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Bonfires and brooding

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"Why doesn't he like me?" Stiles complained before lifting the bottle and taking another large gulp. Scott only rolled his eyes. They'd been over this subject for days now and Stiles still wouldn't give up.

"Maybe because you're younger than him?" he suggested, tightly holding on to the last shreds of his patience.

"Not that much younger."

"It's more than six years" Scott pointed out.

"Still not that much" Stiles insisted.

"Maybe it's because you're still in high school then?"

"Why should that matter?"

"Oh, I don't know, maybe because he was seduced by a hunter when he was in high school himself and that left bad memories?" Scott suggested a little sarcastically.

"Our relationship isn't like that at all" Stiles solemnly declared, ignoring his best friends attempt at sarcasm. "What we have is a deep, profound connection. That is you know, deep." After hearing that, Scott reached out for the bottle, even if he couldn't get drunk anymore. He definitely needed alcohol for this conversation.

"His uncle used to babysit you when you were a kid" he said, wincing at the burn in his throat. "I don't think that counts as a 'deep connection' really."

"Hey, wolf-boy, leave some of that for those of us that actually can get drunk" Stiles complained, snatching the bottle back and Scott let him have it rather than arguing with his drunk friend. "I still hang out with Peter though, he's like my cool uncle. But Derek and I totally have something special. He always gave me two more marshmallows than anyone else when we had hot chocolate. Like I said, we have a deep connection." Scott groaned and hid his face in his hands. This was going to be a long night.

A short while later almost half of the bottle was gone and Stiles was attempting to create poetry. Or something.

"Roses are red, violets are blue, so are Derek's eyes, or maybe they're green?" Stiles paused, momentarily lost in thought and then continued: "either way, I want him to fuck me like…"

"Stop it!" Scott looked pained. "TMI!" He waved his arms in front of Stile's face, looking panicked. "Change of subject!"

"I can't talk about Derek's eyes?"


"Then let's talk about his abs, seriously Scotty, have you seen them?" Stiles' eyes became unfocused and dreamy and while Scott had in fact seen them at his training sessions with the Hale pack he sure as hell wasn't going to tell Stiles that. The conversation was uncomfortable enough as it was.

"Stop it Stiles, you're drunk" he said instead, taking the bottle from his friend.

"Nope" Stiles slurred from where he'd slid down to lay on the ground, trying to get the bottle back but only managing to clumsily slosh most of its contents over Scott's jeans.

"No, I think you're right" Scott acquiesced, moving the bottle even further away. "You were drunk an hour ago, now you're totally wasted. You'll feel like shit tomorrow if you continue like this."

"So unfair" Stiles mumbled but he made no more move to get the bottle back. "You get turned into a cute little puppy and won't ever get hungover again and heal from everything and I'm a born, badass dragon but I'm still a fucking lightweight" he pouted.

"Yes, because being able to drink is much more important than super healing" Scott sighed before standing up and trying to lift his uncooperative friend. "Come on, let's get you home." Stiles stubbornly shook his head.


"Why?" Scott asked, exasperated now. "Your dad's going to be home soon, you need to be there before him or he'll ground you like forever."

"I need to figure this out first, Scotty, I need to know why Derek doesn't like me."

"Maybe he's just brooding and boring and not interested?" Scott snapped, at last losing his temper. Stiles might not be worried about being grounded but his mom was going to kill him if he was out late again.

"Don't say that!" Stiles screeched loudly and suddenly their cosy little campfire erupted into a big, raging bonfire. "Oh, shit! Scott, what do I do, what do I do?" he yelped, flailing his arms wildly.

"I don't know" Scott yelled back in panic, backing away from the roaring fire. "Uh, think happy thoughts or something!"

"Happy thoughts?!" Stiles shouted. "You're useless Scott!"

"I'm not the dragon here, you are! Do something!"

After a few panicked seconds Stiles did manage to sober up momentarily and get the fire somewhat under control, allowing Scott to put it out completely with a couple of buckets of water from the nearby stream. ("How did you do that?" "No idea, Scotty, no idea." "Great"). It was during moments like these that Stiles really appreciated Scott's new wolfiness because it meant that he didn't have to help carry the water, but when he tried to express that Scott threatened to use upend the last bucket over him instead and Stiles wisely shut up.

Once they were completely sure that the fire was out the pair of them headed towards the car, one stumbling more than the other.

"Oh, no." Stiles giggled suddenly.

"Oh, no what?" Scott asked dangerously, not finding the situation very funny at all.

"I might've, perhaps, dropped the keys to the jeep somewhere."

"Somewhere?" Scott echoed and there might even have been a hint of fangs accompanying the question.

"You know, around" Stiles threw out his arms to indicate their surroundings. "In the forest." Scott groaned.

"It'll take me ages to sniff them out, I'm not that good at that yet."

"Or we could just walk" Stiles suggested, then giggled again. "Your eyes are glowing, wolf-boy" he pointed out and Scott struggled to keep his eyes human and his fingers non-clawed.

"Yeah, sure, let's walk" he sighed. They were probably already grounded for life anyway.

As it turned out, they didn't have to walk far down the road before they were both blinded by the headlights of an approaching vehicle. Too late did they realize that it wasn't just any vehicle, but in fact one of Beacon Hills Sheriff's Department's patrol cars.

"Good evening, officer" Stiles said, trying for casual and failing miserably. Scott, despite having recently become an apex predator, looked very much like deer in headlights next to him.

"We've had reports of underage drinking and someone lighting a fire in the woods" the officer explained as he looked them over, noticing the smell of vodka, the large stain on Scott's clothes and Stiles' glassy and unfocused eyes. "You wouldn't happen to know anything about that, would you?" And despite the boys' sincerest assurances that they did indeed have nothing at all to do with any of that, they soon found themselves in the backseat of the cruiser and on their way to face two very angry parents.