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It takes Stiles way too long to figure out the prickling on the back of his neck is the feeling of being watched. At another point in his life, that kind of reaction time would have gotten him killed, and it probably still could. He's still in Beacon Hills; even with all the werewolves he knew about gone, it's still a pretty fucked up place.
It's a full minute before he spots two pairs of familiar eyes at the door--and even then, it's just because he hears giggling. Scott grins and opens the door; Stiles is out of his chair just in time to catch Max when she launches herself in for a hug.
"You didn't tell me you were coming!" Stiles says, fighting a grin of his own. He's trying to be stern, and failing. He hasn't seen them since Christmas, and between one thing and another they haven't even Skyped for weeks.
"It's not a surprise if we tell you," says Scott, leaning on the door frame. He's taking up a lot of room, and Stiles' mouth goes a little dry. He needed some warning for this. He's not prepared.
"Your reflexes suck," Max adds, sliding off of Stiles. "You didn't notice us forever!"
"Your manners suck," Stiles shoots back. "Is that how you talk to your uncle?"
"Um, yeah it is, duh," says Max. She jumps into Stiles' chair and starts playing with the stuff on his desk, as always. It's a good thing Stiles also likes weird desk toys, because it would be embarrassing if he kept them around just for his best friend's daughter, who he sees like twice a year, tops.
"Cute," Stiles says. He glances at Scott. "You had to come a week before the semester starts?" he asks. "I'm swamped here. I can't blow off my class prep to hang out with you two losers."
"Can too," says Max.
"And our lease didn't start until the first," Scott says, too casual.
It takes Stiles a second to get it. "Your lease?"
"Dr. Woo quit. Deaton needed someone. He thought I might be ready to come back."
"Jesus," says Stiles, letting out a shocked laugh. "You moved back and you didn't tell me?"
"Like I said," says Scott, grinning. "It's not a surprise if we tell you." He roots around in his backpack and throws something at Stiles; he catches it and grins. "You know I always gotta bring you something for your desk."
Stiles gives the stuffed werewolf a squeeze. "People are gonna start thinking I have a thing for werewolves," he says without thinking. He turns away to put it on the desk so Scott won't see his stupid flush.
Scott snorts. "Dude, you have a PhD in folklore. Everyone knows you have a thing for werewolves."
"Cuz we're awesome," says Max. She abandons Stiles' desk to poke Scott in the side. "Are you gonna ask him?"
"Yes, I'm gonna ask him," Scott says, ruffling his hair. "We're having adult conversations." He grins up at Stiles. "You gonna have dinner with us? Our treat."
"I--" Stiles starts, looking around his office for an excuse. He needs time to process. He needs to figure out how to deal with this. He needs to be happy, and scream, and get himself under control.
"Please, Uncle Stiles?" says Max, with giant brown puppy dog eyes.
"Yeah, please, Uncle Stiles?" says Scott.
It's hopeless.
"Well, if you're buying," he says.
He puts the werewolf on his desk before he follows them out. Max takes his hand, and it's so--easy. For something so complicated.
*
Stiles never planned on being in love with Scott forever. He was in love with Lydia, and by the time he got over that, Scott had Allison. And Stiles loved Allison too, so he figured he'd get over it. He wasn't going to be that guy who pined over his married best friend.
And then Allison got killed, and he had a widowed best friend with a little girl, and even when they moved out of Beacon Hills, Stiles didn't know how to get over him.
So he never has.
*
Scott's mom--Melissa, she keeps telling him, but she's always going to be Scott's mom--takes Max for a girl's night after dinner, but it's pretty obvious she just wants to give him and Scott some time to talk. Stiles had a beer to loosen up, and he's feeling calmer, like he can deal with this. It'll be good to have Scott around, and not just because he missed him. It's easy to be in love with someone who's too far away to piss you off on a regular basis.
Scott's new apartment is nice, hardwood floors and a lot of windows and wide open space. They're half unpacked, Max's room full of stuffed animals and her bed all made up, Scott's still a mess.
"But we have a couch and beers, so what else do you need?" Scott asks, with a grin.
"One of the beers," says Stiles, sprawling on the couch. "And a TV wouldn't hurt."
"Ours was a piece of shit," says Scott, heading into the kitchen. "I'm getting a new one tomorrow. Giant plasma screen. It's gonna rot Max's eyes out."
"Great," says Stiles. "You're a really good father."
"I know, right?" says Scott, handing him a beer. His smile looks just like it did when they were teenagers, all eager and earnest. Stiles can't believe they're this old, that Scott has a kid.
Four years later and most days, he still can't believe Allison is dead.
"You know, I never thought you were gonna move back," he says, knocking his knee against Scott's. "You left right after I came back from grad school, I figured it was something I said."
"Nah, just your face," says Scott, easy. He leans back, closing his eyes. "I didn't wanna leave. I just couldn't deal with staying."
"I know," says Stiles. He had trouble being here, knowing where Allison got killed, where her grave was. No wonder Scott took off right after the funeral. "I'm glad you're back."
"Yeah, me too."
They just drink in silence for a few minutes, and Stiles can't help asking, "You were okay just--leaving?"
"What do you mean?"
"I dunno, I thought you had friends. That receptionist totally wanted to fuck you. You were doing pretty well."
"Yeah, uh--" Scott ducks his head. "She made a move, but I wasn't interested. And, yeah, there were some people I liked there, but it wasn't home."
Stiles feels warm and stupid all over. He wraps his arms around Scott and butts his head against his chest. "I missed you too, buddy."
Scott laughs and Stiles feels it all over. "Yeah, that's what I meant."
*
"Scott's daughter is really cute."
Stiles looks up for his very important spinning around in his chair at Danny, who's smirking at him.
"Don't tell me you're here to give me shit."
"I'm just mourning the loss of my sex life," says Danny. "But happy for you."
"Gee, thanks," says Stiles. He and Danny have sex when neither of them is dating anyone else, which is most of the time. He keeps trying to fall in love with him, because Danny is a great guy, and Stiles was half in love with him in high school. But the other half of him was in love with Lydia, and then Scott, and that was the part that lasted. "We can still have sex."
"Stiles," says Danny, fondly amused.
"Yeah, okay." He blows out a long breath. "Did you see Scott? He's pretty cute too. Jesus. I'm screwed. You and me should just get married. Then I won't do anything stupid."
"There's nothing in the world that would stop you from doing something stupid," says Danny fondly. He sobers. "It's been four years, Stiles. Just try talking to him."
Stiles glares. "Thanks, that's really helpful. Don't you have prep to do? You teach chemistry, you have all kinds of shit to deal with. Make sure they won't blow up the lab the first day."
"They haven't blown up the lab yet," says Danny. "I'm here if you want to talk," he adds, softly.
"Jesus, does everyone know I'm in love with Scott?"
"Everyone who cares." He pauses. "You remember that kid in seventh grade, Jason Hall?"
"The asshole who transferred because Jackson made his life hell?"
Danny smiles at the memory. "The homophobic asshole who transferred because Jackson made his life hell, yeah. He was making fun of me and Scott stepped in, so he started making fun of Scott instead. Asked if Scott ever wished you were a girl so you guys could get married, and Scott said he didn't need you to be a girl to marry you." Danny makes a face. "I had a crush on him for like a year because of that."
"Everyone has a crush on Scott for a while," says Stiles, with a little smile. He sighs. "I'll keep you posted."
"Good luck," says Danny.
It's a little depressing that his fuck buddy knows exactly who he's been pining for for the last--well, his whole life, pretty much. But at least he doesn't have to come up with an excuse to break it off.
*
Stiles wasn't there when Allison died, but he still has nightmares about letting her down. He has nightmares where he knew it was happening and let her die, because he wanted Scott. He has nightmares where he could have pushed her out of the way and didn't. He has nightmares where he and Scott both try to save her together, and both of them get killed and he survives.
The truth is simple: he was doing research with Deaton, miles away. Scott was across town, watching Max. Allison and her dad took down the last five werewolves to ever threaten the McCalls, and neither of them survived.
Stiles didn't find out until he got the call from the hospital, Scott frantic and scared. He watched Max while Scott did something that left him ripped up and bleeding for days, and helped plan the funeral. A week after that, Scott and Max were gone, and Stiles didn't know how to ask if he could go with them, so he never did.
*
"So we are eating--" Scott says, smiling at Max. He's wearing an apron. Max was only two when they left; Stiles didn't get much of a chance to see him parenting like this, the two of them talking and being a family, their own little unit. It's so cute he wants to jump out the window.
"Spaghetti!" Max supplies. Her apron is too long, and she made Stiles wash his hands five times.
"And we are watching--"
"Nemo!"
"And if we are very good we get--"
"Dessert!"
Scott turns his grin on Stiles. "Any questions?"
"What's the dessert?"
"Ice cream," says Max. "And dad got sprinkles."
"Those were supposed to be a surprise," says Scott. "See if you get any now."
"You know where they are, right?" Stiles stage-whispers. Max nods. "Stick with me, kids, we're gonna go places."
It's how Stiles thought it would be, when Scott had a kid. For a long time, he hoped he'd have a kid too, and their kids would be best friends, and it would be the kind of stupid, happy life he wasn't supposed to have, not with a long history of lycanthropy and weird occult rituals.
But Allison died.
Max falls asleep between them with half an hour left to go in Finding Nemo, and Scott lifts her up and takes her to bed. Stiles wants to follow, but he doesn't want to intrude. He wants to be the part of this family, but he isn't. He doesn't need to be reminded.
Scott sits back down, closer to Stiles than before. "You wanna finish the movie?"
"Duh," says Stiles. "They haven't found Nemo yet."
Scott smiles and settles in, shoulder brushing against Stiles'. It's quiet for a few minutes, and then Scott says, "I heard you're dating Danny now."
Stiles chokes. "Uh, no, actually. Where did you hear that?"
"That's what Deaton said."
"Why would Deaton know?" asks Stiles. "Is he keeping up with my sex life? That's creepy. No, I'm not dating Danny. We, uh, we used to sleep together, just--sometimes. I dunno. It was nice, you know?"
"Not really," says Scott. Stiles raises his eyebrows, and Scott looks away. "I never had sex with anyone but Allison."
"Wait, what?" asks Stiles. "Really? What? No. Really?"
Scott laughs softly. "I know, it's sad."
Stiles bites his lip. "Do you--" he starts, and almost loses his nerve. "You think you guys would still be together? If she hadn't--"
"I dunno," he says, looking down at his hands. "I think about it, sometimes. We got married because she got pregnant. You know she wasn't totally ready to be a mom. So I wonder if--"
"Yeah, uh, you can stop answering any time," Stiles says. "I shouldn't have asked."
"No, I can talk about it," he says. "It's been four years, Stiles. I'm not--I'll always wish it didn't happen, but I've accepted that it did."
"Wow. I'm not sure I can deal with this level of maturity from you, dude. This is a lot to take in." He glances sidelong at Scott. "So, does that mean you're on the market? Gonna try out the Beacon Hills dating scene?"
Scott ducks his head, smiles at Stiles in a way that makes his stomach flip. "Yeah, maybe."
*
"Do you think I'd be a good mother?"
"Lydia," says Stiles, burying his face in the pillow. "Time zones. It's seven a.m. here."
"And yet you picked up."
"I thought it might be an emergency. Maybe you were leaving your husband and finally coming to sweep me off my feet. A boy can dream, Lydia."
"I heard Scott was back," she says airily. "So you wouldn't want me anyway."
"Jesus, no one ever said I was in love with Scott this much in high school. What changed?" he asks, and instantly regrets it. Scott had a girlfriend Stiles adored too, in high school; that changed.
Lydia, thankfully, ignores it. "Anyway, you're interacting with a child now. Should I get one?"
"Like, at a store?"
"I don't have time to be pregnant, there are lots of children in the foster system. Win-win. Brad can take time off work to raise it, I don't have to lose baby weight or risk postpartum depression. What do you think?"
"I'm just as glad you're not reproducing, your child would scare me. At least Brad is normal."
"So that's a yes. Should I get two so they can keep each other company? You know, like dogs?"
"You probably shouldn't compare them to dogs," says Stiles. "At any point." He pauses. "Get an older kid, they're less likely to be adopted."
"I know," says Lydia. "How's Scott?"
"He's--" Stiles sighs. "He's my best friend and I'm in love with him. Everyone knows except him. It's awkward, except he hasn't noticed. So that's something, anyway."
"If he doesn't notice, you don't get to fuck him," Lydia says practically. "Keep me posted. I'll let you know about the kids. You can be a godfather or something. I'll figure it out. Get some sleep."
"Gee, thanks," says Stiles, but she's already hung up.
*
Undergrads love Stiles.
Undergrad girls, specifically, flock to his office hours and bat their eyelashes at him. At least most of Danny's admirers are grad students; Stiles gets the barely legal girls who are in his department, taking his classes, so it's not like he could date any of them even if he wanted to. He doesn't know what happened between his being a student and his being a professor, but it made him a hundred times more attractive to eighteen-to-twenty-year-old girls.
"Ohmigosh, Professor Stilinski, is that your daughter?"
Max looks up from her drawing at the two girls who have just come in--Bridget Anderson and Zoe King, both on their second class with him--and smiles. "No, my dad's not here."
"I'm her godfather," Stiles says. "I'm just looking after her for the afternoon."
"She's so cute!" says Zoe. "What's your name, sweetie?"
"Melissa," says Max. "But that's grandma's name so I'm Max."
Bridget and Zoe squeal at her, color with her, beg Stiles to let them babysit, and ignore him so thoroughly he'd feel insulted if he didn't have grading to do and zero desire to interact with his fanclub. After an half an hour of undivided attention, Max gets overwhelmed and climbs into his lap, pulling down the stuffed werewolf Scott got him to cuddle.
"You about ready to go?" Stiles asks, ruffling her hair.
"Yeah," she says.
"We're coming up on naptime," says Stiles, with an apologetic smile. The sight of him with a kid seems to be enough to send them into paroxysms of delight, and Stiles shakes his head. "You good?" he asks, when Max slumps after they leave.
"Yeah," says Max. "I don't know a lot of girls."
"That's okay," he says. "You don't have to. But we could work on that. If you want to."
"Girls don't like werewolves," she says, quiet. "Boys think they're cool, girls don't."
"Now that is just--wrong," says Stiles, smiling. "Girls and boys aren't different because they're girls and boys, it's all socialization and personality. We're gonna find you some girls who like werewolves."
"Like my mom?"
Stiles swallows past a lump in his throat. "Yeah," he says. "Like your mom."
*
"Uncle Stiles has a fan club," Max announces on Friday. She's come to stay at his office three times this week, even though Scott could just as easily take her to work with him instead. She likes hanging out with Stiles, and he's trying to pretend it isn't the best thing that's ever happened to him. "Girls are always coming to see him."
"They're students coming for office hours," says Stiles.
Scott raises his eyebrows. "It's like the second week of school," he points out. "What do they need office hours for?"
Stiles caves. "Fine, it's a fan club. What are we watching tonight?"
"Smooooth," says Max. She is so Scott and Allison's kid.
"I don't like barely legal girls, kiddo," Stiles says.
"What's barely legal mean?"
Scott snorts; Stiles glares at him. "It means you have to date people your own age, and I'm really, really old. So I have to date someone else really, really old."
"Like dad!" says Max. She frowns. "Or do you have to date someone with the same birthday? I don't know anyone with my birthday."
"We'd be fine," says Scott, picking Max up so she can get the plates out of the cabinet. "And you don't really have to worry about this. You're too young to date anyway."
"I didn't know dating had so much math," says Max, wrinkling her nose.
Stiles takes another few minutes to recover from that conversation, and he's pretty sure Scott notices. But he doesn't say anything, not through dinner and the hour of Babe Max makes it through. And when he finally does speak, he just says, "Hey, can you take her to bed? I need to start the dishwasher."
He almost wants to say no, because he really can't start feeling like he's involved in this family, although anything he does at this point will be fighting a losing battle. Not just because he can't say not to Scott.
So he picks her up, not used to the weight of her, and brings her to bed. Max curls around a stuffed dog with a sleepy noise, and Stiles pulls the blankets up and wonders if he should move to Greenland. Timbuktu. Anywhere else, really. "She's asleep," he tells Scott.
"Thanks." He closes the dishwasher, turns around, and kisses Stiles.
*
The first time Stiles kissed Scott, they were eleven, and convinced it was only a matter of time before they were invited to parties where they would play spin-the-bottle. Stiles insisted on actually having a bottle and spinning it, even though there were only two of them, and he kept hitting Scott's bed or his desk chair or the wall.
Scott hit Stiles on his first try, pressed his lips against his, and said, "Is that it?"
"I guess," Stiles said, just as unsure.
"Huh," said Scott, and then they played video games.
*
It's like Stiles' brain reboots. Like the world hiccups. Glitch in the Matrix, disturbance in the force, whatever. There's a second where Stiles just can't.
And then his systems come back online and he's kissing Scott back, sliding his hands into Scott's hair and taking the kiss over without really trying to. And Scott lets him, that's the part that's amazing. Scott lets Stiles take over and it goes to his head for a few minutes before he realizes they haven't talked at all.
"What's happening right now?" he asks, not moving away. He can feel Scott's breath, and but not in a creepy way.
"Making out," says Scott. "Then I guess we still have to finish Babe."
"I thought I was supposed to be the sarcastic one," says Stiles. "That's my job. If I'm not doing that, what am I here for?"
Scott kisses him again, which definitely works for Stiles.
"Do we really have to finish Babe?" he asks, when they pull back again.
Scott laughs. "Maybe not tonight."
*
Max doesn't seem confused or scarred for life when Stiles is still around in the morning. She says good morning and asks for his help pouring milk on her cereal and that's the extent of her reaction. Scott doesn't say anything either, but he keeps brushing up against Stiles and isn't wearing a shirt, so Stiles decides if he's slipped into an alternate universe, that's fine with him. His old universe was fine, but it didn't have breakfast on Scott's couch watching Saturday morning cartoons.
Or it hadn't since high school, anyway.
Scott's mom comes to pick Max up for swimming lessons around ten and doesn't seem confused about Stiles either. Apparently Stiles is the only one who's confused by this situation; it's the story of his life, really.
"So," he says, stuffing his hands into his pockets while Scott makes more coffee. "What's happening right now?"
"Coffee," says Scott. "And we can probably have sex before they get back."
"Yeah, but--why are we having sex?"
"Because I love you."
It's so simple and easy, the way he says it. Obvious, even. It's the way Stiles says he loves Scott, easy as breathing, because of course.
"Yeah, but--not with sex! What, you just assumed I'd be into that?"
Scott frowns. "No, I figured if you weren't, you wouldn't have had sex with me."
"Maybe I don't just want sex!"
Scott's looking increasingly confused. "Neither do I. Are you mad at me?"
"No," he says, deflating in a rush. "I'm just--dude, I gotta know what you want here."
Scott crosses the room and backs him up against the wall, but doesn't kiss him. "Stiles. Come on. I missed the hell out of you. I didn't wanna just be, like--creepy guy who comes back home and instantly starts hitting on his best friend, but you were over Lydia and I was finally feeling better and you weren't actually dating Danny, so--"
Stiles kisses him this time.
"Okay," he says, smiling. "Yeah. We're both single and not being idiots for once, so--awesome."
Scott laughs. "Yeah. Awesome." He makes a face. "We don't have to do any more long talks about our feelings, right? You got it?"
"Dude, that was like, less than five minutes! You should be writing me sonnets. About how great I am. Otherwise we're through, seriously."
Scott puts him in a headlock and they don't actually manage to have sex, just make out and watch cartoons. Which is still pretty great, all things considered.
*
It's about two months before Max says, "So are you my dad yet?"
Stiles chokes on his coffee. "What?"
"How long does it take?"
Stiles looks desperately at Scott, who's snickering into his own coffee. Someone's not getting a blowjob anytime today. "I don't know," he finally says. "My dad never really dated after my mom died."
Max nods. "I think it should be thirty days. That's how long you have to return stuff you aren't sure you want to buy."
Scott snickers. "That seems--reasonable," says Stiles, kicking Scott's ankle. "When do my thirty days start?"
"They can start today," says Max, magnanimous. Stiles doesn't bother pointing out that he and Scott have been dating for over sixty days. Three months still isn't that long to go from best friend/godfather to serious boyfriend and actual parent.
Besides, he likes his odds.