Most earthquakes occur within the upper 15 miles of the earth’s surface. But earthquakes can and do occur at all depths to about 460 miles. Their number decreases as the depth increases. At about 460 miles one earthquake occurs only every few years. Near the surface earthquakes may run as high as 100 in a month, but the yearly average does not vary much. In comparison with the total number of earthquakes each year, the number of disastrous earthquakes is very small.[JP]?The extent of the disaster in an earthquake depends on many factors. If you carefully build a toy house with an erect set, it will still stand no matter how much you shake the table. But if you build a toy house with a pack of cards, a slight shake of the table will make it fall. An earthquake in Agadir, Morocco, was not strong enough to be recorded on distant instruments, but it completely destroyed the city. Many stronger earthquakes have done comparatively little damage. If a building is well constructed and built on solid ground, it will resist an earthquake. Most deaths in earthquakes have been due to faulty building construction or poor building sites. A third and very serious factor is panic. When people rush out into narrow streets, more deaths will result.?The United Nations has played an important part in reducing the damage done by earthquakes. It has sent a team of experts to all countries known to be affected by earthquakes. Working with local geologists and engineers, the experts have studied the nature of the ground and the type of most practical building code for the local area. If followed, these suggestions will make disastrous earthquakes almost a thing of the past.There is one type of earthquake disaster that little can be done about. This is the disaster caused by seismic sea waves, or tsunamis. (These are often called tidal waves, but the name is incorrect. They have nothing to do with tides.) In certain areas, earthquakes take place beneath the sea. These submarine earthquakes sometimes give rise to seismic sea waves. The waves are not noticeable out at sea because of their long wave length. But when they roll into harbors, they pile up into walls of water 6 to 60 feet high. The Japanese call them “tsunamis”, meaning “harbor waves”, because they reach a sizable height only in harbors.Tsunamis travel fairly slowly, at speeds up to 500 miles an hour. An adequate warning system is in use to warn all shores likely to be reached by the waves.But this only enables people to leave the threatened shores for higher ground. There is no way to stop the oncoming wave.65. Which of the following CANNOT be concluded from the passage??A. The number of earthquakes is closely related to depth.?B. Roughly the same number of earthquakes occur each year.?、C. Earthquakes are impossible at depths over 460 miles.?D. Earthquakes are most likely to occur near the surfaces.?66. The destruction of Agadir is an example of_____.A. faulty building construction?
B. an earthquake’s strength?C. widespread panic in earthquakes?
D. ineffective instruments?67. The United Nations’ experts are supposed to_____.?A. construct strong buildings?
B. put forward proposals?C. detect disastrous earthquakes?
D. monitor earthquakes?68. The significance of the slow speed of tsunamis is that people may_____.?A. notice them out at sea?
B. find ways to stop them?C. be warned early enough?
D. develop warning systems? - 跟谁学
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Most earthquakes occur within the upper 15 miles of the earth’s surface. But earthquakes can and do occur at all depths to about 460 miles. Their number decreases as the depth increases. At about 460 miles one earthquake occurs only every few years. Near the surface earthquakes may run as high as 100 in a month, but the yearly average does not vary much. In comparison with the total number of earthquakes each year, the number of disastrous earthquakes is very small.[JP]?The extent of the disaster in an earthquake depends on many factors. If you carefully build a toy house with an erect set, it will still stand no matter how much you shake the table. But if you build a toy house with a pack of cards, a slight shake of the table will make it fall. An earthquake in Agadir, Morocco, was not strong enough to be recorded on distant instruments, but it completely destroyed the city. Many stronger earthquakes have done comparatively little damage. If a building is well constructed and built on solid ground, it will resist an earthquake. Most deaths in earthquakes have been due to faulty building construction or poor building sites. A third and very serious factor is panic. When people rush out into narrow streets, more deaths will result.?The United Nations has played an important part in reducing the damage done by earthquakes. It has sent a team of experts to all countries known to be affected by earthquakes. Working with local geologists and engineers, the experts have studied the nature of the ground and the type of most practical building code for the local area. If followed, these suggestions will make disastrous earthquakes almost a thing of the past.There is one type of earthquake disaster that little can be done about. This is the disaster caused by seismic sea waves, or tsunamis. (These are often called tidal waves, but the name is incorrect. They have nothing to do with tides.) In certain areas, earthquakes take place beneath the sea. These submarine earthquakes sometimes give rise to seismic sea waves. The waves are not noticeable out at sea because of their long wave length. But when they roll into harbors, they pile up into walls of water 6 to 60 feet high. The Japanese call them “tsunamis”, meaning “harbor waves”, because they reach a sizable height only in harbors.Tsunamis travel fairly slowly, at speeds up to 500 miles an hour. An adequate warning system is in use to warn all shores likely to be reached by the waves.But this only enables people to leave the threatened shores for higher ground. There is no way to stop the oncoming wave.65. Which of the following CANNOT be concluded from the passage??A. The number of earthquakes is closely related to depth.?B. Roughly the same number of earthquakes occur each year.?、C. Earthquakes are impossible at depths over 460 miles.?D. Earthquakes are most likely to occur near the surfaces.?66. The destruction of Agadir is an example of_____.A. faulty building construction?
B. an earthquake’s strength?C. widespread panic in earthquakes?
D. ineffective instruments?67. The United Nations’ experts are supposed to_____.?A. construct strong buildings?
B. put forward proposals?C. detect disastrous earthquakes?
D. monitor earthquakes?68. The significance of the slow speed of tsunamis is that people may_____.?A. notice them out at sea?
B. find ways to stop them?C. be warned early enough?
D. develop warning systems?
Most earthquakes occur within the upper 15 miles of the earth’s surface. But earthquakes can and do occur at all depths to about 460 miles. Their number decreases as the depth increases. At about 460 miles one earthquake occurs only every few years. Near the surface earthquakes may run as high as 100 in a month, but the yearly average does not vary much. In comparison with the total number of earthquakes each year, the number of disastrous earthquakes is very small.[JP]?The extent of the disaster in an earthquake depends on many factors. If you carefully build a toy house with an erect set, it will still stand no matter how much you shake the table. But if you build a toy house with a pack of cards, a slight shake of the table will make it fall. An earthquake in Agadir, Morocco, was not strong enough to be recorded on distant instruments, but it completely destroyed the city. Many stronger earthquakes have done comparatively little damage. If a building is well constructed and built on solid ground, it will resist an earthquake. Most deaths in earthquakes have been due to faulty building construction or poor building sites. A third and very serious factor is panic. When people rush out into narrow streets, more deaths will result.?The United Nations has played an important part in reducing the damage done by earthquakes. It has sent a team of experts to all countries known to be affected by earthquakes. Working with local geologists and engineers, the experts have studied the nature of the ground and the type of most practical building code for the local area. If followed, these suggestions will make disastrous earthquakes almost a thing of the past.There is one type of earthquake disaster that little can be done about. This is the disaster caused by seismic sea waves, or tsunamis. (These are often called tidal waves, but the name is incorrect. They have nothing to do with tides.) In certain areas, earthquakes take place beneath the sea. These submarine earthquakes sometimes give rise to seismic sea waves. The waves are not noticeable out at sea because of their long wave length. But when they roll into harbors, they pile up into walls of water 6 to 60 feet high. The Japanese call them “tsunamis”, meaning “harbor waves”, because they reach a sizable height only in harbors.Tsunamis travel fairly slowly, at speeds up to 500 miles an hour. An adequate warning system is in use to warn all shores likely to be reached by the waves.But this only enables people to leave the threatened shores for higher ground. There is no way to stop the oncoming wave.65. Which of the following CANNOT be concluded from the passage??A. The number of earthquakes is closely related to depth.?B. Roughly the same number of earthquakes occur each year.?、C. Earthquakes are impossible at depths over 460 miles.?D. Earthquakes are most likely to occur near the surfaces.?66. The destruction of Agadir is an example of_____.A. faulty building construction?
B. an earthquake’s strength?C. widespread panic in earthquakes?
D. ineffective instruments?67. The United Nations’ experts are supposed to_____.?A. construct strong buildings?
B. put forward proposals?C. detect disastrous earthquakes?
D. monitor earthquakes?68. The significance of the slow speed of tsunamis is that people may_____.?A. notice them out at sea?
B. find ways to stop them?C. be warned early enough?
D. develop warning systems?科目:难易度:最佳答案
CABC 

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&a href=&http://archiveofourown.org/works/725835&&&strong&A Slight Distraction&/strong&&/a& (5544 words) by &a href=&http://archiveofourown.org/users/otter&&&strong&otter&/strong&&/a&&br /&Chapters: 2/2&br /&Fandom: &a href=&http://archiveofourown.org/tags/Teen%20Wolf%20(TV)&&Teen Wolf (TV)&/a&&br /&Rating: Teen And Up Audiences&br /&Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply&br /&Relationships: Derek Hale/Stiles Stilinski&br /&Characters: Derek Hale, Stiles Stilinski, Laura Hale, Talia Hale, Dad Hale&br /&Additional Tags: Alternate Universe, Road Trips&br /&Summary: &p&Derek's parents pick up a hitchhiker. Laura is completely horrible. Everything turns out better than expected.&/p&
Published:Completed:Words:5544Chapters:2/2Kudos:3066Bookmarks:Hits:64766
Derek's parents pick up a hitchhiker. Laura is completely horrible. Everything turns out better than expected.
This is a fill for several prompts I received on . Anonymous asked for Stiles hitchhiking and the Hales on a motorhome adventure. Another Anon and neptunepirate also asked for a road trip. This isn't really a proper road trip fic -- I might write you guys one of those someday anyway -- but it's, um. Something like that. Sort of.This is flashfiction based on the prompts, even if it did take me entirely too long to write it, and is therefore not betaed or even particularly well thought through. SORRY NOT SORRY. Title comes from Creedence Clearwater because I couldn't actually help myself.
(See the end of the work for
Secretly, Derek loves the RV.He makes a big production about hating it — the cramped quarters, the forced togetherness, the stupid road trip games, the crappy gas station food, the whole thing — but only because it’s what’s expected of him. Laura firmly believes that Derek doesn’t love anything, and he hates to disappoint her.Really, though, there are all kinds of things that Derek loves about the bi-annual family trip to the Deschutes. He loves the hum of the tires against the road and the good-natured bickering of his parents — his mom always drives and his dad always sits in the passenger seat just so he can argue with her about which route they should take. (They take the same one every year, but his dad always says that I-5 would be faster, and his mom always says that his dad doesn’t understand the importance of scenery, and it usually devolves from there into driver-picks-the-route shotgun-shuts-his-mouth territory.)He loves the way the RV when he was a kid he used to imagine himself on a ship, rolling on the swell of the sea. He loves that their usual route isn’t on the interstate, because it means that sometimes they have to stop for gas in towns that only have one gas station, which also happens to be the bait shop and, on one memorable occasion, the taxidermist. He loves watching the green blur of trees through the RV’s side windows and the hypnotic strobe of the painted road lines through the windshield.He even loves packing, always spends at least an hour combing over his bookcases, looking for just the right volume to bring along to trade with his Uncle Peter. His choices are never as good as Peter’s are, but he thinks he’ this year he’s got a nice hardcover of Monster of God, a treatise on the place of big predators in the human consciousness. Derek found it at a used bookstore and some previous owner has slapped a sticker on the flyleaf that says, Meat is Murder! Peter will think it’s hilarious.Of course, the road trip is just window dressing for a whole week spent in the woods. The Hale pack isn’t huge, but Peter’s married to a White, and the W there are twelve in Newport, another five in Florence, and Aunt Hannah says there are a good forty more spread across lower Alberta, where her grandparents and great-grandparents still live. The outings in the Deschutes are the only time that Derek sees any of his cousins — Beacon Hills isn’t really on the way to anywhere, people don’t just stop by to visit the Hale pack — and he always makes the most of it, literally runs himself ragged playing endless games of chase and tag and, since he turned thirteen, helping to bring down the occasional meal. He loves the freedom of it, the closeness, loves sitting at the edge of the campfire and talking to Peter about the books they exchanged last trip. He loves sleeping in a furry pile with a few of his cousins, going skinny-dipping in the lake, eating venison straight off the haunch.There’s a particular kind of joy that he gets, though, from the ride home, when he’s bone-tired all the way through and he can just crawl into the queen bed in the back with Laura and drop into unconsciousness to the background noise of his parents’ bickering, Laura’s snoring, and the radio playing some small-town oldies station. Derek sighs his happiness and sinks instantly into sleep.When he wakes up, it’s suddenly and completely, all of his senses on guard when he registers the stillness of the RV. The view out the window isn’t of a rest stop or a gas station, it’s of the interstate — dad won the route argument for the way home, then — the slow arc of an on-ramp, a long stretch of trees and the mid-morning sun shining on wet asphalt. It’s still drizzling out.Laura’s awake, too, and Derek nearly catches an elbow to the face when she groans and rolls over. The bed’s comfortable but crawling out is an act of self-defense, at this point. He can hear his parents talking outside, but Laura says, “Oh my god, don’t tell me it’s the fucking engine again. This old beast needs to be put out of its misery,” and Derek’s never been good at listening to two conversations at once, can’t follow the thread of his parents’ voices.“Don’t talk that way about a member of the pack,” he says in a parody of his father’s voice. He doesn’t bother to toe his shoes on as he moves to the side door and swings it open.His parents have both walked back up the on-ramp a pretty good distance, and they’re talking to some kid who’s got a backpack at his feet and a cardboard sign dangling from one hand. There’s a kid like him on practically every on-ramp, in this part of the country, especially along the interstate. He’s laughing at something and waving a hand to illustrate whatever it is he’ they’re all far enough away that Derek’s only picking up a few words here and there, but he supposes it doesn’t matter because they’re about to get a lot more intimate with the guy. His parents are clearly going to offer the kid a ride.“Oh fuck,” Laura says, leaning out the open door behind Derek. “Not another student hitchhiker. Remember the last one, with the guitar? Jesus, I couldn’t get the terrible rhyming schemes out of my head for weeks.”“I thought they were pretty good, for a guy who did all his writing stoned. Remember that weird guy with the knife?” Derek smiles fondly at the memory.“Seriously your best moment,” Laura says, ruffling his hair. He doesn’t mind, he’s sure he already has bed-head. “I’ve never heard a scream quite that high-pitched. He’s probably going to live the rest of his life thinking all ten-year-olds are secretly killing machines.”“They are, when provoked,” Derek says, distractedly. His parents are walking back now, the kid trailing behind them with his overstuffed backpack slung over his shoulder.Something about his gait is almost familiar. He’s wearing jeans and plaid — well, it is Oregon — with scuffed red Chucks and black-rimmed glasses. He’s handsome, too, with broad shoulders and long fingers wrapped around the strap of his backpack and a constellation of moles on a jawline that Derek used to stare at while the kid sat on the bench at lacrosse games and oh, fuck—“Hey, isn’t that that freshman you used to be completely gone over?” Laura says. She whistles low under her breath. “Damn, he’s not a freshman anymore, is he?” She doesn’t get anything else out, because Derek whirls around and shoves her back into the RV, like he’s just trying to be polite and clear the doorway for their new passenger.“We do not speak of that,” Derek hisses, and he knows it’s no fucking use because his parents will have heard him and Laura both, and they can’t be trusted to keep privileged information to themselves.Sure enough, when Derek turns around to greet the new arrival, his mom is smirking at him and his dad is rolling his eyes. Mom says, “Stiles, I don’t know if you’ve met our son Derek, and our daughter Laura. You’ll have to excuse their manners, they were raised by actual wolves.”Laura snorts. Derek doesn’t even bother to express any sort of disdain for the well-worn family joke because he’s too busy panicking.Stiles’ lips turn up in a tentative smile, and he uncurls those fingers from the shoulder strap of his backpack to give them a little half-wave. “Yeah, Derek and I went to school together. You probably don’t remember, I was a freshman the year you graduated.”The sound Laura makes at that can only be described as a guffaw. She leans out of the door again and says, “Oh, he remembers,” like she thinks she’s the most hilarious ever when actually she’s just the worst, in general.“Yeah, lacrosse team right?” Derek says, trying to sound casual. “I used to come to the games sometimes.”Laura moves back into the RV to make room, but her laughter echoes in there, loud and braying. Derek seriously considers dragging her out of the vehicle and burying her body in the woods.Mom sighs like she’s regretting her decision to whelp any children at all — she tells them that she regrets them at least once a month, which is her way of expressing her love. She sometimes calls Derek when he’s away at college and signs off with, I gave you life and I can take it away again, so you’d better study for that damn test. She climbs up the steps into the RV and says, “It’s lucky we came along, S hitchhiking is certainly a dangerous way to travel these days.” She clearly thinks she’ she flashes her long canines at Derek as she passes him by, doing her best impression of a B-movie villain.Stiles laughs a little nervously and follows her into the belly of the beast. “I don’t even know, this is the first time I’ve tried it and you’re only the second ones to stop.”“What happened with the first ones?” Derek asks. He climbs in, too, tugs the pack from Stiles’ shoulder and wedges it into a corner where it won’t fall victim to Mom’s occasionally reckless driving.“Oh, well, I kind of said thanks but no thanks,” Stiles says. “It was this guy in like his sixties, listening to techno music and wearing a poncho. He didn’t ask me where I was headed, he just wanted to know, uh. How long I was.”Laura laughs again, and Derek can feel himself flush bright red because now he’s thinking about how long Stiles might be and it’s really not good for his conversational skills or for the personal resolution he made in senior year to not turn into a complete pervert every time Stiles crossed his line of vision. (He wasn’t any good at maintaining that resolution back then, either.)“Amateurs,” Laura scoffs. “I bet he didn’t even specify whether he wanted a flaccid or erect measur—”She doesn’t get a chance to finish because Derek bodily shoves her back onto the bed, and she starts laughing her head off, although this time he suspects it’s more because of the look on his face than anything else. At least it makes her stop talking.“Well, it’s a good thing we stopped,” Dad says, from his seat up front. Mom’s already started the engine up again and they’re rolling down the on-ramp. “It’s a long way to Beacon Hills, when you’re thumbing it. Who knows how many depraved sexual favors you may have had to perform.”Clearly Derek is the only sane and sociable person in his entire family, which is saying something, since he’s also generally acknowledged to be a brooding wannabe-recluse. “So uh, what are you doing all the way up here?” he asks, and waves a hand at the dining table, inviting Stiles to sit down.Stiles is blushing, too, bright pink crawling up his neck and tinging the tips of his ears, and he seems relieved to have a simple question to answer as he drops himself into the narrow booth. “I’m in my second year at Oregon S I’m just headed home for spring break. My Jeep’s in the shop, and I was supposed to be catching a ride as far as Eureka with another guy from school, but he ditched me at that gas station back there. I was just trying to hitch to Roseburg so I could catch a Greyhound.”“Your friend just drove off without you?” Laura says. Her outrage is kind of gratifying. “What an asshole.”“Language, Laura,” Dad says, absently, from the passenger seat. He forgets sometimes that they’re grown-ass adults now and are no longer bound by the rules of the swear jar.“Sorry, what a fucking asshole,” Laura amends. Dad laughs.Stiles nods, spreads his hands open on the table. “Right? Total dick. He’s not really a friend, though. Obviously. Lesson learned, when bumming a ride with a known asshole, don’t pony up your half of the gas money until you’ve actually arrived at your destination.”“That’s rough,” Derek says, trying to sound sympathetic and pretend he’s not staring at Stiles’ broad palms or admiring the curve of those fingers. He turns away and opens the cabinets in the little kitchen area, comes up with a half a bag of Cheetos and some beef jerky. He brings both with him when he slides into the dining nook opposite Stiles, like he needs an offering to justify his presence in Stiles’ space. He’s aware even as he’s doing it that it’s slightly pathetic, but he can’t really help himself, and Stiles doesn’t even seem to mind when their feet tangle together in the tight space beneath the table.Stiles grins when he accepts the Cheeto offering, though, and from there things are surprisingly easy. Derek asks completely normal questions about Stiles’ school, his major, his dad, and manages to hold back all of the completely inappropriate questions that are going through his mind. His parents are ignoring them, or at least pretending to, and Laura is mercifully keeping her mouth shut, dozing in the back and evidently enjoying having the bed to herself.Derek’s never actually talked to Stiles before, never had any classes with him in high school, but he’s certainly listened to Stiles talk plenty. His usual table at lunch was the one just behind wherever S he used to sit and pretend to read while he listened to Stiles and his friend Scott talk about all the normal things that kids talked about, homework and girls and who had kicked whose ass in Mario Kart the night before. It was borderline creepy, the way Derek hovered there at the edge of Stiles’ life, and thank god Laura had already graduated by then or he never would’ve heard the end of it.Still, it’s a different experience entirely to have Stiles talking to him, watching Stiles’ mouth move and his whole body animate the discussion. He’s different in a lot of ways than he was as a slightly gawky
his voice has dropped a little, and he’s put on height, too. He’s probably a good inch taller than Derek now, with broad shoulders and well-muscled forearms on display where the sleeves of his overshirt are pushed up. His clothes are still damp from the Oregon weather, and the plaid shirt clings just enough to show off a surprisingly defined physique. He hadn’t looked like that in high school, even with the benefit of Coach Finstock’s insane lacrosse workouts.“So, uh,” Stiles says, and Derek realizes he’s been staring for too long and has missed some sort of conversational cue. “You’re at Humboldt State, right? What are you studying?”“I’m finishing up a biological sciences degree,” Derek says, before his brain catches up with him. “Wait, how did you know I’m at HSU?”Stiles’ mouth opens, but he doesn’t get a chance to respond. Laura groans dramatically from the bed in the back, and then throws herself out of it, her bare feet slapping the few angry steps that it takes for her to get to the table. “I can’t take any more of this, okay?” she says. “It is literal torture. Have either of you assholes heard of the Geneva Conventions?”Stiles says, “Um, was that rhetorical, or—””Yes,” Laura snaps, and shoves Stiles over so she can squeeze onto the bench seat next to him. She throws her arm over his shoulders, too, just to make sure he can’t climb over the back of his seat and escape. “Stiles— can I call you Stiles? What’s your real name?”“That would take actual torture,” he tells her. “Stiles is fine.”“Now I’m intrigued, I hope you realize I’ll never let the matter rest,” Laura says. “Except for right now, because I have important information to impart to you. Are you ready?”“Laura, leave him alone,” Derek says, but he senses it’s already too late. His options here are bad and worse: let her speak, very bad, or make an incredibly horrible impression on their guest by physically tackling her and attempting to beat her into submission. Worse.“Stiles is my bro,” Laura informs him. Her narrowed eyes also communicate that should he try to physically stop her from talking, he will lose. Painfully. “We’re just having a chat. Stiles, I have to tell you that my brother is—”Derek’s not proud. He lunges out of his seat and slaps his hand over Laura’s mouth. It’s not an entirely effective strategy, because as he’s known since childhood, Laura is a biter. She doesn’t even need to draw blood, he’s in a bad position with no leverage — well, no leverage without displaying any completely inhuman abilities — and it takes an extremely small amount of effort for Laura to lean back just beyond his reach and free her mouth long enough to speak.“My brother is totally in love with you,” she says, way too loud. She blindly kicks out at Derek under the table, too, and between the physical pain and the mortification Derek’s basically mortally wounded. He shrinks back against the bench seat and seriously considers crying.“Laura,” Dad snaps from up front. It’s his do-not-fuck-with-me voice, an undercurrent of snarl in it. When Derek looks at him — because he can’t look at Stiles, he might actually die of sadness if he does that — Dad is twisted around in his seat and scowling.“Well he is, and I can’t deal with it anymore!” Laura yowls. “He’s so pathetic! It’s like Stiles this and Stiles that and Stiles scored the winning goal and dear diary, Stiles has the world’s most impeccable ass! This whole thing right now is like the set-up of a romantic fucking comedy and Derek still isn’t going to make a move. If you’re going to yell at somebody you should yell at Derek for failing to grow a pair and just ask him out already.”Derek’s blushing so hard he thinks he’s in danger of spontaneous combustion. He looks down at the tabletop, at his fingers, and tries to focus on nothing but the hammering of his own heart in his chest. He can hear Dad getting up from the passenger seat in the front and coming back to where they’ if the sound Laura makes is any indication, Dad grabs an ear when he hauls her up out of her seat.“We’ve spent the last week in the woods,” Dad says apologetically, to Stiles. “Apparently Laura’s forgotten we’re civilized people and this is not a nature documentary. I hope you’ll excuse us.” Then he drags Laura away, much to Derek’s relief.“Sorry,” Derek says, without looking up. He’s not entirely sure what he’s apologizing for — Laura’s behavior, his own slightly creepy fixation, the fact that he is now completely incapable of looking Stiles in the eye. There are just really a lot of options.Stiles doesn’t say anything, but his foot nudges against Derek’s in the footwell, their calves pressing together. Stiles’ fingers twitch against the tabletop like he’s not sure what to do with them.They already stopped a few miles back, where they picked up Stiles, but the RV lurches and slows, taking another off-ramp. Mom calls out from the front, “I’m making an executive decision to stop for snacks, you boys want anything?”“Uh, no thanks, I’m good,” Stiles calls back. “Derek? You want anything?” His voice is softly prodding, like he’s hoping Derek will look up to answer, so maybe he’s at least planning on letting Derek down gently. Derek just shakes his head, so Stiles says, “Derek’s okay too.”His parents park them in the farthest end of a gas station parking lot, and then drag Laura out with them to the store. Derek’s hoping she’ll be denied snack-picking privileges for the rest of time and also that she’ll receive an additional tongue-lashing while they’re gone.Stiles stays in the RV, though, slides himself back over on the bench until he’s opposite Derek, like he was before. He’s silent for a long moment, and then he says, “I get it. You’re not a big talker. I mean… you were pretty quiet in school, too. I noticed. Actually I kind of noticed everything about you. Freshman year you used to sit at the table behind mine at lunch and I’d go a little nuts just listening to you breathe. I wanted to invite you to sit with us, because you always ate alone, but Scott thought I was crazy because you were a senior and you had enough muscles to like, crush his head with your bare hands.”Derek snorts, and he lifts his gaze just enough that he can see the curl of a smirk at the corners of Stiles’ mouth. Stiles’ fingers tap against the tabletop again, decisively, and then he reaches out across the few inches of empty space between them and slides his fingers into the curve of Derek’s hand, his fingertips brushing Derek’s palm, his thumb skimming along the length of Derek’s like he’s trying to coax Derek into closing his grip.Derek’s quiet and awkward and painfully socially incompetent, but he’s not stupid. He shifts his hand and laces their fingers together, holding on tight enough to make himself plain. He looks up, and Stiles is grinning at him, soft and fond.“Do you really think I have an impeccable ass?” Stiles asks, his fingers flexing against Derek’s hand like he’s testing the fit of them together.“I wrote a poem about it,” Derek says, deadpan. “Iambic pentameter. It would seriously move you to tears.”“I have certain thoughts about your everything,” Stiles confesses, like it’s just that easy. He’s grinning so wide his face probably hurts. “Can I kiss you? I’ve sort of been thinking about it since I was fifteen.”It’s awkward, crammed as they are in the dining nook, but Stiles leans over the table and Derek does, too, meets him halfway, and it’s really just… easy. Good. And maybe he’s just going a little bit insane because he’s been thinking about Stiles for years, too, never quite got over even the idea of him, but that kiss feels like the start of something. When Stiles tries to sink back into his seat, Derek grabs him by the front of his shirt and drags him into another kiss, longer and deeper, slightly filthy.When he finally lets go, Stiles slumps back into his seat like he can’t remember how to hold himself up, and there’s a dazed look on his face. Derek considers it a job well done.“Laura hates public displays of affection,” Derek says.“Um,” Stiles answers, eloquently. “Okay?”“She really enjoys engaging in them, mostly to torture anyone in her immediate vicinity, but she hates having to witness them. She can’t even stand watching people kiss in movies. It’s a thing with her. She says she was traumatized by walking in on our parents having sex when she was seven.”“And you’re telling me this because…” Stiles prompts. He licks his lips and blinks like he’s slowly recovering his mental faculties.“I just think living well is the best revenge,” Derek says. “I mean, it’s a good six hour drive to Beacon Hills. There’s a bed right there. We could spend that entire time making out.”“That’s just unrealistic, some of that’s going to have to just be straight-up cuddling,” Stiles says. “I fucking love cuddling, so I hope you’re a fan. Not that I’m at all unenthusiastic about this entire idea, but I foresee a couple of problems. Your parents—”“They’ll turn up the radio and pretend we’re not even here,” Derek says. “Also they spent like five years living in a nudist colony in the 60s. I think we’d have to actually be filming a porno back here to get them to notice.”Stiles hums like he’s thinking and taps the fingertips of his free hand against his lips, like he’s considering the pros and cons of chapped lips and having to ignore an inevitable erection. From the look on his face he might also be considering the ‘filming a porno’ idea. Finally he stands up and says, “Yeah, okay,” and leads Derek by the hand toward the bed.By the time everyone else gets back from the convenience store, Derek and Stiles are already five minutes into what’s proving to be a slow, luxurious exploration of the ground between first and second base. Stiles is stretched out on his back and his jawline’s already rubbed a bit red from the stubble that Derek hadn’t bothered to shave this morning. He’s also got his hands up the back of Derek’s shirt and Derek’s stroking his own hand down Stiles’ forearm. Derek doesn’t actually care about his sister’s extremely vocal outrage, his dad’s completely inappropriate critique of Derek’s technique, or the way his mom sighs in a put-upon way as she turns the radio up loud enough to sufficiently drown out the wet noises of lips and tongues.Laura says, “This is going to be a long fucking drive,” pointedly drops herself into Derek’s former seat — the one facing away from the bed — and sinks her teeth into a Cheeto like she’s got a personal vendetta against cheesy snacks.“You have only yourself to blame,” Mom points out, and sends the RV lurching into motion with enough power that it rocks Derek and Stiles a little tighter together.Dad just turns up the radio even louder and shakes out a map like it’s even possible to find a quicker route home.Derek hears all that, but doesn’ he dips his fingers just under the hem of Stiles’ t-shirt, skims a touch along lean muscled abs, and licks along the line of Stiles’ throat. He’s only interested now in hearing the way Stiles’ breath catches and the stutter of his heart when Derek touches just the right way. Derek’s always been quiet, too shy in high school to even talk to Stiles, let alone touch him. He’s not sure it matters, he’s discovering that words are overrated, anyway. His hands are sketching declarations against Stiles’ skin and his lips are asking questions against Stiles’ mouth, and it seems to be more than enough. From the way Stiles’ fingers flex against his back and Stiles’ body shifts against his own, it’s obvious that Stiles speaks his language.
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