwing candy to the hordes of children they were sure to encounter.

Like the Mayor at the head of the parade, the Sheriff chose to walk behind the Sheriff's Department vehicles rather than riding in one. His was an elected position after all so Stiles figured his father felt the need to play like the other politicians and walk and wave, encouraging the fine people of Beacon Hills to re-elect him at the next election cycle.

As the parade kicked off, Stiles found himself walking, smiling and waving, tossing candy to the children that lined the streets. Once he got into it and they encountered the people cheering and waving as they walked, he relaxed and actually began to enjoy himself. Though the sheer amount of people that were braving the sweltering summer day was surprising. It seemed like the whole damn town had turned out.

Somehow Stiles found himself lagging behind the Sheriff's Department group as they moved through the parade route. He was making sure every kid got a piece of candy and some of them were just so darn cute, all dressed up in red, white, and blue that he couldn't help talking to the kids and their families. Just as he turned to run and catch up to his father, he was hit square in the face with a spray of water.

He spluttered and chocked for a second and when his vision cleared, he saw what had happened. The County Fire Department was positioned immediately behind the Sheriff's Department. Apparently the firefighters had rigged some kind of low pressure water hose to the truck's internal tanks and were spraying the crowd from the back of the main cabin. Or so they were supposed to be. Stiles glared towards the truck, but whoever was manning the hose had turned and was facing forward, spraying the crowd ahead of the truck. Stiles chocked it up to an accident and caught up with his father.

It wasn't long before he was lagging behind again. This time he hadn't even turned when he was sprayed in the back of the head. Turning, the glare on his face turned to jaw dropping shock as he realized who was manning the hose. Derek Hale smirked at him before turning and spraying the crowd again. What the hell? Why was Derek Hale of all people targeting him with the hose?

He knew the Hales, in the vague way most of the town did. They were a prominent family, active in the town council and usually one of the Hale clan was leading one of the numerous community events that took place throughout the year. They also had one other quality that almost everyone in town knew. They were a family of firefighters. Derek's father was the Chief, one of his sisters was also in the department and his grandfather was a retired fire fighter as well. It was through the many Sheriff's Department and County Fire Department picnics and get togethers he'd actually met Derek. Well, met was a relative term. He'd been introduced at one point, probably. But whenever he found himself near the smoking hot firefighter his nervous habit of rambling came forth and he found himself spewing useless facts and observations, his mouth running away from him without permission.