One // Scott
When Scott comes out of the shower, he's still cursing his enhanced werewolf nose because three very thorough scrubbings should really have been enough to get smell of the compost bin he'd fallen into off. But apparently that's just something he's going to have to deal with. It can't be too bad, at least, because neither Allison nor Stiles notice as he makes his way down the hall to stop in the doorway to the McCall's living room.
Allison, exhausted after two nights of no sleep (night one because of a French exam that's half her semester grade; night two helping Scott hunt down supernatural beings that apparently aren't important enough for Derek to bother with), has clearly given up on waiting for Scott or even waiting to get to a bed. Instead, she's slumped over Stiles where he's sitting on the floor in front of the couch, legs splayed out in front of him with her head on his thigh. Stiles's laptop rests precariously on the other. As he clacks away on the keyboard one-handed, Scott can just make out his quiet muttering.
"Fucking lawn gnomes, for real, how is this my life now?"
He's got a pencil between his teeth, his jeans are still smudged with potting soil, and his fingers are tangled in Allison's hair like they belong there, scritching gently at the base of her scalp right where Scott knows she gets headaches after too many hours awake. It occurs to Scott after five minutes of staring that he should probably feel something other than mild annoyance at the fact that Stiles landed in the potting soil and he got the compost. Everything else is just a warm hum deep within his gut that kind of makes the shitty past twenty-four hours seem worth it.
Stiles looks up as Scott steps into the room. "I hope you had some great epiphany in the shower, dude, because the internet isn't telling me crap."
Scott clambers over the end of the couch and stretches out on his stomach, face smushed against Stiles' shoulder, arm dangling off the edge, hand coming to rest between Allison's shoulder-blades.
Stiles leans his head back into Scott's touch as if on instinct, and the warm hum in Scott's belly spreads out, burns hotter at the long stretch of Stiles' bare neck and scent of them both so close and safe. His best friends. His pack. His.
"At least you don't smell like compost any more."
"I'll find something eventually, I always do."
"I know you will," Scott murmurs into Stiles' skin, just where his collar's pulled low.
He's too busy enjoying the hum to notice Stiles' heart skitter, or to see that his hand hasn't moved at all. Sleep comes quickly.
Two // Allison
"Did you sleep okay last night?" Scott asks, eyes lighting up as Allison enters her bedroom. "Sorry I had to leave so early this morning. Coach keeps giving us morning practices."
Rolling her eyes at the open window and Scott sitting on the foot of her bed with a grin too innocent for someone who sneaks into their girlfriend's house, Allison drops into Scott's lap and hooks an arm around his neck to lean in for a kiss.
"Mmm, yeah. Thanks for carrying me to bed. I fully expected to wake up on the floor."
Scott blinks. "I... didn't carry you to bed?"
Allison tilts her head and shrugs. "Stiles? I guess I'll have to thank him later then. Wait, did he even sleep at all? He kind of looked like death warmed over today in class."
"He was snoring in the living room chair when I got up but he still had notes everywhere so I got the feeling he didn't mean to fall asleep. He kinda gets... tunnel vision? I guess, when he's researching stuff. It's even worse when he's avoiding something. He found this site called, like TV Tops? Topes? Or something and I got seventeen straight hours worth of texts about things I've never even seen."
Scott shakes his head, smile fond, and Allison draws closer, wanting to taste it. There's just something about him that's so sweet it should make her teeth ache, and yeah she totally wants to get him a little dirty and messy, but god does that smile make her want to wrap him up and never let him leave.
Kissing Scott always seems to start out sweet. He's so open and so eager and Allison could spend hours like this, enjoying the give and take of it, the way his hands catch on her skin as he tries to touch everywhere at once. It's not long though until she feels him getting hard under her, and she can't help the urge to twist her hips, tug her skirt aside so she can feel the fly of his jeans through her panties.
Allison leans her head back against Scott's shoulder, baring her throat for him to kiss his way down, moaning softly as he presses teeth into the juncture of her shoulder, squirming uncontrollably when he follows with his nose, rubbing his face into her skin until he reaches her nape. She can feel him shudder as he breathes deeply, and then he's shifting her in his lap, just this side of rough as he pulls her back to his chest and pushes her knees apart.
Her feet barely miss the floor from this high, and she can't get any leverage whatsoever even gripping at his hips, but Scott's rocking up against her and dragging short nails up the inside of her thighs while he mouths at her pulse. She whines when he pauses to sweep her hair forward, but then his hands are back and rubbing at her panties, his broken breaths at her ear as he teases her, so close to where she wants him.
Allison slips a hand behind her, pointedly tugging at Scott's fly. "Scott, please, want you."
"Can we?" He groans, gripping her hips tight as he bucks up, the heavy line of his cock right there but for three horrible layers of cloth that she wants gone. Now. "Like this?"
"Yes, okay, let me," Allison grunts, scooting forward enough to get her feet on the ground and reaching back to blindly undo Scott's jeans. She makes a happy hum when she gets them on the first try, can't resist getting a hand on him, the heat of him bleeding through the cotton of his boxers. After a second, she leans over to her desk to grab a condom out of the drawer while Scott pushes his pants down to his thighs.
Before she can take her skirt off, Scott's yanking her back into his lap, fingers wrapped around her hips tightly enough to bruise. He mouths roughly at her neck and Allison can't resist the temptation, tossing the condom on the bed, then reaching back to tangle her fingers in his hair with one hand to gain enough leverage to roll her hips as she wraps her other hand around his dick and gives it a firm stroke. She loves the weight of him against her palm, how soft the skin is and how easily it slides under her fingers.
And right now she's so very tempted to hold him against her just like this and get herself off with the drag of him against where her clit is trapped in her soaked panties, but then Scott growls, and the teeth on her neck turn pin sharp, just for a moment, and she really needs to have him inside of her right fucking now.
Scott's hands are like brands where they curl over her ribcage and her own are shaking with want as she retrieves and tears open the little foil packet, and Scott's fingers dig in hard when she rolls the condom down. She makes to get up again, thumb hooked in the waist of her underwear, but Scott clearly has other ideas, and holds her close with a steady hand spread against her sternum.
Allison sucks in a shocky breath when he drags his fingers roughly against her from pubic bone to where her panties are bunched between her cheeks, maddeningly still on the outside, his growl turning into a whine when he finds them drenched, the crease of her thighs already so slippery it takes him more than one try to hook the edge of her panties and roughly yank them to the side. Allison is so onboard with this she can't scramble for footing fast enough, barely managing to plant her feet against the bed rail by the time he's pushing into her.
On a normal day Scott can make Allison see stars; right now she's got supernovae behind her lids. Gravity and need kick in, and she's sunk down on Scott's thick length to the hilt, grinding against him in little circles get him as deep as she can, fingers splayed where they're joined. She slides her hand lower to cup around his balls to find them already drawing tight and curses at the heady knowledge that she's brought him so close to the edge so fast.
"Allison," Scott says, sounding utterly wrecked, and she grinds back down, back arched as she regains a grip on Scott's hair.
She tugs sharply and gets stinging scratches down her side for her effort. Before Scott can apologize, Allison twists her shoulders to drag him into a wet open-mouthed kiss.
"Do it, Scott, come on. You can take what you want to, I won't let you break me, I promise."
There's gold in Scott's eyes when he takes her hips again and Allison lets herself get a little drunk with the knowledge that she'll be seeing Scott's hands on her for days. He moves her like she weighs nothing and her grip in his hair is the only thing keeping her from falling over as he fucks her hard and fast, making her lightheaded with the force of it.
Scott drags his lips back to her neck, thrusting selfishly to completion, spilling into latex with a grunt and a sharp bite to Allison's vertebra.
Allison only gets a moment's reprieve and then Scott's lifting her up and tossing her back against her pillows. He pauses just long enough to toss the condom into the bin under her desk before crawling back up the bed, shoving Allison's skirt up over her waist. For all he's just come he's desperate to get to her, not even bothering to pull up his jeans as he mouths his way up her thighs, nosing at her skin as though memorizing every inch of it.
And it's not like Scott is usually a tease, but Allison is so ready to come she doesn't even think twice about grabbing onto his hair and positioning his mouth right where she wants it, rolling her hips to grind her clit against his lips, heels pressed against his spine. He sucks at her through her panties, moaning as he works her faster, harder, until she's crying out with the force of it all, Scott's firm grip the only thing grounding her.
She's still panting when she flops back against her pillows, making vague motions at Scott to join her, and after he pulls his pants up, he crawls up the bed to spoon behind her, practically purring with satisfaction. It's not long before he's dozing off.
Allison drifts while Scott snuffles quietly against her back but every time she starts to fall into a deeper sleep her mind starts whirling again, trying to figure out what exactly got into Scott and how she can do it again at many, many more times in the future.
If she doesn't figure it out she's never going to sleep again. Fuck.
Scott noses at her neck in his sleep and it's like the tumbler of a lock falling into place. Suddenly she remembers falling asleep last night against Stiles, with his hand warm and soothing against her nape.
One of these days she'll have to ask Scott exactly how sensitive his sense of smell is. She'd woken up too late to have time to wash her hair before school and Scott had come over right after so. Hm. She probably does still smell like Stiles, if only where he'd been touching her. Which is exactly where Scott's been attached for the last half hour.
Allison's just starting to put together a plan when there's the sound of keys in the front door and Scott's up like a shot and making a run for the window. She blows him a kiss as he retreats, then strips off her shirt on her way to the shower, touching the back of her neck as she brainstorms.
Three // Stiles
"What. Why are you taller than me? How high are those heels, Jesus."
"'Hello Allison. Hi Stiles. How's your day been going? Great, thanks, you?'"
When Allison slings an arm over his shoulder, Stiles starts. But hey, she's nice, smells like vanilla and metal, and seems to have zero problem with sharing his personal space in front of everyone else in the hallway. That makes two people, now. He is so not going to complain.
"See that's boring, who cares about polite conversation? I saw you in class two hours ago. Also, is there a reason you're groping my shoulder? I mean, if Scott's not up for the task let me know. I can have a few words with him, tap in —"
"That's why I like you, Stiles, you get right to the point."
Stiles chokes. He has officially lost control of this conversation.
"I have a theory," Allison says, smiling slyly. "How did you put it? Once is an incident, twice is a coincidence —"
"— Three times is a pattern?"
"Exactly. Now, I hear that my uncultured boyfriend still hasn't seen Star Wars."
Forget control, this is a severe case of conversation whiplash. He wonders if this is what everyone else feels like trying to talk to him and files away the thought for further investigation.
"No, no he hasn't. Please tell me you're up for helping me change that or I may have to reconsider our newfound friendship."
"In fact, I am. Dad just bought this massive new TV. I think we should make use of it this weekend."
"Is that like an actual invitation or a request to borrow my DVDs? Because one, as best friend it's kind of my job to provide classic sci-fi education and two, there will be no canoodling allowed during the movie. Star Wars is serious business. I will bring a squirt bottle if I need to."
Allison's answering grin is almost as blinding as Scott's. They are so stupidly perfect for each other. Something in Stiles' heart twists.
"Can we have canoodling breaks?"
"How long are you going to need?" Stiles waggles his eyebrows.
There's a split second flash of something like unholy glee on Allison's face before she forces her expression into something a bit more sedate as she slides her arm off Stiles' shoulder.
"Oh, about seven inches, give or take."
Stiles is still gaping at Allison's retreating figure when a door opens somewhere off to his left.
Four // Scott
At lunch, Allison looks and acts just like she does every other day. Stiles, too, aside from the way he keeps covering his face, but Scott's long given up on trying to figure out why Stiles does the things he does.
There's something, though. Something faint but familiar, comforting and arousing all at once, and Scott spends the entire period pressed close to Allison's side and nuzzling at her shoulder frequently enough that Stiles can't help but comment.
"You okay there, buddy? Your puppy-ness is showing," he says, voice muffled.
Allison laughs, the sound rich in Scott's ears as he halfheartedly tries to hide his blush in her shirt.
"Seriously though, I've got a spray bottle in my locker if you wanna borrow it, Allison."
"You told me you got rid of that!" Scott squawks, whirling on Stiles.
Stiles shrugs, unashamed. "I lied."
Even while trying to be insulting, Scott can't keep the smile out of his voice — he's just feeling too freaking good right now with Allison next to him and Stiles grinning as the two of them fall into a discussion about the benefits of Slytherin-Hufflepuff friendships.
Scott doesn't say much else until the bell rings, but that's okay. He's never needed to talk that much around either of them anyways.
Five // Allison
"Dude, what’s up with your nose?"
Allison can see Stiles struggling to come up with a sufficiently witty reply. It's kind of gratifying, to be honest, especially when she realizes she can pinpoint the moment he gives up.
"... I ran into a door."
"Need me to..." Scott wiggles his fingers in Stiles' face. "You know."
"Considering we're about to spend the next hour throwing balls at each other, I'm not sure there's a point," Stiles answers, shrugging.
"I thought there weren't any practices on Wednesdays," Allison says, following Scott and Stiles towards Stiles' car where he pops the back and starts pulling their lacrosse equipment out.
Scott explains, "Someone's trying to make first line."
"Duh. Why wouldn't I be? All the cool kids are doing it. Anyways, I figure if I go up against McWerewolf here enough then mere mortals will quake in awe of my abilities. Eventually."
"And in the meantime?"
"I will shamelessly bribe and beg for Scott's magic fingers."
Oh that is too good an opportunity to pass up. Way too good.
Allison opens her mouth and —
"Boo," Allison pouts at Stiles' finger in her face.
"You have reached your innuendo quota for the week. I will not be upstaged by a —" Stiles stops, suddenly looking like a deer in headlights.
Allison blinks innocently and smiles her sweetest smile. Butter wouldn't melt in her mouth. "By a what, Stiles?"
"By a, uh, not-me," he finishes lamely.
Look at that. Stiles does have a sense of self-preservation after all.
Poor Scott looks like he's watching some strange new sport, looking back and forth between Allison and Stiles with his 'I am confused but entertained?' face. It reminds Allison of the puppy she had when she was nine.
When his gaze finally lands on her, head cocked at a curious angle, she can't resist taking his cheeks in hand and leaning in for a kiss. His lips are soft against hers and they open easily when she licks between them. She means for it to be short and sweet, she really does, but she can't help dragging his lower lip between her teeth when she pulls back. Scott's arm hooks around her waist, immovable and inescapable, and suddenly she's pressed against him from sternum to kneecap. All thoughts of setting and audience fly out the proverbial window as she meets his intensity with enthusiasm.
By the time the kiss settles Allison's got a firm grip on Scott's hair, he's flushed and a little dazed, and Stiles is pointedly staring at the flag over by the school while whistling the Star Spangled Banner. His posture is practically screaming feigned nonchalance and the tips of his ears are turning an interesting shade of red. Allison wonders how long he's actually been looking away.
"So, uh, are you headed home now?" Scott asks.
Allison thinks for a moment. Her dad's not expecting her back for a bit and they've got her curious about these practice sessions. Especially now that she knows Scott's magic fingers may be making an appearance. Scott had used them on her once while he was still trying to learn to control it and she was having cramps so horrible she could barely breathe. The end result was her basically drunk for three hours and a Scott who will never even be tempted to make a snarky comment about women and periods. In short: fantastic.
"Do you mind if I hang around? I've got homework to do anyways and it's nice enough today to do it outside."
"I always want you around."
She probably should have expected that, but Scott's earnest admiration always seems to make her stomach swoop a little in happy surprise. She turns a little in the loose circle of his arms to look at Stiles.
"Is that okay? I don't want to butt in on anything." Curiosity aside, she's being honest. Quality time is just as important for the two them as is it for her and Scott, and god knows she monopolizes enough of Scott's free time.
"No canoodling!" Stiles admonishes in lieu of an answer.
Allison's still laughing when Scott drags Stiles in with an arm around the neck and starts maneuvering them towards the lacrosse field. Stiles whistles We're Off to See the Wizard all the way there.
Once they reach the bleachers, Allison extricates herself and takes a position a couple of rows up to pull out her books for English and settle in for the next hour or so. Without her to distract them Scott and Stiles pull on what looks like significantly less protection than they should be wearing, especially on Stiles' part.
A couple of minutes later Scott's standing in goal while Stiles repeatedly runs the ball at him. On the dozenth or so try he manages to get one in and she can hear his cry of "Suck on that!" from halfway across the field. A gigglesnort escapes before she can stop it. Scott definitely sees her slap her hand over her mouth to try to keep her snickering to herself.
Stiles scores another point while Scott's distracted.
"Oh come on! I'd go down to Deaton's if I wanted to play with a helpless puppy!"
Allison's not quite brave enough to move her hand just yet. They're way more entertaining than her essay.
Scott deliberately shifts to face Stiles full on, planting his feet firmly and bracing his stick across his chest in a way that looks far more offensive than defensive.
"Bring it, then."
The low growl carries and the flash in his eyes sends a shiver down her spine. Who actually cares about The Great Gatsby? No one, that's who.
Scott like this is really something else, and she can never tell anyone about the deep and profound lust she has for when he goes all sharp-toothed and lowered inhibitions. He's always so apologetic on the rare occasions he lets it out with her which drives her up the fucking wall. She was sheltered enough before she met him but she knows her own strengths now, is learning how to use them to get what she wants, knows how much she craves a challenge as much as she does love.
Scott's not a fight Allison wants to win, she just loves his wildness and power. The more she watches, the more she sees that same spark of attraction in Stiles.
Stiles, who when faced with a supernatural being that could kill him without breaking a sweat chooses to run full-speed towards it, then whoops with (pained) joy when he ends up flat on his ass.
"Now that's what I'm talking about!"
Apparently that's all it takes to send them both into a spiral of shit-talking and the most ridiculous name-calling Allison's ever been privy to. She's pretty sure they've completely forgotten about her presence in the process, because wow, Scott's way more of a smartass than she thought. It's kind of awesome.
After a few minutes, in which Stiles doesn't score a single time, they move on to what she thinks is supposed to be tackling practice. Or evasion. She's not entirely sure, since it mostly just seems to involve Stiles ending up flailing under Scott, gasping for help and/or shouting insults. Repeatedly.
They've been literally running into each other for half an hour when Stiles skids mid-duck and slams helmet-first into the dirt at an angle that human beings usually aren't meant to bend into. Scott appears to hit the same patch of mud or whatever it is a second later and werewolf reflexes are the only explanation for how narrowly he avoids breaking Stiles' leg on his own way down.
Allison abandons her ignored homework and grabs her phone before hurriedly making her way down the bleachers, just in case.
Scott raises one arm in the air and waves it around. "We're good!"
From somewhere under him Stiles grumbles, weakly trying to shove Scott over. "Speak for yourself. Ow, why are you so heavy?"
Allison may be taking photos for future reference, now that she knows no one's in need of immediate medical attention. The phone's already in her hand, might as well use it for something, right?
Stiles frees himself with some effort and starts ripping off padding while simultaneously shoving and tugging at bits of Scott until he can flop back down with his head and shoulders propped up on Scott's belly and his legs stuck out in a perpendicular sprawl. His helmet lands a few feet away from Allison's feet.
"That's it. Stick a fork in me, I am done. Come on, finger time, I need to be able to get up tomorrow."
Scott just laughs, his hand already halfway to Stiles before he even starts complaining. Allison expects him to put it on Stiles' shoulder or his chest, maybe the top of his head. She doesn't expect Scott to reach across Stiles's neck and gently cup the side of his face, thumb resting just in front of his ear and fingers splayed over his nape. And as close as she knows they are, she really doesn't expect Stiles to lean into Scott's touch as though he can't get enough.
By the time black streaks have ceased crawling up Scott's veins, Stiles is practically purring in Scott's arms, and Scott's initial grimace at the pain has melted into a soft, open smile Allison's more used to equating with afterglow. And the thing is, he's not looking at her, or out into space. No, he's looking right at Stiles and the idiot's too blissed out to even notice.
Suddenly her theory and tests seem so... shallow. Allison's known from the beginning that Scott loves Stiles but this. This is more than that. This is Scott in love.
The thought bothers her less than she thinks it should. She's frustrated at Stiles for not seeing what's right in front of him, and she's perplexed at the possibility that Scott either doesn't have a clue, or that he does and is refusing to acknowledge it. If she's being completely honest she also feels like a massive idiot for not noticing it sooner.
In spite of everything that's happened in the last year, all the wrongs that were committed, and holy hell were some of hers high up on that list, the one thing that's been consistent is Scott's incredible capacity for love. Which apparently includes Stiles. Who is currently snuggling into her boyfriend, calmer than she's ever seen him, and Scott still has that ridiculously indulgent little smile going on.
It's not like she doesn't like Stiles. She wouldn't have even started anything if she didn't. She's never wanted to hurt him, just, well, use him to rile up Scott a bit. And wow that sounds super shitty when she puts it that way.
Scott really is way too good for her. Too good for anyone, for that matter. It's probably a good thing then that he's got her and Stiles to keep the rest of the world from taking that away from him.
Allison sighs, then stands to walk over to the two boys on the verge of cuddling on the lacrosse field. She takes one last photo before she speaks. They really are too adorable for words.
"If you two are sure you don't need my ambulance calling skills then I'm going to head out."
Scott grins, blindingly bright on his dirt-streaked face. "Okay! Sorry we weren't all that interesting."
Stiles hums in vague agreement.
Allison laughs. "You were plenty interesting, I promise."
She kneels down, ignoring the scattered clods of dirt in favor of kissing Scott sweetly, letting her hand trail down Scott's arm until it's atop his on Stiles' neck, fingers between his rougher ones and Stiles' pulse jumping against her fingertips. It's a heady feeling, like flying with her feet still on the ground. She wonders what Scott sees on her face when she pulls back. Whatever it is, he seems to like it.
Books and papers put away, Allison waves as she walks off the field. She's got a lot of thinking to do.
Six // Stiles
Stiles is already late to class, dashing down the empty hallway when Allison appears out of nowhere and steps in front of him like she has absolutely nowhere else to be.
"Huh? I mean, we are both apparently rocking the t-shirt and jeans thing today, it's a good look on you by the way, but uh —"
"Your shirt," Allison says, hand out expectantly.
"Give. Me. Your. Shirt."
"Okay okay, jeez."
Stiles drops his backpack and shrugs off his plaid button-down before Allison can kick his ass. Which he wouldn't exactly mind, but the middle of the school hallway wouldn't be his venue of choice. He hands over the shirt and tugs pointedly at the hem of the tee he'd had on under the button-down. In for a penny or something, right?
"Just the one or should I keep going?"
Allison's gaze drops for just a second, and if Stiles didn't know how utterly meant to be she and Scott were he'd swear he sees her smirk. Like, a legit appreciative smirk. He has no clue how to integrate that into his current worldview.
"You would, wouldn't you?" she grins.
Half of Stiles' blood is suddenly in his face and the other in his dick. He shrugs. It's not like 'embarrassed and horny' isn't practically his default setting.
"Um, yeah? You are both way more attractive and way more terrifying than anyone I have ever met, werewolves included. I have impulse control issues, not a death wish."
Stiles is pretty sure he's babbling because what the hell, and then Allison tugs his shirt on over her own and what's left of his brain just stops.
"Why?" he squeaks.
This time her smile is a little softer but her eyes are full of mischief as she turns on her heel and walks away. Before she gets to the corner she looks back, tossing her hair over one shoulder.
"Call it a pattern recognition test!"
Allison honest to god winks at him before sauntering out of sight. Stiles falls back against the wall and bangs his head a few times on the bricks behind him, wonders if he should warn Scott that Allison is clearly plotting something, then rules out the idea because what the hell.
"Will you stop doing that!" he yells uselessly.
Seven // Scott
A few seconds after Scott knocks on Allison's door, it opens to reveal her barefoot in ridiculously short pajama shorts, a t-shirt, and an oversized plaid shirt that seems incredibly out of place yet oddly familiar. He will never understand why someone that attractive is dating him.
As if reading his mind, she pushes into his space and shuts the door behind him, looping her arms over his shoulders to draw him down into a kiss before he can even drop his backpack. Scott's hands find her hips automatically, dragging up until they reach satiny skin where he can still feel the faint heat from the fading bruises he put there just a few days ago. He's got a split second to feel guilty before she's gasping into his mouth and tugging at his hair.
So this is going to be one of those rounds, then.
When they'd first started having sex, he'd been happy to let her take the lead. It wasn't as though he'd had a lot (read: any) experience. He'd trusted her wholeheartedly, and well, he'd still been a little terrified of what would happen if he let up on his control too much. And oh, it had been sweet and so so good, and it still is, but sometimes she pushes a little far, and sometimes his control slips. And god, the last thing he wants to do is hurt her but words don't ever seem to be enough to get across everything that he's feeling.
They haven't just cheated death again, there's nothing in particular to celebrate, Allison is just there — happy and warm in Scott's arms, smelling so good that his wolf is straining to devour her — and so he remembers her admonitions of 'not going to break me' and 'I love you, all of you' and 'not hurting I promise'. So, he lets go of the guilt and proceeds to pull her tight, leaving a trail of sharp nips down the column of her throat. They'll fade in an hour or two, even on human skin, but right now each new bite has her a step closer to falling apart against him.
He noses her shirts aside to get to her collarbone and there's that scent again, the one that's been driving him crazy all week, the one that seems to make his dick hard faster than he can blink, the one that makes him want to throw Allison into the nearest surface (or be thrown, he's not picky and she could probably do it). It's very nearly infuriating, and this time when he mouths at her skin he uses his lips, tongue, and teeth to leave a mark that will stay, for a week at least.
He feels her muscles tense beneath him, and yes he is so ready to have her legs wrapped around him that he doesn't hear anything else until she's mid-jump and the freaking loud doorbell is going off right above his head. It startles him so badly that instead of catching Allison, he ends up on the floor with her in his lap, laughing as she reaches up to open the door.
Stiles is standing there looking utterly confused into thin air, then his gaze drops and he just sighs heavily.
"I thought we had an agreement, Allison. I'm came here to watch a movie and honestly I'm feeling so betrayed right now."
She shrugs. "The movie isn't on yet, so therefore the no canoodling clause isn't in effect either. Can you blame me?"
Stiles grins at Scott who has long given up being embarrassed in front of Stiles, then gives Allison a questioning glance before he shakes his head to himself.
"Fine, I guess I can't." He slaps Scott on the shoulder. "Come on man, you haven't even put your stuff down. And I still have to set everything up."
"We've got a DVD player," Allison says, looking to Scott like he knows what's going on. Scott shakes his head.
"Don't look at me. I have no idea."
Stiles holds up a bag full of VHS tapes and VCR that appears to be older than he is. "This is Scott's first Star Wars experience and we are doing this shit right. No revamped special effects, no 'all-new CG', and for sure none of that Greedo shot first bullshit. Right."
Allison seems to get what Stiles is talking about if her knowing laugh is anything to go by, so Scott lets it go, figuring he'll find out soon enough anyways. "A little help here?" he says, raising an arm.
Grinning, Stiles sets aside the bag and reaches out to each of them to help them to their feet, swaying close as they find their balance.
There's that scent again, coming at him practically in stereo now. The warm hum that's been buzzing under his sternum all week blankets all of his senses and suddenly it clicks. It's Allison and Stiles. Together. What?
Vaguely, Scott registers Stiles walking away, hears Allison mention pizza, and then he's being dragged through the kitchen to the den on the far side, shedding his things along the way. He's trying to wrap his head around this, this Stiles and Allison thing, but it makes zero sense. He knows with every fiber of his being that Allison wouldn't cheat on him and that Stiles would never betray him like that, but he literally cannot come up with another explanation, and that doesn't even begin to touch on his own completely visceral reaction to what they smell like together.
"Scott. Scott, look at me. I am so sorry, that wasn't exactly the reaction I was going for. Are you still with me?"
Scott nods blankly, and tries to think. Allison's kneeling in front of where he's sitting, clasping his hands and looking a little bit panicked. It's a strange look for her.
"The reaction you were going for?" Scott asks, because parroting Allison's words seems a good enough place to start as any.
"Well, the first part was, but uh, not the second." She fiddles with the hem of her shirt anxiously, mouth moving as though about to speak and then stopping as she reconsiders her words.
Scott knows that shirt.
"You're wearing Stiles' clothes."
"I... yeah. I stole it from him earlier today." Her eyes go wide. "I will tell you everything I promise, but I swear he's just as clueless as you are. Don't be mad at him, okay?"
That... sounds an awful lot like that thing Scott refuses to think is a possibility. There's not enough air in the room for this conversation.
"We didn't, Scott, I swear," Allison says, gripping his hands tighter. "Look, it started as something silly and selfish and now I think it could be something amazing for all of us and we need to have a real discussion where neither one of us is panicking, okay?"
Scott leans in to rest his forehead against hers, intent on the steady beating of her heart, fast but steady, just like it's been all night. He breathes deeply, trying to calm his own heartbeat, but all it does is fill his senses with Allison — the warm vanilla and iron that's always been a part of her, laundry detergent and shampoo, the shifting scents of care and arousal with a tinge of guilt, overlaid with his best friend and all he can think is that she feels like home.
He sits back and opens his eyes. "Okay."
She blinks. "That's it? Now?"
"I trust you," he says simply. And he does. He trusts her with his life, his everything. He owes her this.
Allison surges into him, kissing him fast and hard for just a moment before she sits back on her heels to collect her thoughts. She smiles a little, sheepish.
"So. The whole time we've known each other, it's been pretty obvious that you're more comfortable with Stiles than you are me."
Allison holds up her hand to stall Scott's protests.
"It's true and you know it, but that's okay. You've been best friends since you were four, I get it. If anything I'm envious, but I'm not jealous. He sees sides of you that I don't, and you've never had to hide anything from him. And the more I paid attention, the more I realized that any time the three of us are together you seem to let your guard down more."
Scott... can see that, actually. The realization that he'd been hiding anything of himself from Allison pains him, but he'd only been doing it to try to protect her, and well, maybe there was some wanting to look like less of the dork he's been his whole life there, too.
"No one wants their girlfriend to think they're dumb," Scott can't help saying in his defense.
"I know, but. I'm selfish, I can't help it. I want to see all of you, all the silly and rough parts included."
"And you thought the guy who's been laughing at me for over ten years was the best way to do it?"
He has to laugh, but when he thinks back over the course of his life, he has to admit she's right. Something about Stiles' presence is, well, freeing is the only word Scott can really think of. They really have seen almost everything there is to see in each other. He doesn't have to hide. It's partly that Scott knows no matter what strange or dirty thing he's thinking, Stiles has thought it already if not actually said it so it's not like Scott can actually make things worse. There's also that part that knows if he does ever manage to go too far Stiles will have no qualms about putting him in his place, if not necessarily tactfully or kindly. Dog bowls come to mind.
"To be fair, you started it that night with the lawn gnomes. Remember the next day?" she asks teasingly, and Scott can't stop the heat in his face when he thinks about Allison on his lap, on his tongue. "Uh-huh. Exactly. Do you remember what started it?"
"You were...," he gestures to his lap, still not quite able to verbalize, "and you just smelled really fucking—"
She'd smelled like Stiles, like both of them from where she'd fallen asleep on his lap.
"So when I finally figured out the same thing you just did, I had to make sure it wasn't a fluke."
Scott thinks back over the course of the week. "Today?"
"And Wednesday? Remember lunch?"
The lunch that he spent most of trying to wrap himself around Allison for no apparent reason. Except there was apparently a reason.
"Or, as Stiles would say: incident, coincidence, pattern. Well, he would say if I'd actually explained. I might have ambushed him." She looks off to the side and Scott can't help but laugh a little at her awful attempt at an innocent face.
"Possibly," she says, impishly, then sighs, looking at him so fondly he wants to crawl into her arms and stay there forever.
"Did you know you look at him the same way you do me?"
The question is so deceptively simple Scott can't actually process what she's saying for a long moment. Allison scoots closer, nudging his knees apart until she can wrap her arms loosely around his waist.
"But I love you," Scott answers, helplessly.
He does. He loves her with all of his being. And he knows he loves Stiles, can't imagine life without him, but—
"And Stiles. I'm like ninety-nine point nine nine nine eight percent sure. There's a slight margin of error but I know that look pretty well. It's my favorite one."
Scott has no idea what to do. It's like the worst final exam ever, and if he screws it up he might lose the love of his life and his best friend, who is apparently the other love of his life. But Allison is soft, and right there holding him, so he pulls her close and buries his face in her hair. As he breathes her in he finds himself inexorably drawn to the same conclusion.
Scott is in love with his best friend. This has the potential to change everything.
"What do I do now?" he whispers.
And that's, of course, how Stiles finds them, wandering by kitchen asking about food.
"You totally didn't even order the pizza yet, did you. And you're still dressed, I am both shocked and disappointed."
Stiles sweeps through the kitchen, picking up the cordless along the way and dialing the pizza place by memory. As he wanders back towards the living room, Scott clings tightly to Allison for a second before letting go to stand up, bringing her with him.
Allison hooks her pinkie in his. "We'll figure it out, okay? I promise."
The real problem, at least at this moment, is that now that she's pointed it out, Scott can't stop thinking about it. He startles at Stiles' hand on his shoulder shoving him down onto the couch. He fixates on where Stiles' knee is touching his. He stares at Stiles' hands as he fiddles with a remote the size of his head to start the movie.
It doesn't get any better when he tries to focus on Allison on his other side. He is absolutely sure she picked out that particular pair of shorts to short-circuit his brain, and the combination of those, Stiles' shirt, and her planning face is opening a whole world of possibilities it's never even occurred to Scott to consider.
He should probably go ahead and apologize to Stiles now because paying attention to three whole movies is just not going to happen tonight.
Five minutes in, Allison curls up along his side and whispers so quietly even Scott can barely hear her.
"You're thinking about him, aren't you?"
Scott barely manages to stay still at the question. God, everything is messing with his head, and not the least of it is how Allison seems to be 100% okay with the fact that somewhere along the way he inadvertently fell in love with his best friend.
He nods, silent. There's no point in lying, not now, and he has to admit that he's equally curious and terrified of whatever it is she's thinking. As she starts drawing little invisible circles on his jeans, gradually moving higher, he adds turned on to that list. His girlfriend is going to kill him and he's generally okay with that plan.
Stiles is valiantly attempting to explain the physics behind a binary star system and how it could conceivably produce a planet that was still inhabitable despite lacking large bodies of water when the pizza gets there. After he jumps to go pay for it, Scott grabs Allison's hand from where it's been creeping closer and closer to his zipper and hisses.
"What are you doing? This is hard enough already!"
Allison looks pointedly at his lap and smirks.
"Oh my god!" Scott turns to bury his flaming face in the back of the couch. "How is this my life. You two are perfect for each other. I haven't even done anything and you're both driving me crazy!"
Allison rests her chin on Scott's shoulder, her lips hot against his ear as she speaks.
"That's kind of what I'm thinking."
Scott shifts so that he can squint at her with one eye, heart pounding at her implication.
"Well, you love us both, we love you, and we like each other well enough..."
"How do you know he— You're not psychic."
"He's risked his life for you, and he's asked you to make out with him more times that I can count. He actually tells you he loves you, which isn't something teenage boys usually do —"
"— and he means it. Did you realize that the reason everyone at school was so surprised we started going out was that everyone basically assumed you and Stiles were together?"
"Scott, he saw our first kiss. Like, full on voyeuristic stood there and watched us. And all three of us seemed to not have a problem with it. That's not exactly normal."
Scott deflates. Allison's not wrong about the facts, but it's a little hard to reconcile the last few years of Scott-and-Stiles with her interpretation of them. On the one hand, Scott knows better than anyone how Stiles blurts out whatever's on his mind without thinking. On the other, he knows how Stiles plays the things that are really important to him, like his mom, so close to the vest no one but Scott has any idea they're even there.
"But Lydia —"
"Lydia is so in love with Jackson that she saved him from turning into a giant flying lizard. I think even Stiles picked up on that one."
She looks hopeful and a little sad all at once, and Scott knows how she feels.
"I think we'd be good for him," she says finally, quiet, but there's no mistaking the conviction in her tone. Scott feels like he's standing on the edge of very steep cliff. "Just think about it, okay?"
At Scott's nod, Allison nuzzles closer and Scott's drawn to her throat like always; to his wolf it's her submission but to him it's an invitation, and somehow now that he recognizes it, that scent just draws him in even more. The tension he'd been feeling for the last hour melts away at her touch.
He can feel Allison's laughter before he hears her whisper. "And we already know he's good for us, hm?"
Scott nips at her skin in answer, drawing already bruise dark skin between his teeth as he finally gets to run his palm up the outside of her thigh. "Love you," he murmurs before kissing at the mark and pulling Allison over until she's straddling his lap, her hair falling forward in a curtain around them.
She kisses him with intent, and Scott wants to remind her that Stiles is going to be right back but he thinks that might actually be her point, which, fuck, he groans into her mouth, digging blunt nails into her thighs as she rolls against him.
"Oh for fucks sake, I wasn't even gone five minutes."
Stiles is standing in front of the couch, not two feet away, holding a pair pizza boxes and looking like he's torn between murder and laughter. And now that Scott is bothering to look for it, arousal. He's glaring, but the corner of his mouth is quirked up in a tiny grin, lower lip caught between his teeth. Beyond the scent of pizza and Allison, Scott can smell the want on Stiles, and he has to drop his head to Allison's shoulder to collect himself before he can look up again.
He's stupidly grateful when Allison takes matters into her own hands and half stands, one foot on the floor between Scott's feet and her knee still against his thigh, looking curiously at the pizza boxes.
"Oo, what'd you get?"
Stiles proudly takes one box and hands it to Scott, and the opens the other to show Allison.
"One for Mr. Bottomless Pit and the other half and half for the mere humans."
Allison peers into the box and claps happily. "My favorite, thanks!" she says, kissing Stiles on the cheek, then takes the box from his hands and slides to the floor at his feet.
Stunned silence is a good look on Stiles, Scott has to admit, and the little flare of want that comes with knowing Allison was the one to cause it is something Scott thinks he could get used to.
She reaches up to tug at Stiles' hand, setting the pizza down on the coffee table and flipping the top open to pull out a slice. When Stiles plops down beside her, she leans into him casually enough, but Scott would recognize Stiles' panicking-but-going-with-it face anywhere.
A nudge with his knee against Stiles' shoulder calms him enough to eat, and the rest of the movie passes with food, Stiles' running commentary, and Scott going slowly out of his mind.
By the time Stiles gets up to switch the tape to the second movie, Scott's jittering so hard Allison has to wrap a hand around his calf to get his leg to stop jumping.
He's so busy watching Stiles, though, that he doesn't notice the foot Allison sticks out until Stiles is tripping over it and landing in his lap. Any other time he'd welcome it but he's been half hard for the last two-plus hours and thinking and all he wants to do right now is kiss Stiles until he stops flailing.
In a fit of impulsiveness spurred on by a bright-eyed Allison he does just that.
Later, Scott will probably be incredibly unimpressed with himself. The kiss is awkward — Stiles' nose smushed against his, knees and elbows all at weird angles, too much spit and too many teeth — and it's absolutely, one hundred percent worth it for the way Stiles melts into him, the wrenching sound he makes cutting right to Scott's core.
He clutches Scott's shirt and doesn't let go, not even when Scott falls back against the arm of the couch and pulls Stiles with him, rucking up Stiles' tee to get to skin. Stiles breaks off the kiss with a gasp, nearly jumping out of his skin when he sees Allison propped against the cushions, watching wide-eyed from her seat on the floor.
With them both right there, turned on and so very close, their scent is intoxicating. It feels like the heavy duty cough syrup he used to have to take as a kid, except now his throat is tight with want instead of illness.
"Stiles," he asks breathlessly, "tell me you want this."
"Tell us," Allison adds, biting her lip in anticipation.
Stiles looks back and forth between the two of them, uncertainty and apprehension creeping in and turning his scent sour, furrowing his brow, and Scott can't bear it.
It's obvious Scott's not the only one feeling something, something strong, and he pours that conviction into his next words.
"This is an invitation, okay? You are my best friend in the world, I love you, and I want this, and even if you decide you don't you will still be my best friend and I will still love you."
For the first time in their long and storied friendship, Stiles is actually speechless.
Allison just nods, her quiet support strengthening Scott's confidence that this is absolutely the right thing to do.
"Is... Is this what you've been up to this week, Allison?" Stiles asks, voice a little strangled.
"Um," Allison starts, flushing. "Maybe?"
"Oh my god," Stiles cries dramatically, then drops his face against Scott's shoulder, shaking with laughter.
All Scott can do is ineffectively pat Stiles' back as he calms down, his own nervousness evaporating as Stiles' scent gradually changes from anxiously sour to a sharp sweetness Scott learned long ago to recognize as arousal.
Stiles shifts and the movement puts his thigh between Scott's legs and his mouth against Scott's neck, and Scott's struck by how right it feels, how good. The thought of loving Stiles isn't so much abstract anymore as it is a certainty.
When Stiles bites down on his jugular, not even hard enough to hurt, Scott arches into the touch, head falling back to let Stiles have at. It's not until he hears Allison groan that he realizes he's the one making that soft whine.
Stiles' voice is just as quiet and bordering on reverential.
"Scott, Scotty, god I've been wanting to do that for-fucking-ever, come here," he gasps, tugging Scott back into reach with a yank that flares something primal deep in Scott's gut.
Scott's pretty sure his eyes just flashed if Stiles' tripping heart and frantic kiss is any indication. They meet head on and for all Stiles is inexperienced, he's enthusiastic, mouth opening to invite Scott in, meeting every slide of tongue and edge of teeth with moans and grabbing hands as he rocks against Scott.
Another shift has Stiles shamelessly rolling his hips against Scott's thigh and Scott takes the opportunity to drag his hands down Stiles' back and down under Stiles' shorts to grab his ass and pull him closer.
"I want..." He wants to touch Stiles all over, to have Stiles' hands, mouth all over him. He wants to see what Stiles would look like naked and riding him and under him and in him and. He wants everything.
Stiles pulls away and Scott panics for half a second until he realizes Stiles is tugging at his shirt. Approximately two seconds after that, Scott's tossing his tee on the floor which is followed shortly by Stiles' own landing on Allison's head.
Jerking as though he'd forgotten she was there, again, Stiles makes as if to cover himself back up but Allison just grins, dropping the shirt into her lap with a laugh.
"I'm going to have to start a collection here soon," she says cheekily, humor belying her obvious interest.
"Seriously, though, I'll leave if you really want but I'd like to watch. Please?"
Now, with Stiles kneeling up, the scent of her arousal hits Scott like a hurricane and his world flashes crimson again.
Stiles abruptly squeezes down on his dick where he's tenting his shorts. "Your boyfriend keeps doing that and there won't be anything to watch."
"Sorry?" Sheepish, Scott smiles. "You good with this?" he adds, motioning to his and Allison's general being.
"There are probably things I'm not okay with in this world but I can't think of a single one at the moment, probably because all of my blood is currently in my dick and you're just sitting there."
Scott snorts. It's good to know Stiles mid-makeout is just as much of a smartass as Stiles the rest of the time. This he knows how to handle better than breathing.
So he handles it, admittedly with a somewhat new method, by yanking Stiles back down by the waistband of his shorts and using the opening provided by Stiles flailing for balance to pull them down over his ass. Stiles' dick slapping against his belly when Scott gets the shorts all the way down should be funny but Scott's too horny to care.
Stiles grabs for purchase on the arm of the couch and Scott goes for it, palming Stiles' cock and tugging at the length of him just to see how he feels.
"Better?" he asks.
"Much," Stiles answers as he pushes into Scott's touch. "Fuck, don't stop."
It's different than jerking off. Stiles' dick is longer and more slender, the curve of it causing the soft head to smear precome onto Scott's wrist with every stroke. He's just as sensitive, though in different places, and Scott adjusts his grip trying to figure out where best to squeeze and where to slide.
Turns out twisting his palm over the head makes Stiles gasp, and pressing his thumb at the base just above his balls makes Stiles pant and dig his nails into Scott's neck.
They've got a rhythm going before long and moments later Stiles' grip tightens as he rambles pleas into Scott's ears, don't stop, don't stop, gonna—
His cock pulses in Scott's hand as he comes, and that's absolutely just as hot as feeling Allison flutter around him, as feeling Stiles' come drip down his arm and stomach, as the scent of Stiles getting deep under his skin.
Stiles slumps against him, mouthing absently at his neck and practically purring, not even grumbling when Scott wipes his hand on his side.
"You're going to be useless now, aren't you?" Scott says, then laughs when Stiles flops a hand towards his pants.
"Mmrph, g'mme a minute. Need to process."
On the floor, Allison scoots closer for a kiss that Stiles watches with wide eyes. She tastes even wilder than he feels and Scott lets himself drown in it.
She's smirking when he opens his eyes.
"I have a request."
Stiles' response is the same as Scott's but half a second slower.
Scott's pretty sure that warm hum in his belly's never going away at this point.
With effort, she pries a whining Stiles off Scott and pushes him towards the other end of the couch, waits until he pulls his shorts back on, then stands and winks at Scott before she climbs onto the couch and in between Stiles' legs.
Scott grins. They look good together, and Scott feels a pleased, possessive surge knowing that they're both his.
And maybe each other's if Stiles can stop panicking long enough to figure out what to do with his hands.
"Kiss me," she tells him and he listens for once and—
A flash of tongue and Allison moans, capturing Stiles's hands with her own and drawing them in, one to her belly, the other to her thigh. As she settles in with her back to his chest, breaking off the kiss to look at Scott, she parts her knees and even without enhanced senses Scott would be able to tell she's already soaked through her itty bitty shorts.
With them, though, Scott can hear her heart pounding, see the faint tremor in Stiles' hands as she guides them, and this time when the red creeps in he lets it linger.
"Scott, Scott, Scott," she murmurs, squeaking when he pounces and eager to wrap her legs around his waist.
He pulls back long enough to roughly yank her shorts and panties down in one move. Allison reaches for them before he lets go and retrieves a packet from the pocket.
He's so startled his eyes blink back to normal.
"Planned well? Yes I did."
Stiles' shoulders shake with laughter for a second, cutting off when Allison tears it open.
"Pants, Scott, get with the program."
Right. Jeans off, briefs off, and now Scott is naked on a hunter's couch with his two best friends who have one incomplete outfit between them. Life is... unbelievably good at the moment.
Scott leans back in has to take a deep, calming breath, bracing himself on the arm of the couch as Allison rolls the condom on. He's not going to last long, he knows, not after being on edge for three hours and then watching Stiles lose it at his hand.
Allison grins that evil little grin and does something Scott can't quite see, and a second later, when Allison wraps her legs back around his waist and guides his cock into her, Stiles' fingers are there sliding against him and Scott almost loses it himself.
As it is he can't help the jerk of his hips; Allison shuts him up with a biting kiss before he can ask if she's okay. He pulls out slow just to watch her forehead crinkle and starts thrusting with less control than he'd like to admit.
And once Stiles starts touching, he can't seem to stop now that he's been given permission. He makes his way down Scott's ribcage, over a nipple, up Allison's belly and under her bra, down her thighs and back up to where Scott's moving inside her, her writhing in his arms the whole time.
She's already almost as close as Scott and he wants, needs to push her over that edge first. Needs to show Stiles just where to touch, where he can use his clever fingers to devastating effect. Scott's always loved how fast a learner Stiles is.
Stiles, who can't stop whispering oh my god under his breath as he skims his fingertips over Allison's clit, until she's trembling and squeezing Scott's cock. And Scott wants to hold out, wants to let her get her fill before he lets go, but then Stiles is pushing a long finger in alongside Scott and it's too much, too perfect.
He slumps down in a remarkably good impersonation of Stiles, thankfully recovering before Allison starts poking at him for air. Scott lands back on his corner of the couch, the condom lands on the pizza box, and everyone's legs and knees make for a big tangle in the middle.
"Oh I'm good," he says, dazed. "Very good. Even stickier now, but good."
It's quiet for several minutes. Then Allison opens her mouth.
"So that worked."
Scott breaks his silence next, with an undignified snort that sends Stiles into a fit of giggles and Allison off the edge of the cushions in a hiccuping ball.
"I vote Allison makes the plans from now on."
Allison raises a hand. "Seconded!"
"What's wrong with my plans?!" Stiles sputters.
"Hers end up with us naked."
"Hey, you ended up naked the last time I made a plan."
"Because I landed in a compost pile, Stiles."
Stiles shrugs, unrepentant. "That's your probl— Hey waitaminute! I figured out how to take care of the gnomes!"
Eight // Allison
After Scott and Stiles have left for the night, she sent them off with a kiss each, Allison crawls into bed with wet hair and a self-satisfied smile.
Provided they managed to successfully clean up any incriminating evidence and don't end up all murdered by her father, she thinks they'll actually be able to make this work.
Nine // Stiles
In the morning, the Stilinskis' doorbell buzzes while Stiles is trying to finish his too-long neglected homework. He's had more important things think about this week, and it's Saturday and he's actually doing it, okay? He hears his dad answer the door and a moment later Allison's sticking her head around Stiles' bedroom doorframe.
"Hey, yourself," she answers, and drops her backpack next to his bed.
And it's not like Stiles doesn't want her here, he does, very much, but there hadn't been much in the way of talking last night. Someone should write some sort of threesome etiquette book. Someone not Stiles.
He can feel his heartbeat ratchet up to potentially dangerous levels as Allison steps behind him and rests her hands on his shoulders, thumbs brushing the sides of his neck. He nearly vibrates out of the chair.
How the hell is he supposed to answer that? 'I am absolutely head over heels in love with my best friend I've known since I was four but you kissed him first and I might possibly be halfway to in love with you too and I've seen you both naked and gotten more kisses than I thought would ever be happening but I am a selfish asshole who wants everything for real and for keeps and am too fucking terrified to say anything because I don't think I could deal with losing what I do have' seems a bit much. Stiles settles for a tl;dr.
"You don't even like me. Not like... like like." It comes out almost a question, Stiles' head tilted back to look up at Allison as he shrugs.
Allison sighs and lets go to sit down on the edge of Stiles' bed. She looks... sad, really, until her expression morphs into one of annoyance.
"I'm an idiot," she mutters under her breath.
Stiles spins his chair to face her fully. He has no clue how to fix this but he does like Allison, and even if he never gets to kiss or touch her again, he wants her to know that.
"Pretty sure if any of us is an idiot it's me," he jokes, trying to get her to smile back.
She sighs heavily. "No, it's me, because I was too busy— I... made assumptions. You look at each other and it's like. And then we. And then us."
"Um," Stiles adds unhelpfully.
Allison throws her hands in the air and flops back on Stiles' bed. It's a move straight out of Stiles' melodramatic repertoire, and it settles his nerves enough that he can wait for her to get her thoughts together while his own whirl madly. He fiddles with a pencil in the meantime, twirling it back and forth across his knuckles.
When she sits up again she's got her determined face on, the one Stiles is more used to seeing above a crossbow. It's a bit disconcerting.
"You love Scott, right?"
"Yeah, obviously," Stiles answers maybe a little too flippantly.
Allison isn't stupid. She just stares at him, not smiling or frowning, just looking, but her gaze is so intense Stiles has to close his eyes to keep from spilling everything.
"I... yeah. I do." His voice is quieter this time, confessional.
"And you like me."
There's a tinge of uncertainty for all her question is phrased as a statement, and Stiles' stomach twists.
"Yes," he says with perhaps more emphasis than necessary.
Allison closes her eyes and takes a deep breath. When she opens them uncertainty has been replaced with hopefulness.
"When we started this," she begins, gesturing in a circle that Stiles is pretty sure is meant to include Scott, "I thought I was just testing a theory."
Suddenly a certain conversation makes infinitely more sense.
Allison laughs softly. "Yeah."
"Holy shitballs, wait. All of this was all your idea, not just, that, last night?"
"Yes?" she answers, ducking her head just a little, clearly pleased but still... something. Stiles isn't sure what, but her cheeks are turning a really adorable shade of pink. Stiles has managed to make Allison Argent blush. Achievement unlocked. Sweet.
He is so fucked.
Allison takes away the pencil he'd been twirling and replaces it with her hand, twining their fingers together. Stiles looks down at her callused thumb running across his knuckles in disbelief.
"I guess along the way I started wanting it to be more than that. Scott, too. I assumed you did, but we never asked."
Things in Stiles' life are never this easy. Ever. His pulse is racing at what it sounds like Allison's asking but there's a voice in the back of his head asking what the catch is, waiting for the other shoe to drop.
"So what are you asking me now?" Stiles can't keep the wobble out of his voice, or the want.
"Be ours? Really ours."
Stiles opens his mouth but nothing comes out.
"I know it sounds weird and really we have no idea what we're doing, but we want you. Not like me-and-Scott plus you every now and then, but like me-and-you-and-Scott all the time, not just sex."
Way to be smooth there, buddy. Squeaking is totally sexy. Stiles would facepalm if his hand wasn't occupied.
"Give me your phone," Allison says, and Stiles grins.
"Is this another test?"
"No," she says, then sticks her tongue out at him. "I'm calling Scott."
Stiles hands over his phone and waits for her to dial Scott. When he picks up she hits the speaker button.
"Hey babe, what's up?"
If Scott thinks it's weird to hear Allison calling from Stiles' number, he doesn't give any indication.
"Not much. Derek just picked me up and we're headed out to the preserve for a run. Did you need something?"
"I don't, but your— our boyfriend's got some questions."
Stiles is still processing that statement, mouthing the word 'boyfriend' like he's never heard it before when Scott responds.
"You've got me on speaker right? Stiles, dude, just listen to her. Go with it. Also I want details later."
Allison raises her eyebrows pointedly. Stiles kind of feels like he's been hit in the head with a clue bat.
Scott just laughs.
"Gotta go, Derek's giving me the pinchy eyebrow TMI face. Love you! Remember, details!"
Stiles stares at his phone blankly as Allison scoots away to rummage through her backpack. She leans in momentarily to kiss his cheek before plopping onto Stiles' bed and opening a textbook.
"Process, Stiles, I'll still be here."
For the next half hour Stiles simultaneously completes three different assignments and tries to figure out how is this his life, oh my god.
Later, when Allison leaves with a distractingly thorough kiss and a wave, he's pretty okay with his current lot.
Epilogue One // Scott
"Dude, we were each other's first kiss."
"Wait a minute," Allison says, rolling over from where she's sprawled on Scott's bed to look down at him and Stiles sitting on the floor. "I thought you said I was your first kiss."
"First real kiss!"
On screen Yoshi swerves, and Scott has a feeling that if he looks over he'll be faced with Stiles' my-feelings-are-totally-not-hurt grin #7. Scott looks over anyways.
He's absolutely right and he wants to kick himself. Mario Kart is suddenly not nearly as important as it was two minutes ago. Scott puts the controller off to the side and turns to face Stiles.
"That's not. Dammit. Kissing you was, well. Normal. It wasn't, like, weird or different or anything, it was just... you. You were the one who suggested 'practicing' in the first place!"
Stiles' shoulders relax the tiniest bit, and Scott's so relieved he doesn't notice Allison inching closer until her lips are right at his ear.
"So what you're saying is kissing me was weird."
Allison's voice is low, quiet, and so perfectly level that his wolf is practically begging him to run away as fast as he possible can.
Shit. This is not going well.
"That's not what I said!"
"It kinda is, buddy. Rude."
"Stiles, stop helping."
"I'm sure I could help in other ways," he teases, elbowing Scott before stealing a kiss.
And really, Scott should have known better. The incredibly strong — ow — pillow blow to the back of his head should not have been a surprise.
Unfortunately for him, though, it is, and unfortunately for Stiles, Allison smacks Scott hard enough to make him bite Stiles' tongue.
Scott loves every second of it, gleefully trading swipes with his two favorite people until the pillows give up the ghost and explode in a rain of goose down, and Stiles and Allison fall into Scott.
Somehow Stiles' hair manages to collect more feathers than Allison, who's poking at her tongue trying to get out all the leftover fuzzy bits, and they're both wrapped around Scott so closely he can't smell anything but them and home.
He has this overwhelming urge to cling tight and never let go, but he thinks maybe words are what he should be focusing on now.
"I —" Scott starts, then stops.
"It's okay," Allison says from his left.
"We know," Stiles adds from his right.
"I know that, I do. But I want to say it. It's important."
It's almost worse when they both get it and wrap themselves closer to give him time to think, not expectant, just quiet, Stiles drawing invisible patterns on the back of Allison's hand atop Scott's chest.
Scott breathes them in deeply, trying to calm the rush of blood in his head threatening to make him lose his mind and his nerve.
He sneezes when a feather goes up his nose. Still they stay close, and Scott opens his mouth and lets out everything he's been trying to say for the past few weeks, longer if he's honest with himself.
"Allison, you're like my wolf." Ugh he wants to bang his head into a wall for that, comparing his hunter girlfriend to the thing her family's been killing for generations. The irony is not actually lost on him this time but it's so true he can't possibly explain it another way. Allison's still there, though, and he can smell her love, feel her comfort, and hear the curiosity in her questioning hum, so he continues.
"You just. You came out of nowhere. I wasn't looking for you, wasn't expecting you, and then you were there and I was terrified. I had no idea what to do or how to react, and you just kept on being you. And you alone are amazing, more than, even, god. But then you became this bright shining thing in my life, too, and suddenly I could see better, hear things, and I could finally run as fast and as far as I wanted to with you there beside me. You make the world a better place, you make me better. And I love you for it, all of it, even the scary parts. Maybe even especially the scary parts."
Scott pauses to breathe, tries to reign in the emotion bleeding off of him before he drowns in it, falling deeper and deeper for the two precious people he has in his arms. Still, he can't bring himself to look at either of them just yet, not until he's done.
"Stiles," he says, tasting the name he's said a million times as though it were something delicate and new. Stiles stills in his arms, so unnaturally that Scott's heart skips a beat before he barrels on before Stiles can even think about running away. "You. You're there." Scott tightens his grip on Stiles' waist, because wow what a horrible way to begin. "I mean, you've always been there. I'd say you were my other half but even that kind of implies we could be separated but we can't, at least not for me."
Stiles finally drags in a rough breath and Scott relaxes his grip, just a bit. "You're like breathing to me. Sometimes we don't work right together but any time you're gone I'm always missing you. I take you for granted all the time, way more than I should, and I'm sorry, but it's just because I can't imagine you not being there, being a part of me. I'd... actually die, I think, if something tried to take you away from me, for real."
Scott blinks. It's all true. Every single word he's said, it is, it is. But it doesn't make it feel any less like he's just taken a sledgehammer to the face. He would do anything for either of them, to keep both of them, and woe betide anyone who stands in his way.
Two sets of arms squeeze tighter around him for a moment, and Scott can't help but laugh, wide and open and true.
He's counted three minutes when Stiles starts fidgeting again, and at twelve seconds after that Stiles' bony chin is digging into his chest.
"The next time you're writing an English paper, I want you to think back to this conversation and I guarantee you will actually get a decent grade for once."
Allison snorts helplessly, and it's not long until they're all on the floor in a giggling pile of arms, legs, and feathers.
Epilogue Two // Melissa
Melissa's taking clothes out of the dryer when the shrieking starts, and it's so familiar she has to pause and look at Scott's shirt in her hands, holding it up to the light streaming through the window to remind herself that her boy — her boys, really — are all grown up now. She hums to herself, smiling as she remembers Scott and Stiles terrorizing the neighborhood. That part hasn't changed all that much, she supposes, save for the monsters now being all real. She could do without that particular bit of reality, but they're safe now. Happy, even, if the screams and laughing cries for help are anything to go by.
When she heads up to Scott's room later, calm finally restored, she pauses outside the door instead of just pushing it the rest of the way open and walking in.
Once upon a time, Melissa told Scott to use his words. And god, she knows she's not meant to be hearing these, but she can't help the swell of pride and love they bring — for Scott, and also for those he's made a part of their lives.
She quietly sets basket of clean clothes on the floor outside Scott's door and heads back downstairs to make a call.
"Melissa! To what do I owe the honor today? Please tell me no one's in trouble this time."
"Not yet, thankfully. I was just thinking. You know Chris?"
"Argent? Allison's father?"
"Yeah. I can't help thinking he's got to be lonely in that house after... well, with Allison out all the time."
"You want to invite him to Thursday night drinks, don't you?"
"Maybe? And, I get the feeling we're going to be seeing a lot more of him."
"...Sure. I'll give him a call."
"Thanks. I'll see you both Thursday, then, barring any, well. You know."
Melissa grins. "Oh I know all right."