You&#39;ll always be running

Siiiiiiigh.

"Ugh, you're awful," Derek whined like a whiney whiner who whines. So, essentially like Dawson Leery.

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newroutines

Oh good lord.

"Hey, I bought you all these snacks," he pointed out. "I really can't be that bad just 'cause I'm supposedly not as cool as Stiles."

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"But no playing in the woods." SEE IF HE BROUGHT YOU A DEAD BUNNY, MIKE.

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Oh, Mike, you sweet summer child. "No, no I don't. It's not gonna count for anything."

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"Uh, no, it doesn't work like that," he said. "It's all exercise and eating foods that make you miserable."

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newroutines

"No playing in the woods." And no amount of whining was going to change that. "You can wait until you're on someone else's watch before you do that."

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Pinkie wasn't afraid of anything (okay, she was afraid of most things, but her grandmother had always told her it was okay and she should just laugh them all away, so she was brave about things, too), and the idea of a sleepover . . . intrigued her. It sounded like that new fangled thing she'd heard rumors of on the rock farm, a "party".

And she was really, really tired of pushing rocks around.

So she was there. Standing in a corner not talking to anyone, but she was there.

Every sleepover needed a tiny pink pony in the mix, after all.

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A tiny, anti-social pony at that!

Oh god, it was like they switched personalities, wasn't it?

"No more rocks to push?" Derek asked warily.

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It really kind of was, wasn't it.

"There's always more rocks to push."

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newroutines

"Hey, I'm not sure I even buy that's Derek!" Mike pointed out in his own defence. "Because that makes absolutely no fucking sense at all. This could just be, I don't know, some very elaborate hazing."

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"Where would we find a kid who has the same expressive eyebrows as Derek?" he asked.

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newroutines

Shrug. "I don't know, there are a lot of eyebrows and kids out there in the world."

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"I really hope this island doesn't end up giving you a heart attack." Because, seriously, this wasn't all that bad compared to other stuff he's seen here.

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"We have chips if you like them," Derek offered, assuming that ponies did not eat meat. Because that would just be weird.

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"That sounds awful," Derek informed him needlessly. "I'm really glad I don't have to worry about that."

Other than needing to work out for those abs.

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"Quit bragging," Stiles said, reaching out to do something he would never do to an older Derek and flicking his ear.

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And because Derek wasn't normal, Stiles didn't get his hand broken for it. Instead, he just got a giggle.

Derek stuck his tongue out in response, showing off... well, pretty much the same emotional maturity as he had the week prior.

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Stiles stuck his tongue back out at Derek for a moment before he realized what he was doing. "Man, you are a terrible influence."

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"You're the old person here," Derek replied sagely. "I'm not an influence."

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"Okay, sixteen is not old," Stiles said. "And you totally influenced me to come to this sleepover."

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She was, in fact, entirely vegetarian. "Potato chips?" She even seemed to perk up juuuuuuuuust a tiny bit. "Are they yummy?"

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Derek nodded encouragingly, holding out the open bag for her. Since she didn't have any hands.

Look, he didn't know about the weird pony physics yet.

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"It's pretty old. Old enough to drive." ANCIENT. "You influenced me to--have pancakes."

Yeah. So there.

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Pinkie took the bag in one weirdly rubbery hoof, then somehow managed to fit her whole head inside to try the chips.

She actually made *nomnomnom* noises as she did.

That's right, Derek, the depressed tiny pink pony just got EVEN WEIRDER.

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