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Scott knows it’s going to be a problem when he wakes up alone in his apartment and can’t hear any heartbeat besides his own. It’s too early to worry so he sighs, turns over to a better position on the bed and goes back to sleep.
Two hours later, when he finally wakes up, the only notifications on his phone are from people on Facebook tagging him in pictures from the night before, Kira sending him stuff on Snapchat and a text message from his mom reminding him of their arranged dinner and to be at her place at seven.
He starts freaking out when he’s eating Fruit Loops out of the box and calling it breakfast (he doesn’t have milk and all his bowls are dirty). He’s had the craziest, most unbelievably good night of his life with his best friend, but he woke up alone. And only person he can think to talk about it with is also the person who apparently ran away while he was sleeping.
His phone buzzes in the counter, next to where he’s sitting and he sees a message from Lydia. Talked to Stiles, he doesn’t seem ok, I won’t go to BH for this, McCall, so fix it. He takes a deep breath, thanks God it’s Sunday, and goes take a shower.
-
Before Scott left to attend UCLA, he was worried about how Stiles would take them being apart. Stiles told him there was no point for him to stay in Beacon Hills seeing as how things were quiet by then, no supernatural villains to deal with. Lydia was already in MIT (early admissions), Danny was going to Caltech, Liam was still in high school, Derek and Kira were talking about taking some online classes and opening a gym to teach gymnastics and martial arts, and Malia was following Cora to South America.
“And I kind of don’t want to stay behind, you know? So I’ll be home when you’re home, but I think I’m going to do my own stuff for a while,” Stiles said. And even when Scott asked him to come to LA for some time, Stiles insisted he was only going to be a distraction from “the college experience” and kept helping Scott pack his bags.
The plan was that Scott was going to do college, Stiles was going to pretend he was Sal Paradise (“don’t worry, buddy, I’ll always come back home for you”) and they were going to keep talking every day through text, whatsapp, Facebook messages, Snapchat, Skype and Facetime. So Stiles drove Scott to Los Angeles, helped him move into his tiny dorm room and left. Scott spent three months feeling like he couldn’t breathe right until he got used to missing someone that much.
-
Scott doesn’t call Lydia first to ask about Stiles because he’s an adult and he can deal with his problems head on. So as soon as he gets out of the shower and puts his clothes on, he dials Stiles’ number. It rings four times and it goes to voicemail. The second try goes straight to voicemail. He does the breathing exercises Kira taught him.
He calls the Sheriff second and finds out Stiles decided to completely avoid him for a while because he called his dad to tell him he wasn’t going to be at the pack dinner later. Scott’s his Alpha, he should be the one Stiles called to make up an excuse not to go to anything pack related.
Then he tries Malia (“Do you think I’m his keeper?”), Cora (“I don’t care”), Kira (“Haven’t seen him since last night at the party, why? What happened?”), Danny (“I’m not going to track his phone so you can stalk him”) and Derek (“He stopped by at nine, broke things that weren’t his, made me give him his car keys back and left talking to Lydia on the phone”).
That’s when he realizes he’s going to have to call Lydia, so he presses call on his phone and while he’s waiting for her to answer he thinks of all the things he’d rather do instead of talking to her about Stiles (be attacked by a crazy alpha pack, eat a rabid rat, drink nothing but alcohol for the rest of his life, never eat pizza again, spend the rest of his days in the prison for the supernatural Stiles swears he visited once in Maine).
“You should be too busy with Stiles to call me, McCall, so this better be good because I’ve got shit to do.” It’s three o’clock for him, which means it’s six for Lydia and he doesn’t know what she could be so busy with at six on a Sunday, but he’s not going to ask, so he starts the conversation apologizing and tells her he can’t get a hold of Stiles and to please help him.
“I can’t help you, I’m on the other side of the country, I don’t know him half as well as you do and I can’t be bothered with this. You need to find him and fix him. I can’t even believe you could do that to him–”
“Do what to him?” He asks. They slept together, fine, but Stiles was as much into it as he was and they were both sober and as clear headed as they could be considering it had been five in the morning.
“If you don’t know, you’re stupider than I ever thought you could be. Now grab your keys and go drive through the whole country to find him, if it’s necessary. It took me a long time to groom that boy into the perfect best friend and you’re not going to fuck up with my work.”
Scott rolls his eyes. “He’s my best friend too,” he says before hanging up on her (already knowing he’s going to regret it later).
-
Scott couldn’t afford to go back home a lot (he could do summer break, winter break, thanksgiving and his mother’s birthday if he managed to pull some extra shifts at Starbucks), but every time he got home, Stiles was there, waiting for him with a thousand stories to tell about the places he’d visited during his crazy road trips, the random jobs he took so he could afford to eat and buy gas without having to ask his father for money, the people he met.
Stiles spent Scott’s whole freshmen year going to different packs to learn whatever he could from different emissaries just because he wanted to know more about the supernatural. He could spend hours discussing lore with Derek or Kira. Sometimes it was impossible to shut him up; and sometimes he spent a whole day without talking.
There were things Stiles wouldn’t tell anyone, scars Scott saw on Christmas that definitely weren’t there during the summer, people he’d talk about for a while and then would never even mention again. Scott tried to push, in the beginning, but it only made things worse. So there came a time when he just stopped.
He talked to Stiles about his classes (sometimes Stiles asked him for copies of his syllabi and called Scott in the middle of the night – “Sorry, I forget about the time zones” – to ask him about a subject) and the people he dated (no one lasted more than a month, they always failed the “would I trust them with my hairy secret if things got serious?” test Stiles created), but his life was boring, he wasn’t in a different place every month, and his biggest problem was not being able to sleep stressing over his student loans. He didn’t mind letting Stiles hog their conversations, though.
And it was fine, they were still best friends, they waited until they were together to watch comic book movies (Scott knew Stiles cheated and watched them without him) and sometimes Stiles sent him postcards just for kicks and everyone in Scott’s life knew he’d drop anything for a phone call from Stiles. Things were okay.
-
Scott doesn’t really want to drive around looking for Stiles. Part of him thinks that he should let Stiles do whatever the fuck he wants, they’re both supposed to be grown ups and if Stiles wants to act like a child and avoid shit that bothers him like he always does that’s not Scott’s problem. But the other part of him looks back to the weeks Stiles went without sleeping more than an hour a night because of the nogitsune, the month Stiles went completely AWOL during Scott’s junior year of college and came back with burn marks on his forearms, the way Stiles never left him behind, never got out of the life, despite not being a werewolf, or a banshee, or a supernatural creature of any kind.
He grabs his keys, phone and wallet, gets into the driver seat of the Sedan, which Stiles hates and threatens to burn every other week, puts the key into the ignition and has absolutely no idea where to begin. He already knows Stiles isn’t with his father, or anyone else who he’d usually ask for a place to stay. He could go to the park or the library or the only coffee shop in town, but Stiles could be on a plane for all that Scott knows, given the way he’s not tied anywhere as much as he’s tied to people. He drives to Derek’s.
“I told you I have no idea where he is,” Derek tells him when he arrives. They sit on the couch Stiles has been sleeping on for three weeks and look at the empty space where Stiles’ suitcase used to be. “You know he could already be in Utah by now, right?”
Scott groans. “Why the hell does he have to be so ridiculous? Why did he even sleep with me if he was going to run away the morning after?” Derek glares at him. “What?”
“Maybe he freaked out because he’s been in love with you for ten years and now he’s scared that you don’t feel the same way he does and he’s going to spend the rest of his life knowing this is as close as he’ll ever get to an actual sexual and romantic relationship with you?”
“Stiles hasn’t been in love with me for ten years.” Derek keeps glaring. “Look, I’m his best friend, I’d know, ok? He spent the last eight years falling in love with tons of different people every month.”
“He spent the last eight years trying to fall out of love with you and being jealous because you lived the life he thought he’d live before you were bitten by a werewolf and he started needing to pop pills to sleep,” Derek tells him and gets up, walks to the kitchen.
“Look, I told him to go to college with me. I told him to go with me to Los Angeles even if he didn’t want to study anything. He had a thousand chances to be with me, but he decided to road trip his way out of a trauma and that’s not my fault,” Scott says from the living room, knows Derek is listening to every word. “Do you think I didn’t worry about him all by himself looking for stuff we couldn’t handle even when we had home field advantage? Because I was worried as hell.”
“Yeah, and he was a teenager and bitter about the fact that you could handle stuff like a normal person and he couldn’t. He was also in love with you, so it’s not like he wished you were feeling as bad as he did, he just wished he was feeling as good as you. He also didn’t want to be in Los Angeles to be near you, he wanted to be with you, as in waking up in your bed everyday.”
Scott swears and lets his head drop on the back of the couch. “How do you even know that?” He asks.
“Everyone knows that. We all thought you knew but never wanted to say anything to not break his heart.” Derek says and Scott rolls his eyes at him. Like he’d avoid a subject just to avoid conflict or heartbreak. He’s not Stiles. Or Derek.
“I tried to call him,” Derek continues. “But he turned his phone off. He’s an asshole. He promised me I could use his car for this whole month if I let him sleep on my couch and now he’s probably running away to New York to be with that weird hipster witch coven he’s so fond of. Go find him and tell him he owes me twelve more days with his car.”
Scott doesn’t think Stiles is going back to New York any time soon, considering everything. He knows Stiles came back to Beacon Hills leaving behind a paycheck, a debt of two months of rent, a girlfriend (ex-girlfriend) he was getting serious with and a promise he made to a very powerful werecheetah that he never really intended to keep. Stiles is not the kind of person that goes back to places where he’d have to deal with stuff he’d rather avoid, which does not bode well for Scott’s plan of dragging him back to his apartment so they can talk, but at least it means Stiles isn’t travelling three thousand miles to the other side of the country.
“I’ll do my best,” he says as he’s getting out of the place.
-
When Scott was a senior, he had a girlfriend, Lisa, who wasn’t Allison, or Kira, or any of the girls he’d tried to date during his first three years of college. She was nice and smart and beautiful and a freshman, just out of high school. She planned to major in theatre with a minor in English and she wanted to become an actress. Scott was deciding which vet schools he should apply to. They weren’t supposed to work out, but when his acceptance letters started to arrive, they were still together.
By then Stiles had spent three and a half years driving around the country with a fake ID (so he could drink) and making a name for himself on the supernatural world (Scott once got out of a speeding ticket because the cop was a werewolf who told him Stiles saved her life twice). They had talked about living together when Scott finished college, Scott could go to vet school anywhere and Stiles could plant roots in a place for four years before they went back to Beacon Hills together.
So when the acceptance (and rejection) letters started arriving, he thought a lot about where he was going to go. He got into UC Davis, UPenn and Virginia Tech, but it was hard to convince himself to uproot his life and move out of the state he’d always lived in. With Davis he’d be closer to home, it wouldn’t be that hard for him and Lisa to keep seeing each other, it would be cheaper to live in than Los Angeles, and he and Stiles could find a place to share, which would be even cheaper.
When he called Stiles to explain his reasons for choosing Davis, Stiles said he decided to spend a year backpacking through Europe (“Do you even have the money to go to Europe?” “How hard could it be to find enough money for a plane ticket?”), he wished all his luck for Scott and his new girlfriend, and he was so sorry he wouldn’t be able to meet her during summer because he planned on leaving soon.
In retrospect, Scott should have realized that the problem wasn’t California, or Davis, but Lisa (who broke up with him three months into her sophomore year in UCLA to start dating a film director who was twenty years older than her. Stiles still laughs about it).
-
“So, we’re naked on her bed, her phone rings and I tell her not to pick up, right? Because it can’t be that important if someone is calling her on Sunday afternoon. But she says she’s just going to see who’s calling her, so she grabs her phone out of the nightstand. And when she sees who it is she immediately answers and leaves the bed, leaves the bedroom, she leaves me alone in there while she talks to the person–”
“Liam, is there a point to what you’re telling me or this is just you calling to brag about your latest conquest?” Scott interrupts. He shouldn’t be talking on the phone while driving, but he figures he’s a werewolf and nothing is going to happen to him in Beacon Hills’ traffic.
“So she says on the phone ‘Yeah, Stiles, I can do it in fifteen minutes’, and I think ‘how many Stiles could there be in the world?’, not a lot it seems because when she comes back to the bedroom – to kick me out, BTW – I ask her about it and she freaks out about me knowing Stiles because she has a no sleeping with werewolves policy, or something, and Stiles once told her that everyone he knows in Beacon Hills is a wolf – which is a lie–” Scott hangs up on him (and tells himself he needs to remember to have a talk with Liam about using chatspeak on actual spoken conversations).
He tries Stiles’ phone again – he must have turned it on again if he just got off of the phone with someone else – and Stiles picks up after the third ring. It makes Scott hopeful that Stiles finally is ready to talk to him.
“You’re a life savior, thanks for the money.”
Or Stiles just didn’t go through the trouble of looking at the caller ID.
“Hey, it’s me.” He hears Stiles swearing in the other side of the line. It’s muffled, Stiles probably covered the phone with his hand, but Scott can hear heartbeats in a rave when he concentrates, so it’d be impossible not to hear Stiles.
“Hey! Look, Scott, I’m really busy right now, I can’t talk.” Scott rolls his eyes. “Can I call you back later?”
“Are you actually going to call me back later or are you going to turn off your phone to avoid my calls again?” He asks.
“I didn’t turn off my phone to avoid you, jackass. My battery died while I was in my car and I didn’t want to park to find the car charger in my suitcase.” Scott huffs. “I’m telling the truth, you know I never lie to you. I don’t mind admitting that I was trying to avoid you, but I don’t have to turn off my phone to do that, I can do it very well with my phone turned on, I could just block your number.”
Scott sighs. “Look, we need to talk, can you come to my place?” He asks while he parks the car on the side of the street.
“No, I told you I was busy, I can’t leave here right now.”
“Where are you? I can go to you.”
“Are you willing to drive to Nevada to pick me up from jail? Because that’s where I am right now, sitting in a police station in Reno.”
Scott smashes his head on the steering wheel, because of course Stiles is. “Are you shitting me right now?”
“The last time I lied to you was 137 days ago, ok? I’m not lying right now. I was arrested in the great state of Nevada because I unfortunately forgot about the weed Mark gave me last week after we slept together that I had stashed in my duffle bag. It’s not that much, they could barely charge me with possession, they probably just arrested me to teach me a lesson, or something.” While Stiles rambles on, Scott takes a deep breath, tries Kira’s breathing exercises again, and thinks about finding Stiles’ ex and punching him in the face. “By the way, I won’t be able to make it to dinner tonight.” Scott can’t help but laugh.
“How are you even talking on the phone right now?” If Stiles was arrested, he shouldn’t even be with his phone.
“I’m not locked up anymore, I got someone to wire the money for bail. I spent literally twenty-seven minutes in a cell. I’m just trying to decide if I’m going to find an ATM and get cash so I can release my car, or if I’m going to take the hot Reno cop offer of taking me to her place after her shift is done.”
“Look, I’m coming to get you. Get out of the police station, grab a cab to a hotel, book a room and text me address, I’ll be there as soon as I can.”
“You’re not driving to Nevada to pick me up from a hotel room, Scott McCall. You’re not doing it. I forbid you. I’m going to get out of here, get my car and go to Las Vegas to find a casino to gamble money I don’t have until someone kicks me out for counting cards. We’ll see each other next weekend.”
“I’m already leaving Beacon Hills,” Scott says, certain that the sooner they talk, the easier it will be to clear things up.
“Scott, I can’t do this right now,” Stiles tells him, voice breaking at the end. “I can’t have that conversation with you today.”
“Tough luck, buddy, it’s going to happen. Find a hotel, no Las Vegas. I’ll see you later.” He hangs up the phone and starts the car.
-
During Scott’s four years of vet school, Stiles had a string of relationships, some of them Scott thought were pretty serious (Lara in New Orleans, Joe in Nashville, Marco in Dallas, Mike in Chicago and, of course, Caroline in New York). If there was anyone in the six months Stiles spent in Europe, Scott doesn’t know because Stiles refused to talk about Europe.
Scott never really met any of them, saw glimpses of one or two during Facetime calls with Stiles, some pictures on Stiles’ Facebook page when things got Facebook official, heard Stiles describe some of his sexcapades in detail when he thought it had been so good he had to share with someone, but that’s it.
It usually ended before the summer or winter break, before Stiles came home. Caroline lasted seven months before Stiles broke up with her because, according to Stiles, she didn’t understand why he had to move to California instead of staying in New York with her (she had a job in Manhattan, which Stiles didn’t, and pets, which Stiles didn’t, and actually owned a house, which Stiles definitely didn’t and didn’t even have the money for half the down payment for one).
And Stiles never seemed unhappy about being a serial dater, or about any of his relationships, he always said he broke things off when he realized he was just leading people on because he never wanted anything more serious than going to the movies, or picking up take out to eat before sex, and never even thought about living together, or marriage, or kids with anyone.
On one New Year’s Eve in Beacon Hills, Stiles got drunk off boxed wine and cheap beer and threw up all over Kira’s apartment before passing out. Scott drove him back home, laid with Stiles on his childhood bed, almost on top of him so they both could fit. He was almost asleep when he heard “I wish I could have you everywhere I go”, but never thought much of it, he had always wanted to have Stiles with him all the time too.
-
He’s been driving for an hour when he realizes that it’s going to be the first time in his life he leaves California. He’s been to Los Angeles, Davis, Sacramento, San Francisco, and San Diego for Comic-Con with Stiles once. But he never crossed state lines.
It six o’clock, which means that everyone should be getting ready to go to his mom’s house for a pack dinner and their Alpha isn’t going to show up. He realizes that he should have left a message, or called someone, but he can’t convince himself to stop driving to make a phone call, so he doesn’t. He’s going to follow his GPS into Reno, then into whatever roadside motel Stiles decided to check-in into (Scott knows Stiles wouldn’t spend his money on a nice hotel) and he’s going to talk to Stiles.
He doesn’t even know what he’s going to say, doesn’t know if he wants Stiles to be in love with him, or if he wants Derek to be completely wrong as usual. He just wants to find his best friend and tell him he loves him more than anyone in the world beside his mother and that they can talk about anything.
If Stiles is freaking out because they slept together and he’s afraid that that’s going to make their friendship weird, Scott’s going to punch him on the shoulder and tell him that nothing is going to change their friendship ever, even great sex at five in the morning.
And if Stiles tells him he’s been in love with him for a decade he’s probably going to freak out on the inside, but remain completely calm on the outside, ask Stiles if he’s sure and maybe, maybe, give it a try. Because he doesn’t know if he’s in love with Stiles, has never thought about them like that, ever. It never even crossed his mind. But who else could be as good for him? Know him as well as Stiles does? If Stiles is in love with him, then–
Well, he’ll know when he arrives.
-
Two months before vet school graduation, Scott called Stiles up in New York to ask him about moving back to Beacon Hills. Stiles had been dating Caroline for six months, so Scott wanted to know if Stiles was actually moving back, maybe wanted to rent an apartment with him.
Stiles didn’t want to make plans, though. He said he’d be there when Scott finished vet school, but he didn’t think he’d have the money for a place, so Scott should be looking for something he could afford by himself, or maybe call Derek to share a place (“Dude, he loves you, he’d give you all of his money if you asked”). Scott found a cheap apartment the size of a shoebox to live.
When Scott came back, Stiles had been in Beacon Hills for three hours, still had his suitcase in his car, didn’t even know if he was going to move into his dad’s house or was going to couch surf until he found a job and could afford a place to live on his own. But their hug lasted ten minutes, both of them beaming, crazy happy that they’d be living in the same town for the first time in eight years. It lasted three months.
There was supposed to be a housewarming party as soon as he moved in his new apartment in Beacon Hills. But Deaton gave him a job and he was too busy to party and everyone except Stiles (“I’ll look for a job as soon as summer is over”) and Lydia (“I chose a life on academia, I deserve the free summers I get”) was too busy to plan or attend a party.
Except Scott got a call to meet Stiles in the supermarket on Saturday and when they drove back to his place, everyone was there yelling “Surprise”. He rolled his eyes at Stiles, who just laughed at him.
“Dude, this was a long time coming. It’s a ‘congrats on the place and the job and on having your life put together, you’re an inspiration for us losers’ party,” Stiles told him and Scott had to smile.
“Come on, loser, let’s talk to everyone. I need to know how you managed to pull this off when Lydia isn’t even here to help you out.” He threw his arm around Stiles’ shoulder and that’s how they spent most of the night, side-by-side, talking to all of their friends.
People started leaving the party after two, one by one until they were dragging Liam and the girl he was making out with out of the apartment, all of them laughing like crazy.
Stiles sat on Scott’s couch then, and Scott threw himself at the couch after him, lying there, head on Stiles’ lap and feet on the armrest on the other side.
“This was nice, thank you for making this happen,” he told Stiles, just before Stiles started to stroke his hair. “Actually, all of this is nice, you should always be here, stop hogging Derek’s couch and come be my freeloader.” He closed his eyes.
“You’re too nice, you’d give me the shirt off your back if I asked you.”
Scott opened his eyes, turned a little on the couch so he could look at Stiles’ eyes. “You know me too well, I know you’d never ask for more than I could give.” And that’s when Stiles kissed him. It didn’t even crossed Scott’s mind not to kiss him back.
-
Scott arrives in Reno at ten. He’s got sixteen missed calls and thirty-one new texts on his phone (he needs to have a conversation with his pack about codependency) and he’s ready to drop dead after driving for five hours straight from California to Nevada.
It’s easy to find the motel Stiles is staying in with the address Stiles sent and the GPS on his phone, so it doesn’t take twenty minutes after he sees the ‘Welcome to Reno’ sign to get to Stiles’ room in the creepy roadside motel Stiles decided on. He knocks on the door.
Stiles opens the door a minute later wearing just sweatpants and flip flops and gestures for Scott to get in, closing the door after him. Scott sits on the bed and Stiles remains standing, resting his weight on the wall next to the door, looking at Scott.
“You look like you haven’t slept,” Scott says.
“You look like you spent five hours driving just so you could lecture me about running away from stuff.” Scott rolls his eyes at him, drops himself on the bed, back on the mattress and feet still on the floor, looking at the ceiling.
“I’m not here to lecture you, I just don’t understand why you left without saying anything and then called Lydia to freak out about it like what we did was some earth shattering event, or something.” He hears Stiles snort.
“That’s the problem, for me it was some earth shattering event or something. To me it meant a lot more than it could ever mean to you, and I wanted out. I wasn’t trying to be melodramatic, I don’t have anything to tie me to Beacon Hills, no job, no place, so I took my things and left.” Scott sits upright again, looks at Stiles.
“I don’t even know where to fucking start with you.” Stiles tries to interrupt him, but he goes on. “First of all, you can’t know how I feel about us sleeping together without asking me, you know me pretty well, but you still can’t read my mind. Second, you have nothing tying you to Beacon Hills? Nothing? That’s what you’re trying to tell me right now? You could leave and be just as happy anywhere else? If that’s the case, why didn’t you just stay in New York?”
“I should have stayed in New York! Then I wouldn’t have to deal with this. I wouldn’t have to deal with Derek being more well adjusted than I am, or you being so damn happy and having all your life on track while I’m the biggest fuck up in your fucking pack, or everyone pitying me for being so helplessly head over heels for you.”
“The only person who pities you is yourself. No one thinks you’re a fuck up, Stiles. You’ve fucked up a lot of times, including today when you ran away to Nevada to have your pity party while I was worrying about you, but you’re not a fuck up. Do you think Derek is well adjusted? His car’s been broken for ten weeks and no one will fix it because every mechanic in town hates him.” Stiles can’t help but snort at that and Scott grins at him. “And why didn’t you ever tell me that you have feelings for me?”
“Yeah, it would have gone great. I should have told you just when I realized what I felt. It’d be like ‘Hey, Scott, I know your ex-girlfriend and love of your life has just died, but I like like you, do you like me? Check yes or no.’. You’d love that.” Scott glares at him. “And what was the point, anyway? You had never shown any interest in guys at all. I didn’t want to be the gay experiment you had until you got too old to get it up for someone you’re not actually sexually attracted to.”
“You think I’m not sexually attracted to you? Were you there at all last night?” Stiles shrugs. “Stiles, I think you’re as hot as the freaking sun. And I love you. I can tell you with absolute certainty that I wouldn’t drive to Nevada out of nowhere for anyone but you, you have to understand–”
“Yeah, I know,” Stiles interrupts him. “But, Scott, I’m in love with you. I have known I’m in love with you since November 18, 2011. I have our dogs’ names picked out. I think about waking up early – and you know how I hate mornings – just to cook you breakfast before you have to leave for work. I have twenty years of our relationship planned. I’ve tried to get over you time and time again, but I can’t. You’ve always been what I pay attention to, everything else is just background. And I’m too selfish to see your life working out while I keep being miserable and camping out in Derek’s living room.”
Scott gets up from the bed then, walks towards Stiles, stops right in front of him, toes almost touching. He grabs Stiles’ hands and looks into his eyes.
“Stiles, I love you. And maybe I hadn’t realized it before, maybe I don’t have ten years of hidden feelings for you. But I realize it now. I realize that we could be great together. Last night was amazing, I’d give my life to have a million nights like last night with you, I’d give my life to have mediocre nights forever if you were there with me, do you get that? I don’t want you to be my gay experiment and we don’t have to go from friends to married in one day, but maybe, if you’re willing to try this, if you’re willing to work on this with me, we could try being a couple. We just have to have some ground rules.”
Stiles stares at him for seconds that feel like hours, then looks at the ground and takes a deep breath before looking at his eyes again, squeezes his hands.
“What kind of ground rules?” He finally asks and Scott grins at him.
“First,” Scott starts while turning them around and pushing Stiles to make him sit on the bed. “No more running away. I can’t promise this will work out, but I can tell it’s not going to if you pack your suitcase and leave every time you don’t want to have a conversation.” Stiles gives a dramatic sigh, but smiles and pulls Scott to sit on his lap.
“Fine, what else?”
“Second, therapy.” Stiles tries to push Scott away and Scott refuses to move. “Don’t even start with me right now, Stilinski. This is a deal breaker. You have to go to therapy.”
“You sound like Derek,” Stiles complains, but he stops trying push Scott away.
“No, Derek sounds like me because I made him go to therapy and now you’re doing it, buddy.”
“I don’t even have the money to pay for it.”
“Which brings us to ground rule number three. Get a job. You can’t live off of favors and the money people owe you for something.” Stiles rolls his eyes.
“Whatever, dad, what else?”
“Four. And this is the most important one.” Stiles looks at him, expectantly. “You have to give your car keys back to Derek because you promised him a whole month with your car. He’s pretty pissed off at you right now.” Stiles laughs, puts his hands on Scott’s neck.
“I think I can deal with that.” He tells Scott.
“Yeah? I’m not asking too much?”
“Well, the fourth rule is going to be hard to follow, but there aren’t many things I wouldn’t do for a chance to be with you.” Scott smiles, puts his hand on Stiles’ chin and kisses him. “Yeah, the rules are worth it.” Scott kisses him again and then drops on his knees in front of the bed.
-
Scott doesn’t remember what happened on November 18, 2011. That day his phone woke him up ringing at three in the morning. When he picked up, Stiles was crying on the other end, telling him he was at Scott’s front door and he didn’t want to ring the doorbell in case Melissa was asleep.
Scott got out of bed, went downstairs and opened the door to see Stiles looking wrecked outside his house. They hadn’t seen each other in almost four days, since the nogitsune had been killed. The Sheriff had asked everyone to steer clear for a while and Scott was busy trying to stop thinking about Allison. Scott instantly regretted not showing up on Stiles’ house anyway.
“Dude, you shouldn’t have driven like this,” Scott said just before Stiles threw his arms around him and started sobbing uncontrollably.
Scott closed the door while Stiles’ arms were still around him and managed to walk them both to his bedroom, lying down first and letting Stiles rest his head on his chest.
“I can’t sleep anymore, Scott, I can’t even breathe right. I keep picturing her dying because of me. And I’m so sorry, I’m so sorry she’s dead and it’s my fault,” Stiles said, tears falling out of his eyes.
“Buddy, it wasn’t your fault. You can’t blame yourself for it. This hasn’t changed at all how much I love you,” Scott told him, stroking his back.
“It wouldn’t have happened if it weren’t for me.”
“I wouldn’t be here if it weren’t for you.” Stiles tried to interrupt him, still crying. “You don’t have to believe how much I love you right now, we have the rest of our lives for me to prove it to you.”
-
They leave the motel early next morning (“It charges by the hour and I’m not going to spend another dime in this shithole”) and they have to take different cars back home (“If it weren’t for your stupid fourth rule, I could ditch my car and we could go back together”). Scott feels happy, happier than he’s felt for a long time. And he knows when they get home, they’ll have to talk more, clear things up, but he’s got a feeling that things will work out for both of them.
Stiles drives out in front of him, and just as Scott’s about to start the car his phone vibrates and he looks at it to see a text from Stiles. I think you left a blow job here. mind if i come by and return it?
Yeah, he’s pretty sure they’ll be all right.