B.S.T.P.H.T.

Before Derek has the presence of mind to object, Stiles pushes the paper in his hands and makes for his jeep. “Just read it, okay?” is the last thing he says before slamming the door shut.

He starts the engine, and drives away in record time with gravel scrunching under his tires while Derek stands there dumfounded. He accelerates unusually fast, and the jeep’s back lights disappear into the night.

What. The. Fuck.