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"Um."
Allison sighs, attempting to shift subtly, but Stiles still manages to hear and see her impatience. She checks her watch, then her nails. Stiles figures he should just get it over with, get it out there, before she leaves. Or maybe she should just leave and he can pretend he never asked her over to talk.
"You said it's important?" She poses the sentence as a question, like she can read his mind and know exactly what he's thinking.
Determinedly, he thinks of precisely what he wants to ask her and focuses all his energy on pushing the questions at her mentally, without having to say them out loud.
Allison blinks.
Well, so much for that. "How about that game tonight, huh. Good one, don't you think? Scott was really on the ball, totally into it."
"Stiles."
"Danny seemed a little distracted though. I hope everything's all right with him. He's dating Eric long distance now, you know. Yeah, I guess it's going great for them. I don't know how they do it ― or, I know how they do it, but I could never. I'm more of a here-and-now type of guy."
"Stiles."
"Good for them though. I don't suppose it'll last but I've been wrong before. It's just not in a man's nature to wait around, phone in hand, for his long-distance lover–"
"Stiles!"
He looks up, startled, at Allison sitting across from him in his computer chair while Stiles is sprawled across his bed. Her eyes are wide, expectant, her mouth a thinned line of annoyance.
Right.
"You said you needed to talk to me and that it's important. I'm more than happy to help, but unless it's really Danny and Eric's relationship you're worried about, I need you to get to the point."
"Um."
"Stiles," she sighs, rubbing at her temples.
"Right, okay," Stiles starts decisively. "I just. It's kind of awkward, okay. And I know we've been friends for a while but it's, oh god, it's so awkward and I don't even know how to start or if I should. Maybe this is a bad idea, we could totally forget that I ever said anything because this, like, really could ruin not only our relationship but pretty much every relationship ever. Or maybe just ours, and, you know, the nonexistent one that you and Derek have ― what is with that anyway, you'd think you guys would be getting along by now, what with the dating thing and how you haven't even tried to murder him recently and like–”
“Stiles,” she hisses.
Stiles flails and grabs the pillow from beneath his head, groaning as he shoves it over his face. “Oh god, fine, okay, just don't freak out,” he says desperately, keeping the pillow pressed mostly to his face, so only his mouth is uncovered. He can't look at Allison if he's going to say this. “I just, I need to know, does Scott... Does Scott like ― does he, um, like get really weird when you guys are, you know?”
“You're going to have to be more specific, Stiles, I don't know, at all. What are you talking about?”
Stiles chokes out a groan and curses his bad luck. Sometimes, he swears Scott's cluelessness is rubbing off on Allison. How can she not understand what Stiles is trying to ask her. “In bed,” he whispers frantically, fast and quiet and oh god, why is he even asking . “When you guys are doing it , does he get weird, and like, say things ? Weird things. Really weird things.”
His question is met with complete silence. Lifting the pillow slightly, he chances a look in Allison's direction. She is staring at him blankly, and Stiles kind of wants to kick himself, because there is no way that wasn't clear enough. That was practically explicit. Then her face crumples, a frown etching deeply into her forehead and mouth and Stiles knows she gets it.
“Oh, honey,” she says, and Stiles presses the pillow to his face again, harder, contemplating self-suffocation, because no, not with the pity, please. “We are not going to talk about Scott's kinks.”
Stiles jerks then, throwing the pillow off of his face to the floor. He can feel his face contorting with horror ― actual horror, contorting his face, seriously. Because, really, gross. “Oh my god, no,” he shouts. “Scott doesn't have kinks. That is not something Scott is capable of.” Allison tilts her head slightly, opening her mouth as if to contradict Stiles and he interrupts her with an insistent, “No!”
“Okay,” she says exasperatedly, and then shakes her head at him. “Then what am I supposed to tell you?”
“Just. Not details. I just need to know if he says really freaky shit while you're... doing the horizontal tango. Bumping uglies. You know, copulating.”
At that, she shrugs. “What's freaky, I guess? He doesn't get off on talking about eviscerating bodies or something, if that's what you're talking about.”
Stiles squeaks at that. “Ew. No. No one gets off on that. Or at least I hope no one gets off on that. Okay, I'm sure someone gets off on that, but no , not what I meant. I mean like,” Stiles pauses, fiddling with the pillow he had tossed to the floor and twisting the corners of it between his fingers. He continues in a hushed tone, purposely speaking just loud enough for Allison to hear, because he doesn't want to have to repeat himself, he can hardly bear saying the words aloud in the first place.
“Like, does he talk about breeding you,” Stiles asks, feeling his face flush hot at the words. “In the heat of the moment, does he just start to ramble off crazy things like how he wants to get you bred, make you have his babies, fill you up with part of him so everyone knows your his? Does he ever do that... Does he...” Stiles looks up and doesn't finish the question, because he can tell from Allison's face. She doesn't even need to answer, he can see it's a definite 'no.' “Okay, I'll take that as a no.”
Embarrassed, he rambles on. “It's not that weird though,” he says defensively. “Derek's not weird about it, okay. Don't think that. It's just sometimes, rarely, not even that often at all, just like, when he's stuck–”
Allison gasps at that, cutting Stiles off. “ Stuck?! ” she chokes out in a shocked tone.
“Er, no? No. Not like, permanently. Just for a few minutes, he doesn't move and, stuck, yeah. Kind of. Why? Is that bad? Oh my god, it's bad isn't it? Derek's a freak.”
Allison's pitying face is back again, probably because Stiles is doing the nasty with a werewolf that also happens to be a huge freak. Her phone rings, and Stiles almost feels relieved, and can tell that Allison is certainly happy about the interruption. But when she says, “It's Scott,” Stiles shakes his head urgently.
“No, don't,” he says, but it's too late and Allison is all pure relief as she opens with, “Scott.”
And really, like that's not going to tip Scott off to Allison's current discomfort. Stiles is screwed. Stiles is so, so screwed. Scott is going to know, and then Derek is going to know, and Stiles is. So. Screwed. Derek is going to kill him. And then probably eviscerate him, and possibly even get off on it, because maybe he is one of those people, since apparently he's already a huge freak in bed.
God, why can't Stiles just keep his mouth shut for once. Will he never learn.
He can hear just Allison's side of the conversation, but he knows that her pitiful, “No. No, everything's fine, promise,” is doing nothing to soothe Scott's likely unease. Really, his inability to lie has rubbed off on her just as badly as his utter lack of a clue has, and maybe, just maybe, they should stop rubbing off on each other entirely at this point, it's clearly killing their braincells.
Stiles isn't even surprised when she hangs up and gives him an apologetic look before saying, “Scott's coming over. You two need to have a talk.”
“Great,” Stiles says, mock-appreciative as he tries not to full on glower at Allison, who has been no help at all other than to aid him toward discovery he'd already known deep down.
Stiles is so going to be murdered by his super freaky werewolf boyfriend.
It takes all of five minutes for Scott to show up, letting himself in as he usually does, finding them in Stiles' room, resolutely not looking at each other, while Stiles determinedly doesn't say another word.
“It's like walking into a wall made entirely of awkward,” Scott says.
Stiles does not snort; he doesn't make a sound at all. He hears Allison stand up, but he doesn't look to see where she's going.
“You two need to talk,” she says. “So I'll just...”
Stiles purses his lips and hugs the pillow in his arms tighter to his chest. He is not saying a thing, damn it.
Allison sighs. “Fine.”
Stiles looks up, sees her crossing her arms over her chest and putting on her brave face as she looks directly at Scott. “Derek is knotting Stiles,” she says plainly.
Scott's eyes widen at that and Stiles frowns, sitting up straighter. “No,” he says, knowing instantly from Scott's face that something bad is about to happen. “No, he isn't. That's not happening. I don't even know what that is. What is it?”
Scott only glances at Stiles with a pained expression before turning back to Allison. “Are you sure? How do you know that?”
“He told me. We were talking and he let it slip. Derek's... he's knotting him and talking about mating, a lot.”
Scott looks shocked. Rubbing a hand over his face, he says, “Wow. I didn't ― yeah. Wow.”
“I am never telling you anything again,” Stiles pouts, glaring at Allison. “Those words were said in confidence, do you not respect my secrets? I thought we had a bond, being the humans and all.”
“Don't say that in front of Derek,” Scott says.
“Say what?” Stiles asks.
“You and Allison having a bond. You can't– Jeez,” he sighs, sinking down into Allison's vacated seat at Stiles' desk. “Maybe you should talk to Derek about this.”
“About what? I don't even know what you're talking about. What's the big deal? Why are you guys acting like the world has ended because of Derek's weirdo kinky sex habits.”
“Stiles,” Scott says, shaking his head, like he's annoyed that Stiles isn't getting it. Stiles doesn't know what there is to get, no one is telling him anything.
Allison comes over and places a calming hand on Scott's shoulder. That seems to focus him, and he looks up Stiles with an intent expression. “Derek and I, we're human still, you know that, but being werewolves, we have instincts. Animal instincts. Derek more so, maybe, because he was born like this, not bit, but that's beside the point because he is human enough to know exactly what he's doing. When you're
together
, what he's doing, it's on purpose ― partially. It's a base instinct for us, but we
can
control it, he taught
me
that, and god, he's not even. He's not even
trying
.” Scott grits his teeth, glancing up to meet Stiles' eyes.
“What,” Stiles says blankly.
“He's letting the wolf take over when he's with you. He's knotting you. If you were female, you would be pregnant. He's claiming you for good. Stiles, you're his mate.”
Stiles blinks.
“Wow, you are really not getting this,” Scott says blandly.
“No, sorry. This just sounds like a bad erotic novel plot gone horribly, horribly wrong to me. What the hell are you talking about, his mate?”
“You have researched every possible pack dynamic, and you're still not getting what I mean? This had to be somewhere on the internet.”
“Of course there are explanations of mating habits, but come on, none of that was relevant at the time, and anyway, every species has a different way of doing things. And you keep acting like it's the very worst thing that could have happened. So forgive my confusion here, but since you seem to understand it, why don't you give it to me straight. Do werewolves kill their mates or?”
Stiles is maybe ranting slightly at this point, he can't even help it. It's just, all the times he tried to explain things to Scott, it never clicked without like, diagrams and pictures and the whole works, so it's more than a little frustrating for Scott to be explaining so vaguely and without the slightest hint of patience.
And it's not like Stiles is completely oblivious to what he's saying, it's just Scott's tone that is throwing him off. Stiles knows what mating is, he even understands the knotting ― even if it hadn't clicked at first that's what it was, because really, really, the whole werewolf thing wasn't weird enough, now with actual dog-like junk, how did he not put that one together, seriously, he just thought Derek had some abnormal refractory period shit happening there. But Scott is making it sound like the end of the world, and that's where he's loosing Stiles.
“No, Jesus, Stiles. Werewolves mate for life. We do anything to protect our mate; we would rather die than see our mate harmed. Never would we ever intentionally harm our mate. And what Derek is doing, is mating you, dude. There's no taking it back. You guys are mated ― mating to werewolves is like a marriage without the option for divorce. Ever. Derek made you his bitch.”
Stiles is maybe still missing the point here, because he really isn't seeing the downside. Maybe Scott needs to explain it slower. A heavier dose of Adderall may be required.
Before Stiles can even say anything, Scott is throwing his hands in the air and on his feet, pacing. “Oh, for the love of– And you guys aren't even using protection. Did he at least ask before he did that?”
“Whoa, Dad, calm down with your safe sex speech. How do you even know that? And yeah, dude, god, of course he asked first.”
“It wouldn't hold when he was tying you. And it wouldn't be the first time he screwed you over without asking first, since clearly you had no idea what you were getting into when he mated you.”
“How do you know I didn't want it?” Stiles asks, tilting his chin up stubbornly. “How do you know so much about this anyway?”
“Because he explained it to me. He literally made me understand the difference between, you know, regular sex, and what we could do. We only knot our mates, Stiles, and we only do it when we're trying to breed. He had to explain it me so I wouldn't accidentally do it to Allison.”
Stiles realizes then that Allison isn't in the room with them anymore, having slipped out without him noticing. He doesn't blame her for disappearing, he wants to disappear himself.
“Did you want it?” Scott asks quietly.
Stiles shrugs at the question, biting his lip in thought. “Yeah,” he answers finally, meeting Scott's prying eyes.
His lips purse, obviously having heard the truth behind Stiles statement. “Okay,” he sighs, all the steam leaving him rather suddenly. “But Derek is still an asshole for not explaining it to you before he did it. And I hope you understand what this means.”
“I'm finally part of the pack,” Stiles says, grinning stupidly.
Scott rolls his eyes, but smiles regardless. “You're an idiot if you think you weren't already part of the pack.”