So this is just a short little word vomit that I had to get out of my head in the middle of the night. You know how it is. I really just wanted an awkward hilarious car ride where Derek is adorably unsavvy into the ways of the popculture unidom. There shall be more if people dig it including the story as to how Derek came to be in this situation and how Stiles came to the rescue...again. Also this convoluted mess belongs to me the characters were made and poor treated by Jeff Davis.

x.

Chapter 1: Dude...

Present Day

"Stiles!"
Derek's chiding tone and particularly glowery glarey eyebrows break Stiles out of his completely subtle ,not at all obvious gaping stare. Stiles snaps his jaw shut in a totally inaudible way. There's no way the other man had heard. The werewolf man. The werewolf man, a foot away from him, in his car. Yeah he heard. Okay, so maybe the jaw snapping wasn't necessary but the gaping? Oh, the gaping was necessary.

"For Gods sake Stiles what?!

Stiles started unaware that he'd even pulled his focus back to Derek, he just clears his throat ,shakes his head and refocuses on the road: splaying his fingers on the steering wheel clenching and unclenching them in an effort to restrain felt his gaze slip sideways again only to snap immediately back when met with Derek's frustrated glare.

"What?!"

Stiles throws his arm out comically,his mouth opening and closing .

Derek frowns at the flailing teen. Steeling himself with a sigh for a convoluted long winded explanation that would no doubt end in the history of tea cozies or sporks or something.

"We've been in worst situations than this. What is it? I'm not even bleeding to death all over your clean seats." Derek groans impatient of waiting.

Stiles recovered himself holding up a finger.
"That , is an excellent point. However , this" he gestures at Derek in his entirety "is so not okay!..I mean ..just…what even..I can't..what is even happening right now!"

Derek frowns at him confused, what about him merits Stiles pulling his own hair ,clawing his face and slapping himself (though that may have been a flailing induced accident).
He slowly raises each of his arms in turn and twists around in his seat checking for any maiming, marking or general offensive finding a trigger he raises his eyebrows at Stiles while making a questioning wellwhatthefuckeven? Movement with his arms.

Stiles looks at him like he's been thrust into an alternate universe and sufferingly pinches the bridge of his nose whilst facing the heavens.
"Your shirt." He chokes out.

What's wrong with his shirt Derek thinks as he experimentally plucks it away from his chest. It's not as clingy or revealing as the Henleys he usually wears: which Stiles says 'offend his delicate sensibilities', but predictably buys him every year for his birthday. Derek frowns and surreptitiously sniffs .

Stiles looks back over at him after composing himself sufficiently to offer an explanation.

"Your shi….are you wearing sweatpants?!This isn't real! My inability to even right now dude!"

"What?" Derek says defensively "I wear sweatpants."

"Dude no! You wear leather and v necks and jeans and combat ," he gestures at all of Derek again."Is not okay!Something nefarious is definitely afoot!"

Derek frowns in confusion again.

"Derek,man. Your shirt says YOLO!"
Stiles exclaims as he gesticulates wildly at it."Hashtag YOLO even." He emphasizes ,"Just,what even ?" He asks looking to the bewildered clueless man next to him.

I hope you enjoyed and I promise there will be more forthcoming if love is provided. I practically wallow in the stuff. xx