Trigger warning! It's not much, but if you've seen the movie, then you know that (through a lapse of judgment) Iris (aka Scott in my fic) kind of begins to inhale gas as a way to kill herself. In the fic, Scott never actually gets to that point, but there are thoughts. Please be aware and careful if this in any way can trigger you.

Scott hadn't stopped sobbing. He tried, he really did, because he had to feed Duke and he needed to drink water, otherwise he'd be faced with the worst hangover of hangovers tomorrow. But he just couldn't make himself get off his bed, where he was clutching one his pillows, sobbing.

He had known that Lydia didn't love him. That was actually one of the things he was absolutely positive about Lydia: she didn't seem to have the capacity to love. He had just really convinced himself that she could change, that he could change her. Especially once she saw his Christmas present! Though she was already engaged at that point. She was probably laughing about him in her mind. Ha, ha, poor Scott McCall-Hale, hopeless in love with a heartless, red-haired Goddess.

He was so pathetic.

Okay, no, that's it. He wasn't going to mope any longer. He was going to feed Duke and he was going to make tea. He would rehydrate himself so his head didn't feel like it was spinning off and then he would think about drowning himself.

Wait, no, that's backsliding, that was the opposite of what he wanted.

Scott sat up slowly and wiped at his cheeks. He blinked blearily. God, he really needed some water. He stumbled his way downstairs, moaning when he reached the bottom, one hand instantly going to his temple. He made his way to kitchen, bypassing Duke who barked at him. "Yeah, yeah, yeah, I know," Scott said. "Just hold on." He filled up Duke's food and water bowl, then downed a glass of water before grabbing his tea kettle. He filled it with water, then sat it down next to the stove. He turned on the gas and grabbed a match, getting ready to light it.

Before he did, though, Scott stared at his stove and just thought about the fact that inhaling that gas now would be so much easier than trying to down himself later. Right? He began to lean down, matches and tea forgotten, ready to take an inhale.

His laptop on the table bleeped.

"What am doing?" he hissed, turning off his stove. "Fuck, dammit, low point, low point." He walked over to the window above his sink and opened in, welcoming the winter air. He breathed deep, pouring another glass of water. He slowly nursed the water while getting chilled by the winter air, but it was clearing his head—which was exactly what he needed right then.

His laptop bleeped again. Oh, right.

Scott made his way to his table and sat down, Duke immediately coming over and resting his head on Scott's leg. Scott petted him absentmindedly, while he woke up his computer, instantly reading what had made his computer bleep.

BatmannRobin: I'm interested in renting your house.

BatmannRobin: I'm wondering if your house is available this Christmas.

BatmannRobin: Because if it is, you'd be a real lifesaver.

Scott completely blanked for a moment, before remembering the time—oh God, quite a few months ago—that Derek had practically forced him to sign up for this home-exchange thing, ranting that Scott needed to take a break from work.

Needless to say, Scott had forgotten about the whole thing as soon as he signed up.

BatmannRobin: I know it's late asking, but if you're interested at all, please contact me.

This was it, Scott decided. This was actually what he needed. He needed to get away. Being in a new place, new city, maybe even new country, would distract him from his Lydia drama.

Scottyohbotty: I'm very interested, but my house is only available for home-exchange.

Scottyohbotty: We switch houses, cars, everything. I haven't done it before, but a few of my friends have.

Scott paused before asking, Where are you?

"Please say far away, please be another country," he whispered, staring at his screen. It bleeped right when another messaged showed up.

BatmannRobin: L.A.

Scottyohbotty: I've ever been there, though I've always wanted to go.

Scottyohbotty: I'm Scott, by the way.

"I'm very normal," he mumbled to himself. "Neat freak, healthy, non-smoker." He sighed. "Single."

BatmannRobin: I'm Stiles and, no, that's not actually my birth name.

BatmannRobin: My birth name is just a lot more difficult to spell, let alone say.

Scottyohbotty: Hi.

Oh God, Scott thought. Why did I just say hi?

Scottyohbotty: What does your house look like?

BatmannRobin: It's nice, but a little bigger than yours.

BatmannRobin: Yours looks like it's just what I need, though.

Scott was about to type back a doubtful remark, when Stiles sent another message.

BatmannRobin: Can I ask you one thing?

BatmannRobin: Well. Two things, actually.

Scottyohbotty: Of course.

BatmannRobin: I feel like I have to let you know, and make sure it's not a problem.

Scott gnawed on his lip, slightly worried. Stiles wasn't about to confess to being a serial killer, was he? A very special killer, who switched houses with unsuspecting folk and then murdered everyone in the foreign town.

He was letting his mind wander. That couldn't be possible. And if it was, well, Stiles wouldn't admit to it outright, would he.

BatmannRobin: I'm gay.

Scott let loose the breath he hadn't even realized he was holding.

Scottyohbotty: You had me worried there, I thought you were a serial killer or something.

Scottyohbotty: Anyway, no, no problem. Don't even worry about it.

BatmannRobin: Oh, well, in that case.

BatmannRobin: Are there any...men in your town?

Scott thought about it. There was, maybe, two guys within a mile radius, and both were straight and older than dirt. He thought about Derek, but his brother had no reason to stop by if Scott wasn't home. So hopefully Stiles was looking for an answer resembling no.

Scottyohbotty: Zero.

BatmannRobin: When can I come?

Scottyohbotty: Tomorrow too soon?

The was a pause. A long pause. Scott began to doubt himself and almost sent another message saying, Kidding! Whenever, you know, in a week. When you're ready. He himself was just ready for this vacation. Now that his mind was on it, it just seemed like the perfect idea. He hadn't meant to jump the gun, but it seemed like he might've actually freaked Stiles out with his over eagerness. But then Stiles replied.

BatmannRobin: Tomorrow's perfect.

Scott let out a sigh of relief and whooped to himself.

Scottyohbotty: Okay.

Scottyohbotty: Then we are on, for two weeks, starting tomorrow.

BatmannRobin: I'm in. Thank you so much, Scott.

Scottyohbotty: Thank you as well, Stiles.

They exchanged numbers just in case and then Scott closed his laptop. He whooped to himself again. Duke caught on to his excitement and started jumping up, barking. Scott laughed and started baby talking him, scratching him behind the ears. He made a mental note to text Stiles and let him know that he had a dog. Can't believe I forgot to mention that, he thought.

Scott pushed away from the table, feeling lighter, and grabbed his cell, shooting off a text to Stiles. Then he called his brother.

"It's Derek. I must be busy so just leave me you information and I'll get back to you."

"Hey, Derek, it's Scott. Anyway, just call me back, okay? I have something to tell you, but I want to actually hear your reaction. Bye." He hung up, setting his phone back on his counter. He had a moment of serenity, before reality came crashing down on him. "I have to pack. I have to book a plane and I have to pack, and oh my God, how did I think leaving tomorrow would be a good idea?"

He rushed upstairs, then back downstairs to grab his laptop. He brought that back upstairs with him, setting it on his bed while he grabbed suitcases, opening them. Scott sighed and looked at Duke who had followed him upstairs. "Looks like I've got a lot to do, bud."

xXx

Scott couldn't believe that he was doing this. He was on a plane, running mostly on adrenaline and caffeine, trying his best not to freak out. He didn't do things like this, spur of the moment decisions—like getting on a plane and flying half way around the world to live in a stranger's house. What was he thinking? He couldn't do this! His brother still hadn't gotten back to him and what if that was because he was in trouble? Though, Scott reasoned, how much trouble could a secondary history teacher get into?

Immediately, improbable situations that Derek could have found himself in flooded Scott's brain and he had to take several deep breathes to try to erase all the negativity. Though, he supposed he should check his phone one last time before turning it off.

One New Message from Lydia Martin

Scott stopped breathing. He forced himself to look away from his phone and take deep, even breaths. Sighing, he closed his eyes, and then opened them to open Lydia's message.

I can't believe you're leaving! First vacation in four years is a turning point, Scott. How do I reach you if I need to?

He gathered his resolve before typing, Lydia. We both know I need to fall out of love with you. It would be great if you would let me try. He sent the message.

xXx

When Stiles said his house was a little bit bigger than Scott's, he didn't realize that Stiles had meant that his house was a literal mansion. There was a gate with a code, actual decor around the house—as if it was done by an interior designer. There was a pool, a state of the art kitchen, a home theater with any movie made under the sun, an exercise studio. Scott just couldn't believe that someone would give this up! Don't get him wrong, he loved his little cottage, he really did, but this house—this mansion. It was a dream come true.

He also couldn't believe that it was practically his for a whole two weeks.

Venturing upstairs, Scott found the bedroom. And the bed, the bed, was king-sized, looking freshly made. Ignoring the fact that he was a grown adult, he launched himself onto the bed, relaxing instantly. A nap was something he definitely needed and this seemed like just the bed to do it on.

He could unpack later.

—

Stiles had this...thing. It wasn't a thing-thing, it was just that, sometimes, while he was making huge life decisions—like taking off at least two weeks of working and then traveling all the way to London—that his brain would suddenly make his life into a movie trailer.

So when he relaxed in his chair on his flight—first class of course; more privacy—suddenly, he could here the trailer guy's voice. He groaned and closed his eyes, trying to not pay attention.

Stiles Stilinski is proud to present...his life.

He had it all: the job, the house, the guy. This holiday season, find out what Stiles doesn't have.

His mind even supplied the catchy trailer music.

That was why he needed a vacation. His job was invading his brain and creating trailers about his life. If he got away, took a break, that would come to an end. Right?

Stiles did his best to fall asleep on the plane, knowing he was in for a world of jet lag no matter what.

xXx

"Sir? Sir?" The driver spoke up a bit. "Sir?"

"Yeah!" Stiles sat up, flailing his arms. "Yeah, sorry, sorry, I'm," he paused, yawning, "I'm awake."

"We're here."

"Thanks," Stiles said. He rubbed his eyes and then looked out the window. Then he sighed. He rolled down the window, and next to his was...a graveyard. "This can't be it."

"Oh, no," the driver said. "It's just down that lane. But, the thing is, I'll never be able to turn this around at the other end. Think you can, uh, make it from here?"

Stiles' eyes widened comically. "Um," he said intelligently. "No."

The driver popped the trunk and then looked at Stiles expectantly. Stiles stared at the driver before dragging himself out of the backseat, pulling his stuff with him. He grabbed his suitcase from the trunk and closed it, the driver taking off almost immediately. "You have got to be kidding me," he muttered. Nonetheless, he began his trek, walking through the in sneakers that were most definitely not equipped to deal with the snow.

Along the way, he came across a married couple with a dog. "You wouldn't happen to know where Rosehill Cottage is?" he asked.

The wife winced and then said, "Go right at the bridge, and then just keep going. Way down there." She gestured with her hand.

"Thank you." He walked a bit and then glanced behind him. "Way down there," he mumbled. "Great, I might freeze out here before I actually make it to the house."

Eventually, he came across a cottage, but not sure if it was the right one. He cleared off the snow on the sign, revealing Rosehill Cottage.

"Here," he sighed. "Thank freaking God."

Entering the house, his first thought was how close quarters it was. It was well lived in, no doubt about that. There were books and magazines everywhere, blankets and pillows on the couch. He began unpacking his clothes, fitting them into Scott's closet. He pushed his suitcase under the bed, and stared around the room. Really close quarters.

"Now what?" He walked back downstairs, heading into the kitchen. He looked through Scott cabinets, making mental notes about what he needed to buy. "Oh my God." Stiles groaned and leaned his head back. "I'm going to have to drive wrong."

And chapter three! I predict that (hopefully) Saturday is when chapter four will be up. Also, in the movie, they use their actual names instead of screen names for the conversation they have via the home exchange site, but I thought that was weird because they end up introducing themselves. So I gave Scott and Stiles screen names!

Self promotion: my tumblr is adelaidebabe. Come talk to me if you want! Thanks for reading, loves!