You are Montgomery Scott.
Aye, that’s me. You’re in the right place. Unless there’s another hardworking, equally starved Starfleet officer around.
arrow :: season one
Happy Birthday ;)[Posture refers to real photo]
Another commission for Amanda! A lil Hoechlin in his old baseball uniform :) (accuracy not 100% guaranteed)
Dylan O’Brien for Elle Magazine
THROW ME AGAINST A WALL
this is Jake Peralta, oops.
Derek is furious. His tie is uncomfortably tight, the car is ridiculously hot, and his partner is giving him sad eyes from across the console.
"I am sorry, Derek,” Stiles says again. “I’m sorry the big anniversary dinner was ruined by the literal axe murderer coming home, and I’m sorry I called you in—”
"You didn’t call me in," Derek interrupts, "You called the restaurant."
"I didn’t want anyone to think you were sitting on your lonesome because you’d been stood up!"
"I was stood up. My husband was otherwise engaged."
"But— they didn’t know that! I didn’t want anyone thinking you were alone and waiting because I had chosen not to be there."
Derek snorts, casts a glance at him, “I worked out why you were late, Stiles. Why didn’t you just call me?”
“Because,” Stiles sighs, runs a hand through his hair, and his ring catches in the street light, makes Derek feel warm and settled even after two years of looking at it. “I hate the idea of work taking over our lives, and I hate not being able to spend time with you that’s just… ours. If I start using your cell to call you in to work it’s like… we don’t have any space. Just for us.”
Derek shifts in his seat, keeps one eye on the house as he turns to face Stiles, “Do you not want to work together any more?”