This'll probably be the last one for a while, so I wanted to get it out quickly. I reeeally gotta focus on 'Fantasy'... sorry guys! :(

I highly recommend listening to this song. It's hilarious and so perfect for Sterek. I just... I double dog dare you to listen to it and not laugh.

Disclaimer: These characters aren't mine. Neither is the song. Cry.

Scotty Doesn't Know - Lustra

In hindsight, Stiles probably shouldn't have gone over to Derek's house the night of Lydia's party. And okay, he shouldn't have gotten on his hands and knees and begged, either. And maybe answering the phone while Derek was fucking him blind from behind wasn't really the best plan. So what?

Retrospect never had been good to Stiles.

"D-Derek, nngh, stop for a sec, ah," Stiles dropped onto his forearms, arched his back, and groaned when Derek slipped in deeper. He pressed his forehead to the bed as he reached for his ringing phone.

Derek only pounded faster, clutched the kid's sharp hips tighter. He leaned over Stiles' back, licking up the salty skin stretched over his spine, to hum into his ear, "Answer it."

The force of the lycan's thrusts rocked Stiles violently, and he bit back a moan as he answered, "H-hey, Scott."

"Hey man, where are you? We have to go."

Stiles shoved his fist into his mouth when Derek purposefully brushed against his prostate, but not quickly enough to stifle the high-pitched squeak that slipped out.

"Stiles? Are you okay?"

"Mmm, yeah, great, oh Jesus, yeah, I'm f-fine. I just, 'm not feeling…God, so great," Stiles' rambling was cut short from the sharp smack of Derek's palm on his ass.

"Oh, well, um. Are you coming tonight?"

And Stiles wouldn't be able to hold back his screams if Derek kept jerking his cock like that. He nodded frantically, realizing Scott couldn't see him when he stuttered, "Yeah, yeah, I'm coming, I mean…I, yeah, I'll b-be there," and Derek flicked his thumb over the head of Stiles' cock at the same time he slammed into his prostate, and Stiles barely had time to end the call before he was coming harder than ever, Derek following right after him.

"Bastard," Stiles mumbled while Derek chuckled and pulled out, "you did that on purpose."

The wolf shrugged as he lay back against the pillows, "Yeah, I did," he paused, breathing through his nose before continuing quietly, "Are you ever gunna tell him?"

Stiles lay down as well, leaning against his mate's shoulder. He sighed deeply. "Yeah. I probably should."

Stiles was shit-faced. Everyone at Lydia's party was his new best friend and why hadn't he ever tasted anything as yummy as Apple Schnapps before?

Whoopsies…that bottle of Belvedere in his hand wasn't completely empty because of him, was it? He stared at the bottle for a second before giggling. This was some classy shit, right here.

He was laughing maybe a bit too loudly with someone that looked a whole lot like Danny—talked a lot like Danny, too—while sitting on a really squashy couch. He figured he'd stay here for a while, only 'cause if he got up on the table again, he'd probably fall. Again.

"Stiles."

He looked down as he felt a weight on his knee to see a hand resting there. His eyes raked up the leather-jacketed arm, up across the broad shoulder, and straight into the pale gaze watching him. His eyes widened with glee, a drunken grin splitting his face.

"DER-BEAR!"

Derek's eyes blazed for a second, before they rolled over to meet Danny's curious stare. "You didn't hear that, Danny."

"Hear what, Miguel?" Stupid, smirking Danny. Derek was thankful when he got up and left.

Stiles reached over, aiming a flick at Derek's nose that really ended up on his cheek, and the wolf narrowed his eyes exasperatedly.

"Whuh're you doin' here, Der-bear?" The younger boy asked, eyes half-lidded and head bobbing from side to side.

"Okay, seriously," Derek grabbed the kid's wrist and raised his eyebrows, "enough with the 'Der-bear'. Lydia called me."

Stiles sat up straight, leaning just a little too close to Derek's face to study his eyes, "A likely story! Bu' why would she call you? She jus' prol'ly thinks yer hot." He fell back against the couch with a satisfied smirk, not seeing Derek roll his eyes again.

"Because, she said you're drunk and ruining her party. Scott's already here so he couldn't come get you."

Stiles pouted indignantly, "Lissen, mister, 'm not drunk. 'M barely even buzzed."

Derek bit back a chuckle. "Right. I'm gunna go find Scott and tell him you're leaving."

The intoxicated boy jumped up, swayed dizzily, and leaned into the arm Derek threw out in support. "Scott! 'M comin' with you. Got summin' to tell him."

Locating Scott was harder than Derek expected. He half-carried, half-dragged the staggering and giggling Stiles through the crowded rooms, finally finding the pup sitting at a table with a couple of other kids.

"SCOTTY!" Stiles was out of Derek's arms and lying across the table before the he had a chance to stop him. Scott eyed the older wolf curiously before turning his attention to his best friend.

"Hi Stiles."

"Hi Scotty! 'Re you drunk?"

The darker boy laughed, "Clearly not as drunk as you. Feeling better?"

Stiles laughed as well, though fairly more hysterically, "Feelin' great! Lissen, Scotty, 'member when I was talkin' to you earlier, on…on the phone? I wasn' really sick."

"Stiles—" Derek began, falling silent when the drunken boy shushed him ("Shuddup, lemme tell him!").

"No, f'real, Scott. I wasn' sick. Derek—righ' over there—had his cock so far up my ass, so I couldn' really talk."

The table had suddenly become much too quiet, and Derek rubbed his palm over his eyes with a sigh. Scott gaped, staring from Stiles to Derek and back. Stiles, however, didn't seem to appreciate the silence.

"Ser-russ-ly. Have you guys tried tha' before? It's awesome!" He looked around the table, grinning, "And he," he pointed at Derek, "has got a great co—"

"Okay, Stilinski," Derek cut him off, pulling the kid off the table and slinging him over his shoulder in a fireman's lift, "you're done. Time to go."

Stiles grinned lopsidedly at his best friend and the rest of the kids, slipping his hands down into Derek's back pockets as the wolf carried him out. "F'real, guys," he called out, "'M hittin' this! KAY, GUHBYE!"

"Jesus Christ, Stiles," Derek breathed as they hit the outside air. He carried the kid to the Camaro parked out front, dropping him in the passenger seat and buckling the belt for him. "You're gunna fucking hate yourself on Monday."

"Oh, god," Stiles moaned, pulling his blankets up and over his head and snuggling back into his pillow.

Fuck, his head hurt so fucking back.

"Please tell me you remember last night." Derek was sitting on the bed in an instant, aspirin and water in hand. Stiles flipped the covers back and took the offerings gratefully, swallowing the pills down in desperation.

He raked through the foggy memories from the night before, groaning when a particularly clear one filled his mind's eye. He dropped his head back to the pillows. "Great. That's not embarrassing as shit."

Derek shrugged, holding back his laughter for Stiles' sake. "Eh. You wanted to tell him, anyway. Better to do it when everyone has a slim chance of remembering it, there, Fiona."

Stiles scrunched up his face, brow furrowing in confusion. "Who the fuck is Fiona?"

Well. Scotty knows, now. ("It's a three-way call, and he knows nothing.") HAHAHWOO.

You all rule. Drop a review? ;)