[ his entire ass it's not a big deal. this is a huge deal, at least for stiles. as much as pretty much everyone minus his father doesn't think roscoe is a sight to behold, his mom's old car is one of his most prized possessions, if not the most prized possession. it's so important and precious to him that more often than not, he's unwilling to let anyone else try to fix her when she breaks down, patching her up with duct tape when he can't afford to replace her belts or buy new hoses for her.
he knows that car like the back of his hand - and from what stiles could tell from just a small walk-around tour over video chat, derek does too. and that's so important to stiles, that's such a big deal. there's no way he's not going to wait for him outside.
stiles chatters while he waits, lazily pacing a short length of the street and answering all of derek's questions. he has no idea where he'll take doscoe first - somewhere with derek, probably. he's unsure about letting the cat in the car, wary about her claws and the leather, but then again, roscoe's transported plenty of werewolves back home, and she's still okay, so maybe doscoe would be fine.
every other minute or so, stiles glances past his phone toward the end of the street, anxious to see those round headlights and that slotted grill and the baby blue hood, the black doors. he rambles about how if he knew derek knew this much about cars back home, he would have trusted roscoe in his care, let him help fix her up in ways he's reluctant to let anybody else.
his excitement is palpable when derek says he'll be home soon. stiles pumps his fist and bends his knees and does this stupid little 360 degree spin, shoes scraping quietly against the asphalt. he seems mildly reluctant to hang up when derek says he needs to hang up, feels relieved when he changes his mind.
stiles sees doscoe rolling up the street well before derek eases her into the driveway, and by then, he's having a hard time paying attention to his phone. he goes kind of quiet, actually. he's speechless, and his chest hurts as derek puts her in park, but it's a good hurt, it's the best kind of hurt. it's been over half a year since stiles has seen his old car, and he knows this isn't her, but she's close. she's so goddamn close that if derek hadn't said he'd built doscoe himself, stiles might have believed he was staring at his mom's old jeep.
he hears the quiet beep of the call ending and only vaguely thinks to put his phone away. stiles slides it into his pocket and immediately starts approaching the jeep as derek starts to climb out of it. he stops a little short, and that's when he starts to smile, big and sun-bright. derek says hey, and stiles says- ]
Holy - god. Oh my god.
[ -and he tears his eyes away from doscoe to look at derek, letting him press the keys into his hand, which he closes his fingers around tightly. stiles stares at derek for a few very long seconds after he's told to go take a look. he just wants to kiss him. he smiles at him instead, soft and fond and faintly overwhelmed, and then he finally steps away from him after touching his fingers to derek's side.
he's hit with a surge of excited energy as he starts to look doscoe over, moving from one part of her to the next like a vibrating chihuahua. he runs his fingers over a fender, wiggles the driver's side-view mirror, runs his hand along the top edge of the window where it meets the roof, black like the door. stiles touches both tail lights as he circles around the back, stops to squat by the back tire, touches the hubcap, jumps back up to keep moving. when he gets to the front of the jeep, he curls his fingers in the front grill, flicks at one of the hood latches. stiles does all of this while talking to himself excitedly under his breath, about how all of it is practically the same, just like roscoe.
turning around, stiles moves around the side of the car again while looking at derek, unable to put into words how pleased he is so far, how proud he is of derek for - getting something so important him right, for even doing any of this in the first place. he grins at him as he pulls open the driver side door and climbs in, sliding into the seat and stretching his legs out toward the pedals. he's still got the keys hanging from his fingers when he puts both hands on the steering wheel, and for a moment, he kind of loses himself. stiles lets his hands trace the wheel, touches the hub at the center. he runs his fingertips along the dash, tilts his head back to look up at the exposed metal interior of the roof, reaches up to touch that too like it's the fucking - creation of adam, on the ceiling of the sistine chapel. he twists around in his seat to look in the back, which is exactly as it should be too.
when stiles turns back around, he has to wipe his hands over his thighs. he wets his lips, and he pushes the keys into the ignition, and he turns it over - and she roars to life, just like she did in the garage when derek started her up. stiles just starts laughing - bold and bright and uncontrollable. he drums his hands on the steering wheel, grabs hold of it at ten and two, rocks himself back and forth a couple times in his excitement. he stares at derek through the windshield, stood in front of the home they share together, and he sighs. he doesn't care that derek probably can't hear him, doesn't care if he can. ]
God, I love you. You did this. Dude, you did this! ... For me. [ he slides his hands down the outer curves of the steering wheel, guides them back up, continues to stare at derek. ] I wanna blow you so bad.
[ stiles cuts the engine, keys jingling quietly in his hand as he opens the door and climbs out, pushing the door closed behind him. stiles puts his keys in his pocket and stands there by the side of the jeep for a moment, and then he strides forward - right up to derek, where he grabs the front of his shirt with both hands and pulls him forward. when he kisses him, it's almost chaste. light but lingering, and when stiles pulls away, he's still got his eyes closed. he wet his bottom lip. ]
no subject
he knows that car like the back of his hand - and from what stiles could tell from just a small walk-around tour over video chat, derek does too. and that's so important to stiles, that's such a big deal. there's no way he's not going to wait for him outside.
stiles chatters while he waits, lazily pacing a short length of the street and answering all of derek's questions. he has no idea where he'll take doscoe first - somewhere with derek, probably. he's unsure about letting the cat in the car, wary about her claws and the leather, but then again, roscoe's transported plenty of werewolves back home, and she's still okay, so maybe doscoe would be fine.
every other minute or so, stiles glances past his phone toward the end of the street, anxious to see those round headlights and that slotted grill and the baby blue hood, the black doors. he rambles about how if he knew derek knew this much about cars back home, he would have trusted roscoe in his care, let him help fix her up in ways he's reluctant to let anybody else.
his excitement is palpable when derek says he'll be home soon. stiles pumps his fist and bends his knees and does this stupid little 360 degree spin, shoes scraping quietly against the asphalt. he seems mildly reluctant to hang up when derek says he needs to hang up, feels relieved when he changes his mind.
stiles sees doscoe rolling up the street well before derek eases her into the driveway, and by then, he's having a hard time paying attention to his phone. he goes kind of quiet, actually. he's speechless, and his chest hurts as derek puts her in park, but it's a good hurt, it's the best kind of hurt. it's been over half a year since stiles has seen his old car, and he knows this isn't her, but she's close. she's so goddamn close that if derek hadn't said he'd built doscoe himself, stiles might have believed he was staring at his mom's old jeep.
he hears the quiet beep of the call ending and only vaguely thinks to put his phone away. stiles slides it into his pocket and immediately starts approaching the jeep as derek starts to climb out of it. he stops a little short, and that's when he starts to smile, big and sun-bright. derek says hey, and stiles says- ]
Holy - god. Oh my god.
[ -and he tears his eyes away from doscoe to look at derek, letting him press the keys into his hand, which he closes his fingers around tightly. stiles stares at derek for a few very long seconds after he's told to go take a look. he just wants to kiss him. he smiles at him instead, soft and fond and faintly overwhelmed, and then he finally steps away from him after touching his fingers to derek's side.
he's hit with a surge of excited energy as he starts to look doscoe over, moving from one part of her to the next like a vibrating chihuahua. he runs his fingers over a fender, wiggles the driver's side-view mirror, runs his hand along the top edge of the window where it meets the roof, black like the door. stiles touches both tail lights as he circles around the back, stops to squat by the back tire, touches the hubcap, jumps back up to keep moving. when he gets to the front of the jeep, he curls his fingers in the front grill, flicks at one of the hood latches. stiles does all of this while talking to himself excitedly under his breath, about how all of it is practically the same, just like roscoe.
turning around, stiles moves around the side of the car again while looking at derek, unable to put into words how pleased he is so far, how proud he is of derek for - getting something so important him right, for even doing any of this in the first place. he grins at him as he pulls open the driver side door and climbs in, sliding into the seat and stretching his legs out toward the pedals. he's still got the keys hanging from his fingers when he puts both hands on the steering wheel, and for a moment, he kind of loses himself. stiles lets his hands trace the wheel, touches the hub at the center. he runs his fingertips along the dash, tilts his head back to look up at the exposed metal interior of the roof, reaches up to touch that too like it's the fucking - creation of adam, on the ceiling of the sistine chapel. he twists around in his seat to look in the back, which is exactly as it should be too.
when stiles turns back around, he has to wipe his hands over his thighs. he wets his lips, and he pushes the keys into the ignition, and he turns it over - and she roars to life, just like she did in the garage when derek started her up. stiles just starts laughing - bold and bright and uncontrollable. he drums his hands on the steering wheel, grabs hold of it at ten and two, rocks himself back and forth a couple times in his excitement. he stares at derek through the windshield, stood in front of the home they share together, and he sighs. he doesn't care that derek probably can't hear him, doesn't care if he can. ]
God, I love you. You did this. Dude, you did this! ... For me. [ he slides his hands down the outer curves of the steering wheel, guides them back up, continues to stare at derek. ] I wanna blow you so bad.
[ stiles cuts the engine, keys jingling quietly in his hand as he opens the door and climbs out, pushing the door closed behind him. stiles puts his keys in his pocket and stands there by the side of the jeep for a moment, and then he strides forward - right up to derek, where he grabs the front of his shirt with both hands and pulls him forward. when he kisses him, it's almost chaste. light but lingering, and when stiles pulls away, he's still got his eyes closed. he wet his bottom lip. ]
... Thank you.