AN I don't own Teen Wolf or any of its characters. One shot for now, maybe two shot if I get positive reviews or feel like it.

Scott was attracted to the cracked doorway by the sound of two heartbeats, not just one. Most of the pack had gone home or holed up in their assigned rooms for the night already, so he was sure that it wasn't Boyd and Erica. If he hadn't been so sure, he would have avoided the door like the plague. But they were upstairs, asleep or maybe doing something else Scott didn't want to know about, which meant that it was someone else in the living room. When he crept up to the door, though, he was not prepared to see Stiles and Derek sitting on the couch. There was just enough distance between them to stop them from touching, but not nearly the amount of personal space there should have been. Slowly, Stiles seemed to scrunch his face up in a puppy dog, pretty please expression.

"Stiles, we can't keep doing this" Derek argued, keeping his voice low. "You have a girlfriend now." Doing what, though? And why did it matter that Stiles was with Malia? For a very brief second Scott's mind went to the gutter but that was insane! It was Derek, first of all, but then Stiles? His best friend? There was no way. From where Stiles was hunched over on the couch, he hmphed bitterly. Soon, Stiles was leaning for any kind of support and he found it, brushing his arm against Derek's.

"And you're married, but that didn't stop us before." Wait, what the hell? Derek was married!? To who? They had done this before? Scott found himself wondering how many times, for how long. They were just sitting on the couch, not even touching, but there was something so intimate about the way they existed together that Scott felt more uncomfortable than he would have if they were having sex. Stiles' eyes were wet with half-formed tears. Deep, dark lines were etched beneath each socket and they screamed of sleepless nights and nightmares but Scott couldn't understand why. Surely he would know by now if Stiles wasn't sleeping, right? Derek didn't look much better. His eyes were wild and pained in an aching, yearning kind of way but his hands were shaking. Had he ever seen Derek's hands shake?

"Stiles…" But it wasn't a reprimand or another warning, even if it should have been. The word was hot and conflicted, fighting to be more than just a word but being held back by something in Derek. From the tinge of red in Derek's face, maybe shame?

"Stiles, what about Malia?" But Stiles shook his head. He twisted his fingers into the couch cushion so hard it looked like he was trying to break them. What about Malia? Stiles didn't seem to care, but Scott felt his stomach churn. Malia would be… honestly, though, the more he thought about it the more he realized that Malia probably wouldn't give a shit. She wasn't human enough-not yet-to fully grasp or expect anything normal from a relationship and he doubted that she would be disappointed or hurt. She would just move on to someone else. If there was one person Stiles could have guiltlessly done this to-whatever this was-it was probably Malia… But Stiles' face was far from guiltless.

"Don't say her name," he snapped, like hearing it brought back all the shame he'd pushed from his face. "I can't, I hate the way her touch feels on my skin. I know I should love it and it should be amazing but she's-"

"Not me." Stiles nodded. His eyes were pleading with Derek, begging. But the tone of Derek's voice as he finished the sentence wasn't someone who was upset or hesitant. It was the voice of someone who knew the feeling. Who had slept with someone, kissed someone, touched someone, and been disgusted just because it wasn't Stiles. Because it wasn't… Stiles? He felt like he was going to throw up. They weren't… They couldn't be. Stiles had kept this from him? How, and for how long? And why? It wasn't like Scott would react badly to him being gay, even if he was surprised about Derek.

"Please Der," Stiles breathed, long past begging. "Please, I know it's wrong I just can't take it anymore. I can't sit here with her hand on my thigh and pretend that I don't wish it was you. Please? I'm so alone… I miss you." Stiles was crying. It was faint, quiet tears rather than sobs, but Scott couldn't believe his eyes. He hadn't seen Stiles cry since his mom died, over ten years ago. He hated it. No one was supposed to make his best friend cry!

"We said we'd stop…" But it wasn't a protest. The words were trying to be, still, but the tone reeked of surrender and relent. Derek was leaning closer, slowly bending the longer Stiles pleaded with him.

"I miss you," Stiles breathed, inching just a little bit closer. "I need yo-" And suddenly a dam broke and Derek lunged, crashing their lips together and pushing Stiles back flat on the couch. Scott couldn't explain why he was so shocked. Realistically, when he saw how close they were on the couch, the only conclusion he could have come to was that they would kiss, if not more. But he was shocked. Watching it was like a movie, something that couldn't possibly be real. The way Derek's hands searched, frantically grabbing at his best friend's clothes for any kind of purchase… The way Stiles' lips jumped to meet Derek's, the way he choked out a sob of relief when Derek finally gave in, the way he desperately tangled his hands in Derek's hair to pull him closer. He'd never seen his best friend half as eager to kiss or hold Malia.

"St- Stiles!" Derek gasped when Stiles tore their shirts off, discarding them across the room. He'd never seen Stiles so frantic, not even in life or death situations. But Derek was so, so different. This Derek was desperate, and needy, and just hanging on every movement Stiles made. Stiles, though… Stiles looked at Derek in a way Scott hadn't ever seen in anyone's eyes, like he was dying and Derek was the one thing that could save him. Like every breath he took depended on Derek not letting go.

After an unfortunate incident where he'd walked in on Derek and Braeden, he knew what Derek's body looked like. How his shoulders arched back in anticipation, and how his back twisted into knots of muscle as he held his body over his lover's. But he had no idea what to expect from Stiles. The way Stiles moaned and writhed under Derek, begging him with every other breath to never stop, or the way his face tinged with pink and sweat the longer Derek ground their hips together. Nothing could have prepared him to see the craze in Stiles' eyes when Derek ripped off their pants and boxers.

"Please, please, please, please god please!" The litany of begging from his best friend's lips made it even harder to look away. This was Derek. And his best friend. Derek, about to fuck his best friend since childhood.

"Fu-uh-uh-uck!" The word trembled out over Stiles lips in a voice he'd only ever heard in porn. A desperate, keening voice that shook with desire and need. Somehow, Scott had missed the moment that Derek slid into Stiles-into his best friend-and he was thankful but that meant he was startled by the sight of Derek's hips rocking into the body beneath him. Derek's muscles twitched and hollowed with every thrust like a damn pornstar! His best friend's legs shook a little more each time, and soon that familiar voice was crying out in pleasure in a way Scott had never heard before.

He and Stiles had grown up together. Close enough that they'd walked in on each other jerking off accidentally more than once. Scott thought he knew what Stiles sounded like when a hand ghosted over his cock, tugging and pulling him closer to orgasm, or the way he panted and bucked his hips for more. But those times were nothing like this, not even close. When Stiles' breath came in short little gasps at his own touch, he practically stopped breathing when Derek touched him. Where Stiles' body had done soft, subtle jumps back up into his hand as he watched the screen, it writhed and thrashed beneath Derek like every touch set his soul on fire. Scott had never seen Stiles so… alive. It was like he was being tortured, his body reacting to every touch so suddenly and so violently that it was if Derek shocked him.

"God, fuck! Fuck I love you Derek!" Derek didn't stop his thrusting, but something between them stilled for a moment. Or maybe that was just Scott panicking. Panicking because he'd never heard his best friend in the entire world say I love to you to anyone except the sheriff, his mom, or him, because they were best friends. Brothers. But this wasn't a brotherly I love you, clearly. This was a sweaty, panting I love you as Derek slammed his cock into his body and wracked it with pleasure.

"God please don't stop!" Derek didn't, picking up the pace. Scott forced himself to look away because, of all the images he could never erase from his mind, Derek and Stiles climaxing together was not one he wanted to keep. Somehow, maybe, that made it a little less horrible. But he could still hear it. Damn werewolf hearing! He still heard Stiles' moaning rise in pitch until it was nearly inaudible, disappearing into panting gasps for air. He heard Derek's breathing quicken and then stall, teetering on the edge. He heard it fall suddenly with a grunt. Stiles screamed Derek's name. Suddenly, the rocking stopped and the room was quiet aside from rushed breathing and wild heartbeats. Derek was still silent.

Scott was weirdly offended by that. Stiles had just told him that he loved him for godsake! And yelled his name in climax. But Derek didn't say a word, not even a thank you or a reassurance or a name. In the silence, Scott moved back to glance through the door out of fear that they were moving towards his hiding spot. They weren't, still lying on the couch pressed together. Derek had collapsed onto Stiles, panting against his chest and gripping his best friend's shoulders like he was the one who needed steadying. Stiles still had his eyes closed, but he held Derek against his chest. It was surprisingly tender and affectionate, especially for Derek to be the recipient of, but it looked like a routine they'd memorized years ago. Derek hummed, nuzzling against the body beneath him.

"I love you, Stiles." Scott choked. There was something so overpowering about those words, now. Stiles had said it in the heat of the moment, calling out Derek's name and confessing it because the pleasure forced it out of his body. But Derek said it quieter, sweeter. In the silence after the sex against Stiles' skin, as if trying to show him that the love wasn't just sexual. That they were more than a hookup or a fling, that he loved Stiles as a person, not just a body.

"I love you too," Stiles whispered, with a small smile. He kissed Derek's forehead, gently, and smoothed the wolf's hair. Like he was repeating the sentiment, showing Derek that it was mutual-that they weren't just fucking, but making love. Scott couldn't breathe. He felt like he'd just watched one of those sappy romance movies that had always made Allison sob, but insist it was because she was happy. Finally, he understood that feeling.

When Stiles did open his eyes, looking down into Derek's, there was so much love there that Scott was almost jealous. Almost. He definitely didn't want to fuck his best friend, but even when he and Allison were together, she had never looked at him with love like that in her eyes-not so deep or earth-shatteringly strong.

"They're going to find us soon. We should get dressed." Scott had never seen hope and happiness disappear so quickly from someone's face. He wanted to get it back. But, instead of crying-like Scott would have, and felt like he still might-Stiles just stiffened. He looked like a board, or a statue waiting to shatter. Slowly, he tightened his grip on Derek and leaned their heads together with a sigh.

"Not yet," he whispered. "Please just not quite yet, Der." Derek nodded and nuzzled a little closer into his best friend's chest, whimpering.

"Please not ever…" Derek murmured. It was quiet, too quiet for Stiles to have heard, but Scott heard it. Surprisingly, for how much hatred and distrust he had harbored for Derek over the years, it hurt him a lot to hear that twinge of pain in Derek's voice. Maybe because it meant pain for his best friend too.

"I want to be with you, Derek." But neither of them stiffened or changed, like it wasn't something new to confess.

"I know." Scott didn't want to give away his position but he really wanted to just ask the why they weren't together. "You have a girlfriend." Right, that was part of the problem. But Stiles could have easily broken up with Malia if he wanted to.

"And you have a wife." They both snickered darkly under their breath. Oh shit he'd forgotten about that! The wife! Who the hell was Derek married to, though? Scott couldn't remember seeing him with anyone (who was still alive) except Braeden and she wasn't the marrying type, especially not on a whim. But it couldn't be any of the dead girlfriends. A dead wife was very different than a living wife, and they talked about this one like she was still alive. Something about it was ironic, though, or they wouldn't have kept laughing bitterly at the fact.

"Stiles, this has to be the last time." His best friend nodded, rubbing between Derek's shoulder blades.

"I know." But something about their tone, the way they said it, made Scott think it wouldn't be the last time. And they both knew that. It was in the way they breathed in sync, the way their hearts matched rhythms even when Stiles couldn't hear them, and the way they held each other after sex. They weren't lovers. Scott hated himself for even thinking it, but he knew it was true. They weren't lovers, because lovers had sex. Lovers fucked. But Stiles and Derek didn't fuck, they made love-because they were in love.

He'd teased and made fun of Stiles for his crush on Derek since freshman year, but he'd been wrong. This wasn't the Derek he knew. This wasn't the Derek he'd thought Stiles was falling for, not thinking about how incompatible they were. And this wasn't the Stiles he thought he knew. Stiles loved him, yes, but not like this. He'd been right that Stiles wasn't fit to love Derek the way he loved Scott or his mom or the sheriff, but he didn't. He loved Derek… like Derek.

Later, he would push Stiles to break up with Malia and follow his heart as much as he could without revealing what he knew. He might even push Derek to find a way to make it work. Talk like he meant with Braeden, but hint that he meant Stiles. But, for right in that moment, Scott just nodded as he looked at them. His naked best friend, holding a naked Derek Hale and cuddling him, kissing his forehead and playing with his hair. They looked happy. Honestly happy.

"Can I stay with you tonight? Pretend I went home or something and come back in your window?" Derek hesitated when Stiles gave him a look. "Not for sex! Just you. I want to fall asleep to the sound of your heartbeat, because… I don't know if I'll ever get another chance. Please?" Stiles nodded. It looked like there were tears in his eyes, like he knew it might be the last chance they got. Scott was going to make sure it wasn't. For his best friend, because Derek made him happy.

He didn't hear them move or get up but he couldn't help feeling like they were going to burst in and catch him any second now that they were talking about sleeping for the night. So, he backed up and made a split second decision. With a sticky note and a marker from the kitchen drawer, he raced up the stairs as quietly as possible. He scribbled the note and stuck it on the screen of Stiles' laptop before closing it.

I saw you with Derek. I want to help. You deserve to be with him. -Scott

Quickly, he raced out of his best friend's bedroom and down the hall to the office where he and Isaac were supposed to be crashing on the futon. Normally, he would have stayed with Stiles but Isaac hadn't wanted to be alone. Just as he closed the door, he heard the pair reach the top of the stairs, heading straight for Stiles' bedroom. He listened, even though he shouldn't have, for the uptick in their heartrates or the gasp of a sexual touch but there wasn't one. Instead, he heard them plop onto the bed and quickly slow into sleep.

Together.

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