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It was four in the morning when Stiles pulled himself out of bed, poured bleach into a water bottle, and drove out of the house to commit a felony by destroying evidence of a criminal case. He was back before his Dad ‘woke’ him and Scott for breakfast, giving them pointed once-overs that turned into unabashed relief when they crawled over each other like lost puppies in search of pancake syrup. Stiles hadn’t said anything. He just tried to eat with one hand, while the other clasped Scott’s tight. His Dad talked to Melissa McCall about excusing Scott from a day of classes, and Stiles felt negative guilt.
Morning light had a way of erasing every shameful mistake the night allowed. Stiles was grateful that Scott didn’t think they were a mistake. He was more grateful still that Scott did mean it about the diagrams (and Lydia, and all of it).
"Arsonists," Stiles explained, with Scott tucked into his side as a Stargate rerun played on the television. "I kinda figured - the Hale fire is at the center of all of it. I figured Tall, Dark and Creepy wanted his revenge. It’s gotta be someone tied into the Hale case, or like, some really empathetic psycho."
They’d have to talk to Big Brother Werewolf about this, obviously. The dude was always watching, but Scott apparently didn’t have a direct way to contact him. There was only so much library searches and breaking into police files could tell them. Even Google had its limits.
Now that Stiles thought about it, he was affronted. He’d seen the older werewolf at least a dozen times. The guy was not subtle, but he tended to aggressively brood as he glowered at people. Stiles preferred not to think about that when he could slide his legs between Scott’s and use him as a blanket.
(They were distracting themselves for the greater good of humanity or something; they could talk later).
___
Scott never felt when Stiles slipped from the bed, utterly exhausted and dead to the world. The last few weeks had taken their toll on the boy, draining him emotionally and pushing him past his limits. He only stirred when Stiles returned, reaching for the warmth beside him by instinct in his sleep and breathing in the scent that seemed to calm him. Being caught by the sheriff was a whole new level of embarrassment, but it came with pancakes so Scott just flashed the brightest smile he could manage in the morning at Stiles’s Dad who just sighed and rolled his eyes.
He didn’t let go of Stiles, invading his space and making sure to crowd against him to keep as much contact as possible. The boy made him feel human and in control for the first time in ages and Scott didn’t want to lose that. The overwhelming guilt only made it worse and he rested his head on Stiles’s shoulder, half listening and half dozing as they scrolled through too many police reports that all started to look the same.
“I thought everyone else died in the fire?” Scott frowned, tracing his finger across the computer screen. “Derek doesn’t really talk about it much. Honestly, he said he’d teach me control but only if I let him use me to find the alpha. Whoever it is, even if it’s someone connected to what happened to his family, Derek doesn’t know either.” He couldn’t remember the alpha’s face. Scott knew he’d seen it, they’d talked, he’d looked straight at him but all he could see were the eyes and the rage emanating from him. The absolute certainty that they had to hunt these people down and the pride when Scott hadn’t been able to stop himself from answering the call.
“I think he still lives there, dude.” The wolf picked up one of the glossy photos of the ruined Hale house from the folder. “At least I’ve talked to him there when he’s not randomly jumping me. I’m not positive, but I don’t know any other way to find him unless he finds me first.” And after last night, who knew what would happen? The look Derek had given him when his eyes had flared had been a shock, Scott wasn’t sure what it meant.
____
"He sounds… Really useless, dude, not even sorry." Stiles replied, and even though his opinion of Derek had improved (inasmuch that he didn’t think he was a raging murderer anymore), it hadn’t gotten much better. He reached over Scott, stole a handful of nachos, and got crumbs in his - his Scott’s hair. They had to work on that. The idea of ‘boyfriend’ did things to his digestive system, things that weren’t great but were also amazing. Thank God for traumatic murders, the perfect distractions.
His Dad would be so pissed that he wasn’t getting the proper rest he was supposed to. He also probably wouldn’t be all that surprised.
"I don’t think he’s tied it together… Otherwise, he’d have been at the video store, too, trying to talk to one of the dudes who murdered his family. We should probably ask him about that." Stiles didn’t want to move. His legs were falling asleep under Scott’s weight. His neck hurt when he moved it too quickly. His knuckles were just healing up right. He wanted to rest for the rest of his life, maybe.
He tilted Scott’s head up, and kissed him, slow and sweet and more than a little salty. Crumbs everywhere. They were going to capture a werejerk.
They just didn’t expect to interrupt him mid-kidnap.
___
Scott shrugged, agreeing without actually agreeing and brushing the crumbs from his hair with barely a pause. If he was honest, Derek scared him a little, but he was more scowl than bite. None of the older wolf’s “lessons” seemed to work and there was something cold about holding control in exchange for using Scott to track the alpha. Derek might know about being a werewolf, but the boy was sure there must be a better way that didn’t involve being an angry loner for the rest of his life. Or a killer. He just wasn’t quite sure how to find it or how to fight, but for the first time in his life he felt that he might have a reason to try. Scott could be better for someone else.
“He said I had a connection to him and the alpha wanted me in his back, but that was before. I can’t feel the alpha unless he wants me to, it just cuts off. I wish I could help more, but I can’t…” Stiles’s lips were on his own and suddenly there wasn’t anything important that he needed to say. Scott wanted to push the way they used to, crossing boundaries and testing how far they could go, but he held back. There was fear between them now, uncertainty where there’d just been trusting abandon and he was sorry for it…but it was something.
He still followed and where Stiles went, he wasn’t far behind. “Derek, STOP!” Scott snarled, grabbing the older wolf by the wrist and yanking him back from the bloodied, unconscious form of his boss from the animal clinic, tied and slumped over in a chair. “What the hell are you doing?! You can’t just go around kidnapping and beating people, Dr. Deaton hasn’t done anything!” Blue eyes burned coldly as Scott wedged himself between Derek and the Vet. “Hit him again and you’ll see me get angry.”
___
Derek obviously knew some things, even if social etiquette and Not Being a Dick were subjects that were out of his reach. Stiles would grill him for all he was worth, but he couldn’t right now, because the goddamn monster was trying to tear apart a man who helped puppies for a living. Dude wasn’t winning any points in Stiles’ book. He rushed to Deaton’s side, hastily untying his bonds, even if it meant circumventing a temperamental Alpha.
Scott was kind of impossibly hot. Stiles wanted to be more distracted about that then he was. It was an easier thought to swallow than the fear that bubbled through him as he thought about how it felt to be like on the receiving end of those eyes.
"I told you to stay away from him," Derek snarled, like he was about to sprout fangs, and Stiles felt something in his gut drop. He snarled around a burst of anger, and worked faster over Dr. Deaton’s binds. "You don’t know what you’re getting into, Scott."
"Then tell him!" Stiles demanded, trying to shake the vet awake. He wondered if rubbing his bald head would produce a genie or something.
Derek ignored him, fixing Scott with an unforgiving gaze. “The Alpha has you.”
___
Scott flinched, eyes fading back to brown but refusing to move out of the way. “I know, and I need your help, Derek. You said you were going to try and teach me control, but all you do is keep things from me.”
“I do it to protect you.” The older wolf growled, annoyed at having to explain himself to these idiots.
“Do I look like I’m safe?! I’ve hurt people, dude. I’ve killed people and I don’t know if I can stop. You want to find the alpha, I want my life back, we need to work together. I want to be normal again.”
“And you think you can do it with him?” Derek gestured towards Stiles. “I told you that you needed to stay away from him and focus on control or you’d end up hurting someone and you didn’t listen to me. Why do you want my help now?”
Scott sighed, rubbing a hand across his face. “Because I want to trust you. You said we were brothers and I need help. If you really meant it, then help me figure this out. And let my boss go! He’s not the alpha, I can’t remember what he looks like, but he’s not Deaton. I just…I know he’s not.”
The Hale studied the two boys with a scowl that seemed to be etched permanently across his face. This boy was a liability and a responsibility he didn’t need. The only thing that mattered was finding the alpha who had killed his sister and having his revenge on the creature who stole the last part of his family away. Still…the boy seemed determined and there was something earnest about him that struck a chord in Derek. He was afraid and still not backing down, there might be hope for him yet. The other was just an annoying sidekick that he hoped he’d be able to ignore. Or punch in the face, whatever came first.
“You don’t know what the Alpha looks like, your boss knows more than you think he does.”
Scott crossed his arms stubbornly. “It’s not him. Maybe you should try asking instead of beating the crap out of someone. Not everything has to end with people getting hurt.”
___
Every time Derek opened his mouth, Stiles liked him less. Scratch that, every second they remained in his presence, Stiles liked him less. This was a mistake. Reasoning with brick walls would be more effective than trying to reason with Derek Hale. It was sad that he was the best source of werewolf information that they had. So, they tipped their hand, put out as many cards as they could, with Stiles intermittently smacking Dr. Deaton across the face. The dude was dead weight, and he hid a lot of muscle under that lab coat.
All they got for their trouble was one, strangled name. Stiles didn’t think the werewolf was capable of emotions, but when he spoke, it was like he felt everything at once.
Then he kind of just growled, and retreated. Stiles yelled to no avail, “Should we call you?! Do you have a little wolfy phone?!” Stiles didn’t even care that he might be overheard when he rounded on Scott, trying to jerk Deaton in arms that were steadily going numb. “Wow, he’s the shittiest wolf-bro, dude.”
The vet took that moment to remind them all that he wasn’t dead. Offering to take him back to his clinic must have been the best idea they had. Apparently only 90% of his work was curing puppies. The rest of the time, he spent curing considerably bigger puppies. He had the decency to apologize for his delay. Apparently, Deaton had his own investigations to complete, and something called mountain ash was a lot more potent than either of them could have imagined.
"This is some wild shit, dude," Stiles murmured, after he’d drawn a circle of the stuff around his bed, which made things a little awkward. He was exhausted, but it was a good sort of exhausted. He hoped Scott’s mom was okay with him spending another night at Stiles’ place, but they were still trying to work out their mosquito net strategy. The mosquitoes they were keeping back bit with considerably more force.
___
Stiles was helping. Scott kept trying to remind himself of that and keep from sighing. Snarking at Derek only made the older man close off, though what they did learn made Scott’s stomach twist nervously. Kate, he’d heard that name before from Allison talking about her family visiting over lunch. He was pretty sure he’d even met her once at a lacrosse game, completely unaware she was some kind of psycho murderer and they were all probably looking for a way to track him down and shoot him in the head.
At least Dr. Deaton was okay, though the fact he knew all about werewolves was completely unnerving. What else did he know? A few handfuls of magic dust later, they’d been sent on their way and Scott felt like he had more questions than he started with. The world was starting to be a really weird and unfamiliar place.
“Yeah…” he murmured, running his fingers through the air until they met resistance with a flash of blue light, his own eyes reflecting back blue in surprise. Jolting electricity shot through his nerves like he been playing live wires and he yanked his hand back with a yelp, sticking the tingling fingers in his mouth. “Ow! Jeez, this stuff really works. What the hell is gonna happen if I have to pee or something, dude?” Scott focused on the more important questions so he could gloss over the ones that really preyed on his mind. What if he tries to call me again? What if I want to go? What if I hurt you? What if this doesn’t hold?
The boy settled warily back onto the bed, not trusting that some sort of magical force field was going to help and wishing that Deaton had told them more. He watched Stiles quietly, grateful that no matter how crazy all of this seemed, there was someone who stuck by him so he didn’t have to go through it alone. “Are you sure this is going to be safe?” For you?
___
Stiles watched with bated breath as Scott tested the barrier, more concerned then he’d like to voice. He thought he could jump the distance, if necessary. He wouldn’t need all that much leverage. He’d just have to miss that line of powder. It worked. It really worked. Stiles reached across the barrier to grab his soda, and generously finished off the last few drops before tossing it at the werewolf. Problem solved.
"Not at all, but I’m hoping you won’t try to kill me this time around." Stiles said, aggressively chipper, and it’d be a long time before he was willing to let that go.
"Your boss, dude," he added, almost too quick to leave much of an impact, but Stiles trailed off. He’d scene a lot of things in the past - two days (and woah, was that friggin hilarious), but some supernatural spy vet sort of took the cake. At least with Derek, Stiles thought they’d be able to control him. Deaton was on another level entirely.
He dropped back to his sheets, and pulled Scott tight against him. Everything wasn’t forgiven, but Stiles knew he wanted this. He needed it. “We’ll try this. If it doesn’t work, we’ll try something else… I’m more concerned about Lydia’s best friend being some crazy Buffy chick.”
___
The wolf glowered, unamused as he set the bottle by the side of the bed. That wasn’t happening, a guy had to have some limits. His expression immediately shifted to one of guilty concern and Scott ducked his head, letting his eyes drop. “Yeah, I’ll try to work on the not killing you part.”
It amazed him that Stiles was still willing to put himself in so much danger after what had happened. He’d killed a man right in front of him, but here he was, arms wrapped around a monster like it wasn’t a big deal. No one had ever believed in him before, no one thought he was strong enough or trusted him with something so important. Scott only hoped he’d be able to live up to that much faith.
“Do you think she’s part of the group? I just saw her Dad and some others I didn’t recognize. If the whole family is in the werewolf hunting business, what am I supposed to do? How am I supposed to sit next to her in econ and just pretend that she’s not actively trying to put an arrow in my face?” Scott groaned, turning his face into Stiles’s body. They were hunting him from both sides and there wasn’t space enough left to run. He wasn’t sure how much longer he could keep ahead of everything before someone caught him. The wolf searched his friend’s face like he could find answers, nervous and fighting with himself before pressing a quick kiss to Stiles’s mouth. Small steps.
____
Stiles wouldn’t let him go.
He pulled Scott in for another kiss, bandaged hand just a hint too shaky, but it didn’t matter when he could press their mouths together and inhale Scott in. Stiles had a problem. It had claws and fangs and threw him against walls, but last night, he hadn’t had a single nightmare. It set a precedent that he was eager to live up for. If Stiles could get a good night’s sleep, then he could stand not being able to look directly at the guy he was nuts for. Loved, maybe.
In his mind, the image of blood splattering on dirty tiles juxtaposed with how pale Scott had been in his hospital bed. He ran his hands through his hair, and tugged his wolf against his side.
"Nah, she’s seen you practice, dude. If she doesn’t think you’re a werewolf after all that, she’s the worst hunter in the world." Or so Stiles hoped. He ducked his head, curling into a pillow he decided they were sharing. "How much was it? I mean… Since the hospital, how much of us was werewolf?"
___
Drawing the line between himself and whatever it was inside of him was difficult, he couldn’t tell where one ended and the other began. His wants, his rage all blurred together and amplified until it left him feeling like he was going to split apart. “I-I don’t know.” Scott admitted, tracing his fingers aimlessly across the sheets.
“It makes it harder to restrain myself? Does that make sense? It makes me feel fearless, like I don’t care if anyone knows what I want. The things I said…I’m sorry I was so pushy. There’s all this anger and I don’t know what to do with it.” It terrified him, he couldn’t remember ever having so much fury inside and sometimes it was all he could do not to lash out. “When I tried to make you leave, I didn’t mean what I said. I was just being an ass and it was hard to make it stop. I’m sorry for everything.”
All of this couldn’t just be because he’d been bitten. They’d started before when Scott was a nobody and Stiles had liked him then. Everyone else only saw him after it had happened, but Stiles had seen him when no one else could. It wasn’t the wolf. “The good parts were real. Weren’t they real?”
___
Stiles wondered if it would be a permanent thing now, anger issues up the nads. He thought about how Scott refused to back down, outmatched and outnumbered, when Jackson was looking for the wrong sort of entertainment. It made a lot of sense. He was sorry, too.
He tangled their fingers together, bringing Scott’s hand up to kiss his knuckles. He traced the callouses on his palm, and the soft skin in its center. Scott was always so gentle. Stiles didn’t know how he could mistake him for the monster. “The good parts were real.”
Stiles would make them real. He’d just discovered that black glitter could keep werewolves at bay, and he wasn’t running to the cops about sleeping with a murderer. Anything was possible, and this was something he was willing to fight for.
"Do you remember?" Stiles asked tentatively. He loaded his gun and took aim. He had a clear shot of his foot. "When you told me to leave - before that."
___
Stiles had loved him.
Scott swallowed, tightening his fingers around Stiles’s. “I remember.” The words were soft and apologetic. He’d panicked, there wasn’t any other excuse, moon addled and riding high from accepting his alpha’s influence. Letting someone in when his fingers were still stained with blood, he couldn’t risk it. He hadn’t been thinking, though that seemed to be the case in most of these bad decisions.
“I remember I didn’t stop when you wanted me to. I remember that I didn’t care, I just wanted so I took it. I remember everything we said. I’m so sorry I screwed up. I can’t promise you that the next full moon I won’t be just as horrible. You’re gonna have to lock me up or something, I don’t have control. I don’t want to ever hurt you.” Scott tucked his face against the human’s shoulder, ashamed of himself.
“I know we can’t go back to the way it used to be, but I don’t want to leave. I-If you want me here, then I’ll stay for as long as you let me. You’re the only one I’ve got, Stiles, I don’t want to lose you.”
___
Scott was always apologizing to him. Part of Stiles thrived on it, vindictive and furious. He’d been scared, and he never reacted well with fear. If he thought about what had happened for too long, it made his heart race and his palms clammy. It had only been a day. He sincerely hoped that changed. Stiles needed it to.
The rest of Stiles wished Scott would stop. They could go back to the way things were if they were just ignorant and obtuse enough. Scott held on like he was terrified, and Stiles would do anything he could to fix it. He was angry at Lydia for not being someone Scott could fall back on. He was angry at himself for not believing when he’d had the chance.
"I meant it… I still do," Stiles whispered, pulling back just far enough that he could see Scott’s face. He cupped his cheek, forcing him to keep steady. He brushed his thumb across his partner’s cheek, fingers fanning out to tease the hairs just behind his ear. He wasn’t letting Scott run. He wasn’t going to leave this time. He had fucking magic mountain ash to help him. "I’m pissed at you. I want to hurt you sometimes, but I miss you. I really miss you Scott… You’re my best friend."
Swallowing back a laugh, he added shyly, “And I miss kissing you.”
He ran his hands down Scott’s side, guiding him closer as they swayed together, making the most of a too small single bed. Stiles loved it just like this. “It - I’d. I liked it.” He whispered, and Stiles didn’t know how his heart skipped with the lie. “Just… Just not again.”
___
Hope bloomed across his features, shamelessly open and genuine like he’d never mastered hiding his heart. His eyes searched Stiles’s face, his absolute adoration clear. Maybe he hadn’t ruined everything. There could still be a chance? He would fight for one if he had to, he’d hold on to that belief stubbornly until it happened or reality pried his fingers lose. Scott never had a best friend before or anyone that had ever come close. Hesitant fingers traced Stiles’s lips as he smiled. “I’m not going anywhere. You can hurt me if you want to, but I’d rather stick with the kissing if that’s okay.”
Scott moved into Stiles, loving how all the angles and planes between them seemed to fit together. The stutter of Stiles’s heart made him pause, confused at first before guilt flooded in. His smile faltered, expression closing off as he retreated. Things weren’t okay and saying they were didn’t fix anything. He’d done things that were unforgivable, Scott knew he shouldn’t be offered resolution. It was more than just the blood that stained his hands, he’d become a monster in every part of his life. “I won’t do it again, I promise. I won’t hurt you, you don’t have to lie to me to make me feel any better about it. I fucked up, I deserve it.”
He let go, shame filling the spaces between them. Something inside of him twisted in ugly frustration and he clamped down on the feeling before it was able to make it to the surface. He needed better control, he couldn’t lose it every time something got emotional. Scott pulled away, settling into the bed and keeping everything carefully blank.
___
"You said you weren’t going anywhere," Stiles protested, and he pulled Scott back into his arms too soon. He recognized this. He couldn’t realize he’d gone so long without it, their honesty, their shamelessness. He and Scott told each other so much, it was embarrassing. Stiles second-guessed his trust in Scott a thousand times less than he had with nearly everyone he knew. That was hilarious. The guy had literally torn a man apart in front of him. Stiles held him like he never wanted to let him go.
"I liked it." Stiles repeated, more forcefully this time. He had to like it. It was good. He’d begged Scott to hop on his dick. Liking it was a prerequisite of begging. Stiles had to like it. There wasn’t anything wrong with him.
He needed Scott to wear his heart on his sleeve. Stiles recognized him best that way. “You’re not going to hurt me, not again,” Stiles insisted, like he could will it into being. If he wanted it enough, he’d leave the universe no choice but to comply. He and Scott work. They had to. There was no way around it. “And you’re going to stop doing that - thing with your face. It makes you look confused.”
Stiles scoffed, still gesturing to Scott’s everything, but he stretched out on his werewolf’s bed, reclaiming his side and spilling over to Scott’s with long, careless limbs.
He was going to save Scott. They were going to find the Alpha. Stiles decided. They were going to destroy him.
"Don’t wake me up when you pee in the bottle."
___
Every skip in Stiles’s heart broke his own, but he managed a shaky smile. “It’s okay not to be okay.” Scott said, voice so low it was almost inaudible. He’d once thought they would never find the lines that couldn’t be cross with each other, but that wasn’t true. Scott had taken advantage and assaulted him, no meant no and he hadn’t stopped. The full moon couldn’t be an excuse for something like this and forgiveness couldn’t be so easily won if he could ever earn it back.
Scott had to keep this promise above everything else. If he was ever going to get another chance, he needed to make it right. He was not going to hurt Stiles, not ever. Without another word, he buried his nose into the human’s shoulder and let himself relax in the tangle of limbs, breathing deeply and feeling like everything might finally be alright.
It was easy to sleep like this for all the bed was cramped and they were both awkwardly sprawled. He’s missed the sound of someone breathing beside him and the way reaching out was met with something warm and solid and utterly reassuring.
I love you too.
He felt the howl instead of hearing it, the sound echoing around his skull loud enough to jolt him awake with a gasp. Blue eyes glowed bright in the darkness of the room and his heart beat in his throat as the call came again. “Stiles…” His voice was rough like he’d been screaming but more even than he anticipated. “You need to get out of bed. Please, you have to…”
___
This wasn’t going to break them.
But at moments like this, he knew why he would have been worried. The guilt that Scott wore like a brand would tear them apart faster than a repeat performance. Stiles didn’t want that to be the only thing between them.
Some people worried about cheating, or long-distance relationships, or losing chemistry. Stiles just didn’t want his boyfriend to eat him in the incredibly unsexy way. It still didn’t matter. They were going to make this work. He had high hopes for them. When Scott smiled at him, he was warm all the way down to his toes, and he couldn’t believe that all they’d done was kiss until now.
"I’ll be okay." Stiles whispered, and he should be. He should already be. "Just don’t leave me."
He pulled Scott in as close as he could manage, sacrificing blood flow to his arm and the cold patch on the bed to keep his partner tucked against his chest. Stiles should have left a million times by now. There was no one on Earth like Scott McCall.
So when Scott told him to get out, barely a handful of hours later, Stiles stumbled over his own feet to tumble out of bed. He was careful not to touch the ash barrier, plopping on the ground just outside it. Sleep was caked to his eyes, but he felt like he was running on electricity.
Stiles had no way of knowing that another howl was ringing through Scott’s skull, getting louder and louder, until it abruptly cut off. It wouldn’t be back that night - or for many nights thereafter.
___
Scott fought the call with everything he had. He didn’t know why he resisted, they were almost done. He could feel how close they were and then everything would just be over. All he had to do was help, he liked helping…why wouldn’t Stiles just let him out? When he didn’t answer, the howl tried to rip the beast from his veins and he writhed. Please no, please no, please no! He focused on the beat of Stiles’s heart, the sound of his breathing and held on until the urge to shift faded and he managed to stay in control. Holy hell, he managed to stay in control! When the howl was suddenly silenced, Scott shivered but gave Stiles a tentative smile.
He’d done it!
The wolf stretched back on the bed with a relieved laugh, mind clear and anchored firmly to his humanity. “It’s over.” And somehow it was. The presence that had latched on to his thoughts was gone, the aggression faded and the only thing he had to worry about was his own emotions releasing the wolf. Even when his heart raced and he could feel the shift prickling along his skin, he would listen for Stiles and somehow find his control. It wasn’t impossible, he didn’t have to be a monster. Without the alpha riding in his head, he thought he might be able to do this…as long as he could keep Stiles.
He reclaimed his life, finally feeling like he might still be human and his smile kept getting brighter.
___
Stiles didn’t realize he’d been holding his breath until he was gulping for air. Scott looked like he was being torn apart, tossing and turning in his bed like he was trying to put a fire out. He sounded like he was being tortured, low guttural whines twisting through breathless growls. Stiles backed away slowly, until he could feel Scott’s dresser against his back. It wasn’t far enough. The subtle creak of bones still sounded too loud, and Stiles was going to be sick.
Then Scott laughed, and Stiles couldn’t rush to him fast enough. He tackled his best friend, like he couldn’t crush billion broken bones hidden beneath warm skin. Stiles burrowed his way into his werewolf’s arms, kissing up his throat and across his face, scared and angry, but so much happier.
It could have been a trap. Stiles had the hardest time, not trusting Scott. He never wanted that to change.
They still did the magic saw dust thing, religiously so, for the first week. Their parents were concerned, but they were pretty gross around each other when they were invited to dinner. It was all good. Stiles surgically attached himself to Scott’s hip when no one was looking, and things just seemed to get better and better.
They were hitting dead ends with their investigation. They couldn’t get to Kate Argent, but she wasn’t giving them any trouble. If Allison was secretly homicidal, it was buried deep beneath the puppy love she and Kira were rolling around in. That was okay, because Stiles would rather think about the way his Dad sputtered, when Stiles got down on one knee in the middle of their living room, took Scott’s hand, and asked him to the Winter Formal.