the stars aren't the same where you are

by asthesunsetsonmars

Summary:

“Lydia! Where the hell have you been, loca?” He shouted. Dear God, Scott thought, facepalming. This was going to be a long trip.
The redhead crinkled her nose, setting her bag under her arm. “Please, Stiles. No Twilight references at this time in the morning.”

aka the one where Stiles convinces his friends to go on a road trip and spends several days trying to pretend Scott holding his hand is just because of the full moon.

Chapter 1

Scott didn’t know what he was doing. Stiles always seemed to. Whether or not the things Stiles wanted to do were the right thing, or the sane thing to do didn’t matter. Scott had long since accepted the slight danger that came with being friends with a genius. Specifically with a genius with zero sense of personal safety. Most of the time things worked out alright, and Scott knew there was no one more willing to do anything for his friends than Stiles. And Scott knew he’d do just about anything for Stiles. So when the boy pitched the idea of renting an RV and road-tripping up the coast, there was no way that Scott, or the rest of the pack for that matter, could argue.

 

And that’s how they found themselves hooking up the jeep to the back of the trailer on an unusually warm spring morning, everyone in the pack looking a little tired and miserable. Everyone except Stiles, of course. 

Stiles moved about jovially, tightening invisible screws and fussing in and out of the RV door.

Lydia pulled up last, parking her little car in Stiles’ already packed driveway. The bambi-eyed boy peeked out of the RV looking both excited and exasperated.

“Lydia! Where the hell have you been, loca ?” He shouted. Dear God , Scott thought, facepalming. This was going to be a long trip.

The redhead crinkled her nose, setting her bag under her arm. “Please, Stiles. No Twilight references at this time in the morning.”

Stiles shrugged, hopping down from the RV steps and clapping his hands. Kira winced, Malia flashing her eyes. Stiles sent an apologetic look her way.

“You guys ready for the trip of a lifetime?” He cheered. Everyone remained silent. In fact, Scott felt like the group might have gotten even more annoyed at being awake. Stiles shot Scott a look, looking helpless.  

Scott sighed. “C’mon guys, it’ll be fun.” Stiles grinned, tossing an arm over his best friend’s shoulder.

“ Better than fun.” He leant forward. “No druids, no trickster foxes-- minus you, of course, Kira but you’re like-- I mean you’re not evil, so-- no supernatural murderous creatures-- I mean, technically Liam, Malia, and you, Scott, you could be murderous, but you choose not to and that’s what matters-- plus no constant threat of death-- but, like, do you count, Lydia? Since you--”

“Dear, God, Stiles let’s just fucking go.” Malia huffed, stomping past the two into the RV. 

The two boys blinked a few times. “She’s excited.” Kira said apologetically, passing Stiles and Scott into the RV. Liam and Mason gave Stiles a clap on the shoulder, passing them as well.

“If I count,” Lydia mentioned, as she breezed past, “it’s only because you know I could kick your ass.”

Stiles gaped then looked at Scott. The taller boy shrugged.

“She’s probably right, yknow.”

Stiles huffed, crossing his arms. No way. Stiles could hold his own-- mostly. Though he was sure with Lydia’s heightened banshee powers she probably could kick his ass. And honestly, he respected that about her.

“Don’t worry,” Scott grinned, “I won’t let her.” He clapped his best friend on the shoulder, skirting into the RV.

“Psh, I don’t need his help.” Stiles muttered to himself. Suddenly, a rustle sounded from a nearby bush. The boy jumped, bolting into the RV. Hey, there’d been enough weirdness over the past four years of their lives to be nervous by anything unexplained. Precautions. 

 

The ride started smoothly. Stiles sat behind the helm, feeling giddy as ever. Scott sat beside him handling a giant paper map. It’s important for the vibes , Stiles had told him. Scott might have felt that it was little more than an unnecessary hassle, but Stiles had been talking about this trip since last semester, and far be it for him to shit over his excitement. After everything that had happened-- and it would take Scott twenty years to recount everything that had happened-- he knew that Stiles needed this. A getaway with his friends. Something other than running for his life and fighting for everyone else’s. Especially before they were all miles apart.

Stiles loved the way the roads looked this early in the morning. The drive to the highway was quiet, almost peaceful. The plan was to curve around through the northwest, taking in the Redwoods, Seattle, and one of the closest spots in Washington to Canada before heading back home to Beacon Hills. It was two weeks of driving, hanging, and hopefully avoiding anyone wanting to kill them. 

And though Stiles aimed to avoid anything otherworldly-- other than the mythical creatures snoozing in the backseat, of course-- he had acquiesced and allowed one supernatural detour: a visit with a wolf pack up in the PNW. It took a lot of convincing— “ This is meant to be a completely normal, supernatural-free, two week trek through the wilderness with friends! ”— but after Scott explained the extra safety for the west coast with another pack on their side, Stiles couldn’t really argue. That’s all he wanted anyway. For his friends to be safe.

 

“Can this thing go any faster?” Malia piped up from the back. Stiles emerged from the empty-headedness the quiet roads provided and tossed a glance over his shoulder, narrowing his eyes.

“We’re almost on the freeway. We’re not gonna get much faster until we’re further out.”

Malia sighed, slipping into a deeper slouch on the little RV couch.

“Why don’t you nap? The sun won’t be up for another couple hours anyway.” Kira’s soft voice was enough to convince Malia to scoot further towards the back, disappearing into one of the bunks of the RV. Liam and Mason had already made a beeline there when they first pulled off, and even Lydia bobbed her head slightly, trying to fight sleep. But eventually, each member of the pack gave in, until it was just Stiles and his co-pilot awake at the wheel.

Stiles glanced over. Scott had his head back against the headrest, the slow-moving shine of streetlights and headlights cutting the shadows on his face into sharp lines. Despite the drowsiness in his gaze, Scott’s eyes were open, drifting lazily over the map.

“You don’t have to stay up, yknow. I’ve got the first few hours of driving.” Stiles said. 

Scott tilted his head towards Stiles’ voice, not leaning up. “‘M alright. You gotta have someone to keep you company while you drive. What if you fall asleep?”

With a grin, Stiles reached into the pocket next to his seat. “Trust me, I’ve got twenty hours of Fall Out Boy to keep me awake,” he said, waving the CD case he just produced. 

Scott shook his head, smiling softly. “Pete Wentz is better company than me?”

“Yes,” Stiles responded with no hesitation. 

Scott huffed, mock offended. “You could have at least pretended to think about it.”

“When you’ve got the bass skills of a god then let me know,” Stiles shrugged.

Scott leaned up, looking curious. “Don’t tell me Pete Wentz is your type.”

Stiles felt heat rise to his cheeks. This had been a back and forth topic of discussion since Stiles had tried to explain to the pack that he just thought that David Tennant was kind of hot in a dad way. And that, yes, he would date Keanu Reeves. But, hey, leave it to his best friend to assume he’s got a crush on someone just because he admires their skill. 

“Now you and I both know I’m not the emo train type. But got to respect talent.” Stiles said, clearing his throat.

Scott shrugged, seeming placated. Stiles ignored the familiar tug of his stomach, focusing instead on the road. 

 

They came to their first rest stop about fifty miles or so outside of Beacon Hills, but Scott had felt like something was wrong since mile ten. His skin prickled, and he felt antsy, a feeling like he’d left the oven on and doomed his home to be engulfed in fire. But he kept to himself, busying himself with tracing every river in the area until they reached the edge of the map. And then the roads. Clearly very cool and casual. 

Stiles pulled in-- expertly he would say-- and everyone got out to stretch their legs. Scott trailed out of the vehicle behind Lydia and the boys, watching her corral them off to the rest stop’s little cafe. Perhaps Liam was drowsy enough to pay for her coffee. Seemed likely. 

“You alright?” Stiles asked, appearing by Scott’s side. Scott blinked twice, looking over at his friend. Stiles’ brow arched in a familiar way— a telltale sign he was trying to show less concern than he actually felt. Scott nodded, looking off. Why was he freaking out ? He didn’t want to make Stiles or the pack worry, and yet… He just hadn’t been this far outside of Beacon since they went to New Mexico to get Kira back— and something about going away with the entire pack was putting him on edge. But, the goal was only to relax— not to rescue anyone, unearth someone from a Mexican tomb, barter with hunters and bounty hunters. It should feel good, he wanted it to feel good, but still… there was an itch under his skin like something could and would go wrong any moment.

Stiles looked at him in disbelief. Scott looked away from his best friend, instead, lifting his arms up and feigning casualty. “Just ready to stretch my legs, is all,” he said. 

Stiles rolled his eyes. “Yknow, just because I don’t have superhuman werewolf chemosignal abilities doesn’t mean that I can’t tell when you’re fucking with me.” 

Scott looked back over at his friend. The shorter of the two looked out over the rest stop, crinkling his brow. His expression pulled at the corners of Scott’s mouth. It was the same one Stiles gave when analyzing a particularly difficult math problem or that red string board of his when they were deep in the things-not-making-sense realm. The same expression Stiles had worn since Scott had known him-- jeez, how long had it been ? It felt like forever.  

There was something about Stiles that was always steadying to Scott. Stiles himself didn’t think so, Scott knew this. He knew that his best friend couldn’t imagine that he was anything even close to steady, especially on account of his anxiety and ADHD. But Stiles had never been anything but there for Scott. Through it all-- and “it all” encompassed a whole hell of a lot-- Stiles was there.

Scott sighed, lowering his walls. It was stupid not to let his friend in. 

“It’s just weird…” He started slowly. Stiles turned to him, ever the dutiful friend and giving him his full attention. Scott continued. “Being so far out is… odd, yknow? Like I’ve got this weird feeling in my chest that won’t go away.”

Stiles bristled. “Weird like, senses weird?” He asked, glancing around. 

Scott shook his head quickly. “No, everything is normal, as far as I can tell. Just… I don’t know. It’s, like, itchy under my skin as I’m kind of thinking about everything that could go wrong because of us leaving.”

Stiles was quiet for a moment. Then, he laughed lightly, pausing only to look over to Scott, and then laughing again, this time harder.

“What?” Scott said, slightly miffed that Stiles didn’t seem to be taking him seriously.

Stiles grinned at him. “That’s anxiety, man.” He said, clapping Scott on the shoulder. “You get used to the ‘impending doom but nothing is really happening’ feeling.”

Scott blinked twice, processing the information. Anxiety. That was… okay. Human, even. He was anxious.

He gave Stiles a small smile. The boy tipped an imaginary hat at him. “Welcome to the club! Makes you a little bit more normal, actually. I might actually like anxious Scott better than normal Scott.” Stiles grinned, backing away towards the restrooms. 

Scott stumbled a bit, watching his friend go. He felt his face warm, and tried his best not to read too far into the last part. Tried, being the operative word.

Chapter 2

Stiles was beyond excited to spend a day tramping through the Redwoods. Their first real stop was a three mile hike that he’d arranged-- a hike which the group had groaned about until Stiles had shown them a picture of the waterfall at the end. Luckily, that got most everyone on board with doing a bit of exercise.

The bambi-eyed boy rushed the group to the bottom of the hike, excitedly jogging up to a guy in green work-out gear. “Redwoods Hike Ranger” sat square of his right pec, barely visible as he stretched his arms left and right. Scott raised a brow-- who was this ? And why did Stiles seem so familiar? 

“Michael! Dude, thanks, again.” Stiles greeted the stranger, the two clapping each other on the back. Scott looked on in confusion, along with everyone else. 

“Who’s your friend?” Lydia piped up, tilting her head coyly to the side.

 “This here is major Michael Meliak, we used to go to camps together out here. Now, he’s a big ole park ranger.” Stiles grinned, patting the man named Micheal on the chest. The dark-haired dude laughed, shaking his head. 

“I’m in charge of hikes and making sure everyone stays on the trail. Hardly a ranger,” He said, patting his fro shyly. 

Stiles brushed it off, continuing to blabber about camp days to Michael as the crew got started on the trail. Lydia caught up to the two of them, piping in with perfectly pitched laughter or a twirl of her hair from the other side of the ranger. Scott found himself impressed with her ability to catch a guy’s attention-- it was clear before they even reached half a mile in that Michael paid extra attention to Lydia’s every move. A few fake trips and a glorious grateful smile, and the boy was clearly smitten. Expertly handled. 

Scott slowly drew to the back of the group, watching his pack ahead of him. Everyone seemed to be having a great time, laughing and chucking whatever nature debris they could find at each other. He caught Malia pressing her face into a bright orange flower and chortled when she sneezed, a big grin still on her face. The itchy feeling subsided for a bit seeing everyone clearly doing okay.

Kira, ever the cognisant friend, hung back for a moment, catching up with him. The twos’ steps fell in line, and Scott smiled something sad. He remembered how in sync they were with each other-- that’s why he fell for her in the first place. She was like treading water.

“Everyone seems to be really liking this nature thing,” She commented. Scott nodded, watching Liam try to corner Mason in a prickly bush. But he mistimed his steps, getting faked out and almost falling in himself instead, followed by Mason howling in laughter. Scott smiled again.

“And you?” Kira asked quietly. Scott looked back at her, noting her expression. She had her brows raised, concern wafting off of her like the smell that emanates through the house when you leave a window open and it’s raining.

“I’m alright.” Scott said, smiling. “Just soaking in this moment.”

Kira smiled, nudging him. “It’s your moment, too, yknow. You should be present in it, not already reminiscing about it.”

With another nudge, she was off, skipping back over to Malia. The taller girl tossed an arm around her shoulders, pushing another flower she found with an interesting smell into her face. Kira laughed, and Scott found himself grateful for his friends. He took a deep breath, shaking out his shoulders. Letting his Alpha guard down for just a moment couldn’t be so hard… he tried to focus on the sounds and the smells, letting his hands drift across tall trees and enjoying the rough bark underneath his fingers. Faintly, a steady rhythm whispered through Scott’s ears. He sighed, feeling the sound trickle down his spine and steady him. Grounding him. 

Slowly, the sights and sounds drifted back to him again. Good timing, too. Scott barely had time to register his name and a “catch!” before Liam hurtled a pinecone his way. He just managed to cup it in his palm before it smacked him in the face. He grinned, tossing it into the air then chucking it back, cheering as Liam caught it, almost tripping over his own feet. How did he manage to run circles around Stiles and him on the lacrosse field? 

With the pinecone tucked in his arms, Liam feigned around trees and a startled Michael, before tossing the cone through a narrow opening in a trunk.

Oh right, that’s how . 

 

The crew traveled further along the trail, listening to Michael’s facts all the way. 

“Oh!” Michael exclaimed, stumbling forward to a bush covered in little yellow flowers. “How exciting, you don’t normally see these so late into the season… plus this far north…”

“What’re you rambling about there?” Malia asked, peeking around Michael’s shoulder. 

Michael smiled, crouching down near the bush. Everyone gathered around him, looking like a little school group. Scott caught himself smiling about it. Stiles caught his eye and grinned back, a warm feeling settling in his chest.

“These are bush poppies,” Michael started, brushing one of the flowers gently with a finger. “They’re all around California.”

“Aren’t poppies like… poisonous?” Mason asked nervously. 

The group looked confused. “Ah, they’re known for their enchanting properties, yes,” Michael said, glancing at Lydia quickly. She pretended not to notice, but Scott heard a slight uptick in her heart rate. “You’d have to smoke it though for that. Highly addictive.” 

“Like Wizard of Oz,” Liam said proudly. Everyone glanced over at him. He looked back, the pride giving way to a bit of confusion. “You guys have never seen the Wizard of Oz? Yknow, the poppy fields, and they all fall asleep so that the witch can…”

“We’ll put it on the watch list.” Mason said, laughing and clapping Liam on the shoulder. He maneuvered the two away, Liam still mumbling about classic films. Michael and Lydia started forward again, followed closely by Malia and Kira, that is, after Kira dragged Malia away from trying to put the flowers in her mouth. 

Stiles poked at one of the flowers. “They’re pretty, huh,” he said. A little bit of pollen got on his finger, which he proceeded to wipe down his shirt. 

Scott nodded, bending to examine one closer. “You really think they’re like drugs?” He asked, flicking his eyes up at Stiles. 

Stiles laughed. “Yeah, dude, opioids. Opioids can be made from poppies.”

“Shit,” Scott muttered. “Didn’t know that.” Stiles went on, talking about the various histories and uses of poppies. Scott listened, calmed by the way Stiles’ voice lilted when he was enthused by something and the gentle motion of the petals in the slight breeze. Absentmindedly, Scott plucked one, the petals flopping gently. 

With a smooth motion, he stood and tucked the honey-colored bud behind Stiles’ ear. 

The boy stopped talking, mouth hanging open with a syllable still on his tongue. He felt his heart jump, mind frazzled by the quick warmth of Scott’s fingers behind his ear, brushing past his hair. Jesus. 

“What… What did you do that for?” Stiles stuttered. He lamented his awkwardness. No doubt Scott could hear his heart hammering in his chest.

Scott shrugged, smiling at his best friend. 

“Thought it would look nice.”

Stiles recovered (or at least he tried to), straightening up. “Verdict?” He said, breathing steadily through his nose to calm his heart. 

Scott’s lips lifted in a smirk. He felt a little giddy listening to the effect he had on him. No reason to dive deeper into that. He’d better play it coy. “It’s alright,” Scott said, breezing past Stiles.

Stiles gasped. “You bastard,” He said, shoving Scott lightly.

“What?” Scott said, feigning innocence. He didn’t look over at Stiles, but he could hear the annoyance in his tone.

“You can’t just stick a flower in my hair and then say I look alright.” Stiles stomped, keeping up with Scott’s pace.

“Can’t I?” The werewolf joked. Stiles huffed, jogging to move in front of Scott. The two came to a stop, and Stiles crossed his arms, looking serious.

“Tell me I look pretty, Scott.”

Stiles’ eyes were narrowed, a ghost of a smile hanging off his lips. He looked like he was trying to hold back a laugh. Scott was sure this was one of his favorite expressions on his best friend. Sometimes, this look came before they did something really fucking stupid, like, oh you know, trying to convince his dad to let them borrow the police van. Other times, it accompanied things like Stiles telling Scott that he was proud of him. It was, god, Scott thought, it felt a little like heaven. 

The wolf looked his best friend in the eyes, taking a step forward. Stiles stood his ground, but felt his bravado fade a little bit under his gaze.

“Stiles,” Scott said, pressing a hand to the boy’s arm. “You look… so pretty.”

A weird rush sounded in Stiles’ ears. Vaguely, he registered someone calling him from up ahead. But for a moment, it was just Scott, and Scott’s hand still warm, supernaturally warm, on Stiles’ arm. Warm and steady and always so goddamn genuine Scott. How did he manage to crinkle his eyes in a way that made Stiles want to die a little? And what weirdness had Stiles gotten himself into that he cared how Scott’s eyes crinkled? 

The boy came back to his senses, realizing he’d taken too long to respond. He shrugged off his best friend’s hand and scowled.

“You’re damn right,” he said, turning on his heel to jog up the path back to the group.

Scott watched him go, listening to the steady rhythm of his footsteps. He shook out his shoulders, following behind. That was…. odd, right? He hadn’t imagined that moment. They just had a moment. It’s not like they hadn’t had moments before. The night at the Nightmare Motel was one. Finding the Nemeton, reconciling after the fight because of Theo, that one time Stiles literally almost took a bullet for the pack… but for some reason something felt different this time. Scott followed the pack with his eyes, seeing Stiles joking with the sophomores about something. Maybe Scott was imagining it. But his sense didn’t lie-- he heard Stiles’ heart jump when they touched.

But maybe Scott was paying so much attention to Stiles’ heart because he didn’t want to think about his own. 

 

The group made it back down the trail in time for dinner, after many threats by Malia to eat whoever annoyed her last. Stiles knew her well enough not to doubt that she would, too, and with his luck that feast would be him. Getting food seemed like a much better option.  

After thanking Michael and promising to stop by on their way back to Beacon Hills, the group piled back into the RV, taking turns changing out of outside clothes and taking showers with the freezing camper water. Showered and dressed, Stiles checked out his reflection in the mirror. 

After it all-- he was certainly still him. Though the bags under his eyes never seemed to fade, especially not after everything with the demon fox spirit, and his skin always seemed a little paler than it used to be, it was still Stiles Stilinski. He prodded his jaw with one finger, pulling down on the skin under his eye with another. The wonky Stiles stared back at him. Still him. 

Stiles let go with a sigh. He hated to admit it, but god he was tired. But to be honest, he was always tired. But if there was one thing he certainly did not have time for in his life of “keep his friends safe from the infinite supernatural evils trying to murder them,” it was sleep. 

He dropped his head, eyes catching sight of the flower sitting on the sink edge. In spite of himself, his breathing picked up for a moment, remembering Scott’s fingers clearly. It wasn’t anything special, Stiles told himself. Just Scott being Scott. Just dudes being dudes. Just guys being guys. Just bros being bros. Stiles loved his best friend, and every day he was afraid of losing him. How could he not be? Most high schoolers started their senior year worrying about college applications, Stiles was trying to figure out what new beast from hell (literally) might come to finally end them all. Wondering if one day they just wouldn’t be so lucky anymore.

The feeling, admittedly, had subsided a bit since this had all started. In the first few months of figuring this werewolf stuff out, Stiles could count his non-anxious days on one hand. And then, shit, when Scott’s asthma had come back? He had thought that was really it. There’d be no way that Scott could survive that and everyone trying to kill him all the time. 

And yet. Somehow he did. His best friend has stuck it out so far, and hell, he even seems to be thriving. 

Stiles picked up the flower again, spinning it in his fingers. The bright yellow petals reflected in mirror Stiles’ eyes. The bud seemed a bit like sunshine. It was so bright and blooming in the woods, despite what Michael said about it being past its prime. Resilient.

A bang came on the door. “Let’s go, Stiles! Kira’s eyes have glowed orange three times, and Malia’s got her fangs out.” Stiles heard Mason’s voice through the door. To living another day, he thought. He grinned, tucking the flower into his hair, and swinging open the door.

“Who’s ready to eat?”

 

The little diner was pretty much empty. Scott felt like he’d walked straight into a retro film, red vinyl covering and bright blue and white accents everywhere. The doorbell rung as the group piled in, Malia leading the way to a booth and immediately sticking her face into a menu. The rest of the group piled in, pressing up against each other’s sides. Stiles slid in next to Scott, leaving room for Liam to pile in after. Mason swung a chair around from a nearby table, the metal scraping the floor. 

Scott picked up a menu, sharing it between him and Stiles.

“Pst,” he said. 

Stiles turned to his best friend. Scott’s faced warmed at the closeness of Stiles’ eyes, they seemed to look even deeper brown in the diner lights and with the little flower still tucked behind his ear. 

“Bro, why we whispering?” Stiles responded.

Scott grinned, his eyes crinkling. “Lydia hasn’t stopped texting since we left the hike. Michael, perhaps?”

Stiles and Scott glanced up over their menu comically, eyeing the redhead. She was indeed typing away on her phone, glancing up for a moment to send a glare at the boys. They ducked behind the menu again, huddling closer. 

“Definitely Michael,” Stiles laughed. 

“Are you guys ready to order or what?” Malia said, chewing on the edge of a finger. Kira gently pulled her hand from her mouth, tucking it into her lap instead. Scott glanced off, the laughing look he was just wearing sliding off his face. Stiles glanced over at him, then back at Malia and Kira. For a moment, he wondered if Scott was a little less over Kira than he thought. Leave it to him to try and pull one over on Stiles. Well, not this time. No weird romance or heartbreak on this trip. Unless… actually, Stiles figured he’d better leave that thought there.

“Okay, let’s do this.” He turned in his chair, waving an arm wildly in the air and getting the attention of the only waiter in the establishment. They raised an eyebrow, acknowledging Stiles’ wild waving. 

“Yoohoo! A little assistance,” Stiles batted his eyelashes, calling out in a faked accent. Scott and Kira laughed, while the rest of the group looked anywhere from mildly annoyed to embarrassed. The waiter, unperturbed, made their way over. 

“What can I get--”

“Two bacon double cheeseburgers and fries, with a chocolate-- no-- strawberry shake on the side. And extra fries. With the fries. Three fries. Thanks.” Malia sat her menu down in satisfaction. 

“I’ll have the veggie burger, thanks.”

“No fries?” The waiter asked, glancing over at Malia who looked like she was using all of her willpower to keep her fangs at bay.

“I can share some of Malia’s fries,” Kira said, smiling.

“No, you won’t,” Malia scoffed, turning to Kira.

Kira bat her eyelashes. “Can’t I?” She asked. Malia searched the kitsune’s face for a moment. Then she sighed something heavy, tucking her head into the crook of Kira’s neck. 

“I guess,” Malia said, her words slightly muffled by Kira’s hair. Kira smiled softly. 

The waiter turned an eye to Lydia, who glanced up from her phone for thirty seconds to say-- “A chicken sandwich with extra mayo, sweet potato fries.”

“We, uh, don’t have sweet potato fries?”

Lydia looked up again, tilting her head to the side. “Oh. Well,” She sighed. “Just a salad on the side then, thanks.”

Liam and Mason each got a double-stack with cheese fries, high-fiving in excitement.

Scott glanced up at the waiter. “Regular cheeseburger, please.” He turned to Stiles. “Do you want my tomatoes?” 

Stiles grinned. “I’ll always take your tomatoes.”

“Extra tomatoes then, thanks.” Scott said, smiling. 

“And a double-stack with ex-tra friiiies, please.” Stiles sang happily. 

The waiter left, disappearing into the back. The pack chatted idly, a few times Stiles getting too excited about something and Scott having to scoot his drink out of the way of his energetic hands. 

Once the food arrived, the pack was impressed by the waiter’s ability to remember exactly what everyone ordered. Scott’s tomatoes were even to the side of his burger instead of on it, so he could just slide them onto Stiles’ plate. Stiles grinned, blowing a kiss to Scott when he did so. Scott tried to ignore the burn creeping up his neck, instead burying his face in his food. 

As they chowed down, they chit-chatted idly. Suddenly, Scott heard a heartbeat jump. He looked up, searching for danger. Yet, nothing seemed amiss. But then, again-- Scott heard the tell-tale jump. He glanced over at Malia and Kira. They were still conversing with the rest of the group. But almost imperceptibly, Malia shifted to the left, and Scott heard it again. The jump in heartbeat. He raised his brows, looking between the two. Kira was just barely flushed, glancing occasionally at Malia’s arm now resting against hers. 

Oh , Scott thought. Oh .  

The conversation seemed to flow around him. But that was okay for now-- he needed time to think.

Notes:

honey colored flowers for a honey-eyed boy <3

Chapter 3

The pack paid the bill, leaving no crumb on their plates. They piled back into the RV, setting out for what would be a night of driving. The plan was to make it to the base of a volcanic park by midday tomorrow-- more hiking and whatnot. Scott ambled about distractedly, taking his spot next to Stiles at the helm. 

Stiles had noticed Scott had gotten quiet half-way through dinner. He’d let him have his space, figuring it might be something that’d blow over by the time they got back on the road. But when he was still quiet after a few miles of driving, Stiles grew more concerned. “Alright?” Stiles asked quietly. Scott glanced over, looking up at Stiles through his lashes. 

“Getting there,” Scott said simply. He turned back to the road, quiet again. 

Stiles nodded. He wished he had freaky werewolf powers-- could listen in to Scott’s heartbeat or something to tell if he was lying. But instead, he sighed. He’d just have to trust him. Stiles glanced into the rearview mirror. His eyes caught Malia and Kira, playing some card game on the slightly bouncing table. From them, his glance caught Lydia, taking a break from her phone to referee an arm wrestling match between Liam and Mason. She caught Stiles’ eye, giving a small smile. 

“Let me know if you need something in the process,” Stiles said, focusing back on the road. 

Scott looked over at his best friend. He gave a small nod, earning a small smile from Stiles. Suddenly, Scott felt an overwhelming gratitude for the patience of his friend. Without thinking, he reached out, giving Stiles a squeeze on the hand. Stiles blinked several times, glancing down at his and Scott’s hands.

“This whole physical affection appreciation thing is growing more common,” Stiles laughed lightly. 

Scott shrugged, smiling up at Stiles. “Maybe it’s a werewolf thing,” He hummed, shuffling over to rest his head on Stiles’ shoulder. It was a relatively uncomfortable position, especially since the console of the RV was much wider than that of Stiles’ jeep. Still, Scott made it work. He sat almost off his chair, bouncing along with Stiles. 

Stiles, confused, leaned forward slightly, checking the moon’s position. It was waxing, almost full. “Must be a werewolf thing,” he murmured. He glanced down at Scott, though mostly he could just see a mound of black hair. Scott’s warm scent enveloped him, something between pine and Old Spice. Stiles smiled involuntarily. It was comforting. He took another glance at the rearview, catching Lydia’s eye. She raised a brow, looking between the two of them. Stiles felt his face heat up, his heartbeat suddenly racing. 

He felt Scott shift by his side, dark eyes looking up at Stiles. “Your heart’s beating fast.”

Stiles glanced down for a moment, before looking back at the road. “Yeah, no shit, Sherlock,” he grumbled. He squinted his eyes, trying hard to ignore the warmth of the boy next to him. Scott’s scent was almost overwhelming now. How did he even smell so good after being in an RV and hiking and showering in cold ass water? And did Stiles just say good? Did Scott smell good to him?

Scott leant up, looking around. He didn’t see anything suspicious. Couldn’t smell anything beyond Stiles’ nervousness. But Stiles always smelled a little nervous. Like something cooking in the oven right before you think you’ve burned it. It was almost calming, really. Selfishly, Scott found the scent a little reassuring.

Stiles chuckled, patting Scott’s head. “Just thought I saw a deer on the road, is all. Settle down, lil doggy.”

Scott scowled, leaning away from Stiles’ touch. “Sorry, sorry,” Stiles laughed, trying to pat Scott again. He swatted him away, sighing at his friend’s antics.

“You’re not,” Scott huffed, turning to the window.

“I am!” He poked Scott on the cheek. “No pouting on the extra-super special-one-of-a-kind-road-trip-of-a-lifetime.” 

Scott fought back a smile, turning to Stiles and pouting harder. 

Stiles grinned wider, his honeyed eyes bright under the streetlights. 

“Okay, how am I not supposed to call you a puppy when you look like that.”

“Look like what,” Scott said through his pout. He batted his lashes.

Stiles laughed again, shaking his head. 

Scott smiled, settling back in his seat. Good , Stiles’ heartbeat was back to normal now. After making Stiles promise to wake him up when it was time to switch drivers, he drifted off to sleep. And if he fell asleep to the soft beat of Stiles’ heart, no one has to know.

 

The camper pulled into the next park by the next morning. Liam and Mason hopped out early, dressed for a jog. Most of the pack rolled their eyes at their offer, but Scott stretched, hearing his shoulder click.

“I’ll join,” he said. “Gimme a minute.”

He shuffled to the back, passing the girls gathering their things to have a breakfast picnic. 

“Guess you’re with us this morning, then, Stiles. Unless you’ve changed your mind?” Lydia glanced up from grabbing her sunnies. 

Stiles grimaced thinking about exercising more than he had to. No way, not on a vacation. Coach would be upset about it, sure, but that's none of his business. 

“Figured,” Lydia laughed, catching Stiles’ uninterested look. “Well then, here, carry this.” She stacked his arms with bags and odds and ends. He looked like a walking coat hanger. Or an unfortunate butler character in a sitcom.

“Help,” He mumbled as Scott walked past, dressed for the jog. Scott laughed, shaking his head. 

“You could’ve gone jogging,” He said, shrugging.

“C’mon Stiles!” Lydia called. Stiles grumbled, following the girls out of the RV with precarious balance. Scott hopped out, shutting and locking the door behind him.

Liam and Mason stood a bit away, stretching.

“Ready to go, True Alpha?” Mason said, grinning.

“You know you don’t have to call me that, right?”

Mason shugged. “Yeah, but it’s fun.”

Scott laughed. Fair enough.

The little group set out along the marked trail, a nice steady jog at first. The dormant volcano loomed in the distance, marked at the very top with a little icing of snow. Scott felt his mind clear as they ran-- something about being in the woods and just, taking it easy with his friends was really doing wonders for the anxiety he felt starting this trip. Scott let a little bit of the wolf come out, feeling his senses heighten. The smell of evergreen was strong here, stronger than it was in Beacon Hills. He could sense some of the animals in the woods, skittish and inhuman smells. It felt good, being here and being really himself. Not hiding or running (figuratively, of course). Just… being.

They jogged a good ways up the trail, Liam and Mason racing for a bit. Liam won, obviously-- but Mason was determined and challenged him again-- and lost, again. They were about to turn back when Scott heard something. A deep growl, somewhere nearby. He noticed Liam perk up; he’d heard it, too.

Mason jogged for a bit more before he realized Scott and Liam weren’t following.

“What’s up?” he asked, looking between the two of them.

“Something’s in the woods,” Scott summarized. 

Mason looked nervous. “Like… supernatural something?”

Scott shrugged. “Not sure. Didn’t sound supernatural.”

“Would you actually be able to tell the difference?” Liam asked, curiously.

Scott thought for a moment. No one told the kid to ask good questions. Scott cleared his throat. “Maybe we should just check it out.”

Mason and Liam looked at each other apprehensively, but followed after Scott anyway. They veered off the path, winding deeper into the forest. The redwoods mixed in with evergreens, creating a semi-thick forest canopy. Scott listened for the noise, following in its trail. Suddenly, his senses were overwhelmed by the smell of something rich and dark, like the scent of pennies. Blood. 

Scott jogged faster, following the trail. He felt his heart pound as he pulled up short, the group skidding to a stop. The scent of blood was right under their nose. Where?  

Scott gasped as he located the source of the smell. A little gray dog was trapped under some brush, the scent of blood coming from a gash on their leg. But if this little dog is just hurt, then what was growling?

A rustle in the brush made the group tense. A dark creature lurked forward, ears pricked forward, nose sniffing. Wolves, Scott realized with a jump, a pair of them. And they’d clearly caught the scent of the dog.

The dog growled, trying to seem braver than it clearly was. The wolves looked unperturbed, silently creeping closer to their prey.

“Scott,” Liam whispered, his eyes wild. “Do something!”

Jesus , Scott thought. This could either go very well, or very, very badly. 

He hoped for well.

Scott let out a low growl, focusing on the two wolves above the dog’s hideout. They glanced over at him, almost looking surprised, if wolves could even look surprised. They didn’t seem to care about his scent as a human, but he could tell they got it when he shifted. He let more of his wolf out, feeling his eyes glow. The first of the two growled back, a warning. Scott didn’t back down, taking a step forward and letting an impressive howl leave his mouth. The wolves took a step back. And then another. And then they turned, heading back into the brush.

The alpha shifted back, the action effortless now.

“Wow,” he heard Mason say. He turned, seeing a bright look on his face. “So cool.”

Scott grinned, turning around. The little dog was still hiding under the brush, but now it was looking at Scott with a glare.

“Hey there,” Scott said gently, crouching down. “You’re alright. We’re not gonna hurt ya.”

The dog growled again, tensing as Scott stepped nearer. Scott got down on a knee, turning so the dog could see his neck. It stopped growling, surprised at his action. He stuck a tentative hand near the dog, so it could sniff him.

“Mean you no harm, buddy.” The dog sniffed, seeming to find Scott’s scent alright. He smiled.

“You hurt your leg, huh,” Scott whispered, scooting closer. “Can I take a look?”

The dog stayed wary, watching Scott’s every move, but he didn’t try to bite as Scott placed a hand on the dog’s leg, seeing if he could stretch it. The dog let out a sharp whine, scooting away.

“I’m sorry! I’m sorry, hey, it’s okay. Let’s get you some help, okay?” Scott scooted closer slowly, keeping his hands where the dog could see them. He took his shirt off, wrapping it loosely around the dog’s leg. Gently, he lifted the little dog, holding him like Deacon showed him to reduce the stress on his injured leg. The little dog seemed grateful, relaxing in his arms.

“C’mon, guys, I think I can work on him back at the RV.” Scott said. He took the lead, heading back towards the path by scent. 

Mason and Liam followed up the rear. 

“Damn,” Mason said, turning to Liam. “He’s hot as fuck.”

Liam smacked Mason on the back of the head, but Mason just laughed. 

“We were all thinking it!”

Notes:

mason: scott mccall's muscles amiright
liam: pls that is my literal father

Chapter 4

Stiles was having a good time, but he would never tell Lydia that. The girls trekked a little towards the lake part of the park, setting up in a spot with a nice view to have their picnic. Lydia had worked a late-stage miracle in making a cute picnic with the random RV food. How did she manage to pack charcuterie? When did she pack it? And why was it so fun to eat?

They chatted about whatever, enjoying the easy morning and the view.

“So Lydia, how’s Michael?” Malia asked, smiling.

Lydia rolled her eyes-- her version of blushing because Lydia Martin did not get embarrassed. 

“I don’t know what you’re talking about,” she said, popping a strawberry into her mouth. Stiles leaned back on the blanket, chewing on prosciutto. Or pastrami. He didn’t know, but it was good meat.

“How did you even manage to get so close so fast? We were all there, but it was like you two were in your own little thing,” Kira said, waggling her shoulders. Lydia smiled, tucking her hair behind her ear.

“A girl doesn’t have to try, Kira, dear. You know this. You’ve got that thing, too.” Kira blushed at Lydia’s compliment.

“Hey, what about me?” Malia said, pulling the tail end of a strawberry from her mouth. 

“Yep, you, too.” Lydia laughed. “Oh, and you do, too, Stiles, of course.”

“I have the girl thing?” He asked, confused, turning his head from where he was dangling grapes into his mouth.

“You’ve got something.” Lydia said, eating a piece of cheese and glancing over at the beach. 

Stiles swallowed, grinning. “I’m honored,” he said, casting a hand over his heart. 

“Don’t get too ahead of yourself, now,” Malia said, waggling a piece of cheese in his direction. Stiles pretended to leap for it, taking a bite of the air.

“Stiles!” Malia gasped. The rest of the group laughed.

Kira paused, pulling down her sunglasses. A concerned look grew over her face. “Is that-- Scott? What is he holding? … and why is his shirt off?”

The group got up, abandoning their picnic. Stiles noted Scott was in fact holding a little bundle in his arms, and yes, his shirt was indeed off. Stiles tilted his head-- his friend had filled out since the last time he’d seen him shirtless. To be fair, though, Stiles wasn’t that observant in the weirdest of ways. Scott could’ve been this lean for a while. Who knows-- some combination of werewolf things and puberty things. At least something good came out of the literal horror they’d been subjected to for two years.

“Are you alright?” Kira asked, getting closer.

“We found this little guy in the woods,” Liam said. He reached a hand towards the bundle in Scott’s arms, which, now that Stiles was closer, he could see was a little dog. The dog snipped at him, clearly not comfortable with anyone-- besides Scott. It was one of those puppers with a funny dog beard and fuzzy ears. He was a little bit ugly, to be sure, but Scott was looking at him like he hung the stars in the sky. 

“We’ve got a first aid kit in the RV, right?” Scott asked Stiles.

He was sure that they had batteries, and Stiles’ gameboy, and a mountain of granola bars…

“Yeah, I brought one. Come on,” Lydia said, making her way to the RV. Everyone trailed behind, piling in. Scott sat down on the couch, holding the dog in his lap. Mason scooted the little table closer, Malia clearing it off. Lydia produced a fully stocked med kit-- Stiles was impressed but not surprised. Kira sat next to Scott, helping him gently unfold his shirt from around the dog’s leg. Stiles felt a sharp something go through him-- he was being useless again.

“I’ll grab some water and stuff,” he said to no one in particular. 

He scooted through the tiny space left in the RV to the bathroom, where he washed his hands before grabbing a little dixie cup of water. 

The group had set the dog out on the table, someone’s towel being laid out as the bedding. It looked on edge, eyes shifting quickly between every person in the room. 

“I think all the attention is stressing him out,” Scott said. The group took the hint, everyone shuffling towards the door. Stiles set the water out on the side table, about to follow the crowd when he felt a hand grab his arm. He looked down, seeing Scott’s bright brown eyes staring up at him.

“Stay?” He asked. 

“I think I’ll just get in the way,” Stiles mumbled. 

“Stay,” Scott said again simply. His gaze was sure. “I need you.”

Stiles swallowed hard, nodding. How could he possibly fucking say no?

Scott sighed, relieved. He stood. “I’m going to wash my hands, you stay with him?”

Stiles nodded again, sitting down dumbly in the spot Scott just was. The other boy made his way to the bathroom, and Stiles focused on ignoring his retreating back.

The little dog had its head up, watching Stiles with careful brown eyes. 

“Hey bud,” Stiles said softly. He let the dog sniff his hand, getting its okay before pressing gently along the ridge of his back. “I know you’re scared, but it’ll be okay. Scott’s gonna take really good care of you. Plus, he’s the nicest guy that I know, so. You’re in good hands.”

The dog finally seemed to relax, letting its head hit its front paws. Its little eyelids fluttered.

“Nicest guy you know, huh? High praise,” Stiles heard Scott say from behind him. He turned, seeing his best friend drying his hands with a smile. Still shirtless , Stiles noted. He swallowed again, averting his eyes. Not now brain, not now . 

Scott tossed the towel back into the bathroom, coming around to the couch. Stiles scooted over, giving Scott room. The dog looked up at Scott with one eye, then let it close again.

“Is he in a lot of pain?” Stiles asked softly, still stroking the dog’s back. Scott furrowed his brows, unfolding his shirt the rest of the way. The gash on the dog’s leg looked worse up close, something jagged and uneven like he’d caught himself on barbed wire. 

Scott steeled himself, getting to work. “Don’t let him move too much, okay? Keep him calm.” Stiles nodded, though Scott wasn’t paying him any mind. He moved with deftness over the wound-- cleaning, sterilizing. The dog whipped up when Scott began stitching the wound, snipping at him. 

“Hey, hey, I know,” He said, unbothered. 

“Sorry,” Stiles said, grimacing. He tried to hold the dog down, but it still wiggled with discomfort. 

“Let me try something..,” Scott mumbled. He rested his hand on the dog’s leg. Stiles watched the familiar black veins flow up Scott’s hand, traveling from his fingers to his shoulder to his heart. He gasped, letting go and shaking out his hand. 

“Jesus, are you okay?” Stiles asked, pausing in petting the dog to reach out for Scott. The dog settled, letting out a relieved sigh at its pain being taken away.

Scott shook out his shoulders. “Never done that with a… not semi-human before,” Scott said with a light laugh. “Felt weird.”

He smiled, placing a hand over Stiles’. Stiles blinked hard at the contact-- he hadn’t even realized he’d put his hand on Scott’s chest. His face warmed, but Scott held fast. “Hey, I’m okay.”

Stiles nodded, finally moving his hand. They went back to their previous positions-- Stiles petting the almost sleeping dog, Scott focused on sewing the wound.

“Thanks for staying,” Scott said quietly. He finished the stitches with a snip. 

Stiles shrugged, shifting back onto the couch and shutting his eyes. 

“Only you would go on a road trip and find something to save,” Stiles sighed. 

Scott smiled softly, looking from the dog-- who finally seemed wholly relaxed-- to Stiles. His best friend’s chest moved up and down softly, heartbeat steady. Scott leaned back, sighing alongside Stiles. He tucked himself into Stiles’ side, grateful for his warmth and the little pat Stiles placed on his head instinctively. The little dog looked up, eyeing the two curiously. Scott picked it up gently, setting it in his lap instead of on the table. It seemed content, immediately going back to sleep.

“You can come back in now,” Scott said. He didn’t need to raise his voice, he was sure that Kira, Malia, or Liam could hear him. Sure enough, the pack came barrelling in a second later. Liam and Mason scooted right up to the boys, leaning down to gaze at the dog. 

“What’re we gonna name him?” Mason asked immediately, stroking the dog’s head. 

“We can’t keep him,” Kira countered. “What if he has a home?”

“Oh, can’t we keep him? Every team needs a mascot,” Malia whined, eyes shining. 

“We are literally a group of a werewolves, werecoyotes, and fox-spirit-thingys. I think we have enough mascots, thank you,” Lydia said. She glanced down at the little dog, sleeping soundly between the two boys. “He is very cute, though.”

Malia grinned. Kira rolled her eyes, but still smiled fondly as Malia bent down to scratch behind the dog’s ears. One thing was for certain, the little guy would have lots of love sticking with the group. At least, for now.

 

With the new little addition, the group decided to forgo hiking for the day. Stiles decided not to notice how excited everyone seemed about that. Instead, they opted for a chill beach day-- but Stiles and Scott had to head out for a bit to find a vet. Scott was pretty skilled, but it would be good to get the dog (“ No, we still can’t name it, ” Kira had been adamant) checked out by a professional. The crew waved them goodbye after they’d gotten the jeep unhooked, heading out with Dog on Scott’s lap.

Google said an emergency vet clinic was only twenty minutes away, a perk of being near a wildlife reserve, Stiles guessed. He drove steadily along, glancing over at Scott and Dog every once in a while.

“Do you think Malia and Kira will get together?” Scott said suddenly. Stiles almost jolted the car, not expecting the question. He caught Scott staring at him in his peripheral vision.

“I-- I mean probably. Malia’s pretty… direct. When she wants something. Yknow.”

Scott hummed in agreement, petting Dog on his head. 

“Is that.. I mean, like, are you okay with that?” Stiles glanced over at Scott. “Like is that weird for you?”

“Is it weird for you?” Scott bounced back.

“I mean, yeah,” Stiles said, speaking before he thought. He paused for a moment, actually considering. “It’s… I mean I think it’s kind of the name of the game when you’re friends with an ex. Or two,” he finished.

“Uh huh,” Scott said, laughing. 

Stiles shot him a look. “You know what I mean. Old flames or whatever. Hey, stop laughing!”

Scott coughed, covering up a last laugh. He sat quietly for a moment, thinking. Stiles enjoyed that about him. Scott was the kind of person that would think about the best way to say something before actually saying it. It balanced out Stiles’ impulsive nature-- or at least, he hoped that he wasn’t too taxing on Scott’s planned-ness. He liked to think it brought them to a happy medium. Stiles suggests finding the body in the woods, Scott finds the body in the woods. They’re a team. 

“I think it’s kind of nice how we find each other,” Scott said finally. Stiles had forgotten for a moment what they were talking about, but then tuned back into the conversation. 

“Like, we seem to find what we need in each other, and that just keeps making us better people. That’s rare for high school,” Scott said thoughtfully. 

Stiles wanted to ask if Scott had figured out what he needed-- if he had gotten over Kira completely by making peace that she couldn’t be what he needed. But what is a relationship if it’s just being what the other person needs? What about just enjoying someone’s company? Or being excited by them? What about the sort of thrill of realizing that a friendship could maybe be something more? That is… if you wanted it to?

“Of course, that’s important, too,” Scott said. Stiles turned to look at him quickly. He hadn’t realized that he had said the last part out loud. “It’s… yknow, the friendship makes it so easy to fall, I think.”

Scott trailed off, and Stiles realized he’d been looking at him and not the road for too long. He turned his head back, trying to ignore the whirring of his brain. It would be all too easy to pick apart everything Scott had just said about friendship and falling in love… but he shouldn’t. 

He couldn’t. 

The directions pinged again, instructing Stiles to turn into the parking lot. He turned the wheel harder than he meant to, causing the Jeep to almost jump the curb. The little group wheeled to a stop, Dog raising his head at the sudden movement. 

Scott said nothing and unbuckled his seatbelt, popping open the door. He looked back at Stiles, who hadn’t released the wheel.

“Coming?” Scott asked.

“Be in in a minute,” Stiles said, without turning. 

Scott nodded, lifting Dog gently and shutting the door behind him. Stiles watched him go into the clinic in his peripheral vision, waiting until the door closed behind him to let his forehead hit the steering wheel.

Stiles Stilinksi , you dumb fuck. He sighed. He shouldn’t have been so weird about the Malia and Kira thing. Stiles was over Malia, he knew this. There was no doubt. The two of them were what they needed at the time, like Scott had said, but now they were better at fulfilling what they needed as friends. But still, something Scott had said had struck a nerve. Was he not as over her as what he thought? Or maybe it wasn’t… maybe it wasn’t about Malia .

Stiles shook his head, rolling his shoulders back. There was no time to sit and be anxious about this. Scott was his best friend. If there was something that was bothering him, he could just ask him what was up. Stiles sighed, clicking off his seatbelt. Another time .

 

Dog sat happily with Liam and Mason, giving his best puppy eyes to sucker them into giving him pieces of their BBQ. The clinic had cleared him of any other issues, even complimenting the clean technique Scott used to sew his leg. Better than that, they didn’t charge the boys anything for the check-up, since, technically Dog wasn’t their dog. They were just good samaritans. Try telling the pack that this wasn’t their dog, though. Lots of things would be more productive. Like trying to move grains of sand from one pile to another using a slotted spoon. 

Even Kira had given in when Dog came back and licked her face in glee seeing her again. Besides, she seemed placated by the news that the clinic said no one had come looking for a lost dog in that area. And once Scott had promised to keep an eye out for the rest of the trip for any “lost dog” posters or anything, she let herself accept Dog’s love.

“Okay, so if he’s staying, then he needs a name,” Malia said, laying on her back dangling Dog above her head. She sniffed him, smiling when he licked her nose.

“How about the Destroyer?” Mason offered. Everyone looked over at him, Stiles stifling a laugh.

“What? Good strong personality with a good strong name.”

“Yeah, a strong name, not making him into a joke,” Malia said, tucking Dog into her chest. He settled in contentedly, seeming pleased with all of the love he’d been getting all afternoon. Clearly better than being chased by wolves. Now he could cuddle with them instead. 

“What about Red? Like the redwoods,” Kira suggested.

“But he’s not red,” Liam objected. Kira shrugged, leaning into Lydia’s side. The redhead started petting her hair instinctively, not even looking down. 

“I’ve got it,” Stiles said, sitting erect. He paused, raising his hands in the air. “Keith,” He said simply.

“We are not naming him Keith,” Malia argued.

“It’s funny!” Stiles insisted. “It’s funny when dogs have human names.”

Malia rolled her eyes, tilting her head down to look down at the little guy on her chest. “But he doesn’t look like a Keith.” she murmured.

Lydia sighed. “Why don’t we let Scott choose? Since he found him and fixed him up.” Everyone turned to look at Scott, including Dog, who seemed to sense something going on. 

Scott wiggled nervously, raising a brow. “But, I-- I mean it was kind of a team effort, yknow.” He acquiesced. 

“Nah, she’s right. Go on,” Liam said, leaning back on his hands. 

Scott headed everyone’s patient silence. He looked back at the dog, its little brown eyes already on him. What would be his name ? He cocked his head.

“How about Charlie?” Scott suggested.

The group was quiet for a moment. The dog, Charlie, wagged his tail, wiggling to move towards Scott. 

“Charlie?” The dog wriggled free, coming to kiss Scott on the nose. He laughed.

“Well, that settles that, then,” Lydia said, smiling. “Clearly he likes it.”

Charlie limped back over to Malia, allowing himself to be pet by everyone around.

“Found another stray,” Stiles said. There was a warmth to his voice. Scott grinned over at him. 

“You know me. Ever the trusting.”

Stiles hummed, settling in next to Scott. “Yeah, and I hate you for it,” He mumbled, burrowing himself in Scott’s side.

“I know,” Scott said quietly, smiling. And he let himself relax with his pack, plus one.

Notes:

long one long one! ps. i personally love when dogs have really human names or very ironic names,, like it's either steve or keyboard no in-between
also ps. stiles is so just one of the girls (tm)

Chapter 5

The next day the crew was up bright and early. Scott felt bad about needing to cancel hiking yesterday (“ Honestly, it’s fine-- you big-hearted weirdo .” Stiles had said), so he decided to reserve some canoes from the little shack next to the lake. Everyone would have to go three to a canoe so that he could afford it, but the pack seemed excited nonetheless. 

Lydia opted out, deciding instead to hang on the shore with Charlie. At first, Stiles thought it was just so she could keep from getting her hair wet or to enjoy texting Michael in peace, but as soon as the rest of the pack were all in their canoes, she was up and taking loads of photos. Another natural talent of hers-- she seemed to just have an eye for both logic-oriented and detail-oriented things. 

Stiles smiled and waved, rocking the canoe a little. Malia smacked him on the arm, a death grip on her paddle. 

“Stop that! You’re gonna knock us all in,” She hissed. She let go of one hand to straighten her life vest again. “Are we sure these things work?” She asked tentatively.

“You’re perfectly safe,” Kira calmed. “Plus, we haven’t actually gone that far yet.”

Malia glanced around, realizing they were in fact only about five feet from the dock. 

“Yeah, but lakes can get deep pretty fast, right? That’s what Mr. Norris said in geology.”

“Coyotes are actually really good swimmers, though,” Stiles added. He looked up at Malia and Kira’s silence, pausing in rowing. “So, yknow, if you fall in, maybe your instincts will help out.”

Malia seemed pleased by that, dipping her oar in the water and pushing off in the opposite direction of Stiles. He adjusted, maneuvering so they were actually rowing forward instead of in a circle.

Scott, Mason, and Liam were further out already, enjoying the quiet serene of the lake. Mason sat in the center of the canoe, leaning back on his hands, face tilted towards the sun.

“How come you just get to sit and do nothing?” Liam asked, huffing as he dipped the oar in for another go. Mason just grinned.

“Passenger princess privileges,” He said simply. Scott snorted, rolling his eyes at the two. He glanced over at Stiles’ canoe, seeing Kira trying to show Malia how to row in a way that wouldn’t dunk them in the water. Lydia still stood on the shoreline, a little blurry figure with another little gray figure sitting by her heels. Scott sighed, feeling calm ink into his veins like ice water.

“My dad and I used to do things like this,” Scott turned, catching Liam’s content look. “He loves the outdoors. I used to pretend to hate it just so he’d invite Mason along.”

Mason smiled at his friend, nodding. 

“I remember. And then Liam used to sneak away at, like, what? Five or so in the morning just to watch the sunrise. And then sneak back and pretend to be ever the angsty teenager.”

Liam laughed, leaning back. “Hey, I had an image to uphold.” He was quiet for a moment before continuing. “It was really nice, though. Dad always let me take it at my own pace. He never seemed bothered by the anger thing. I think he figured being out in nature would help.”

“And does it?” Scott asked, tucking his oar onto his lap. Liam smiled and nodded, taking in another deep breath of the mountain air. 

“There’s a full moon coming up,” Liam said, absentmindedly. 

Scott nodded. It was just a few days from now-- they’d probably be further north when it happened. The furthest he’d been from Beacon Hills in a while. 

“I feel good, though. Like, really in control. It helps to have all you guys around, too,” Liam admitted. Scott smiled, reaching over to pat his beta on the knee.

“You’ve always been strong enough,” He said. Liam grinned.

“Hate to interrupt the love fest, but what the hell are Stiles and them doing?” Mason jolted forward. Scott and Liam turned, seeing Stiles’ boat careening straight towards them. 

“Paddle!” Liam squeaked. The two dipped their paddles in the water, barely moving out of the way fast enough. Scott felt the other canoe clip the tail-end of theirs, rocking the three boys. He held fast, praying they didn’t tip.

His hopes held for their canoe, but not so much with Stiles’. The little boat careened over, dumping the three of them into the water. Scott heard a gasp from Liam or Mason before he was jumping in, cool water rushing over his head. Scott dashed over, helping the group push their boat off their heads.

Scott gripped Stiles’ arm, holding him above the water. Kira and Malia clung to each other, Malia looking like a wet cat. 

“Alright?” Scott asked, looking between the group. The girls nodded. 

“Sorry,” Malia said timidly. “I’m not as good a captain as I thought I’d be.”

“Let’s get you righted up, yeah?” Scott smiled, and Stiles felt a bit overwhelmed with his gaze on him. A dripping wet Scott smiling like the sun itself had been caught between his teeth. How did he even manage that ?

The group got the canoe together, Kira climbing in first, and tugging Malia behind her. Stiles went up next, wriggling his torso.

“Here,” He heard a voice behind him before hands touched his waist gently. In seconds, he was up in the canoe, heart beating fast. 

He spun around, seeing Scott still floating in the water giddily. What was this guy doing to him?  

“Now that you guys are situated…” Scott started, seemingly unaware of Stiles’ internal panic. “Wanna race?” 

“Race?” Liam said brightly.

Of course. Stiles rolled his eyes, but smiled anyway. “Unfair advantage over there, seeing as we just fell out.”

Malia’s eyes lit up in childish glee. “Oh, you’re on!”

Scott grinned, climbing back into his canoe. He shook like a wet dog and promptly ignored the implications of that analogy. 

The crew rowed back over to Lydia, getting her on board as referee. She acquiesced, holding Charlie in her arms and using his front paw as the racing flag. First one down to the little sandbar in the lake and back wins. The teams geared up, shooting each other a mixture of silly and dirty looks.

“On your marks,” Lydia began, holding Charlie’s paw up. He yipped excitedly. “Get set… go!”

The race was treacherous, laborious, a feat like no one had ever seen before-- aka Scott’s team decimated, and Stiles was telling himself that rowing in a straight line and then coming back was actually a really difficult task in order to make himself feel better. In reality, they got turned around fifteen feet from the starting point by an overly excited Malia, and the entire canoe tipped. Again. But they tried their hardest though, and that’s all that mattered.

After the thrilling race, the pack lounged on the beach. The girls really wanted to play some volleyball, but Stiles was excited to just hang out in the lake. 

He laid on his back, letting his body float for a bit. He closed his eyes, feeling his hair pushing and pulling around his face with the current. He let his weight be carried by the water, feeling his muscles relax. This was nice. This was good. Stiles took another deep breath. 

He let his mind wander for a bit. This kind of wandering was good though. Not the same as when the nogitsune had his body. That sort of loss of control was like--- God, he didn’t even know. Suddenly, the lake seemed to grow colder than it was. It’s okay, Stiles breathed. It’s still gone. He was him, and his mind was his own. 

Stiles gasped, feeling hands press onto his back. He jolted upright, splashing whatever lake demon in the face.

“Ew, lake water in my mouth,” Scott gagged. Stiles glared at him, wading in the water.

Stiles scoffed. “You are so lucky it was you and not me that got bit by fuckin’ Peter because I swear to God if I was a werewolf I would’ve just bit your head off.”

Scott grinned, holding his hands up in surrender. “Lucky me, I guess,” He laughed.

“I’m serious, Scott. Claws, teeth, all of it. Coming at you.” Stiles sighed, rolling his shoulders to relax again. 

Scott eyed his best friend curiously, floating a little closer to him. He watched a rivulet of water run steadily from the edge of his ear, down his throat, across his chest and disappearing back into the water. The sight of Stiles’ chest reminded Scott of why he came over in the first place. “What were you thinking about?” He asked. “Your heart was racing.”

Stiles raised an eyebrow. “Why were you listening to my heart, hm, furry boy?”

Scott rolled his eyes. Stiles deflecting in humor-mode, unsurprising. But he wasn’t meeting Scott’s eyes. He waited… But Stiles stayed quiet. Scott always worried when Stiles thought too much. It was like he went back into red string mode, trying to put together all the pieces to save everyone else. 

But who was saving Stiles?

Scott reached out, taking one of his friend’s hands. They were cold against Scott’s werewolf warmth. He rubbed a small circle into them, marking how Stiles’ heart leapt again. 

“Scott…” Stiles intoned. “More werewolf affection things?”

Scott shrugged, pulling Stiles closer. He wrapped him in his arms, waggling his feet to keep them afloat. He could let him think that. He could let himself think that. Maybe it was better for them both that way.

“You’re gonna drown us,” Stiles spoke into Scott’s shoulder. Scott grinned into the feeling of Stiles’ fingertips on his back.

“Hm, sounds like you’ve figured out my nefarious plan,” Scott murmured. Stiles gasped and pushed him, Scott laughing all the way. The two floated in silence for a bit, just taking each other in. Stiles felt a string tug in his belly. 

“Thanks,” He said quietly. Scott smiled. At first the whole chemosignal, heightened-senses thing freaked Stiles out-- Scott already knew him in and out, but having that much information on what he was thinking and feeling seemed overwhelming. Scott’s never intrusive about it-- always just checking in when he can and backing away when it’s clear Stiles doesn’t want to get into it. But sometimes it still just felt like a lot. 

Like Scott could always be there for Stiles in a way Stiles couldn’t for him.  

The thought made Stiles back up, putting some distance between him and Scott. He felt it like a physical pain, like he stuck a rod between the two of them and started to wedge himself against it. “So,” He started, trying to shake off whatever feeling had come over him. “Did you just come over to creep on me?” He asked. 

Scott felt Stiles' walls coming back up, and something inside him wilted a bit. But still… he backed away, respecting his boundaries.

“Lydia was wondering if you were hungry,” Scott forced himself to say. “It’s getting late so… BBQ and campfire?”

Stiles forced a grin on his face. “Always down for food.” He said, swimming towards the shore. “Don’t dilly-dally, let’s go.”

And that’ll be that, Scott thought. At least, for now.

 

The pack spent the rest of the evening on the beach. Charlie seemed to be doing better-- taking some of the antibiotics and pain meds the vet gave him like a champ-- after Liam and Mason shoved them in a piece of burger meat. 

They all sat around the campfire, very precariously started by Stiles. 

“The fire’s getting low, again,” Kira noted. “I’ll go grab some wood.”

“I’ll come with,” Scott announced, standing. Kira smiled gratefully, grabbing a flashlight. 

Stiles watched them go, his gaze watching the light until it was a pinprick in the distance. A weird feeling tied up his stomach. It’s probably nothing, he chided himself. He bit his lip, turning back to the group. Liam and Mason didn’t notice, still too preoccupied seeing who Charlie loved more. But Lydia fixed him with an interested look.

Stiles raised a brow, a silent question. Lydia answered by moving over, sitting next to him.

“You’re awfully quiet today,” Lydia started. Stiles shrugged, looking back into the fire.

“Am I?” He asked monotonously. He felt more than saw Lydia roll her eyes at him. Stiles didn’t turn, instead finding great interest in messing with his hands, picking at his callouses. The girl next to him stayed quiet for a moment. Stiles could tell she was thinking. 

“Yknow… you could always talk to him about it.” Stiles' head spun towards Lydia. She looked back, her eyes soft in amusement. Something about her look told Stiles that she knew more than maybe Stiles even did at the moment. Didn’t she always. 

“What are you talking about?” Stiles asked, laughing lightly. He ignored the way his heart perked up just a little. 

She raised her brows, before smiling and patting Stiles on the shoulder. “I know as much as you do, Stilinski. Just wanted you to know we’ll be here while you figure it out. Especially Scott.”

Stiles swallowed hard, nodding. Lydia laid her head on his shoulder for a minute, growing quiet again. Stiles sighed, relaxing into the touch and the scene. Malia and crew playing chubby bunny-- Liam almost quitting due to choking on a marshmallow, and Malia’s eyes watering. Stiles felt a smile pull at the corner of his mouth. It was just this that made all the bullshit worth it. Being here with them, with those that made him feel safe. 

Stiles didn’t want to ruin everything. And he did have a pension for that. 

A growl from Malia pulled Stiles out of his thoughts. Her eyes glowed blue before she spat the marshmallows out.

“No fair!” She growled. Mason smiled over his marshmallows, causing Liam to snort in laughter. Something in the woods crunched, the group whipping around.

“Just us,” Scott called.

Everyone settled back, Malia and Liam retracting their claws. Scott and Kira came back out, making their way over to the fire with a stack of wood in their arms. Scott sat his stack down next to the pit, Kira tossed a few of hers on. The fire raged back to life, warmth radiating over the group. Stiles sighed into the feeling, a few of Lydia’s hairs ticking his neck. It’s funny-- a few years ago, Stiles would have killed to be in this position. Hanging around the campfire with Lydia Martin on his arm. And now he was here-- but it was a different kind of gratefulness. Things change. 

Stiles guessed sometimes that wasn’t a bad thing.

As the fire grew lower, Kira settled back next to Malia, taking a s’more that Malia made for her. Scott sat back down, his gaze glancing over at Stiles and Lydia. As he looked around, he felt oddly alone. Liam and Mason were seeing what they could burn in the fire, Kira and Malia were chastising or egging them on, and Stiles and Lydia sat quietly, enjoying each other’s company. 

Scott leaned back, a weird feeling coming over him. It felt kind of like… like the middle of senior year, when he felt like he was losing what being an alpha meant. What was being a good leader when they didn’t really need him anymore? 

Malia leaned against Kira, letting the other girl stick pine needles into her hair. She glanced about, looking from Stiles on one end of the campfire to Scott on the other.

“They’re both kind of quiet tonight, hm?” Malia said to Kira. Kira glanced over, nodding.

“It’s odd,” She hummed. “Should we do something about it?” 

Malia leaned up, her hair and the needles falling gently over her and Kira. She looked back at Scott, quietly watching the fire, his brow slightly furrowed. And then over to Stiles-- just nodding along to whatever Lydia was saying, but eyes with a far-off gaze.

“I have an idea,” Malia murmured.

“Alright everyone! Pack bonding time.”

The group looked at her quizzically. She grinned. “Truth or dare style.”

Everyone groaned except Mason, who looked unnervingly excited. 

“What? It’s fun. Get over yourselves.”

“Malia, what more could we possibly know about each other? We’ve survived death with one another like fifty times,” Lydia remarked, leaning up from Stiles’ shoulder.

“Make that fifty thousand times,” Liam mumbled. 

“And we all deserve a fun little break of making each other do stupid things and say embarrassing stuff for laughs. Now, gather ‘round children.” Malia waved her arms, gesturing for people to scooch in. 

Reluctantly, everyone scooted in closer, eyeing each other over the flames. Little Charlie laid at Scott’s feet, clearly exhausted from the day’s events. 

“Alright, now you know the rules. Pick one and fucking do it. Because if you don’t, you get an extra special punishment from me.” Malia grinned wickedly. 

“Scotty! You’re up first.” Malia leant back on her hands, brow raised. “Truth or dare.” 

Stiles watched Scott out of the corner of his eye, trying to see what he was thinking. Mostly, he just seemed caught off guard by being first.

“Uh, truth?” He answered tentatively.

Malia sighed, rolling her eyes. “Lame… but okay. Who would you save first if we were all in a burning building?”

“Jesus, Malia,” Liam laughed. She shrugged, not taking her gaze off of Scott. 

The alpha thought for a second. Did he imagine it, or did Stiles see Scott’s eyes move towards Kira? He sucked his lip through his teeth, looking off. 

Scott fumbled for his words. “I-- I don’t know…”

Malia leant forward, clapping her hands. “Pick!”

A grin came over Scott’s face. “Charlie, then.”

Malia looked like she wanted to argue, but then sat back defeated. “Cheater,” she grumbled. 

Scott just shrugged. He was relieved that Malia didn’t press. He couldn’t even begin to try and imagine answering that question in front of the whole pack. “Alright, my turn… Liam, truth or dare?”

“Dare,” The beta answered confidently. 

Scott hesitated-- he didn’t actually have a dare prepared. Which, to be fair, he didn’t have a truth prepared either. Mason raised a hand.

“Can I offer something?” He asked with a grin.

Liam looked panicked, but Scott just waved him on.

Mason whipped around to his best friend with a wicked grin. “I dare you to jump in the lake.” Liam rolled his eyes and grinned.

“So eas--”

“Butt naked.”

The smile fell off Liam’s face as the pack laughed. “Goddammit, Mason, I knew you were gonna do something like that.” Liam groaned. And yet he still stood up, tugging off his sweatshirt and shirt and before shoving them in Mason’s face. Everyone whooped as he kicked off his shoes and socks and hobbled down to the shore. When he was just a dark blob against the darker blob of the lake, he turned around, flashing what was probably a very rude gesture to Mason. And then with a final tug of his shorts, he jumped into the water.

“Shit, he actually did it,” Stiles snorted. 

“Oh, he’s nothing if not competitive,” Mason commented. 

Stiles thought back to first meeting Liam-- aka him and Scott getting their asses kicked on the lacrosse field and nodded in agreement. The boy’s got guts.

The game continued with zero mercy from the rest of the group-- it seemed Liam’s lake bath had set the tone. Stiles had to grab a piece of wood from the fire, Kira admitted that she enjoyed earplay (and Stiles fought hard not to look at Scott’s bright red face during that one). Malia blindly ate something Liam found buried in the woods, and Lydia finally confirmed it was, in fact, Michael that she was chatting to, and sent him a rather spicy voice message. 

Stiles admittedly felt good-- being silly with his friends always had that effect. Once again, he was reminded of Scott’s whole “finding something that you needed” thing. 

And as the crew packed up, put out the fire, and got back on the road for their next day of travel, he drove quietly, thinking. Something I needed, he thought. He looked over at the boy beside him, quietly sleeping.

What if he’d already found it? 

And what if he’d already… missed?

Notes:

i think the coyote fact is actually true? great north american doggos amiright

Chapter 6

In a dream, Scott sat somewhere on a beach, the sun warming his face. The waves rolled onto the sand in slow motion, like someone flicking a beautiful blue blanket. He could have sworn he’d been to this beach before-- maybe on a family vacation years and years ago? It was somewhere in California, he remembered vaguely. As he sat, he felt the sand shift next to him. Scott registered another figure next to him, feeling relaxed in their presence without needing to speak. He felt himself reaching out, tangling their fingers. Slightly cold , Scott noted, but nice . The waves hit the shore, a steady thump, thump, thump. And even without turning, Scott sank into how much whoever it was made him feel like home. 

 

“Up, Scotty-boy!” A voice shook Scott from his dreams. He blinked a few times, shaking the heavy feeling of slumber that pervaded his thoughts. He pulled his hand up to his face. Empty.

The RV door careened open, and Malia and Kira came in, Malia tossing something wrapped in tinfoil his way.

“Breakfast burrito. Eat because we’re doing what I want today!” Malia grinned, plopping down on the couch and biting into her own burrito.

Scott leaned up, unwrapping the breakfast. It was still steaming, making his stomach rumble. 

“Where’re the others?” Scott muttered through a mouth full of egg and chorizo. 

Kira gave him a look, and he swallowed before repeating the question. 

“Lydia wanted to take some photos closer to the coast, so she took the boys out. Boys, including Charlie, of course.” 

“Why didn’t anyone wake me up?” Scott asked.

“Stiles said you looked too cute all curled up to wake you. He threatened us with jail-time.” Kira smiled, tossing a look over to Malia. 

Scott’s heart jumped a tick. “Did he?” He laughed lightly. He ignored Kira and Malia’s looks, instead burrowing his face in his burrito. 

Kira spoke over the sound of her peeling back her own tinfoil. “Honestly, though. You’ve been on edge since we left Beacon Hills, haven’t you?” She asked, tilting her head.

Scott didn’t bother hiding it. He knew they’d be able to read his heart anyway. “It’s just weird, yknow? Being so far from there. It’s like… I’ve got something in my chest tethering me there.” Malia and Kira nodded understandingly. 

“But to be honest, having you guys all here, yknow, minus Derek, Deaton, and Isaac, of course, it… it helps. Really.”

Kira smiled again. Scott gave a little smile back, leaving it there for now. He wondered if it was a kitsune thing or a Kira thing that she was so perceptive without even trying. Maybe it was a bit of both. 

“What’re your plans for the day, Malia?” Scott asked.

She grinned. “Glad you asked!”

“We’re gonna go to…” She paused dramatically. “The aquarium!”

Scott tilted his head, smiling. “The aquarium? Really?”

Malia pouted. “I’ve never been, so. And this one is supposed to be really good, right, Kira?”

The fox smiled. “Yeah, my parents took me up here one holiday when we still moved around a lot. They really enjoyed looking at the fish, but all I could think about was how they make them into sushi.”

Scott nodded. “Sounds good to me. Actually seeing the fish alive, not the sushi thing.”

Kira shrugged, biting into her burrito. 

The aquarium was smaller than Scott was expecting, but still charming. It was on the end of a pier in Washington, full of families with strollers and school kids on field-trips. Malia dragged Kira and Lydia in, the two of them looking back to the boys who only laughed in pity. They all donated to get in, and Liam, Mason, and Stiles were way too excited to watch their coins spin down the big funnel donator bin at the front.   

Inside, Malia led the group like a kid in a candy store, excitedly bouncing between exhibit to exhibit. 

“Look! They have little Nemos!” Malia cheered giddily. She pressed her face near the glass, unceremoniously pushing a kid out of the way in the midst of that. Kira gave the mom her most apologetic look, but stood with Malia nonetheless. She wrapped her arms around the taller girl lazily, resting her head on her shoulder. Malia tossed a happy look back.

Scott caught himself just taking in his pack. Liam passed Mason another coin for a commemorative coin machine, looking annoyed but smiling nonetheless. Lydia looked around excitedly, like she was trying not to squeal, pulling her camera out for a subtle photo. And Stiles… Scott looked around. He wasn’t here. Scott tried not to panic, instead focusing his hearing. In a moment, Stiles’ steady thump-thump could be heard in a room down the hall a bit. Scott sent Lydia a little thumbs up before moving through the crowd. 

He followed Stiles’ heartbeat to a nearly empty room. It was dark, with only a few people milling between the glass exhibits and the bench in the center. Stiles’ stood in front of the jellyfish garden, watching the little fish bob up and down. He liked that the room was quiet, with most of the pack still back in the other room. Stiles enjoyed the quiet; the soft blues and purples of the tank calming his eyes. 

“You wandered off,” Scott said, pulling Stiles’ attention. He almost felt startled, but instead was calmed further by his friend’s presence. 

Stiles shrugged, turning back to the tank. “Did you know that jellyfish can basically live forever, and lots of them have no brains?”

Scott snorted, looking over at his best friend. “Sound familiar?”

Stiles crinkled his eyebrows, placing a hand on his chest. “Hurtful, dude.”

“Sorry,” Scott laughed. “Just had to do it.”

Stiles looked unamused. Scott raised his hands. “The joke was right there! I-hey, hey, wait,” He placed a hand on Stiles’ arm to keep him from moving away. “You’re so smart.”

“I know,” Stiles hummed, looking back at the tank. In the soft light, Scott found himself admiring the angles of his friend’s face, and the way the light reflected off of the slope of his brow, and the angle of his jaw, and the soft slope of his mouth…

“It’s creepy to stare, yknow,” Stiles said quietly, glancing over at Scott with a smile playing on his lips.

Scott blinked, taking stock of his thoughts. Should he find it odd how preoccupied he just was with observing his friend? Scott did always appreciate Stiles’ expressive features. It was nice to be with someone so open and direct. But should he be concerned by how distracted he just was by his lips? 

Scott swallowed hard, realizing he still hadn’t spoken. 

“Your lashes are, like, really long. Did you know that?” Scott said dumbly. He facepalmed in his head. Jesus, maybe I shouldn’t have spoken, he thought. 

Stiles quirked a genuine smile, blinking a few times before crossing his eyes pretending he could see his lashes. “Huh,” he said. “Well, lookie there.”

Suddenly, Scott felt himself stepping closer, reaching a hand out. And the split second before he made contact, he wondered what the hell he was doing. 

But then his fingers were on Stiles’ face, and the feeling of his rough skin under his fingertips… the closeness… it was all making him feel a little drunk.

Stiles felt like he might be dying. Or perhaps flying. Or maybe flying and then falling and in fact dying. His heart fluttered like a hummingbird in his chest. It’s not like him and Scott hadn’t been this close before. But this close, with Scott’s hand on his cheek and that look in his eyes… He didn’t know if he’d ever seen that look fixed on him before. It made him feel like his insides had been replaced with jelly. 

“Scott,” Stiles muttered. He felt his eyes fluttering shut at Scott’s warmth.

“You have an eyelash,” The alpha mumbled. He realized that the height Scott had acquired since the seventh grade had set him slightly taller than Stiles. Most of the time he didn’t really notice, but being this close to Stiles, it was kind of obvious. 

It was also obvious that they had never been this close before. 

It was also obvious that Stiles was like a deer caught in headlights.

Scott cleared his throat, stepping back. He tried not to focus on how fast Stiles’ heart was beating right now, but it was like his heartbeat was the only sound in the world. It was a wave crashing over him, and Scott was caught underneath the surf.

Scott caught Stiles’ mouth moving, but not the words. “What?” He said. 

“Did you get it?” Stiles asked again. “The eyelash.”

Scott laughed breathlessly, surprised by his best friend. “Yeah,” He said, looking adoringly.  “I got it.” 

 

The RV parked along the beach for the night. The girls didn’t want to pass up a day dipping toes in the Pacific. The aquarium seemed to have inspired a move for fried fish for dinner, as seemingly inappropriate as it was. Scott loved the beach, but not as much as Charlie. The dog took to the water like a fish-- galloping and swimming, coming back to shake aggressively right onto Scott and Stiles. 

“Little dude! Jeez,” Stiles pretended to spit sandy dog water. “Ehh, gross.”

Charlie only wagged his tail, jogging off to yap at Liam and Mason trying to push each other underneath the surf.

“Do you think it’s obvious we’re like… not normal?” Stiles asked, suddenly turning to Scott. 

Scott barked out a laugh, looking over at the crew. Mostly Scott felt like they looked relatively normal. Maybe minus Malia’s claws almost coming out when she lost at chicken and Kira giving the boys little shocks to cheat their way to victory. Lydia tossed a glance back towards Scott and Stiles on the shore, waving her free hand and holding up the camera to take a photo. Scott pulled a silly face, feeling the pressure of Stiles’ arm suddenly slung around his shoulders. He leant into the touch, his silly face turning into a blushing grin.

Lydia sent a thumbs up. God, I hope that photo isn’t embarrassing, Scott thought. He leant back, feeling Stiles’ arm slide off. Scott felt disappointed at the loss of contact.

Stiles felt Scott pull away from him, and felt his heart dip a bit, disappointed. He ignored it and curled into himself, tucking his knees under his chin. 

Scott tried to ignore the new uncomfortable feeling. Things seemed to be good, and then they weren’t good. He didn’t know how the switch flipped like that. Or how to put it back. 

“So… only a little ways to go before we reach the other wolf pack,” Stiles started. Scott had honestly forgotten about that. No surprise Stiles hadn’t. He was surprised, however, that he brought it up.

“I guess so,” Scott said. “Nervous?”

Stiles laughed emptily. “Shouldn’t I be asking you that?”

Scott shrugged. “We’ve faced way worse than a few other wolves.” He said, absentmindedly.

“We have also faced some pretty nasty wolves. Peter, Kate, Deucalion, Derek…”

“Derek isn’t nasty,” Scott laughed.

“Hey, he was in the beginning! Remember, we thought he turned you, killed his sister, ate little kitty-cats and puppy-dogs.”

Scott did remember. What a few years it’d been. Ups and downs, lives and losses… and all of it, with the dark-haired, honey-eyed, anxious fucker next to him. 

“What’re you grinning about?” Stiles asked, quirking an eyebrow. “Did you just do a silent fart? Because I swear dude, those have gotten more deadly since you became a wolf-man--”

“Shut up!” Scott laughed, pushing Stiles’ shoulder gently. 

“I’m telling you, bro. Like truly,” He pretended to faint, draping a hand over his forehead. Scott laughed again at his friend’s theatrics, catching sight of Stiles’ bright smile.

“You’re ridiculous,” Scott shook his head, looking down at him. Stiles squinted up at the boy, the sun and Scott’s dimples competing for the brightest thing in the sky today. 

A warm breeze passed over the two of them, and Scott’s mind recalled a hint of a dream from the other day. Warmth and the waves and… someone that felt like coming home. 

“You know, I’m glad we went on this trip. You.. it… has meant a lot to me.” Scott started, smiling again. “Feels good to do something like this, yknow?”

Stiles nodded lightly, gazing up at his best friend. His hair caught the sun, fanning out around his face like a halo. God. 

He was really gone, huh? 

Stiles reeled. It was like everything that his best friend did had become magic to him. And he didn’t know how long it’d been this way-- maybe just recently, maybe always. But it was there, and it was sitting on his chest like an elephant, and Stiles knew then it wasn’t going away.

Stiles realized what he needed… and what he couldn’t have.

The boy sat up, dusting sand off his arms. Scott startled back, looking confused.

“I’ve gotta-- I just realized I hated sand, so.” Stiles got up, rushing towards the RV. Scott watched him go, each step feeling a universe growing between them. Cold, dark, confusing. 

Scott was lost. Was it too much? Did he come on too strongly? Did Stiles not… not feel the same? Scott had thought-- Stupid, he chastised himself. How could he possibly have thought Stiles would… He was being silly.

And he might have just fucked up everything.

Notes:

scott king of not realizing he's flirting coming out to play,, you just can't convince me that scott wouldn't be so calm about liking stiles and stiles would be constantly screaming (in his head but maybe also out loud)
also the "i'm in love with you" implications of calling someone ridiculous

Chapter 7

The next day’s drive felt stifling. Stiles hadn’t even come out from the back, Scott instead taking time at the helm. They managed to avoid crossing paths all day. Once they finally made it to the last campsite before the second pack’s territory, Lydia reported that Stiles felt sick and had told everyone to do dinner without him. Scott felt the wound simmer, heading out of the RV with the rest of the pack. He missed the girls giving each other a look, a little more observant than the best friends realized. Stiles curled over in his bed as he heard the RV door shut, Charlie finding him and nudging his hand.

“Hey, little dude,” Stiles murmured. Charlie curled under his hand, letting Stiles stroke his back until he fell asleep. At least someone could get some rest.

Murmuring from outside the camper door woke Stiles from a restless sleep. The door to the back swung open, sunlight streaming in around the shape of a figure. A hand appeared in front of his face. Well, it didn’t just appear, it was attached to a person. Malia, to be exact.

“C’mon,” she said, waving at him. “Get up. We’re going on a walk.”

Stiles gaped confusedly. She waved her hand again, grinning when Stiles took it. She yanked him up, walking the two out to the campsite. Stiles glared at the light, his eyes burning at the sudden brightness. He barely got his eyes adjusted fast enough, not noticing where they were going, or where the rest of the pack was. 

They walked in silence for a bit. Stiles was still confused as to why Malia dragged him out, but he had to admit the campsite was prettier when he wasn't just wasting away in bed. Birds called to each other, only flitting away when disturbed by Stiles' or Malia’s footsteps. The air smelled heavily like pine and something wet, like earth right after rain or snow resting on rocks. Nature was trying as nature does to calm his mind-- or rather, nature was just existing, and Stiles was trying to calm his mind. He glanced over at Malia; she wasn’t paying him any mind, just walking along aimlessly. After a few minutes, right when Stiles was about to ask what was up, Malia stopped.

“Over here,” she gestured. They walked on for a minute, pushing through low-hanging branches. Stiles had a very faint feeling that he was perhaps going to die out here with Malia in the middle of the woods, but then he heard the smallest tinkling sound. 

A creek bubbled in front of them-- something no wider than a couple of feet, meandering downhill lazily. Malia grinned, plopping down on a stone next to it and leaning back. 

“Have a seat,” she said. “Welcome to my office.”

Stiles raised a brow but sat, on a much lower stone, next to her. She turned, putting her chin in her hand.

“You smell all funny, and you haven’t talked all day. Only Charlie and Lydia’s seen you since yesterday.”

Ah. It was an intervention. Stiles shrugged. He normally hibernated for much longer before an intervention occurred. “Got a lot on my mind,” Stiles said simply. 

Malia hummed. “Any of it have to do with the visit tomorrow?”

Stiles shrugged, not wanting to get into it. He was already the anxious freak of the group, he didn’t need the point to be proven again.

“...Any of it have to do with me?”

“No, Malia, you’re-- we’re-- it’s all fine, alright? Whatever you smelled, you were off. Must be the woods.”

“I’m never off,” Malia grumbled. She stayed quiet for a minute.

“So it’s whatever is going on with Scott then, huh.”

“What? No! What are you talking about?” Stiles stammered. Real cool, Stilinski. Real cool. 

Malia raised a brow. “Well, if you don’t want to talk about it, fine, but stop moping. You’re weirding everyone out.”

Stiles felt his face flush. “Hate to be an inconvenience,” He snapped. “Did you really just drag me all the way out here to insult me?”

“Well I wasn’t meant to be insulting you! I just-- You were being weird, and I worry about you. Still.”

Stiles stood. The bubbling of the creek was suddenly no longer soothing-- instead it just filled his head with noise. Everything, everything was too much. Stiles could feel his fingers shaking, but couldn’t stop them.

“Yeah, well. That’s a waste of time. Just worry about Kira, yeah?”

He went back the way they came, picking through the brush to find the trail. He couldn’t get Malia’s words out of his head. You’re weirding everyone out. Had they all talked about him? Had this been some sort of intervention on behalf of the group? Had they nominated Malia to go talk to him? Why not Scott? 

Fuck… Scott. His stupid soft brown hair and his too kind eyes and his caring about Stiles…

Any of that have to do with Scott? Malia’s words echoed in his head.

Stiles gripped the hair at the back of his neck. Shit, did they realize why he was being weird? Stiles hadn’t even fully processed what was going on between them-- if there even was anything to process. It could all be in his head. But then why would Malia have mentioned it? Maybe he was too obvious-- a little too into Scott’s attention. 

A little too into the feeling of Scott’s hands on his skin. 

But what did that mean for him? For them? Stiles had been avoiding even asking the question. Him and Scott were best friends. Scott knew how overly-analytical Stiles is, and he wouldn’t do anything that would make him jump to a conclusion he didn’t want. Right? Right?

Stiles looked up, seeing a red trail marker. He stopped, glancing around. Hadn’t they walked past the blue ones? Or maybe the yellow ones? He tried to remember. He was certain they’d passed at least one blue marker, but he couldn’t recall how far down the path that was. They’d only made a couple of turns, though, so he couldn’t be that far off. 

Stiles continued down, passing the red marker.  As he walked further, the sounds of the woods began to blur together. He couldn’t tell if the birds were the same ones he’d heard near their campsite. The trees didn’t help-- everything looked the same out here.

“Fuck,” He whispered. He reached for his pockets, and… his phone was back in the RV. 

“Okay… don’t panic. Malia was right behind me. She can find my scent! Especially once she realizes that I didn’t go back to the RV. I should just stay right here.” Stiles moved to put his back against the nearest tree. The bark scratched as he slid down, plopping onto the ground. “I’ll just stay put.”

 

Scott had been off all day. The thing was, he could tell everyone knew it and was keeping quiet about it, but that was driving him insane. Liam and Mason mostly gave him a wide berth, sending him reassuring smiles but whispering when they thought he was far enough away. He’d seen the girls chatting earlier, but before he could hone in, they dispersed, Malia making her way to the RV. His heart leapt when he saw her leave with Stiles, the boy looking disheveled. He jumped again when he felt a hand on his arm, looking over to see Kira smiling at him. 

“Okay to talk?”

The two walked down to the edge of the river nearby, where the pack had spent time frolicking and skipping stones earlier. Kira stayed quiet for a minute, giving Scott space.

“Something’s off in Scott’s world,” She started. “You don’t have to share, but I wanted to at least be here with you.”

Scott felt his walls slipping, the same way they always seemed to with Kira. He sighed, kicking a little rock and watching it splash in. “I-- it’s… I’ve never been good with words, have I?” Scott asked, glancing over at Kira.

She smiled, shrugging lightly. “You weren’t bad. And you were good at showing how you felt in other ways.”

Scott groaned. “But that’s not enough… How can anyone know if I can’t,” Scott waved his hands around, “just say it, yknow?”

“You could always write it down. Sometimes that helps.”

Scott shook his head, sighing and crouching low to the ground. He gazed into the river, watching little fish dart between rocks, moss moving gently with the current. It was so serene-- it was almost making him emotional. “It doesn’t matter, anyway. I’ve already fucked it all up.”

Kira hummed, “Fumbled your words with Stiles, huh?”

Scott gaped, seeing a knowing look on Kira’s face. She didn’t even look surprised at his reaction, more like concerned. “He’s your best friend, Scott,” She asserted.

Scott swallowed, his heart aching. “That’s exactly it,” He said, looking away. “I thought maybe… but now I think I might just be losing him instead.”

Kira placed a hand on Scott’s arm. “Look. This isn’t gonna be easy, but I mean, what’s ever easy, anyway? If you feel something, you have to say it no matter the consequences. Because the alternative is to let it fester, and things that fester tend to rot. Don’t let something like this rot your friendship. You guys are stronger than anyone else I know. You’ll be alright.”

Scott looked at Kira gratefully. He seemed to get really lucky in the ex department.

“Thanks, Kira.” She smiled, giving his arm another pat. “And you and Malia…” Her face flushed red.

“Oh, that’s--”

“Nuh uh, we’re not just going to talk through my relationship issues. You all are… cute. Is it, uh, is it good?”

Kira smiled dreamily, looking down bashfully. “Yeah, we’re, uh, we’re good. She’s kind of weird, but… I think we balance each other out.”

Scott nodded. They certainly did. Malia’s determination but brashness balanced by Kira’s kind-hearted but sometimes timid energy. They made sense.

“Where is she?” Scott wondered aloud. 

“She was meant to be talking to Stiles,” Kira said, looking around. Scott laughed at the planning. A double-pronged effort it seemed. But his heart also soared a little. If they figured they should talk to both of them… maybe the cause wasn’t as hopeless as it seemed. 

Just then, Malia emerged from the woods, looking around skittishly. Beyond that, Scott noticed that she had come back alone.

Where had Stiles gone?

 

Stiles was starting to think the Boy Scout guide of staying put when you get lost was not a super viable option. He had counted over three-hundred and forty-seven pine needles drifting down from the canopy above, and he suddenly realized this was exactly what drove people mad in the woods. The sun would start dipping soon-- he’d have to think of another way to find his way back.

A branch snapped somewhere near Stiles. He whipped his head around, trying to place the sound in the brush. 

“Okay, if I follow camping guide rule number one and die-- I’m suing the Boy Scouts of America and all associates.” Stiles tried to ignore the pounding of his heart.

The sound came again, closer now. Stiles stood up, pulling a branch from the forest floor with him.

“Just to warn you… I’m armed!” He called into the nothingness. Part of him felt a little silly, but then the hairs stood up on his arms, creeping up the back of his neck. Something was certainly out there. 

“Wouldn’t call a branch arms,” A voice called out. Stiles spun wildly, trying to locate its source.

“You should ask a tree then.” He responded. 

A bout of laughter rang in between the trees. Stiles watched as a few figures emerged from the greenery. A tall boy with light blond hair who looked suspiciously like Peter Pan, a girl with dark hair and bright blue eyes that made Stiles uneasy, a stout boy with darker features who was holding… a frying pan? And in the center, a boy with dark hair and dark eyes, with a figure like a runner. 

“Wandering around in the woods, are we?” The boy in the center asked, raising a brow.

“I wouldn’t say wandering so much as… appreciating nature?” Stiles shrugged.

“What did you expect to do with, um,” The girl pointed to the stick in Stiles’ hands. He thought for a moment before waving it like a sword. And then a wand. And then a wand one more time just to make sure it wouldn’t work. It didn’t.

The group took another step forward, and Stiles another back.

“Hey, woah, woah, I think there’s some confusion here.”

“No confusion-- you smell like a wolf.” The boy with the frying pan said, tapping it in his hand for emphasis.

A bell rang in Stiles' head. Of course, they were the other pack. And here was human-boy Stiles, all alone. Shit.

“You’re… the Runners, right? With, uh, you must be Ki,” Stiles said, looking at the boy in the middle. They seemed slightly surprised, but recovered quickly.  

Stiles tapped his chest, setting the branch down. “I’m with Scott. Uh, McCall. Of true-alpha-dom.”

The pack seemed unconvinced. “Oh, yeah? Prove it.” The girl sassed.

Stiles had no good answer, but luckily, the pack’s eyes whipped to the other side of the clearing, noticing something.

The boy almost fainted in joy when he saw his pack coming through the trees, led by none other than Mr. True Alpha himself. Talk about cinematic timing. Stiles could’ve kissed his feet. Almost.

The other pack went quiet with awe. “It’s really you,” Ki said, breaking the silence. Scott nodded, his eyes flashing red as he went to stand between Stiles and the other pack. Malia did the same, looking back at Stiles with an apologetic glance. He couldn’t even be mad at her for leaving him. His earlier actions didn’t exactly scream ‘cooperative.’

“I trust you weren’t about to hurt a member of my pack,” Scott said. A growl rumbled through the undertone of his voice. Even though he was around Scott’s wolf form all the time, the sound still sent a chill up Stiles’ spine.

Ki shrugged, looking around at his pack. Taking the hint, they all visibly relaxed, bringing the tension from a ten to nilch. Stiles exhaled gladly, feeling the anxiety of being the only human in a supernatural space settle again. 

“So,” Ki grinned, the earlier look of suspicion gone. “ Anyone hungry?”

Notes:

LISTEN okay you can't write a story that features dylan o'brien as stiles stilinski and NOT make a maze runner reference & i will die on this hill

Chapter 8

As much as Stiles hated to admit it, the wolves made a mean barbeque. He piled his plate high with meat and corn. The blonde wolf, whose name he learned was Thomas, turned meat on the grill. Stiles saddled up to him, looking over his shoulder. 

“What kind of meat is this?” Stiles asked. Thomas turned around, a sly smile on his face. 

“Do you really want to know?” He asked, cheekily. With that response, Stiles decided he didn’t. He shrugged, moving to go sit down. 

“Hey--” Thomas stopped him. “Sorry about the whole, mm, threatening you thing.”

“Oh, that,” He waved an elbow, his hands full. “Forget about it.”

Thomas raised a brow. “Quite comfortable with partying with people who just almost kidnapped you,” He said curiously.

“You’d be surprised,” Stiles mumbled.

“Well. Glad you’re here. And eating.”

Stiles looked down at his food. “You didn’t poison this, did you?”

“And get rid of that pretty face? Nah, plus, I don’t think we could get away with that with so many of your friends around.” Thomas motioned with his tongs behind Stiles. He turned around, seeing half of the pack’s eyes on him. Malia hadn’t stopped looking guilty since they found him, and Lydia had mostly looked concerned. Scott… Stiles hadn’t been able to figure out exactly what was brewing underneath his surface. He looked away, still feeling the dark brown eyes burning into his back. 

“Well. No kidnapping me, then.” Stiles shrugged.

“Promise,” Thomas said, pressing a hand to his heart. Stiles smiled lightly, feeling something odd over Thomas’ smile. He walked back to the pack, plopping down on the ground next to Scott.

“What did he want?” Scott asked, tersely. Stiles looked up at him, raising an eyebrow.

“You can’t tell me you weren’t listening to that entire conversation.” He said, taking a bite of his food. Scott’s brows fell, blinking a bit. Stiles rolled his eyes, nodding in confirmation. “Yeah, figured.”

They ate in silence for a bit, and Stiles had to admit, the food was pretty good-- mystery meat included. Scott barely left his side the entire night, and Stiles tried not to mind. His presence was steadying for the first bit of time, a reminder that his friends were there. But he was also reminded of all he had to ignore, and felt himself bristling at the closeness.

So basically, it was difficult. Stiles was more than grateful when the Runners rolled out the booze. 

A campfire with the Runners pack was a sight to behold. Stiles still didn’t understand how no one heard them out in the woods-- definitely some sort of emissary trick. Because the amount of laughter, singing, and general merriment was sure to attract a few travelers. The pack had managed to trick out some of the beer, making it so even the wolves could enjoy a bit of buzz. 

Stiles clung to a seat happily, fingers drumming a beat on his bottle. He watched the group challenge each other to silly tests of strength, laughing when someone won or lost. Ki challenged Scott to a pull-up competition, grabbing onto a low-hanging branch. Scott shrugged, rolling his shoulders back and joining. 

Stiles was surprised-- not used to seeing Scott so competitive, even on the lacrosse field. He wondered if it was a wolfy thing-- like being around the other wolves made his competitive side come out. And as the two lifted themselves repeatedly up the branch, Stiles felt his face burning from more than just the alcohol. He couldn’t take his eyes off of Scott’s chest, the slight bit of his shirt riding up. Again, he found himself wondering when his friend got so ripped. He needed to look away… to ignore the way that the sight of his friend’s arms curling again and again was making something in his stomach feel funny. 

“Pretty, aren’t they?” Stiles turned, seeing Thomas’ bright grin next to him. The kid really liked to sneak up on people. Stiles blinked a few times before he registered Thomas’ words.

“Hm?” Stiles said quite smartly. 

“Have you ever been with a guy?” Thomas asked suddenly, leaning back into a relaxed pose.

Stiles responded immediately. “I asked my friend once if gay guys found me attractive, but he said no.”

Thomas laughed, carrying eyes over Stiles. “Some might,” he said simply.

Stiles’ brows raised. “You do?”

Thomas laughed. “Calm down, there, buddy boy. I’m a big fan of looking--” he raked his eyes over Stiles again-- “but not touching. Especially when you’re so clearly smitten.” 

Smitten ? Stiles didn’t smite-smit-whatever. He was in no way smitten over anyone. His thinking Scott looked nice with his eyes crinkled in a lil’ silly boy smile had nothing to do with anything. 

Of course.

 

Scott felt good. He didn’t get to be around many wolves that weren’t a part of his own pack, especially ones that weren’t trying to kill him. But getting to be out here, just hanging out and messing around with other wolves his age felt good. He did one last pull-up then let go of the branch, earning a few cheers from the other wolves. Ki grinned, giving Scott a slow clap.

“Impressive, Mr. True Alpha.”

Scott laughed, ducking his head. “You don’t have to call me that.”

Ki shrugged, clearly amused. “Big cheese on this coast. Plus, it’s just fun.”

“Fair enough,” Scott grinned. An uptick in heartbeat caught his attention. He glanced to the side, seeing Stiles chatting with Thomas. His brow furrowed, tuning into their conversation. 

“... you’re so clearly smitten.” Thomas was saying. Scott felt the words like ice in his throat. Stiles’ face looked surprised. The blonde wolf grinned, catching Scott’s eye for a second. His eyes held a childish gleam. What did that mean? What were they talking about ?

Shit, and why was Scott so angry about it?

“Scott?” Ki’s voice broke through his thoughts. The boy turned, eyeing the other alpha.

“Sorry, what?”

Ki raised a brow, a hint of a smile playing off his lips. “I was saying that we’re excited about a partnership between us.”

Scott glanced over at Stiles and Thomas, still in conversation. “Oh, right, partnership…”

“If, of course, you’re still interested.” 

Scott turned around, fixing Ki with an apologetic look. “Yeah, yes, of course. I-- we really feel like having allies across the west coast would be the best way to go. For all of us, yknow.”

“Diplomatic as ever. We didn’t know what exactly to expect from you, True Alpha McCall, but it seems like talk does represent you well.” Scott looked quizzical for a moment. “That’s a good thing, promise,” Ki said, laughing. 

“Good,” Scott smiled. “So, allies?” He stuck out his hand to shake.

“Allies,” Ki said, holding his hand in a firm grip.

“I’ll drink to that!” Dexter cheered, raising a glass and a frying pan he never seemed apart from. The packs roused, everyone toasting one another. 

Scott smiled, taking the moment to excuse himself to go over to where Stiles sat. 

“Scotty-boy!” Thomas grinned. He stood, clapping Scott on the shoulder. “Heard we’re partners now?”

Scott smiled. “Looks like it.”

He glanced between Thomas and Stiles for a bit. Thomas’ grin became knowing, like he was waiting for Scott to be clear with what he wanted.

“Can I-- speak with Stiles for a bit?” Scott said, his face flushing. 

“Anytime, mate.” Thomas patted him on the shoulder again, moving towards the rest of the pack. 

Scott sits next to Stiles, the boy immediately leaning over and batting his eyes at his best friend.

“You and I are not on the same level, Scott.”

“I don’t really like beer,” Scott said, apologetically.

“I-- yeah. Right, the beer,” Stiles looked down, his brow furrowing. 

“Stiles… about the other day--”

“No sweat, McCall.” Stiles stood, moving to drop his empty bottle in the recycling pile the Runners had. He sent finger guns to Scott before wandering off, plopping next to Lydia and Dexter and diligently ignoring Scott’s eyes on him. 

Scott dragged a hand across his face and into his hair. Kira had said he was good at showing-- but it seemed more like he was good at moving things the wrong way.

 

The pack got moving late the next morning, everyone but Scott still hungover from the night’s festivities. Ki left Scott with a hand-carved statuette of the moon, Dexter giving Stiles a few herbs and such for emissary purposes. Scott drove this morning, Stiles keeping his shades on and visor low as he slumped in the passenger seat. 

At some point, Kira and Malia came to relieve the boys of their driving and navigator duties. Stiles and Scott retreated to the back, sinking into beds across from each other. They still hadn’t spoken since yesterday, and every moment longer felt like a string was about to snap between them. Stiles felt the tension like sandpaper running up his skin, but he knew he was the one causing it. And he didn’t know how to stop. It seemed Scott couldn’t manage the gap either.  Everything Scott wanted to say danced on the tip of his tongue-- he choked it down with a swallow. 

Stiles muttered a terse goodnight before turning to the RV wall. Sleep was at least one fitful friend he understood. 

Scott laid awake, thinking. He hadn’t been able to sleep with everything unsaid and the tension between him and his best friend sitting on his chest. With a sigh, he turned over. Maybe at some point, sleep would come.

 

In the dark, someone was whispering. Scott blinked into the darkness, listening. The voice came again, more scared this time. Scott turned over, peering over the edge of the bed. Stiles murmured to himself, his hands vices on the sheets.

Scott stared for a moment, wondering if he should let him be, or… 

Fuck it . 

Scott climbed in next to Stiles, throwing whatever issue they were having out the window. The little nook wasn’t nearly enough room for the two nearly grown men, and half of Scott’s body hung out the side of the bed. He ignored his discomfort. He stroked his friend’s hands lightly until he felt their grip loosening, then lacing his fingers through Stiles’. Still asleep, Stiles gripped his hand like he would fall away. Scott pulled himself closer to Stiles, until his friend’s head was in the crook of his neck, their hands pressed between them. Scott could feel Stiles’ pulse, hear his heart racing. But slowly, ever slowly, his heart settled. Scott stayed tense until he finally heard Stiles’ heartbeat return to sleepy levels. He squeezed his eyes shut, trying not to stir at Stiles’ soft breaths hitting his shoulder. 

Scott realized that every second he spent like this with Stiles made this whole thing more complicated than what Scott figured Stiles wanted. It also made abundantly clear what Scott pretended he didn’t want. 

I should move , Scott thought to himself. I should definitely move … and yet his mind floated further and further into the sleepy realm.

And so he stayed.

Notes:

sad boy scott + flirty thomas + stubborn n stupid stiles makes for a fun campfire!!

Chapter 9

The next morning, Stiles felt especially sluggish. He woke up with a feeling like something was missing, but he couldn’t quite figure out what. The bed across from him was empty-- Scott must have already been up and moving. He felt a pang at the sight, but wasn’t it better this way? All Stiles needed to do was to ignore his feelings until the crew got home. And then until he gets to college, because then there’ll be other people, right? He can drown himself in the freshman experience. The thought turned Stiles’ stomach. 

He already knew-- nothing was really going to fill the void left by this recent discovery. And he’d have to find a way to live with it. 

 

They had stopped at a campsite the furthest north they were going to go this trip. It was only a few more days before they were back home. Scott thought about packing up his room in a month or so and heading to Davis… and he was already tired. He stood along the cliff’s edge, looking out over the ocean. He’d woken up earlier than the pack, well, to be more clear, he never really fell fully asleep. He was half awake the whole night, half of him dreaming, the other half tuned in to Stiles’ heartbeat, making sure that it stayed normal. In the earliest rays of dawn, he snuck out, taking a hike wherever-- his senses would lead him back soon enough. But for now… Scott sighed, sitting down. 

He thought maybe if he stared at the waves long enough, they’d give him a clue-- tell him what to do about the whole Stiles situation. He knew what he should do. He should take a step back, to take whatever discovery he’d made about his feelings and put them aside for the sake of their friendship. 

Nothing was worth losing Stiles, Scott knew this more than he knew his own name. He wouldn't survive without him. Not only literally-- his best friend had saved his life more than he could count-- but he just knew, he felt like he couldn’t breathe without him. 

Especially after Allison. 

After she’d gone, Scott found his own anchor in himself, in his love for his friends, in his fear of losing them. But as much as that was true, there was something deeper with Stiles. He just figured that was years and years of friendship and failures and protectiveness rearing its head, but, shit. Was Scott always this slow? How could it take him this long to realize it was obviously something more?

He’d love to say that maybe he’d always known, but it wasn’t like that. He knew he felt something real for Allison and then for Kira. But Stiles… he was someone that would always be there. It was different from his other loves in that there was no guesswork, no hot spark that burned bright and fast, no floating into each other’s lives right when it was needed. Stiles was always there. Steady as a river. The fabric of Scott’s life couldn’t be woven without a million threads of Stiles.

And fuck -- Scott was so far gone.

 

Stiles joined the pack for most of the day, albeit halfheartedly. His mind kept wandering to where Scott had disappeared to. The morning came with yoga led by Lydia, finishing with a mind-centering exercise that Stiles failed by being jittery and preoccupied. Liam and Malia suggested taking Charlie for a hike, so Stiles tagged along, hoping the exercise would tire his mind. If anything, it just put him more on edge. Where was Scott? It’d been hours, and he hadn’t been back once. The crew went around the trail without seeing him. Had he wandered off and been eaten by bears? Attacked by rival wolves? Some other random but plot-appropriate supernatural horror swallowed him whole?

“Stiles!” The boy looked up, catching Lydia’s gaze. She had a look like this was not the first time she’d called his name.

“You’re burning them,” She said, tilting her head towards the meat on the grill. Stiles looked down, seeing the burgers burned to a black disc. He swore, plunking the barely-could-be-called burgers onto the plate beside him. Charlie hovered close, and Stiles dropped a disc on the ground after waving it around to cool it down.

“I was going to leave you guys to it, but Mal-Kira’s intervention clearly didn’t go as planned, so. As usual, I’m stepping in.” Lydia crossed her arms, stepping closer to Stiles.

Stiles stuttered, “I don’t know what you’r--”

Lydia held up a perfectly manicured hand. How did she even manage that while they’ve been on the road? “Don’t even start, Stilinski. You’re pining over Scott is more obvious than Charlie’s love for burnt-up meat.” Stiles glanced down at Charlie, who panted and wagged his tail. 

“I’m not pining,” Stiles mumbled, crossing his own arms.

“You’re right. Now you're pouting.” Lydia looked at Stiles earnestly. “Why don’t you just tell him how you feel?”

Stiles felt his mouth go dry. Tell Scott… God, as if there could be anything else that Stiles could do to fuck with his friends. First, telling him to go look for a body in the woods. Then getting possessed by a demon. Then essentially standing by as psycho assassins tried to take them out one by one… it was enough mistakes for a lifetime. 

“I just… can’t,” He said quietly, shaking his head. His shoulders slump, suddenly feeling tired.

“I’m not what he needs. I-- I can’t keep him safe, and I can’t be there like what he deserves. It's just… not worth it.”

“Has Scott actually said any of this?” Lydia asked, not dissuaded.

“No, but he doesn’t need to. I mean, look around, Lydia. We all know I’m basically spare parts.” Stiles curled into himself a bit more, wincing at the sting of his own words.

Lydia sighed, taking a step forward. “Stiles. There are a thousand different ways that I could tell you that you are not spare parts, but I feel like you should realize that every day that that stupid boy out there in the woods somewhere shows you you’re not. I don’t even think he opens his eyes in the morning without thinking of you. He lives for you. I mean, yeah, he lives for all of us, but…really. For he lives for you. Because of you.”

“There’s no way you don’t see that.”

She held Stiles’ gaze, daring him to disagree. Stiles felt, against his better judgment, his heart swell. Maybe… maybe?

Lydia smiled, sensing him swaying. “You’re not getting rid of any of us that easily, Stilinski. Certainly not over some feelings. Now, go on, go find him. You're burning everything up anyways.” She hip-checked him out of the way, standing behind the grill.

Stiles stumbled, going towards the forest. The sun was about to go down-- he’d only have a small window to find Scott before he was wandering around the woods at night. Stiles started forward, before turning back around.

“Is it too cheesy if I do the whole ‘sincere thanks’ thing right now?” He asked, grinning.

“Just go! Jesus, you nerd.” Lydia waved the tongs, Charlie yapping at her heels for it.

And then into the woods Stiles went. Off to find the boy that lived for him.

Notes:

oh wise lydia, pls share with us your brilliance (these boys need it)
one last chapter to go! my god if you've made it this far... take this kiss on your forehead mWAH

Chapter 10

Scott watched the sky turn from blue to a dusty pink, the first hints that the sun was beginning her descent. He sighed, shifting slightly again. Something about the wolfy senses made sitting still for hours and surveying kind of calming, but didn’t make sitting on rock-hard ground any more comfortable. 

He heard the footsteps before he heard his name being called. Who …? The voice came again, complete with the scent of something on the verge of burning and the strong scent of the sea. Stiles . 

“Scotty-boy! Scott! It’s me, your best friend Stiles, yelling in the woods, so I don’t get surprised by a bear!”

He stumbled to his feet, following his senses. He picked Stiles’ heartbeat through the forest noise, following it like a beacon. 

He caught sight of him, just about to break through the trees-- and almost off a cliff.

“Stiles!” Scott called. He saw him turn, looking confused.

“Just… stay put.” Scott moved closer. He saw it when Stiles saw him. His face lit up in a way that sent Scott’s heart into a frenzy. He overenthusiastically waved, and then slipped.

“Jesus Christ in Heaven!” Stiles blasphemed. He felt that dreamlike sensation of falling, but then the sudden jerk of coming to a halt. Scott breathed above him, looking scared.

“Oh, hey there,” Stiles said, grinning.

Scott almost screamed. “Hey there?! You absolute idiot, you almost died!” He huffed, tucking Stiles to his chest.

“Ever my knight in furry armor,” Stiles sing-songed, and Scott knew he had a shit-eating grin on his face. Scott rolled his eyes, taking a couple of steps backward to safety.

But now they were both standing and… a feeling of awkwardness came over him. All of his realizations weighed heavily on Scott’s shoulders. He let go of Stiles’ arms, trying to be calm. Why was he out here ?

“Take a walk with me?” Stiles said, sounding more hesitant than he was a moment ago.

“As long as you promise not to almost walk off a cliff again,” Scott said without thinking. Stiles rolled his eyes, gesturing for Scott to follow.

The two traipsed for a bit in silence, both lost in thought. If only they realized they thought solely of the other.

Their trek led them back to the area where Scott was before, where through the clearing they could see that the sun was dipping closer and closer to the horizon. It felt like a painting, the rocky brown cliffs spattered with the green of bushes and trees. The rough and tumble sea rocked below, her force meeting the rocks with an echo the boys felt in their bones more than heard. And even with the cliffs below and the sky above lit up in such brilliant pinks and purples, Scott couldn’t help but think Stiles looked more like a work of art.

“I’m not going to look at you while I say this because I think if I look at your face right now, I’ll throw up,” Stiles blurted. “I mean… shit, I didn’t mean it like that, I just. God, Stilinski. Keep it tight.”

Scott couldn’t tell whose heart was beating faster-- his or his best friend’s. He stayed quiet, wanting to give Stiles time to say what he was going to say, and simultaneously not trusting his mouth to even move right now.

Stiles shook his shoulders out, looking down at the ground. “I-- Okay. You’re my best friend, Scott. You know that, right?” He glanced up for a moment, catching Scott’s eyes before feeling sick again. 

Scott felt himself subconsciously shrinking. Oh here we go , he thought disappointedly. Stiles had somehow figured it out and was here to let him down easy. To tell him to chill out, so they could get on with their trip with no weirdness. Scott had half the thought to interrupt him and save himself the misery, but he couldn’t even think of what to say. So instead, he listened while his friend stumbled around his words, his heart slowly sinking.

“We’re best buds. Buddies. Amigos. And that’s cool, I, I love that. Solid gig we got going. But, I, uh, how do I even say this?”

Stiles stared at his dirty sneakers and the brown dirt beneath him. A little bug made its way over a leaf, a slight wind shaking the stalk. Life… God, it all really was simple wasn’t it? Like the waters they’d gotten to dip in, the skies they traveled under, the dirt kicked up by their feet and sometimes stuck to the bottom of their shoes, it just-- Stiles looked up, taking in his best friend. He noted the familiar set of his lips, the whisper flitting between his hair that he kept short now, compared to the shaggy cut he had before junior year. It was all the same and different. And life would still continue on even after he spilt his heart out on this hallowed ground.

Stiles exhaled, his fingers stopping their fidgeting. His voice sounded without wavering. “If I had a choice, and I do, actually, I would choose you, Scott. Over and over. I-- I’m choosing you.”

The other boy blinked, confused. Was he… was Stiles saying what he thought he was saying?

Stiles’ eyes searched Scott’s for a moment. “Fuck it,” he whispered. He took several steps forward, until he could see the small dip of surprise on Scott’s lips.

“Scott McCall, can I like, kiss you or something?”

Scott could barely nod yes fast enough. And then Stiles lips were on his, his hands on his jaw the only thing keeping Scott from melting into a puddle. The little cracks on Stiles’ lips made Scott shiver, brain barely processing what was going on beyond the small breaths shared between the boys. He hummed happily as Stiles pushed his hand behind his neck, fingers getting lost in the little curls behind his ear. 

And if Scott died now, he’d die a happy man.

Stiles pulled away, his heart almost leaping out of his chest at Scott’s little whine. The kiss was a few seconds at most, and yet the boy was still breathless. He grinned, running his hands further into Scott’s hair, then pulling them out to cup his cheeks. He wished he could bottle the look on Scott’s face, the little laugh he gave when Stiles tilted his hands to wiggle his head a little bit. He just couldn’t believe it. 

How was Lydia Martin always right?

“This is what I wanted to talk to you about the other day,” Scott said, tilting his head further into Stiles’ hand. The boy tried to focus, but God, how the fuck could he when Scott was kissing his palm and his wrist like that?

“Hm?” Stiles said, most eloquently.

Scott smirked, pressing another kiss to the boy’s wrist before leaning back. “This,” he gestured between them. “Us. On the beach. And then at the Runner’s campfire.”

Stiles’ eyes went wide in realization. “You mean you weren’t going to turn me down?”

“I could never.”

Stiles laughed, then punched Scott in the shoulder. “You mean we could have been making out this whole time?”

Scott snorted, trying to cool the heat at Stiles’ words. “Is that all you care about?” He joked.

Stiles pretended to think about it, turning his head to the side. He managed a strangled gasp when he felt Scott’s hands pressing onto his hips, gawking at the satisfied look on his best friend’s face. Scott couldn’t help but grin-- he was sure he heard Stiles’ heart leap to the moon and back. Scott could never admit how much he loved the effect he had on Stiles, but Jesus did he live for it. And as Stiles dragged his hands up Scott’s arms, reveling in each bit of pressure, Scott knew that feeling was second only to how much he loved the effect Stiles had on Scott himself.

“Stiles Stilinski,” Scott said, looking his best friend in the eye. 

“You are exactly what I need.”

Stiles grinned, and Scott knew they’d be alright. 

“You’re damn right.”

And if they made out until the moon was high in the sky, that’s no one’s business but the ocean and the stars’.

Notes:

& that's the end for this silly lil road trip story about these two boys!!
thanks for reading this & hope u find a lil sun today <3

Notes:

i'm going to be honest with you, some of the timeline things might be slight off bcs i can't be bothered to decide exactly when this is set... just enjoy for the liminal road trip vibes