Archive of Our Own ^beta

“Hale, Sheriff wants to see you.”

Derek felt his stomach drop, looking up at Parker who was standing in front of his desk. Great, just great. He had been off field work due to an injury and had been a traffic cop for the past couple weeks. Getting called in by the Sheriff was either a very good thing or a very bad thing.

Either the Sheriff thought he could get back to work on the field (unlikely, his shoulder still wasn’t completely healed) or there was some bad news (they were letting him go or worse: moving him to the mall to be a security guard).

“You know what’s up?” Derek asked, standing up and following Parker to the back office.

“No idea,” he said. “But I guess you’ll find out.”

Judging by the amused grin on Parker’s face, he knew why Derek was being called back. And it probably wasn’t a good thing. Either he was turning in his badge or had a future of tackling shoplifting teenagers.

He was hoping for the prior.

“Sheriff?” Derek said, knocking on the doorframe since the door was opened. “You wanted to see me?”

“Come on in, Hale.”

Sheriff Stilinski motioned to the chair in front of his desk, rubbing his temples and looking half-worried and half-aggravated. Probably not a good combination.

Derek sat down, folding his hands in his lap and looking at the Sheriff who still had his face in his hands. The Sheriff had always been kind to Derek and had said that he looked forward to when he returned on the field. Now he wouldn’t even look at Derek and that was scaring the shit out of him.

This was it. He was turning in his badge.

“I know that this isn’t part of your job description,” the Sheriff said. “But I don’t trust anyone else to do it.”

Okay. Maybe he wasn’t getting fired.

“You will get paid and it’ll only be for a few days,” he continued.

Definitely better than getting fired.

“You know Scott McCall, right?” the Sheriff asked. “Good kid, getting married in a few days to Allison Argent.”

He definitely knew that. Beacon Hills was a small town and the two high school sweethearts getting married had been the main topic of discussion for months. The wedding was Saturday morning, just two days away.

“Well, my son is the Best Man in the wedding.”

Derek was also familiar with Stiles Stilinski. He didn’t know much about him, but Laura had babysat him a few times.

“And him along with the other groomsmen went to Vegas for a few days,” the Sheriff said. “My son doesn’t turn 21 for another week.”

Oh God.

“He got arrested for underage drinking and a few other things,” he continued, glaring at a paper on the desk in front of him which probably listed said “other things”.

No.

“I wouldn’t ask this of just anyone.”

Please no.

“I’ll give you the money for bail and gas.”

This was actually happening.

“Can you just bring my idiot son home?”

He could say no. This wasn’t in his job description and the Sheriff couldn’t fire him for saying no. But if he did this he would gain the Sheriff’s trust and probably be able to get back to his real job sooner.

“I’ll do it,” he said.

The Sheriff’s shoulders sagged in relief and he handed over what was probably a copy of Stiles’ police report. They talked for a bit longer and the Sheriff wrote him a check for bail and told him he would pay for the gas when they got back to Beacon Hills.

Driving to Vegas from Beacon Hills took just over 12 hours and since it was relatively early in the morning, he’d probably make it there later that night. They could stay the night in a hotel before leaving early in the morning, having Stiles back the night before the wedding.

Even though Stiles already had a plane ticket for the Friday morning flight, the Sheriff was adamant about having Stiles take the 12 hour trip by car. Apparently it was to teach him a lesson and Derek would have complained, but he just wanted his job back. Everyone at the station had been walking around him on eggshells and he needed something to make people see that he wasn’t a total screw-up.

And bringing the Sheriff’s son back home on a 12 hour drive of shame seemed oddly appealing.

He shook the Sheriff’s hand and then left his office. Judging by the looks some of the other officers gave him they were probably already aware of what Derek’s assignment was. Some looked amused and others looked smug, but he just ignored them. After his injury, he had gotten used to people looking at him certain ways and he wasn’t going to let it affect him.

Derek left the station, heading to his car and getting in. His Camaro wasn’t exactly the best car for travel, so he’d head over to Laura’s and see if she wanted to swap for her Accord for a few days. She’d probably laugh at him for taking the assignment but then hug him and call him an idiot and say that she hopes he doesn’t die on the side of the road somewhere.

It wasn’t his first road trip, he knew what to expect from Laura.

Laura lived in the rich part of Beacon Hills in a huge house with her rich husband. Her rich husband who was kind of an asshole to him, but treated Laura right, so he didn’t complain too much. He pulled into the driveway and wasn’t even out of the car when he saw Laura standing on the porch, hands on her hips.

“You got fired,” she said.

“No,” he said. “I’m going on a rescue mission.”

“Rescue mission?” she asked, raising an eyebrow. “Well that sounds top secret and dangerous.”

“It’s really not.”

“But it could be.”

“But it’s not.”

“Of course it’s not.”

“Laura.”

“Derek.”

“The Sheriff’s kid got drunk and he’s underage,” Derek said, looking at the copy of Stiles’ arrest report in his hand. “And there’s some other things.”

“Ooh, like what?” Laura asked, walking down the porch steps and making her way toward him. “What? He give some guy a blowjob in a back alley?”

“Laura, that’s—.”

“What?” Laura shrugged. “Stiles is gay, you never know with him.”

“He didn’t blow anyone in an alley.”

She nodded slowly, eyeing the paper in his hands. It took about half a second for him to realize what she was going to do. And unfortunately she had always been faster than him. Before he could move the paper out of her reach (she was fast, but still short), she snatched it from him, scanning it quickly.

“Laura, that is classified informa—.”

Too late.

Laura let out an almost shrill laugh, covering her mouth with her hand as she giggled at the paper. “He really—? Oh God, how wasted was he? Pfft, I used to babysit this kid and he—? This is great.”

Derek rolled his eyes, holding out his hand. She finally gave him the report back, still shaking with laughter.

“Now that that’s out of the way,” he said. “I need to borrow your Accord for the trip. My Camaro’s not really a road trip car.”

“Of course,” she said, wiping tears from her eyes. “Bring it back in one piece and I’ll make sure to take care of your baby.”

She went back into the house and folded the report back up, putting it into his jacket pocket. Laura came out and handed him the keys, still red in the face from laughing so hard.

“Thanks Laura,” he said, handing her the keys to the Camaro.

“You got it.”

He nodded, heading towards her Accord that was parked in the driveway.

“Oh and Derek?”

“Yeah?” he asked, turning around to look at her again.

“He is young. He’s afraid.”

“Why are you singing?”

“Let him rest. Heaven blessed.”

“Laura, what are—?”

“Bring him home,” she sang. “Bring him home.”

“Stop singing songs from Les Mis.”

“I knew you’d recognize the song!”

“Hugh Jackman’s in the movie—of course I recognized it.”

Derek opened the car door, shaking his head at her as she continued to sing loudly and slightly off-key. He got into the car, starting it and closing the door behind him, still able to hear Laura singing. With a final wave he pulled out of the driveway and started driving down the road.

He headed back to his apartment, grabbing enough clothes for two days and then stuffing them into an old duffle bag. As he grabbed everything else he could think of to pack, he realized that a road trip would probably do him good. Lately he hadn’t gotten out of his apartment; only for work and when Laura dragged him to dinner or when he went to the gym. After his injury he hadn’t really been up to doing anything active.

So, a road trip was something of a welcome change. Even if he was only going because Stiles Stilinski was drinking underage and doing… other things. He really didn’t want to even think about how the other thing had even come into being.

After double-checking that he had everything and locking up his apartment, Derek headed to Laura’s Accord. He’d pick up a map at the first rest stop and he had a GPS on his phone, so he wasn’t too concerned about getting lost. His sense of direction wasn’t too bad either and he had driven to Vegas before.

This was probably going to be a couple of stress free days.

OoOoOoO

Derek made it to Vegas in just over 12 hours. It had been a boring trip with no source of entertainment aside from the radio and Laura’s shitty CD collection (a lot of musical soundtracks and Taylor Swift, he wasn’t a big fan of either), but he had made it in one piece so he figured it was a success.

It was late at night, the strip already lit up around him. He would have to ignore it though, heading toward where his GPS was informing him where the police station was. He didn’t exactly have a plan for what he would do when Stiles got out of jail. According to the Sheriff, Stiles had a plane ticket for tomorrow morning and the road trip was supposed to teach him a lesson. Hopefully he didn’t act too much like an immature brat when Derek broke the news to him.

For some reason he feared that he would.

The police station was just 15 minutes from the heart of Vegas and the parking lot was filled. He parked in a restaurant next door and headed toward the station. When he headed inside he noted how many people were crowded in the waiting room. Most of them were freaks or bums, but there were a few relatively normal-looking people as well.

He even recognized one.

“McCall?”

“Derek?”

They looked at each other for about five seconds before Scott stood up and made his way over. And then hugged him, because Scott McCall was a touchy-feely kind of guy apparently.

“Did Sheriff Stilinski send you?” Scott asked. “Thank God, I’ve been here all day. I don’t have enough money for bail and none of us could get the money together. I’ve talked to him and he’s fine, I actually think he’s made friends with a drag queen which isn’t that weird, because it’s Stiles and—.”

“I’m here with the money,” Derek cut in. “And I have to take him home.”

“We have plane tickets for tomorrow morning.”

“The Sheriff wants him to learn a lesson.”

“And that translates into a road trip with you?”

“Apparently.”

“Makes sense.”

Derek wasn’t going to push that by asking what he meant.

“So, I’m gonna bail him out.”

“Right, yeah, you should totally do that,” Scott said, gesturing toward the front desk.

“He has clothes, right?” Derek asked. “Because I have a copy of the police report and the other thing along with underage drinking…”

“Yeah, I brought him clothes, he’s good.”

That was good. He really didn’t want to deal with a naked, hung-over 20 year-old.

He went to the front desk and after about 10 minutes of waiting he was able to give them the Sheriff’s check and sign about a thousand forms before he was instructed to sit back down and wait.

“So, where’s the rest of your group?” Derek asked once he sat back down next to Scott.

“Back at the hotel getting some sleep,” Scott said. “They offered to stay, but I sent them back. Stiles is my best friend and I’m gonna wait for him. Even if it means eating vending machine doughnuts for breakfast, lunch, and dinner.”

Derek laughed, patting Scott on the shoulder. They didn’t really know each other that well, but everyone in Beacon Hills knew everything about everybody. Scott McCall was known for being a good and smart kid who was crazy about Allison Argent and Stiles Stilinski was known for being insanely smart and a bit of a sarcastic brat.

Okay, maybe Derek was biased.

“Stilinski,” a bored deputy said finally.

Scott and Derek looked up to see an officer walking into the lobby, hand grasped around Stiles’ bicep who was walking with him. He looked okay, clothes and hair rumpled and looking ridiculously tired, but other than that he was fine. Derek was almost tempted to just let him get on the plane tomorrow, one day in jail was probably more than enough punishment.

But getting his job back was on the line, so he’d have to just try not to feel bad about making Stiles spend over 12 hours with him in a car.

“Dude, how’d you get the money?” Stiles asked as soon as Scott stood up to hug him.

“I didn’t,” Scott said, breaking the hug and pointing at Derek who had just stood up.

Stiles looked at him and his mouth dropped open and he glanced back at Scott, looking panicked and angry. Wait, why was he angry?

“Derek Hale,” Stiles said. “My dad sent you to pay for my bail?”

“Yeah,” Derek shrugged. “And to take you home.”

“You mean to make sure I make it on the plane safely tomorrow?”

“No,” Derek said, shaking his head. “We’ll leave early tomorrow morning and drive back to Beacon Hills.”

Stiles took a step forward, eyeing Derek critically for a few seconds. “This is to teach me a lesson, isn’t it?”

“That’s what I’ve been told.”

“You’re not going to take no for an answer, are you?”

“Not a chance.”

“You’re probably extremely duty bound.”

“I like to think of myself that way, yes.”

“Fine,” Stiles sighed, running a hand through his hair. “Scott, buddy, don’t worry I’ll be there for your wedding on Saturday.”

“You better be,” Scott said. “So, are you staying the night here?”

“I’ll get a room at your hotel tonight and we’ll leave at around five,” Derek said. “And I’m gonna need your plane ticket.”

Stiles groaned, probably thinking he could sneak away to catch their flight instead of having to take the trip with Derek. Scott just laughed, patting Stiles on the back.

“Hey man, just be glad that your dad paid for your bail,” he said. “He could have just left you stranded in there.”

“I guess,” Stiles said. “How long’s the drive anyway?”

“Twelve hours,” Derek said. “With stopping it’ll probably be around 13. We’ll make it back in time for you to sleep and not get drunk the night before the wedding.”

Scott laughed again and Stiles looked like he was about to strangle him. They left the police station and Scott gave him the name of the hotel. Scott and Stiles headed towards their rental car and Derek went to Laura’s Accord.

OoOoOoO

True to his word, Derek had taken Stiles’ plane ticket before ripping it up and throwing it away. The plane didn’t take off until noon on Friday and since they were leaving at five, he wasn’t that concerned. Stiles had been pretty agreeable as well. After the initial embarrassment of the rest of Scott’s groomsmen and ushers teasing him, he had just laughed at himself and the ridiculousness of the situation. It was admirable and Derek was actually beginning to think that this road trip wouldn’t be too painful.

That was until he woke Stiles up in the morning.

Derek had gotten up early, taken a shower, and then packed up the few things he had brought with him. He had stopped by Scott and Stiles’ room only to be told to come back in 15 minutes. So, Derek had busied himself by checking out and grabbing a bagel from the complimentary breakfast in the lobby.

When the 15 minutes were up he had went back upstairs only to find their room door open and Stiles still fast asleep.

“Come on, Stiles,” he said, sitting down on the edge of the bed and nudging Stiles’ shoulder. “Wake up.”

“Don’t wanna,” Stiles said, hugging his pillow. “We can leave later.”

“We should leave now,” Derek said, nudging him again. “Don’t make me drag you out of this bed.”

“Is that a promise or a threat?” Stiles said, opening one of his eyes and sleepily grinning at Derek.

Well, it wasn’t like he hadn’t warned him.

Derek grabbed the top of the covers, pulling it back and then grabbing Stiles’ ankles. Stiles let out a yelp and tried to grab the top of the mattress as Derek yanked him off the bed. He landed on the floor in a disgruntled pile of bedding.

“I hate you,” Stiles said, standing up and grabbing his backpack before heading into the bathroom.

“We’re leaving in 10 minutes,” Derek said just as Stiles slammed the bathroom door shut.

“He’ll be in a better mood when he wakes up,” a sleepy mumble came from the other queen-sized bed in the room.

Derek looked over to the other bed, seeing Scott’s head peeking out from the top of the covers. He sounded like he was sleep-talking and Derek doubted if he would even remember this in the morning.

“Good to know,” Derek said.

Stiles took longer than 10 minutes to take a shower and get dressed and packed. Derek sat on the end of his bed, eating his bagel and having casual conversation with a barely conscious Scott. Most of it came from Scott’s side and he was very insistent about Allison Argent being the most beautiful girl to ever grace the world with a beautiful smile and beautiful hair and there was something about her sparkling.

His side of the conversation was lacking, only giving an occasional grunt or “yeah”. Eventually Stiles was ready to go, already putting them over 20 minutes late.

He stood in front of Derek, hands on his hips, backpack hiked up on his shoulders, and hair still damp from his shower. “I’m ready, let’s go.”

“All right,” Derek said, taking his bag from the floor and pulling the strap up on his shoulder.

“I’ll see you soon, man,” Stiles said to a still half-conscious Scott.

“Have fun,” Scott mumbled. “Don’t be late to my wedding.”

“Not for the world.”

Scott gave a happy hum of contentment before snuggling back into the pillow. They were in the hallway and about to close the door when they heard a loud snore from the room.

“How much of that do you think he’s going to remember?” Derek asked.

“Probably none of it,” Stiles said. “He’s been talking in his sleep for as long as I’ve known him. And I’ve known him basically forever.”

They took an elevator down to the lobby and then to the parking lot where the Accord was parked.

“So,” Stiles said once they were in the car. “Nice car.”

“It’s my sister’s.”

“Oh, where’s yours.”

“She has it,” Derek said, backing out of the parking space. “It’s not exactly a car you drive for 12 hours straight in.”

“Kinda like 24 hours for you,” Stiles said. “You’ve had to go both ways.”

“And whose fault is that?”

“Here we go,” Stiles groaned, tilting his head back against the headrest. “Well, better now than later. Go on, let it all out.”

“What are you talking about?”

“The lecture,” Stile said. “I know that my dad is going to murder me and then resurrect me when I get home, but you might as well just act all high and mighty too, Deputy Hale.”

They were sitting at the exit of the parking lot, waiting for a space to open up so that they could get on the road. Derek looked over at Stiles who was looking out the window with his arms crossed over his chest.

“Sounds like you’re disappointed with yourself.”

“I am,” Stiles said. “It was stupid. Everything was stupid, but I did it anyway.”

“Why?”

“I’ve been going through a rough time, okay?”

“Okay,” Derek said. “It’s just that drinking while you’re a week away from being legal at your best friend’s bachelor party is one thing. Hell, I’d even excuse you for that. But the other thing.”

“I know,” Stiles said, putting his face in his hands.

“Was it as bad as the police report said?”

“No,” Stiles said. “Yes. Maybe? It was pretty bad.”

“I can imagine.”

“Please don’t imagine it.”

“Too late.”

“I actually haven’t seen the report.”

“It’s in my pocket,” Derek said, nodding toward the jacket he was wearing.

“You haven’t burned it yet?” Stiles asked incredulously.

“Why would I burn it?”

“Because it’s proof,” Stiles said, reaching over into Derek’s jacket pocket and taking out the report. He skimmed over it before groaning and placing his face back in his hands. “It’s wasn’t this bad. At least I don’t remember it being that bad.”

“Is it completely gone from your memory?”

“Bits and pieces.”

Well, that wasn’t too bad.

“I just know that my dad is going to lecture the shit out of me,” Stiles said. “And he’s going to be so disappointed. And call me an idiot. And then he’ll play the ‘what would your mother think’ card. And then I’ll have to pay him back for the bail and knowing him he’ll add interest.”

“It can’t be that bad,” Derek said.

“Oh, trust me, it’s that bad,” Stiles said. “No one in the Stilinski family has ever gotten drunk a week from their 21^st birthday, taken their clothes off, and then proceed to strategically cover himself in body paint and go streaking.”

Derek might have laughed. Stiles might have glared at him.

“He’s just going to get this look in his eyes,” Stiles continued. “That disappointed look that just says it all. I’m an adult, I can make responsible decisions.”

“Or not.”

“Okay, no one asked you.”

His father was a touchy subject, noted. He wondered if that was the “rough time” he’d been going through had to deal with his father. At first he had assumed it was because of a bad break-up, but the Sheriff probably would have said something about that. The Sheriff was private about his own life, but always ready to boast about his son who was in his junior year at Stanford.

Derek wouldn’t push it. He was going through a rough time himself and if Stiles was anything like him, it was the last thing he wanted to discuss. Everyone always said that talking about your problems was a good thing and that keeping it all bottled up inside would only end badly. He definitely didn’t agree with that statement and he felt like Stiles would disagree as well.

He continued to drive, using his memory to bring them back on the interstate instead of following a map. With Stiles the trip would probably be quicker than when he had come since Stiles could read the map for him and he wouldn’t have to stop a lot to read it.

OoOoOoO

Stiles being great at reading maps did nothing to stop the fact that his bladder was apparently tiny.

They were three hours into the trip and they had already stopped twice. And now he wanted to stop for a third time.

“You haven’t even had anything to drink, how could you need to use the bathroom again?” Derek asked.

“I don’t know how it works,” Stiles said. “I just really have to take a leak. So, unless you want to explain to your sister why there’s piss on her nice leather seats—.”

“Okay, fine,” Derek said, putting on his turn signal.

“Thank you.”

“Sure.”

He pulled into the rest stop, finding a parking space rather easily since it was still early and not a lot of people traveled in early April. As soon as he parked Stiles got out of the car, practically dashing toward the information building. Derek got out at a much more leisurely pace, entering the building and heading into the bathroom.

When he came out of the stall, Stiles was already washing his hands, squinting at his reflection in the mirror.

“I think I’m still hung over,” Stiles said. “Bright lights hurt.”

“What about loud noises?”

“I haven’t really heard anything that loud.”

Derek raised an eyebrow at that. “You were in Vegas and in jail. I think you’ve probably heard something loud in the past 24 hours.”

“Okay, smartass,” Stiles said, grabbing a paper towel and drying his hands. “Maybe it’s just the lights.”

“Maybe you’re delusional.”

“Maybe you’re an asshole.”

He felt his lips twitch up at that and tried to turn his head away in time so that Stiles wouldn’t see. Too late.

“You’re actually smiling right now,” Stiles said. “I call you an asshole and you smile?”

“I’m a cop, I’ve been called a lot worse,” Derek shrugged. “Especially since I’ve been on traffic duty and a receptionist the past few weeks.”

“Oh yeah,” Stiles said, wincing. “Sorry, my dad told me you had an injury. He didn’t specify though. What happened?”

“I don’t really want to talk about it,” Derek said. “Consider it the rough time that I’ve been going through.”

“I can respect that,” Stiles said, nodding.

“Ready to go?”

“So soon?”

“You had to take a leak, you did that,” Derek said. “Let’s go.”

“Yeah, but we can still see the sights.”

“We’re at a rest stop in Nevada, what sights could there possibly be?”

“Pretty sure I saw a sign for a walking trail.”

“You’re kidding.”

A pause.

“Holy shit, you’re not kidding.”

“What?” Stiles asked. “I like walking; you look like you walk a lot. Or lift school buses. I don’t know, maybe it’s a combination.”

Derek hoped the look that he was giving Stiles clearly said “you’re an idiot”. Apparently it did because Stiles just gave an aggravated sigh, running a hand through his hair.

“Seriously?” Stiles asked. “We can’t even walk around for 10 minutes? I’m sick of sitting in the car and I get antsy easily. I don’t do well with enclosed spaces for extended periods of time.”

“Fine, 10 minutes,” Derek said.

“Great, let’s go.”

And without another word, Stiles was heading toward the exit. They left the information building and made their way around to where Stiles had seen the sign for the walking trail. It wasn’t much of anything though. There was just an opening into the trees and a dirt path that was narrow and probably hadn’t been taken care of in years.

“This doesn’t seem like a good idea,” Derek said.

It was too late though because Stiles was already marching through the opening and into the woods. Derek sighed, following him in.

“What’s so exciting about a walking trail?” Derek asked, ducking under a tree branch that blocked the trail.

“I don’t know,” Stiles shrugged. “Nature? Fresh air? The great outdoors?”

“Huh,” Derek said. “I never really thought that would be exciting.”

“Yeah, well your house was in the preserve, dude,” Stiles said. “I grew up in the suburbs. There’s no nature in the suburbs except for my backyard.”

He had a point. Just because Beacon Hills was right next to a nature preserve didn’t mean a lot of people frequented it. Especially since there were rumors of killer mountain lions not too long ago. His parents had talked about the idiocy of that idea for weeks.

“So, nature,” Derek said. “Thrilling. I think I’ve had enough, what about—?”

Stiles had stopped in front of him, being incredibly still (and Derek was kind of impressed considering Stiles always had to be moving or twitching or something) and staring at something in front of him. They were about the same height, so Derek had to look around him to see why he had stopped instead of just peeking over his shoulder.

And shit.

“Do you know how to deal with this?” Stiles asked, his voice ridiculously low.

“Just don’t make any sudden movements and we’ll just come back the way we came slowly,” Derek said. “It’s not going to attack unless it feels threatened.”

“Right,” Stiles said, nodding. “That makes sense.”

Derek slowly started to back up, looking behind him to make sure he didn’t trip, when he heard a startled yelp and Stiles went tripping forward. He had tripped over a branch while trying to turn around and of course that sudden movement had triggered the skunk into spraying all over them.

If he didn’t get paid overtime for this, he didn’t know what he’d do.

The skunk then scurried off, leaving them lying on top of each other on the ground and feeling like they were about to throw up.

“You’re an idiot.”

“Klutz, not an idiot,” Stiles corrected, starting to cough.

Derek was about to respond with what was probably going to be an equally sarcastic remark, but found that he couldn’t. He started to cough as well and he was feeling dizzy and fuck, he needed to take a shower and change clothes and maybe throw up a few hundred times.

All he smelled were rotten eggs and garlic and something else that was making his head spin. Having Stiles on top of him didn’t help either since he smelled even worse than Derek. He pushed him off and quickly moved away, coughing into the air since the sleeve of his shirt was drenched in the stink.

He was really glad that he had left his jacket in the car.

“We need to change clothes,” he finally managed.

“You think,” Stiles said, taking big gulps of air through his mouth before making a face. “Oh God, I can taste it.”

“Rest stops have showers for truckers,” Derek said.

“Shower,” Stiles nodded. “Shower sounds fantastic.”

They practically ran out of the woods and back to the parking lot of the rest stop. People gave them disgusted looks as they headed toward the car, grabbing their bags from the backseat before heading back to the information building. There was a girl at the front desk looking bored out of her mind, looking up when they came rushing toward her.

“How can—Oh, shit,” she wheezed, covering her nose.

“We’re not truckers, but there was a skunk and can we shower, please?” Stiles asked.

She just nodded, pointing frantically toward where the showers were. Stiles ran off and ahead of him and Derek nodded in thanks to the girl at the desk who now looked like she was on the verge of puking. Derek headed toward the showers, closing the door behind him and looking to see Stiles yanking his clothes off.

The bathroom was empty, so it seemed that Stiles wasn’t shy about anything. And if Derek wasn’t so focused on trying not to puke he would have stopped and appreciated what a nice ass Stiles had.

He stripped his own clothes off just as Stiles dashed into a stall, the sound of water running soon following. Derek placed his dirty clothes with Stiles’ and moved their bags far away from the stinking pile before heading into the stall next to Stiles.

The water was freezing, but the water pressure was great, so he wasn’t complaining. There were shampoo and soap dispensers on the wall and he had just started lathering up his hair where Stiles started to talk.

“Shouldn’t we be bathing in tomato juice or something?” Stiles asked. “Or baking soda? What about Listerine, I read something about Listerine.”

“I don’t know,” Derek said. “I’ve never gotten sprayed by a skunk before.”

“I feel like a shower and clean clothes aren’t going to cut it.”

“I doubt they have tomato juice or baking soda at a rest stop,” Derek said.

“Valid point,” Stiles said. “Maybe we can just stay in here for a few hours and it’ll go away.”

Derek didn’t feel like it would be that easy, but didn’t feel like arguing. They stayed in the showers for about 30 minutes (or at least it felt that long) until Stiles turned his shower off. “Dude, I’m getting out. I’m turning into a giant prune.”

“Okay,” Derek said, staying in the shower for a few more moments before turning it off.

He stepped out, taking one of the worn towels from the sink counter. Stiles was already stepping into his jeans, towel around the back of his neck.

“So, we probably still stink,” Stiles said, smelling his arm and wincing slightly. “I mean, 30 minutes of cold water and crappy soap isn’t going to…”

He trailed off and Derek looked up at, noticing Stiles’ line of vision. And that line went directly to his crotch. Derek instinctively wrapped the towel around his waist just as Stiles’ face snapped up, a flush appearing on his cheeks and neck.

“Sorry,” he said. “I just—it was right there and… Sorry, I know you probably don’t want the gay kid looking at your junk.”

“It’s fine,” Derek shrugged.

And it was fine. If this had been in any other circumstance, Derek probably would have tried flirting (something that he hadn’t tried since high school). Stiles was an attractive guy and he had realized that both sexes were appealing to him years ago.

But this was different and Stiles was uncomfortable and Derek’s pathetic attempts at flirting probably wouldn’t be appreciated.

“Don’t worry about it,” Derek said.

Stiles nodded, turning to look in the mirror as he towel-dried his hair. Derek took this opportunity to pull on a clean pair of jeans (and he was happy that he had thought to pack an extra pair, he had been a boy scout after all) and t-shirt.

He eyed the pile of dirty clothes in the corner before realizing that he wasn’t that attached to any of them. Derek dumped his in the trash, leaving it to the custodian to deal with them.

“Are you gonna cry if I throw yours away too?” Derek asked.

“No, go ahead,” Stiles said.

Derek dumped his as well and after tossing their towels into a dirty clothes hamper, they exited the bathroom. The girl at the front desk looked up as they walked in and she flinched away, pointing hastily toward the exit.

It was clear that she wanted them to leave, but apparently Stiles couldn’t let go of the opportunity to mess with her. He went up to the desk, leaning against it with one arm and holding out the other.

“Smell gone?” he asked.

Derek suppressed a laugh and the girl looked even more horrified than before.

“I’m not leaving without an answer,” Stiles said.

The girl looked from Stiles to Derek and then back again. She sniffed delicately, made a face, and then spoke.

“It just smells like you have really bad B.O.,” she said.

“I’ll take it,” Stiles said, grinning at her before heading to the exit. “Thanks!”

“Thanks for letting us use the showers,” Derek said, before following Stiles back into the parking lot.

OoOoOoO

They managed to drive a good length of the distance without much difficulty. They stopped for lunch at a fast food restaurant and only went to use the bathroom at gas stations when they needed to fill the tank. Stiles was good at reading the map (always knowing which way it was supposed to be faced almost instantly after unfolding it) and managed to find all of the best radio stations.

It was nice and companionable and soon they were just a few hours outside of Beacon Hills. It was around seven o’clock and judging by the loud growling of Stiles’ stomach, it was probably time for dinner.

“Can we stop at a non-fast food restaurant?” Stiles asked. “Like a place where we sit down and they take our order and then bring us the food?”

“Sounds like a date.”

“It’s not a date.”

“I know,” Derek said. “I was kidding.”

“I know you were kidding.”

“It didn’t sound like you knew I was kidding.”

“Well I knew that you were.”

“So, it’s not a date?”

“Not unless you want it to be a date.”

“Well, I don’t want it to be a date.”

“Then it’s not a date.”

“Good.”

“Good.”

A brief silence.

“The next exit goes to an Olive Garden,” Stiles said.

“In the mood for Italian?”

“Maybe I am.”

“Well, all right then.”

Derek took the exit, not even looking at Stiles to see what was probably a smug smile on his face. He had gotten what he wanted, good for him.

The Olive Garden was right off the exit and he pulled into the relatively empty parking lot. It was a small town with farm land and barely anything around, so Derek was surprised that they even had an Olive Garden.

He got out of the car, locking it, and then walked in with Stiles to the restaurant.

“Definitely not a date,” Stiles said.

“You keep saying that,” Derek said, opening the door and holding it open for Stiles.

Stiles glared at him, motioning for Derek to go ahead of him.

“I’m holding the door open for you.”

“You don’t have to; I can open the door by myself.”

“I know, I’m just trying to be nice.”

“If you hold the door open for me, people are going to think we’re on a date.”

“Why do you care so much about what people in the middle of nowhere think?” Derek asked. “They won’t care.”

“I don’t care what you think, I just want you to be sure that this is in no ways a date,” Stiles said.

“I know,” Derek said, still holding the door open. “We’re not on a date, we’re just eating dinner together with no romantic or sexual intent.”

“Exactly,” Stiles said. “And there’s no way I’d ever have sex with someone who smells like a skunk.”

Stiles then strolled into the restaurant, leaving Derek to keep holding the door open for an elderly couple who were inching their way toward the door.

Once he finally got inside Stiles was sitting on a bench in the lobby, holding a pager with his leg bouncing up and down. The kid really couldn’t just stay still.

“The wait’s 15 minutes,” Stiles said when Derek sat down next to him. “Which is ridiculous because there’s practically no one here. I think it’s because we still smell disgusting.”

“Probably,” Derek said, pointing to the elderly couple who were already being escorted to a table. “Or because we’re not from around here.”

“Us city folk can’t be trusted, I guess.”

“Since when is Beacon Hills a city?”

“It is compared to this town.”

“Good point.”

They continued to sit there, Stiles with the pager in his lap and Derek looking around the lobby. The décor didn’t hold anything of particular interest though since it was almost identical to the Olive Garden back at Beacon Hills. He remembered going there on his birthday every year because Laura had told their parents that it was his favorite restaurant even though it wasn’t. He wasn’t that big on Italian food and most of their menu wasn’t that appetizing to him.

Derek wasn’t going to tell Stiles that though. He had picked the restaurant and he had been through enough the past few days, regardless that what he had been through had been entirely his fault. The minutes passed by slowly and Derek was worried that they would run out of things to talk about when he noticed that Stiles’ leg was still bouncing up and down, something that he hadn’t done the entire trip in the car.

Without putting too much thought into it (because he wouldn’t have done it if he had been thinking about it), Derek placed his hand on Stiles’ knee to still him.

“You’re driving me crazy,” he said.

“What?” Stiles said, looking from Derek’s hand to his knee. His ears were turning pink and Derek realized that Stiles had probably taken that completely out of context.

“Your knee,” Derek clarified. “It’s driving me crazy. Stop with the bouncing.”

“Sorry,” Stiles said. “I’m just anxious. I’m not big on Olive Gardens and this situation is… nothing. It’s nothing, don’t listen to me.”

Well, he wasn’t going to even touch the last part of that sentence.

“If you don’t like this restaurant then why’d you pick it?” Derek asked.

“Because it was close and I’m hungry and their seafood alfredo is good,” Stiles shrugged. “The food is fine, it’s just—I have bad memories concerning Olive Gardens.”

“What kind of memories?”

“The none of your business kind.”

Fair enough.

The pager started to vibrate and light up in Stiles’ hands. Derek noticed him sighing with what was probably relief, but didn’t voice anything about it. They were probably just cranky from all of the time spent in the car, they’d feel better after eating and then the bickering and arguing would be back.

Derek couldn’t believe that he actually missed the bickering and arguing.

Stiles went up to the hostess desk and handed over the pager. She gave him a pinched expression, probably aggravated by the skunk smell, but motioned for them to follow her anyway. They walked for a bit until they were at the very back of the restaurant in an empty dining room. The hostess placed down menus and utensils before saying that their server would be with them soon.

“So, that’s why we had to wait,” Stiles said, sitting down. “She wanted the two guys who smell like shit away from everyone else.”

“I can’t blame her,” Derek said.

“Yeah, me neither,” Stiles said, flipping through the menu. “So, you have any good Olive Garden memories?”

“Maybe,” Derek said. “Why do you ask?”

“Because I’ve only had bad memories and you might have had some good ones,” Stiles shrugged. “So spill.”

“I used to come here, well to the one back in Beacon Hills, on my birthday every year,” Derek said. “It was Laura’s, my sister’s, favorite restaurant and she told our parents it was mine too so that we could go twice a year. We don’t go out to eat on birthdays anymore, but sometimes Laura and I would go on days that it wasn’t our birthdays and say that it was just to get free cake. She got married a few years ago, so we haven’t done it since.”

“Well that started off happy and ended sadly,” Stiles said.

“That’s how most things work for me.”

He hadn’t meant to say that. It had been true though. He used to have such a good relationship with his parents and now things were shitty. He used to spend so much time with Laura and now she was always too busy. He used to have a good job that he loved, but then he got injured. He used to have someone who said that they loved him, someone to come home to, and that had all been one big lie.

It seemed like whenever he got something good in his life it always turned itself around to turn into something terrible.

“I’m sorry,” Stiles said.

And then there was a hand on top of his. Derek looked down at Stiles’ hand, pale with moles scattered across it and with long, skinny fingers. He looked up at Derek who caught his gaze before hastily looking down at their hands. For a second Derek thought that he was going to jerk his hand away, but he kept it there, his hold on Derek’s firm and warm and unfamiliar, but strangely not unwelcome.

It was random and unusual, but he realized that he kind of missed it. Stiles’ hand felt genuine and that was something he hadn’t been exposed to in a while.

“Thanks,” Derek said, eyes still on their hands. “Things have just been bad lately.”

“I can relate, trust me,” Stiles said squeezing Derek’s hand. “Of course we all deal with it differently. You keep it all buried inside and stay silent and I—.”

“Get drunk in Vegas and go streaking.”

“Exactly.”

And of course that was when their horrified waiter showed up.

Stiles looked up at him and stifled a laugh into his hand and Derek pressed his lips together, trying not to smile. He didn’t even know what made the waiter look so traumatized, either they still smelled terrible (likely) or he had overheard their conversation (also likely).

“Um, hello,” their waiter said. “I’m Daniel and I’ll be your server for tonight. Can I start you two off with something to—?”

“Water,” Stiles said. “Just water.”

“Same,” Derek shrugged.

“Two waters, great,” Daniel nodded. “I’ll be right back.”

He then practically ran out of the dining room, looking slightly petrified.

“How much you wanna bet he’s gonna try to switch tables with someone?” Stiles asked.

“I’m not really in the betting mood,” Derek said. “And water?”

“I’m broke and after how much alcohol I had the other night, I’m going to be drinking nothing but water and black coffee for weeks,” Stiles said. “Why’d you get water?”

“Because you got water,” Derek shrugged.

“Oh,” Stiles nodded, looking down at their hands that were still together. He brought his hand away quickly, coughing into it before picking up his menu. “This still isn’t a date.”

“Stiles, I know.”

“I just want to make it clear—.”

“It’s been made perfectly clear that this is not a date and today is not going to end with us having sex in the backseat of my sister’s car.”

“Is that how all your dates end?”

“I guess you’ll never find out since this isn’t a date.”

“Touché.”

They looked through their menus for a bit, Derek barely paying attention to any of it, when Stiles dropped his menu on the table.

“I’m not saying that I wouldn’t date you or anything.”

“Jesus Christ, Stiles,” Derek groaned.

“No, let me finish,” Stiles said. “You’re extremely attractive and I’d love to go on a date with you, but I’m just—.”

“You’re not looking.”

“Exactly, not looking,” Sties nodded.

“I’m not looking either,” Derek said. “I’m happy being alone.”

“Same, I love being alone,” Stiles agreed. “Independence is great. I have my friends and my family and school. I’m content.”

“There’s nothing wrong with that.”

“Thank you for understanding.”

Stiles picked up his menu again and Derek continued to look through his.

“Casual sex, on the other hand.”

“No,” Derek said, flipping a page.

“Dude, you just said that without any hesitation.”

“I’m not going to sleep with you.”

“Who said anything about sleeping?”

“I don’t want you to do anything you’re going to regret.”

“Trust me, seeing you naked is something I would never regret.”

“Well, I would regret it.”

“Oh,” Stiles said, nodding. “Sorry, I just— I’m an idiot.”

He sounded hurt and it kind of pissed Derek off that he sounded hurt. They had known of each other for years, but they had only really started to talk less than a day ago. Sure, he thought Stiles was attractive and the feeling was apparently mutual. And yes, Stiles was interesting and good to talk to, but that didn’t mean he wanted to just fuck him and never talk to him again.

They were both screwed up and they had just met at the wrong place and time in their lives.

“I’m not saying that I wouldn’t want to,” Derek sighed, running a hand through his hair. “I’m just saying that I don’t do casual and I don’t think either of us is looking for anything serious right now.”

“I respect that,” Stiles said. “Um, I’m gonna use the bathroom. Can you order for me? Seafood alfredo.”

“Of course.”

Stiles then dropped his menu on the table, scooted his chair back, and then practically ran out of the dining room. Great. Now things were going to be beyond awkward. They only had a few more hours left of their trip, but it was going to feel a lot longer with awkward silence.

Derek knew that he had nothing to apologize for, but his mother had practically forced him to be raised a gentleman, so he knew that an apology would make things better. Their waiter came back after a few minutes with breadsticks and salad and after placing both of their orders; Derek might have mentioned that it was his boyfriend’s birthday.

He might have done that. It might have been a thing that happened. And he might have nonchalantly pointed to the tiramisu on the dessert menu. That could have happened.

Daniel seemed to have picked up on it because he nodded, writing everything down on a pad before exiting the dining room, passing Stiles who was just walking in.

“Hey,” Stiles said, sitting back down. “I’m sorry about that. Things have been crazy the past few days and I wasn’t thinking straight.”

“It’s fine, don’t worry about it,” Derek shrugged, grabbing a breadstick. “So, what are you majoring in?”

“Mythology and Folklore.”

Derek raised an eyebrow at that. “Wow, that’s—.”

“It’s for fun,” Stiles shrugged. “I’m double majoring. The other’s in English.”

“You want to teach?”

“Write,” Stiles said. “Just don’t tell my dad, he’d freak out if he knew that I wasn’t going to become a lawyer or a detective or whatever.”

“You should do what makes you happy,” Derek said. “Not what makes everyone else happy.”

“I know,” Stiles said. “And I am. It’s just hard when you finally have to tell everyone about it.”

“I understand,” Derek said. “My parents weren’t too happy about me becoming a cop. They came around eventually and when I got the promotion they were happy for me, but then I got injured and now they want me to work for my dad’s company and—.”

“And you don’t want to do it because it makes them happy, but not you.”

“Yeah,” Derek said.

So, maybe the tiramisu wouldn’t be needed to make things back to normal between them. Derek had definitely underestimated how easy things were with Stiles. He didn’t have to lie or hide things or try to make things less awkward, because things were just naturally not awkward between them.

That didn’t stop the tiramisu and waiters (who had pinched expressions on their faces, probably from the smell) singing “Happy Birthday” from being great at lightening the heavy mood.

Stiles had burst out laughing when they left, digging a fork into the tiramisu and giving a near pornographic groan when he ate. And Derek’s dick did not become interested in that noise. Not at all.

By the time they had split the bill and walked out of the restaurant the mood had lightened considerably and Derek was actually looking forward to spending a few more hours stuck in a car with Stiles. Maybe he’d give him his number when they parted ways, maybe they could go on an actual date after they both got everything figured out.

“Y’know, that was the best Olive Garden experience I’ve ever had,” Stiles said as they walked through the parking lot. “Seriously, that was actually pretty great. I don’t think I’ve ever appreciated these chocolate after dinner mints so much.”

Derek laughed, taking his keys out of his pocket. “I’m happy I could change your mind about it.”

“Yeah,” Stiles nodded, smiling at him with a stupidly warm smile that didn’t make his heart skip a beat because that was ridiculous. “Thanks.”

“Anytime,” Derek shrugged.

“Really?” Stiles asked. “Can we do this again? Anytime?”

He looked at Stiles, hands in his jacket pockets and a hopeful grin on his face, and he was so tempted to say yes. Because what would be the harm in that? What would a few more dinner possibly do?

And he was about to say yes and he was also about to maybe kiss Stiles, when he noticed the empty parking space. He walked forward, looking back at Stiles who now just looked confused.

“We parked here, right?” Derek asked. “This is where we parked?”

“Yeah, I remember almost hitting my door with that tree,” Stiles said. “This is definitely where we… Someone hotwired your car.”

“My sister’s car.”

“Someone stole the car,” Stiles said. “It’s The Olive Garden Curse.”

“‘The Olive Garden Curse’?” Derek repeated.

“Nothing good comes from this restaurant,” Stiles said. “Holy shit, all our stuff was in there.”

“I just had clothes and an old duffle bag, nothing exciting.”

“Same, just clothes and my backpack,” Stiles shrugged. “Cell phones were the only electronics Scott allowed to bring to Vegas.”

“Oh, so no big loss.”

“Yeah,” Stiles nodded. “We’re very calm about this. Should I be concerned about our calmness?”

“I think we’re doing a great job of reacting calmly,” Derek said. “I just know that Laura is going to kill me, but if we don’t have a car I guess we’re not getting back to Beacon Hills.”

“Right, yeah,” Stiles said. “There’s always buses.”

“We can check times in the morning.”

“Early morning,” Stiles said. “The wedding’s at one.”

“We can make it back in time.”

“Find a hotel for the night?”

“Sure,” Derek said.

“And we’re not having sex.”

“Definitely not having sex.”

“Okay, let’s go,” Stiles said.

Maybe Stiles was right, maybe they should be more panicked about the stolen car, but they just weren’t. He had called the police on his cellphone as they walked through town, trying to find a hotel. The police said that they would give them a call if they found anything, but Derek doubted it. In a small town like this it’d be easy to find the car, so the thief had probably already left.

It wasn’t his car and calling Laura was going to be a pain in the ass, but it just felt fine.

“You gonna call your sister?” Stiles asked.

“I guess I should,” Derek said, reaching into his pocket and grabbing his phone.

Laura picked up on the third ring. “How’s the trip?”

“It’s been all right,” Derek said. “We’re getting a hotel for the night though.”

“Why?” she asked. “I thought you said you’d be back this evening. Oh. Oh. Derek, you’re gonna fu—.”

“Someone stole your car.”

Stiles winced at that, probably not approving of how bluntly Derek had said it. It was true though and he wasn’t in the mood for sugar-coating things for Laura. She was going to kill him when they got back home, but right now all she could do was yell at him.

And that was why he was more than ready to hang up as soon as she started to shout.

“Thank you.”

Or not.

“What?” Derek said. “Laura, I don’t think you heard me right, someone st—.”

“Stole my car, I heard,” she said. “And thank God too. I freakin’ hated that thing. It had a push start ignition and leather seats a seat warmer and a camera that showed you if there were any cars behind you. Do you know how pretentious I felt getting into that thing? Now I have an excuse for getting a new car. I really love your Camaro, maybe I’ll get the new model. That’d be fun.”

“So, you’re not mad?”

“Of course not, if you were in front of me I’d kiss you right now,” she said. “And onto the topic of kissing, you and Stiles getting close? Cozy, even?”

“I’ll tell you some other time, Laura,” he said.

“Okay,” she said, her tone ridiculously teasing. “Just watch out for him, okay? I was talking to Ms. McCall today and she said that’s he’s been having some trouble. Apparently the whole ‘getting stupid drunk’ isn’t anything new.”

“Really?” Derek asked, looking at Stiles who was still walking next to him.

“Yeah,” she said. “Make sure he’s okay. I used to babysit him, Derek, you have to make sure he’s okay.”

“I will,” he promised. “We’re getting a bus in the morning, I’ll call you when I get in.”

“Okay,” she said. “Love you.”

“Love you too.”

He hung up, putting the phone back in his pocket and looking at Stiles who looked stunned and confused.

“She didn’t get mad?” he asked.

“No, she hated that car,” he shrugged. “And with her rich husband she’ll probably get one.”

“You don’t like him?” Stiles asked.

“He’s good to her, but he’s an asshole.”

“You’re kind of an asshole.”

“What’s that supposed to mean?”

“I don’t know,” Stiles shrugged, grinning at him. “I guess it can mean what you want it to mean.”

They didn’t talk that much else, choosing to walk through the town in companionable silence. Soon they reached a small Bed and Breakfast that was right next to a lake. It was quaint and probably not with that many rooms. Usually Derek would have gone for a more commercialized hotel, but this was the only thing they had come across and it was just for one night.

Stiles walked up the porch steps first, holding the door open for Derek who just rolled his eyes as he walked inside. There was a woman at the front desk, flipping idly through a magazine. She perked up when she saw them but as they stepped closer her face started to scrunch up.

“You boys get sprayed by a skunk?”

“How’d you know?” Stiles asked.

“Same thing has happened to my husband several times,” she said. “I’ve got tomato juice in the kitchen, works like a charm. If you don’t it’ll take you days of scrubbing to smell normal again.”

“Bless you and your beautiful everything,” Stiles said, smiling at her.

She just shook her head, flipping open a check-in book. “One room?”

“Uh, yeah,” Stiles nodded. “Two beds though.”

“If you say so,” she said, scribbling down something in the book. “One night?”

“Yeah,” Derek said. “How early can we check out?”

“As early as five AM,” she said.

“And where’s the nearest bus stop?”

“A few miles away.”

Of course it was.

“Okay, so here’s your key,” she said, handing it to Derek. “You can go get settled and I’ll take the one who likes to smile to get some tomato juice.”

“Thank you,” Derek said, nodding at Stiles who followed the woman into what he assumed was the kitchen.

Derek headed upstairs, coming to a room at the end of the hall and opening the door. It was small, but with two beds and a dresser. Instead of a TV there was stack of old board games on top of the dresser. Derek sat down on the bed, just now realizing that he didn’t have anything to unpack.

He looked around the room for a bit longer until Stiles came back in with a jug of tomato juice and a bottle of wine.

“She practically threw the wine at me,” Stiles said, placing it on the dresser. “I kept insisting, but she thinks that we ‘make such a good-looking couple’ and that wine is romantic or something. You mind if I use the shower first? I smell worse than you do.”

“Be my guest,” Derek shrugged.

Stiles then headed into the attached bathroom, almost slamming the door behind him. Derek sighed, standing up and looking at the bottle of wine. If Laura was right and Stiles did have a drinking problem, there was no way Derek was going to let him anyway near it. He was contemplating where to hide it when his phone started to vibrate in his pocket.

It was the Sheriff and Derek groaned, sitting back down on the bed.

“Hello?” he said.

“Hale, I just got off the phone with your sister.”

Of course Laura had called him.

“I hear you’re having some car trouble and won’t make it back until tomorrow morning?”

“Yeah,” Derek said, running a hand through his hair. “We’re staying at a B&B, it’s not a problem.”

“I know,” the Sheriff said. There was a short pause before he spoke again. “I also know that you’re both single and consenting adults who—.”

“Sheriff, it’s not like that,” Derek said quickly. “We’re just... friends.”

Except they weren’t friends. They barely knew each other and Derek always found himself at war between wanting to kiss Stiles and wanting to punch him in the face.

“Oh,” the Sheriff said. “That’s good. I would be fine if you two were more than that. I mean, you’re a good man and I know your family and—.”

“Stiles is in college,” Derek said. “And he’s five hours away, it wouldn’t work.”

“You’re right,” the Sheriff said. “Sorry, I just don’t want you thinking that I would get angry with you—.”

“I know, sir, it’s fine.”

“Right,” the Sheriff said. “Can you not tell Stiles that I called? I don’t want him thinking that I need to give him a babysitter.”

Derek chose not to point out that this entire trip was under the premise of Derek being something of a babysitter to Stiles.

“I won’t say anything,” Derek said.

“Good,” the Sheriff said. “I’ll see you two tomorrow then.”

The Sheriff hung up then and Derek was all too happy to let him go. The bathroom door opened and Stiles came out, towel wrapped around his waist.

“Who was that?” Stiles asked.

“Your dad.”

“He tell you not to tell me that he called?”

“Yeah.”

“Thanks for telling me.”

“Sure.”

Stiles walked toward him and Derek found it difficult not to stare. When they had been showering after getting attacked by the skunk he had barely gotten the chance to appreciate Stiles. But now he was right in front of him, right out of the shower with droplets of water clinging to his pale skin.

“Smell me,” Stiles said, putting his arm under Derek’s nose.

And that wasn’t what he thought would happen. He obliged anyway, no matter how strange the request was.

“Soap and tomatoes,” Derek said.

“Awesome,” Stiles said. “I only used half of what was in the jug, so you can use the rest. And you need to because now that I’m clean, you stink.”

Derek rolled his eyes at that, punching Stiles’ shoulder lightly before heading into the bathroom. He stripped before stepping into the shower.

After staying under the warm fall of water for a few minutes, he grabbed the jug of tomato juice that was sitting in the bottom of the shower. He had no idea what he was supposed to do, so he just poured some on a washcloth before scrubbing himself with it.

Eventually he used the entire jug and then just took a regular shower with the complementary soap and shampoo. When he was done he turned the water off and grabbed a towel, wrapping it around his waist and exiting the bathroom.

Exiting to see an empty room and a missing wine bottle that he should have hidden.

“Dammit,” he cursed, dropping his towel and pulling on his clothes even though he was still wet.

Derek left the room, heading back downstairs to the lobby where the innkeeper was still flipping through her magazine.

“Off to join your sweetheart?” she asked, giving him a sly smile.

“Where’d he go?” Derek asked.

“To the lake,” she said. “Don’t worry, it’s private and no one will see—.”

He didn’t wait for her to finish that sentence, leaving through the front door of the inn and then heading down the front porch and around the house. The lake was deserted except for a lone figure sitting on the dock. Derek let out a sigh of relief, happy that Stiles hadn’t done anything too stupid.

When he finally reached the dock he noticed that Stiles had one hand around the bottle and was leaning back on the other.

“What happened to nothing but water and black coffee for a week?” Derek asked, sitting down next to him.

“I lied,” Stiles shrugged, taking another drink from the bottle. “And I’m not drunk, just buzzed.”

“Yeah and you’re going to stay buzzed until you get sober,” Derek said, grabbing the bottle from him. “Come on, we’re going back inside.”

“In a minute,” Stiles said, standing up and grabbing the bottom of his shirt before pulling it off. “I want to swim for a bit.”

“Stiles, we’re going back inside.”

“You can,” Stiles shrugged, pushing down his jeans before stepping out of him. “Go crazy. Have fun with those board games.”

“Come with me.”

“You can come with me,” Stiles said before pulling his boxers down and then jumping into the lake.

Part of him wanted Stiles to drown and another part just wanted to stand up and leave and another part wanted to just jump in with him and try to make everything that was shit in his life better.

And because he was stupid and left his badge in the hotel room and Stiles kind of made him crazy, he stood up, yanking his shirt over his head.

“Seriously?” he heard Stiles ask from the water. “You’re actually coming in?”

“I don’t want you drowning on me,” Derek said, taking the rest of his clothes off before joining Stiles in the water.

It was warm and pretty deep, coming up just below his shoulders. Stiles was watching him warily, keeping his distance.

“What’s been going on with you, Stiles?” Derek asked.

“I don’t want to talk about it.”

“Too bad,” Derek said. “Because either you tell me or I’m going to have to tell your father about your drinking problem.”

Panic flashed across Stiles face as he moved away from Derek. He could tell that Stiles wasn’t going to ask him how he knew.

“I’ll tell you if you tell me about your injury,” Stiles said, his eyes settling on the twisted-looking flesh of his shoulder. “Tell me about what’s going on in your life.”

And fuck, he had him there. Derek didn’t have any real intention of telling the Sheriff, but he still wanted to know what was going on with Stiles. He wanted to help and take care of him and that scared the shit out of him considering they barely knew each other.

“It happened a few months ago,” Derek said. “My fiancée, Kate, tried to kill me and make it look like I was abusing her. She wanted money from my family and she used me. We had been together for years and I thought that she loved me, but it was all a lie. When I found out about her plan, she shot me in the shoulder and in self-defense, I shot her. Right between the eyes. She’s dead. I killed her.”

Stiles’ mouth fell open and Derek braced himself for it. He braced himself for the looks of disgust and fear and discomfort. He braced himself for the false apologies and the “it’s not your fault, you were just doing what needed to be done”.

Instead he got Stiles moving toward him, arms wrapping around his neck, and a mouth against his.

And fuck, if it wasn’t as perfect as he thought it would be.

He grabbed Stiles’ hips, pulling him closer and trying desperately to ignore the fact that there was nothing but water and air between their skin. But then Stiles groaned into his mouth, just like he had when he had eaten the tiramisu, and Derek was lost to the world. He gripped the back of Stiles’ head, tilting him back slightly so that he could dip his tongue into his mouth.

Stiles was warm and wet and gorgeous and God, he wanted this. He moved his mouth down to Stiles’ neck, thinking about what he was going to do when they got back to the room. He knew they agreed on no sex, but he needed this, he needed Stiles and he was only just now realizing it.

“We should head back,” Derek said once they finally parted.

“Yeah,” Stiles breathed against his mouth, smiling and looking buzzed and carefree and perfect. “Great idea.”

They got out of the lake, getting their pants back on in record timing and choosing to just carry their shirts. Once they were back in the inn, it was hard to ignore the smirk from the innkeeper, but they managed to dash up the stairs and head back into the room.

The door hadn’t even closed completely before Derek was crowding Stiles against it, slotting their mouths back together and palming at his damp flesh. It was hot and heady and perfect and Stiles was just starting to grind up against his thigh when he realized what the little shit was doing.

Derek pulled away, looking at Stiles and trying to ignore the voice in his head that told him to just pin the younger man down and take.

“What’s wrong?” Stiles asked.

“Nice distraction tactic,” Derek said. “I told you what happened to me, your turn.”

Stiles groaned, banging his head against the door. “Cops aren’t supposed to be smart.”

He chose to ignore that statement, pointing to one of the beds. Stiles walked toward it, sitting on the edge and looking up at Derek who was standing in front of him.

“Can I just tell you after we have sex?”

“No,” Derek said. “Tell me.”

“Fine,” Stiles sighed. “It’s stupid though. It’s so fuckin’ stupid compared to what you went through.”

“Don’t use that as an excuse,” Derek said.

“I don’t know what the fuck I’m doing with my life and everyone else does,” Stiles said. “Scott is getting married to the girl of his dreams and the girl of my dreams broke my heart by yelling at me in the cafeteria in my junior year of high school that she’d never give me the time of day. And I’ve tried dating and relationships, but they just fall apart. I haven’t even gone all the way with anyone. Do you know how pathetic that is? Everyone said that things get better in college, but it’s just a lie. I’m still Stiles Stilinski, the nerdy virgin who’s awkward with ADHD and I’m going to die alone. And I’ve been lying to my dad and telling him that college is the best thing since sliced bread and Scott didn’t go away to college and neither did Isaac Lahey and they’re such good friends now and—.”

“Stiles,” Derek said, crouching down in front of the bed and taking Stiles’ shoulders in his hands. “Breathe.”

And Stiles did, inhaling deeply through his nose before putting his face in his hands.

“I’m so fucked-up and I’m whining about the stupidest things and you killed your fiancée, for fuck’s sake.”

Derek tightened his hold on Stiles’ shoulders, trying to ignore the fact that it felt like someone just punched him in the stomach.

“Shit, I shouldn’t have said that—,” Stiles started.

“You want me to fuck you?”

“What?”

“Or you can fuck me, I don’t care,” Derek said. “You can cross virgin off your list of things that you think are bad about yourself.”

Stiles just looked at him, blinking and looking so lost and confused. “I don’t get you.”

“I don’t get you either,” Derek admitted. “But I’ll have sex with you. I want to have sex with you. You deserve better than me, hell Stiles, you deserve everything, but I’m here and I’m yours if you want me.”

“Okay,” Stiles said, moving back on the bed. “Yeah. You got anything?”

Derek grabbed his wallet from the dresser, taking out a condom and a pack of lube. Stiles squinted at it, “Boy scout?”

“Shut up,” Derek said, dropping them on the bed next to Stiles before getting on top of him. “How do you want to do this?”

“You mean it when you said you’re fine with both ways?”

Not really. It’d been a while since anyone had fucked him and he hadn’t exactly liked it, but he wasn’t going to turn back now.

“Of course.”

“All right,” Stiles said, nodding. “Fuck me.”

Well, Derek could definitely do that.

He moved his head down, capturing Stiles’ lips with his and pressing their bodies together. Stiles spread his legs, hands moving to Derek’s bare back. Their tongues slid against each other and fingers were exploring skin, Derek’s hand moving down to Stiles’ jeans when Stiles wrapped a hand around his wrist.

“Stop,” he said. “I don’t want you to fuck me, at least, not like this. I don’t want it when I’m buzzed and we just got out of a lake and we’re in a B&B and the sheets smell weird and you turn the lights off and you’re trying not to think about fucking her. I don’t want you to fuck me and think about her and how much it was your fault or how much she didn’t really love you or how much you pity me and feel sorry for me. We’re gonna date and get to know each other and fool around but never go all the way and then you’re gonna tell me you love me and I’m gonna say it back and then I’m gonna ride you. I’m gonna take all the pressure off of you and do all the work and make you feel so good and loved, Derek. So, that’s why you’re not gonna fuck me tonight. But we can still make out and talk about everything that’s so mutually fucked up in our lives.”

Derek moved back from him, placing his hands on either side of Stiles’ head and looking down. He looked like sex and Derek knew that he was hard, but his restraint was admirable.

“You’ve been thinking about this a lot in the past few minutes.”

“I’m a thinker,” Stiles said.

“I got that,” Derek said.

They just looked at each other and Stiles reached up, twining his fingers in Derek’s hair and then bringing his face down to the crook of his neck. Derek wrapped an arm around his waist, keeping him close.

“I don’t know what to say to you,” Stiles said. “I feel like we just poured our hearts out and we’re supposed to talk and everything’s supposed to be better, but—.”

“This isn’t going to get better by talking.”

“No, it’s not,” Stiles agreed. “Time will probably help.”

“And you telling your dad about what you’ve been feeling.”

“And you letting her go.”

“And you getting help about the drinking.”

“And you getting off of traffic duty.”

Derek looked up at Stiles who was looking at the ceiling contemplatively.

“Then we can go on a date,” Derek said.

“Pick me up at seven.”

“When’s the date?”

“Whenever we stop being so fucked up.”

OoOoOoO

They left the B&B the next morning, wearing their dirty clothes and with just their wallets. Stiles called Scott to fill him in on what had happened, but apparently word traveled fast in Beacon Hills and he already knew.

The innkeeper had pointed them in the direction of the bus stop, but a “few miles” translated into 15. They’d never make it to the stop in time with a few hours left to go until they got to Beacon Hills. So, there they were on the side of the road, Stiles with his thumb pointed toward the road.

“You’re an idiot.”

“I’m going to count how many times you say that,” Stiles said. “I think it’s been 80 so far, so that’s where I’ll start my count.”

Derek laughed, sliding his hands up and under Stiles’ shirt, pressing his palms against his stomach. Stiles bit his lip and Derek grinned, turning Stiles around to kiss him. When they had woken up neither of them knew where they stood, but after brushing their teeth with the complementary toothpaste and toothbrushes, Stiles had kissed him, hard and fast and needy.

So, kissing was fine and this was fine by Derek. He liked kissing Stiles, he never wanted to stop kissing Stiles.

“I can’t hitchhike if you keep distracting me,” Stiles mumbled against his lips.

“Am I distracting?”

“Shut up.”

Stiles pulled away from him, returning to the side of the road with his thumb out. It was early in the morning and they had only seen two cars drive by. A truck was coming up the road now though and Stiles all but jumped in the middle of the road to stop it.

It stopped anyway and the driver made a “come here” motion to them. They walked up to the passenger side where the window was rolled down.

“Where are you two boys headed?” he asked.

“The bus stop,” Stiles said.

The man gave them a pitying look before jerking his thumb over his shoulder. “Plenty of room in the back with the girls.”

And Derek really didn’t want to think of what type of girls this man had in the bed of his truck. Apparently Stiles wasn’t as apprehensive though, giving his thanks before walking to the back. Derek followed him, expecting to see a dozen girls in chains and waiting to be sold to slavery, but instead seeing a dozen sheep.

Stiles laughed before climbing in with them and Derek just shook his head, climbing in after Stiles.

“This is ridiculous,” Derek said, making sure he wasn’t going to sit in sheep shit before sitting down.

“This is an experience,” Stiles said. “And hospitality. He didn’t have to stop.”

“I kinda wish he hadn’t,” Derek grumbled, looking at a sheep that was staring at him.

“Too late,” Stiles said as the truck started to move again. “We’re here and we’re going to get on a bus and go to Beacon Hills and I’m going to take a shower and change into my suit and go to my best friend’s wedding and make a terrible speech and not get drunk.”

“Sounds like a good plan.”

“What about you?”

“Get on a bus, go to Beacon Hills, get my car back from Laura, go to my apartment, take a shower, and get some sleep.”

“Nice,” Stiles nodded before leaning forward and kissing him.

Derek moved a hand to his neck, pulling him closer. A sheep baa’d at them. They ignored it.

OoOoOoO

Bill, the man with the sheep truck, dropped them off at the Bus Stop (apparently it was such an important bus stop that it deserved capitalization). Stiles reached for his wallet to pay for gas money, but Bill shook his head, said he was heading in this direction anyway.

The Bus Stop was just a bench and an old rusted sign. They sat down and Stiles looked up times on his phone.

“The next one is supposed to come in 20 minutes,” he said. “We’re three hours outside of Beacon Hills and it’s seven o’clock. We’ll be back by 10, 11 at the latest.”

“And the wedding’s at one?”

“Yeah,” Stiles said, leaning against the back of the bench. “We’ll make it.”

“Good,” Derek said. “I wouldn’t want Isaac to take your place as Best Man.”

“Shut up, asshole.”

The 20 minutes went by relatively quickly, mixed with talking and comfortable silence and random kissing sprees that left them both breathless and inching away from each other on the bench. It was clear that they both wanted each other, but now was definitely not the time or place.

They avoided talking about what was going to happen after they got back in Beacon Hills. Stiles was leaving for Stanford Sunday night and wouldn’t be back until the end of the month for summer break. Derek was going to be busy at work if he did get his former job back.

Everything about them wasn’t supposed to fit together, Stiles was almost 21 and Derek was 27 and too old with too much baggage for someone who had enough problems. But it was kind of crazy how much just barely over a day made them want each other and feel like they needed each other.

The bus came eventually and they got on, taking seats toward the back. Stiles looked up the route they should take and they took turns looking for which stop they were supposed to get off at and where to walk to the next stop to get to Beacon Hills.

It was a long process with a lot more walking than he initially thought, but eventually they made it on the last bus which was a 30 minute drive to Beacon Hills. It was ten o’clock and Stiles had relaxed, obviously realizing that he was going to make it to the wedding in time.

“Bus travel,” Stiles sighed, slumping against his seat and grabbing Derek’s hand to lace their fingers together.

“What about it?”

“It’s crazy,” he said. “And I don’t like it and I wouldn’t want to do it with anyone else but you.”

And God, Derek wished he could tell Stiles how crazy he made him. But that would take time and it would complicate things and right now Stiles was leaning against his shoulder, closing his eyes and probably ready to fall asleep.

They had slept in the same bed last night and Derek didn’t even know how many times Stiles had woken up. He needed sleep and Derek wrapped an arm around his shoulders, letting him lean into him.

Laura was going to interrogate him when he went to get his Camaro. She was going to make fun of him and bully him into telling her everything and he was going to tell her everything. He was tired of keeping everything inside and even though Laura was going to tease him mercilessly, she would listen and be fair.

Derek woke Stiles up when they got to Beacon Hills. They got off the bus, Stiles yawning and Derek looking around to see where they were. The stop was just outside of the suburbs and it was only a 10 minute walk to Laura’s house.

“So,” Derek said.

“So,” Stiles countered.

“You want to walk with me to my sister’s house to get my car?” Derek asked. “I can drive you to your house.”

“That’d be great,” Stiles said.

The waves of relief coming off of Stiles were practically visible. Apparently they both hadn’t been looking forward to saying goodbye. They walked through the neighborhood, sticking out from the expensive houses just by walking, not to mention their clothes being less than clean.

Derek wasn’t even sure when Stiles had taken his hand, but when they walked up Laura’s driveway, he looked down and saw their hands clasped together.

“Sorry,” Stiles said, taking his hand away when he realized what Derek was looking at. “Habit.”

“It’s fine,” Derek shrugged.

The Camaro was in the driveway and as soon as they were in a few feet of it, the front door opened. Laura walked out on the porch, hands on her hips and a smile on her face.

“And the prodigal son returns,” she said. “Along with Stiles. Hey Stiles.”

“Hey Laura,” Stiles said, waving.

“You learn your lesson?”

“Yeah,” Stiles nodded. “I did, actually.”

“Good,” she said, tossing the car keys at Derek. “I’d love to interrogate you, but I’m leaving for the wedding myself and I have to get ready. And I don’t want Stiles to be late of course. Are you going too, Derek?”

“No,” Derek said. “I’m just dropping Stiles off.”

“Okay,” she said, eyes flickering between the two of them. “See you later. I can’t wait to hear all the details from your trip.”

“Can’t wait to share,” Derek said begrudgingly as he unlocked the Camaro and got inside. “So, next stop your house?”

“Yeah,” Stiles nodded, closing his door. “And damn, you have a nice car.”

Derek let out a laugh at that, shaking his head. “Thanks. I saved up for years.”

“I can imagine,” Stiles said.

He pulled out of the driveway, giving a final wave to Laura before heading toward the Stilinski house. Everything in Beacons Hills was close together and the drive there barely took any time at all. The Sheriff’s cruiser wasn’t in the driveway and before Derek could even ask about it, Stiles answered for him.

“He’s at the wedding,” Stiles explained, opening the car door when Derek parked next to Stiles’ Jeep. “Everyone is at the wedding even though it doesn’t start for a couple of hours.”

“You better hurry then,” Derek said.

“Yeah,” Stiles said.

They continued to sit there and Stiles looked at him, pressing his lips together before shutting the car door again. Derek was about to ask what he was doing when Stiles leaned across the console and kissed him. And Derek wanted nothing more to hold him close and kiss him back, but he couldn’t. This wedding was important and he wasn’t going to let Stiles miss it.

“Stiles, we can’t,” he said, pushing his away. “You need to take a shower and put your suit on and go to the church.”

“I know what I have to do,” Stiles said, still staying close to Derek. “But right now I want to do what I want to do.”

He leaned forward again, kissing him, and this time Derek let himself give into it for a while. He let himself be taken over by everything that was Stiles in the close confines of his car. He wanted Stiles and Stiles was right in front of him, but there just wasn’t any time and they were so wrong.

“Stiles, stop,” he said, pushing him away again. “We can’t do this. I’m too old for you.”

“No you’re not.”

“I’ve got way too many problems.”

“I don’t care.”

“We’re not what the other one needs right now.”

“Yes we are, you asshole,” Stiles said. “Two negatives make a positive and I want the positive that our two negatives make together more than anything.”

“It’s not the right time—.”

“It’ll never be the right time,” Stiles said. “When I get everything figured out and you stop living in so much self-hatred, it would be so easy for us to go out and be happy and normal. But, fuck, I don’t want to wait. I want to figure everything out with you and I want you to like yourself again with me there.”

“Stiles-.”

“Please, Derek,” Stiles said.

“We barely know each other.”

“We can get to know each other.”

“You go back to school tomorrow.”

“Only for three more weeks and then I’ll be here for the entire summer,” Stiles said. “Derek, if we wait for the right time we could be waiting for years and I could find some other guy and—.”

That definitely got a reaction out of him. He gripped Stiles’ hips in his hands and Stiles might have been grinning at him and Derek might have wanted to punch him in the face. Except that he wouldn’t and he couldn’t and wanting something this bad had to be unhealthy.

“I won’t meet anyone else, that was a lie,” Stiles said.

“You should,” Derek said. “You should find someone who’s good for you. Someone who’s your age and with no messy history.”

“I won’t.”

“But you should.”

Stiles didn’t disagree, choosing to lean forward and kiss Derek again. It was brief and served practically no purpose other than for Stiles to just get closer to him.

“Why are Olive Gardens cursed?” Derek asked.

It clearly wasn’t the question Stiles had been expecting, but he answered it easily enough without any more questions.

“It was my mom’s favorite restaurant,” Stiles said. “And they make me think of her and thinking about her hurts.”

“I’m sorry.”

“Don’t be,” Stiles said. “It’s a good hurt.”

Derek pressed their foreheads together, giving a heavy sigh. “This is so unhealthy.”

“Definitely.”

“But I want this.”

“Same.”

“And we’re so wrong for each other.”

“Absolutely.”

“I think we can make it work though.”

“I know we can.”

Stiles was smiling, looking hopeful and happy and Derek wanted to keep him looking like that forever. And that was scary. He hadn’t even thought about Kate in terms of forever, even when he thought that they were in love. But here Stiles was and Derek wanted to keep him forever.

“So,” Stiles said. “On the day that I come back from school we’re going to go on a date.”

“I’ll pick you up at seven.”

“We’ll go to the Olive Garden.”

“Of course.”

“And no sex.”

“No sex,” Derek agreed, kissing him. “And now you really have to go because you’ll be late to the wedding.”

“Come to the wedding with me.”

Derek groaned, pulling away from Stiles and leaning back against the headrest. “Stiles, I’m not—.”

“Go back to your apartment, take a shower, change into a suit, come back here and we’ll drive to the wedding together.”

“I can’t.”

“You can and you will,” Stiles said. “And we’ll talk and dance and not drink and it’ll be boring and fun and I bet you look great in a suit.”

“I do.”

“Such an asshole.”

He really shouldn’t. Everything about being with Stiles was a “shouldn’t”, but he had long since forgotten caring about what he shouldn’t do.

“Sounds like a date,” Derek said.

“It’s not a date.”

“I know,” Derek said. “I was kidding.”

“I know you were kidding.”

“It didn’t sound like you knew I was kidding.”

“Well I knew that you were.”

“So, it’s not a date?”

“Not unless you want it to be a date.”

“Well, I don’t want it to be a date.”

“Then it’s not a date.”

“Good.”

“Good.”

Stiles kissed him again. Derek let him.