The next time Stiles saw Jackson, it was with Isaac at the garage. Stiles did actually like Isaac, but Allison had been fretting about Isaac being worried about whether or not they all wanted him in the pack, and it was stressing him out. His chosen solution for that was to drag Isaac away from Allison and do some completely mindless activity together that didn't involve her.
The exact type of mindless activity didn't matter, but as it turned out, Isaac had one that surprised him.
"You can fix cars?"
"I can fix some cars," Isaac corrected. "I don't know anything about newer cars. Anything with a computer, I'm kind of screwed. But if it's mechanical, then — yeah, I can usually fix it."
"That's stupidly miraculous." Stiles watched Isaac blush a little under his admiration. It was damn sweet. He could kind of see what Allison saw in him. "How about a Buick?"
"Model?"
"Um, blue. And it's big." He shrugged off Isaac's insulted expression. "Look, it's a car, and it's in Danny's garage. Anything more and you're going to have to ask him."
Isaac looked a little uncertain about that idea, but he nodded. "I can take a look at it, if Danny doesn't mind."
"His dad already said it was okay." That wasn't exactly true, but Stiles wasn't going to explain that conversation. The closer they got to graduation, the less Stiles felt like parents were relevant — although Danny seemed to believe the opposite. "It belonged to his grandfather, and it's been sitting in there for almost seven years."
He bit his lip. "Oh, did he… pass away?"
"He's still around, but he's not doing so well. We started visiting him in the nursing home every week about a month ago." Stiles picked up a can of oil from the shelf. "So what do we need?"
"I won't know for sure without looking at the car, but if it's been sitting there for seven years, it's going to need at least new oil, antifreeze, gas, and a battery." Isaac's uncertainty was starting to drop away as he spoke. Stiles tried not to grin. "If you don't know what kind of car it is, you'll need to find out so we know what kind of battery to get."
Nudging the door open into the corner of his mind where Danny always resided was like peeling away layers: within seconds, Stiles could see Danny was reading, and then he knew the book was about advanced topics in Python, and then he knew what the first three chapters were about. By the time Danny noticed he was there, Stiles knew how to partition lists using list slicing techniques.
I didn't even know what complex data structures were five seconds ago, Stiles told him grumpily. How can I know what they are now?
Because the brain isn't linear, ku'u lei. Danny did the completely sappy nose-nuzzling thing, which made Stiles feel a little less grumpy. He knew that they would only ever do that virtually, because Danny never would do anything of the kind where someone else could see him. If it helps, I think it would take you a lot longer to assimilate enough details to actually learn to code.
Isaac needs to know the model and year of your grandfather's Buick. Stiles took a peek at Isaac, who was watching him warily. Isaac's going to help me fix it.
Is he any more skilled than you are? Because with you and my father on the task, you've got a total of zero people who know what they're doing.
Hey, give me a little more credit than that. I don't need skills. I'm resourceful.
"Is he…?" Isaac hesitated. "Are you guys…?"
Stiles grinned. "It's a 1993 Park Avenue."
"Cool," he breathed.
Stiles waited around, touching everything on the shelves until the clerk started glaring at him, while Isaac picked out the right kinds of oil and battery. Isaac saw Jackson first. He signaled this to Stiles by grabbing his arm and hissing, "Oh my god. Don't look."
"What am I not looking at?"
"Jackson Whittemore is right over there, talking to that mechanic."
Stiles turned around and looked, at which point Isaac winced and wheeled away from him. "You knew he was back in town."
"Yeah, but knowing and knowing are two different things." Isaac pasted on a smile as Jackson spotted them and started toward them. "Uh… hi, Jackson."
"Lahey," Jackson said, nodding. "How's it hanging?" He looked at Stiles with perplexed fascination. "So you're Danny's soulmate, huh?"
"Hi, Jackson." Stiles didn't bother to respond to the comment. "What're you doing here?"
He glanced back over his shoulder at the long automobile propped up on the lift. "New tires for my aunt's old Caddy. I sold my Porsche before I left for London, and I'm not going to resort to bumming rides while I'm here. You?"
"Little car repair," Stiles said, trying to sound casual without swaggering. Yeah, I know what to do with this battery. Isaac waited, shifting nervously as he looked back and forth between Stiles and Jackson.
"Cool. You guys should come over after dinner."
Stiles watched the look of distress suffuse Isaac's face, and quickly said, "Me and Danny? Yeah, sure."
Jackson smirked. "Shouldn't you check with your better half?"
"Yeah, he can do it without a phone," Isaac blurted, then turned red, staring down at the oil can in his hand. Jackson's eyes lit up.
"Go on, Stilinski; show us your pairbonding mojo."
Stiles sighed, reaching for Danny again. Apparently, we're on display. You up for hanging out with Jackson tonight?
Display? Danny responded absently. Hanging out, okay. Tell Isaac to invite Scott and Allison.
Uh… I don't know if they're even invited.
Stiles. Danny's command voice came through, even across town and in his head. He tried not to quiver.
"Danny says you should invite Scott and Allison," he said, and saw Jackson and Isaac startle, looking at one another. "And I guess we need directions to your new place."
"I'll text them to Danny." Jackson didn't move, so Stiles nudged Isaac, beginning to head toward the door. Jackson backed in the opposite direction with a suspiciously friendly wave. "Good luck with the car. Who would have thought, between the two of you, that Lahey would have the brains."
"Hey!" Stiles couldn't help but feel a little defensive, but Isaac was smiling, and that was good.
The car turned out to be in reasonable shape. It only took Isaac fifteen minutes to diagnose the problem after changing the fluids, checking the belts and installing the new battery.
"See this?" he said, pointing to the stains on the floor of the garage. "That puddle is oil, but that red color means transmission fluid. It's definitely been leaking for a while. Let me get under the car and see what I can find."
"It used to make these horrible lurching motions whenever George would drive it." Isaac and Stiles turned to see Tutu carefully climbing down the concrete steps into the garage. She smiled at them. "He refused to sell it, but once he stopped driving, there wasn't any reason to get it fixed."
"Isaac, meet Danny's grandmother, uh…" Stiles quickly rummaged through Danny's head until he found the answer to his question, and grinned at her. "Marjorie."
"Nice to meet you, ma'am." Isaac touched the car. "That sounds like a transmission issue for sure. A new transmission would be expensive, but if I'm right, this won't cost much at all."
Her smile broadened, and she crossed her arms across her chest. "George will be pleased. And it'll piss off my son-in-law to no end."
Stiles choked on his laugh. "Yeah, I think Danny feels the same way, though he's not as happy about it."
"You go right ahead, Isaac. George isn't dead yet, and I'm the only one who knows what he's saying anymore. He's giving you his blessing to mess around with his car."
Isaac looked curious. "Can you — talk to your husband? The way Stiles and Danny talk?"
"Not like that," she said, shaking her head. "When we were together, we could do a lot. But what they have, that's special."
Danny was too immersed in his book to fully appreciate what Stiles was awwww-ing about, but once he realized the party was in the garage, within a few minutes he'd joined them there, calling out questions to Isaac. Isaac, meanwhile, was under the car, flat on his back, and he was responding, not sounding nervous at all.
"Broken seal," he shouted. "Bingo." He squirmed out from under the car, grinning triumphantly. "I can't fix that without putting the car up on blocks, but it should be no problem."
Stiles raised both eyebrows at Danny. "He can handle it."
"Not tonight," Danny said firmly. "Tonight we're having dinner, then taking Jackson up on his offer to hang out."
Stiles didn't attempt to hide his wistful irritation from Danny, although Isaac's own anxiety was probably keeping him from noticing anything beyond Stiles' easy, "Sure thing."
We're never going to get another night alone now that he's back in town, are we?
Danny didn't respond in words. Stiles had to pause and take a moment to fully appreciate the graphic sexual images that appeared in his mind. He swallowed.
Oh really.
Count on it, Danny said blandly.
Isaac spoke animatedly to Scott on the phone, grinning, his face still smudged with oil. He didn't say anything romantic or otherwise incriminating, but it was nonetheless completely obvious how he was feeling. When he tucked his phone back into his pocket, he was almost relaxed.
"Scott and Allison'll bring Cards Against Humanity," he said. "And chips."
After Isaac went home, there was a brief interlude during which Stiles thought maybe something would finally happen, but Danny was preoccupied, keeping his thoughts to himself.
You okay? Stiles asked, nudging him.
Fine, Danny replied. You staying for dinner?
He eyed Danny's bed longingly. I should probably go home for a while. My dad said something about renting out my room if I didn't make an appearance at least a couple of times a week.
You know he understands what it's like for soulmates.
No, I don't think he's mad, but that doesn't mean he's kidding, either.
Danny's kiss was perfunctory, which felt less worrisome when Stiles glimpsed those same images, lurking in Danny's subconscious. Graphic sexual images seldom came up for him anymore unless he was with Danny. This was a little weird in and of itself. He'd spent his entire life being anything-that-moved-sexual. To suddenly become exclusively Danny-sexual overnight had been an adjustment, but it wasn't bad. And, considering the fact that he was getting 100% more sex than he had been getting before realizing the pairbond, he shouldn't exactly be complaining.
Especially considering how good the sex is, he hinted. Danny smiled, but didn't look up from his book. Stiles sighed. I'll pick you up after dinner.
His dad did seem surprised to see him, but he didn't comment on Stiles' presence, for which Stiles was grateful. He just opened the freezer and took out a bigger package of chicken and asked, "Only us tonight?"
"We're all going over to Jackson's after this," Stiles told him, "but I'm here for now."
Stiles was having a hard time focusing on dinner. He kept getting flashes of Danny's images. He squirmed as they piled into his mind, two or three at a time, and shuffled his feet under the table. His dad studied him.
"How's that going?" he asked.
"What?"
"Having Jackson back in town."
Stiles shook his head, restlessly picking up his fork and putting it back down again. "What do you mean?"
"Well, he's Danny's best friend. With somebody competing for Danny's attention, I thought you might be feeling… I don't know. Jealous."
Stiles had to laugh. "Dad, he's in my head. I get him all the time. What's to be jealous of?"
His dad grinned, shrugging as he took another bite. "Guess you're right. Never mind. Be home before midnight, and don't forget to turn off the porch light before bed."
He didn't usually have trouble digesting his dad's barbecue chicken, but tonight Stiles had painful heartburn, enough to interrupt him in mid-stride and make him grimace. It wasn't bad enough to keep him from driving, but his stomach felt jumpy, so much that he almost pulled over twice on the way to Danny's.
Maybe I shouldn't go tonight, he told Danny, idling in his driveway. I think I ate something weird. I'm feeling a little off.
Danny took a while to answer. Can you come in for a minute?
Sure. Stiles climbed out of the Jeep, knocked on the front door, and was cordial to Danny's mom, but he felt more and more anxious as he made his way down the hall to Danny's bedroom. What's going on?
I… don't know. But you need to come here.
The door was shut. Stiles paused outside, considering knocking, then sighed loudly. This was ridiculous. He put his hand on the doorknob and pushed, wondering what he'd see inside.
Danny was sitting on the edge of his bed, his hands on his knees, facing the wall. He didn't look up when Stiles came in.
Close the door, he said immediately.
Stiles approached him uneasily, but when he rounded the corner of the bed and saw nothing unusual, he knelt down and took Danny's hand. It was warm.
"You feeling okay?" he asked. He wished he knew how to do that head-feeling thing his dad always did when he was sick.
Danny's fingers clutched at Stiles'. As he breathed through parted lips, Stiles could see his fangs protruding from between them. His eyes were still normal-colored, but Stiles guessed it wouldn't take much to turn them red.
The moon won't be full for seven more days. Danny glanced at the window. I can't figure out what's going on.
"It could be anything," Stiles began, but Danny pulled him closer, into the space between his legs, and kissed him hard. It was hard not to moan, feeling the edges of Danny's teeth rasp against his tongue.
You don't usually want to do this stuff at your house, he said.
I know. I don't. I just need —
The images were there, stark and vivid in his thoughts: all the things Danny wanted to do to him. Within seconds, Stiles was right there with him, dizzy and lightheaded from the speed of his arousal.
Now? He was kind of asking and kind of pleading, but Danny was already fumbling at Stiles' zipper, pushing his hand away when he tried to help. Stiles quickly found himself manhandled onto the bed, on his stomach with his pants around his ankles, and it was all he could do not to grab the lube and press it into Danny's hand.
You told me you weren't feeling well. Danny sounded agonized, but he wasn't slowing down.
Stiles realized the pain in his chest was gone. I'm — fine, I think? I mean, I don't feel sick anymore. Sexual healing? He spread his legs wider into the nudge of Danny's body.
They didn't bother with words after that. Stiles tried to make as little noise as possible, but Danny didn't seem to care. He could hear the rippling sound of Danny's growl as he thrust into Stiles, using no more force than usual but driving into him with absolute, focused precision. The experience was so intense that Stiles found himself coming first, stroking himself off onto Danny's bedspread while Danny rode him.
Danny seemed embarrassed as soon as it was over, lifting himself off Stiles and zipping himself up. Stiles had to tug at his hand to get his attention.
"Hey," he said. "I wanted it just as much. You weren't doing anything I didn't —"
"I know," Danny murmured. "It just feels… strange."
"Strange as in not good?"
"No. No. I don't know what I mean." Danny paused, leaning his forehead against Stiles' shoulder in a moment of uncommon vulnerability, and Stiles just put an arm around him and held him until he sighed and pulled away. I'm sorry, ku'u lei. We should get going.
Stiles let Danny stew in whatever he was feeling, not pressing him for more words to explain, while they drove across town to Jackson's apartment. Stiles himself was feeling a hundred times better. The heartburn was gone, and he was satisfied and pleasantly sore, even if the experience hadn't been particularly intimate.
Allison met them at the door, looking a lot less tense than Stiles had expected her to be, considering both Scott and Isaac were there with Jackson. She pulled Stiles in by the elbow, leaning in to whisper, "Lydia is cheating at Cards Against Humanity."
"How do you cheat at —"
"I don't know, but she's doing it. Hi, Danny." She paused when she saw his face. "Uh… your eyes?"
Stiles felt a shiver of unease when he saw the glint of red. "We don't really know what that's about."
"I'm not angry," Danny assured her. He flexed his hands, which looked ordinary, and glanced in at the table where Scott was laughing so hard at the card Isaac was reading, he was almost falling off his chair. "I'll keep it under control."
Lydia sat with her chair close beside Jackson's, her legs draped over his lap. Jackson appeared to be enjoying it, one hand resting on her calf. He gave Danny and Stiles a lazy smile — which abruptly disappeared as they approached the table.
"Hey, you can't be doing that shit here." He was looking at Danny.
"I'm not doing anything."
"The hell you're not!" He switched his accusatory gaze to Scott. "Didn't he just get bitten five months ago? He can't be doing this already."
"Doing what?" Scott asked.
"What, am I the only one who knows anything? Danny's the Alpha. The Alpha's responsible for populating the pack. The Alpha's the only one who can do that." He stared at the blank faces around them. "Come on, didn't Derek tell you?"
"Tell me what?" Danny snarled, forcefully enough to make Stiles flinch.
"He called it the rut. It's not supposed to happen until a couple years after you get bitten, but it makes you smell like that." He pointed at Danny, who drew back.
"Like… what?" Allison asked. "Stiles, can you smell it?"
"I don't smell anything." He couldn't help but lean in to take a whiff, although if Danny was smelling like anything out of the ordinary, he bet would have caught it while Danny was holding him down and fucking him.
But Isaac cleared his throat, his cheeks pink. "I, uh… wondered what that was."
"So werewolves can smell it, but not humans." Stiles looked at Scott, who was averting his eyes. "You too? What's it smell like?"
"Awesome," said Jackson. He took a long breath. "Pied Piper awesome. This is I'm-Going-to-Fuck-You-Now by Dior."
Danny's eyes were glittering, and although he appeared calm, Stiles could feel his tension building. The graphic sexual images were beginning to resurface, too, flickering through his mind like portents of what was to come. "You're saying… I'm in heat?"
"Male animals don't do that," Lydia said. She hadn't moved from her spot next to Jackson. "It's the females who go into estrus. But I can imagine it could be different for male Alphas."
Jackson looked horrified. "Dude, it's going to start soon. You need to get your ass over to Derek's, now, and get him to tell you what to expect."
"I — think it's a little late for that." Stiles grimaced apologetically at Danny. "It's already happening."
"Shit. Okay, look, Stilinski, I don't know much, but I know this isn't going to be pretty. You've got another week until the full moon, and until then, your boy's going to be spreading his seed any way he can."
Stiles thought about the way Danny had been in his bedroom, the very deliberate nature of their act, and tried not to blanch. Danny, meanwhile, tightened his mouth and sighed.
"This is not happening at your house," Stiles told him. "I think — maybe not at mine, either. A hotel room?"
"For a week?" Lydia looked pointedly at Stiles. "No. You're going to stay right here."
"The fuck!" Jackson yelped, dumping Lydia's feet onto the floor and staring at her in indignation. "And where am I going to stay?"
"You have a couch, dipshit." Lydia glared at him. "He's your best friend. When your best friend needs a place to crash, you give it to him. And his boyfriend."
"That… might solve some big problems," Danny said quietly. Jackson held onto his outrage for a few last dramatic seconds before rolling his eyes.
"Fine. But whatever sexual gymnastics you think you're going to do, Stilinski, it's not going to be enough. You're a human. I'm not slamming your endurance or anything, but —"
"Seven days of sex with a werewolf," said Scott. He sounded sober. "That could actually kill you."
"Guys, we can solve this," Allison urged. "What is a pack for? We're on it. Danny, you think you're doing okay for now?"
"I don't know what I should be watching for, but… maybe?"
"I'm guessing it might be better to talk to Derek sooner than later, to get the details about this rut thing." They were all on their feet, the card game forgotten. "Stiles, why don't you go with him. Isaac and Scott and I can get you some groceries, emergency rations for the week."
"Give him your key," Lydia ordered Jackson. He grumbled as he slid it off his ring, but handed it over to Danny. Danny stared at for a moment before tucking it into his pocket. "That's not all you're going to need. An excuse, for one. You're… you're taking your boyfriend on vacation?"
"In the middle of the school week?" Danny shook his head, looking tired. "I wouldn't skip. Stiles wouldn't either."
"A medical excuse, then." Lydia looked at Scott. "Your mom…"
"She's really not going to get this," he said. "But she might be willing to help."
"Good. You talk to her. I'll see what I can learn from Dr. Deaton about werewolf estrous. Jackson, you… I don't know, go pick them up a stack of DVDs to give them something else to do besides the obvious. We're going to make this work."
Danny reached out a hand to grasp Lydia's arm as she turned to go. "You don't have to do this."
"Of course I do," she said impatiently. "I want in. I've given up pretending I'm an ordinary person, and this is apparently the pack for weirdos. What's one more?"
Danny actually laughed. "Okay. Consider yourself an honorary member of the pack of weirdos."
Stiles hadn't realized how much tension he'd been carrying in his shoulders until he heard that laugh. Then he just wanted to lean on Danny and let it all go. But right now, Danny was the one who was going to need support.
He watched Danny standing there, still and alone in the center of the room full of activity, his eyes flashing red, and couldn't help suppress a shiver. And I'm the one who's going to need an ice pack, and a big bottle of lube.
