(Author's note: this gets a little dub-con, and maybe it's a little heavier than I expected. I guess I should have known I couldn't write something like this and make it simple. I do promise happy endings, for everyone. -amy)


Stiles walked with Allison out to the parking lot, leaving Danny and the others behind, mostly because he wasn't sure if he was going to make it a hundred feet without punching Jackson in the face. But she put an arm around him and gave him such a concerned look that he had to say something.

"You think what Scott said is right? About… seven days of sex with a werewolf?"

She pursed her lips. "I don't know, Stiles. When Scott was an Alpha, I did a little reading about the rutting phenomenon. It scared me, to be honest. I mean, I get the biological point, to ensure the best genetic material for the pack, but I couldn't get pregnant with him anyway, and it just felt like… like we would be doing this really strenuous, arduous thing with no reason behind it." She shrugged. "You don't have to worry about getting pregnant either. But one mate? And not even a werewolf mate? Humans aren't really designed for week-long nonstop anything."

He wrapped his arms around himself and shivered. "Jeez."

She patted him on the shoulder. "Go talk to Derek," she urged. "He'll be able to answer your questions better. And talk to Isaac, too. He's been through it once."

He didn't feel any more certain watching her walk away, but he was pretty sure he didn't have much of a choice about what to do next. Danny was there when he turned around.

"This is kind of freaking me out," Stiles told him.

I know, was all Danny said. He didn't touch Stiles or offer any comfort. He just walked around to the passenger side of the car and climbed in, waiting for Stiles to join him.

Derek's apartment was on the other side of town. Driving there gave Stiles enough time to marshal some questions, while he attempted to ignore the images Danny's mind was firing at him. He could tell it was getting increasingly hard for Danny to keep his cool.

Finally, Stiles took a deliberate turn onto a series of dirt roads, keeping track of the lefts and rights in his head while getting as lost as he could. When Danny finally looked up from his own thoughts and realized they weren't driving to Derek's anymore, he grasped the steering wheel.

Stiles.

You're not going to manage to put this off all night, Stiles told him. He touched Danny's hand, feeling him tense. And you can't hide from me.

Not when we're this close, Danny agreed unhappily. He watched from under lowered lids as Stiles moved up his arm to rest on his shoulder. Would you just pull over?

Stiles obliged, still holding on to Danny's arm. You promised you wouldn't hide from me again. That would be worse than feeling whatever it is you're going through. Don't shut me out, no matter how bad it gets.

Danny laughed without humor. I don't think you'll know how bad it'll get until we get there.

I know I'm your partner, Stiles insisted, and I'm not leaving you to deal with it alone.

Danny was shaking when he reached for Stiles across the seat, wrapping him up in strong but careful arms. Stiles scooted in as close as he could get, feeling Danny's rapid heartbeat, the heat of his skin.

I could hurt you.

Stiles took a deep breath. I don't think you will. But if it happens, we'll deal.

It felt like a very public place to be holding one another like that, in the front seat of Stiles' Jeep on the side of the road in the woods, but the way Danny's eyes were glazing over, he didn't think he cared all that much. Even as the tension built, he could feel Danny opening up to him through the conduit of their touch.

I can see exactly what you want to do to me, he said, and it all looks great, but I think it's going to have to wait until we get back to Jackson's.

Danny's arms tightened around him, pulling him further over into his lap on the passenger seat. Stiles hesitated only a moment before finding a spot to wedge his knee and straddling Danny, feeling how hard he was already. The way Danny rubbed against the crease of Stiles' shorts made him ache.

I could take you right here, ku'u lei. He traced the veins on the side of Stiles' neck with his tongue. I could hold you with my teeth and you could sink right down on my cock, and I could —

Danny, Stiles protested, struggling for breath, but still not willing to move one inch from where he was at that moment. You don't want to do that.

Yeah. I do. Danny emphasized his words with a grinding thrust. Stiles gnawed on his lip.

If I said yes, and we got arrested for public indecency, my dad would probably be really pissed off. Not to mention your dad.

That made Danny pause. He shifted uneasily. And if I said I could hear them coming, before they got close enough to notice us?

Yeah, I'd normally believe you. And trust me, on any other day, I'd be all over that. But you're not thinking clearly, and if you — god — start fucking me in my car, I'm not going to be thinking clearly either.

Danny's growl settled over him like a thick fog. He quivered at the press of Danny's clawed fingernails into the sensitive underside of his arms. Maybe you just need me to tell you to shut up and take it like a good boy.

Stiles cursed every nonexistent god that was casting him in the role of the responsible one at that moment. Yeah, maybe I do need that, but it should probably wait until we get back to a place that doesn't have glass walls.

You're the one who pulled over, Danny snapped.

So let me get my hand in your pants and do something about it. Or, I don't know, I could blow you right here against the car. Something that would be easy to stop, if we have to?

"No!" Danny's voice was rougher and thicker than usual. He sat up, shifting Stiles off his lap and onto his leg. Stiles had to duck his head to keep from banging it on the rear-view mirror. "No. That's… not going to help."

"Why not? Take the edge off, at least."

Danny didn't answer, breathing hard. Stiles got it.

"You… have to, uh. To fuck something?"

He nodded once. Stiles could feel the pulse of him, hot and insistent, against his thigh, and furrowed his brow.

"It's not like you're going to get anywhere with me anyway. Your pack's not going to grow any faster if you come in my ass instead of my mouth."

You can argue with me all you want. I'm not going to have any better answers for you. I'm just telling you what I need.

Stiles glanced out at the dark, silent woods. You're telling me you need to throw me on the ground right out there and —

Yes. Yes, that's exactly what I need. Fuck. Danny groaned, writhing under Stiles weight. You'd better get off my lap before I stop taking no for an answer.

That didn't make Stiles any less scared, or any less turned on, but he scrambled back to the driver's seat, watching Danny compose himself.

Okay, Danny said at last. We'll go to Derek's. I'll get the information we need to make it through this. And then we're going to set some ground rules to keep you safe, and to keep me from hating myself afterward.

Stiles nodded in relief. Yeah. That sounds good.

He shot Danny little glances as he retraced his way out of the woods and back onto the main road, but Danny stayed on his side of the car the rest of the way to Derek's. It wasn't until they reached the parking lot that he touched Stiles again, just a brush of a fingertip on his hand.

"You know I love you, right?" he said.

That made Stiles squirm, but he nodded. They didn't use those words very often; the feelings were always there. "I, uh. Yeah. I love you too."

"And I always want to take care of you, and protect you?"

"Jesus." Stiles stared at his lap. "You're really doing this now?"

"I have to," Danny said firmly. "If I don't say it now, I think… you might start to wonder, in the next couple days." He didn't look any more happy than Stiles felt. "I really don't like the idea of being forced to do anything. Or forcing you to do anything."

Stiles shook his head. "Dude, I'm not being forced. I'm right here. My choice, whatever happens."

"Yeah, but… I think there's a chance I might end up forcing you." He gritted his teeth. "God, this is not okay."

"Come on." Stiles opened his door, stepping out onto the pavement. "Let's get this conversation over with."

They hadn't let Derek know they were coming, but he met them on the porch anyway, nostrils flaring and eyes wide.

"What the hell?"

"Yeah," Danny said heavily. "Can we come in? I have some questions, and I think you're the only one who can answer them."

Derek followed Danny with his eyes down the corridor. "You got the bite just a couple months ago. This can't be happening."

"You really think I'm faking it?" growled Danny, and Derek stumbled back against the door frame, flinching away. Stiles gave Danny a nudge, pushing him through the doorway into Derek's apartment.

"So if we can get past the denial… can you clear up a few things?" Stiles tried not to glare at Derek. He'd been easier to tolerate when he'd been an asshole. "I get that there's some kind of biological imperative here. But what the hell? Danny's gay. For one thing, he can't make baby werewolves with me, so why would he still want to try? And for another, even if he had female werewolf pack members, he's not going to want to make baby werewolves with any of them."

Derek shook his head, shutting the door behind him. "Last one first. I don't think you can make that assumption. I mean, I only went through the rut once, so my sample size isn't all that big for males. But common knowledge says, the rut doesn't recognize gender, only number."

"Number," Danny echoed. He swallowed. "You're saying I need to — do this with my whole pack."

"Not necessarily. It passes more quickly, though, if you do." Derek's lip twitched. "Think of it like… filling a quota."

Stiles closed his eyes. I was wrong. He's still an asshole, even if he's not an Alpha anymore. "That doesn't answer why the gender doesn't matter. If the purpose is procreation —"

"See, I don't think you can make that assumption either," Derek said. "I don't think anybody knows for sure why we do it. But the outcome is stronger pack bonding. It also leads to larger packs, because the pheromones draw Omegas to the Alpha."

"But Jackson said the Alpha's the only one who's fertile, and only during the rut," said Danny. "Wouldn't that imply the purpose is to make more werewolves?"

"Maybe, but my mom thought it was more likely an indirect purpose. Werewolves have two methods of reproduction, after all — the bite, or birth — and both carry risks and uncertainties, but birth is more likely to result in larger packs. Most werewolves are born to clans or larger packs because smaller groups tend to be temporary, breaking up after a couple years. When female Alphas go into estrous, they inevitably get pregnant, but they also bond with each of the members of their pack in the process. This means more adults protecting the cub or cubs. Bigger packs are more stable."

Danny was obviously trying his best to focus on what Derek was saying, but he was more restless than Stiles had ever seen him, pacing across the room, arms crossed. "So that's what happens with female Alphas. What happened with you?"

"I wasn't Alpha for very long," said Derek, his voice quiet, "but it was long enough to go through one cycle. It was — intense."

Stiles felt a surge of unexpected sympathy. "Your pack. Boyd, Erica, Isaac." He watched Derek nod stiffly. "They were with you for that?"

"Yeah." Derek looked away. "I thought you were here about you."

"I am."

"Because I'm not looking to join another pack."

Stiles looked at Danny. "I don't think you were being invited."

The offended expression on Derek's face made Stiles want to punch him again. Combined with the sympathy, it was a weird experience.

"What about jealousy?" asked Danny, obviously trying to redirect. "Isn't that a problem?"

Derek shook his head. "The pheromones calm the pack. Wolves get plenty jealous, but not during a rut. You might as well stop trying to play by human rules regarding relationships."

Stiles sighed. "Okay, look. What about reproduction? Would a werewolf and a human ever be genetically compatible? I mean, a male and a female. I wasn't asking if I —"

"No."

"But you said during a rut, the Alpha's always fertile. Wouldn't that —"

"I think we got what we needed," Danny stood, gesturing for Stiles to follow. "Thanks for your time."

What's going on? Stiles asked, hurrying after Danny to the car. I had more questions.

He's not going to know anything more that would help us, Stiles.

Danny's face was closed, but Stiles could feel something else was going on underneath. He pushed in closer, peeling away the layers, and froze, his hand inches from the door handle. "You don't think —?"

I'm just drawing conclusions, but if the Alpha's always fertile during a rut, Erica would have gotten pregnant.

"Holy shit." Stiles climbed in, slowly putting on his seat belt. "And I kept asking about procreation. Who's the asshole now."

You weren't trying to hurt him.

He leaned his head back against the seat. "Well, he'd never tell us, if she had been. And there's no way I'm going to ask Isaac."

It doesn't matter right now. Start the car.

Stiles drove back to Jackson's as fast as he could without breaking any traffic laws, because he hadn't been kidding about his dad being pissed off. Danny was starting to make some pretty distracting noises, growls intermixed with restless moans. Stiles might not be able to smell his pheromones, but all of his other senses were thoroughly inundated with Danny's drive to do things to him. No, not just any thing; this one thing.

You're going to go inside, Danny said, gripping the vinyl upholstery of his seat. You're going to tell Jackson and Lydia that if they hear anything that sounds like a struggle, they're coming in to get you. His eyes simmered, a deep, rich burgundy, as he pressed the key into Stiles' hand. And then you're going into the bedroom to wait for me.

Is this where I'm supposed to say something like 'who the fuck do you think you are?' Stiles darted forward to kiss Danny's trembling cheek. Because I think that sounds awesome.

Jackson let him in, scowling the whole time. "Hope you're hungry. Allison and Isaac bought you a whole fucking grocery store, so help yourself. Except the raspberries; the raspberries are mine."

Lydia was simultaneously hunched over her laptop and poring over a thick book with a brown leather cover. "Have you seen the stuff Allison's father has in his library? And such poor security. A person could rob him blind, were they motivated to do so."

Stiles set the key on the kitchen table. "I'm supposed to tell you that if you hear me screaming or — what did he say? The sound of a struggle - you're to come in and rescue me."

"One werewolf on duty at all time; check." Lydia looked up with a brisk smile. "I'm brimming with fascinating knowledge about werewolf estrous, which I am going to assume you will want to know later. Jackson's good lube is in the bottom drawer of his nightstand —"

"Hey!"

"— and Mrs. McCall said she'd issue Scott a doctor's notice to bring to school. She'll call your dad, too, but she wants you to call her to confirm you're okay in the next twenty-four hours. Allison said the three of them would be by tomorrow after classes. I'll be here in the morning, but until then, Jackson's your watchdog. Oh, and there's a robe on the back of the door."

"This is not the Whittemore Hilton," Jackson objected, but Stiles was already heading for the bedroom, stripping off his shirt.

Danny's thoughts were murkier now, less distinct. He wasn't bothering to make words anymore, but Stiles thought they were pretty much done with words. He did find himself wondering if Danny could smell him, and if he smelled like anything special, other than horny teenage boy.

Danny didn't come storming in, snarling with eyes glowing, or anything like that. He was calm, and closed the bedroom door gently, watching Stiles kick his jeans to the floor.

Stiles fluttered his eyelashes at him. Am I being a good boy now?

It was as though Danny didn't hear him. His gaze was fixed on the movement of Stiles' legs, his hands on the bottle. Tracking him. Stiles felt a moment of unease. Like prey.

An instant later, Danny was on top of him, crushing him to the bed in complete silence. His breath was hot and oppressive against Stiles' throat, but he didn't use his teeth. His eyes, still dark red, were the only outward sign of the wolf, if you didn't count his astonishing speed and strength. He only needed one hand to hold Stiles down while he stripped off his own shorts, then pushed Stiles' legs apart with one knee.

There was a moment during which Stiles considered going ahead with no lubrication, relying on what was left from earlier that evening, but then he decided he hadn't completely lost all rational thought. If they were going to be doing this for an entire week, he was going to need all the help he could get.

Danny, he said. The lube. I need that before you — it's in the bottom drawer.

There was no response. Stiles decided he was not going to panic. He struggled for about three seconds before deciding trying to get away was futile. Dirty tricks next. He slid a hand up between their bare chests and flicked Danny's nose.

"Hey," he said loudly. "Boss. Wake up."

Danny's face was comical, but Stiles was too worked up to laugh. He looked into Stiles' face carefully, inspecting him. Then he sniffed him.

"I don't want to yell for Jackson. Really, I really don't want to. And maybe I should have just lubed myself up and not assumed you'd be lucid enough to do it. But —" Stiles took a shaky breath. "I wish you were. I'd rather not just be a warm body, here."

No, ku'u lei, came Danny's muted thought. No one else like you.

It was more of a relief than he'd expected, to hear Danny say that, and he closed his eyes as Danny kissed away the tears that didn't quite fall. He was grateful, too, that Danny took the initiative to root around in Jackson's drawer for whatever bottle of slick stuff he apparently owned. The fear of Danny losing control was insignificant compared to the potential horror spawned by the surprises he might find in Jackson's sex toy box. But then Danny's fingers were inside him, coating him efficiently with slickness, and he stopped thinking anything except god, at last.

There was no risk of Lydia or Jackson thinking he was struggling, not tonight. The act was as quiet and efficient as it had been in Danny's bedroom earlier. He was carried along by the way Danny was looking at him, the intensity of his thrusts, and when Stiles began to whimper and squirm, Danny didn't keep him from moving his hand in between their bodies to finish himself off. He didn't help, either, but Stiles really didn't expect that, not in the state Danny was in. When he was done, there was no snuggling; he simply fell asleep on Jackson's pillow.

Stiles decided wearing the robe would be too much insult to injury, and slipped back into his jeans and t-shirt before making the trip across the hall to the bathroom to clean up. When he peeked around the corner and saw Lydia and Jackson in front of the television, he gathered his courage and pulled up a chair beside them.

Jackson looked more annoyed than embarrassed by Stiles' presence, but he passed him the bowl of chips without comment. Lydia barely acknowledged his presence until the commercial, when she reached over and grabbed a notebook, facing him cross-legged across Jackson.

"It's definitely a mating urge," she said. "No matter what Derek's theory is about bonding. Alpha werewolves don't go into heat until they're mature. In the case of werewolves created from an Alpha bite, that usually means three years, maybe four, after the wolf's creation."

"So Danny's an anomaly," Stiles said.

"Yes. In males, it happens every couple years and lasts an average of a week, between four to ten days, and it always happens directly prior to a full moon — which is to say, the wolves mate, then they shift. This is supposedly the only time when Alpha werewolves are fertile, males or females. When it's a male Alpha, female werewolves respond to the rut. Werewolves are reflex ovulators, so they're automatically fertile at the time males are in heat."

"Commercial's over," Jackson grunted. Lydia gave the television a cursory glance and turned back to Stiles, not lowering her voice at all.

"The Alpha male will mate with all the females in his pack when he's in heat - and usually all the males as well. Typically biology trumps sexual preference during a heat. Males rut several times a day while eating copiously between and sleeping most of the rest of the time." She cocked her head. "Are you hungry?"

"Not really?"

"You might want to eat anyway, and sleep when he does. Several times a day means overnight, too. He could wake you up any time."

"It sounds so romantic the way you describe it."

Lydia snorted, but she looked completely serious. "I'm not trying to make it sound palatable. I'm trying to tell you how it is. You should know what to expect. Stiles, nobody goes through their heat alone. It's a pack responsibility."

"It's my responsibility," he insisted. "It's not Danny and Stiles and these other people. It's us, together. We're pairbonded. I'm not going to give up on him."

"A pairbond doesn't count for shit if you're dead," she retorted.

He was quiet for a few minutes, letting the sound of the television and Jackson crunching on chips blur his thinking.

"You think I should — let somebody else take over?" he asked at last. His voice didn't shake too badly.

"I think you should keep it in mind. This is hour one. When you're on hour fifteen, or hour thirty, or hour fifty, it's going to feel a lot less pleasant." She leaned in and patted his hand. "Don't worry. If you're actually going to die, at least I'll be able to let you know in advance."