"Hoss, your place is creepsterville," Erica said, throwing herself down on the couch and then swinging her legs up over the back so her head was dangling toward the floor. "We are not hosting movie night there."
"Please don't abuse the sectional," Isaac said. He sat the bowl of popcorn down on the coffee table and shoved Erica's feet to the side. "Sectional privileges can and will be revoked."
"You're hanging around Stiles too much," Darcy said. She took the recliner, pulling her feet up under her.
Isaac's brows drew together. "Stiles is pack—"
Erica squeezed his arm. "Darcy means that you're starting to sound like my mom and I keep using the coffee mugs from Urban Dictionary that Stiles got us for Christmas. She's just jealous that Stiles loves us best."
"I got Blade Runner and Young Frankenstein," Boyd said, pushing both Erica and Isaac over to make room for herself. "Or we can stream something, but I went to all the trouble of torrenting these like the law-abiding citizen I am and I even deleted the Portuguese subtitle files just for you."
"I think Boyd loves us best," Isaac said, putting his head in Boyd's lap. Boyd patted his head tolerantly.
"I could get a sectional," Darcy said. "I could get—streaming whatever."
"We run a funeral home," Erica said. "Movie night is at Isaac's. Also, dibs on the first bowl of popcorn before all the losers get here, pass it over before I cry mutiny."
Darcy passed Erica the popcorn; she was getting better at figuring out when she needed to be their alpha and when she needed to shut the hell up. So she closed her eyes and listened to her betas squabble like siblings. They sounded like pack now, teasing and knowing and trusting, climbing over each and shoving popcorn into each other's mouths (okay, that was just Erica), at ease.
Stiles came in while Isaac had gotten up to mix a batch of blue Kool-Aid, whatever flavor that was. She put a bag of chips on the table, then hesitated over the empty corner of the couch next to Boyd for a moment.
Boyd shook her head and said, "Do you want fight McCall and Argent for that? Do you want to look at them stare at each other all movie?"
"Right," Stiles said, edging away. "What about Lydia and Jackson? Oh, wait, Lydia's in Boston."
"Jackson can sit on the floor." Boyd smiled. "Go sit with Darcy."
"It's a recliner." Darcy rolled her eyes. But then she saw Stiles's face fall and said, "You don't have to sit on the floor with Jackson. It's fine."
Stiles's face was all light when she smiled, haloed for a moment in front of the floor lamp before she turned around to drop herself into Darcy's lap. Darcy grabbed Stiles's hips to steady her, and then her hands were there, and she left them, and Stiles sighed happily and wormed an arm behind Darcy's neck. Up close, Stiles smelled like sweat and Cheetos and McCall; the hair escaping from her ponytail tickled Darcy's cheek.
Boyd was looking at the TV, but Erica was watching them; she didn't say anything, just smiled. Isaac almost dropped the pitcher of Kool-Aid when he came in from in the kitchen. Stiles didn't seem to notice. She was talking, about history class and the history of kitsune in the New World and all Darcy could focus on was the way Stiles's animated body hummed against hers, free arm lifting and falling and gesturing while the other curled around Darcy's shoulders.