Stiles’ fingers tapped on his thighs as “Cherry Bomb” by the Runaways blasted through the speakers. The volume was a bit much for Derek’s ears, but the smile on the boy’s face as he screamed along with the lyrics made the discomfort worthwhile. He smiled to himself as he thought about how appropriate the band’s name was; he and Stiles were basically runaways.

The call had come in the middle of the night. Derek was in his new house about a hundred miles from Beacon Hills, trying to distance himself physically and emotionally from the Pack that didn’t need him anymore. Stiles was the only one who knew where Derek was and was the only one Derek would answer the phone for when they called.

The first ring wasn’t even finished when he’d answered, barely breathing out the young man’s name. The gasping breath and hammering heart of a panic attack was all that he heard and he was in his car and heading towards the USC campus where Stiles had started attending classes. On a normal day it would take him a couple of hours but that night he would make it in an hour, less if he could. He put Stiles on speaker and kept talking to him the entire ride, relieved when he was able to start answering and the deafening heartbeat slowed to Stiles’ normally just a tad too rabid rhythm. 

He skidded to a stop in front of the building he knew was Stiles’ and started to get out of the car when he saw a flash of red flying out of the building and towards his car, he threw the passenger door open and Stiles dove inside, headfirst. Derek grabbed him and used the forward momentum of the car to slam the door shut. He kept his hand on Stiles until he clicked the seatbelt into place.

“Bad day, bad dream, or bad guy?” Derek asked once he had both hands on the wheel and started driving in a random direction, keeping one eye on Stiles and the other on the road. It was a question they’d taken to asking each other whenever they called in the middle of the night, but this was the first time they’d seen each other since Derek had left months earlier.

“All of the above,” Stiles said. “None of the above. I don’t know.” 

He knew that Stiles had been having more panic attacks since the nogitsune and he knew that he was the only one who knew and only because he’d climbed through Stiles’ window when he’d been in the middle of one. Stiles had made him swear not to tell the rest of the pack and although it went against everything he thought was right, he’d agreed. Of course, he’d broken his word the next day by stopping by the sheriff’s station to tell his dad.

Stiles hadn’t spoken to him for a week after that.

It was the longest week Derek could remember having since the fire.

Now, he reached over and squeezed Stiles’ hand. “You don’t need to talk,” he told him and saw Stiles’ head bob next to him.

They drove in silence, Derek choosing directions based on the song on the radio. If the song was upbeat, he went right, slow and melancholy, left. If he had no idea how to identify it, he went straight. 

Now, the late afternoon of the following day, they were in the middle of the country and Stiles was finally back to himself. He’d napped a few times off and on, eating when Derek stopped for food and the more he came back to himself, the more Derek relaxed and he winced at the dents he’d managed to leave in his steering wheel.

“We should get a hotel,” Stiles said when the song ended. “You’ve been driving for nearly twenty-four hours.” He sounded guilty and opened his mouth, most likely to apologize, but Derek cut him off.

“I’m good, but we can find something.” He tossed his phone over to Stiles who grinned down at the photo of the two of them from just before he’d left Beacon Hills for good, Stiles in his cap and gown with one fist in the air and the other arm looped through Derek’s. His smile in the photo was fond and he could tell he had the same smile now as he watched Stiles unlock the phone.

The radio played a few more songs while Derek kept driving. The car dinged to let him know he needed fuel and he pulled into the next station and went inside to pay while Stiles kept trying to find a nearby place to stay. His attention was drawn to a display of postcards on the counter, one of a beautiful sunset made him smile remembering the sunsets in Beacon Hills he and Stiles would watch, sitting on the bluff above the preserve. Evening sharing silence and nature were some of his favorite non-family related memories of that place.

He picked up the postcard and flipped it over. “Excuse me,” he said to the clerk, a chipper looking woman in her forties with long bleached hair and tired eyes. “Where is Four-State Lookout?”

“Oh, it’s just up the road a spell. There’s a ton of signs, you can’t miss it!” she told him. “Gonna go see the sunset?”

He tapped the postcard against his palm for a minute. “I think I just might.” Looking around the store, he saw a display of cheap wine and some of those fake plastic champagne glasses. Grinning he grabbed a bottle and a pack of the glasses, setting them on the counter and actually blushing under the woman’s knowing smirk. 

“I hope you and your special someone enjoy the sunset,” she called out to him as he opened the door and Stiles looked up in confusion from where he was just trying to come inside.

“Thought you got lost,” he said, voice nervous and Derek knew he was really afraid something far worse had happened to him in unfamiliar territory.

Laying a hand over the nape of Stiles’ neck, he turned him towards the car, leaning in and brushing his nose over his temple in a way that was probably more reassuring to Derek than Stiles, but his words, “I’m fine,” slowed Stiles’ heart and brought a smile to his face as he leaned into the scenting.

“Yes, you are,” he teased, his voice much less lecherous and more fond than it usually was when he said those words.

“Get in the car,” he said, shoving him gently and warming at the soft laugh Stiles gave out as he tried to grab the bag out of Derek’s hands and failing when Derek turned his body away from him; it was a surprise.

“Did you find a place?” he asked as he got in and started the car. 

“Yep, it’s another town over. Got four stars and is only about six months old so it shouldn’t smell too much.” 

The fact that Stiles even took Derek’s senses into consideration meant more to him than he could express, but his lips curled into a soft smile as he whispered, “Thank you.”

They drove about a mile when Derek first saw a sign for the lookout, just as Stiles told him to turn in the opposite direction. “You missed the turn.”

“For the hotel, yes,” Derek said, turning and pulling into a parking lot. He was glad to see that the lot wasn’t very crowded and there were just a few other people up on the deck. He climbed out of the car and headed around to the trunk, pulling out the bag from the store and a blanket he kept there.

Stiles was standing next to the front of the car when he closed the trunk, eyes tracing over the wooden walkway up to the platform overlook. He fell into step, letting Derek take the lead until he’d found a stretch of railing without people too close. Draping the blanket over the railing, he pulled out the glasses, opening the package and snapping two of them together, handing them to Stiles to hold while he opened the wine.

The temor in Stiles’ hand was more obvious as Derek poured the wine into the glasses he was holding, but he didn’t comment on it. Putting the bottle at their feet, he took one of the glasses and held it up, giving Stiles raised eyebrows. His brows furrowed in concentration before his face straightened out and he raised his glass.

“To that one person you can count on in the middle of the night,” he said, smiling when Derek scoffed lightly.

“To the only person worth taking an impromptu road trip with,” Derek said. “And actually enjoy it.”

They tapped their glasses together and sipped as they turned to lean on the railing, shoulders pressed together. The sun sank lower, the sky brushstrokes of oranges and blues, soft clouds were cotton candy pink. Stiles let out a sigh as the sun finally disappeared behind the horizon and Derek felt the last of the tension leave his shoulders.

They stayed on the platform long after the other people had left, sipping on the wine and finishing the bottle. Stiles was quite tipsy because he’d eaten very little over the previous day but he managed to help fold the blanket and walk steadily back to the car, even if he leaned on Derek as he walked, necessitating Derek wrapping an arm around his waist as they walked.

The hotel wasn’t very far and Stiles stayed with the car while Derek checked them in. He got in the car to move around to the back of the building and gave Stiles a look. “What?” Stiles asked, fiddling with his phone and looking anywhere except at Derek.

“Only one bed,” Derek said, shaking his head fondly as Stiles made a soft squeaking sound. “You know how this always ends up in movies, don’t you?” he teased as he pulled into a parking spot.

“Look, I didn't think you would mind, but if it’s a big deal, I’ll sleep in the tub or the car,” Stiles said, his heart rate picking up and Derek hurried around to his door and pulled it open. 

Squatting outside of the car, he reached out and cupped Stiles’ face in his hands, forcing eye contact before leaning in to press their foreheads together. “I didn’t say that I minded,” he said, softly before brushing his lips together. “I don’t mind at all.” 

Stiles leaned in to kiss him that time and every kiss after that was an even split of who started it.