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“Stiles!” Derek barked, “what the hell are you doing? It’s the middle of winter, and you’re going to get soaked!”
“Calm down, Der-Bear,” Stiles chided, popping up from behind the bonnet, already dripping wet. “Roscoe’s nearly clean, and besides you’re the one that drove him through a muddy, unmarked trail.”
“I was saving our asses.” Derek deadpanned. “Haven’t you heard of a car wash?”
“Roscoe leaks, plus it’s my responsibility to look after the things I love.”
Derek rolled his eyes. “And if you get sick?”
“Then it’s your responsibility to look after the things you love!” Stiles replied smirking.