"I'm pretty sure you don't gotta explain any of that shit to me," Scott replied with an affectionate smile Stiles' way, "I get you. You get me. They lived happily ever after. The end."
He held up his hands and grinned, "and then you didn't. Cause you were a tall kid but you're not that tall now you're grown," Scott pointed out. "Besides, mostly I meant me. I mean, with my asthma, I don't see me doing sports any time soon." He'd probably die first. Then there was Stiles looking at him and the seriousness in his eyes had to make him think twice. Would Stiles make this shit up, just to fuck with him? Possibly. Would he buy a Jeep and try and pretend it came out of a dream? No. That was too far-fetched and that was the very thing that made Scott reconsider his view. "You really think this is real, don't you?" and Scott didn't just mean the Jeep.
"Should have known you'd pull that," he answered with a laugh, "fine. I can wait. So what happened with your dad when he was a teenager?" Scott wanted to know, "and how the hell did you get to be ten again?" This whole city was starting to look pretty screwed up right now. "Am I even safe here?" he asked with a frown.