“Get your feet off the dash,” Derek snapped, turning to scowl at Stiles.
“I’m comfortable like this,” the other responded stubbornly, having slid down in his seat and lifting his feet so they were pressed up against the dash.
“I don’t care. My car. Put your feet down.”
“We’re gonna be in here for like, ten hours. My legs feel weird if I don’t sit like this,” Stiles argued.
Derek turned to look at him, expression dangerous. “Put your feet down, or I will remove them from your body.”
“Oh yeah?” Stiles asked doubtfully with a scoff. “I’d like to see you try.”
Derek had the claws of his right hand out instantly and went for Stiles’ ankles. Stiles very wisely hastily lowered them and straightened in his seat, glaring at Derek who retracted his claws and faced forward again, a self-satisfied smile on his face.
Turning, Stiles rested his arm against the window and pushed his fist against his cheek, staring out at the boring scenery as they passed it.
They were headed out to a cabin in the next state over for some Pack ‘bonding time,’ as Scott called it. They’d done it before, and it usually wasn’t bad, but this was the first time they were going with Derek. He’d only been back home for about three months, and it was almost like he’d never left.
He brooded, he skulked, he showed up unannounced and creepily in Stiles’s bedroom. The usual.
And of course, his return had prompted Scott into planning another Pack bonding session because the newbies of the Pack didn’t know him, and the oldies of the Pack had their own individual issues with him. And Scott figured the best way to solve this was by shoving them all in a cabin together.
Stiles wasn’t sure they would all be making it home alive.
“Stop making that sound,” Derek snapped.
“What sound? There’s no sound.”
“That,” Derek insisted. “That sound!”
“What, me breathing?” Stiles shot back. “There’s no sound, Derek!”
The Werewolf turned to him, eyes bright blue and lip curled back. Stiles rolled his eyes and wiggled his fingers at him.
“Oh, watch out, big scary wolfman on the loose. Lock your doors and grab your pitchforks.”
Stiles had felt like their relationship had improved enough over the years that he didn’t warrant the treatment he got. Namely, Derek slamming his head down against the dash. It hadn’t been nearly as hard as the first time Derek had done it, when they’d been mere acquaintances and it had been against the wheel of his Jeep, but it still hurt like a bitch.
“Ow!” Stiles clutched at his forehead with both hands. “Motherfuck!”
Derek was almost smirking in the driver’s seat, fucking asshole, so Stiles picked up his backpack from the floor in front of him and smashed it into Derek’s face.
“Hah! Not so fun when it’s your face, is it?!”
Derek wrenched the bag away and started trying to punch at Stiles in the passenger seat, but he kept squirming away, pressing himself against the door. Derek kept glancing back and forth between the road and Stiles but they were on a stretch of empty highway so there was no risk of crashing into anything.
The car was swerving a little from the attempted murder and Stiles started batting both hands incessantly at Derek to get him to back off.
Eventually, Derek managed to grab both of Stiles’ hands at once and tightened his grip, yanking him forward so their noses almost touched.
“Stop it. Behave.”
He shoved at Stiles hard when he let go of his hands and then turned back to the road, straightening out the car. Stiles made a face at him and when Derek whipped his head around to look at him, Stiles hastily turned to look out the window.
They sat in silence for another few minutes before Stiles glanced at the radio. He started to reach for it when Derek grabbed his hand.
“Don’t you dare.”
“Then read a book.”
“I get carsick!”
“Not my problem.”
Stiles tried to wrench his hand free but Derek held on, the two of them having a mini tug-of-war with Stiles’ hand until Derek let it go and Stiles smacked himself in the face with it.
Derek let out a bark of laughter and Stiles punched him in the arm. It didn’t do much to Derek, but may as well have broken Stiles’ hand.
While Derek was distracted imitating a hyena, Stiles reached out and turned on the radio. Music blared through the speakers and Stiles hastily turned it down.
“Jesus, Derek, are you trying to go deaf? You’re a Werewolf!”
Derek reached for the radio hastily to turn it off, but the damage was already done as Stiles’ eyes widened and he looked over at him.
“Wait, is this–is this country?”
“No!” Derek changed the station but Stiles jabbed the quick selection and it went straight back to the previous station right in time for a twang note.
“Oh my God, it is! You’re a country fan?!”
“There’s nothing wrong with country!” Derek snarled, turning to him with blue eyes again.
Stiles just laughed uncontrollably, slapping at his knee while Derek fiddled with the controls to lower the volume and change the station to a punk rock one.
“Oh my God. Oh man, this is the best. Hey Derek,” Stiles lowered his voice sensually and leaned closer. “Do you think my tractor’s sexy?”
“Fuck you.” Derek shoved his hand in Stiles’ face, pushing him backwards against his seat rest and keeping him there.
Having a large hand covering his face was making it hard to breathe, and Stiles slapped at Derek’s chest blindly before realizing it wasn’t doing anything and instead searching for a nipple, pinching it and then twisting.
“What the hell!” Derek roared, the car swerving into the oncoming lane which, thankfully, was devoid of traffic. He took his hand back from Stiles’ face to put it on the wheel and straighten the car, glaring at him. “Are you insane?!”
“I couldn’t breathe!”
“I wish, then maybe you’d shut up for a change!”
Stiles opened his mouth to retort angrily when he was abruptly cut off.
“Oh my God!” a shrill voice said from the back seat, causing both men to cease speaking immediately. Two hands came forward to grip at either headrest before Lydia’s red curls appeared between them. “If I had known being stuck with you two was going to lead me to murder, I would’ve gone with Scott and Kira! At least they flirt like normal people!”
“What?” Stiles demanded. “We’re not flirting!”
“Oh can it, Stilinski,” Lydia snapped and he immediately shut his mouth. “Now, I am going to sit back here with my headphones on and attempt to go back to sleep, and so help me, if I hear one peep out of either of you, I’ll murder you both and drive the car there myself! Capiche?”
Stiles nodded vigorously when she turned to him and Derek grunted ascent when she shifted her gaze his way.
“Good.” She fell back into her seat and pulled out her headphones. “I swear, you’re like an old married couple, just have sex already and spare the rest of us this UST.”
Shoving her earbuds into her ears, she pulled her sleeping mask back over her eyes and rested her head against the pillow she’d brought leaning against the window.
For a few moments, the car was silent save for the soft music playing from the car speakers. Stiles cast a few small glances Derek’s way, but he resolutely kept his eyes on the road.
“I’m not bad in bed,” he said finally. Derek slowly turned to look at him, attempting to murder him with his eyes, from the looks of him. Stiles shrugged. “Just saying.”
Derek stared at him for a while longer before facing forward again. Stiles assumed the conversation was over so he looked out his window, and then heard Derek say, very softly,
“I hope you’re a bottom.”
“I’m sorry, what?” Stiles demanded, turning back to him.
“Stiles!” Lydia shrieked.
It was going to be a very long drive if Stiles couldn’t get any answers after that comment.
He hoped they stopped somewhere soon so Lydia could switch cars, otherwise he was liable to be dead by the time they got there.
Stiles never wanted to do a road trip ever again.