I JUST WANNA GET HOT CHOCOLATE WITH YOU AT SOME CUTE DINER AT 3 AM AND DRIVE AROUND WITH YOU AND TALK ABOUT DUMB STUFF AND KISS YO U
if my husband doesnt tear up when im walking down the aisle im turning the fuck around
my husband definitely will because he’s gonna have to put up with me for the rest of his life and that’s enough to make anybody cry
I’m not saying Dylan O’Brien kind of looks like a truck stop hooker in that Teen Vogue shoot. I mean, that’s tasteless, crude, obviously. I’m just saying that if in season five, Stiles maybe drops out of school, gets on a midnight train going anywhere, and tries hitchhiking through the country on some naive Jack Kerouac inspired jaunt, that might be the costume they put him in when he exhausts the rest of his money, when he finally gives in, dusty and exhausted, walks into a 24 hour diner named Loretta’s or something, right off of the main drag. Maybe he slides onto a stool on the counter and lets his eyes settle around the room, looking, just looking, maybe trying to slouch, seem approachable.
OKAY BUT is Derek frantically searching for him? Following a half-cold trail, appalled when he finds Stiles’s scent thick in an alleyway like he slept there, trying to sound positive when he calls the sheriff to tell him he’s getting closer? Does he find Stiles only MOMENTS BEFORE the ill-fated diner handjob of dinnertimes, and not know what to do or say so he just drags Stiles, threadbare tshirt and all, into his car and then sits there seething until Stiles asks if Derek maybe wanted to buy him dinner instead because he hasn’t eaten in almost three days? Does Derek remember that Stiles loves curly fries and buy him three sides of them that he hands over with shaking hands? Does he sit there while Stiles is eating and wonder how far Stiles would have gone to get those fries, hating himself but imagining it in vivid detail?
YES YES YES, but no—well, sort of. I think maybe Derek finds him later, afterward, is just swinging the door to the restaurant open when he sees Stiles emerge, wiping his red, swollen mouth with the back of his hand.
I think maybe Derek’s been looking a long time for Stiles, entrusted with the mission by Scott and the Sheriff. Derek’s just their scout, they call him with a sighting, a clue, and he heads there, radio off, hands tight on the wheel.
He doesn’t even like Stiles, not really, would take a bullet for him, sure, but he’s never sought Stiles out purposefully before. Until now, until the last three months when he’s been seeking nonstop, chasing half-remembrances and hoaxes called into the hotline the Sheriff set up.
But he finds him, eventually he does. Maybe he wasn’t really looking ahead to what he would find, maybe he just sort of thought he’d pick up Stiles like a misdelivered package and transport him home.
He certainly didn’t expect what he finds, a skinny, grimy Stiles, who smells like come and exhaustion, who dismisses him easily, turning his back to slide back on the diner stool, the twenty clutched triumphantly in his bony hands.
Maybe Derek looms over him, says, “you’re going home,” in that tone leftover from his alpha days, maybe he expects it to work, for Stiles to see that there are people at home who miss him, who love him, whom Stiles is hurting.
Maybe Stiles surprises him again with a cold, harsh, “no.”
Then maybe he realizes it’s not gonna be so easy.