“Josh I’m stealing your underwear.” Tyler smirked, pulling on a pair of purple boxers and red socks.
“Dude not cool. I was gonna wear those!”
“We could share.”
Josh grinned and kissed the corner of Tyler’s mouth, pulling on some blue boxers and white ankle socks.
“Shit. Its Monday!”
“What?” Tyler pulled on his jeans and Josh’s shirt and jacket.
“If my parents find out I’ve missed school they’ll kill me!”
“Well hurry up then!”
“Names.” The receptionist asked.
“Okay. Get to lesson quickly.”
Tyler and Josh quickly walked to their music lesson, slipping in at the back. Fortunately nobody noticed.
“Good morning class.” Mr. Armstrong spoke softly as always. “We’ll be drumming this term.”
“Yes!” Josh whispered, high-fiving Tyler. Drumming was his passion.
“I swear you only like drumming because you like banging things.” Tyler smirked.
“So whats your excuse?”
Tyler grinned as Mr. Armstrong droned on about theory work.
“Aw man, I really wanted to do some drumming today.” Josh moaned, flipping open his exercise book and scribbling down the date and title. Tyler didn’t even bother, he just watched Josh. He looks so cute when he’s concentrating, Tyler thought.
“Ty? Why are you staring at me?” Josh blushed, confused.
“You look so cute when you concentrate.” Tyler smiled. “Especially when you stick your tongue out.”
“I don’t stick my tongue out.” Josh was 100% red.
“Boys! Quiet please!” Mr. Armstrong called.
“Sorry sir.” Josh replied, continuing with his work.
“See!” Tyler whispered. “You’re doing it now!”
“Shut up.” Josh huffed, hiding his face behind a music book.
“Aw, is Joshie all embarassed?” Tyler teased.
“Quit it, Ty.” Josh hissed.
“I said quit it Ty!” Josh whacked Tyler with his book.
“Tyler! Move to the front!” Mr. Armstrong yelled.
“Bye Joshie.” Tyler whispered, collecting his things and blowing a kiss.
Josh scowled and carried on with his work. He hated being called cute. I’m hardly attractive, nevermind cute, He thought to himself, I don’t know what Ty sees in me.
Stiles is still fumbling with the key,
willing his trembling hands to put it in the lock, when the door opens. The sight
of a sleep rumpled Derek gives Stiles a momentary sense of peace. It can be
done. You can go through literal hell and wake up looking soft and sleepy, with
messy hair, a loose purple shirt, and stripy boxer briefs.
Then the memories from the dream jump
back to forefront of Stiles’ mind. The blood. The screams. The smells of
burning chemicals and mould. A phantom pain shoots through his left hand. This
dream had been the last straw. The last drop. The camel’s back is broken and
the bucket’s overflowing
‘I’m sorry I woke you,’ Stiles says. His
hurting left hand twitches in the front pocket of his hoodie.
‘That’s okay,’ Derek says. His eyes roam
over Stiles’ pinched face and tense shoulders, flick down to Stiles’ stumbling
heart. ‘What’s wrong?’
‘I need to get out of here.’
He’s been toying with the idea of
getting out of town after graduation for a long time. He’s even mentioned it to
his dad and Scott, but never made any definitive plans. Graduation was three
days ago and he’s barely slept since. Not that he slept much before then, but
he’d kept it together enough to get his diploma.
‘When are you leaving?’
Stiles can’t help a small smile. He’d
known Derek wouldn’t try to persuade him to stay, known he’d understand. Fuck,
nobody understands needing to get out of Beacon Hills as well as Derek.
‘Now. I can’t…’ Stiles swallows and closes
his eyes. He can’t stay here a second longer than he absolutely has to. The
drive over to Derek’s was a nightmare all on its own, sleep deprivation and
memories working together to make him see monsters on every corner.
‘So you came to say goodbye?’
There’s disappointment in Derek’s voice,
though he does his best to hide it. They were supposed to go on a date tomorrow.
Their first date.
Stiles shakes his head and opens his
eyes. ‘I came to ask you if you wanted to come with me.’
Derek stares at him intently, and Stiles
thinks he’s going to say no. Then, Derek nods and smiles.
‘Give me fifteen minutes.’ Derek steps
aside to let Stiles into his apartment. ‘You can make me coffee while you
Stiles busies himself with the coffee
machine and finding thermos flasks while Derek gets dressed and packs. He also
grabs some fruit and granola bars, and puts them in a plastic bag. In his hurry
to leave, he’d forgotten to pack food.
True to his word, Derek is ready in
fifteen minutes. He carries a small duffle bag that’s probably far more
efficiently packed than Stiles’.
‘Where are we going?’ Derek asks as they
walk to Stiles’ car.
‘I was thinking New York. I’ve always
wanted to try a real New York pizza,’ Stiles says with forced levity.
Derek throws his bag in the back of
‘We can look up flights on our way to
the airport,’ Derek says.
‘No. Let’s drive there.’
Derek turns to him with raised eyebrows.
‘You want to drive all the way across the country. For pizza. With me.’
‘Would make a hell of a first date.
Great story for the grandkids,’ Stiles grins nervously. What if Derek decides
he doesn’t want to come after all?
‘You really want to be cooped up in a
car with me for weeks on end? Sleep in crappy motels? Eat almost nothing but
‘We’re gonna fight.’
‘And we’re gonna smell.’
‘That’s why they invented showers and
deodorant, big guy. And windows that open,’ Stiles counters. ‘Look, we can have
separate rooms and take some time off from driving if we get sick of each
other. And either of us can get out and get on the first plane back any time
they want. I’m going to do this and I really want you to do this with me.’
‘Alright, but we’re taking the Toyota,’
Stiles is far too relieved that Derek is coming with him to protest. He
pulls their bags out of the back of his car and carries them over to Derek’s
mom-car. When all their luggage has been transferred, the realization that he’s
really going to get out of Beacon Hills today finally hits him. He wants to cry
and dance with joy, but what he does is yawn. Very loud and very wide. Derek
chuckles on the other side of the car. Stiles climbs into the passenger side
seat and yawns again.
He watches the town pass by as Derek
drives to the town limits. They pass them and they keep driving. Stiles fiddles
with the radio until he finds a station that seems to think it’s still 1995. He
hums along to the songs in between yawns.
They still have things to do, like
letting everyone know they didn’t get kidnapped and making sure someone takes
over all the perishables from Derek’s cupboards and fridge. They also need to
figure out their exact route and a driving schedule. But Stiles is too tired to
do any of that now, or to even bring it up. All the sleep he’s missed in the
past two years is suddenly rushing to get caught up, but he’s doesn’t want to
hear the screams and his hand still feels sore.
‘Stiles, I’m right here,’ Derek tells
him. His hand is lying on his leg in an open invitation that Stiles readily
Reclining the seat back when half asleep
and with only one hand proves a little tricky, but Stiles eventually manages to
get it down far enough that he knows he can rest.
The radio, the grinding of the wheels on
the tarmac, and the hum of the engine soon lull Stiles into a dreamless sleep. The
last thing he notices is the pressure of Derek’s fingers gently, reassuringly,