Chapter Text
Derek has the horniest pack of werewolves in existence. He isn’t even sure he can just excuse them as being teenagers at this point. No, it's like everyone started pairing off and doing things no one wanted to walk in on.
Of course, to add to the dilemma are the various members of the pack who are interested in other members but couldn’t be bothered to say so. Derek pointedly chooses to ignore the fact that it had taken Jackson making out with Stiles during a game of Spin the Bottle to get him to finally admit that he liked Stiles. He has Stiles now and he’s made very good on his promise to make Stiles forget everything but his name. If Stiles has returned the favor several times over, well, that isn’t so bad either.
The problem now is that Lydia keeps eyeing Erica, whose relationship with Boyd is apparently an open one, something Derek isn’t going to begin to try & understand. He’s never been one to share. Lydia however won’t act on her interest because of Jackson, who still can’t find the balls to ask Danny out, and Danny, for some unknown reason wants Jackson to bring it up first.
Stiles would have snickered at that choice of language.
Scott & Isaac keep dancing around each other too and while Allison doesn’t seem to be so interested in dating multiple people the way Erica & Boyd were, she's very unsubtly mentioned certain fantasies. Scott isn’t exactly picking up the hints.
So of course when the pack finally finds time for another pack party night, it only seems natural that they end up here.
“We’re playing seven minutes in heaven,” announces Allison as she walks through Derek’s front door, Stiles' arm slung over her shoulder.
“Your idea, Stiles?” asks Derek, rolling his eyes.
“Please, I don’t need 7 minutes to get you off. For the big bad alpha, you are shockingly easy.” He dumps the bag of candy in his hand on the counter and lets go of Allison long enough to kiss Derek. “But I do like it when you take your time.”
Derek just kisses him back then shoves him at the pack. Little shit. And no he is not that easy. Close, but not seven minutes easy. He isn’t a teenager.
“It was my idea,” interrupts Allison, popping open a beer and joining the others at the table. “Spin the Bottle was fun last time.”
Scott looks a little bit worried. “There’s someone else in the pack you want to make out with? Am I doing something wrong?”
Allison runs a hand through his hair. “You are perfect sweetie. But if Isaac doesn’t get his mouth around your dick very, very soon, you both are going to drive me up a wall.”
Isaac turns beet red. “I’m not…I mean I like Scott, but that’s…”
“Oh, I know it will take you two a little while to get there. But I figure if you can make out for a little while, it’ll be a good start. And this way you’ll be sort of used to an audience.”
Erica, Danny, and Jackson all give Allison long looks that simultaneously show their surprise and their admiration.
“An audience?” stammers Scott.
Allison takes a long swig of her beer. “Well yeah. I want to watch.”
Scott spits his beer out and Isaac literally slumps off his chair in shock.
“Girls are into that?” asks Stiles.
“Do you get turned on by two girls making out?” asks Lydia, a hint of ‘careful, Stiles’ in her tone.
“Kind of the wrong person to ask that question but I see your point,” he answers. Stiles notices Derek's walked over so he pulls at him, trying to get him in his lap. Derek deftly lifts Stiles up, sits down in the chair, and pulls Stiles on top of him.
Stiles rolls his eyes and wiggles his ass a little, getting a moan out of Derek and a groan from everyone else.
“I like the idea,” says Erica.
The rest of the pack echo their agreement, some with varying shades of embarrassment, but after a few minutes, they have their rules.
1) No arguments about who you pick.
2) The pair can choose how to spend their seven minutes, judgment-free.
3) One kiss is required.
4) What happens in the closet, stays in the closet. Hey, werewolf hearing makes it hard to keep secrets.
Stiles hands out another round of beers and Allison takes the first go. She draws Boyd’s name.
Allison/Boyd
Boyd and Allison sort of sit for a few seconds in the closet. Then both try to talk at once, laugh, and Boyd motions to let Allison go first.
“So I know this completely defeats the purpose of the game that I wanted to play and I’m certainly happy to make out if you want to but it kind of feels like we are the last people on earth that needed to be paired up.”
Boyd grinned, that slow almost scary smile that he let loose so rarely. “Or maybe we needed to get each other to allow some of the others to get a move on.”
Allison laughs because Boyd knows the pack well.
“They aren’t going to let us out until the seven minutes are up,” notes Allison.
“I have an idea.”
Her interest peaks.
“One question each. No one out there can say anything about our answers, so there’s no worry there.”
Allison nods her agreement. “What’s your question?”
“Why is the pack important to you?”
She pauses. “Could you clarify?”
“You fought hard to be a member of the pack on your own merits. Not as Scott’s mate or Lydia’s friend or as a reformed hunter whose knowledge could help us. I’ve always wondered why.”
Allison knows her answer to this question. Has always known. “When I was little,” she begins, and her voice is loud enough to make it clear she is deliberately making sure everyone on the other side of the door can hear her. “My family used to get together a lot on holidays. My grandpa would come over and my parents were all smiles and I thought my aunt was the coolest person ever. There were cousins too. And looking back now, I can see that there were probably a lot of meetings going on but at the time it felt like family in a movie.”
She’s quiet, reflective. “I used to dream that it would be like that forever. Everyone happy and united and loved. And then the cousins refused to come to Thanksgiving. After that my dad had a big fight with Gerard. I remember Kate came upstairs to tell me goodbye, that she had to go with him. I thought it was a one-off. A quick fight that could still be mended. I was eleven and still hopeful.”
Boyd knows that meant the split occurred very close to the Hale house fire and since Chris didn’t actually know it was Kate, assumes the priorities of the family changed and they split. He puts a hand on Allison’s knee in comfort.
“And then for years it was nothing but a birthday card and moving all over the place. Until we came here. Kate came back and the little kid in me foolishly thought it was the beginning of my family coming together. Then she died and I couldn’t really argue with that because she was so much eviler than I could have ever imagined.”
“You really believe that?” asks Boyd, unable to help himself.
She nods. “At this point, if she walked up to me I would shoot her in the face without hesitating. She ripped my first family apart with her actions, her and Gerard, and she would have taken away my only other chance at a family. I was angry and confused when Gerard showed up and a part of me thought well if I can’t have a Norman Rockwell Christmas, we can be united as hunters. We’ll be a fucked up family but still family.”
Allison shifts, even she can feel the tension emanating from the kitchen table. But she’s also very glad Boyd asked her this because she’s never really been able to find a way to say it. “It took me a while to realize that fighting and killing together doesn’t make a family. I know my dad loves me. I know once upon a time he loved the rest of them. But Kate, Gerard, even my mother, got twisted by the mission. They forgot that hunting was supposed to be used to protect families, not to destroy them.”
They’ve already passed their seven minutes but no one is interrupting.
“I think I realized that my family was never a real family about the same time that I figured out the pack was tugging at my heart, promising to fill all of those old childhood desires. So I fought for my place here.”
Allison’s voice grows firm, the way it only did twice before, when she told her dad she was joining the pack and the day she declared Derek to be her Alpha. “I was born an Argent, a hunter by fate. I’ll die a human member of the Hale pack. That is my choice. That is why I fought for my place.”
There’s a long silence between the two and Boyd wonders if Allison can sense the way a last lingering bit of tension slips away from Derek.
Finally, to break the silence, he speaks up again. “Pretty sure we’re over time but in the spirit of fairness, you get to ask me a question.”
Allison knows what she’s wanted to ask. “Why did you want the bite? Erica & Isaac, I’ve always been able to understand their reasons. Why you?”
Boyd stares, not blankly but just with that look that says he’s thinking before he answers. “We’re all lonely people, right? Like everyone in this pack, before we had each other, even if it was just one other person, in a lot of ways we were alone.”
Allison nods. “Yeah, I guess you could say that.”
“From a high school perspective, why? Not a super insightful answer but just a flat one-sentence description, and everyone will understand that I have a point and not be offended, what would be the most basic reason for each pack member to be lonely?” asks Boyd.
Allison thinks of easy answers, puts them aside to look for something more in-depth, before realizing that Boyd wants the easy answer. “Well, I moved around a lot so it was hard to make friends. Scott was an asthmatic kid. Stiles is the overactive geek. Derek’s kind of obvious. Erica was the seizure girl, Isaac the abused guy.” She’s quiet for a second, trying to pinpoint Lydia & Jackson’s descriptions. “I’d say Lydia & Jackson have that a lot of acquaintances but no real depth thing.”
She looks back at Boyd. “And you?”
“You can’t think of anything?”
She shakes her head. “I don’t think I ever really noticed you until you were a werewolf.”
And then Allison starts to think she understands. “Oh.”
“Yeah,” says Boyd quietly. “It’s weird being the guy who doesn’t have a reason to be lonely but still is. I had routes and schedules to keep from being too obvious. Pretend to be busy working when the bell rang so I could take up a couple of minutes putting my stuff away. Arrive at class a minute or two early like I had to finish an assignment.”
Allison reaches out and slips her hand around Boyd’s.
“I’d make sure I never took anything that I needed for more than one class at a time so I could use up time going to my locker.” He’s silent for a minute, reflecting. “I’d listen to kids talk about how five minutes between classes was never enough time and all I could think was that it seemed like forever.”
“It’s tough you know, not having a reason to be lonely. People expect you to have a reason to be alone before you complain about it so I never complained. And no one ever noticed.”
“I’m sorry,” says Allison. “I know that’s not even close to enough, but I’m sorry.”
“That’s why I said yes to the bite, and why I’ll always be loyal to Derek,” explains Boyd. “He saw me when no one else did. I don’t know if I’ll ever be able to thank him enough for that.”
They sit in silence for a little while.
Allison leans up and presses a sweet kiss against Boyd’s lips as he goes to open the door and he smiles a little bit.
No one says anything when they exit but Isaac stands up and hugs Boyd tightly for several minutes.
Derek just moves Stiles off his lap for a minute and walks over to Allison. They look at each other for a long moment and then he pulls her into his arms and tucks her head against his neck. It’s a seemingly small gesture but Derek’s never allowed her access to that level of pack vulnerability.
Allison stays still, just breathing, and when she goes back to Scott, her eyes are wet and bright with joy.
When the silence finally starts to get too awkward, Stiles pushes himself backward in his chair and falls to the floor, breaking the tension and causing everyone to laugh.
“My turn,” says Derek, after helping Stiles back up.
There are a few incredulous looks. “You’re playing?” questions Jackson, pretty much speaking for the pack.
Stiles grins and Lydia’s smirking a little because they both have an idea about what will happen next. They’re not wrong.
Derek takes all of the papers out of the bowl, flips through them until he finds Stiles’ name, and then unceremoniously dumps the rest back in the bowl.
Derek & Stiles
No one even bothers commenting. Erica’s the only one brave enough to risk Derek’s wrath by walking into that closet with Stiles anyway.
Stiles rolls his eyes at his boyfriend’s possessive behavior but since this one is fairly tame, doesn’t feel the need to lecture. He does, however, feel the need to tease. “If you got to draw, I get to decide what we do in there.”
“Please remember that other people will be using that room,” says Danny quickly.
“We have Lysol,” answers Stiles with a Cheshire cat grin.
Isaac reaches into his pocket, pulls out a packet of earplugs and after grabbing a pair for himself, passes them around.
“Seriously?” asks Derek. “I think that’s overkill.”
“My bedroom is right next to yours,” retorts Isaac. “Right there. Even with these, you two are still traumatizing.”
“How are we anymore traumatizing than being able to hear Boyd & Erica?!” demands Stiles indignantly.
“Because they don’t talk!” squeals Isaac. “And when they do, they use each other’s names!”
“What do I do?!”
Derek laughs and then sputters a little when Stiles turns a glare on him. “Stiles, you talk a lot during sex. And you yell. And swear. A lot. I like it but um, sometimes it’s kind of like being in a porno with an absurd amount of dialogue.”
“It’s like phone sex on a fucking party line,” mutters Isaac.
Stiles glares at both of them, no easy feat since they are on opposite sides of him, then pulls Derek inside the closet and slams the door. He talks loud when they’re inside, making sure everyone can hear him. “This is the only thing I’m going to say for the next seven minutes because I know how to use my mouth for other things. Don’t be surprised if your Alpha can’t shut up though.”
Several people laugh and he thinks it’s Lydia who says “yeah, like that’ll ever happen.” Stiles can even hear Isaac laughing at that idea.
Derek gives him a look. “Stiles, we have seven minutes. You do realize that’s like a hand job at most and that’s if I was already hard.”
Stiles, true to his word, doesn’t answer. Or well, he does, but he answers by putting his mouth on Derek’s shirt, right over Derek’s nipple. In succession, Stiles blows hot air over it, sucks hard, and then bites down.
Derek jolts and howls.
Stiles repeats it on the other side and gets a deliciously needy moan out of Derek.
That certainly took care of making sure Derek was hard and it took all of about 45 seconds.
Stiles brings his mouth back up and kisses Derek, slow and filthy but he’s pulling away before Derek can process bringing him back. “Stiles…” he whines.
Stiles drops to his knees and mouths at Derek’s jeans for a few seconds and Derek tries to reach to unbutton them and gets his hands slapped away.
“Stiles, please,” begs Derek.
He just smirks at Derek and uses his teeth to undo the button and drag the zipper down.
Derek would say he’s going to end up coming as fast as a teenager but he dates Stiles and even Stiles has more control than he’s got right now.
Stiles slowly pulls Derek out and stares at him as he bobs his mouth on Derek’s cock. Stiles’ eyes are fluently saying he’s very aware of what he’s doing to Derek.
“Quit being such a fucking tease,” growls Derek, but he’s also scrambling to get a grip on something, anything, and feeling like he’s going to collapse.
Stiles pauses, his lips swollen and wet and he reaches a hand up and taps his finger against Derek’s mouth.
“You’ve only got 3 minutes left,” says Derek. “I’m not going to tell you what I want just to help you prove a point.”
He folds his arms across his chest and momentarily wonders if his dick would respond to an Alpha command.
It probably wouldn’t have done any good is what he’ll tell himself later. Because about 10 seconds later, Stiles’ tongue is licking and probing in places it has yet to explore and Derek is screaming and cussing and crying out Stiles’ name and Stiles is swallowing him down and looking impossibly smug.
Derek shudders and pulls his pants up while Stiles runs a hand across his mouth.
“Time,” yells Stiles.
“5 minutes, 47 seconds,” answers Lydia in awe.
When the two walk out a few seconds later, Derek is bright red and immediately walks towards the kitchen, away from the eyes of the pack.
“I hope you were all sufficiently traumatized,” Stiles says, looking for all the world like the proverbial cat who ate the fucking canary.