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Stiles glanced at his watch for the fourteenth time in 15 minutes. Scott was late. In point of fact, Scott was clearly not coming.
Here he was sitting on the lacrosse bench, will wonders never cease, at high noon wondering where the hell his best friend had gotten off to and why he wasn’t here. Where he had promised to be. Monday morning was their only mutually free time to work on lacrosse. Scott had promised. Promised to work with Stiles and help him make first line in the fall.
Stiles sighed, stood and grabbed his lacrosse stick and bag and started the long walk back to his Jeep. He’d called Scott. Called Derek. Called Isaac, the bastard, even. For Christ’s sake, he’d even called Jackson. Neither Derek or Jackson knew where Scott was and neither Scott nor Isaac answered their phones. Which, really, told Stiles all he needed to know. Scott was with Isaac. The tall lanky werewolf had weaseled his way into Scott’s life over the summer. It’s not like Stiles complained when Isaac started showing up around Scott. Clearly he was being sent to convince Scott to join the pack. Stiles had to admit it was a fiendishly clever plan. Scott got to complain to Isaac about Derek’s evil ways while still appearing to maintain his distance. Isaac got to show Scott that being pack was worth the hassle. It was a great plan. One worthy of Stiles himself. It was just that now that Scott had finally caved and admitted that Derek was his alpha, it was time for Isaac to back the fuck off.
Stiles tossed his stick and bag into the back of his Jeep and climbed in. Groaning, he crossed his arms over the steering wheel and buried his head in them. It’s not like they hadn’t practiced at the beginning of the summer. They had. It’s just as Scott and Isaac grew closer, Scott started being late more often. Then he brought Isaac, which okay, wasn’t so bad as long as they didn’t play gang up on the human. Now he’d graduated to blowing Stiles off entirely. It was Allison all over again.
Stiles grunted and started his jeep, or, rather, tried to. He listened to the starter grind and patted the steering wheel with his free hand.
“Come on darlin’. Don’t crap out on me now.” The engine gave a slow wheeze, shuddered once and died. The next turn of the key brought just a click. “Damn it!” Stiles shouted, pounding on the steering wheel. He threw himself out of the vehicle, stomped over to the hood and tossed it up. He stood there for a moment, pretending he had one damn clue what to do. With both hands gripping the hood over his head, he dropped his chin to his chest and whined. “Oh, my baby. She’s dead.”
“There's a big difference between mostly dead and all dead.”
Derek’s voice startled Stiles into jumping and banging his head on the underside of the hood. Swearing and rubbing the back of his head, he turned to stare at the other man, a look of equal parts injury and incredulity warring for supremacy on his face.
“Fuck! Stop creeping up on me! And did you just quote Princess Bride? Again?”
Derek ignored Stiles to peer into the engine. He poked around for a few minutes listening to Stiles’ rant. It started out about creeper wolves and their ninja ways and quickly segued into best friend stealing wolves and how both Scott and Isaac deserved to be strung up by their short hairs.
“And don’t think you’re getting off scot free here, Derek. This is all your fault,” Stiles stammered.
Derek pulled his head out of the engine and looked at Stiles, his eyebrows telling Stiles exactly what he thought about the teen’s rambling. Stiles threw his hands up in the air at the lack concern writ clear across Derek’s face.
“Seriously, dude? What does that face even mean? You know I’m right. You sent Isaac to woo Scott and it worked too damn well. Now he’s bailing on me.” Stiles’ voice trailed off to a whine. “It’s Allison all over. I am clearly only good enough to distract Scott when no one pretty is around.”
Derek stood up and faced Stiles, frown deepening. “Scott is an idiot.”
“Tell me something I don’t know,” Stiles mumbled.
“Your Jeep needs a new starter.”
“What?”
“The starter. It’s caput. No workie.”
“I’m sure you think you’re funny, sourwolf,” Stiles glowered at Derek’s attempt at humor. “How much is this going to cost me?”
“Considering this is a classic CJ-5, probably at least a couple of hundred.”
Stiles groaned and rubbed his hands across his face. “Dammit. There goes a hefty chunk of my savings. Is that the just the part or are you being generous with labor?”
“Just the part,” Derek shrugged. “I can take care of it for you.”
Stiles dropped his hands and stared at Derek in shock. “Uh, thanks, but I can pay to fix it myself.”
“No, idiot. I can save you the cost of labor and do the work myself.”
“Seriously?”
“Yeah. I’m, uh, pretty decent with cars.”
“Seriously?”
“Look, Stiles. Do you want my help or not?”
“Uh, sure. Thanks, dude.”
“Don’t mention it. Ever.”
“Ah, there’s the sourwolf I know and love.” Stiles blushed as soon as the words fell out of his mouth, looking frantically around for something to hide behind. “I’ll just…uh…get my stuff and head home.”
Derek’s mouth twitched up just a fraction as he watched Stiles flail around and dive into the backseat of his Jeep. After fumbling for his bag and fighting with his lacrosse stick which decided to get tangled up in the seatbelt, Stiles finally staggered back. He shrugged one strap of his backpack over his shoulder and rested the stick on the opposite.
“So! I have a shift to get to. At the library. Um…so yeah, I’ll see you?”
“Jeep’s a standard. Right.”
“Yep.”
“Then how bout we bypass the starter and push start it. You can at least get it home.”
“Oh. Of course. Sure, I’ve done that before. Who’s pushing?”
Derek just gave Stiles a look of incredulity, mostly through raised eyebrows and head tilt and sauntered to the back of the Jeep. Stiles tossed his stuff back in the Jeep, jumped in, turned the key to on and got the Jeep in gear.
“OK. I’m ready,“ Stiles yelled.
Derek pushed the Jeep and got it going at a steady clip before he banged on the back window to signal Stiles, who popped the clutch. The Jeep’s engine roared to life as the transmission slammed into place and Stiles had to act quickly to keep it running by reengaging the clutch. He stopped the car and stuck his head out of the window, waving at Derek.
“Thanks, man. I’ll call you when I get the part.”
Derek nodded and watched Stiles drive off towards home.