"Stiles. Stiles! Look, can I just say again: I didn't sleep with him."

Stiles laughed humorlessly, and threw a shoe at Danny's head, who then ducked. "Right, because everyone in your office needs to work until three in the morning?! Oh, wait, no," Stiles laughed again, chucking the other shoe, "just you and your fucking receptionist need to work until three."

Stiles was currently working on cleaning out every piece of clothing that was Danny's out of his closet. It was slow going, with Danny standing right behind him the whole time. Which was why he had taken to throwing some of the material objects at his boyfriend—ex boyfriend—which was also just a nice, therapeutic way for him to release his anger.

"We were all working late," Danny continued. "Ethan just wanted to hang out with us, you know, play the work game."

"Okay. Fine," Stiles said. He crossed his arms as he turned his back to the closet, another shoe in hand. "Then swear it. Swear on my life that you didn't sleep with him."

"Stiles—"

"Swear it, Danny."

The two of them stared at each other, neither one breaking eye contact or the silence. Stiles knew Danny wouldn't lie. He'd tiptoe around the truth, avoid actually saying any lies or incriminating himself. The fact that Danny was taking so long to respond was answer enough for Stiles. But, dammit, he needed it confirmed.

Danny sighed. "Stiles, I'm not going to—"

"Ugh!" Stiles exclaimed, throwing the shoe. "God, how many times did it happen, Danny? See, this is why I said we shouldn't get married, even after Prop 8 was overturned. This is why I told you to keep your house. Because I fucking knew it!" He turned back around and began digging through the closet with renewed vigor.

Danny stepped closer to Stiles, and said, "Okay, first of all, calm down, please. Because, and I'll say it again: I. Did. Not. Sleep. With Ethan. And secondly, we've had problems for over a year, Stiles, no matter how much you ignore them, problems don't just go away!"

"Problems?! What problems?" Stiles turned back around. "Oh, you mean when you judge me for working late, while you're allowed to work until three in the morning, no questions asked?!"

"Stiles, you brought your work home with you! You never stop working. You have a cutting room built into your house." Stiles scoffed. "You never stop working."

"I don't have to listen to this," Stiles muttered, sidestepping Danny, out of the room and into the hallway.

He began walking down the stairs while Danny continued to talk, walking behind him. "And don't get me started on the sex, Stiles, because I can't remember the last time we had it!"

"Oh please," Stiles scoffed. He reached the bottom of the stairs turned around to face Danny. "No one has time for sex."

"That's not entirely true."

"Oh my God! You most definitely slept with Ethan! Oh my God!" Stiles throw his hands up and stalked over to the front door. He threw it open, gesturing with his hand for Danny to get out.

"Stiles—"

"No, you seriously have to get out. You need to leave. Now." He groaned and pulled at his hair. "You know what I think, Danny, what I honestly, actually think: I think you never loved me."

"Oh, come on."

"No, I think you loved the idea of me, the idea of you and me together. The guy who composes music and the guy who edits trailers. A total match, right? A match made right in fucking Hollywood. We should have worked, is what you're thinking, and so you kept trying. And when you just couldn't take it anymore, you had sex with you fucking receptionist!" Stiles pulled at his hair again. "Then you thought, oh yeah. This'll all work out. Stiles and I'll get married, but I'll keep the affair with my receptionist so I don't get lonely because it's all Stiles' fault that this relationship isn't working. Well, you know what Danny? Fuck you!" Stiles grabbed Danny's arm and used as much force as he could to push him out of his house. He slammed the door on Danny's surprised face.

"Look, I did the best I could, Stiles, is anyone good enough for that job?" Danny yelled through the door. "No one else can quite follow what you're saying when you just...spew words, but I can!"

Stiles groaned again, and kicked his door. He stormed up the stairs, ignoring every shouted thing Danny was trying to yell through the door. "You know you do this, right? I mean, you screw up every relationship you've ever been in. It's what you do. You didn't really wanna be a couple! You resist it in your own way!"

Stiles stormed to the balcony attached to his bedroom and looked down at Danny who was still yelling. "And it's hard to detect how you even do it because nobody's quite as smart as you! So you're hard to catch at it. But it always surfaces and this is what happens."

"Oh yeah?" Stiles called down. "What happens?"

He watched Danny back up until he could see Stiles from the ground. "Things end," he said simply. "The way you knew they would." Stiles rolled his eyes and groaned. "Look, Stiles," Danny continued, at much quieter tone. "You know how I feel about you. You drive me absolutely crazy, there's no one like you." Stiles felt his resolve melting. Maybe Danny hadn't been lying. Maybe he really hadn't cheated on Stiles, maybe Ethan was just an overzealous receptionist, and nothing happened. Couples fight, Stiles determined, this was just another one of their fights. He was being stupid. Danny was being stupid. They were both being stupid, headstrong idiots.

Stiles opened his mouth, ready to apologize, when Danny said, "You just don't want to be what I need."

"What." All the thoughts Stiles built up in his head crashed down around him. Danny was still blaming him. Stiles was so wrong, so far from being right; this wasn't just another one of their fights, this was the fight, the concluding fight. This fight wouldn't end with them apologizing to each other and then quick, make up sex. This fight would end in a break up.

Surprisingly, that thought wasn't unwelcome. He was ready for this, Stiles was ready to move on with his life, without Danny.

He needed this.

"You know," Stiles began. "You know I would never cheat on you under any conditions."

"And neither would I!"

Stiles began pacing on his balcony. "Danny, I just. I can't. It's over. This is it, the end, no more, finito." He began to pull at his hair again and then consciously made himself stop. "Look at this! You're going to make me lose my hair before I'm even thirty!"

"Stiles, look at you. Look at me. I'm stuck down here, practically distraught over this, and you're worried about your hair! You're breaking up with me and you're not even the least bit upset, not a tear in sight." Danny paused. "That has got to mean something, Stiles."

Stiles paused. He thought about biting back his words, but instead said, "It really bothers you so much that I can't cry, doesn't it?" Stiles ran a hand through his hair. "Seriously, Danny, we're done. I'll send you your stuff."

"Fine."

"Wait." Stiles paused. If this really was it, then he needed to know. He had to ask one last time. And since they were over, Danny had no reason to lie. "Now's the time to be honest. Did you sleep with Ethan?" Danny groaned. "No, I'm serious, Danny! If this is it, this is the end, then I deserve to know. So just tell me, get it over with, put me out of my misery, please."

"Okay!" Danny sighed. "Yes, fine I slept with Ethan, I've been sleeping with Ethan, the kid's in love with me. Are you happy now? I told you the truth."

"Oh. My God," Stiles muttered, storming back into his room. "That lying, cheating, son of a. Ugh!" He stormed down the stairs, continuously muttering to himself. He threw open the front door, stormed up to Danny, and jabbed a finger in his chest. "Did you say, am I happy now?!"

"I didn't—"

"No, no, no. God, you know what, Danny? In the world of love, not that I'm an expert, cheating does not seem like an acceptable thing. Ever!"

"No matter what you think, Stiles, and I know you have a very high opinion of yourself—this isn't all me."

"Really."

"So when you're not in such a rage, I think you'll see that too," Danny finished. And then the bastard even had the gall to smile that was a bit too close to smug for Stiles' liking. So he did the only thing he could think of. He reared back his right hand, and delivered a strong right hook to Danny's jaw. Fuck, he thought, shaking out his hand. Well, having the Sheriff of a small town for a father resulted in at least one good thing: Stiles knew how to hit properly.

He stormed back into his house, ignoring Danny sprawled on his back, a hand holding his jaw. Stiles slammed his front door shut again and muttered, "Ow," gently massaging his knuckles. "I punched him. I can't believe I punched him. I actually freaking punched him."

"Um, Stiles?" a hesitant voice called.

Stiles spun around, still massaging his knuckles. "Oh, Heather, hey."

The girl smiled weakly. "Is it—is it a bad time?"

"What? No. No, no, no, never a bad time. It's always a good time, what's up?"

"Oh, it's just. Matt needs you. You have to approve the final trailer."

"Right, yeah, right," Stiles mumbled, following Heather through his house into his cutting room. Matt waved at him from the chair he was sitting in, ready to start the trailer whenever Stiles was ready. He sat down, and then gave the okay, settling in, hoping—praying—that he would be able to easily approve this trailer and then he wouldn't have to think about this movie ever again.

Not that it was a bad movie, just that Stiles was beginning to think he needed a break. He didn't take breaks. But after this...ordeal with Danny, with Stiles completely losing his cool, he figured he could break his rules just this once, and take a break. If anyone needed it, it was him.

After the trailer finished, both Matt and Heather turned to Stiles with expectant grins on their faces. Stiles smiled back at them. "Yes, that was perfect. Exactly what I was looking for. Absolutely perfect." He nods as Heather lightly punches Matt's shoulder. The two begin to talk amongst themselves before Stiles interrupts with, "You know, I think we should all take a few weeks off."

Both Matt and Heather stop mid-conversation and stare at Stiles. "What?" he asks, beginning to feel self-conscious.

"You always say that this is our busiest time," Heather says meekly.

"And you never take work off," Matt adds.

"Yeah, well, I need a break. And if I'm taking a break, it only makes sense that you two take a break as well." Stiles pauses. "I just. I need time away. I need peace and quiet—or...whatever it is that people go away for. I want to read a book, not a magazine, an actual book. I keep reading these book reviews and buying these books, but I never read them. I want to get away from the fact that Danny was fucking his receptionist because I wasn't good enough!" Stiles finishes.

Heather has her mouth open, not entirely sure what to say, or how to proceed.

Stiles sighs. "Oh my God, see? This is what I mean. I need a break."

xXx

After Stiles dismissed Matt and Heather, assuring both of them that, yes, he meant it, it was time for a break, and that he was not going crazy, he was absolutely fine.

Okay, so the latter was slightly pushing it, because he wasn't absolutely fine, but he wasn't going crazy. Not yet, at least, hence why he had to get away. Get away from L.A. and its toxic air.

He just couldn't believe Danny cheated on him—and had been cheating on him. Yes, Stiles knew that Danny hadn't been wrong, things had been weird between them for a while. But he hadn't expected him to cheat on him! It was six years, down the drain. Six years of Stiles' life gone. Six years he wasted on Danny, wondering if maybe he had been wrong and they should get married as soon was Prop 8 was repealed. But he still didn't, and finally he had the solid proof as to why.

Stiles sat at his computer and sighed, running his hands through his hair again. "I'm overdue for a vacation," he muttered. He thought about going back home to Beacon Hills, seeing his dad and the other locals. But he dismissed that idea as soon as it popped in his head; going home would make his dad worry about him. And his dad had to worry about himself, not Stiles. So, Beacon Hills, vetoed. He opened up Chrome, going straight to Google and typed, "Vacation spots."

Viola! Chapter two, just about the same length as chapter one. Okay, I believe next chapter will actually be both of them, starting on Scott and then going to Stiles. Hopefully I'll finish the next chapter as quickly as I finished the first two?

Aaand, once again, my tumblr is adelaidebabe-because I'm all about self promotion. Thanks for reading!