Disclaimer: You get it. I neither own nor profit off of Teen Wolf.

Hello. I love you. All of you. :D

However, I don't like this chapter as much as I like all of you. :(

Spelling Edit: 12/17/2014

Last time:

"No, Scott, I thought I'd take my chances in the werewolf-infested forest on my own."

"Sounds like you."

"Shut up."

For a few minutes we walked in silence. The forest still had an air about it of tense anticipation but for the life of me I couldn't understand why. It was as if the birds were holding their breath and the squirrels were hiding in their nests as our footsteps crunched along the eternally present layer of pine needles scattered across the forest floor.

"I wanted to talk to you about the game today," Scott began uneasily, "but the whole potential murder sort of preempted it."

"You did great out there," I enthused; glad to be back on a safe topic, "You kept control of yourself and managed to stay just scary enough that the other team worked with you!"

Scott unwillingly released a strained chuckle, running his free hand through his hair, "Oh, wow, Stiles."

"What?"

"That's not exactly what I wanted to talk to you about," He edged, throwing me a pointed look. I knew precisely what he was getting at.

Aaand… I decided to ignore it; that awful thought from earlier was sneaking back up on me and I didn't want to deal with it, "So about how irritating Jackson is?"

"Stiles," Scott whined, dropping his arm from my shoulders and stopping in his tracks. Though I wanted badly to keep walking and hopefully leave the subject behind me, Scott would most likely just drag me back kicking and screaming so I stumbled to a halt and turned to face him.

"Okay, so it happened, and I won't tell Allison, and that's the end of it, right?" The words were hopeful, the tone anything but.

Scott shifted his weight from one foot to the other, "I don't- I don't think so. The truth is..." He trailed off and almost involuntarily I leaned in closer to hear him, to my chagrin. "I don't think it was a practice issue with Allison, you know? Because with you..." With me, what? My heart was pounding loudly against the all-too-restricting confines of my skin. That awful thought from before was gaining in strength, but as the blood raced through my veins, it was almost as if Scott drew courage from the sound since he took a deep breath and continued, "I kissed Allison like I did... you."

"...And?" I prompted, my heart once more sinking down to my toes.

"It didn't feel anything like it did with you," he spoke cryptically from half a foot away, drawing ever subtly closer as he had been our entire conversation. "You were..." His hand dropped gingerly onto my shoulder and slid over it almost caressingly as the last, damning word escaped him, "Different."

I cocked my head with a nervous laugh, "Different... how?"

Scott was too close, "Can I find out?" Scott was too close. I wanted to push him away so I could breathe something other than his breath and let real air to my brain before I made any decisions. I wanted some time to figure this out but, incredibly, I found myself nodding. There was no time to take it back and in a millisecond, less even, Scott was kissing me and I- kissed him back.

Oh, my god; it was better than the first time. Whatever issues Scott had, technique appeared not to rank even a passing nod among their numbers. One hand still gripped the side of my shoulder, his fingers tense, and the other pressed demandingly at the small of my back, pushing our stomachs and hips up against one another. In turn, I clutched the sides of his shirt in a subconscious attempt to pull an uncomplaining Scott closer than was ultimately possible.

It felt like molten metal had been poured into my blood and pooled in my lower abdomen even as Scott abandoned my lips to lick and bite his way down my neck. I managed to refrain from any embarrassing sounds, but, doubting my self-restraint, I reclaimed Scott's wandering mouth the moment he paused in his travels. My mind was still functioning on some level, however, no matter how vigorously my libido tried to stifle it, and thoughts of Allison seditiously invaded my psyche. With a groan born more of disappointment than anything, I pulled away from Scott and sat heavily in the pine needles. For a moment, Scott was panting and frazzled while he looked over his empty arms as if I'd magically reappear in them if he wished hard enough. When he spotted where I was sitting and my expression of dismay he appeared to stifle a groan of his own before plopping down beside me in frustration.

"Allison?" He asked gruffly, leaning his head against the trunk of the tree behind him.

"Allison," I affirmed, my own head firmly in my hands, where it would stay until I got over the shame of actually being involved in a high school affair. "I can't believe we just did that."

"...I'm not sure how to respond to that- ow!" Scott rubbed his shoulder gingerly where I'd hit him, "What was that for?"

"You're not allowed to be blasé about this; she's your girlfriend!" I exclaimed, not yet retreating back to my curled up position of defense, "This can't happen again!"

Something flickered through Scott's eyes, but it was gone as soon as it came and his expression shuttered, "So this was just a mistake?"

"It..." A part of me faltered at calling an event of this magnitude a mistake, and I hedged, "It shouldn't have ever happened while you were dating someone."

"...I see," Scott drawled dismally, in a tone of voice that stated how very much he clearly did not. He picked up my hand by the wrist and began to, for lack of a better term, play with it sulkily.

"Seriously, Scott?" I didn't pull my hand back though; it was possible the contact would help him think this through rationally. Callused fingers swept over my palm and up my thumb, his other hand holding mine in place as his examination of it degenerated into tracing swirling patterns with his fingers.

"I've always liked your hands," Scott commented off the cuff. I glanced over to see his expression but he was still looking down at my palm. After a few moments of silence filled with nonsensical designs, he elaborated, "Even before the whole," he gestured vaguely before returning his fingers to mine, "wolf thing, they always appealed to me."

"Scott," I began, trying to derail this line of events before it could go any where that would make me rethink my decision, "I can't- I won't do anything else like this with you while you're with Allison."

"...While I'm with Allison," Scott repeated musingly, engulfing my hand between both of his, "So if that were to change-"

Wait, was he seriously...? Allison was perfect! He's the one who was forever extolling her virtues! Oh my god, I felt like some man whore on a corner now! My skin crawled with sudden filth from the image and, especially, from hearing my own awful thought from earlier repeated aloud… "I am not a homewrecker!"

Scott blew out an irritated breath directly into my face, "We've only ever been on two dates, Stiles; it's not as if we're married." He scooted a little closer, moving around so he could be face to face with me and our knees touched as he continued seriously, "I met her, what, a week or two ago-"

"Three," I supplied for him weakly, trying futilely to stop staring directly into his eyes because I swear, there was something about them that was wearing down my willpower in a bad way.

"Okay, three weeks," Scott conceded with a slight glare, his tone settling back into persuasion as he continued, "But we've known each other almost our whole lives, and we've got something here. I know we do."

"Just- just don't break up with her because of me!" I blurted, hoping to forestall any more of Scott's persuasion because he was doing much too well, so far as I was concerned. I could actually feel the muscles tensing in my back as if to make me lean closer, but I clamped down on the impulse at the last second. Thank God, though, Scott looked more exasperated than angry, and thus more likely to actually listen, as I continued more firmly, "Go on that date with her and see if you can find a reason, any reason, other than the fact that you want to get in my pants, that you should break up with her."

"I don't just want to get in your pants, Stiles. I actually-"

"Stop!" I clapped a hand over his mouth, panic returning, "Stop doing that!"

Scott shot me a venomous look and removed my hand, "Doing what?"

Groaning, I covered my face with my hands, "Being convincing."

Scott was unsure why exactly he'd agreed to Stiles's terms. Perhaps it had been something to do with how adorably his friend had panicked, or maybe it was lingering affection for Allison.

...Or if he wanted to be honest with himself, it was that he was shit scared of hurting Allison without a damn good reason. The dingy bowling alley was well lit, despite the curfew supposedly limiting its customers, and Scott could easily see the gorgeous smile Allison was sending his way. Sadly enough, it made her resemble Stiles a bit, since they both had that bit of strain behind each smile, and that pathetic echo was enough to make Scott's heart skip a beat as he smiled in return.

Too bad she wouldn't be smiling for very much longer.

After all, they were seriously going to lose the match. Scott was absolutely certain he had no real skill at this game, but he'd just had to go and tell Jackson, and through him Lydia and Allison, that he was... What were the exact words? Oh yeah, "a great bowler."

Out of Stiles' presence, he felt he'd used up all his courage in the forest. Distractedly, he tossed the bowling ball, missing badly and snapping back to reality with burning cheeks as Jackson burst out laughing.

"Sorry," Jackson tried to placate the exasperated girls through his laughter, "I'm just flashing back to 'I'm a great bowler!'"

Scott lined up his next shot, breathing deeply through his nose to keep himself under control as Jackson's all too clear laughter echoed unnaturally in his ears. It was probably a good thing Stiles wasn't there or Jackson wouldn't be the only one laughing. The thought made his lips twitch upwards in amused chagrin.

"Scott?"

He almost jumped- where had Allison come from? It must have been the distraction that let her sneak up behind him. "Yeah?"

"Try not to think so much. Distract yourself," Allison guided gently, a hint of worry on her face, and Scott was immediately thrown back to Stiles making similar demands before lacrosse. Allison, however, grew coy where Stiles would have become serious, "Think of m-" She hesitated, appearing to lose confidence at Scott's semi-distraction, but continued in almost a purr, "Think of a certain someone..." Scott's mind again flashed to Stiles and he wondered how she'd found out Stiles could make him calm down, "...naked."

Oh, God.

Allison threw him a roguish grin and pranced back to sit down. Although it was obvious she'd been talking about herself now, Scott couldn't get that image of Stiles out of his head. A tiny smirk grew on his face as he lined up the bowling ball thinking about all the wonderful things he could do with a naked Stiles. In fact, the shower stall around the corner from Stiles' room came to mind as a nice backdrop. A crash as the ball struck home, knocking down all ten remaining pins wiped the smirk off his visage with momentary shock.

"Yes!" Scott triumphantly turned, a wide grin on his face as Allison jokingly applauded him with a bit of her own shock still gracing her face. The smile became fixed as he reluctantly wandered back to Allison's side; did he really have to keep that image in his mind without- ahem- betraying himself in order to bowl with a semblance of skill?

Allison smiled with that Stiles-type strain and Scott gave her a half-hearted grin in return, thinking all along;

I am so screwed.

"Dad, where did you put the shaving cream?" I called down the stairs from the bathroom, looking at my chin speculatively. If I wasn't mistaken, there was a five o'clock shadow gracing my jaw line and if so, I meant to celebrate loudly and spectacularly in an obvious and altogether unsubtle way.

Clomping followed my words as my dad made his way up the stairs. "You can't have any facial hair yet; we've all been late bloomers in this family," He denied skeptically, popping his head in the door as he continued, "And I don't want to know if you're shaving your legs."

Looking heavenward as if thinking about it I replied, "Ummm, well, no. But!" I turned with a flourish towards my chin, "Ta da!"

Dad leaned in.

Then he leaned in a little more.

Then he took out a pocket magnifier. "One second," he promised me.

"Da-ad, I have facial hair!"

"I think maybe, you have lint."

"My Viking beard is coming in."

"More like the fluorescent lights in here are causing a shadow," Dad dismissed my claims, putting away the magnifier with a shrug and wandering back downstairs. "I'm leaving for work in an hour!" He reminded me as his clomping on the staircase informed me he was serious.

"You suck!" I shouted, leaning out of the bathroom to better impart this valued wisdom.

"I love you too!" The kitchen filled with the sounds of my dad attempting to cook and, sighing, I left my bathroom to head off the disaster.

The next day brought news of another animal attack, at the Rent-a-Shack. Yippee. I was pretty much fed up with all the drama Scott's wolfiness had brought into my life, and I was prepared to react caustically and indifferently, except then I remembered Scott may actually have been involved if the Alpha had gotten through to him. Groaning internally, I discarded my earlier, unsympathetic thoughts right there in the middle of the math lesson and failed to complete any homework in class as a result.

Needless to say, I'd braced myself for an outburst at lunch, so I was surprised when he sat down anxiously with Allison, one on either side of me, and otherwise acted as if nothing was wrong. Several strained minutes of conversation later, Allison excused herself to use the bathroom and Scott gripped my arm. "Don't go doing anything crazy," he warned, "It wasn't me and Lydia may not have even been involved."

I tilted my head quizzically. "What was Lydia not involved in-" As the full brunt of the implication struck me, I realized I hadn't even noticed Lydia's absence. I had been too preoccupied with how to handle Scott's reaction. Come to think of it, I wasn't even sure I'd seen her, excluding when she had hunted me down, for a week or so. Seeing as we had a class or two together, I was more than troubled. Scott seemed to be taking over not only my time but my thoughts as well. At least Allison and Scott still believed in my inherent goodness, if their worry over my reaction was an indication. "Was she hurt?"

"Not according to the papers," Scott hedged, "But she said she saw something, and it seems like it might've..." He glanced at my growing concern and slipped a hand surreptitiously onto my knee, giving it a 'comforting' squeeze, "She's probably fine. Anyone would take a day off after being that close to a murder while it was happening."

That made sense. Uneasily, some part of me took note of how quickly Scott had assuaged my concerns, but the larger part had moved on to bigger and better things. I covertly removed Scott's hand from my knee, reminding him, "So your date with Allison went well, didn't it?"

"I did well at bowling, if that's what you mean," Scott grumbled, "But I can't break up with her today." Shocked at his bluntness I whipped around to be sure Allison wasn't returning and Scott snorted, "Relax, I'm listening for her footsteps."

Though it secretly impressed me that he could identify individual footsteps, I crossed my arms over my chest, "It was a valid concern." Fixing him with a skeptical eye, I continued, "So, you actually found something imperfect enough about her that you could leave her, but you haven't done it because you still like her."

"Yeah, totally," Scott answered sarcastically, rolling his eyes. "Actually, there are reasons to stop dating her that don't involve her not being you, you know. But it's her birthday."

Hesitantly, I uncrossed my arms. "Oh."

"Yeah, oh." His hand found mine under the table and I fought not to jump. Scott grinned at me, his tone turning teasing and quiet, "And you know I don't like her nearly as much as I want to- what was it?- oh yeah, 'get in your pants.'"

Slapping his hand away I turned back to my delicious lunch and decided I needed to introduce Allison to Brent on the lacrosse team. He was a nice guy and- honestly? Out of the two of us, she might end up better off.

Moments later, Scott's hand suddenly slid off my leg- I hadn't noticed he'd put it back- as his other hand waved nervously at Allison's return.

Scratch that, Allison would end up better off, but I found that, astonishingly, I didn't really mind.

At the end of the day, I parted ways with the two to go check up on Lydia. Even if I may or may not have had plans to be involved in an honest to god relationship the next day, Lydia had been my crush since the third grade and... I had thought it'd be harder to let go, but Lydia being in a relationship with Jackson, and totally out of my league anyway had already killed much of the yearning before I even knew about the possibility of a "Scott and I." I had never wanted to admit it, since, really, who wants to go after some normal chick and be shot down without the cushioning back up of "She'd never look twice at someone like me anyway?" My ten year plan to get Lydia to fall in love with me never made it off the ground, anyway.

No matter how far "past it" I was, though... I still cared. I needed to see with my own two eyes that she was alright, and if it meant I'd also be able to make sure that she didn't see any werewolves, all the better.

Of course, I wasn't quite expecting what I found there.

"Honey, there's a Stiles here to see you," Lydia's mother called tentatively from the doorway.

She flipped her hair woozily out of her face, "What the hell... Is a Stiles?"

Oh, joy.

Escaping from that house became a high priority- at least until Lydia called me back, kissed me, called me Jackson and passed out. Then it became my number one priority. Creepily, I wondered if Scott would be able to smell it on my breath or something and go all crazy wolf on me. I winced and decided that first I would brush my teeth, gargle with mouthwash, confess what happened over the phone, and immediately follow it up with the fact that Lydia got a picture of a werewolf on her phone.

Oh, I didn't mention that earlier? I must've been a little sidetracked by LYDIA KISSING ME. Badly. It had been chaste, but still somehow sloppy and hadn't exactly filled my stomach with butterflies- more like with dread. If I tell Scott now, over the phone, he'll have all night to get over it. However, when I walked in the door, Scott and my dad were sitting on the couch in the front room, eating tacos and talking quietly.

I am not ashamed to admit I froze in the doorway until Scott had had enough of my unresponsive behaviour and actually got up to drag me over to the couch, putting me in the middle of the two men.

"I'll get you a taco," Dad grumbled generously, rising as Scott pulled me down.

I nodded, "Thanks, Dad." And waited for him to leave the room before chuckling nervously and whispering to Scott, "I've got something I've got to tell you later, but you're not going to like it."

Scott's eyebrows rose questioningly and he replied in the same whispering singsong, "Then tell me now." He managed to look foreboding even curled up on the couch next to me, with a taco held in both hands like a squirrel.

I squeaked, "What if my-" before clearing my throat and returning it to a more manly register, "What if my dad overhears?" It was a desperate grasp for some kind of way to prolong my uninjured moments and I am not ashamed of it one bit. Scott rolled his eyes, a habit I feel he stole from me at one point or another, and dragged me out of the room, passing my confused father returning with another taco with a,

"I've got to talk to Stiles about something real quick."

My father, the Sheriff, did not react to my pleading eyes or panicked face and nodded with slight amusement, "I'll just go pop in a movie, then." Scott nodded back and it felt like less than a second later, I was sitting on the edge of my bed with Scott towering above me, arms crossed and an expression that was gathering storm clouds.

"What did you need to tell me, Stiles?" I peeked around him to see the door was shut and that avenue of escape was blocked. Scott huffed, "Honestly, it can't be that bad."

Well. I suppose it wasn't. Besides, would Scott really be upset that some drugged girl happened to kiss me when I didn't even kiss her back? She didn't even realize who I was, for Christ's sake! And Scott was usually reasonable. About some things. I think.

I frowned; he hasn't been reasonable lately. Shaking the thought away, I shut my eyes and explained in a semi-even tone, "Lydia kissed me and I didn't kiss her back and she was high and she thought I was Jackson for some reason and she had a picture of a werewolf but I stole her phone." I produced the phone without opening my eyes and held it up. Slightly shaking hands took the phone and set it down somewhere, so I risked letting one eye waver part of the way open-

-Just in time for Scott to push me down on the bed with a growl. Apparently those hands weren't shaking with fear of being discovered.

"She kissed you?" Scott repeated, as if looking for clarification, with one knee on the bed between mine and the other foot helping him keep his balance on the floor.

"That's really not the point of the whole thing!" I exclaimed, wishing I could move my arms to more emphatically make my point, "I got the picture and I didn't kiss her back!"

"But she kissed you?"

"Yes, but- I- It's not my fault! Why are you mad at me?" I whisper-shouted back, just barely remembering my dad was downstairs and that it was a necessity to keep my voice down. I heard a laugh track on the T.V. and my dad's belly laughter floated up the stairs. "You've kissed Allison, you jerk! Calm down!"

"I will," Scott assured me through his teeth, "Once I've erased that kiss" I opened my mouth to question him and Scott took full advantage, roughly moving his lips against mine, pushing into my mouth with his tongue and domineering the connection with a primal possessiveness. Honestly, was my calming effect so decayed as to be completely useless in these situations? I felt more like I was being devoured than kissed in that moment, and although I liked the other two kisses I'd had with him a bit more, this possessive version had a… ahem, charm all its own.

Scott moved his hands down my body, barely allowing me time to breathe as he did so, before suddenly grabbing my hips and back, flipping us so I was straddling his lap as he sat on the edge of the bed. For a moment I came back to myself and reviewed my previous decision to wait until Scott had broken up with Allison. My mind noted blankly that he was still with Allison, but the thought did not have as much effect as intended.

After all, they would be breaking up tomorrow, when it wasn't Allison's birthday, wouldn't they? And it's not as if they'd made any promises to each other just yet. The sickness of that thought (on her birthday) did not occur to me.

Scott hadn't so much as let up while I was thinking and I felt my lips becoming raw, so when he migrated down my neck, I didn't even try to protest. Really, though, what if he didn't break up with Allison tomorrow? Hands gripped my knees, pulling them forwards to move my body even closer to Scott's and I shoved the thoughts aside, showing my appreciation of the new location by lavishing attention on Scott's throat even as my friend ran his hands up the sides of my thighs with a half-stifled moan. Scott reclaimed my lips not a moment later, his arms wrapping around me in a futile attempt to increase the contact between us, and then he pulled back.

Just like that.

His arms were still wrapped around me, I was still sitting on his lap, but suddenly Scott had stopped all further action. He looked at me hungrily, his eyes still darkened and occasionally flashing yellow with lust, and kissed me hard, but chastely, one more time before pulling me into his chest. It had the combined effect of halting any more kissing and allowing Scott to avoid my eye as long as I was kept in that awkward bend. "I'm sorry," he murmured, "I shouldn't have pressured you into that; I haven't even gotten a chance to break up with Allison yet." He'd always been this much of a drama queen, right? I just mustn't have noticed.

Allowing my poor, hormone-battered brain a moment to catch up with his thought process, I sighed. Like he "pressured" me into anything. But- he did have a point. The same point my mind had been trying to make to me the entire time, actually. "Whatever, you shouldn't have to be the one enforcing my decision." I drew back so I could see his face and grinned sardonically, "I guess we can just think of that as a preview."

Scott leaned forward, hesitated, and pecked me gently on the lips, totally missing the sarcasm, "I guess we've got a lot to look forward to." I got off his lap and plopped down on the bed next to him, so, obviously in retaliation for having made him lose control, Scott had to ruin the relative sweetness of his previous sentence by informing me, "Well, I'm going to go downstairs and watch the movie with your dad, because I don't know how well my self control will hold up against you sitting on a bed looking so fuckable."

Wolf boy was lucky he'd left the room before I could formulate an appropriate response. I had honestly never expected to hear anything like that exit Scott's mouth. Also, "Who said you'd be on top?" is not something I think my dad would want to hear shouted from his teenage son's bedroom. Ever.

In time, I joined them on my living room couch and ate my cold taco, mentally praising Scott's foresight in turning off the lights when he came down so the obvious puffiness of our lips and barely-there marks down the side of my neck and his throat weren't as clear. I was nestled between Scott and the arm of the couch, which I am still unsure how we got away with, and Dad was sitting on Scott's other side, leaning forward and alternately critiquing and praising the technique of the detectives in the murder mystery-thriller type movie he'd selected. I didn't actually get as distracted as I thought I would with worries and Scott's presence, the three of us joking around like we usually would when my dad got a night off.

Although Scott did occasionally make as if to snake an arm around my waist or rest a hand on my leg, he would catch himself just in time and try to make the gesture into something a little more innocuous.

Dad ousted him unceremoniously though congenially from the house once the movie ended and commanded that my homework be done before I could see him or anyone else ever again. Tomorrow would, you see, be a Saturday and, if my dad wasn't called in to see new evidence or speak with new witnesses about the recent animal attack, he would be at home and fully aware of all my evil, secretive teenage doings.

Or something like that.

I was fairly certain that this crime would not be quite as easy to discard as my father hoped and bet on him being called out, so when I fell asleep that night my homework was untouched, although I did delete the photo from Lydia's phone without a second thought.

There was no way keeping it intact could help anyone but the hunters. If they exposed werewolves to the world I was sure their numbers would suddenly swell. Come to think of it, wasn't it technically the best thing for Scott that he was no longer dating the daughter of a hunter?

Correction: That soon he would no longer be dating the daughter of a hunter.

He would be breaking up with Allison.

And she wouldn't know why.