Stiles wakes up from the nightmare, screaming. He opens his eyes and tries to sit up, but suddenly thre are glowing red eyes and razor sharp fangs right in his face. The werewolf is roaring at him.

Stiles' scream dies in his throat and he squeaks in a very unmanly fashion, wiggling away from under the werewolf and dropping off his bed with flailing arms.

"Scott, what the hell!"

The roaring subsides and turns first into a low rumbling chuckle and then into Scott's husky laugh. The red eyes turn brown again and Scott's face reemerges under the fur.

"New Stiles rule: no powers in the… I mean, when you… You know what, just don't scare me like that, dumbass!" His brain isn't working properly right now.

"I'm sorry," Scott replies, still laughing. "I didn't mean to. You weren't waking up until I roared your name. Don't worry, I have it under control again."

"Really? Because I distinctly remember you telling me how you almost wolfed out in front of your dad just a couple of days ago," he says, still keeping his distance from Scott. "

"I told you, I'm fine, okay?"

"No you're not. None of us are. We have to close those freakin' doors. I have to figure out how to stop the dreams, and you have to find a new anchor, because otherwise you're going to accidentally shred me to pieces, and I am really not very fond of the whole shredding idea. I'm more of a dying-peacefully-kind-of-guy," he says, waving his arms frantically.

"Stiles, calm down."

"Don't tell me to—"

"I've found it."

"What?"

"An anchor."

"Wait, what? Who? Are you telling me it's Kira?"

"No." Scott hesitates. "You."

Stiles folds his arms firmly.

"That's not going to work. Because Stiles?" he says, pointing at himself with both thumbs. "Is not your girlfriend."

"Deaton says it doesn't have to be. You're my best friend. Who could be better? Just now when you fell off the bed and made that noise… you made me remember my humanity quicker than Alison ever did."

"Oh. Well, in that case…" Stiles sits down on his bed next to Scott. "I always knew I would be a good anchor. A great anchor. And for the record, I didn't fall off my bed, I just dodged… horizontally… with the appropriate amount of speed."

It's 3am, but Stiles doesn't want to go back to sleep. They end up playing videogames and eating junk food all night until his dad comes back from the night shift, carrying even more boxes of files than the day before.

The next night, Stiles lies in bed, trying not to fall asleep. Still sleep deprived from the night before, he fell asleep several times in school. The thought of those dreams make his heart race with panic.

"Stiles," Scott calls softly from the window.

"Yeah, come in," he replies in the dark, not bothering to get up.

The bed creaks softly as Scott lay down next to him. He touches Stiles' clammy hand. Scott is warm.

"What are you doing?"

"I want to help."

"You can't. I'm not in pain. I'm just scared."

Several minutes pass in silence.

"Your heartbeat is better now. It's slowed down since I came in," Scott says encouragingly.

"You're feeling for my heartbeat?" Stiles snatches his hand away from Scott's touch.

"I was worried about you, so I listened for a while before I came in."

"Sometimes your wolf powers are creepy. Actually, they're always creepy."

"I can still hear it, you know," Scott teases.

"Then don't listen to it," Stiles replies lazily and rolls to his side away from Scott.

There is a long silence, and they start to drift off to sleep.

"So, what, you're just going to sleep here tonight?" Stiles mumbles half asleep.

Scott places his hand on Stiles' upper arm.

"I'm going to stay here and make sure you don't have any more nightmares."

"That's nice," Stiles murmurs and dozes off.

Scott doesn't know if he was referring to what he said, or to his touch, so he keeps his hand where it is.

When Stiles wakes up, he counts his fingers. Five. He relaxes. He is on his back, sprawled all over the bed, his sheets in a cluster at his feet. Scott is all the way on the edge of the bed, still wearing his leather jacket. He is curled up on his side, but his hand is outstretched and resting lightly on Stiles' arm. He can feel Scott's warmth through the thin fabric of his sleeping T-shirt. They haven't slept in the same bed since they were kids. It doesn't feel awkward, but definitely different. Of course they've done a lot of sleepovers, but usually they would pass out on the floor, half way through a videogame and or halfway through a bottle of cheap liquor. This time they fell asleep lying next to each other – on purpose.

"Sleep alright?" Scott says softly and squeezes his arm.

Stiles leaps into the air with a yelp of surprise.

"Dude, I thought you were still asleep!"

"You've always been so jumpy," Scott laughes. He has sleep wrinkles on the side of his face

"Yeah? Well, that's what keeps us humans alive. Now c'mon. We've got to get to school."

The next night Stiles falls asleep to the sound of rain pounding against his window. It was nice having Scott for company the night before. But it's rainy tonight, and Scott can't watch over him every night now, can he.

Stiles wakes up with a scream. He vaguely registers the window being pushed open and someone jumping in.

"Stiles!" Scott calls. He presses Stiles' head against his soaking wet chest and holds him tight. Stiles stops yelling and silently pants against his collar bone, digging his fingers into Scotts leather jacket.

"It was just a dream. You're ok now," Scott says soothingly, rocking him back and forth.

"Just stay here, ok?" Stiles whispers when he's calmed down enough to speak.

"Yeah, sure man," Scott replies, patting him on the shoulder lightly.

"Why are you wet?" Stiles asks, the voice returning to his words.

"It's raining."

"Why didn't you come in?"

"You closed the window."

"Because it was raining, dumbass."

"I didn't know if you wanted me to come in."

"Scott, you stopped knocking years ago."

"Right. Sorry. I think I probably broke it this time."

"'Sokay. You broke the lock the first time you came through the window actually."

"Oh."

"How long were you waiting out there?"

"Uh, I texted you."

Stiles checks his phone. Two text messages. 8:14PM Hey, do you need me to keep you company again tonight? 8:53PM Count your fingers. Text me if you need me.

"Sorry man, I had my phone on silent because I was sneaking around to figure out what my dad is up to. You didn't have to sit outside in the rain just because of me, just in case I freaked out again."

"I wanted to. You're my best friend. That's what best friends do."

There is a pause. Scott is still holding Stiles tightly. He's dripping on the floor.

"You should probably change into something dry. You can have some of my clothes," Stiles says, breaking the embrace.

"Oh right, sorry!" Scott mumbles. He walks over to the desk and strips naked, hanging his wet clothes over the chair.

Stiles stares at Scott's naked backside. They change in front of each other all the time in the locker rooms, but this is different. This is in Stiles' room.

"I have boxers in the second drawer…" he begins, but Scott is already rummaging through the laundry basket of clean clothes.

"No you don't. You live out of your laundry basked like I do," he says, and slips on a pair of Stiles' boxers. The waistband clings to the lower curve of his butt cheeks for a bit, until it flips up and covers them. He turns around as he puts on a T-shirt and Stiles' gaze falls on his stomach and the bulge in the boxers.

"What? What is it?" Scott asks, noticing where Stiles is looking.

"Oh, nothing… I'm just… staring. Nothing like the empty gaze of a crazy person, is there?"

"You're not going crazy," Scott says and sits down next to him again.

He's holding out a clean T-shirt. Stiles realizes he's been hugging himself and rocking back and forth. He slowly unclenches his trembling hands and takes it.

"Here, let me," Scott says and helps Stiles out of his pajama T-shirt. "This one is all sweaty."

Scott's fingertips run along Stiles' sides grazing up to his armpit as he lifted the T-shirt over Stiles' head. He presses it to his nose.

"See? It smells like fear."

"Ok, this is me suppressing a dog joke," Stiles grins. "Do I still smell like fear?"

Scott leans in and and sniffs Stiles' neck, ever so slightly brushing his nose against his skin. Stiles shivers.

"Dude, I'm ticklish."

"You smell like… you had pepperoni pizza for dinner," Scott says and bursts out laughing.

"Dumbass!" He throws a pillow in Scott's face, but he just keeps laughing.

When they lie back down again, Stiles hesitates for a moment about how to lie down. He wants to keep Scott close, but suggesting they cuddle would be awkward. But Scott just slips under the sheets, lies down on his back, and guides Stiles to rest his head on his shoulder. He wraps his arm around Stiles' back as if it's the most natural thing to do. Stiles reaches around Scott's waist and rests his arm on Scott's stomach. As soon as he puts it there, it feels awkward. Like it's too much, and he should pull it back. But he doesn't want to.

"Remember when we were kids and used to sleep together?" Scott asks.

"Yeah."

"You used to like falling asleep on my arm just like this," Scott says.

"No, stupid, that was you."

"Really?"

"Yeah, you used to keep your asthma inhaler in one hand and it always ended up underneath me."

"Oh, right."

"Goodnight."

"Stiles?"

"Yeah?"

"Do you want me to be here tomorrow night, too?"

"M-hm."

"Ok, I'll bring my own PJs then."

"Mh."

"Stiles?"

"What."

"Your breath is tickling my armpit."

"Oh, Mphorry." Stiles scoots up a bit. Scott giggles.

"Now it's tickling my nipple!"

"You're wearing a frickin' T-shirt."

"They're sensitive!"

"They can't be that sensitive."

"It just feels… kinda weird."

Stiles grumbles in protest and shifts his head again, now pointing his nose towards Scott's neck. Even Stiles with his human senses can feel the shiver that's running over Scott's skin as he breathes out.

"Better?"

"Uh, yeah, I guess this is fine."

Stiles listened to the rain outside and the thumping of Scott's heartbeat against his face.

"Stiles?"

No answer.

"Stiles, are you awake? Oh, I guess not. Good night."

Stiles sleeps through the alarm, like always.

"Hey. Stiles. Wake up."

"Wha?"

"You're drooling on me."

"What? Oh, sorry," Stiles says, slowly letting go of his grip around Scott's body and wiping the corner of his mouth.

For the next four nights, Scott comes to his window every evening. He sleeps in boxers and a tank top. Stiles knows Scott usually sleeps shirtless on his own, but that would be awkward. He hasn't had another nightmare so far (well, not during the night). He also hasn't slept on Scott's chest again like he did on that rainy night. They just sleep next to each other now, a safe distance apart. But usually at some point during the night, when Stiles is turned on his side away from Scott, Scott presses his nose between Stiles' shoulder blades. At least that's usually how they wake up.

"Stiles, you're gonna make me come!"

Stiles doesn't have time to respond. Scott's cock slides all the way in and then he's shooting against the back of his throat. He pulls back again and Stiles tastes sweet and slightly salty cum on his tongue. He has just enough time to swallow before Scott thrusts deep again and more cum shoots down his throat.

"Fuck, Stiles, don't stop!"

But Stiles wasn't ready for this much cum. It's running from the corner of his mouth and dripping down his chin. He lets Scott's cock slip out of his mouth with a pop and wraps his hand around it, stroking him vigorously with all six fingers.

"Scott, it's too much!" His words are drowned by Scott's blasts of cum. It's splashing on his face covering his eyes and nose and mouth. Thick ropes land on his hair and run down the side of his neck.

"Stiles, I need your mouth!" Scott exclaims, and despite Stiles' protests, he shoves it in again, making Stiles gag.

He wakes up with a gasp.

"Stiles, it was just a dream!"

Scott is holding his hand, but Stiles breaks away and counts his fingers. Five. He sinks back into his pillow, still breathing hard.

"You ok?"

"Yeah, I'm ok now."

"What did you dream about?"

"Me? Nothing. Why? I wasn't talking in my sleep, was I?"

"You kept saying my name… first softly and then as if you were calling for help."

"Well, you're my go-to person when I need help."

Scott laughs softly.

"Literally. You're on speed dial, and then my dad. I'd never just call 911. In fact, Tara told me I shouldn't call when she's on shift…"

"It's just… I thought me sleeping over kept you from having nightmares."

"Well, this wasn't a nightmare exactly… just kind of a bad dream I guess?"

"It was a wet dream, wasn't it?"

"Dude, you promised not to do the lie-detector thing with me!"

"I'm not. You have a boner."

Stiles didn't realize, but he is indeed sporting a hard on. He even feels a wet spot in his boxers.

"How did you—"
"Do you remember the day when Coach promoted you to first line and me to team captain?"

"You mean the day of your second full moon when you made out with Lydia?"

"Uh, yeah. Sorry again about that. But remember, I told you I could smell the jealousy in the locker room. Then you asked me if I could smell sexual desire and arousal…"

"Oh."

"Plus, your precome has a distinctive smell."

"Dude! Gross!" Stiles exclaimed and hit Scott with his pillow.

"Ow!" Scott yelped, and started giggling uncontrollably.

"TMI dude, that is one wolf power I did not need to know about!" Stiles keeps hitting him with the pillow until Scott snatches it away from him.

"And I can smell that you haven't, you know… done it… in a week."

"Well, what can I say. Evenings and mornings used to be Stiles Time, but now that time is no longer private. So excuse me for having a wet dream!"

"It's ok, I haven't done it in five days either."

"Now gimme back my pillow, dumbass."

"Fine, here you go. I'm just saying, it's cool. I don't care."

"About what?"

"I mean, I wouldn't mind."

"Wouldn't mind what?"

"If you jerked off."

"Wait, what, right now? Here? Like, right now?"

"Yeah."

"Don't you think that would be kinda weird? Me. Stiles. Doing my thing while you're just there. In my room. With me."

"D'you remember years ago when we stole that porn magazine together?"

"Are you seriously asking me if I forgot the number one best heist we ever pulled off?"

"I'm just saying, we jerked off to that magazine all the time together. And it wasn't awkward at all."

"You totally ruined that magazine though. That one time, you came so much and all over our favorite page."

"I remember, that was the picture of that woman getting handled by two guys," Scott said, laughing.

"Yeah and then the pages stuck together and we couldn't un-stick them. You used to come so freaking much."

"Still do. Actually, it's gotten even more – a werewolf thing I guess."

"Huh. The more ya know. I think I still have that magazine somewhere."

"Really?" Scott starts laughing, and they giggle for a while.

Eventually they sigh and fall silent. Stiles rolls to the side and tries to fall asleep again, but he can't. His boner won't go away. He feels the familiar sensation of Scott's nose between his shoulder blades. Stiles listens to Scott's breaths until they become regular and he's sure he's asleep. He needs to find a way to take care of himself, otherwise he won't be able to fall asleep.

"Scott?" he whispers. No answer, and no change in his breathing. But he doesn't have werewolf senses.

"Scott?" he says louder, just to be sure. Nothing.

Stiles carefully scoots away from Scott, and Scott shifts in his sleep. He tries to sit up, but Scott murmurs something, so he lies back down again. He can't get up without waking him. And he can't even reach the box of tissues from here. Oh well, he's really close anyway, it won't take long.

He pulls down the waistband of his pajama pants and boxers, and his cock already feels so much better. He turns to check on Scott, but his friend is fast asleep next to him, lips slightly parted.

Stiles starts slowly stroking his dick, careful not to cause the mattress to resonate too much. He's still looking at Scott's face – to make sure he's still sleeping of course. But images from his wet dream keep popping up in his mind's eye. Sure, Stiles has always been curious. Heteroflexible you could say. He finds a lot of things attractive, mostly girls (mostly Lydia really) but also occasionally guys. There is really no limit to his imagination and his fantasies. But this is Scott. His best friend. It's kinda weird.

Stiles never takes long to cum, and this load has been building up for a while now. He's getting close, and it feels so good, he doesn't really need to think about anything or anyone in particular. For the last couple of strokes, he can't help himself, he has to just go a bit faster. It makes the mattress bounce a little, but he doesn't care. Scott is still sleeping. When he finally cums, he lets out a very Stiles-like whimper – an orgasm noise that he's never quite learned how to suppress.

Scott's eyes are suddenly open, but it's too late now. Stiles cums in thick ropes on his stomach while looking straight into Scott's eyes. The cum slowly soaks through his T-shirt and feels warm against his stomach. Damn. He didn't think about the mess he just made.

"Stiles? What the—?"

"Uh, hey Scott… I was just—"

Suddenly Scott's nostrils flare up and his eyes flash up bright red.

Stiles jerks away, loses his balance and falls off the bed with an graceless thud.

"Woha, Scott, you ok?" he says from the safety of the floor.

"Take your shirt off," Scott growls through gritted sharp teeth.

"Scott, I—"

"Now!"

"Alright, alright, you're the wolf."

Stiles gets up and pulls it off over his head. Somehow he managed to get cum on his chin in the process. Scott snatches the T-shirt away from him as soon as he takes it off. He isn't wearing his tank top anymore and he is actually furiously beating off. Stiles stares at him with disbelief. Scott crumples up the the cum-T-shirt, sniffs it and growls. Then he holds it right in front of his cock, as if he's going to use it as a cum towel.

"Stiles!" he says in a low rumbling voice, exposing his sharp teeth.

"Yes, that's my name. Stiles. Always here to help, or get help, or just run away, really…"

"Get over here!" he orders, the alpha resonating in his words.

"Gah! Scott? You in there?"

The werewolf utters a threatening roar that makes Stiles flinch and jump back.

"Yesyes, I'm on my way… I am so going to regret this."

He carefully lies down again next to Scott, and the werewolf immediately bends over him, fangs exposed.

"Pleasedon'tkillme ohGodohGod pleasedon'tkillme…"

Scott presses his mouth over Stiles' chin and slopily licks off the cum that was left there, and retreats, lying down on his back again.

Stiles is alive.

"Ok, you're wolfy and weird now. Scott, you're not a wolf, you're a human, you're my best friend. Focus on my voice, ok? Calm down again. Hey! Scott! I'm talking to you!"

The red eyes turn to meet his, and then Scott bares his teeth in a silent grimace. Stiles smiles and relaxes. He did it. He is an amazing anchor.

Then Scott's body convulses, and Stiles realizes that wasn't the Scott-is-phasing-back face. It was the Scott-is-about-to-cum face. Stiles has just enough time to freak out and almost fall of the bed again.

"Holy Shit!"

Scott shoots straight into Stiles' already cum stained T-shirt. But he shoots more jets of cum so strong that they spray straight over the T-shirt and cover his bare chest in the white liquid. Two especially strong spurts even go all the way to his cheek and jaw. Then the glow of Scott's eyes slowly dim, and his fangs retract.

"I'm sorry, I'm so sorry!" He gasps.

"For scaring me to death or for— I don't even know what you'd call what you did to my favorite T-shirt."

"I don't know what came over me. I woke up and you were… and then suddenly there was this smell. And I just had this urge to cover it up with my scent. Like you were challenging me and I had to—"

"Mark your territory? I guess you're more like dogs than I thought."

"I swear, I didn't know. I've caught the scent of another dude's jizz before, but never this… fresh."

"I guess I should be glad you didn't pee on it," Stiles said and absent mindedly rubbed Scott's saliva off his chin. "Regardless, this is going straight to the laundry."

Stiles took the drenched T-shirt with his thumb and forefinger and threw it across the room into his laundry basket.

"Stiles, I'm sorry."

"Eh, we've been through weirder stuff. Wow, that's so… much!" Stiles says and curiously runs a finger over a streak of cum that's covering Scott's nipple.

"Stiles!" Scott exclaims and starts laughing. "I told you I'm sensitive!"

"No, you're ticklish, ha! Ew, look how sticky it is!"

"Stiles!" Scott giggles and his whole body starts twitching.

"Behold! I have found the alphas weakness: his nipples! The one thing—"

Scott snatches his arm away and flips Stiles on his side in one swift yank. Suddenly Stiles is the little spoon and Scott is pressing him tightly to his chest.

"Very, very sticky!" Scott laughs and rubs his cheek against Stiles' neck, smearing his cum all over it.

"Lemme go, you're so gross!" Stiles giggles and tries to wiggle his way out of Scott's grip, in vain.

They laugh and struggle, and the sensation of Scott's bare chest against his back, rubbing against him, feels weird. Scott's cum is kind of slippery and sticky at the same time. It's weird. But also kinda good.

Stiles stops struggling and they lie there, panting.

"Do you think we'll be glued together if we stay like this?" Stiles asks.

"Werewolf cum is actually one of the strongest glues in the world."

"What?"

"I'm joking."

"Are you sure though? I heard that chimpanzee jizz is super sticky."

"I'm not a chimpanzee."

"Are there wer-chimpanzees?"

"You're being ridiculous."

"I'm just considering all the possibilities."

"Shut up, Stiles. Go back to sleep."

"What, like this? Hello? Are you going to give me a little room here?"

"No. I like this."

"I guess I don't really have a choice in the matter, do I?"

"Nope."

"Dumbass. Wait, is that a boner?"

"I thought we were past the awkwardness of having boners around each other."

"No, I mean it's cool. I'm just—you're getting hard again already?"

"It's because I kinda shifted when I came…"

"Wow, and I thought I was the one who's perpetually turned on."

"I can't help it. Your ass feels kinda nice."

"I know. I happen to have a very attractive ass."

"Shut up."

They lay still for a while, but Stiles' heart wouldn't stop racing.

"Scott?"

"Yeah?"

"Your boner is literally in my ass crack. Like, I can feel it through my boxers."

"Do you want me to…"

"Nah, it's cool." Stiles' voice shakes slightly.

That night, Stiles dreams about Scott fucking him.