Chapter Text
In hindsight, Stiles really should have guessed that this wouldn’t be such a great idea. But at the same time, what was the alternative? Stay home all summer with his stupid friend group and their stupid tendency to couple up every damn day? Leaving him to binge-watch reruns of Boy Meets World every day? Hell no. He was not going to spend one more day getting stood up by his literal best friend in the whole damn world just because Scott wanted to make out with Allison some more. And yeah, Allison is amazing and definitely too good for his dumb friend but it’s the principle of the thing, Stiles was here first and he called dibs on being Scotts BFF from the first day of kindergarten.
Still, it didn’t exactly feel too great being forgotten or tossed aside without a second thought day in and day out. Which is basically why he agreed to go to the Super Secret Super Awesome Underground Supernatural Convention with Derek. SSSAUSC for short.
And okay maybe it’s not really called that but that’s essentially what it is, screw Derek and his dumb murder-eyebrows that’s what he’s gonna call it. And maybe he didn’t really ‘agree’ to go along so much as he begged Derek to let him tag along for the 4 day trip. It’s not like he had to beg too much though, the guy had just listened silently to Stiles’ extremely well thought out plan and for a little over a minute with a single arched eyebrow and slight twitching of the lips before interjecting to shrug and sigh out, “I don’t care Stiles, just promise you’re not going to be talking this much on the way there.”
Stiles had hastily agreed but made no secret to cross his fingers behind his back, there was literally no way Derek would actually expect him to hold true to his promise.
So that’s how he found himself on his way to New York City sitting in Roscoe, his beautiful and ever-reliable Jeep. The Jeep that had never failed him and never would. The Jeep that had kept him stable and sane throughout his first crazy year venturing into the supernatural underworld that had permeated his small town seemingly before his very eyes.
The Jeep that had broken down in the middle of wannabe country-yet-still-podunk-town in California and was currently the object of one of the fiercest Hale glares Stiles had ever had the misfortune of witnessing.
He sighed, forgetting werewolf super hearing, and immediately regretted doing so as Derek turned to direct his glare towards him.
“I swear to God I am going to kill you Stiles. You said your stupid Jeep could handle the trip, this is the second time it’s broken down and we've been on the road for less than a day.”
Stiles only winced a little bit and set to work on fiddling with his fingers while Derek continued doing . . . something under Roscoe’s hood and replied, “This is still better than it would have been in your dumb Camero. Can you imagine the lack of legroom? Jesus, you’re lucky I was able to come along in the first place, otherwise you would have been wallowing in your loneliness and insufficient space.”
“Right, how could I have ever survived without your constant singing and inane commentary on the types of trees we pass. Nevermind that I could have just rented a better car than your stupid Roscoe.”
At this, Stiles let out a dramatic gasp and clutched at his chest, “I know you did not just call Roscoe stupid. She’s done her very best it’s not her fault she doesn’t like having to tow around a grumpy sourwolf across the country.”
Derek just sighed and moved to get back to fiddling with the engine before sighing out, “Will you at least come over here and help with this?”
“I already told you, it’s too fucking cold out there. It’s the middle of summer how is it so fu-oof” he trailed off abruptly as a thick leather jacket suddenly collided with his face mid-sentence.
He doesn’t even bother grumbling under his breath and instead just puts the jacket on, only pausing briefly to appreciate the fresh forest scent that lingered and the way its sleeves nearly passed his fingertips and then immediately hopped out of the Jeep to shake off any weird thoughts he had been close to getting.
Everyone including his own dad complained about his odd thoughts and commentary but Stiles was the only one that literally had to deal with it 24/7, he was really wishing Roscoe’s radio still worked so he could have at least a little music to drown out stupid hormonal teenage thoughts about a certain werewolf.
He moved to stand next to Derek as he thrust out a large flashlight and Stiles fought back a grimace as he reached out for it at the resurfacing memory of his dad trying to teach Stiles literally anything about maintaining a car and failing at even getting him to stand still for longer than 5 seconds.
Not much had really changed.
He was only marginally better at keeping his hand steady and had already begun half mumbling and half belting the lyrics to an old Al Bowly song his mom used to blast on the early Sunday mornings before she got sick, completely ignoring the dirty looks Derek was shooting.
“What do you usually do when it breaks down like this?” Derek sighed out, unable to find the source of the problem when there were so many issues under the hood.
Stiles just grinned and reached into the Jeep, pulled out a roll of duct tape and tossed it over to Derek, definitely not aiming forcefully for his head as that would have been incredibly embarrassing considering that he would have failed miserably and Derek totally knew of his attempt to exact justice over the leather jacket and was only somewhat failing to hide the twitching of his lips.
This time Stiles allowed himself to appreciate the sight for a second. Literally just a second. Or two. Maybe five.
Okay maybe not five whole seconds because Derek was already giving him a funny look and was about to say something when he suddenly tensed and let his eyes flash red, anything curious and soft and other than defensive fled from his face and Stiles found himself wishing he had also grabbed his bat from the backseat as a voice rang out from only a few feet away.
“You boys in need of some help?”