Liam was tired. No, scratch that: Liam had been tired a few days ago. At this point, he was exhausted. He had failed his most recent exam, gotten C's on the last three homework assignments he had turned in, hadn't made a single goal during lacrosse practice, and now (the first time he's been home all week) he's so full of this nervous, angry energy that he can't even sit still. He tried going out to his garage to use the punching bag for a little while, but was so distracted that he stinted two fingers. Sure, they healed quickly, but it only managed to irritate him further.

If only those stupid nightmares would stop, if only he was smarter, if only he was stronger, if only he could focus. There was a cacophony of deafening thoughts racing through his mind but he couldn't process any of them.

After about two hours going insane, he got a text from Scott.

"Party. My house. Bring sugar."

Liam scowled. "Sorry, busy tonight. Maybe next time." As if he was going to waste his evening with his overly excitable, obnoxious pack. He was tired.

"Doing what?" He received a new text. "Pouting? Get your ass down here or you're grounded." Liam huffed, offended, before receiving another text: "Sorry, that was Stiles. But seriously, come on over." He glared at his phone for a minute before rolling his eyes and getting up, grabbing a sweatshirt and heading downstairs. He wasn't pouting.

Fifteen minutes later, Liam was at Scott's door with an open and half full package of gummy worms in his fist. He glowered at Stiles, who opened the door and greeted him with a "You are pouting: I knew it."

"I am not," Liam growled back, and realized afterwards that wasn't going to help his case. Stiles just rolled his eyes and motioned him in, grabbing the gummy worms as he passed.

"Seriously dude?"

"They were all I had in the house." Liam answered before he was greeted by Mrs. McCall.

"Hay sweetie," She said, "I heard you weren't feeling too good. You doing alright?"

"Yeah," Liam mumbled, forcing a smile. "Thanks, Mrs. McCall."

"Sure thing hon. There are pizza rolls and fries in the kitchen if you're hungry." She walked past him and patted his shoulder before moving on upstairs. "I'll be upstairs if you need anything."

"Thanks, Mrs. McCall," A chorus of voices sounded from around the first floor.

Liam continued into the kitchen, figuring he could bury himself in food and hopefully avoid getting sucked into whatever everyone had planned. Once there, however, he was met with Malia, Scott, and Kira, who all greeted him excitedly. Malia, especially, who had recently taken him under her wing, snuggled up close for a hug and sharply nuzzled her chin on the top of his head.

"You ok?" She asked from above him.

He tried to glare at her, but it was a bit difficult when he couldn't really meet her eyes. "I'm fine."

"Liar." She answered. "Get food, and come on."

Liam grudgingly complied, but only because that had been his plan to begin with. Once he had piled pizza rolls and fries on his plate he followed the rest into the family room to find the entire floor in front of the tv covered with cushions, pillows, and wads of blankets. Lydia swoops in behind him with a pre-made smoothy and half a french fry before perching herself on the back of the couch. Stiles is sprawled out over one part of the floor, flipping sporadically through channels. Scott and Kira are twisted around each other haphazardly and Malia is sitting cross legged, at attention, waiting for Liam to join her. He reluctantly does so.

"So what's up with you?" Scott asked, shoving Kira's hand away because she just found out that the back of his neck was extremely ticklish.

"Nothing." Liam answered.

"Stress, not enough sleep, pushed himself too hard at practice," Lydia observed, looking at him critically.

"Nu-uh," Liam protested. Scott giggled. Legit giggled. He couldn't tell if the alpha's laughing at him or because Kira's fingers had twitched their way up to his neck again.

"Eat," Malia hovered and Stiles threw himself upside down with a groan while Liam shoved a pizza roll into his mouth.

"Guys let's just cuddle," Kira whined.

"There isn't even anything on tv," Stiles complained.

"There was going to be a Buffy marathon on the sci fi channel," Liam pointed out.

"YES," Kira roared.

"Whoa," Scott jumped a little. "So violent for Buffy -"

"You don't understand I need this," Kira answered. "Find it, find it, find it, find it."

Stiles scrambled for the remote and started flipping through the channels before landing on Buffy the Vampire Slayer. "Why are we so lame?" He asked, throwing the remote away and settling for the marathon with the rest of them. Kira motioned between Malia and Liam.

"Cuddling makes everything better," She told them. Malia shrugged, believing her, and took Liam's plate to settle it a little in front of them.

"Hay -" Liam protested before Malia muscled him down so they could lay side by side on their stomachs and Liam could still reach for his plate.

"Hay -" Stiles protested and Malia motioned for him to join them, which he did. "Should I be jealous?"

"I'm basically his mom," Malia answered.

"What? You are not," Liam told her.

"Pack mom. It's a thing." Malia informed him.

"I am not ready for fatherhood," Stiles looked uneasy. "I feel like this should have been a conversation -"

"You threatened to ground him earlier." Scott reminded him.

"I don't -" Liam began.

"Sh," Malia interrupted. "Eat."

Liam pouted as he shoved another roll in his mouth.

Eventually, as the evening progressed, the pack ended up piled on top of and around each other. Liam admitted that Buffy was a guilty pleasure, and Scott looked confused by the entirety of it. Lydia gave an exaggerated moan every time Angel made an appearance, which Kira and Malia found fitting for some reason. Stiles reproachfully eyed Malia every time it happened. Somehow, in the midst of everything, Liam forgot all of his pent up aggression and fell asleep against Malia's shoulder. She started nuzzling his head with her chin and Stiles thought it was weird but it worked, so... whatever. His pack child seemed more content than he had been in a while and he hadn't even had to ground him. Yet.