when im a parent i won’t take my kid’s electronics when they get in trouble i’ll just take the charger so i can watch the fear in their eyes as they use it less and less while the battery slowly begins to run out
Stop right there, Satan.
Tumblr giveaway fic for thehowlingalpha, who requested Sterek + future + roadtrip gone wrong. If miscommunication’s your jam, boy is this the fic for you.
Derek almost hit a deer once when he was a teenager, learning how to drive at night with his dad. He didn’t see it, concentrating on keeping the car at a steady speed, but his dad did and told him to slow down as the deer leapt out onto the road. They sat there in the dark and watched it stare at them.
"You gotta be careful with deer," Dad had told him. "They’ll freeze like this and then move when you’re least expecting it. You’ll learn to pay attention to what’s off to the sides of the road, not just what’s in front of you."
"I need five sets of eyes for all that," Derek had complained, and his dad had laughed.
Derek’s not paying attention tonight. His dad’s been dead over ten years and Derek’s tired and irritable somewhere in the middle of Bumfuck, Wyoming, with Stiles snoring in the passenger’s seat next to him. He’s glaring at the GPS, which lost signal thirty miles back, and according to the map he’d dug out from the back - fifteen years out of date - the road they were on didn’t exist. Not that it was much of a road, more like a wide dirt track, rough and sloppy with mud and half-melted snow, steep forest going uphill on one side and dropping down sharply on the other. The Toyota’s having no trouble with it, at least, and Derek’s probably driving faster than he should be because he doesn’t want another argument when Stiles wakes up and sees they still haven’t reached the Bridger Peak pack’s territory yet.
They already argued earlier when the GPS first lost signal; Stiles wanted to turn around and get back on the highway but Derek had argued - reasonably, he thought - that taking the interstate would mean tacking at least another hour on the trip and Stiles had gone all icy and said he was so glad Derek was trusting in technology instead of him for once, and that had hurt. It hurt even more when Stiles added waspishly, “Do what you think’s best,” and then turned his face to the window and pretended to go to sleep. That he’d quickly fallen into actual sleep hadn’t made things any better.
Derek sighs and rubs a hand across his eyes, gritty with weariness. Things haven’t been great between them for the past couple of weeks, and he knows Scott thought he was doing the right thing by sending the two of them on this pack relationship-building trip, like they’d be able to spend the time traveling fixing whatever going on between them, but all there’s been is strained silence and Stiles sighing sarcastically over that flat tire they’d gotten outside of Boise. Derek’s got this sick feeling in the pit of his stomach; he’s pretty sure Stiles is going to break up with him the moment they get back to California, and he doesn’t know how to stop it - he has no idea what he’s done wrong, and Stiles won’t even meet his eyes, let alone hold a conversation with him. He thinks about the ring he bought a month and a half ago, hidden at the back of his underwear drawer, and his heart hurts.