ohhhhhhh no oh no this is actually the most important thing
i like to think that stiles gets the jeep a little before he’s actually allowed to drive. maybe he’s 15, can’t get his permit yet, so he and scott have like two months to just sit around dreaming about how epic it’s going to be when stiles gets his license. they spend hours burning mixes, lying on their bedroom floors picking out tracks and putting them in order and stacking CDs for sometime in the near future. they probably get high for the first time while they’re trying to decide what fucking wilco song they want to put on some mix they decided was good for sunny days, so they end up with both “heavy metal drummer” and “i am trying to break your heart” because they got so distracted they forgot to edit it afterward.
when stiles finally gets his license, the jeep is their freedom. sometimes they just hit the radio and go, but more often than not they have mixes for every kind of weather, every kind of day. stiles has a CD booklet tucked under the front passenger seat that scott always pulls out and flips through while they’re driving, whether it’s just the 10 minutes to school or they decided to drive down to monterrey for the day just to get away from whatever teenage boy bullshit they’re dealing with. stiles always lets scott pick the tunes.
it means a lot to them, having the windows down and the volume turned up so loud they can’t even hear each other laughing at stupid road signs or laughing at each other. it’s where they go when they feel anything at all. when stiles calls scott at 2 in the morning and says, “i have to get out of here,” scott just says, “come get me,” and they drive around the neighborhood streets for hours until the sheriff finds them on his shift and sends them home because he got a noise complaint. when scott’s dad gets back into town and scott just needs to be angry but doesn’t want to be angry out loud, they get in the jeep and scream along with jesse lacey for awhile and it feels better.
they go on roadtrips and park on the beach and leave the electricity running just so they can fall asleep wrapped around each other in the open back of the wrangler with the music still playing as they drift off. they spend a lot of time on open california highway with their arms out the windows getting sunburned while they scream along to bullshit pop punk music.
when they start falling in love, they make mixes for each other that they think are subtle but are absolutely totally 100% obvious. like, stiles puts “what i’m trying to say” by stars on a mix and thinks he’s being subtle about it, that’s the kind of bullshit they pull with each other, because somewhere along the way this became another way that they talk to each other. it’s another way they check in, another way they make sure they’re all right, another way they know they’re alive.
"How did— how did you know where I live?" Scott asks, still breathless from their flight through town, zipping through buildings at a breakneck speed. They are hardly even wet, they had gone so fast it was like the rain didn’t have time to hit them.
Spiderman sets him down on his front porch, and Scott thinks the guy is smiling, but it’s hard to tell with the mask.
"Everyone knows where you live, Scott," Spiderman says, climbing up to the porch roof.
"Wait— you know who I am?" Scott asks.
Spiderman dangles from the top of the roof, arms flailing a bit, and Scott is suddenly struck with a similar memory, one where it’s his best friend instead upside down on his porch roof.
hey but imagine stiles’ reaction when the pack all meets back up and scott smells like gasoline for the second time. stiles seeing scott with his damp clothes and his tired, slumped shoulders and breathing in the stink of the gas. what if he can’t stop himself looking at scott’s hands, looking around, getting more and more frantic. just in case there’s another flare.