Stiles knocked on the door of Derek's apartment loudly around 10:00 on Friday night.

"COME ON! It's freezing out here!" Stiles pounded on the door louder. "Derek Hale, you let me in this instant or I'm going to kill you!"

The door finally unlocked and swung open to reveal the broody face of Stiles's new best friend.

"Come in before someone calls the cops!" Derek sounded gruff and angry, but Stiles could see the laughter dancing in his eyes. "What do you want?"

"You did not forget about our marathon. I refuse to believe that Derek 'I know every line in every book by heart' Hale forgot about our Harry Potter marathon weekend!" Stiles flailed wildly, the grocery bags in his hands momentarily forgotten. Derek squints his eyes at him and tilts his head back as if he can't quite remember. "No! You didn't! I can see through your lies, sourwolf."

"Stop calling me that," Derek said, the stoic look finally breaking into a wide grin. "Of course I didn't forget. We have all the snacks, food, and drinks we're going to need because I'm pretty sure we won't be leaving the apartment any time soon."

Stiles fist-bumped him with a grocery bag and an overnight bag still hanging from his fist. Derek grinned and helped him carry everything to the tiny kitchen that his college apartment allowed.

"I'll stop calling you that when you stop looking like a wolf sucking on a lemon when you meet new people," Stiles ducked a smack to the back of head and bounced into the small living area to flop dramatically on the couch in front of the large TV that Derek insisted was the important part of having an apartment. "Where's your roommate?"

Derek rolled his eyes.

"She's my sister, not my roommate. Laura went home for the weekend. Something about not wanting to get nerd all over her," Derek held up the first movie. "Shall we begin?"

Stiles nodded enthusiastically. Derek grinned again, flashing the white teeth that few ever saw. Stiles took pride in the fact he was already one of Derek's closest friends on campus. According to Laura, Derek had a hard time playing nice with others because he had been badly bullied in high school and blowing out his knee had really ripped a hole in his life. Well, Stiles was the wrecking ball that smashed down his walls with a love of Harry Potter that finally rivaled Derek's own and his refusal to leave Derek alone. Of course, if Scott wasn't being such a naive tool...

No, tonight was going to be fun and Stiles was going to forget how he had always planned to do this marathon with Scott before the super-douches took a liking to the new athletic star on campus. He had other friends, and he had Derek, who was sympathetic and always listened to Stiles rant about losing his friend with an understanding attitude.

It still hurt though, knowing that Scott had abandoned a decade of best-friendship to become a pledge of a stupid fraternity full of 'roided-up idiots that only wanted to use Scott for his image as an amazing lacrosse player. His best friend and roommate was hardly ever at the dorm room anymore, and when he was the air always filled with awkward tension and silence. Their shared room had become little more than a glorified closet since Scott stayed at the frat house more nights than not even though he didn't actually have a room there.

What hurt most was the knowledge that Derek believed he was just a substitute for Scott. This marathon was Stiles's way of showing him that wasn't true.


Stiles and Derek were engrossed in the basilisk on screen that Stiles almost didn't notice the insistent buzzing of his phone. He sighed unhappily and checked the screen. He almost didn't answer.

SCOTT

"Now he decides to call me?" Stiles said incredulously. "Now, after over a month of the cold shoulder. He better be dying."

Derek paused the movie and tried to look like he wasn't eavesdropping as Stiles hit the answer key just before voicemail picked up.

"This better be good, Scott, because I am still really..." Stiles stopped mid sentence when a sob tore through the speaker of his phone. "Scott? Scott, what's wrong?"

A long pause where only Scott's struggling breaths could be heard.

"St-Stiles? Oh my god, p-ple-ease can-can you bring me some c-cl-clothes? I n-need help, please..." Scott's voice broke and he sobbed. "I c-can't-Just please come g-get me!"

Stiles felt the blood in his veins run cold and his face must have shown it because Derek was staring at with a concerned look on his face, a hand already reaching for his jacket and keys.

"Scotty, where are you?" Stiles switched to speaker phone so Derek would hear too. "I'm coming to get you, I swear!"

"H-hiding in the-the bathroom at-at the house, the-" Scott was cut off by loud yelling. "Please, Stiles! They're back!"

Scott hung up, but not before he heard "There's the little faggot!" "Get him!"

Stiles stared at the phone dumbly for a moment as he thought about what "the house" could be before realizing Scott meant the frat house where he was currently living. He locked gazes with Derek.

Derek's eyes were hard and dark with fury where Stiles were wide with concern and fear. The ride to the frat house was quiet and the air in the vehicle was tense enough to choke Stiles as he thought about his friend could have meant. His worst fears were confirmed when they pulled up in front of the frat house and saw the wild party raging inside and outside the house. Hazing night.

"Stay in the car," Derek's voice was tight with fury and with his dark stubble and leather jacket he looked like an avenging angel. Or demon. Stiles shook his head and clutched the strap of the overnight bag he had brought to Derek's apartment. He hadn't wanted to waste time stopping by the dorm room to grab some of Scott's clothes.

"No, he asked for me, I'm going in there to get him!" Stiles was glad he sounded more sure than he felt. Derek nodded.

"Stay close to me. And just a warning. I might...I might show a side of me you've never seen," Derek opened the car door and got out. Stiles followed suit, and tried to match Derek's purposeful strides to the house. One glare from Derek had the drunk "bouncer" scurrying away to find the leader. Derek pushed people out of the way until he found a young freshman pledge wearing nothing but underwear and a dog collar.

"Hey man, what-"

"Where's Scott McCall?" Derek growled. The boy backed up and pointed to the stairs.

"First room on the left," The boy risked a look into Derek's rage filled eyes and then looked at Stiles and whispered. "You have to help him, please!"

Stiles forgot about promising to stay close to Derek and took off for the stairs, sprinting around drunk students and hopping over discarded red solo cups and trash to dodge couples making out on the stairs. Derek cursed and followed, keeping people away from his smaller friend. They reached the door and heard laughter from within. Derek tried the door handle and found it was locked. A panicked cry for help overwhelmed him and Stiles watched in awe as Derek kicked the door in with his heavy boots.

The sight that greeted them was so much worse than either could have ever imagined. They both froze in shock and Stiles dropped the overnight bag from numb fingers.

Scott's wrists were tied to the head board with what looked like the remains of his t-shirt, and his feet were tied to the other bedposts so his legs were spread. Blood trickled from his nose and split lip, and bruises littered his tan skin like paint. His curly mop of hair was wet and plastered to his forehead with was Stiles could only assume was beer since another brother was currently force-feeding it to his friend and another was pouring it all over his body. But the worst was the permanent marker.

Scott was covered in permanent marker.

BITCH was written down his thighs in red, FUCK HOLE with an arrow to his mouth was on his neck in blue, and FAGGOT was written on his forehead in black. Inappropriate drawings littered his torso and cheeks, and Stiles was willing to bet that even more covered his friend's other side. Scott was laying still, crying and sniffling and begging them stop in between forced swallows of beer that mostly ended up in his eyes. Stiles distantly thought to himself that Scott looked like he was on the verge of an asthma attack, so it was a good thing Stiles still carried around an extra inhaler out of habit.

"What, I thought little dickwhores like you want the world to know what you are!" The leader of the frat, douche-nozzle number one in Stiles's mind, was holding Scott's lacrosse stick in his hands. "You like cock up the ass right? This is pretty close! Want me to stick this up your faggot asshole? You'd like that, wouldn't you?"

The others laughed and continued to draw on Scott and pinch his tender skin, hurling homophobic slurs at the helpless intoxicated freshman. Derek snapped out of his horrified silence and sprang into action.

"What the fuck are you doing?" He roared. The others turned and regarded the new person in the room. "Let him go!"

The leader just laughed while Scott tried to weakly pull on his bonds as another meathead pried his mouth open wider.

"What? Little whore tried to kiss me on the dance floor! We're just showing the little faggot what happens when he tries to kiss his future brothers!" He grabbed a bottle of vodka off the ground and turned to pour it into Scott's forcibly opened mouth as the younger boy coughed and spluttered. "He has to pay the price of betraying the brotherhood's trust."

"Call the police, Stiles," Derek growled. "This is hazing, and the university will expel their stupid asses."

Some of the brothers hesitated at this. It was one thing to have the police called to a party, but another to have the evidence of illegal activities all around them when they arrived. One brother charged him like a drunken bull, and Derek held his ground. The brother barely reached the leather-clad man before he was flat on his back with a broken nose.

"Anyone not in this room by the time Stiles finishes dialing won't be accused," Derek snarled. "Get. OUT!"

Most of the brothers ran away, stumbling drunkenly out the door with muttered "It's just a joke" and the like. Scott had by now begun to openly sob Stiles's name and Stiles ran to his side, only to be stopped by the douche-nozzle grabbing his shoulder.

"He belongs to me," He sneered. "If he leaves now, he better not come back."

"I want to go home, Stiles..." Scott whispered brokenly. Stiles shoved the offending hand away and whipped out his phone.

"Get out or I'll have you arrested," Stiles hissed. The senior just laughed and sauntered away, but it was forced bravado. As soon as the door closed behind him (as well as it could with a broken lock), Stiles started running his fingers over Scott's face, wiping away the tears and beer from his friend's cheeks. "Scott, it's okay, I'm here. They're gone. We're going to get you home."

Scott just cried, pulled at his bonds ineffectively. Stiles tried to untie the knots around his ankles, but they were too tight and the skin on Scott's ankles was so raw that every pull on the rope caused him to cry out in pain. Stiles looked helplessly at Derek. The knots were too tight and soaked with booze.

"Scott, I'm going to cut you loose. Don't move, ok?" Derek kept his voice soft and rage in check. Scott barely seemed to register him, but calmed somewhat at the familiar voice of the lacrosse team manager. He knew Derek in passing, and knew that he and Stiles were good friends so he could be trusted.

Derek pulled out a pocketknife and carefully cut away the rope binding his feet and then helped Stiles untangle Scott's hands from the cotton fabric of the torn rags of his shirt. As soon as he was free he sat up and grabbed Stiles. Stiles held his best friend close, ignoring the stench of booze and beer and permanent marker that had replaced the normal scent of Scott's cologne and deodorant as he ran fingers through soaked hair and wrapped an arm around Scott's waist. Scott slurred drunk words into Stiles's ear, most of which were unintelligible.

"I feel sick. They kept making me drink icky stuff," The words were slurred and quiet, and Scott wouldn't open his eyes. He clutched Stiles tightly, ignoring the fact that he was completely naked and covered in marker. Scott suddenly leaned over the side of the bed and vomited, retching miserably as the mostly alcoholic contents of his stomach burned his throat.

Derek stood awkwardly next to the bed while Stiles rubbed Scott's back comfortingly, unsure of how to help this boy he barely knew. All he needed to know though was that there was a naked teenager going through the worst night of his life and he needed his help.

"Scotty, where are your clothes?" Stiles asked gently once Scott had finished. Scott shrugged, unable to form words. "Ok, that's ok. We brought you some clothes."

Derek handed Stiles the discarded overnight bag and Stiles pulled out a pair of sweatpants and a Batman logo t-shirt. Scott was starting to shake violently and Stiles had to basically dress a limp doll because Scott wasn't in control of his muscles. Derek helped get the shirt on over Scott's head and helped Scott stand so Stiles could pull the worn sweatpants over his naked lower half. Scott leaned into the warmth of Derek's skin as the older male supported all of his weight because his legs were too shaky to stand alone. Derek noticed the shivers wracking his frame and slipped off the leather jacket so he could place it around the trembling teen's shoulders and helped him slip his arms into the sleeves.

Stiles helped Scott tie the drawstrings of the sweatpants and zipped up the jacket. Almost as an afterthought, Stiles pulled his beanie out of the bag and pulled it on over the writing on Scott's forehead. It didn't hide everything, but it seemed to make Scott feel better. He sat Scott back down on the bed.

"Ok, Scott, is this the room you keep your stuff in?" Stiles glanced around the room when Scott nodded and starting looking for anything that Scott owned. As he walked around opening drawers and checking the closet, he gathered the few things Scott kept at the house and stuffed them into the overnight bag until it bulged. He would just replace anything Scott left behind because there was no way Scott was coming back here.

When Stiles was finally done, Derek took the bag and slung it over his shoulder. Derek helped Scott stand and carefully wrapped Scott's arm around Stiles's neck and Stiles placed an arm around Scott's waist to support him as they made their way slowly through the crowd. Most were silent, staring in shock or embarrassment, even disgust, as Stiles led Scott towards freedom and Derek guarded them with his blazing eyes and clenched fists. The boy that had pointed them in the right direction caught Derek's eye briefly and then looked away blushing with shame.

Scott whimpered and clutched at Stiles's shirt when he stumbled over some trash on the floor, hampering their speed somewhat, but Stiles was determined. All thoughts of "I told you so" that he had been saving up from the moment Scott met the frat brothers had fled his mind at the first broken sob over the phone, and now they were being replaced with thoughts on how to get revenge on the douches. Stiles had always known Scott was bisexual from the moment he figured out what the word meant, and it had never meant much to him. Apparently, the hyper-masculine fraternity had not thought the same way and the "normal" hazing they dished out was amplified ten-fold for the kind-hearted boy.

"See ya around, fag," The leader leered at Scott menacingly and Scott shrank back, hiding his face in Stiles's neck. Before he could even finish a mocking laugh, Derek had him by the throat.

"You better not, asshole," Derek lowered his voice. "This kid's dad is a Sheriff. You really think he doesn't have connections in law enforcement that even your rich daddy can't buy off?"

Derek only released him when he saw that Stiles had reached the door with his friend.


Scott sat in the back seat with his head in Stiles's lap, groaning as his head spun with the alcohol he had been forced to consume. Stiles was coaxing him to take small sips from the waterbottle that he fished out of Derek's gym bag, cooing words of encouragement each time Scott succeeded in taking in a little liquid. He have given Scott a wad of tissues to hold to his bloody nose, though Scott seemed to be having trouble holding them there. The smell of alcohol was stifling in the confined space and Derek knew it would take days to air out. He thought about dropping off the boys at the dorms and shuddered at his memories of tiny rooms with the only bathroom down the hall and lack of privacy in the showers, because Scott was going to need one desperately.

"We can go to my place," Derek blurted out suddenly. Stiles jumped at the sudden noise, but smiled gratefully at his friend.

"Scott, buddy, do you want to go back to the dorm?" Stiles asked quietly, rubbing Scott's back in a near constant cycle of comforting patterns. "Or to Derek's apartment? We can take of you there."

"The dorms smell weird," Scott muttered. Stiles nodded in agreement, and caught Derek's eye in the rear view mirror. He mouthed 'thank you' to his friend and continued to make Scott drink water slowly.

When they finally reached Derek's place, Scott was more coherent but still very drunk. He swayed and stumbled when he tried to walk and Stiles half-carried him up to the apartment where Derek let them in and then directed them to the bathroom where Scott could shower. He left the boys alone, telling Stiles to holler for him if he needed help. He showed Stiles where to find rubbing alcohol and cotton balls to remove the permanent marker and walked out.

"I thought they were my friends. They aren't my friends, you were right," Scott slurred, grinning as Stiles sat him down on the edge of the tub/shower combo. "Stiles, you're a good friend."

"I know, buddy. Ok, let's get you naked again," Stiles said brightly, trying to distract the boy from the marks under the clothes. He unzipped the jacket and pulled it off to hang on the doorknob. "Do you think you can clean the marker off yourself?"

Scott nodded brightly and held his arms up like a little kid so Stiles could pull the t-shirt off, which he did with a fond sigh. This caused the beanie to fall off, and Scott saw his reflection. The goofy smile fell instantly and he started to cry again.

"I'm not a faggot, Stiles! That's a bad word I'm...I'm bi, not a whore," Scott's lower lip trembled as he stood on wobbly legs and shucked his sweatpants ungracefully. His body was littered with marker, too much to take off in one try. Stiles felt his own eyes prick with tears now that he could fully observe his friend without the adrenaline of trying to get him away from his "brothers". Scott tried to cover the words, but there were too many for two hands to hide. In large red letters, the words 'CUM DUMP' were scrawled across his lower back with an arrow pointing...lower. "And...and I'm not a bitch...or a f-fu-ck ho-"

Scott suddenly lurched forward and dry heaved into the sink, tears running down his flushed, sweaty face. Stiles rubbed Scott's back again, retracing the patterns he had drawn there earlier.

"Shh, Scott, you're not any of those things at all," Stiles moved to block Scott's view of the mirror when he finally straightened. He cupped Scott's face in his hands. "You're my friend, and even though I think we need to talk about how you stopped hanging out with me, we will always be friends and that will never change. Let me take care of you, ok? I'm going to take away the bad words."

Scott nodded and hugged his arms to his chest. Stiles retrieved the rubbing alcohol and cotton balls and began to gently scrub at the words and pictures on Scott's face, deliberately not thinking about the obscene words he had seen on Scott's back, or all of the phallus's drawn on his skin, some drawn with a enough force to cause raised lines of irritated skin. When Scott's forehead and cheeks and neck were finally clean fifteen minutes later, Stiles got him a water bottle and continued to rub out the worst of the slurs, avoiding the ones drawn over the really deep bruises, until his upper body was relatively ink-free and the words on his back were obliterated. The process took over an hour because Scott kept squirming around because he was ticklish. Finally, Stiles started a bath for him, and when the water was ready, he helped his friend into the small tub so he wouldn't slip. He also sanitized the split lip with the alcohol, and checked to be sure he wasn't still bleeding from his nose. Scott continued sip water throughout the process, slowly coming down from the drunken haze into a buzz. He reclined in the water and was able to wash himself with a washcloth Stiles found, scrubbing hard at the remaining ink. He let Stiles wash his hair and scrub the ink on his back until all that remained were faint lines that would fade quickly.

Stiles helped his friend out of the tub and helped him dry off gently, toweling his hair and smiling at Scott's tentative grin at the state of his wild hair. Scott looked much better. His color had returned, putting a faint pink tinge on his cheeks as he became very aware of how naked he was in front of Stiles even though they had been naked around each other countless times since childhood and in lacrosse locker rooms.

"I've been a bad friend," Scott muttered as Stiles led him into Derek's bedroom and saw the pile of clothes waiting on Derek's bed for Scott to wear. "I'm the worst friend."

Stiles threw a shirt at Scott's head.

"You're not that bad, Scotty. You just got a little carried away in your pursuit of new-found popularity," Stiles shrugged as he sat on Derek's bed while Scott clothed himself. "You never changed, you just...forgot."

"I'm still sorry," Scott whispered, suddenly throwing himself at Stiles, tucking himself into Stiles's arms. "You came for me even though..."

He started to tear up again. Scott wondered how he could even manage to create tears still.

"Shh, of course I did, idiot," Stiles muttered into Scott's hair.

"I-I was worried you wouldn't pick up when you saw it was me..." Scott suddenly tensed. "They have my phone!"

Stiles soothed his friend gently, reminding him that he had gathered all of his things from the frat house. Scott finally started to doze off even as Stiles continued to give him water. Derek brought a sleeve of saltine crackers and his laptop into the room and they situated Scott in-between them with the crackers while they watched a few episodes of Family Guy. Scott managed to eat some of the crackers by taking tiny bites in between sips of water until he could no longer keep his eyes open and slumped over onto Stiles's shoulder in deep sleep, curling around his best friend unconsciously.

"Derek, thank you so much," Stiles said quietly as he stroked Scott's hair back from his forehead where the barest outline on words was still visible if he looked closely enough. "Scott really needed me, but I couldn't have done it alone."

"He's your friend, so he's my friend too, even if I used to think he deserved to be punished for abandoning you," Derek looked incredibly guilty at the admission. He glanced down at the sleeping boy between them. "He's going to be really sick tomorrow."

"I know. But we'll be here for him," Stiles said matter-of-factly. "It's always been just the two of us. We had other friends, sure, but...we were the dynamic duo. Now you're with us though."

"Really?" Derek asked incredulously.

"Sure. You didn't even hesitate to pull a kid you barely know out of a fraternity full of idiot meatheads that could have hurt you or gotten you arrested and then you let us take over your bathroom for hours and let him eat your food and sleep in your bed. Also, you hate Family Guy but Scott likes it. I think you've joined our little club," Stiles ticked off the points on his fingers as he spoke.

"Awesome, the dynamic duo plus me," Derek quipped as he slipped out of his bed to turn off the lights. He climbed back in and settled on his pillow to sleep.

"Please. We're the Terrible Trio now." Stiles kissed Scott's forehead and let himself fall asleep.