Work Text:
The blanket in the trunk of his Porsche was embedded with his scent and Lydia's, with hints of the smells he associated with Danny. He'd been lugging it around since he got his first bike, though back then he'd had to shove it into his backpack. His girl was high maintenance, he'd known that since he was ten and way too fascinated by the cute way her nose wrinkled when she laughed. There was no shot in hell she would lay down on the grass, so if he wanted to hang out with her outside there had to be something between her and the ground. So he carried the stupid thing on the off chance she'd want to have a picnic or watch the clouds or some shit. Sometimes it came in handy when Danny dragged him out at night to stargaze.
The newer, most instinctive parts of him thought it would smell even better if he made Stiles sleep with it for a few days to add a layer of his scent to the mix.
He ignored that stray thought as he pulled out the soft, well-worn blanket along with the hoodie he kept for when she got cold. It took a second to juggle things so he still had a hand free for her; when he offered it, she was quick to tangle their fingers together. As they walked, she drifted closer until she could rest her head on his shoulder. Sometimes he couldn't believe she would still do any of that after the way he'd treated her.
But Lydia had her own internal accounting system that had never made sense to him. She kept track of slights and favors and always paid them back... but a lot of times he didn't get why or how she decided which ones were more important or had earned a bigger response from her. When she was pissed at him for 'making eyes' at Allison - he'd only been looking, which she usually didn't give a shit about - she'd tried to get with Scott to pay him back. Then he'd broken up with her and treated her like garbage but she'd still acted like it was only natural they'd be back together once he was... better. He'd gotten off with a fierce scolding and a demand that he stop hiding things from her and work on his communication skills.
Ass-backwards in his opinion, but since it meant she was still walking hand-in-hand with him at his side he wasn't gonna argue with her about it.
They'd had a spot for as long as he was coordinated enough to give her rides on his bike. It wasn't in the Preserve - he'd always gotten a weird feeling from the stupid forest - but on a hill overlooking part of it. Over the years they'd figured out the best spot for their blanket, and he was quick to spread it for her once they'd reached the top. Lydia gifted him with one of her rare, genuine smiles - there was nothing sharp or hidden in it, no sense that she had to get the curve of it just right to keep up appearances.
Her nose still wrinkled, and he was still smitten with it.
Once they were settled, her sitting with her back to his chest and his arms wrapped around her to keep her warm, she gave a quiet hum. Before everything he wouldn't have known what that meant and it would have pissed him off a little. Thanks to his better sense of smell, now he could read all the little signs that pointed out that she was... not happy, but content. He couldn't help but smile, because knowing that she was so relaxed and at ease with him got the pacing beast in the back of his head to stand down. Not completely, not the way Stiles made it all go quiet, but it was something. He dropped a quick kiss to the top of her head, then buried his nose in her hair and breathed in deep.
He thought he could tease it out now, that hint of a scent that made the wolf in him so uncomfortable. That made it so he could never fully relax in her presence no matter how much he loved her. Peter hadn't seemed hopeful, but he had to believe that someday the wolf parts of him would accept the banshee parts of her.
"Stiles was upset you didn't tell him you were skipping," she told him quietly as they watched the sky, waiting for the sunset.
"He would have argued with me. Wasn't worth it." After a pause, he gave a quiet huff. "Or he would have skipped with me and then the Sheriff would be on my ass about it."
"You have two more absences before it's going to be a problem. Use them wisely." His grunt of acknowledgement was met with a gentle elbow to the ribs. He barely felt it, but it was still rude. "I'm not kidding, and I'm also not dating some dumb jock," he could picture the look of disgust she'd be wearing and couldn't help but roll his eyes. "Who gets held back a grade because he didn't feel like going to school."
"I know. I'm not gonna get held back. Guys like me don't flunk out."
"Hmph. You'd better hope so. Did you spend the day with Peter?" The question was careful, and he gave her a squeeze and kissed her hair again, trying to help ease the tension that had entered her shoulders.
"Some of it. I got to meet Taika. You didn't tell me they're hot." Another elbow to his gut, this one sharper and more pointed. "What? They are. I'm being factually correct."
"You're being a teenage boy," she accused in a frosty voice before sighing. "But they are decently attractive, I suppose. I do want to know what moisturizer they use." Lydia tipped her head back to look at him and he immediately kissed her forehead in hopes of getting another smile. It worked, and he smiled back as happiness began to bloom in her scent. "Are you going home tonight, or are you going to Stiles?"
The way she said it made something in his stomach squirm. Stiles was... he didn't know Stiles was. His Pack-type person. His emotional support human who smelled really fucking good - especially when Jackson was biting him.
"To Stiles' house," he insisted, heat crawling over his cheeks. "Not... not to him. Don't say it like that, it's weird."
"Jackson..." Sometimes Lydia sounded exhausted by him and his bullshit, which was fair. "We need to talk about this."
"There's nothing to talk about."
"I know you, Jackson Whittemore." Though her voice was clipped, there was something warm there too. Her scent took on a sweet note that it only did sometimes, and only when they were alone. "Don't lie to me."
The thing was... she was right. She did know him, better than anyone. And maybe that was really where he'd gone wrong, after Derek bit him and threw him away. As soon as he thought he'd leveled up, he threw her away... and Jackson didn't know who he was without Lydia. She was the sun, and without her light he didn't have anything to reflect back. If he'd kept hold of her the way he should have, the way the instincts he hadn't wanted to listen to demanded, maybe he could have been a werewolf right from the start.
"There's nothing I want to talk about," he finally muttered before hiding his face in her shoulder. "So why do we have to?"
"Because I love you." Lydia said it so easily. He was kind of jealous of the way she didn't hesitate, how sure she sounded. Like it was as obvious and unchangeable as one of her dumb math formulas or something.
"I..." The words stuck in his throat, choking him the way they had since he'd first learned David wasn't his real dad. For her he swallowed the pain and pushed beyond the fear. "I love you too."
"Which is why we have to talk." He couldn't help it - he groaned loudly into the soft cotton of her shirt, then tucked his face against her neck instead. "Don't be a baby. I'm not angry at you, but we need to talk about this or eventually I'm going to be. I'd prefer we do this now instead of waiting until we start screaming at each other instead."
"Or we could not and then after the screaming we can have make-up sex. I love make-up sex." Her silence was frigid, and he knew he was losing points fast. At least she hadn't pushed him away or elbowed him again. "Okay. Fine. What do you think we need to talk about?"
"I can't give you what you need." The simple sentence was like a wrecking ball, and for a moment he couldn't even breathe. He wanted to deny it, insist that she was all he needed. Lydia was more important than lacrosse, than food or even air. If she meant what he thought she meant, his whole world was about to be empty.
"... are you..." He swallowed hard, trying not to grip so tightly that he hurt her. "Are you breaking up with me?"
"Of course not, don't be ridiculous." The answer was quick and firm, with no hint of a lie anywhere on her. Relief made him collapse a little, and it was only because he was leaning against her that he stayed upright. "Honestly. Sometimes you say the stupidest things." Her arms laid over his, squeezing him back in another, silent reassurance. "I guess I could have worded that better. I can't give you everything you need."
"Bullshit. Exactly what do I need?" Shit. He was already bordering on aggressive and their little talk had only just started. If he didn't keep a lid on his anger they'd either blow up or she'd storm away. "Let me try that again. What... what is it you think I need?" That was better - he'd managed to soften his voice, even if there was still an edge. It was just that this was all such bullshit, and he had no idea where she'd gotten such a dumb idea when she was so damn smart.
"This." Lydia grabbed one of his hands, again linking their fingers and holding both up to show him. "Touch. Presence. Someone to ground you. You were never this clingy before, Jackson." She must have felt him flinch, because she immediately gave a shushing, soothing sound. "I didn't mean that in a bad way. Most of the time I enjoy it or at least don't mind it. But we've never lived in each other's pockets." That much was true, he'd give her that. "And with the information I've gotten from Peter..." Lydia shrugged, then squeezed his hand before bringing it down to cradle against her chest. "There's a lot for me to learn and process. A lot of it I need to do alone."
The panic he felt at the thought was stupid. She had always been pretty independent and not shy about telling him when she needed space. He didn't always take it well, but he did respect it. So her wanting to work on the banshee stuff by herself made sense. It was fine. She wasn't abandoning him. Lydia wasn't leaving him all alone with nothing to do but try and figure out who the hell he was beyond the anger and the dry rustle of scales in the dark-
Lips tickled the palm of his hand, pulling him out of the spiral he was about to sink into. She tucked another kiss there, then closed his fingers around it before pulling his arm back around her waist.
"That's what I'm talking about. Right now you need more than I can give you - I can't be here all the time for you to hold onto. I'm not breaking up with you and I'm not saying that I won't be around at all. But I have things that I need to do for me, because I can't live like this Jackson. I have to get this under control."
"I know." Her fingers stroked through his hair, and he leaned into the touch. "And I want that for you, Lydia. Whatever you need, whatever kind of time it takes... I want you to figure this out. But I don't see how it has anything to do with what I need or with Stiles."
"You like him."
"He's my friend," he defended instantly, trying to push down the anger and panic she'd sparked up. "Should have been all along. I was stupid to let McCall have him. Danny said as much when it happened." Had said it a couple times, actually. Maybe even on the regular since the three of them had separated. "I'm just glad to have my friend back. That's all it is."
"Don't lie to me."
"Lydia," he groaned, only to have her elbow him yet again. "Look, whatever you think is going on? It's nothing. It doesn't matter. I... love you and if you're not breaking up with me-"
"Right now I need more space and you need more connection," she interrupted, refusing to let him deny or change the subject. "You've been so much better since you started spending time with him. He adores the cuddling and being fussed over. And the biting." At that she sounded baffled - she'd never gotten the appeal. Using his teeth had been off limits since they first started being intimate. Which was totally fine. It wasn't like he needed it. It was just that now he really, really liked it and Stiles turned the prettiest colors whenever he bit down. Not the friendliest thing to notice, he realized suddenly. Maybe that was where she was getting this craziness from.
"I'll stop. With the biting."
"Do not. You'll make him cry and then I'll have to kill you."
"Then what do you want me to-"
"I'm telling you that it's okay, Jackson. It's okay that you like him." He felt himself freeze, everything in him going still except his pounding heart. "I don't mind the cuddling or the biting - I think it's kind of cute. And it makes you happy."
"Uh. Lydia? It sounds... an awful lot like you're telling me to date Stiles. While I'm dating you."
"Yes," she agreed with a quick little nod. "That's what I've been getting at. Or at least I think you should ask him if he'd want to. I don't know if he'd be interested, not really, though I suspect he would be. It would mean a lot of talking and he would have to be okay with it just being you. That's the part I'm really not sure of. Because I like him, but not that way - I think we could be best friends, eventually. He's good to cuddle with and bounce ideas off of, and I do think he'd be nice to kiss... but that's all I'd want. I don't have any romantic feelings for him."
Stupid. This was the stupidest, craziest idea he'd ever heard out of her. Maybe she'd like, hit her head or something. She didn't smell hurt though, or like she was trying to pull some kind of weird prank. No, Lydia was completely calm and that sweet, singular scent was still overpowering everything else. Maybe she'd actually gone crazy. Or maybe he had, because when he really thought about it he didn't actually hate the idea. But...
"It's you he has a crush on, not me. He won't want-"
"Don't decide what other people want. You might be right, but that's up to Stiles. Who, by the way, is the only person I would ever consider this for. Well... maybe Danny."
"Ugh, gross. Danny's my brother, don't-"
"That's not the reaction you had when I mentioned Stiles," she pointed out in that know-it-all voice that really did it for him most of the time. Just then it kind of pissed him off. "Look. I'm not saying you have to ask him out or anything. I just... I want you and Stiles to be happy." Lydia paused, then gave another of her quiet hums and turned her head to press a kiss to his cheek. "And I want to be happy too. I think this is a good way to help that happen. I think we should talk to him, see what he thinks. But if you really don't want to, then I'll stop. We'll try to figure out a different kind of balance, but if that's the case don't you dare start treating him differently because I brought it up."
"I don't even think I'm his type," he tried, argument as weak as his voice.
"Oh? But I thought you were everyone's type?" At the tease, the ammunition she must have gotten from Danny, he gave a mock growl in her ear that made her squeak before she started giggling instead. He immediately started to tickle her, earning him a squeal of his name as she swatted at his hands, her laughter music to his ears. After so long with her, he could tell when their play started to get overstimulating for her and immediately stopped, pulling her against his chest again before laying back on the blanket.
As she got her breath back, the odd giggle still escaping, he stared up at the darkening sky. Soon she'd get a chill and need his hoodie; after that she would last maybe twenty minutes before insisting it was time to go home. Then he'd have to make a choice to go to his own bed where he could never sleep unless he was exhausted and she was there with him... or he could go to Stiles.
"He lets you bite him, Jackson," she finally said, like there hadn't been a break in their conversation at all. "No, not just lets - he enjoys it. He watches you too. Like all the time. I think you're more his type than either of you realized. And I can tell you think he's hot." Again he felt heat flare in his cheeks, but he was just honest enough that he didn't try to deny it. "More importantly I know you care about him, which I don't think he gets enough of. You'd be good for him."
"I cannot believe how hard you're working to convince me to cheat on you."
"It wouldn't be cheating." From the tone of voice, she'd once again decided he was deeply stupid. Which was fair - she'd always been the brains of the operation. "It's us inviting him in. You get someone who can give you all the physical touch and being present that you need; I get a friend who understands me and that I trust you with as well as time to figure myself out without feeling guilty for abandoning you. Stiles gets you, someone who cares about him, who will cuddle, fuss over and protect him. He'll also get me as a friend and someone he can talk to about his magic and other supernatural things as a fellow human. We can all win here, Jackson. That's why I'm working so hard."
"He'll feel like a second fiddle. A last resort. Like I'm only with him until you figure your shit out and then I'll drop him."
"Not if we do this right, with a lot of talking and honesty."
"Oh good. My two favorite things." Lydia swatted his chest before sitting up enough to kiss him. He basked in the feel of it, the way her hair brushed his cheeks and shut out the rest of the world. When she pulled back he chased her, bringing one hand up to cup the back of her head to reel her for another. The sweet kisses soon turned to something more desperate and clinging... which stopped as soon as she shivered in the rapidly cooling night air. One hand rubbing up and down her arm - already covered in goosebumps - he reached for his hoodie with the other. Together they got her in it, and by then the passionate moment had passed. They went back to cuddling on the blanket, and he couldn't help but keep turning over her idea in his mind.
Lydia was right - he did think Stiles was attractive and he did want to fuss over him. Take care of him. It soothed those restless, pacing instincts at the back of his brain. And when Stiles was asleep, snoring cutely and tucked up close - totally relaxed and safe - that part of him was completely satisfied and finally let him sleep as well. She didn't like being coddled as much, didn't like when he tried to take care of her the way he'd wanted to since shedding the kanima. He loved her, didn't want to lose her, but it hadn't been until Peter dragged him home to Stiles that he finally started to settle back in his skin.
Stiles' hands flew through the air when he was excited, like birds taking flight. He had constellations of moles that he wouldn't mind learning by heart and by touch. There were hints of loneliness in his eyes - especially lately, with McCall being such an asshole - that he wanted to smooth away. He wanted to be there after Stiles used too much magic, to feed him orange slices and force him to drink water instead of coffee, to listen to his magic-drunk ramblings until he finally fell asleep.
The summer after kindergarten, Danny had proclaimed them husband and husband during a ceremony cobbled together after Stiles had discovered and fallen in love with his mother's wedding veil. The yelling when the theft had been discovered had been worth it to see that dimpled smile, and they'd both worn their woven-grass rings until they fell apart.
"So... how would this work?"
"We would have to figure that out with Stiles if he was interested," she told him quietly, fingers drawing patterns on his chest and stomach. "But I think a lot of it would stay the same as it already is, to be honest. I don't think we need timeshare tables or a long, complicated list of rules or anything. We all just need to-"
"Talk," he finished with her. "Right. You sure you're not doing this just so you can watch us kiss?"
"Maybe that has a little something to do with it. Mostly though... I want us all to be happy and have what we need. I think between the three of us we can make that happen." He liked the idea of it, the three of them being happy together. Part of him could already imagine them in a house, with a future version of Danny who was in the know about the supernatural being a constant guest. Stupid Derek's stupid betas would be around a lot too, probably. On Sundays Peter, the Sheriff and Taika could come over for dinner. He could even see letting Derek come for those dinners too, so long as the Alpha never tried to talk to him ever.
"I think you should talk to him about this first," he told her quietly. "Otherwise he's gonna think I'm being a cheating douche."
"I think we should talk to him together."
"No. He'll feel overwhelmed and trapped, like we're ambushing him. Take him on a friend-date or whatever and have some fun. Bring this up toward the end, and let him leave without asking him for an answer. He's gonna need to freak out by himself about it for a little while."
"And then what? You'll just stroll in like nothing happened when it's time to go to sleep?" Her voice was scathing, but he just shrugged.
"Yeah, probably. No pressure. Let him see that even if he says no it doesn't mean we're gonna take off. Let him think about it for as long as he needs, and when... if he's ready, he'll come to us." He looked down to see that Lydia had lifted up a little and was watching him, eyes narrowed.
"Have you been pretending to have zero emotional IQ for our entire relationship or are you just very dialed in to Stiles?"
"I don't know what the fuck that is, so probably the second one." She snorted and put her head back on his shoulder. "Pretty dialed in to you too, you know. Just. Sometimes I'm an asshole."
"I know. I just want to make sure you weren't being deliberately stupid when I was telling you all the social drama at school." Of course that was what she would be angry about. Her inner accounting system was wild. They cuddled there a little while longer, enjoying the quiet and the way the sky was carpeted with stars. "Jackson? I'm cold."
Right on time.
Once the blanket was folded and safely in Lydia's hands, she jumped up on his back so he could carry her to the car. It was a path he'd walked long enough that he could have done it even in pitch black without his enhanced eyesight. They made it back to where he'd parked his car with no trouble, and as soon as he turned on the engine he blasted the heat for her. She kept her hands in front of the vents, half-covered by the sleeves of his hoodie, for most of the ride to her house. He hated dropping her off there, but until they were old enough to get that house he could already see... he'd have to deal.
So would she, though she put it off as long as she could. First was a round of kisses in her driveway, and then she pulled away just to run down the plan with Stiles again. She plotted out the 'friend date' she could take him on, maybe as soon as Thursday or Friday; when he pointed out he, Stiles and Danny already had plans for Friday she pouted and scolded him for preemptively ruining one of her ideas. The porch light had flashed a few times by that point, but Lydia Martin rushed for no one. Even when her mother came out to stand in the doorway, arms crossed over her chest, Lydia didn't bat an eye. She launched into a new round of planning, this time for an outing for 'everyone' on Saturday. Jackson grunted and nodded when required, well aware that she was now in spite mode and most of the conversation meant nothing.
Eventually she was satisfied, and she gave him another long kiss before finally letting herself out. He watched until she got inside - on days her mom came out to wait, Lydia didn't like him walking her to the door - and gave Ms. Martin a half-hearted wave that she pointedly did not return. Only when the door had closed and the porch light was turned off did he finally leave. Restless, he drove around for a while, making a few stops in his aimless ramble before he was finally ready to turn in for the night.
He toyed with the idea of going home, if only so he could grab another hoodie to put in the trunk until he got the one Lydia had borrowed back. Of course that wasn't what he ended up doing though. When he got to Stiles' house, the porch light was still on and he had almost an hour to go before the Sheriff would consider it past 'normal operating hours'. The man was such a nerd, which was probably where Stiles had gotten it.
With a standing invitation he didn't bother to knock. Peter still met him near the door, because the older werewolf was a paranoid bastard. Vivid blue eyes swept over his body - checking for wounds probably - and then the man ruffled his hair.
"Stop doing that," he hissed, trying to duck away and failing. Peter seemed to derive a great deal of pleasure in messing up his hair even more... and then he was suddenly pulled into a hug.
"Whatever is going on smells like it’s none of my business," Peter told him quietly. "But if you need to talk I could lend an ear. Have you had dinner?" The hug ended as quickly as it started, leaving him a bit flushed and flustered.
"Uh. Yeah. I stopped and got a burger after I dropped Lydia off. I'm fine, Peter," he added while rolling his eyes. "You fed me two breakfasts earlier and like, three lunches. I'm not hungry, I promise."
"If you change your mind there's leftovers in the fridge." Peter hesitated, like he wasn't sure if he wanted to say anything, but eventually opened his mouth again. "Stiles had a bad day." He immediately straightened his posture, gaze going to the stairs. The older werewolf smelled pleased and clapped him on the shoulder. "Go on. I'll make sure Noah knows you're here."
"Thanks. Night."
"Goodnight pup. Don't stay up too much later, either of you. You're both going to school tomorrow if I have to drag you kicking and screaming in your pajamas." Threat delivered, Peter turned on his heel and left.
Now that the small talk was out of the way, he kicked off his shoes and got up the stairs as quickly as he could without it looking like he was rushing. A bad day could mean a lot of things and he didn't want to overreact. He did give Stiles the courtesy of a quick knock, but he was already inside the room before the other teen had a chance to give permission or deny it.
Usually he would have gotten a delighted greeting or a sassy complaint about his presence. But after his bad day Stiles didn't even look up at him. He was sitting in the middle of his bed, playing his DS with a frown and no energy. He was too quiet and too still and Jackson hated it. Without saying anything he closed the door again, then went to what had become his drawer and quickly changed into some pajama pants. He didn't bother with a shirt - without one Stiles would smell more like him even after his morning shower, and since Stiles had never raised any objections he was going to indulge the instinct that demanded it.
Neither of them said anything as he crossed the floor and crawled into the bed as well. He thought about taking away the handheld and forcing Stiles into a full-body cuddle, but then situated himself behind the other teen instead. In an echo of the pose he'd been in with Lydia a few hours before, he wrapped his arms around Stiles' waist and pulled him in close, nuzzling his neck in a silent greeting. Much to his relief - and the rumbling pleasure of the wolf in his head - Stiles immediately melted back against him, going boneless in Jackson's hold.
"Hey Jax," he finally murmured.
"Hey. You alright? Peter said you had a bad day."
"It was shit," he confirmed, mouth thinning to a wobbly line. "I'm not allowed to ask you to beat Scott up for me." Rage eclipsed everything for a second, and it was a real fight not to go out and beat the shit out of McCall right there and then. "But like. If you wanted to trip him in the hallway I wouldn't tell on you."
"Don't worry. I'll defend your honor even without you asking. McCall's ass is grass." He got a little chuckle, but it was still such a small reaction. Stiles was larger than life - always had been. Seeing him so small and quiet hurt something inside. It wouldn't fix anything but the unhappy pacing in his mind, but Jackson still gave in to the urge to put his lips just behind the hinge of Stiles' jaw. He waited a moment, enjoying the hitched little breath he'd earned, then bit down. It was a little harder than usual, but the object of his toothy affection didn't seem to mind. After the same little squeak he usually made when bitten, Stiles let out something close to a moan.
Embarrassment flooded his scent, so Jackson didn't linger as long as he would have liked. Once he let go, he gave the imprints he'd left behind - the first, and fuck but he liked it too much - a soothing lick before resting his chin on Stiles' shoulder. He pretended he didn't see the flush quickly overtaking the teen's skin, and that he couldn't hear his pounding heart or heavier breathing. Jackson was laying claim, not trying to make Stiles pass out or something.
"You're my Pack-type person," he eventually said, squeezing Stiles' waist. "Nobody fucks with you. Do you wanna watch?"
"I... I'm not asking you to do that,' he pointed out, voice starting off timid but growing in strength. "Because I'm not allowed to. I wouldn't hate seeing him get punched though, if someone just. You know. Decided to do it in front of me. It doesn't actually need to be a full ass-kicking. He was just mean, it's not like he hurt me or anything. But yeah. Not asking you to hit him."
"Be in the parking lot right after school and I'll make sure you get what you're not allowed to ask for."
"Thanks Jax." Stiles picked up the game he'd paused, resuming it with an uncomfortable squirm. "Sorry, I know this is going to be boring for you, but I need to get to a save point before I can stop for the night. But I've played this a lot so it shouldn't take very long and I can talk about something else while I-"
"Will it bother you if I watch you play?" he asked while turning his head enough so he could see the small screen.
"Uh. No? But it's not like I'm any good, so it'll be boring-"
"No it won't. Tell me about your game, Stiles." At that, the other teen's scent turned almost as delicious as when Jackson was biting him. It only took a few minutes before he was explaining the game in a long, excited ramble. His hands couldn't take flight, too busy pushing buttons, so instead he leaned from side to side or pressed back against Jackson to make his points. Most of the time he didn't give a shit about video games, but Stiles made this one seem almost interesting.
When it got late enough that Peter would probably be annoyed, he reminded Stiles to find a save point. Soon they were under the covers, all the lights off and Stiles' laptop open with a video of some guy who wasn't even half as interesting as his emotional support human playing some stupid game he'd never heard of. He tuned it out, listening to Stiles' breath and heartbeat instead. It didn't take long for that cute snoring to start up, and everything in him relaxed.
He lifted a hand to brush his fingers over the faint marks that were still in Stiles' skin. They would fade before morning, which was good even if he hated it. He shouldn't have done it without permission, no matter how much part of him wanted to leave marks of claim all over Stiles' perfect, pale throat. Even if the other teen hadn't seemed particularly bothered, just embarrassed for liking it, he couldn't let himself lose control like that again.
If Stiles decided he wanted to join his and Lydia's relationship, then he could ask. Maybe then Stiles would agree to wear a necklace of bite marks for him. Getting to mark up that soft skin would be worth the Sheriff shooting him for doing it. Peter would probably make sure it wasn't with the kind of bullets that would be fatal, and after the wound closed he'd still get to enjoy the view.
As sleep started to drag him under, he let himself keep planning for the future Lydia had offered him, the one where they were happy and together as a unit. Lydia and Stiles could geek out over math and magic while he made sure they didn't get so lost in either they forgot to eat. Him and Stiles taking care of the house and the pups while Lydia was away kicking math's ass and earning awards for her genius. Her always coming back to them, and them always waiting for her.
The plans slid into dreams that were the sweetest he'd had since he was a kid.