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A Party In the Woods

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“So, there’s a party at Lydia’s this weekend.”

Stiles looked up from his laptop with a sigh. The empty document on the screen glowed mockingly at him. “I don’t know, Scott. This assignment is really kicking my ass. I’m not really in the mood to party.”

“Come on, man,” Scott said. “You need a break. And it’ll be fun. Not to mention that we got invited together, and I really, really want to go.”

“So?” Stiles said. He typed out a sentence, then deleted it again. “You could still go. It’s not like we’re attached at the hip or anything.”

“Yeah, but I got invited as your boyfriend,” Scott replied. “By Danny, who, before you say anything, I know I shouldn’t have slept with last year, okay? And he’s dating Ethan now, so that’s already two people I really shouldn’t have slept with who’ll be there. So I’ll need a buffer. Come on, Stiles, please?”

“Danny thought I was your boyfriend?” Stiles asked with a grin. “Dude, just because I like to suck your dick once in a while doesn’t mean I have to go to parties making small talk with your exes. Can’t you ask that guy in your media class that you’ve been going on about for the past few weeks? Ian, or something?”

“Isaac Lahey,” Scott said dreamily, then shook his head. “No, he’s dating someone. A stupidly gorgeous someone too, all built and shit. He came by and picked Isaac up after class a few days ago. Definitely more than a friend, judging from the places his hands were going.”

“So?” Stiles said. “Doesn’t have to mean it’s serious. Or exclusive, for that matter. And you’re built, too, dude. Those abs don’t lie.”

“Yeah, well, I’ve got nothing on this guy,” Scott said bitterly. “He’s, like, Calvin-Klein-underwear-model levels of gorgeous. All tall and dark and brooding and stuff. Fucking killer upper body. Perfect hair, three-day stubble and an ass you can probably bounce coins off of, so.”

“You got all that from seeing him pick someone up after class?” Stiles asked, grinning even wider now. “Wow, you must have been staring pretty hard to get that level of detail down in such a short amount of time.”

“Shut up, you would have too if you’d been there.”

“Possibly,” Stiles admitted. “But we’re not talking about me. We’re talking about Lydia’s party. And how you’re too chicken to go on your own.”

“Please?” Scott tried again. “I really need you there, man. Come on, I’ll make it up to you.”

Interesting.

Stiles looked away from his laptop again and looked at Scott questioningly. “I’m listening.”

“Um,” Scott said. “I’ll do the dishes for a week. Two weeks?”

Stiles made a show of pretending to consider the offer for a while, then shook his head. “Nope.”

And laundry?” Scott tried. “Something else? Food? Sex? Letting you win at MarioKart?”

“How about money?” Stiles suggested, biting the inside of his cheek to keep a straight face. “I could do with some money. Spring break’s coming up.”

“Not fair, dude,” Scott said. “You know I’m broke as hell right now. Come on. Work with me here, please?

“Okay, fine,” Stiles said, rolling his eyes theatrically just to piss Scott off. “I’ll come with you to the party. If you handle dishes and laundry for the next three weeks.”

Scott narrowed his eyes. “Fine. But you’ll have to pretend to be my boyfriend.”

“Yeah, yeah,” Stiles replied, turning his focus back to his work. “Don’t worry, I’ll be by your side and protect you from the evil, happily dating exes. Might even let you suck me off in a bathroom if you get me drinks and ask me real nicely.”

Scott laughed at that, then leaned in and placed a smacking kiss on Stiles’s forehead before getting to his feet. “I might hold you to that.”

“You’d better!” Stiles called after him, as Scott headed towards the library exit. “My dick will be expecting some action now. Don’t disappoint it!”

Scott replied by cheerfully giving him the finger over one shoulder. Stiles shook his head fondly and turned his attention back to his empty document.


“You know, when you said the party was at Lydia’s, I was expecting her dorm,” Stiles said as they drove up the driveway to a, frankly, intimidatingly large house. “Definitely not something like this. I don’t even know where we are, anymore. Feels like we’ve been driving forever.”

“We’re only about thirty miles away from campus,” Scott replied with a shrug. “It’s her parents’ house. They’re off travelling in Europe or something.”

“Still. Big, scary house in the middle of nowhere filled with drunk, hopefully attractive people? Sounds like the plot to a bad horror flick to me.”

“Well, let’s just hope it’s an R-rated one,” Scott said, rolling his eyes. “Now stop being in such a bad mood. It’s a party. It’s Lydia’s party; there are going to be tons of seriously hot people there, and at least half of them are bound to be gay and looking for a hook-up. So cheer the fuck up already.”

“Wow, you really know how to give a guy a pep talk,” Stiles replied. “Fine. I’ll turn my frown upside down. But only because you’ve been my best friend since kindergarten and you’ve promised to be my drink slave for the night.”

“I promised no such thing.”

“It was implied,” Stiles said. “You also implied blowjobs, just reminding you now.”

Fine,” Scott said, turning right and pulling up his banged-up Honda next to a gorgeous red corvette in the mass of parked cars in front of the house. “I’ll make sure you get your dick sucked, even if I have to do it myself. There, how’s that?”

“I accept your terms,” Stiles replied mock-seriously. “Let’s go inside and pretend to be axe-murderers.”

“You are very bad for my social life,” Scott sighed. “Why do I even hang out with you, again?”

“Your mom made you do it when we were little, and you’re too much of a mama’s boy to kick the habit now.”

“Ha-fucking-ha, Stilinski. See if I ever fuck you again when it’s 3 AM and you’ve struck out at Chaos.”

“I never strike out,” Stiles replied cheerfully. “The 3 AM booty calls are completely for your benefit. I know how lonely you get when you’re between boyfriends. Besides, your mom is awesome, dude. If I were you, I’d be—oof!

“Hey, watch where you’re going,” someone said right next to him, clearly annoyed. Stiles took a step back, away from the guy he’d just walked right into.

“Sorry, man. Didn’t see you there.”

“Obviously,” the other guy said. “Oh, hi.” The second part was said to a point over Stiles’s shoulder. Stiles frowned, turning around just in time to spot a truly hilarious blush spread across Scott’s face.

“Hi, Isaac,” Scott said, mostly to his shoes.

Stiles bit back a smile. Tonight was definitely looking up. He schooled his face into an expression of pure innocence. “You guys know each other?”

“We’re in the same media class,” Isaac said. “Scott, right?”

“M-hm,” Scott told a particularly riveting spot of gravel.

“That’s great,” Stiles said, because if his best friend was going to be an idiot about seeing the guy he’d been crushing on, then clearly, it fell to Stiles to do his dirty work. “I’m Stiles. You here with someone?”

“Um. Kinda?” Isaac said. “Not really, just Derek. He’s over there, parking the car.”

Stiles looked over to where Isaac was pointing, and—whoa. Okay, so maybe Scott hadn’t exaggerated the guy’s looks. At all. Might even have sold them short, in fact, because the guy walking over was definitely one of the hottest guys Stiles had seen in a very long time. Outside of movies, that was. Or, maybe even including movies. Probably including movies; definitely including porn.

Okay, so Stiles should probably stop staring. And he would. Any second now.

The guy walked up to them and slung an arm around Isaac’s waist, pulling him close and looking Stiles and Scott up and down. “Wanna introduce me to your friends?”

“Sorry,” Isaac said, looking suddenly uncomfortable. “This is Scott. And...um, Stiles, was it?”

“Yeah,” Stiles said, and, after a quick poke from Scott, added, “Scott’s boyfriend.”

“I’m Derek,” Derek said. “Isaac’s boyfriend, if you didn’t already guess.”

“Scott’s in Professor McLaughlin’s class with me,” Isaac said, giving Derek a pointed look that Stiles found very interesting. Uncertainty flashed across Derek’s face, and then, as though he could sense Stiles watching him, turned and glared at him in a way that clearly told him to stop doing it.

Stiles just grinned back, going so far as to add a little wink when the guy’s glare hardened, and enjoying the hell out of seeing it waver for a split second. He’d grown up around cops, watched his dad intimidate people in interrogation rooms since he was big enough to sneak into the observation area. If Derek thought he could get an edge just by glaring, he had another thing coming.

Not that it really mattered. Unless Derek also went to school with them, chances were Stiles would probably never even see him again.

“So, Isaac,” Scott said (still blushing, Jesus), “did you finish the assignment on—”

“You know what, I’m thirsty,” Derek said, cutting Scott off. “Let’s go inside. See if we can find some of our actual friends.”

He steered Isaac away without another word, guiding him firmly with an hand placed casually in his back pocket. Stiles stared after them, then looked at Scott, who, instead of blushing, now looked a little pale. “Well, that was rude.”

“Don’t you dare leave my side tonight,” Scott said urgently. “I’ll do something really stupid if you do. I know I will.”

“Probably someone really stupid as well,” Stiles quipped, getting a punch to the arm for his troubles. “Alright, alright, I won’t wander off. Promise.”

“Good,” Scott said. “Now, let’s go find a drink.”


Less than two hours and a truly toxic amount of drinks later, Stiles was standing in front of the fridge, holding the door open and resting his forehead against one of the shelves. He’d lost track of Scott—as well as the hoodie and shirt he’d been wearing—somewhere after they did jello shots together and before the second keg was opened. Or Scott had lost track of him. Whatever.

“Are you gonna stand there all night?”

Stiles considered moving his head to see who was talking to him, then decided against it. The cool air felt really wonderful against his overheated skin. Losing his shirt had been an excellent plan.

“Maybe,” he replied. “Did you want something?”

“Don’t worry, I’ll get it myself.” The person behind him moved in close, one arm coming around Stiles’s body to pick a can of soda off one of the lower shelves. “There, all good.”

“Ginger ale, huh? Got saddled with driving?”

“Found a bottle of vodka that needs a mixer,” the guy replied. “Get you a drink?”

Stiles smiled. “You sure about that?”

“It’s just a drink.”

“Vodka makes me horny as hell, though,” Stiles said, tilting his head to the side and getting a view of a pair of really nice legs in tight, black jeans. “Might climb you like a tree if you’re not careful.”

“Really?” The guy moved in close, one big hand coming to rest right between Stiles’s shoulderblades, holding him perfectly still as he pressed their hips together. Stiles closed his eyes and arched his back a little, moving into the touch. Whoever this guy was, his dick was showing some definite interest. Stiles pushed back a little more, enjoying the feel of the quickly hardening bulge pressing against his ass.

The guy made a low hiss in this throat, and the hand on Stiles’s back slid down to the edge of his jeans, strong fingers ghosting underneath the waistband for a moment before moving up his spine again, grabbing the back of Stiles’s neck firmly and moving his hips against Stiles’s in a slow, dirty grind.

Oh, fuck, this could be really, really good.

“Last one to the fancy beer gets thrown in the pool!”

As quickly as it had started, the guy’s touch was gone, and next moment, an entire group of very loud and clumsy drunk people were trying to push Stiles out of the way to get stuff they wanted out of the fridge. He got manhandled to the side and grabbed the nearby counter for balance, looking around the room for his guy, planning to suggest they should go talk about that drink somewhere a little more private.

When he scanned the room, however, the only people there except for the group by the fridge were Scott’s crush over by the door, who looked like he was having a very serious conversation with his very pissed-off-looking boyfriend.

Stiles’s eyes lingered for a moment, because the way Derek crossed his arms and scowled was seriously hot, and the way his jeans clung to his legs, like they’d been painted on, was—

Very familiar, actually.

Oh.

Holy shit.

Stiles took a couple of steps back, grabbing an abandoned cup on the counter and downing the lukewarm beer still in it in deep gulps.

So. Isaac and Derek were not exclusive, then. Hopefully, since the alternative meant that Derek was the kind of guy who happily went around cheating on his boyfriend with random strangers and not giving a fuck that said boyfriend could walk in and catch him at it at any moment.

Which, wow. Definitely not a thought Stiles should find quite so blisteringly hot.

He watched Isaac grab Derek’s arm, followed by Derek shrugging it off and turning to look around the room. His eyes passed right by Stiles the first time—distracted by the mass of drunk people screwing around—then spotted him and smiled, before frowning suddenly and narrowing his eyes.

Stiles could tell the moment when Derek was able to place him. His frown cleared, and a look of surprise came over his features. Then his eyes dropped downwards, giving Stiles a very obvious once-over, and Stiles suddenly found it a lot harder to breathe.

Two people crashed into him from the right, spilling their drinks all over the counter, and Stiles jumped back, swearing loudly. Some kind of aggressively yellow liquid was running everywhere, including the part of the floor where Stiles had escaped to, and was now seeping into his shoes—what the actual fuck?

He managed to find a rag underneath the sink and save his shoes from further damage, then straightened up and looked around the room.

Derek and Isaac were both gone.


Stiles’s night did not improve from there.

After deciding that going around the house, looking for someone who was a) at the party with someone else, and, b) absolutely nowhere to be found, was far beneath his dignity, Stiles found a couch in an upstairs lounge type of room and spent the next few hours getting systematically rejected by every guy he tried to hit on.

He managed to find Scott again, though. Or, Scott found him. Fell on him, actually, while trying to impress one of Lydia’s sorority sisters by doing a handstand on top of a coffee table.

Sometimes, Stiles really wondered why the two of them were still friends.

The couple of all-nighters he’d pulled in the past week were starting to catch up with him as well, so when the last guy he’d been talking to started eyeing another guy over by the door, Stiles couldn’t even muster up the energy to feel slighted.

He grabbed a throw pillow and put it under his head instead, taking advantage of the fact that being alone on the couch meant he could stretch out and sprawl all over it.

The last thing he saw before dozing off was the guy he’d been hoping to hook up with getting pushed up against a door post with another guy’s tongue down his throat.

Stiles fucking hated Lydia’s parties.


He woke up with an urgent need to both take a leak and drink about a gallon of water to get rid of the parched feeling in his throat. He moved his head carefully, grimacing at the way a slight headache was already beginning to build, and tried to situate himself.

As far as he could tell, he was still on the same couch where he’d fallen asleep, pinned in place by a heavy and annoyingly snoring Scott. The party seemed to have died down completely, so he untangled himself as quietly as possible and left in search for a restroom.

Once he was done and making his way back, he took the opportunity to look around the house a bit more, finding people sleeping in random spots all over the place. The lounge where he and Scott had ended up was blissfully vacant, though, with only two other people that he could see, sleeping next to each other on the plush carpet.

Except, no. Wait. Not sleeping. That was definitely a—oh, wow.

The couple on the floor was mostly hidden from view by a blanket, but there was no mistaking the slow, rhythmic movements or the tiny, muffled moans escaping from underneath it. Someone was getting fucked, alright. With Stiles right there in the room, watching.

Jesus.

He crept back to the couch and lowered himself back down next to Scott as quietly as he could. The couple on the floor was still moving achingly slowly, clearly set on taking their own, sweet time. Stiles could feel himself starting to get hard, dick filling and pressing insistently against the front of his jeans.

He closed his eyes for a second, trying to pull himself together. A muffled groan—a good deal louder than the other sounds he’d been hearing so far—threw that plan right out of the window.

The guy getting fucked was getting impatient, now, one naked leg coming into view as he tried to push himself up to his knees. The guy on top pressed him right back down against the carpet, hips snapping a little harder than before, and the blanket shifted, sliding down.

Oh, fuck. It was Derek and Isaac.

Stiles’s dick did an almost painful little twitch.

He didn’t realise he was moving his hips until Scott’s arm came up to curl around his waist, holding him in place and pressing his own hips sleepily against Stiles’s ass. Stiles could feel his friend getting hard as well, which, yes, awesome plan, right there. Scott could fuck him, get him off right there with two of the hottest people Stiles had met in quite some time listening in, maybe watching, even. Just like Stiles was doing now.

He swallowed hard and reached down to pop open the button on his jeans. The zipper came next, slowly and quietly. Scott moved his hips against Stiles’s ass again, sighing happily in his sleep, and, okay. Time to wake him up. Before Stiles did something stupid like sliding off the couch and trying to insert himself in the middle of the fucking already going on in the room.

He turned around so he could get his mouth right next to Scott’s ear, whispering his name quietly while moving a hand over to pinch the soft skin right below Scott’s ribs, where he was the most ticklish.

“Scott, wake up.”

Scott jerked and tried to move away, swatting sleepily at Stiles’s hand. Stiles pinched him harder, kept doing it until Scott finally opened his eyes.

“Listen,” he said quietly. “I need to to blow you. Right now. Just, lie back and try to be quiet, okay?”

“What?” Scott replied hoarsely. “Why? No, forget the why. Leave me alone, wanna sleep.”

“Well you can’t,” Stiles insisted. “Because Derek and Isaac are less than ten feet away, fucking, and if I don’t shut myself up somehow, I’m going to break down pathetically and beg them to let me join in.”

“What?” Scott whispered, sounding instantly more awake. “What are you—oh.”

Stiles waited patiently while Scott’s eyes widened, then pinched him one more time to get his focus back.

Scott’s face was fully flushed, his eyes dark and turned on as they met Stiles’s.

“They don’t know we’re awake, do they?” Scott whispered.

“Nope.”

“That’s so fucking hot.”

“I know, right?

“Jesus, Isaac is so pretty,” Scott continued. “Look at his face, the way he’s just taking it. I just wanna—”

“Those hips,” Stiles cut in, eyes tracking the smooth, even movements of the blanket. “Fuck, he’s like a machine, just look at him. I bet Isaac can feel it all the way up his spine, just having that big cock fill him up over and over, I—”

“Shut up,” Scott breathed, flipping Stiles over on his back and coming down on top of him. “Please tell me you have stuff.”

“‘Course I do,” Stiles whispered back, lifting his hips urgently. “Back pocket. Come on, come on.

Scott didn’t waste any time, moving down and making quick work on Stiles’s jeans, pulling them down together with the briefs underneath while Stiles turned his head to try and get a decent view again.

Scott’s hands found the inside of his thighs, spreading them just enough to give himself some room, and then bent his head to drag his lips teasingly along the line of Stiles’s hard cock. His fingers, meanwhile, found the area right below his balls where Stiles had always been stupidly sensitive. He felt himself respond instinctively, dick twitching into the touch.

Shit. Scott really knew him way too well.

Scott dug his blunt nails into the flesh of Stiles’s thighs next, and Stiles let out a choked sound that felt way too loud in the quiet room. He quickly bit down on his lower lip, keeping himself as still and silent as he could while Scott went to work—familiar touches pushing just the right buttons and lips parting around the head of Stiles’s cock, starting to suck him down.

Stiles bit back a moan. Or tried to. Oh, fuck.

His breath caught in his throat when he chanced a look towards the floor, and found Derek looking right back up at him, body frozen mid-thrust. Stiles swallowed but didn’t look away, couldn’t look away—not with the way Derek’s eyes seemed to blaze as he looked from Stiles’s face down his body, stopping for a long time at his hips, where Scott was really getting into it now, taking Stiles’s cock like a fucking pro.

Scott’s hand came up behind his balls, fingers slick with lube, and Stiles arched his back, spread his legs a bit more in clear invitation.

Derek’s focus snapped back up to Stiles’s face, an almost wild look in his eyes. And then he started moving again, sitting back on his haunches and letting the blanket fall.

Giving Stiles a better view.

Stiles groaned, making both Scott and Isaac—oh, fuck, Isaac; Stiles had almost forgotten about him for a second there—look up at him. Isaac’s eyes widened comically as he took in the situation, then started scrambling to turn around, find something to cover himself with.

Derek caught him, pulled him in close and whispered something in his ear. Stiles held his breath as he watched Isaac blush furiously, then turn his head. His eyes lingered on Scott, and time seemed to stop for a moment.

Then Isaac closed his eyes and tilted his head back, offering the side of his neck to Derek. Derek didn’t waste any time, bending down to kiss the long expanse of pale skin, then lowering Isaac back down and twisting him around, pulling Isaac’s legs up to drape over his shoulders.

Oh, Jesus fuck.

Scott was clearly in complete agreement, because his fingers stilled inside Stiles, just resting there doing nothing, and threatening to drive Stiles absolutely insane. Stiles made a frustrated sound at the back of his throat and started moving his hips, fucking himself back on Scott’s fingers until Scott snapped back to himself and started helping out.

“Come on, get up here,” Stiles urged him, pulling ineffectually on Scott’s shirt until he managed to get it over his head. Scott wrestled it off the rest of the way, then slid his boxers off and got a condom open, rolling it down on himself.

“How do you—”

“How do you fucking think?” Stiles replied breathlessly, scooting down a little and pulling up his legs.

Scott nodded eagerly and got to his knees, pushing into Stiles with one, long stroke that made both of them groan. Stiles closed his eyes for a moment and tilted his head back, enjoying the stretch and burn of the first few thrusts as Scott started moving inside him.

“God, you’re so fucking tight,” Scott said, tilting his hips a little and finding the right angle. “How can you get fucked as much as you do and still feel like this, Jesus.”

“It’s my secret superpower,” Stiles managed, letting out another loud groan as the head of Scott’s cock slid right over his prostate. “Oh, yeah. Right there.”

“Fuck, I’m close,” Isaac’s voice came from the floor. “Derek, please, I’m so fucking close.”

“Not a chance,” Derek replied, and Stiles could hear him up the tempo, veritably pounding into Isaac now. “Hands above your head, come on.”

Isaac whimpered but did as told. As did Stiles—which he didn’t even notice until he turned his head again and met Derek’s eyes, seeing a very pleased smile spread across his face.

Good boy, Derek mouthed at him, and Stiles arched his back in response, feeling hot all over. Scott was matching Derek’s pace now, meeting him stroke for stroke. Stiles could feel himself starting to get closer to the edge as well.

“God, your neck,” Scott breathed, and Stiles very much doubted that Scott’s focus was on him anymore. “It’s so long. I just wanna—”

Isaac moaned in response, tilting his head back obscenely. “Please, I can’t—”

“Look at Scott,” Derek told him, and Isaac’s eyes opened again as he tried to do as told. “Tell him how you want it. Tell him how to make you come.”

“Jesus, fuck,” Isaac moaned, turning his head and looking right at Scott. “Just—my dick. The head. Three fingers around it, just—pull me off, please.”

Stiles almost choked on a breath when Scott’s hand wrapped around him, moving his fingers in a tight circle just like Isaac had described. And fuck, that was a good grip. Really good. Stiles could practically feel himself losing the last shreds of his control.

“I’m close too,” he panted, looking right at Derek as he said it. “Just need a little more. A little harder. Come on, just fuck me a little harder.”

He watched Derek grab the back of Isaac’s knees, bending him almost in half. Scott followed his lead, pushing Stiles’s knees up against his chest and fucking him relentlessly, hitting just the right spot, over and over again. And fuck, yes, that was just the ticket, just a little bit more, and he’d be right—

Isaac started to come, loud and unashamed, and Stiles couldn’t hold back anymore, just grabbed his own dick away from Scott, pulling himself off in seconds and shooting all over his chest.

He could feel Scott following, and then Derek, who still kept on fucking into Isaac long after he was done, until the sounds Isaac made started sounding a little pained. He and Scott pulled out almost in sync, and the four of them collapsed in two sets of sweaty, blissed out tangles of limbs.

“Fuck,” Scott mumbled, “that was—”

“Yeah,” Isaac agreed groggily from the floor. “Can’t even feel my legs. God.”

“Night, guys,” Derek said, looking up at Stiles with a satisfied smirk on his face. “This was fun.”

Yeah, Stiles thought, every part of his body still tingling pleasantly. This was freaking amazing.


Stiles woke up alone on the couch with a crick in his neck, a dull pounding behind his temples and a body so well-fucked he’d probably feel it for days to come. He reached for his clothes, pulling them on as he listened to people move around on the floor below.

Shit, he really needed a cup of coffee.

“Morning,” someone said, and when Stiles looked up, Derek was leaning against the doorpost, a blue cup in his hands.

“Please tell me that’s coffee.”

“It is,” Derek said, then raised the cup to his lips and took a long, slow sip. “Mmmm. Very nice.”

“You’re an asshole.”

“Be nice,” Derek said, a definite smirk on his face. “I was gonna offer you a ride back into town, but if you’re gonna insult me…”

Stiles frowned. “Why would I need a ride back? Wait.” He looked around the room again. Yep, no sign of Scott or his things anywhere. “Did you see where Scott went?”

“Yeah, he’s gone,” Derek said, sounding very pleased with the situation. “He and Isaac were all over each other the minute they woke up. I think little birds actually followed them outside, singing about happy endings and dropping rose petals on them. It was pretty revolting.”

He walked closer and handed his cup of coffee to Stiles, who took it with a happy sigh, feeling life coming back to his body with the first couple of sips. “I thought Isaac was your boyfriend?”

“Not really,” Derek said. “We’ve hooked up a few times, but that’s it. He just asked me to say I was, in case he ran into this guy he used to date.”

“Let me guess,” Stiles said, “Danny?”

“Sounds like you know exactly what I’m talking about.”

“You could say that. Scott hasn’t been my boyfriend since we were both fifteen and living in this tiny little town with absolutely no other options. He gives great head, though.”

“Yeah, I gathered that.”

Stiles smiled at him over the brim of the cup. “Just saying. Isaac’ll be a lucky guy.”

“I think I might be even luckier,” Derek said. “How do you feel about pancakes?”

Stiles raised an eyebrow, then figured that if breakfast dates were already on the table, he might as well go for broke.

“I’d prefer more coffee and sex, to be honest, but, sure, food’s fine.”

“I think I can manage both,” Derek said. “Get in the car, we’ll drive by an IHOP on the way back to my place.”

Stiles got to his feet and found the last of his stuff, then followed Derek out the door.

He fucking loved Lydia’s parties.