Hey everyone! This is my first fanfic, so I'm still "learning the ropes". Please forgive the last chapter. I haven't watched season one in a long time and this fic won't be in order...at all. So, bear with me, and thanks for reading.

I think we all know I don't own Teen Wolf.


"That was pretty amazing, Scott," I raise my eyebrows and laugh. "Like, super freaking amazing."

Scott smiles sheepishly and glances to where Allison is sitting in the front of the classroom. She must have felt his gaze on her, because she looks back and blushes when their eyes meet. I grin and shake my head. They are so adorable. Stiles catches my attention with a snort.

"That was more than amazing, that was...it was-"

"Stilinski!" Coach yells from the chalkboard. "Have something to share with the class?"

"Not anything that should be repeated in public, Coach," Stiles replies, smirking. I huff a quick laugh and cover my mouth. Coach simply rolls his eyes and continues with the lesson.

Stiles raises his eyebrows at me and I roll my eyes as well, turning away and lending my (only slightly divided) attention to the string of words flowing from Coach's loud mouth.

Class ends and Scott bolts up to talk to Allison in the hallway. I gather up my things and start to leave, but Stiles taps my arm.

"You friends with Allison?"

I blink. "Not really. Do I look like her and Lydia?" Stiles frowns and his eyes scan me quickly. I curse myself for my poor choice of words. "Sure. We get along fine. Why do you ask?"

"Just curious-"

"This is about Lydia's party on Friday, isn't it?"

He scoffs, then lowers his head. "Maybe?" He peers up at me with big brown puppy eyes, stealing a heartbeat right from my chest. I clear my throat.

"Uh, okay," I scramble for words. "If I get invited I'll let you know, and you go instead of me, or something."

"Why would you do that?" He frowns.

"Does it matter? You can go make dove eyes at the love of your life. At her house. For a whole night. Don't complain, Stilinski-"

"We'd just go together, okay? And please, don't call me that. You sound like them."

My chest pounds. "Together?"

"Not 'together' together, no, I meant just, you know," he groans. "I'm just saying we don't have to both miss the social event of the season."

"If either of us are even invited…"

"Right."


Friday morning I am walking to Geometry class, when Allison shouts my name.

"Darcie! Hey, wait up!" She skips over to me and I can help but smile at her joyful countenance.

"Yeah?"

"So, listen. I'm sorry we haven't talked in a while, but I think you're really cool."

"Thanks?" I laugh. She punches my shoulder lightly.

"Thing is, there's a party tonight…" Lydia's party. Was this really happening? "And she said I could bring a few people." Allison smiles expectantly. My mind reels. It was actually happening.

"Uh…"

"Can you come? Say yes, I'm not that comfortable around all Lydia's friends yet and it'd be great if you came."

"Can I bring someone?" I say, stomach flipping.

"Of course! Great, see you tonight!" She waves happily and scampers off to her next class, leaving me dumbstruck.

"Fancy a party tonight, Stilinski?" I had been gathering up the courage all morning, working out a casual way to ask it. He jumps up from from the lunch table where he's sitting with Scott and grabs my shoulders, sending tingles down my arms.

"You serious?!" I give a small nod and he pulls me into a bear hug. I can't breath.

"Stiles!" I shout, muffled into his shirt. He pulls back, suddenly embarrassed. Scott is watching us, confused and amused.

"I probably could've gotten you invited, if I had known how desperate you both are."

"I'm not desperate-" I begin.

"It wouldn't have worked, Scott." Stiles shrugs. "You're not 'in' enough...yet."

"Yet," I agree.

"Yet?" Scott laughs, incredulous.

"Dude," Stiles says, hitting Scott's head roughly. "Once you are dating a popular, then you, in turn, are one of them." Scott grins, lop-sided and foolishly, and looks at me. I shrug in agreement and he settles down contentedly to his lunch.


Stiles Stilinski

How are we supposed to be dressing for this thing?

Darcie, like I know. Ask a girlfriend, not a dude.

Right, srry.

Ally

Dress?

Whatever, I think! Casual?

I sigh aloud. Casual for Lydia and Allison doesn't even exist in my closet.

K thx! See you soon :)

Yep! :)

In the end I grab my nicest jeans and a loose fitting tank top, grunting to myself the whole time. My bland, pale face screams out to me in the mirror, so I oblige with some mascara and a smear of gloss. I purse my lips at my reflexion. This is as good as it's ever going to get.

My mom is sitting on the couch, 'reading'. I grab a jacket from the coat closet and join her on the couch.

"Who is this boy again?"

"Just a friend, mom."

"Right, yeah…" I can tell she is about to give the routine sex warning. Thankfully the doorbell rings and I jump up.

"That's him," I swoop down and kiss her cheek. "I'll be good, promise."

"I know you will," she sighs. "Be back by twelve."

"Will do." I salute jokingly and shout "Love you!" as I fling open the door. Stiles is standing on the welcome mat, hands in pockets. The chilly air nips at the back of my neck.

"Ready?" He asks nervously.

"Stop shaking, Stilinski. It's just Lydia; the perfect, gorgeous, intelligent girl you've loved for so many years."

He glares at me. "Thanks for that."

"Anytime," I grin back. He groans, trampling down the steps and to his baby blue jeep.


We have to park about a block away and walk together in the breezy night. We don't speak, and I can tell he is having a hard time walking. We finally get to the house. Music is blasting through the windows and I can see from where we stand that this will be a tight fit. Some people are even hanging out on the yard instead of the crowded house.

"Deep breaths, Stiles. In and out...In and out-"

"Not helping," he says through clenched teeth. I grab his arm and guide him up the yard, up the steps, and into the fiery furnace. I notice that almost everyone has a cup of what most likely is alchohol.

"Okay," I grab his shoulders so that we're face to face. "I'm going to get us some drinks to calm you down. Loosen up, mingle," He glances around the room. "And don't go looking for Scott. He's here with Allison, not you. Deal with it." Auburn hair flashes in my periphery and I turn Stiles in the other direction. "Stay."

The kitchen is full of kids pressed into each other, kissing, tongues in mouths. I push through and fill two cups. A blonde guy comes up behind me and touches my butt. I slap his hand away. "Back off." He does, moving on to the next girl.

Stiles is right where I left him, dancing embarrassingly by himself. I rush over. "Oookaayy, you definitely need this." I hand him the cup and he gulps down a swig.

"I'm going to do it," he says, nodding to himself. "I'm going to tell her."

"Maybe you don't afterall," I say, snatching the cup away. "Don't even think about that. She doesn't even know your name. To her, you're just some hormonal guy that daydreams about her in bed." Stiles purses his lips.

"Then what am I doing here?"

"You're here to party," I say loudly, over the music. "Mingle with the popular kids, make yourself known. You're here, so you must be on their level, right?"

"But, I'm not-"

"They don't know that," I say, gesturing to the clusters of people.

"Okay." He cracks his neck, wiggles his shoulders, and takes a deep breath. "I got this. I got this."

"Yep, you're quite the killer, now go-" He grabs my hand and pulls me into the thrumming group of people. I am too shocked to pull away, and now we are pressed against each other in the middle of the beast. "What are you doing?!" I shout. He flinches, rubbing his ear.

"Dancing!" He places his hands awkwardly on my hips and tries to find the rhythm of the people around us. I stand uncomfortably still as he sways and moves. Don't get me wrong; I love to dance and party, but having him so close was making my head spin. My heart is thumping wildly in my chest and the crowd seems to close in around us until there isn't even an inch of space between us. His eyes are on the room as he dances, oblivious to my stare. Sweat beads at his hairline and his hands on my waist get hot. There's no way for me to get out of this without injuring myself or others in the process, so I decide to just go with it. I match his rhythm, however off it might be, and lose myself in his touch. I wrap my arm around his neck, closing my eyes. His hands drop suddenly, and I look to see him staring at me blankly. Without a word he backs up, pushing through the crowd, and leaves me alone, confused and cursing my stupidity.