left outside alone - anastacia
It was a cold night, as was to be expected nearing Christmas. They had been out, into the town, for a party. None of them really knew what they were celebrating; perhaps the miracle of still being aliveagainst all odds. All Stiles knew was that he had been comprehensively ditched. Allison and Scott had gone off, having reconciled themselves to the fact that they couldn't live without each other. Boyd had wandered off with Erica. Lydia had gone with Isaac (which had surprised everybody. 'But hey,' thought Stiles, 'that's life.'). And so Stiles was left on his own.
Well, that wasn't strictly true. He wasn't alone. He had Jackson (the jackass jock, as Stiles called him in his head) with him. It was an awkward situation to say the least. Especially since Stiles had started noticing (that is to say, his dick had started noticing) just how freaking hot Jackson was. And now Jackson was a werewolf, he could probably smell that Stiles was just slightly aroused by the situation. Which made Stiles' life just peachy, thank you very much.
And when Jackson looked at him, he knew that he knew, and, fuck, this was bad. This was seriously bad. Stiles idly wondered, in the little corner of his brain that wasn't currently telling him to run and (oh fuck, oh fuck, this is bad) bury himself under a rock for the conceivable future, whether the others had done this, left them alone together, on purpose.
And when Jackson kissed him, his brain short circuited and he didn't care.