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Derek brings his hand up to rub over the day old scruff on his face. Finals gave him a swift ass kicking this past week and he’s barely been able to keep up his workout regimen. He walks over to his desk and grabs the grey hoodie off the back of his chair, glancing out the window. It’s definitely sunnier than yesterday, but that could just be because he’s finally on break and Derek's outlook on life is a little less bleak for the next four weeks. He quickly slipped into the hoodie before zipping it up, grabbing his phone and earbuds off his desk, hurrying down two flights of stairs.

Derek almost misses Danny when he gets to the first floor - one of the pros to living in the attic bedroom was that he wasn’t bothered by anyone in the house. Before he can slip out through the front door unnoticed, Danny hears him from the living room. “Where’re you goin’?” He asks, looking back at him from over the couch with a quizzical eye. Derek doesn’t miss the slight accusing tone in his roommates voice.

“To the opera.” Danny just blinks at him. “I’m going for a run.” Derek deadpans, gesturing with one hand at his body. “Thought the running clothes would be a dead giveaway.” Danny raises an unimpressed eyebrow at him before twisting his body around and draping his arms over the back of the couch to properly face Derek.

“Aren’t you going back to Beacon Hills for break? Cora’s heading out later today. I thought you were going with.”


“No time. I’m doing extra training over break. Need to get back into shape before the season starts.” Considering the conversation over, Derek motions to put one of his earbuds in when Danny stops him again.


“Derek, as your roommate who’s seen you naked more times than is natural for roommates -which is really saying something, I’m pretty sure you don’t need extra training.”


“Just because I have muscle tone doesn’t mean I’m in shape.” Derek replies as he pulls his leg back with his arm to stretch out his muscles before his run.


“I think you’re just making excuses so you don’t have to go home and see Laura.” Derek shoots him a glare before walking past the living room to the front door. He puts his other earbud in and reaches for the doorknob so he can’t hear Danny yelling after him, “You have to talk to her about it SOMETIME! DEREK! ARE YOU LISTENING-” Danny gives up at the sound of the door closing. He lets out a long suffering sigh and rolls his eyes before turning back to his laptop. “Hales.”

 


 

Stiles all but bursts through the double doors of the building yelling, “Higher learning can suck my dick!” The other students in the vicinity are too drained to pay his war cry any attention. The sun was high in the sky, reflecting off the few inches of snow and making it brighter than the outside had any right to be. Stiles runs down the steps of the building, adjusting his backpack higher onto his shoulders and pulling his hood up to protect against the chill of the day and so he didn’t have to walk around half blind. Just as he shoves his hands in his hoodies pockets, ready for the walk back to his apartment, he feels his phone vibrate. Cursing, he pulls it out of his pocket.

Scott: Packed and ready to go dude. When you gonna be home?

 

He pauses on the sidewalk in front of the dining hall to type out a response to Scott. Just as he’s about to hit ‘Send’, Stiles begins to step forward and what feels like a fucking freight train crashes into him. Stiles scrambles to save his phone from falling to it’s concrete doom as a guy in a grey hoodie races past him, hardly bothering to glance back.


“ARE YOU FUCKING SERIOUS, DUDE?” Stiles throws his arms out and shouts at the man’s retreating back after he rights himself. He shoves his phone back into the safety of his pocket, grabs his backpack straps and turns around. “What a douchebag.”

 


 

Having finished his exams earlier in the day, Scott’s been sitting on the couch, mindlessly playing Grand Theft Auto V for the past two hours. After stealing three helicopters, going to a few strip clubs and even unlocking yoga, he finally decides to check the time.

“Shit.” It was already late afternoon and Stiles’ last class was getting out in thirty minutes and he was supposed to have the car packed by then. And he hasn’t touched the suitcases since he put his by the door that morning. He pauses the game and throws the controller on the cheap wooden coffee table. Their bags were set up by the door, so, he was looking at three trips up and down three flights of stairs to put everything into Stiles’ Jeep. Challenge accepted.


Panting from the excessive heavy lifting for the past twenty-five minutes, Scott face plants into the couch. Limbs hang off the sides, because he can’t be bothered to move another inch until Stiles gets home. He shoots a text to Stiles to let him know the Jeep’s ready for the roadtrip back to Beacon Hills before all his will to move leaves him completely.

Stiles: sweet thanks man. maybe like 15min.
Scott: Ok, see you soon.

 


  

Twenty minutes later, Stiles crashes through the front door in a whirlwind of profanity and indignation.


“Scott can you even believe that douchebag? I’m just minding my own damn business and then that fucking tank of a man runs into me full force! It was like if the damn Death Star thought it would be a good idea to run into an X-Wing. Yeah! Also, I almost broke my phone because of the asshole! And he just keeps on running like nothing happened! Not a ‘Sorry!’ Not a glance back! NOTHING! I’m gonna have bruises everywhere, Scott. I’m gonna be full on black and blue. Goddamn douchebag. Amiright?” Stiles ends his diatribe when he realizes Scott’s hardly moved since he got home. He hits Scott’s leg with his foot, “Dude.”


“Huh? Sorry, bro, packing exhausted me.” Scott mumbles, stretching and rolling off the couch and onto the floor because he can’t just get off the couch like a normal person.


“Well, get yourself bright eyed and bushy tailed. I want to get into California before midnight.” He offers a hand to Scott and pulls him to his feet, letting him get his balance before clapping him on the back and heading to the kitchen for the garbage. Even if they were two typical dirty, gross, and unkept twenty year old guys, Stiles had no desire to come back in two weeks to a rank apartment.


After a quick trip to the dumpster behind their building, and Stiles reminding and waiting for Scott to go to the bathroom - he has video proof Scott can’t go on a drive longer than an hour without complaining that he has to pee - the two jump into the packed Jeep. Scott’s hooking up the iPod to cassette adaptor as Stiles peels out of the parking lot.


“Ready?” Scott asks, his finger hovering over the play icon of their road trip playlist.


“Hell yeah, dude.” Stiles grins as Scott presses play and “California” by Phantom Planet blasts through the Jeep’s speakers. By the time the boys hit the highway, they’re belting out, “CALIFORNIA! CALIFORNIA HERE WE COMEEEE!” as loud as they possibly can.