Archive of Our Own

Stiles had never really thought much of Scott's laugh-hell, he's heard it so often that it was almost like background noise to him.

So it's weird, when it stops.

Stiles turns to his best friend, stopping his story about Jackson and figuring that Scott had just gotten a waft of Allison, but when he looks at Scott, he's face to face with someone who looks like he doesn't recognize him.

He tilts his head in confusion, "Scotty? You okay?"

"Uh, yeah," Scott frowns, "and my name's Scott, by the way, not Scotty. Are you new here?"

Stiles fakes hurt, going along with whatever ridiculous prank Scott's trying to pull on him right now, "Good one, Scotty. It's me, your best friend and unwillingly your sidekick, Stiles."

He crinkles his nose, "What's a Stiles?"

Stiles, starting to worry a little, laughs nervously, "Okay come on, Scott. This isn't funny. Stiles is my name. Stiles Stilinski. The Sheriff's son?"

"Dude, the Sheriff doesn't have a son," Scott pauses, "Did you hit your head or something?"

He falters, "I think you're the one who has hit their head."

Stiles knows Scott heard him, but Scott pretends not to, "What?" 

He runs.

He breathes a sigh of relief when he sees his room is exactly the same as it was the day before. Collapsing onto his bed, he lets himself fully grasp the situation. Scott doesn't remember him. Like at all. It scares him, more than he could ever admit out loud. Every nerve in his body is tensing up because Scott and his dad are his everything and he honestly doesn't know if he can live in a world without Scott.

The knock on the door startles him, makes him sit up straight on the bed. Sure the knock scares him, but the voice is the thing that terrifies him, "Who the hell are you?"

He's been drinking, so much so that Stiles can practically smell the booze reeking off of him and he silently thanks god that he doesn't have a werewolf's sense of smell right now. "Dad," he begins, slow and gentle.

"Dad?" the Sheriff scoffs, "Son, I haven't fathered any children last time I checked, so I'm going to ask you one more time, who the hell are you and why are you here?"

"It's me, Stiles. C'mon dad, you know me. This is my room. There's pictures of me and my friends all along this wall. Please dad, don't do this. You have to remember me," he hears the hitch in his voice, the one his dad always could recognize, but this time he doesn't, simply continues on with staring at Stiles like he's some kind of alien, still smelling of booze because this isn't his dad. No, this is a man who could never get over the grief of losing his wife because his son wasn't there to help him through it.

"You must be outta your mind, kid," he stutters a little, "there ain't nothing in this room, but you and me."

Stiles feels like breaking down right in that second, but he composes himself and forces out a chuckle, "You're right. Silly me. I'm sorry to have bothered you, Sheriff," his voice cracks as he looks at the shell of his dad, "Just forget I came."

The Sheriff, feeling pity for the boy, allows Stiles to run out of the house without charging him for breaking in; he doesn't even remember the encounter the next morning. 

Stiles knows it's magic-it has to be. There's no explanation for both Scott and his dad's sudden memory loss. He knows Deaton's is probably the best place to go to ask him how to fix it, but Scott's probably there by this time, no doubt already filling Deaton in on the weird kid he ran into outside of his house.

So naturally, the next person he thinks of is Derek. Derek seems like the only one with a clue of what to do about the situation aside from Deaton, and if Derek doesn't remember Stiles, then he won't remember how much he hates him and Stiles can work with that.

He reaches Derek's loft in about ten minutes and is about to knock on the door when Derek opens it. (Damn werewolves and their super hearing).

Stiles waves awkwardly, "Um, hi?" When Derek makes no effort to let him in or even respond, Stiles speaks up again, "Ok, so listen, I know that you might be confused on why I'm here, but I need your help and I know you don't want to help a total stranger, but-"

"Stiles, shut up."

Stiles ignores him, "This is kind of life or death for me and we seem to have a knack for helping each other out in those situations, but you wouldn't remember that would," he freezes, replaying Derek's words in his head, "Wait, you called me Stiles?"

Derek shoots him a quizzical look, "Yeah, what else would I call you? Unless you prefer idiot?"

Stiles hugs him with excitement. Derek's stiff and when he makes no effort to return it, Stiles looks up to see glaring down at him, before he awkwardly lets go, "Dude, I'm sorry. It's just you know my name, well not my name, not even Scott knows that, but that's not the point. The point is you know who I am."

"Unfortunately."

"Ah man, this is great," Stiles smiles, "I mean, not that it's you that remembers. I would have preferred Scott or Lydia or Danny even. But god, at least someone's here to prove that I'm not crazy," he looks over at Derek, "Oh shut up with your expressive eyebrows; me being crazy is not debatable!" He sighs, "Anyway, can I come in?"

"No."

"Aww, come on Derek," he pouts, "Please. It's important. There's some supernatural shit going on and I need your help."

He sees Derek beginning to get angrier, "Why don't you ask Scott?"

"I would, if he knew who I was." 

Derek sighs, "Fine. Come in."

"So you're trying to tell me that no one knows who you are, but me."

"I know it sounds farfetched, but you go to trust me, Derek. I swear on my life that's the honest to goodness truth. You can hear my heartbeat, dude. I thought it was a practical joke at first-like National Prank Stiles Day, which has happened before, but my dad," his voice cracks, "was so different and he couldn't even see my room; he thought it was empty and Scott was looking at me like I was a deranged idiot-"

("Well, to be fair," Derek begins to interject.

"Shut up, Derek.")

"-and I just want to have everyone remember me again." There's that hitch again and he knows Derek heard it and just fuck, he doesn't want anyone, let alone Derek, to see him emotional like this, doesn't want Derek to think he's weaker than he already does, so he covers it up with a laugh, "Who else will help Scott pass Pre-Calc after already failing it last year?" He doesn't mention that Allison or Lydia could; he likes to think he's irreplaceable to Scott.

Derek ignores the hurt Stiles is feeling and he's grateful for it because that's not them. They don't do emotions; they only help each other when they have to. 

"So what do you expect me to do about your problem? Scott's grade in Pre-Calc hardly regards any interest of mine."

Stiles rolls his eyes, "You got to have some information on witches or something like that? There's got to be a reason you remember me and no one else does."

"Punishment?" Derek asks, "And you think this is a witch's doing? Why would they want to curse you, Stiles? Have you done anything particularly idiotic in the past couple days?" Derek's staring at him like he's an ache in his back, and Stiles figures that he is, but still, he could appreciate some sympathy.

"Well, what else could it be, Derek?" he feels himself growing angry, unable to keep himself in check, "I kind of have no where to go, if you haven't noticed! Look, I get that we don't fucking see eye to eye any of the time and that the only reason you tolerate me on a good day is because I am-I was Scott's best friend. So excuse me for thinking you'd have the decency to at least try to help me, because right now, you're all I got! But you know what, I'm leaving. I'll figure this out on my own, like always."

He's half-way to the door when Derek's voice stops him, "You can stay here."

"What?"

Derek stands up, retreating to the back room and Stiles can tell he's fighting a small smile, "Don't make me repeat myself, Stiles. There's a room upstairs, next to Peter's old room. Try not to be too annoying."

Stiles doesn't fall asleep for a while, not feeling quite comfortable in the room. There isn't even a bed, but he supposes the floor is better than the ground. When he finally does fall asleep, it only lasts a couple hours and he dreams. He dreams of his dad and Scott remembering him and Derek smiling at him like he actually means something. He wonders why Derek's there, but the happiness in his dream self's chest brushes away any curious thought. He dreams that his dad's cooking them all bacon and wakes up to smell that his dad actually is and shit, his dad's not meant to eat that, not with his heart.

He's sprinting down the stairs within seconds of waking up and barely notices that his house isn't quite how he remembers it, but his dad's heart is more important than his sense of unfamiliarity. 

He stops before he gets to the kitchen and shouts, "You're not meant to be eating that."

"Stiles," and that's not his father's voice; it's deeper.

Derek.....

"Oh shit, sorry. I guess I forgot that I wasn't home," he looks ashamed, "So you cook? Well I guess this is bacon and anyone can whip up a batch of bacon, except for Scott and maybe Peter, because I can't imagine him cooking, but then again, I couldn't imagine you cooking either. Actually, keep cooking, I'm going to go get my phone to take a picture."

"Shut up, Stiles."

He says, "I should tally the number of times you say that," the same time as a new voice speaks, "No, let the boy keep talking. I'm curious to know why he's talking about me?"

Stiles laughs awkwardly, "Oh hey, Peter. Haven't seen Beacon Hill's residential creeper lately."

Peter eyes him suspiciously (oh shit, Peter doesn't know who he is), before ignoring him, "Derek, who's your friend?" 

Derek, knowing full well that Stiles is trying to take a picture of him cooking, smirks, before steadying his heartbeat, "Oh this is Stiles, my boyfriend." He pretends not to hear Stiles drop his phone from shock.

Peter snorts, "I'd say you could do better, Derek, but," he trails off as he looks towards Stiles, "I suppose this might be the best you can get. Well, I'm Peter, Derek's Uncle, apparently the residential creeper."

Snapping out of his confusion, Stiles chuckles, "Oh, you know our Der Bear," he lightly slaps Derek on the back, "Always badmouthing his relatives."

"Ah yes, that's why it's such a surprise that I haven't heard of you. I'd think Derek would want to fill me in on all the lovely details of your relationship," he stops to study Stiles, up and down, "And maybe even invite me to join in?"

Stiles can feel himself color, murmuring an almost incoherent string of, "Oh my god," and "What have I gotten myself into?"

His words don't seem to have an effect on Derek though and Stiles wonders if Peter says things like this all the time. Derek arches his eyebrow towards Peter and the door and with that, Peter winks and takes his leave.

Stiles' whole body seems to relax, "God that was creepier than when he tried to bite me. Just when I thought he couldn't get any worse, he goes all Pee Wee's Playhouse on us!"

Something in Derek seems to crack, "What did you just say?"

"Pee Wee's Playhouse? The guy who got caught masturbating in a theater? Peter's hotter than Pee Wee, but still, it seems like something he would do."

Derek growls, "Peter tried to bite you?"

"Woah, calm down, Derek," Stiles gestures sporadically with his hands, "It wasn't the sexual kind of biting! He just offered to give me the infamous bite and I said no."

With Stiles' words, Derek just seems to grow even more sour (if that was even possible), "With the possessiveness you're oozing right now, we'll have no problem convincing him you're actually my boyfriend. Wait," Stiles runs over his words in his head, assessing the situation: Derek had no (foreseeable) reason to tell Peter that they were dating, "You just did that to mess with me! I thought you were trying to preserve my innocence. My god, you're more of a dick than I thought."

He grumbles, still slightly angry, "A dick that can kick you out."

Stiles quickly drops to the floor, adjusting himself as if he's praying, "Oh savior, Lord Derek of Beacon Hill. How generous you are hosting me in your home. When you die, you'll be with the Angels for this kind feat you've done for me."

Derek, honest to goodness, laughs (for a second anyway) and Stiles smiles, because somehow when he's with Derek, he's not thinking of the impending doom at his doorstep, not thinking about how no one knows who he is anymore, about how that's how he's felt his entire life-immemorable, another faceless person in the town (another Greenberg).

With Derek, he's just not thinking that he's happy, he's feeling and believing it too.

Derek cooking for Stiles somehow becomes a thing, and since Peter is bent on making sure to be gone when it happens, it evolves into eating together too and it's just so natural.

It will always start with an offhand comment from Stiles about how Derek's cooking then Stiles will launch into a story of something that whatever Derek's cooking reminds him of. 

("One time when me and Scott were six, he thought he'd be able to swim in the ocean after one lesson! I told him he was being conceited, but he wouldn't listen, because sushi was his favorite food and he just wanted to tell the fish that he appreciated how they tasted. I told him that he couldn't speak to fish, but he didn't believe me and went in and started drowning within five seconds. My mom had to save him because the life guard wasn't paying attention. You should've seen the life guard's face when my mom went to give him a piece of her mind.")

He'll make sure to slip in a pop culture reference at least once in his rambling, to see if Derek catches and understands it, making it almost a game between them.

("The next day, Scott was crying so hard because the fish wouldn't know he liked them. And I wish I could've told him to make a deal with a crossroad's demon for the ability to talk to fish," Derek smiles and nods with his allusion to Supernatural and Stiles wasn't sure it was possible to like Derek more than he already did, but his knowledge of Supernatural did just that, "but alas, I was just a kid, so I had to hug him as he cried for three hours. Oh how times never change!")

And Derek starts talking more and more, making fun of Stiles every chance he gets.

("I can hardly see why you or Scott put up with each other; both of you seem just as irritable as you do now," and Derek's smiling fondly at him when he says it.

"Hey, I'll have you know, I have millions of people lining up to be my friends!" 

"All imaginary, I assume.")

And it's nice.

Until, after two weeks of their 'friendship,' Stiles knows he shouldn't be feeling what he is. He's tried researching about memory loss but has yet to find anything, and he finds himself silently okay with that. His attachment to Derek is beginning to extend over everything else he cares about and it's scaring him. So he does what he does best with emotions he shouldn't be feeling: shoves them down, forgets about them, and smiles at Derek as if he hadn't just had an emotional crisis. 

("Ha ha. You're so funny, Derek."

"Shut up, Stiles."

"Number fifty nine!")

The next time he dreams is two weeks after his first one, but this time his dad and Scott aren't in it; only Derek's there. Stiles is running towards him. That's the whole dream: Stiles chasing Derek, never quite catching up to him and suddenly Derek's yelling at him, "Wake up, you idiot," and that really doesn't make any sense in the context of the dream. He's about to shout something witty back when he closes his eyes to blink and opens them to Derek staring down at him, shoving his body slightly, which was no long running, but laying down on the floor.

"Why, it's fucking," he looks at his phone, "6:30 AM?"

"First day of school, Stiles," Stiles seems to protest at the very idea, but Derek shuts him up with a glare, "I don't care that nobody remembers you; you're going to enroll so you don't fall behind."

"Aww, look at Derek caring about my future. Such a kind and respectable gent I have for a fake boyfriend," he places his hand over his heart, "I'll go, just for you, Der Bear (and that somehow became a thing too). Besides, what's another day as a friendless loser!" 

Stiles jolts out of bed (aka a blanket on the floor) and begins to rip off his shirt when he realizes Derek's still in his room, staring at him, "Woah, dude, give a guy some privacy. This isn't a free show." He winks.

Derek doesn't take his eyes off Stiles, "I don't understand you."

Stiles laughs, continuing to change the upper half of his body, "Not all of us enjoy changing for an audience, Miguel."

"That's not what I meant," he ignores Stiles' look of confusion and shakes his head, "Never mind, just be ready to go in a half an hour. I'll walk you in to get enrolled. 

The drive there is a bit awkward. Stiles is running his mouth off to hide his nervousness whilst Derek stares out the front of the road with a look expressing, what Stiles thinks is, his distaste for Stiles.

When they finally get to school and into the principal's office, Stiles is pretty sure Derek has heard enough about his childhood lizard and wants to throw his head out the window. 

"Hi," Derek speaks up, "I called you earlier about enrolling someone. I'm sorry it's so last minute."

"Ah yes. Derek Hale, right? And who might this be?" his old principal glances and gestures towards Stiles (which kind of hurts, because he used to be one of her favorite students, but now she's more concerned with Derek's looks to spare him more than a glance).

Derek's face breaks out into a smirk, "Oh, this is my cousin, Enrique Hale."

Stiles would've laughed if he wasn't so busy glaring. "Well, here's Enrique's schedule. I'll call in another student to help him find his way around the school," she types something on the computer, "Ah looks like Lydia shares all her classes with Enrique. I'll call her in."

Derek visibly stiffens, his voice nearing another growl, "I'll see you after school, Enrique."

Stiles figures Derek must just be holding a grudge and yells at his retreating back, "Thanks Der Bear. Love you, cousin!"

And when Derek seems to trip and stumble at Stiles' words, he knows he'll hold this against him.

By the time lunch rolls around, Lydia actually seems to have taken a (platonic) liking to him and invites him to sit with her, Jackson and Danny. It's weird to him, sitting without Scott, but when he sneaks a glance at him, he's already in his Allison Lala Land and Stiles can't help but laugh, because even with no Stiles in his life, Scott is still the exact same. 

"This is Enrique," Lydia introduces, taking her normal seat in the cafeteria, "Play nice, Jackson."

Stiles gives a sad smile when he realizes that it isn't just Scott that's the same, it's everyone, "Please, just call me Stiles. My name's not really Enrique. Derek was just trying to be funny."

"Derek? Derek Hale?" He knows he piqued Lydia's interest, "I never though I'd hear the word funny to describe Derek."

Stiles smiles, "Yeah, me neither, but he actually has a sense of humor underneath all that brooding." He suddenly remembers Derek's face when he's laughing and now he's blushing fifty shades of pink (he briefly wonders if Derek would get that reference). 

"Someone's got it bad for Hale than?" Danny interjects, sounding interested albeit a little disappointed. 

If possible, his blush grows brighter, before steadying his heartbeat (like Derek taught him to months ago when Stiles showed up at Derek's train car, demanding to know how to lie to a werewolf so that Scott wouldn't be able to find out all of his insecurities and worries). "What? Guys, I'm a Hale! He's my cousin! I'm not into incest, I swear." And even though he managed to fool Jackson and Danny, he's pretty sure that Lydia saw right through him.

"Are you single than?" Danny asks, smiling at him the same way he smiles at people at The Jungle (and if Stiles had gone there more than that one time, no one needs to know) and oh, what do you know? He is attractive to gay guys.

If this was freshmen or sophomore year, Stiles would be jumping at Danny's advances, but it's senior year, so he blurts, "No. I have a boyfriend." It just happens that his supposed cousin and boyfriend are the same person and he thinks Lydia may know that because she's smiling at him like she's hit the jackpot.

When the end of the day hits, Stiles can't stop realizing how similar this reality it to the one where he is remembered. Almost as if his existence is nothing significant. He sighs, because he knows that once he starts thinking like this, he won't stop. One minute it's about how Scott's smiling the same smile and the next it's gratified into being a burden to Derek. And oh god, he must be such a burden to Derek. He's lived there for two weeks and done nothing but talk! Derek must need a break from him....

So before Derek comes to pick him up, he asks Jackson to tell Derek that he wasn't kidnapped and ends up running to Lydia's house. He doesn't know if Lydia will even let him in; hell in her mind, they've just met, but he still knocks, desperate from a computer (and company).

"Stiles," she opens the door, "What are you doing here?"

"You're dating a werewolf," and Stiles thinks that possibly wasn't the best way to open this conversation when the door is slammed on his face, "Oh crap, I mean, I know that you know about the supernatural, you're smart and I need your computer and your help. Look, I know you and not in a stalkerish way, well it was kind of at first, but I grew out of it. And I'm just making this worse aren't I?"

"Kind of," she glares at him after re-opening the door.

"I'm just really desperate, Lydia. No one knows who I am when I've lived here for all 18 years of my life and I just want to fix everything and I don't want Derek to keep having to deal with me."

Lydia raises her eyebrow, "Derek, you say? Come in, come in. My mom's not home for the weekend, so you don't have to worry about being quiet."

Stiles profusely thanks her, wandering her way to the computer and with a slight nod from Lydia, he flips it open. "So," he begins as he types, "My name's Stiles Stilinski and I'm in no way related to Derek Hale. My best friend's Scott-"

Lydia peers down at the computer screen where he's pulled up a page about witches and curses, "Scott I Can't Take My Eyes of Allison McCall?"

Stiles laughs, clicking on an article about memory curses, "He's like that no matter what reality you're in, trust me. Anyway, one moment we're laughing together and the next, he has no clue I am, nobody does."

Lydia seems uninterested at each page he opens, even rolls her eyes when he gets redirected to a page about fairies (and how did he not think to look at fairies after over five hours of research), "And Derek?"

"The only one who remembers me."

She smiles, "Oh, really?" shoving him away from the computer and highlights a certain phrase of the text he was about to read. She stands up and saunters away from the computer, "And by the way Stiles, I remembered you the whole time."

His mouth gapes open, more so when his eyes flick over what she's highlight.

'Fairies are known to be matchmakers, working any magic possible to achieve their goals. These can include: body swap, memory loss (of an individual or a group), shapeshifting, etc.'

Oh.

"Lydia," he screams, "What the hell?"

She smirks, "You're really telling me you didn't see it? Come on, Stiles. I've been waiting for you and Derek to get your acts together for almost two years now. If I knew all it took was some fairy magic, I would have called them ages ago."

"Me and Derek?" he shakes his head, even if Derek doesn't hate him anymore that doesn't mean that he feels the same way that Stiles does or that they're some fairy match made in heaven, "And you remember, couldn't that mean we're some perfect couple," he sighs, knowing the only reason Lydia probably remembers him is because she was some sort of banshee, immune to the supernatural, "Sorry, sorry. Just wanted my obsession to go out with a bang. So how do we reverse this thing?"

She laughs, pointing at the screen, "It says the only way to reverse it is to get with Derek."

Of course it is.

He sleeps in Lydia's room that night, crashing as he searches endlessly for another way to reverse the fairy magic besides actually getting together with Derek. When he's not pining after her, Lydia actually seems to like Stiles, laughing and comforting him. Somewhere in the middle of the night, she wakes him up and allows him on the bed and they just sleep next to each other and it's so incredibly platonic and it's perfect that way.

Half way through the night, he wakes up again, this time to the sound of the window opening.

"Derek," he sits up, "is that you?"

Derek growls, "You didn't come home tonight." And Stiles prays to god that Derek didn't hear his heart skip at the word home.

"I didn't want to bother you," Stiles whispers, not wanting to wake Lydia, "I thought you deserved a day off from my constant babbling."

"So you go to her?" Derek's anger is growing, Stiles can almost touch it, but Stiles just doesn't get why Derek hates her so much, "I thought Scott was your best friend."

"He is! But he doesn't exactly know me anymore, remember?" Stiles feels Lydia stirring next to him.

"And she does?" His voice full of malice.

"Yes!" He exclaims as if it was obvious.

That seems to only make Derek angrier, "Then what was the point of living with me for the past two weeks, Stiles, when you could've been living with her!"

"I don't see what the big deal is, Derek!"

Derek's perched on her window, about to leave, before he frowns back at Stiles, and Stiles has never seen him this vulnerable, "It's never not going to be her, is it Stiles?"

"Derek," Stiles tries to call after him, but he's already gone.

Lydia's frowning at him, now awake, "Oh, Stiles.."

Stiles ignores her, running out the door, "Thank you for letting me stay here, but I have to go. I'm sorry!"

Five minutes later (who knew he could run that fast), Stile was climbing into Derek's window (after checking that the door was locked), "Derek," when Derek makes no indication of response, he continues, "Please, Derek. Listen to me. Lydia," Derek growls at the name, "I haven't liked her since the eighth grade. Freshmen and sophomore year I was so into Danny," he growls louder, "Ok, note to self, don't talk about Danny. The point is, I was into him and he was a guy. I didn't want anyone to know, because I was already bullied for my ADHD so homophobic slurs were something I didn't really want to add to the list. It's pathetic, I know, but I figured I could overcompensate with Lydia, so I was more vocal about it. Besides, Lydia has Jackson. There's nothing to be jealous of, okay, Derek? Because you want to know something?" he approaches Derek, who's siting on his bed, "I love you," and kisses him.

Derek doesn't kiss him back, so Stiles pulls away, "Shit, Derek. Was I picking up the wrong signals? I mean Lydia was hinting that you liked me and I thought you did too, and oh god, I'm such an idiot." He buries his head in his hands.

"Shut up idiot." and it sounds so fond that Stiles automatically replies, "That's the 117th time you've told me that in the last two weeks," and Derek's smiling at him now. And oh my god, it's gorgeous. Stiles could write a novel about how beautiful it is and he's honestly tempted to go pick up and pencil and paper to start writing when Derek speaks, "You'd be more of an idiot than I thought if you couldn't tell that I love you, Enrique."

"Oh shut up, Miguel," and they're kissing again.

"Stiles, what happened next? You can't leave me hanging?" and what, when did Scott get here and since when did he even know who Stiles was.

He opens his eyes and instantly knows where he is: the exact moment where everyone forgot about him. He doesn't remember the story he was telling Scott, so he blurts out, "I love Derek Hale and I'm not kidding."

Scott laughs, "What? How well do you even know him Stiles?"

And Stiles freezes. Does Derek even remember? Or did he forget the last two weeks like everyone else did.

"I don't know."

"What do you mean you don't know," Stiles cuts him off, "I need to go. Bye Scott, see you tomorrow!"

"Stiles, wait!" but Stiles doesn't; he runs home, doesn't even get to see his dad since he has a shift right now and flops on his bed. Sighing he pulls out his phone to text Scott that he's ok, but before he can, an unknown number flashes on the screen. 

Stiles feels his whole face break out into a grin.

And the next day when Stiles gets a text from Scott telling him that he's switched bodies with Isaac, he laughs into Derek's arm before leaning in for a kiss and thinks those damn fairies will be giving Allison and Scott a rude awakening.