[petrovabitch] -- [behaving like teenagers]
In all the time they'd been on the road together -- shooting down the East coast easily, driving on the I-10 until Houston, veering off in a zig-zag until they somehow got to Arizona -- Stiles and Katherine had one thing they simply couldn't agree on: the radio station. Stiles could suffer through eating Thin Mints if Katherine decided to buy some at a gas station instead of the Doritos he asked for. He knew for a fact that the woman could be a mean contender for roadtrip games when Stiles was too antsy to sit still in the car and she'd gotten fed up with it. So it kind of flummoxed him that they just couldn't agree on what to listen to.
He knew they actually had some of the same taste in music; going through her iPod while she was in the bathroom of one of the motels they crashed at would give you that sort of information. At first he'd assumed she wasn't in the mood for the music he'd pick -- he wouldn't be in the mood for Frank Ocean if he was in a bad mood either. But once he realized that she was being recalcitrant on purpose?
All gloves were off.
"Okay, look." Dropping his phone into his lap where he was sitting sprawled in the driver's seat, idling at a red light, he shot the woman next to him a sharp look. "If we can't agree on this, I'm gonna have to resort to putting my earbuds in. And we all know what happens when I do that." Many hours of forced proximity helped a person learn another's quirks quickly, and easily.
Case in point: When Stiles put his earbuds in, he tended to sing with his music. Loudly. Enthusiastically. It caused many a shoe to be thrown at his head before.
