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Somewhere in the midst of running around California with a pack of werewolves, barely scraping a B+ in classes and hiding every aspect of your life from your Dad- somewhere in there, you had acquired two boyfriends.
Somehow.
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It had started as you stopping by the station, bickering with your Dad on the merits of Soy Burgers vs the heart attack waiting to happen your Dad liked to called lunch.
And then possibly the cutest Deputy you had ever seen had stumbled into the room, cutting your monologue short -you'd have been a lot more angry about this had the guy not had the nicest eyes you had ever seen- and announcing he was going on a break.
You had almost brained yourself on the edge of your Dads' desk trying to watch the Deputys' ass as he walked away.
"Who was that guy?"
"Deputy Parrish." Your Dad had given you a look, as if to say 'Don't you dare'. That had just fuelled your curiosity.
---
After that frankly momentus day, you began stopping by more and more. First just spying -rather well, if you do say so yourself- on Deputy Parrish and then it drifted to you spending hours at Parrish's desk, attempting to guess his first name.
After a while you stopped trying to find out his name. Not long after that the conversation began ebbing and flowing perfectly and for once you didn't feel jittery talking to someone. It felt natural. Normal, even.
Somehow, like it snuck up on you, like it seeped into all your breaks and fractures while you were sleepimg, you found yourself falling for Deputy Parrish.
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Things got difficult (more so than usual, that is) when Derek started spending more time with you. The other day he had even offered you a ride when your Jeep had decided it no longer wanted to live.
It was currently at the mechanics but it felt a lot more like it had gone to war. You missed your Jeep.
You missed the feel of the seats and the creak of the door and how it was sometimes reliably unreliable (like a certain werewolf, huh, Stiles?).
But the Camaro- the Camaro was a wet dream in car form.
Soft leather seats and seamless suspension, a smooth, quiet ride. Not to mention the company.
Derek was being odd. More odd than usual. Not his usual brand of odd. No, this was the unsettling type of odd.
Then again, Derek was all kinds of odd. He was a bit like when a dog acted like a cat; all fake-hisses and bringing you dead peace offerings.
That kind of odd.
But this- this was just plain weird.
Derek was talking. Conversing, even. Offering and taking information in a normal, human way. Rather than demanding and threatening just to get what he wants like a five year old throwing a tantrum.
You went along with it, waiting for the other shoe to drop.
It didn't.
You continued to talk.
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The first time he had climbed through your window without there being an imminent threat, you had decked him with a steel baseball bat.
After that, he learned to knock.
---
After three months of school and running with werewolves and lying to your Dad, you managed to fall in love with two impossibly attractive, nice men (Derek was still working on the Nice part, but he was getting there).
---
Somewhere in all of that, they fell in love with you too.
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You had come to realize the world was a strange place the day you walked into the Station and found Derek Hale handcuffed and chatting amicably with Deputy Parrish.
You'd never popped a boner so fast in your life.
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You hated Fae and their stupid Seelie courts and their stupid rules about not saying 'thank you' like any civilized being would.
Mostly though, you hated the way you couldn't get the mental image of Deputy Parrish bending a handcuffed Derek over his desk, fucking him slow and hard out of your head. Yeah.
Totally hated it.
---
After the murder charges had been lifted -the process of which had involved a very careful apology to the Seelie court, two blood pacts and running for their lives- Parrish and Derek hung out more and more.
You were a bit jealous.
Until you got a simple text.
(Tue 1:57 AM)
Want to have dinner?
KP & DH
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The text which lead to you calling Scott at two in the morning on a school night.
"Scott, I need you to cover for me while I go have dinner with my boyfriends."
"Firstly; you have a boyfriend? Secondly; you have multiple boyfriends? "
"Well, not yet. But I think I may? Possibly? I don't know, Scott help me."
"Explain, and fast. It's two in the morning, Stiles."
---
Scott confirmed that yes, you had just been asked out on a date. By two men. Who were both much older than your puny sixteen years. And probably more experienced.
Oh. Shit.
---
Scott, the angel that he is, had covered for you the following day. Thus allowing you to sneak off in the nicest clothes you owned (one dress shirt, the one pair of jeans you owned that didnt have a rip in them somewhere and ratty sneakers. Classy.) And hitch a ride to the restaurant on the outskirts of town.
You almost threw up on your sneakers when you arrived. It might have actually been an improvement.
---
The dinner, surprisingly, was not a disaster. You were highly underdressed (Derek had even worn something other than a leather jacket) and jittery, your words had tumbled out your mouth with absolutely no filter.
But it had been good.
Very good going by the way Parrish was kissing you senseless.
It was your first kiss (Mandy in sixth grade doesn't count) and you were sloppy and uncoordinated and so very jumpy but the way Parrish held your jaw and Derek rocked into you like a solid comfort helped to calm your nerves.
You were outside your house, porch light off and your Dad still at the station for another hour, and it felt a bit like breathing. The way you leaned back into Derek, the warmth of his lips sucking on the soft skin of your neck and the give-and-take of your kiss with Parrish.
Eventually, it ended. Derek pulled away, his breahing ragged and hands clenching around your hips. Parrish pressed one quick kiss to your lips before moving away.
"We'll see you tomorrow, Stiles. Get some sleep." Derek had muttered into the crown of your head, and you'd seen Parrish smile out the corner of your eye.
Derek left first, getting in the Camaro, waiting for Parrish. You were hit with the sudden realization that they would probably go home together, hook-up and forget all about the minor they had just been on a date with.
"Don't get that look on your face, Stiles. You're important to us." Parrish says, as if he says it all the time. It soothes something in you and you lean in for a comfortable hug.
"Don't forget about your jailbait boyfriend." You stumble on the word 'boyfriend' but get through it with a hopeful smile.
"My name's Kyle, by the way." He says by way of a reply before ruffling your hair and climbing into the Camaro.
You stand there, dumbstruck for what could have been hours, before finally heading inside to faceplant straight into bed and smile like an idiot.