Squiggle: No problem! I'm just grateful when wonderful readers such as yourself, who read my longer stories review every few chapters, and so I'm more than happy to give a shout out in the AN, and answer questions.
As for them laying together: Remember in season 1 episode 8 Lunatic, the episode after they all get trapped in the school, and Stiles takes Scott and some JD out to get over Allison, although it only serves to get Stiles shitfaced? Scott sits on the rock and Stiles lays on the ground perpendicular to him, his head right by his thigh? Yeah, same except the point is to get Stiles drunk. It felt like they were plenty comfortable doing that, and so I wanted to make it a Them* thing. Scott and Stiles were pack before it was cool, and I love that about them. Maybe they'll have friend cuddles later.

(This concludes the Jan/6/2024 rewrite uploads, look forward to more hopefully soon.)

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By the time Scott had limped back to the picnic area it was almost 2am. The bottle of Jack was gone and Stiles was nowhere to be seen. Scott looked over to the Jeep, on the edge of panic. He saw part of a shoe and rushed over. Thankfully the shoe was still attached to the foot, and both feet attached to the body, and the same seemed to be the case for the rest of his limbs. Stiles was just laying in the back of the jeep. No, wait. Not laying... He was laid out. On his back, a blanket partially covering him, over both his arms. He had a minor gash to the back of the head, he noticed as he gave a quick check. Stitches worthy, but not too bad. Scott shook his head, not wanting to know what had happened. Stiles was okay. He was mostly okay. That was all that mattered. He jumped into the front seat, found the spare key Stiles kept hidden for emergencies, and pulled out, driving back to Stiles' adoptive parents' place. Despite how anxious he was, the drive was uneventful.

Once he'd parked in the driveway, he dragged Stiles into the house, having had to lie Stiles on the ground and dig his out keys, that were thankfully still in his pocket, to get in. And fuck did the panic hit him seeing Dean sitting on the couch in pajamas, with a beer watching TV. He jumped up when he saw them, setting down his beer. He wasn't sure what else he was expecting, of course he was going to go to Stiles' adoptive parents for help, he was bringing him to their house. Maybe he was just hoping Stiles would end up waking up, so he didn't have to explain all on his own, not even knowing what happened. Maybe it was because they were finally safe, and there was nothing to distract him now. All he knew was the fear and panic hit him like a wave.

"What happened?" The man who'd been so jovial earlier was now completely serious, coming over to help get Stiles away from the door and close and lock it behind them. Scott was flustered, confused.

"S-something, some kind of-of predator attacked me in the woods; I don't know what happened to Stiles. He was pretty drunk; I-I think he might have fallen or something." He tried to explain, feeling helpless knowing that was all he could really say he knew. Dean raised an eyebrow.

"Predator?" Dean questioned, Scott assumed, the wording. He just nodded. "What kind of predator?" Scott didn't know what to say, how to describe it. He could have been wrong about the hands… it was late, and he had been drinking, maybe he was just seeing things. It had definitely been a canine though, not a cat…

"It was like some huge dog or something, with red eyes… I think it killed a woman. I-I saw a dead body." Scott laid out what he was sure about. Dean scrunched up his face in confusion and concern, but shook his head. "Shouldn't we lay him down on something… other than the floor?" He decided to ask, wanting to change the subject. Dean put one arm under Stiles' back and the other one under his legs and lifted Scott's lanky friend with ease. Scott followed him into the dining room, and helped him gently lay Stiles down on the table, adjusting his long limbs to keep him from squirming in his sleep to do it himself. Dean checked out Stiles' head wound but Scott already knew it would almost definitely need stitches to heal properly.

"Damn, kid… What'd you do to yourself?" Dean asked bewilderedly. He walked off with purpose, but Scott stayed with Stiles, gently rubbing his arm, which was scored with little scratches, some red with barely risen blood. Dean came back with a heavy duty first aid kit and put it down by Stiles' legs. He brought some peroxide up to Stiles' head, turned it and poured it over the wound, whipping it up off the table with a paper towel. He came back and pulled out a needle and some stitching wire. Before Scott could even realize what he was doing and protest, he had gone back, sat down, and sewn up the gash on the back of Stiles' head. Stiles barely flinched the whole time, but Scott cringed the entire time, knowing Stiles would hate it if he knew. Dean patted the wound with a wet washcloth and taped a bandage over it. Scott could already hear Stiles complaining about it pulling out his hair. Then Dean pointed at Scott's side. Scott looked down to find his blood perfectly visible soaking through his red hoodie in the light. "Take 'em off. I'll check it out real quick." Scott felt embarrassed but trusted the man. He had performed those stitches perfectly with zero effort. Good as his mom. He was going to take care of it himself when he got home anyway, he might as well have a pro do it since the opportunity was present. Hell, he might even need stitches himself. He took off the hoodie and slowly pulled the t-shirt over his head, wincing as the fabric pulled away from the bite. Dean sat in the dining chair he was standing by and looked solely at Scott's bitten side. "I've seen a lot worse." Dean said, giving a reassuring nod. "Stay still. If I mess up, it's definitely going to scar." He warned, getting up and taking the towel he'd used to pat down Stiles' wound to the kitchen. When he came back, blood rinsed off the washcloth best it could be and now wet all over, Dean wiped his side clean of blood, wiped it down thoroughly with peroxide, quickly stitched the worst of the teeth marks, and bandaged it carefully. "Just keep it clean. Got it?" Scott nodded. "Don't worry, I'm not gonna tell your mom. Let me get boozy here to bed and I'll give you a lift home." Dean assured, picking Stiles up and carrying him away. Scott brushed his fingers over the bandage. Was the bite really not that bad? Dean came back wearing a jacket and carrying a set of keys. He threw Scott a shirt and a plastic bag to put his shirt and hoodie in. "You might want to just throw them out. You never get blood out of a white t-shirt." Scott followed him out to the garage and got into a car he only knew was fairly old, maybe 60's or 70's. Dean pulled out of the garage slowly, probably trying not to make too much noise. He turned to Scott once on the main road.

"If your mom asks, just say you were over here, kay? Freakin' her out won't do any good." Scott didn't nod. "If she finds out about that, I dunno, just tell her you two went out for a hike, and you fell, or if she sees it that it's a bite, that you just... got lightly attacked by a mountain lion or something, and you didn't wanna worry her."

"Really?" He asked unbelievingly. Dean looked at Scott not understanding what the problem was. "Stiles got hurt. Aren't you mad?" Dean scoffed.

"Kinda. Not at you though. Not at either of you." Dean answered. Scott narrowed his eyes, not quite getting how Dean could be not mad, suspecting he was lying. "I was a kid once too, ya know? I went out plenty, got in trouble a lot myself. I dealt with it myself at your age. I grew up differently than you two. I don't want you guys to feel bad for doing normal shit, and I don't want you guys feeling like you can't come to us if you need help. If you have trouble with something, I've got your back. You were just trying to have a good time. You didn't do anything wrong. Either of you." Dean shifted uncomfortably. "Now, let's stop with all the mushy shit. How do ya like Led Zeppelin?"

"I've never actually listened to it…" Scott shook his head. Dean looked shocked by this.

"Well… You're finally going to." He popped a cassette in the player. A song started playing. It was fine. A bit drawn out and soft. But good for the situation. The next was very similar, but so long it went on for the rest of the ride.

They got to Scott's house and Scott was ready to get out but the car engine kicked off and Dean moved to get out too. As Scott looked at him wide-eyed, Dean looked back at him.

"There's a car out front and the lights are on. You aren't sneaking in. She's probably waiting for you. I'll cover." Dean explained. Scott was nervous but he nodded, trusting Dean yet again. They went up to the door and his mom pulled the door open, obviously mad and worried. She didn't bother with Dean.

"Where the hell were you without a goddamned word?! Do you have any idea how worried I was?!" His mom scolded, standing in the doorway, hand on the door jam still holding the door. Scott held his hands in front of his chest as if a hostage at gunpoint.

"I was over at Stiles' new place! Mr. Winchester brought me home." He defended the best he could, wishing he had Stiles here to do the talking. His mom looked over at Dean slightly calmer. Dean smiled a slick smile. Wait. He wasn't really trying to charm her, was he?

"Sorry, Melissa…" Dean drawled, tone way too close to flirty for Scott's liking. "The boys fell asleep while they were setting up Stiles' room after dinner. We were gonna let him stay over, but he woke up a bit ago and said you'd be worried if he didn't get home. Really sorry for keeping him so late. They just looked too adorable to wake up, ya know?" Thank goodness his mom wasn't falling for it. At least, not much...

"It's fine, Dean, I get it…" She sighed, giving a strained smile. "Just shoot me a call next time, okay? I worry." She put a gentle hand on his shoulder and guided him inside. "Get to bed, Scott. Don't wanna be tired for practice tomorrow." He nodded, giving a hesitant glance between the two of them where they stood at the door to keep chatting before he hurried off.