Disclaimer: I don't own Teen Wolf.

A/N: What is this even. So cracky. So very very cracky. You might need rehab after reading it. I know I do.

Takes place after season 2, in an idyllic place where everyone is cool and friendly and one big packy family! Because I really want everyone to get along and hang out like they do on FRIENDS or Happy Endings without constantly being at each other's throats or angry all the time. So Jackson and Scott are friends, and Allison is considered a part of the pack, as is Lydia. And they're just all really happy together. Oh yeah, and established Sterek.

Warnings: Some spoilerage from Season 2. Like, (SPOILERS: TURN BACK NOW) Jackson's a werewolf. And…I think that's it…oh yeah, and brief mention of the Alpha pack coming.

Follow Your Nose, or

The Case of the Missing Underwear

Stiles wrapped a towel around himself, using his finger to clean his ear, which, in hindsight, didn't make any sense as all since it just made him really want a Q-tip. He got out of the shower room and made his way over to his locker, wondering how really gay he was since he didn't really see anything that caught his interest as he passed by row after row of naked dudes. He even checked out Greenberg, who, while a complete idiot, had a somewhat rockin bod…but nope, nothing. Maybe he really was only gay for Derek.

Getting to his locker he opened it, slipping his towel off and reaching inside for a fresh pair of underwear. He pulled out a pair of pants, a shirt, a sweater, his lacrosse gear…but no undies. He groaned, slamming his head on the locker door as he realized he must have forgotten to pack some.

"You okay, man?" Danny asked, his tan, lean figure contrasting with Stiles' as he stood in front of his own locker.

"I forgot to pack some underwear," Stiles said, though it came out kind of muffled as he had his face still pressed against his locker door. "I could have sworn I packed some this morning."

"I'd let you borrow a pair but I only have the one," Danny shrugged, letting his towel slide down so he was as naked as Stiles. "Looks like you'll have to free-ball."

"I guess," Stiles said, though he didn't really like going commando. He just felt too free with his junk flapping about, and that coupled with his crazy teenage hormones made him bone up at the slightest breeze. Well, that and it was pretty hot outside and it made his thighs all sweaty, which made his ball sac stick to his thighs which was not a good feeling at all.

"Hey, you know why Jackson missed practice?" Danny asked, swiping some deodorant under his pits.

"I think he had a study thing with Scott," Stiles lied, knowing they were doing some lame werewolf thing which he hadn't been invited to because Derek said he needed to practice lacrosse if he wanted to make first-string next year, and when Jackson and Scott agreed he spent the night pouting and making biting comments about how they needed to pick up some Advantix for their fleas which started a huge pillow fight that Derek had to put a stop to. "Hey, when are you going to that gay club again?"

"Uh, tonight I think," Danny said, finally sliding into his boxers. "Why? You and your boyfriend wanna go?"

"Nah, clubs aren't really his thing. You know there's all that dancing and loud music and…people. He really hates all that stuff," Stiles said.

"Oh. You wanna tag along?" Danny asked.

"I would, but last time I used a fake ID there the bartender saw right through it and I had to show him my real one," Stiles sighed. "He said he didn't even believe that I was sixteen."

"You do have kind of a 'twelve-year old going through a growth spurt' look about you," Danny said as he pulled on a shirt.

"I'll have you know I am exactly where I should be development-wise for a person who's sixteen and three-quarters," Stiles said proudly.

"Whatever," Danny said, shutting his locker as he'd finished dressing. "Catch you later, Stiles."

"Hey, Danny," Stiles called out before he departed.

"What?" Danny asked, turning around questioningly.

"Dude, do you think I'm hot?" Stiles asked, holding out his arms so Danny could inspect him fully. He was still buck-naked, and he let Danny stare him up and down as he awaited his opinion.

"You're not really my type," Danny said, scrunching his face up before he left.

"Wait a sec! You can't really judge me on this!" he said, motioning to the little Stilinski dangling between his legs. "I took a cold shower…that's why there's some shrinkage."

"It's not all about size, Stiles," Danny said over his shoulder as he walked away.

"Hey, you didn't answer my question!" Stiles called out to his retreating figure. "Am I attractive to gay guys? You know, other gay guys!" he shouted as Danny continued to walk away. "I mean, I know I find myself attractive, but that doesn't count because I see myself naked all the time…aw, whatever," he said, throwing his hands up wildly.

"Bilinski! Shut up!" Coach yelled, sticking his head out his office door. "And for God's sake put some clothes on before that thing you call a penis falls off and we all have to get a magnifying glass to find it."

"It's Stilinski, sir," Stiles muttered to himself, rolling his eyes as he tugged his shirt on. He stared down at his penis, patting it reassuringly. "He didn't mean it, little guy," he said, trying to encourage his flaccid member. "You're gonna grow up big and strong. Like, porn star big." When he looked up he saw some of the other guys were staring at him as he talked to his penis. "Sup," he said, doing that stupid head-cock thing that guys do whenever they greet each other. They didn't even acknowledge his greeting, rushing to dress so they wouldn't have to maybe hear him give a pep talk to his balls next.

As Stiles pulled his pants out of the locker he cut his finger on the lock. Sucking the wound before it could bleed out and stain his shirt, he looked to where he'd pricked himself. He toyed with his lock, and realized it had been picked. He didn't know why he hadn't noticed it before. Maybe he was too busy checking out the other guys. Okay, not checking out but – doing some reconnaissance for, well, his own peace of mind. But yeah, his locker had been picked with like a nail file or…

"A claw?" Stiles said, looking down on the long, talon-like thing he'd pulled from his locker door. Wait a minute… "A claw! It's a claw!" Stiles said, waving the nail around for everyone to see. "I found a claw!"

"Bilinski, I'm not going to tell you again," Coach said, rushing up to Stiles in order to calm him down. "Put some pants on before you scar everyone in here for life!"

"It's a claw, Coach! A claw!" Stiles said, pushing it into his face.

"Greenberg!" Coach called over his shoulder.

"Yeah, Coach," Greenberg replied, coming over to the Coach's side.

"Go and get the counselor," Coach said, chewing his gum as Stiles continued to wave the claw around happily.

"Right," Greenberg said, furrowing his brow as if he had just been asked to do complex math. "The counselor…in the…"

"The counselor's office, genius," Coach said. "I think Bilinski here is having an attack of some kind."

Stiles continued prancing around the locker room, shoving the claw into everyone's face, his genitals still flapping about like a freaking sack of potatoes…well, a tiny sack, but still a sack, nonetheless.

"Haha, a claw!" Stiles said, sitting down on a bench and staring joyously at the nail still in his hand. "Oh Derek, you stupid mutt. I've got you now."

"Agh, he's sitting bare-assed on the bench," Coach said as he and the other players who were watching Stiles stared on disgustedly. "Somebody get some disinfectant!"

Stiles kissed the claw happily, glad he could finally implicate Derek in his crime. After kissing it, however, he nearly gagged as he accidentally let it touch his tongue. He rubbed his tongue off on his shirt, getting up from the bench, finally ready to put some pants on.

/ / / / /

Stiles pulled up to the abandoned rail station that Derek now called home, stepping on the brake and putting his Jeep in park. He got out and walked to the entrance, cursing as he nearly tripped over a knocked down tree branch on his way.

"Stupid freaking tree branch," Stiles muttered to himself, pulling his foot free as it got caught. "Argh!" he cried, his shoelace somehow tangled in amongst the small leaves. He sat down like a child, pulling his shoe off while trying to untangle it manually. When the dexterity of his hands failed him (thanks a lot, sausage fingers) he gave up and chose to leave his shoe behind. He staggered on, ignoring the gross feeling of mud and tiny rocks pressing into his socked foot. Another few yards and he'd be near his stupid boyfriend's stupid abandoned subway car-house thingy and then he could unleash the fury he'd been feeling all day. He dug his pants out from between his ass cheeks, the wedgie only adding fuel to the fire burning within him.

He pushed the door open and descended the dirty steps, cringing as his hand came into contact with what he hoped was drool on the metal banister. He made a face before wiping his hand on his jacket, sticking his tongue out distastefully. He heard some shouts and yelling, some things breaking, and what he was pretty sure was the crunch of bone breaking as he finally neared the subway car. The rational, logical part of Stiles told him to back away and maybe come back later when there wasn't a ninety percent chance he'd be eaten alive by Derek's pups, but let's face it; that rational, logical part of Stiles made up a tiny fraction of his mind. The majority of his mind was usually preoccupied thinking up things he hadn't eaten that day, ways to torture Jackson, foods he had eaten that day but still wanted more of, ways to get on Coach's good side so he'd let him play, foods he hadn't eaten in a long time and wanted to try again, Derek's favorite sex positions, foods he'd always wanted to try but hadn't had the chance yet, ways to help get Scott's grades up without making his best friend feel like a complete idiot, and…um…did he mention food?

Whatever. He was already halfway near them anyway, and there was no way he was about to turn back. Mainly because it was such a far walk and Stiles was already tired, but the main part, the non-lazy main part, was that he was still furious.

As the Hale pack came into view Stiles could see they were in the middle of yet another sparring session. Jackson and Scott were throwing wild punches at each other, while Boyd, Erica, and Isaac were all trying to take down Derek. Allison and Lydia were sitting on the other side of the rail station, observing the session, occasionally cheering before losing interest and gossiping amongst themselves. Stiles had barely taken a few feet towards the pack when he was attacked by Isaac. Not in the 'Oh my God, my throat is exposed, he can smell my fear' kind of way, but more like the 'slobbery, wet licking, tight hugging, lifting me way above my normal standing height' kind of way.

"Stiles!" Isaac cried in glee, raising the boy up in his embrace. As earlier described, Isaac sloppily licked Stiles along the neck, nuzzling up to his ear and sniffing his hair. He couldn't really blame Isaac; he was a new werewolf, and was still trying to get all the new heightened sensations running through his body under control. Stiles pursed his lips, used to the young pup's affectionate nature; really, after the way his dad treated him Stiles was glad Isaac was able to connect with people at all, even if it did feel like mild molestation. But Stiles was still angry at Derek, so he didn't hug Isaac back as usual. Instead he let the pup swing him around, his limp arms hanging uselessly as he waited patiently for Isaac to let him down. When he did Stiles walked on, ignoring the pup as he sniffed around his body. When he got to his butt, though, Stiles pushed him away, tapping him sternly on the nose as he usually did whenever Isaac misbehaved.

He passed by where Jackson and Scott were fighting, the two stopping as Stiles made to walk right by them. "Hey, where's your shoe?" Jackson said, blocking Scott and flipping him to the ground. He sniffed the air as Stiles passed before pulling him back by the arm. "And you smell different. Like, angry…"

"Yeah, well…" Stiles cursed his inability to come up with a scathing retort for Jackson. Really, if he wasn't good at coming up with witty, sarcastic comments, what good was he to the pack? "Shut up!" he cried, pulling a wad of gum off his sock and sticking his tongue out distastefully as it stuck to his fingers.

"What's wrong with you?" Scott asked before jumping on Jackson's back. Jackson let him ride piggy-back style, hitching him up further so he didn't fall. Scott wrapped his arms around Jackson's neck as they continued to interrogate Stiles. "And Jackson's right; you do smell different."

"What is it with you guys? Do you just – go around, sniffing people?" Stiles cried. "Oh look, an elderly old lady, let's sniff underneath her sagging breasts as they knock against her knees. Oh, there goes an attractive pedestrian, got to get out of the car and sniff their ass!"

"We're wolves," Jackson said, still holding up Scott. "We sniff."

"Well stop it!" Stiles yelled. "I've had enough sniffing and smelling and scenting for a million lifetimes! I should get paid for all the times I've had a nose pressed up against me like I'm a freaking fruit at the produce stand and you guys are checking me for ripeness or something!" With that Stiles stalked away, minus one shoe and still picking at the wedgie digging deep into his ass.

"I know he's my best friend, but he's still weird," Scott said, resting his chin on Jackson's head. "Hey, wanna go pee on stuff?" Jackson thought about it for all of a millisecond before he nodded enthusiastically, securing Scott's legs around his waist before charging on, his co-captain laughing like a child on his back.

"Hey Stiles," Allison said, waving as he passed by. Lydia didn't even acknowledge him. She was too busy swiping through her iPad, reading page after page of something that was so engrossing it wasn't even worth saying 'Hi' to the kid that saved her reputation by taking her to the winter formal as well as her life as he kept her from bleeding out on the lacrosse field.

"Hey," he said, waving to his best friend's girl. "Hey Lydia," he said, waving his hand in front of her downturned face.

"Yeah, yeah," she said, pushing his hand away. Stiles rolled his eyes as Allison chuckled and took a sip from her smoothie. Hey she had a smoothie. Where'd she get a smoothie? Is there a smoothie machine around here? Had Derek finally taken Stiles' advice and put a smoothie machine down here?

"Ignore her," Allison said, as she took yet another sip of her delicious, refreshing smoothie. Stiles licked his lips as he watched her enviously drink up the fruity goodness held within her cup. "She's been going crazy these last few days doing some research on why Peter's bite had no affect on her."

"That and I want to find out why my boyfriend suddenly turned into this gigantic lizard with a penchant for paralyzing people and who does the bidding of unhinged psychopaths," Lydia said, her eyes still glued to the tablet.

"We've been pouring over Gerard's bestiary, but so far, nothing," Allison shrugged, setting her smoothie down.

"Yeeeeeeah," Stiles said, scratching at his chin as he tried to pretend he was interested, "yeah, that sounds – gosh, real important. So, uh, where did you get that smoothie?"

"This?" Allison smiled, shaking her cup around. Stiles nodded eagerly, nearly shaking his head off his neck. "We stopped by Jamba Juice on our way here."

"Aw man," Stiles said, his shoulders dropping in disappointment. "So no smoothie machine?" Allison shook her head, clearly amused as Stiles continued his Stiles-isms.

"You can have the rest of this if you want," Allison offered, holding her drink out to him.

"I really shouldn't…but if you insist," Stiles said, grabbing her smoothie before she had a chance to pull her arm back. "So, what have you found out, Red?" he asked. He stuck his tongue out at as he did his best to wrestle the straw in place, bending it before securing it with his lips.

"There's some thing's in here about how to reverse a wolf-bite, all really dark and bloody and theoretical since they've never been proven, by the way, but nothing about how someone could be unaffected by an Alpha's bite," Lydia said, discouragingly. "I guess I'm just a freak."

"You're not a freak," Allison said, wrapping an arm around her.

"Yeah," Stiles agreed, once again losing control of the straw. Seriously, these things should come with handgrips. "And if you are, you're our freak."

"No, Allison's right," Lydia said. "I'm not a freak. God, how could I be? I mean, have you looked at me?" she scoffed, vainly running her fingers through her strawberry-blonde hair. "Wait a minute! That's it! What if the reason I'm unaffected is because I'm immortal! What if I'm a god?" she asked, staring ahead into space, her mind running wild with all the possibilities that lay before her as she continued to stroke her hair. She began waving at imaginary people, smiling wildly like she'd won some kind of beauty pageant, holding imaginary flowers and fake-crying as she accepted a tiara. Stiles and Allison pursed their lips, squinting as they stared at Lydia and her conceitedness.

"Yeah, have fun with that," Stiles told Allison. He walked off, semi-happy that he now had a smoothie. Wait a minute; why wasn't this smoothie that refreshing or rewarding? Maybe because he didn't buy it with his own money…no that couldn't be it, he'd never had a problem accepting free food before. Oh yeah, he was still supposed to be pissed at Derek. Wiping the smile from his face and putting in place his 'Angry Stiles' expression (which Scott said made him look constipated, but what did his best friend in the entire world know about him looking constipated?) he approached Derek, who was still sparring with Boyd and Erica.

"Derek!" Stiles called out, trying to get his boyfriend's attention. He took one last sip of the smoothie before setting it down, which really, should show everyone just how angry he was.

"Not now, Stiles," Derek said gruffly, dodging a side-blow from Boyd's heavy fist before ducking just in time to miss Erica's deadly high-heeled kick. Boyd barreled toward Derek, ready to tackle him, while Erica charged at him from the other side. Derek quickly lunged over Boyd, rolling to the floor and letting the two collide. They didn't look ready to give up, however, but before they could get to their feet Stiles' pulled out his trusty dog whistle and gave it a good blow. He, Allison, and Lydia remained unfazed by it, but it apparently hurt everyone else's ears so badly that they had to cover them, falling to the ground and writhing around in pain.

"Oh get up," Stiles said, kicking Derek's side with his shoeless foot. "You guys can rip each other's throats out and then go about your day like nothing happened, but a little whistle and suddenly you all have major headaches like you're auditioning for a Tylenol commercial."

"That's so not cool, Stiles," Scott said, pulling himself up from where he'd fallen by the subway car.

"Yeah, you freaked me out so much I nearly pissed on McCall when I really wanted to piss on his backpack," Jackson said, zipping up the front of his jeans while Scott looked at the wet spot on his pant leg and pushed Jackson because hey, he did piss on him.

"Stiles, I told you never to use this stupid thing again!" Derek cried, wrenching the whistle from Stiles and crushing it in his own hand.

Stiles merely shrugged and said, "Go ahead. I've got a buttload of them back at my house thanks to Dr. Deaton."

"What was so important that it couldn't wait until we'd finished close combat training? And where's your shoe?" Derek asked, trying not to pinch the bridge of his nose or massage his temples because Stiles said that's what his dad did whenever he talked to him for an extended amount of time (like more than two minutes) and Derek did not want Stiles to feel like he was dating his father.

"I lost my shoe outside," Stiles said as if this were a normal occurrence. "But this couldn't wait," Stiles said, turning around and pulling his pants down so that his bare ass was on display for all to see. "See anything interesting?"

"Bite marks?" Erica said, reaching out to touch a reddish bruise on one cheek. "You guys are into some kinky shit."

"No," Stiles sighed. "Anything else?"

"Lack of definition on your left glute," Jackson, ever the athlete, said, reaching forward and squeezing both ass cheeks as if he were comparing melons at the supermarket.

"Did you wax?" Scott asked, because yes, Scott and Stiles have seen each other naked hundreds of times, but only like ten of those times counted because they were jerking off together over some porno…wait, that was an overshare.

"No, it's always been hairless," Stiles said, as everyone continued to gather around his butt.

"Don't worry, when you hit puberty you'll start getting hair in all kinds of weird places," Boyd assured him.

"I have hit puberty!" Stiles cried out indignantly. Boyd arched his brow, unsure whether he really had or not because there was no way someone was that hairless without there being some kind of hormonal imbalance.

"Am I seeing things or does his butt totally look like the Wal-Mart smiley-face on its side?" Allison asked, tilting her head, which of course made everyone else tilt their head so they too could look for some random superstore logo on Stile's exposed ass.

"What's Wal-Mart?" Lydia asked, her head still tilted as she stared at Stiles' butt because she didn't want to be left out of anything.

"It smells fine," Isaac commented out of the blue, kneeling forward and all but burying his face between Stiles' crack.

"Allllllllright," Stiles said, drawing out the word as he usually did when he was upset. He turned around and buttoned up his pants, staring them all down murderously. "You all think this is funny, don't you?" At that they all looked down to Stiles crotch, and Erica and Scott couldn't help but laugh out loud while everyone else turned away disgustedly.

"Dude, you got a ball hanging out," Jackson said, making a face as he kept his head turned.

"Oh, come on!" Stiles yelled out as he turned around so he could zip himself up without an audience. Stupid exposed gonads…why couldn't you be more woman-like and be all inside instead of flapping around in the open down there. If it wouldn't nearly make him pass out with pain he'd probably flick his ball just to show how angry with it he really was.

"See, he hasn't hit puberty yet," Boyd whispered to Erica.

"I heard that!" Stiles cried, turning around to face them again. "I have hit puberty! This is a man's testicle! I am a man! A man!" He realized he really was the most unlucky person in the world as at that moment his voice decided to crack, making him go up an octave as he said 'man'. He cursed whatever crime he committed in a past life that made him so unfortunate in this one. When everyone started laughing he started turning red with both embarrassment and anger.

"Alright, come on," Derek said, ushering his boyfriend inside the sub car. "Everyone stop laughing. Just, stay out here and…I don't know, keep being weird. And Jackson and Scott, stop pissing on stuff!" he yelled out as he realized his pups were about to go out again and mark their territory. The two boys stopped mid-zip and buttoned their pants back up as they decided to go and bother their girlfriends.

"You guys suck!" Stiles called out to the pack as Derek closed the railcar door.

"Want to tell me why you just mooned everyone?" Derek asked, sitting down on a bench against the wall. Not that he expected it or anything, but he was used to Stiles' sitting on his lap whenever they were together, and when he didn't, he realized he must be really upset.

"You," Stiles said, gritting his teeth as he stared down his boyfriend. "You did this to me."

"What are you talking about?" Derek asked.

"You – and this!" Stiles said, pointing to his ass, though thankfully this time he kept his pants on. "You stole my underwear from my locker!"

"I…what?" Derek asked, sitting on the edge of his seat. "You think I went to your locker and what, stole your underwear?"

"I know you did," Stiles said, reaching into his pocket and pulling out the claw. "This was found on my locker door. You used it to pick my lock. I know it was you," he said menacingly.

"Okay, first question: how much medication have you taken today?" Derek asked calmly.

"I don't know…some?" Stiles said. When Derek stared him down he admitted, "Okay, I took like five. But that's not the point! You are an underwear thief!" Stiles said, pointing at Derek. "J'accuse!"

"Stiles, you know I love you, but you're insane," Derek said, scratching at his chin as he quickly lost amusement with his boyfriend's antics. "I did not steal your underwear."

"Don't lie to me," Stiles said. "This is your claw. I've had this stupid, yellow, pointy thing in my face more times than your dick."

"Stiles, I didn't take your underwear," Derek said. "Think about it. Why would I need to steal some stupid piece of clothing when I can get access to your tight little body whenever I want?"

"But – but -," Stiles said. "My locker. Your creepy, gross, nail thingy."

"I don't know what to tell you, kid," Derek said, getting to his feet and spinning Stiles around before catching him in a dip. "I didn't pilfer your unmentionables," he said, leaning down to where Stiles was hanging and kissing him.

"I think all those times you've bitten me has finally given me rabies and driven me insane," Stiles said as Derek pulled him upright. He led Stiles to the bench, motioning for him to sit down. He did, but when Derek sat next to him he slid into his lap as familiarly as before.

"Well, you know when you get hurt, I'm supposed to lick it to make it better," Derek said, pulling Stiles tighter against him. Stiles grinned as Derek ran his tongue up his neck, making a beeline for his earlobe and smirking as he caught it between his teeth and sucked on it while Stiles couldn't help but shiver. "Besides, I kind of like you without underwear. Easier access," Derek said as he slipped a hand down the back of Stiles' waistband and squeezed his ass roughly. Before they could get any further, however, the door to the rail car opened.

"Hey, Derek," Erica said, crossing her arms as she caught her pack master totally molesting Stiles out in the open. "Gross," she said as she saw Derek pull his hands out of Stiles' pants.

"What is it, Erica?" Derek huffed, angry that his and Stiles' alone time had been interrupted.

"Dr. Deaton called. He said he's got some new info that might help us against that Alpha pack that just rolled into town," she said, examining her nails as she tried to relay the information without falling asleep since it was so boring.

"I'll go see him," Derek said. "And tell Lydia she's coming, too. She can tell the doc about all the stuff she found on Gerard's bestiary."

"That and he might need some help with all the big words Dr. Deaton might use," Stiles said, smiling innocently as Derek growled and nipped at his neck.

"And tell Scott since he insists on being involved with everything that he can tag along, too," Derek said, spying Scott outside the door.

"Whoo-hoo!" Scott said, throwing his hands in the air and running happily around the rail station. "Car ride! Car ride! Car ride!"

"Looks like 'the mystery of the stolen underwear' remains unsolved," Stiles sighed as he got up from Derek's lap.

"Stolen underwear?" Erica said, playing with her hair. "Oh, you mean that grody den of your old underwear that Derek made a bed out of?"

Three things happened at once: Derek growled at Erica, Erica took three steps back when she saw her Alpha nearly lunge at her throat, and Stiles' jaw dropped to the floor as he eyed his boyfriend murderously.

"WHAT?" Stiles cried. Derek was still trying not to kill Erica as Stiles pushed him aside and sprinted down the rail car to the furthest end where he knew Derek slept. There, in the corner, where a bench and some seats should have been, were piles of Stiles underwear, mounded up so that they formed a small hill. There was a flat part in the center where Derek slept, and after Stiles took in the sight before him he turned to his boyfriend, who had just caught up with him.

"So not only have you been stealing my underwear, but you made some kind of weird, stalker, Unabomber bed out of them?" Stiles asked. "Please, oh please, in the name of all that is holy, please tell me they're clean…" Derek avoided eye contact, looking away ashamedly as Stiles' mouth opened but nothing came out. For the first time in his whole life he was at a loss for words.

"Dirty underwear?" Stiles cried. "You've been sleeping with my dirty underwear?!"

"What's going on?" Allison said, walking into the rail car to investigate why Stiles was yelling, the rest of the pack on her tail.

"From what I can gather with my new super-wolf hearing, our dear-old Alpha Derek here has been stealing his boyfriend's undies," Jackson said, clasping a hand on Derek's shoulder. When Derek's eyes flashed red Jackson quickly removed his hand and went to hide behind Scott, whom Derek obviously favored and would never, ever attack…well, anymore.

"And making a…bed out of them?" Lydia said, standing on her tip-toes so she could see over Stiles' shoulder to the pile of underwear.

"Yes," Stiles said, holding his arms out as if he were presenting a freak show at a carnival. "Everyone gather round and have a look at the crazy Alpha who steals his boyfriend's underwear and sleeps on them!"

"It's not a big deal," Derek said lowly.

"You would say that," Stiles said. "Now I know why I've been losing underwear like crazy! I'm down to two pairs. Two pairs, Derek! And now I've had to resort to going commando, which does not suit me, like, at all."

"Is that why you mooned us all out there?" Boyd asked.

"Yes," Stiles said, scratching irritably at his shorn head. "Although in my defense I was merely showing you all that I was underwear-less."

"Stiles. I'm sorry, alright?" Derek shrugged. "I just…sometimes I want to smell you, but you're not available every hour of every day, so I – ."

"You don't get to speak anymore," Stiles reprimanded. "Someone get me a newspaper so I can hit him on the snout with it."

"Stiles, he's right. This isn't that weird," Allison said, rubbing Stiles' arms comfortingly. When Stiles looked at her as if she were crazy she clarified, "Oh, don't get me wrong. It's totally weird. But not that weird."

"Yeah," Lydia said. "Considering all the things that have gone on these past few months, what with werewolves, kanimas, weird, inexplicable resurrections of people that should have stayed dead…this is actually pretty normal by our standards."

"And it's not like he's the only one," Allison said. "Last week I caught Scott digging through my laundry basket and sniffing my dirty panties." Scott blushed as Jackson chuckled under his breath.

"Oh, and just yesterday Jackson broke into my house and started humping one of my pillows while I was at the mall," Lydia said off-handedly. When Jackson looked shocked she shrugged and added, "We have security cameras everywhere."

"So…this isn't that bad?" Stiles asked.

"Not at all," Allison said. "They're werewolves. They can't help themselves. They're in heat, constantly, and with the full moon in a couple of days they're probably going even more haywire than usual. Plus, you know how much they like to smell stuff."

"So I've heard," Stiles said sarcastically as Isaac was currently sniffing under his armpit and nuzzling his chest. Derek had to pull Isaac off of Stiles when he started sniffing lower.

"Um, not all of us are freaks with insatiable sexual appetites," Erica said proudly. "But I guess I'm more in control, being a girl and all."

"Really?" Isaac scoffed. "A few days ago I caught you getting spit-roasted in the boys' locker room." Everyone's jaw dropped and Lydia actually gasped like it was a courtroom drama.

"You are dead," Erica said, pointing a claw in Isaac's face. Isaac was legitimately frightened, so he hid behind Derek, his tail between his legs. Derek, just as protective of Isaac as he was of Stiles, growled at Erica and told her to leave him alone.

"What's 'spit-roasted'?" Allison asked.

"It's when you're with two guys and one's doing you from behind while another's in your mouth," Lydia said as she pushed her hair back. Jackson glared at her as she said, "I mean, so I've heard."

"Okay," Allison said, as she saw both Lydia and Erica in a new light. "Look, werewolves are gross," Allison said. "And boys are gross."

"And so are girls, apparently," Jackson said as he continued to stare Lydia down.

"We're all just…gross," Allison continued. "But we're young. Our hormones are running a million miles an hour."

"That's still no excuse," Stiles said as he crossed his arms and refused to look at Derek. "You should be able to control yourself."

"Stiles," Scott began, "this past Monday at school weren't you so horny when you found one of Derek's socks in your backpack that you jerked off in the library?" Derek smirked as Stiles gritted his teeth and poked Scott in the shoulder.

"You said you wouldn't tell anyone!" Stiles hissed.

"See, you're a freak just like me," Derek said as he pulled Stiles to his chest. Stiles rolled his eyes as he allowed Derek to rub circles on his stomach.

"Not just like you," Stiles sighed. "But I guess I can try to forget I ever saw this underwear-bed thing…after years and years of therapy," he said under his breath. "And you owe me like a hundred new pairs of boxers. And briefs. I like differing levels of nut-support based off the weather."

"Alright," Derek said, nuzzling up behind Stiles' ear. "If you let me in the dressing room as you try them on."

"What are you talking about? You can't try on underwear…oh," he said as he realized what Derek meant. "Okay," Stiles said. He turned to face Derek, kissing him passionately and even scratching behind his ears, which he knew turned him on.

"This is getting uncomfortable," Jackson said, though he didn't look away. The others agreed, unsure of whether Stiles and Derek would actually get down right in front of them.

"I'll be right back, okay?" Derek said, pressing one last kiss to Stiles' lips. "And sorry again about the whole 'dirty underwear' thing."

"Don't mention it," Stiles said, blushing as Derek pulled away. "I'm serious," he said, grabbing Derek by the shirt so he could see he wasn't joking.

"Alright. Scott, Lydia, let's go," Derek said, throwing his leather jacket on. "And Isaac, you come, too," he added, as he saw that Erica was still mad at the pup. Eventually everyone left the rail car, except Stiles, who stared down at Derek's bed and resisted the urge to burn every last pair, telling himself that it was sweet that his boyfriend wanted to smell him all the time. Creepy, but still sweet.

A/N: So did you like? I did, but I maybe biased. Ugh, Stiles is really hard to write. He's just…everywhere, all the time! Freaking ADHD. But whatever, it was fun trying. So, yeah, I hope this also quells your pack feels. I just really want them all to love each other lol but that would be boring and not so dramatic. It would make a cool sitcom though. Anyways, thanks for reading!