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Derek was still chuckling as Stiles climbed into the passenger seat of the rental, glaring hard as he maneuvered his bandaged foot into a somewhat comfortable position. "Didn't the doctor tell you to keep that elevated?" he questioned as he turned the key in the ignition.
"I'm not putting my foot up on the dashboard!" Stiles argued, arms flailing as he went into a rant about the dangers of doing just that, citing statistics and actual cases of people being folded in half.
Even with all of the horrors Derek had faced in his life, he flinched and his stomach turned a few times. "I just meant, maybe you should try to stretch out in the back as best as you can."
Stiles turned slightly to glance into the back, his and Derek's duffles were tossed into the cargo area at the back of the SUV, leaving the backseat open. A blanket folded up at one end and his pillow against the other. Shoulders slumped, Stiles climbed out of the car, hopping around to the back, opening that door and managing to climb up into the seat with a minimum of flailing. Settling down, he pulled the blanket over his lap just as Derek shifted into gear and started driving. The lull of the vehicle over the road combined with the pain meds that the hospital had given him dragged Stiles toward sleep.
"Are you as thrilled about this little road trip as I am?" he asked around a yawn, his eyes blinking more slowly with each moment until they were closed longer than open.
"The road trip, yes. The destination, no," Derek replied just as sleep overtook Stiles, a tiny smile on his lips.
Shaking his head, he adjusted the rearview mirror so he could keep an eye on Stiles while he slept. His own heart hadn't settled into a normal rhythm since the moment Stiles had tried to kick the gun away from the idiot FBI agent pointing it at Derek and getting himself shot in the foot, nearly losing a toe in the process. He'd honestly been surprised when the raid had started but even more surprised when he'd seen Stiles standing among the agents in tactical gear. Thankfully, some overeager agent had thrown in a smoke bomb just after the shot and Derek had been able to scoop Stiles up in his arms and carry him out of the building, head down and hiding in plain sight.
It had been as he was carrying him out that he'd filled Stiles in on everything that was going on back in Beacon Hills and that he was heading back there. Stiles had insisted that as soon as he was patched up enough to be released, they would head back together. When Derek had argued, trying to keep him safe and far away from the Anuk-ite, he'd been reminded of just how stubborn the younger man was and just how much that stubbornness was a part of why he'd fallen in love with him.
Of course, Stiles didn't know how he felt, would never know, because it was safer for him to keep away from Derek, far away from the life he'd fallen into. He was already on the FBI's most-wanted list and Stiles association with him was a surefire way to destroy his future; Derek would never want to be the one to blame for destroying the dream Stiles had been pursuing from the time he learned his ABC's and put FBI together for the first time.
"Blue's just pretty," Stiles mumbled from the back, drawing Derek out of his maudlin mindset and focusing back on the road in front of him, the call of home already strong.
Stiles woke up after about an hour on the road, whining about being hungry and Derek pulled off the road and into the gravel parking lot of a dilapidated diner with neon lights around the windows that were burnt out more than not. "I swear you smelled the curly fries," Derek told him as he got out of the vehicle, helping Stiles out and allowing him to use him as a crutch to get to the front door, giving in to the urge to press a finger against the pillowcase crease in his cheek.
"Don't knock the lure of the curly fry," Stiles teased. "It is the food of the gods!"
Pulling open the door, he helped Stiles through and into the booth closest to the door when a bored-looking teenager from behind the counter pointed towards it. "I don't think curly fries count as mana."
"Blasphemy!" Stile said, pointing at him and laughing, biting into his lip in an attempt to control himself when a waitress in her fifties with a severely lined face approached the table looking unimpressed.
"So, besides curly fries, what can I get you?" she asked, smirking when that sent Stiles into another fit of giggles.
Eventually, they managed to order and when the waitress walked away, Derek pulled out his phone but it was void of messages, which wasn't unusual; the only person who texted him regularly was sitting across from him, fumbling with his own phone. "Did you tell Scott you were coming?"
Stiles shook his head. "Did you?"
"No," Derek told him. "That way, if I turn around and leave him to fight his own battle, he won't ever know that I deserted him. Unless Chris tells him."
Stiles dropped his phone on the table and glared. "You told Chris where you were? You ran off and left me with nothing but the occasional text letting me know you were alive, but no indication of where except for finding out the FBI was hunting you down in North Carolina! What the fuck is in North Carolina?"
"Kitty Hawk," Derek said, smiling when Stiles flipped him off. "Kate was sighted there. I arrived just in time to be framed for mass murder." He kept his voice low, his eyes on a family at a table nearby, the only other customers. The father had glanced over several times, the way he looked at Stiles making Derek's skin crawl. It took everything to keep him from flashing his eyes at the man.
"You're still trying to find her?" Stiles spun the knife on the table under the tip of his finger, anyone not looking closely would miss the fact that his finger wasn't actually touching the knife, the electric smell of magic filled the air. There was a sour scent as well, akin to jealousy but that didn't make any sense.
Derek sighed, taking a moment to put his thoughts into words. He opened his mouth to speak when the waitress reappeared with their food. "Let me know if you need anything else," she said.
They ate in silence, sneaking glances at each other as they did. At one point, Derek felt Stiles foot brush against him followed by a gasp from Stiles, the air filling with the scent of pain. Trying not to laugh, Derek reached down and pulled Stiles' foot up so it rested on the bench next to him. He kept one hand on his ankle, anchoring him when he tried to pull back. "Keep it elevated. You're going to need to be in fighting shape when we get back."
Stiles pulled a face. "Okay, dad," he muttered, shoving a handful of curly fries into his mouth and rolling his eyes at Derek.
The rest of dinner went without incident. They paid, leaving the woman a good tip before returning to the vehicle where Stiles tried to insist on driving. "Two days," Derek finally insisted. "Let your foot rest for two days and then it's all yours."
"Fine," Stiles huffed, climbing into the backseat again. "You have to sleep sometime though."
"A couple more hours and we'll stop for the night," Derek told him, having already made a reservation while Stiles had been in the bathroom in the diner.
Two hours passed listening to Stiles wheedle Derek until he gave in and played two rounds of I Spy before ending the game when Stiles spied something that started with "S" and claimed it was a "Sourwolf." After he'd pouted for several minutes, which was more entertaining to Derek than it should have been, he'd started asking questions about where Derek had been and what he'd been doing, other than stalking Kate Argent.
"I'm not stalking her," Derek growled. "I'm trying to make sure she doesn't hurt anyone else." And failing miserably, he added to himself as he thought about the carnage he'd found in North Carolina.
"You shouldn't be doing it alone," Stiles told him, reaching out and putting a hand on Derek's shoulder, squeezing gently. It brought Derek back to a time when that touch would've brought about a glare until Stiles removed it, but now was a comfort. He reached up and laid his hand over Stiles' and squeezed it gently.
"Can't take you away from the FBI; they don't like to share with wanted criminals," he pointed out.
"What about Scott? Peter?"
"I don't trust them," Derek replied quietly, a small part of him hoping that he wouldn't hear him, but the stunned silence told him that Stiles had. Thankfully, the hotel came into sight and any further conversation was cut off by the business of getting checked in.
Derek stood back as Stiles unlocked the room, looking up and down the hallway for any danger as he listened to Stiles collapse on one of the beds and let out a moan of pleasure. He was certain if he really listened, he'd hear all of the joints in Stiles' body popping and relaxing as he melted into the mattress. He thought getting a few hours of sleep sounded like a brilliant idea.
He stepped into the room, closing the door before turning around and freezing. Stiles was face down, spreadeagled, still in his coat and shoes, across the bed. The only bed. There was only one bed. Derek reached for the phone in the room. "What doing?" Stiles mumbled, face mushed into the pillow, making his words almost intelligible.
"I asked for two beds," he said as Stiles rolled to his back and stared at the ceiling.
*"Don't bother," he muttered, pushing himself to sit up before bending over to undo his shoes, kicking them across the room, wincing as he pulled off the shoe over the bandages. Derek stood watching, phone pressed to his ear, dropping it when it began buzzing in his ear from not being dialed. "It's a big bed and I just want to sleep. Anyone asks, it's a puppy pile."
"You're not a wolf," Derek said, replacing the handset.
"Thanks for the reminder," Stiles snapped, the door to the bathroom slamming shut a moment later.
"Fuck," Derek muttered before raising his voice to be heard through the door. "I'm sorry."
"For what?" Stiles asked appearing in the doorway of the bathroom, foaming toothbrush in his mouth as he glared at Derek.
"For saying you're not a wolf."
Stiles disappeared into the bathroom again, the sound of spitting alerting Derek to his actions. Water ran for a moment, shutting off and then Stiles was back, pulling off his shirt as he headed over to his suitcase. "I'm not a wolf," Stiles said matter-of-factually. "But I'm still pack. I suppose I should have called it a pack pile."
He pulled on a ratty, old but clean shirt before reaching for the button on his jeans. Derek turned his back to keep from getting caught gaping as bare skin was revealed. He turned around when he heard the sheets rustling and caught a glimpse of Stiles in his boxers as the blankets settled around him. "Goodnight," Stiles said and Derek was at a loss for what to do. He eyed the armchair set in the corner by the window, wondering how long his back would hurt the next morning if he spent the night there.
"Just turn off the light and get in the bed," Stiles huffed. "Sleep on top of the covers if the thought of our bodies touching bothers you so much."
The thought did bother Derek, but probably not for the reasons that Stiles' brain was supplying. He was going to take Stiles up on his idea, but the room was chilly and he would need a blanket. "I'll be back," he said, disappearing out of the room, ignoring the mumbled curses from Stiles.
He reached the front desk, eyeing the far too young girl standing behind the counter. "Can I help you?" she asked, blowing a bubble while she continued sketching in a book on the counter.
"I need a blanket for room 105," he said. "My friend isn't feeling well and needs extra," he continued when she looked up at him with raised eyebrows. "He got hurt and he needs to keep his foot elevated, but he can't do that under just one blanket so he needs..." He trailed off, wondering when he'd picked up Stiles' problem with babbling.
The girl reappeared a few minutes later with two blankets and a heating pad. "My dad has a bad back and needs this sometimes. Just make sure to bring it back tomorrow." Derek took the items thanking her. "I hope your friend feels better."
"Thank you," he repeated, ducking his head and hurrying out of the lobby and back to the room and letting himself back in, watching the rise and fall of Stiles' chest. Inhaling, he picked up the scent of irritation edged with pain and Derek knew that even though he'd caused one of those, he could help with the other.
Settling on the floor next to the foot of the bed, he ran his hand underneath the blanket and gently grasped Stiles' ankle drawing his pain, surprised by how severe it was and made a note to be sure Stiles' took his pain pill in the morning. Grabbing one of the blankets, he draped it over his lap, trying to get comfortable for the time it would take until the pain level became bearable for Stiles. Derek wondered when he'd come to know Stiles' pain tolerance so well, especially considering how easily Stiles hid the pain from those who couldn't sense it in supernatural ways.
He felt himself drifting off when Stiles' leg jerked in his grasp. Lifting his head, he saw Stiles' eyes open and staring at him. "I'm good, Sourwolf. Come to bed."
Even without an uptick in his heartbeat, Derek knew Stiles was lying. "At least take one of the pills the hospital gave you."
"Half," Stiles countered after a moment.
Derek tried to hide his smile as he went to get the pill, breaking it easily, bringing it and a glass of water to the bed. He ignored Stiles' slapping hands and helped him sit up enough to drink the water and swallow the medicine. Stiles set the glass on the nightstand, sliding back under the covers. "Goodnight, Stiles," Derek said as he stripped down to his boxers, grabbing the blankets, leaving the heating pad on the table by the window, and climbing onto the bed, laying down with his back to Stiles.
"I'm scared," Stiles said just as Derek was dropping off again.
"You're never scared," Derek pointed out. "You run into the most dangerous situations half-cocked with enough bravery it would make a wolf jealous." "Or proud," he thought to himself.
"I'm always scared, but if I showed it, nothing would get done," he whispered and Derek smelled salt in the air. Sighing, he rolled over, surprised to see Stiles looking at him, eyes wide and glittering in the weak light from the motel sign filtering through the flimsy curtains. Hesitating for just a moment, Derek reached a hand toward Stiles, swallowing hard when Stiles worked his own out from under the blankets and grabbed desperately for Derek's.
Their fingers slipped together and Derek could feel as well as hear Stiles' heartbeat. He looked over his face, tracing the tear tracks there and refraining from commenting on them. The silence stretched between them and Derek knew he had to do something before Stiles fell into a panic attack. "Tell me about the FBI," he said, smiling at the disbelieving look on Stiles' face.
"It's weird," Stiles started. "I've always dreamed of being in the FBI; it's all I've ever wanted." Derek made an assenting sound. "And being away from Beacon Hills is unbelievable. I miss everyone, but I don't miss the craziness."
"And yet you're on their way back there," Derek pointed out.
"And yet," Stiles corrected, "I dropped everything and convinced the FBI to take me on a field operation to sneak out the unsub they were tracking."
"Still can't believe you didn't convince them to lead the operation," Derek said, smirking when Stiles chuckled.
"I tried," he whispered into the dark.
"You don't have to go back," Derek told him. "I can drive you back to the academy."
"Are you going back?" Stiles asked.
"I have to," Derek told him, wanting to list all the reasons he had to go back. He'd told Chris that if he went back it wasn't for Beacon Hills, it was for the pack, for Stiles' best friend, for Stiles' father. It all boiled down to him returning to Beacon Hills to make sure everything and everyone that Stiles loved was still there if he ever wanted to return to the town where he was raised and the people who loved him.
"Then I have to," Stiles told him around a jaw-cracking yawn.
"Go to sleep," Derek ordered gently, wanting to lean forward and press a kiss to Stiles' forehead and settling for squeezing his hand, hoping that Stiles wouldn't let go as he drifted off and couldn't hide his grin when he didn't.
The next morning, Stiles threw his phone across the room when the alarm went off. Thankfully, Derek was already awake and caught it before it shattered against the wall. "Come on, get up," Derek said, biting back a laugh when Stiles' hand came out from under the blanket, middle finger extended. "Very mature," he said.
He moved around the room getting everything packed up and letting Stiles stay in bed until the very last moment. He even went so far as to peel back the blanket at the end of the bed to change the dressing on Stiles' foot, wincing as he looked at the spot where his toe had been. He hated being reminded of just how human the young man was, but his wolf liked being able to take care of him.
Once the bandage was changed and clean socks on Stiles' feet, Derek grasped his ankle and yanked him off the bed. His laugh finally bursting forth at Stiles' screech of indignation. Throwing his clothes at him where he was crumpled on the floor, he barely got out an order to get dressed through his laughter. He'd started to calm down when Stiles sat up, his hair sticking up all over the place sending him into another fit of laughter.
"You're an asshole," Stiles said as he pushed himself to sit on the end of the bed, bending to pick up his clothes.
"I'll take my stuff to the car while you change," Derek told him, exiting the room. He got to the car, putting his stuff into the trunk and closing it. His phone buzzed in his pocket and he saw that it was Stiles' dad. "Hello, sir."
A deep sigh greeted him. "Derek, I've told you a hundred times, call me John."
"Sorry, John. Is everything alright?"
"I'm assuming my son is with you?" Derek made an assenting sound, looking up to see Stiles hobbling out of the hotel room, duffel bag draped over his shoulder and phone in his hand, thumb flying over the screen. "Where are you?"
"Just getting ready to leave a hotel not far from..." Derek trailed off as he tried to figure out the most tactful way to explain where he and Stiles had reconnected.
"The FBI raid where my son was shot in the foot and then mysteriously disappeared from the hospital?" The Sheriff's voice was firm but Derek could hear the underlying mirth in it.
"Something like that. And he didn't disappear, he was discharged with very clear care instructions," Derek explained as he took Stiles' duffel and threw it into the trunk, ignoring the curious look Stiles gave him as he gestured at the phone.
"Please tell me you are not heading to Beacon Hills," the Sheriff said after a few moments.
"Don't ask me to lie to you, John." Stiles' eyebrows went up and he made grabby hands for the phone but Derek twisted away, pushing Stiles toward the passenger side of the car as he grabbed the heating pad and room keys and headed towards the lobby, the Sheriff's cursing in his ear. "You know that Stiles would not let Scott fight this alone."
A deep sigh came through the phone that Derek echoed in his own soul, the exhaustion from worrying about someone you cared for screaming down the line. "I know, but I had hoped you would talk him out of it."
Derek paused, weighing his words. "I would never leave you unprotected with such evil around. I won't let Stiles lose another parent."
The silence stretched on and Derek managed to hand over the heating pad and keys to the older gentleman behind the desk that hugged the pad to his chest and thanked Derek for returning it. Once the bill was settled, the Sheriff still hadn't spoken. "John, are you still there?"
"Yeah. When this is all over. When we win," he said, voice strong and determined enough that Derek had a feeling John was fully capable to bend the way of the world with is own belief, "you are coming to dinner."
"Yes, sir," Derek said, hanging up before the Sheriff could admonish him for calling him sir, but the order seemed to call for it and he hoped if he hung up the man would call his son so that he could keep Stiles occupied for at least a little bit of the drive.
He settled into the seat as Stiles' phone rang and he tried not to smirk when he heard the Sheriff's voice on the other end. Stiles spoke quietly, shooting Derek strange looks as he responded with a lot of yeses and noes before hanging up and shifting in the seat to face Derek who kept his eyes on the road, looking for the entrance to the interstate. "You do know that we could travel I-40 all the way to Barstow, California, right?" Stiles said.
"It's the old Route 66, isn't it?" Derek asked, humming a few bars of the song and basking in the grin he got from Stiles.
"Not technically," Stiles said. "Although they do meet up somewhere in Oklahoma. We would need to head up north to Chicago to find the official start to Route 66."
Derek thought about it, the amount of extra time it would take to head up to Chicago before heading west to California, he thought about the Pack back in Beacon Hills facing something like they'd never seen before, and he thought about the look on Stiles' face and knew what was the only answer to the unasked question. "We can do that."
Stiles' face lit up and he rubbed his hands together gleefully. "I know we're not very far along our trip, but would you be willing to make a stop?" Stiles asked, drumming his fingers on the dashboard as he faced the windshield but kept his eyes on Derek.
"What kind of stop? Do you need something? Are you hurting?" Derek tried to surreptitiously sniff the air and Stiles smacked him on the hair.
"Stop trying to smell me! I'm fine, just a little sore but I'll take the other half of the pain pill once we eat." Derek nodded as he scanned the side of the road for somewhere that wasn't fast food to get something to eat, pulling off into a Waffle House.
Once they were settled at the table, cups of coffee in front of them, Derek ignoring Stiles' harassment about the two packs of sugar he dumped into his cup, Stiles pulled out his phone. Derek pulled his own out and saw a text from Chris asking where they were. He ignored it in favor of looking at Stiles' phone when he laid it face up on the table, spinning it around so that Derek could see the screen.
"Ghost Town in the Sky? Sounds like a bad horror movie," he said.
"It does, doesn't it?" Stiles looked thoughtful. "Maybe we should write a horror movie while we drive. Get the script done and then when we're done fighting, we can start shopping around for a studio to make it." He nodded his head a couple of times, pulling his phone back but Derek reached out and laid a hand over his, stilling the nervous babbling just as the waitress returned to the table, smiling down at their hands.
"What can I get you two?" she asked.
Derek ordered steak and eggs, pinching Stiles' hand when he laughed at the order. When it was Stiles' turn, Derek's stomach turned over a dozen times as he requested a triple order of well-done smothered, covered, chunked and peppered hashbrowns. The waitress eyed him up and down with suspicion and even Derek wondered where he would put it all and how many times they'd have to pull off the road for Stiles to puke.
When the waitress left, Derek stole the phone back and looked at the picture again. "What is this?"
"Well, it used to be a theme park, but then it closed. Someone bought it and tried to reopen it but something happened so it ended up back on the market again. Rumor has it that the place is cursed," Stiles explained, tugging on his phone again but Derek just tightened his grip.
"And you want to go there?" Derek asked. "Did we suddenly become Sam and Dean Winchester?"
Stiles slapped the table with his free hand. "I knew you watched Supernatural! We are so binge-watching it in the hotels!"
Derek shook his head and used a finger to swipe to the next picture in Stiles' phone, a map of Route 66 starting in Chicago. "How many stops do you have picked out?"
"A half-dozen or so," Stiles explained.
"And how many would make an episode of Supernatural ?" Stiles' face turned red and Derek laughed, allowing Stiles to take the phone back. "I'll make you a deal. We will go to Chicago and travel Route 66, but you will find places to go that Sam and Dean would never set foot in, no matter how much they were paid. No mystery spots, no graveyards, not haunted houses." He saw the twist of Stiles' lips and knew what he was thinking. "Yes, I am talking the World's Biggest Ball of Twine and the Blue Whale of Catoosa!"
Stiles' laughter warmed Derek even more than the coffee. "That's not a real thing!"
"Google it," Derek said, sitting back as the waitress returned with their plates. "That is disgusting."
Stiles grinned and scooped up a forkful of the mess on his plate and held it out to Derek. "Don't knock it 'til you try it, Sourwolf."
Sighing, Derek opened his mouth and allowed Stiles to shove the fork in because he knew he'd never get anything eaten if he didn't. Chewing slowly, he allowed the flavors to mix in his mouth and swallowed, deciding it wasn't that bad. Eyeing the plate, he wondered if Stiles would be willing to share. Although asking would be admitting he was wrong, it was a terrible spot in which he found himself.
Stiles was waving down the waitress and asking for a couple of extra plates which she grabbed and handed over quickly, smiling as Stiles started putting half of the hashbrowns on one and then reaching for Derek's plate and taking half of his steak and one of his over-easy eggs and putting it on the other. "Halvsies," he said when Derek gaped before digging into the food he'd stolen from Derek.
Shaking his head with a fond smile, he picked his own fork up and started eating, listening as Stiles kept talking about the trip, his free hand moving over his phone as he pulled up more stops along the way, showing them to Derek for approval. By the time they got into the car, they had a tentative route.
After he'd shot down the Ghost Town in the Sky idea, Stiles decided that they should just get to Chicago as soon as possible and start the road trip off officially from there. "We could go see a show!" Stiles suggested. "Navy Pier. I'm sure there are other things."
Derek liked the idea of staying in the same place for a couple of days and he knew Chicago had a lot to keep them occupied. If it meant putting off arriving in Beacon Hills a little longer, so be it. "I'll see if we can get a hotel." He called The Omni Hotel, a place he'd stayed with Laura once. There was a convention in town that week and the only room available was with a single king-size bed.
"Uh, Stiles," he said, holding the phone against his chest. "There's only one bed." He heard the uptick in Stiles' heart and started running through other hotels in his head, but with the convention in town, he was pretty sure he'd have the same or worse luck at the lesser expensive hotels.
"We did it last night," Stiles responded, ducking to dig into the backpack between his legs and pulling out the bottle of pain pills, shaking out the half left from the night before.
Derek watched him as he finished reserving the room but as soon as he was done, he reached for Stiles' hand, smirking when he jumped. He started pulling the pain and although it was less than the night before, it was definitely still prevalent. Derek took the next exit off the expressway and pulled into a Cloud 9 parking lot.
"What's going on?" Stiles asked as Derek exited the car, digging into the trunk and extracting Stiles' pillow and throwing it in the backseat.
"I'm going inside to get a blanket for you and you're going to get some sleep in the backseat," Derek ordered, pointing into the backseat. He ignored Stiles' grumbling and ran inside, moving quickly through the store and grabbing the softest blanket he could find before venturing deeper into the store.
When he got back to the car, he was glad to see Stiles in the backseat, phone in hand. He grumbled when Derek got into the car, digging through the bags, but it turned to a sigh when he got the blanket and a happy squeal when he tossed over a package of Reese's peanut butter cups. He shoved the bags to the side, saving the rest of his purchases to be revealed later.
Derek kept the radio low as Stiles slept in the backseat, the book he'd been looking over open over his chest where it'd fallen when he'd passed out mid-sentence. John called again when they'd crossed into Indiana, checking on the both of them and updating them on what little he knew was going on in Beacon Hills. Derek's hackles raised when he heard that Scott was getting advice from Deucalion. It took all of his self-control not to crush the phone in his hand, but he managed it.
"I'm not telling you to rush," John told Derek. "In fact, I'm telling you the opposite. Things are crazy here and as long as my son is somewhere else with you, he's safe." Derek ignored the warmth that John's trust filled him with, focusing instead on the fact the man seemed unconcerned about his own safety.
"You could meet up with us. Get out of Beacon Hills for a few days," he suggested, eyes glancing up at the rearview mirror. When John hesitated, Derek was relieved Stiles was asleep and missed his offer.
"I can't desert the people of Beacon Hills. They elected me and they depend on me," he explained.
Derek understood and changed the topic to what their itinerary was and when they would most likely arrive in Beacon Hills. He assured the Sheriff that he would let him know if anything came up and their return would be delayed, extracting a promise that he would let them know if they needed to get back more quickly than planned.
Hanging up, Derek's stomach growled and he pulled off at the next exit, looking for somewhere to eat. He spotted a Cracker Barrel and thought it would be a good opportunity not only for a good food, but to stretch their legs. The parking lot was packed when he pulled in, but he managed to find a spot near the back of the parking lot. Turning off the car, he turned in the seat to find Stiles looking up at him through half-opened, dark-circled eyes.
"Hungry?" Stiles nodded and struggled to sit up, hissing when his foot hit the door. Derek looked at the clock on his phone. "You can take another pain pill after we eat." Another nod and Stiles began moving to get out of the car.
Derek climbed out first, opening the back door and helping Stiles stumble out, concern over his silence growing until he yawned and stretched his back with cracks of several joints in his body and let out a loud sigh. "This car is not made for sleeping in," he muttered.
"We can stop and get a different rental," Derek offered. "Something with a bigger backseat." Stiles waggled his eyebrows at him and Derek put one hand over Stiles' face and shoved him away while covering his own with the other, hoping to hide the rush of heat he felt.
"You know the tips of your ears blush, right?" Stiles said once he'd recovered his balance and fell into step next to Derek, finally taking in their surroundings. "Cracker Barrel? How very country of you."
"Shut up, it was close and it's not fast food."
There was a half-hour wait for a table, so Derek headed out to the front porch of the restaurant to relax in one of the rockers while Stiles browsed the store. Closing his eyes, he could just hear Stiles' quiet chuckles as he tracked his heartbeat through the store and he dozed with a slight smile on his face.
"Derek, table for 2." The tiny voice startled him out of his light sleep and Derek glanced around, discovering Stiles in the seat next to him, smiling fondly and pocketing his phone.
Lunch was uneventful, conversation on Chicago and what else they could get up to as they traversed the country. Beacon Hills and the people waiting there for them weren't even mentioned aside from Stiles' dad who was always a popular topic with the younger man. When they got back to the car, Stiles offered to drive but Derek refused. He let Stiles win an argument to sit in the front seat for a while as he took another half a pain pill despite Derek's arguments that he should take a whole one.
It was late when Derek pulled up in front of the hotel, allowing the valet to take the car and grabbing their bags from the trunk as Stiles went through the whole silent waking up that he'd gone through earlier. The cracking of joints took longer since he'd slept curled up with his face pressed against the window since they'd stopped for lunch. Once they were in their room, Derek tossed the room service menu at Stiles. "Get food," he ordered before going into the bathroom to wash the road off of himself.
Once he was done, he came out to find Stiles in his pajamas, a huge room service tray on the bed. He was biting into the biggest burger Derek had seen in a while and gestured toward another on the tray and an amazing looking salad. Two beers and four bottles of water sat on the tray as well. "I hope those beers aren't for you," Derek commented.
Stiles swallowed, choking slightly on the large bite he'd taken. "Nope. I'm already sleeping too much."
"Not much happening while driving," Derek offered, picking up a fork and taking a bite of the salad, humming at the mix of chicken and vegetables, a light buttermilk dressing complimenting the taste. "Good stuff."
They finished eating, Derek put the tray out in the hall and hung up the 'do not disturb' sign, figuring they'd sleep in the next morning. He turned out the lights in the sitting area of the room before climbing onto the bed where Stiles was already leaned back against the pillows, his laptop open on his lap. "Aren't you going to sleep?"
"I've been sleeping all day." He held up a set of earbuds. "I'll keep the volume down."
Derek moved to sit up next to him, pulling the laptop over to sit on a pillow between their legs and tugging out the earbuds. "Weren't we going to binge-watch Supernatural ?"
The next morning, Derek woke up to Stiles climbing out of bed with a hiss. He cracked open one eye to see him hobbling into the bathroom, the first aid kit clutched in his hand. Groaning, he climbed out of bed and followed, laughing when Stiles yelped, flailing, saved from knocking himself out on the bathroom counter by Derek's speedy reflexes. Before Stiles could say a word, Derek smirked. "You are not putting a bell on me."
"Smartass," Stiles muttered.
"Let me help you change the dressing," Derek said, reaching for the first aid kit, frowning when Stiles pulled it out of his reach.
"I was going to shower first," Stiles said, rubbing at the back of his neck and looking away.
"Okay," Derek said, reaching for the first aid kit again. Stiles pulled it away again and Derek huffed before grabbing his arm and taking it. "There are a few pairs of rubber gloves in here. I can use one of those to cover your foot and tape it down to keep the stitches dry."
"Good idea," Stiles said, sitting down on the closed toilet lid, holding out his foot and turning his head away as Derek peeled back the dressing.
Stiles liked to say his toe had been shot off, but it was really just a small piece of the outside of the big toe on his left foot. There were three stitches to hold the edges of the chunk that was missing closed. He knew it was painful, could feel it as he pulled the pain but it was less so than it had even been the day before. He glanced up through his lashes and saw Stiles staring at the mirror over the sinks. Turning his head slightly, their eyes met in the mirror and Stiles looked away.
Derek returned his concentration to Stiles' foot and cleaned it carefully with the peroxide, relieved when it didn’t bubble up much, but when Stiles hissed, he blew over the injury. He wasn't sure why he did it, but he'd seen moms do it on television shows when he was a kid; it seemed to help though so he shrugged and did it again. Wrapping the new dressing carefully, he was able to use less gauze than the day before and thought it would only be a few days before just a large bandage would be enough.
By the time the glove was in place and taped down, Stiles’ fingers were fidgeting, running along every surface they could reach, including Derek's shoulders. He raised his eyebrows at Stiles and he jerked his fingers back to tap them over his thighs, looking away from Derek. He helped Stiles stand and cleaned up the mess he'd made.
"I'll go get some breakfast while you shower," he said, leaving the bathroom.
"Thanks, for...everything," Stiles said quietly, but Derek still heard him as he opened his suitcase to get dressed.
They ended up staying in Chicago for five days because the day that they'd originally planned to leave, Derek had woken up sweating; Stiles was pressed against his side, his body temperature burning even to Derek's werewolf senses. The first thing he'd thought was that his toe was infected, so he'd insisted on Stiles going to the hospital, stopping twice on the way so Stiles could throw up. It turned out he just had the flu and although the doctor said he should be fine to travel after the first day, Derek made Stiles stay in bed, waiting on him hand and foot until the scent of sickness was faint enough he could lie to himself that it was gone. Stiles hadn't fought him too hard on the issue.
They'd spent the days in the bed watching Supernatural and talking. He'd thought that in the years since he'd first met Stiles that he'd learned everything he could about the young man, but he'd been wrong. Stiles had talked about his mom a lot and his worry about his dad. He'd both praised and panned Scott in equal measure, but full of love either way. Derek had found himself opening up to Stiles in ways he hadn't since before his family had been killed. He'd shared stories that he hadn't allowed himself to think about and found that it hadn't hurt as much as he'd expected.
The strangest thing to Derek had been the nights in the shared bed. The first night, Stiles had slept under the blankets and Derek on top but the next night after they'd gone to see Spamalot , Stiles had pulled back the sheets on Derek's bed in clear invitation, but the pillow holding the laptop stayed between them. The night before they'd left, Stiles had gotten restless and tossed the pillow off the bed and that was when Derek had woken up with the burning hot Stiles pressed against himself. They'd wake up in similar positions each morning, neither one of them acknowledging it.
When Derek finally cleared Stiles for travel, they discussed cutting their plans and although Derek tried to talk him into still taking the extra time, he finally gave into Stiles and agreed to cut the trip down to just a few stops. Stiles' foot was also healed enough that he felt comfortable enough to drive and had made it through two days without any of the pain pills.
The last thing they did before leaving Chicago was find the corner of Jackson Boulevard and Michigan Avenue, the beginning of Route 66 in 1926 and start from there. They were stopped at a light and Stiles forced Derek into a selfie. It wasn't the first time he'd done this, Stiles had taken a selfie at every stop they'd been making, but this time he'd pressed their cheeks together and when he showed the picture to Derek, they were both smiling.
Stiles took the first shift of driving, quoting Dean Winchester when Derek reached for the radio dial. "Driver picks the music. Shotgun shuts his cakehole." Derek threatened to rip his throat out with this teeth and Stiles had laughed, choking out the words, "You say that like it's a threat." That had been enough to short circuit Derek's brain and cut the conversation short.
There were only a few stops here and there for food and rest stops until they got to Joplin, Missouri. They stopped at a small roadside motel and took the last room they had, which of course only had one bed and Derek wrinkled his nose when they entered. It was clear this motel fell into those that occasionally charged by the hour, but the sheets smelled recently laundered so he wasn't completely disgusted. However, as he laid in bed, staring at the ceiling, the scent of old sex was overwhelming and nauseating.
He was ready to go sleep in the car when something hit him in the face and he was suddenly drowning in Stiles' scent. Peeking out from behind what he'd identified as Stiles' shirt, he saw it had been the one he'd worn to bed. Smiling at his bare back, Derek rolled over and buried his face in the shirt and was asleep in minutes. He woke up with his face buried in Stiles' neck, the shirt still gripped in his hand and when he pulled back, Stiles was grinning at him.
"Shut up," Derek grumbled, but when Stiles began laughing, he found himself joining in and allowed Stiles to pull him into a hug, relaxing into it.
"Glad I could help you sleep," he said as they were getting dressed, discussing the drive for that day. "You've done so much to help me on this trip that it's nice to know I'm somewhat useful."
Derek was quiet for several minutes, thinking over Stiles' words, trying to form a response that wouldn't make him sound like an idiot and still make Stile realize how wrong he was in his thinking. When Stiles began to fidget and start sliding towards the edge of the bed, he reached for his arm, getting his hand instead.
As their fingers wove together seemingly by their own volition, words started spilling out of Derek's mouth. "You're more than somewhat useful. I don't even know how you could think that you aren't. Even if you didn't have the most powerful natural spark I've ever encountered, you would be useful. Think of everything you did for us back when you thought you were purely human. Hell, I don't know how Scott would've survived his first few weeks as a werewolf without you." He shook his head when Stiles frowned, opening his mouth to argue.
"Hell, even before that, you were always there for people. Erica used to tell me about how you would stand up for her when assholes picked on her." They both stayed silent for a minute, lost in their thoughts and memories. "Boyd talked about how annoying you were but he always said he knew he could count on you when push came to shove." Stiles' eyes shown with tears and Derek squeezed his hand.
"You gave up starting in Lacrosse for me. You held my ass up in eight feet of water-"
"It was only seven feet!" Stiles said, flailing his free arm and laughing.
"Yeah, that one foot is the issue," Derek argued, lips twitching into a laugh, situation successfully diffused. He looked at the clock on the nightstand. "We still have a few hours to check out and we're not driving far today, do you want to get an episode in before we leave?"
Stiles bounced on the bed. "Hell, yeah, the Mystery Spot episode is next!"
"Bring on the Trickster," Derek said, pulling the laptop into the bed, reaching around for a pillow when Stiles just settled pressed up against his side, setting the laptop across their legs. Biting his lip, Derek leaned back and enjoyed the episode while trying not to think about the warmth of Stiles' bare torso against his arm.
They arrived in their next destination, Oklahoma City, after just over three hours and Derek watched Stiles' face as they pulled into the Orr Family Farm where they would be spending the night. When he'd first seen the place while looking for hotels, he'd hoped they would stay a few days but maybe he'd be able to come back one day in the future. When they checked in and followed an employee, Stiles was looking confused. When they stopped in front of a large covered wagon, Derek couldn't stop laughing at Stiles' face.
"Go in," Derek said and waited for Stiles to climb inside to find a king-size bed and a set of bunk beds. When there was no sound, Derek climbed in after and found Stiles staring at the bunk beds, a frown on his face. "What's wrong?"
"Nothing. I guess I'll take the top-"
"Stiles, they don't have any wagons or teepees with one bed," Derek explained. "We can share the king, unless you really want to sleep in the bunks."
Stiles shook his head and tossed his duffel bag on the floor and flopped on the bed. "So, I'm guessing you this is usually more than a one night kind of place," he said.
Dropping next to him and rolling over to his side, propping his head up on one arm, Derek nodded. "There's so much to do here but we don't have time."
"Next time," Stiles said, smiling as he rolled to mirror Derek's position, placing the phone on the bed between them, seemingly unaware of the thrill he'd just sent through him. "So, what do you think about the 'Spooks, Spirits, and Scoundrels Ghost Tour'?"
"I think you forgot about our 'no Winchester' rule," Derek said, laughing.
"Well, then that cuts out the drive-in," Stiles muttered, laughing at Derek's confused face. "It's the Winchester Drive-In." Derek didn't even hesitate to shove Stiles, not even feeling slightly bad when he fell off the bed with a grunt. Instead, he grabbed his phone and started scrolling through the '15 Best Things to do in Oklahoma City' website Stiles had brought up.
Stiles climbed back on the bed, reaching for his phone but Derek grabbed him and dragged him across his lap, resting his elbows on Stiles' back, ignoring his cries of outrage and kicking feet until he collapsed with a huff, chin resting in his hands. "Fine. You find something."
"Indoor skydiving and Myriad Botanical Gardens," Derek said. "Then the Winchester Drive-In before we come back here to sleep." Stiles huffed again. "Stop pouting because I have good ideas."
"I'm not pouting because you have good ideas. I'm huffing because you have great ideas."
Derek glared at his back before digging his fingers into his sides, enjoying the way he laughed and squirmed. Perhaps enjoying the squirming a little bit too much. He was trying to figure out how to gracefully remove himself from under Stiles when Stiles dug his teeth into Derek's thigh causing him to jump, his arms flying up and allowing Stiles to scramble off his lap and out of the wagon. "Last one to the car is a rotten egg!" Stiles called and Derek jumped off the bed, adjusting himself in his jeans before racing out the door and easily bypassing Stiles, reaching the car first.
Stiles fell asleep during the second movie, his head falling to rest against the window with a quiet thud. Derek just shook his head and backed the car out of the spot slowly; he'd already seen the movie so he decided sleep was more important for both of them. When they arrived back at Orr Family Farm, he carried Stiles in a bridal carry to the wagon and laid him on the bed. He took off his shoes and socks and then hesitated before finally reaching to undo his jeans and tug them off his legs, leaving Stiles to sleep in his shirt and Batman boxers. Chuckling, he got the first aid kit and checked Stiles' foot, removing the bandaid and swiping the antibacterial wipe over the stitches. He decided to let it breathe for the night.
Finally, Derek climbed into the bed next to Stiles, lying on his back and staring at the ceiling of the wagon, smiling at the curved ceiling and listening to Stiles' even breathing. He let out a long slow breath, relaxing his body only to tense up again when Stiles rolled over, his head coming to rest on Derek's chest and his arm laid across his stomach. After a moment, Derek moved his arm so it was under Stiles' and he raised it enough so he could run his hand gently over his back and before he could talk himself out of it, he pressed a kiss to the top of his head. Stiles breathed out a sigh across his chest and Derek fell asleep to the sound of his heartbeat with a smile on his face.
The next morning, Derek woke to an empty bed. Frowning, he climbed out of bed and crossed to the door of the wagon to find Stiles sitting on the deck, a mug of coffee in his hands and eyes on the horizon as the sky turned orange. Another mug sat on the top step next to him. Picking it up, he settled next to Stiles, tense until he laid his head on his shoulder and sighed.
"I wish we could stay for a few more days," he admitted after the silence stretched on between them.
Derek made a hum of agreement, sipping from the mug and smiling at the perfect mix of cream and sugar. He hadn't even thought Stiles paid attention to how he took his coffee and it warmed him from the inside out to have the proof of his attention in his hands. "We can-"
"WillyoukissmewhenI'mawake?" Stiles rushed out, cutting him off and surprising him into silence. "I felt it last night and I don't know if it was just a friendly thing or more or whatever, but I kind of thought after everything we've been through that-" He stopped talking when Derek pressed a kiss to the top of his head. "Okay. That's okay."
"Only okay?"
"Shut up," he said, smiling and pressing his nose into Derek's shoulder.
They sat for another hour, finishing their coffees and watching the sun greet the day. When Stiles' phone rang, he stood from the steps with a groan and went to answer it. He spoke quietly but the sudden tension in his voice drew Derek back into the wagon. They were both frowning when he hung up. "It was Scott." Derek nodded. "He wanted to know when we were getting back."
"What did you tell him?" Derek moved through the wagon. He grabbed a change of clothes and threw some to Stiles who caught them, turning his back as he dressed quickly. He followed suit and when they were done, they threw their stuff in the bag. Stiles still hadn't answered the question so he repeated it.
Stiles shrugged. "I didn't really give him an exact day. Just said we were on our way." He picked up his bag and hooked it over his shoulder. "I really wish we could stay."
"Yeah, I'm not looking forward to this battle," Derek admitted and flinched when Stiles' expression hardened. He knew what he'd said wrong, knew it was wrong before he'd even said it but he'd been afraid to say what he'd really been thinking. Yet, as Stiles turned away and sadness filled the air, his fear of rejection evaporated. "And I really don't want to go back to other people."
Stiles turned to Derek with a hesitant smile that urged him to continue. "You know how I feel," he said.
"That’s just it. I don’t know," Stiles said, giving him a pointed look. "Use your words," he teased.
Narrowing his eyes, Derek moved closer to him. "No," he said, reaching out and grabbing Stiles by the front of his shirt and pulling him closer before ducking in and pressing their lips together.
Stiles squeaked and then relaxed into the kiss around a sigh. Dropping his bag, Stiles threw his arms around Derek's neck, forcing him to release his shirt and grab him by the hips, holding him close. The kiss went on until they heard a noise outside their wagon, causing them to pull apart. They were both breathing heavily and Stiles buried his face in Derek's neck, squeezing him into a hug that Derek returned.
"How long until the next stop?" he asked into his shoulder, tickling him.
"About eight hours, not including stops," Derek told him, hesitant to pull away but letting Stiles go when he pulled back.
"Then we better get moving," he said, grabbing his bag and practically running out of the wagon. Shaking his head, Derek followed.
The drive ended up being closer to twelve hours due to a major accident outside Amarillo. They'd passed the time playing I Spy until Derek was ready to throw Stiles out of the car when he said, "I spy with my little eye something big," while pointedly looking at Derek's crotch. They'd shared kisses at every stop and even got called out by an old lady at one of the rest stops for being inappropriate only to be told at another by an old man that they were a lovely couple and he wished them all the happiness.
The last hour of the drive, he'd had to push Stiles' hand off his thigh at least five times before giving up and letting him keep it there and growling in warning any time it started to climb too high for comfortable driving. When they finally arrived in Albuquerque, Derek was glad he'd called ahead from the road to change their reservations from the cheapest hotel to the nicest one he could find with a vacancy.
The casino and hotel got a smile from Stiles as they checked in, hurrying to their room. The door was barely closed behind them when Derek had Stiles pressed up against the door, glaring down at him. "Wow, deja vu," Stiles said and Derek made an inquisitive sound as he ducked in to nip as his neck. He heard Stiles' head hit the door as he moaned lowly. "My house, my rules, buddy," he panted out and Derek had to stop nibbling to laugh.
"I wanted to do this then," he said.
"Liar," Stiles said, smacking Derek's chest and pushing him back enough that he could move around him and head towards the bed to drop his bag before turning back to face Derek.
Derek stalked him to the bed and pushed him onto the bed, laughing as he climbed over him, leaning down to press a quick peck to his lips. "Don't tell me you didn't want it then, too. I could smell the arousal rolling off of you."
"Screw you, Sourwolf!" Stiles said, his cheeks flushing. "If you wanted me so much-"
"That's just it," Derek said. "I didn't know you then, so it was just a reaction to you and your arousal. Now, though, it's so much more." He pressed a kiss to Stiles' forehead. "It's your brain, so full of knowledge and always hungry for more." He pressed another kiss between Stiles' eyes. "Your eyes glow like a beta 'wolf's." He pressed a kiss to the tip of his nose. "Your nose that you always stick where it doesn't belong but always with the best of intentions."
Stiles laughed at that, pursing his lips and accepting the kiss Derek pressed there. "Your mouth that never stops moving, spewing out facts that should drive me insane but only intrigue me more."
Stiles giggled and tilted his head back but Derek reached one hand up to move his chin down to press another kiss to his lips. "Your mouth that also plays into every single one of the dirtiest fantasies I've had since I met you, but even more so since we started this road trip."
Derek continued his exploration of Stiles' body through his clothes, eliciting giggles and sighs and a couple of moans until he made his way back up to kiss Stiles. Every kiss varied between tempo and passion until Derek had to stop to breathe, pressing his forehead to Stiles'. "I could kiss you forever," he admitted, pulling back when Stiles' heartbeat spiked. "Shit, I'm sorry." He started to pull away but Stiles pulled him back down and rolled them over so that he was above him.
Derek swallowed hard as Stiles gazed down at him, fighting the urge to close his eyes against the intense study. He could feel Stiles' gaze into his soul and it terrified how much it didn't terrify him to have someone be able to see him so clearly. "Forever, huh?" He could feel the tips of his ears warming and Stiles' eyes flicked over to them. "I can probably live with that," he teased. "This isn't like a mates thing is it? You're not going to go all psycho jealous on me?" He looked thoughtful. "Wait. Do you have a knot?"
Derek's eyes did close then and he groaned in a completely non-sexual way. "You're an idiot," he said, opening his eyes again to see Stiles' grin and smiling back.
"Can I be your idiot?"
"Without question," Derek said, kissing him again.
They didn't go beyond kissing and a bit of over the clothes touching that night. They'd discussed it and although it might be their last chance, that one or both of them could die in the battle, they also didn't want to have their first time just because it could be their last chance. They made a promise to each other that if they survived, they would head back to the Wagons as soon as they could and have their first time there. It was a place that was special to them and Stiles was sure that the idea of going there with Derek would be enough to keep him strong through the battle ahead of them.
They woke slowly the next morning, wrapped around each other and pressing kisses to any and all bare skin until they knew they had to get up and get moving if they were going to get back to Beacon Hills that night. They threw their bags in the rental and climbed in, their hands clasped together between them as they drove in silence. The trip was too long and too short at the same time and before they knew it, they were at the border of Beacon Hills, a text from Scott updating them to where they were, something they'd been getting regularly over the days they'd been traveling just in case they were back.
The first stop they made was the Sheriff's house to get Stiles' jeep. He and Derek agreed there was no way they were going to risk a rental in a battle and Roscoe had already been through so much, one more battle couldn't do much more damage. They shared one last makeout in front of the Sheriff's house in Roscoe before Stiles turned the key and started driving. The town was quiet and Derek couldn't believe there was a battle going on anywhere, that an ancient evil had turned everyone's fears into anger and action.
When he could hear fighting in the distance, he squeezed Stiles' hand before opening the door, laughing at the look on his face as he leapt from the moving vehicle, landing in a crouch and running alongside the Jeep. Stiles' laughter echoed back to him as he accelerated and Derek hurried to catch up. It wasn't until he heard the crunch, saw the body flying through the air, that he realized what Stiles had been doing.
He watched the Jeep stop and Stiles lean out the window with a smirk. "You didn't think you were doing this without me did'ja?" he asked Scott as Derek skidded to a stop next to his window.
"Without us?" he added, holding back a laugh at the look on Stiles' face.
Let the battle begin.