"Oh. Right. Hunter rules. That's – an interesting development."
He paused for a moment to consider if he might've crossed a line somehow, knowing how sensitive his current comrades could be about grazing the H-word topic, before deciding just to plough on with the track of his thoughts.
"I mean, ok, yes, killing and maiming innocent humans can definitely be filed in the 'morally questionable big legal no no' category, and believe me there is nobody more invested than me in never coming into contact with those two ever again. I'm just trying to understand your logic here, there wasn't so much of the killing and maiming actually going down in my very human vicinity last night, even if I'm not exactly Mr Innocent."
Isaac coughed out a strangled note of surprise before nestling down into a more comfortable position, nudging his nose along the window frame with a huff of breath which seemed to state I'm abandoning this conversation as he let his eyes slide closed again.
"Unless tailbone fractures count as maiming? I'm pretty sure tailbone fractures should count as maiming." He frowned at that one, did maiming always have to involve the grotesque division of flesh? "Whatever, I'm still here."
The breathy mumble from Isaac's direction could arguably have been the word "unfortunately" muttered into his sleeve.
Or a smothered yawn, these things are often subject to personal perspective.
Stiles' immediate response involved a yawn of his own, rather more obnoxious when accompanied by the drawn out stretch of all four limbs in opposing directions, a stretch greatly limited by his cramped environment. Only one arm really had a chance to pop its joints and he gave up the other as a lost cause when his knee hooked uncomfortably in the back of Derek's seat, jostling it slightly as he relaxed back into the expensive leather seating.
He vaguely acknowledged Derek bristle in response –somewhere in the back of his thoughts as they started to slow.
"I'm trying to see the world through the eyes of the werewolf masterminds," he slurred lazily as his eyelids began to droop "and I'm pretty sure it's the mo' canines mo' money mentality that's supposed to save lives –right? They didn't split my skull on the windshield first chance they got so I'm thinking they have a similar respect for hunter code... Possibly for hunters... I don't know"
The old H-word cropping up again, had he no control? His eyelids were definitely closed now, no opening them, nope, no, naptime. Stiles was never the best backseat rider outside of life-threatening situations and the soft purr of the engine was doing nothing to counter the exhaustion coming to settle its debts.
"Yeah, you're right, we should just invite the psychopaths in with welcoming arms. You can bake them thank you cookies on behalf of your intact cranium." Derek delivered with recognisable intoned sarcasm.
"Cranium.. Big word for a big wolf" Stiles smacked his lips together loudly. "Big word for a big wolf with ahhhxclusive pack boundaries, huh."
He couldn't stand up in court for it, but he was pretty sure those were the last words out of his mouth before he was being rudely awakened by the sound of his name barked from beyond the edges of his consciousness. What he also wouldn't mention to the judge was how clearly sensitive he was to such an unfamiliar waking tactic, if his proceeding confusion was anything to go by.
He couldn't be held responsible if his body decided while wiping the drool from his cheek to try to roll out of his seat as if he'd somehow mistaken the stick of leather and restricted space for his bed, before he was cruelly choked back into full consciousness by his vindictive belt strap.
"Safety my ass." He managed to gasp out as he recoiled from the merciless grip of his harness assailant, hands grasping at every available surface in a misguided search for the release button.
"Stiles."
There it was again, the voice causing all the trouble. They say waking a sleepwalker is dangerous but there are never public service announcements detailing the dangers of waking the spacially impaired when they're trapped in the chokehold of a health and safety nightmare.
"Stiles? What –I don't know what you're talking about, just hold still."
Right. Words in head, words out loud. He never did quite get the grasp of that particular concept, at least not when he was still crossing the shoreline from Lalaland. The Land of Nod? From Derek's response he could conjecture only half of his thoughts had made it to his tongue anyway, a subtle amount that could constitute sleep mumbling to any right-minded witness. He managed to go still after he felt, more than saw, rough hands bat his away from their offensive grabbing positions, eyes still stuttering in their half-closed stage as Derek managed to finally free him with a quick dart to his hip.
"Right, that's where they put them these days." He muttered as he began the tiresome effort of actually taking in his surroundings, leaning forward in a hastened attempt to fully escape the vehicle causing him such pain.
A hastened attempt which brought his so-prized cranium into contact with the granite construction of Derek Hale's jawline.
"Oh my God. Who designed you with those angles? Seriously, consider childproofing your facial features man." He moaned as pain shot sharp and angry from his brow line.
The "I'll bear it in mind" was accompanied with a familiar eye-roll as Derek exited the car in one smooth motion, gesturing for Stiles to do the same as he pulled his seat forward with ease.
Unfortunately Stiles' usual level of vehicle-exiting-elegance was understandably not improved by sleep grog meeting head injury, so his exit involved a more cautious crawling escapade which still brought him careening dangerously close to Derek's shins as he attempted to meet the world outside on all fours. He wondered idly if he could chalk off all of his morning actions as part of a top secret operation dedicated to seeing if Derek's eyes could actually roll out of his skull, as much as you can idly wonder whilst crouched atop a folded car seat.
"Stiles. Out." He heard from somewhere far beyond his current chest level viewpoint, he didn't miss the ensuing sigh though. "Jackson can drive you home."
Stiles managed to stealthily swing his legs around his side and out of the doorframe in what was intended to be a majestic backwards slide from the car. However, when the full momentum of Derek's words hit him his manoeuvre was very much in the 'booty in the air' stage, all majesty quickly lost as his feet hit the ground and he froze bent at the waist.
"Wha-at?" His butt exclaimed at Derek as his head, hidden from view behind it, pulled back violently.
Fortunately, he cut his first break of the day as his forehead narrowly avoided head injury number three, scalp grazing the metal frame as he swung around to face Derek.
Unfortunately he was still bracing the Brokeback position, head now careening over his shoulder like a startled giraffe.
"Jackson's. Driving. You home." He reiterated slowly as he leaned down and dragged Stiles from the car to his feet with more delicacy than he was quite frankly used to receiving at the hands of physical contact with the alpha.
His confusion at the simple act overcame his bafflement for the brief moment it took for Derek to return to his seat and put the Camaro in reverse. His mind kicking into gear just in time to shout
"What –wait WHAT?" at the fading black shape as he drove off to continue his day Stiles-free.
He turned in time to catch the familiar eye roll gracing Isaac's feature this time as he nodded his head towards the school steps and offered a supportive "Ladies first."