Rushing out of the front doors, Scott trailing behind him, Stiles made a beeline for his parked jeep. He flung his backpack in the back seat, and then buckled in. Before Scott could even buckle himself in, Stiles hit the gas and swung his way into the road, and then pulled over to watch the half circle pick up.
"You know, I think he can see us from here." Scott commented idly, staring over at the pick up truck. Stiles glanced over at Scott, then slowly released the brake so they rolled just in front of a bush that barely even covered a tire. Scott stared at the bush, then back at Stiles. "...I don't think it's big enough."
"We won't get up behind him, we'll give it a few feet, okay? It'll be fine. Oh, ffff-" He pushed Scott back into his seat, watching as the girl hopped in the vehicle and, again, the baby was passed to her. "Oh my god. Look at that. They just passed the baby again. They just passed the damn baby." He waited for the truck to pull out from the stop sign, and watched it speed off. He hit the gas and sent Scott jolting forward as they sped after the car.
"Dude, he's going fifteen over the speed limit," Scott said as Stiles hit the gas to keep up, glaring at the vehicle. When they made a sharp turn in the forest, he cranked the wheel and kept a few feet behind him. The deeper they got into the outskirts of Beacon Hills, the more Scott started to look concerned. "Stiles, this is pretty far out, maybe we should just turn around..."
"Are you kidding me? He's driving recklessly." He kept his eye trained on the back end of the truck, not willing to take his eyes off it for anything. Suddenly the vehicle slowed down and pulled into a driveway, and Stiles eased into the brake, staring at the huge house they were now rolling by. "...wow, that place looks scary." Scott stared out the window, then spotted the guy staring at them from outside his car. The teenage girl was already walking to the house and stepped inside with the baby.
"Oh shit, Stiles - he sees us. Just keep driving." Scott motioned to the pedals, gripping the door handle. "Come on!"
Instead of listening, Stiles turned off the car and threw it into park, and stepped out. "No, I'm going to tell him he's endangering children and should have his child taken away. I'm still pissed." He patted his pocket, and then slipped off the drivers seat and slammed his door behind him. Walking around his car he approached the taller guy and motioned towards his truck.
"Do you have any idea how dangerous it is to drive around with a kid not buckled in a car seat?" The dark-haired guy gave him a peculiar look, but the frown on his face obviously showed how displeased he was. Stiles didn't care. "You were going fifteen over the speed limit for this area. You know what the speed limit is for, right? Because there's deer? You know, nature's road block, the unpredictable chance you hit one and if you're not wearing seat belts, you kill everyone in the car with you?" He reached in his pocket, not breaking eye contact with the other. "I'm writing you a ticket."
"Wait, what? You're not a cop." The guy crossed his arms over his chest, glaring at Stiles.
"I'm not. But I'm the son of the sheriff, and this is a real ticket. Give me your ID." Stiles held out his hand, his lips in a straight line. "I'm serious. I'm so serious right now. Give me your identification card."
"...no." The other said, furrowing his dark eyebrows. "I'm not going to give you my ID. You're going to turn around, get in your jeep, and go back home."
"Okay, you're going to be that way. Then I don't need your ID." He pulled a pen out of his pocket, walked around to the back of the truck and started to scribble down information on the ticket. "To dark haired, grumpy looking guy with licenses plate... for driving 15 over the speed limit in residential area, with child not buckled into car seat..."
"...what are you doing?" The guy walked around, looking at Stiles as he used his truck as a hard surface to write the ticket. "...are you seriously writing me a ticket? It's not a real ticket if you're not a real cop."
"Signed, Sheriff Stilinski." Stiles kept talking out loud, and the guy snorted behind him. He turned to glare at him. "You think this is a joke?"
"No, I think that forged signature is a joke though. You can't be serious." He smirked as he motioned to his truck. "Look, I'll get the seat belts fixed."
Stiles turned back to the ticket and jotted in, "Driving with broken seat belts." He ripped off the top of the ticket, shoving the pink copy in his pocket to put in his dad's bag later. The other copy he shoved at the guy, who looked shocked that he actually had the nerve to make physical contact with him. "There's your copy. Get your wife to watch your kid so when you kill yourself driving you don't take the kid with you, six feet under."
He watched as the man's face went from jovial amusement to muted anger, his dark eyebrows knit together as he glared daggers at Stiles. He didn't say anything, so Stiles glared back, and then turned to his jeep and walked back, hopping in. Scott looked unnerved, and immediately locked the doors once Stiles got back in the vehicle. "Dude, drive. Just drive. You pissed off that guy, what if he has a gun?"
Stiles started the jeep, starting to throw it in reverse and then made a u-turn on the road and started back towards where they came. As they drove by, Stiles glanced at the guy, who was holding up something. He looked in his rear view mirror after driving a ways, then witnessed the guy ripping not only his ticket but the pink one Stiles had shoved in his pocket right in half. The boy reached down and patted his pocket, rummaging in it for a moment before he realized the guy had pilfered it. "Oh my god. How. How did he do that. That was the only ticket I ripped off my dad's pad - shit. What a fucking asshole!" Scott stared at the rear view mirror, then craned his neck to look at the guy still standing there.
"Stiles, just drive. Please. Please just drive." Scott begged, and Stiles finally complied, unnerved by the whole incident. He hit the gas, and sped off of the country road.