ยท RIFT.
Monday couldn't come as quickly as it can, and Stiles wakes up to the sound of his alarm. He rubs his forehead in exhaustion, before sitting up and turning his torso deliberately to hear the cricking of his lower back. The popping of the sound is audible and almost haptic, with Stiles giving a sigh at the feeling. He pops his neck, and then gets out of the bed before getting into the bathroom with a towel in hand.
He undresses his night clothes, and walk in with the hot steaming water all ready to go. It hits the body of Stiles, and he sighs out a satisfied sough, the tension leaving him almost immediately. He stands there after coating his body with soap and bubbles for a moment, before turning the valve off, ceasing the flow of water. He dries himself automatically, and then walk out, taking the ironed clothes out of the wardrobe for fitting. He grabs a wife beater and a pair of brief; then wears it, feeling the thin and soft fabric loosely hugging his torso. He grabs the plum colored dress shirt, and wears it, before wearing the slacks. He uses a leather belt and hooks it around his waist.
He hangs the towel, before going into the kitchen. He takes out a box of cheerios and a carton of milk out of the refrigerator. He doesn't feel the mood of having any poultry in his system for now, so he settles with the traditional cold bowl of cereal. He eats it, and chews his contents with an audible crunch. He finishes quickly before washing the bowl.
He leaves the house without any means of transport, and the car that is under repair doesn't come round until Wednesday. Getting a new body to replace the scratched ones can be painstaking, and Stiles figures that a slow walk to school might be an excuse for cardio. Besides, the principal of the school sees little reason to detain him for being late since his reason is more viable than saying his dog taking the keys away.
He passes by the houses, and could see some students walking to the buses, to which Stiles ignore. He has nothing in his hands, since most of his tools are at his desk. He makes way to the small town in Beacon Hills, and waits patiently for the traffic light to turn green for him to cross.
Before he could even cross the road, a black Camaro comes into view, impeding Stiles' effort to reach the school. It takes no accessible skill to figure who the driver is, and the tinted window lowers down to reveal Derek inside. Stiles tries to walk away from the vehicle, which only prompts Derek to move his car a bit to the front. He tries again, this time from the back, but fails when the black vehicle reverses. Stiles clenches his jaw in frustration. He doesn't this form of drama in the morning.
"Get in," says Derek curtly. Stiles doesn't say anything, and enters the vehicle without any form of protest. As long as Derek exists with a stubborn mind, almost all of Stiles effort will be squandered.
The Camaro makes way to the school in good time. And from the view of it, Stiles could see the students arriving the building and having small talk with their friends and classmates. He watches as the kids pass by without sparing a second glance at Derek's car, as if they have grown accustomed with his exclusivity. The car parks in the teacher's section, and Derek turns the ignition off, ending the running motor mechanically.
Stiles unbuckles his seatbelt, and murmurs a cursory thanks to the older man. He opens the door, only to find out that the door has been locked. He tries again, only to be met with the same result. He looks at Derek, who's expressionless face stares at the window without making a single movement. "Derek, open the door," he asks politely. Derek doesn't do as told, and Stiles gives a scorned look at his inactivity. He bends over to the other side, with his hand extending to unlock the door from the driver's seat but Derek grabs his wrist before Stiles could meet success.
"Derek, what the he-," he starts but is met with a pair of lips smashed onto his.