notes: this was very loosely based on a tumblr text post i saw that said something like "don't ever associate with people who think they're too good for mcdonald's." that is very good life advice.

4. —would you like fries with that?

Stiles rubbed at his eyes, tiredly. It felt like he'd been driving for days but it'd really only been—he checked his cellphone—twelve hours. God, twelve hours on the road. And with Jackson in the car. And no one was dead or anything. Amazing.

He deserved a medal or trophy or—or a a giant vanilla sundae, with like 3 feet of whipped cream and chocolate syrup and a cherry on top—but not those bright red maraschino cherries those were nasty as shit okay but maybe one of those dark cherries because those were actually pretty good and—

He was really hungry right now. An upcoming sign informed him of a McDonald's up ahead in the next turnoff. They probably didn't have a giant vanilla sundae but shit, he was not gonna be picky. When the turnoff came up he went into it, finding the McDonald's quickly and found a spot in the parking lot where he, you know, parked.

Stiles glanced at the rest of the boys. All sleeping. So obviously the only thing to do was to blare the horn really loudly and wake them up. Which he definitely did.

"Mother—"

"What the shit—"

"STILINSKI—"

Stiles grinned at all of them. "GOOD MORNING STARSHINE...sss? Starshines? Yeah."

They stared at him.

"Stiles," Isaac said, rubbing at his eyes, "What?".

"It's lunch time!"
.

.

Somehow Jackson ended up on the line ordering for everyone (he didn't sign up for this, did he look like a frickin' waiter? no.) and at a McDonald's no less. He crossed his arms and scowled. He definitely would not be eating here. Not only was the food terrible but the entirety of the restaurant was horrid.

And fattening.

Jackson moved up, finally (finally—why did so many people come to this shitty restaurant) reaching the register. He squinted up at the menu.

"Welcome to McDonald's, may I take your order?" the cashier said. Jackson glanced over at her, boredly.

She let out a squeak when his eyes met hers, straightened up and smiled charmingly, batting her eyelashes.

Jackson smirked.
.

.

"Did you get my food?" Stiles asked immediately when Jackson arrived back at the car.

"No," he said, settling into the backseat, "But I did get the cute little cashier's phone number." He smirked and waved a napkin with a phone number scrawled on it, remembering the adorable way she blushed (adorable as she may have been, Jackson thought and crumpled up the napkin and stuffed it in the pocket of his jeans, she wasn't really his type).

Stiles stared at him for a moment. Jackson rolled his eyes and then Stiles got out of the car. Jackson looked at Scott who only shrugged. Isaac simply sat back to watch how things would play out (he had a feeling that he was going to be very amused in a short amount of time. Honestly, there was never a dull moment with Stiles around).

The door on Jackson's side opened up to reveal a VERY ANGRY STILES. He pulled Jackson out of the car with great force.

"JACKSON YOU ASSHOLE GO GET ME MY FUCKING BIG MAC," he screamed and pushed him in the direction of the fast food place. Stiles didn't see him roll his eyes but he did see the middle finger raised in the air as Jackson walked. Stiles resisted the urge to stick his tongue out in a childish manner (because what would be the point if Jackson couldn't see it?).

"Oh, dude," Isaac said, sticking his head out the window, "Tell him to get chicken nuggets too."

Stiles nodded once.

"AND GET ISAAC HIS CHICKEN NUGGETS," he yelled after him and then added as an afterthought, "IF THEY AREN'T 10 PIECE DON'T EVEN BOTHER COMING BACK."

Isaac stuck his hand out the window and Stiles promptly high-fived him.