It's about 4 in the morning when Stiles pulls the Jeep over at a gas station that makes his vehicle look like a gleaming Ferrari. The sky is turning from jet black to aquamarine, but this just reminds the occupants of the Jeep that they haven't slept for more than 24 hours now. Stiles, the designated driver, is perhaps doing the worst.

It doesn't help that they've had to squeeze an extra passenger in. It doesn't help even more that this extra passenger is Derek. It doesn't help further that Derek is no longer their elder but a teenager whose hormones are currently stinking up the car.

Cutting the engine, Stiles squeezes the steering wheel for a moment before letting a long sigh out of his lips. "Okay…I need…something…" he mutters.

From the passenger seat, Scott nods his understanding. "Twenty minute break guys, let's stretch our legs, get some food," he says, turning to face the four passengers currently crammed in the back. Derek, who has been asleep for the entirety of the journey and shows no sign of waking soon, Malia, who has her arms forcibly squashed by her side, Kira whose head keeps lolling across onto Malia's shoulder, and Lydia, who can't keep her eyes off the back of the driver's head. At Scott's words, Lydia jumps slightly, as if jerking out of a reverie, before hurrying to pull the door open and allow them all some much needed space. She's pretty quick at getting herself out, but Stiles is still already halfway towards the gas station's shop, head down low and hands in his pockets.

Scott glances to Lydia, and they share a silent moment of communication. You or me? Lydia takes a step towards Stiles, waving a hand back towards the Jeep. "You could use the break as well, Scott. Keep an eye on Derek- I'll check on him." She doesn't wait for an answer, already striding after Stiles.

She catches up with him by the coffee machine, where he's belligerently emptying sachet after sachet of sugar into a paper cup. When she slips her hand up his arm and across his shoulder, he doesn't jump. He had a feeling she would be close behind him, and the gratitude is clear in his eyes when he turns to smile at her. A weak smile, because he hasn't got the energy for much else. "Hey," he says, tugging another cup from the pile and automatically beginning to make up a coffee for her as well.

"Hey," she returns, turning so her back is resting against the counter and so that she can examine his face properly. Stiles, she knows, is good at making his voice sound convincing but his face always gives away what he's actually feeling. Indeed, despite the cheer in his voice, there are creases around his eyes that mean he's barely keeping it together. "You could get Scott to drive, you know. Nobody's going to check insurance documents at this time of night."

Stiles puts Lydia's paper cup under the machine, presses the button for latte before coming to rest against the counter also, shoulders bumping against hers. "It's fine, really. I'd rather think about driving than what I've got in the back of my car." He leans across to bump his chin against the top of her head, leaving it there for a moment. "Thanks, though. How's it going in the back?" he asks a second later, and Lydia decides to indulge in his clear effort to change to subject.

"Squashed," she grumbles, shooting him a glare when his chin bumps against her head with a badly-stifled chortle. "Kira keeps almost falling asleep and then jerking her elbow into my side. It's going to bruise soon."

Stiles' hands come to rest on the offending area, rubbing in slow circles. "You're such a trooper," he sighs with almost sincere admiration. Until she looks up and catches the smirk hovering around the corner of his mouth. With a huff, she jabs him in the ribs with one finger, causing him to jerk back and almost knock over her freshly made coffee.

"You're a dumbass," she retorts, as he hurriedly moves her cup out of harm's way and sets about finishing up his own. He shoots her a mock offended look, but once the machine is whirring away again, he is back to standing beside her with as little space between them as possible.

"I know." He is silent for a moment, eyes fixed on his feet as he carefully lines them up next to Lydia's, distracted for a moment in seeing the difference in size there. Then he turns to her, one arm coming round her shoulders to rest lightly there. "Hey, I'm sorry for snapping at you earlier. By the Jeep. You had every right to be scared, it was a crazy situation. I was just...well, I was just terrified as well."

Lydia nods in acceptance. "I know," she replies, shooting him a little smile before leaning up to press a brief kiss to his cheek. "Like I said: you're a dumbass. But you're forgiven. Next time we take my car."

Stiles makes a 'hmm' noise in return, which Lydia translates as 'I'm not sure I agree with that but I'm too tired to argue about it right now'. But she ignores it, and moves on to what they really should be talking about right now, while they have the chance. She presses her cheek down against the hand on her shoulder, finding a moment of solace in the familiar bumps of his knuckles before speaking again: "We'll get him back to normal Stiles, I promise. There has to be a way."

Stiles nods slowly, glancing down at her. "Is that a banshee prediction?" he asks, eyebrows quirking upwards.

She shakes her head, grinning despite the fact that she's being teased. "No. A Lydia prediction. Which is much more accurate anyway," she points out, nodding in a firm way to convince herself of this fact (a habit that makes Stiles' heart stumble every time she does it).

"Can't argue that," he murmurs, turning round to fetch his coffee. "I had all these expectations, of what we were going to find. Dead Derek, horribly mangled Derek…considering it was Kate I thought any of the above were pretty likely. But I didn't ever think for a second that this could happen. What are we meant to do with him? Is he even going to know who we are?" Derek hadn't spoken since they had found him, not even in the short time when he had been awake. Just sat with a look of utter shock upon his face. And it was driving Stiles crazy.

"All we can do is a wait and see, Stiles. We'll figure it out."

Stiles hands her her coffee, before wrapping his hands around his own cup. "Sleep when we get home for a few hours, then research?" he asks. Right now Lydia can't imagine ever having enough energy again to do something like research but she knows that Stiles is a boy who seeks comfort from having facts sprawled around him. She is in fact surprised (and relieved) that he has actually suggested they sleep first. So she nods. She can already picture the reels of thread he's going to pull out, and she distantly wonders how much red there will be this time.

"Fine. You'd better go buy a whole load of snacks then. I'm not doing this without sustenance. And proper stuff this time, not your Dad's leftover cereal bars."

Stiles takes latte from her so that he can pay for it, then presses a kiss against her forehead in a brief moment of affection that Lydia wishes could be longer. "No cereal bars, promise. I was broke, and it was all I had in the house. Now, though- oh just you wait," he chuckles, shaking his head with a low whistle. "You're going to be calling me Snackmaster after this."

Lydia doesn't dignify that with an answer. Just points towards the snacks to send him on his way before heading out to the car once again. Scott is leaning against the bonnet, keeping an eye on the girl's toilets. Lydia supposes that's where Kira and Malia are, seeing as they can't be seen anywhere else. As Lydia stops beside him, he turns his attention to her. "Is he okay?" he asks.

Lydia wiggles her head from side to side in a 'so-so' motion. "As much as any of us are. He just wants to know what's wrong with Derek."

Scott snorts slightly. "I think we all do," he murmurs, eyebrows creased together with immense concentration. Then the girls are back from the bathroom, talking to each other in hushed voices about whatever it was they saw in the darkness. After that, it doesn't take long for Stiles to reappear again. He has two bags, bulging with snacks. "Okay, seeing as we didn't end up spending all our Derek Hale fund, I went a little wild," he admits, as his four passengers stare at him with bewilderment. Cheeks flushing somewhat, he passes one bag across to Scott. "That's for the car," he says, then hands to other one over to Lydia. "That's for Lydia," he explains with a snigger. Lydia shakes her head in silent derision, moving off towards the back seat again.

She's placing the food at the sleeping Derek's feet when he's back beside her again. Stiles wraps his arms around her middle, loose enough for her to spin around to face him. "Satisfied?" he asks, and Lydia makes a small noise of vague agreement. She doesn't want him being too smug after all. He grins, leans down to press a firm kiss against her lips. "See you at the other end," he murmurs once he's pulled away, "Don't let Kira permanently scar you, eh?"

Lydia grins, then shoves him gently away. "Go!" she chuckles, and he stumbles obligingly away to hop back into the front.

Soon after, the silent gas station fills with the sound of a clattering engine. The Jeep trundles it way back onto the highway, heading onwards towards Beacon Hills. The barely functioning engine is loud enough to echo back for a good two minutes. Then all is quiet once more.