Archive of Our Own ^beta

Chapter Text

Jackson was conflicted. He felt like something had crawled into his mouth and died, but there was someone warm snuggled into his belly. Their soft breath puffed against his abdomen. Their hands were curled against his sides. His head pounded, and he really didn't want to open his eyes. Despite the comfortable presence on top of him, he was lying on something hard and unyielding. Other than where he was sharing body heat with the person on top of him he was freezing.

Jackson reached down to run his hands through the long hair he expected to be attached to the person nestled against his waist, slightly confused that one of his hands seemed to be tangled up in something. He didn't care. He loved Lydia's long hair. Something hard and pointed stabbed into his hand as he reached down. It wasn't really sharp, he just hadn't been expecting it. He started coming fully awake and realized his back was at an awkward angle, like he was sleeping on top of something, a soft and feathery something with wire or metal in it.

He opened his eyes, looked up into sickly fluorescent lighting. He noticed several other things immediately. He was almost completely naked, he was cold as hell, and he had something wrapped around his wrist, it wasn't just tangled. He looked down towards the body that was resting on top of him.

"What the fuck?" Jackson's voice was barely above a whisper, and it came out raw, his throat dry.

It wasn't Lydia resting on his stomach, it was Scott. Scott was wearing a pair of devil horns. That must have been what he jabbed his hand on. The devil horns weren't the only weird thing though, Jackson was wearing a white leather harness; it was crossed over his chest and attached to whatever he was laying on.

Scott stirred a little, turned his face into Jackson's stomach. His breathing was even and content. Jackson tilted his head to the side; he didn't want to push Scott away from him even though he didn't really remember what had happened. He liked the feel of Scott resting on him, liked the warm breaths against his stomach.

There were two more things he noticed. The first was that the thing he was partially laying on was slightly visible in his peripheral vision. He craned his neck without moving his torso to try to see more. It was a feathered angel wing. It was bent at an odd angle and he could tell it was attached to the harness he had on. Jackson had no clue as to the fate of the other wing, but he knew it wasn't attached anymore.

The second thing he noticed was that he was in a prison cell, across the way Danny was sitting on a bench with his head against the wall. Jackson was in fucking jail. That was ridiculous. He was in jail in an angel costume. Scott's devil horns told him Scott must have been in a costume too, but he couldn't see any of it from the angle he was at though he felt smooth leather against his legs. Scott wasn't wearing a shirt though, that much he could tell from the smooth tan skin of his shoulders. Jackson lifted his tangled arm. A devil's tail was coiled about his wrist. He wasn't sure if it was still attached to the costume Scott had on or if it'd been torn off.

He looked back at his friend across the cell. Danny wasn't wearing a costume. There was a guy lying on the bench that had his head in Danny's lap. Jackson couldn't see him very well because the guy's face was turned into Danny's stomach; all Jackson could see was dark auburn hair.

"What the fuck?" It was a little bit louder than Jackson intended.

Danny shifted and opened his eyes to stare back at Jackson. "Hey buddy," Danny said. "You're awake."

"What the fuck?" He didn't know what else to say, it seemed like it pretty much summed up the whole situation pretty well. Danny chuckled. Jackson watched in fascination as his friend carded his fingers through the auburn hair of the guy in his lap. Who the fuck was that? What the fuck had happened? Why was he in a costume? Why was Scott in a costume? Where was everyone else? What the hell? "What happened?"

"Well, that's kind of a loaded question," Danny said. "It all started when Stiles asked me to help him with a chemistry project. He said he'd found something interesting in an old book that he wanted to try to make."

"What was it?"

"He said it was called Wolves' Mead." Danny looked at him. Jackson could see there was some hurt in his eyes, like he'd found out Jackson had lied to him about something. "Speaking of wolves…"

Elsewhere…

Stiles was cold. Stiles was wet. He was both cold and wet. That was pretty unacceptable, especially since he had no idea why he was any of those things. He had a splitting headache. He blinked and opened his eyes when he heard a group of unfamiliar voices laughing nearby. He looked up into what looked like a statue. There was water coming out of various parts of it. He sat up and sneezed. He was in a fountain, a fountain that was sculpted to look like stacks of books. He was only wearing boxer shorts. He was freezing his ass off.

He looked over towards the sound of the voices and saw a group of young college age girls pointing their cell phones at him. He didn't know where Derek was. He didn't know where he was at or why he was in a fountain. The only thing he did know is that he was probably going to be sick after having spent a night in a fountain in the beginning of January. He also had a sneaky suspicion he might soon be the star of a viral video on Youtube.

"Oh fucking what the fuck?" He climbed out of the fountain, waved to the assembled girls. "Any of you seen a tall, sexy as hell, brooding man with the most gorgeous black hair?"

A pretty blonde girl with a shy smile pointed over his shoulder and above him. He turned to look. His mouth fell open in shock. There was Derek, passed out in a tree, belly down on a branch with his arms and legs dangling.

"What the fucking fuck?"

Elsewhere…

Lydia stroked Allison's hair softly. Allison was resting against her; they were sprawled out side by side in a lawn chair on top of a building in downtown San Francisco watching the sun rise together. At least they had been until Allison drifted off to sleep. Lydia brushed the back of her hand across Allison's pale cheek and adjusted the blanket covering them.

It had been one amazing night. She wondered how everyone else was doing. They'd been the only ones to arrive at the scavenger hunt's destination. They'd found everything. She bet the boys were all sulking about not having found all the items.

She had to hand it to Danny; he had come up with a pretty clever list. She glanced down at her phone trying to keep from jostling Allison awake. She didn't have any messages. That was alright, she wouldn't mind resting for a little bit longer. She nestled into Allison and pulled the blanket up over them further to shield them from the sunrise and trap a bit more of their body heat. She was glad they'd talked about their situation and about the boys too. She wondered if Allison would remember it when she woke up.

There was just one thing she hadn't figured out. Why hadn't she suffered the same side effects of Stiles's brew? She'd think about it later when she wasn't so tired. She let her eyes flutter closed as she threaded her fingers through Allison's. It didn't take her long to fall asleep.

Chapter Text

24 Hours earlier…

"So, let me get this straight," Danny said as he squinted at the old book in his lap. "You want to create something called faol meadh, which you think means wolves' mead?"

"Yeah pretty much," Stiles said. He added more of the ingredients to the giant cask. Stiles had given Danny directions to the lot and the storage unit number. Apparently this was the best place he could think of to create his concoction without his father finding out about it.

"This recipe is in a different language. You know that right?" Danny knew what the answer was going to be, but he had to ask the question. It seemed sort of like his responsibility.

"Yeah obviously," Stiles said as he began to stir the mixture. "I just typed the stuff into the internet to get it translated."

"This is a recipe for fermenting mead according to the cheat sheet you printed out. That takes months, you just started doing this a few days ago." Danny was beginning to think he was speaking a different language from the boy who was playing mad scientist in the corner. "So how is it going to be ready by tonight?"

"Well," Stiles said, "I just had Jackson get ahold of some mead with similar ingredients. He's always getting alcohol of one kind or another. He wouldn't tell me the secret of how he got it, just brought it here a couple days ago. After that it was easy, I dumped it all in here then added the other stuff the internet told me was on that list."

"That's a joke right?" Danny was afraid that he already knew the answer. There was no way in hell he was going to drink anything Stiles McGuyvered together in a creepy ass storage shed on the edge of town.

"No of course it's not one of my jokes. If it had been a joke you'd be laughing. I'm pretty damn funny." Stiles added more pinches of spices and additional powders into the cask.

"Where did you even get this book?"

"It was a Christmas gift from my boyfriend," Stiles said.

Danny watched Stiles stir the fluid that was hopefully not going to turn out poisonous. He didn't want to end up in a hospital. At first he thought his only worry was going to be finding someone to kiss at midnight. He was beginning to wonder if he'd be dialing for emergency help and stomach pumping before they even started the scavenger hunt.

"Is it possible to create something poisonous by only mixing together things that are not poisonous?" Stiles turned towards Danny. Danny waited for a punchline that didn't come.

"Really?" Danny just didn't know what else to say to that. He had no idea, but he would think it was impossible. He wasn't sure he wanted to drink anything that prompted that line of questioning though. He was all for a good party, but this was turning into some weird chemistry experiment gone wrong.

Danny flipped to the next page of the book, not all of it was in Gaelic or Welsh or whatever language the recipe was in. He didn't really understand why Stiles would be interested in a drink that was supposed to 'subsume the primal instincts of a faoladh or conriocht into a human vessel'. He had no idea what a faoladh or conriocht was. It went on to talk about how during the ritual sharing of the drink that humans, particularly humans who were close to the creatures in question were likely to be compelled to act in accordance with the subsumed instincts, while the creatures themselves would be lulled by the strength of the drink.

In essence, Danny thought it basically said 'get some monsters drunk and take their powers if you're buddies with them'. It sounded like bullshit to him. It wasn't as if there were really monsters, and even if there were, the people drinking the same type of fluid meant to get a monster sloshed were probably going to be pretty epically drunk as a result. He doubted they'd be juiced up supernatural power houses. Everyone involved was probably just too wasted to realize the difference.

"So, did you read anything other than the recipe?" Danny hated asking Stiles questions, hated the answers that inevitably followed.

"Just the description at the beginning about how it was meant to get a werewolf drunk," Stiles said.

"This doesn't say werewolf." Danny turned the page back and looked again to see the words faoladh and conriocht to make sure. "It's some other language."

"I Googled it man, those things are werewolves, it'll totally work." Stiles was still engrossed in stirring his cask of unknown horror, occasionally adding more ingrediants.

"Is all of that edible?"

"Probably," Stiles said, "We're teenagers, everything's edible. I once ate a Dorito, pickle, banana sandwich on French toast."

Danny wasn't sure if it was the mental image of that or the sickly sweet smell of the alcohol in the enclosed storage unit that was making him more nauseous. Why would someone eat something like that? Did Stiles hate himself sometimes?

"That sounds… horrific," Danny said.

"It wasn't too bad, I've had worse. There was this one—"

"Don't, Stiles, please just don't," Danny interrupted the quirky guy before he could unleash another heave inducing culinary recipe.

Stiles looked down at his watch, glanced at the remaining powders and herbs on the TV tray next to him seemingly considering what to do next. Danny opened his mouth, but before he could say anything Stiles just swept the rest of the ingredients into the barrel and started stirring with insane fervor. Danny kept waiting for the lightning strike and maniacal laughter.

"Why would you care about a bogus recipe for getting werewolves drunk anyway? You know a lot of werewolves or something?" Danny laughed, what a silly concept.

Stiles froze in his stirring of the mead. Danny tilted his head curiously as Stiles turned to regard him with wide eyes. What a weird reaction, he knew Stiles was sort of goofy, but to think that werewolves were real was just flat out insane. Maybe he'd been huffing home brewed alcohol fumes for too long.

"Are you serious?" Stiles shifted nervously and went back to stirring his werewolf potion.

"Are you?" Danny supposed it was possible that Stiles had already dipped into his secret stash of mead before starting on the project. It was hard to tell, the guy was always sort of uncoordinated. "What's five times five?"

"Jackson's not said anything to you recently?" Stiles looked uncomfortable. "About anything?"

Danny swallowed the lump suddenly forming in his throat. He hadn't talked to Jackson much. He'd been really busy lately with Lydia and some advanced program that he was enrolled in doing all sorts of physical training.

"He's been busy," Danny said. "I've been pretty busy too."

Jackson had invited Danny to come to the party tonight, it had been the first time they'd made plans together since Jackson had left for his vacation earlier that summer. Danny was busy too, he'd broken up with the guy he'd taken to the formal and he'd spent most of the summer with his out of state relatives. They had talked at school, but Jackson had seemed down about something. Danny kept his distance waiting for Jackson to come to him but it hadn't happened yet.

"Well," Stiles said, "I think we're all going to learn a little bit more about each other tonight. Help me bottle this stuff up."

Danny sighed; it'd be hard to learn anything about anyone if everyone was in the hospital…

Chapter Text

"Alright, safety check time. Everyone drop your keys in the empty bowl on the table," Danny said. They were all gathered in one of the two connected suites in the San Francisco hotel they'd checked into for the night. There hadn't been any official discussion about sleeping arrangements, hopefully that wouldn't turn out to be an issue. There were four beds and seven people, or to put it in more awkward terms there were three couples and him.

He watched the various reactions of the people assembled in the room. Allison and Scott moved forward and dropped their keys into the bowl without saying anything. Derek, who as it turned out wasn't Stiles's cousin Miguel after all— which was good since they were apparently banging— looked suspicious of the bowl, then again, Danny had never seen him not look suspicious or angry. That could just have been his face's neutral expression.

Stiles wouldn't drop his keys into the bowl at all; Derek had to pry them from his fingers. It was sort of silly considering that his jeep wasn't even in San Francisco with them. They'd taken a rented van. Lydia made Stiles sit in the very back while Derek drove for some reason. She also had been clutching a can of air freshener as though she was afraid of being in a van with five guys and whatever they'd eaten for lunch.

Lydia and Jackson dropped their keys into the bowl and waited for the rest of the directions. They'd been to enough parties with him that they knew there were more regulations coming. Danny liked to have fun, but he liked to do it responsibly. No teenager was going to become a statistic on his watch.

"Everyone make sure your phones are fully charged," Danny said. "Double check that you have the number for the cab company so you can get a ride if you need it." He paused to let everyone follow his directions. "Alright, now that's out of the way, here are the rules of the game."

Danny picked up a second bowl that was on the table. "We're going to randomly create three teams, two teams will have two members and the last one will have three."

"How do we decide who gets to pick first? I want to be on Derek's team." Stiles took a step closer to Derek, as if to warn off anyone from trying to snake him away for their team.

Scott let out a sigh at first, but smiled sheepishly in apology when Stiles turned cold eyes on him. "You've been playing on Derek's team since the summer," Scott said. "We get it."

Stiles opened his mouth to reply, but before he could Derek patted him on the back. Danny watched in stunned amusement as Stiles closed his mouth and opted to take hold of Derek's hand instead of verbally assaulting his friend. Derek and Stiles were wearing matching bracelets with sea shells on them. Danny wouldn't have pegged Derek for the matching accessories kind of guy, but it worked for them somehow.

"We'll go alphabetically," Danny said. It seemed diplomatic.

Stiles let out an annoyed huff. "That means I'm last, how about we go reverse alphabetically for once, you know, shake the foundations and all that on the biggest party night of the year."

Danny shrugged and held the bowl out towards Stiles. He couldn't help but laugh at the glee that filled Stiles's face as he reached into the bowl and felt around inside like he was somehow using some sixth sense to find the one that had Derek's name on it.

Stiles opened the paper, threw his arms up in the air and let out a high pitched shriek that Danny assumed was supposed to be a cheer. "I got Derek," Stiles practically yelled, "It's kismet."

"Do you know what kismet even means?" Lydia crossed her arms over her chest and gave Stiles an annoyed look.

"Pretty sure it means you're jealous that Derek and I are going to win," Stiles shot back.

The two of them started grinning at each other. Danny blinked and watched the two of them; it was almost like the way that Jackson and Scott used to act, only slightly girly.

"I don't think they've invented a game yet that you and Derek could beat me at," Lydia said. "How long did you cry after I beat you in Battleship?"

Stiles scoffed but looked away. "I… I just had something in my eyes."

"They have a name for that." Lydia smiled. "It's called defeat."

Danny suddenly got it; somehow, Stiles had gone from being Lydia's creepy stalker to her gay best friend. Well if they weren't having sex at least they could be catty. It worked for them.

"Ok," Danny said holding the bowl out toward Scott, "That means it's your turn to pick."

Scott stepped forward and reached out for the bowl, but hesitated before grabbing any of the papers. "Can I be on the team with three members?"

Danny wasn't sure why Scott's gaze flickered between Allison and Jackson before settling on the shoes he was wearing. "I don't have a problem with that," Danny said. "Anyone else care?" No one spoke up so Danny shrugged. "Go for it."

Scott looked hopeful as he reached into the bowl and picked out two names. He didn't seem to put as much stock in whatever method of tactile investigation Stiles had used to ferret out Derek's name in the bowl. Scott opened the first paper. "Danny."

Danny tried not to be overwhelmed by Scott's enthusiasm. They were friendly with each other, after Scott had apologized to him for smashing him in the face with a lacrosse stick, but Danny wasn't sure he wanted to spend the evening with someone he didn't know very well either. He watched as Scott opened the second paper.

"Jackson," Scott said.

Scott's voice was quiet and for some reason he looked back at Allison as though for permission. Danny wasn't sure why she gave Scott a thumbs-up and a wink. Danny was glad he'd be able to hang out with Jackson for most of the evening; maybe they'd get a chance to catch up a bit.

"That leaves me and Lydia," Allison squealed, "Girl Power!"

Lydia laughed at Allison's enthusiasm. "I'm surprised the two girls ended up together considering how much of a sausage fest this party is." Danny joined the rest of the guys in staring at Lydia in shock. "Please," Lydia said, "None of you ever think it odd that there are so many boys and not so many girls in our little group?" She paused as if to wait for someone to say something. When no one did she continued. "Well that must be because every person here except for one has had a dick in their mouth."

Danny gaped at her. If that was true she must think that he'd fooled around with Jackson at some point. He looked over at his friend and was shocked to see his normally pale skin was flushed. That didn't make any sense.

"Well," Stiles said, "Moving right along…"

Stiles's voice broke Danny out of his thoughts. "Right…" He glanced at his friend. Jackson had been quiet all night so far, he'd barely talked in the van and he hadn't said anything at all since they got into the room. Danny was worried there was something wrong.

He reached down and picked up three envelopes that had been resting on the table. He handed one to Lydia and one to Derek. "Inside are clues to three locations. The goal is to find each location, and have someone take a picture of your whole team at the spot. Whoever gets all three pictures first and back to the hotel wins. If you make it back past midnight you automatically lose."

"How do we take the pictures?" Scott moved to stand next to Jackson.

"I've got three disposable cameras in my bag," Danny said. "I think that's everything. I'll go get them and then we can get started."

"Actually, we've got one more thing to do before that," Stiles said.

Danny groaned. He was hoping that Stiles was going to let the whole 'wolves' mead' thing go. He'd seen the bottles packed away in the back of the van, but he'd hoped they were full of something other than Stiles's homemade booze. He watched in mild horror as Stiles went and retrieved one of the bottles and started filling red plastic cups and handing them out.

Danny's horror increased exponentially when four of the seven people in the room stared ravenously at the liquid. Derek, Jackson, Scott, and even Lydia all seemed excited to get to the drinking. The three guys were sniffing at the brew like it was the most amazing thing they'd ever gotten a whiff of. Lydia's eyes gazed into the depths of the cup as though it held some secret mystery.

The group got close and raised their cups so that Stiles could make a toast. "To learning more about each other," Stiles said, "and to an unforgettable night."

They all bumped glasses and downed the drinks. Danny thought it wasn't half bad. He didn't even object when the group did two more rounds. It wasn't until they were on the street and going in separate directions that he started to feel an odd pressure behind his eyes. He felt good, warm, and full of energy. It wasn't a migraine, the pressure wasn't painful. It was something else…

Chapter Text

The world didn't make sense anymore. The demon had led him down into darkness. Jackson had been following the metallic clinking of the creature's broken chains, but now he couldn't hear anything over the pulsing beats. He could barely think. It had been unleashed, he'd been the one to break its chains and now it had him. He'd unbound it. It had a name, he had known its name but he couldn't think. Memories and thoughts slipped through his fingers like water.

His head fell back and he looked up. Through the smoke he could see glass above him, so many bodies brushing up against each other, moving to the same beats that he was drowning in. Further up, so far that he could barely see it there was a bright light shining down. In the darkness where he was it seemed weak, faint, a promise of something he'd never get back to.

"I want to see your face," the demon whispered.

Jackson felt the thing's claws brush against his neck, strong hands gripped his head and pulled his gaze away from the radiance above. Yellow eyes watched him. They were hungry, they wanted him. They saw him even in the depths of the hood that obscured his blonde hair and blue eyes. Even in the darkness, with the hood to hide him he couldn't get away.

Dark hands, skin tanned and so warm pushed the hood back. Jackson felt exposed; he didn't know how he'd gotten lost in the smoke and heat. He felt the heavy metal chains brushing against his chest, felt cold even through the white sleeveless shirt he was wearing. It was the chains he'd followed; their hypnotic sound had led him down into the smoke and shadow.

The chains were attached to the manacles around the demon's wrists. He tried to look at them, but he couldn't break away from the yellow eyes. He was confused but he felt good, liked the drag of the sharp claws down his neck.

"You don't need this," the demon whispered, "I want to see you."

Jackson closed his eyes to break the spell; he would drown in molten gold if he kept staring. He heard the ripping of soft material. He let his head fall forward to watch as the demon's talons sliced away his shirt. The chains clinked as the creature pushed the material off his shoulders. He didn't care.

Shadows flickered around them, the light from up above coming and going as the people scurried above them and passed through the beams. There were so many demons down here in the darkness but the one that had him was the only one that made him feel safe. Jackson reached out, brushed his hands along the warm skin of the body that had him pinned to the wall.

It wasn't wearing a shirt, proudly displayed itself. His fingers brushed against something hanging down from the demon's neck. It was a cord. He traced the cord up with his hands and found that it was attached to a collar around the demon's neck.

The thing's warm hands brushed against his stomach, up his sides and gripped one of the four straps of the harness wrapped around his chest. A thumb brushed up against one of his nipples and he gasped at the tingling. He trembled and felt his wings shake with him. He was supposed to be an angel, angels weren't supposed to be down in hell, in the heat and smoke with demon tongues licking against their necks. He wasn't a very good angel. He didn't care. He pulled on the thing's leash to get its body closer.

"It doesn't matter if you're holding my leash," the demon whispered. "Down here you belong to me."

Jackson panted, he blinked and tried to focus, but the yellow eyes were back. He wasn't sure he ever wanted to go back up. He wasn't sure he wanted to get out of the smoke and darkness, not if it meant leaving his demon behind.

Sharp claws ghosted down his chest and across his belly. A long time ago, a lifetime ago, there would have been a warning in his mind. He wasn't supposed to expose his belly, wasn't supposed to let claws or teeth get there. He used to be a wolf and the wolf in him would have howled out its fear, but Jackson wasn't a wolf, could barely remember what that had been like. He was an angel now and there was no wolf in his mind that he could hear.

The demon sank down to its knees, its hot tongue that wasn't forked the way he thought it should have been licked at him. Sharp teeth nipped at his stomach. There was no warning in his mind. Had there ever been a wolf? He couldn't remember.

The twisting beats pushed down on his spine, the music, it was alive, it was inside him and he was just as much its slave as he was the demon's. There were bodies close, but not too close. Jackson could see them shifting in the darkness. He thought some of them might be watching him but he didn't care.

He looked down as his demon nosed against his groin. He caught another flash of yellow eyes momentarily before the gaze flickered back to his waist. He heard the metallic jingle of the chains again as the demon's hands unzipped his pants. He still had the demon's leash but it didn't matter, he didn't have any power down in hell.

"You're beautiful," the demon whispered as it reached into his underwear and got its fingers curled around his aching cock. "I want to keep you down here forever, hear you beg for me."

Jackson would beg, he'd do whatever the demon asked him to do. He reached out and ran his fingers through the thing's hair, careful of its curving horns. Jackson looked through the shadows all around him; he thought he saw other angels languishing under their masters. There weren't many that he could see; sometimes it was just pairs of demons. Devils that were too wicked to be sated by an angel from up above.

His demon got him free from his pants, pulled his dick out and licked up the underside of it. Jackson looked down, the other demons, the other angels, they didn't matter. His yellow eyed demon was giving him everything he needed. Those glowing eyes were looking up at him. There had been a time when Jackson had glowing eyes, green glowing eyes that he thought broadcast how envious he was, how jealous he had been until he'd gotten what he wanted.

It had all been for nothing, he wasn't a wolf anymore, he was an angel down in hell and his demon was punishing him in the best way possible. Heat enveloped him. He whimpered and begged because that's what the demon wanted. It wanted him to beg for it.

"Please," Jackson whispered. He didn't know if the demon could hear him. His voice was small. He could feel the tremors of the music in the feathers of his wings brushing against his back. "Please…"

He couldn't remember its name. He tugged lightly on its leash trying to urge it to give him more. He'd take whatever it would give him, he'd be thankful for whatever it was willing to do. He couldn't remember when it started, when he had come to the decision that he'd treasure any scraps of affection.

"I've got you," his demon whispered. "I see you; I'll give you what you want."

The demon's breath was hot against his aching cock. His demon saw him, that's all he wanted, for it to notice him. It had written him a message, engraved it on his heart in fire.

'I see you, I see it, and I know it's there in you. It's in me too', the message had said.

There was more, there were other things, things that were a problem, things that were holding them back, but he couldn't remember what they were, not with how hard the demon was pulling at him with its mouth. He should have wondered why its eyes were glowing in the darkness when his were not, but he couldn't focus.

Jackson whimpered, leaned back against the wall and thrust his hips forward, fucking into the wet heat of his demon's mouth. It made pleased noises, Jackson tugged on the leash and he felt the thing's talons digging into his sides. He didn't care, he wanted more.

It started making needy noises around him, setting his body on fire. It wasn't the same fire the message had left in his heart, but it was just as compelling, just as binding. They'd never been together like this, wrapped up in smoke, shadows, and heat. He'd never been given this by his demon before. He'd given it out, had licked, sucked, and hungered around its warmth before, a lifetime ago, back in the world up above where there was more light and less sound.

He couldn't remember, couldn't think clearly because the demon's lips were taking him apart. He knew though, on some level he knew that so many nights ago, they'd collided. They'd fought, got tangled up in each other, caught up in the impulse of the moment. It had started something inside him, something he was afraid to look too closely at.

The demon made a hungry noise and its claws dug in harder. Jackson used one hand to encourage it by pulling on the leash, used the other hand to encourage it by tugging on its hair. "So good," he panted.

Some part of him knew it was wrong, there were reasons they hadn't done this before. He couldn't remember what they were though. They didn't mean anything down in the darkness. All that mattered was the heat; all that mattered was the demon giving him what he wanted, what he needed. He wondered if he'd traded his soul for it.

It was all too much, too much heat, too much force. He whined under the power of it, but that just seemed to make the demon work harder. It pulled his hips forward and he gave it what it wanted, rolled his hips and tried not to die under how glorious it was.

He couldn't hold back any more, his knees were weak. His legs were shaking and his knuckles ached from their grip on the thing's hair and leash. The demon made encouraging noises, pulled his hips forward and swallowed around him, flexed its throat and suddenly nothing else mattered, only the searing wet of the demon's mouth.

Jackson looked down and needy yellow eyes looked up as it worked to pull pleasure out of his spine. That was the thing that sent him over the edge, the burning amber gaze looking up at him. He grunted, he would have fallen if his demon didn't have such a firm grip on him. It pushed him back against the wall and kept sucking, greedy, even after he'd given it everything he had it kept going. The pleasure didn't stop, the demon wouldn't stop sucking at him and he was going to die down in hell and he just didn't care.

He looked up, back through the glass floor and saw the radiance up above. He let go of his demon's hair and reached out for it, smoke curled around his fingers and bodies up above blocked out the light momentarily again. He let his arm fall back to his side.

His demon finally let him go, showed that it could be merciful in its own way. It trailed wet kisses up his stomach, over his chest, it bit at his nipples. He whined against the sensation, but the demon had been right, down here in the darkness he didn't have any power, didn't have any control. It finally made its way up and claimed his mouth.

Jackson moaned into the kiss, let the demon suck on his tongue, plunder his mouth for whatever it wanted. Jackson wanted to give it everything, wanted to make it feel good. He couldn't do it in the darkness; he wanted to do it in the light up above, beyond the bodies dancing above them. He wanted to go into the light in the far distance.

The demon's wicked mouth released him; he leaned forward and rested his head against its shoulder. Jackson wished everything was clearer, if he could just get out of the darkness, if he could get back up above the smoke and out of the crushing music he could remember everything and he could make his demon feel good. His demon lovingly tucked him back into his pants; it stroked its fingers through his hair. There were no claws anymore, just soft touches stroking him.

"Let me take you up into the light," Jackson begged. "Let me show you how good it can be up above."

He knew he'd get it all back if he could make it up there, maybe the wolf would come back too, the wolf from the life he used to live. He missed it, wondered where it had gone. There was something else that was gone too, another person. Not his demon, it was still warm against his chest. There had been another person though; Jackson didn't know where that person had gone. Jackson would figure it all out; figure out all the missing pieces just as soon as he got up into the light.

"I'll follow you," the demon whispered and kissed him again. "Take me up into the light so I can see you better."

His demon kissed him again; there was no hungry fire in it. It was sweet. It was exactly what Jackson needed. He didn't bother to pick up the tattered remains of the shirt the demon had cut away from his body, he didn't need it. He had his wings, he had the demon's leash, those things would be enough to take them out of the shadows and up into the light.

Chapter Text

There was something wrong with them, with both of them, but Scott didn't know what it was. His body was out of control. He couldn't keep himself from partially shifting. His eyes were almost constantly lit up, his claws and fangs extended and retracted chaotically. His wolf was quiet and furious in turns.

Jackson tugged on the leash that was wrapped around his neck as he led them up out of the basement. The light on the ground floor of the building was too much. Scott's wolf whined in protest. He huddled against Jackson's back, buried his face in the feathers of his wings. "I didn't think we'd ever make it out of the darkness," Jackson whispered. He stopped over one of the glass panels in the floor.

Scott looked down into the twisting smoke. Occasionally red lights would pulse and he was able to see bodies grinding against each other. Down there everything had made sense. All he could think about was how good Jackson smelled. Scott wrapped his arms around Jackson's waist and nuzzled into his wings.

On the ground floor everyone could see him. There was no darkness. They could see Scott for what he was. He didn't like it. He let out a pitiful whine. They would all see. They would all know. There were so many people moving in and around the plants and flowers that decorated the ground level. They were in a garden full of strange alien scents. The music from below was still loud in his ears.

"I don't like it here," Scott said, his face still hidden in Jackson's wings. "They all know. They know what I am; they know what's wrong with me. They know what I've done."

Jackson turned, but didn't pull out of Scott's grasp. "You're fine," Jackson said. "I won't let anyone do anything to you."

Scott wanted to close his eyes. Jackson tipped his chin up. Above them Scott could see soft light shining through swirling white clouds. There wasn't any loud music up there; it was all coming from below. The glass panels in the ceiling hinted at a calmer place.

"Take me somewhere that's quiet," Scott begged. He leaned forward to bury his face in Jackson's neck. He wanted Jackson's scent to fill him up, to block out all the other strange sensations that were pressing down on him.

"This way," Jackson whispered. He placed a small kiss on Scott's forehead. Jackson's lips felt so cool, Scott's skin was on fire. "I'll take you up into the light."

Scott followed closely behind as Jackson turned and walked towards the stairs. The chains dangling from Scott's wrists were hideously loud, the collar around his neck itched. His body was out of control still, his wolf started to get restless. He wanted to howl, howl so loud that it would cause all the people to run away. He just wanted to be left in peace, wanted to be alone with Jackson.

The music receded the higher they climbed. They came to a white door. Jackson opened it and pulled on the leash to lead him through. Scott sighed in relief when the door closed. The thumping music was gone. Soft light flooded the area around them. White mist curled around their feet. He let Jackson lead him through a small hallway into a larger room. White cloth draped everything in sight. There were cylinders of it trailing from the ceiling. Within the shapes Scott saw shadows moving.

Jackson slipped gracefully between gossamer streams of light. Scott looked down as he passed over another glass floor panel. Below he could see the garden and the humans who danced in it. He looked up when Jackson tugged on the leash again. The top level was so quiet compared to the others. He occasionally heard whispered words coming from the cocoons of white cloth.

"We'll be safe in here," Jackson said. He was holding aside a curtain. Within the cloth enclosure there was a large white lounge chair that two people could easily stretch out on.

Scott walked into the space, ran his fingers along the smooth material. Jackson followed, let the flap of the entrance close behind him. Soothing white light poured down from above them, filtered through the slightly swaying material of their own piece of heaven.

"Better," Scott said. He leaned forward into Jackson's embrace. The clinking of the chains attached to his wrists was too loud. Jackson rubbed his arms soothingly, led him over to stretch out and lie back in the chair.

"Up here you don't belong to me," Jackson whispered. "You can leave whenever you want."

Scott sighed as Jackson unbuckled the manacles around his wrists and let the metal fall. Fingers brushed against his throat to unhook the collar. Jackson let it fall to the ground too. Jackson's pale blue eyes looked vulnerable, afraid. Scott didn't want him to be afraid. "I'm not going anywhere," he promised.

Jackson smiled at him and ran a hand through his hair lightly. He didn't understand why Jackson was so scared, why his heartbeat was so erratic. Scott reached out and ran his thumb along a perfect cheek.

"It's just a fantasy," Jackson said under his breath. "We're going to wake up and everything will be like it was when we fell asleep."

Scott shook his head, he wanted to deny that. He didn't know if it was true, he didn't want it to be. Everything about the moment was perfect. He'd been afraid down in the garden, but up in the clouds he was safe. Jackson was keeping him safe. Down in the darkness they were together, up in the light they were together, it was just in the garden that things didn't work.

"I don't want to wake up," Scott said. "I want to stay up here with you."

Jackson leaned in to kiss him. Scott tried to lean forward but a strong arm pushed him back against the chair. Light touches danced along his stomach.

"Lay back, let me take care of you," Jackson said. "You're always trying to take care of everyone else, trying to save everyone. I'll be the one who takes care of you tonight, for as long as you'll let me."

Jackson's lips were soft. Down below, in smoke and shadow there had been so much fire Scott thought they'd both be consumed by it. Here, in the white mist and soft light, Jackson's skin was like a cool breeze against his fevered flesh. He closed his eyes, lost himself in the smooth silk of Jackson's mouth.

He shifted as Jackson's hand on his stomach withdrew, he wanted it back. Before he could protest though something light and gentle brushed across his skin, he looked down to see a single white feather in Jackson's hand.

"Soft," Scott whispered.

He closed his eyes. Jackson kissed him again as the feather trailed over his skin. Scott tried not to tremble under the teasing touches. Jackson released his mouth and kissed down the side of his neck. Tender trails of sensation danced over his body. He tried not to twitch as Jackson teased him with the feather. He whined into Jackson's hair, the sensation of the feather against his nipples was too much.

"Please," Scott begged. He wanted more. His wolf surged forward momentarily when Jackson unbuttoned the black leather pants that were too tight on Scott's hips. He wasn't wearing any underwear, the material had been too constricting for the boxers he'd had on at the beginning of the night. Jackson kissed him again as he freed him from his pants. Scott's wolf stumbled drunkenly in his mind as the feather ghosted over the slowly hardening flesh of his cock.

"You're perfect," Jackson whispered against his lips. "I could spend days worshipping your body, making you feel good."

Scott whined into Jackson's mouth as the feather glided over his skin. He trembled as it flowed from one place to another never staying anywhere for too long. His nipples, his twitching erection, his sensitive balls, Jackson explored them all. Scott's wolf tried to protest, but it still staggered, unable to process what was happening, knowing only that it wanted more but not how to get it.

"Please," Scott begged. "Jackson, I need..."

Scott didn't even know how long they'd been kissing, whispering words into each other mouths. His toes curled. He wanted to reach out and touch Jackson, to run his fingers over perfect pale skin.

"Put your arms above your head," Jackson said. "Keep them up for me; I'll make you feel so good."

Scott shook his head, he didn't know if he could endure it. Jackson was too good at playing his nerves. He did as he was asked, but he made soft pleading noises. He was so hard and Jackson wasn't giving him enough. The feather danced up his ribs, along his side and up further. Scott was shaking under the sensation.

"I-I c-can't…" Scott whimpered, "P-please..."

Jackson kissed him softly, they weren't battling for dominance. They weren't locked in a clash of tongues and teeth. Jackson was so gentle, so caring as he brushed their lips together.

"Alright," Jackson said, "I'll make you feel good."

Scott almost cried in relief when Jackson gripped him firmly. The feather had left his nerves raw; the tight fist closed around his dick was almost as good as Jackson's mouth, his kisses. Scott moaned, grunted, but Jackson was just swallowing all the noises he made, tugged him harder and kept kissing him like it was all he wanted.

"So good," Scott panted against Jackson's lips. "So close…"

Jackson worked him hard with his hand, kept pulling and twisting. Scott's belly ached with need; Jackson's lips were the only thing keeping him sane.

"Let it go," Jackson whispered.

Scott whimpered under the force of Jackson's grip, he tried to nip at Jackson's lips, but he couldn't. His wolf stumbled and collapsed in his mind, panting at the dual sensations of Jackson's tender mouth and rough hand. His body tensed up, he grunted as he spilled out his pleasure onto his own stomach. Jackson's inhale of breath was wet, pulled directly out of Scott's lungs. Scott whimpered, he groaned, and whined and Jackson drank down every noise like it was the only thing he needed to live. Only after Scott stopped shaking, only after Jackson had pulled every bit of pleasure out of him that he could did he release Scott's mouth.

"So good," Scott panted.

Jackson murmured his agreement as he licked Scott's stomach clean. Scott gasped when Jackson lapped at his spent cock, sucked the tip lightly to make sure he'd gotten everything. Scott pulled at Jackson until he climbed up into the chair, rolled onto his side so they were facing each other. Scott's wolf panted, tried to stagger to the front of his mind and collapsed again. It didn't matter, he would figure out what was wrong with him later, he would figure out why he could barely think eventually.

For the moment, all that mattered was that Jackson was with him, that Jackson wanted to keep kissing him, wanted to keep running soft fingers over his body. They were together, brushing against each other. It was enough.

Chapter Text

Earlier that night…

Danny took the flask Jackson offered him. His friend had been drinking pretty heavily since they left the hotel to embark on the first task of the scavenger hunt. He knew where they were supposed to go, but he wasn't planning on ruining the game by revealing the answer to Jackson or Scott. He was glad that he'd ended up on the three person team. He'd have given hints to his partner if necessary if he was part of a two person team, but that was sort of like cheating. It wouldn't have been fair to his partner to not have any help though. Luckily it wasn't an issue now.

"I don't understand this clue," Scott said. He waved away the offer to take the flask. Scott looked pretty torn up already. He didn't seem like the kind of guy who drank a lot. "Where are humans supposed to go to try to catch a glimpse of angels in San Francisco?"

Danny grinned, he was glad they'd gotten the envelope that included a clue to Angel Island Conservancy. He'd planned to visit the island in San Francisco Bay before leaving; now he could see it with Jackson. Jackson reached out to Danny for the flask, took a large gulp when Danny gave it back.

"Whatever. Danny, just tell us where we're supposed to go," Jackson said.

"That'd ruin the game." Danny frowned at Jackson. It wasn't like his friend to take a shortcut. He liked to win because he'd earned it.

"It's okay, Jackson. We'll win for sure," Scott said. He reached and patted Jackson's arm.

The pressure behind Danny's eyes increased minutely. Why was Scott touching Jackson so much? Danny walked faster to get between the two of them. He took the flask back from Jackson and took another drink. They'd already drained one of the flasks; Jackson mentioned having three. It must have been part of his arrangement with Stiles that he'd get some extra since he'd provided the alcohol in the first place.

"I don't know, I'll Google it on my phone." Jackson stumbled slightly as he reached into his pocket to retrieve the device.

Danny turned to look at Scott. The pressure was getting worse, he wondered if Stiles's brew was going to make him sick. He didn't feel nauseous. He didn't really have the words to describe what he was feeling.

"You look good tonight, hope you're ready to party," he told Scott.

Scott blinked at him. "Uh… thanks Danny," Scott said. He almost slammed into a trash can. Danny pulled him out of the way before he collided with it. Jackson turned cold eyes on him. Danny blinked, he let go of Scott. Jackson moved to stand between the two of them. What was Jackson upset about? Scott wasn't his property. If Scott wanted to walk next to Danny that was his choice.

"Found it," Jackson said. "There's a Heaven and Hell party at a club downtown." Jackson directed the comment to Scott.

Danny rolled his eyes. That wasn't the answer. He wasn't going to tell them though.

"What's a Heaven and Hell party?" Scott looked at the phone when Jackson held it out to him. He put his hand on Jackson's wrist to steady the screen as they were walking.

Danny ground his teeth. Why were they so close? It was like the only thing Scott could see was Jackson.

"It's a costume party according to the advertisement on the club's webpage." Jackson smiled at Scott. "I guess that means we need to find costumes."

Danny wanted to get back between them. The pressure in his head was getting worse. Why were they talking about costumes? The party was not the answer to the clue. He rubbed his eyes. Jackson reached for the flask again; Danny took a long gulp before handing it back.

Jackson sighed when he realized it was empty. "One more left," he said, "Scott, look up where we can find costumes."

"I can't afford a costume," Scott said as he took the phone from Jackson.

"I'll buy costumes for everyone," Jackson glanced at Danny. "You want to be an angel or a demon?"

Danny shrugged. He didn't want to dress up at all. "What do you think I should dress up as?" He looked at Scott as he asked the question, but Jackson answered immediately.

"You should be a demon, shake things up a bit." Jackson winked at Danny.

"I think you would look good in white," Scott said. "You guys should both be angels."

"I'm definitely going to be a demon," Jackson smirked at Scott. "I'm all demon."

"You should shake things up too." Scott pushed Jackson playfully.

Danny wanted to strangle his friend. The pressure was almost constant. He wanted to scream or howl. It was so frustrating. It was like he was invisible; Scott wasn't paying any attention to him at all. He shook his head. Why did he even care what Scott was doing? Jackson pushed Scott back. Danny almost growled at them. He shook his head again. What was wrong with him? Stiles's brew must have been more potent than he thought. He'd had three glasses like everyone else back at the hotel, but they'd finished two more flasks between them.

Jackson pulled out the last flask, took another drink then offered it to Danny. He waved it away. He'd had enough alcohol for the moment. He needed to figure out why he was so upset. Jackson and Scott used to hate each other. Danny hadn't been around either of them very much recently. He'd been too caught up in his breakup and the holidays. It was like Jackson had a new best friend now.

"I found a costume place," Scott said as he offered the phone back to Jackson.

"It's pretty close to here actually," Jackson said. Danny watched his friend tap at the phone until an artificial voice started giving them walking directions to the store.

"This is dumb," Danny said. "Are you guys sure this is what the clue is about?"

Jackson and Scott looked at each other and shrugged. Danny wanted to strangle them both. He reached out for the flask; if he was going to put up with them he was going to need more alcohol. Jackson handed it back to him with a silly grin. Danny wanted to punch him in the face. The worst part was he didn't know why.

Scott steadied Jackson when he tripped over his own feet. Danny cracked his knuckles. The pressure was back, every time Scott touched Jackson it got worse.

"You okay?" Scott looked at Danny, put a hand out to pat him on the back. "You look like you aren't having much fun." Scott grinned at him.

Danny grinned back. It was better when Scott was paying attention to him too. He just wasn't sure why. "Yeah I'm good," Danny said. For some reason, when Scott was paying attention to him he was fine.

Jackson and Danny kept passing the flask back and forth as they walked. It didn't take long for them to finish it off too. Scott occasionally would take another drink, but he wasn't consuming nearly the same amount they were. Scott opened the door to the shop and held it them when they arrived. Danny was about to thank Scott when he heard one of the stores employees call out a greeting.

"Hey guys, can I help you find anything today?"

Danny turned to look at the speaker, a guy about their age. He had dark auburn hair and bright blue eyes, a deeper shade than Jackson's. Danny opened his mouth to say something, but he couldn't think of anything. The guy was cute. The tension in Danny's eyes eased considerably.

"We're going to a Heaven and Hell party," Jackson said.

"Well, my name's Oliver. I'll be glad to help you find whatever you need." The auburn haired boy gestured towards the back of the store. "Follow me, I'll show you what we've got."

Danny watched Oliver turn away with interest. There was something about the way the guy smelled that Danny liked. He followed without waiting for Jackson or Scott. Oliver was a pretty cool name, Danny wondered what his plans for the evening were after he got off work.

Chapter Text

Oliver watched in fascination as the three guys stumbled about the store. They were clearly already pretty well into the drinking festivities. He wondered if it was really alcohol or some other recreational drug. They seemed to waffle between stumbling drunk and fairly coherent. He glanced at his watch. He was off work in an hour, still time to get them squared away and decide what he'd be doing later.

"I'm going to be a demon," the blonde one said. "I'm the bad boy."

Oliver grinned. The shorter black haired guy was shaking his head obstinately. Oliver wondered how long the two had been dating. The taller black haired one seemed to be in an awkward position in the group, like he'd dated one or both of them in the past. Some groups liked to keep it in the circle, but in his opinion that was an easy way to end up hurt with no friends.

"You guys want some help? I could make some suggestions." He didn't want to rush them, but he didn't want them to spend the New Year's arguing about what they should wear and miss their party. "What club did you say the party was at?"

"Eden," the shortest of the three of them said. "It's a club called Eden."

Oliver grinned. They'd need to ratchet up the sex appeal if they wanted to get in there without getting carded. There was no way any of them were older than nineteen. They were either going to need to bribe their way in with money or be too hot to turn away. He couldn't help with the first solution but he could give them a shot with the second.

"Okay, but there's something you need to know about Eden." Oliver moved up closer to the trio. "It caters to a specific crowd." The blonde raised an eyebrow; he looked offended that a mere store employee would offer his opinion on their situation. He seemed like a douche. The tallest guy seemed interested in what Oliver was going to say though so he addressed him. "They're an eighteen and over bar, but sometimes they make… exceptions."

"I'm Danny," the tallest boy said. "You said your name was Oliver, right?"

"Yep. I can help you guys get in, but you're going to have to trust me." Oliver smiled even though the blonde was eyeing him suspiciously.

"That'd be awesome," the smallest guy said. "I'm Scott. That's Jackson."

"Alright, Scott, you come with me. We'll pick you out something first, then I'll get your friends while you're changing." Oliver grinned at the nervous glance Scott cast at his two buddies.

"Okay." Scott followed him to an adjacent aisle. He kept casting glances back towards his friends. The nervousness was adorable.

"So, what do you want to dress up as?"

"What do you think would look good on me? What do you think Jackson would like?" Scott fidgeted, ran his hands nervously over various costume pieces.

So that's how it was. Oliver wondered if Scott was tall enough to ride that ride. He grinned. He wondered how Danny fit in the triangle.

"I'm thinking we should put you in something dark. You've got this whole innocent boy next door thing that could be turned into something wicked with the right outfit." Oliver reached out and grabbed a pair of tight black leather pants. He eyed the shorter guy critically trying to judge his size.

Scott shifted nervously in place. "I don't think that's really my style."

This was going to be fun; Scott wasn't going to recognize himself in the mirror when Oliver was done with him. "Tell me, how do you feel about chains and collars?"

Scott's eyes got comically wide. "C-collars?" Scott glanced around, probably looking for an escape route. He rubbed his neck.

Oliver nodded. "I'm thinking we need to do something dramatic to pitch that good boy look." He led Scott down another aisle. "I'm thinking Jackson might like the idea of having you on a leash."

Scott let Oliver pile multiple costume pieces over his arms. He only protested for a few minutes when manacles with broken links were added to the mix. Scott was sort of a push over. Oliver liked it, liked dressing people up.

Clothes were something you could hide behind if you needed to, they could turn you into a different person even if it was only for a night. That's why he loved working in a costume store. In a way, it was like Oliver was helping grant people their wishes or fantasies. People would come in looking for a way to escape from their normal lives and he was able to help them. Sometimes being who you really were got boring, sometimes it was too hard. Everyone needed a break at one point or another.

He led Scott back to the dressing room and herded him inside. Danny and Jackson were standing on opposite sides of the aisle. They seemed determined not to talk to each other. Oliver wondered if they were fighting over Scott's affection. That'd suck for Danny because Scott seemed to be all about getting Jackson's approval.

"Alright, who's turn next?" Oliver addressed Danny, he wouldn't mind helping him get undressed. There was something exotic about him, and it helped that he was tall enough that Oliver had to look up to meet his gaze.

"I'm not dressing up," Danny said.

Oliver eyed him. That was going to be fun to crack. He smirked. He'd get Danny into something other than his normal clothes somehow. First he'd get Jackson out of the way; he'd already made a plan. It pretty much relied on Jackson being interested in what Scott might want him to wear though.

"That means you're up," Oliver said. He gestured for Jackson to follow him and turned away. He imagined the best way to deal with the seemingly arrogant blonde was to not give him a chance to open his pretty mouth.

Three hot guys walked into his store on New Year's Eve, that sort of made it seem like someone or something was playing a cosmic joke on him. Oliver grabbed a pair of white shoes and a pair of white jeans.

"I want to be a demon," Jackson said.

Oliver nodded. "Scott said he thought it'd be hot to see you as an angel. He's your boyfriend, right?" He looked over his shoulder in time to see Jackson look away trying to hide the color riding up his neck and face.

"No…"

"Trust me, you've got the perfect look for what I've got in mind," Oliver pointed at a rack with various styles of wings hanging from it. He rolled his eyes when Jackson ran his hands over a pair of black wings. "Let me give you some advice?"

Jackson looked at him as though he was trying to decide if he should glare or listen, he was probably too drunk to know the difference. "What?"

Oliver kept his face from showing the rush of victory. He loved to be right. "Scott seems like a nice kid. He's got that whole dopey everyone's buddy thing about him. You on the other hand have this arrogant thing going for you."

Jackson smiled as though it were a compliment. Oliver tried not to sigh, succeeded barely. He pulled off a pair of white feathered wings with a white leather harness. Jackson raised an eyebrow.

"So?"

"I think the key here is to do something different. Maybe the reason Scott's not your boyfriend is he's got an interest in innocence. You ever met anyone he dated in the past?" Oliver winced inwardly at Jackson's sudden scowl. He was on touchy ground.

"I don't care what Scott's into, I just want to look good," Jackson said.

"Alright, I've got an idea." Oliver headed down a different aisle and added a white sleeveless hooded shirt to the pile of clothes he'd picked out already.

"A hood?" Jackson's voice was curious.

Clearly Jackson thought his face was one of his best assets. He wasn't wrong, but sometimes hiding one of your best assets could make people want to see it. People loved secrets, loved having them and loved finding out the ones other people hid.

"Sometimes," Oliver said, "what you don't show can be just as important as what you do show. I'm thinking the trick with Scott might be shrouding the familiar with something a little more mysterious."

Oliver headed back to the dressing rooms in time to hear Scott's voice calling out uncertainly, "Danny? Is Oliver back yet?"

"I'm here," Oliver said. He gestured for Jackson to head into the second dressing room.

"There's no shirt with this outfit… and uh… my boxers don't fit in these pants." Scott sounded mortified.

Oliver chuckled when Jackson walked face first into the dressing room door. This was turning out to be perfect. "That's the idea." Scott started to protest, but Oliver was already leading Danny away from the dressing rooms while Jackson tried to remember how doors worked.

"I'm not dressing up," Danny said.

Danny was stubborn. Oliver liked a challenge. "Your boyfriend would probably like it." Oliver watched Danny out of his peripheral vision.

"I don't have a boyfriend." Danny's fists clenched at his sides. Anger practically radiated off him.

Oliver was on treacherous ground again. Either Danny was straight and Oliver's gaydar was faulty or there was some unresolved sexual tension between the three of them. Was it Jackson or was it Scott that Danny was into? Perhaps a compliment would get him back in Danny's good graces; he'd fish for a little more info too. "Did you hear that?"

Danny tilted his head curiously. It was adorable that Danny seemed to be genuinely listening. It was going to make his ultra-cheesy line so much better.

"Hear what?" Danny was so earnest Oliver almost wanted to think of something else to say, but it was too late and he didn't have anything else to go with.

"The sound of all those gay teens letting out relieved breaths." Oliver grinned, Danny blinked at him like he didn't get it at first. He would have loved to have met Danny when he was sober. He seemed like a fun guy.

Danny stepped into Oliver's personal space. The sudden shift in mood caused him to try to step back but there was nowhere to go without slamming into a display set. Oliver certainly hadn't been expecting that.

"Are you one of those teens?" Danny leaned in close, took a deep breath.

Oliver tried not to react, but there was only so much he could do with Danny towering over him. He wasn't as short as Danny's friend Scott, but all he could do with the tan teen so close was look up at him.

"Maybe I am? Do you want me to be?" Oliver liked games. He wondered if Danny liked games. "Let me pick out an outfit for you."

"How about we skip the outfit and you come with us tonight?" Danny countered. Something about his expression gave his eyes a predatory gleam. Oliver wasn't used to being the one who was pursued. This could turn into a very interesting game.

"Three secrets," Oliver said. "I'll go out with you when I get off if you promise to tell me three secrets by the end of the night."

Danny grinned. "If I dressed up how many secrets would I have to give up then?" It would seem that Danny did like games.

"One secret if I get to pick your outfit, two secrets if you pick it." Oliver smiled up at Danny. He refused to back away or push Danny out of his space. He wondered how much courage Danny had.

"What will it take for me to get your secrets?" Danny leaned in to whisper the question against Oliver's ear.

"Where's the challenge if I just tell you?" Oliver whispered back. He turned his head so his breath would tickle against Danny's neck.

"Challenge accepted." Danny stepped back. "I'm not dressing up, three secrets by the end of the night, but I bet you I'll get more than three out of you before the clock strikes midnight."

Oliver glanced at his watch. It was almost 9pm. Oliver had a lot of secrets, but he doubted Danny would be able to ferret out any of them.

"What happens if you lose?"

"Then I'll owe you a favor." Danny winked at him. Oliver liked the sound of that. "If I win though then you owe me a favor."

Oliver grinned; he just loved it when he played a game he couldn't lose.

Chapter Text

The alley they were in was dank, reeked of garbage. Oliver told them to wait there for him to let them in. Danny tried to ignore Scott rubbing his fingers through the feathers of Jackson's wings. The pressure in Danny's eyes was back. It was infuriating, how all over each other they were. When Oliver was around it didn't seem to matter, when he was gone all he could think about was how Scott wasn't paying attention to him. Jackson ran his fingers over the leash hanging from Scott's neck. Jealousy scythed through Danny's mind. He took a step towards the two of them.

"Hey," Oliver's voice broke Danny out of whatever had seized control of his mind. "Let's go guys."

Danny turned to see Oliver holding the door open for them. He wondered how he'd gotten into the club so easily, how he had enough connections to get them in through a back entrance. It would be one of the secrets he needed to win their game. Oliver grinned at him and winked. Danny smiled; the mysterious costume shop employee seemed to have an idea what Danny was thinking. It was going to be a good night.

Jackson and Scott headed through the door. Danny was right behind them. Oliver had put some sort of cologne on when he changed for the party. Neither of them were wearing a costume, but whatever scent Oliver had put on was coiling in Danny's brain, made him want to find out what it tasted like.

He let Jackson and Scott make their way ahead towards the sound of music. He was more interested in getting closer to Oliver. He leaned into the boy's space, took a deep breath, delighted in the way Oliver trembled slightly. There was something about how Oliver was smaller than him that was driving Danny crazy.

"You smell wonderful," Danny said.

"Oh?" Oliver sounded a little breathless. "You're a very forward guy."

Danny grinned. He wasn't shy, but he had to admit to himself that he was acting different than he normally would. He didn't remember ever being so outspoken about how he felt. It wasn't like he had a lot of experience with guys, just one boyfriend and a handful of experimental experiences.

"I'm not very good at this," Danny confessed. "There's just something about you I really like."

Oliver's smile was mysterious. "I hope you don't think that counts as one of your secrets. There's no way I would believe that you weren't very good at this."

Danny stepped back out of Oliver's space. He wasn't sure what he was going to tell Oliver in regards to secrets. He didn't want to bring up his criminal past. That was a great way to scare someone away. He had no intention of saying 'hey I'm awesome at stalking people via the internet'. Oliver would run before the words finished leaving his mouth.

Pressure roiled through his brain, a sharpness that caused him to rub his eyes. The thought of wanting to chase Oliver dried out his mouth. He shook his head against the sensation. There was something wrong with him. He wasn't sure what it was, but it was getting worse.

"You okay?" Oliver's hands were cool against Danny's fevered skin. "What are you on tonight? It's not just alcohol is it?"

Danny brushed the soothing hands away from his forehead. "A guy I know brewed some crazy concoction in his father's storage unit. I've had a lot of it tonight."

Oliver's cool hand took Danny's warm one, pulled him towards the sound of the music. "Let's get you some water." Oliver looked over his should and smiled, it made Danny's stomach tingle. "That's one; I have to say that being desperate enough to drink home brewed booze is a secret worth keeping."

They came out of the back room into some sort of hybrid between a dance club and a botanical garden. Pulsing music obliterated Danny's thoughts. Luscious plants, damp heat, and the smell of sweet flowers danced along his senses. He brushed his hands along the long green leaves as Oliver pulled him towards the bar. The leaves were soft and silky but Danny liked the feel of Oliver's hand more than the foliage.

The bartender looked curiously at their clasped hands. Danny wondered who she was. Oliver leaned across the bar to whisper into her ear. Oliver pointed across the club; Danny looked in that direction and saw Jackson and Scott wandering around aimlessly. They looked lost and confused; Jackson had his hands on one of Scott's manacle chains. The bartender's eyes darted from them towards Danny momentarily, a wicked grin playing across her features for a moment. He growled when Oliver kissed her on the cheek and she returned the gesture.

Growling… he was growling. Thankfully no one would have been able to hear it over the music. What the hell was wrong with him? He was going to strangle Stiles for giving him that hideous brew. If he started growing excessive body hair Stiles wasn't going to see graduation.

The girl behind the bar handed him a bottle of water. Danny nodded his thanks; he gulped down half of it, then set it down and tried not to notice the girl's eyes roving over Oliver's body while he glanced across the dance floor. Danny followed his gaze and noticed Jackson disappearing down a staircase, probably following Scott.

Oliver turned away from the bar, pulled him towards the middle of the dance floor. He shook his head in protest, tried to halt Oliver's progress. The shorter boy turned to see what the problem was, pressed their bodies together as he got up on the tips of his toes and turned his head to the side so he could hear whatever he was going to say. Danny leaned in, barely resisted the urge to lick along Oliver's exposed neck.

"I can't dance. That's my second secret." Danny had to repeat himself several times before Oliver seemed to understand. The auburn haired boy shook his head, gripped both of Danny's hands and walked backwards. Danny licked his lips nervously.

Oliver leaned forward, used a cool hand to grip the back of Danny's neck to pull his head down. "Doesn't count," Oliver breathed into Danny's ear. "No guy thinks he can dance. It's not that much different from sex though."

The words tickling his ear and the sudden friction of Oliver rolling his hips forward into Danny's body made his stomach flutter again. Danny shifted nervously, let Oliver guide his hands to where he wanted them. Danny threaded his fingers through the belt loops on Oliver's jeans; he took the grinding of Oliver's hips into him as encouragement.

He let the music pour down over him, let Oliver curl one hand into his shirt. He liked the other one where it was, gripped tightly to the back of his neck. Oliver's fingers rubbed along the bumps of his spine. Danny was out of his element, reeling from the sensory onslaught of the club and Oliver's body against him. He could barely think. They danced, or really Oliver danced on him. When the song came to an end Danny didn't know if it was too soon or hadn't been quick enough.

"You okay?" Oliver leaned in close to him.

Danny nodded. "Is there somewhere we can talk that's a little quieter?"

Oliver nodded; he stepped back out of Danny's personal space. Danny regretted it immediately. He caught Oliver's hand as the boy started to walk away. Oliver grinned over his shoulder, tugged him along towards a door on the far side of the dance floor. It was marked as being for employees only.

They passed through the door into what seemed like some sort of utilities closet. There were power cables and switches all along one of the walls. Oliver turned towards him, walked backwards till he was up against the opposite wall. The door closed, cut off the sound from outside.

"You want me to go get you some more water?" Oliver asked.

Danny crowded him up against the wall, pressed their bodies together. Oliver tilted his head back so he could look up into Danny's face, dark blue eyes full of interest at the shift in mood.

"I like you right here," Danny said. "I'm curious how you're so familiar with the club and the staff." Oliver gave another mysterious smile, but didn't respond. Danny thought it through. Oliver got them into the club, knew the bartender, and no one rushed to stop them from entering the room. Either the staff wasn't paying close attention or more likely Oliver worked for the club in some capacity or at least knew the staff. "You work here don't you?"

Oliver shrugged. "Something like that."

"I doubt you're old enough to be a bartender. So what? Like a dancer or something?" Danny thought Oliver seemed pretty good on the dance floor, not that he was a great judge of that sort of thing.

"You got me, that's one secret. Hopefully it doesn't make you think less of me. I strip here sometimes." Oliver said it like it was the most natural thing in the world, almost as if he was daring Danny to take issue with it. "It's not easy living in San Francisco on a retail employee's wages alone."

"I'm guessing you also know the bartender pretty well. The girl who kissed you, it seemed like something was going on there, or maybe had gone on in the past." Danny was fishing for information. He thought he was on the track to another secret.

Oliver broke eye contact, glanced towards the floor to the side of them. "Yeah, we had a thing when I first came to town. I'm kind of bi." Oliver nervously brought his gaze back up, blue eyes searching Danny's face for some sort of negative reaction. "That a problem?"

"I think I just got two secrets out of you," Danny said with a grin. He reached around Oliver's waist, hoisted him into the air as he pinned him harder against the wall. Oliver's legs reflexively wrapped over his thighs, his arms tightened around Danny's shoulders.

Oliver winced slightly when his back hit the wall. "I guess you did…"

"You okay? Is this okay?" Danny was a little worried he'd taken it a little too far. Oliver's reaction when his back touched the wall was curious.

"You're fine; I like guys who are aggressive. One of the main things I like actually." Oliver's nails scraped lightly along the back of Danny's neck. "I wouldn't have brought you in here if I didn't want something to happen."

Some part of Danny wanted to protest what was happening. He wasn't the kind of guy who just got off with a stranger in the back room of a club. There was something about Oliver that he really liked though.

"I'm…" Danny didn't know how to finish. He closed his eyes, didn't want Oliver to see the fear in his eyes.

The boy in his arms pulled his head forward; Danny leaned in further so his forehead was almost against the wall. Oliver whispered against his ear, "You're fine. I'm not thinking anything negative. It's like a fantasy. One night, a story your friends will think you made up. I like it, being your fantasy. I'll be whoever you want me to be tonight."

There was more to Oliver's voice than the words, something just under the surface that Danny couldn't quite pin down, but he couldn't think clearly. Oliver rolled his hips; Danny felt how interested Oliver was in the situation. He braced his legs and leaned forward more, sharing Oliver's weight with the wall.

Oliver hissed under his breath when Danny pressed harder into his body. A warm, wet mouth closed on Danny's neck, he bucked his hips forward. He was just as hard as Oliver was. The position was good, they were pressed together, groins lined up perfectly.

Danny pushed forward harder, Oliver squirmed in his arms, hips twisting and thrusting back in short movements. Teeth scraped Danny's neck, wet tongue followed as Oliver sucked at his collarbone. Danny groaned, the room was hot, he could feel sweat rolling down his forehead. He thrust harder. This was good, it was safe, having sex with a stranger was dangerous, he didn't know Oliver very well and even under the haze of what he was feeling he wanted to play it safe.

"You taste good," Oliver whispered against his neck, the arms around Danny's shoulders tightened further. "Tell me your second secret."

Danny couldn't think, he was too hard, there was too much heat. He captured Oliver's mouth, nibbled at his lips until Oliver opened up for him. Danny sucked at the tongue that darted against his lips, ground his hips harder. Oliver's nails dug into his neck.

"I-I…" Danny started to say, grasping for something, some secret he could share with Oliver. He'd promised three, but he wasn't that interesting of a guy, shady criminal past aside. "I write slash fiction."

As soon as the words left his mouth he regretted saying it. He should have gone with the hacking thing. Oliver was going to think he was a nerd. Oliver's hips twitched against his. Danny imagined he could feel the heat of Oliver's dick through their jeans. His mouth started to water.

"What's that?" Oliver gasped out.

Danny dug his nails into Oliver's hips. "Seriously?" Danny panted. "Is now the time?"

They were practically pulling air out of each other's mouths to whisper the trembling words to each other. Oliver bit at his lower lip, caught it between his teeth, pulled roughly then licked over the place he'd bitten after letting him go.

"You promised to… nnngggh…" Oliver panted, resting his forehead on Danny's shoulder before continuing, "To tell…"

All of Danny's muscles were starting to ache. He was in shape, he was in really good shape, but holding up a guy, even one Oliver's size and trying to dry hump him through a wall was taking its toll. He was so close though.

"Stories… I write stories," He bit lightly on Oliver's earlobe, exalted in the tremble that passed through the smaller guy's body. "Erotic stories, about television shows, and books, and stuff…"

"Is this going to be a story you write?" Oliver asked, voice shaking and sounding out of breath. "You going to write something based off me?"

Danny couldn't think anymore, he bit down on Oliver's neck. Fire erupted in his brain, something primal and animalistic. He moaned into Oliver's shoulder as he sucked and bit at the pale skin. The fire in his brain went down his spine and pooled in his abdomen. Spasms wracked his body, he couldn't hold back anymore. He came hard enough that he thought he was going to pass out. His legs started shaking with the force of his release. His muscles ached.

Oliver let out a wet gasp, his body started shaking, twitching uncontrollably. "So good," he panted into Danny's shoulder. "I wasn't expecting it to be like that."

Danny couldn't hold them up anymore. He pulled away from the wall, tried to set Oliver down. The smaller guy stumbled slightly when he was on his feet, fell back against the wall. He emitted a pained gasp when his back hit the cement. Danny opened his mouth to ask if he was alright but the door behind him opened.

"What the fuck?" An angry male voice rose up over the music that suddenly poured into the small room.

Danny turned to see a large man, skin flushed red with anger. He charged into the room, pushed Danny to the side with enough force that he lost his footing and went down.

"Fuck off," Oliver hissed out as the man grabbed his arm and started pulling him out of the room. "I don't owe you any explanation, Mike."

Danny watched as the man pulled Oliver out, he was stunned. He didn't know what to do. Pressure unlike anything else he'd experienced blossomed behind his eyes. Who did that person think he was? Oliver didn't want to go with him. Danny got to his feet. The man pulled Oliver across the dance floor towards the hall that led to the alley. Fury boiled up in Danny's chest when he saw the look of fear in Oliver's blue eyes. The man pushed him into the hallway and out of Danny's sight.

He rushed out of the room towards where they'd gone. He glanced at the bartender, saw that she had a phone out and was looking the way Oliver had been taken. He hoped she was calling the police. He barely noticed that she was leaving her position behind the bar and heading up the stairs that led to the second level of the club. He barreled down the hall just in time to see the door to the alley closing.

He pushed the door open. There were three men, all clearly drunk. One of them was holding Oliver as the guy named Mike raised a fist. Danny leapt down the stairs and slammed into the closest of the three.

Everything became chaos. There was so much shouting that he wasn't sure what was going on. A fist slammed into his jaw. He pushed at a body that pushed him up against the wall. He saw a knife. Fear snared his mind, paralyzed him.

The sound of glass shattering drowned out every other noise. Danny looked towards the sound to see Jackson dropping from the second story of the building. Danny had to be hallucinating. Jackson's jeans were torn; one of his wings had been ripped off. Blood streamed from tiny cuts all over his body. Haunting emerald light flickered in his eyes, a roar tore through the night and froze Danny's blood.

The man who had the knife turned. "What the fuck?" He rushed towards Jackson. Danny's mouth fell open in shock when Jackson caught the knife in his hand, completely disregarded the blood that dripped from where it cut into him.

"Holy shit," someone screamed, Danny thought it might have been Mike. He turned towards the sound in time to see Scott drop to the ground from the same window Jackson had smashed through. He glanced up to see the female bartender looking out with her hands covering her mouth. She was shaking her head like she couldn't believe what she was seeing.

Danny empathized; he couldn't understand what he was seeing either. Jackson hurled the man with the knife against the wall nearest to him. Danny thought he heard the sound of snapping bones.

The man holding Oliver pushed him against the wall and turned to rush towards his friend. Scott rose from the crouch he was in. His eyes erupted with yellow light. Danny wanted to say something, but he didn't know what. Scott looked every bit a demon from hell. Fangs, claws, and hair that he shouldn't have sprouted from his body, he emitted a roar that put Jackson's to shame. It made Danny's bones shake.

Everyone froze. Sirens filled the silence that had suddenly overtaken the alley in the wake of Scott's challenge. He shook his head and all those strange things about his features faded away right before Danny's eyes. One moment Scott had been the image of furious retribution, the next he was just a kid in a demon costume.

Danny glanced towards where Oliver was. Mike was holding him by the front of his shirt, but he wasn't moving. Jackson dropped the bloody knife into a dumpster not far from where he was standing. Mike and his friends looked around, clearly thinking about running.

A cop car pulled into the front of the alley. Police jumped out and leveled guns towards them. "Everyone freeze," an officer yelled.

No one was moving. Danny wasn't sure he could move if he wanted to. Mike seemed to be the first one to recover. "They're monsters," he said. He pointed at Jackson and Scott.

The cops looked at the two boys in their costumes. The one who had yelled pulled out a radio and spoke into it, "Nothing big, just a bunch of drunks brawling it out in an alley. Same shit every year on New Year's. We're bringing them in."

No one argued. Several more cop cars arrived on the scene. Everyone was piled into cars. Danny happened to end up in the same one as Oliver.

"Why did you come after me?" Oliver looked up at Danny through long black eyelashes.

"It's better when we're together, it's more fun that way," Danny said. He smiled at the look of shock in Oliver's face. "We never got to finish the game."

"I think that whole thing with your friends… I think that counts as your third secret," Oliver said.

Danny nodded. He didn't know what was going on, but he was going to make Jackson explain it. Somewhere in the back of his head he heard his own voice as he spoke to Stiles in the storage unit, 'Why would you care about a bogus recipe for getting werewolves drunk anyway? You know a lot of werewolves or something?'

Chapter Text

"What was it that we were looking for again?" Stiles couldn't remember what they were doing. He gripped the hem of Derek's shirt, pulled him in for a kiss. Derek stumbled slightly, Stiles barely managed to keep them both standing. The kiss was sloppy and wet. Sloppy and wet was still good.

"I left the envelope in the cab," Derek said. "I was too distracted." Derek tucked his hands into Stiles's back pockets. Stiles pulled Derek's head to the side, bit lightly at his neck. Derek grunted, but let Stiles do what he wanted. Derek was drunk; Stiles personally thought it was hilarious.

"What did you do to those drinks?" Derek sounded like an angry puppy.

Stiles grinned, thought it was adorable. He bit harder at Derek's neck, tried to keep him from asking questions. Derek was a handsy drunk. Stiles approved. "Stuff… Not a big deal." Stiles distracted Derek with a kiss.

He wasn't sure exactly why they'd decided to go to the University of San Francisco. Stiles thought it had to do with the scavenger hunt, but he couldn't remember what they were looking for, it had something to do with books.

"Excuse me, may we ask you a question?"

Stiles pushed Derek away, turned to regard a group of girls that had stopped a few feet from them. Derek staggered slightly. Stiles pushed him up against the wall of the building they were next to. Derek stroked his wrist, fingers playing with the seashell bracelet. "Sup?" He shook his head, he probably should have tried to sound more intelligent in front of a group of college girls.

"We're looking for guys to take part in a charity event tonight." The speaker was a cute blonde girl. Stiles wondered what the charity was for. He liked helping people. Derek liked… stuff that he liked, so he could probably be convinced to help.

"Yeah? What's the charity for?" Stiles turned his back to Derek, leaned against him to hold him against the wall. Derek was hopeless, what would he ever do without Stiles to keep him in line?

"It's called 'Give Water, Give Life'. It's to help countries without clean drinking water." The girl eyed Derek and him, assessed them like they were horses she was thinking about buying.

Stiles liked water. Derek liked water too. He was sure they could help. Derek tucked his hands into the front pockets of Stiles's jeans.

"Sure, what do you want us to do?" Stiles tried to ignore Derek's pawing. One of the girls giggled. Stiles smiled at her. She blushed and turned away. Derek bit the side of his neck.

"We're looking for male strippers."

Stiles nodded, he liked taking his clothes off. Derek liked taking his clothes off too. They liked taking each other's clothes off; it was like they were meant for this charity. It seemed like a reasonable thing to help the people who had no water. The mead made everything seem so clear.

"Derek, did you hear what she said?"

"Busy…"

Stiles used his head to push Derek's face away from his neck. "We'd love to help give people water. What do we need to do?"

The girl handed him a flyer. "Just show up here, pick a song, I'm sure we can get it if we don't already have it. You show up, you strip to the song, the tips you get go to the charity. You get free food and free alcohol."

"Awesome." Stiles liked music, he also liked dancing, booze, and food. Derek… liked stuff that he liked. He was sure they'd figure it out. He glanced down at the flyer. It had the address of a house on campus.

"Thanks, my sisters and I are looking forward to you both performing."

Stiles blinked at the assembly of girls. They didn't look like sisters. One of the girls was staring at Derek, banging him with her eyes. Stiles was not pleased with the little harpy. He growled at her, turned and kissed his boyfriend. Derek was all for the sudden shift in mood, picked him up, spun around and pinned him against the wall. Stiles was trying to prove that Derek was his, the impromptu wolf hug was perfect.

"T-thanks ladies," Stiles said as Derek nipped at his neck. "We'll be sure to get a lot of water for the countries!"

The girls laughed as they continued on their way. He tried to push Derek away from him so they could talk about dancing for water. Derek was having none of it; he got a thigh between Stiles's legs.

"Derek," Stiles whined at the friction against his groin.

"Mhmm," Derek mumbled.

"Derek!"

Stiles sighed when Derek's hands got under his shirt. They were supposed to talk about the sisters and their water; they were not supposed to be getting sexy in public. Danny was going to be mad they ignored his game. Through the haze of alcohol over his mind Stiles began to reason that Danny would understand. That he'd want them to help the sisters.

"Derek we need to help the sisters with their water!" Stiles tried to push him away.

Derek caught hold of Stiles's hand, sucked one of his fingers into his mouth. Stiles tried desperately to think, but it was impossible with Derek's tongue caressing him. He sighed when Derek released him.

"What sisters?"

"The ones who were just here, including the one who as trying to sex you with her brain, you know, they asked us to be strippers."

Derek seemed to think that Stiles was asking him to take his clothes off. He swatted Derek's hands away from his belt buckle. Derek let out a feeble puppy growl, pulled at Stiles's shirt.

"I'll strip you." Derek had a one track mind, Stiles normally approved of that, but he needed to think about the charity.

"The water, Derek…" Stiles's protest sounded weak. His heart wasn't really in it.

"Don't want to go swimming…"

Stiles sighed again; Derek had been driven insane by the wolves' mead. He doubted there was anything he could do about it. He might as well just embrace the inevitable and give Derek what he wanted. He was such a good person, everyone was wrong about him being a terrible person. He was giving, very giving.

"If I give you some sweet loving can we help the people get the water?"

Derek pushed him harder against the wall. Something in Stiles's brain flipped. He growled again, got his fingers through the loops of Derek's jeans. He spun the werewolf, slammed him up against the wall. Derek made a shocked noise when Stiles bit him. If he had been less drunk Stiles would have been amused at the fact that he'd finally performed an impromptu wolf hug on Derek.

"Listen," Stiles commanded.

Derek's eyes flickered with violet light then settled back to their normal green. The werewolf shook his head in confusion. Stiles grabbed the collar of Derek's shirt, pulled him down so they were forehead to forehead.

"What?" Derek's eyes were dialated, he seemed really interested in Stiles's face. He stuck out his tongue and tried to lick Stiles's nose.

Stiles dodged the tongue. "I'm going to drag you someplace relatively quiet. I'm going to make you howl my name loud enough that people will think about calling the police."

"I like it," Derek whispered. He tilted his head for a kiss.

Stiles nipped his lips. "Tonight we're doing things my way, and my way includes helping with the water!" He grinned; he wasn't sure what had gotten into him. He liked it though. Derek seemed to like it too. He grabbed the front of Derek's shirt, hauled him along the street. There was a park a block up ahead. It was probably closed after dark. Stiles was sure he could find a quiet place to make Derek beg for something.

Chapter Text

Derek grunted, gripped the picnic table harder. Stiles licked against the back of his neck, tightened the grip he had around Derek's dick. The table moved slightly as Derek rested more of his weight against it.

"One more," Stiles whispered against Derek's skin. "One more and then I'll let you have what you want."

Derek groaned. He ground his teeth as Stiles continued to twist and pull. Stiles had said that last time. "What about the sisters and their water?" Derek tried to get Stiles to think about something else. Wet heat trailed up behind his ear, Derek shivered. Stiles got a fist full of Derek's hair, pulled his head back. The teenager had been acting oddly all night, Derek wasn't displeased with Stiles's aggressive behavior, he just wasn't sure where it'd come from.

"We'll get to it," Stiles said. "We've still got time."

Derek knew there was something wrong with him too, he just didn't care. His mind felt fuzzy, his awareness blunted. He could barely smell Stiles, could only faintly make out his heartbeat. If he didn't know better he'd think he was drunk.

Stiles pushed his groin against Derek's ass, he was hard, he'd gotten hard during Derek's first orgasm, had stayed hard through the second, now he wanted a third. Derek let his head fall forward, looked down to see Stiles's pale hand wrapped around his swollen erection.

The park seemed empty, they hadn't found anyone else as Stiles scouted for a place where they could have some alone time. Derek had thought he was going to fuck Stiles on top of the table; he hadn't been expecting to be held against it and tortured. They weren't even naked; Stiles had just unzipped him and went to town with his talented fingers.

"You're killing me." Derek grunted again, Stiles's grip got tighter, both on his dick and in his hair.

"Turn around," Stiles commanded.

Derek got harder at the tone of Stiles's voice. He did as he was asked, dizziness sweeping over him for a second. He staggered, but Stiles pushed him back against the table.

"What do you want me to do?"

Stiles grinned at him. "Come here, sit up on the table."

Derek stumbled around from the end of the table, stepped up onto the bench, tried to ignore how hard he was even though Stiles had already gotten him off twice. Firm hands on his hips guided him up so that he was sitting on top of the table, legs spread wide. Stiles guided his feet apart, then sat down on the bench, legs under the table. His face was so close to Derek's cock, caused it to twitch and beg for more attention. Derek reached out, wanted to stroke Stiles's neck.

"Hands on the table," Stiles said, he slapped Derek's reaching hand away to drive his point home.

Derek groaned, dropped his hands to rest on the top of the rough table. Stiles was going to be the death of him. A hot tongue traced up the vein on the underside of his dick, Stiles firmly gripped him at the base, mouthed and kissed the tip.

"Fuck," Derek grunted.

"Shhh, don't want anyone to interrupt us."

Wet kisses trailed all over his aching cock, Stiles was doing everything he could to get Derek to beg for more. Slick heat enveloped him; he looked down, watched Stiles's head bob in his lap. It was too much, too soon. He was still overly sensitive from Stiles working him so hard with his hand. Stiles pulled back, Derek grunted as his pink tongue darted out, lapped at the tip of his dick.

"Come on, Derek, give me what I want." Stiles kissed the tip of Derek's dick, licked it again. "You said you always would."

Derek closed his eyes, felt his balls drawing tight, heat curling in his abdomen. Stiles went back to sucking at him with fervor. Tight heat pulled at him, he gripped the edge of the table, bucked his hips up. Stiles groaned, sucked harder still.

"Please, Stiles," Derek begged, "Just a little bit more."

Stiles looked up at him, brown eyes blown open. His lips were red and swollen. Derek couldn't take anymore; it would have been painful if it wasn't exactly what he needed. He thrust erratically against Stiles's mouth, practically howling out as he came. Blood was pounding in his ears, he couldn't get enough air into his lungs, pleasure shattered him, tore him apart.

He fell back, head hanging off the other side of the table. Stiles swallowed around him, licked and sucked, made sure to get everything he could. Derek's body twitched under his enthusiasm. Derek grunted as Stiles released him from his mouth, gasped when Stiles lapped at his spent dick. "Too much."

"Please, Derek, just a little bit more. I'm so close." Stiles sounded desperate.

"I thought I was going to get to take care of you when you were done with me." Derek lifted his head to look at Stiles.

The dark haired boy moaned against him, Derek could see his shoulders shaking, could hear how desperately he was jerking himself off. Derek started to sit up, wanted to get down on his knees and take care of Stiles's needs.

Stiles looked up, got his free hand under Derek's shirt, against Derek's stomach, nails dragging down his abdomen. "Stay still," Stiles said. "So close, please, just stay there." Stiles's body trembled; he sucked Derek's soft cock back into his mouth as he tugged himself towards completion.

Derek was awed by it, how desperate Stiles looked, how much he seemed to need to be allowed to take his pleasure the way he wanted to. Stiles was beautiful and wanton. Derek could never say no to him anyway.

"Come on, baby, let it go," Derek urged. He wanted to see Stiles in that moment of ecstasy, wanted to see Stiles lost in the pleasure.

Stiles let his head fall forward against Derek's thigh, made a high pitched whine high in his throat as his body seized up. They laid there for a few minutes as they both caught their breath. Stiles eventually got his hands around Derek again, he was about to protest but Stiles just tucked him back into his pants, zipped him up.

"Let's go, Derek. We've got to go help the sisters."

Derek grunted. There was no reason Stiles should have so much energy, it was practically inhuman. He got off the table. Stiles grabbed his shirt, pulled him into a fierce kiss. Derek gripped Stiles's wrist, brought the hand that Stiles had used to pleasure himself to his mouth, licked against the palm, sucked at each of the fingers.

Stiles let out a tiny growl of approval, the noise shocked Derek. There was something definitely odd about their behavior. Stiles pulled his hand free, gripped Derek's belt buckle and started pulling him back towards the street, walking backwards and looking up into Derek's face with hungry eyes.

"Come on, we've got to take our clothes off for water."

It didn't really make sense to Derek; especially the way Stiles was saying it. It didn't matter though, Stiles was right, he'd told the teenager he'd give him whatever he wanted. He'd just never thought Stiles would want him to take his clothes off in front of a bunch of college girls. He staggered again, dizziness sweeping over him. Stiles kept him steady though, placed a soft kiss against his neck before nipping him.

"Don't worry, Derek, I've got you," Stiles said.

Chapter Text

Stiles had never seen so many girls in once place. The strippers and the staff were the only dudes he there. The sisters of Psi Kappa Sigma were holding the party at a local bar they frequented. Stiles was afraid some of them wanted to eat Derek. He empathized with them, but there was no way he was letting any of them take Derek home to participate in a sorority pillow fight.

Derek somehow seemed to be getting more wasted even though he'd not had anything aside from water to drink after they'd left the hotel earlier in the night. Stiles grinned. His wolves' mead had been a roaring success.

He was supposed to go after Derek in the rotation, he hoped no one laughed, he wasn't going to be much of a follow up act considering how hot Derek was. The stage was right next to the bar, looked the like they used it for karaoke or live bands normally. It wasn't large, not a lot of room to maneuver. That was probably for the best, Stiles hadn't really learned to dance so much as grind on other people. That's what Allison had taught him, that's what Derek did to him whenever they had a few spare moments. He was good with that. He was suddenly not feeling so good about the plan. He wanted to help the sisters get their water, but he wasn't sure he was going to do a good job of it.

The first guy who'd gone up was decent. He was okay looking, his moves weren't bad. Stiles wasn't familiar with the song that went with it. Derek was watching the stage. It sort of looked like he was trying to remember how to scowl. Stiles grinned. It wasn't even really a frown so much as a pout. Derek seemed to be rethinking the plan.

"You're next," Stiles said. "You ready?"

Derek shook his head. The DJ gestured for Derek to head out onto the stage. Stiles bit his lower lip. He couldn't wait to see what Derek was going to do. As soon as the brooding werewolf was on the stage the bar went wild. Girls started shrieking, the music hadn't even started yet. Derek looked back at him. Stiles gave him double thumbs up. Derek's pout got minutely scowlier.

The music started, Def Leapord's Pour Some Sugar on Me Baby. The DJ had to turn up the sound system so it could be heard over the roaring sorority girls. Stiles waited for Derek to do something. Derek didn't do anything. He just stood there. Stiles rolled his eyes. The girls quieted down. It was a disaster. Derek wasn't earning any water at all. Clearly Stiles needed to take action.

He leaned over to the DJ, yelled into his ear to switch the song to Nine Inch Nail's Closer. If the girls wanted a show, Stiles would deliver. He'd make sure every person got the water they needed. The music cut off. The girls started murmuring. Derek looked frozen in place, and a little green around the edges.

Stiles walked out on the stage. It was going to be the most awesome moment of his life, either that or Derek was going to kill him. He wasn't sure which one. Derek had seemed fairly pliable so far, maybe he'd be able to push his boyfriend just a little bit further.

"Sorry ladies, Derek here has a little bit of stage fright," Stiles said. "Anyone mind if I help him out a little bit?"

The girls whispered to each other. Stiles walked closer to Derek, the werewolf immediately reached out and gripped him by the back of the neck, pulled him close so they were chest to chest. It was a start.

"This was a terrible idea," Derek growled.

Stiles could barely hear him over the sudden cheering of the girls. He looked out at the crowd, winked at them. He put his hands on Derek's hips, lined up their groins. Wild applause rang through the room.

"All you have to think about," Stiles said, "Is how much you want to fuck me. How much I want you to."

Derek's mouth fell open. Stiles leaned in and took advantage, stretched up on the tips of his toes to nip at Derek's lips. Cheers started at the same time as the song. The music poured over Stiles, triggering something primal in him.

Stiles rolled his hips, leaned his head back. Derek immediately got in the game, bit roughly at his exposed throat. Stiles moved with the music, teasing Derek by moving away when the werewolf got his hands under his shirt. Derek followed, got another grip on Stiles's clothing and pulled him back in. Derek seemed to be trying to maul him more than dancing, but the girls seemed to be liking it so that was good.

Stiles raised his arms, let Derek pull both of the shirts he was wearing off in one smooth motion. He turned, brought his back against Derek's chest. He rocked back into him, reached back to run his hands through his boyfriend's hair. Derek's hands roamed over his naked chest, brushed against one of his nipples playfully. Stiles bit his lips, tried not to notice all the girls staring at them.

I wanna fuck you like an animal
I wanna feel you from the inside
I wanna fuck you like an animal
My whole existence is flawed

Derek snapped his hips against Stiles's ass. The plan was working, money was getting tossed out onto the stage. Stiles grinned, turned to face his boyfriend. Derek's eyes were hooded, the mesmerizing green barely visible. Stiles curled his fingers in Derek's shirt, slowly pulled it up and off. He dropped it to the stage, ran his fingers over perfect muscles.

Stiles sank down to his knees, stroked his hands over Derek's thighs. He was lost in the music, lost in the sensation. He forgot that the girls were even there. He tucked his fingers behind Derek's belt buckle. Derek reached down, and stroked his hair. Stiles undid the belt, pulled it free from Derek's jeans with a sharp tug.

He leaned forward; Derek took a few steps back. Stiles licked his lips as Derek unbuttoned his jeans; he followed Derek's fingers with his eyes as the werewolf slowly unzipped. Stiles got back to his feet, mirrored Derek's actions, undid his own pants. There wasn't really any sexy way to get out of jeans, especially since they hadn't been wearing like, tear away stripper pants or anything, but it didn't really matter.

Help me tear down my reason
Help me; it's your sex I can smell
Help me; you make me perfect
Help me become somebody else

They moved together again, turned so they were back to back as they slid their jeans down and stepped out of them. The air was hot, the sound of the music and the women in the room obliterated everything else, but even with that, somehow it was almost like they were alone. They were moving for each other, caught up in the rhythm.

Derek gripped his wrist, guided Stiles's hand up as he moved against his back. The wet heat of Derek's mouth on the back of his neck made his spine quiver. Stiles reached back with his other hand, raked blunt nails over Derek's stomach. He let Derek turn him around again so they were face to face. Strong arms reached around him, swallowed him up as Derek lifted him off the stage. Stiles wrapped his legs around Derek's waist, leaned his head back again to give Derek more room to lap at his neck.

Stiles wrapped his arms around Derek's shoulders, got a hand in the back of his hair. The music was winding down, but the girls were still going wild. He figured they should end with a bang. He parted his lips, flicked his tongue out to wet them as he locked eyes with Derek. Their kiss was fierce, all passion and need. Derek let his thighs go; Stiles got his feet back on the stage, slowly slid to his knees as the song came to an end. His tongue trailed down Derek's chest, brushed against the waistband of Derek's underwear at the final note.

On his knees, fingers tucked just barely under the sides of Derek's boxer briefs, he looked up. Derek's eyes were dilated, looking down at him with so much hunger it made Stiles's stomach flutter. Applause filled the small bar; Derek pulled him back to his feet.

The situation came crashing down on him. His face felt hot, he turned and gave a small smile to the crowd. Stiles quickly gathered their clothes, shocked out how much money littered the stage where people had thrown it. He forgot they were supposed to get close to the audience, let them tuck it into their underwear. They didn't seem to care though. He pulled Derek off the stage; his boyfriend looked like he was in a trance, couldn't see anything but him, and couldn't think of anything but him. Stiles liked it. He hoped they'd been able to raise enough money to get people the water they needed.

Chapter Text

"I can't believe I let you talk me into doing that." Derek wasn't particularly comfortable with the idea that they'd just put on a soft-core porn show for a bunch of college girls. He was glad to be out of the bar. He breathed in the fresh night air. It wasn't quite as chilly as he'd thought it was going to be, but it was still more cold than warm.

"It was fun, don't be such a sour wolf." Stiles bounced around, full of energy.

Derek shook his head, he couldn't help but chuckle. Stiles was full of so much life that it was infectious. His constant need to be in motion, to be doing something was one of the things Derek loved about him the most.

"Let's keep getting each other naked to ourselves in the future."

"We weren't naked; we still had our underwear on."

Derek sighed, reached out to grab Stiles. The teenager came willingly; Derek curled his hands around Stiles's hips. He placed a gentle kiss on his lips before letting him go so they could continue walking. They took a left, headed back onto the edge of campus. There was a sign indicating the building they were passing by was the school's library. Derek heard the sound of trickling water.

They walked in silence, slowly approached a fountain that was designed to look like stacks of books. There were a few benches, one underneath a large tree opposite the stairs that lead to the building's main entrance.

Fireworks blossomed in the night. Vibrant red and piercing blue lights filled the sky. Derek pulled Stiles over to sit on the bench underneath the tree. Stiles pulled Derek's head down for a kiss.

"What was that for?" Derek rubbed a finger across Stiles's cheek.

"Fireworks mean it's midnight. That means it's time for a kiss." Stiles grinned up at him, leaned in for another.

Derek laughed; all things considered it had turned out to be a pretty good night. His head was still fuzzy, he was still getting weak input from his senses, but it didn't matter. They were together.

"Are you excited to go on the ski trip in a couple of weeks?" Derek asked.

"I've been thinking about that, we're going to be in school. I don't think we can miss that many days. I'm thinking about rescheduling it for spring break if Jackson's okay with that."

"Aren't you supposed to spend spring break somewhere warm?"

Stiles rolled his eyes. "We spend a lot of time where it's warm. I don't want to miss a chance to go snowboarding."

Derek nudged Stiles with his shoulder. "Do you even know how to snowboard?"

Stiles huffed indignantly. "Of course I do. I'm very well versed in the theories. I own a snowboard. I own a picture of a cartoon guy on a snowboard. How hard could it be?"

"At least you thought it through," Derek said.

Stiles pushed him. Derek winked, pushed him back.

"Let's do something crazy. I'm still all revved up from the dancing," Stiles said.

Derek groaned. He'd had enough of crazy. He wanted decidedly less crazy for a while. His curiosity was peaked though; he wondered what Stiles wanted to do. He rubbed at his eyes; he wasn't sure why he was so tired. Stiles had worked him over pretty hard in the park, but they'd spent longer than that having sex without there being so much lassitude spreading through his muscles.

"Like what?" Derek regretted asking the question as soon as it was out of his mouth.

"Let's go swimming!" Stiles hopped to his feet.

"We're quite a ways from the beach." Derek felt the need to point out the small flaw in Stiles's plan.

"Who needs a beach; we have a pool right here." Stiles pointed at the fountain.

"That's not a pool," Derek said.

Stiles either didn't hear him or was ignoring him. It was the most normal thing the teenager had done all night. "It'll be fun."

"It's January," Derek said. He covered his mouth as he yawned.

"Only barely," Stiles countered.

"That means December was a few minutes ago," Derek said.

Stiles kicked his shoes off, tugged both shirts off and tossed them into the air. Derek looked up when they didn't come back down right away. He sighed; Stiles got his shirts stuck in the tree.

"You're a werewolf, it's not like you're going to freeze to death." Stiles was shimmying out of his pants. It made Derek lose his train of thought. Stiles tossed them up in the air.

Derek sighed; they too also got caught in the tree. Stiles wouldn't have been able to do that on purpose, hadn't even noticed he'd just lost all his clothes. Derek stood up, made his way over to the base of the tree. It looked easy enough to climb.

"I'm more worried about you getting sick."

Stiles made an indignant huffing noise. Derek ignored him, reached up to one of the low hanging branches. He pulled himself up, got his feet against the tree. He was too tired to be climbing in trees like a little boy, but it wasn't as if they could call the fire department to get Stiles's clothes back.

"Why are you climbing a tree?" Stiles climbed into the fountain. "It's not nearly as cold as it seems."

"That's because you're drunk." Derek kept climbing up, looked over his shoulder.

Stiles sat down in the water, it looked like it was only a foot or so deep. "Not drunk, high on life," Stiles said. His voice didn't really sound full of life. It sounded like he was starting to get tired too.

Derek yawned; he made it to the tree branch Stiles's clothes hung from. It didn't seem like it was strong enough to support his weight. He spread himself out, crawled on his belly toward the clothing. He glanced back at Stiles; the teenager was stretched out, resting with his arms spread over the top of one of the walls, head leaning back.

"Don't fall asleep," Derek yawned as he tried to warn Stiles about how dangerous it was to sleep while lying in water.

Stiles yawned. "Just resting my eyes…"

Derek tried to snort, but it came out as a yawn again. He got his fingers wrapped around one of the legs of Stiles's pants, managed to pull them free of the branch. "Get out of the fountain…"

"Just a sec…"

Derek reached further, grabbed Stiles's shirts, thankful that they were still tangled up together. He pulled them close; they smelled good, smelled like Stiles. They were still warm from his body. Derek rested his face against the bundle of clothes. He just needed a second before he'd climb back down. Stiles's clothes were so soft. He didn't even notice when his legs and arms went slack. He was too busy admiring how comfortable the branch was, how good Stiles's clothes felt against his face.

"Stiles… get out… of the fountain…"

"S'five more minutes…"

Chapter Text

"So…" Allison traced her fingers over the armrest of the lawn chair. "Jackson's pretty hot." Allison wasn't sure why she'd been so focused on it throughout the day. He had gorgeous lips, perfect skin, and amazingly soft hair. She could see why Scott thought he was attractive.

"That's why I'm dating him," Lydia said.

Allison glanced at her. She knew there was more to Lydia and Jackson than physical attraction, more than social currency. Lydia had never told her, but she could see it. There were lots of tiny hints. Allison looked over the skyline. San Francisco was beautiful; she wished she'd been able to see the sunset. She pulled her phone out of her purse, it was almost midnight.

She shivered; the night had turned colder than she'd thought it would. Lydia shifted her weight, reached down to grab the blanket at the foot of the chair they were sharing. Allison smiled when Lydia draped it over them.

"I love Scott." Allison wanted that to be clear. It was one of, if not the most important thing in her life. They'd beaten odds that could have torn other people apart, both in a relationship sense as well as an actual physical sense.

"I know. He loves you too." Lydia brushed a lock of hair away from her face, turned to regard Allison. "I'm starting to think you might have a crush on Jackson though."

Allison turned away, didn't want Lydia to see the color in her cheeks. She couldn't get Jackson off her mind. Ever since they'd left the hotel room she wondered what he was doing. Part of her thought it was because he was with Scott, that they were together. There was another part of her, some baser part she'd not confronted before that told her she wanted him on a more primitive level. It was just so odd because she'd never really thought of him like that before, and she'd seen him soaked and wearing only a tiny pair of swim trunks. She'd liked what she'd seen.

She wondered if that's how Scott felt, not about the swim trunks specifically, but in general. If he had some rumbling desire in his belly that he couldn't put a name to. She rubbed her thumbs over her eyelids, she'd had a sort of headache ever since she'd drank whatever the group had shared in the hotel room.

"I thought hangovers weren't supposed to happen until the day after." Allison pouted, rifled through her purse looking for some pain relievers.

"I imagine it's probably due to whatever was in the bottles Stiles poured us. Something tells me he didn't manage to get it from the local liquor store." Lydia turned in the chair, retrieved a bottle of water from a shopping bag sitting next to them. She handed it to Allison.

"Thanks, Lydia." Allison took the bottle, poured a few Advil out of the small case she'd found in her purse. She washed them down with a mouthful of water, rested her head against the cool plastic of the bottle.

Her thoughts drifted for a few moments, content with the silence they were sharing. She'd had a lot of fun with Lydia through the day. The boys were going to be so jealous that they'd won the scavenger hunt. She glanced at the door they'd have to come through to join them. She wondered how much longer they'd be. She couldn't wait to hug Jackson.

Allison sat up, shook her head. Jackson? No, she couldn't wait to hug Scott. She couldn't wait to kiss him, watch him squirm a little nervously as her fingers brushed through his blonde… through his black hair.

"I think there's something wrong with me," Allison whispered.

Lydia reached out, placed the back of her hand against Allison's forehead. "You feel a little warm, but nothing too bad."

Allison looked away. Why couldn't she stop thinking about Jackson? "What am I going to do?"

"About what?" Lydia turned, pillowed her head with one hand against the back of the chair. "About Scott?"

Allison turned, mirrored Lydia's posture, but couldn't meet her gaze. "I love him."

Lydia nodded. "Everyone knows that."

"I'm just not sure that… I'm not sure that I'm enough for him." It stung to speak the words, to put them out in the open where another person could hear them. It was like confessing her greatest fears. She was terrified that giving voice to it would make it real.

Lydia rolled her eyes. "Of course you are, he practically lives and breathes you. Is this about him and Jackson?"

Allison chewed her lower lip. Jackson and Scott, she had no idea what was going on. She understood the history; she understood what had happened at the beach. What happened there hadn't stayed there. It came home with them, they'd all been changed by that single week in ways that none of them had been expecting when they left.

"Maybe he's gay and too afraid to tell me." Allison didn't want to lose him; he was just as important to her as she was to him.

Lydia scoffed. "Please, it's 2012. Things aren't always black and white. The world has a lot of grey in it. Not everything can be classified."

Allison glanced at Lydia's eyes; they were focused on her face, searching her for something. "It's not really 2012 yet."

Fireworks exploded, lit up the night. Booms from the explosions reverberated in her chest. They were up so high, caught in the middle of the show. Different colors painted the night, burning lines trailed through the darkness. Allison held her breath as she watched.

"Looks like we win," Lydia said.

Allison turned to look back at her. "It's midnight."

Lydia nodded. "No boys to kiss, what a bunch of losers."

Allison chewed her lower lip again. She thought about Scott, thought about Jackson. She knew what she was going to do. She'd just have to find the words to explain it, to let Scott know that she understood he needed time to figure things out. She wasn't going anywhere. She'd wait for him. She wasn't going to push him away. Scott lived in the middle of two worlds; maybe the Jackson thing was an extension of that. For some reason, tonight, it was like she could see Jackson the way Scott did. It made sense to her, she'd have to wait and see what happened.

"Just because boys aren't here doesn't mean we have to miss the midnight kiss." Allison tilted her head down, looked at Lydia through the hair that fell in her face. "Not like we've never kissed before."

"True," Lydia looked down at her hands. "No boys here to impress though."

Allison scooted closer to Lydia, felt the chair wobble as she changed positions. If Scott was allowed to try to figure out what was confusing him, she should be allowed to do the same. "Was that all it was about last time?" Lydia's perfume smelled wonderful. Her scent was so clean, so different from Scott or any of the boys. She wondered what it would be like to smell Lydia with a werewolf's senses.

"Is it all you wanted it to be about?" Lydia reached out, brushed Allison's hair out of her face.

"I don't know." Allison turned her face against Lydia's hand.

"That's okay; we have time to figure it out. Not just you and I, but Scott and Jackson too. None of us are going anywhere. We can figure out what it all means together."

Allison leaned forward, met Lydia half way. Their lips brushed together softly. Smooth fingers brushed along Allison's cheek, so different from Scott's lacrosse calloused hands. She didn't know what it meant, but Lydia had been right, they'd have time to figure it all out together. They kissed softly, gently, underneath the flowers of light blooming in the sky.

Chapter Text

Lydia blinked at the sound of her phone ringing. She glanced over; Allison was starting to struggle awake. The sky was lightening; it couldn't have been too late in the morning. Lydia grabbed her phone, she didn't recognize the number. She almost sent it to voicemail, but on instinct she answered.

"This is Lydia," she said.

"Lydia, I'm so glad you answered." Jackson's voice came through the phone, he sounded practically rabid with excitement. "We need a really big favor."

Lydia narrowed her eyes. She sat up fully. Why hadn't the boys met them on the rooftop? She had a feeling she was about to find out, and that it was going to piss her off in a major way.

"What?" She tried to keep her tone even, tried to hide her growing sense of annoyance.

"First, I'd like to begin my two part apology by saying how much I love you." Jackson was using his desperation voice. That was a terrible sign.

"Uh huh. And?" Lydia had a feeling she wasn't going to like where this was going.

"I need you to bail me, Scott, Danny, and Danny's friend out of jail," Jackson said. "This is sort of my one phone call."

Lydia rubbed her temple with her free hand. She was already doing calculations in her head. She could pay their bail, assuming they hadn't eaten someone. She hated boys. She hated boys when they got drunk and ended up in jail. She hadn't known that she did, she'd assumed, now she found out she was right.

"Danny's friend?" Lydia wasn't sure that it was the most appropriate place to start, but she felt it would be the part that pissed her off the least.

"Who's that?" Allison asked as she sat up. "Where's everyone else?"

Lydia placed her hand over the cell phone's microphone. She glanced over at Allison. "One second. I'm contemplating how I'm going to murder our boyfriends."

Allison's brown eyes got wide, so wide that it almost made Lydia laugh. She would have if she wasn't considering how to strangle Jackson to death without breaking her nails. Allison looked like she wanted to ask more, but she remained quiet. She began to bite at a nail. Lydia reached out, pulled the hand out of Allison's mouth. Biting nails was not good for nail polish and manicures.

"Jackson, answer my question." Lydia tilted her head to the side, held her phone with her shoulder. She grabbed her purse, started to rummage through it for her wallet. She wanted to make sure she had the right credit cards with her. She always had her credit cards, but now she needed to make sure. They were really her parents' credit cards, but she felt a certain amount of possessiveness for them.

"Danny met a guy; I think it's going to be good for him. Really though, can we focus on the part where we're all in jail?" Jackson sounded desperate. "Also, could you bring me a change of clothes? Scott needs a shirt."

Lydia closed her eyes, took a deep breath. "That's all a joke right? You guys are back at the hotel and this is a joke? Tell me that, Jackson. Tell me it's a joke."

He laughed nervously. "Honey, it's fine really. We got… we got into a bit of a fight. Danny almost got knifed. Scott and I had to intervene. We lost some clothes in the process."

Lydia sighed. He could have at least tired to make up a better excuse. Someone tried to knife Danny? That'd be as likely as someone shooting Bambi in the face. Danny was too adorable for knifing, everyone liked him. If Jackson had said someone tried to knife him for being an ass, she would have believed that.

"Really? Someone tried to stab Danny?" Lydia couldn't help but laugh when she said it. The thought was so ridiculous.

"Oh my god!" Allison sounded alarmed. She reached out and grabbed Lydia's arm.

Lydia covered the phone again, "It's okay. Jackson is just being an idiot." She patted Allison's leg, climbed out of the chair. "We need to go to back to the hotel though, then to the police department."

Allison gaped at her. "What? Why?"

Lydia shrugged. "The boys are all in jail. I'm not sure why yet."

"Everyone? Scott? They're in jail?" Allison looked like she was going to throw up, or faint, or possibly both. Color drained from her skin at an alarming rate. Lydia reached down, picked up the half empty bottle of water and handed it to her.

"Yes, they're in jail," Lydia said. She removed her hand from the phone. "Jackson, are Derek and Stiles with you?"

"No," Jackson said. "I'm not sure where they are. I didn't really want to call either of them. I figured Derek would be really mad. We sort of…"

Lydia narrowed her eyes. She folded up the blanket as she waited for Jackson to finish confessing. "Yes?"

"We sort of revealed ourselves to Danny and his friend. You know, cause of the stabbing." Jackson took a deep breath. Lydia thought he might have been holding his breath waiting for her reaction.

"That's the joke right?" Lydia was going to kill them all. It would be a mercy. If Derek found out about this no amount of breathing exercises were going to keep Scott and Jackson's insides from abruptly being yanked out through their abdomens. She sighed, what a waste of delicious abs that would be.

"No," Jackson said. His expulsion of breath made it seem like he realized just how deep the shit he was standing in was.

"Jackson, you are going to wish it was Derek you told this too when I get done with you." Lydia finished packing away the blanket. "Are you at the police department downtown? So help me, if you are in a suburb or in another city I will tear your throat out with my teeth."

Jackson gulped audibly. "No, we're downtown. Should I begin my two part apology now?"

"Save it. You're going to need all your breath to howl for mercy when I get there." Lydia paused. She glanced at Allison's worried face. "Jackson?"

"Yes?" There was real terror in his voice. Lydia shook her head, couldn't fight the smile that was tugging at her lips. "I'm glad you're alright."

"T-thanks," Jackson stammered. "I'm really gla—"

"Shhh," Lydia whispered. "Don't ruin it, honey. I'm still going to kill you."

She hung up the phone. Allison fidgeted nearby. She reached out, curled her arm through Allison's.

"Jail?" Allison's lips trembled slightly.

"I have no idea, supposedly, Jackson and Scott gave away the werewolf secret to Danny and some new boy he met. Supposedly, it was because they were defending Danny from being stabbed by someone." Lydia shook her head. She really couldn't believe it. The whole idea was just ridiculous.

"Danny met a boy?" Allison focused on the least relevant part of the story, probably as a defense mechanism. "I wonder if he's cute."

Lydia smiled. "We're talking about Danny. Of course the guy is going to be cute."

Allison laughed. "They're alright though?" She opened the door, held it so Lydia could go through, and followed right after. She laced her arm through Lydia's as they walked down the stairs to the next floor. "Why are we going to the hotel first?"

"Jackson said he needed clothes. He also said Scott needed a shirt. I'm trying not to think about it too much." Lydia led them to the elevator nearby; hit the button for the first floor. Neither spoke until the elevator reached the bottom floor.

"Lydia?" Allison sounded confused. They walked out of the elevator arm in arm.

"Yes?" Lydia led them out onto the street, looked for a cab to flag down.

"Why aren't we at the hotel?" Allison looked around like she was lost. Her eyes were large as saucers. She bit her lower lip.

Lydia raised an eyebrow at her. "Really? You don't remember?"

"I remember being on the rooftop, I remember talking to you about Jackson and Scott. I remember us kissing." Allison looked down at the ground, twisted the toe of her shoe against the sidewalk.

Lydia shook her head. At least she remembered the important stuff. "It's alright, I'll tell you on the way home. First, let's get the boys out of jail."

Allison sighed. "Boys are stupid."

Lydia laughed, that had never been so true. She wondered what Derek was going to say when he found out about this. At the very least he was going to need to learn that Danny knew about Jackson and Scott. She was going to make sure it didn't happen while they were in the van. She wasn't going to watch as another one got torn apart. They'd never be able to rent a van in the state of California again if Derek tore his way through another. Boys were stupid indeed.

Chapter Text

Allison paced in the lobby while Lydia talked to the officer at the front desk. She wouldn't have believed it if someone told her she'd spend the first day of the New Year in a police station. She twisted the shirt she'd brought for Scott around her hands.

She couldn't believe that anyone would consider stabbing Danny. It didn't make any sense. There had to be more to it than that. She wanted to make sure everyone was alright. She'd suggested to Lydia that they call Derek and Stiles, but Lydia was adamant that she had first dibs on punishing the boys for their stupidity. Considering that they'd outted themselves to Danny and a random guy they'd met the previous night, Allison was reasonably sure Derek would flip out.

"They'll be out in a few minutes," Lydia said. She joined Allison in the middle of the room, placed a hand on her arm to keep her from pacing. "They're fine, for now at least."

"I can't believe they got into a fight." Allison tried to keep her lip from trembling. Things were getting out of control. She couldn't blame everything that had happened on Stiles's alcohol. That wasn't fair; she'd made choices that she'd have to live with too.

"I can. They'd all benefit from anger management lessons."

Allison raised an eyebrow at the clipped tone. Lydia had her own fair share of anger management issues. If there was one thing that was true about every member of the pack, it was that they all had issues. She smiled. They had all the same drama that any group of high school friends would have, they just also had the extra layer of werewolves thrown on top of it.

A door in the corner of the room opened. Jackson was the first one out. Allison clapped a hand over her mouth. He was a wreck. His hair was disheveled; he was wearing the tattered remains of white pants. She could see his underwear through holes in the thighs. He had a single tattered wing bobbing behind him.

"What the hell are you wearing?" Lydia made the question sound like an accusation.

"It's a long story," Jackson said. He kept his head down.

Allison tilted her head to the side. He looked sort of adorable with his single broken wing. There was something about the image that fit him. He seemed a little nervous, his eyes dancing between the girls watching him. She was about to ask him what was wrong, but her train of thought got derailed as Scott came through the door.

"Wow. Those most have taken quite a long time to paint onto you," Lydia said. Her eyes raked over the tight black pants Scott had stuffed himself into.

Allison couldn't help but laugh. He had adorable little devil horns on; he was twisting a red tail in his hands. His costume didn't seem to be in nearly as bad a shape as Jackson's. The fact that they were in costumes at all was shocking. What had they gotten into?

"Hey," Scott said. He kept his head ducked low as he walked up to her.

She smiled, untangled the shirt from her hands and offered it to him. He smiled back, kissed her on the cheek. She watched him pull the shirt over his head. It snagged on one of the horns. He spun a in place trying to get it free. He was such a mess. She tucked her hands into the top of the shirt and got the fabric untangled. "There you go," she said.

"Thanks." Scott wrapped her up in his arms, hugged her tight against his body. "I need to tell you what happened last night."

Allison's mouth went dry. She had things she needed to tell him too. She didn't want to do it in the middle of the police station. She looked at Jackson over Scott's shoulder. He looked a little sad, cast his eyes to the floor and turned away from them.

They were in a weird place, all four of them were. The lines between all of them had been blurred, kept getting less distinct as time passed. There were times when she was jealous, times that she was angry, but most of the time she was afraid. She was afraid that Scott would realize one day that being with a human from a family of hunters was a bad idea.

She tightened her arms around Scott's shoulders, curled her fingers into the back of his hair. She didn't want to lose him. Lydia was watching them, her expression thoughtful and calculating. Allison turned her head into Scott's neck.

"I love you," Allison said. "You know that right?"

"Of course." Scott's voice didn't leave any room for doubt. "I love you too."

It'd taken them a lot to get to that point. It hadn't been easy. People liked to say that nothing that was worth it was ever easy. She wished she didn't know how true that was.

"I have something I need to tell you about last night too," Allison said against Scott's neck.

He tightened his arms around her again. If he kept going he was going to crush her. She didn't mind, there were worse places to be in the world than in the arms of an overly strong werewolf. Her father probably wouldn't agree though.

Scott pulled away from her just as Danny and a boy she'd never seen before came through the same door the others had. They were holding hands. Allison winked at Danny. Lydia let out an appreciative whistle.

The boy behind Danny gave them a small smile. He had soft auburn hair, and deep blue eyes. Allison grinned. Danny had caught himself quite an attractive fish. Neither of them were wearing costumes. It made Jackson and Scott stand out even more.

"Hey," Danny said. "This is Oliver."

Oliver waved at the two girls. "Hi."

"I want to know everything about you," Lydia said. She pushed the bag that held the change of clothes into Jackson's arms. "Go get dressed, honey."

Jackson sighed. He took the bag and headed into the restroom. Oliver didn't shift at all under Lydia's gaze. Allison grinned. He certainly seemed confident in himself. That was good. She hoped he'd be good for Danny.

"That'll have to wait, Lydia." Danny watched Jackson retreat towards the bathroom. "Oliver and I need to talk about some things. You can interrogate him later." Danny turned to look at Oliver, reached out and took his other hand. "Assuming there's going to be a later?"

Oliver smiled. "Laters are great. I'm a big fan of laters."

Allison was already a big fan of Oliver. He seemed sweet. Danny deserved sweet. She didn't know him very well, but he'd gone out of his way to make sure they all were safe before they'd gone out. He seemed like a good friend to have. She wanted to get to know him more. She had a feeling that since he was now in on the secret, she'd get the chance.

Danny led Oliver out the front door of the police station. Lydia sat down near the bathroom to wait for Jackson. That left her and Scott relatively alone. She pulled him towards the far side of the room. They sat together on a bench.

"Scott," Allison tried to keep her voice steady. She didn't want him to think anything was wrong. "I think we should see other people." She looked up in time to see Scott shudder as if she'd stabbed him in the heart.

"But—"

"Wait," she interrupted him. She needed to make herself clear before he started speaking. She placed a finger over his lips. "What I mean to say is that I think we should stay together, but we should be allowed to see other people too. As long as the other people we see are okay with it too."

Scott's brown eyes were so large, so open that it took Allison's breath away. She couldn't help but feel like she'd caused him some irreparable harm. She knew that it was what they needed though. If they were going to survive, if they were going to make it as a couple, they needed to be able to explore the changes that were taking place.

"W-w-why?" Scott's voice cracked. His grip on Allison's hands tightened. "I-I-I love you. You said you knew that right?"

"I do, Scott." There was no way she was ever going to doubt that. "I kissed Lydia last night. I was drunk, but that's not an excuse. I think that we need to redraw the lines of our relationship. I know that you feel something for Jackson. I know that it's hurting you to be held back from that."

Scott looked down at their clasped hands. "Something happened last night between Jackson and me."

Allison swallowed down the pain that threatened to burst out of her. She didn't want to know what that something was. She'd wrestled for a long time with what had taken place at the beach. She'd thought it was because of Derek, because of his repressed emotions. That wasn't fair though, wasn't fair to Scott and Jackson. She knew it was more than that. She could see it in their eyes. She'd seen it on Christmas.

"It's okay. I'm going to talk to Lydia. If she and Jackson agree to it then I want it to be open between us. I want you to explore what you want with Jackson, as long as you try not to hurt each other. I want to be free to explore too." They were the hardest words she'd ever had to say. Somehow it was worse than when she told Scott she didn't want him to call. It was harder than when she said she needed time to get back to being just friends. If they were going to work it out, if they were going to end up together, they had to set each other free. If they were meant to be then they'd find their way back to each other.

"I'm sorry," Scott said. "I wish you didn't have to do this for me. I wish I didn't feel the way I do."

Allison shook her head, squeezed his hands. "That's what I need you to understand, Scott. I'm not just doing it for you. I'm doing it for me too."

"I love you," Scott whispered.

She believed him; she couldn't look into his soft brown eyes and believe anything else.

"I love you too," she said.

She leaned forward, rested her head on his shoulder. She knew it was for the best. If they didn't try they'd start to resent each other. They'd take risks, maybe even sneak around on each other. She couldn't let that happen. They were all bound together in different ways. Every member of the pack had ties to each other that people on the outside wouldn't be able to understand. She knew that it was the best thing to do, even if it hurt just a little.

"I wish it was different," Scott said. "I wish that we didn't feel this."

"No you don't. Don't cheapen what you're feeling. That's not fair to Jackson." The words didn't even hurt coming out. It was true. Scott and Jackson had something. It wasn't clearly defined the way the other relationships in the pack were, but it was there. Allison's relationship with Lydia was even more muddled.

"We'll figure it out together." Scott wrapped an arm around her shoulder, kissed the top of her hair. "No matter what else happens, you and I, we're going to make it out on the other side together."

Allison tilted her head up, kissed the underside of his chin. He shook his head a little, let out a small laugh. She loved that he was a little ticklish. "We're going to be fine, all of us. You'll see," Allison said.

It was true. Allison knew that, knew that Scott would hear the truth of it in her heartbeat. They were a pack. Peter knew that before any of the rest of them did. They were going to stay together, because that's what packs did. She didn't always understand it, she probably never would the way that the werewolves did, but that didn't make it any less special to her.

Chapter Text

Jackson looked at the broken wing in his hands. Flashes of memory occasionally surfaced about things that had happened the night before, but it was jumbled and hazy. He knew that he'd done things with Scott, sexual things, but he wasn't sure exactly how far it'd gone. He leaned back against the wall of the bathroom stall he was in. For some reason things never happened with Scott on purpose. The only thing they'd ever consciously decided to do was kiss at Christmas, and even that had been because of Lydia's rules.

First it had been Derek's repressed emotions, then Stiles's werewolf booze. He tossed the harness and wing onto the back of the toilet and finished getting dressed. There were bigger things to think about than his ill defined relationship with Scott. They were going to have to tell Derek what had happened, but before that he was going to have to face Danny and explain why he'd never told his best friend that he was a werewolf.

He grabbed the tattered pieces of his costume and made his way towards the exit of the bathroom. Jackson paused by the trashcan near the door to the lobby. Throwing the costume away was probably best, it wasn't like he could wear it again considering the shape it was in, but instead of pitching it he stuffed it into the bag that Lydia had given him with the change of clothes in it.

Jackson checked his hair in the bathroom mirror, splashed some water on his face. No one could have prepared him for the night he'd had. If he'd known he was going to be spilling his guts to Danny about the whole wolf thing he'd have made a speech or something. He smiled at his reflection in the mirror, summoned up all the confidence he could, and exited the bathroom.

"Well that's certainly better," Lydia said. She stood up from the bench, reached out and fixed Jackson's hair more to her liking.

"It was cool when it hadn't been through a knife fight or smashed through a window." Jackson smiled. He wondered if Lydia even consciously realized that she was grooming him. The petty spoiled rich kid in Jackson wanted to run his hands through his hair to get it back to the way he had it, but he didn't bother. Lydia was trying to help in the only way she knew how, on her terms.

"What?" Lydia raised an elegant eyebrow at him.

"Nothing." Jackson leaned forward and placed a soft kiss on her cheek. "I need to go talk to Danny. Alone. I've got to tell him about the whole werewolf thing, not that he doesn't already know."

Lydia nodded and stepped aside. "He's out front, saying goodbye to his new friend." Jackson was close to the door when he heard Lydia call out, "Don't worry so much. He's still going to be your friend. He's still going to love you."

Jackson didn't turn to look back at his girlfriend, but some of the tension in his back and shoulders slipped away. Lydia was probably right. Danny wasn't going to disown him or declare they weren't friends anymore. He'd probably be pissed for a little while that Jackson hadn't shared his secrets, but he'd eventually understand.

The sunlight outside was harsh; Jackson squinted his eyes against it and held up a hand to shadow his face. At least he wasn't feeling hungover, there was something to be said for a brew that could get werewolves drunk and leave them feeling fine the next day. He glanced around and caught sight of Danny giving Oliver a kiss on the cheek. Jackson hung back, waited for Oliver to get into the taxi they'd flagged down. There was a wistful look on Danny's face as he watched the vehicle pull away.

Jackson sat down on one of the benches by the door. He ran his fingers along the metal, picked at one of the multitude of decorative holes. Danny's heartbeat was steady and powerful in Jackson's ears. His friend dropped onto the bench next to him without saying anything.

"So…" Jackson glanced over at Danny, who looked to be making sure no one was really close enough to be listening in to their conversation. "I guess we have some stuff to talk about."

Danny chuckled. "Yeah, I guess you could say that." Brown eyes focused on Jackson's face as Danny leaned back against the wall and crossed his hands behind his head.

One of the things Jackson admired about Danny was how easy going he was about everything. He took things in stride, didn't judge people, and was almost always friendly and open with everyone. In short, he was everything Jackson wasn't, but sometimes wished he was.

"I'm a werewolf, so is Scott, and Derek." Saying the words out loud sounded ridiculous. It didn't matter that it was true, it just wasn't the kind of thing you could say without feeling self conscious.

"Not Stiles?" Danny asked. He had a crooked smile on his face.

"No." Jackson grinned. "I think every day that passes the rest of the pack breathes a sigh of relief that he isn't." That wasn't really true; Jackson thought Stiles would make an excellent werewolf if he could focus. He just thought the joke would help make the rest of the conversation easier.

"Pack? You mean the three of you?"

"No, the six of us. Allison, Stiles, and Lydia are all a part of it too."

Danny's brow furrowed in thought. "But they're not werewolves."

Jackson nodded. "True, but they're so close with everyone that we're all sort of bound together." As soon as the words were out of Jackson's mouth he regretted them. Saying it like that implied that Danny wasn't important, and nothing could be further from the truth.

Birds chirped from nearby trees. Jackson turned to look so that he wouldn't have to see whatever hurt might be in Danny's eyes. The birds sang for a few moments, and then took wing into the sky. Jackson watched them arc through the air and into the horizon; they probably didn't have a care in the world.

"I get it," Danny said. "I get why you didn't say anything."

Jackson turned to look back at Danny; his brown eyes weren't narrowed in any sort of accusation. They were soft and open; Danny had a small smile on his lips. "Yeah?"

"Yeah. You wanted to keep me out of it so that I wouldn't get hurt. Plus it's not like I was around very much over the summer. I had stuff going on, you had stuff going on. You were turning into a werewolf, and I was getting dumped over the phone while I was out of town. You got off easy." Danny nudged Jackson's arm with his elbow.

Jackson grinned and shook his head. Just like that Danny wiped all the fear out of Jackson's heart. Regardless of what Lydia said, there was a part of Jackson who was afraid Danny would get pissed. He couldn't say he'd blame Danny if he had.

"Yeah, I mean I've spent full moons locked in a cage to keep from eating random woodland creatures in a fit of bloodlust, but at least I wasn't locked up in my room blubbering into my pillow while listening to Adele. That's just rough."

Danny started laughing. Jackson couldn't help but join in after a few seconds. He missed this, missed having his best friend around to make jokes with and poke fun at. Danny never had a problem putting Jackson in his place when it was necessary. No matter what Derek said, Jackson was glad that Danny had found out their secret, he intended to make sure Danny was a part of the pack.

"So, are you going to throw out the other thing you've been keeping from me, or is that going to be a conversation for another day?" Danny looked down at the cement between his shoes.

Jackson's laughter abruptly cut off. Danny must have been talking about Scott. Jackson leaned his head back and looked up into the sky. Soft white clouds drifted lazily above. They passed in front of the sun, cut away the harsh brightness. "You're talking about what happened between me and Scott?" Jackson tilted his head to the side in time to see Danny nod. "Can I get back to you on that? I still need to figure it out for myself."

Danny nodded again. "Sure. If you ever need to talk about it you know I'm sort of an expert on the subject. Not Scott, just in general."

"Yeah, we're going to talk about it. Probably once we get home, maybe you can come over for dinner or whatever. I don't really want to talk about it where he could hear."

Danny's eyes widened. "He could hear you even though we're out here?"

"Yeah, there are some benefits to being a werewolf."

"I'd hope so considering the awful sideburns you end up with because of it." Danny smirked.

Jackson punched Danny lightly in the arm, but didn't say anything. They were kind of awful, but it's not like he had time to groom right after wolfing out, and even if he did it's not like it'd matter because the hair would be back when he changed again. There were a lot of positives to being a werewolf, there were a lot of negatives too, but chief amongst them was how aesthetically displeasing he felt it made him. He sighed, it could have been worse; he could have been covered in hair like that thing from the Adams Family.

Chapter Text

Jackson had barely gotten the whole story out about what had happened at the club before Derek slammed him up against the wall. They were so close that Jackson could smell toothpaste and the lingering scent of Stiles on Derek's breath.

"What do you mean you couldn't help it?" Derek's words were as cold as his eyes. He twisted Jackson's shirt in his fist. "This isn't a game; you put the whole pack at risk."

Danny rushed forward, put a hand on Derek's arm, and tried to pull him away. The Alpha didn't even budge. Glittering purple energy flared in his eyes, but he didn't direct his attention towards Danny at all. Fury rose in Jackson's chest. He'd make the same choice again if he had to. There was no way he was going to watch Danny get hurt when he could do something to stop it.

"What if it had been Stiles?" Jackson didn't bother to try to hide the challenge in his voice. "What if it had been Allison or Lydia?" There was no way he could break free from Derek's grip, but he refused to let Derek intimidate him into apologizing for saving his friend. "Don't act like you wouldn't make the same choice."

Derek's eyes narrowed. "That's not the same thing, they're pack."

"Derek…" Scott moved up and placed a hand on Derek's shoulder. Jackson didn't need Scott's help; he didn't need anyone's help. He knew that he was on the bottom of the pack's hierarchy, but that didn't mean he needed anyone to save him.

"Stay out of this, Scott. It's not any of your business," Jackson snapped.

Scott's brown eyes blinked at him for a few moments before he took a few steps back, mouth slack, and the spiky scent that Jackson associated with Scott when he was in pain knifed through the air. Guilt ripped through Jackson's chest, but he couldn't think about it until he finished dealing with Derek.

"As far as the pack goes, either Danny's in, or I'm out." Jackson ground his teeth together hard enough he thought they might crack. The thought of losing the pack, losing the place where he belonged caused bile to rise in his throat, but it didn't matter if Danny couldn't be a part of it too.

Jackson didn't really know how it was for everyone else, but the pack was more to him than just people he was friends with. He loved Lydia, loved Scott if he was being honest with himself, but he also thought of Stiles, Derek, and Allison like family. For someone who had never had a brother or sister, the thought of losing them was terrifying. Danny meant something too though; he meant something before all of the rest of them ever had. He was the first close friend Jackson had ever had, the person he shared secrets with, could be himself around. He'd trade the rest of them for Danny. Maybe that meant he wasn't really a member of the pack, or maybe it meant that Danny always had been in his mind. Either way it didn't matter, the words were in the air and he couldn't take them back. He didn't even want to.

Lydia could have intervened, but she didn't, and Jackson was thankful for that. She must have known he'd resent her for saving him. Scott's knuckles were white, his hands clenched together so tightly that Jackson could smell blood from where the nails had pierced through skin. Stiles had a thoughtful expression on his face, while Allison chewed her lower lip nervously.

"That's how little the pack means to you?" Derek's voice had no emotion in it, but the question was loud enough that it sounded like it echoed through the hotel room. "You'd just throw it all away?"

Jackson focused all of his pride; he let his wolf fill his normally blue eyes with emerald green power. "That's how much Danny means to me." The words silenced all the other noise in the room.

Danny looked at him like he'd suddenly grown three heads, all of them spouting gibberish. Lydia had a small smile on her face, her scent flared with a fierce pride. Stiles broke the silence with a soft whistle.

"Stop flirting with Jackson, Derek. You know you can't make me jealous." Stiles grinned as he came forward and wrapped an arm over Danny's shoulder. "Don't worry man, Derek's not really mad. This is how he shows affection, also why I have bruises on my ass sometimes." Scott groaned and shook his head. Stiles looked scandalized. "I meant because of all the pushing and the wolf hugs not because… not because…" Stiles's neck and ears turned bright red.

The purple light faded from Derek's eyes, but he still scowled at Stiles. He let go of Jackson's shirt and took a step back. "Everybody pack up, we're headed back to Beacon Hills." He started to walk towards the bedroom that he shared with Stiles. "Make sure Danny shows up at the pack meetings, Jackson."

Stiles grinned at Danny. "So the first thing you need to know about being a human in a pack of werewolves is that we have our own tree fort. We have our own meetings, those meetings are mostly about paintball, pie, and sometimes we let Lydia talk about fashion magazines."

Lydia snorted. "You mean you beg me to help you look sexy instead of like a hobo so that Derek will give you sex whenever you want it."

Stiles did a fair approximation of one of Derek's better scowls. "Quiet woman. Not where the children can hear!"

Danny grabbed Jackson's arm and lead him away from everyone else. Jackson wasn't sure what Danny was going to say, he didn't even know if Danny actually wanted to be a member of the pack. Before he could open his mouth and offer an explanation, Danny pulled him into a tight hug.

"Thanks. I'm not really sure what being in a pack is supposed to mean, but if it means we get to hang out more then I'm all for it."

Jackson stood frozen for a moment; he wasn't very good with on-the-fly affection. This wasn't just a random person though, it was Danny. He hugged him back. "Of course, man, you're my best friend."

Danny smiled at him, and then turned to go start packing up to head home. Allison, Lydia, and Stiles all went in separate directions to gather their stuff. The smell of Scott's blood still lingered in the air. Jackson turned to look at him.

Furious yellow light roiled through Scott's eyes. He moved across the room so quickly that Jackson took an involuntary step backwards. Scott's arm snapped out and caught him by the back of the neck; the sharp points of his claws pressed against his skin, but didn't pierce it. Jackson swallowed nervously; he would never admit it to anyone, but even after having been turned there was a part of him that was still intimidated by Scott. The wolf in him was wild and powerful. Jackson wasn't sure whether he was shaking out of fear or desire.

"Don't ever tell me to back off again," Scott growled. Jackson didn't know whether to apologize, or to tell Scott to go fuck himself. He didn't have enough time to decide, because Scott pulled him forward and claimed his mouth in a bruising kiss. "How you feel is my business," Scott whispered against his lips. "The things that are important to you are my business." Scott kissed him again, softer, more lingering. "You're my business."

Chapter Text

Stiles haphazardly tossed a handful of clothes into his suitcase. Normally he wouldn't have noticed Derek remove everything he'd just packed in order to repack it correctly, but he'd been scrutinizing his boyfriend after the altercation with Jackson. His Dereksense told him there was something just underneath the surface, something Derek had been trying to hide.

"I'm onto you, Frowny."

"I'm not surprised. You see more than that flaming eye in Morgar," Derek said.

Stiles was so stunned by Derek's reference that he didn't even have the heart to correct the mistake he'd made. Derek making Lord of the Rings jokes, he needed to double check but he was relatively sure that was one of the signs of the end of days. The Mayans may have had it right.

"You can't do that," Stiles said. "You can't become more adorkable than me because then I would have to learn to scowl and yell to maintain the balance of our relationship."

Derek grunted in agreement and went back to folding Stiles's boxers. He dropped them into suitcase and though Stiles would never say it out loud, there was something about Derek handling his clothes that made Stiles's belly warm. He shook his head to clear it of distractions.

"You're not mad at Jackson." Stiles watched carefully for Derek's reaction, but all he got was another grunt. "I think you're proud of him for standing up for his friend. You might have fooled him, but only because he was too upset to assess you with his wolfy senses."

Derek shrugged then zipped up the suitcase. "You're think you're very clever don't you, Stiles?"

Smugness probably wasn't an attractive scent, but Stiles was sure it was probably rolling off his skin. This wasn't Stiles's first werewolf rodeo, he was pretty sure he'd nailed it on the head. "You think I'm clever too, that's why you keep me around."

"That and the blowjobs."

"Yes and the… wait what?" Stiles narrowed his eyes at Derek.

Derek grinned. "Don't look so scandalized, you know there are other reasons I keep you around."

"Like what?" It was always a pleasure when Derek sang his praises. The world could do with more days with that as the focus of conversation.

Derek picked the suitcase up and headed for the door. He paused as he passed Stiles and patted him on the ass. Stiles wasn't sure he liked what Derek was implying, he was more than just a piece of meat.

"Don't get huffy; you know I'm only playing with you." Derek leaned over and kissed Stiles on the cheek. "There's someone waiting to talk to you, everyone else has already headed outside."

Stiles scowled at Derek's back. Huffy? Stiles was not huffy. He wished Derek would turn around and gaze in awe at the scowl on his face. A scowl that put all of Derek's sour frowning to shame. He was going to make a video with his webcam, a how to scowl video, and then give it to Derek along with a PowerPoint presentation explaining the finer points.

Derek pushed the door open. Lydia stood looking out over the city. She had her arms crossed over her chest, but it wasn't an imperious gesture, it was almost as if she were hugging herself. The difference probably wasn't noticeable to most people, but Stiles had loved Lydia for so long that even the tiniest gestures held different meanings for him. Derek walked out of the hotel room without giving any indication of being aware of Lydia's mood.

"Hey, beautiful, penny for your thoughts?" Stiles joined Lydia at the window. The view was incredible. Sunlight reflected off thousands of panes of glass. People scurried about so far below them, little dots of color hurrying along the streets.

Lydia turned towards him. She was radiant as ever, the red in her hair all the more vivid against the soft blue of the sky. "A penny? Please." She tilted her head up, and despite the fact that he was taller than she was, she somehow made it seem as though she were looking down at him in judgment. "What was in the drinks you served us?"

Stiles licked his lips and ran a hand across the back of his hair. So far no one had questioned him about the brew. He had been hoping that with everything else the party favors he'd provided would be forgotten. "I don't know what you mean…"

"Don't play stupid, Stiles. I have far more experience with it; you're just making yourself look like an amateur." Lydia's judgmental gaze elevated from one of a disapproving parent to the level of a goddess running out of patience. "Spill."

"It was just a recipe I found in a book. It was supposed to be able to get werewolves drunk. There was some other nonsense about power transfer or spirit linking, honestly I skimmed that part and focused in on the whole get werewolves wasted thing." Stiles laughed, but it came out a little shrill. He coughed to clear his throat. "Just some magical mumbo jumbo, nothing that important."

Lydia shook her head sadly. Stiles's shoulders slumped. The single gesture made him feel the same way letting his dad down did. Lydia was queen of guilt trips. If he could find a way to commercialize it they'd be so rich buying Google would come out of the petty cash fund.

"Something happened last night," Lydia said. "Allison kept going on and on about Jackson. It was like she was obsessed with him. From what little I've been able to gather from questioning Scott and Danny, they both felt odd most of the night as well."

Stiles whistled innocently, but cut off when Lydia turned the disapproval dial well past eleven. The insane part of his mind seemed perplexed as to why his clothes hadn't caught fire under the heat of her eyes.

"No one got hurt. It was all—"

"Why didn't it affect me?"

Stiles's mind grasped for answers, but nothing jumped out at him. Lydia started pacing, and he let out a small sigh of relief. She'd turned her attention away from him, and he hadn't been verbally or physically eviscerated. So far he was pretty sure he was winning. He didn't know what he was winning though.

"Was it just simple math? Three werewolves, but four humans, does that mean there wasn't enough werewolf compulsion to reach out to everyone?" Lydia's rambling was barely audible, and Stiles didn't really think he should try and interrupt. "Or is there something different about me? We still don't know why I didn't turn, or die from Peter's bite. Can it be a coincidence or are they connected?" Lydia froze in place, color drained from her already pale skin. "Is there something wrong with me?"

On instinct Stiles closed this distance between them and wrapped her in his arms. Her whole body went stiff, like she was a porcelain doll, completely indifferent to human contact. He turned his face into her hair, she smelled like flowers and sunshine. Derek probably would have scoffed at the analogy and clarified the specific scents, but to Stiles, Lydia was always going to remind him of summer days and beautiful flowers.

"There is something different about you," Stiles whispered into her hair. "I've known it since the third grade, since the first day I fell in love with you." He curled his hands into the back of her shirt. "You're special, in ways you couldn't even hope to understand. We live in a world with werewolves, magic bullets, and alchemical booze, but none of that is as unbelievable as how amazing you can be. There's nothing wrong with you. If you're worried that there's something else going on, then I'll figure it out. I'll research the hell out of it; we'll run tests or something. You're science lady, I'm paranormal research guy. The world can't hide anything from us for too long."

Lydia's arms wrapped around his waist, the porcelain exterior cracked and she wasn't an indifferent doll, she was a human girl who needed another person to remind her that it was okay to let other people in.

"Thank you, Stiles. I love you."

The words were soft currents of air against his cheek. Two years ago he would have wanted nothing more than to hear those words, to have them followed by a soft brush of ruby red lips. He still wanted to make sure that she was never sad, to protect her from anything and everything, but the reasons were different.

"I love you too, Lydia. Just don't let Derek hear you say that, you know how insecure he is."

Lydia's laughter was soft, but genuine, and he wondered if it was the first time he'd ever really heard it. She pulled away and turned before he could see her face. She rubbed at her eyes.

"I need to fix my makeup, you smeared it when you thrust your shoulder into my face like I was an opposing lacrosse player trying to steal the ball," Lydia said. She walked quickly to the bathroom, and with every step she took she seemed to gain confidence, her spine a little straighter and her head a little higher.

Lydia had put her head on his shoulder, he hadn't forced her and they both knew it. They also both knew that he didn't really know what it was like to have someone try to steal the ball from him on the lacrosse field, but since she was kind enough not to point that out, he didn't feel the need to call her on the tears. It'd be something just between the two of them, a little secret they would keep. When they found out how she was different, why she hadn't turned and why she wasn't affected by the brew, they could keep that secret between themselves also if they needed to. Lydia would probably think it was necessary, but that was just because she hadn't accepted the idea that everyone in the pack loved her just as much as he did. She'd learn though. One day there wouldn't be a need for secrets, and when that day came they'd finally be complete as a pack.