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Kira’s going to NYU. Scott didn’t know she chose them over UC Davis. He thought maybe they’d go there together, but she said she missed the east coast and the city, so she’s going back and Scott is not following. She says they can do long distance. She has faith.
.
Winter break, she doesn’t come back for Christmas. There’s snow, money’s tight, there’s family obligations, since her parents moved back to New York with her. They’ll facetime after dinner. But she misses it and only calls the next morning, apologizing profusely that she fell asleep, the time zone differences, she didn’t mean to blow him off. It’s okay, he tells her.
She asks how everyone else is. He tells her they’re good. He doesn’t tell her Allison came home too, from France. He doesn’t tell her she broke up with Isaac either. That’s not his story to tell, he reasons with himself, so it’s fine. He doesn’t tell her Allison’s radiating, with the same dimples, a new haircut, and a gorgeous glisten in her eyes.
.
After Christmas, but before the New Year’s, he finds himself alone with Allison. They’re at the grocery store at the same time, so they decide wouldn’t it be fun to shop together? Just for old time’s sake.
Allison still gets the same Red Vines Scott knows her to like so much. She compliments his outfit, says he’s really figured his style out since high school. He laughs and tells her Lydia got to all of them at one point or another. Allison sighs, fondly, and says, “She’s doing God’s work.”
He follows her to her car. She lets him. She dimples at him helping put the last bag in her trunk and says, “You know, I can put my groceries away myself.”
And he goes, “I know you can. Maybe I just wanted an excuse to keep catching up with you.”
Her dimples turn into a fully fledged grin. She says it’s nice to see him again. That he looks good. He says she does too. He hasn’t stopped smiling the whole time.
It’s nothing. It’s friendly.
.
New Year’s, Allison kisses him at midnight. No one else there notices, because they’ve sort of tucked themselves into the corner, and Scott kisses her back. Runs his hands up her sides. Lets her sit in his lap. He can’t get drunk. She’s only had half a drink. It’s warm and real and good.
She apologizes, though, the following day. She says it was stupid, she shouldn’t have done it, and Scott cuts her off with his hands on her hips, pulling her in close, and giving her another kiss. He tells her it wasn’t so stupid to him. She asks, “But aren’t you with Kira?”
He pauses only a moment, ready with a prepared statement to spring off the tip of his tongue like a diving board. “It’s a little complicated.”
And Allison is an Argent. She practically thrives in complicated.
.
Scott usually sneaks in through her window when they meet, much like how they used to in high school. It’s almost exactly like high school, actually. Dodging being seen, dodging her father, pretending they’re nothing but exes. He’s so careful, he doesn’t drive to her place. He goes on jogs that just so happen to end up at Allison’s place. He goes on jogs back home, several hours later. He even leaves before the dawn. He’s so careful, tries to be so careful, but evidently someone notices.
Of course it’s Stiles who notices. Sometimes it sucks to have such a perceptive best friend.
He runs home one early morning. It’s summertime though, so the sun is already out, the sky a hazy blue. And Stiles is sat on his front porch, his arms propped on his knees, hands clasped together in between. He looks up when Scott approaches and says, “Oh, hey. I almost offered to give you a ride.”
Scott furrows his brow. “What? When?”
“Like five minutes ago,” Stiles says, standing up, “when I saw you running home from downtown. But then I thought maybe I’d give you a second to come up with an excuse, and meet you there.”
“Dude, you’re not really making sense,” Scott says with an awkward laugh.
Stiles raises an eyebrow. “So am I not correct then that I saw you leaving Allison’s place this morning? From her bedroom window?” His eyes give Scott a once-over. “I’m sure the healthy flush is just from the run, and no other activities. And- oh, hey, is that hickey on your throat also from the run? I didn’t know that could happen.”
Scott’s jaw locks. Fuck.
Stiles shoves his hands into his pockets, rocking back and forth on his heels. “Sorry, just curious. Since I thought you and Kira were still a thing, and all.”
“It’s complicated,” Scott starts again, practiced at this point from his bathroom mirror, and Stiles sighs loud and dismissive.
“Oh cut that shit out,” Stiles snaps. “I know you too fucking well, so just tell me as it is.”
“There’s nothing to tell,” Scott says, throwing his hands up in the air.
“Scott,” Stiles says back. Serious. Scolding like how his mom says his name.
“There’s nothing for you to know,” Scott amends. Stiles always has to know everything. It’s usually fun that he does, because Scott gets to come along for the ride. But it’s different when that inquisitive stare is directed at him. Now he can only damn that facet of Stiles as nothing but a flaw.
“You’re my brother, Scott,” Stiles says, voice dropped to almost a whisper, but still sharp like the crisp morning air Scott breathes in through his nose. “I’m not gonna tell anyone. You just need to be honest with me.”
Scott almost has it in mind to walk right past him inside and shut the door on him. He knows that wouldn’t work, though. Stiles has his own key and everything. He takes a deep breath, ready to offer another buffer comment to get him to drop it, when he smells it.
It’s like he’s been given a magnifying glass over it. It’s all he’s noticing now. So subtle, but still tattling, clear as day. It comes out his mouth, like the perfect distraction handed to him on a silver platter.
“Then you need to be honest first. Why do you smell like Derek?”
“What?” Stiles goes, voice climbing again, only this time in pitch, exponentially. It’s a forced kind of confusion, Scott can tell. Stiles has gotten good at training his nervous heartbeat over the years, but Scott’s honed in on it right now, and he hears the blip. Like a silly trip over your own foot, but still a trip nonetheless.
“Yeah, why do you smell like his shampoo, and like him, and why exactly were you out over on that side of town this early too?”
“This isn’t about me-” Stiles starts to argue.
But Scott cuts him off. “Don’t tell me you and him…”
Stiles sputters for only a second before he, in a backwards long-winded sort of way admits, yes, him and Derek. Scott sighs, “Dude,” and tells him he can do so, so much better. He means it too, when he says it. Derek is even worse than the worst he could do. It’s just a byproduct that this distracts Stiles, derailing him and his most likely pre-Adderall brain, onto a whole rant about why Derek, apparently, is the best.
Scott almost wants to go back to the topic of Kira and Allison. He can’t stand to listen to how Stiles defends Derek like he’s at all a decent person. But he deterred Stiles enough to drop it. He takes it, for now.
.
Back into another semester, Allison says she’s still taking her gap year to work with her father. She comes to visit him on the weekends in Davis. They fuck. Kira calls on the weekdays, after her afternoon class and before Scott’s morning one. She never quite liked trying phone sex.
She also says, in one of those calls, that she’s coming to visit for the summer.
.
Summer comes. So does Kira. Back to Beacon Hills. Allison is doing a business thing with her father, Scott is making dinner for Kira tonight, and Derek finds him in the fresh produce section.
He’s only got one basket. Full of an array of vegetables, a slab of beef, Cinnamon Toast Crunch, and three innocuous Reese’s packages. He looks at Scott. Scott looks at him.
Scott says, “You’re fucking my best friend.”
Derek says back, “You’re leading two girls on, he says.”
Scott curls his lip. “Yeah, don’t trust his judgment. He’s letting you fuck him.”
Derek tightens his hand around his basket, the other going into his jacket pocket. It’s a fist, but Scott bets anything the claws are out behind it. Derek smiles not very nicely. “For someone juggling girls, you sure don’t like to share all that much.”
“It’s not even your business,” Scott tells him. “Stay out of it.”
“Hey,” Derek barks, low, guttural. He steps closer. Scott resists the urge to flash his eyes at him. “It’s my business when it affects him. He’s got your back to the day he dies. I wish he didn’t, but he does. He’s going to protect you, no matter how much it eats him up inside. Maybe pick a girl. You’re not just risking losing them, you’re risking losing him too.”
.
Scott can’t pick, though. Kira is the sweetest girl ever. He remembers that when she comes to dinner that night. She’s so bright and cheery regardless of the jet lag and makes Scott smile and laugh and feel warm inside. It’s also just that Allison knows him in a way no other girl can. She gets him, inside and out. She knows what makes him tick, what makes him come, what makes him feel fucking alive. It’d be insane to let someone like that go.
So he doesn’t pick. Kira stays the night for reunion sex. Allison comes home the next day. Kira is so excited to see her again at the summer pack gathering at Scott’s house. Allison hugs her tight, and makes eyes at him over her shoulder. He looks back. He says nothing. When she turns away, so does he, and there Stiles is, watching him. Blank face, all-seeing eyes.
Scott goes over to him. “Derek not come with you?”
“He’s picking me up early, actually,” Stiles corrects, tapping his phone screen awake from where it rests on the kitchen counter near his elbow. It shows no new notifications, and fades back to sleep. “I’m not all for sticking around for when this blows up in your face.”
“It’s not,” Scott says. “It won’t.”
“Sure,” Stiles agrees in the most fraudulent of tones. “Look,” he adds, placing his drink in hand down onto the counter beside his phone, “I’m still not gonna say anything to either of them. I’m not.”
“Thanks,” Scott says on an exhale.
Stiles holds his hand up. “Let me finish. Do not thank me. This is not a thanking situation. This is me telling you, you have to be the one to face that shit yourself. That’s on you. Not on me.”
Scott frowns. “Stiles.”
Stiles’ phone vibrates on the counter. He ignores Scott to pick it up and look at it. “Derek’s here,” he says, pocketing his phone and trashing his drink. He looks Scott in the eye. “I like both Kira and Allison,” he says, “maybe don’t hurt them so bad when this inevitably gets fucked.”
Scott opens his mouth again to tell him it won’t. It won’t get fucked. It’ll be fine. But Stiles doesn’t wait to hear it. He leaves, out the front door where a black Camaro idles at the end of the driveway. Scott hears the girls chatting about school and such behind him. Kira asks how things are with Isaac. Allison tells her they actually broke up. Kira makes an apologetic noise, and Allison tells her not to feel bad. She’s sort of seeing another guy, but it’s complicated.
It’s complicated.