#sterekfestsroad

“I don't think I’ve ever been to a Renaissance fair.” Stiles had checked out the place online and it looked like people really went all out for it. It was seasonal and they had shows and games with prizes and a market that Stiles really wanted to check out if they had enough time. Not only did they have themed shops but the farmers market looked great in the photograph he’d seen on Instagram.

“Maybe if we come next season we can dress up? Elijah will be a little older and Ava would probably be able to fit into a small costume.”

“Only if you dress up too,” Stiles teased. “Tights and all.” Derek laughed. “I’m not going to wear tights. I’ll be a knight and wear britches and armor.” 

“Well hopefully it’s not during the summertime then because you might just boil up in all that armor,” Stiles teased and laughed, imagining Derek dressed up. He couldn’t say that he wouldn’t think Derek was all hot dressed like a knight. It had Stiles thinking about Derek sweeping him off his feet and straight into their bed.

“Yeah, let’s not do that. Hopefully they’ll have one in the fall or closer to the winter time. Wouldn’t want to have a heat stroke dressed up as a knight. I don't know how some of them do it.” Derek laughed and squeezed Sties’ hand. “Thank you for coming and bringing the kids. I know it’s something new.”

“Well, I like doing new things with you. We’ve been together so long, it’s good that we can still find things to do that we’ve never done before. Life’s an adventure.” Stiles’ head rested back against the headrest, rolled in Derek’s direction as he watched his mate, a warmth filling his chest. 

Sometimes it was hard to believe that they were together after everything they’d been through, but Stiles loved Derek more than anything. Well, except their kids. No matter how much they got on his nerves sometimes. It was just part of being a parent.

“I know Ava is only a few months old… but whenever my heat comes again, I want to try for another baby.” He knew it was a sudden change of topic, but he needed Derek to know.

Derek took a deep breath and nodded. “Okay… you know I won't say no to another baby. We waited years between Elijah and Ava, but if you are ready now, then we can try again.”

“It might not even happen right away… You know sometimes it can take a while after I give birth, but I just wanted to talk to you about it before it happened.” Stiles didn't think Derek would tell him no, so he wasn't sure why he was suddenly nervous over the whole thing.

As if sensing his feelings, Derek gave Stiles’ hand another squeeze. “Stiles. I love you. I love our family. Another child, it would only fill our house with more love…”

That calmed Stiles’ nerves and he smiled at Derek before glancing into the backseat. Ava was still asleep (and still human, thankfully) and Elijah was still engrossed in his book, oblivious to their conversation.

“Thank you,” Stiles said as his gaze returned to Derek’s. 

“I should be thanking you for everything you’ve given me.”

“We’ve given each other a lot of things… there’s no keeping score,” Stiles assured him and leaned over to kiss him on the cheek.

They fell into a comfortable silence as Derek drove them the rest of the way to the Renaissance fair.

Once they were there, Stiles took care of Ava, changed her, and had her ready for the fair in no time while Derek got Elijah situated. They carted the kids off to buy tickets and get them through the gates as they thankfully beat the crowds.

The atmosphere changed the second they were inside, where there were tents, tables, stables, and signs that stated they had wares. They walked by a shop that said they made handmade books and Stiles was intrigued. They’d have to stop by on their way out to see what they had inside. 

He rubbed Ava’s back as he carried her in her wrap against his chest, Derek walking next to him with Elijah on his shoulders. Elijah’s eyes were big and he was excited about everything babbling and pointing and giggling. Thankfully Derek had a strong grip on him, so Stiles wasn't afraid that Elijah would topple off of Derek’s shoulders the second he saw something else he was excited about.

They watched a jousting tournament and the knights as they fought during the sword fights. The knights were given their prizes and they were off to check the market. Stiles was especially excited to see what they had at the farmers market, despite all the cool things they also had for sale there.

After buying a basket full of strawberries, they headed in the direction that stated they had more traditional fair games on the map.

“So which one do you want to play?” Derek asked Elijah as he jiggled him on his shoulders. Elijah looked thoughtful at all of the games. 

“Hmmm,” Elijah said, putting his finger up to his face and studying each game more thoroughly as if he knew what each one was.

Stiles knew that he was really checking out the prizes.

“That one!” Elijah shouted and pointed. “It has a big wolf!”

Stiles laughed. He knew their son. It was all about the prizes for him. Stiles couldn’t deny that he liked the prizes too. He remembered the first time Derek took him to a fair, early in their courting. They’d gone home with several prizes that night, but the best prize was Derek. He knew it was cheesy, but Stiles loved him so damn much.

“Whoa! That’s a huge wolf!” Stiles exaggerated and smiled when Derek looked over at him.

“That one looks good, bud. Did you want me to play all the rounds or did you want to try?” Derek asked as he tapped Elijah on the thigh.

Elijah looked thoughtful again like this was serious business. Finally, he said excitedly, “I want you to do it! So you can get me the big wolf!”

Stiles laughed, smoothing his hand along Ava’s back as she stirred in her baby wrap. “Well, then let’s go win us a giant stuffed wolf. I’m not sure where we’re going to put it at home, but we’ll figure it out.”

“It will go in my room!” Elijah countered like it was law.

“Of course it will,” Derek chuckled, glancing over at Stiles and then motioning with his head as they started over to the game tent.

When they got there, they paid the attendant and they gave Derek three balls to throw at a stack of bottles. Derek missed the first two with greatly exaggerated terrible accuracy, which had Elijah laughing next to him as he waited. Stiles thought it was adorable and yes, he made sure he was recording it on his phone so he could tease Derek about it later. 

He was such a great dad. An amazing mate.

When Derek threw the last ball, he knocked all of the jars down and Elijah screamed in excitement. Stiles chuckled and watched as Derek picked Elijah up and put him on his shoulders. They talked to the attendant and Elijah pointed eagerly at the giant stuffed wolf. When it was handed over, Elijah had a hard time holding onto it so it smacked Derek in the face, but he didn't complain. Stiles managed not to laugh despite how hilarious the whole situation was, with the stuffed wolf dwarfing them.

Derek helped Elijah hold onto the wolf off to the side of his shoulder instead of in front. “Hold on tight, Elijah! You don't want to drop him.”

“I won't!” Elijah promised, but Stiles wasn't so sure about that as the stuffed wolf swung as Derek walked with Elijah still on his shoulders.

“Ready to go home?” Derek asked, stopping in front of Stiles.

The stuffed wolf bumped into Stiles as Elijah moved on Derek’s shoulder and he laughed softly. “I love you,” he said softly, leaning in to give Derek a kiss. “Yeah, let’s go home. We have to find somewhere for that stuffed wolf to live anyway.”

Derek chuckled and kissed Stiles’ temple, one arm wrapping around him as they walked, his other holding Elijah steady on his shoulders. 

He had his wallet in his left side pocket and phone charging in a makeshift holder by the dashboard. Jugs of water on the floor and a paper bag with a few nonperishable staples and an assortment of sandwiches, snacks, and caffeinated beverages in the passenger seat. His pillow, which would be especially necessary when he’d need to sleep at a rest stop or something.

Stiles tapped his fingers on the steering wheel and sang along to the playlist he’d selected to start off his journey. He didn’t even know where he was going yet, just heading south until he had to get gas or piss and then he’d decide. There’d been no time to waste. This need to get away had been building for a while now and when he woke up this afternoon — he couldn’t fall asleep until after dawn — all he knew was that today was the day. It couldn’t wait another week or even until tomorrow or something else would come up to keep him there. He just knew it.

So he’d started the first load of laundry and then speed cleaned and showered in the quickly tepid while it was washing. He went to the store while the second load was going and the first one in the dryer, which had everything he was planning to take. Then he packed his stuff, set the remaining laundry to dry, scrawled a note that was frankly more stream of consciousness than rational explanation, but at least ended with a promise to stay in contact “Love, Stiles,” and then he was off.

Miles ticked up on the odometer and pavement passed beneath Roscoe’s wheels. It was at once exciting and bittersweet. He was done with high school and, more importantly, 18 so it’s not like his dad or anyone else could actually force him back. Not that many of the old crew were even going to be in Beacon Hills for much longer. Those that hadn’t already left like Jackson, Chris, and Isaac did overseas or Lydia getting an early start in Cambridge. 

But unlike her or Scott and the others he wasn’t heading off to college or something like that. He didn’t know what he wanted to do with his life anymore, was still stuck processing or at least dealing with having been possessed. As in he had to deal with it — the memories and nightmares and new little quirks that made him question himself — not that he was handling it in any particularly effective or healthy fashion. 

And so it was like it was expected, or at least assumed, that he would just stay here for all the shit the town and that fucking tree could possibly throw his way. Well, how about no? Again, he’d been possessed! He deserved a goddamn break. Or if not deserved (the little voice in his head had very different ideas about what he deserved) he fucking wanted one. Needed one before he broke anymore.

Stiles only wished he could take his dad with him. And maybe a certain Sourwolf if he was being honest with himself now that it mattered even less than it already did before. Those big, impossible feelings he never wanted to look at long enough to pin down. The pull he liked to pretend was just him being a hormonal bisexual teenager who was warm for the former Alpha’s form. That it didn’t matter because it hadn’t, couldn’t, and wouldn’tmatter.

He thought of guarded green-hazel eyes, a clenched, stubbled jaw, and stubbornly crossed arms as he wailed along with Jim Adkins.

“The things we think might be the same, but I won’t fight for more. It’s just not me to wear it on my sleeve, count on that for sure.” 

Stiles snorted and shook his head. It was all too fitting, whether more for him or Derek or both of them equally he wasn’t sure. There were times, after all, when he’d thought that Derek also…

But it didn’t matter. It wasn’t like anything was going to happen. Famous last words.

Seconds later smoke was rising from beneath the hood of the Jeep. Always a wonderful sign. Fuck. No no no, please not now. 

This couldn’t be happening. Just another too vivid daydream, right? Or maybe he’d actually fallen asleep waiting for the laundry and this was simply a nightmare because of his nervousness about the upcoming trip. Haha, very funny brain! 

More smoke billowed out and there were sounds. Oh no. No no no. Fuck!

Stiles pulled off onto the wide shoulder, put the car in park, and snatched the keys from the ignition, hurling them onto the floor. Then he just sat there in silence with his head against the top of the steering wheel. He hadn’t even made it 30 miles and it was already over. There was always something. Some kind of trouble, like clockwork. Like a curse. 

He’d worked over senior year and into the summer, doing odd jobs and seasonal gigs to save up the money that he was now planning to use for gas and cheap motels and food. That he’d already spent part of on getting Roscoe some much needed maintenance and repairs over the last few months. Not enough, apparently. 

After smashing his head into the horn so that it blared obnoxiously a few times he pulled himself upright and scrolled through the contacts on his phone like he had options. Gone, gone, doesn’t have a car, gone, doesn’t have a car, doesn’t even have a license, don’t want to talk to him and have to explain anything right now. 

Stiles sighed. Well, he didn’t want to call his dad at the moment either — with any luck he could at least get home before his failed escape was revealed — so that left only one person. Of course it went straight to voicemail. 

“Hey, Derek. So funny story, I’m about 28 miles from town on the highway heading south and my car broke down. Yes, yes, I know. So, um, if you don’t have anything better to do, you think you could come get me? Let me know either way. Uh, catch you later.”

He wondered how long it would take to walk back to Beacon Hills. 10 hours? What if he just took the backpack, removed some of the books and added a few changes of clothes, some toiletries, and a towel and just kept walking south. Maybe he could hitchhike.

By the time he dug into the secret compartment in the lid of a jar of peanut butter and pulled out the little baggie of weed his hands were shaking. He’d gotten it from an acquaintance of Danny’s — the guy really could hook you up with just about anything —  and still had some left. Enough for now and a few times more.

He retrieved the rest of his supplies and crouched down on the other side of the car, calming as he performed the little ritual of rolling his own joints. Of lighter and flame. Burn, inhale, hold, exhale. Taking the edge off. Lightening him up. What if he just walked into the trees and disappeared. Became one with the forest like whats-her-face in Annihilation who was done with fighting the freaky bullshit and just noped the fuck out. If only.

17 minutes later his phone chimed.

<Sourwolf: Be there in 30.>

Stiles responded with a thumbs up emoji. Alright. Okay. He took a few more hits and snuffed out the end, saving the rest for later.

Derek’s face did all sorts of things when he got there, half of them with his eyebrows alone. How did he ever used to think the man was unreadable? Devoid of emotion except anger?

Obviously, he’d smelled the marijuana, but Derek didn’t say anything. Why wasn’t he saying anything?

“Hey handsome, think you can help a damsel in distress?” Stiles said, fluttering his eyelashes and sticking out a leg like he was pulling up the hem of a skirt before bursting into giggles. Derek shook his head and popped the hood on Roscoe. 

“Since when were you a mechanic, big guy?” He set a hand on a leather-clad shoulder. It’s August you silly goose.

“I know a thing or two.”

“I’m sure you do,” he vamped, leering exaggeratedly and then abruptly pivoting to walk to the back of the Jeep where he set his forehead against the cool glass. What the fuck are you doing?

Burning everything down around him apparently. He started chuckling, a dark, sharp-edged thing, and Derek looked over at him with concern. 

“Stiles?”

“Oh don’t mind me, I’m just falling to pieces.” 

He sat down hard on the ground and cracked right up, laughter turning to sobs as footsteps crunched toward him. 

“I thought I was actually getting out, Der. I tried. I’ve tried so hard, but I can’t. I can’t,” he got out between gasping breaths. 

Derek crouched down beside him and started rubbing his back, tentatively at first and then in long, soothing strokes. His head moved and Stiles could swear he felt a kiss at the top of his head. Or something like that. He found himself practically head-butting Derek in his stupid muscly chest as he leaned into him, hands grasping at his left side and right elbow. Oh, he was going to be so embarrassed about this later. Derek took a deep breath.

“I’ll take you.” 

“What?” Stiles’ head jerked up, tear tracks drying on his face. 

Derek nodded toward the Camaro. 

“Wait, seriously?” 

The werewolf shrugged. 

“Yeah. You’ve got your stuff packed and everything.”

“But what about you? We have to go back, get your things and a tow truck for Roscoe and—“

“No,” Derek cut in. “I can just grab what I need on the way. I’ll have Malia, actually no, Mason, check on the place and I can call now about getting your Jeep towed to your house.” He raised a finger when Stiles opened his mouth. “I’ll give ‘em your dad’s number in case there’s any issues. But no going back there now or something will happen and you’ll never leave. So let’s just go.”

Stiles clambered up from the ground feeling strangely light and warm. Hopeful. And still kinda high he supposed. While Derek made that call he rearranged some of his stuff and then took all of it out it of Roscoe, putting the duffle bag in the now open trunk of the Camaro — it was so getting a name on this road trip — and throwing his backpack, pillow, and snacks in the back seat. 

“Shotgun!” he yelled, completely unnecessarily before getting in up front. Derek squinted at him and shook his head, getting behind the wheel. 

The sun had just gone down, but it wasn’t dark yet and he caught his beaming reflection in the side mirror. Stiles hooked up his phone to the stereo. 

The chorus of “Work” came blaring back to life just as Derek put the pedal to the metal and peeled out of there (after carefully checking the mirrors and blind spots of course,) tires kicking up dirt and gravel. “You wanna take a ride? Get out of this place while we still have time.”

The Camaro even fishtailed some pulling back onto the pavement and Stiles smirked, pretty sure that display of Fast & Furious-ness was for his benefit. He grabbed the Oh Shit handle and whooped. Now he was off! They. The both of them.

“So where are we going?” he asked a few minutes later when his heart rate had returned to what passed as normal for him. 

“Wherever you want,” Derek replied, a bit too conspicuously. 

Wherever. Where. Ever. 

Stiles’ left leg began bouncing up and down and he turned away to gaze out the window, eyes unfocusing so that the trees blurred into one continuous spiny ripple. He was hearing what he hearing, right? I mean, he was pretty sure. 

But if there was a 10% or even 3% chance that Derek would turn this car around or like, jump out the window of a moving vehicle in horror at his feelings and desires he didn’t want to risk it. No matter how much he wanted…whatever. Because if this trip ended before it even began Stiles didn’t know what he would do. How he would survive or if he—

A large hand clamped down to still his jittering. Warm and squeezing just above his knee. The inner side of his thigh. Without looking — he couldn’t okay, not until he knew he wasn’t wrong —  he “casually” put his left hand, palm up, a bit higher up on his leg. Derek laid his own on top of it, thicker fingers twining with his. Holy shit. Okay. 

Stiles turned slowly then, hardly daring to breathe, and met glowing blue eyes. Suddenly, it felt like something in his chest, in his soul, rearranged. Stabilized. A pack bond snapping properly into place. He rubbed over his sternum with his right hand as Derek inhaled sharply and then wrenched his attention back on the road since he was driving and all. 

Whoa.  

There’d been lots of upheaval over the last few years. Being Scott’s, Being both of theirs. Derek giving up his Alpha spark for Cora and leaving, the Nogitsune, things being all fucked up and not feeling like he belonged to anyone at all. Derek coming back, but them both out of sorts and dealing with their own shit amidst everything and him being confused and isolated and not really open for connection. Had to close the door. 

Their bond hadn’t broken, but it hadn’t been right either. And now…

Already he was feeling more settled. Stronger. Content even after they claimed or re-claimed each other as pack or whatever exactly that was. Stiles cleared his throat. 

“How about Reno?”

Derek rolled his eyes, but then broke into a grin. 

“Sure.”

Several more moments passed with his brain trying to regain functionality and Derek looking at him pointedly.

“What?”

“You’re the navigator.”

Stiles flailed and nearly dropped his phone.

“Oh, right.”

He pulled up the routes and selected one for directions. That done, he started looking up stuff about the city. Places they might want to eat or walk around.

About halfway there his dad called and he took a deep breath before answering. They talked for a while, Derek hearing everything of course, but Stiles had shaken his head no when he mimed pulling over. It’s not like the werewolf wouldn’t hear just as much anyway unless he ran off a good ways and that would just be silly. 

Stiles wasn’t sure which of them was more surprised at the clear relief in his father’s voice when he learned that Derek was now going with him. 

“You two stay out of trouble, alright? Derek…”

“I’ll look out for him, sir,” he responded loudly.

“Good man.” 

Stiles watched Derek duck his head a bit, bunny teeth peeking out as he smiled. God, he was adorable when he let himself feel things.

“Okay kiddo,” his dad said, addressing him again. “Well, I hope you get what you need out there. I’ll just be here enjoying the peace and quiet and bacon burgers every day—“

“Daaad,” he groaned as his father laughed. 

“Just kidding, son. I miss you already.”

“I miss you too, Dad”

“Alright, Love you, have fun.”

“I love you t—”

“But not too much fun.” 

Stiles rolled his eyes.  

“Bye!” he yelled, hanging up. 

They stopped at a drive-thru for some hot food on the outskirts of Reno. Burgers and sodas with curly fries, of course. It was around midnight when Derek pulled off at the next turnout, overlooking the city. They ate half-sitting, half-leaning against the warm hood of the Camaro. 

Stiles was going to propose going down there and gawking at the late night antics for a bit (unfortunately, unlike some places in California he was too young to play a few slot machines here and see if his luck really was turning around.) Then finding somewhere to sleep. A motel room. With Derek.

There was a flash of heat in his belly and it became a bit of a struggle to swallow his current bite of potato-y goodness. He managed not to choke as he blushed at where his imagination was heading and felt very accomplished.

Derek looked over at him, nostrils flaring, and reached out to wipe ketchup from the corner of his mouth with a thumb. Not quite daring enough to take it into his mouth, Stiles leaned into his palm and those searching eyes first softened and then focused intently. In the blink of an eye Derek’s face was much closer, but not quite touching his. Warm puffs of breath tickled his skin. 

He closed the gap and then they were kissing. Slow and tentative at first, gentle and tasting, and then something deeper. Hungrier. Derek was the first to pull back, grinning and leaving him breathless, but craving more. If it was left up to him he probably would've kept going until they both passed out. Or just him, who was he kidding. Damn werewolf constitution.

They turned back to the shining oasis in the darkness, flashing lights and neon signs, and he sidled up to Derek, who then put an arm around his shoulder. Slotting into place like puzzle pieces. A satellite passed by overhead, but he wished on it like a shooting star anyway. Please let this be real. 

Stiles snuggled even more into Derek’s side and breathed him in, calmed by his warmth and  woodsy scent as if he were a wolf himself. He closed his eyes to the sound and vibration of pleased rumbling, comfortable and pondering the possibilities opening up before them. 

The crunch of balled up wrappers and other garbage being placed in the bag that their food came in had him jolting awake. He must’ve dozed off for a while. God knows he needed it. 

Derek smiled at him, one of those special fond ones that Stiles had collected like rare treasures and placed inside his stupid little heart before forcing himself to think of other things. He didn’t have to do that anymore though, he could hold onto them and inspect them all he wanted. Do his best to get more of them.

“You ready?” Derek asked, holding out his free hand. Stiles took it and was pulled upright, where he stole a kiss.

“Yeah, let’s go.” 

Thanks for reading!

Previous (unrelated) fics for the Mead Moons event/series:

Second Chance Strays

Thunder

Ed Sheeran crooned through the Camaro's speakers, singing about finding that perfect love, and Stiles couldn't help but look over at Derek and sing along. Letting the lyrics voice what he was still afraid to say.

Love.

Stiles was in love with Derek.

Derek smiled back, reaching over and taking his hand, and Stiles's heart flipped in his chest. He knew Derek felt the same even if he hadn't said it either. Maybe he thought it was too soon. Most people would, considering their relationship was so new. But that wasn't why Stiles hadn't said it yet. Honestly, every time the word tickled at the tip of his tongue, it felt so…insignificant. There was no way that one word—those four letters—could ever express the depth of his emotions for Derek Hale.

It was more than words. More than that simple yet complex emotion. It was more than love. Derek was his everything.

Derek said something then, but Stiles hadn't been paying attention. Too lost in the word that wanted to bubble out of his throat.

"What?" Stiles asked, laughing at himself. Sometimes it was too easy to get lost in his head. Especially when it came to Derek. Some days it seemed like every thought led back to him. And why wouldn't they? This was the so-called honeymoon phase of their relationship. That time when it was practically expected for them to be so wholly and completely absorbed with each other.

And oh, look. There Stiles went again—losing himself in thoughts of Derek. And honestly, he couldn't even be mad about it.

Derek grinned, his shoulders shaking the way they did when he was trying not to laugh but failing. Asshole, Stiles thought—affectionately, of course. This was something Stiles loved about their relationship. That they could laugh at each other. With each other.

So Stiles reached over and poked him in the ribs. "So what were you saying?"

"I asked if everything was alright," Derek said with a laugh, taking his eyes off the road for a moment to look at him. He let go of Stiles's hand, lifting a finger to Stiles's temple and tapping. "You looked a little lost in thought."

Stiles leaned into the barely there touch. Of course he did. He couldn't get enough of Derek's hands on him in any way, shape, or form. But these innocent touches…Stiles craved them.

"Yeah, I'm good. Just thinking about—" Should he admit it? Would Derek think he was crazy or weirdly obsessed if he knew how much Stiles thought about him?

Probably not. It wasn't as if Derek never admitted to thinking about him. Just the other day, Derek bought him a copy of The Lord of the Rings. His mom had read it to him when he was a kid, and he liked to collect the different editions. It was crazy because Stiles was sure he'd only mentioned that once. On their first date.

'You remembered that?' Stiles had asked, staring at the book. It was such a random thing for Derek to remember. And honestly, Stiles couldn't believe Derek had even paid that much attention to his ramblings. Most people didn't, and Stiles was fine with that. He knew he could be…a lot. When Stiles's mind drifted, there was no telling where it would lead. It was how he ended up writing about circumcision for an Econ paper in high school.

(Don't ask. It made sense at the time.)

Anyway, the point was that Derek had seen the book and thought of Stiles. So Stiles felt pretty safe in admitting—

"You," he said. "I was just thinking about you."

Derek beamed at him with that beautiful smile of his. The kind that lit up his entire face—eyes crinkling in the corners, his dimples popping. "Good things, I hope."

"Always."

"Feel free to think of me often then," Derek said, turning back to the road.

Before Stiles could make a quippy remark, the Camaro shifted hard, lurching as it made a terrible noise.

Stiles winced because that definitely wasn't good.

"What the— Shit." Derek gripped the steering wheel with both hands, sitting up straighter. Stiles could tell he was trying to coax the car by easing up on the gas and letting it coast. Stiles had gone through similar enough times with Roscoe.

Thankfully, there weren't many people on this stretch of road, so Derek was able to pull the Camaro off to the wide shoulder.

"Holy shit," Derek said, holding his hands up as the engine cut off and the car sputtered to a stop. His words came out a little shaky. When he turned to face Stiles, his eyes were wide. "You okay?"

"Yeah, I'm alright." Stiles was used to Roscoe breaking down on him at least once a week—the damn thing was pretty much held together by duct tape and hope. But it was clear Derek wasn't so used to things like this. "Are you?"

Derek nodded, but he still looked a little freaked out. Unsettled. It was kind of surreal to see from the normally easygoing alpha.

"I'm okay. I just…" His brows furrowed in obvious confusion, "don't know what happened. My car's never done this before." Derek tried the ignition, but there was nothing but silence. No sputters or clicks. "Fuck!"

Stiles might not have been a werewolf, but he could easily sense Derek's growing frustration. In an attempt to comfort him, Stiles reached over, placing his hand on Derek's thigh and squeezing. "It'll be alright. We can call a tow truck and have the pack come get us."

They weren't too far out of town yet—maybe twenty minutes into their mini-road trip down the coast.

Derek blew out a long breath, stilling as their eyes met. For a moment, they seemed to stare straight through him. Derek said nothing for a few seconds, but then he sighed—more in resignation than relief, but Stiles would take it.

"You're right," Derek said. "Let me at least pop the hood to see if I can—I don't know. I actually don't know anything about cars beyond changing tires."

Still, Derek got out of the Camaro and propped the hood up.

Derek might not have been a mechanic, but he looked the part, standing there with one hand on the hood as he peered down at the engine. He wore a scowl that was far too sexy, considering the mood.

Stiles's mouth twitched in a small smile as he watched Derek pull out his phone. Sure, Derek looked grumpy, but there was something else in that expression too. Determination and a will to figure things out. Stiles admired that about him.

After a few minutes, Stiles climbed out of the Camaro, coming to stand beside him. Derek had his phone pressed to his ear, probably talking to whatever towing service. Stiles looked at the engine, but honestly, he was only proficient in servicing 1985 CJ-5s. Besides, he doubted Derek had a roll of duct tape lying around.

"Okay," Derek said into the phone, pushing the hood down before placing his hand on the small of Stiles's back. Stiles leaned into him, listening as Derek spoke. "No. No, we have a ride. Thank you, though. Okay. Yeah, I can do that."

And then Derek thanked whoever he was talking to and hung up.

"It's going to take a couple of hours before a tow truck can come out here," Derek told him, and Stiles turned into him, hugging him.

Maybe Derek needed it, maybe he didn't, but Stiles wanted to show him he was there either way.

Derek held him close, rubbing his back. "I already texted Boyd. Should be here soon because he was already out."

"That's good." Stiles nuzzled into the crook of his neck because Derek still seemed tense. It was understandable, though. This was Derek's car. Stiles knew he'd had it since he got his license, just like Stiles had with his Jeep. And despite the ridiculous amount of times Roscoe broke down, Stiles still hated when it happened.

Derek nodded but said nothing. He just Stiles close as he buried his nose in Stiles's hair.

Stiles had to admit, it was kind of enjoyable. Obviously, this wasn't an ideal situation, of course. But there was something kind of nice about being here, broken down, in the middle of nowhere with the man he cared for. It was comforting in a weird sort of way.

At least that was the excuse Stiles was going to use after blurting, "I love you," for no apparent reason.

Derek pulled back, and time seemed to stop as he looked at Stiles, his gaze searching. Assessing. He must have liked whatever he saw, though, because his entire body relaxed. His face broke out in the brightest smile. Seriously, it rivaled the sun, and Stiles wanted to bask in its warmth.

"Say it again," Derek urged, cupping his face. His thumbs brushed Stiles's cheeks, and Stiles couldn't stop grinning at the happiness radiating from him. Derek wasn't that much taller than him, just an inch or two, but Stiles got to his toes, slamming his mouth against Derek's—needing to kiss him.

"I love you," Stiles muttered against his lips, unwilling to pull away. He said it again, punctuating each word with a kiss. "I. Love. You."

Derek's arms tightened around him, as if he were trying to get closer but only succeeded in pushing Stiles back onto the hood. Derek stepped between Stiles's legs, and Stiles locked his hands around Derek's wrists to ground himself before he could fly away.

Derek growled, and the sound went straight to Stiles's cock. He couldn't stop the moan that escaped him. Especially when he threw his head back and Derek latched onto his throat, sucking what were sure to be dark bruises onto his skin.

Fuck! Stiles hoped they lasted for days. Wanted those marks imprinted on him forever so he'd be reminded of this moment every time he caught his reflection in the mirror.

They probably would have devoured each other right then and there if someone hadn't honked, breaking them out of their lust-filled trance. Derek pulled back, dropping his hands from Stiles's face but lacing their fingers together as he helped Stiles stand again.

Stiles let out a nervous chuckle, heat rising to his cheeks.

Fuck.

There they were, out in the open, and Stiles had been ready to bend over the Camaro's hood if Derek asked.

"Sorry," Derek said quietly, a sheepish look on his face. God, he was too fucking cute sometimes, which was just unfair for someone as hot as him. "That wasn't very gentlemanly of me."

Stiles barked a laugh, dropping his head to Derek's chest. It wasn't as if Derek had acted alone.

Derek cradled his face, tipping his head up until Stiles was looking at him again.

"I love you too," Derek said. His voice was so soft. Softer than Stiles had ever heard it before.

Stiles's heart thundered in his chest. He hadn't expected Derek to say it back. Hadn't needed it since he already knew. "I know. And some people might say it's too soon, but I know how I feel. I know how you make me feel."

"I know," Derek whispered. He took Stiles's hands, lifting them and kissing Stiles's knuckles. "I feel the same way. I knew it from the moment I saw you in the quad that day at school."

Stiles could swear his knees went weak. Derek's words, the gesture… God, he could have swooned.

It didn't matter that their trip was cut short. Nothing would take away from this—their moment together on the side of the road, declaring their love. Where it was just Stiles and Derek, and literally, nothing else existed.