Archive of Our Own ^beta

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Stiles sets the glasses down and reaches up to fix Scott’s tie, “You’re making the next trip to the bar,” he says before handing one of the glasses over, picking his back up and sipping at it for a moment before knocking it back.

“You should slow down,” Scott says softly and looks pointedly at the almost nearly empty glass Stiles is holding, his fingers curling around the stem of his own before taking a sip.

“Please, this shit is practically water,” Stiles says dismissively, smirking and turning to look at Scott as he waves his empty glass, dumping the last couple of drops over the front of his shirt and the carpet beneath them, “It’s not like I’m a lightweight.”

“Never said you were,” Scott replies and looks back at Stiles with an almost flat expression, it’s difficult to act like things are okay when they aren’t, but he’s trying to keep up the facade while they’re here, “But Lydia will kill you if you get drunk before she gets to wax poetic about the representation theory of combinatorial flavor or whatever it is she does.”

“Or tell us how 'beautiful' we look together,” Stiles says in an annoyed voice, making a face as he glances around and continues even more sarcastically, “That calls for a bathroom break, get me another glass while I’m gone, buddy?”

The tone of Stiles’s voice causes something to twist inside of Scott, but he hardly bats a lash at it because he’s come to terms with the fact that this is just... who they are now.

He still loves Stiles and wants their marriage to work, but it’s difficult for him to see his best friend in his husband anymore. He’s not even really sure what it was that caused the crater of distance between them, figures it’s probably a myriad of different things; time and stress being the two key factors.

“Sure,” Scott says, slightly exasperated, then walks over to where the refreshments are to refill Stiles’s glass.

Stiles pats Scott on the chest as he walks by, “Good man,” he responds and then weaves through the crowd, moving to the bathroom as he reaches into his right pocket, the tips of his fingers running over the shape of the bullet.

It’s a quick in and out, and he’s back by Scott before long, taking the glass from the other man and leaning in as he sniffs, “Thanks, Scotty.”

Once upon a time, Scott actually used to like when Stiles called him 'Scotty', now it’s just a bitter reminder of how far they’ve drifted apart, “You can stow the lovey nicknames, Stiles, it’s not like anyone’s listening to us right now,” he says, eyes lifting to the other man and he sighs when he sees the dust of white powder around Stiles’s nostril.

He reaches up quickly and rubs it away, “You really couldn’t have waited until we got home?”

“You think I care?” Stiles responds, touching the back of Scott’s shoulder as Lydia turns to them and grins, winking at them, “The quicker this night goes by, the better.”

“Yeah,” Scott says and forces a fake smile at Lydia as he speaks to Stiles, “I get that, but maybe next time make sure it doesn’t look like you smashed your face in confectionery sugar.”

Stiles turns to look at Scott, wetting his lips and sniffing before reaching up to wipe his nose, “I miss spending every fucking second listening to you bitch and complain about everything I do,” he mutters as he smiles. Half of the time they’re around others, pulling this act, he feels like he’s more insane than when they’re not.

Scott stares back at Stiles and fights the urge to frown, pressing his lips into a firm line instead. He’s used to this by now, the way Stiles is acting, the things he says are things the man he married would never say. Even being as used to it as he is, though, it still hurts to hear Stiles be so mean.

“Only you would mistake concern for not wanting our friends to know how much of a coke-head you are for me bitching,” he says lowly, and shakes his head before looking away - every second he has to look at Stiles is like a punch to the gut.

“Baby, if they don’t know by now, a little ring of white isn’t gonna help them notice,” Stiles glances around, “I could wave my bullet around all I wanted and no one would say a thing.”

They probably would, but it doesn’t make a difference either way. Everyone else is far too concerned with themselves to even notice that this marriage is a sham.

If Stiles wants to be careless with the use of his drugs, then there isn’t really much Scott can do to persuade him otherwise, it’s not like Stiles heeds or respects his advice anymore, “Right,” he grits out and ignores almost everything else his husband says as he finishes off his wine.

“Stop with the nicknames, Stiles,” he says again as he looks at the other man and raises his brows some, all he’s doing is ripping open old wounds and he knows it.

“Right,” Stiles mumbles back, jaw clenching as he swallows, tightening the hand at his side into a fist as Allison walks up to them.

“It’s been a while,” she says, reaching out to hug Scott and grinning at Stiles as she does it, “How are you two?”

Scott hugs Allison back and musters up a genuine enough smile, “We’re great,” he answers without missing a beat, pulling back and trying to look at Stiles like he used to in order to keep up the charade, “Aren’t we?” he asks Stiles softly, knowing Allison is expecting some kind of affection to emanate from the both of them for one another.

“Always,” Stiles responds as he stares back, expression softening as his eyes drop from Scott’s to his mouth and he smirks, “I mean, why not? Just a few more weeks and we hit ten years.”

Allison’s eyes widen, “That’s right!” she giggles and moves to hug Stiles, “Aww, I’m so happy for you two.”

“Me too,” Stiles says, hugging back and rolling his eyes, "The happiest."

“Are you doing anything special?” she asks as she pulls away, looking at Scott and him curiously, “Anything… romantic?”

“And if I told you, with him standing here, it’d kinda ruin the surprise a little, wouldn’t it?” Scott smiles a little wider, he hates lying to Allison (of all people), but he reminds himself that it’s better this way. It’s better that their inner circle believes that they’re okay, considering most of them see he and Stiles as some sort of unbreakable force.

Allison grins even wider, if it’s humanly possible, and squeezes Stiles’s left biceps, “Lucky, so lucky, you two.”

“The luckiest,” Stiles responds and nearly gags on the words. He turns and coughs, glancing at Scott, “If you don’t mind me, I could use another glass.”

“Get me another, would you?” Scott asks, because his glass has been empty a little too long for him to endure the rest of this evening and not want to pull his hair out.

“Of course,” Stiles responds at little too tightly as he leaves them.

Allison smiles and leans in, taking Scott’s hand, “Every time I see you two - Scott, you guys are the only reason I think marriage exists anymore. Seeing you two, I’ve-there’s no one happier, I mean it.”

Allison’s words feel like a thick dagger being shoved in between Scott's ribs and he smiles faintly now, barely able to not frown at her naivety, “Maybe more people should try marrying their best friends,” he says, trying to sound wistful as he glances at Stiles.

“I don’t know about that,” Allison giggles, making a face and looking at Lydia, “None of us could hold a candle to you two.”

She leans in and kisses him on the cheek, “I just wanted to come by and see you two, but I really need to get over to Lydia. I also wanted to talk to him about his book, but-” she glances at the table where Stiles knocks back another glass of wine, “I don’t think he’ll be sober for much longer, so let him know I asked, okay?”

“No problem,” Scott offers a tight-lipped smile and nods, he thought they’d be able to stick around for a while longer but with the way Stiles is knocking back glass after glass, he knows he needs to get him home before he says something stupid in front of everyone.

Stiles moves back to Scott, handing over a glass and letting out an exhausted sigh, “Jesus fuck I didn’t think she’d ever leave.”

“You could afford to be a little less rude about it, they are still our friends,” Scott says as he takes the wine from Stiles, “Or do you not care about them anymore, either?”

“I don’t give two fucks when they start in with ‘how are you two’, and then proceed to ask about anniversaries,” Stiles responds and continues to eye the beverage table, “Every time I think about another year passing, I just wanna shoot myself in the head.”

Scott doesn’t bother holding back his frown this time as he downs the wine quickly, grimacing at the after taste, “You always were a smooth talker,” he says dryly, “We should go, preferably before you get shit-faced and say something stupid.”

“Probably,” Stiles agrees and lets out a huff of breath, “I think we've done our job here, everyone thinks we're still the 'power couple' or whatever, that’s the point of this shit, right?” he waves his hand and blinks to clear his vision, “It’s not like they can complain.”

“They’ll probably just think we left so we can fuck,” Scott muses and heads towards the door without another word - if he seeks Lydia out to say 'goodbye', she’ll end up conning him into staying, and he really doesn’t want to.

“Ah, I remember that shit,” Stiles mumbles as he follows, “You remember when we actually use to do that, Scotty? It was like… half the time we couldn’t stop doing it long enough to come to one of these things.”

“Yeah, I remember,” Scott says, it’s a little difficult to forget, honestly - it’s probably one of the things he misses most about them, the passion they used to have for one another.

“That was back when we actually told one another that we loved each other,” Stiles continues, making doe-eyes and clapping his hands together near his left cheek, “Right before you got your new job and started drinking and sleeping around.”

Scott clenches his jaw and remains quiet until they get outside, then he turns to Stiles and lifts his arms up somewhat defeatedly, “What the Hell is wrong with you?” he asks angrily, ignoring the accusations because it’s not like Stiles will believe him anyway if he denies it, “Do you have to say these things?”

Stiles stops and looks at Scott for a moment, his eyes wide before he nods, “Yeah,” he confirms and nods again, more sure this time as he chuckles, “If I don’t say it, it just sits there in the middle, doesn’t it? Isn’t that what our counselor tells us to do? If I don’t say it, I wanna say it, and I hate you even more because you won’t let me. So, yeah… I have to.”

“And, do you feel better after you do?” Scott asks with furrowed brows, “Does it make you feel good to reminisce over the good parts of what we used to have? Because it makes me feel like shit.”

“I really don’t, it makes me feel sick to my stomach,” Stiles admits, clenching his jaw and walking passed Scott, out into the parking lot.

Scott interprets Stiles’s words the only way he knows how, and just assumes Stiles regrets everything they’ve ever had, wordlessly following after the other man as he frowns and puts his hands in his pockets.

MageStiles ϟ Presstilton

Chapter Text

“I can’t believe you pulled me from working on my book for this shit,” Stiles complains as he joins Scott in the elevator, shaking his head, “My muse is…” he starts to make a motion with his hands before huffing and dropping them to his sides, shaking his head again, “You don’t even care, you don’t even understand it.”

“I do care, otherwise I wouldn’t be dragging you to counseling sessions,” Scott says and glances at Stiles, “It’s not 'shit', it’d probably even work if you gave it half a chance.”

“I’d rather be writing,” Stiles responds, “I have so many ideas right now I can’t even think straight and you’re bringing me in for this; it’s not like it’s even working. The more I talk about my feelings the more you make that stupid fucking face that makes me want to murder someone. You’re like a kicked puppy.”

Ironically, that’s a little what Scott feels like most of the time, “It’d work if you tried a little more,” he says, willfully ignoring everything else.

“Yeah, well if I never finish my books, it’s your fault,” Stiles says back in a singsong voice, “Just remember that.”

He lets out another huff of his breath, reaching into his pocket to grab his bullet as he scratches his other fingers through his hair, “If I don’t have something before I go in there with that bitch I’m gonna rip my hair out.”

“Stiles,” Scott sighs and narrows his brows at the other man, “You’re already really twitchy, can it not wait?” he asks, trying to process the fact - and not for the first time - that their relationship has driven them both to drugs, it still surprises him sometimes.

“Just shut up already, Scott,” Stiles says and rolls his eyes, “I’m fucking here, aren’t I?” he drones out and puts the bullet to his nose as he ignores the other man.

Scott frowns and exits the elevator once the doors open, trying to school his expression into something more neutral when he realizes that he’s probably making the face that Stiles hates so much - the 'kicked puppy' one.

Sure, Stiles is here, but getting him here is usually like pulling teeth. The fact that he even succeeds at all is the only thing that gives him even the slightest glimmer of hope, because it’s not like Stiles has to be here if he absolutely doesn’t want to be.

Stiles sighs and follows after, sniffing and wiping his nose before putting his hands in his pockets, taking out the notepad and pen in the other.

He’d been trying to write down everything he could in the car on the drive over, but things are starting to slip at this point, “These things always remind me of your mom and dad. That was… a fucking horrible marriage,” he chuckles and clicks his pen, “Doomed from the start.”

Scott wonders sometimes if all the coke Stiles does inhibits him from realizing how hurtful the things he says are, he tries not to let it affect him though as he looks at his husband, trying to respond somehow but he can’t will the words out.

“Any marriage that needs this shit is just…” Stiles shakes his head continuously as he sits in his usual seat, checking his watch before writing on the paper, “I knew we could’ve waited a little longer.”

“It doesn’t hurt to be punctual, Stiles.”

Stiles scratches over his lips and cheeks as he writes, filling up nearly fifteen of the small, rectangle pages before the counselor joins them, sitting down and smiling as she watches Stiles. He can feel her eyes on him but he doesn’t bother stopping.

“How was your week?” she starts, glancing between them as she folds her hands on the surface of the desk.

This is the one place Scott knows they can be honest, so he doesn’t bother holding back, “Horrible, we had to go to a friend’s party and pretend that we’re still good.”

Mrs. Vargas nods and looks at Stiles, “Were you two practicing what I suggested before? Being honest with one another, at least?”

“Yeah,” Stiles chuckles and shakes his head, “Lot of good that did. All it ever does is piss us both off.”

“Do you ever stop to realize that maybe it’s not so much what you’re saying to me, but how you’re saying it?”

“Oh my God, Scott,” Stiles looks up at him incredulously, “Oh god, how am I saying it?” he asks sarcastically, “How can I possibly say something in any way, like that, that would make you feel better, princess?”

Scott narrows his brows at Stiles, “See, that’s exactly what I mean,” he points out, “It’s like you go above and beyond to be cruel about things.”

“What’s the point in trying to be different about it? No matter what I say, we’ll both still end up coming back here next week, and the week after, and the week after.”

“Stiles,” Mrs. Vargas clears her throat, “I’m glad you’ve been saying what’s on your mind, it’s always better to let it out. But do you think you could try to express yourself and your feelings while also considering Scott’s?”

“It’s how I feel, it’s bad enough saying everything,” Stiles says and sits back in his seat, “I’m perfectly fine with ignoring it all until it goes away. What’s the point in saying anything if I have to consider others?”

“It could be the difference in whether or not your marriage works. Do you not care about Scott anymore?”

Stiles stops and looks at Scott, tightening his jaw and trying to think about the answer - to be as honest as possible, “I don’t know…” he says, “I-I don’t know if I do or not. Sometimes? Maybe.”

Scott tries not to let it show how badly Stiles’s words affect him, but hearing it hurts a lot worse than he anticipated, “I care about you,” he tells the other man honestly, shaking his head to himself and relaxing further into his seat.

“Okay, sure, I can say I care about you, sure,” Stiles says, “But that doesn’t mean it’s in a good or bad way. I don’t… care how I care about you. Every time I feel like I could, I just think about what happened the day or week before.”

Mrs. Vargas narrows her brows, “What about the day or week before?”

Stiles shakes his head and shrugs, “The last time we were drunk around one another, likely.”

“We both get a little careless about what we say when we’re drunk,” Scott offers, looking at the counselor.

“Have either of you considered the fact that alcohol is a depressant? It’s not going to help your marriage,” she says knowingly.

“If I’m not drinking before eleven AM, then I’m a wreck,” Stiles responds and puts his feet up on the seat, turning his back to the armrest, “If I’m not a little buzzed all day, I’ll probably kill someone.”

“You’re using alcohol as a numbing agent in order not to feel everything you’re feeling, it could be detrimental to your relationship to think with a clear mind, Stiles,” Mrs. Vargas says as softly as possible.

“It could be seriously detrimental to my health to think of my relationship with a clear mind.”

Mrs. Vargas sighs and links her fingers together on the table top, staring somewhat sadly at Stiles, “Do you not want your marriage with Scott to work? Please, be as honest as possible.”

Stiles sighs and watches Scott instead, the expression on his face, how exhausted he looks. They’re both tired of this constant back and forth. Their relationship’s been an act for almost half as long as it’s actually been anything, and at least three fifths of the ten year marriage has been bitter like this. He didn’t realize that when he was signing up for this he’d learn to resent his best friend.

“When I married you, it was the single most important thing I’d ever done in my entire life,” he says as his eyes water, “But neither of us are those people any more. What’s the point? Why would we want it to work? I hate you. You can’t even look at me ninety percent of the time. We’re lying to all of our friends.”

Scott wants to say that they could be, that they could have what they used to have, that they just have to fight harder for it, but he knows Stiles won’t listen to him.

“I can’t look at you most of the time because of how you act towards me, it kills me to look at you and... I hardly see any trace of the Stiles I fell in love with,” he admits, “You might not want it - this, us - to work, but I do. I want my best friend back.”

“Too late, dude,” Stiles says and chuckles bitterly, “You fucking married him. People change - you’ve changed. That’s just how that shit goes. You keep wanting who I was but do you ever consider that this might just be like… who I am? How I am now? I deal with how you are constantly.”

“When I say I want my best friend back, I don’t mean the old you, Stiles,” Scott tells him, “I mean you now. We’re married and we live together, but we’re not friends anymore. I know people change and I can accept that, I want this to work… I just need you to let me in every once in a while instead of shutting me out.”

After Stiles is silent for a long enough time that Mrs. Vargas decides he won’t respond, she asks: “Is there a particular reason you shut him out, Stiles?”

Stiles rolls his eyes, “Are you checking for consistency?” he asks and looks down at his notepad, “I don’t let him in because I don’t trust him - yes, still.”

“Have you been taking your medication?” Mrs. Vargas asks softly.

“Yes,” Stiles responds, “When I remember it, yes.”

“Which is to say hardly ever,” Scott supplies knowingly, wanting to tell Stiles that his reason for not trusting him is… bullshit, he doesn’t understand why the other man doesn’t believe the fact that he’s never cheated on him.

“You realize that your capabilities to judge situations are hindered if you don’t take it,” Mrs. Vargas says as she stares at Stiles in concern.

“Yes, I know,” Stiles responds and stands up, looking at Scott, “I’m a paranoid crazy person, okay? I get it. But even you can’t argue me, Isaac wants your dick and it's been pretty obvious since like... day one, scene one.

"It doesn’t take a rocket scientist to figure that shit out. I’m not-I know you better than you know yourself half the time. Why can’t you just admit it and be honest with me for once?”

“I’ve been honest with you,” Scott defends himself and stands up as well, he doesn’t like feeling like Stiles is looking down on him, “I’m not denying Isaac’s interest in me, Stiles. I’m denying the infidelity you’ve been accusing me of, I’ve never cheated on you, ever.”

“Liar,” Stiles says, shaking his head and lifting his brows, “All you ever do is lie to me.”

He moves to pick up his notepad and pen, “We’re done, right?” he looks at Mrs. Vargas, “Good, I’ve got better things to do than sit here and repeat every argument I’ve had in the past seven fucking years.”

“Stiles,” Scott pleads and his eyes well up with tears, “You say you know me better than I know myself, if that’s true then you’d know I’ve never… I wouldn’t-why do you not believe me?”

“It doesn’t need explaining, Scott,” Stiles says and shrugs, “We haven’t done anything in so long that… I can’t even remember what it was like. And we both know it was you that started pulling away first. Not to mention that half the time you’re home you’re avoiding me just as much as I avoid you.

"I’m not gonna sit here and list off every single questionable thing you’ve done since it started, or God forbid the things you say when you’re drunk.”

“That’s real mature, Stiles, blame me for everything and avoid answering me,” Scott responds and shakes his head, pressing his fingers to his eyes before glancing at the counselor, “Thanks for the session,” he says, even though it didn’t help in the slightest, then he turns from them both and leaves the room.

Stiles rolls his eyes and follows after, joining Scott in the elevator and putting his notepad back in his pocket as he leans back against the wall, “Glad I came?” he asks sarcastically.

“Just shut up,” Scott says and stares at the metal doors as they slide shut, he’s tired of letting Stiles’s words rouse him so much and he’s not going to feed into it anymore.

“Whatever you say, baby,” Stiles responds and narrows his brows, “These sessions are a fucking waste of time and money. I’m not coming to another.”

“Fine,” Scott grits out through clenched teeth, maybe it’d be better for him to just… finally give up, stop trying to fix his marriage with Stiles. It’s obvious the other man doesn’t want it to work, all he’s doing is making himself more miserable.

Stiles walks out of the elevator and the building, stopping on the sidewalk and glancing around, “You go on, I’m just gonna take a taxi.”

Scott opens his mouth in an attempt to tell Stiles that he’s being ridiculous, but then he closes it and nods, lingering for a moment before turning his back to Stiles and walking away to get in his car. It wouldn’t be so hard, fighting for something, if only Stiles would give him something to work with.

Stiles takes his cell phone from his pocket, calling a cab and sitting on the edge of the sidewalk as he waits. He tucks his hands in the pockets of his jacket, leaning his forehead on the knees of his jeans as he feels the tears start rushing forward.

Their entire relationship is a mess, and while part of him just wants to throw his towel in and give it up, there’s still a large part of him that knows what he’d be giving up.

Despite everything, he still loves Scott.

MageStiles ϟ Presstilton

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Scott has a little too much time on his hands to think about what Stiles said during their session, and as much as he wants to yell 'uncle' and give things a rest, he knows he can’t. He needs to put forth more effort, if it’s even humanly possible, and it’s only going to work if he stops avoiding Stiles and the inevitable hurtful things he says.

He needs to learn to channel it all, not let Stiles’s words get to him so much and just stick through it, maybe Stiles will eventually open up when he realizes that Scott isn’t going anywhere.

After he gets out of the shower, he dresses and follows the sound of fingers tapping against a keyboard, “Gettin’ somewhere?” he asks Stiles softly as he moves to the edge of the couch.

“Mhm,” Stiles mutters as he continues typing, stopping long enough to take a sip from his beer before reaching out for his notepad, flipping through the pages, reading quickly, and then turning back to his laptop.

Scott nods to himself and sits down gently next to Stiles, staying silent for a moment as he watches the other man type, “What’s it about?” he asks, probably for the first time.

Stiles glances at Scott, raising a brow, “Are you kidding me?” he snorts and turns back, “What do you want?”

Scott narrows his brows, “I wanna know what your book is about, Stiles,” he says honestly.

“No you don’t,” Stiles responds as he continues typing, “In the past like-” he purses his lips and shakes his head, “Yeah, no, never have you ever asked me what my books are about. And I’ve written like… like fifteen at least.”

“I’m asking you now. I’m sorry I’ve never shown interest before, I should’ve.”

Stiles stops completely and turns to look at Scott again, more serious this time, “What the fuck do you want?” he asks a little slower this time.

“For you to talk to me,” Scott says in the same slow tone, eyes locked on Stiles’s, “Please tell me about your books?” he asks, trying to persist even though he can feel his nerve wavering already with how Stiles is reacting to it all.

Stiles rolls his eyes and looks back at the screen, typing and sipping his beer as he considers answering, “You don’t read books, Scott. You don’t care.”

He tightens his jaw for a moment, “It’s… like… sort of like Veronica Mars meets Star Trek meets Being Human or something.”

“Veronica Mars,” Scott repeats and nods, “Isn’t that that one show you made me watch a long time ago?” he asks, trying to recall.

“There’s a movie too, you haven’t seen it.”

“It was a good show, from what I remember anyways,” Scott says, internally grateful that Stiles is giving him a little bit to work with, “We should watch the movie sometime,” he suggests hopefully.

“Mm,” Stiles hums shortly as he tries to get back to his work, chugging the rest of his beer and reaching over to the mini fridge for another.

“You hungry? I could make us something.”

“No.”

“Okay,” Scott pulls his legs up onto the couch, tucking them under himself as he gets comfortable. If Stiles doesn’t want to talk, or eat, or do anything else with him, he can at least sit here with Stiles while he works.

Stiles narrows his eyes as he feels the couch shift and he glances at the other man, “What the Hell are you doing?” he asks lowly.

“I’m sitting here,” Scott supplies, forearm resting on the arm of the couch.

“I noticed,” Stiles says back and presses his lips together for a moment before asking: “Why?”

“Because I wanna spend time with you,” Scott answers honestly and shrugs, looking at the black screen of their TV, “So, I’m sitting here.”

“I’m writing.”

“I won’t talk, I’ll be quiet.”

“You’re watching me.”

“I’ll stop,” Scott says and then looks away to prove himself.

Stiles sighs and considers getting up and moving, “You’re still beside me, near me, and it’s fucking annoying. How would you feel if I went to your work and stood behind you the entire time?”

“I’d like that,” Scott responds and looks back at Stiles seriously, “Maybe you should come with me sometime, working out makes you feel good.”

“Let me know when the Titanic surfaces and we’ll talk logistics,” Stiles says, unplugging the cord for his laptop, grabbing his beer and moving from the room.

Scott frowns slightly, watching as his husband goes into the other room, but instead of following after him and persisting (and likely pissing Stiles off), he stays on the couch and drops his head back against the cushion. It could’ve went worse, but it definitely could’ve gone better as well.

He waits, doesn’t even know how much time passes, but he’s stiff when he finally gets up and he stretches before moving into the bedroom. Scott doesn’t want to badger Stiles, or get on his nerves, hence the space, but he also really wants to be near the other man, he’s trying like Hell to make this work.

“Still working?” Scott asks and moves to his side of the bed, “Can you see if I turn my lamp off?”

“Mhm,” Stiles mutters as he reaches for his beer, glancing up at Scott.

He can tell just by looking at the other man that there’s something going on in his head. They’ve went days without even talking to one another and after the session with their counselor, things have been more uncomfortable than usual. But he normally expects some kind of respectful silence when he's working on something.

Scott nods and flips the lamp off before pushing his pants down, climbing up into bed and resting his back against the headboard, eyes set straight forward and his brows narrow contemplatively, “You could sleep in here tonight, you know.”

“I know,” Stiles responds as he types, “It’s not that I can’t,” he makes a face and shakes his head, “It’s that I don’t want to.”

Scott frowns and nods again as he compartmentalizes how he’s really feeling, hand reaching out tentatively to touch Stiles’s arm, “Please, stay with me.”

Stiles narrows his brows and looks down at the hand on his arm, “Scott,” he says tentatively and the touch alone makes his skin crawl. It’s ridiculous how quickly the other man can set him off these days, considering how close they were years ago.

“Don’t.”

Scott lets his hand fall from Stiles’s arm after a moment and he sighs, laying down a little more in the bed and rolling to put his back to the other man.

“I don’t understand why you’re even here,” he says softly after a moment, ignoring the way his voice shakes and the way his chin trembles, “If you hate me so much, why don’t you just file for divorce so you can get away from me?”

“Because-” Stiles stops, watching Scott’s back and thinking about how he used to curl against his husband and tickle Scott’s feet with his toes, trail kisses down his neck and make lude sounds before falling asleep with him - how warm the bed always was. He wants that still, more than anything, but after everything that’s happened-he wipes the tear from his cheek and gets up, “Because.”

Scott wants to say how shitty of a reason that is, just 'because', nothing else, but he doesn’t want to fight right now - they’ve fought enough.

“I still love you, Stiles,” Scott says when he feels the bed shift, figuring his husband is getting up to leave the room.

Stiles doesn’t look back at Scott again, the pull to lay down in bed with him is bad enough without turning to see him. His chest starts heaving and the tears in his eyes make it difficult to see. He ends up knocking over his beer and he sighs as the tears drip down his cheeks.

“I still love you, too,” he says tightly, trying to sound unphased, and then he leaves the room.

MageStiles ϟ Presstilton

Chapter Text

Scott brings the lighter up to the end of the joint and sucks in, watching the little ember glow and then he tucks the lighter away and closes his eyes for a moment, letting the smoke work it’s way down in his lungs as he fights the urge to cough.

He really only does this when Stiles isn’t home, not that he thinks the other man would care, but because he’s not nearly as okay with his vice as Stiles is with his own. He actually hates that he does this, but it helps sometimes, takes the edge off and makes things feel a little… less.

Blowing the smoke out, he coughs once and pulls his phone out of his pocket, finger swiping across the screen as he scrolls down his contacts and stares at ‘Mom’ for a moment.

She knows about their marital problems, he’s never been able to really keep anything from her, including details about his crumbling marriage. She always listens to him, offers sound advice and tells him to hang in there, and it’s what he needs right now - to hear her.

So he hits call and presses the phone to his ear as he brings the joint back to his lips, dragging in a pull of smoke as he waits for her to answer.

The phone clicks on the other end as Melissa picks up, “Scott?”

“Hi, mom,” Scott says and shakes his head at himself at how his voice trembles, smoke blowing out with his words.

“Honey, is everything okay?”

“Not really,” Scott answers honestly, staring almost distantly at the joint between his fingers as sirens sound from a few blocks over.

“Well, I’m guessing you wanna talk about it,” Melissa comments from the other side, sounding a little sarcastic, “Is it about Stiles? You two are still having problems?”

“Yeah, we’re still having problems. I’m trying-I just… He’s so cold to me sometimes, I dunno how to get through to him.”

Melissa is silent for a moment before finally responding, softly asking: “Do you think he still cares about your relationship?”

“I dunno, mom,” Scott shrugs helplessly and takes another hit, “Most of the time he says he hates me, acts like it too, but-” thinking back to what Stiles had said makes his chest hurt, gives him hope, and he knows that can be a dangerous thing, “I told him that I still love him, the other night. He said it back.”

“That’s something, at least,” Melissa says, “Look, honey, I know things are bad between you two, but if you still think it’s worth it, then you need to stay. He’s not in a good place, he hasn’t been since John passed away, he needs you - even if he doesn’t say it.”

Stiles walks into the apartment, locking the front door and taking off his jacket as he sets down his things on the couch, glancing around towards the balcony on the other side of the room, the glass door ajar.

“I think you’re wrong,” Scott responds and shakes his head, his mom really doesn’t understand the gravity of things, “He doesn’t need me, not anymore, not like I need him,” he says, blinking away the welling tears, “I miss him, mom.”

Stiles frowns as he listens in, his chest tightening as he narrows his brows and moves closer to the door to hear Scott better.

“I know you do, and I know you have your doubts but you need to stay strong for him,” Melissa responds, “You two are best friends first, and if anyone can get through this you two can. You just need to continue to be supportive.”

“I’m trying,” Scott says helplessly and he can’t help the way a ragged sounding sob tears up out of him, “I just-I dunno what else to do. He doesn’t trust me, doesn’t believe anything I say and-God, mom, if you could just see the way he looks at me sometimes - I think he really does hate me.”

“I don’t think it’s humanly possible for Stiles to hate you,” Melissa responds, “He loves you more than anything in the world. It’s just everything else that’s causing him to say these things. You can’t believe how influential drugs can be. It can change a person completely. You don’t have to continue to endure that abuse, Scott, but there’s only two choices. You can leave and lose him forever, or you can help him.”

“He doesn’t want my help, he doesn’t want anything from me,” Scott mutters and takes another pull from the joint before snubbing it out against the side of the building, “What if I just-what if I keep holding out hope and nothing ever changes? What if we’re still married and miserable ten more years down the road?”

“It’s your choice if you wanna leave or not,” Melissa responds tentatively, “You have a good job, you can support yourself. You’re not stuck with him if you don’t wanna be. But he’s drowning, Scott. I know you feel like he doesn’t want your help, but I’m willing to bet that it’s the exact opposite. People always lash out at the ones they love. And he doesn’t have anyone else. You’re able to call me all of the time, where do you think you’d be if you lost me? That’s where he’s at, Scott. And he’s… he just has you. But that doesn’t mean that you have to stay.”

“Of course it does,” Scott says lowly, “I love him, I can’t-” he sighs, “I can’t leave him. I’d rather have this, how things are now, than not have him at all. It’s just exhausting, is all, trying and trying and trying but getting nowhere.”

Stiles watches Scott’s back as he listens, his heart racing wildly as he runs his thumb over the wedding ring on his finger. He presses his lips together, unsure if he should close the glass door or leave, or stay, but he just continues to stand there awkwardly.

“Just remember that you don’t have to endure that if you don’t want to,” Melissa says, “As long as you think it’s worth it, stay. But don’t force yourself to if it becomes unbearable. Chances are, though, that it’ll get worse before it gets better.”

“It’s worth it,” Scott insists and scrubs a hand over his face, “He’s worth it,” he adds, “I’ll let you go, mom. Miss you.”

“I miss you too, honey. Call me if you need me.”

“Yeah, I will, later,” Scott says and ends the call, shoving his phone back into his pocket and resting his face in the palms of his hands for a moment.

Sucking in a deep breath of air, he stands up, heads back into the apartment and stops when he sees Stiles standing there, the fact that he probably heard everything dawning on Scott and his face pales a little, “I didn’t hear you come in.”

Stiles stares back, eyes glassed over as he nods and turns away, moving to the couch to gather his things, “Yeah, I figured as much.”

“Stiles,” Scott sighs and follows the other man, “Wait-just wait, okay?” he moves passed Stiles and grabs his coat, pulling it on and raising his brows, “Please, don’t leave, I’ll go, you don’t have to. This is your home, too. I’m sorry.”

“Fine,” Stiles says and throws his things back down, “Go, then - it’s what you do best, isn’t it?”

Scott stills and frowns in confusion, “What?” he asks numbly, an inexplicable rage boiling up to the surface, “Are you kidding me? It’s what I do best? All I do is stay, even now, Stiles, I still fucking stay! I’m just trying to give you your space, I don’t know what you want from me.”

“Then leave,” Stiles responds, raising his voice, “The only fucking reason you’re staying is because you feel sorry for me. I don’t want pity from my fucking husband of all people, so just leave already.”

“I don’t stay because I pity you,” Scott corrects Stiles, straightening his jacket, “I stay because I love you, I just wish you could see that.”

“You don’t love me, Scott,” Stiles says as his shoulders slump and he shrugs, “You love who I was. That’s the person that’s ‘worth it’, and that fucking person doesn’t exist anymore. So stop fucking talking to your mom behind my back and just leave already.”

“If I don’t talk to her, then who else am I supposed to talk to?” Scott asks, moving closer to Stiles, “It’s not like I can talk to my best friend anymore. You think you know exactly how I feel, you keep thinking I want this picture perfect fucking image of who we used to be back and the truth of the matter is I just want you - you, Stiles.”

Stiles shakes his head and the words come out before he can stop them, almost making him sick to the stomach just saying them, “I don’t want me! Don’t you fucking understand that?

"I don’t want to be that person, I don’t want to be me. And I don’t want you,” he says lowly, chest heaving, “Every time I look at you I just see everything that hurts in my piece of shit life. Everything I don’t wanna deal with. It’s painful to even be around you, so do us both a favor and stop bothering with it. Just give it up and leave.”

Scott’s face falls more and more with Stiles’s words and despite everything his mom said, it’s a little hard to hold on when the only person he wants to be with is telling him to his face that he doesn’t want him, that he wants him to leave.

“If it’s what you want,” he says sadly and nods, then moves to the bedroom to pack a small bag.

Stiles stands still numbly, tears dripping down his cheeks and he wants to tell Scott to stop, to apologize to his husband, but he doesn’t. If it’s that easy, then the other man isn’t worth it.

“Good, finally. Now you have every excuse you need,” he grabs his keys and his jacket, leaving the apartment before he can say or do anything else he might regret.

MageStiles ϟ Presstilton

Chapter Text

Stiles sits silently on the opposite side of the couch away from Scott and shakes his head, his arms around his knees as he looks away, “Obviously, he didn’t actually leave.”

Mrs. Vargas nods subtly and turns to Scott, “Why not?”

“The only reason I was going to was because I thought it was what he wanted; because he told me to go,” Scott explains, “I just wanted to make it easier on him, but then, before he left, he turned the situation around and said that now I had every excuse to leave. I wasn’t looking for an excuse to leave, so I just-I stayed.”

“Did it mean anything to you that he stayed?” the woman asks as she turns to Stiles then, lifting her brows expectantly.

Stiles looks at her venomously for a moment and then Scott, “It meant something,” he confirms, not bothering to elaborate.

He was practically panicking the entire time he was away from the apartment, terrified to go back and find it empty. He's not about to tell them that when he got inside and Scott was asleep in bed, that he just stood there for about thirty minutes and listened to his husband’s breathing.

Mrs. Vargas nods and looks down at her notepad, writing for a moment, “Stiles, what makes you think that Scott’s so unfaithful to you? Is it his job?”

“I’ve already told you it is,” Stiles responds and looks away from Scott again.

“Have you ever been with him while he works?”

“No,” Stiles mutters and rests his chin on his knees, “We don’t get involved with each other’s work.”

“I’ve offered for him to come with me,” Scott tells the counselor, “But he doesn’t want to.” If he could get Stiles to come with him, maybe he’d be a little more prone to believing him instead of thinking the worst.

“If it could possibly clear the air, why won’t you go with him, Stiles?”

“What would it do? It wouldn’t make a difference. It’s not like he’s gonna up and fuck someone during one of their… things; not while I’m around, obviously. They’re not stupid.”

“No, I’m not, you’re right, but you must be if you think I’d actually cheat on you,” Scott says bitterly, “Do you want me to find another job, Stiles? Would that help your paranoia?”

“If you change jobs, you’ll just resent me more,” Stiles says and looks at Scott, “It’s what you wanna do. I don’t understand the passion behind it, but it makes you happy. But-then again, I’d be happy if I were banging people and getting paid to do it.”

“I’m not screwing anyone, Stiles-what is wrong with you?” Scott asks somewhat loudly, “I haven’t had sex with anyone else, just you-or… it used to be you, but I haven't been with anyone else.”

Mrs. Vargas narrows her eyes as she looks at Stiles, “Is there anything else that makes you suspicious of Scott, anything besides what you’ve already told us before?”

“Yeah, I guess. Isaac… said a few things.”

“What?” Scott asks suddenly, staring at Stiles in confusion, “What did he say?”

“It doesn’t matter,” Stiles shakes his head, “It’s been years since he brought anything up, just saying it now would be pointless.”

“But it’s still bothering you, even now?” Mrs. Vargas asks.

Stiles nods slightly and picks at a loose thread on the arm of the couch, “It’s not like you forget people saying things like that about your husband.”

“Tell me what he said,” Scott pleads and narrows his brows, “Stiles, please. I need to know.”

“It seemed like a compliment at first,” Stiles mutters, not able to look at Scott as he says it, “That’s… kinda how I took it. He was talking about your body and-” he glances at the counselor, “Other things. Pretty much the same thing Allison says or Lydia says when they’re around us. How lucky we are, but… it wasn’t that. It was ‘you’re so lucky’, not we. And-I don’t wanna repeat the rest, it’s bad enough he said it.”

“Stiles,” Scott says shakily and continues to stare at his husband, “Tell me, what else did he say?” he asks hesitantly, almost his entire body numb as he sits there.

Stiles sighs in annoyance, “He said that I was lucky to have you and that I may be your husband but I’ll never know you like he does,” he looks at Scott then, “The way you touch him, how it feels, things like that. It… it was practically right after we started fighting about you wanting kids and me not wanting them. You were starting to be distant, we hadn’t had sex in… weeks.”

“I’ve never laid a finger on him like that, I swear I haven’t,” Scott shakes his head, skin heating with anger towards Isaac, “Why would you even believe him?”

“Why wouldn’t I?” Stiles asks back, “We were fighting, we hadn’t had sex in a while. And he… he knew things. Things only I should know.”

“Like what?” Scott asks nervously, not sure if he really wants to know.

Stiles glances at Mrs. Vargas again and curls his nails against his jeans, “Things ab-about your body. Things you do… did; things like that.”

Scott frowns and shakes his head, “I don’t understand,” he says, confused as to why Isaac would lie and say such things. He stands up then, body nothing but tense lines, “I gotta go, I’m gonna kill him,” he says as calmly as possible.

This is Isaac’s fault, it’s his fault for planting a seedling of doubt in Stiles, for making him question Scott’s faithfulness - their marriage is in shambles because of him and his stupid mouth.

Stiles chuckles at Scott’s reaction, “What? You’re gonna kill him for telling me that you were cheating on me? I guess that makes sense,” he shrugs, “That’s probably something you don’t want your husband knowing, I guess.”

“No, Stiles,” Scott grits out angrily, “I’m gonna fucking kill him for lying to you,” he all but shouts, ignoring the way the counselor jumps a little, “I don’t know how he knows things about me, but it’s sure as Hell not from personal experience. So, think what you wanna think, but he’s gonna pay for what he’s done to us.”

“Please,” Stiles rolls his eyes, “What’s done is done. It doesn’t make a difference what you do to him now.”

“Doesn’t make a difference to you, you mean,” Scott corrects and huffs before leaving the room, pulling his car keys from his pocket and gripping them with a white-knuckled fist.

Stiles looks back at Mrs. Vargas, still sitting in his seat, “This is the last time I come in here sober.”

Scott feels guilty just leaving Stiles there, but the anger he’s feeling is like a driving force and he knows that this is something he has to do, he needs somewhere to direct it and Isaac is responsible, so it makes sense to unleash it on him. He practically speeds to the bookshop where Isaac works, parks and stalks into the store.

The curly-headed liar is in the middle of checking someone out, so he helps himself behind the counter and moves to him without so much as a 'hello'. Before he can stop himself, his fist is swinging out and connecting with Isaac’s face.

Isaac staggers back against the wall behind him, gasping in surprise as he reaches up and stares at Scott as he touches his cheek, “What the Hell, Scott?”

“You were my friend!” Scott shouts angrily and shakes his head, eyes watering as he lashes out again and punches Isaac in the stomach, “Why would you lie to him? You’ve ruined my fucking life!”

“What?” Isaac asks in confusion, clutching his stomach as he groans in pain, the woman behind the counter watching them in surprise before quickly leaving, “What are you talking about?”

“Don’t act stupid!” Scott yells and clenches his fist before striking the other man across the face again, chest heaving as the pain shoots up his arm, “Years ago, what you said to Stiles. He fucking hates me because of you, because you lied to him. I’ve never touched you!”

Isaac gasps as he shields his face from Scott after the second punch to it, “What? What I said..? That was years ago, I was just messing with him. What do you mean he hates you? You two… you’re like a stupid happy couple.”

“It’s all been an act, dumb ass, ever since you said that bullshit to him,” Scott explains and lets out a heavy breath, face red and streaked with tears, “We’ve been on the verge of divorce for years, all because of you. He hates me, because of you. He doesn’t trust me, because of you!”

Isaac narrows his eyes in confusion, feeling the blood flowing down his face and arm, and then he shoves at Scott, pushing him away, “I was just playing with him when I said it. I-I thought you two were okay and he could just take a joke.”

“He. Believed. You,” Scott says slowly, tone bitter and angry, “Thanks to you, my marriage is a fucking mess. I fucking hate you, don’t ever speak to me again.”

“Scott,” Isaac stands back upright, “I didn’t know. Hell, none of us knew. Why are you two lying about it if it’s that bad?”

“Because all of you are all the time looking at us like we’re some prime example of a happy marriage, you are-were our friends, we didn’t wanna let you down,” Scott says and wipes his eyes, “But I found out what you said to him today, in marriage counseling, Isaac. I hope you feel good about it, because your stupid ass joke cost me my best friend, it cost me everything.”

“If some stupid joke like that cost you your entire marriage, if it was that easy, maybe it’s not really worth it?”

“Fuck you,” Scott spits and punches Isaac square on the nose, kneeing him in the stomach, “You’re a real piece of shit.”

Isaac grunts and slumps against the ground, curling away from Scott, “Get out of this building, or I’m calling the cops.”

“I don’t fucking care,” Scott chuckles a little maniacally, then kicks Isaac in the ribs, “Why should I care?” He knows he’s not acting like himself, but the rage he feels inside isn’t subsiding in the slightest. If anything, it’s only getting worse with each second he looks at Isaac.

Isaac sighs and stays on the ground, he’s handled enough abuse to know that standing up or trying to fight back will likely just make it worse.

Scott’s about to kick Isaac again, but he stops himself when he realizes the other man isn’t even fighting back anymore. He feels horrible, worse than he felt when he came in here and it’s confusing, because he thought that being able to dispense some of his anger would make him feel better.

“I don’t ever wanna see you again,” he says finally, then turns to leave.

Isaac closes his eyes as he lays there, waiting until he knows Scott’s gone before taking out his cell phone, fingers slippery with blood.

MageStiles ϟ Presstilton

Chapter Text

When Scott gets home, he does his best to hide his busted up hand behind his back, not really bothering to say anything to Stiles because it’s obvious that the other man thinks he’s pathetic; he doesn’t need to hear it.

He walks into the kitchen silently and grabs a ziploc bag, then moves to the freezer to fill it with ice.

Stiles watches after Scott from the couch, his stomach twisting, “So… I got a call from Lydia about ten minutes ago.”

“Good for you,” Scott says a little too rudely, then sighs at himself and clears his throat, “I mean, yeah? Let me guess, Isaac called her?”

“Yeah,” Stiles responds, already feeling defensive about how Scott’s treating him, “She didn’t give a fuck about Isaac, but she wanted to know what was wrong with our relationship.”

“And? Did you give her the play by play?” Scott asks as he walks out of the kitchen with the bag of ice on his hand, “Did you tell her about how Isaac ruined our marriage? Or, did you give her your diluted version of it? The one where you actually believed him?”

“Oh go fuck yourself,” Stiles responds, standing up from the couch, “I didn’t tell her anything, I hung up and turned off the phone.”

“Smart,” Scott says dryly, he hates that he’s acting like this but he’s hurt and he feels like he’s at the end of his rope, he’s not sure how much more he can take, “She’s probably on her way here now.”

“This is your fucking fault, not mine,” Stiles says as he glares at Scott, “It’s not my job to fix your fucking messes. What was the point in even going after him in the first place? It’s been years since he's said anything about it.”

“I thought it’d make me feel better,” Scott admits, “He lied to you, or joked with you, rather. Or at least that’s what he said, and him messing around with you ruined us.

"I’m losing you because of him,” he says, “I thought it’d make me feel better, but now I just feel worse.”

Stiles chuckles and nods, “Yeah, typical. If you think that Isaac is the only poison in this relationship, then you’re not paying attention at all,” he shakes his head and turns to pick his bullet off the edge of the coffee table, “It’s not just one thing, it’s everything.”

“I’m trying to fix it,” Scott says and shrugs, he doesn’t know what else to do, “I’m trying, Stiles.”

He shuffles closer to the other man and takes the bullet forcefully from his hand, “And if you weren’t so fucking high all the time, maybe you’d see that!” he shouts in his husband’s face before moving to the balcony to throw the drugs.

“Scott,” Stiles follows after him, grabbing his shoulder, “What the fuck are you doing? Give that back to me.”

“No,” Scott says firmly and shakes out of Stiles’s grip, winding his arm back and throwing it as far as he possibly can, “You don’t fucking need it.”

Stiles narrows his eyes and shoves at the other man, “Where the fuck do you get off telling me what I do and don’t need?”

Scott staggers slightly until the rail of the balcony is digging into his back, “The coke makes you mean, and I’m tired of it. I’m gonna help you, whether you want my help or not.”

“I don’t fucking want your help, you piece of shit,” Stiles responds, hands shaking as he walks back into the living room, glancing around and moving to his laptop, reaching under the coffee table where his stash is, “It’s not like you can stop me from doing anything.”

“I can try,” Scott says and doesn’t hesitate before moving to Stiles, attempting to take the bag away from him.

Stiles shoves at the other man’s chest, “Get the fuck away from me.”

“Give me the drugs, Stiles,” Scott demands, pushing him down onto the couch and straddling him so that he can’t get up as he tries to pry the bag from his hands.

“Go fuck yourself,” Stiles responds as he twists, already out of breath as he tries to keep his hands from Scott.

“Don’t make me wear you down, because I can,” Scott says and struggles with Stiles, he can tell the other man is already getting tired, “It’s not like it’d be difficult,” he continues and tucks his knees tighter against Stiles’s thighs to keep him down, finally getting his fingers on the bag.

Stiles gasps and arches his back, bucking to try and get Scott off of him, “Stop, goddammit, Scott - get off!”

“Not until you give me the drugs,” Scott grits out on a heavy breath, careful when he tries pulling the bag away from Stiles to make sure he doesn’t bust it everywhere.

Suddenly, he has an idea - it’s shitty on his part, but he’s confident that it’ll distract Stiles long enough for him to get a good grasp on the bag. He leans in and presses his lips to his husband’s, waiting to feel the shock from the other man before he tries to pry the bag away once more.

Stiles stops, eyes widening as the other man kisses him and he scrunches up his face, turning away as he moves to wipe his mouth, “What the Hell are you doing?”

“I was trying to distract you,” Scott says and somehow manages to get the bag from Stiles’s hands, “Apparently it worked,” he shrugs and climbs off of the other man quickly to move to the kitchen, turning the sink and disposal on before opening the baggy and dumping it.

“No!” Stiles stands from the couch, watching Scott, his eyes wide and he’s so pissed - practically seeing red - that he lifts his laptop and throws it, gasping and jumping when it slams into the dishes on the counter near Scott.

Scott looks up in shock, startled as he stares at Stiles incredulously, completely emptying the bag and turning the sink off.

“Were you trying to hit me?" he asks as he moves to the other man, "Is that what that was all about? Hit me, Stiles, if it’ll make you feel better,” he offers, stepping close to his husband, “Do it.”

Stiles doesn’t even think about it before he smacks Scott as hard as he can, still exhausted from the struggle on the couch as he stares at the other man.

Scott’s head jerks with the slap and it stings like Hell, he can feel the heat blossoming throughout his cheek as he looks at Stiles again, still just as close as before, “Is that it? Are you done?”

“Get the fuck out,” Stiles says lowly and his entire body shakes when there’s a sudden knock on the door.

Scott’s about to say 'no', because he’s trying to be more proactive about saving their marriage, but he looks at the door and narrows his brows before moving to it, opening it up and swallowing thickly when he’s met by two cops.

“Scott McCall?” One of the deputies asks firmly, hand touching the handcuffs on his belt.

There’s no point in denying it, because even if Scott did, Stiles would probably give him up after what he just did. He nods and holds his wrists out, “That’s me.”

Stiles blinks in confusion as he moves to them, “Wait, wh-what’s going on?”

“We got a call about an aggravated assault, the victim is in the emergency room with a broken nose, a hairline fracture to his jaw and three broken ribs,” the cop explains as he puts the cuffs in place on Scott’s wrists, “Scott McCall, you’re under arrest, anything you say can and will be used against you in the court of law. If you cannot afford an attorney, one will be provided for you-"

"And so on, yadda yadda," the second cop interrupts him, waving his hand dismissively, "Come with us.”

Stiles shakes his head as he reaches out for Scott, “What-stop, Scott,” he looks at his husband, eyes wide as his heart starts racing, his breaths coming in short and quick, “You can’t take him-”

“Stiles,” Scott says, able to tell that Stiles is 2.2 from having a panic attack and, if they take him, he won’t be able to talk him down from it, “Just breathe, it’s okay. It’s my fault - I did something bad, and now I’m paying for it.”

Stiles continues to shake his head as the tears start falling down his cheeks, “Are you fucking kidding me?”

Scott’s brows narrow in confusion as the cops tug him more towards the door, “I don’t-”

“Alright, alright, that’s enough, now come on,” the deputy says, getting a little rough with Scott and yanking him out of the apartment.

“Wait, wait!” Stiles reaches out again, “Jesus Christ, I’m his husband.”

The cop shoving Scott stops and sighs, rolling his eyes and looking at his partner as they wait.

Stiles moves to Scott, giving the deputy on the right a scathing look, “I know you can wait two fucking seconds before you take him,” he challenges and the cop just nods curtly, keeping his eyes averted. Stiles turns back to Scott, tears streaming down his face as he tries to breathe, his skin flushed red with the struggle as he leans in to kiss him, slowly reaching up to touch his husband's cheeks.

Scott’s brows lift when Stiles's lips brush his and he struggles against the cuffs pinning his arms behind his back, wanting to touch the other man as well. He doesn’t hesitate before kissing Stiles back, though, it’s been so long (cheating to get the bag of cocaine from Stiles excluded), he’s almost forgotten how good it feels.

“What was that for?” he asks quietly, eyes heavily lidded as he stares at Stiles in shock.

Stiles pulls back and looks down at his feet, “For everything you’ve done… for me.” He steps back then, not meeting Scott’s eyes again.

“Stiles,” Scott says in an attempt to get his husband to look at him as the cops huff in unison and pull him down the hallway, he doesn’t like the way the other man’s words came out, they sounded a little too much like a goodbye.

“Stiles!” he shouts then, tone slightly frantic, "Stiles! Please!" but Stiles turns and shuts the door.

MageStiles ϟ Presstilton

Chapter Text

Lydia glances Scott over as the woman at the front desk gives him back his things, “You two have got so much explaining to do, I hope you know that.”

“I do... and we will,” Scott says as he puts his keys and phone in his pocket, looking at Lydia worriedly, “But we need to go, now. Have you talked to Stiles?”

“Not since he called me to come bail you out,” Lydia shrugs, “I don’t think I’ve ever heard him so frantic before.”

Scott pulls his phone back out and calls Stiles, pressing it to his ear as he looks at her, “Come on, I need you to get me to our apartment, quick.”

Lydia frowns in confusion, “Uh… yeah,” she says as she grabs her keys, “Is something wrong?”

“Everything is wrong, Lydia,” Scott says and huffs when he gets Stiles’s voicemail, climbing hurriedly into the passenger's side seat of her car.

“We’ve been the epitome of a crumbling marriage for a really long time now, we both do drugs, he does coke… he’s not really himself anymore, Lyds. And when they took me earlier, he kissed me for the first time in… God, it’s been so long, and I just-I’m afraid he did something really stupid.”

Lydia swallows nervously, sitting in the driver’s seat and putting the keys in the ignition, starting the car up and pulling out of her spot, “Stiles does… does drugs?”

“Coke, specifically,” Scott confirms, “He’s in a bad way, we both are, we just didn’t wanna disappoint you guys-can you hurry?”

“I’m trying,” Lydia says in annoyance, “I’m still trying to wrap my head around all of this. I can’t believe your relationship is this bad. You two seem so happy when we see you.”

“We usually try to put on a show for you guys,” Scott admits, “He’s hated me for a long time now, because of Isaac. Speaking of, have you seen him?”

“Saw his face, too,” Lydia says, smiling sadly, “So if I’m understanding everything: he came onto Stiles like six years ago or something and you beat the shit out of him… now?”

“He didn’t come onto Stiles, he was ‘messing’ around with him and said some really shitty things to him, the kinda things that caused Stiles to doubt my faithfulness to him,” Scott explains, “He lied to Stiles, and Stiles believed him. I just found out earlier today.”

Lydia lifts a brow, “I’m not saying that I don’t believe you, but it’s really hard for me to see Stiles as the jealous kind. How could he, of all people, think you were being unfaithful to him? That just… sounds like someone else.”

“I dunno, but he believed it and he hasn’t trusted me since,” Scott says sadly, “It’s probably the drugs, they make him paranoid.”

“I doubt that’s the drugs,” Lydia says, it’s jokingly a little, but also quite sincere, “You remember how he was in high school. He was always like that then.”

“But he used to actually trust me, Lydia,” Scott responds and looks at her seriously, “He doesn’t take his medication anymore and he’s so jittery from coke all the time, I just-go a little faster please. If he did something to himself, the soon-”

Lydia’s eyes widen, “Something to himself? You actually think Stiles is the kind of person to… commit suicide?” nevertheless, she speeds up.

Scott narrows his brows at Lydia in concern, “I told you, he’s not really himself anymore.”

Lydia shakes her head and lets out a heavy breath, “I can’t believe you two are like this.”

“Well,” Scott sighs and looks out the window, knee bouncing nervously, “Believe it.”

“We’re bad friends; how could we have missed this?”

“You’re all busy, you’ve got lives of your own to worry about. It is the way it is, Lydia, don’t beat yourself up over it.”

Lydia glances at Scott, “Yes, we do have lives, but-how long has this been going on for? Years? And we didn’t notice a thing.”

“Yeah, it’s been years,” Scott confirms and feels his heart race a little once their apartment building is within view.

“Years,” Lydia huffs in annoyance and speeds up a little more, “Next time you and your partner are suffocating, don’t hide it from the people that can help.”

Scott shakes his head and looks at Lydia, “You can’t help, trust me. I think it’s probably beyond repair at this point.”

“I don’t believe that for a second,” Lydia says firmly, glancing at Scott as she parks, “And I hope you don’t.”

Scott opens the door and looks at Lydia, “Come on, I might need you,” he says before climbing out, hurrying to the front door of the building and taking the steps; it’s faster this way and he doesn’t have to wait on an elevator.

His hands tremble the entire time he tries to get the door unlocked and when he steps into the apartment, he feels like he’s going to throw up the second he sees Stiles hanging from the ceiling.

“Stiles!” he shouts and moves to his husband quickly, grabbing him around the legs and trying to lift him up some to keep him from choking to death, “Lydia! I need a knife, hurry!”

Lydia stares for a moment, eyes wide before she runs into the kitchen, stopping when she sees the broken glass everywhere and the laptop. She reaches out for a knife and returns to the living room, handing it to Scott and pulling the coffee table over to them.

“Here,” Scott says breathlessly, “Try to hold him up the best you can.”

He hands Stiles’s legs off to Lydia and climbs up, cutting through the rope as quickly as he can, glancing at Stiles’s face and how red it is, his heart all but lodged up in his throat. The rope snaps, finally, and Stiles falls against him.

Scott tosses the knife and drops down with the other man, hands working frantically to get the noose loose.

Stiles gasps, coughing as he reaches out to weakly try and push Scott away.

Lydia covers her mouth and backs away, out of the room, closing the front door behind herself as she wraps her other arm around her waist.

“Stop it!” Scott shouts as his eyes water, looking over the marks on Stiles’s throat, “Don’t push me away, Stiles. What the fuck is wrong with you, huh? Why would you do this?”

“Why do you think I did it?” Stiles asks rhetorically, tears running down his cheeks as he turns his face away.

“I get that you hate me,” Scott says shakily and reaches out to make Stiles look at him, his hand firm on the other man’s chin, “But killing yourself isn’t the answer. If you want a divorce, even though I don’t, I’ll give it to you - just don’t do this.”

Stiles shakes his head, sobbing as he reaches up to cover his face and tries to move away from Scott again.

“I need you to talk to me, as painful as it is for you,” Scott says, grabbing Stiles by the arm so that he can’t move far away, “Tell me what you want, Stiles.”

“Scott,” Stiles manages out, but he’s still sobbing and his throat burns any time he speaks. He’s stuck with a headache the size of California and his entire body hurts - he probably hasn’t been this sober, or this upset, in years.

Stiles reaches out, grabbing fistfuls of Scott’s shirt and moving in close to the other man.

Scott frowns and wraps his arms around Stiles, holding him close as his eyes water, his right hand rubbing up and down his husband’s back. There’s so much he wants to say, but he also doesn’t want to ruin the moment - chances are it’s a fluke.

Stiles coughs a few more times, still trying to catch his breath as he lets Scott’s shirt go, reaching up and wrapping an arm around the other man’s neck, “Scotty,” he says weakly, his other hand moving to run through Scott’s thick black hair.

Scott lets out a relieved huff of breath at how Stiles says his name, it doesn’t sound venomous or vindictive and it takes everything he has to keep it together for the other man, chest swelling hopefully.

“Shh,” he whispers and kisses Stiles’s temple, “Don’t talk, wait and let me get you some water, okay?”

“No, no, don’t go,” Stiles says suddenly, loudly, the words so painful as they tear up his throat and he winces, nails digging into Scott’s scalp as he shakes his head, “Please, I’m-don’t.”

“I won’t,” Scott says at once and shifts a little closer, holding Stiles even tighter as he presses his lips to the other man’s shoulder, “I won’t go.”

Stiles closes his eyes and rests his lips against Scott’s neck, his entire body shaking as he shifts his legs, wrapping them around the other man’s torso, “I’m sorry.”

“It’s okay,” Scott says without even thinking about it, mind reeling a little over what’s happening, “I’m sorry, too,” he admits, “I should’ve been better to you.”

“You would’ve been better if I-” Stiles stops and coughs, letting out a huff of breath, “If I wasn’t a dick and a half.”

“Stiles,” Scott says softly and he wants to ignorantly defend his husband, but it’d be stupid because they both know how Stiles has been acting, “It’s okay,” he says again.

“It’s not,” Stiles says and shakes his head, “It’s not okay,” he feels the tears start again, his chest heaving, “I’m not okay, Scott - I’m not.”

“Then let me help you,” Scott says firmly, though his tone is sincere as he hugs Stiles’s body to his own, “Please, all I wanna do is help.”

Stiles nods, both of his hands moving to Scott’s hair, “I want you to help,” he mumbles as he presses a breathless kiss just under the other man’s ear.

“Good,” Scott utters quietly and closes his eyes when he feels Stiles’s lips brush his skin, he’s still trying to process the fact that this is actually happening and it’s not some kind of dream - it all just feels a little too surreal.

Stiles pulls back finally, still coughing and trying to breathe, trying to swallow as he wipes his cheeks, “I think I need some water.”

MageStiles ϟ Sparklinski

Chapter Text

“I can get you some,” Scott nods and reaches up to wipe a tear getting ready to drop from Stiles’s chin, arms circling the other man’s waist then to shift him gently off of his lap before getting up.

He walks into the kitchen and glances back at his husband before grabbing a glass from the cabinet, moving to the spigot and filling it with water before walking back to Stiles, crouching down to him and offering it.

Stiles takes the glass, still wiping at his cheeks as he sips and coughs again, shifting back to the couch as he shakes and pants.

Scott shuffles over to sit down next to Stiles, silent as he watches him drink. The other man is already overwhelmed, the last thing he wants to do is talk too much and make it worse.

Stiles finishes the water and shifts close to Scott, reaching out to take his hand as he breathes calmly, “You… know how they say that your life flashes before your eyes before you die?”

Scott mindlessly moves his thumb against Stiles’s skin and nods, “Yeah,” he responds tentatively.

“Speaking from personal experience,” Stiles clears his throat as he sniffles and then shakes his head, “Complete horseshit.”

“Insightful,” Scott says and smiles sadly at Stiles, he’s still paranoid he’s going to say too much or say the wrong thing and piss him off.

“All I saw was black,” Stiles continues, narrowing his brows, “Black and the pain, and… I threw my laptop at you for throwing away my coke.”

“Yeah,” Scott confirms warily, “You did.”

“That’s what I kept thinking about when I did it. I kept thinking about doing that, and smacking you. All of the stupid times we’ve fought and the horrible things I keep saying and how I feel all the time, and what you were saying to Melissa.”

“I’m sorry,” Scott apologizes at once, “Stiles, I’m sorry, it’s not-I wasn't talking about you behind your back, I just-she listens to me.”

“Scott,” Stiles shakes his head, “Don’t apologize, please. Just-stop,” he presses his lips together, turning against him to look at him better, “You don’t have to apologize for doing it. I just feel like a complete piece of shit for everything I’ve said. It was like I could hear it all coming out, but I couldn’t stop myself.”

Nodding slowly, Scott squeezes Stiles’s hand, “It was the coke talking, Stiles, not you,” he says confidently.

“It wasn’t just the coke,” Stiles responds and shakes his head, “It was all of it. I was out of my mind,” his entire body trembles as more tears build in his eyes, “I still feel kind of out of my mind. I can’t go back to that, Scott. I-” he lets out a weak huff of breath, “I hate that person.”

“I can get you help. As long as you’ll let me, we’ll get you better.”

“I miss you.”

Scott leans into the warmth of Stiles’s hand as his husband reaches up and touches his cheek, his chin quivering slightly, “I miss you, too.”

“I miss me, too,” Stiles chuckles weakly, eyes running over the other man’s face as he takes all of Scott in, “I’m so sorry.”

“I forgive you,” Scott says earnestly, “You don’t have to apologize, not to me. I still love you.”

Stiles moves back into Scott’s lap a little tentatively, wrapping his arms around the other man again as he curls against him, “I’m gonna keep doing it.”

“You don’t have to, though,” Scott utters against Stiles’s shoulder and hugs him, he’s been so deprived of this, of touching Stiles, that he knows it’s going to be difficult to let go - it’s already torture each time he has to pull away.

Stiles lays his temple on Scott’s shoulder, his forehead against the other man’s neck as he winces every time he swallows, “I miss this.”

“I miss us,” Scott responds and relaxes back against the couch some, hands smoothing up and down Stiles’s back as he revels in the closeness - he’s been longing for this for years now.

“Me too,” Stiles agrees, body tingling as the hand moves along his back, “I feel like the last seven years have just been… completely wasted.”

“We can make up for it,” Scott says and grimaces slightly at how hopeful he sounds, he’s still partially worried that Stiles’s moment of clarity will eventually fade or something.

“It’s not gonna be easy,” Stiles mutters as he narrows his brows, “Withdrawals, I might even be more of a monster - though I don’t see how that’s possible.”

“I don’t care, I can endure it,” Scott insists, “If you actually wanna do this, then I can-I can handle it.”

Stiles pulls back and looks Scott in the eyes, “I wanna do it,” he says confidently and nods, “No more coke, no more drinking - I’m done with it.”

“I’m really glad,” Scott says as he looks up at Stiles, afraid to let himself feel the full rush of excitement. He reaches up and experimentally touches the other man’s cheek, rubbing his thumb against the skin and narrowing his brows.

“I thought I was gonna lose you for good,” he admits quietly.

Stiles closes his eyes, reaching up and covering the back of Scott’s hand with his own as he leans into it, “You mean when I hung myself, or before that?”

“Both,” Scott shrugs and focuses on how soft Stiles’s skin is, even now that they’re older, “Stiles, I-” he huffs and frowns, looking up at the other man helplessly, “I wasn’t lying when I said I’ve never cheated on you, I need you to know that.”

Stiles opens his eyes again, staring at Scott, “I wanna believe that,” he says carefully, “I wanna believe you, Scott. I just spent so long thinking otherwise, about others, about Isaac.

"I-I don’t think I care, though. I don’t think I care anymore about it. Whether you did it or not,” he shakes his head, “I don’t care.”

Scott would be lying if he said he wasn’t the slightest bit disappointed that Stiles still doesn’t really believe him, but then again he’s been so hardwired to believe otherwise that it can’t be easy to accept the alternative. Still, though, it hurts that Stiles didn’t believe him in the first place.

“Okay,” he says weakly.

“I don’t think it was that so much,” Stiles says honestly, lacing his fingers with Scott’s, “Sex is sex, you know I’m not one to get upset about you getting your dick wet; though I’d prefer you didn’t.”

He smiles weakly, “It was how he said it, it was the things he said. Just-things only I should know about you.”

“I don’t know how he knows those things about me, Stiles,” Scott responds with narrowed brows, “But I never-” he shakes his head and drops his eyes away from Stiles’s, “God, I wish I would’ve broken a few more of his ribs.”

“From the sound of it, you broke enough,” Stiles says and smirks, “I’m disappointed I missed out on it. I can’t even believe you did it - but I get it.”

“You still think I’m pathetic?” Scott asks and watches Stiles warily, giving the other man the chance to break him down, “For doing what I did?”

“Not at all,” Stiles shakes his head, “I think you were defending what’s yours.”

He shrugs, “I would’ve done the same thing if I was in your place - granted I probably wouldn’t have had the strength to stop myself from killing him.”

“You laughed at me, before. You thought I was doing it because he supposedly told you, do you still think that?”

“I dunno what I think,” Stiles admits, “I don’t wanna be the kind of person that would take his word over yours; you’re my husband, and my best friend. It’s hard not to think that way, though. I guess I laughed, for the most part, because I found it ironic?

"I’ve had dreams of telling him off to his face, or confronting the both of you, or just shooting him in the head. So the idea of you being the one to do anything just seemed… silly.”

“I just-I can’t believe he said those things to you. And I’m still confused as to how he apparently knew things about me, I just don’t understand.”

Stiles sighs and leans back, “I was trying to think about that. Trying to think back to how we were back then. The only thing I know for sure is we talk a lot, or we did, all of the time. I’m sure I’ve told Lydia at least a few things about you that I probably shouldn’t have. I dunno, that’s all I could think of in the past… like, six hours?”

“It’s possible,” Scott shrugs and everything inside of him wants to pull Stiles back in, just to keep him close, so he does, and wraps his arms around Stiles, “Who knows,” he mumbles.

“I want you to stop as well,” Stiles says then, almost as a side thought, one hand moving to rest on Scott’s left pec, “I want us both to be clean.”

“I can stop,” Scott responds and nods, “I’m not really addicted, I think it was - for me - exactly what our counselor said it was. I used to just… numb everything, it hurt too much.”

Stiles narrows his brows, “It started that way for me. Everything still hurts just as bad as it did seven years ago, the only difference is I hate myself, too.”

He sighs and runs his hand over the front of Scott’s shirt, “I want a beer so bad.”

“You need to find healthier vices,” Scott says and brushes his nose against the side of Stiles’s head, “I think we both do.”

“I know, I dunno what I’m gonna do. I’m alone so much that I’m eventually gonna go looking.”

Scott purses his lips in contemplation, “I could cut back on work,” he offers, “Or - and I know you’re not interested - but maybe some days you could come with me. I’d quit if I could.”

“Yeah, like that’s possible,” Stiles responds sarcastically, “I’m okay with going with you. Might be good for me to get out of this fucking apartment more often.”

“Maybe I could get you on a treadmill, cardio would be good for you, too,” Scott says and smiles because he knows Stiles hates the idea of working out.

“One step at a time,” Stiles responds, reaching up to brush his fingers along the side of Scott’s neck, “I dunno what I’m gonna do if I can’t pull this off. If I get like that again I might-I… I might try to kill myself again.”

“I won’t let you,” Scott presses the words into Stiles’s hair as he kisses his head, “You can do it, I know you can, and I’m gonna help as much as humanly possible.”

MageStiles ϟ Sparklinski

Chapter Text

Stiles closes his eyes, still completely exhausted from everything, “There’s like… eight more stashes of coke in the apartment, by the way.”

“Will you show me where it’s all at?” Scott asks Stiles, he doesn’t really want to get up, but he thinks getting rid of everything is more important.

“Probably best we do it now before withdrawals start kicking in and I start regretting this,” Stiles says and moves to climb from his lap, “Just… one thing. I know you might not like it.”

Scott frowns and stands up, “What?” he asks tentatively, rolling his sleeves up as he watches Stiles.

“You might wanna keep some… somewhere,” Stiles says, “Don’t show me where you put it, but-just in case the withdrawals are too much. I mean, I know how it can get after about… three days.”

Scott considers saying 'no', but he doesn’t because he doesn’t know a whole lot about it and the side effects, “Will it kill you if you don’t have it? What happens?”

“Uh, nothing really big,” Stiles shrugs, “Not like alcohol. Just general anxiety and stuff like that, I get really pissy, seriously depressed. Exhausted, hungry, lazy…”

Scott nods and Stiles was right, he doesn’t like it, but he also doesn’t have to tell or show Stiles where he puts it, “Show me.”

Stiles looks around the living room, moving into the kitchen and opening the pantry, reaching up to scratch along his neck as he pulls the bag from behind a couple cans and hands it over. He doesn’t look at Scott, just leans up on his toes to grab another bag from on top of the refrigerator.

Scott takes both of them and moves to the sink, turning it on and dumping the powdery substance down the drain before throwing the bags away, “Okay, where else?” He asks.

“Um,” Stiles looks around the kitchen and then moves back out to the door, turning over one of his shoes and handing Scott the little bag. He searches through the rest of the living room, finding three more and then moves to the bathroom.

Scott disposes of the bigger bags, but he tucks the smaller one into his pocket and decides that it’s the one he’ll keep. He stands next to the door frame and watches Stiles, waiting to be handed more.

Stiles gives him the two bags he can remember from the bathroom and walks past him, into the bedroom, lifting the mattress first and then pulling the drawer out from the nightstand, reaching behind it. It’s insane how many places he’s hidden the shit, and some he’s managed to forget; it’s even more embarrassing handing it all over.

He stops on the last little bag and finally meets Scott’s eyes, “And… there’s… something else.”

Scott takes the bags one by one and disposes of them, but his brows knot together in concern with Stiles’s words, “Okay?” he gauges hesitantly.

Stiles sighs and moves to the closet, pulling the large black bag out and handing it to Scott, “As far as I know, that’s all of it.”

Scott’s eyes widen as he takes in the size of the bag, “Jesus, Stiles,” he says, taking it and walking into the bathroom to flush it all. He washes his hands afterwards and moves back to the other man, “I’m really proud of you.”

“Yeah,” Stiles says numbly, scratching the inside of his palm as he starts to feel somewhat anxious just thinking about it, “I might end up saying some horrible things soon enough.”

“Is there anything I can do to take your mind off of it?” Scott asks and touches Stiles’s forearm, able to notice the nervous tics starting up, “Do you wanna go out for dinner?”

Stiles looks at Scott, “That depends… how bad’s the bruising around my neck?”

Scott’s eyes drop down to the purple lines and he frowns, “Maybe we should stay in,” he says then, reaching up to brush his fingers over the bruises.

“I thought it might be that bad,” Stiles nods and reaches up to touch Scott’s wrist and hand with both of his own as he stares him in the eyes, “I love you.”

Scott stares back as his heart starts pounding almost violently in his chest, “I feel like I’ve waited a really long time to hear you say that,” he says, stepping closer and kissing the skin just beneath the other man’s left eye, “I love you, too.”

Stiles brushes his thumbs over Scott’s skin and tilts his chin up quickly, kissing the other man as he leans into him.

Scott’s hand slides up to Stiles’s cheek as he kisses his husband back, lingering and pressing closer the longer it lasts. He’s missed this so much; how Stiles feels, how well they fit together, the way the slide of the other man’s lips feel just right against his own.

Stiles moans in approval, hands dropping down to grab Scott’s waist, holding him firmly as he tilts his head, parting his lips and running his tongue over Scott’s lips. It’s been a while since they’ve done anything even remotely intimate like this, the taste of his husband is too foreign, but unusually familiar.

Scott backs Stiles up against the wall before he can think better of it and deepens the kiss even more, it’s like he’s practically learning Stiles all over again as he licks slow and languid into his mouth, humming his contentment as his left hand curls against Stiles’s shoulder.

“Scott,” Stiles groans into the other man’s mouth, arching against him, running his hands up the sides of Scott’s shirt and touching his skin. He’s already getting ridiculously hard, his heart pounding in his ears as all of the blood rushes south.

Scott hums again distractedly, all but pinning Stiles to the wall with his hips and he links his left arm around the other man’s neck, his right sliding around as well as he gets carried away and overwhelmed with all the sensations. This is probably a horrible idea, considering how long things were rocky between them and, not only that, but Stiles literally just tried to kill himself.

“Is this too fast?” he asks breathlessly, fingers carding up through the back of his husband’s hair.

“Are you kidding?” Stiles breathes as he looks at Scott, “We’ve had sex like a thousand times before, why on Earth would this be fast?” he stills finally, despite his words, pressing his forehead to Scott’s and closing his eyes, “Do you think we should stop?”

“I don’t want to,” Scott says honestly and brushes their noses together, nuzzling against Stiles and tightening his arms around the other man’s neck, “But it’s been a really long time, Stiles. I just-given everything that’s happened, I wanna make sure you’re okay with this.”

“It’s been years. You’re right, though… maybe we should wait. Maybe it isn’t right now.”

Part of Scott regrets saying anything, all he wants to do is touch Stiles and have Stiles touch him, to feel those fingers all over him, “We can… take baby steps back into it,” he says, kissing the other man soundly for a moment, “I think I’m just afraid you’re not gonna want me later.”

“Yeah, I’m totally just in this relationship for the sex,” Stiles responds sarcastically, waggling his brows and leaning in to kiss Scott back, “Just because we’re not gonna fuck doesn’t mean we can’t be close…”

“I know,” Scott says and he wants to explain that what he meant was he’s afraid that when the withdrawals hit, Stiles isn’t going to want anything to do with him.

He’s trying to be optimistic about everything, it’s not like the withdrawals will last forever, but he still gets brief flashes of the disgusted look on Stiles’s face, the one he used to make any time Scott came near him - it’s hard to forget something like that, and a part of him keeps expecting it to happen.

Stiles frowns as he reaches up, cupping the other man’s cheeks as he stares at him, “You think this is temporary,” he says and narrows his brows, swallowing tightly, “You think I’m gonna end up turning back to the coke and... that I'll be a monster again.”

As much as Scott wants to deny it, he can’t, although he wouldn’t necessarily use the term 'monster'. He stares at Stiles silently and frowns, it’s not like him to be so insecure, but Stiles hurt him just as much as he hurt Stiles. He just doesn’t know if he can handle letting himself have this, only to have the other man end up looking at him with the same disgust in his eyes again.

“I’m worried, yeah.”

“Me too,” Stiles admits, boner effectively wilted and he leans in, dropping his forehead against Scott’s shoulder, “I just know that I don’t wanna be that person again, or feel that way about you and us. That’s all I know.”

He pulls back and moves away, touching Scott’s wrist as his chest tightens painfully, “I’m sorry.”

“Stiles,” Scott says softly and reaches out to catch the other man, looking at him pleadingly, “Please don’t pull away from me, not unless you’re going through a withdrawal and hate my guts at the moment. Let me have this - you - while I can, please. Sleep in here with me tonight?” he asks hopefully.

Stiles looks at Scott, pushing the other man’s hands away, “Please, Scott, don’t-you don’t have to grab me to catch my attention.”

Scott furrows his brows together and looks down at his hands as he swallows tightly, “Right, I’m sorry,” he says sincerely, he’d honestly just acted on impulse because he didn’t want Stiles to move away from him.

He scratches the back of his neck and glances at the bed, “You can have the bed tonight, I’ll sleep on the couch.”

“No,” Stiles says at once, reaching out to touch the other man’s chest and he shakes his head, “I wanna sleep with you. I just-we need to be treating each other differently than we have been the past seven years. No-no doing that thing you do.”

“What thing? The grabbing?” Scott asks and stares at Stiles, “I’m sorry, I’m not doing it on purpose, it’s just-” he shakes his head, he doesn’t want to make excuses for himself, “Sorry.”

“Not that,” Stiles smiles sadly, “Well that, too, don’t do that. But that thing you do where you just take it and assume something. If we’re gonna be different, I need you to not do that - I need you to be honest and upfront with me.”

“I can try,” Scott says and touches the hand on his chest, “Don’t be mad at me if I mess up and do, anyway. I’m used to just assuming you don’t want anything to do with me.”

“I know, we both need to change our attitudes.”

Stiles leans in and kisses him, reaching up and wrapping his arms around his husband’s neck, “It has to be a joint effort.”

Scott nods and wraps his arms around Stiles, pulling him close and burying his face against the other man’s neck, “I know, I’ll try,” he says again, squeezing Stiles a little tighter.

MageStiles ϟ Sparklinski

Chapter Text

Stiles turns to brush his lips against the other man’s ear, “I wanna wake up beside you tomorrow.”

“I want it, too,” Scott breathes out, “I really, really do,” he says, “I need to go do something and lock the door, but I’ll be right back.”

He pulls back and kisses the other man on the forehead before leaving the room, hiding the little baggy of coke in the bottom of one of his triscuit boxes, something he knows Stiles won’t touch. He locks the front door and throws the rope away on the way back through the apartment, then walks back into the bedroom, already reaching up to undo the buttons of his shirt.

Stiles watches Scott for a moment, his cheeks heating and he turns to his side of the bed, pulling the sheets back and taking off his pants before climbing under the covers. It’s been a while since they’ve slept together, even longer since he’s bothered sleeping in the bed.

Scott glances at Stiles and shrugs his button up off, slinging it across the back of the chair in the corner of their room, undoing his pants as well and stepping out of them. He drapes his pants with his shirt and moves to the bed, unfastening his watch and laying it on the nightstand before climbing up into the bed, moving closer to Stiles without hesitating and wrapping his arm around him.

Stiles grins, lacing their legs together and nuzzling against his husband’s neck. He looks up at Scott, his hands curled between their chests, “I forget how warm you are,” he says and chuckles, “Like a fucking heater.”

“I run a little hot, I can’t help it,” Scott says and kisses the tip of Stiles’s nose, shifting his leg a little and rubbing his knee against the other man’s thigh.

“I’m okay with that,” Stiles responds, trying to ignore how excited he gets just by a simple leg movement, “Definitely okay with it, I mean, I kinda always have been.”

He smooths his palms down Scott’s chest, “I’ve missed this so much. I wanted to-I wanted to stay, the last time you asked.”

“Then why didn’t you?” Scott asks softly and pushes his hand up under the side of Stiles’s shirt, touching his skin and letting his fingers brush over his ribs, “You could’ve.”

“I was hurting,” Stiles shakes his head, “I still am. I just don’t wanna hurt alone and blame you when you’ve done nothing wrong.”

Scott has to admit, he wishes Stiles would’ve came to that conclusion a long time ago, but regardless, he’s still relieved. He’d rather it be like this, both of them hurting and trying to heal together instead of being distant with one another. Nodding against the pillow, he leans closer and presses their mouths together in a soft kiss.

“Mmmm,” Stiles moans and kisses back, reaching up with one hand to run his fingers through Scott’s hair as he arches into him. As much as he agreed to not be intimate tonight, he still can’t help himself - the want to be close is strong.

“If you knew,” Scott starts and kisses back a little more heatedly, “What those sounds do to me, you wouldn’t make ‘em,” he says and scratches his fingertips lightly down the other man’s back.

“I do know,” Stiles mutters out as he chuckles, smearing his mouth against Scott’s, “I know pretty well, I just can’t stop it. It’s been so long,” he feels his cheeks flush as he arches his hips forward accidentally.

“Too long,” Scott murmurs against Stiles’s lips, his own body reacting to the way Stiles feels against him. He moves slowly and rolls atop the other man, staring at him for a moment before dipping down to kiss him gently.

“Yeah,” Stiles breathes shakily, his entire body trembling eagerly as Scott moves. His legs spread, his arms reaching out to grab at Scott the best he can as he continues to kiss back.

Scott braces himself with an elbow to the mattress and reaches down under the cover to touch Stiles’s thigh with his other hand, running it up from the other man’s knee to his hip as he kisses down along his husband’s jaw, dropping soft kisses against the bruises covering Stiles’s neck.

“Scott,” Stiles moans loudly, running his hands over Scott's shoulders, down his chest and stomach as he continues to arch up into the other man. They should probably stop before things get out of control, but he wants more, as much as he can have.

Scott brushes his nose along the purple marks and sighs out hotly against the skin, moving back up to look down at Stiles, “I love you,” he says, his tone raw and honest, “Please don’t-”

He leans down and kisses the bruising again, “Don’t hurt yourself like this again, Stiles. If you’re hurting or-or just need to vent, even if it’s about me, you can come to me and I’ll… I’ll try to make you feel better, I promise.”

“I love you, too,” Stiles says, a little thrown off by the comment, “ In sickness and in health, right?” he smiles sadly and leans in, kissing the other man.

“Right,” Scott whispers against Stiles’s mouth and keeps kissing him to hide the way his eyes are watering, hand sliding up from his husband’s hip and slipping up under the front of his shirt to feel his skin.

Stiles wraps his arms and legs around Scott, licking at his lips and groaning at the taste of him, his fingers grabbing at his husband’s skin.

Scott nips at Stiles’s bottom lip and shifts atop him, rolling down against him almost mindlessly as the palm of his hand wanders up and rests over the other man’s heart.

“Fuck,” Stiles gasps as he grabs Scott’s waist with one hand, pulling him down as the other brushes over his backside before gripping his left ass cheek.

“Stiles,” Scott whines almost breathlessly when the hand on his ass sends a jolt of arousal through him, causing him to rock down against the other man again as he rests his mouth on his husband’s.

“I know,” Stiles responds weakly, arching up and grinding against Scott, “Oh my God, we need to stop, but I can’t,” he lets out a huff of breath, “I just want… something.”

“What do you want?” Scott asks somewhat huskily, his tone dropping an octave as his hand moves on Stiles’s chest and he purposefully rolls his thumb over his nipple, “If you want me to stop, just say so and I will. It’s whatever you want.”

Stiles lets out a frustrated huff of breath and almost whimpers at the touch, “Let’s… I mean, it doesn’t have to be sex, right? We could just… we could just get each other off.”

“Mhm,” Scott nods in agreement, he knows they agreed to take baby steps, but it’s difficult when he needs Stiles so badly. Maybe they shouldn’t be restraining themselves and denying themselves of something they both want - it might end up hurting them more than it helps.

“We could.”

Stiles chuckles and drops his head back on the pillow, hands moving back up to the other man’s torso, “We don’t have to, that’s okay, too - no rush,” he sighs and shrugs, “God, this is worse than the first time, you think we’d be… better at this or something by now.”

“We’re a little rusty,” Scott says and allows himself to actually genuinely smile for what feels like the first time in ages.

“I want you, Stiles,” he admits then, “Whenever you want me, even if it’s now. I don’t feel rushed, I think I was just talking out of my ass earlier. So it’s-it’s whenever you want it.”

“I want it now,” Stiles responds, lifting his brows, “But I… I also wanna wait,” he reaches up, combing his fingers through the other man’s hair, “I wanna wait until I feel more like myself, until I feel like I deserve it again, you know? Like a… like incentive, or something. I don’t wanna taint it with the withdrawals and anything else that might happen between then and now.”

“Okay,” Scott says and nods, touching Stiles’s face and kissing the corner of his mouth, “We can do that,” he agrees, it’s probably actually a really good idea, using it as incentive to get better. He just hopes Stiles wants it enough to go for it.

He kisses Stiles once more and rolls off of him, laying back on his side of the bed as he reaches out for Stiles’s arm, turning and putting his back to his husband as he pulls his arm around him, making the other man hold him like he used to.

Stiles grins and kisses the nape of the other man’s neck before moving his hand southward, “That being said…” he leans close to Scott’s ear, “I do wanna get you off.”

“I can’t really-” Scott’s breath hitches slightly and he closes his eyes as he focuses on Stiles’s hand moving downwards, “I can’t get you off like this, Stiles,” he complains weakly.

“Chances are I’ll get off without the use of hands,” Stiles responds and shoves his hand under the hem of the other man’s tight boxer briefs, fingers wrapping around his dick, “Don’t worry about me for now, just relax.”

Scott opens his mouth to complain, but the thin fingers around his cock shut him up pretty quickly and his length throbs. It’s literally been so long that he feels like a virgin again at age thirty, his entire body thrumming from Stiles’s touch and he pushes his ass back against the other man’s groin.

Stiles glances down and gasps, his other hand reaching lower to cup Scott’s balls as he pumps the length quickly. His lips rest just behind his husband’s ear, pants escaping as he rolls his hips forward, “I don’t think I’ve felt this fucking virginal in like… since I was at least fifteen.”

“Same,” Scott murmurs weakly and gasps at a particular upstroke, stomach tensing with each pump of Stiles’s fist, “Don’t expect me to last long, man. I’m not used to this.”

“Me neither,” Stiles nods and feels his legs tense for a moment, “I’m close - I’m gonna end up coming so prematurely it’ll make the first time we watched gay porn together look like a joke.”

He smirks to himself, “I forget some times that we used to do that, before we even knew about one another really. “

Scott snorts and turns his head a little to smother a smile against his pillow, he doesn’t really have it in him to tell Stiles that he’ll probably come just as quickly, his toes are already curling, chest heaving with his arousal.

Stiles licks and sucks behind Scott’s ear before taking the lobe between his teeth, thrusting his hips against the other man’s backside and groaning at the feel of it, “We’re gonna have to have more practice if we want this shit to last longer than a couple minutes,” he says, curling against Scott, “-fuck.”

The solid body behind him and the realization that this is really happening, that Stiles is touching him, is what overwhelms Scott and pushes him over the edge. He reaches back and grabs the other man’s thigh, grunting softly as his whole body practically locks up and he comes so hard that he has to blink a few times before he can even see again, “Stiles.”

“Scott,” Stiles responds, feeling the warm stick of fluid on his fingers and he comes as well, his body arching forward a few more times - somewhat feebly - and he relaxes into the bed, “Haven’t had a night like this in a while.”

“Longer than a while,” Scott says numbly and rides the pleasant afterglow, body tingling and going a little more lax, “Didn’t realize how much I missed your hands, your fucking fingers.”

“I know what you mean,” Stiles chuckles, wiping his hand clean and kissing along Scott’s shoulder, “Missed you saying my name like that.”

“Likewise,” Scott admits - it’s really nice to hear Stiles say his name without any venom in it just in general.

He gently wraps his fingers around Stiles’s wrist and pulls his arm up, scooting back and snuggling against him, “Missed you holding me like this.”

Stiles grins, kissing up Scott’s neck and brushing his fingers over the other man’s chest, “Me too,” he lays his head back on the pillow and closes his eyes, already starting to feel just a slight touch of withdrawal.

They still have all of the beer in the apartment, too, which they’ll have to take care of tomorrow. Stiles is, for the most part, just generally concerned about the things he might say when it gets bad.

Other than that, he figures he can handle the rest.

MageStiles ϟ Sparklinski

Chapter Text

The warmth surrounding Scott is more severe than it usually is when he first wakes up, like he’s got an electric blanket draped over him or something and he squints at the way the sunshine’s slanting in through the blinds. He raises a slow hand to cover his face and stills somewhat when he realizes that Stiles is still beside him, pressed close and fast asleep.

The amount of times he’s dreamt of this exact moment is insane, it used to be one of his favorite things, waking up to Stiles and rousing him with kisses, so when it stopped it felt like there was a vice around his lungs, clamping down harshly and making it difficult for him to breathe.

Eyes flitting over Stiles’s features, he reaches out and ever so gently brushes the pad of his forefinger down the slope of his husband’s nose, back up and over one of his eyebrows.

He’s sweating, probably more than he should be and that worries Scott, so he doesn’t wake him up right away - he wants to enjoy this for a moment, just in case Stiles isn’t really himself when he first wakes.

The way the sun hits Stiles practically makes him glow, makes his hair look like there’s flecks of gold scattered in it - it’s tragic, that he had to go so long without this, had to go without being able to properly appreciate Stiles’s almost ethereal beauty.

Scott carefully scoots closer and tenderly presses a kiss to the mole next to the other man’s mouth, lips feather light, then he brushes them over his lips, left hand pushing up through the soft locks of his brown hair.

Stiles stirs, shifting slightly and opening his eyes. Sleeping last night probably should’ve been easier, considering how long it’s been since they’ve done it, but it wasn’t.

It’s been about fourteen hours since he’s had a beer and he can already feel that getting to him. He pushes it back, that and the other mixed emotions he’s feeling already. He wants to have at least one day where he doesn’t make Scott feel like complete shit.

He smiles and reaches up, hand shaking as he sets it on the back of Scott’s neck and brushes the tips of his fingers through the other man’s hair, “Morning,” he mutters, voice scratchy and raw.

“Morning,” Scott says back and smiles weakly, more out of relief than anything, playing with the threads of Stiles’s hair between his fingers, “How are you feeling?” he asks, narrowing his brows in concern.

“Not as bad as I will tomorrow,” Stiles says and presses his lips together, breathing through his nose as he leans in and touches their foreheads together, “It’s… what? Like eight AM and I already want a beer so bad I can barely think about anything else.”

“Not even breakfast?” Scott lifts a brow and leans in the small distance to slot their mouths together, “I could make us something,” he says softly, “You could help if you wanted to, might be good to keep yourself distracted.”

“If we have any plates left,” Stiles responds, “Not yet, though,” he rolls them over, settling atop Scott and wrapping both of his arms around his husband’s neck to keep him close, “It’s not bad yet, I just… wanna have this for a moment first.”

“I’m okay with that,” Scott admits and pushes both of his hands up under Stiles’s shirt, touching the sleep-heated skin and gliding his palms along the other man’s sides as he stares up at him.

Stiles stares back, eyes running over the other man’s face as he tries to ignore the constant nagging in the back of his mind. He leans in, kissing over Scott’s face, his forehead and temples, the scar on his cheekbone, the corners of his lips and along his jaw, “I love you.”

“I love you,” Scott says back at once, forming the words is as easy as breathing, it’s not something he really has to think about, it just… is. The lips tickling his skin makes him smile and his fingers curl against the other man’s ribs, holding him firmly as he tilts his head to the side to kiss Stiles on the mouth.

Stiles kisses back eagerly and, even though they haven’t done this in years, he’s still not particularly bothered by the other man’s morning breath. He’s always found it more amusing than anything, teased Scott about it endlessly, his own can’t be too good either. He pulls back and moves his arms, running his palms down his husband’s chest, “Puppy breath.”

Scott snorts and rolls his eyes at Stiles as he smiles, shaking his head as he flips them suddenly and all but throws Stiles onto his back to roll on top of him, “Yours is just as bad,” he points out, taking Stiles’s hands and lacing their fingers together as he gently pins them up above the other man’s head, pushing them into the pillows.

“Oh God,” Stiles says in surprise and blushes, staring at Scott with wide eyes. It’s unusual how new all of this feels, considering they’re about to be married for ten years, but for all the familiarity he might as well be with someone else.

Scott smiles at the look on Stiles’s face, it’s one he remembers well enough, “Forgot how easy you are,” he says teasingly, keeping Stiles’s hands pinned as he leans down and nips along the inside of his biceps, “Doesn’t take much to get you worked up.”

“Yeah, not much,” Stiles responds as he watches Scott the best he can, body trembling in excitement. He can’t ever take these kinds of things this early in the morning, he’s always so sensitive and out of it, but he’s learned pretty quickly that that’s one of Scott’s favorite things about it, “It’s been a while, too.”

“Mhm,” Scott hums and continues to nip down Stiles’s arm, placing soft kisses to the skin afterwards and when he reaches the hem of the shirt sleeve, he nudges at it with his nose and grins when the underarm hair tickles his skin.

It’s been a really long time, yeah, but he doesn’t think that Stiles’s likes and kinks could’ve changed a lot in the time they were distant with one another. He watches the other man warily, though, just in case, and grazes his teeth over the juncture of his armpit.

Stiles gasps in surprise and shifts his hips upwards, “Oh, fuck, Scotty,” he mumbles weakly and his eyes roll back, toes curling against the mattress.

He’s already stupidly hard at this point, and then the other man has to do something like that. Stiles isn't responsible for the sounds he starts making, but his skin flushes and he can feel his orgasm already starting to build up.

“I know,” Scott utters softly and rocks down against Stiles, giving them both a little bit of friction as he kisses the other man’s underarm before curling his tongue out against it, “You could probably come just from this, couldn’t you?” he asks and glances at Stiles’s face, blowing warm breath against his armpit.

“Yeah,” Stiles says, or more sighs than anything else. He stares at Scott, mouth dropping open as his back arches, “Close already,” he should probably be embarrassed or something with just how easy it is to get him off, but it’s always been like that. He’s lucky, though, most people at this point would at least be a little desensitized.

“Good,” Scott replies distractedly and moves to the other arm, stopping first to kiss Stiles before he rakes the shirt sleeve up on the other side. He noses at it at first, the soft patch of hair, breathing Stiles in because he knows it’ll send shivers down his husband’s back - it always did - the familiar scent making him hum softly.

Stiles all but sobs in response, panting and arching, waist twisting as he lets out a frustrated huff of breath, “Scott,” he breathes, licking his lips and finally bucking upwards against the other man, groaning loudly when his dick throbs, “Please.”

Scott’s always loved this, how easy it is to tear Stiles apart and make him beg - he’s missed it, the sounds that spill out of Stiles because he just wants it so badly.

He shifts, moving his legs so that he’s straddling the other man instead, ass seated against the hard line of Stiles’s cock and he rubs himself against him as his tongue curls out against his underarm, teasing the erogenous zone mercilessly.

“Scotty,” Stiles says in warning, brows narrowing and eyes closing as his legs tense up, hips arching against the other man’s ass and he comes. He practically sees stars when it happens, his chest heaving as he stares at his husband, grinning lazily.

Scott returns the grin and finally let’s go of Stiles’s hands, his own palms sliding down the other man’s arms as he kisses him chastely, “Nice to know that still works.”

“Huh?” Stiles asks numbly, reaching out to grab Scott’s jaw and he leans in, kissing him hard and quick, biting at his mouth as he moans, “What still works?”

“The armpit thing, Stiles,” Scott chuckles and kisses back just as fiercely, smearing their mouths together, “It literally just happened.”

“Oh,” Stiles reaches down, running his hand down Scott’s stomach, along the hem of his boxer briefs and he pulls back to look at him, “I don’t see why something like that would change,” he says as he stares at Scott’s mouth, “I’m not really an expert on prolonged abstinence or anything, but I don’t see why it’d change.”

“People change,” Scott says grimly and narrows his brows, “We’ve both changed,” he points out, “Can you really blame me for being the slightest bit relieved?”

Stiles shakes his head, “No, of course not. I’m not trying to argue,” he frowns and lays back, his hand dropping from Scott’s boxers as he lets out a huff of breath, “I don’t blame you.”

Scott’s expression softens and he nods subtly, leaning down to kiss Stiles’s cheek before climbing off of him and the bed altogether, grabbing his clothes from the chair to get dressed.

Stiles watches Scott, swallowing tightly as he sits up, comforter pooling around his waist as he sighs, “Scott,” he swallows tightly, “I know you don’t… you don’t think this is gonna work. But it will,” he presses his lips together, eyes watering as he stares at his husband, “It has to.”

Scott glances over at Stiles as he buttons his pants, pulling on his shirt before moving around to Stiles’s side of the bed and he sits down just next to him, “I hope it does,” he responds as he buttons his shirt up before fully looking at the other man, “But try to calm down,” he says and smiles softly, leaning in and kissing him, “I’m just getting dressed to make breakfast.”

“I’m just…” Stiles lets out a shaky breath, “I can feel it already,” he reaches out to take the other man’s hand, “I don’t think I trust myself to be alone.”

“Then come to the kitchen with me,” Scott offers and squeezes Stiles’s hand, bringing it up to his mouth and kissing his knuckles, “I’ll make those chocolate chip pancakes you like.”

Stiles nods and smiles weakly, leaning in and kissing Scott’s cheek, moving close and hugging him quickly before climbing out of bed.

He walks to the closet to grab a change of clothes, sifting through a few things and frowning when he settles on a simple shirt and some sweats. He can’t even remember the last time he washed clothes, it’s not like there’s much to choose from.

Scott belatedly remembers all the beer in the fridge and slips out of the bedroom while Stiles is getting dressed, pulling all the bottles from the fridge and opening them before dumping them down the sink. The kitchen’s still a mess, too, so he grabs the broom and starts sweeping up all the broken glass.

Stiles follows quickly after Scott once he’s wiped himself down enough, balling up his boxers and his shirt and tossing them in the already full hamper. He joins the other man in the kitchen, looking around it and frowning as he moves to the laptop on the counter, lifting up the screen (completely separated from the keyboard).

“Great…” he says and runs his thumb over one of the spider-webbed cracks on the screen.

“We’ll get you a new one,” Scott says when he sees the look on Stiles’s face, dumping the little shards into the trash, “Did you have your work backed up on a hard drive or something?”

Stiles looks at Scott and laughs loudly, maybe a little maniacally before he bursts into tears, “Are you fucking kidding me? Of course I didn’t,” he starts shaking, reaching up to press the back of his hand to his mouth before moving to the sink and throwing up.

Scott frowns and shuffles over to Stiles at once, left hand moving to rub against Stiles’s back in what he hopes is a soothing manner, “I’m sorry,” he says, grimacing at the smell and leaning to turn the disposal on.

“It’s not your fault,” Stiles mutters and drops his head against the counter, “I might…” he pauses to breathe, stomach convulsing and he closes his eyes. “I might know a guy that can… do something… maybe salvage something,” he says as he shakes, “All I need are the files, I don’t fucking care if the laptop makes it through.”

Scott turns the water on then and nods as the sink clears, reaching to grab a paper towel and handing it to Stiles, “Here, wipe your face,” he says softly.

Stiles takes it and does so without question, throwing it in the trash afterwards before grabbing the pieces of his laptop and bringing them into the living room, setting them on the couch. He doesn’t mean to glance at the mini fridge - almost longingly - but he pushes it back, walking into the kitchen to help with the rest of the mess he caused.

MageStiles ϟ Sparklinski

Chapter Text

“I think I got most of it,” Scott says when Stiles comes back into the kitchen, wiping off the smaller shards from the counter-top with a paper towel, “It probably could’ve been worse, at least we still have a few plates in the cabinet.”

“And those horrible pewter ones my dad got us when we first moved here,” Stiles responds and tries not to stammer over the words halfway through them. He almost never talks about his dad, hasn’t in a good few years, but the words were out before he even realized what he was saying.

He purses his lips somewhat innocently, putting his hands behind himself on the counter, “At least those can’t really break. You know what he says-said... 'you're not a married couple until you have a set of plates you have packed away because you're embarrassed you own them - but you keep them because everyone needs a backup plan'.”

“They’re sturdy,” Scott agrees and smiles sadly at Stiles, moving to him and touching his hip as he leans in to kiss him tenderly, “Chocolate chip pancakes?” he asks against the other man’s lips.

Stiles nods subtly, kissing back, “Yes, please,” he says, “Do you have work today? Any place you have to go?”

“I’m scheduled for a training session later today, but I was thinking about just cancelling and staying in with you,” Scott says, he’s not sure it’s such a good idea to leave Stiles alone at this point.

“It’s probably best I get my laptop looked at as soon as possible,” Stiles responds and glances back towards the living room, “I dunno what I’m gonna do if I can’t get back my work.”

“Just try to be optimistic about it,” Scott says and moves to pull the pancake mix down from one of the cabinets, and then a bowl from another, “Don’t worry about it until you know for sure.”

Stiles watches Scott, moving to get the step ladder so he can reach the higher parts of the cabinets where they’ve stored away the other plates, “You say that like it’s possible. I hate knowing the fucking symptoms for this shit and going through each one. I feel like…” and that’s (almost) twice in one day that he’s mentioned his dad, but he stops himself this time, “I already feel myself becoming irritable.”

“I probably should’ve cleaned up the kitchen before you came in here,” Scott muses, maybe the other man wouldn’t already be getting irritated if he had. He dumps some of the mixture into a bowl and stirs in the right amount of water to the mix, letting it sit on the counter as he grabs a frying pan.

“It’s fine,” Stiles says as he pulls the large, heavy box down from the top shelf and sets it on the counter, “It’s not like I’m gonna forget that I chucked my laptop at you,” he steps down, puts the little ladder back beside the refrigerator, and moves to the box to open it, “I can’t believe I even did that…”

“I was a little shocked, too,” Scott admits and puts the non-stick pan on the stove-top, moving to grab the chocolate chips and sprinkling them into the pancake mix, “But it was the drugs, the alcohol - not you. Besides, it’s not like it actually hit me.”

Stiles reaches out to touch Scott’s arm, meeting his eyes and brushing his thumb over the other man’s skin, “I still did, though,” he says and frowns, “I’m sorry I hit you.”

“I told you to,” Scott says and shrugs it off, “It’s fine, I figured that if you were pissed off enough to throw your laptop at me, maybe you needed to get your frustration out. I mean, it was probably stupid to gauge you like that, but it’s fine, you don’t need to apologize.”

“Still,” Stiles says and reaches up with his other hand to touch Scott’s cheek where he’d smacked him, “I’ve never hit you like that before. It’s not fine.” He leans in and kisses him, caressing the skin instead before turning back to the box, “I mean yeah we’ve had our share of brother brawls but… that’s different.”

Scott stirs the chocolate chips into the gooey mix and watches Stiles, “We really shouldn’t dwell on the bad shit we’ve done, Stiles. ‘Cause if we do, this’ll never work and you’ll probably end up hating me again.”

“I never hated you,” Stiles responds softly, pulling the crumpled up newspapers from the top of the box, “I kinda hated you that one time in like… sixth grade, when you wouldn’t tell me about your asthma,” he looks at Scott, “I kept thinking you were gonna die or something, every time you had an attack. But, other than that,” Stiles shakes his head.

Scott wants to mention that, if that’s the case, then Stiles did a pretty bang up job convincing him otherwise. He realizes that this is him, inwardly dwelling on the past and everything that happened, so he tries to shake the thoughts off as he pours some of the mixture into the pan.

“I liked you then, you know,” he admits, “I didn’t wanna tell you about my asthma because I thought you’d think I was sickly or something, I wanted you to like me, too.”

Stiles turns, eyes slightly wide as he watches the other man’s backside, “You liked me then?” he asks and grins slowly, “I was a dick in middle school, and you still liked me?”

“You weren’t really a dick to me, though, that’s the thing,” Scott says and shrugs, “I remember the first time you took up for me, when Greenberg took my inhaler and wouldn’t give it back - pretty sure that’s when I realized I loved you.”

“I had to stand up for you more often than not,” Stiles responds, pulling out a few of the pewter plates and moving to the sink to wash them, “I kinda resented you for a while because of that. Just… because I could see that I was becoming one of the not so popular kids,” he shrugs, “After a while you just start to realize that one real friend is better than a bunch of fake ones.”

“Yeah,” Scott nods and uses the spatula to flip the pancake, “Besides, we were totally popular in High School.” It feels weird, saying something like ‘totally’, it reminds him of when he was a teenager and everything was ‘dude’ and ‘bro’.

“It’s the sports,” Stiles says, “Chicks dig the sports,” he chuckles, “We didn’t play much to begin with but, well… once your asthma let up a little, it wasn’t so bad. Jackson being kicked off the team in eleventh grade definitely helped. To be honest, though? I think I preferred it more when we weren’t popular; when it was just… you and me all the time and no one else.”

“Me too,” Scott smiles and thinks back on all the crazy shit they used to get into together, “Dry the plates, this one’s already done,” he says, grabbing the syrup from the fridge and sitting it on the counter, “You remember the first time we kissed?”

Stiles grabs one of the dry washcloths from the drawer beside the sink and dries off the plates, setting them down on the other side of the stove, “Which time? Because as far as I’m concerned, there’s like three first times… probably four now.”

“The first time, Stiles,” Scott says and smiles wider, putting the pancake on one of the plates and pouring more mixture into the pan, “We were playing Halo, or Mario Kart - shit I can’t remember - and you were laying on your back on the bed and your head was hanging off the end. I Spider Man kissed you.”

“Mario Kart,” Stiles corrects him, “Pretty sure we didn’t know what Halo was when that one happened,” he moves to Scott, wrapping his arms around the other man’s waist and resting his chin on his husband’s shoulder, “Yeah I remember that one well. Fifty times better than the one in the movie.”

“Yeah, it was,” Scott agrees and looks at Stiles, kissing his cheek, “Pretty sure you went into shock right after, though. You couldn’t talk for like fifteen minutes.”

Stiles grins and nods, “Too busy trying to will my boner away without being obvious. I’ve spanked so many times to that kiss.”

“I’m kinda glad I went for it,” Scott admits and reaches down with his free hand, touching one of Stiles’s forearms, “Mostly, though, I think I just acted on impulse. It was torture looking at you like that, your stupid mouth hanging open and your Adam’s apple bobbing every time you swallowed.”

“I’m kinda glad you went for it, too,” Stiles agrees, moving to kiss along the back of Scott’s neck, “It’s probably one of my top five? I think, yeah.”

“Top five?” Scott asks, oddly enough, he likes reminiscing about the good parts of their past, “What were the other four?” he asks in confusion, flipping the pancake.

“Uh, well,” Stiles feels his cheeks heat, keeping behind Scott so the other man can’t see how red his face is turning, “Four would be our first kiss ever, even though we were like… what, like seven or something at the time? And it was just on the cheek, but still.

"Three would have to be the kiss we shared when you came back from that spring break at your dad’s and we hadn’t seen each other or been able to speak the entire time you were gone. Two being the kiss from our wedding, of course. Just, you know, like fifty billion people watching and you were so fucking handsome in that tux.”

Scott puts the second pancake on the plate and sits the spatula down on the counter for a moment, then turns to look at Stiles. He doesn’t hesitate in the slightest as he leans in and presses their mouths together, kissing his husband almost reverently and reaching up to touch his jaw, “You were the handsome one, that black skinny tie you wore with your tux made me wanna do all kinds of things to you.”

Stiles reaches out, touching Scott’s waist and kissing him back, “Did it now?” he asks and raises his brows, “I can’t help it, I look pretty good wearing skinny ties, don’t I?”

“Mhm,” Scott hums against Stiles’s mouth, hand sliding around to the nape of the other man’s neck, “They make your neck look insane. All I could think of during the reception was how bad I wanted to put my mouth all over it.”

Stiles runs his tongue over Scott’s bottom lip, kissing him a few more times before he pulls back, “I didn’t tell you what my number one was.”

“No, you didn’t,” Scott says and curls a hand against Stiles’s hip, raising his brows some as he stares at the other man curiously, “What’s your number one?”

“The one when you asked me to marry you,” Stiles shrugs, “That’s definitely number one for me. I mean, it sounds cliche as shit, but I was feeling pretty much everything at the time. And I was still kinda pissed off at you and frustrated and exhausted and it was pretty much the worst time to ask something like that. But it was amazing.”

“It was pretty spur of the moment, too,” Scott admits, “I had the ring, yeah, but I kept thinking that I’d come up with this awesome, elaborate way to ask you. And in the end, I just kinda blurted the question out.”

Stiles wraps his arms around Scott and kisses him again, “I’m glad you didn’t have the chance to do anything elaborate. The way it happened just felt right,” he pulls back, “Pancakes are getting cold.”

“Right, enough reminiscing,” Scott says and turns back around to the stove, pouring more mixture into the pan, “You can have the ones I’m about to do, that way they’ll be hot. I’ll eat the cold ones.”

“Or we can just do half and half,” Stiles shrugs, “Isn’t that California law?”

“If it’s what you wanna do,” Scott says obligingly and moves one of the cold pancakes to the other plate, then flips the one in the pan.

Stiles runs his fingers through Scott’s hair, pressing more kisses to his skin, “Doesn’t make a difference to me, as long as I have you, I think a cold pancake is fine.”

“You probably shouldn’t do that unless you wanna distract me,” Scott says and puts the hot pancake on top of one of the cold ones, pouring more of the mix once again, “Only one of us got off this morning.”

“Is that your way of saying you want me to blow you while you’re cooking pancakes?” Stiles asks, raising his brows.

Scott snorts and shakes his head, “No, I’ve only got one more to do. Not that I don’t want you to, that’s not it, I love your mouth - it’s just bad timing.”

“Your loss,” Stiles responds and pulls back, moving to the box with the rest of the plates and taking them out, putting them in one side of the sink and cleaning a few while Scott finishes up.

“I’m… well aware,” Scott says softly and looks at Stiles’s mouth, they’re barely used to hand jobs at this point - blow jobs can wait.

He puts the last pancake on the other plate and grabs a couple forks, taking the syrup from the counter and putting everything on the dining room table.

MageStiles ϟ Sparklinski

Chapter Text

Stiles grabs a couple of glasses and snatches the milk from the fridge, checking the expiration date before nodding and taking them to the table as well. He sits down and glances at the syrup but decides to pass it up. It’s probably best he doesn’t overdo the sweet factors, at least for now.

Scott, unlike Stiles, drizzles the syrup over his own and smears it around with a fork, sectioning off a bite and shoving it in his mouth. Even eating together feels foreign, awkward almost, because they haven’t done it in so long.

Stiles chuckles and shakes his head, pouring the milk into his glass and sipping at it before reaching out for his cellphone, typing out a quick text as he cuts his pancakes into squares and triangles.

“What’s so funny?” Scott asks as he chews, wondering who exactly Stiles sent a text to - he’s trying not to get worried, though.

“I just was thinking of before we stopped eating around one another,” Stiles says, glancing up from his phone, “When we would like… sit here in silence and read the newspaper or something, I’d be typing on my laptop or some shit but we never talked or anything. God, that was some of the most awkward shit.”

“Yeah,” Scott agrees and pours some of the milk into his own glass, he doesn’t necessarily find it humorous though - it’s more sad than anything.

Stiles shrugs, “Makes me think of the first few months, back when we moved in here and we couldn’t keep our hands off one another. Fuck in the morning, fuck during breakfast - half of the time actually on the table - fuck after breakfast…”

“Don’t forget the one time we fucked and ate french toast at the same time. You kept dripping the syrup on me.”

“Oh yeah,” Stiles says and nods, “God, I actually forgot about that,” he chuckles and shakes his head, “I don’t know how we weren’t constantly fucking tired from doing it all the time. You’d wake me up in the middle of the night after your 2 AM piss and sex would happen, just out of nowhere.”

“Usually woke you up by putting your dick in my mouth,” Scott recalls and God, he really misses that, the weight of it pressing against his tongue, “We couldn’t even shower together without fucking. You remember the time you were fucking me and I slipped on a droplet of soap?”

Stiles nods, “Too well,” he takes another bite of his pancakes as his phone buzzes, “Think my heart skipped like six beats in a row. Or-remember our experiment with hot sauce?”

Scott almost chokes on a bite of his pancake and his eyes widen, coughing to clear his throat as he nods, “How could I forget that one? My dick was on fire for a week.”

“Yeah I don’t think my ass has ever felt the same, either,” Stiles admits and shakes his head as he answers the text finally, “That’s one of the few things we’ve tried that I can actually say I’ll never try again.”

“Same,” Scott says as he watches Stiles use his phone, “It was like pissing fire,” he adds, “Who’s that?” he asks suddenly, before he can stop himself, nodding at the cell phone.

“Hmm?” Stiles looks up and raises his brows, “Uh… Gavin..? I told you I knew someone that might be able to get my stuff off my laptop.”

“And? Can he?” Scott asks curiously, he wants to believe Stiles, but he’s still a little hesitant.

Stiles shrugs, “I dunno, he says he needs to see it before really trying anything,” he checks his phone again, “But he’s busy today so I guess I get to go like a week or something before he has some free time to look at it.”

“That sucks,” Scott says and washes down a bite of pancake with his milk, “There’s a computer repair shop on the corner of fifth and main, couldn’t hurt to see if they could fix it.”

“Yeah,” Stiles nods in agreement, “Should probably ask them if it’ll cost an arm and a leg though, before they even get started. Gavin might actually do it for free.”

“Well,” Scott stars and works on finishing off the rest of his pancakes, “It’s whatever you wanna do, it’s your laptop.”

“I know,” Stiles sighs and finishes up his pancakes, stuffing his cell phone back in his pocket and looking towards the couch, “I don’t care what I have to do, I just want my books.”

“Okay, then we can go down to that repair shop here in a bit, if it’s costly... I’ll pay for it,” Scott shrugs, he just wants Stiles to be happy, “You’ll probably have to wear a scarf or something, though.”

Stiles frowns as he looks at Scott, eyes a little wide as he reaches up to his neck, “Uh… is it that bad?” he hasn’t actually seen it himself, yet.

Scott sets his fork down and looks back at Stiles, pressing his lips together for a moment as his eyes drop down to the mottled bruising, the dark shades of purple and red covering the entirety of his neck.

“You tried hanging yourself, Stiles,” he says softly, meeting his husband’s eyes again, “It isn’t pretty.”

“I don’t regret trying to do it,” Stiles admits, narrowing his brows as he stares at Scott, “It was stupid, yeah, but I don’t regret trying.”

“Why?” Is all Scott can ask, the fact that Stiles doesn’t regret it both worries him and honestly… kind of pisses him off.

“Things are different now, between us,” Stiles says as he pushes his plate away, “It’s only been a day, not even - and it’ll get worse before it gets easy - but I can feel it happening already. Perspectives change when you realize that if you kill yourself, all you’ll see is black, and feel really stupid.”

“So you don’t regret it because it gave you… perspective?” Scott asks incredulously.

“Perspective, clarity, realization,” Stiles nods, “Yeah. I was stuck between either hanging myself or snorting a few lines of coke. It sounds shitty, but I don’t regret it. I’m glad I didn’t succeed in killing myself, but if I didn’t try, I’d just be back there today.”

Nodding slowly, Scott swallows down the lump in his throat and offers a small, forced smile as he takes Stiles’s empty plate, “Let me, I got it,” he says, standing from the table to take them into the kitchen. He can understand where Stiles is coming from, but it still upsets him. Stiles probably doesn’t realize that if he had succeeded, not only would he have killed himself, but he probably would’ve killed Scott, too.

Stiles sits still at the table, or as still as possible, since he’s shaking. He reaches up, wiping the sweat from his forehead before scratching his nails through his hair and he glances at the mini fridge again. He’s starting to feel dizzy almost, like he’s going to be sick again or something.

He sits still for a second longer and then stands up, moving to the kitchen and watching Scott as he crosses his arms over his chest, “You’re upset at me.”

“You’re alive, Stiles,” Scott deflects as he washes the plates off, he doesn’t want this to escalate into a fight, “I’m grateful.”

“So we’re gonna go back to that now?” Stiles asks as he stares at Scott’s back, “Avoiding things, leaving each other alone?”

“I’m not leaving you alone,” Scott says and cuts the water off, grabbing the little hand towel and turning to look at Stiles as he dries his hands, “We’re not going back to anything, I just don’t wanna ruin it - it’s been good so far.”

“It’s been ruined for years,” Stiles responds, “What’s a day in seven years, Scott?” he shakes his head, “If we can’t talk about this shit now, and get the arguing out of the way-fuck, you know how this works. We’ve been through it. It’s just gonna build back up.”

Scott frowns at Stiles and fights the urge to cross his arms, all it will do is make him look defensive and he doesn’t want that, “I am upset at you,” he admits, keeping his voice as calm and soft as possible.

Stiles nods and makes a vague gesture with his hands, “Well, yeah, I’m aware of that,” he puts his hands on his hips then, “It’s your right to be upset about what I did. It was stupid.”

“Yeah, it was,” Scott agrees and makes sure to keep his tone void of feelings, these kinds of things become a little less civil when there’s too much emotion involved, “That’s it,” he shrugs, “I’m upset at you for what you did.”

“Do we wanna talk about why I did it?” Stiles asks, trying to remain as calm as possible, “I feel like there’s more that could be said.”

“I do wanna know why, yeah,” Scott nods and presses his lips together as he watches Stiles, he knows he won’t be able to keep himself so collected if it’s his fault, though.

Stiles swallows tightly and forces himself to continue looking Scott in the eyes, more out of respect than anything else, “I wanted to give you an out.”

Scott’s brows narrow and he suddenly feels sick to his stomach, frown tugging at the corners of his mouth, “I never wanted an out,” he says shakily, “I was the one trying to make it work, I didn’t want an out.”

“Exactly,” Stiles responds and sighs, fighting the urge to move closer to Scott, to comfort him in some way, “I heard everything you said to Melissa, I know what you wanted, I know how you feel about it. I just, I-it makes my skin crawl thinking I made you feel like that.

"I wanted to give you an out because I knew that no matter what I did or said, you’d probably never leave. Killing myself just seemed like a better alternative than to let you come back to the apartment and continue on the way we have for the past seven years.”

“In no world, in no situation, is you ever killing yourself a better alternative,” Scott says firmly, his eyes watering when he thinks about what would’ve happened if he’d been too late, “And if you heard me, like you said you did, you’d know I’d rather be miserable with you than have to live without you. I wouldn’t be able to, Stiles.”

“That’s where we differ,” Stiles says, crossing his arms, “You’re fine with me treating you like shit, and I’m not. I considered how you’d react to my death. But something else seemed… more important than that.

"I can’t do it, Scott. I can’t live another day like that, stuck feeling like that, with or without you - I can’t be like that again. I-” he stops, trying to breathe as he starts feeling the air coming in shorter and shorter, “I can’t spend... the rest of my life… thinking… thinking you’re… you’re…”

“Stiles,” Scott moves to the other man and touches his arms, ducking his head to look him in the eyes, “Breathe, breathe in deep through your nose and out of your mouth,” he encourages, trying to calm him down before it gets really bad.

Stiles blinks the tears from his eyes as he reaches out for Scott, “I can’t… I can’t-Scott, I can’t…” he closes his eyes tight, hands shaking as he grabs onto the other man’s shirt, “I can’t keep being… so paranoid… I can’t.”

“You need to be back on your medicine,” Scott says and hugs Stiles close, doing the breathing motions and hoping that it’ll help Stiles to breathe better, “I’m sorry you were ever given a reason to be paranoid about me in the first place, a reason to doubt me, but I swear to you, Stiles, that I’ve always been faithful to you. You’ve always been it for me, okay? Just breathe.”

Stiles leans in, pressing his nose close to Scott’s neck and breathing, his arms all but twisted up in his husband’s shirt as he shakes, “I’m okay,” he mutters to himself, “I’m just having a stupid fucking panic attack,” he smiles slightly, “I’m not suffocating… it’s just a panic attack.”

“That's right,” Scott murmurs softly, it’s not the first one he’s helped the other man through, “You're fine, you're okay,” he kisses the side of his husband’s head.

Stiles feels himself coming down a little, blinking slowly and relaxing against Scott, "Jesus Christ."

Scott reaches up and brushes his hand over the back of Stiles’s head, he hates that the other man is still paranoid, still able to believe that he’s cheated on him, or that he does cheat. In all honesty, he doesn’t really know what to do to convince Stiles otherwise.

“You smell different,” Stiles mutters as he tries to smooth out Scott’s shirt, still resting the bridge of his nose against the other man’s neck, “I mean, it’s been like seven years, I guess I shouldn’t expect you to smell the same… but it’s different.”

“You smell different, too,” Scott says, brushing his palm over the back of Stiles’s head again as he continues to hold him close.

Stiles sighs and drops his arms finally, “You’re also upset that I don’t regret it, huh?”

“A little bit,” Scott admits, “But I’m not you - when I think about it, all I can think about is what you looked like dangling there. It terrified me, Stiles.”

“I’m sorry I put you through that,” Stiles responds softly, closing his eyes, “But I needed to do it. I couldn’t keep living like that. I just-I needed something else.”

“A break,” Scott says, “Less grief, no me.” He can kind of understand it, even though if he’d never be able to do it himself.

“Not no you,” Stiles says as his eyes start to water, “Just no no dad,” he tries to stop the tears but they start flooding him, “I just miss him sometimes I-it’s like I can’t even breathe, I can’t even think. I just needed like two seconds where I wasn’t constantly dying inside.”

“Stiles,” Scott says sadly and it makes his chest hurt to think of how much pain Stiles must be in. He misses John, too, but it’s nothing in comparison to the loss Stiles feels, “I’m so sorry,” he mutters and pulls his husband into a tight embrace.

Stiles wraps his arms around Scott, the tears spilling down his cheeks, all over the other man’s shirt as he tries to breathe and calm himself down, “Being sober fucking sucks,” he says and starts laughing, even though he’s sobbing, “Zero out of ten, would not recommend.”

“It’s better this way, though,” Scott says and kisses Stiles’s temple, his wet cheek and his jaw, “You haven’t really been letting yourself feel, I don’t think you’ve been sober since he passed - it’s something you need to feel, you need to grieve him. That’s the only way you’re going to feel any closure whatsoever.”

“First day sober and I’ve had like two panic attacks, I’ve talked about him almost three times,” Stiles pulls back finally and looks at Scott, “Every time I think about him, I think about our last conversation and then I just… really want a beer.”

“What was it about?” Scott asks warily, reaching up and wiping tears from his husband’s face.

Stiles shakes his head, “I don’t think I’m ready to talk about that just yet.” Scott deserves to know, eventually, but it’s far too heavy for them to talk about while he’s still this sensitive.

“It’s okay, you don’t have to,” Scott says, kissing the other man and smiling sadly.

“I’m gonna like…” Stiles glances around, “Do some fucking laundry for once or something and then we can go and get the laptop taken care of, or try to, okay?”

“Okay,” Scott nods, “I need to shower and change, too,” he squeezes Stiles’s biceps, “Maybe we can eat while we’re out.”

Stiles grins and nods as well, “Chinese? Because I haven’t had Chinese in… God, at least a year and a half or something.”

“Anything you want, so yeah, if you want Chinese, we’ll eat Chinese,” Scott says and moves passed Stiles, talking over his shoulder, “You’re free to join me after you put a load on,” he offers.

“Yeah, okay,” Stiles says, watching Scott and smiling to himself before moving into the bedroom to get the clothes hamper.

He starts going through things once he’s in the laundry room, sifting through the jeans and rolling his eyes every time he comes across a receipt or a wad of cash, making a pile on the dryer as he throws each pair in. He stops when he checks the last pair of pants and pulls out a small bag of coke.

MageStiles

Chapter Text

Stiles's stomach twists and he stares at the bag, fingers shaking and he finishes up the laundry, taking the bag into the living room and glancing around nervously. He walks past the kitchen, listening to the water running in the shower and looks down at the bag again. Before he can do anything more, he moves to the sink and dumps it out, turning on the water and letting out a shaky breath as he closes his eyes.

Stiles throws the empty bag in the trash and moves down the hall, into the bathroom and strips down. He slides open the glass door and joins Scott, wrapping his arms around the other man from behind and kissing his shoulder, “Hey.”

“Hey,” Scott responds and turns, wrapping his soaked arms around Stiles’s neck and pressing a wet kiss to his lips, “Was starting to think you weren’t gonna come.”

“Me? Turn down sexy, wet Scott? I’m pretty sure that’s impossible,” Stiles says and wraps his arms around his husband’s waist, “I just… had to deal with my first solo experience.”

“What do you mean?” Scott asks in confusion and furrows his brows at Stiles, “You didn’t find it did you? I thought I hid it pretty well.”

“Uh, no,” Stiles shakes his head, unable to even remember when Scott would've taken the time to grab one of the bags and hide it, “Not unless you thought a good place to hide it was in the laundry. I didn’t go looking for it, it just… found me.”

“What’d you do with it?”

Stiles swallows tightly, “I almost kept it,” he admits, “I wanted to… but I didn’t. I just poured it down the sink before I could do anything.”

Scott breathes out a sigh of relief and nods, “Good,” he says, grabbing Stiles by the cheeks and kissing him, “That’s good, I’m proud.”

Stiles kisses Scott back, reaching out for the shampoo with his right hand, “I’m not… I feel like shit,” he says honestly, “I don’t wanna feel like it’s a question. I don’t wanna struggle with whether to or not.

"And it… it’s fucking terrifying to think that it’s only been a day and I’m already having this inner struggle. What if it happens again tomorrow, or like a week from now, or a month?” he stares at Scott as he pours the shampoo into his palm, “I probably won’t be as strong in a month.”

“I think you’re wrong,” Scott says and shakes his head, “It should be out of your system by then, you should have more restraint and even if you do question it… you’ve got me, Stiles. I’ll help you.”

Stiles scratches the shampoo into his hair as he stares at Scott. If it wasn’t for the other man, he’d probably have quit already. He’s the only reason Stiles is still alive at all, literally, now. He reaches out, brushing his palm over Scott’s neck before he moves in closer, “I love you so much.”

Scott smiles at Stiles and bumps their noses together, “I love you, too,” he says, then snorts as his eyes move up to his husband’s hair, “You look like a big cotton ball.”

“Yeah? Well, you look like a wet puppy,” Stiles responds and grins, reaching up to gather some of the shampoo suds in his hand, shaping his hair into a mohawk, “I know what I wanna do for our anniversary.”

Scott reaches up in an attempt to fix a piece of Stiles’s hair that keeps falling down, pushing back up into the mohawk, “Yeah?” he asks, still smiling as he raises his brows inquisitively, “What do you wanna do?”

Stiles leans under the water, rinsing the shampoo from his hair, “I wanna renew our vows.”

“Stiles,” Scott says softly in shock and stares at the other man, his heart racing a little bit, “Really?” he asks in disbelief.

“Really,” Stiles responds, staring back as seriously as possible, “We don’t have much time to plan it… but maybe Lydia could help.”

Scott nods for a moment before he can actually speak, “Yeah, yeah she could-she’d…” he swallows, something as simple as renewing their vows shouldn’t make him as happy as it does, “Yeah.”

“So you wanna do it?” Stiles asks tentatively, “You’ll marry me again?”

Scott huffs and smiles at the same time as he moves closer, pinning Stiles to the tiles of the shower walls as he nods and brushes their lips together, “Yeah, I’ll marry you again. Of course I will.”

Stiles leans in and kisses Scott, fingers running through the other man’s wet hair as he smiles, “I was thinking about it last night, I just… it doesn’t even feel like ten years. It just feels necessary; right. You know?”

“Yeah, I know,” Scott says and kisses Stiles again, he’d marry the other man a million times over if he could, “Kinda like a new start.”

“Yeah,” Stiles drops his hand down the other man’s chest, kissing him over and over again until he’s breathless - it isn’t particularly difficult, these days.

“Our anniversary is in like, almost two months, Lydia’s gonna kill us,” Scott murmurs and grabs Stiles’s wrist gently, guiding his hand down to his cock and wrapping the other man’s fingers around it.

Stiles glances down and smirks, “Could be worse, I’m pretty sure she’s planned quicker events,” he puts his tongue between his teeth, gripping Scott firmly and pumping his hand up and down the length as he drops his head back against the tile wall.

Scott’s eyes darken considerably as he watches Stiles, the slick hand causing his thighs to flex and he leans in to mouth at the side of the other man’s neck, tongue lashing against the damp skin as his breath comes out in heavier, quicker bursts, “Probably,” he says as an after thought.

“They’re all gonna want answers soon,” Stiles mumbles as he wraps his other arm around Scott’s waist, sliding his fingers between the other man’s ass cheeks, “Now they all know.”

“Then we’ll tell them,” Scott breathes out and shrugs, he doesn’t particularly care what they say, he’s just happy he has Stiles again, “Less talking about them, more touching.”

Stiles chuckles, “So demanding,” he says in amusement, the pad of his middle finger brushing over Scott’s puckered entrance, just barely circling around it as he works the other man’s dick in his right hand.

“Stiles,” Scott gasps at the feel of the other man’s finger and he presses closer, nipping at his husband’s chin as his right hand grips Stiles’s length, it’s soft but he teases it anyway, the silken skin gliding in his fist.

“H-” Stiles groans and looks down at Scott’s hand, “How long’s it been since you fingered yourself?”

“Two,” Scott starts quietly and kisses Stiles’s shoulder, smiling to himself when he feels the flaccid length starting to harden a little, “Maybe three years.”

Stiles shakes his head, turning his cheek against Scott’s hair, pressing his lips to the other man, “Damn, baby,” he mutters as he slides his middle finger in carefully, slowing his other hand down as he relaxes back against the tiles, feet planted firmly on the bottom of the tub, “That’s a while.”

“My fingers don’t hit the same spots yours do,” Scott admits and feels his skin flush, even under the spray of the water. He groans quietly, trying to relax himself as he strokes Stiles with a stuttering pace, legs shaking with the effort it takes to keep himself vertical.

“Nothin’ else, though?” Stiles asks curiously, and it’s somewhat frustrating because he should know these things about his husband, he shouldn’t have to ask. He glances down, watching Scott’s legs for a moment before turning them, pressing the other man’s chest to the wall as he keeps one hand around his dick and the other turns, middle finger curling towards his prostate.

“No-fuck, nothing else,” Scott tells the other man as his chest heaves, legs trembling even more when he feels Stiles hit the sensitive bundle of nerves, “I can’t-” he says, wetting his lips, arching his hips back some almost desperately, “I can’t touch you like this,” he complains, it seems to be a running theme at this point.

Stiles chuckles and takes Scott’s wrist quickly as he moves forward, shoving his leg between Scott’s and lifting it to rest his foot on the corner of the tub. He moves the other man’s arm back behind him, guiding his fingers and wrapping them around his length as he kisses the back of Scott’s neck, “Now you can.”

“Mm,” Scott hums and tightens his grip on Stiles, stroking the other man slowly and teasing the head as he focuses on the feel of his husband’s fingers inside of him, “More, Stiles.”

“I know,” Stiles says softly, kissing and nipping the other man’s skin as he slides his index finger in as well, carefully thrusting them in and out until he’s relaxed enough to take them down to the knuckles. He thrusts them in, curling them quickly and swiping them over Scott’s prostate as he continues to pump his length firmly in his other hand.

Scott lets out a broken sounded sob and rocks back against Stiles, he feels like goo and he knows he’s probably not going to be able to get Stiles off like this, his hand keeps going lax because the other man’s fingers feel too good.

The only downside, is that now that he has this and Stiles is spreading him open, he knows he’s going to want the other man to fuck him and they’re not there yet.

“Good, huh?” Stiles asks, lips brushing over Scott’s ear as he grins and does it again, over and over, “Damn, Scotty,” he breathes, feeling his own orgasm building, again. He might as well be fifteen for how this keeps going. Then again, they both have definitely been storing this up for a while now.

“Yeah,” Scott pants out and narrows his brows in concentration, making it a point to actually keep his rhythm steady on Stiles’s cock, his own purple and leaking as he bites on his bottom lip to keep from whimpering, “Yeah, it’s good.”

Stiles ducks his head down, kissing along Scott’s back as his fingers thrust into the other man, pausing and rubbing back and forth over his prostate as he loosens his grip on Scott’s dick, concentrating more on the head of it instead.

“Oh God,” Scott whimpers pitifully and tenses as his orgasm hits suddenly, eyes clenching shut as his come spurts against the shower tiles, “Stiles,” he breathes out, rubbing his thumb almost numbly over the slit of his husband’s cock head.

Stiles pulls his fingers back carefully, brushing them over his backside as he milks the length and drops his leg back down, making sure that Scott can stand on his own before turning him around and kissing him heatedly.

Scott kisses back at once, lips dragging against Stiles’s lazily as his hand finds the other man’s length again, his grip more sure this time as he works it in his fist.

“This is insane,” Stiles mutters against Scott’s mouth, reaching up to wrap his arms around the other man’s neck, “I don’t think I’ve been like… this horny in years.”

“Me neither,” Scott says honestly and rolls the foreskin back, teasing the head on an upstroke as he licks into Stiles’s mouth for a moment, “Reminds me of when we were like, sixteen or something…”

“Right?” Stiles gasps, opening his eyes and staring at Scott, “I’m almost tempted to skip going out today,” he bites the other man’s bottom lip, sucking on it as he arches his hips, “I think the only thing that’ll stop me is knowing we… we can’t go past this - and I’ll end up doing it if we don’t.”

“Yeah, s’bad enough I already want it,” Scott admits and quickens his pace, other hand pushing down and playing with the other man’s balls, fingers occasionally rubbing against his perineum.

Stiles nods in agreement, unable to form words the closer he gets. He rests his hands on Scott’s chest, pressing his forehead to the other man’s as he pants and whines, “Almost…”

“Love the way you sound when you get like this,” Scott whispers against Stiles’s lips and presses his fingers back further, applying a little bit of pressure as he rubs against Stiles’s hole, wrist aching with how quickly he’s stripping the other man’s cock now.

“S-s-Scott,” Stiles pulls back to look at him, staring him in the eyes for a couple seconds before he comes finally, toes curling and fists tightening as his mouth drops open. He reaches up numbly, fingers tracing over the shape of the other man’s jaw as he struggles to catch his breath.

“The water’s getting cold,” Scott says and kisses Stiles as he smiles at the look on his face, he’s really missed being the one to put it there.

Stiles kisses Scott back, finally collecting himself as he realizes the other man has a point, “Fuck… I still need to wash off,” he pulls back, reaching out for the body wash, “You already have, right?”

“Mhm,” Scott hums and nods, reaching out his hand to cup some water in his palm and he splashes it down his front, rinsing his come off.

“Probably could use the cold shower anyway,” Stiles says and winks at Scott before reaching out and smacking his ass before grabbing the luffa.

“It’s good for your blood circulation,” Scott points out uselessly and steps closer to kiss Stiles on the temple before climbing out, grabbing the towel hanging next to the shower to dry off with, “And your immune system…” he ruffles the towel against his hair, “And testosterone levels,” he adds with a muffled voice.

“I’m not manly enough?” Stiles asks and strikes a pose, “Is that Trainer McCall talking?” he asks more seriously, shivering a little and pouring the body wash onto the luffa as he watches Scott.

“Yeah,” Scott says guiltily and smiles at Stiles when he drops the towel down around his shoulders, “Sorry, but it is good for you,” he insists, gaze mindlessly raking down the other man’s body as he continues to dry off.

Stiles lifts a brow and chuckles, “You know better than I do,” he says, noticing the way Scott looks him over and he turns back, stepping under the water to rinse off, “Maybe when I’m… when things settle a bit and I don’t look like I’m constantly waiting for my next hit, I can go with you, while you work.”

“Yeah,” Scott’s smile softens and he wraps the towel around his waist, looking down as he tucks it in before looking back at Stiles, “I’d like that,” he says honestly.

Stiles turns off the water and steps out of the shower, reaching out for his own towel, “I dunno why we haven’t done it before. I mean, even before…” he meets Scott’s eyes, “I guess we kinda had some issues before the drugs and stuff.”

“Both got a little too wrapped up in work,” Scott says because he knows he’s guilty of it, he’s definitely not proud, “I’m sorry I didn’t pay more attention to you,” he tells Stiles, hardly able to meet the other man’s eyes.

“I guess that’s what happens when you-” Stiles reaches out and touches Scott’s arms, “-think you know someone so well you figure you don’t have to involve yourself in things they do on their own. We both could’ve put more effort into it. I could’ve been more supportive.”

“Stiles,” Scott shakes his head and sighs, “Up until the other day, I had never even asked you about your books. If anyone could’ve been more supportive, it’s me. It all started with me, you were all the time trying to talk to me about them and I just-I tuned you out. I wasn’t just being a bad husband, I was being a shit friend, too.”

Stiles shrugs, “It’s not like they’re good anyway,” he says dismissively, “I’ve been turned down so many times at this point that if they’re gone, if my laptop’s not salvageable… maybe it might not make a difference.”

“Don’t say that,” Scott shakes his head, “You shouldn’t just give up. I mean, take a break if you need one, but start over if you have to,” he says, moving to the sink to brush his teeth, “I hope they can save it, or at least your books… I’d like to read ‘em.”

Stiles wraps his towel around his waist and tucks it in, “I have no one to blame but myself if they can’t be,” he sighs as he grabs up his toothpaste and brush, “One mistake after another.”

Scott frowns as he scrubs his teeth and then he bends over the sink to spit the toothpaste out, leaning towards Stiles to plant a toothpaste kiss on his cheek, “I love you, stop beating yourself up over it.”

Stiles watches Scott through the mirror as he brushes his teeth, “I lo’b ‘o, ‘o,” he responds the best he can and chuckles. It’s hard not to worry about the books, even harder to not blame himself. He’s put so much time into them and Scott’s never even read so much as a paragraph - it’ll suck if they’re gone for good.

MageStiles

Chapter Text

Stiles stares up at Lydia’s house as Scott pulls into the driveway and he lets out a nervous breath, “Are… are we gonna tell them… everything?”

“They’re our friends, Stiles,” Scott says softly and shrugs, turning the car off and pocketing the keys, “We’ve been lying to them for the better part of a decade, I think they deserve to know the truth, don’t you?”

“I know, I know,” Stiles snaps in annoyance and rolls his eyes, scratching his cheek and taking off his seat belt, “It just feels stupid to tell them now, when I’m already trying to get clean.”

“Hey,” Scott says as he takes his seat belt off as well, leaning across the console to touch Stiles’s cheek and make the other man look at him, “You’re doing amazing, you’re no where near as irritable as I expected. It’ll be fine, okay?”

“It’s only been a day,” Stiles responds and stares back at Scott, “I’m just trying to pace myself, I know I’m not supposed to go through too much stress, you know? And this… it’s practically the most stressful thing I can think of at this moment.”

Scott stares at Stiles in consideration as he mulls it over, nodding after a moment, “You know what? You’re right, we shouldn’t be doing this right now,” he agrees, he doesn’t want to put Stiles under this much stress.

“Let’s just-let’s go, they’ll understand,” he says as he pulls his keys back from his pocket.

Stiles reaches out to touch Scott’s wrist, “No, wait,” he drops his head and closes his eyes tightly, “Let’s just try, okay? If it starts to go bad or something, we’ll leave. But if I don’t do this now I’ll just worry and worry constantly.”

Scott leans closer and presses his forehead to Stiles’s temple, “I just want you to be comfortable,” he says softly, kissing his husband on the cheek, “As soon as you wanna go, just say something and we’ll leave.”

“I want me to be comfortable too,” Stiles responds and brushes his thumb over Scott’s wrist, “That’s why I gotta at least try. Just… don’t leave me alone with them.”

“Not for a second,” Scott insists and turns Stiles’s face more towards him, kissing him softly, “I promise I won’t, but we better do it now ‘cause I’m sure Lydia’s watching us from one of the windows.”

Stiles kisses him back and opens his door, “At least they didn’t find out before. It’s bad enough now, but can you imagine how it would’ve been a couple weeks ago? We were pretty much on our last legs.”

“Yeah, the circumstances are definitely a little better now,” Scott agrees and climbs out, looking up at the house and snorting under his breath when he sees Lydia at one of the windows with her hands on her hips.

“I don’t think she believed me,” he says and looks at Stiles, “Lydia, I mean, about you and me - it was like she couldn’t wrap her head around it, Lydia Martin of all people.”

Stiles closes his door once he’s out, moving around to Scott and taking his hand, “I probably wouldn’t have, either, if I wasn’t involved. It’s hard to think we’ve gotten this… that bad.”

“It’s gonna get better,” Scott says optimistically and squeezes Stiles’s hand, tugging him close as they walk up to the house, “It’s already gotten better.”

“Yeah it has,” Stiles mutters and squeezes back, “We fucking slept in the same bed, we’ve eaten breakfast together twice in a row now.”

“I like it,” Scott says and reaches out to knock on Lydia’s front door, “I missed it,” he continues a little more sincerely, then turns more to Stiles and leans in to kiss him, “I missed you.”

“I missed you, too,” Stiles says softly, staring at him as the front door swings open and Lydia looks at the two of them, one hand on her hip and her other on the door as she raises her brows.

Her eyes drop to their hands, but she motions for them to come inside.

Scott notices Lydia’s gaze on their entwined fingers, but he doesn’t pull away from Stiles as he walks into the house. If anything, he squeezes his husband’s hand tighter.

“Everyone here?” he asks the strawberry blonde.

“Yup,” Lydia says and smiles sadly, “They keep acting like this is an intervention for you two,” she rolls her eyes, “But you seem… cozy; like nothing was wrong in the first place.”

Stiles swallows tightly, following beside Scott, “We don’t need an intervention.”

“They didn’t actually prepare notes or anything, did they?” Scott asks Lydia seriously, brows drawn in tight.

“I don’t think so, but they’ve been talking about it for over an hour now,” Lydia says as she closes the door behind them, motioning towards the living room, “I didn’t know what to tell them. After the other night, when Stiles…” she looks at Stiles, then to the scarf around his neck, “When I saw what he did… I haven’t told them about that.”

Stiles frowns and looks at Scott, “Should we?” he asks tentatively.

“Probably,” Scott says weakly.

“Yeah, probably,” Stiles sighs and shakes his head, “I still haven’t even seen it.”

“It’s bad,” Scott responds, “You don’t wanna see it.”

Stiles narrows his brows and continues on, walking into the living room and stopping when he sees Isaac sitting with the others.

Scott’s shoulders go rigid when he sees what stopped Stiles in his tracks and he grits his teeth, vision narrowing out everyone else except for Isaac, “What the Hell is he doing here?” he asks angrily, and looks to Lydia for an answer.

Lydia shrugs, eyes widening, “He wanted to apologize.”

Isaac stands up from the couch and moves towards them, looking between Scott and Stiles, “Listen-”

“No,” Stiles says at once, letting go of Scott’s hand and putting his own on his hips, “I don’t wanna hear you apologize and say you’re 'sorry', I just wanna know one thing.”

Isaac frowns, “You wanna know about what I said to you.”

“Yeah,” Stiles nods, “Were you lying to me?”

“Of course I was, are you kidding?” Isaac asks, holding out his arms helplessly, “I already told Scott before. It was just a joke, I didn’t think you’d take it seriously.”

Stiles feels his tears pricking his eyes as he stares at Isaac, “You made me think my husband was cheating on me. And it was ‘just a joke’?”

Isaac starts to respond but Stiles reacts before he can stop himself, throwing his arm out and hitting Isaac in the face, knocking him off of his feet and the others sitting on the couches gasp and start to stand up.

Scott momentarily considers reaching out for Stiles, to tell him it’s not worth it, but it’d be contradictory of him considering he already got his shot at Isaac - it’s not like he doesn’t deserve it, for what he did to them. He probably thinks he has some kind of an idea, but he’ll never truly know the damage he inflicted, none of them will.

Erica rolls her eyes and moves to Isaac, bending down to help him back up as she shakes her head, “I told you not to come, but did you listen to me? No, no you didn’t,” she says, tone completely unsympathetic as she glances at Stiles and mouths ‘Sorry, batman’.

“You should leave,” Stiles says as Isaac stands back up and starts to complain, “I’m not kidding, and I don’t care what you have to say. I never wanna see your face again, or I’ll seriously kill you.”

Isaac stops and blinks at him in surprise, then looks at Scott, “It was just a joke.”

“Infidelity isn’t a fucking joke,” Stiles says, almost shouting at this point, “You nearly ruined our marriage, now leave!”

Isaac narrows his brows and walks passed them, “Fine.”

Just being in such close proximity to Isaac makes Scott’s skin crawl with rage, so he moves closer to Stiles once the other man leaves and puts his hand on his husband’s back, silently offering support and trying to calm him down. He can feel the eyes on them, but he doesn’t particularly care - if any of them think that what Isaac did was okay, then they can leave, too.

Stiles lets out a huff of breath as he hears the door close behind Isaac. He looks at Scott, finally relaxing his fist and looking down at his aching knuckles, “I feel better already.”

Lydia watches him with wide eyes, then turns to the others and smiles sheepishly.

“Come on,” Scott says quietly and urges Stiles towards the empty spots beside Derek and Allison, if they try to explain all of this standing up they’re liable to pass out.

Stiles follows, sitting down beside Allison and looking around at the rest of their group, “I’m not sorry about it in the slightest,” he says at once, “And if any of you feel sorry for him, then you can leave.”

“We don’t feel sorry for him,” Cora supplies from Boyd’s lap as she shrugs, “He fucked you two up pretty bad. The only thing I feel sorry for is his face.”

“I love you guys and I think what he did was pretty lame, but…” Erica sighs, “I hope you don’t expect me to stop being his friend, because I can’t do it, even if he is a shitty person most of the time. I don’t wanna have to pick sides.”

“We’re not asking you to,” Scott tells Erica and shrugs, “We just don’t want anything to do with him anymore.”

Stiles nods in agreement, reaching out to take Scott’s hand as he stares at his husband.

Allison turns to them, looking between them, “Lydia didn’t tell us much... are… are you two getting a divorce?”

Scott rests his other hand over Stiles’s and shakes his head as he looks at Allison, “No, we’re not,” he says, looking at Lydia then, “We’re not.”

Lydia sits down as well, “Are you sure?” she glances between them, “After everything you said.”

“Why would you hide something like that from us?” Allison asks then, looking between them, “What all has happened that we don’t know about?”

Stiles narrows his brows, “I’ve been addicted to coke,” he admits, looking at them, “And drinking heavily. Our relationship’s been on the rocks for a while now.”

“Shit,” Cora says in disbelief and sits up a little straighter on Boyd’s lap, “But you guys are okay now? I mean, what’s going on?” she asks worriedly, eying the scarf around Stiles’s neck.

“We’re working on it,” Scott offers and glances at Stiles, “We’ve both stopped with the drugs and the drinking, we’re gonna get sober and work on our marriage.”

Stiles nods, covering Scott’s hand with both of his, “Things are already changing, we’re… kinda in the process of fixing things.”

“What happened to your neck?” Derek asks, motioning to the scarf skeptically.

“I tried to hang myself,” Stiles says quickly, watching others react and he looks at Scott instead before reaching up and pulling the scarf away to reveal the bruising hidden underneath, “I’m not gonna try to do it again, but it just… it got bad.”

“I’m glad it didn’t work,” Erica responds and sniffles when her eyes water, crossing her arms as she tries to act calm, “If it would’ve, I would’ve tried to bring you back just so I could kill you myself.”

“How did it get that bad?” Boyd asks, frowning as he stares at Stiles, “You two always seemed fine.”

“Better than fine,” Derek comments, “We saw you just a week ago and you seemed to be…”

“Happy?” Stiles asks rhetorically and nods, “We’re good at acting, I guess,” he squeezes Scott’s hand, “Been doing it for seven years now.”

“You didn’t have to hide it from us,” Erica says and narrows her brows at Stiles, and then at Scott, “We love you, both of you. You know that right?”

“We know, Erica,” Scott says softly and nods, she’s surprisingly not handling it as well as the others.

“Do you really, though?” Erica asks and frowns, “I think that if you really knew, you wouldn’t feel the need to hide something this huge from us. We’re your friends, your family, we would’ve been there for you.”

Stiles stares at her, eyes narrowing, “Yeah? Well, we were trying to deal with it on our own. We were dealing with seriously personal shit. And you guys were constantly saying how we were so inspiring and so happy and so perfect for each other. That shit is stressful.”

Allison frowns and reaches out to touch his arm, “I’m so sorry.”

“I’m sorry, too,” Erica says as her eyes glisten, “But maybe we wouldn’t have hit you so hard with the happy couple bullshit if you’d been just a little more upfront with us. I get that it was personal, but you still could’ve said something, it’s not like we’re entitled to the whole story.”

“Erica,” Kira says and touches her forearm to try and calm her down.

“It doesn’t matter now,” Stiles says dismissively, “We didn’t tell you all because we didn’t. We thought we could…” he looks at Scott, “I dunno, at first we thought it’d just… Go away, but it didn’t.

"It just got worse. It’s over, now, though - and we’re just trying to salvage what’s left. So if you’re gonna sit there and bitch and judge, and complain and try to make it about you, don’t. That’s the last thing we need right now.”

Lydia nods in understanding, “If there’s anything we can do to help.”

Erica opens her mouth to say something, to defend herself, but she closes it after a second. She wasn’t trying to make anything about her, and she’s sure as Hell not judging, she just hates that not only her, but their entire circle of friends inadvertently put Stiles and Scott under even more pressure, all just by assuming they were happy.

“I’m sorry we didn’t tell you,” Scott says to the lot of them and it seems to just barely placate Erica, “We didn’t wanna let you guys down, we wanted to handle it on our own.”

“We didn’t realize it had gotten so bad,” Stiles admits, looking down, “It just escalated so quickly. Before we knew it we were…” he narrows his eyes, “Fighting all the time, going to counseling, avoiding each other. It just got out of control.”

“You’re going to marriage counseling?”

“Once a week,” Stiles responds to Derek, “We’ve been going for about… A year or so now?”

“Mhm,” Scott hums and curls his fingers against Stiles’s knee, thumb brushing against the fabric of his pants, “It’s not what… Changed things around for us, though. I don’t think.”

“Kinda,” Stiles responds and looks at Scott, “It’s what made me tell you about Isaac,” he shrugs, “Everything that happened afterwards though, well, I guess it all just got out of hand after that.”

Allison looks between them, “I don’t understand, what exactly did Isaac do that caused so much trouble?”

“He lied to Stiles, about me,” Scott explains vaguely, “Told him things that weren’t true, things someone shouldn’t joke about.”

Stiles nods, “I’ve been paranoid about it for years,” he admits, “During the Christmas party back before you two got married,” He motions to Derek and Allison, “Scott was passing out presents and stuff and he just… started saying all of this shit.”

“What kind of 'shit'?” Cora asks curiously, “I’m just trying to gauge how much I should hate him. It must be bad, if it caused problems with you two, of all people.”

Stiles sighs, because having to repeat what Isaac said before was bad enough once already, “He said that he knew Scott more intimately than I did, he said all of these other things about his body,” he shrugs, “I don’t wanna talk about it.”

Allison lifts her brows in surprise, “Why would he do that? What would he gain from saying anything like that?”

“I dunno,” Scott says, “Because when I confronted him about it, the day he called the cops on me for beating the shit out of him, he said it was just a joke, that he’d just been messing with Stiles.”

“One Hell of a fucking joke,” Stiles mutters bitterly, “Fucking hilarious.”

“I’m guessing no one ever explained the definition of a joke to him,” Cora sighs and shakes her head, leaning back against Boyd, “Wow.”

Boyd reaches up, running his fingers through her hair as he holds her close, “You’ve been thinking that Scott’s been cheating on you for years?”

“The drugs didn’t help, it just… made everything so much worse.”

“But you’re trying to get clean now?” Cora asks and links an arm around the back of Boyd’s neck, leaning into the soft touch of his hand.

“We both are, yeah,” Scott nods and glances at Stiles, “No more drugs, no more alcohol.”

Lydia frowns and looks around at the others, “We can help with that, we can not drink around you two.”

“That’s probably a really good idea,” Stiles says and turns to Lydia, “Which reminds me, we… we wanna ask you for a favor.”

“Anything,” Lydia says at once, tilting her head slightly as she glances between them.

Scott leans closer to Stiles and lowers his voice, “You wanna ask her in front of everyone, or-or… we can ask her in private, if it’d be less stressful?” he asks his husband quietly.

Stiles looks at Scott and shakes his head, “Now is fine,” Surprisingly, he actually feels better now that they know. He leans in and kisses Scott, then turns to Lydia, “After everything we’ve been through, now that we’re… getting better, for our anniversary we wanna renew our vows.”

Lydia’s eyes widen and she puts her hands to her mouth as she starts to tear up.

Scott would be lying if he said he hadn’t expected Lydia to react exactly like this, she practically lives for these kinds of things, “And we want you to plan it, there’s only a month and a half left but if anyone can pull it off, it’s you.”

“Are you sure you wanna go through with that?” Jackson asks finally and raises his brows at the look Stiles gives him, “I’m not trying to be a dick. I’m serious. After that long lying to us about it, why put yourself through ten more years of it?”

Stiles feels his chest tighten painfully, “It won’t be like that this time.”

“Says you,” Jackson responds, “But saying it and actually doing it are two different things. If you’re that insecure, that a stupid joke would make you question your relationship for all these years, why not just end it now and get over it?”

“Would you fucking can it?” Cora blurts out, all but glaring daggers at Jackson, “If they wanna try, let them fucking try - I think they owe it to themselves, given their history, to at least give it a shot now that drugs aren’t in the picture.”

Allison nods in agreement, “Yeah, you were best friends first,” She says as she stares at Stiles and Scott, “Practically family. It’s worth it, isn’t it?”

“Yeah,” Scott says and glances at Jackson sourly, “It is, that's why we’re doing it.”

Lydia moves to them both, leaning down and hugging Scott and then Stiles, “Well, I practically planned your last wedding on my own. I’d love to have a second chance at it,” she squeezes their shoulders, “I think it’s perfect.”

Stiles smiles sadly up at her, “Thanks Lydia.”

“Yeah,” Scott nods, “Thank you,” he says sincerely, unable to even form in words how much it means to him.

“I wanna help,” Cora pouts, “I have good taste in music, you should let me be in charge of that.”

“Your taste in music is horrible,” Erica points out, looking at Cora knowingly.

Kira speaks up then, “I could help too, I’ve got some free time coming up in a couple weeks. I...” she smiles sheepishly at Scott, “Was always pretty upset that I missed the first one.”

Lydia nods as each of the others offer their help as well; Derek, Boyd, Allison, and so on, “Alright, I think I can find something for each of you to do,” she looks at Stiles, reaching up to push his bangs out of his eyes, “You two just work on getting better, we’ve got this covered.”

“I’ve only got one request,” Scott says and glances at Stiles before looking back at Lydia, “But I’ll call you later and talk to you about it.”

Lydia raises a brow, “No ‘Baby Got Back’ at the reception this time?” she asks, “Because I remember that being a crowd favorite.”

Scott chuckles and smiles up at her, then he shakes his head, “No, that’s fine, that was actually uh… really fun,” he admits, “It’s something else, I’ll either call you about it or text you.”

“Alright, sounds good,” Lydia claps her hands together, “Well, I think we’re all up to speed now, right?” She looks around at everyone else, “I’ve got a re-wedding to plan, you two just…” She moves back from Scott and Stiles, staring at them fondly, “Just get better, and let us know if you two need anything.”

Stiles nods and swallows tightly, “Thanks for… Being understanding.”

“All of you,” Scott adds, eyes scanning along everyone else, “It went better than I expected, all things considered.”

“Especially considering how it started,” Boyd responds and a few of them chuckle.

Stiles stands up, more than anxious to get away from everyone already. It went well, sure, but he can’t help feeling intimidated with so many of them knowing what’s happened. He moves to Lydia, giving her a half hug and is about to make his exit when Allison stands up and hugs him as well, quickly followed by Derek and then Boyd.

Scott was somewhat aware of how much their friends cared about them, but watching each of them taking turns and hugging Stiles (then moving to him), it honestly kind of overwhelms him with how much love he feels from each of them. Thinking back on it now, he wishes that they would’ve told them sooner.

MageStiles ϟ Sparklinski

Chapter Text

Stiles stares at Scott, lacing their fingers together as he waves to the others and makes a paced beeline to the door, trying not to seem so eager to leave. The moment they’re outside he lets out a huff of breath, body shaking as he stares ahead and swallows sickly.

Scott glances back to make sure the front door is shut before moving closer to Stiles, “You okay?” he asks worriedly, observing the sweat forming on the other man’s forehead.

“Just… going through withdrawals,” Stiles responds and chuckles nervously, “My head is killing me.”

“What would help?” Scott asks and urges Stiles towards the car, “I think there’s some aspirin in the car… I could get you off when we get home?”

“A fucking beer would be nice,” Stiles snaps and reaches up to scratch his nails through his hair, closing his eyes tight and trying to calm himself down, “I-I’m sorry.”

“It’s okay,” Scott says softly, not as jostled as he should be by the outburst - God knows he’s handled worse from Stiles, “I know a beer would help, I’m just trying to offer healthier alternatives,” he points out, unlocking the car and walking around to the driver’s side to climb in.

Stiles reaches out to touch Scott’s arm, moving close and wrapping his arms around the other man’s neck, “I know, I know you are. I’m sorry,” he says as he leans in and kisses Scott.

Scott kisses Stiles back almost tenderly and reaches up around the other man’s left arm, touching his cheek gently as his other hand grips his husband’s hip, “It’s okay,” he repeats again, “You’re doing awesome, we knew it wasn’t all gonna be sunshine and rainbows.”

“I know, but-” Stiles shakes his head, “Every time I snap at you it’s like kicking a puppy or something,” he stares at Scott, “Let’s just get the fuck home already so I can tear your clothes off.”

Scott’s aware that sex and sexual related activities aren’t a healthy vice either, but it’s healthier than drinking and snorting coke, so he nods and smiles at Stiles, “Get in, let’s go,” he says, undeniably eager himself.

Stiles grins and runs his hands down the other man’s chest as he kisses him one more time and pulls back, moving around to the passenger’s side and climbing in.

Scott’s still smiling when he slides into his seat and he glances over at Stiles as he shoves the keys into the ignition, looking over his shoulder instead of the rear view mirror as he pulls out of the parking place, determined to get them home as quickly as possible without wrecking.

“That’s one thing out of the way,” Stiles says as he dries his palm on his jeans, “I still can’t believe they’re all… okay with it.”

“They’re better friends than Isaac was,” Scott points out, “I think they actually care about us.”

Stiles nods in agreement, “I dunno why he even bothered to show up,” he says, glancing down at his fist and flexing his fingers, narrowing his brows at the bruises forming on his knuckles.

“I can’t believe you actually punched him,” Scott says and jerks his chin towards Stiles’s hand, “Let me see.”

Stiles twists in his seat awkwardly, offering Scott his right hand, “I’ve wanted to hit him for years… I wasn’t kidding when I said I’d considered killing him before,” he stares at his husband, “I came pretty close once or twice to hiring a hitman.”

“And how you reacted after I told you about it all... I don’t think I’ve ever heard you sound so vindictive,” Stiles responds, smiling sadly, “I mean, I’m one thing, but you’re supposed to be the ‘nice’ one.”

Scott lifts his own right hand from the steering wheel and waves his fingers, the scabbed up knuckles stinging like Hell, “I am nice, but he…” he puts his hand back and his grip tightens on the steering column, “He fucked with the most important thing in my life; he made you hate me and I almost lost you.”

Stiles reaches out with his left hand, touching Scott’s leg and squeezing it in reassurance, “I’m sorry I believed him, I shouldn’t have. I… it just built on so many things I was already afraid of and it just-it got out of hand, but I should’ve believed you.”

Scott frowns and glances over at Stiles, the other man’s lack of trust in him is still a sore subject - he tried for years to get Stiles to believe him, “I’d never do that to you,” he says weakly, looking back at the road and furrowing his brows, “I can be neglectful, I think we’ve both learned that, but I’m-I’m not a cheater.”

“I know,” Stiles pulls his hand back and turns in his own seat as well, “I can’t say anything to excuse it, I-I just wish you could’ve heard him when he said it,” he stares forward, running his fingers over his knuckles, “Joking or not, the way he said it…” he shakes his head, “It was like he was trying to warn me off his territory or something. He says it was a joke, but I don’t think it was.”

“You remember how well he took our engagement,” Scott muses, “And he had that massive crush on me in high school, maybe that had something to do with it. I dunno, I just really wish he wouldn’t have lied to you.”

“So you think he said it hoping it would break us up?” Stiles asks and it makes sense, a lot of sense, “I guess I don’t really blame him.”

Scott gapes a little and glances over at Stiles in confusion, “You don’t?”

Stiles chuckles and shakes his head, trying to blink the tears from his eyes as he looks at Scott, “No, I don’t. I know what you’re worth. If-if I was in his place,” he shakes his head, “If he had you, and I didn’t… yeah, I get it; you’re a lot to lose.”

“Stiles,” Scott says softly, glancing back and forth between the road and his husband, “I’m-it was never even…” he sighs, all he wants to do is hug Stiles but he can’t right now because he’s driving, “He still had no excuse, you’ve had my heart since the sixth grade. Everyone, even him, knew that - I’ve kinda always had eyes for you, it’s like Stiles vision.”

“Yeah, I know that,” Stiles grins and shrugs, “Which is exactly why I can’t blame him. He wants you, he’s always wanted you,” he sits back in his seat, reclining it a little, “It’s not like he could get you to fall in love with him, so I guess the next best thing was to make me think…”

“Even then, I don’t really think it had the desired effect,” Scott says, reaching out blindly for Stiles’s hand, “I don’t think he counted on our relationship being so strong.”

Stiles takes Scott’s hand, holding it between both of his own, “It almost wasn’t, but not just because of him,” he closes his eyes, “Takes a lot more than just that. Words are just words, they only really have power if we give them it.”

Granted, that’s exactly what he did, but even then it still wasn’t just what Isaac said that made it what it was. Obviously, there were more things going on than just the suspicions of infidelity, “I can’t believe he had the balls to call the cops.”

Scott chuckles suddenly and shakes his head, “I’ve officially been in jail, my mom is gonna kill me,” he says, “If she doesn’t already know, shit.”

“You should probably call her some time tonight,” Stiles responds, turning to look at Scott, “I still can’t believe you went to jail before me, don’t we have a bet running for that?”

“I think so, yeah,” Scott says and smiles, “I think we bet blowjobs on it, pretty sure,” he mumbles unsurely.

Stiles nods, “I think you’re right, it’s always the blow jobs, I swear,” he wets his lips, breathing calmly through his nose, “Oh my god, remember the first time I tried to give you a blow job?”

“You puked all over me, Stiles,” Scott says flatly, “I don’t think I’d forget that in ten lifetimes. I mean, it was everywhere,” he grimaces, but can’t contain the chuckle.

“Talk about the single most embarrassing experience of my entire life,” Stiles smirks, “It didn’t help that it was fucking bright ass orange puke; ruined that carpet forever.”

“Oh God,” Scott says and pulls a face, rolling the window down at the phantom scent, “Now I’m smelling it, can’t believe you brought that up,” he says jokingly.

Stiles laughs, dropping his head back and grabbing his stomach, “Are you kidding? Every time I think about giving you head, I think about puking on you. Just that look of shock on your face and how completely mortified we both were.”

“See, now I’m gonna think about it every single time from here on out,” Scott shakes his head and smiles to himself as he stops at a stop sign, “I might not get hard ever again.”

“Pft, I think that’s a little difficult,” Stiles raises his brows and reaches across the car, palming the other man’s crotch, “Wanna bet on it?”

“Winner gets a blowjob?” Scott asks and quirks a brow at Stiles, not even focusing on not getting hard - he wants to make Stiles feel good.

“I’d agree to those odds, but…” Stiles frowns slightly, “I know I’m gonna win, and now I kinda seriously wanna blow you.”

“I feel like we’re kinda at a crossroads here then, ‘cause I kinda wanna blow you, too,” Scott admits and grins over at Stiles, pulling off from the stop sign and taking the next right.

Stiles licks his lips, taking his bottom lip between his teeth as he rubs his palm against Scott’s jeans, “Well, I’m up for both.”

“It’s not like we’ve had problems getting innovative before, right?” Scott asks breathily and grips the steering wheel more firmly, his body’s reaction to Stiles is practically instantaneous.

“Right, and we don’t really have anywhere to be today, so it’s not like we’re in any rush.”

“We could just… lock the door, turn some music on and get each other off like fifty times,” Scott thinks aloud, it’s been a really, really long time since they’ve had a ‘sex’ day - he can’t say he doesn’t miss it.

Stiles raises his brows, “We could,” he says, already practically salivating at the thought of it, “Turn the cell phones off and just have it be you and me.”

“Just you and me,” Scott repeats and groans at the hand on his lap, his cock so hard it’s starting to actually hurt from where it’s pressing against his jeans, “Yeah, that.”

“Wonder what kinda state our toys are in…” Stiles muses aloud, “Pretty sure I left batteries in at least one or two.” He pushes down against Scott’s dick, trying to offer a little more relief, “Can’t even remember the last time I used one.”

Scott doesn’t know how he even manages to park the car without ramming the one in front of him, but he does, chest heaving as he looks down at Stiles’s hand, then over to his husband, “They’re probably pretty dusty,” he says numbly, taking the keys from the ignition.

“Probably, yeah,” Stiles responds and takes off his seat belt, removing his hand and climbing out of the car. It doesn’t matter either way, he’s just as fine with it being literally just the two of them, they managed it in the beginning.

Scott climbs out of the car stiffly and shuts his door, resting his hands on top of the car for a second as he tries to will his erection away. The last thing he needs to do is cross the street and walk around in their apartment building with a boner, he’d probably get put in jail again, “Just a second.”

“Orange puke,” Stiles supplies as he joins Scott on the other side of the car, glancing down at his jeans, “Or that time you farted during that test in Chemistry.”

“Oh my God,” Scott groans in mortification, thumping his head against his arm and just like that, his dick is soft, “That was horrible, it echoed off the seat.”

“Yeah and I fucking got detention just because I laughed. You better now?”

“Yeah, I’m good,” Scott nods and moves away from the car with red cheeks, reaching out for Stiles’s hand before he crosses the street, “My poor dick is gonna get whiplash.”

“I know what you mean,” Stiles responds as he watches Scott, taking his hand without a second thought about it, “It’s exhausting.”

Scott pulls Stiles into their apartment building and moves to the elevator, reaching out to push on the button, “I just wanna be able to stay hard, and preferably put my dick somewhere near you,” he says lowly, glancing around to make sure no one heard him.

Stiles moans lowly in approval and leans in close, lips brushing against his husband’s ear, “Most romantic thing you’ve ever said.”

“I tried,” Scott snorts and then shivers, already getting hard again just from having Stiles’s lips against his skin. He pulls the other man into the elevator and shoves him against one of the walls before it even closes, leaning in and kissing him heatedly.

Stiles gasps and reaches out, grabbing the other man’s waist as he kisses back, his heart racing as he curls his fists into Scott’s shirt, tilting his head and standing a little on the balls of his shoes.

Scott licks into Stiles’s mouth and huffs softly, hands moving down quickly and grabbing the other man’s thighs to pull him up, wrapping Stiles’s long, long (God his legs are long) legs around his waist, supporting his weight by pushing him against the elevator wall more firmly.

“Scott,” Stiles pants in surprise, eyes opening and he moves his hands, gripping the other man’s shoulders and groaning into Scott’s mouth. He’ll probably never get over his husbands arms, no matter how often he stares at them, feeling the firm flex of them under his fingers just makes it about fifty times worse.

“Mm,” Scott hums distractedly and curls his tongue against Stiles’s, hips flexing as he ruts forward against the other man and his hands move further up his thighs, grabbing roughly at his ass as the doors open. He pulls Stiles from the wall and carries him from the elevator, never once taking his mouth off of his husband.

Stiles feels suddenly dizzy, the blood rushing to his cheeks and ears as he kisses Scott, his hands moving up the other man’s shoulders to his collar and then his neck, fingers reaching back to curl in his hair as he locks his ankles together. He knows they’re still not in their apartment just yet, but can’t really bring himself to worry about anyone that might see them.

Scott’s dick throbs the moment he feels Stiles’s fingers in his hair and he moans shamelessly, re-familiarizing himself with every curve and taste of his husband’s mouth.

He walks slowly, gripping the other man’s ass as he seeks out their apartment by memory - it’s not particularly difficult. Pressing Stiles up against their door, he rocks against him harder and breathes heavily into his mouth. At this rate, he’ll be surprised if they make it to their bedroom floor.

“Oh, fuck,” Stiles gasps and his entire body shakes eagerly, numbly dropping his hand into his pocket for his key and reaching back to find the lock as he arches his hips against Scott’s. It’s been so long since they’ve been like this, or even kissed in such a way, but thankfully it’s more than enough to make the anxiety and irritation he’s been feeling for the better part of the day bleed away.

Scott distantly hears the key slide into the lock and he’s reaching out blindly to open the door, mouthing down along Stiles’s jaw and collar bone through the fabric of his shirt as he slams the door shut behind himself with the key still in it - he really doesn’t care, all he can think about is Stiles.

Stiles chuckles and reaches down between them with one hand, working on the button and zipper of Scott’s jeans as he drops his head back and breathes, his lips burning and aching - an unusually unfamiliar feeling, considering how use to it he was before. His other hand runs through Scott’s hair, holding him close as he bares his neck for the other man.

Stiles’s chuckle sends chills up Scott’s spine and he grins as he mouths at the silky expanse of his neck, careful not to nip too hard around the bruises. Wandering further into the apartment, he sits Stiles down on the back of the couch, reaches down for the hem of the other man’s shirt and pulls it off in one swift movement.

“Think anyone saw us?” Stiles asks, even though he doesn’t care, the thought of it is still amusing. He shoves Scott’s jeans down past his ass before reaching to his own as he kicks off his sneakers.

“I dunno,” Scott replies breathlessly and stumbles a little as he kicks his own shoes off, wriggling the rest of the way out of his jeans before pulling his shirt off, “Don’t really care,” he admits, moving close again and lifting Stiles back up off of the couch before turning and heading towards their room.

“It’s not like we haven’t done it before,” Stiles responds as he kisses Scott again, biting and licking at his mouth, “Granted that was like… seven years ago, and chances are we have new neighbors.” He runs his hand down to Scott’s right pec, nails dragging over his nipple as he tries to roll his hips against the other man’s stomach.

“They’re-ah, fuck,” Scott hisses in pleasure and has to stop to pin Stiles against their bedroom door frame, arousal shooting throughout his body like a bolt of lightning. He presses their mouths together, kissing Stiles just this side of rough before he’s able to form another word, “They’re lucky we made it this far.”

Stiles moans out about half a word before he kisses Scott back, wincing as his dick throbs and he arches his back, his other hand dropping down to grab Scott’s ass as he tilts his chin, smearing their mouths together and nearly growling in response.

“Jesus, Stiles,” Scott rasps and pulls the other man from the door frame to move to their bed, turning and sitting down as gently as he can. The moment his ass hits the mattress, he lifts his hands to touch his husband’s face, soothing Stiles’s kiss-swollen lips with his tongue.

Stiles opens his eyes, grinning wide and staring at Scott as he flicks his tongue out against the other man’s as he rocks his hips downward, “Can’t help it,” he breathes, his whole body trembling as he drops his mouth down, sucking along Scott’s jaw line.

Stiles’s mouth is easily in Scott’s top five favorite physical attributes, so he doesn’t waste any time tilting his head and leaning against the wet heat, his hands dropping and shoving down the back of Stiles’s boxers.

Stiles reaches out blindly for the nightstand, the ipod sitting there on the dock and he pushes the play button, chuckling when, of all songs, ‘Call Me Maybe’ starts playing and he pulls back.

He lifts his brow at Scott before reaching up to the other man’s shoulders and shoving him back, settling atop him and kissing down his jaw and neck, sucking flushes along the other man’s skin.

“You know what,” Scott mumbles numbly in regards to the music, “I don’t even care, worse things have happened,” he says, palms gliding over Stiles’s ass cheeks as he arches against his mouth.

“That’s true,” Stiles mutters, moving lower and running his palms down Scott’s waist, grinding down against the other man’s dick through their boxers as he drags his tongue over his husband’s right nipple before taking it between his teeth.

“Stiles,” Scott groans and tenses up briefly, hand moving to tangle in Stiles’s hair as he watches with heavily lidded eyes. His nipples, aside from his dick, are probably his number one erogenous zone and Stiles is definitely abusing that knowledge.

Stiles glances up, his mouth almost drying entirely as he meets the other man’s eyes and he smirks, winking in his usual, flirty way as he pulls back, teeth tight around Scott’s nipple as he flicks his tongue over it and finally lets go.

He moves back up, kissing Scott as he rolls his hips down again, “Hmm?”

“Nothing,” Scott responds back and grabs Stiles’s hips, pulling them down against his own again, “Just, you’re clearly evil is all,” he says, smiling and lifting from the bed a little to kiss him.

Stiles chuckles as he kisses Scott back and then moves down quickly, legs dropping onto the floor as he reaches out to tug the tight black boxer briefs down his husband’s thighs. He removes them, tossing them aside before grabbing Scott’s knees and spreading his legs open, mouth watering as he moves closer, staring at the other man’s dick.

MageStiles ϟ Sparklinski

Chapter Text

“Just one moment, sir,” the woman at the front desk says as she turns to her computer monitor, typing slowing and pursing her lips, “How do you spell your last name?”

“M-c-C-a-l-l,” Stiles drawls out and sighs in annoyance, turning to Scott and leaning against the surface of the desk as they wait.

“You brought in the laptop just a couple days ago, on the seventh?” the woman asks.

Stiles nods, “Yeah, they said to check back today.”

“Can you confirm the last four digits of your social security number?”

“Five, seven, one, one,” Stiles says as she smiles and asks for their address, which he responds with and then watches her nods slowly before excusing herself and walking to the back.

He turns to Scott, “I’m about to kill someone, I swear.”

“Just stay calm,” Scott says quietly and presses a chaste kiss to Stiles’s temple, “Try to think about the other day,” he tells his husband, “The way you came all over my face.” It’s probably the wrong time to bring it up, seeing as how they’re in public, but he figures that maybe if Stiles thinks about that, then he won’t get so worked up over the woman trying to do her job.

Stiles rolls his eyes at the comment, tapping his nails on the desk as he shifts feet, waiting for a few more minutes and finally the girl comes back, handing him a little booklet and turning back to her computer, “What the fuck is this?” he asks and she glances at him with wide eyes.

“I’m sorry, Mr. McCall, but our technicians weren’t able to recover any data from the laptop,” she purses her lips for a moment and then looks at him expectantly, “The total comes to three seventy-five.”

“The what?” Stiles asks, raising his brows and leaning in, “The what? The total?”

The girl nods and smiles apologetically, “For the service provided.”

Part of Scott wants to ask 'what service', seeing as how they couldn’t save anything from the laptop, but he keeps his mouth shut and pulls his wallet out of his back pocket. He doesn’t want any conflict, so he grabs four one hundred dollar bills and hands them to her silently.

Stiles watches Scott with wide eyes, “Are you fucking kidding me?” he asks a little louder than he’d intended, “What service was that? The service where they picked up my laptop and took it away? Can I at least get it back?”

“No, sir, I’m sorry,” the woman responds, “We don’t currently have the laptop in our possession.”

“Then where the fuck is it?” Stiles asks, his entire body practically shaking with rage.

“We’re not at liberty to say.”

Stiles feels his heart race at the comment and he swallows nervously, “You’re not at liberty to tell the owner of the laptop where it is? It’s my fucking laptop.”

“That doesn’t really seem fair,” Scott adds and narrows his brows at the woman, sitting the money on the counter when she still doesn’t take it from him, “And it can’t be legal, not only are we paying you, but it was-is his.”

A larger man comes out from the door in the far back of the building and joins them at the desk, “Mr. McCall?”

Stiles nods, “That’s me,” he says, holding out his arms from his sides, “What do you want?”

“I’m gonna have to ask you to come with me,” the man says, motioning to the back.

Stiles narrows his brows and glances at Scott, “Uh… what the fuck is this about?”

The man shakes his head, “Come with me, now, please.”

Scott glances at the money on the counter-top and pushes it more towards the woman, “I’ll get my change on the way back out,” he says, touching Stiles’s back then as he nods to where the man’s gesturing for him to follow, “Come on.”

Stiles starts to move when the man stops them, lifting a brow at Scott.

“Friends aren’t permitted to come into the back with you, he can wait outside.”

“He’s my husband,” Stiles responds, lifting his hand to show off the band on his ring finger, “Is that a fucking problem?”

“Oh,” the man shakes his head, “No, it’s not. Please, come with me,” He says and starts off as the woman at the register reaches out, offering Scott the change and receipt.

Scott absentmindedly takes them, wadding it all up as he shoves it into his pocket before urging Stiles towards the man, following silently just behind him. The situation feels a little ominous, considering the woman said they couldn’t save anything, but he’s still somewhat curious as to what the man wants.

“Three hundred and seventy-five fucking dollars for a book,” Stiles says, waving the little pamphlet back at Scott, “And shitty service,” he doesn’t even bother to keep his voice low at this point, he’s so livid that he can barely think straight.

The man leads them into the back, past a few people talking, and shelf upon shelf of boxes and various other things, until they reach another door and he opens it.

Stiles isn’t surprised when it leads them back outside into the parking lot, and he turns to the man as the door closes, crossing his arms and waiting expectantly.

“There were traces of cocaine found on the laptop you turned in on the seventh,” the man says, “It’s been handed over to the proper authorities.”

“How do you even find that sort of thing?” Scott asks then, he’s been calm for the most part, because it’s what Stiles needs, but even he, himself, is getting a little pissed at this point, “You’re a fucking computer repair shop.”

Stiles’s mouth drops open and his stomach twists, “So… what happens now?” traces, not even, more like the fucking bag of coke he stores in the disk compartment.

The man shrugs, “That’s for the police to handle, it’s out of our hands now,” he nods to the parking lot, “Please.”

“Stiles,” Scott sighs and touches his husband’s forearm to get his attention, “Come on, let’s go,” he says, already trying to think his - or Stiles’s, rather - way out of the situation.

Stiles nods and turns away, closing his hands into fists as he walks back to the car, “I knew taking it here was a bad fucking idea.”

“We can just tell the police it wasn’t yours,” Scott muses, though he knows that if anyone doubts it and decides to test Stiles to see if he has cocaine in his system, he’s liable to go to jail, “It’s a shady enough repair shop, maybe we can blame it on them.”

“No we can’t,” Stiles says, shaking his head, “It was a fucking bag of coke in the laptop,” he reaches up, digging his fingers into his hair, “I completely forgot about it, but there’s no way it doesn’t have my fingerprints all over it.”

Scott narrows his brows in concern then and shakes his head once they get to the car, stopping to look at his husband over the roof of it, “We’ll handle it,” he says unsurely, because he doesn’t know what else to say. If he worries about it, then he’s liable to freak out and at least one of them needs to stay calm.

Stiles sits down in his seat, pulling on his seat belt numbly, “I can’t believe I’m gonna go to jail after I stop snorting coke.”

“Maybe they’ll take that into consideration,” Scott says as he slides into his own seat, shutting the driver’s side door before starting the car, “It’ll-we’ll…” he huffs and pulls out of the parking lot, “I dunno, Stiles, I dunno anything about this kinda thing. I dunno how long they’d keep you, I dunno.”

Stiles swallows tightly, closing his eyes and trying to breathe, trying to keep himself calm and not have a fucking panic attack. He can already feel it coming on, his breaths becoming shorter, “You just paid a bill for - literally - under-compensation.”

Scott glances over at Stiles when he hears the way he’s breathing, the quick labored breaths, “Necessary evil,” he says, right hand reaching over and resting on his husband’s leg for support.

“I can’t handle this, Scott,” Stiles says, voice shaking as he reaches out for the other man’s hand and closes his eyes tight, curling over in his seat and pressing his ears between his knees, “I can’t breathe.”

Scott’s heart begins to race a little and he pulls over as quickly as he can, into some abandoned parking lot and he leans over the console to kiss Stiles’s back, “Try, for me,” he says, finding it marginally difficult to calm Stiles down when he’s inwardly panicking himself.

“I can’t,” Stiles breathes out, reaching between his legs and his chest to press his hand over his heart, his entire body shaking violently and he turns to open the car door and climb out.

Scott cuts the engine quickly and gets out of the car so fast on his side that he leaves the door hanging open, all but jogging around to the other side for Stiles.

“You can,” he says insistently, “Count, breathe in through your nose and out through your mouth, you know how to do this.”

Stiles slumps against the side of the car and all but collapses to the ground, trying to listen and do as Scott tells him. But he keeps thinking about how no matter what happens, if he gets over this panic attack or not, it’s still out of his control - completely. His laptop, the bag of coke, his fingerprints, none of that is going to go away.

Scott drops down to the ground with Stiles and reaches out, hands clutching at his husband’s face as he ducks, trying to get the other man to look at and focus on him, “Stiles, come on,” he says worriedly, observing how red his face is, “I need you to breathe or you’re gonna pass out.”

“I wouldn’t-” Stiles keeps his eyes closed, “Seriously wouldn’t mind passing out… right now…” he reaches out to grab Scott then, touching his forearms, “I can’t do it… Scott… I can’t… can’t do anything…”

“You can,” Scott says a little more firmly this time and his eyes water up, having to watch Stiles like this breaks his heart, “You’re gonna be okay,” he insists stubbornly, though he’s not sure Stiles is talking about breathing at this point.

“No I’m not,” Stiles shakes his head, opening his eyes finally and trying to breathe calmly. It feels like it’s going backwards, though, like any breath he takes in is pushed back out, “I’m not,” he mutters as he drops his head back, hitting it kind of hard against the car and wincing as he stares up, “I can’t breathe…”

Scott narrows his brows and watches Stiles, feeling completely helpless, “Then stop fighting it,” he says, knowing that the other man’s breathing will return to normal as soon as he passes out, “Just let go, okay? And pass out, before you cause brain damage or something. I’ll take care of you.”

Stiles looks at Scott, and he’s not sure if it’s because he’d just rather be unconscious or because he trusts Scott, but he holds his breath for just a few seconds longer and passes out. It isn’t as comfortable as he’s expecting, first he feels dizzy and sick, like he’s going to puke, and then he loses all of the feeling in everything but his head.

Scott reaches out and catches Stiles before he slumps to the ground entirely, cradling his head in his hands and moving to rest it in his lap. He doesn’t know what they’re going to do, he got off pretty easy with the whole Isaac situation, but he doesn’t know what kind of time Stiles is looking at for a bag of cocaine with his fingerprints all over it. It’s not like they caught him doing it, or distributing it, so he tries to convince himself that it won’t be so bad as he pets his husband’s hair back from his forehead.

Stiles has never actually passed out from a panic attack before, so he’s not sure what he was expecting but at least a scenery change or something just seemed... plausible. He opens his eyes and narrows them, staring up at Scott and sighing in annoyance, “I can’t believe that just happened.”

“I think it needed to,” Scott says, fingers still lazily pushing through Stiles’s hair as he looks down at him, “Your face was turning purple, made me think of-” he stops himself, because he doesn’t want to think about it again, “Head hurt?”

“Feels like I was hit by a train,” Stiles mutters and turns into Scott a little, “Makes you think of what?”

“You hanging yourself,” Scott answers honestly, letting his fingers press and scratch against Stiles’s scalp as lovingly as he can muster, “We should get you off the ground, get you home and pump you full of Advil.”

“Could always pump me full of something else,” Stiles responds and smirks, “You were saying ‘turning purple’ and the first place my mind went was that one time you blue balled like three times that day and when I finally got you off, your dick was like… so pissed at me.”

Scott laughs then, because if he thought he was really good at inappropriately timed conversations, then Stiles takes the crown for it, “Yeah, well, I’m not really used to being teased so much,” he says, smile softening as he leans down to kiss Stiles’s forehead, “Let’s go home.”

Stiles reaches up and touches Scott’s neck as he closes his eyes and nods, “Yeah, seriously, that’s like the only place I wanna be right now.”

“Me too,” Scott says, the uncertainty of how much longer they’re going to be together still lingering in the air between them as he helps his husband up.

Stiles stands carefully, wrapping his arms around Scott’s neck and pulling him into a hug as he tries to steady himself. He glances past the car, to the road and is relieved when he doesn’t see… he’s not sure what he’s expecting, cop cars or something, maybe. But then his eyes land on the car just across the road from them and the woman in the driver’s seat, watching them.

Scott circles his arms around Stiles and fights the urge to squeeze him tight, given the fact that he just passed out from lack of oxygen, “I love you,” he says quietly, pressing his lips to the other man’s ear, “So much.”

“I love you too,” Stiles says numbly, looking away from the woman and meeting Scott’s eyes, “Let’s get home already.”

Scott nods and leans in quickly to kiss Stiles before he pulls away, moving back to his side of the car to get back in. The car is still running, so he pulls it out of park and heads towards their apartment, worrying and wondering when the cops are going to show up.

Stiles puts his seat belt back on, dropping his head back as he closes his eyes, blindly reaching out to turn on the air, “I can’t believe I forgot about that bag.”

“Me neither,” Scott says, trying to think of any possible way they could get Stiles out of this, “Derek’s a lawyer, maybe we should call him.”

“I dunno if I wanna get him involved in this mess,” Stiles shakes his head, “Let’s just… wait and see… we can’t do anything until they come for me.”

“If and when they do, I’m calling him,” Scott tells Stiles, he knows Derek would do his best to help.

Stiles sets his hand on Scott’s leg, “We’ll see,” he says as he tries to maintain a normal breathing pattern, telling himself that another panic attack won’t help anything.

Scott moves one hand from the steering wheel to rest atop the one on his leg, trying not to think too much about the situation as he drives them home. He parks across the apartment building like he usually does and kills the engine, looking over at Stiles, otherwise silent.

Stiles looks back at Scott, raising his brows and then frowning when he sees the group of people just outside their apartment building. His stomach twists, watching the man being shoved into the police car, “That’s our neighbor,” he mutters as he takes off his seat belt and opens his door.

The officer turns and starts towards them, Stiles reaches out, about to duck into the car out of reflex but thinks better of it and forces himself to stand still as the man approaches them.

“Are you the McCall’s?” the officer asks Scott.

“Yeah,” Scott answers the guy hesitantly and pockets his keys, “We are,” he adds, narrowing his eyes, “Why?”

“You live on the fourth floor, just across from Alan Ward and his wife?” the officer asks.

“Yeah, we do,” Stiles says as he closes his door carefully and joins Scott on the other side of the car, putting his hands on his hips, “Is there a problem, officer?”

The man frowns and narrows his eyes at Stiles, “Did either of you experience any sort of disturbance in your apartment yesterday evening?”

“Disturbance?” Stiles asks in confusion, shaking his head, “No?” he looks at Scott.

“I heard Alan shout once or twice, nothing unusual, though,” Scott tells the officer warily, “What’s going on?”

The police officer avoids the question, interrogating them further, “Shouting? Did they fight often?”

“About as much as we do,” Stiles responds, “I mean, maybe a little more than us. But… they’ve been our neighbors for years, it’s just typical. Is Katy okay?”

The man sighs and shakes his head, “Her body was found this morning.”

“Body,” Scott says and the word rolls off of his tongue thickly, “As in… she’s dead,” he realizes, “Did-did he… did Alan kill her?”

“We’re not sure as of yet,” the officer says stiffly, “There’s something else - from where the body was found. There’s been some… possible, likely minor contamination in your apartment.”

“Cont-” Stiles stops and blinks, “Contamination?” he says slowly.

“...In our apartment?” Scott asks in confusion after a moment, “What?”

“You’re kidding, right?” Stiles asks incredulously.

“No,” the officer shakes his head, “Our team is taking care of it, but both the third and fourth floor residents are being evicted.”

Stiles narrows his brows, “Evicted?”

MageStiles ϟ Sparklinski

Chapter Text

“As in, we have to find somewhere else to live… or did you fail fifth grade English?” Scott asks a little rudely.

“Evicted,” the officer repeats firmly, glaring at Scott, “The landlord had the final say-so.”

“Oh, that’s fucking perfect,” Stiles laughs and shakes his head, “You wanna just go ahead and cuff me and take me to prison too? Because that would just be the fucking icing on the goddamn cake.”

“Stiles,” Scott says and narrows his brows, looking back to the officer, “Why exactly are we being evicted? And, if we are being evicted, I want my thirty day notice.”

The officer shakes his head, “The third and fourth floors aren’t a safe environment to live in right now. Your landlord will be able to pay for you to be relocated to some place temporary for the next thirty days, but after that you’ll be expected to find somewhere else to live. Your personal effects are to be removed from your apartment by yourselves and anything that has been contaminated needs to be left where it is.”

“You still didn’t answer my question,” Scott grits out, “Why are we being evicted?” he asks, “And why just the third and fourth floors? That’s bullshit.”

“It’s a crime scene,” Stiles says before the officer can and he looks at Scott, “And she’s probably been bleeding out all night, all over everything. The landlord gets to decide whether they want to pay to get everything fixed afterwards, or close it out… or demolish it. Nice.”

The officer raises a brow at Stiles.

“Sheriff’s kid,” Stiles motions to himself vaguely and shrugs, “Fuck my life.”

Scott sighs and scrubs a hand over his face in frustration, “When can we come for our things?” he asks finally.

“If you need anything right this moment, I can accompany you,” the man offers, “But anything that can wait for a day or two, it’s probably best for you to come back for those things on Thursday.”

Scott nods, remembering that he has a bag of clean clothes in the trunk of his car, stuff to change into after he’s done training - Stiles can probably fit some of it, “I guess we’re coming back Thursday,” he says, “You said something about the landlord paying to put us up for thirty days?”

The officer nods and motions to the crowd of people on the sidewalk, “There’s already a line of people waiting. If you have a friend’s place you can stay at for the night, that’s probably best. They’ll be there for a while.”

“Wait,” Stiles narrows his brows, “Have you-the cops, have you been into our apartment yet?”

The man shakes his head, “We’ve been waiting for you to arrive for about an hour now.”

“An hour?” Stiles asks, “But… you just put Alan in a car, was he gone too?”

The officer nods, “The landlord said you had the only key to your apartment, we didn’t want to break in if we didn’t have to.”

“Well,” Stiles shrugs, “I mean,” he looks at Scott, “Yeah, yup, just the one key,” he says, not bothering to offer his own. Technically, they were never supposed to make copies, but after just a year it became tedious.

Scott snorts at Stiles, “Um, well,” he says pressing his lips together, “Thanks for telling us, I guess. We'll be back Thursday. Stiles,” he motions to the officer, “Give him the key so we can go.”

Stiles frowns and rolls his eyes, taking his keys from his pocket and removing the key before handing it over tentatively. He wants to ask if he’ll get it back, but he knows he won’t.

The officer nods to them both, “We’ll see you Thursday,” he says, trying to sound sympathetic or something, “Have a good night.”

“Oh yeah, great fucking night,” Stiles responds as the man turns and walks away, “Best night ever.”

Scott pulls his phone from his pocket as the officer walks away, propping himself against the trunk of his car as he flips through his contacts, “Which of our friends do you think would irritate you the least?” he asks seriously.

“Lydia’s probably our best bet,” Stiles says at once, turning to Scott, “She’s busy constantly, and she has plenty of guest rooms.”

“Yeah, but there is Jackson,” Scott points out and raises his brows at his husband, “Just trying to make sure you’re thinking it through, do we really wanna deal with him?”

“Could just get a hotel room or something,” Stiles shrugs, “Make the landlord reimburse us or something.”

“If that’s what you wanna do,” Scott agrees easily enough, he loves Lydia to death but she can be more of a mother hen than his own mother sometimes, “We should get a nice suite, make the landlord regret evicting us.”

Stiles looks at their apartment building and swallows tightly, “I just wanted to go home…”

“Hey,” Scott says softly and touches Stiles’s chin, “We can find a new home,” he tells the other man, though he does have to admit it hurts a little to walk away from the only home they’ve known as a married couple, “A better home, maybe an actual house or something. No loud neighbors.”

“One that my dad’s never even seen,” Stiles responds, tone soft but also bitter, “Never stepped in at all,” he shakes his head subtly, “I don’t wanna move.”

“I know,” Scott utters weakly, swallowing as he watches Stiles, “I’m sorry,” he says, thumb brushing against the other man’s jaw, “We have some options, though.” Stiles still has his and his dad’s old house in his name, it’s just sitting there, untouched, “If you think you can handle it.”

Stiles narrows his brows, “What… you mean move back to Beacon Hills?”

“Do you want to?” Scott asks after a moment, staring into Stiles’s eyes.

Stiles frowns, “This is a lot to take in in one day,” he says numbly, feeling slightly sick to his stomach, “God, I seriously need a beer.”

“No you don’t,” Scott shakes his head and kisses Stiles quickly, “Come on, let’s go get a hotel room for now. You can think about it.”

“Cops are gonna come looking for me and they’re gonna find my next door neighbor was murdered by her husband and we’re - for some reason - no where within the area. We’re fucking shacked up at a hotel,” Stiles mutters as he blinks, eyes wide, “I think I’m gonna have another panic attack.”

“Stiles,” Scott says and looks at him worriedly, “It’ll be fine, we weren’t here, we didn’t kill her. And if they come here looking for us, then I’m sure the landlord will tell them that all the tenants who live on the third and fourth floors are staying in hotels. Calm down, baby.”

Stiles pulls away from Scott, stepping around the car to his side and reaching for the door handle before he pukes all over the road at his feet.

Scott moves to his husband and rubs his palm against Stiles’s back, looking away and very pointedly not at the puke, “Withdrawals or nerves?” he asks.

“I don’t know,” Stiles says before puking again, this time mostly bile, his throat burning as his stomach convulses, “Both?”

Scott pulls his button up shirt off and wads it up, offering it to Stiles to wipe his face, “When you’re done, we’ll get a hotel room and then I’ll go back out and get you some saltines or something, some sprite.”

Stiles wipes his mouth and looks down at the puke, his body shaking as he breathes through his nose and wipes the tears from his cheeks, “The more I’m sober, the more I wish I wasn’t.”

“I hate that you feel that way,” Scott says softly, “But I understand,” he adds, rubbing Stiles’s back again, “You good for now?”

“I think so,” Stiles responds and stands upright, looking at Scott, “Sorry about your shirt.”

“It’s okay,” Scott says and smiles, “It was old, got more use from being your puke rag than it ever did on my back anyway.” He opens up Stiles’s door for him, “Get in, don’t step in it.”

Stiles nods, “Yeah, no shit, Captain Obvious,” he moves quickly, keeping the shirt and rolling it up in his lap before pulling on his seat belt.

Scott closes Stiles’s door for him and moves around to his side, all but dropping into his seat and reaching out to start the car. He pulls away from the curb and glances over at the other man, “Any preference as to where we go?”

“Not really,” Stiles shrugs, “No matter what, it won’t be home.”

Scott frowns a little, looking back and forth between Stiles and the road. It’s disappointing that his husband’s sees it that way, considering when he thinks about the word 'home', his mind supplies an image of Stiles - it doesn’t matter where they’re at. But at the same time, he knows that it has a lot to do with John, so he lets it go.

Stiles reaches out, taking Scott’s right hand from the steering wheel and pulling it to him, holding it between both of his own as he lets out a huff of breath, “At least I have you,” he says as he closes his eyes and sits back in his seat, “If I didn’t have you, I’d probably just go insane.”

“Can’t have that,” Scott says weakly and squeezes Stiles’s hand the best he can, taking a left and pulling into a Hilton parking lot before turning the car off.

Stiles turns to look at Scott, reaching out and touching his cheek, scratching his nails up the other man’s sideburns and up into his hair, “Let me take care of the room, just get what you need from the car, okay?”

“Just a bag in my trunk,” Scott says and leans into the touch, “Don’t use the credit card, use the bank card.”

“I’m not using either,” Stiles responds, lifting his brows, “See you in a few,” he says, pulling his hand back and climbing out of the car.

Scott isn’t even sure if hotels take cash, he’s not used to staying in one, but even then, he’s confused as to how Stiles is going to pay for the room. He doesn’t question it, though, just gets out and pulls his bag from the trunk before locking the car up.

MageStiles ϟ Sparklinski

Chapter Text

Stiles pays for their room for the next two days and signs them in, turning back to the front of the hotel to get the door for Scott, watching him and glancing around the parking lot as the other man walks in.

“They give you the key already?” Scott asks, stilling briefly so he’ll know whether or not he needs to get it.

“I got it,” Stiles wiggles the key in Scott’s face and walks passed him, “You didn’t see like…” he glances back at the other man, “Like an ugly pepto-pink colored car following us here, did you?”

Scott narrows his eyes and lugs the bag over his shoulder, “No…” he says warily, “Why? Was there one following us?”

“Not really,” Stiles lies and shrugs, “I was just gonna point it out, I guess. Who gets a car that color?” he moves to the elevators and pushes the up button.

“Nicki Minaj,” Scott replies before he can stop himself and he’s ashamed that he even knows that, “Did you get a nice room?”

“Kinda,” Stiles shrugs, “The nicer ones were all taken, but I got a good one.”

“Awesome. I hope it has one of those big tubs, big enough for you and me. That’d be nice.”

Stiles chuckles and moves into the elevator once it opens, “Yeah, it does,” he reaches up, wiping the sweat from his forehead and glancing at the top of the elevator as the doors close.

“How many days did you pay for?” Scott asks as he watches the little number go up on the button panel.

“Two,” Stiles says as they move up, “Figured that once we talk to the landlord, they probably won’t wanna put us somewhere like this, two days is fine.”

“You should’ve used the bank card, all our money is on it,” Scott says, adjusting the strap of his bag, “Now you’re not gonna have any spending money.”

“I didn’t use spending money,” Stiles responds, eyes slightly wide as he clears his throat and moves from the elevator once it opens, “Besides, I got a receipt.”

“Okay,” Scott says in confusion and follows Stiles, he’s the one holding the card key, so he knows which room to go to, “If you didn’t pay with ‘spending’ money, what did you pay with, Stiles?”

Stiles turns back to Scott as he unlocks their room and holds the door open, “Uhh… well, about that…”

Scott enters the room and sits his bag down on the first surface he comes across, a small wooden desk, then he turns to look at Stiles, “About what?”

Stiles sighs as he locks the door behind himself and moves into the room, looking around it, “This place is fucking nice.”

Scott glances around at the comment and nods, “Yeah,” he says, then focuses his attention back on Stiles, “Stiles, what were you talking about?”

“Fine,” Stiles moved to the large couch and sits down, looking at Scott sheepishly, “A while ago… after we got married, my dad had me set up an emergency account. Like… my name’s not attached to it, it’s practically a dummy account.”

“Okay,” Scott says and he can admit that it was a smart move, but- “-why?” he asks as he moves to the little table in front of Stiles, sitting down on it.

“What do you mean ‘why’?” Stiles asks rhetorically, “It’s an emergency account, it’s for pretty much anything that falls under… oh, I dunno, ‘emergency’? Like if the house went up in flames, or if we got divorced, or… I dunno, any other of the fifty million things that could happen during an emergency.”

“Right,” Scott nods and shrugs, “Why didn’t you tell me about it?” he asks curiously, it’s not like he’s a gold digger or something.

Stiles stares at Scott and twists his lips as he shakes his head, “Dad made me promise not to tell you. He… I mean, I know why he did it. With as many domestic disturbance calls he received… he wanted to make sure I had something I could turn to, I guess. I, myself, me - I chose not to tell you for other reasons.”

Scott swallows down the lump in his throat and tries to convince himself that John didn’t secretly hate him or something, he always seemed to like him. Hell, most of the time, he was like a second dad to him.

“What other reasons?”

“I’ve been adding to it for years,” Stiles responds, “Ten years to be exact, Any time I have spare change, or… during Income Tax and all that shit. I had my reasons in the beginning and then when things between us got sour I just kept adding out of habit, pretty much.”

He smiles sheepishly, “All of the billion times I’ve told you I wanted to get something, chances are it cost half of what I ‘spent’. In case… you know, just in case I ever changed my mind.”

“Okay,” Scott says and rubs the back of his neck, nodding subtly as he tries to take the information in, “Well… I mean, that’s… good? Good for you, I’m-” he nods again and stands back up, “Yeah, that’s pretty cool I guess.”

Stiles watches Scott and shrugs, “I just wanted to make sure that if I ever changed my mind, that money wouldn’t be an issue or something. I can’t imagine how much it costs to adopt and shit.”

Scott stops and looks back at Stiles, face blank as he stares at the other man, “What?” he asks, unsure if he heard his husband correctly.

“Well, I didn’t ever think it’d really come to anything else, right?” Stiles chuckles, “There’s no way I’d ever divorce you or end up having a ‘domestic disturbance’, so that ruled out that emergency.

“Most of the others, well, it was just a back up fund in case we couldn’t handle things on our own. And the last thing any parent wants is to have to worry about feeding their kids, or their kid’s future. I wanted to make sure that if I wanted to finally… do that… that money wouldn’t be the issue.”

“You’ve been saving up, adding more money, for… a hypothetical adoption that you don’t and might not ever want?” Scott asks incredulously, “That doesn’t make any sense to me, Stiles.”

Stiles chuckles as his eyes water, “Of course it doesn’t make sense. But like… seven fucking years ago I was considering adopting with you, like, seriously considering it.”

Scott touches the table top nearest to him when a wave of nausea hits him, mind reeling at the fact that things could’ve been good, they could’ve… had a fucking family, a bigger family, the one thing Scott’s wanted more than anything for as long as he can remember.

“Yeah?” he asks sadly, “And who ruined that train of thought for you? Was it Isaac, or was it me?”

“Try neither,” Stiles says and wipes the tear from his cheek, “Dad kept going on and on about wanting grand kids and I kept putting it off like an idiot.

“We weren’t ready, we were too young. And then he got sick,” he shakes his head, “After he passed away I just kept thinking about how fucking stupid I was. I practically robbed him of that experience because I was so fucking stupid.”

“Stiles,” Scott frowns and steadies himself enough to move back to the other man, sitting down next to him this time instead, “You weren’t stupid, you just… you weren’t ready,” he says, trying to console his husband, “You can’t keep beating yourself up over things like this, wondering what could’ve been.” Which is hypocritical coming from him, but he’s trying to make Stiles feel better somehow.

“I don’t beat myself up over it anymore,” Stiles shrugs and puts his elbows on his knees, “It wasn’t easy in the beginning, right after he died. Every time I looked at you I kept thinking about kids and dad.

“I practically hated the both of you because of how guilty I felt about the entire situation. And every time you talked about them I just wanted to kill myself. So… alcohol happened, and then coke, and then Isaac and all of that shit and it was such a fucking snowball at that point, there was no stopping it.”

“I didn’t know,” Scott says, looking guiltily at Stiles, “I didn’t know my talking about it made you feel like that, if I would’ve… I wouldn’t have said anything. I didn’t know he wanted grand kids, Stiles. I’m sorry.”

Stiles turns to Scott, chuckling sadly and sitting back against the couch, “It’s not your fault. It’s not anyone’s fault. He just… he loved you so much, and he… every time I saw him he was constantly asking if we’d talked about it. I just did what I always do, avoid the thing until it goes away, that’s all I ever do.”

Scott swallows and blinks as his eyes tear up a little, it’s inexplicably relieving to hear Stiles say that John cared for him, “I think he would’ve understood,” he says shakily, “If you would’ve told him that you weren’t ready. He wasn’t really the type to push someone into something they didn’t wanna do.”

“That’s what bothers me most about the entire situation,” Stiles responds, “I was ready. I was more than ready,” he swallows tightly, “I kept telling myself, though, after I publish my second book - because we all know the first was the fucking stupid flop, that didn’t count - after the second - and here I am, seven years later, no second fucking book.

“And I’ve been pretty much ready for kids since day one. I just… didn’t want them because of my fucking book. I kept telling you ‘no’ because I wanted to like… I wanted it to be perfect. I wanted to be able to tell you about the book and then just be like ‘okay now, lets adopt’.”

“It’s not wrong to wanna put yourself first,” Scott says, trying desperately not to cling onto what could’ve been. Circumstances have changed, they’ve changed, and he doesn’t really know if adoption will ever be in the cards for them at this point - as much as he wants it.

“It doesn’t matter anymore,” Stiles says as he sits back, “I’m done trying to be a writer, clearly I’m not good at it, and now that I’ve lost all of what I had, it just feels pointless trying to pursue a hopeless dream.”

“It’s not hopeless,” Scott argues softly, “You were dedicated to those books, you can’t just give up because you lost them. You created them, you probably know them inside out. Don’t give up on them.”

Stiles shakes his head, “I’m serious, Scott,” he sighs and feels his body start to relax, “I’m done with it.”

“You love writing,” Scott says knowingly, “It’d be like me… not being a personal trainer, it’s my dream job. Don’t give up on it, just… take a break, think about it.”

“I’ve thought about it,” Stiles says and stares at his husband, “It’s about time I had a more realistic, attainable dream. Wanting to actually be a writer and get paid for my writing is like reaching for the stars.”

“I wish you didn’t see it that way,” Scott says and shakes his head, wishing he would’ve been more supportive back when it actually mattered, when Stiles needed the praise.

Stiles shrugs and bends down to take off his shoes, “Anyway, now you officially know the like… only two secrets I really had,” he stands up, glancing around the hotel suite, “Now that I’m moments away from being taken in for drug possession, or whatever, and we don’t really have a place to live any more. Now you know why I don’t want kids.”

“Thanks for telling me,” Scott says sincerely, staring up at Stiles and reaching for his hand to pull him back down, “You should let me hold you.”

“I should?” Stiles asks, raising a brow as he settles himself on Scott’s lap, staring into his eyes as he smiles slightly, “You okay, buddy? I mean we’re both pretty aware of how I am, but how are you?”

“Worried, mainly,” Scott replies honestly and wraps his arms around Stiles tightly, shifting and laying the both of them down, “Sad? Shaken up?” he says unsurely, reaching up to press the pads of his fingers through Stiles’s bangs, “But I’m okay.”

Stiles nods as he listens, curling in close against Scott as he rests his hand over the other man’s heart, “I keep freaking the fuck out, but you’ve been so solid today,” he kisses his husband’s chin and jaw, “I’m sorry. I don’t always want you to feel like you have to support me. This is you and me, you know I’m here for you too.”

“I know,” Scott says shakily, though it’s oddly relieving to hear Stiles say it. He doesn’t really elaborate on the fact that he feels like there’s years of neglect he needs to make up for, he feels like given the situation, he needs to be Stiles’s backbone, regardless of what he’s feeling - he has to keep it together for Stiles.

“Friends, brothers, lovers - t'hai'la,” Stiles continues, smiling and wriggling his sock-clad toes up the other man’s pant legs, “You and me against the world,” he leans in and kisses down under Scott’s jaw, “Anything that comes our way, we can handle it.”

MageStiles ϟ Sparklinski

Chapter Text

Stiles ducks under the yellow tape and glances around the apartment, side-eying the dark red stain on the floor in the hall and then he looks back at Scott, “Could’ve been worse… I guess.”

“Still think it’s shitty we’re being evicted over it, though,” Scott says sourly and follows Stiles into their apartment, “There are some duffle bags in the bedroom closet, we can probably get a good bit, all the important things.”

“Yeah,” Stiles moves to the closet on the far wall, “I think I have a few boxes, too,” he says as he shoves their coats out of the way, “It’s not really like we have to move out quickly, it’ll be a crime scene for a while before anything happens.”

“All we’re gonna be able to do for now is store our shit in a hotel room anyway,” Scott adds, grabbing one of the said duffles and sitting it on the bed before pulling clothes off of hangers.

Stiles sighs in annoyance and pulls out the boxes, moving to set them on the coffee table and reaching out to the bookshelf where he last put the duct tape, “It’s fucking ironic that after living here for so long, we’re being evicted because of something we didn’t do.”

“Yeah,” Scott says from the other room, “Go figure,” he mumbles, folding the clothes up and tucking it all as neatly as possible into the bag, “I know you don’t really share the sentiment, but I feel like a new place might do us some good.”

Stiles shrugs, “I guess…” he glances around the apartment. He gets where Scott’s coming from, and considering when he looks around it, all he sees are the bad memories, which far outweigh the good ones, maybe his husband’s right, “I guess I’d just be happier if we were moving out of our own free will instead of being forced out.”

“I know,” Scott says empathetically, grabbing all of his training sneakers and putting them into the bag before moving to get all the clothes out of their dresser. He doesn’t like that they’re being forced out either, and somewhat suddenly at that, but it’s not like there’s anything he can do about it.

Stiles considers the pile of notebooks just beside the couch - all of his stuff from his books - but shakes his head and moves to the shelves to take a few things down from there instead. He’ll likely just throw everything away anyway, there’s no point bringing it out of the apartment now, “Doesn’t help that every time you walk in here you probably just see me hanging from the ceiling…”

Scott’s shoulders go a little rigid when the imagery is provided and he stills, hands half in the duffle bag as he glances into the other room. Thinking about it, in turn, kind of makes him want to hug Stiles, maybe kiss him, appreciate the fact that he’s alive, so that’s what he does.

He stops packing and walks into the livingroom, moving to the other man and unceremoniously tugging him close to wrap his arms around him as he kisses the side of his face.

Stiles blinks in confusion, but doesn’t question it, smiling slightly and hugging Scott back, “Sorry,” he sighs as he drops his chin onto the other man’s shoulder, “I don’t mean to bring it up again,” he frowns as he closes his eyes and breathes Scott in, his hands awkwardly holding books in them as they stand there.

“I know, it’s okay,” Scott says softly, still peppering a trail of kisses to Stiles’s face from his temple down to his jaw. He pulls back and stares at the other man for a moment, trying not to think of what he would’ve done if he’d lost Stiles, then he leans in and kisses him chastely before moving back into the other room.

“It really isn’t,” Stiles mutters as he watches Scott leave, then turns to put the books in his hands into the box, “Did you ever call Melissa to tell her you were arrested? Because if not, the next time you two talk, she’s probably gonna have a heart attack taking all of this in at once.”

“I haven’t called her since that night you heard me,” Scott admits, he knows she’s going to try and strangle him through the phone for not keeping her more updated, he’s just been so wrapped up in everything else.

“It’s kinda been insane since that,” Stiles responds and chuckles, “God, every time I think I have my feet on the ground, it’s like something else happens,” he looks at the TV, moving over to it and the two game consoles before shrugging and figuring ‘why not’ before moving to unplug them from the TV, “On the upside, we’re not fighting, so that’s… you know, that’s good. Maybe next time you talk to her, start with that one.”

“Pretty sure she’d like to know at least that much, the rest should be cake,” Scott says, emptying out their sock and underwear drawer, “How are you feeling, by the way?” he asks, “You’re kinda kicking this sober thing in the ass.”

Stiles lets out a huff of breath, “I feel like shit,” he admits honestly, “I’ve had like a constant headache since I… since the night I threw the laptop. I’m pretty sure I’m on day like… four of this anxiety attack. I dunno,” he wraps the cords messily around the XBox and shoves it into the box on the coffee table, “I guess I’m just good at seeming good.”

Scott frowns at the last comment, “Do you-” he stops and purses his lips, because he doesn’t know how well received the idea will be, “Do you think maybe you should see someone about it?” he asks, “Like a professional? Or-or, do like… a Twelve step program? NA or something.”

“I dunno, I’ve never been a fan of their catch phrases,” Stiles responds, moving back to the TV to grab the second console, “It might just make things worse if I have to listen to other addicts complain and bitch about their lives.”

“Okay,” Scott concedes, “Well, what about seeing a doctor about the headaches to see if they’re normal?” he asks and grabs the bags off of the bed, moving into the other room and sitting them down.

“They’re normal as far as withdrawal goes,” Stiles responds, sifting through the games by the TV stand, “If you want me to go and see someone, I guess I can, but I think it’d just be pointless. I’m having withdrawal, I’ve been an addict for like seven years, it’s to be expected.”

“If you say it’s normal then I won’t push,” Scott says and shrugs, moving into the bathroom and grabbing their toothbrushes and things, “Just promise me that if they get worse, you’ll let me take you to someone.”

Stiles nods, more to himself than anything, “Well I haven’t been hallucinating or anything, so far. And I haven’t had any seizures. A little headache is nothing compared to what other people go through when they stop drinking. My dad use to see shit, for like the first month or so after he cut it out.”

“I honestly expected you to be a little more irritable,” Scott admits from the bathroom, stuffing everything into the bag after he walks back out, “Or, you know, just a little more hostile with me in general. I’m kinda surprised.”

“I dunno,” Stiles shrugs as he moves into the kitchen, “I mean, I can feel it constantly, in the back of my mind. I guess it’s like, there’s too much happening to really stop and scream at you. Instead I just feel… kinda numb to everything… and really, really fucking tired.”

“Doesn’t really feel like we’ve had a day to just stop and not do anything for a while,” Scott says and idly rubs a hand over the back of his head as he looks around, trying to figure out what else he needs to pack, “I think after we renew our vows, we should take that honeymoon to Buenos Aires that we never got around to.”

Stiles lifts a brow, “I dunno, I think about trips and it always makes me think about drinking. I dunno how I’m gonna be in like a month and a half,” he puts away the pewter plates, back into the box and brings it into the living room, “Like it sounds nice, but I’m not sure if it’d be… you know… safe?”

“Okay,” Scott concedes again, if it’s something Stiles doesn't think he can do without being triggered, then they don’t have to honeymoon across the world. He’s just trying to think of something - anything - that they could do together that wouldn’t be so stressful.

“Let’s just…” Stiles looks at Scott and sighs, “Let’s get through this, lets move, let’s remarry, and see how it goes, okay?” he narrows his brows, “I just can’t handle thinking about anything else right now.

“I’m already juggling whether I’m gonna be in prison or not, or if I’m gonna be able to get through this without relapsing, and possibly moving back into the house in Beacon Hills - I just,” he shakes his head, his whole body starting to tremble, “I can’t keep taking in more things.”

“Stiles,” Scott says softly, eyes widening at Stiles’s reaction, “Baby, I said 'okay'. If you don’t wanna do Buenos Aires, then we don’t have to. I just-I wanna make sure you’re good, I’m not pushing,” He tells the other man.

Stiles closes his eyes, pressing his hand to his forehead as he tries to breathe calmly. He moves to the couch and sits down, “I’m sorry.”

“You don’t have to apologize,” Scott insists and moves to the couch as well, sitting down next to Stiles and gently bumping their shoulders.

“Yes I do,” Stiles responds weakly, looking at Scott, “After everything I’ve put you through, apologizing is the least I can do. I feel like there’s nothing I can say that makes up for it, and anything I do just… makes it worse.”

“Just tell me you love me,” Scott says and shrugs, smiling weakly at Stiles, “That’ll make up for it, I’m pretty simple.”

Stiles turns as he stares into Scott’s eyes, reaching up to touch his cheek, “I do,” he says and leans in, brushing their lips together, “I love you, so much,” he shakes his head as his vision blurs, “I love you so much, sometimes I can’t even breathe.”

“Ditto,” Scott says fondly and kisses Stiles back, pressing lighter, more gentle kisses to each of his eyelids, “Dunno what I’d do without you.”

Stiles doesn’t say what he wants to say, that he thinks Scott might be happier without him, or probably get gray hairs a little later in life. He just shakes his head again and all but climbs into the other man’s lap, wrapping his arms around Scott’s neck and hugging him close, pushing his hair back and kissing his forehead.

Scott wraps his arms around Stiles lightly at first, eyes fluttering with the press of his husband’s lips to his forehead, then he tightens his embrace and tilts his chin up to catch his lips. He kisses the other man slowly, letting as much of his emotion bleed into it as he can as his right hand lifts up, thumb brushing softly against his husband’s chin.

Stiles moans into the kiss, responding just as strongly, his hands gripping at the back of the other man’s neck. He’s seconds from shifting his hips when there’s a sudden knock on the door and it opens, the officer from before looking in and stopping when he sees them on the couch.

“Oh my God, seriously?” Stiles shrieks.

Scott actually feels as miffed as Stiles is acting and he looks at the officer, very pointedly glancing at Stiles on his lap then, “Can you just give us a few more minutes, please?” he asks irritably.

“Sorry,” the man says, his eyes widening as he ducks back out and shuts the door.

“Jesus fucking Christ, you’d think we didn’t live here or something,” Stiles responds, turning back to Scott.

“Mm,” Scott hums noncommittally and reaches up, drawing Stiles back in by the nape of his neck, “Just shut up and kiss me for a minute,” he says lowly, pressing their lips together and heatedly coaxing his husband’s mouth open with his own.

“Mmf-” Stiles grins and kisses Scott back, one hand moving down his chest as he licks out suddenly over Scott’s tongue and moans in approval.

Scott catches the tip of Stiles’s tongue with his teeth and nips gently, sucking it into his mouth a little as he stares at the other man, his left hand settling against his husband’s hip and the tips of his fingers pressing up under the shirt.

Stiles groans loudly, arching his hips against Scott’s stomach as he lets out a shaky breath and stares back at him, his cheeks heating as he grips his husband’s right pec.

Scott grins a little and sucks on the fleshy muscle not entirely unlike he would with Stiles’s dick, taking a little more in and pulling back some, repeating the motion and huffing softly at the glide of it between his lips. He stops after a moment and kisses Stiles regularly, grazing his teeth over his cupid’s bow, “We should finish packing, he isn’t gonna wait forever.”

“You’re a horrible person,” Stiles whimpers lowly and presses the shape of his boner against the front of Scott’s shirt as he glares at him and then leans down to kiss him again, this time just to calm himself down, “Hurry up, then,” he says as he climbs out of Scott’s lap, walking down the hall to their bedroom to check everything over.

Scott smiles to himself and rubs his fingers over his mouth as he moves back to the bags, zipping them up before walking into the kitchen to get the little baggy of coke out of the triscuit box. He puts it in his pocket, not wanting to risk Stiles finding it in either of the duffle bags.

MageStiles ϟ Sparklinski

Chapter Text

“I think we got most of the smaller things, we’ll have to bring a truck or a U Haul back for the rest,” Scott says, loud enough for Stiles to hear in the other room.

“Yeah,” Stiles responds as he grabs the iPod and it’s dock, “Uh… did we wanna bring the toy box..?” he asks, unsure if it’s a forward question or if that even matters (considering he’s asking his husband of all people, forward isn’t even a thing at that point).

“We can,” Scott says and leans against the bedroom door frame, “Seems kinda like a waste not to, we spent a lot of money on those toys and I don’t even think we’ve used all of them yet.”

“Pretty sure I’ve used… most of them,” Stiles says as he moves to the closet to get the toy box, handing the iPod over to Scott, “You get like… uncomfortably horny from coke…”

Scott snorts a little and shakes his head, “Well, then I haven’t used all of them yet,” he says, tucking the ipod into his pocket as he watches Stiles.

Stiles glances at Scott as he picks up the box, carrying it to him and staring at him a little nervously, “I don’t mean to bring it up,” he lets out a huff of breath and apologizes again, “I’m sorry.”

“There’s no need to be, Stiles,” Scott says and takes the box, “It was a big part of our lives, yours specifically, for seven years. It’s not like we can just up and forget it was ever a thing.”

He kisses Stiles on the cheek, “We’re gonna have to make another trip back up, I’m not gonna be able to carry all of this.”

“I can carry some of it,” Stiles responds, shrugging, “Maybe the officer is willing to lend a hand? He seems like a pretty understanding dude.”

Scott nods and jerks his chin back towards the front door, “Okay then, let’s get out of here,” he says, trying to pick up one of the duffles and slinging it over his shoulder once they’re in the other room again.

Stiles moves to the front door and opens it, looking at the police officer standing just outside the door, “You mind lending us a hand?” he asks and isn’t surprised when the man nods, so he moves to the box of pewter plates and offers it up, grabbing the ones he packed and the other duffle bag before motioning for Scott to go first.

Scott goes, lugging the toy box close to his chest and grimacing slightly when he hears them bounce around some inside, glancing back at Stiles in amusement as he lifts his leg and hits the elevator button with the tip of his foot.

“How long do we have to get the rest of our things?” Stiles asks, looking back to the officer as they wait for the elevator.

“A couple weeks,” the man says, eyes flitting back and forth between Scott and Stiles, “After that, anything left will be removed and put into storage.”

“Most of our shit’s probably going into storage anyway,” Stiles responds, tone bitter and he walks into the elevator once the doors open, “No point putting any of it in a hotel room for the next month.”

Scott steps in to stand beside Stiles, glancing at him briefly, “Besides, it’d look a little weird if we tried keeping an extra mattress and box springs in the hotel room,” he muses, “It’s about time we got new furniture anyway.”

“I like the bed,” Stiles complains, even though he hated it to start with, but he agrees - it’s about time they stopped living in an apartment anyway, they’re in their fucking thirties. He looks at Scott, reaching out to punch the ‘floor’ button and sighs. Maybe they should move back to Beacon Hills.

“Thanks for helping us with our stuff,” Scott says to the officer as the elevator takes them down, still holding the toy chest precariously close to his chest, “We appreciate it.”

“Seriously,” Stiles responds as the man nods and smiles slightly, “Hey, uh… how’s the whole… case working out? I mean, you’re probably not supposed to say or anything, but has Alan been cleared?”

The officer looks tentative for a moment, but then - surprisingly - responds, “His name was cleared, he was at work during the incident. We have the tapes from the cameras around the apartment that show him leaving earlier.”

Stiles raises his brows, “Anyone else suspected?”

The man glances at Stiles and nods again.

“Well, if it wasn’t Alan, then who could it have been?” Scott asks curiously and steps out of the elevator once the doors open, “We hardly ever saw anyone visiting them.”

“Our best guess so far is that the vic was involved in something else,” The officer responds.

“So,” Stiles purses his lips for a moment, “It’s drug related.”

The man chuckles and shakes his head in disbelief, “Yes,” he says, “Unfortunately, there’s not much we can do now.”

Stiles narrows his brows, “Let me guess, you found a body and there’s no evidence leading anywhere else?”

“That’s right,” the officer says tentatively, “You seem to know a lot about this case.”

“Sheriff’s kid,” Stiles shrugs, “And I’m a mystery writer, so I’ve done my digging on this kinda stuff.”

Scott crosses the street carefully and pops the trunk to his car, putting the box in, followed by one of the duffle bags and then he moves out of the way so that the officer and Stiles can do the same.

The officer places the box he’s holding into the car carefully, “Just a writer? You’ve never considered going into law enforcement?”

Stiles stops and blinks, shaking his head slightly, “Uh… I mean, like once or twice, kinda?” he shrugs then, “I dunno.”

The man smiles and nods to them both, “You two have a good day.”

Stiles watches after him before moving to set the boxes in the back of the car.

"Nice guy," Scott says, narrowing his eyes as he watches the officer walk away, then he looks at Stiles and smiles, "My gaydar was going off, though. I think he was sweet on you," he teases.

“You think so?” Stiles blinks in surprise, “Why? Is it because you think I’d be a shit cop and he was just trying to flirt or something?”

"What? No, I don't think you'd be a shit cop at all, I actually think you'd be pretty amazing at it," Scott defends himself, "I'm just teasing."

Stiles looks at Scott then, “I dunno about that. I mean, I can solve cases in my books all the time, but trying to deal with it for real?”

“Stiles,” Scott snorts a little, “You literally solved more than one of your dad’s cases for him when we were in high school, you’re being modest.”

“Handling cases is easy when it isn’t your job on the line,” Stiles responds, “Besides, the second I go to jail for that bag of coke, pretty much anything involving law enforcement will be just as unreachable as being a writer.”

It won’t just affect Stiles’s career, either. With both of them having jail time on their permanent records, and with them being gay, they might as well kiss any and all chance of adopting goodbye, but Scott doesn’t bring it up, “Still, it’s food for thought, I guess,” he decides on finally.

“I guess,” Stiles says and moves to put the other duffle bag in the back seat before climbing into the passenger’s side.

Scott closes the trunk and moves around to his side, more uneasy about Stiles’s impending arrest now than he has been since the repair shop said something to them about it. He doesn’t like the waiting, not knowing when it’ll happen, and it leaves him feeling a little on edge.

“Between you and me though,” Stiles says suddenly, “I’m glad it wasn’t Alan. I figured it wasn’t at the time, considering they always fight - and if it was either of them, I would expect it from Katy. Still fucking sucks.”

“Yeah,” Scott says and starts the car, “Katy was always nice, and Alan was all the time trying to give me grocery bags full of fresh vegetables. Which is pretty fucking weird, considering there isn’t a garden anywhere near the building - not even on the roof.”

Stiles chuckles, “Yeah, they were pretty good people… who also, apparently did drugs,” He shakes his head, “It’s not surprising, I guess. Half the people in our apartment building are pretty dodgy.”

“Mhm,” Scott hums and instinctively checks the rearview mirror, something he’s been doing more often lately, “Weirder things have happened,” he says.

“There’s probably more to it than just that,” Stiles responds as he shifts back in his seat, “There were two agents stationed right in the fucking parking lot, watching the building.”

“Whatever it was, it’s over now,” Scott says dismissively, “The guy’s dead, and we’re short a home.”

“We’re not short a home,” Stiles says, reaching out to touch Scott’s leg, “We’ve got options,” he repeats his husband’s words from before, “Why do you keep looking in the rearview mirror?”

Scott huffs and shrugs, “I dunno, I just-I hate feeling like we’re sitting ducks, you know? Like, I dunno when they’re gonna show up and take you from me,” he tells Stiles, “I don’t like it.”

“I could always turn in my dealer,” Stiles offers and shrugs, “It’s not like we have a close relationship.”

Scott glances over at Stiles and wets his lips, thinking about it for a moment, “Could you do that? I mean, would they let you go if you gave them that kinda information?”

Stiles shrugs, “I dunno, it depends on a lot of things, really,” he considers it, “Depends if the cops are good or not, and if they’re coming to me just because of the drugs or because of a possible tie-in to another case. There’s like fifty things that could happen.

“Hell, they could just not fucking care, or start an investigation in on the place that gave my laptop to them in the first place. That’s why I say 'if' they come for me. It’s not like I was in possession of the laptop at the time and it was taken directly from me.”

“You don’t think they’ll come for you?” Scott asks curiously and parks the car in the hotel parking lot, cutting the engine to look at Stiles.

“Maybe,” Stiles says hopefully, “It’s completely possible. I’m not gonna bank on it, of course, but it’s possible. I have a clean record, apart from all my school shenanigans. But nothing drug related or really illegal. I’m pretty sure they’ve got bigger fish to fry. I dunno, it’s really up to them, but if I get the chance to throw my dealer under the bus, I’m gonna do it.”

Scott nods and looks down at his hands folded in his lap for a moment, then he leans to kiss Stiles chastely before opening his car door to get out, “We can probably leave just about everything in the trunk. I dunno about you, but I’m not really in the mood to carry it all up.”

“You and me both,” Stiles responds and smiles slightly, turning to climb out of the car and stopping when he sees the car that pulls up behind them, “Fuck…”

“Fuck what?” Scott asks in confusion, eyes following Stiles’s gaze and he swallows nervously when he sees the vehicle, “Is that-do you think it’s… are they here for you?”

“I don’t see why not,” Stiles swallows tightly as the agent climbs out of the passenger’s side door of the car and walks up to him, “Can this week get any better?” he asks, turning to look at Scott.

“Przemysław McCall?” the woman asks as she stares at Stiles.

Stiles sighs in annoyance, “Nailed it, what do you want?”

“Would you mind coming with us?” She asks, flashing her badge, “I’m Agent Mondelez, this is my partner, Agent Tremblay, we have a couple questions we’d like to ask you.”

“Agents,” Scott repeats the word and narrows his brows in confusion. Not officers, deputies or sheriffs, but agents, “Is he under arrest, or do you just need him for questioning?”

The woman, Agent Mondelez, glances around, “Mr. McCall,” she looks at Stiles, “Do you know a woman named Shirley Yaffe?”

Stiles swallows tightly, “Uh… Yeah, why?”

“Please come with us,” she says again and motions to the car.

Scott looks at Stiles then in worry, he doesn’t really know the name of Stiles’s dealer, so he has no clue what’s going on right now, “Stiles,” he says, swallowing down the lump in his throat.

“We just want to ask you a couple of questions,” Agent Mondelez repeats, watching them.

Stiles nods slightly, “Okay, okay… just… can you give me a second?”

The woman moves back to her car and climbs into the passenger’s side seat, leaning over to talk to her partner.

Stiles lets out a huff of breath and moves around the car to Scott, “I want you to go into the hotel room and not leave today, okay? Like, lock the doors, call your mom, call Lydia, but don’t use the phone in the hotel room. Don’t use your card for anything, okay?”

“Why?” Scott asks worriedly and if he hadn’t already been paranoid before, he sure as Hell is now, “Stiles, I don’t-what’s going on? Who’s the woman they asked you about?”

“My dealer,” Stiles says under his breath as he gives Scott a serious look, “I don’t know what this is about, but I need you to trust me, and listen to me, okay?” he reaches up to touch his husband’s cheeks, “Don’t worry. Don’t call too many people. Don’t leave the hotel room, don’t use our bank cards or anything. Can you do that, baby?”

“It’s a little hard not to worry, you’re scaring the shit out of me,” Scott says, but the nervousness is abated some by having Stiles’s hands on him and he wraps his arms around the other man to hug him, “Answer their questions and make them bring you back to me.”

“I will,” Stiles responds softly, trying to sound as confident about it as possible, “Just stay here and I’ll be back as soon as possible,” he leans in, pressing his lips to Scott’s, then kissing his forehead and pulling away, walking to the car and climbing into the back seat.

MageStiles ϟ Sparklinski

Chapter Text

Scott tries not to let the paranoia get to him that much, but he’d be lying if he said he wasn’t the slightest bit worried. It’s like being sentenced to lock down for his own good or something, which in turn, makes him wonder if there’s someone worse than the FBI watching him and Stiles. He locks the hotel door once he’s back in the room, and not just the handle lock, but the deadbolt looking thing up top, too.

He calls Lydia first, to get that out of the way and she tells him that she’ll get a hold of Derek, keep him on standby just in case. The conversation with his mom lasts a little bit longer, he tells her everything, everything from the drugs to them trying to make it work, to the FBI coming to get Stiles and him not being able to leave the hotel room. She’s worried, Scott thinks that much is obvious, but he can also tell she’s relieved just by the tone of her voice. He tells her he loves her and she makes him promise to keep her updated, all the time alone spent after that kind of goes by in a blur.

For general safety purposes, he doesn’t go anywhere near the hotel windows, makes sure not to touch the landline or call for room service. It’s not until he hears the hotel room door being unlocked that he realizes he’s been sitting still in the same spot for hours, completely unmoving.

He gets up to move behind the door, heart racing a little as he peaks out the peephole, relieved to see Stiles, so he unlocks the deadbolt and swings the door open for him.

“Hey,” he sighs.

Stiles reaches out at once, wrapping his arms around Scott and pressing his face against his neck, “Hey,” he responds, body aching and his arms still shaking as he moves into the hotel room.

He reaches back at once, locking the door before finally slumping against Scott, “I missed you.”

“I missed you, too,” Scott says and wraps his arms around Stiles somewhat possessively, holding him close and kissing his shoulder, “So, what happened?” he asks, brushing his nose against his husband’s pulse point before pulling back to look him in the eyes.

Stiles lets out a huff of breath, “Where to even start?” he wets his lips, reaching up to run his fingers through his hair nervously, “I mean, they wouldn’t tell me much, the questioning took all of like… the last fifteen minutes? Like, we didn’t even get to the bureau for the first four hours.

“Oh, yeah, I got shot,” he reaches up to unbutton his shirt, showing Scott the bandaging on his right shoulder.

“What‽” Scott’s eyes widen and it feels like his heart’s going to lurch up out of his throat, looking from the bandaging to Stiles’s face, then back to the bandaging a little frantically, “What?” he asks again, fighting the urge to touch Stiles now because he doesn’t want to hurt him.

“Yeah, it was kinda insane,” Stiles chuckles, reaching up to touch it himself, then lifts the bag in his other hand before tossing it onto the couch, “I didn’t tell you earlier, but we were being followed way before we went to the apartment to get our things. I guess that one little bag of coke was kinda important, it’s putting like… a bunch of people at risk, I guess, because I’d… maybe… written a few names on it.”

“I’m so confused right now,” Scott admits and shakes his head, brows knotted together, “One thing at a time. We were being followed…. by the FBI?” he asks.

Stiles shakes his head, moving stiffly to the couch to sit down, “No, not by the FBI - by Shirley - yesterday I saw her, and the day before. The uh, the ‘pepto-pink’ car.”

“You should’ve told me,” Scott says, moving to sit down on the coffee table in front of the couch, face to face with Stiles, “Okay, so, we were being followed by your dealer,” he summarizes, “Who was following us specifically because..?”

“That fucking bag of coke,” Stiles responds, shrugging and grinning, “I didn’t know why she was following us until today. I just thought she wanted money or something; I do owe her. I just didn’t wanna scare you if it wasn’t serious, that’s why I didn’t have you use your card at the hotel, and I signed us in under a pseud, just in case.

“A while back, like five years ago, I wrote a few names I’d overheard while dealing with her. I didn’t even think anything of it, they were neat names and I even used a couple in my books.”

“Okay?”

Stiles reaches into his left pocket and pulls out a card, turning it over and glancing at the names he’d written down, again, “I guess their names being on a bag of coke was a pretty big deal. When that shady computer place turned it into the cops, the case was picked up by the FBI and one of their dirty agents told Shirley about it. And since I’m the one that wrote them down, I’m the only one that can testify. So they tried to kill me,” he motions to his shoulder.

Scott swallows and breathes calmly, trying not to focus on how nauseated he feels as he looks at the bandaging again, “It’s not serious, is it?” he asks, frowning as he looks at Stiles, “What if they try to kill you again?”

“Well, that’s why we have four fucking FBI agents stationed around this hotel,” Stiles smiles even wider and reaches out to take Scott’s hand in his, “It should be fine, though, they managed to… do whatever, I guess, caught a few people today. They don’t expect anything else but I guess it’s better safe than sorry.”

“How is this even our life right now?” Scott asks rhetorically and squeezes Stiles’s hand, “This is insane, and-and… we’re what? Like, on lock down of some sort until you can testify?”

“Well, not exactly,” Stiles responds, “They want us to continue and behave as normal as possible. There’ll be a car pretty much on us the entire time, but they don’t want us to stop doing our own thing. My bet is, they’re hoping that if we continue like nothing’s wrong, someone else’ll come after me. So I’m like bait or something.”

“I dunno how I’m supposed to act normal when I know that someone’s gonna come looking for you, probably even try to kill you again,” Scott says, the tone of his voice worried, “What if the agents aren’t fast enough, huh? This whole thing is just-God, Stiles,” he shakes his head and forces the other man’s palm to his cheek.

Stiles frowns and reaches out with his other hand, “Hey, calm down,” he says as he leans in, pressing his lips to Scott’s, “Nothing’s gonna happen, okay? We’re gonna get through this.”

“When is our luck gonna run out, though?” Scott asks seriously, he can’t help coming across slightly frantic. He likes to think he’s been holding it together, keeping strong for Stiles, but he doesn’t know how much longer he can keep it up when more shit keeps getting thrown at them.

“W-what if we don’t, Stiles? You’ve already been shot for fuck’s sake,” his chin trembles, “I-I-I can’t-” he huffs, nudging Stiles’s nose with his own, “I don’t wanna lose you.”

“You won’t lose me,” Stiles responds softly, staring into his eyes and pressing their foreheads together, “You just need to breathe, and calm down, baby. We’re gonna get through this, and the next thing, and everything after that. I’m too stubborn to have it any other way.”

Scott tries to calm his breathing and find solace in Stiles’s words, leaning in to firmly press their lips together. He wants to believe that everything is going to be okay, but given everything else that they’ve already been through, he just doesn’t even know if it’s karmically possible to escape this kind of situation unscathed.

Stiles kisses him back, his thumbs brushing over his husband’s cheeks as he pulls him close, their knees brushing together. He’s spent nearly the past five hours in a constant state of panic, himself, but after getting through it and experiencing it all first hand, he’s oddly felt more calm since he was shot than anything else.

Scott moves forward and pushes Stiles back towards the couch as he straddles his thighs, kissing his husband somewhat desperately as he cautiously wraps his arms around Stiles’s neck - the closeness and being able to touch Stiles is literally the only thing keeping him together right now.

“Careful,” Stiles mutters against Scott’s lips as he grips the other man’s waist, “I should warn you, I’m pretty heavily drugged right now… I can’t do much.”

“I don’t need much, just this,” Scott insists, brows narrowing again as he looks at Stiles, “What’d they give you?”

“Percocet,” Stiles says, motioning to the bag, “And whatever they injected me with for the stitches, Lidocaine or whatever. I’ve been numb for a while now,” he drops his head back against the couch, staring up at Scott as he runs his hand over the other man’s stomach, “The whole time, I just wanted to be with you, feels weird getting shot at without you in the vicinity or something. I kept thinking about what I told you before I left.”

Scott lets his eyes fall down over Stiles’s face, reaching up and carding his fingers through his soft brown hair, “About what you told me?” he asks, unsure of what he’s talking about.

“About how I’d be back, telling you not to worry,” Stiles says, leaning into Scott’s fingers and closing his eyes, “I’m sorry you had to wait so long.”

“It’s okay,” Scott says and the phrase is pretty much perfunctory, it’s easier to slip back into some sense of calm when he’s the one reassuring Stiles. He leans down and kisses the other man’s face, fingers still brushing through his hair, “I’m just glad you’re back,” he says weakly.

“And I’m not gonna be arrested, so that’s a plus,” Stiles responds, clearing his throat and running his fingers up under the other man’s shirt as he stares at him, “I just let them bury the truth under their assumptions, that I was innocent and that it all had to do with Katy and I was trying to help her come clean and take out her dealer myself. They pretty much wrote the entire thing for me, I just nodded.”

“That’s good,” Scott says and sighs, shifting closer and tucking his knees in more towards Stiles’s thighs as he peppers the other man’s face with more kisses, “That’s-” he huffs, pressing his forehead to Stiles’s temple, “I’m glad.”

Stiles chuckles, running his palms up his husband’s back, “And I’m considering applying for the FBI…”

Scott blinks slowly for a moment, then pulls back to actually look at all of Stiles’s face, “Seriously?” he asks, “Since when do you just ‘apply’ for the FBI..?” he asks.

“Well, that’s how you do it,” Stiles shrugs, wincing when it pulls at his stitches, “I don’t have any disqualifying factors, I’m under thirty-seven. And it just… I mean, I’m not getting my hopes up or anything, but I wanna try and fill out the whole application process. Being out there today, it was… it was an experience.”

Scott nods and smiles faintly, “Pretty sure if it works out and you do become an agent, I’m gonna have gray hairs before I hit forty,” he teases, “I dunno, I might be able to pull off that silver fox kinda thing.”

Stiles narrows his brows, “I don’t have to. It was… just a thought, I guess.”

“Stiles,” Scott’s smile fades entirely now as he shakes his head, “I never said I didn’t want you to. I just-I love you, obviously, and I worry about you. If it’s something you want, then go for it,” he encourages, “Just be safe, and promise me you’ll always come home.”

“I dunno,” Stiles says dismissively, “It’s a long shot anyway, why set myself up for failure again?” he wraps his arms tightly around Scott and buries his face against the other man’s neck, “Can we sleep or something? I’m fucking exhausted.”

“Yeah, come on,” Scott says, sliding from Stiles’s lap to take him by the hand and help him up from the couch. He’d try to discourage Stiles’s negative thinking, but Stiles barely listens to him about that kind of thing when he’s sober - it’d be pointless to try while he’s pumped full of pain pills.

Stiles stands carefully, moving to the bed and stepping out of his shoes finally, “Do we wanna wait like… the whole month to move back to Beacon Hills or..?”

“I dunno,” Scott says and pulls his shirt off, “You never really said if you wanted to or not,” he points out, “Do you want to?”

“Yeah, I think I wanna,” Stiles mutters, carefully stepping out of his jeans, “I think I’m just tired of being here, you know? I mean, it’s been the past ten years of our lives, which is at least a third, but seven of those ten were just fucking miserable.”

“Yeah,” Scott nods and unbuttons his jeans, “Derek and Allison still live in Beacon Hills, Cora and Boyd, too. So, we’ll have a few friends around,” he muses, “I’ll have to find a new job, I’d commute but that’d just-it’d be tedious after a while.”

Stiles pulls off his shirt, trying not to pull his stitches the best he can before he moves to the duffle with his clothes in it, “Well, I can’t imagine it’d be hard to find work as a personal trainer in Beacon Hills, granted I haven’t been there in years, but I doubt it’s changed much.”

“It’s a lazy town, Stiles,” Scott snorts and shoves his jeans off, “They’re not gonna be looking for someone to get them in shape, I dunno. You’re doing something else, maybe I should, too.”

“I’m not really doing something else,” Stiles chuckles, “I’m practically doing ‘nothing’ right now, but one could argue that I’ve been doing that for years now,” he looks at Scott as he pulls the shirt from the bag, “Do you wanna do something else?”

“I dunno,” Scott answers honestly and climbs up into the hotel bed, pulling the covers down on Stiles’s side for him, “I’ve really only ever been passionate about two things, you know? Career-wise, and I’m actually doing one of those things now, so…”

Stiles carefully pulls on his shirt with one arm, moving to climb into the bed as well and lifting his brows as he looks at Scott, “You sure you’re up for it?” he asks curiously, “I mean, I’ll be just as supportive as I can, but I thought you’d decided not to deal with animals after the whole… you know, cat thing.”

Scott shrugs and slides down into the bed more, pulling the covers up and glancing at Stiles, “I liked working with Deaton when we were younger, the cat thing was just that one time and it was a vicious fucking cat. I dunno,” he says again, “If we move back to Beacon Hills, maybe I could talk to him about it.”

“Probably helps that your asthma isn’t so bad anymore, too,” Stiles says as he moves close to Scott, careful not to lean on his shoulder, “You’ve always wanted to have a pet, maybe doing something like that will make it easier? I’m up for it, if you wanna do it.”

“We’ll see,” Scott says dismissively, scooting towards Stiles as well and resting a hand on his hip as he leans in to kiss him, “Get some sleep, you need to rest.”

Stiles nods and looks into the other man’s eyes, “It’s a lot of shit to think about, but we’ve got some time. If you wanna stay and keep this job - we can stay, too.” He stretches slightly and closes his eyes, ignoring the odd little tingles in his toes as he starts drifting off.

Scott doesn’t respond vocally, doesn’t say that he couldn’t do that to Stiles; deny him the opportunity to move back into his old home. He kisses the corner of his husband’s mouth and closes his eyes as well, waiting for the pull of sleep to take him under.

MageStiles

Chapter Text

“We don’t have to go in, do we?” Stiles asks warily, side-eying the building, “I mean, we’re doing fine and shit, I don’t see the point.”

“Just humor me, please?” Scott asks and smiles at Stiles, tugging him towards the building, “We haven’t really been back since you and I… you know, Vargas has no clue, so let’s just-let’s go in and blow her away with how stupid in love we are. Come on.”

Stiles chuckles and shakes his head, “It’s probably best we have a third party in this relationship anyways,” he says somewhat tightly, “Just in case we’re too happy.”

“What does that even mean?” Scott asks as he opens the door, “'Too happy'?”

“I have no clue,” Stiles responds and shrugs with his left shoulder, “I just…” he lets out a huff of breath, “This seems to be going good, I think. I don’t want her to fuck it up.”

“She’s our marriage counselor, Stiles,” Scott points out, “Her whole thing is about making sure we find our way back to love and all that shit, being happy is the ultimate goal, I think. How would she fuck it up?”

Stiles moves to the elevator, stopping the doors from closing and motioning for Scott to go first, “That happens, doesn’t it? Or it that just like a TV trope?”

“Is what like a TV trope?” Scott asks in confusion, leaning against one of the walls in the elevator, “The counselor making it worse instead of better?”

“Yeah,” Stiles responds, “You know, like causing one or the other partner to disclose information that is inevitably meant to break them up.”

“If what we went through wasn’t enough to do the trick, I doubt anything else will,” Scott says confidently and reaches out to touch Stiles’s forearm, “You’re worrying too much.”

Stiles takes the words to heart as much as possible, moving once the doors open and stepping out into the (as usual) empty office, sitting down and sighing as he watches Scott, “You do have a point. We were… pretty bad off just a fucking week ago.”

“Exactly, so…” Scott sits down next to his husband, thighs pressing against one another’s as he leans in and kisses his cheek, “Stop worrying, try to find solace in the fact that she’s gonna be confused as shit.”

“You just wanna show off that we actually got this shit to work,” Stiles says and brushes his nose against Scott’s before stealing a quick kiss on the lips, “I don’t blame you.”

“Of course I wanna show it off, I’m proud of us,” Scott says and smiles, wrapping his arm around the back of the seat behind Stiles.

Stiles chuckles and curls in close to his husband as Mrs. Vargas finally joins them, eyes widening as she looks between them and takes her seat at her desk.

Scott looks at the counselor and drops his hand down from the back of the seat, thumb rubbing lovingly against his husband’s uninjured shoulder. He can tell she’s already confused, now he’s just waiting for the onslaught of questions to start.

“You two look happy,” Mrs. Vargas says in surprise, “Considering how things went last week, I’m guessing something went right.”

Stiles swallows tightly, “Uh, kinda,” he looks at Scott, “I guess you could say that. It actually looked pretty bad at first.”

Mrs. Vargas nods in understanding, “I take it that you two spoke with…” She narrows her eyes for a second, “The friend, Isaac Lahey?”

“He’s no longer our friend,” Scott points out, “But yeah, that was part of it. I went to jail,” he tells her, then looks at Stiles and grins, “He even got a hit in.”

Stiles nods and shrugs, “Well, he deserved it,” he takes Scott’s hand as he glances back at the woman watching them curiously, “It’s kinda been an insane week. I quit like… everything. Even tried to quit life. My laptop got broken… because I threw it during a fight, so all my books are gone. We’re constantly on watch by the FBI because of something-uh, something else. And I got shot.”

Mrs. Vargas, surprisingly, nods and smiles wider as she listens to them, “Sounds busy.”

Scott chuckles at that and nods, “Yeah, you could say that,” he says, “Oh, and we got evicted from our apartment, too. Our neighbor was murdered.”

“Yeah so we’re living in a hotel room for the moment,” Stiles concludes, feeling slightly insane just from thinking about everything that happened over the last week.

“Yet you two seem… still, really happy,” Mrs. Vargas points out, “It’s always a bonding experience when things go unexpected, have you two been communicative during this last week?”

“Very,” Scott nods and looks at Stiles fondly, “I think we’ve communicated more this week than we have the entire past seven years.”

Stiles stares back at Scott, squeezing his hand, “Yeah, that’s still probably an understatement,” he says, “We even told everyone the truth, finally.”

Mrs. Vargas picks up her pen, writing something down as she listens, “It’s always important that you talk, most make that mistake when things become really… busy. Scott,” she looks to him as she speaks, “Have you been sober as well?”

“I have,” Scott nods and keeps her gaze, “He wanted me to stop, too, so I did. It wasn’t as big a leap for me as it was for him, though.” He looks at Stiles then, “He’s done really well.”

“No I haven’t, I just look like I do,” Stiles shakes his head, “I mean it probably says something that I’ve had like fifteen panic attacks in the last week, or that I’ve had a constant headache, or that I’ve slept about ten hours in the past seven days.”

“And despite all of that, you still haven’t broken down and asked me for any coke,” Scott points out, “Stiles, you’re doing amazing. I wish you’d give yourself more credit.”

Stiles looks back at Mrs. Vargas, “I dunno, I’m trying not to get my hopes up about the whole ‘not relapsing’ thing. Tons of people do, my dad did. I just,” he chews on the inside of his lip, “I don’t wanna trip over my own feet.”

“Even if you do,” Scott says, eyes still glued on Stiles, “I’ll be right here to pick you back up again,” he reassures his husband.

“Sap,” Stiles responds and looks at Scott, grinning and reaching up to touch his cheek with his free hand, “I love you.”

Mrs. Vargas smiles at the exchange, looking back down to her notepad and continuing to write as she listens to them.

“I love you,” Scott responds weakly and kisses Stiles, forcing himself not to linger and make a show of it in front of the counselor.

“This is quite an improvement over last week,” Mrs. Vargas says, looking back at the two of them again, “Over the past year. How’s your sex life been during the last seven days?”

“We haven’t technically had sex yet,” Scott tells her and manages to pry his eyes away from Stiles to look at her, “We’re… intimate, we touch and…” he lowers his voice, “Climax,” he says awkwardly, “But we haven’t made love yet.”

Stiles scoffs and shakes his head, “I could argue that,” he says and rubs his thumb along Scott’s skin, “I mean, we haven’t had like… anal intercourse or whatever, but I’d call it sex,” he shifts in his seat, his cheeks heating a little but he doesn’t bother acting shy about it, “It’s been pretty fucking amazing so far.”

“I second that, it seriously has been,” Scott nods fervently, looking away from Mrs. Vargas to look at Stiles again, smiling at how pink his cheeks are, "It's been really good, all things considered."

“Yeah,” Stiles says and looks back at Scott as well, “I mean, it’s been fucking Hell the past week, but it’s still been a thousand times better than the last seven years. And we warded off actual sex until I’m… I guess ‘confident’ of being clean. Just as an incentive, or something like that.”

“That’s good,” Mrs. Vargas says, nodding in approval, “Incentives, even if they’re something that you’re used to getting, are always good to have. How are you handling living in the hotel together?”

"It's a little cramped, with all of our bags and things, makes it difficult for me to move around and exercise," Scott says and shrugs, "But it's not completely unbearable, especially now that things have gotten better between us."

Stiles glances down at the other man’s lips, “Can’t believe I’ve been missing out on watching that before…” he chuckles, “Yeah, it’s a little cramped, but I’d take that over living in the apartment and being how we were any day.”

Scott narrows his brows when he notices Stiles all but talking at his mouth and presses his lips together, "Watching what?" he asks in confusion, suddenly self-conscious of his own mouth.

“You working out,” Stiles responds, licking his lips, “I could probably sit and watch you do that for hours.”

Mrs. Vargas raises her brows as she watches them flirt, observing how the two interact as silent and unimposing as possible.

"Yeah?" Scott asks and smiles slowly at Stiles, and it's like his vision narrows down to Stiles and only Stiles when the other man says shit like that, "I could probably make it more interesting, start working out naked."

“I wouldn’t complain,” Stiles says, mouth watering at just the thought, “I mean, I don’t see why you don’t do it that way already.”

“Never really occurred to me that you liked watching,” Scott says and smiles wider as he stares at Stiles, “Otherwise I would’ve been.”

Stiles raises a brow, “Are you kidding? It’s probably the most arousing thing I’ve ever seen in my whole fucking life. I mean, it’s right up there with the tongue sucking thing-” he stops and looks at Mrs. Vargas then, “Uh… sorry.”

Scott’s eyes follow and widen when he realizes they both got a little carried away, reminding him of how they used to be when they were younger, “Yeah, sorry.”

Mrs. Vargas chuckles and shakes her head, “No, don’t apologize. I’ve always said that it’s healthy for a couple to flirt, long after they’ve been married,” she finishes writing and smiles at them, “Is that how it’s been the past week?”

Stiles nods, “Pretty much, yeah,” he reaches up to scratch idly over his stitches, “When we get the chance.”

“When things aren’t insane,” Scott adds, “We’re-we’ve been… pretty affectionate with one another, I think. It reminds me a lot of how we used to be, sometimes, with how we can hardly keep our hands off of one another. It’s like we’re teenagers again or something.”

“All of it’s pretty much been like how it was at first,” Stiles concludes, “It’s been nice,” he says as he stares at Scott, “It’s kinda weird though, I mean, I’ve never considered the possibility of like… it getting so good directly after being as bad as humanly possible.”

“It’s not uncommon,” Mrs. Vargas says, “Most don’t appreciate it as much as you two seem to, though.”

“It’s difficult not to appreciate it,” Scott says, “It was bad for so long, I didn’t have my best friend or my lover anymore… and now I do, I’m grateful.”

Mrs. Vargas nods, “Well, that’s what makes your relationship more unique than most that go through marriage counseling. You’re best friends. Most would seek help within the first four years, whereas it took you both nine to really come to a professional. Marriages that have the problems yours has had normally can’t last much longer than a few before divorce, or worse.”

Stiles swallows tightly, “It almost did,” he says, narrowing his brows, “I’m glad it didn’t come to that.”

“Me too,” Scott says quietly and leans to kiss Stiles’s temple, nudging his husband’s cheek with his nose.

“What are your plans after the hotel?” Mrs. Vargas asks then, continuing to write as they talk, “You two have likely discussed it, right?”

Stiles sits up more in his seat, moving just a little closer to Scott, if at all possible, “Kinda? We’re still not really sure, but we’ve talked about going back to Beacon Hills. My dad’s house is still there and it’s… well, it’s better than living in another apartment.”

“There’s a lot we need to do, if we do decide to move back home,” Scott adds to the conversation, “So it’s all kinda up in the air right now, I suppose.”

“Keep talking about it,” Mrs. Vargas advises them, “The more you weigh your options, the better the outcome will be for the both of you. Stiles,” she looks at him, “I know it’s probably a sore spot, but you said that you’d lost your books. Have you thought about what you’re going to do without them?”

Stiles lets out a huff of breath, “I dunno, stop writing? Seems pretty pointless now that I don’t have them. That’s pretty much the last twenty years of my life down the drain.”

“I’ve been trying to encourage him not to give up,” Scott tells her and shrugs, “I don’t think he wants to hear it, though. I just don’t want him to give up on something I know he loves.”

Stiles frowns when Mrs. Vargas watches him expectantly, “Well what am I supposed to do? I don’t even have a laptop anymore. And even if I did, I could just risk losing them all over again - granted the next time I throw it, I doubt it’ll be over coke.”

“You still have all of your notepads, though,” Scott says, “We can always get you a new laptop, Stiles, a flash drive even… or whatever they’re called, hard drives? I don’t want you to give up just because it’s the easier option.”

“Not writing isn’t exactly an easy option,” Stiles responds, sighing and turning to Scott, “But it feels kinda pointless when I’m like… literally the only person that cares about it.”

“I’m trying,” Scott says, because to him the words feel like an accusation of some kind, “I acknowledged the fact that I was neglectful to you, that I never showed any interest. I apologized, even told you I wanted to read them. I care.”

Stiles shrugs helplessly, “Either way, it’s kinda pointless now - because they don’t really exist anymore. They’re just in my head, maybe that’s where they should stay.”

Scott sighs because he doesn’t know what else to say, it doesn’t matter how much he persists. Stiles is stubborn and if he doesn’t want to hear what Scott’s trying to say, then he doesn’t know how else to get his point across.

“Stiles,” Mrs. Vargas says and Stiles turns to her, waiting patiently as she writes and then she meets his eyes, “In the last seven years, do you ever remember reading back in your books?”

Stiles purses his lips and swallows tightly, “No.”

“Why not?”

“You don’t finish if you keep reading back,” Stiles says conclusively.

Mrs. Vargas nods, “You would be surprised how often writers do, and how much a book can change throughout that process.”

“Are you trying to tell me how to be a writer?” Stiles asks in annoyance.

“Maybe,” the woman says and smiles fondly, “You should consider trying to rewrite at least one. Don’t you want to share that world with someone else besides yourself? Most importantly, with your husband.”

MageStiles

Chapter Text

Scott tucks the box under his arm and reaches out to hit the elevator button, anxious yet also kind of hesitant to give it to Stiles. He’d stopped by Best Buy after work and got it, along with a flash drive, hoping the notion would be enough to urge the other man to start over. The doors open and he steps out, walking somewhat excitedly down the hall to their hotel room.

He almost drops the laptop as he opens the door, but he manages to catch it, clutching it tighter as he steps inside and shuts the door behind himself.

“It’s just me,” he calls out, “Where're you at?”

“Bed,” Stiles mutters from under the covers, not bothering to remove the pillow from atop his head as he curls in on himself, his head pounding as he presses it against the sheets.

Scott sits his keys down on the counter and kicks his shoes off, grimacing as he catches a whiff of himself and heads to the bedroom, laptop box still tucked under his arm. He sits down on the side of the bed, putting the laptop down next to Stiles before gently removing the pillow from his face.

“I got you something,” he says softly.

“Advil?” Stiles asks expectantly, groaning and turning completely onto his stomach.

“No, but I can get you some of that, too,” Scott says, laying the pillow over on the other side of the bed. He leans down and kisses the nape of Stiles’s neck, “It can wait, I’ll leave you alone for a little bit.”

“Don’t go,” Stiles complains as he reaches out blindly, unsure of exactly what he grabs, but he doesn’t care. He hates feeling like this - irritated, sick, and clingy all at the same time.

“Okay,” Scott says and smiles at how tight Stiles’s grip is on him, moving the laptop box to the nightstand beside the bed before lying down next to his husband, “I won’t, but I gotta warn you, I stink - the AC busted at the gym today.”

Stiles moves, reaching out to wrap his arms around Scott and shaking his head, “Mmm, I don’t mind,” he says as he leans in to kiss over the chest of Scott’s shirt.

“You’re shaking,” Scott notices and reaches up to touch Stiles’s face, his brows narrowed in worry, “If it was this bad today you should’ve called, I would’ve come home,” he says, “Maybe you should come with me tomorrow.”

“I’ve pretty much slept the entire day,” Stiles responds, “I dunno if I can go with you tomorrow, I feel so just… fucking exhausted constantly. Like I just wanna sleep for years or something,” he leans into Scott’s hand, the cool touch of the other man’s skin making him sigh in relief.

“There’s an office at the gym, couch and everything, you could always lay there,” Scott offers, smoothing his thumb against Stiles’s cheek, “I don’t like leaving you here while you’re like this.”

Stiles closes his eyes as he listens to Scott, slowly starting to drift back off as he rests his head on the other man’s chest, “Mmm.”

Scott’s expression softens as he watches Stiles, hand moving up to brush through his hair, “I missed you today,” he says quietly, almost positive that Stiles is asleep again.

“Missed you too,” Stiles says, opening his eyes to just slits as he looks up at Scott, “Always miss you when you leave.”

Scott must be a sap - like Stiles said - because looking at Stiles like this, with him being so tired and saying what he’s saying, it makes his heart flutter and all he wants to do is curl around his husband protectively, maybe even tell him he’ll never leave again; it’s just not plausible, though.

“Are you hungry?” he asks, letting his fingers trail tenderly down the side of Stiles’s neck, “I could go get you something, get some Advil while I’m at it.”

“I don’t know,” Stiles mumbles, head slumping to the side as he relaxes against Scott and falls back asleep again.

Scott snorts affectionately when he feels Stiles slump more against him, the tips of his fingers tracing the moles dotting the other man’s neck. He doesn’t like Stiles being like this anymore than Stiles likes it himself, but he figures it’s part of the recovering process and in time, he’ll be back to himself.

Stiles grins lazily and shifts at the touch, chuckling and turning a little as his feet shift along under the covers until he wraps his legs around Scott and opens his eyes again, “Yeah.”

Scott smiles and chuckles a little, fingers stilling on Stiles’s neck, “Yeah what?” he asks, narrowing his eyes at his husband and looking curiously at him, “Are you sleep talking to me right now… with your eyes open? ‘Cause if so, I dunno if it’s cute or creepy.”

“Hmm?” Stiles asks and closes his eyes again, turning to smear his cheek across Scott’s chest, “Mm-m-no.”

“Yep,” Scott says to himself more than anything, “You’re sleep talking,” he decides and smiles wider, because it’s been a while since he’s heard the other man sleep talk.

“Scott,” Stiles mutters, drawing the ‘o’ out as he breathes deeply through his nose, “Shut up.”

“Okay,” Scott replies and resigns himself to relax, maybe even nap for a while, because it’s obvious Stiles doesn’t want anything to do with the waking world at the moment.

Stiles narrows his brows and looks up at Scott then, blinking and lifting his head, “Mm-kay what?” he asks in confusion, “Are you talking to yourself?”

“You told me to shut up, I said 'okay',” Scott says and traces the slope of Stiles’s nose with the pad of his forefinger, “Now sleep, you’re just confusing yourself.”

Stiles grins slowly at the touch of the other man’s hand and he leans in, messily kissing Scott and curling against him again, “Mmmm-I love you, buddy.”

“I love you too, Stiles,” Scott responds and grins like an idiot, wrapping an arm around the other man. He doesn’t really know what it is about a sleepy Stiles that he likes so much, he just knows that he does.

Stiles isn’t sure how much time passes between each time he wakes up, just that he’s constantly hot and shaky, and tired every time he does. Finally he actually realizes that there’s a Scott wrapped around him and he blinks awake. He stretches and grimaces at the slide of sticky sweatiness between them and it literally feels like the center of a fucking volcano is pressing against his dick.

He shoves off the covers, turning onto his back and letting out a loud, miserable groan, “Jesus Christ, is the AC even on?”

“Hmm?” Scott hums and scrunches up his face as he opens his eyes, whining a little at the loss of Stiles pressing against him, “I dunno,” he says groggily, making a grabby hand motion at his husband.

Stiles turns to Scott and chuckles, moving back and stopping, “Ow,” he says suddenly, but it comes out more as a question and he gasps in pain, “That can’t be good,” he reaches down, pulling up his shirt (which is completely drenched in sweat so much that it sticks to his skin)  and trying to get a good look at the stitches on his shoulder.

Scott tries to blink himself more awake and he leans up on his elbows, looking at Stiles curiously, “What’s wrong?”

“I dunno, but it hurts,” Stiles reaches up to touch the stitches and tries not to react too violently, but his legs tense and his teeth clench, so he pulls his hand away at once, “Guess I shouldn’t have slept on ‘em.”

“Should take you to the hospital,” Scott says insistently, groaning at his stiff body as he sits up, “Just to get it checked out, maybe you pulled one.”

“Can you look at it for me?” Stiles asks as he turns onto his back and peels up the bandaging to show Scott.

Scott squints at it and frowns, “Yeah,” he says numbly, “But, not only did you pull one, but Stiles…” his frown deepens a little as he observes how red the surrounding skin is, and what looks like pus around the wound, “I think it’s infected, we really should take you to the hospital.”

Stiles groans, pushing out his bottom lip, “Are you kidding? I don’t wanna go back to the hospital again, once was enough.”

“It could get into your bloodstream and kill you if we don’t go,” Scott responds and meets his husbands eyes, not to mention the ridiculous, albeit adorable pout, “We’re going, it’s not debatable.”

“Your face is not debatable,” Stiles responds, turning over and rolling away.

“What does that even mean?” Scott snorts at Stiles and shakes his head, “I’m serious, Stiles, get changed, we’re going. I’ll drag you if I have to.”

“Nope, I’m good,” Stiles says as he throws his legs off the side of the bed and stands upright, stopping when his hip hits something and he turns to the box, “What the fuck is this?”

“Huh?” Scott asks and looks, shrugging when he sees Stiles is talking about the box, the box that clearly has a laptop in it, “You know how to read and identify things by pictures, you know what it is.”

Stiles looks at Scott in confusion, “Uh yeah, but why?”

“I told you I’d get you one, I wasn’t lying,” Scott says and moves to one of the bags, pulling out a clean shirt to pull on, “I got you a flash drive, too, but I accidentally left it in the car.”

Stiles watches his husband for a moment longer, his sight blurring and he turns away to grab his duffle and get a change of clothes out. It isn’t easy, using just his left arm (especially considering he’s right handed), but he manages it well enough, “Uh… can you… uh-can-can you help me get… dressed?”

“Yeah,” Scott says without giving it a second thought, “Of course.”

He moves to Stiles, reaching out for the hem of his shirt but he stops when he really looks at Stiles, his watery eyes, “What’s wrong? Did I upset you?”

“What?” Stiles shakes his head, “No,” he waves his hand dismissively, “It’s nothing.”

“Please don’t do that,” Scott says and frowns, “With you and me, it’s never nothing, there’s always something. Just tell me.”

Stiles chuckles and reaches out to hug Scott, “No, dude, it’s seriously nothing okay? It’s just… nice, is all.”

Scott hugs Stiles back in confusion, “So, you’re not mad at me, then?” he asks, just to make sure.

“No, I’m not mad,” Stiles says and turns to press his lips to the other man’s neck, “I’m not mad.”

Scott sighs in relief and presses his lips to Stiles’s shoulder, “Good. Now, let’s get you dressed and get you to the hospital.”

“Don’t look at me, you’re the one changing the subject, I just wanted you to come over here and help me put my pants on,” Stiles responds and winks at Scott, “Maybe later you can help me do the opposite?”

“Gladly,” Scott nods and smiles, gently pulling Stiles’s shirt up halfway before trying to get his arms out through the sleeves, not wanting to jerk them both up in the air when he pulls the shirt off the rest of the way.

“What time is it?” Stiles asks as he tries to help, reaching up to wipe some of the sweat from his forehead once the shirt’s off, “What time did you get back?”

“I got in around four-thirty,” Scott says, glancing over Stiles’s shoulder to the clock on the nightstand as he pulls the neck of the clean shirt over Stiles’s head, “It’s eight-seventeen now.”

Stiles groans and leans against Scott’s shoulder, “Oh my God, I’m so hungry I think I’m gonna be sick or something.”

“We can get you Taco Bell on the way there,” Scott offers, delicately helping Stiles put his arms through the sleeves of the clean shirt, “Or, you know, whatever you want.”

“That sounds fine,” Stiles says and reaches down to unbutton his pants with his left hand, “I just wanna get this shit done and over with - I’ve been wanting to see you like… all fucking day.”

“So, I’m right in front of you,” Scott says and grins, “Look at me if you wanna see me so bad.” Jokes aren’t really his thing, they’re more of Stiles’s schtick, but he tries anyway, hands pushing Stiles’s pants down.

Stiles pulls back to look at Scott, “I don’t just mean see you, I mean spend time with you and shit.” He steps out of the jeans carefully, pushing them aside with his foot.

“It was a j-” Scott sighs and shakes his head, smile fading some as he helps Stiles into the clean jeans, “I know what you meant, I wanna spend time with you, too.”

Stiles frowns at the response and lifts his brows, “Are you okay?”

“Yeah, I’m fine,” Scott replies and pulls the jeans up Stiles’s legs, glancing up to look at him in confusion, “Why?”

“I dunno, you seem kinda extra sensitive,” Stiles shrugs, regretting it the moment he does it, and the motion nearly takes his breath away, “You sure you’re okay?”

“I’m fine, I promise,” Scott says, buttoning Stiles’s jeans, “I made a joke, it wasn’t funny. Worse things have happened-can you put your shoes on or do you need help with those, too?”

“It was kinda funny,” Stiles responds, sitting on the edge of the bed and bending down to get his shoes, “Probably would’ve been funnier if I didn’t feel so fucking clingy right now.”

“Clingy isn’t always a bad thing,” Scott says and moves to crouch at Stiles’s feet, taking the shoes from him and putting them on him, “I like when you’re clingy.”

Stiles rolls his eyes as he smirks, “I’m not surprised you do,” he says fondly, reaching out to ruffle Scott’s hair.

“I’ve been deprived,” Scott says, tying Stiles’s shoelace and leaning to nip at his husband’s knee through his jeans, “I can’t help it.”

“I’m sorry about that,” Stiles responds as he stands up, moving to grab his keys and his wallet, “No more of it though, I promise.”

“It’s-you didn’t have to apologize,” Scott says, standing back up and meandering back out into the other room to put his own shoes on, “All I’m trying to say, is that I like when you’re clingy.”

Stiles follows after Scott, not bothering to grab his jacket because his body could seriously use some airing out, “That’s okay, too. I wasn’t saying ‘no more clingy’, I was saying ‘no more deprivation’,” he moves to Scott, wrapping his arms around the other man’s waist, leaning in to whisper in his ear, “If you want me when I’m clingy, then that’s alright.”

Scott touches one of Stiles’s forearms and slides his other foot into his shoe, then turns around to fully look at Stiles, reaching up to clutch at his cheeks, “I just want you, period. Clingy or not. Okay, maybe especially if you’re clingy,” he says, smiling slowly as he presses their lips together.

Stiles chuckles and kisses back, nipping at his husband’s bottom lip and moaning into his mouth, “As long as you want me.”

“You moan at the most inopportune times, I swear,” Scott huffs and kisses Stiles again, not wanting to pull away now, “Let’s go before I end up bedding you.”

“I think this would be the only bad time to try and bed me,” Stiles says and lets go, moving to the door and opening it, “We’re still going to Taco Bell, right?”

“Through the drive-thru, yeah,” Scott nods and walks out of the hotel room, waiting for Stiles to shut the door with his hand extended in wait, “You can eat in the car on the way to the hospital.”

Stiles locks up and takes Scott’s hand, moving close and leaning against him, “I think I’ll just eat one for now. If my shoulder’s that bad, and I have to go into like… surgery or something, probably best I do it on a semi-empty stomach.”

“Yeah,” Scott says and side-glances worriedly at his husband, “Let’s just hope that’s not the case.”

“Hopefully not,” Stiles responds, wincing every time he moves his arm too much, “But I wouldn’t be surprised.”

MageStiles

Chapter Text

A tapping sound is what wakes Scott up. At first, he tells himself he’s imagining the sound, that he’s dreaming it, but it keeps happening… a lot, and if it’s a dream then he should at least be able to will it away or something. The only thing is is that he can’t, the quick tap-tap-tap still happens, so he huffs and pries his eyes open to find mostly darkness, an unusual glow coming from behind him.

He rolls and his eyes widen when he sees the laptop perched in Stiles’s lap, the other man’s fingers flying over the keys and he smiles sleepily, looking from the laptop to Stiles’s face, “What’chya doin’?” he asks knowingly.

Stiles turns to Scott, probably looking a little like a deer caught in headlights, “Uh, sorry, did I wake you up?”

“Nope,” Scott lies and grins a little wider, he’s not about to say ‘yes’ and deter Stiles from writing, “I gotta pee,” he explains, and it’s not a complete lie, “Whazzat?” he slurs, nodding at the screen.

“Uh…” Stiles glances back at the screen, he doesn’t like that it’s actually reflex to tell Scott to go away, or mind his own business, or leave him alone, “A book?”

“One of the ones you’ve already done before or something new?” Scott asks curiously, grunting softly as he sits up in bed beside Stiles and leans to kiss his sore shoulder.

Stiles smiles at the press of the other man’s lips, “Well, kinda both I guess,” he admits, “Figured that since I’m pretty much starting from square one, that I could change around some things I didn’t like from before.”

“That’s cool,” Scott says, squinting at the glare of the screen, “So, what’s the plot? Can you tell me or are you gonna make me wait and read the whole thing? Not that I won’t read it anyway, because I totally will.”

“Uh, well the plot wouldn’t really spoil too much, considering it’s like… I mean,” Stiles narrows his brows as he tries to think of how to explain it, “If I ever finish it, it’s gonna end up being like fourteen books or something. But there’s like this whole conspiracy plot underneath all of it that you don’t really start noticing until like book eight. She’s just this agent that-it’s kinda like X-Files, only in this world, that’s pretty much the norm.”

“Ah,” Scott nods and scratches the side of his neck, still incredibly tired but at the same time, he’s happy that Stiles is writing and talking to him about it, “Is there like… the Mulder equivalent in this?” he asks, “I like Mulder.”

Stiles chuckles, “Well, yeah, you can’t really have a book like this without someone like that. He’s-well, he’s kinda a ghost, he dies at the beginning of the first book, and he’s her partner.”

“That’s sad,” Scott says and pouts a little, narrowing his brows at Stiles, “Are they just partners? Or are they partner partners?” he asks dumbly, “Ghost sex would be cool.”

“Ghost sex?” Stiles lifts his brows, “Okay, mister fanfiction writer. Though… now you’ve put the thought in my mind and it’s gonna fester. They’re not really involved, though, at the start of the book you can pretty much tell, like it’s a given that they’re into each other. But his death complicates things. Even though they still work together, it just kinda gets put on the back burner to try and solve his case.”

“That,” Scott enunciates clearly and nods, grinning tiredly at Stiles, “Sounds pretty badass, and if you don’t put ghost sex in there somewhere, I fully expect you to write me a little something something on the side.”

Stiles shakes his head, “Oh my God-how would that even work out?” he considers it for a second, “Well, yeah it could kinda work in my books. Sorta like in the movie Ghost, how they can touch stuff if they concentrate.”

Scott chuckles at the imagery, envisioning a ghost concentrating and trying to will the woman to feel his dick, “Oh God, I’m tired,” he says, resting his head back against the headboard, “I dunno how they’d ever be able to do anything, concentrating so hard and shit. If I even think too much when my dick is involved, I can’t stay hard.”

“Well, it gets easier over time,” Stiles responds, unsure of why he’s justifying ghost sex of all things, in his books, “In the first book he can’t really do it much, but by the fifth, he’s like catching werewolves and fucking up their days - spoiler alert.”

“Werewolves?” Scott asks and looks at Stiles by rolling his head to the side a little, “Like, all things supernatural? Even vampires? Oh God, just tell me your vampires aren’t like Eddard Cullen or whatever.”

“Edward, and no,” Stiles says, “Eddard Stark,” he points out and sets the laptop aside, turning to Scott and moving atop him, “They’re more like… kinda Buffy meets Thirty Days of Night, sort of. They’re pretty fucking terrifying. I don’t write pussy vampires.”

“Do they have the squished faces and black eyes?” Scott asks, hands mindlessly moving to Stiles’s hips, “Those black eyes fucked me up,” he says conversationally, shifting a little to get comfortable and accidentally rutting his hard on against Stiles.

Stiles blinks and glances downward, “Yeah, kinda,” he leans down, ghosting his lips over Scott’s, “You’re kinda hard.”

“I am also a, a guy; and b, in bed with you,” Scott points out and shrugs, tilting his chin up to kiss Stiles, “I can’t be blamed.”

“Not blaming,” Stiles says as he reaches back to push his pajama bottoms down as he smirks, keeping his head back just enough to stop Scott from reaching him, “Just can’t help noticing.”

Scott whines a little when he can’t just lean up and kiss Stiles again, being both tired and mildly horny make him clingy, “I wanna kiss you,” he says pitifully, glancing down at the newly exposed skin, “Or touch you, I dunno yet.”

“Conflicted?” Stiles asks teasingly, leaving his pajama bottoms pooled at his knees as he reaches out to cup the shape of the other man’s dick through his tight black boxer briefs. He leans down then, licking quickly at Scott’s mouth, “Could always do both.”

“Oh man, I love unexpected hand jobs,” Scott mumbles and moves one of his hands from Stiles’s hip, brushing his fingers along the silky skin of Stiles’s length. Tilting his head up again, he grazes his teeth against his husband’s chin, dragging them across the skin slowly as he curls his fingers around the other man’s dick.

Stiles gasps, left arm holding himself up as his right pushes the hem of Scott’s underwear down, thin, long fingers wrapping around his length as he presses a quick, breathy kiss to Scott’s lips.

“I dunno what even happened,” Scott says, both bewildered and aroused as he arches his hips against the friction, pumping Stiles’s cock slowly, “We were talking about your books and next thing I know you’re pushing your pants down, I like it.”

“You were telling me to write about ‘ghost sex’,” Stiles explains and arches his hips down, brushing the head of his dick against Scott’s, “Kinda got me thinkin’ about sex…”

“You mean hand jobs, right?” Scott asks, he knows that he and Stiles have different definitions for the word sex, but still, “So, are you saying thinking about ghost sex made you horny?”

“So what if it did?” Stiles asks back, raising a brow, “And yeah, of course I mean hand jobs… well, do, that doesn’t stop me from thinking about pounding your ass into oblivion.”

“Stiles,” Scott says suddenly, practically whining the name as his grip tightens on his husband’s cock, “Jesus, you can’t just-it’s…” he hums softly at the pleasure, and now that he’s thinking about Stiles fucking him, the fingers wrapped around him suddenly feel that much better, “You’re so cruel.”

Stiles arches his hips against Scott’s hand, leaning down to his ear, “Cruel would be telling you how I’d work you open and then tease your hole with the head of my dick until you begged me to stuff it all in you.”

“Oh God,” Scott groans and his cock pulses, he’s not sure if he can actually handle Stiles telling him about it, much less going into detail, “I miss it,” he admits, mouth falling slack for a moment, “Can’t wait to just-have you in me again.”

“Me too, buddy,” Stiles breathes as he turns, dragging his teeth down Scott’s neck as he pumps him quicker, fist twisting up in the sheets as he ruts down against his husband’s hand, “God, I can’t wait for that.”

Scott’s feet dig into the mattress a little, toes curling into the sheets as his hips arch up slightly, breath hitching in his throat when he feels his orgasm building rapidly. It’s Stiles, thinking about Stiles, thinking about Stiles being inside of him that’s doing it; making his entire body feel over-sensitive. He tries to make sure his hand doesn’t stutter on his husband, wanting more than anything to make sure he’s giving just as good as he’s getting.

Stiles leans back up, pressing his forehead to Scott’s temple and panting just near the corner of his mouth as his body tenses. He opens his eyes, lashes brushing the other man’s skin as he stares at him, hips moving shakily in uneven thrusts as he moans loudly, cheeks heating, “Fuck, Scotty.”

The nickname goes through Scott like fire and pushes him over the metaphorical edge, come spurting onto his stomach and dribbling over Stiles's fingers as his chest heaves. His hand only goes slack on the other man once, just as his vision dots out, but he breathes in deep and forces himself to move. He strokes Stiles faster and more surely as he turns his head to the side, staring into his husband's eyes, just barely brushing their lips together.

Stiles runs his fingers over the line of come before lifting it to his mouth and sucking on the tip of his finger. He leans in, kissing Scott and smearing the fluid across his lips as he cups his cheek. He’s close enough already that the taste of the other man’s seed causes his length to throb, pre-come spilling from the head as he glances down, watching Scott jerk him.

Scott licks the bitter taste from his lips and moves his free hand, rolling his middle finger around in his come until it's nice and slick. He keeps the hand on Stiles's cock steady and firm, biting on his bottom lip in concentration as he reaches down with his other hand, past Stiles's balls, rubbing the pad of his finger against the other man's hole briefly before sliding the digit in clear to the knuckle.

“Oh fuck,” Stiles all but growls, eyes widening and he arches back against Scott’s hand, his body shaking eagerly as he shifts his knees against the sheets, moving his forearm to make it easier to rock back into the finger.

Scott watches Stiles in fascination, mouth all but drying out at the way the other man's trying to work himself on his finger. It's probably cruel, but he takes the hand on Stiles's dick away and bends his arm back, resting his forearm up under his head as he stares up at Stiles, "Keep going, just like that."

He gently works his forefinger in as well, "Fuck yourself on my fingers," he rasps out breathily.

“Oh my God, Scott,” Stiles says, half in surprise, half in arousal. He stares at his husband, eyes wide and dick practically dripping at this point. But he does as Scott tells him to, rocking his hips back as his mouth drops open and he whines needily.

“Fuck, fuck, fuck,” he mutters numbly as he moves, thighs tensing each time he shifts back on Scott’s fingers.

Scott swallows and stares at Stiles almost hungrily, eyes dripping down over his body as he curves his fingers inside of his husband, "Close your eyes," he tells the other man insistently, pressing in a third finger.

Stiles closes his eyes at once, squeezing them shut as he takes his bottom lip between his teeth and whimpers weakly. He reaches out with his other hand to steady himself better, left arm getting a little sore but he doesn’t complain, he’s far too excited to complain.

Scott smiles to himself a little and just observes Stiles for a moment, "Good, that's so good," he praises softly, his voice hardly more than a whisper, "Now, imagine my dick stretching you open, not my fingers."

“Scott,” Stiles all but sobs, a tear slipping down his cheek as his dick presses against his stomach, “Oh-fuck, I’m seriously gonna come…” he moves back more desperately, fucking himself back on Scott’s fingers and moaning obscenely.

Stiles's moans send shivers down Scott's back and he hooks his fingers inside of him a little more, aiming for his prostate every time he rocks back, "Do it," he encourages huskily, "Wanna feel you squeeze around me."

“Oh-” the word catches in Stiles’s throat as his legs tense, orgasm building so quickly then that he gasps when it hits suddenly, eyes opening and he looks at Scott as he continues to shift back on his husband’s fingers, riding them through it. He numbly feels the other man’s name pass his lips a few times, his whole body trembling and his heart beat pounding in his ears as he stills finally.

Scott leans up as he stares at Stiles, his other hand coming up and he curls his fingers around his husband’s neck, pulling him in by the throat for a kiss. He gently removes his fingers from inside of Stiles, resting that hand on the other man’s thigh.

“I love you,” he whispers against Stiles’s mouth.

MageStiles

Chapter Text

Stiles grins and kisses back the best he can, mind whirling as he leans in, “I love you, too,” he says as he stares at Scott, kissing him a few more times to try and calm himself down, “Jesus fucking Christ, I forgot you can be like that.”

“You bring it out of me,” Scott shrugs and rubs his thumb over Stiles’s Adam’s apple, nipping at his bottom lip before pulling back, “Also, you look fucking amazing when you lose yourself like that. Wow.”

“Do I?” Stiles chuckles and moves down Scott’s body, dipping his head down and licking the sticky fluid from across his hip, mouth opening as he takes in a mouthful of flesh and starts sucking.

“Oh-oh,” Scott’s eyes widen and his hand moves to Stiles’s hair suddenly, gripping the soft locks firmly, “Fuck, what are you trying to do, get me hard again?”

Stiles glances back up, “That quickly?” he asks in amusement, licking up more of his seed as he smooths his palm down Scott’s thigh.

“Yes, that quickly,” Scott defends himself weakly, watching Stiles as his flaccid length gives an interested twitch, “I know I’m old, but… yeah. I think you seriously underestimate the effect you have on me.”

“I’m not calling you old, dude,” Stiles chuckles and raises his brows, staring at Scott as he continues to lick him clean, “If I’m calling you old, I’m calling me old.”

“We’re thirty,” Scott says like it’s a sudden realization, dropping his head back against his pillow and staring up at the ceiling, “We are old,” he mumbles, he really doesn’t want to have an early mid-life crisis in the middle of the night after a mind blowing orgasm.

Stiles stills as he looks at Scott, “That better not be the sound of you wanting to buy a new car.”

“Do I look old?” Scott asks instead of acknowledging the comment, “Like, am I still-do you find me physically attractive?”

“I think you look fucking sexy,” Stiles responds without missing a beat, “Like,” he leans up to stare at Scott, “Sixteen year old me would fucking cream his pants if he knew I was with you.”

“Seriously?” Scott asks, eyes earnestly wide as he looks at Stiles, “Do you think people look at me and think: ‘damn, he’s been through some shit’? Because it just-it seriously feels like we were teenagers not even a month ago, Stiles. What the fuck happened?” he asks rhetorically.

“Baby, you need to calm down,” Stiles says as he kisses Scott’s chest, “The first thing I imagine people think when they see you is something along the lines of ‘oh shit, there’s a wall there’ - because they can’t stop looking at you. You’re fucking gorgeous, and you look like you’re twenty-five. Stop freaking out.”

“I’m not freaking out, you’re freaking out,” Scott says dumbly, shaking his head at himself and sighing as he looks at Stiles fondly, “Are you still gonna wanna bang me when I have gray hair?”

Stiles nods, “Mmm, yes,” he responds, speaking slowly as he lays down beside Scott, reaching out to run his nails through the other man’s hair, “Gray hair, and when it’s difficult to get it up, yup. I’ll still wanna demolish that ass.”

“Do you think it’s too late to really do something with the rest of our lives?” Scott asks, “I’m not trying to get all deep, or philosophical and shit, I just-I feel like we’ve… we’ve missed out on so much, you know?”

“I know,” Stiles says softly as he brushes his hand along Scott’s stomach, “You always have two modes after orgasm,” he responds knowingly, “I don’t think it’s too late to do something. I mean, look at Steve Jobs, right? I don’t think it’s ever too late. As long as I’m with you, I don’t really care what else I do.”

“I don’t care either,” Scott says and it’s mostly true, there are some things he knows he’ll always long for, though; a bigger family, some kind of legacy to leave behind, “I just-” he sighs, “I don’t want us to get old and decrepit, look back on our lives and think: ‘shit, I wish I would’ve done this or this’.”

He tilts his head to the side to look at Stiles, reaction slightly belated, “What do you mean I always have two modes after I get off?”

“You either get lazy or you get deep,” Stiles responds as he curls in close and presses a few wet kisses along Scott’s chest, “Is this about babies?”

Scott narrows his brows and if he didn’t love how well Stiles can read him sometimes, he’d totally hate it, “Sort of, I guess,” he says honestly, because he doesn’t want to lie about it, “I’m sorry,” he presses his fingers to his eyes and shakes his head, worried Stiles is going to get upset with him, because somehow everything always seems to lead back to babies, to a family.

“I’m sorry,” he repeats.

Stiles reaches out to take his hand, “Don’t apologize, okay?” he says as he moves up, staring Scott in the eyes as he shakes his head, “Don’t. Okay? Let’s talk about this.”

“What is there even really to talk about?” Scott asks and swallows, because his voice is a little more shaky than he expected, talking about this kind of thing is always an inexplicable sore spot, “I don’t know why I want a family so bad, Stiles,” he admits softly, “I really don’t.”

“I don’t think you need a reason for that kinda thing, baby,” Stiles responds, brushing his thumb along Scott’s wrist, “You don’t gotta come up with a reason for it. But it’s been a while since we’ve really talked about it, so it’s worth bringing it up, isn’t it?”

“Yeah, I guess,” Scott says unsurely, he’s just so accustomed to Stiles getting upset with him over the topic, even after what the other man told him, “What about it?”

Stiles shrugs, “I dunno,” he says and smiles sheepishly, “I mean, I know you want ‘em, but it’s been years since we’ve talked about it. We’re older and, ironically, maybe less stable as far as careers go than we were seven years ago. I do have all the money I’ve saved up...”

"It doesn't really matter what I want anymore," Scott says and that's the shitty truth of it. Adopting, after the shit they've been through and with him having been in jail, he knows it's not really a possibility anymore, "There's literally no way we'd ever be able to adopt, even with your savings."

“The charges were dropped,” Stiles responds, considering it, “And you were in jail for all of a couple hours, I don’t think it’s that difficult to adopt.”

"It's not easy, either," Scott points out, he's done his research, he knows all the hoops and shit they'd have to jump through. He blinks slowly for a moment and then looks at Stiles with sudden clarity, "Wait, are you-I mean, are you saying all of this because you want to, too?"

Stiles purses his lips for a moment as he lays still, curled atop Scott’s chest and staring at him with wide eyes before shrugging, “Yeah, I mean… we’re in our thirties, right? So that’s pretty much parent age. And I-I mean we’ve still got a ways to go ourselves before our relationship’s healthy again but… but, yeah.”

"Adoption processes take a long time," Scott says to gauge his husband's sincerity, heart pounding violently because of Stiles's words - he doesn't want to get his hopes up.

"I'm aware of that," Stiles responds as he narrows his brows, “But I’m up for it, if you still are.”

"That's not even a question," Scott replies softly, unable to stop the way his eyes fill to the brim with tears, "Of course I am."

Stiles leans in and kisses Scott, reaching up to grab the back of his neck as he shifts atop the other man, “Then let’s do it,” he says as he smiles, “Not now but-soon.”

Scott’s chin trembles and he sobs suddenly, pressing the sound into Stiles’s mouth as he kisses him back. He’d be more ashamed of his reaction, of how overwhelming it is to him, but his husband knows how badly he’s wanted this, Stiles knows what it means to him and he doesn’t want to hide how happy he is.

Stiles smiles sadly and wraps his arms around the other man, pulling him close as he kisses him deeply. It’s almost upsetting, the reaction from Scott, because he knows it’s his fault for making them wait so long, and he’s the one that’s denied his husband of actually having this. He can only hope that waiting hasn’t cost them it, after what happened between Scott and Isaac.

Stiles spends most of the next couple weeks going through boxes and writing as much as he possibly can. Eventually, the FBI watching their hotel room drops from four agents to two, and then they stop watching all day, only really showing up after six at night. He doesn’t worry about it, it’s not like he’s been given any reason further to think that he might be attacked again.

He goes with Scott to work sometimes, but considering eighty percent of the time he’s just curled in a corner sleeping, he decides it’s best he stays at the hotel so that he can write and try to be useful otherwise. They haven’t talked about moving and starting over back in Beacon Hills as much as they should, but he’s not in any hurry to press the matter.

He’s spent half of the morning in a stupor, drinking coffee and writing, curled on the bed with his back against the pillows. The withdrawals have died down some, even though he’s still popping about twelve Advil a day, but it’s better than the shakes and the constant sweating.

Stiles glances up as he hears the sharp, sudden knock at the door and he raises a brow, “Scott?” he asks in confusion, moving and climbing out of bed, “Did you lose your key again?” he walks to the door, unlocking it quickly as he grins and then stops when he sees Isaac standing there. He’s still for all of two seconds before he moves to shut the door.

Isaac sticks his foot out to catch it from closing, forcing himself inside the room quickly, otherwise silent as he reaches up and shoves the white rag to Stiles’s face.

“No!” Stiles gasps and tries to turn, already knowing that breathing in was the biggest mistake he could’ve made. He steps back, trying to get away.

Struggling to keep the rag firmly over Stiles’s mouth and nose, Isaac kicks out behind himself to make sure the door closes, then he shoves Stiles against the wall to keep him from turning or trying to get away. He’s been watching them, both Stiles and Scott, so he knows that Stiles isn’t as strong as he could be, he knows he has the upper hand.

Stiles coughs and narrows his brows, glaring at Isaac as he slowly, steadily drops out, his strength waning until he slumps.

MageStiles

Chapter Text

Stiles comes to, coughing and choking for a moment before he realizes that whatever is in his mouth, coughing won’t get rid of it. He tugs at his arms and legs, his heart racing as he looks at them and tries to turn to look around. The only thing that he can find comforting is the fact that he’s in the bed in the hotel room.

Isaac doesn’t say anything at first when he realizes Stiles has woken up, he just stands from the chair and moves closer to the bed, shoving his right hand into his pocket and pulling out a little bag of cocaine. He sits it down on the bed where Stiles can see it, letting the other man make his own assumptions as he starts stripping his own clothes off.

Stiles stares at the bag, eyes wide and he starts to shift again, pulling at the restraints until he’s exhausted and panting through his nose. He’s trying not to panic or have an attack, but it’s becoming increasingly difficult.

Isaac climbs up onto the bed once he’s done taking his clothes off, straddling Stiles’s back as he reaches for the little bag of coke. He opens it and pours the contents into the palm of his hand, tossing the plastic bag aside as he leans down and holds it against Stiles’s nose, his lips just next to Stiles’s ear.

“You should’ve just let me have him,” he says, knowing the other man has to breathe it in.

Stiles all but gags, coughing and trying to turn away but he ends up inhaling and coughing even more, tears building in his eyes as he shakes and pulls on his restraints again, fuck. He’s spent the last few weeks being as clean as humanly possible, and even though this isn’t his fault, he feels guilty at once.

Isaac keeps his hand over Stiles’s nose, until he’s sure the other man has inhaled enough to put him on cloud nine, “But since you wouldn’t, I guess you’re the closest I’m ever gonna get,” he says, removing his hand and wiping the rest on the bed.

He reaches up in fascination, petting Stiles’s hair back from his forehead as he stares at him from an angle, “I bet you’re counting on me being rough, too, huh?” he asks rhetorically. Shaking his head, Isaac smiles weakly at Stiles, “I’m not, I’m gonna be easy. I’m gonna make it feel good for you, to where your body has to react to me, I want you to hate yourself for it.”

Stiles turns away from Isaac, his muffled sound of disdain almost choking him on the - what he’s assuming is a rag - in his mouth. He can already feel the effects of the coke taking root in him, that strong sense of empowerment and superiority shoving it’s way to the surface.

“And I’ve been watching, Stiles,” Isaac informs him, watching Stiles’s face as it glazes over some, his right hand moving slowly down the side of his body, “Watching the both of you, so… I know what you like, what makes you feel good.”

He moves down the other man’s body, dragging his mouth against the skin and nipping at the base of Stiles’s spine, “It’s okay if you end up liking it, I promise I won’t tell Scott.”

“No,” Stiles mutters weakly against the rag and tape, head dropping back as his body tingles. He closes his eyes, trying to think of a way out of the situation, but even as he does so, he can feel his resolve slipping.

“Yes,” Isaac responds and lays down comfortably on his stomach between Stiles’s legs, licking the crease of skin between the other man’s ass cheek and leg, hands moving up to spread him apart. He runs his tongue against Stiles and imagines Scott doing the same, convincing himself that he can taste the other man as he works his tongue into Stiles.

Stiles tenses as he feels the other man’s mouth on him, his toes curling as his dick hardens subtly. He keeps trying to tell himself it isn’t right, it’s not Scott, staring insistently at the ring on his finger as he fights against the effects of the cocaine, but he knows it’s pointless.

Isaac pulls back some and looks at Stiles’s length, at how it’s pushed down at an awkward angle and… hardening. He smiles, slightly satisfied with himself as he leans back in, shoving his tongue as deep as he can get it as his fingers knead Stiles’s ass cheeks, keeping him spread open.

Stiles gasps, cheeks heating as he arches, trying to shift back against the other man’s mouth. He can’t even bring himself to care anymore, he feels too fucking good to worry about it now.

Isaac hums in satisfaction when Stiles moves against him, bringing his right hand up and slipping his forefinger in next to his tongue, stretching the other man open a little more. Scott’s not going to want Stiles after this, especially when he finds out Stiles enjoyed it. He pumps the finger in and out of the tight heat, the tip of his tongue swirling against the rim. He makes sure he goes slow, as badly as he doesn’t want to, because he wasn’t lying when he told Stiles he wanted him to hate himself for it; for liking it, for reacting to it.

The constraints pinch at Stiles’s skin as he tries to rock back on Isaac’s mouth and finger, he moans in approval, rutting down against the sheets. It’s like his entire body is shaking, heating up, and there’s literally nothing that feels better than having Isaac’s mouth against him. He wants more, but he can’t ask for it, tongue pushing against the cloth in his mouth as he pants through his nose.

Isaac’s brows raise some as he watches the way Stiles reacts to him, leaning back up as he pumps the one finger in and out of him, “Feel good?” he asks softly, brushing his nose against the side of Stiles’s sweated temple, slowly adding a second digit.

Stiles nods, leaning back against Isaac as much as he can and turning against the other man’s cheek. He can feel himself getting impatient, he’s never been one for teasing when he’s like this. All he wants is to fuck and get off, by whatever means necessary.

“I’m gonna take your gag out,” Isaac says lowly, confident of the fact that Stiles won’t scream out or fight him at this point. He reaches up and gently pulls the duct tape off, rag coming with it, then he curls his fingers inside of the heat and presses down against Stiles’s prostate.

“Oh fuck,” Stiles groans, wetting his lips and shaking eagerly as he looks at Isaac, “Please,” he begs shamelessly.

“Please what?” Isaac asks, losing himself a little in the heat of the moment as he stares back at Stiles, “Tell me what you want, Stiles.”

Stiles whines and tries to move back against Isaac’s fingers again, “Fuck me already,” he says, raising his brows expectantly.

Isaac smiles wolfishly and nods, removing his fingers as he leans over the side of the bed, pulling the lube from his bag, “If you say so,” he mumbles, pouring some directly onto Stiles before slicking his cock.

He pumps himself a few times, eyes taking in the sight before him. He thought Stiles would be like this, knew the cocaine would help loosen him up, but he’s reacting so much better than he ever anticipated. He leans back down then and presses his lips to Stiles’s shoulder, mouthing at the skin as he pushes the tip of his cock against the other man’s hole, slowly pushing and sinking into him.

“Mmm, finally,” Stiles moans out, arching his back and sniffing quickly, pulling against the restraints as he glances back to Isaac, “Come on, what the fuck are you waiting for?” he asks impatiently, his heart beating so loud he can hear it in his ears.

“Don’t make me put the gag back in,” Isaac threatens and shoves in the rest of the way, all but jolting Stiles’s body with the force. He doesn’t still for long, if Stiles knows what he wants, then Isaac’ll give it to him. He draws out somewhat slowly, then slams back in, bed squeaking in protest.

Stiles’s mouth drops open, his body shifting against the sheets and the restraints on his feet tug this time, causing some mild discomfort. He nods as he tries to breathe, wetting his lips again and again as he tries to push back every time Isaac arches forward, “Ah, fuck-yes.”

Isaac’s breath catches in his throat and he groans softly, hands moving to Stiles’s hips and he grips the flesh roughly, squeezing so hard his knuckles turn white as he fucks into Stiles, “If I…” he pants, “Undo the ropes… you gonna fight me?” he asks, forcing himself to stop until Stiles answers him.

Stiles narrows his brows in annoyance and rolls his eyes as he tries to calm down enough to answer, “... no.”

“Good,” Isaac says and leans to undo the rope binding each of Stiles’s hands, “You’ll regret it if you do,” he tells him, moving begrudgingly to untie the other man’s ankles, tossing the rope to the floor once he’s done.

“That’s better,” Stiles mutters, twisting his wrists a little and moving back against Isaac, grinding his ass on the other man’s dick and moaning as he reaches down to grip his own length.

“Oh, fuck,” Isaac says in surprise when Stiles starts rubbing himself against him, his hands move to the other man’s hips again and he ruts forward, sliding the girth of his cock in the crease of Stiles’s ass before shoving back in. If Stiles is like this high, he can’t really figure out why Scott wants him to be sober.

Stiles gasps and lifts up more onto his hands and knees, pumping his length as he rocks back, obscene sounds spilling from his mouth as he grips the sheets in his other hand, “Come on, harder,” he insists.

Isaac’s practically relentless with his thrusting the way it is, but he doesn’t bother holding back as he fucks into Stiles harder and faster, the sound of their skin smacking echoing in the small hotel bedroom. He can see marks forming on Stiles’s hips where he’s holding onto him, little red fingerprints that’ll likely turn into bruises later.

He can hear the front door opening and he grins wide to himself, he doesn’t stop though, because if it’s Scott, he wants him to see how close he’s brought them together by doing this.

Stiles sniffs again and narrows his brows as he feels the warm, wet slide of something over his lips and he wipes his mouth and nose with his forearm, “Don’t stop,” he breathes out, wiping his nose again.

Scott’s brows furrow in confusion when he hears Stiles, shutting the door behind himself. He barely notices the rag on the countertop as he moves further into the hotel room, feeling his heart race nervously when he then hears the breathy sounds coming from the bedroom.

Stiles wouldn’t, he has to tell himself that as he reaches out to the bedroom door and pushes it open. The sight almost instantly makes him sick, after everything they’ve been through, especially things concerning Isaac… and now, now Stiles is fucking him… on their bed.

“I must be really fucking stupid,” he speaks up finally, unable to look away even though he wants to.

Stiles turns to the sound of his husband’s voice and he blinks in confusion, sniffing and wiping his nose again as more blood pours from it, “Scott?” he asks and his stomach twists.

“This must’ve been like-like the ultimate goal for the both of you the entire time,” Scott says suddenly, expression a mixture of anger and hurt, but everything is starting to make sense. Everything Stiles told him Isaac said must have been part of a plan, a plan to drive Stiles and Scott apart, all so he and Isaac could be together.

“Jesus Christ, Stiles,” he shakes his head, eyes watering as he turns to leave the room, “You should’ve just divorced me.”

“Scott?” Stiles asks as he blinks and turns to Isaac - it’s kind of sobering, just seeing his husband standing there. He can still feel the effects of the cocaine, but his body reacts better than his mind does, “Get off of me,” he shoves at Isaac, moving to get off the bed.

“Scott - wait,” he wipes his nose again, moving to the other man, “Wait-the… it was-I didn’t…”

“You didn’t what?” Scott snaps as he turns to look at Stiles, eyes brimming with more tears as he really looks at Stiles, the glassy look to the other man’s eyes, the blood dripping from his nose, “You didn’t fuck him? I just saw you!”

He reaches up to grab his husband’s chin, observing his eyes more closely and he snorts, all but shoving Stiles away from him then, “And you’re high, go figure.”

Stiles has to struggle to stay vertical, his breaths coming in short as he continues to reach out for Scott, tears building in his eyes, “Please, Scott-you have to believe me, I wasn’t-I didn’t mean to… there-he just showed up,” he says weakly, motioning with his hands, “He shoved-it was chloroform or something, I think.”

“Right,” Scott says, frowning at Stiles as he looks him over, all the blood on his face and forearms, probably from doing too much coke, “So, he used chloroform… and when you woke up, then what? You-you fucked him?” he asks, “Stiles, I just caught the both of you, it didn’t look like you didn’t want it.”

Isaac exits from the bedroom, fully clothed and with his arms crossed, leaning against the door frame as he shrugs, “He definitely wanted it.”

Stiles feels the rage build in his stomach as he turns to Isaac, “Don’t you fucking say that,” he says and moves to hit Isaac in the face, “Don’t fucking say that after what you did!” he can’t even think straight anymore, his hands are shaking as the tears pour down his cheeks and he hits Isaac again.

Isaac catches Stiles’s wrist the second time, face still stinging from the first hit and he grins devilishly, “Come on, now,” he says chidingly, looking at Scott briefly before returning his attention to Stiles, “Maybe you should stop lying to him,” he says, purposefully trying to make things worse, “Tell him how bad you wanted it, Stiles, how you kept begging me to fuck you harder.”

“I’m not-I can’t stand here and listen to this,” Scott shakes his head, pressing his fingers to his eyes to wipe his tears away.

He’s still having difficulty processing it all, trying to understand how Stiles could do this to him - he sincerely thought things were going amazing between them. He shakes his head again and turns once more, heading for the door.

“Scott, please,” Stiles shakes his head and turns to try and stop him once more, “Scott, please-please don’t go, baby. Please,” he moves after him, tears streaming down his cheeks, “Please, wait, Scott-Scotty.”

“Don’t-” Scott says coldly and turns to Stiles, pressing his lips together and fighting another wave of tears, “Don’t you call me that, not now, not anymore.”

He stares at Stiles and thinks about the night the other man told him they could adopt, he thinks about how happy he was and about how it was all fake. His face contorts slightly in hurt as he shakes his head, “Why would you do this to me?” he asks finally, he just has to, despite knowing he might not like the answer.

Stiles stills at the look on Scott’s face and the tone of his voice, opening his mouth for a moment as he considers trying to justify himself, to apologize, but then thinks better of it. No matter what he says, Scott won’t believe him, Isaac’s set this up perfectly.

“After everything we’ve been through, if you think I would do something like this, then you should just fucking leave and never come back.”

MageStiles

Chapter Text

The hurt on Scott’s face shifts into something else, something more akin to anger, “Those are pretty big words coming from someone I just caught fucking someone else,” he says, “I don’t have to think about whether or not you would, Stiles, I literally just witnessed it with my own two eyes - I’m not fucking blind.”

“You’re fucking blind if you don’t think I was coke’d up to begin with,” Stiles responds, raising his voice, “He fucking came in here and knocked me out and tied me to the bed and fucking drugged me,” he says, not bothering to stop for air, “I couldn’t stop him, I couldn’t stop any of it from happening when he shoved the fucking coke against my nose until I couldn’t breathe.”

Scott’s brows narrow more as he stands there and stares at Stiles, taking the other man’s words with a grain of salt, but considering them nonetheless, “You weren’t tied up when I walked in on you,” he says, a little more calmly this time even though his eyes are still red and burning with tears, “You were asking him not to stop.”

“Because of the fucking drugs,” Stiles tries to explain, “I wasn’t thinking straight. And… I wasn’t tied up because he untied me once he realized I wouldn’t fight against him,” he lifts his wrist, motioning to the marks on it and then his ankles, “What more do you want me to say, Scott? How do I have to fucking prove that it was rape when… you-you don’t believe me.”

“I want to believe you!” Scott shouts then, because he feels like Stiles is getting angry and indignant with him.

He blinks the tears away and looks at his husband’s wrists, observing the marks on them, “Show me,” he says finally, still standing firmly in front of the door, “Go get the ropes, the chloroform - show me.”

“He’s being ridiculous-”

“Shut up,” Scott all but growls at Isaac, glaring at him until he shuts his mouth.

Stiles motions to the rag on the counter-top and shrugs, “All the proof is in this fucking room. He had the ropes tied to the bed,” he swallows sickly and shakes his head, “I shouldn’t have to fucking prove myself to you or anyone.”

He looks at Isaac and shakes his head again, “I shouldn’t have to explain myself,” Stiles turns and leaves the room, his stomach twisting and if he doesn’t get to the bathroom fast, he’s going to puke everywhere.

Considering how many years Stiles didn’t believe him, Scott feels like his husband doesn’t really have a right to act so affronted by his disbelief. He doesn’t chase after Stiles, though, when he leaves the room. He stands there, still glaring at Isaac and inwardly willing him to explode or something.

His eyes shift to the rag and he reaches out for it, bringing it up to his nose and sniffing, grimacing at once and pulling it away. It’s definitely chloroform, but he doesn’t let his rage take him over just yet. He steps further into the room, purposefully trying to block Isaac from getting to the door as he glances into the bedroom, noticing all the rope on the floor.

Something about seeing it all and thinking about how Stiles wasn’t lying to him causes something to snap inside of Scott, “You raped him?” he asks shakily, stepping closer to Isaac.

“Of course not, Scott, come on,” Isaac defends himself, stepping backwards and stilling when he’s stopped by a wall.

Scott isn’t too fond of the lying and he’s already shaking from anger, so he doesn’t hold himself back when he swings his arm out and connects his fist to Isaac’s face.

It’s not like the first time he did this, either - the first time, he actually stopped. He draws back, again and again, even as Isaac’s trying to grab him by the arms to stop him. The fact that he’s trying to stop him just makes it worse, his chest heaving as he throws Isaac to the ground, moving to straddle him and hit him harder, not even stopping when the other man’s blood starts coating his knuckles.

Stiles moves numbly back into the room, not because he wants to, but because he can hear Scott laying into Isaac and he stops in the doorway, watching for a moment with wide eyes before moving to grab Scott’s arm, “Stop, okay? Stop,” he says, more out of necessity than anything else, “Scott.”

“No!” Scott cries out, breathing heavily as he jerks his arm away from Stiles and his eyes water. He swings again, even though Isaac isn’t moving anymore, and he can feel the jaw bone crunch under his fist. It scares him how much he wants to end it, how much he wants to kill Isaac.

“Scott, please,” Stiles reaches out for his arm again, “Please,” he sniffs and blinks fresh tears from his eyes, “I don’t wanna have to dispose of a body.”

Scott stops finally, dropping his arms down to his sides as he pants for breath, trying not to sob as he takes in the reality of the situation. Isaac isn’t moving, but he can still see the other man’s chest rising and falling, but just barely. His own knuckles are busted open, hands throbbing. He looks at Stiles then, and he can’t help but feel like he got the worst of it, because he was raped. And not only that, but Scott didn’t believe him.

“I’m so sorry,” he says, barely managing to get the words out before he’s wracked with sobs, “I’m sorry,” he cries.

Stiles swallows sickly, shaking his head as he lets Scott’s arm go, “Just don’t hit him anymore,” his eyes dart to Isaac, he’s not sure what to do now, he doesn’t know if they should call someone or… get the FBI involved, considering there should be a car sitting right outside the hotel.

He moves to grab the rag, lifting Isaac’s head before he can get any blood on the carpet and placing the rag underneath, “Fuck… fuck.”

“I’ll-uh-” Scott stands up and stares down at Isaac guiltily, he doesn’t know where all the anger in him comes from sometimes, especially since he’s always been a pretty mild person, “I’ll go get someone,” he decides finally, blinking to clear his vision as he moves towards the door. He’ll probably go to jail again, for longer this time, but he doesn’t have much of a choice, he can’t just let Isaac die on the floor.

“Don’t,” Stiles says at once, looking up at him, “Don’t, okay? Just… give me a second to think,” he reaches up, running his hand through his hair as he tries to breathe, “Okay… okay, come with me,” he motions for Scott to follow him into the bathroom.

Scott frowns in confusion, if he doesn’t go get someone, and soon, Isaac’s probably going to die, his breath is already getting shallow. He follows Stiles, though, numbly forcing himself to move into the bathroom.

Stiles reaches out for Scott’s hand, glancing past the door as he turns on the water, putting his hands under the tap and looking him in the eyes, “It was me, okay?” he says, lifting his brows.

Scott tries not to hiss at how badly the water stings, staring back at Stiles as he shakes his head, not sure what he’s saying, “What?”

“Isaac raped me,” Stiles says firmly, “But after he untied me, I attacked him and I beat the shit out of him. You came back to the hotel and I was in here. Out of rage, you hit the wall and busted your knuckles open, okay?”

“B-but that doesn’t-it doesn’t make sense,” Scott says, looking at the sink and the blood washing from his skin, “Your knuckles are fine and-and there’s… There’s no marks on the wall, it won’t hold up,” he shakes his head.

Stiles raises his brows even higher before throwing out his left fist, slamming it into the wall over and over again until a hole forms, “It’ll hold up, because that’s what happened,” he says firmly, pulling his aching fist back, “Get your blood on it,” he motions to the wall before leaving the bathroom.

Scott grimaces as he pulls his fists out from under the stream of water, watching as the blood pools up around his knuckles at once. He wipes some of it off, smearing and dabbing it against the wall. He doesn’t know why he’s going along with this, why Stiles is even trying to save his ass, but he does what he’s told anyway.

Stiles moves back to Isaac and punches him once more for good measure, “Sorry, scapegoat,” he says as he wrings his fist and winces in pain, moving back to the bathroom to check the wall before he walks into the bedroom to get his cell phone.

Scott follows Stiles when he leaves the bathroom the second time, standing stock still as he watches the other man grab his phone, “I’m sorry,” he says weakly, unsure of why he’s still apologizing. They say you have to hit rock bottom before anything can really change, and this is the worst Scott’s felt his entire life; maybe it was about time.

It makes Stiles sick to the stomach just thinking about the entire situation, so he shakes his head at Scott as the tears blur his vision and he turns into the phone, “Hello?” he asks, his voice rough and shallow, “My-my name is Przemysław McCall, I’m in the twenty-third room of the Country Inn on thirteenth. Yes, I’m… I’m calling because I need to report a rape…” he can barely get the words out near the end, already starting to panic like he’d been anticipating, “No, he’s on the floor in the front room-I… I was defending myself-I don’t think he’s dead.”

Scott tunes Stiles out as he’s talking and sits down on the chair in the bedroom, resting his forearms on his knees as the blood from his knuckles drip down onto the carpet. If Stiles wouldn’t have stopped him, he probably would’ve killed Isaac, part of him still wants to. It all feels like a dream, or a nightmare, rather, or something ridiculous you’d see on television - except it’s real, and this is his life.

Stiles finishes the call and puts the cell phone down, glancing at Isaac in the other room, “They’re on their way.”

Scott nods, but he’s otherwise silent. He still doesn’t think this is going to work, they’ll realize certain things don’t add up. What’s slightly disconcerting is the fact that he doesn’t care, he doesn’t care if they figure out it was him and not Stiles.

“I’m sorry,” Stiles says as he looks at Scott, the tears dripping down his cheeks as he fights the urge to put his hands on his hips, or stand in any kind of defensive stance.

Scott lifts his head up to look at Stiles, face somewhat blank even though his eyes are red from crying, “You were raped.”

“He wasn’t wrong though, was he?” Stiles asks rhetorically as his body shakes, “You saw it for yourself… I…” he stops when his stomach convulses sickly, “I was practically begging for it, literally.”

Scott frowns as he stares at Stiles and he’s honestly not sure how to respond, or how to react, “Did you want it?” he asks, “Or was it the drugs that made you want it?”

“Of course I didn’t want it,” Stiles says, stilling and looking at Scott, “Why the fuck would I want that? I’m married to you, you’re my husband.”

“I don’t know!” Scott raises his voice some, “Y-you were just-you said he wasn’t wrong, I dunno! I’m asking you, I dunno what you want me to say, Stiles. You say he’s not wrong and when I ask you react like-like… I dunno what you want me to say.”

Stiles narrows his eyes at Scott, “You still don’t believe me.”

“I do believe you,” Scott corrects Stiles, “Obviously, or I wouldn’t have almost killed him! But you’re confusing me, okay? What do you want me to think, what am I supposed to think when you… when you defend him?”

“I am not defending him,” Stiles says firmly, voice low and maybe somewhat hostile, “I would never fucking defend him. The only person I would defend is you, which is why I’m doing any of this.”

“Then why bother saying he wasn’t wrong?” Scott asks, feeling like he’s getting whiplash from Stiles.

“Because he wasn’t, that’s not fucking defending him,” Stiles says, “I can still feel all of it, it may have been the fucking drugs, but I can still fucking feel how I wanted it,” he stops, trying not to get sick right then and there, “But… even worse than any of that, I can still feel what it was like when you didn’t believe me.”

“Hurts, doesn’t it?” Scott asks all too knowingly and then stands up, shaking his head decidedly, “I’m not gonna let you take the blame, for what I did. Even with it being self defense, you’d still get jail time, look at him.”

He moves to the bedroom door, stopping to look at Stiles for a moment, “I should’ve known better, all those years you didn’t believe me, how desperately I wanted you to. I’m sorry I didn’t believe you,” he says sincerely, leaving the bedroom then to go and meet the paramedics, police, whoever’s coming.

Stiles moves after Scott, reaching out and grabbing his wrist, “Hey,” he says, pulling him back around as he shakes his head, “No,” he responds firmly, “You need to listen to me, okay?”

“I’m not gonna let you go to jail for me, Stiles,” Scott responds and narrows his brows at his husband, trying to wriggle his arm away from him.

“You have to,” Stiles says as he stares Scott in the eyes, “You have to do what I said, okay? You have to,” he moves between Scott and the door, “Look, I know you’re hurting and you feel like some fucking penance is in order, but if you love me - if you really, really love me - you’ll let me do this.”

“But why?” Scott asks, “Why can’t I just tell them the truth, huh?” he asks, eyes watering anew, “Why do you have to do this? It doesn’t make any sense.”

Stiles shakes his head as he tries to breathe, his own tears choking him up, “I have to do this, Scott,” he says as he blinks, “If you do, you actually will go to jail. I can at least plead self-defense. There’s all the proof here that he forced himself - the chloroform rag, the ropes, the coke - there’s probably even a fucking camera outside the room that caught him forcing himself past the door to get to me.

“I need to do this, you have to let me. After all of the fucking years I spent blaming you and not trusting you, I owe you this,” he says the last words slowly, “I need to do this.”

“You don’t owe me anything,” Scott argues weakly, he’ll let Stiles do it, though, even if he doesn’t want to, “You really don’t.”

“I do,” Stiles says, his eyes dropping to the floor, “Hearing you accuse me and not believe me-” he shakes his head, “Even for two seconds-God, it felt like my entire fucking world was crashing down around me,” he reaches up to wipe his tears back, “I put you through that for seven years. If I don’t do this, it’s just one more thing on the list of fucked up shit you’ve gone through because of me.”

Scott frowns and he wants to move closer to Stiles, he wants to hug him and kiss him, wipe his tears away, but he doesn’t move an inch, because after what his husband’s been through… he just doesn’t think it’s a good idea.

“I love you,” he says, saying the words as sincerely as he can muster as he stares Stiles in the eyes.

Stiles stares back at Scott, brushing his thumb over the other man’s wrist, “I love you more,” he says, tone teasing, but expression serious.

He turns when he hears the knock on the door, “Keep your story straight. I was in the bathroom when you came home, Isaac was on the floor where he is now, you found out I was raped, you hit the wall, then you convinced me to call the cops because it was just self-defense and I’ve done nothing wrong.”

“Okay,” Scott says, nodding, swallowing, and glancing into the other room when another round of knocks come, “The door, you need to get it.”

“Yeah,” Stiles responds numbly as he takes a breath and looks at Scott again. He wants to lean in and hug him, or kiss him, or say something else, but he doesn’t, moving to the door and opening it to stare at the two cops standing there, flanked by Agent Mondelez and her partner.

MageStiles

Chapter Text

Stiles sits on the bench beside Scott, just outside the large, towering building that he can’t help being excited about, knowing that there are tons of FBI agents going about their lucky fucking lives and doing their thing.

He sighs and waits, turning to look at Scott, “So I guess he’s alive,” he says, “I’m kinda disappointed, maybe a little. But whatever.”

“He’s on a breathing machine,” Scott says, still staring down at his shoes, “Jaw wired shut.” He glances at Stiles, “I could probably sneak into his room and unplug him,” he says, both joking and not joking at the same time.

“Don’t say that so close to the headquarters, dude,” Stiles responds and chuckles, sniffing and wiping at his nose, “What have you been up to the past day?”

“Trying to get all the blood out of the hotel carpet,” Scott says flatly, “Trying to get the Hotel Manager to not sue us.”

Stiles frowns, “If we have to, we’ll just replace the carpet.” He sighs and looks up when Jessica walks out the front doors and smiles at them.

“You’re free to go, Stiles,” she says as she joins them, handing the folder over to him, “As long as you still plan to testify.”

“I do,” Stiles responds, “You gonna flank us home?”

Jessica nods as her partner walks by them, “Yeah, we’ll be right behind you.”

Scott takes that as his cue to stand up, pulling the car keys from his pocket before heading towards it. He just wants everything to stop for once, he wants to just sit and exist for a while with Stiles, so he’s particularly eager to get back to the hotel already.

Stiles stands and follows after Scott, climbing into the passenger’s side seat and buckling himself in as he leans back in his seat, “You know what I find… interesting about this entire experience? I spent the last few weeks in fear of relapsing, I’ve been fucking terrified of it.”

“You find it interesting that you’ve been terrified of relapsing?” Scott asks in confusion.

“Not that part,” Stiles continues, “After what Isaac did, or during… I guess, I knew relapsing would pretty much never be an issue.”

“Did the coke not make you feel good?” Scott asks, starting the car and pulling away from the building, “How do you feel now? Are you not craving it?”

“Not at all,” Stiles says and shakes his head, “It felt ‘good’, but only in the way that like… fake friends feel good, you know? Or like drinking a diet coke while eating a big mac. It felt shitty.”

“You were doing so good, too,” Scott says, frowning slightly, “I don’t want you to have to go through those fucking withdrawals again.”

Stiles shrugs, “Most of the withdrawal was from the alcohol, and I’m still kinda going through that, but I think this might be okay… the entire thing was kinda… fucked,” he looks at Scott, “I mean, as far as communication goes, we’re lacking, I think. I’m not sure if you even wanna talk about it all.”

“Can it wait until we get back to the hotel?” Scott asks, because he really doesn’t want to talk about it in the car.

“Yeah,” Stiles nods, turning to look out the window as he settles back in his seat again, “Yeah, it can wait.”

Scott drives the rest of the way to the hotel in silence, it’s not awkward, though. It’s the comfortable, companionable kind of silence. He kills the ignition and climbs out, waiting for Stiles to do the same before he locks the car, then he heads toward their hotel room, reaching out with his key to unlock it before stepping inside.

Stiles follows after Scott silently, narrowing his brows when he walks inside and closes the door. He can already feel the anxiety working it’s way into his system as he looks at the countertop and feels a little sick to his stomach.

Scott takes his coat off and tosses it aside, slipping from his shoes before moving to the little couch. He sits down and sighs, dropping his head back against the cushions, “Okay, lets talk about it,” he says.

“Do you want to?” Stiles asks as he locks the door and moves to sit across from Scott, frowning as he watches him.

“We need to,” Scott replies in way of answering, it doesn’t really matter what he wants - it’s necessary. He lifts his head back up and looks at Stiles, expression softening some, “Are you okay?”

“Not really,” Stiles admits, “I mean I’ve had a few panic attacks today, but… I can always pretend like I’m okay.”

“You don’t have to pretend with me,” Scott says weakly, still staring at Stiles. He doesn’t want Stiles to feel like he has to conceal everything he’s feeling.

Stiles glances towards the bedroom and swallows sickly, “Honestly?” he asks, trying not to tear up as he thinks about it, “It makes me nauseous just being here. No, I’m not okay, I’m far from okay-I was taken advantage of, and it’s seriously fucked up.”

“We can get a different room, different hotel,” Scott suggests and watches Stiles, fighting the urge to reach out and touch his knee, “We don’t have to stay here.”

“I don’t want another fucking hotel room,” Stiles responds, “I want a home, I want to feel safe, for once.”

He closes his eyes, breathing through his nose, “I wanna not feel like my skin is fucking crawling. I wanna stop hearing his voice in my head, talking to me - all the things he said to me, I don’t wanna hear it every time there’s silence. I can’t get the smell of chloroform out of my nose, I can’t stop feeling him inside me, or the ropes, I… I’m really not okay.”

“I wanna be able to help you,” Scott tells Stiles sadly, shrugging helplessly, “But I don’t know what you need from me. I keep wanting to hug you, to kiss you, hold you even, and I-” he breathes out through his nose, “But I keep telling myself I dunno if that’d be smart. Like, I dunno if that’s something you want from me right now.”

Stiles chuckles, even though he’s crying, and it hurts, but he doesn’t care, “You’re my husband,” he says as he stares at Scott, “I mean, dude, I understand the idea of respecting boundaries and shit, but you-not with me. You don’t need chloroform, or coke to get all up in my business,” the words sound weird because they’re something he might say when he’s joking or teasing, but he’s crying and miserable instead, “I’m actually feeling seriously clingy and shit right now and I just-I want you.”

“Then come here,” Scott says softly and carefully reaches out for Stiles’s hand, pulling him onto the couch before wrapping his arms around him. He tries not to squeeze him too tight, breath hitching as he presses his lips to the side of his husband’s neck.

Stiles curls against Scott at once, his fists wrapping up in the other man’s shirt as he presses his face into Scott, breathing him in as he toes off his shoes, “I’m sorry,” he says, forming the words even though he can barely breathe.

“I don’t know why you’re apologizing to me,” Scott shakes his head as he kisses Stiles’s skin reverently, smoothing his hands up and down his husband’s back.

“I just-” Stiles feels the chill bumps form on the back of his neck and shoulder at the touch of the other man’s hands, “I couldn’t stop him-I tried… it happened so fast, I…” he shakes his head, “I’ve probably explained it a million times today and you still don’t even know.”

“He raped you, Stiles,” Scott says and shakes his head, pulling back enough to look Stiles in the eyes as he reaches up to touch his cheek, “That’s not something you apologize for, it wasn’t your fault.”

Stiles stares back at Scott, leaning into his touch, “Maybe not, but I’m still sorry,” he turns to press his lips to Scott’s palm, “What you walked in on… I can’t-I don’t wanna-I mean… it must’ve felt horrible to see something like that.”

“Yeah, it did,” Scott admits, pressing his lips together as he very determinately tries not to think about it, brushing his palm against Stiles’s cheek instead.

Stiles reaches up, touching Scott’s cheek, “I would never do that do you,” he says firmly, “Never. I couldn’t. It’s not-even in the last seven years, at our lowest times, the only one I’ve ever wanted was you.”

Scott nods subtly as he stares into Stiles’s eyes, “I know,” he says shakily, “It’s always been the same for me. You don’t have to explain yourself, Stiles.”

“I’m not saying it because I feel like I have to,” Stiles responds, “I’m saying it because I want you to hear it, even if it’s already known. It’s just you in here,” he motions to his chest, “Just you, buddy. And maybe my outstanding collection of Bad Dragon dildos, but other than that - just you.”

Scott snorts at Stiles and can’t help but smile a little, hand moving and sliding to the nape of his husband’s neck before pulling him in, gently pressing their mouths together in a soft kiss.

Stiles kisses back, grinning and keeping his eyes open to stare at Scott’s face until he pulls away and lays his head down on the other man’s biceps, “I probably made it seem too good to be true, didn’t I? The babies, the writing, no coke - makes it easier to accept what you saw when the alternative seemed too good to be true.”

“A little bit, yeah,” Scott admits, “But that’s not-I don’t think that now, I know it was the drugs that was making you… like that.”

“That’s kinda what bothers me most about it all,” Stiles says tentatively, staring at Scott, “It wasn’t just the drugs. I mean, it was just the drugs that made me like that, and willing or whatever you wanna call it. But there were other things too.

“We haven’t had sex in years, so there was that, and just the fact that he wanted me. I dunno how to explain it without it sounding completely stupid. It was like the coke brought those things right up to the forefront. I felt that same paranoia about you possibly having been with him - even though I don’t believe that for a second. It just brought it up, times like a thousand.”

“I could’ve…” Scott narrows his brows, he’s not really sure how to process what Stiles is telling him, “I-we could’ve had sex, Stiles. I just-I thought you wanted to wait.”

He looks at his husband, “I want you, don’t ever think you’re not wanted.”

“I don’t think that,” Stiles lets out a huff of breath, “And I did wanna wait, do-I do. But I…” he frowns as he tries to think of how to word it, “It was like… When you’re on coke, it’s like nothing you do is wrong. You feel superior, better than anyone. It makes you feel good about yourself in a way that politicians probably feel good about themselves.”

He smiles sheepishly, “You feel like that and then you have sex, and it’s like whatever is making you feel good, it’s fucking amazing. And I’ve had sex with doors and thought they were amazing, you get where I’m coming from?”

“I do,” Scott says calmly, “But you said it wasn’t just the drugs, you said there were other things. I’m just trying to understand. I’m not mad,” he tells Stiles, “I just-I wanna understand,” he repeats again.

Stiles wets his lips, “I miss your dick,” he says and shrugs, “I agreed to not have sex because I wanna wait until it’s clear, but if you woke me up in the middle of the night with dick, I seriously wouldn’t complain in the slightest.

“It’s something I want - like, all the time. So there’s that, and there’s the way you feel when you realize that someone is desiring you, or something you have. It just-those two things, I didn’t have to be coked up to want them. I just had to be coked up to take them from someone that wasn’t you. Understand now?”

“Yeah,” Scott says lowly, reaching up to push his fingers through Stiles’s hair. In all honesty, he doesn’t really know what to say to all of that, so he’s quiet for a few moments before asking: “Did he feel good?”

Stiles swallows tightly, “I was tweaked out of my mind, Scott, a broom handle would’ve felt a-fucking-mazing.”

Scott nods jerkily and tries not to be upset over the fact that someone else, other than himself, made Stiles feel good. He just keeps reminding himself that it was the drugs, that’s what made it feel so good, and if he hadn’t been high, he wouldn’t have enjoyed it.

“I hate that it felt that way,” Stiles says as he watches Scott nervously, “It makes me sick to my stomach. But I fucking refuse to ‘hate myself’ because of it; that’s what he wanted. I keep hearing him say that, about how he wanted to make my body react, so I could hate myself for it.”

He looks away finally, “It wasn’t consensual in the slightest, anything I felt at the time… it was fake, none of it was me.” He doesn’t like that he doesn’t even believe himself, saying the words still feel just as fake, but he needs to believe them.

“I know,” Scott says, saying it to reassure the both of them, not just Stiles. He reaches out and touches his husband’s chin, turning his face towards him, nodding subtly, “I know. I don’t want you to hate yourself for it, either.”

“It wasn’t the same,” Stiles responds, shaking his head, “It’ll never be the same, Scott. It’s-it isn’t the same as you and me. It’s different,” he feels like a broken record, “It wasn’t the same.”

“I know that,” Scott says and it makes his chest constrict painfully, to hear Stiles like this, saying these things to try and reason what happened like he needs Scott to forgive him or something - the only thing is, is that there’s nothing to forgive, “Baby, I know. It could never be like you and me, it’s okay.”

Stiles leans in and presses his cheek against Scott’s chest, his toes brushing over the other man’s as he tries not to think about it, how it was with Isaac, but it’s like it’s constantly there in the front of his mind like an ugly stain.

Scott wraps his arms back around Stiles and presses his lips to the top of his head, right hand lifting up and petting over the back of his hair, otherwise silent as he holds his husband close.

Stiles closes his eyes, forcing himself to relax and concentrate on Scott’s breathing, the hands on him, his lips, “Have you slept in the bed..?”

“No,” Scott tells him, “Just here, on the couch. I don’t really wanna be here, either,” he admits.

“I figured,” Stiles glances up at Scott, his stomach wrenching as he feels that constant, overwhelming wash of guilt flood over again, “Do you still want me?”

“What?” Scott asks and narrows his brows, sitting up a little straighter and trying to get Stiles to look at him fully. He doesn’t understand why his husband would ask something like that, “Are you crazy? Of course I still want you, Stiles. Look at me,” he clutches the other man’s face and pulls him a little closer, “I’ll always want you, no matter what.”

Stiles tries to take the words to heart, but he knows he doesn’t, “I just… I haven’t even wanted me since I-since it’s happened. I just keep thinking that you would think of what you saw and not really find me… so appealing, anymore.”

“That’s literally the dumbest thing I’ve ever heard,” Scott says and shakes his head, “If it wouldn’t have-I mean, if what happened wouldn’t have just happened… I’d show you how much I want you. I find you appealing, I always have.”

Stiles lays his head back down, pressing his lips together and closing his eyes again as they lay there. He’s perfectly content to sleep on the couch, he doesn’t have nearly enough energy to move out of the hotel after everything that’s happened, at least not today.

MageStiles

Chapter Text

Stiles gasps when the raw, boneless sliver of chicken slides through his fingers and he reaches out to catch it, but misses and has to watch it fall and splatter on the linoleum flooring, “Shit, Scott-” he protests and then groans as the other man teases his backside with the head of his cock, “Oh, oh…” he drops his hands to hold himself up against the counter, his heels lifting.

“You made me drop it,” he complains, voice weak.

“Just prepare another one, it’s cool,” Scott responds as he grips Stiles’s hips and yanks him back, all but impaling him as he smirks, “Really not that big of a deal.”

Stiles nearly shrieks and looks back at his husband, “But that was a big one, and now it’s… it’s on the ground.”

“Shhh,” Scott breathes out, wetting his lips, “Just go with it.”

Stiles huffs and is about to do just as Scott tells him to when the phone starts ringing, “Ah, fuck, can you get that?”

“I’ll get it if you think you can answer it,” Scott says and chuckles, “It’s probably just mom.”

“I can answer.”

Scott lifts a brow skeptically, but reaches out for the phone, answering it but holding it to Stiles’s ear for the other man to take, “Say ‘hi’ for me.”

“Uh… hi,” Stiles says into the receiver, “For Scott,” he adds as he feels Scott start to move once more. He rolls his eyes and inhales sharply when he hears Melissa’s voice respond, but she doesn’t sound right. Stiles stills almost at once and his brows tighten together, stomach twisting and he finally reaches back to stop Scott.

“... What?”

“It’s cool, I’ll be careful,” Scott responds, glancing down at his husband’s hand, “She totally won’t even-what’s up?” he stops at the look Stiles gives him and watches as the other man’s fingers start to shake, “Uh… Stiles?”

Stiles feels the knot forming in his throat as his eyes widen and he pulls back from Scott, shaking his head vehemently as he drops the phone on the ground and backs away to the corner where the counter meets the far side wall.

“Stiles?” Scott asks, only growing more confused, but he can tell that a panic attack is coming and he warily picks up the phone. He puts it to his ear as he moves to Stiles, “Hello?”

“Scott?”

“Mom, hey,” Scott starts as he reaches out to touch Stiles’s shoulder, “What’s going on?”

“Scott? Is Stiles still there?”

Scott nods numbly as his husband looks up at him with tears blurring his eyes, “Yeah, of course he-”

“It’s John, honey,” Melissa says, her voice somewhat shaky, “He’s… he’s gone.”

There could’ve been about a thousand reasons why his mom would call today but this was the last Scott could’ve ever anticipated, and just staring at his husband… he doesn’t even know how to react to his mom. He puts the phone down at once, reaching out for Stiles and wrapping his arms around him, kissing his forehead and tilting his chin to look into his eyes.

What can he even say?

It’s okay? Because it’s not. It’ll be okay? Probably not that either. He can’t even begin to empathize with Stiles. But he was there when Stiles lost his mom, too. So maybe this time won’t be as hard as it was when they were eight.

“Hey,” Scott starts, wiping his cheeks, “It’s-... just breathe, okay. I know it’s… we’ll go, okay? We’ll go now,” he offers helplessly, “We’ll go to Beacon Hills, okay? Just breathe.”

Stiles stares at Scott, hands reaching out numbly for his shirt and he just presses the side of his head to Scott’s chest. Even if he knew what to say, he doesn’t think the words would actually be able to come out. He just starts sobbing and barely hears the sound of Scott’s shirt tearing slightly as he curls his fists into it.

“Baby,” Scott lifts Stiles up into his lap, wrapping him completely in his arms and kissing the top of his head over and over again, “Just try to breathe, okay? Breathe, or you’re gonna pass out on me.”

“I think I’m gonna have another panic attack,” Stiles says sickly as he sits in the passenger’s side seat, staring up at the house practically looming over their car.

“We don’t have to do this,” Scott offers Stiles the out just in case he wants it. He reaches over and touches his husband’s knee, “We can find another hotel.”

Stiles shakes his head, “No, no more hotels,” he says numbly and takes Scott’s hand, “We have to do this.”

“If you feel like you’re gonna panic, just remember I’m right here,” Scott says and rubs his thumb over Stiles’s skin, pulling the keys from the ignition with his other hand, “And if at any point you change your mind, we can go.”

Stiles turns to Scott and smiles slightly, letting out a huff of breath and taking the next one in carefully before unbuckling his seat belt and opening his door, climbing out of the car and pulling his keys from his pocket, “Oh God, I think I’m gonna be sick.”

Scott climbs out quickly and shuts his door, moving around to Stiles and resting a hand on his back, “You’re okay,” he says softly, “You can do this.”

Stiles wants, more than just about anything, to turn into Scott and just curl and burrow and find a home there instead, but it isn’t physically possible, otherwise he probably would.

He concentrates on the hand on his back before moving forward, taking the front steps two at a time - one, one - and then walking across the porch to the front door. He unlocks the door and pushes it open, not at all surprised that Melissa’s been taking care of it, thankfully, otherwise the dust would probably be overwhelming.

“It looks good,” Scott says from behind Stiles, observing the inside of the house before gently nudging his husband inside, “Are you um-do you think… that you’d want us to take your old room, or… do you wanna set up in your dad’s?”

“Dad’s,” Stiles responds numbly, moving in further and looking around, “My bedroom barely fit me in it with just a full bed, if we wanna fit a king in, it’s gonna have to be dad’s room; biggest one in the house,” on the upside, it’s not like he died in it - although it’ll still be weird for a while, he imagines.

“Whatever you want,” Scott says and touches the back of Stiles’s neck, leaning to kiss the side of his head.

Stiles turns into the kiss and looks at the arrangement of the furniture in the front room, “I actually wouldn’t mind like… changing around the entire house, for the most part.”

“We can do that,” Scott nods and looks around, “However you wanna do it, just tell me and I’ll move stuff.”

“Mmm, can you do it naked?” Stiles asks, grinning slowly and raising his brows as he glances over Scott’s body.

“Definitely, if you want me to,” Scott grins at Stiles, nodding once as he takes his jacket off to hang it on the coat rack, “Which room do you wanna do first?”

Stiles motions to the living room, “I kinda just wanna like… chuck most of it, you know? Like… I feel like a lot of it probably needs to go,” his eyes widen slightly and he looks at Scott, “Can we paint?”

Scott smiles a little wider at the look on his husband’s face and he nods again, “Duh, as long as you’re not thinking baby-shit green.”

“Well, blue’s pretty,” Stiles shrugs, “Blue and… you know like those kinda soft tones, I’m not a designer or any shit, just as long as it’s not bright magenta or something.”

“Well,” Scott rolls the sleeves up on his shirt and gestures to the room, “Tell me what you want gone and I’ll sit it out back for now, then we can go get some paint, paint, and then I’ll rearrange the furniture for you naked.”

“Mmm,” Stiles hums in approval, moving to lift the plastic from the couch and nodding, “This one, yeah, and the lazy chair for sure.” The last thing he wants are painful reminders of his dad being turned into everyday norms.

“Are you sure?” Scott asks when Stiles mentions the lazy chair, he just doesn’t want his husband regretting it later.

Stiles nods, “Oh yeah, like seriously sure,” he glances at the other things in the room, decor and such, “We’ll get another, just… a different one. I’m gonna get some of those extra boxes from the back of the car and start taking some of this shit down to get rid of, too.”

“Hey, on your way out, can you just like, prop the front door open? I think instead of putting everything out back, I’m gonna sit it out front and call the trash company to pick it up,” Scott says, stepping over to the lazy chair to move it first.

“Yeah, okay,” Stiles says and walks to the door, opening it and dragging the bench on the porch over to keep it open before moving to the car. He gets the boxes quickly, standing back upright and turning to look at the house again before the wind is practically knocked out of him.

“Fuck,” he pants and closes his eyes, trying to keep calm and not have another panic attack, the first one on the way into town was bad enough.

Scott takes the back off of the lazy chair first, making it easier to get through the front door. He carries the back piece outside first and frowns when he sees Stiles, sitting the chair back on the sidewalk before moving to him, “Hey, you okay?”

Stiles nods numbly, “Yeah,” he says and drops his back against the side of the car, looking at Scott, “It’s just… a lot, you know?”

“Yeah, baby, I know,” Scott nods and gestures to the box, “I can take it in if you want me to? You don’t have to do anything, you can just sit down if you want.”

“No, I-I wanna help,” Stiles responds and moves to Scott, wrapping his arms around him, “I don’t wanna make you do it all, I can do this, too.”

“I know you can,” Scott says and hugs Stiles back, kissing his ear, “But you also don’t have to if it’s too much, I don’t want you to constantly be upset.”

Stiles smiles slowly as he nearly slumps against Scott, “As long as I have you here, I can make it through this, I’m okay.”

“I love you so much,” Scott says and smiles as well, touching Stiles’s chin when he pulls back some and he leans in to kiss him, “This is gonna be good for us.”

“I know,” Stiles runs his hand down Scott’s side and kisses him back, pressing their foreheads together, “We need it.”

“It already feels kinda nice to be back home, you know?” Scott asks, kissing Stiles’s cheek, “We have more good memories here than bad ones.”

Stiles chuckles, “It doesn’t feel nice to me, but-” he pulls back, “-that’s because I’ve spent most of my time back trying to breathe normal. Still… it… it’s better than the hotel and… I want something for us, something that’s not a fucking apartment, you know? Something where we actually have free range.”

“A place we can actually make our own, paint and shit,” Scott nods, “Something more permanent, a place to settle down and raise kids. Yeah, I get it.”

“A place where the room beside us won’t start contaminating the carpet with piss, shit, and blood,” Stiles continues, nodding as well, “Yeah. Like a home.”

“It’s already noon,” Scott sighs and puts his hands on his hips, “We should try and get as much done as possible today, unless you wanna just… veg out or something and start tomorrow?”

Stiles glances around, “Lets get that couch out and work on our room, I mean, I’d kinda like to sleep in a bed,” he shifts, cracking his back in a few places, “That couch at the hotel was awful.”

“Yeah, it was literally just enough room for you and me so long as we were on our sides,” Scott says, walking back up towards the house. He walks inside and grabs the bottom half of the lazy chair, turning it sideways to get it out the front door.

Stiles moves quickly, walking up the steps to the front door and setting the boxes aside to help Scott, “We can paint tomorrow. When do you plan on seeing Alan?”

“I figured I’d wait until we got settled in, go to the gym here in town first and see if they have anything open,” Scott says, maneuvering the bottom half of the chair down the front steps, “I think I’m just-I’m worried that if I do like a random career change, that we won’t be able to adopt. And, even though I used to work with Deaton, I’d still have to go to like Veterinary school for a while or something.”

“Whatever you do, I’m behind you,” Stiles says and then smirks and winks, “You know, with like my dick up your butt and stuff.”

“Stiles,” Scott groans and feels his cheeks blush, the older woman across the street looking at them as she takes her trash out. He lowers his voice and moves closer to Stiles after they sit the chair down, lips brushing against his ear, “Don’t say it unless you plan on backing it up.”

Stiles chuckles, speaking lowly, “You’ll be the one backing it up dude, on my dick,” he pats Scott’s side and turns to kiss his jaw, “Seriously, though, whatever you wanna do is fine by me.”

“Wish I could just do both,” Scott says, walking back up the walkway to the house, “Be a vet and a trainer on the side, that’d be nice.”

“That might not be such a bad idea,” Stiles says as he follows after, eyes dropping to run over the shape of Scott’s ass as he wets his lips, “You could probably be like a trainer for people that only wanna do like a day a week workout routine, like on the weekends and shit?”

“We’ll see, I guess,” Scott scratches the side of his neck as he walks back into the house, moving to one end of the couch, “Mom’s gonna be excited when I tell her we’re home.”

Stiles grabs the opposite side and lifts it, “Have you even told her that we were considering moving back?”

"No, she has no idea," Scott chuckles and guides the way to the front door, the vein in his neck popping a little with exertion, "So, she's either going to be really, really excited and happy to see us, or pissed we didn't tell her."

“She’s a mom, I’m pretty sure she can multitask and pull off both at the same time,” Stiles responds, following Scott carefully until they’ve set the couch in the front yard and he wipes his forehead, “Master bedroom?” he offers, raising his brows.

MageStiles

Chapter Text

“No, no, it’s fine, just go on home okay?” Scott says and pats his mom’s shoulder, “We’ll be fine here, I’ll stay with him, of course.”

Melissa glances at Stiles and then nods, “Okay, but you two come back to my house afterwards, alright?” she responds, letting him know that it’s not up for debate, “Don’t drive back just yet.”

“We won’t,” Scott promises and hugs her, “We’ll come back there before we go.”

Melissa smiles sadly and then moves to Stiles, kissing him on the cheek and touching the back of his head gently before squeezing his shoulder and then leaving.

Scott stands silently for a moment, watching after his mom before he joins Stiles in front of the open grave, reaching out to take his hand, “How are you holding up?”

Stiles doesn’t respond at once, feeling the warm fingers on his palm and he turns to Scott, staring at him for a moment before pulling his hand back and shaking his head, “I’m not,” he says, brows narrowing, “Just go, Scott.”

“I’m not leaving you here.”

“Why not?” Stiles asks rhetorically, “You think I’ll do something stupid? What the fuck is there that I can possibly do? I’m in a graveyard.”

“I’m not leaving you alone while you’re like this,” Scott elaborates and reaches out once more, touching Stiles’s back, “I don’t know what you’re going through, but you’re my husband. I hate seeing you have to go through this-”

“Then leave!” Stiles shouts, shoving Scott’s hand away, “Leave, and you won’t have to fucking see it anymore.”

Scott stares at Stiles, his eyes widening at the outburst and he has to take a moment before he can bring himself out of it and respond to Stiles, “Baby,” he says tentatively, “I’m not leaving you here, okay? I don’t-I hate seeing you like this, but it’s not something I’m just gonna leave you to deal with alone.”

“You’re here now and I’m still dealing with it alone, what difference does it make?” Stiles asks and looks away from Scott, just seeing him is like a punch to his gut - a constant reminder of the last conversation he had with his dad.

As much as the statement hurts Scott, and he wants to disagree, he stays silent and moves to stand beside Stiles. He'll wait here, he'll stay by Stiles's side as long as Stiles needs him.

Stiles squeezes Scott's hand tight in his own, glancing back at him, then opening the door and stepping in before he can stop himself or think better of it. He stills once he's inside, looking around and nodding slowly as he considers where to start, "Bed first?"

"Well," Scott frowns, "Our bed is still in the apartment right now, and if we move this one out we won't have one to sleep on for the time being."

Stiles sighs and nods, “Alright, let’s… at least put our sheets on and shit,” he tries not to think any more of it; it’s just a mattress, it doesn’t mean anything.

"Do you want me to run downstairs and get 'em?" Scott asks, gesturing to the door with his thumb, "Or I can strip the bed down and you can go and get 'em, if it'd be easier on you?"

“Yeah,” Stiles says and turns back to Scott, nodding again, “Yeah, let’s do that, god I need some fucking air.” It’s literally like every two steps that he needs to keep stopping and catching himself, just dealing with the house. He kind of hoped it’d be easier after seven years.

Scott cups Stiles's cheek and kisses him quickly before moving to the bed, grabbing the comforter and pulling it off, "If you need me, just yell and I'll come down," he says.

Stiles watches Scott for a moment before leaving, rushing out of the room, back down the hall and the stairs, moving across the front room to the door and back out to the car.

He unlocks the small u-haul and grabs the first box, closing everything back up and carrying it into the house, up to the bedroom and setting it down. If he thinks too much, he’s liable to just keep panicking, it’s probably for the best that they just get this shit down now.

Scott moves to the box Stiles sets down and rifles through it, pulling out the clean folded sheets and pillow cases before moving back to the bed, "Hey, baby, can you help me for a second?” he gestures to the other side of the bed and the fitted sheet he's trying to get on.

“Oh, yeah,” Stiles moves to the other side to help and chuckles to himself, shaking his head, “God, we haven’t fixed a bed together in…” he looks at Scott and his cheeks heat as he remembers the last time, “Years.”

Scott notices the pink tinge to Stiles's cheeks as he's tucking one of the corners in and he nods, slowly smiling at the other man, "Yeah, I remember," he says, thinking about how they both ended up tangled in the sheets before they even finished making the bed.

“Had to make it twice,” Stiles says as he moves to fix the bottom corner on his side, “I miss that.”

“You and me both,” Scott nods and moves back to the box for the flat sheet, patting Stiles on the ass with it before unfolding it and fanning it out across the bed.

Stiles lifts his brows as he moves to fix his side again, staring at Scott as he does it, “It feels almost alien to think of it being like that. Like I literally can’t even recognize that person anymore.”

“It feels alien to think of us being so hot for each other that we could hardly breathe without wanting to jump one another?” Scott asks as he’s smoothing down the flat sheet, “And, when you say you can’t recognize that person anymore… is that you saying you don’t feel the same way for me?” he asks teasingly.

“No, that’s not what I’m saying,” Stiles shakes his head, “Nothing about you, just… me. I was awkward and just… seriously innocent,” he shrugs, “I don’t think I do feel the same way, but not in a bad way. It’s stronger now, maybe more dependent? And I-I’m not sure if we’re like-I mean, we have kinda been pretty into it, haven’t we? We just have less time now.”

Scott furrows his brows and moves around to the other side of the bed, reaching up and pulling Stiles in by the cheeks for a kiss, "Okay, one, we have plenty of time. We're just waiting, remember? And two, yes, we've definitely been into it. Are you already forgetting the night I got you to fuck yourself on my fingers?"

“Definitely not forgetting that,” Stiles says as he stares into Scott’s eyes, “I know we’re waiting, I just…” he reaches up to touch Scott’s wrists, “I guess I feel like maybe we’ve gotten a little comfortable or something? I mean, us of all people, I’d never have referred to us as comfortable before. I dunno if it’s a bad change or a good change.”

"I don't really associate being comfortable as a bad thing, especially not when it comes to me and you," Scott says, leaning in and kissing Stiles again, hands still on his cheeks, "Has it... not been hot enough? Is it boring you?"

“I don’t think you could bore me if you tried,” Stiles chuckles and kisses him back, “I guess I just keep comparing it all to before and that’s probably not a healthy thing to do. I know people can over-romanticize things like that, and maybe I’m putting how it was up on some kinda pedestal or something. It just feels so heavy now, all the time, I dunno. I think I’m thinking too much.”

"You are thinking too much," Scott confirms and rubs his thumbs against Stiles's skin, smiling fondly at the other man, "But if you want it to be the way it was before, we could try," he offers, "Fuck all the time, hardly leave the bed. My stamina isn't what it used to be, though."

He sighs softly and kisses the corner of Stiles's mouth, "What we have now isn't bad, it's just... more mature than it used to be."

“Maybe that’s what it is,” Stiles says tentatively, “I mean… it’s kinda like we’re adults and shit,” he lets out a huff of breath, “It’s fucking weird to think of it that way, like where the Hell was the transition?” it doesn’t help that after Scott’s concerns before, Stiles hasn’t really stopped thinking about it.

"You're acting like me now," Scott points out and drags Stiles into a hug, kissing the side of his neck, and then his ear, "Stop it."

Stiles grins and closes his eyes, resting his chin on Scott’s shoulder for a moment before pressing his lips against the curve of his neck, “Your random mid-life spaz out got me just… thinking about it. I mean, here we are, back in Beacon Hills, and it’s like nothing has really changed, just us. But it kinda feels like we’re starting back at square one. We have nothing to show for it.”

"I've got you," Scott points out, "And I dunno about you, but that's something I'm pretty proud of. We're trying to start over, Stiles, it's gonna take some time and lingering on the past isn't gonna help us move forward. It's only gonna hold us back."

“I know,” Stiles turns, kissing along the other man’s neck, “I just want this to work, it has to. I need this.”

"It will," Scott insists and hugs Stiles tighter, "It already is, we just gotta put forth the effort and let it happen."

Stiles swallows and pulls back to look at Scott, “We’re kinda fucking lucky we’re even still together,” he says as he brushes their noses together, “A lot of people don’t really get second chances, I’m just being a little bitch.”

"You're not being a little bitch," Scott snorts at Stiles and dips forward to brush their mouths together teasingly, hand gingerly touching the side of his husband's neck.

Stiles pulls away completely then, moving back to the box to pull out the comforter and the pillows, setting them on the bed as he grabs the folded cases, “Even though… you know, it’s not as ‘exciting’ as it used to be, it’s like… kinda like the learning process is over a little, as far as learning things about each other. We haven’t made nearly as many mistakes as we used to - like, sexually.”

Scott's brows narrow further, because he can't figure out why Stiles is so determined to reminisce and long for something they can't physically have again. Sure, he's guilty for having done the same, but the other man seems persistent with the way he's talking about it.

"Is that what you want?" he asks in confusion, because physically, he likes the way they are now. Even though it's not as exciting for Stiles anymore, it's still just as exciting to him, "For us to make mistakes, I mean, for us to still be learning about one another."

“No,” Stiles chuckles and shakes his head, “As much as I wanna romanticize, there is literally nothing romantic about not using enough lube, or… or getting walked in on by our parents,” he looks at Scott as he pulls the pillowcase on, carefully edging it up, “Or constantly being self conscious about if I’m using too much tongue, or being afraid to tell you that I’ve got like an armpit kink.”

"Okay," Scott nods and starts on the other pillows, "You were just-I dunno, confusing me with how you were talking about it." He's quiet for a moment, a thoughtful expression on his face, "It's really not as exciting for you anymore?" he asks.

Stiles shrugs, “Maybe in a different way?” he says and sits down on the edge of the bed, “Like my heart still races and I get crazy chills when you kiss me and stuff. I guess I’m just not constantly over-analyzing the things you do now, I normally just… I know.

“That’s not boring, right? That’s a good thing. Maybe it’s just because we haven’t really had much time to breathe, outside of like me getting sober and shot and raped and us being evicted from the apartment.”

Scott kneels down onto the floor and presses close to Stiles, nudging his body between the other man's thighs as he wraps his arms around his middle, "Now that we're here and we'll have more time, we could... I dunno, try to spice things up?"

Just the thought of putting an effort to their sex life is actually seriously appealing, Stiles’s cheeks heat as he stares at Scott, reaching out to rest his elbows on the other man’s shoulders, “I can name a few things we still haven’t tried…”

Scott quirks a brow at Stiles and nods, "Just tell me, I'll do whatever you want me to. I'm not a prude, I'll try anything once."

“Well,” Stiles teases as he runs his nails through the back of Scott’s hair, “We never really got around to lingerie.”

Scott chuckles somewhat nervously, but his face heats at the imagery supplied, "You um-I mean, both of us, or..?"

“Either or, or both, or-” Stiles lifts his brows, “I mean, if it goes well, it doesn’t have to be just a one time thing. Or like role-playing or something, things like that. Or that Dom, sub stuff.”

"Role-playing," Scott says and stares at Stiles, "You mean like, me acting like a plumber or something and knocking on the door? Telling you I'm here to clean your pipes?" he asks, trying not to laugh.

“I got some other pipes you could clean,” Stiles responds suggestively, “My husband left earlier, I don’t think he’ll be back for a while,” he leans in, brushing their noses together, “I dunno, there’s lots of things we still haven’t gotten around to, we haven’t done it all yet.”

"We can do whatever you think'll help," Scott says and nips at the tip of Stiles's nose, "I'm down for whatever."

Stiles tilts his head and kisses Scott, “I don’t think it needs ‘help’, but I would like to experience more things with you,” he admits, “Just to like… see how it goes. Maybe we’ll find something else we like.”

"We can experiment," Scott kisses Stiles back, arms falling down from the other man's middle and his fingers curl against his husband's hips instead.

Stiles tightens his thighs against Scott’s sides, “It’s been a while since I used the nipple clamps, too,” he says and smirks, “And we’ve only opened the toy chest a couple times since we took it out of the apartment.”

"The nipple clamps," Scott says fondly, unable to not think about the last time Stiles used them on him. He was a mess, oversensitive and coming all over himself pretty much every time the other man touched him, "Probably my favorite investment of ours."

“Seriously,” Stiles drags his teeth over his bottom lip, “You were pretty much sobbing by the end of it, last time,” he brushes his fingers just behind Scott’s ears, “It’s not often you lose yourself like that. That’s been in my spank bank ever since.”

"Really?" Scott asks and smiles at Stiles, straightening his back some and tugging his husband closer, "I think, for me, it's uh-" he smiles wider and wets his lips, looking at Stiles suggestively, "The first time I rimmed you. That's like, the main thing I think of when I touch myself."

“Really?” Stiles asks back, kind of surprised, “God, I remember that so well. That was probably the hottest thing. That, and the first time we fucked in my bedroom. I kept thinking ‘hell yeah, about time I broke this in’,” he swallows as he starts getting hard, “Or the first time I watched you jack yourself off.”

"I was so nervous," Scott says, brows lifting a little when he feels the hard press of Stiles against his stomach, "But at the same time, knowing you were watching me was what got me off."

Stiles leans in, kissing Scott and smoothing his palms down the other man’s chest, “I’d fantasized about that so much before we got together, just constantly thinking about you getting yourself off, all breathy and desperate,” he wets his lips, “That, and the first time I taught you about fingering yourself.”

"Which was-" Scott breathes out through his nose and mindlessly rocks forward against his husband, "Clearly an enlightening experience... even if my fingers don't feel as good as yours do."

“I don’t think you give yours enough credit,” Stiles says, taking Scott’s right hand and lifting it up, pressing a kiss to his palm and running the tips of his fingers along the other man’s, “I love how much thicker they are than mine.”

"That's funny, because I love how long and thin yours are," Scott says and laces their fingers together, gently nuzzling Stiles's nose with his own, "Love how deep you get."

Stiles grins and moves his free hand down and around Scott’s waist, running over his ass, “I know you do,” he responds softly, “Reminiscing is nice, but knowing all of it is better.”

"Yeah," Scott agrees and rubs his other palm over the crotch of Stiles's pants, pressing against his erection teasingly before standing up. He reaches down to the hem of his shirt and pulls the fabric up over his head, balling it up and dropping it down on top of the box.

"I was supposed to move furniture around naked, right?" he smirks knowingly.

Stiles nods, watching Scott with slightly widening eyes, “Yeah,” he says a little breathlessly, glancing at the other man’s pants.

MageStiles

Chapter Text

Scott nods and watches Stiles as his fingers move slowly, undoing his belt before popping the button loose, fingers drawing the zipper down. Teenage him probably never would've done this, but with him having been a personal trainer for so long, he's kind of proud of his body at this point.

He pushes the denim down over his hips, catching his boxer briefs with them, kicking out of it all and dropping it on top of the box with his shirt as he tries to ignore how hard he is as well, cock full and arching up toward his stomach.

"You're gonna have to come with me and show me where you want everything," he says, words laced with more than one innuendo.

“Uh… yeah,” Stiles says as his eyes run over Scott’s body, Jesus Christ sometimes it’s like he’s never even seen it before, “Could… could start in here,” he mutters numbly, glancing around, “I uh-” would rather be doing other things, but- “-I’d kinda like to change this around most.”

“Okay,” Scott says, smiling slightly at the way his husband keeps looking at him. He looks around the room and mindlessly brushes the tips of his fingers up along his length, just on the underside, “How do you want it?”

Stiles watches Scott’s hand, his throat effectively drying and he pulls his eyes from Scott, “Well, uh…” he tries to think about anything other than sex, pointing towards the desk in the corner, “Let’s start there, umm, move it closer to the door, on that wall,” he says and motions for Scott.

Scott nods and moves to the desk, putting his hands on it and sliding it gently across the carpet, maneuvering it so that it’s where Stiles wants it, “Like this?” he asks, after he’s got it in place.

“Yeah, that’s good,” Stiles says as he watches the muscles in the other man’s ass, “And that small book shelf,” he points at it, “Beside the desk.”

“You got it,” Scott says and moves to the little bookshelf, able to pick it up and carry it over by the desk, sitting it down carefully before propping his hands on his bare hips, “Next?”

Stiles is so tempted to just say ‘come over here and get on my dick’ or something, but manages to not, “I want the bed in that corner,” he says, getting up and moving from the bed, pointing to the corner where the desk had been, “Just seems weird having it right by the window,” he mutters mindlessly, still glancing at Scott. He’s the one that asked for the naked moving, but just watching it makes him seriously want to fuck.

Scott blows a heavy breath out and moves to the bed. He takes the mattress off first and sits it to the side, making it easier to push the bed in place, grunting softly with how hard he has to push it. He grabs the mattress again afterwards and shoves it back onto the bed frame and box springs, using his forearm to wipe a thin sheen of sweat from his forehead as he looks at Stiles, “That good?”

“Yeah,” Stiles responds softly, moving to Scott and leaning in to kiss the corner of his mouth, “That’s perfect,” he says as he runs his fingers down the other man’s chest, over his left nipple as he stares into Scott’s eyes.

“Stiles,” Scott gasps, the gentle brush of the other man’s finger making his cock throb at once. He’s okay with things getting heated, but he knows that if they start messing around, they’ll never make it downstairs. Turning more towards his husband, he reaches up and clasps his shoulders, leaning in to kiss him chastely, though he lets his lips linger.

“What else?” he asks lowly.

“Think I want the file box by the desk,” Stiles says thoughtfully, “Should be light, I emptied it out after dad passed. And the uh, the dresser moved from that side to this side too.”

“So, everything to the right then,” Scott nods and has to force himself to pull away from Stiles.

He moves the file box first, because it’s lighter, then moves to the dresser and starts wiggling it out from the wall, pulling a concentrated face as he works on getting it across the room, backing it up slowly against the wall, “Okay.”

Stiles observes the change, moving from the bed and looking at the right side as he nods, “Okay, yeah,” he looks at Scott again, “God, when was the last time I told you that your body is fucking outrageous?”

“Um,” Scott looks down at himself and shrugs, “To be honest, I think that’s the first time you’ve used that adjective.” He moves to the left side of the room and shrugs, “What’re you gonna do over here? The room feels a little lopsided.”

“For now,” Stiles says as he looks at it again, “But I’m thinking like the entertainment system and stuff, right? Maybe a couch, and that’d leave some space to get you a couple things so you could have some space to work out.”

“I guess, yeah,” Scott nods and rubs his right hand over his left arm, “I don’t really need too much equipment, though. I can always just go to the gym or…” he looks Stiles over, “Use what I’ve already got.”

Stiles chuckles and turns to Scott, “Well, whatever you wanna do,” he says and moves to his husband, “I just really like the idea of the entertainment system being in the bedroom for once. We can like… watch The X-Files and fuck at the same time-on the bed instead of the couch, you know?”

“Yep,” Scott nods fervently at the idea, “I’m okay with you fucking me while Mulder’s on the screen,” he says decidedly, grinning at Stiles.

“Oh my God,” Stiles nearly gags, “The time we tried to watch The Human Centipede for the first time while we were goin’ at it, forever regret.”

“Oh God, why would you even bring that up right now?” Scott asks and grimaces, feeling his cock deflate nearly at once, “It brings a whole new meaning to ass to mouth.”

Stiles laughs, “I thought of it, had to share,” he shrugs, glancing down at the other man’s length, “That bad, huh?” he leans in and lowers his voice, “Well how about that time I ate vanilla ice cream out of your ass?”

“That was…” Scott tries to recall, “Cold, I think, very cold, and I was shitting ice cream for like a week afterwards.” He glances down at his still soft length, “So, nope, don’t think that’s gonna do it.”

“Really?” Stiles asks, a little disappointed, “It was fucking amazing on my end… pun intended. Maybe we should swap places with that one,” he reaches down, brushing his fingers over Scott’s dick, “First time we fucked in public, when I had to practically have you shove your fist down my throat to keep quiet.”

“You always were noisier in public,” Scott remembers, all too vividly, all the sounds Stiles made, high on the thrill of possibly getting caught, “Had to shove my fingers in your mouth, every single time.”

Stiles grins and shrugs, “I dunno about 'louder', I think there just weren’t any pillows or sheets for me to shove my face into if I couldn’t keep it back.”

“No, you were definitely louder,” Scott argues back and smiles, “I remember thinking that you wanted us to get caught or something.”

“You might not actually be wrong there,” Stiles admits shamelessly, “I’m pretty sure that’s a thing. Remember when we had like fantasy night and divulged all of that horrible shit we were into? I wasn’t kidding when I said I wanted to like… fuck you in front of people, just randomly.”

“You exhibitionist, you,” Scott snorts and, if they wouldn’t get arrested for it and thrown in jail for public indecency, he’d probably let Stiles.

Stiles gives Scott an innocent look, “I can’t help myself, the idea of someone walking in on that, me like either laying into you like a boss or mid-come, right as I’m filling that ass - it’s kinda seriously arousing.”

“Stiles,” Scott all but groans at the visual, the other man talking about it is making him want it and causing his length to twitch, “You’re killing me,” he says pitifully, “All this talk about sex in general is killing me. I’m all… naked and vulnerable and stuff.”

“Yeah you are,” Stiles says knowingly, smoothing his palm over Scott’s ass as he looks over his body, “We’ve got some time. Move to the bed and put your hands down, back to me.”

Scott feels his face get hot all over, mainly because he's not used to Stiles just giving direction like that. His eyes widen slightly, but he doesn't argue it, he steps to the bed and bends over some, putting his hands against the mattress as he looks at Stiles curiously.

Stiles watches Scott for a moment, just staring at him before he takes off his over shirt, moving to stand behind Scott and he leans in close, biting the shape of his husband’s ear as he slides his right hand between Scott’s ass cheeks, “It makes me anxious, too,” he says lowly, sucking the other man’s earlobe into his mouth.

Scott's eyes flutter and his breath catches in his throat, cock hardening completely and he can't help but arch back against Stiles, "I dunno why we keep doing it to ourselves. It's just torture."

“I dunno, I like talking about it,” Stiles responds, “I keep learning things I didn’t know,” he drops his head, kissing along Scott’s shoulder as the pads of his fingers brush over the other man’s hole before rubbing against it insistently, “If anything, it makes me wanna keep talking about it.”

"It just makes me want you, more than I already do," Scott admits, skin breaking out in goosebumps as he moans weakly, dropping his head down some and fighting the way his legs tremble eagerly.

“I know,” Stiles says and smirks.

He understands where Scott’s coming from - the more they wait, the more it seems tedious as Hell. He turns his mouth to his husband’s ear then, whispering huskily, “That’s why we have mouths.” He drops down almost at once, long fingers spreading Scott’s ass cheeks before pressing his lips against his entrance, opening his mouth and running his tongue over it slowly.

"Oh," Scott's mouth falls slack and he clenches slightly when he feels the wet brush of Stiles's tongue. It's been a long time since they've had sex, but it's been even longer since the other man ate him out. He feels his cock pulse excitedly as he drops his forehead down against the bed, fighting the urge to rock himself back against Stiles's face.

Stiles glances up, watching Scott’s body tense and he moans against his skin, lapping over it as he massages the other man’s cheeks. He’s practically drooling just from the musky taste, all too familiar - above just about anything else, he’s missed this. He moves his right hand, grabbing Scott’s waist firmly and pulling him back as he wriggles his tongue against the muscle until it slides in a little.

"Stiles," Scott murmurs numbly, hands gripping at the clean sheets, his left moving down, fingers wrapping around his girth. He squeezes at first, trying to calm himself down, then he strokes his length slowly as his hips start moving back, wanting more.

Stiles groans as the muscle relaxes enough for him to piston his tongue in and out, his other hand moving down between Scott’s legs, cupping and gently massaging his balls. He’s already so ridiculously hard himself that shifting his hips a little causes the head of his dick to rub against the front of his jeans, making him shudder and press his face against the other man’s backside, tongue darting in as deep as it can go.

"Fuck," Scott moans out and gently teases the head of his cock, jerking himself lightly as he focuses on the feel of Stiles's tongue. He knows he's not going to last, not like this, especially not with Stiles's tongue buried in him, but he tries to stave the orgasm off for a bit longer so he can enjoy this a little more.

The sound of Scott’s voice goes straight to Stiles’s dick, so much so that (out of reflex) the hand on his waist drops down and snaps the button on his jeans, unzipping them and then he shoves his fingers in, gasping as he touches himself. He pulls his tongue back for a moment to give it a break, teeth grazing over the puckered entrance, moaning as he smears his lips along the other man’s skin messily before shoving his tongue back in.

"Stiles," Scott gasps and he's starting to feel a little dumb with how good it feels, hand dropping from his dick and he reaches back, fingers tangling in Stiles's hair as he holds his husband's face against him firmly, "Oh God, Stiles," he whines breathlessly.

Stiles all but whimpers as he feels Scott’s hand in his hair, the other man’s voice sounding ragged and he keeps at it, fucking his tongue into Scott and making lude grunting sounds as his hand moves down from his husband's balls to rub at his perineum.

"Shit," Scott mutters to himself and furrows his brows, keeping his hand tight in Stiles's hair as he pants and whines, "I can't-" he shakes his head, because he can't hold it back any longer, doesn't really want to, "Fuck, I'm so close."

Stiles grins and moves his hand back even more, sliding one long, thin finger into Scott, just under his tongue and curling it, the pad of it rubbing against his prostate as Stiles keeps working his tongue in and out, his own orgasm building as he looks up at Scott.

"Baby, oh-oh God," Scott breathes out and grunts when his orgasm hits, clenching down around Stiles's finger as his chest heaves almost violently. The sheets were clean, but they're sure as Hell not now.

Despite Scott already getting off, Stiles keeps at it, slowing down the quick movements of his tongue as he feels the walls spasm around his finger and he pulls back a little, breathing against the worn hole and stilling as he catches his breath, “Feel better?”

“Yeah,” Scott says slowly, drawing the word out into a sigh before he moves, turning around and kneeling down in front of Stiles, “What about you?” he asks, eyes dropping to where the other man’s hand is in his pants, “You get off? ‘Cause if not, I could finish you.”

“Not yet,” Stiles mumbles as he licks his lips, “Seriously close though.”

“Shouldn’t take much then, huh?” Scott asks and gently pushes Stiles back, making him lay down on the floor before he moves to pull the other man’s pants down some, tugging the boxers down as well and he drops at once, mouthing sloppily against the curve of Stiles’s length. He flicks his tongue around the cap and grabs the base, taking the cock into his mouth eagerly as he looks up at his husband.

Stiles’s eyes widen and he bucks up a little, putting his finger in his mouth and moaning at the taste of the other man lingering there. He reaches down with his other hand and touches Scott’s cheek, “Oh, yeah,” he says, drawing the words out as his legs tense, back arching off the floor, “Not long at all.”

Scott hums and bobs his head, able to feel the length hardening impossibly more between his lips and he forces him down further, just in time to feel it pulse, Stiles’s come spurting down his throat.

“Fuck, Scotty,” Stiles mumbles weakly as he stares at the other man, rolling his hips a few times and finally dropping his head back on the floor, “Wow, yeah, think we successfully broke in the room.”

Scott pulls off and licks his lips, grinning up at Stiles before moving up his body and leaning down to kiss him, “Yeah we did,” he agrees, definitely more relaxed than he’d been before.

Stiles kisses back breathlessly, reaching down to tuck himself away before turning into Scott and wrapping his arms around the other man’s waist, “I can’t even remember the last time I ate you out… that needs to be like a fucking daily thing.”

“I wouldn’t be opposed,” Scott admits and lays down against Stiles, kissing his jaw and smearing more kisses down his neck, “Your mouth does magical things.”

“I’ve been wanting to do that for weeks,” Stiles says and lifts his chin, baring his neck for Scott as his breathing returns to normal, “Not sure why I even waited.”

"Me neither," Scott says, nipping and dragging his teeth over his husband's pulse point, mouthing at the skin wetly, "I would've been okay with it, obviously."

Stiles hums and nods weakly, “Obviously,” he responds and curls his fingers into the other man’s hair, “So, when do we wanna go and see mom?”

"Shit," Scott pulls his mouth from Stiles's skin and looks down at him, sighing and not necessarily coming off as excited as he is to see her, "Can we go today?" he asks, "I'll be surprised if she doesn't already know we're back in town."

“News travels fast in a small town,” Stiles agrees, shrugging, “I’m up for seeing her, she’ll wanna eat dinner together - you know she will.”

"Are you sure you wanna go?" Scott asks, he knows Stiles loves his mom, but it's been a pretty long time since either of them have seen her, "You don't have to if you don't want to."

Stiles shakes his head, “I’m sure, I wanna go - I wanna see Melissa. It’s been years. I mean, even the last time you saw her I completely skipped out on. I’d love to go.”

"Cool," Scott says and smiles happily, leaning down to press quick kisses all over Stiles's face, "She's gonna be excited to see you."

“Especially since now I’m not constantly putting her son through Hell and making him regret marrying me,” Stiles responds, reaching up to run his hand through Scott’s hair, “I think that’s one of the reasons I didn’t wanna face her before. Not that I knew she knew, but because I knew we weren’t in a good place.”

"Hey," Scott narrows his brows and sits up, straddling Stiles's waist as he stares down at him, "I've never regretted marrying you, and she has literally, never once, hated you. You know that, right?"

Stiles can’t help glancing down at Scott’s dick, considering it's kind of just there, all out and proud and he shrugs, looking back up to his husband’s face, “I wouldn’t blame either of you if you did,” he shrugs, “I was a nightmare to be around.”

"Stiles," Scott says flatly, sighing as his shoulders slump some, "I don't hate you, and she doesn't hate you. You're like, the second son she never wanted but ended up loving anyway. Come on, don't be like this."

“I’m not being like anything,” Stiles says dismissively and sits up, putting his hands on Scott’s waist and leaning in to kiss him, “But you can’t disagree. I was awful. I couldn’t even stand to be myself.”

"I wasn't any better," Scott says, raising his brows as he touches Stiles's shoulders, "We both made mistakes. I thought we agreed not to dwell on the past?"

Stiles sighs and nods, “Okay, okay, I’m dropping it - now, get your tight ass dressed so we can go over there.”

"Tight ass," Scott snorts and presses a quick kiss to Stiles's lips, "Yeah, okay," he nods, pulling back, getting off of the other man, and moving to pull his clothes back on.

“Well, yeah, tight,” Stiles says as he gets up as well, moving to grab his over shirt, “It’s a little stretched for the moment, but dude, you’re ridiculously tight. Like sinking my dick into that is gonna be so fucking amazing when we get there.”

"There you go again," Scott points out and chuckles, buttoning his jeans up, "I'm pretty sure you're trying to tease me at this point."

Stiles grins and moves to Scott, patting his ass before moving into the hall, “I haven’t been able to tease you in years, I’m making up for lost time.”

"I'd be careful about it if I were you," Scott teases back, "You're liable to wake up in the middle of the night with me on your dick," he says, and he's not entirely sure if he's teasing now or if it's a threat.

“That reminds me of the time I woke you up at twelve on your birthday by making you come like five times before you were even fully awake,” Stiles responds as he moves to his old bedroom door and opens it, glancing inside.

Scott pulls his shirt on and straightens it out, then moves out of the bedroom and into the upstairs hallway, "It's not the only time you've done it, either. I've woken up with your tongue in my ass so many times I don't think I could even count."

“I can’t help it,” Stiles says in his own defense, turning to look at Scott, “Sometimes I just feel it calling, and I can’t just say ‘no’.”

Scott laughs then, because Stiles is being ridiculous and it's... endearing, he's obviously still just as hung up on the other guy as he used to be when they were younger, "You feel a calling to stick your tongue in my ass?" he asks in amusement.

Stiles nods, “Yes,” he says as he puts his hands on his hips, “Like you’ll turn over and your ass is pointed at me, your fucking hairy legs all spread open and you arch it at me. I’m not kidding, there’s no way I can turn that down. Next thing I know, my tongue is in your ass...”

"I arch my ass at you..? In my sleep?" Scott chuckles and reaches out to grab Stiles's shirt, pulling him a little bit closer, "Are you saying my ass is irresistible?"

“That’s exactly what I’m saying,” Stiles mutters as he stares Scott in the eyes seriously, “I can’t be held accountable for what I do when you do that. I tried to explain it once… but my tongue was busy. You do quite a few interesting things in your sleep.”

"Really?" Scott asks and lifts a brow, "Like what? You started it, now I have to know what all you find irresistible, that way I can start doing it all on purpose."

Stiles shrugs and moves to walk down the stairs, closing his old bedroom door behind him, “Sometimes I wake up and you’re touching the back of my neck, or running your hands through my hair. There’s been numerous times where you’re humping something, normally my leg or my stomach.”

"Me humping your leg like a dog is irresistible?" Scott asks and follows Stiles downstairs, "I'm not following, but okay. Noted."

“Actually, that’s like… seriously arousing,” Stiles admits, cheeks flushing as he reaches the landing and turns to look at Scott, "I don’t shove my tongue in your ass when you do that, I kinda just… watch… for a moment before I start getting hard and then I jack off while you do it…”

"And I miss all of this because I'm usually asleep and humping your leg," Scott snorts and kisses Stiles, touching the other man's chin before moving past him, "Bummer.”

Stiles laughs and raises his brows, “Well, there’s probably a couple videos of it, remember when we used to record ourselves and watch it and get off all the time?”

Scott stops and turns to look at Stiles with wide eyes, "Tell me you didn't video tape me humping your leg," he says, feeling his cheeks flush - he doesn't know if he could actually watch himself for that.

“It was hot,” Stiles responds, voice going a little higher than he’d intended, “I wanted to make sure I wasn’t just fucking dreaming about it.”

"Stiles," Scott says and his eyes widen even more, "Oh my God," he chuckles nervously, "That's-where is it?"

“In one of the boxes in the u-haul,” Stiles shrugs, “I saw all the disks when we were packing.”

"I'm-" Scott kind of wants to get rid of it, just because, but he sighs after a moment and shakes his head, "Okay," he says, moving to put his shoes on, "You think we should pick anything up on the way over?"

Stiles frowns and narrows his brows, “Are you actually upset at me about this?” he asks in confusion, “I mean, I didn’t think you’d be against it, we talked about recording when one another wasn’t aware of it and we were both okay with it at the time… it was like eight or nine years ago.”

“No, Stiles, I’m not upset with you,” Scott says softly, glancing at Stiles as he puts his shoes on, “I dunno, I’m more embarrassed than anything? It’s weird, baby, but it’s not you,” he verifies.

“You’re embarrassed?” Stiles asks, genuinely surprised, “Why? Because you hump me in your sleep?”

Scott chuckles and rubs a hand over the back of his neck, looking away to hide the way he blushes, “Yeah.”

“Baby,” Stiles says and moves to him, “I hate to break it to you,” he reaches out, wrapping his arms around Scott’s neck and staring into his eyes, “But you’ve been doing it since we were kids.”

MageStiles

Chapter Text

“Oh my God, that doesn’t make it any better,” Scott says, but he revels in the way Stiles’s arms feel around him, “I sleep hump,” he says as seriously as he can muster.

Stiles laughs and drops his head a little, “Yeah, dude, you’ve been doing it since we were like four or something. Like the first time I slept in your bed, you did it. I didn’t know you didn’t know, I just figured we didn’t talk about it because it was just… a thing,” he shrugs, “It’s pretty normal, I think you’d be surprised.”

“I’m like-like-” Scott blinks and stares at Stiles, “I’m like a unconscious humpy puppy,” he says seriously, voice squeaking a little bit like it used to do when he was younger.

“Yeah, you kinda are,” Stiles says as he tries to collect himself, shaking his head and running his fingers through Scott’s hair as his smile drops and he stares at his husband seriously, “There’s nothing to be ashamed of about it. It’s nothing new for me, and to be honest, I’d have it no other way.”

Scott reaches up and splays his fingers against the side of Stiles’s neck, thumb brushing his jaw as he leans in to kiss him, “If you say so,” he says softly, forcing himself to calm down some.

“If you want, the next time you do it I can try to wake you up,” Stiles responds, lifting his brows, “Shouldn’t be too difficult. I mean, you don’t do it all the time, but it’s definitely a thing.”

“No, you don’t have to wake me up,” Scott says and shakes his head, “I think I’d rather not know I’m doing it.”

Stiles frowns and nods, reaching into his pocket for his keys, “I probably shouldn’t have even told you,” he shrugs, moving to the front door, which is still ajar.

“Are you mad at me now?” Scott asks in confusion, forgetting to grab his coat as he opts to follow Stiles out of the house instead, shutting the door behind himself.

“Why would I be mad at you?” Stiles asks, locking the door behind Scott and walking down the front steps.

“I dunno, the whole ‘I probably shouldn’t have even told you’ thing just threw me off,” Scott says, watching Stiles for a moment before moving down the front steps as well.

Stiles shrugs, “I probably shouldn’t have,” he repeats himself, “I wasn’t aiming to embarrass you or anything. I thought it was just funny… and seriously hot.”

“I don’t see how it could possibly be hot,” Scott says and stops next to the car, “That’s all I’m saying. I’m trying not to be embarrassed, but it’s not like I can just snap my fingers and make it happen.”

Stiles nods as he climbs into the passenger’s side seat, smirking to himself, he knows a way to make Scott realize why it’s so appealing to him, but he doesn’t say anything back as he buckles himself in.

Scott slips into the driver’s side and leans to put the keys into the ignition, shutting his door and stopping when he looks over at Stiles, at the smirk on his face, “Why are you smiling?”

“Because,” Stiles says and shrugs, turning to Scott and leaning across the seats to lay one on him, reaching up to cup his cheek as he deepens the kiss. It’s heated and quick, and he feels like he loses something when he pulls back, but he settles in his own seat again, “I love you.”

Scott’s mouth is slack when Stiles pulls back and he stares at the other man for a moment, waiting for his brain to catch up, “I love you, too,” he says, narrowing his brows and blinking slowly. He turns then and grips the steering wheel, still trying to pull himself out of a stupor, it’s like the kiss fried brain cells or something.

Stiles chuckles knowingly, “Don’t crash,” he says as he licks his lips, settling his hand on Scott’s thigh as he stares up at the house.

“Right,” Scott nods and manages to pull out of the driveway without backing into the couch, wetting his lips and glancing down at the hand on his leg as he peels off towards his mom’s house.

“I keep feeling like we should bring her flowers or something,” Stiles says, somewhat nervously, “Like… because the last, I think, ten or fifteen times I’ve seen her, there’s been an occasion.”

“You know just as well as I do, she’d roll her eyes at flowers,” Scott says, “If we wanna suck up to her, it’d be better if we showed up with cheesecake.”

Stiles nods, “Yeah, store bought kind though. Think we learned our lesson trying to pull that one off.”

“That was your fault, you put the salt in instead of sugar,” Scott points out, “How you even got the two mixed up is beyond me.”

“It was white,” Stiles says conclusively, “Not my fault. I’m a horrible baker anyway, my cookies always have way too much baking soda in them.”

“You’re good with pasta, though,” Scott shrugs, “So, there’s that.”

Stiles grins and nods, “Pasta and lasagna, anything with noodles, I’m pretty good for.”

“You’re good for other things, too,” Scott mentions and pulls into the grocery store parking lot, glancing over at Stiles and fighting a grin, “It’s not just food related.”

“We’re getting cheesecake?” Stiles asks and raises his brows.

“That’s the idea,” Scott says as he parks, looking over at his husband, “Unless we wanna just not bother with it?”

Stiles shakes his head, “No, this is good. It feels weird not bringing something,” he says and climbs out of the car once Scott’s parked. He stretches and moves around to the driver’s side, “Besides, all the times we’ve nearly eaten her out of house and home, I think we owe it to her.”

“Yeah,” Scott climbs out as well and hits the button on his keychain, locking the car up as he moves to Stiles, “Besides, it’ll take like… all of five minutes to grab a cheesecake and get out of there.”

Stiles nods, taking Scott’s hand and leaning in close against him as they walk into the store, “We could probably stand to go like… mega grocery shopping tomorrow or something.”

“Get up real early and just get tons of shit done,” Scott nods, turning his head and kissing Stiles’s temple, “Grocery shopping, finish rearranging the house, get some paint.”

“I’m tempted to make like a checklist or something,” Stiles responds, only slightly sarcastic, “Do we wanna paint the outside of the house too?”

“That’s… completely up to you,” Scott says as they walk into the grocery store, “But I think that if we decide to, we should hire someone to do it, because that’d take us forever.”

Stiles chuckles, “Yeah a professional painter for the outside and the door would probably be smart. I don’t wanna fall and break my neck, and I don’t want to stress about you possibly doing the same,” he looks at Scott, “If we did, what color do you think?”

“I dunno, I’ve kinda always liked tan colors, beige and shit,” Scott shrugs, “It just depends-oh, can we paint the front door red?” he asks and looks at Stiles with wide eyes.

“‘Beige and shit’,” Stiles laughs as he repeats the words, “You know, sometimes those two are one and the same.”

“I’m a physical trainer, I don’t know color names and stuff,” Scott chuckles and stops in front of the cooler, looking over the options of cheesecake, “Maybe something akin to your eye color, just a lot, lot lighter.”

“Tawny,” Stiles responds and nods, “Sounds good to me, and a red door - and blue on the inside… you wanna go out on a date?”

Scott slowly pries his eyes away from the cheesecake to look at Stiles, brows narrowing a little bit as he stares at his husband for a moment, “You just asked me out on a date, right? And I’m not just imagining shit?”

Stiles stares back at Scott seriously, “Yeah, I did.”

Scott smiles slowly after a moment and nods, it’s probably stupid that his stomach gets all fluttery and his heart skips a few beats, but he doesn’t think too much into it, “Yeah,” he nods, eyes grazing over his husband fondly, “Yeah, we can go out on a date.”

“Cool,” Stiles says, a little awkward but he doesn’t mind, “So like… Friday?” he reaches out, turning back to look at the different kinds of cheesecakes, picking up the one he would normally get for her before (some things, fortunately, never change), “Seven?”

Scott watches Stiles in amusement, glancing briefly at the cheesecake, then he nods again, “Sure, Friday at seven,” he says, feeling a little silly. They’re married, so he’s not sure why they’re planning this like they don’t live in the same house, but it’s cute.

Stiles turns, leading Scott to the ‘10 items or less’ line, keeping their arms linked as he looks around the store, “Ten bucks says that one of the first five things Melissa says will be ‘you should’ve called’.”

“Twenty says the very first thing out of her mouth will be ‘what are you doing here?’,” Scott counters and raises his brows at Stiles, he likes to think he knows his mom pretty well.

“Thirty-five says that it won’t be that, it’ll be more like…” Stiles changes his voice to imitate Melissa’s, “Scott, what are you doing here?’”

“That’s basically the same thing, you dork,” Scott snorts at Stiles, taking the cheesecake from him to put it up on the conveyor belt.

Stiles shakes his head, “No it isn’t, it has your name first,” He defends himself, “And I’m pretty sure that somewhere in all of this, she’s gonna ask us if we’ve been starving ourselves, and when was the last time we ate.”

Scott glances down at himself as the guy rings them up, mindlessly puffing his chest out a little bit, “I don’t look like I’ve been starving,” he says, “I look good, and so do you. A little skinny, but you look good.”

“Are you kidding? I look like death warmed over,” Stiles responds and pulls his wallet from his pocket, taking their bank card and swiping it once he sees the total, “You look amazing,” he says as his eyes run over Scott’s body, “And technically you ate like… not twenty minutes ago,” he winks.

“Are you talking about your come?” Scott asks suddenly, eyes wide and voice a little too loud, cheeks heating when the cashier looks at him in amusement, “Oh God, Stiles.” He turns, leaving his husband to grab the cheesecake.

Stiles blinks and laughs obnoxiously, taking the receipt, “What? It’s healthy,” he says and picks up the container, waving off the bag boy as he follows after Scott.

Scott scrubs a hand over his face and stops at the exit, waiting on Stiles to catch up before he walks out and he can practically feel his ears burning.

“Hey, you’re the one that said it, not me,” Stiles says, still laughing as he reaches Scott, “I was just alluding to the fact.”

“I know, I know,” Scott says, the corner of his mouth twitching a little with the effort it takes not to smile, “I’m just glad I accidentally said it in front of some guy I don’t know instead of my mom.”

Stiles grins, “It’s not like she hasn’t walked in on you wolfing down my dick before…”

“Oh my God,” Scott groans miserably, recalling when it happened, “Stiles, don’t,” he shakes his head, he’d really rather forget that whole ordeal.

“You were taking it like a champ, buddy,” Stiles says, wrapping his arm around Scott’s neck and pulling him close, “I’ve always been jealous of that.”

“I like your gag reflex,” Scott defends Stiles’s dick sucking skills mindlessly as they walk to the car, leaning into him.

Stiles shakes his head, “Not me, I hate it,” he rubs his stomach with his free hand, “It’s so fucking sensitive it’s stupid. But… at least my fingers make up for it.”

“Oh, shut up, you’re good at sucking dick,” Scott says, stopping to pull his keys from his pocket, “I like when your eyes water and you gag a little, or when your spit starts dribbling down your chin - it’s hot.”

“Don’t make me give you road head,” Stiles mutters, feeling his dick twitch in interest just thinking about it.

“I’m just saying,” Scott shrugs and opens up the driver side door, slipping into the vehicle with a smile on his face, “I don’t find your gag reflex nearly as problematic as you do, so long as I don’t think about the time you actually puked.”

Stiles chuckles and climbs into his seat, setting the cheesecake in the floorboard between his legs, “I was so confident of myself, too. God, and I didn’t wanna blow you again, not for like… what like two months? Talk about mortifying.”

“You wouldn’t even go down on me when I begged you to,” Scott says, starting the car and pulling from the parking spot, putting the car from reverse into drive before heading to his mom’s, “I feel like I jacked off a lot in those two months.”

“Hey, I gave you hand jobs, too,” Stiles responds, lifting his brows, “I tried. It wasn’t like I left you high and dry completely.”

“No, you didn’t,” Scott agrees, “You just wouldn’t put your mouth near my dick for two, very long, agonizing months.”

Stiles shrugs, “Yeah, and the next time I did I took like four hours just trying to figure out how to do it without puking again, and still being able to get you off.”

“And it was still good,” Scott says, slowing when the car in front of him taps on their brakes some, “It’s always been good. Like I said earlier, your mouth does magical things.”

“Yeah well I practiced on like fifty fucking things before finally agreeing to give you head again,” Stiles admits shamelessly, “So it’s good to know it worked. Do you know how hard it is to blow a banana and not eat it?”

“Not very?” Scott guesses, “Why would you wanna eat the skin and all? It’s gross and bitter, yuck.”

Stiles chuckles, “Not the skin, obviously, but that didn’t stop me from being able to smell it the entire time…”

“Bananas are kinda nasty, though,” Scott says, he’s never particularly liked them, “Why are we even talking about sex again? This is like, a reoccurring theme for us. We somehow always manage to talk about sex.”

“A lot of our life kinda has centered around getting one another off,” Stiles responds thoughtfully, “That, and video games. Or sex and video games at the same time - sex while playing Assassin’s Creed…”

“I even had a bowl of cheetos on your back,” Scott recalls and chuckles, “Do you think other people do shit like that?” he asks seriously.

Stiles considers it, narrowing his brows and frowning, “God, I hope so. If not, they’re missing out. I dunno where we’d be without our never ending sexcapades.”

“Oh God, do you remember the time I was flunking English?” Scott asks, cheeks heating some at the memory, “Every time we had sex, you wouldn’t move or get me off unless I got the definitions and shit right. It was very educational.”

“Most of my methods for motivating you have been sex driven,” Stiles says, “That’s the only thing that really gets your brain to put forth the effort. See? I told you, it’s pretty much always sex with us.”

Scott nods, but the longer he thinks about it, the more he finds himself frowning, “Do you think that’s all there is to us?” he asks worriedly, “Just sex?”

“Not for a second,” Stiles responds at once and shakes his head, “There’s tons more, are you kidding? We’ve been by each other’s sides through everything. The horrible experience of trying to fit in in Lacrosse for the first year,” he shakes his head, “And how many asthma attacks or panic attacks have we walked one another through? When my mom died, when your parents split up. Games, awkward attempts at relationships with anyone besides each other. TV Shows and movies, there’s a lot more between us than just sex.”    

“Yeah,” Scott nods and Stiles is right, they’ve been through a lot together and most of the things they’ve been through probably would’ve been enough to drive other people apart, “God, I’m glad we got married.”

Stiles turns and looks at Scott, his chest tightening and he reaches out to touch the other man’s thigh, “That makes two of us.”

“Speaking of getting married,” Scott says, right hand dropping from the steering wheel to touch Stiles’s hands, “Don’t be surprised if Lydia just randomly shows up and yanks us away from one another, last time I talked to her she was rambling about how she needed to get us fitted for our tuxes.”

“Yeah she mentioned that to me in a text, too,” Stiles nods, “It’s funny, I remember the first time I was so stressed and panicking all over the place. I couldn’t breathe for two seconds without going into a fit or something. But this time, it’s like… I don’t even care as long as I get to stand there beside you.”

“Yeah,” Scott nods and squeezes Stiles’s hand, glancing over at his husband and smiling affectionately, “Can we write our own vows this time? I feel like that was a lost opportunity the first time around.”

Stiles smiles back, “Yeah, I want it to be more personal this time, none of that stupid, scripted bullshit,” he says and turns to look away again, “It was nice for the first time around, because we were still new to the concept, but this time I just want… the words to be right.”

“Me too,” Scott says, there’s so much he wants to say to Stiles, and being able to write their own vows is the perfect opportunity, “I’ve kinda already started on mine,” he admits.

“Me too,” Stiles responds and shrugs, “Pretty much since I decided it was what I wanted to do, remarrying,” he lets out a huff of breath, “I hope Lydia doesn’t plan on this being like a big thing with more faces that we don’t know than ones we do.”

“I want it to be small and intimate, just us and our friends, my mom,” Scott says, swallowing tightly because John’s not going to be there this time, “Wish your dad could be here.”

Stiles shakes his head, “Yeah…” he wants to say ‘don’t’, or ‘don’t go there’, but it’s his fucking husband. Chances are Scott misses him just as much. He swallows tightly, trying not to think about it too much, “He’d probably just say the same he did last time. I don’t need him to be there to know how he’d feel about all of it.”

“No, I know,” Scott says, stopping at a red light, “It’s just-” he sighs, “It’s not gonna feel right, without him there.” He glances over at Stiles sadly, “I miss him, too.”

“I know,” Stiles responds softly, somewhat numb. He can’t keep letting his father’s death weigh on him like this, though, it’s been seven years and it’s still pretty much a gaping wound, “But we have got to move on from it,” he looks at Scott, “He would want us to be happy, not stand around like a couple of idiots wallowing because he isn’t there.”

“He’d totally call us idiots, too,” Scott snorts and blinks away the unshed tears, smiling faintly, “I think he’d just be happy we still love each other so much, you know?”

Stiles nods, reaching up to cup Scott’s cheek, “He’d probably lay into me like crazy for getting so off track, though. But I think he’d be proud that we both managed to make our marriage work through it instead of giving up. He always used to say how I’d never understand until I was married, how important it actually is.”

“He was a lot wiser than we ever gave him credit for,” Scott says, kissing Stiles softly before tapping the gas to move the vehicle when the light turns green.

“Yeah, you know, I’m actually starting to realize that like… so much more now,” Stiles shakes his head, “I took a lot of shit he said for granted, but dude I get it now.”

“Yeah,” Scott says, pulling onto his old street, “Shitty how things like that work.”

Stiles drops his hand back down to Scott’s leg, “They should have like a ‘how to’ guide to be an adult, though, seriously.”

“Pretty sure we’ve just been feeling the entire thing out,” Scott says, parking next to the curb just behind his mom’s car, “I don’t think we’ve done so bad, though.”

“Awww,” Stiles says suddenly, making a face, “Remember the first time you suggested getting a dual bank account and I was like ‘seriously, Scott? That’s like the worst idea you’ve ever had’?”

“It wasn’t that bad of an idea,” Scott says, pulling the keys from the ignition, “It was practical, married couples have joint accounts.”

Stiles nods, “It was a good idea, I just thought it was bad because-” he lowers his voice as he leans in, like he’s sharing something with Scott that the other man isn’t aware of, “It’s still really lopsided, I make so little money in comparison to you.”

“It doesn’t have to be even,” Scott says, touching Stiles’s cheek, “It’s not a competition, it’s about sharing what we do have.” He kisses the other man on the nose and gestures to the cheesecake, “Come on, let’s go surprise her before she realizes we’re here.”

Stiles smiles and opens his door, taking off his seatbelt as he leans down to grab the cheesecake and climbs out, he knows it’s not a competition, but that didn’t stop him from feeling guilty about it before. These days, he couldn’t really care less because it’s them - and it’ll always be them. He moves around, joining Scott on the other side, “Thirty-five if it starts with your name,” he reminds his husband, smirking knowingly.

“And you get to eat me out again later if it doesn’t,” Scott changes the rules a little as they walk up the sidewalk, touching the nape of Stiles’s neck.

“I’ll eat you out either way, you don’t tell me what to do, bitch,” Stiles responds, looking affronted and walking up the porch steps.

“I dunno about that, you seemed to listen to me pretty well the night I told you to ride my fingers,” Scott says, leaning over to his husband and kissing his jaw.

Stiles nearly groans at just the thought of it, “Yeah, well…” he reaches out, tapping the doorbell a few times, and then a few more times, smirking while he does it.

Scott swats at Stiles’s hand, “She’s gonna strangle you for ringing it more than once, you know she hates that shit.”

“You think she already knows it’s me?” Stiles asks rhetorically as he hears the footsteps moving down the stairs and and to the door.

“Hold on, hold on.”

“That doesn’t count,” Stiles responds as he looks at Scott.

The door opens and Melissa stops when she sees the both of them, her eyes widening, “Scott…? What are you doing here?”

“Nailed it,” Stiles says and grins wolfishly.

MageStiles

Chapter Text

“Oh, shut up,” Scott says playfully and gently pushes Stiles’s face away before moving to his mom, wrapping his arms around her and hugging her tight, “Figured since we’re living in the same town we’d come say 'hi'.”

Melissa smiles and wraps her arms around Scott, “Living? What?”

Stiles nods as he watches them, “Yeah well, after being evicted, it just kinda made sense.”

“You should’ve called,” Melissa says, smiling sadly and trying not to tear up.

“We wanted to surprise you,” Scott says and he can already tell, just by his mom’s voice, that she’s getting emotional.

Melissa pulls back finally and moves to Stiles then, “Stiles,” she says as she pulls him into a hug, “It’s so good to see you. You feel like skin and bones, when was the last time you ate?”

Stiles looks at Scott, raising his brows and holding up three fingers while he hugs Melissa, “I eat, we had breakfast this morning and everything.”

Scott rolls his eyes at Stiles, but he smiles anyway, “We brought you cheesecake,” he says, taking said cheesecake from Stiles before he drops it.

“You did?” Melissa asks as she pulls back, “Come in, come inside, I hope you two plan on staying for dinner.”

Stiles chuckles and nods, moving inside and taking off his shoes, “Yeah, of course.”

Scott follows Stiles in and does the same, kicking his shoes off to the side before he looks at his mom again, “You need any help with it?” he asks, trying to think of how he’s going to bring up certain topics with her now that they’re here.

“You wanna help with dinner?” Melissa asks, lifting a brow at Scott, “What are the chances of you burning something?”

“Like zero to none,” Stiles defends Scott a little, “We learned our lesson pretty early, you know. What’s for dinner?”

Melissa shrugs, “I could probably make meatloaf.”

“Meatloaf sounds fine,” Scott nods and offers his mom the cheesecake, “Maybe we can catch up while we cook.”

“Alright,” Melissa takes the container and smiles as she looks between them, “It’s been so long,” she says, still in surprise, “You two look good.”

“You do, too,” Scott says earnestly, “You don’t look so overworked, looks good on you.”

Melissa chuckles and shrugs, “Yeah, it’s easy when there’s not two teenage boys constantly eating everything in the house,” she jokes as she smiles at them both and moves into the kitchen, “You two want anything to drink?”

Stiles follows after, glancing at Scott before joining Melissa in the kitchen, “Water’s fine, for me.”

“Me too,” Scott says, except he doesn’t wait for his mom to wait on him, he knows where the cups and everything are. He moves to the cabinet and pulls down two cups, glancing at his mom, “You want some while I’m at it?”

“Sure,” Melissa agrees, opening the refrigerator, “So how long have you two been back in Beacon Hills?”

“Since this morning,” Scott tells his mom and pulls down another cup, moving to the freezer to pull out the ice tray. He drops a few pieces into each cup and then puts it back, reaching out to turn the water on before holding the cups under.

Melissa pulls out the hamburger meat, setting it on the counter as Stiles takes down the spices for it, moving to the pantry, “This morning? And you’re… you’re moving back into Stiles’s house?”

“That’s part of the plan, yeah,” Scott says and nods, handing her one cup and Stiles another, “Figured we could use something bigger, anyway, a nice place to settle down instead of an apartment…  a place to maybe raise a family.”

“A…” Melissa looks at them, her eyes wide as she puts her hand to her chest, “Do you mean..? I thought you two agreed not to.”

Stiles smiles sadly and sets down the container of bread crumbs, “Well, not exactly. We didn’t really agree not to, we just… I needed some time.”

“It’s not something we’re gonna rush head first into,” Scott explains further, “Considering we’re still… healing,” he says, for lack of a better word, “But we wanna adopt, we’ve talked about it.”

Melissa looks at Scott, staring at him for a moment and nodding, “You two owe yourselves some time, first,” she agrees, “I’m happy - it’s what John would’ve wanted,” she reaches out to touch Stiles’s right biceps, “Have you talked about how you wanna do it?”

“What do you mean?” Scott asks and furrows his brows for a moment, “We’re not gonna pull an Angelina Jolie and fly across the world to adopt, not that there’s anything wrong with it - if that’s what you mean.”

Melissa shakes her head, “No, but there are tons of things to consider. You could adopt, and if you do that, would it be a baby, a child, a teenager?” she explains, “Or go with a surrogate, or foster, that’s another alternative.”

Stiles blinks, “Uh, no… we haven’t really talked about it,” he looks at Scott, “Not in depth, at least.”

Scott’s surprised that they haven’t discussed it, he doesn’t even know Stiles’s opinion on any of those things, whether or not he’d be okay with a surrogate. If they did go with a surrogate, their child would actually have their DNA, “Yeah, no, we haven’t really talked about it,” he confirms.

“You two agreed to be parents, but you haven’t talked about it?” Melissa chuckles and rolls her eyes, “Typical, that sounds just like you two,” she takes out one of her largest bowls and opens the package of meat, “You gotta decide now, or soon, if you wanna make any progress before you’re forty.”

Stiles narrows his brows, the thought of him being forty in general is somewhat startling, “Well, we only just agreed to do it like… a couple weeks ago.”

“Yeah,” Scott says and nods, “We’ve got a little bit of time to figure out how we wanna do it.” He moves to the oven and reaches out to pre-heat it, “Oh, hey, we’re also um… we’re gonna renew our vows, I probably could’ve told you sooner.”

Melissa smiles widely, “For your anniversary?” she looks between them, “That’s a good idea, especially after everything you two have been through.”

“Exactly,” Stiles says as he moves to get a baking dish down, “It just kinda made sense.”

“So try to make sure you’re free that day, I’d hate to have to drag you out of work,” Scott says and smiles at his mom.

“Yeah, it won’t be a problem,” Melissa shakes her head as she mixes in the ingredients, “And if you need any help with the house, just ask - I’ve got tons of free time these days.”

“You been taking care of it already,” Scott says and moves to kiss her cheek, “Thank you, for that. We appreciate it.”

Melissa shrugs, “I just kind of hoped you two would eventually be back,” she admits, “Had to make sure it would be in shape when you did.”

Stiles smiles sadly and leans over to kiss her other cheek, “Well thanks, you didn’t have to, but it’s appreciated.”

“We’re gonna re-paint the whole thing,” Scott tells her then, “I think. I know he wants to.”

“Good, it could use a touch up,” Melissa agrees as she starts shaping the meatloaf in the baking dish, “I was starting to consider hiring some painters for the outside myself.”

“Yeah, it looks pretty rough,” Stiles chuckles, “Oh, and I saw what you put in my old room.”

Melissa laughs and shakes her head, “I completely forgot about that. Are you staying in that room or..?”

“Wait, I’m confused,” Scott interjects, looking at Stiles, “What’d she put in your old room?” he asks, then looks at his mom in confusion.

Melissa looks at Stiles, “You saw it, but he didn’t?” she turns to Scott then, “John used to read all of these murder mystery one-shot novels by no name authors,” she explains, “Each week he’d give me them once he finished. I kind of got up a collection and… well, after you told me what kind of books Stiles writes, I took them out of storage and put them in his old bedroom, just in case he needed some inspiration.”

“Wow, mom,” Scott says and stares at her for a moment, then he moves to hug her again and squeezes her tight. It makes him feel good to know that, after everything they’ve been through, she still loves Stiles just as much as he does, “Thank you, that’s-really, thanks.”

“It was nothing,” Melissa hugs Scott back, “Your father lived for those things,” She says to Stiles, “There’s something else in there you might not be expecting, though. Did you get a chance to look through it all?”

Stiles frowns in confusion before shaking his head, “No, I just poked my head in before we came over here.”

Melissa nods, “You’ll see when you get back, I don’t wannna spoil it or anything.”

Scott pulls back and wonders idly what else she could’ve put in the room, grabbing his cup from the counter and taking a sip as he leans against it, “Have you seen Alan Deaton around town lately? He still has that animal clinic, right?”

Melissa all but chokes and turns, coughing and clearing her throat as she nods, “Alan?” she asks as she collects herself, “Yeah, honey, of course he does.”

Stiles raises a brow at the reaction, reaching up to pat her back.

“Cool, good,” Scott says and narrows his brows at her peculiar reaction, “I’ll probably swing by it tomorrow after I stop by the gym.”

“Good, that’s good,” Melissa nods, her cheeks red as she puts the meatloaf in the oven.

“Melissa,” Stiles starts tentatively.

“Do you two want any sides?” Melissa interrupts him, “Macaroni and cheese? Mashed potatoes?”

“Mom,” Scott says, observing her odd behavior, “You’re acting weird, what’s wrong?”

Melissa shakes her head, “Nothing, nothing at all, I’m fine.”

“Said the liar,” Stiles responds, smirking.

“Shut up, Stiles,” Melissa says, looking at him pointedly.

Stiles chuckles, “'Shut up, Stiles',” he repeats her teasingly, “Don’t make me say it, I don’t wanna out you in front of your son.”

“Stiles,” Melissa mutters lowly.

“I’m so confused, what’s going on?” Scott watches the exchange between his husband and mom, completely fucking bewildered and feeling out of the loop, “Out her? What?”

Stiles waits for Melissa to say something, but she doesn’t, so he sighs and turns to Scott, “Your mom’s banging your old boss.”

“Stiles!” Melissa says, cheeks flushing red, but she’s smiling and smacking his shoulder while she does it.

“You weren’t gonna say it, so I took the liberty,” Stiles shrugs.

“Oh my God,” Scott says and his eyes widen, shaking his head in disbelief, “You’re letting Alan…” he presses his fingers to his eyes, “So gross, how am I supposed to ask him for a job now?” he asks rhetorically.

“Oh please, act like the adults you two are, for once.”

“Adults are just kids that can eat cereal for dinner,” Stiles says dismissively, “This is actually perfect, Scott, your way in is straight through your mom’s vagina… again. It’s the perfect cover.”

“Oh my God!” Scott practically shouts at Stiles in mortification, trying to will the images from his mind as he covers his face with both of his hands, “You’re horrible! Why would you even say that?” he asks.

“I’m just saying what we’re all thinking,” Stiles shrugs.

Melissa shakes her head and moves to hug him with one arm, “Your brevity and lack of brain-to-mouth filter has been missed,” she confirms, somewhat sarcastically.

Stiles smiles and hugs her back, “Seriously, though,” he says as he looks at her, “Me and Scott have had this long running bet about Alan, could you please confirm the size of his dick?”

“Or you could not do that, like ever,” Scott adds, shaking his head, “Seriously, if you’re banging him, I don’t wanna know how big it is - not now, anyway.”

Melissa makes a motion with her hands and Stiles fist pumps.

“Knew it,” Stiles says victoriously, “You owe me… something, I can’t remember what the bet was for…”

“It’s nothing serious,” Melissa says then, shrugging and glancing at the timer on the stove, “We’re just close friends.”

“Oh God,” Scott says and he’s pretty sure his face is still beet red, “That’s even worse, you’re just fuck buddies. You let him hit it and quit it whenever he wants, I’m so ashamed.”

Melissa shakes her head, “For your information, I’m the one that hits it and quits it when I want. He wants it to be serious.”

“That’s kinda amazing,” Stiles says and grins even wider, moving to Scott and hopping up to sit on the counter, “There’s nothing wrong with a little recreational sex between friends.”

The line catches Scott’s attention and he calms down pretty quickly, then he looks at his mom, “I’d be careful if I were you, if you don’t want it to be serious. I’m pretty sure that’s how things between Stiles and I started, just a little recreational sex between friends.”

Melissa blinks, “That’s something I didn’t need to know.”

“Oh, but it was so much fun,” Stiles says and sips his glass of water, “Just for the fun of it, no strings attached.”

Scott looks at Stiles fondly and touches his knee, “You used to let me just hop on your dick, no questions asked,” he says, smiling because he knows his mom doesn’t want to hear it.

“Scott!” Melissa squawks, eyes widening.

“A little bit of a blow job here and there, no homo,” Stiles says and chuckles, “It’s all fun and games, and then you’re married, ten years down the line…”

“That’s the last thing I want,” Melissa responds and shakes her head, “Even if it became serious with Alan, I’m not getting married again.”

“Just don’t string the guy along,” Scott says and moves closer to Stiles, pressing in between his legs and wrapping his arms around him, “Nobody benefits from that kinda crap.”

Stiles nods in agreement, “Yeah, it’s all fun and games until feelings get hurt.”

“And he’s a nice guy,” Scott says, unsure of why he’s even defending his old boss, “Don’t use your vagina hoodoo magic on him and get him hooked, especially if you don’t want anything serious.”

“Hoodoo,” Melissa rolls her eyes, “Are you two seriously trying to guide me in relationship 101?”

Stiles shrugs, “Maybe more from a dude’s perspective, kinda?”

“Good men like Alan don’t come along very often,” Scott says and rests his head against Stiles’s sternum, “I worked with him, I know what kinda guy he is. He treats you good, doesn’t he?”

“Of course he does,” Melissa answers him, “Alan’s great, I know that.”

“Then why don’t you want anything serious?” Scott asks, he just wants his mom to be happy and finally settle down with someone who knows how to treat her right.

Melissa moves to the pantry, taking out a box of macaroni and cheese, “I just don’t think I’m ready for another relationship any time soon,” she says, watching them as she fills a pot of water, “It’s easier if it’s like this.”

Stiles reaches up, brushing his fingers through Scott’s hair, “You think turning it into something more might make it sour?”

“Pretty much,” Melissa responds, “We’re both consenting adults, Alan knows how I feel about it.”

Scott hums for a moment and leans into Stiles’s touch, turning sideways between his husband’s legs and resting his arm on Stiles’s thigh, “I just want you to be happy,” he tells his mom sincerely, back of his head resting on the other man’s chest, “And if keeping it casual makes you happy, then I’m happy for you.”

“It does,” Melissa says, smiling at her son, “For now. It might change at some point. But for now it’s fine as it is.”

“How long’s it been going like this?” Stiles asks, genuinely curious.

Melissa shrugs and her cheeks turn pink, “A couple years?”

“Mom,” Scott says and lifts his brows at her, fingertips tracing lazy circles against the fabric of Stiles’s jeans, “I tell you everything, you could do the same with me, too, you know?”

Melissa sighs and leans against the counter, watching Scott’s fingers curiously, “I know that,” she says, raising her brows, “But it seemed pointless to tell you that I’ve been having sex… I didn’t think too much of it.”

Stiles chuckles and shakes his head, “Good point.”

“You wouldn’t have had to word it like that,” Scott responds and takes a drink of his water, “You could’ve told me you were seeing someone, and that it wasn’t serious.”

“It’s not like I purposefully went out of my way to keep it from you, Scott,” Melissa says softly, “I just didn’t think there was any reason to bring it up. Unless it became serious, then yeah. But you two had problems of your own and I didn’t feel like it was the right time to bring it up.”

Scott’s brows narrow, because he’s been selfishly venting all of his problems to her over the years, never really considering the fact that things could be going on for her as well, “I’m sorry,” he says, “I should’ve asked.”

“Don’t apologize,” Melissa says at once, moving to them and reaching out to touch Scott’s shoulder as she shakes her head, “I was more interested with what was happening between you two, regardless. It’s not something you need to feel sorry for.”

“I’m still sorry,” Scott says softly and shakes his head, looking down at his feet somewhat shamefully before pushing away from the counter and Stiles, wrapping his arms back around his mom again, “I’ll start asking more often and try not to be such a bad son.”

Melissa rolls her eyes and chuckles, “Please don’t ask,” she says as she pats his back, “You’re not a bad son, Scott, not in the slightest.” She pulls back to look him in the eyes, cupping his cheeks, “You haven’t done anything wrong, so don’t feel guilty about it.”

Scott nods, but he knows that he’s going to feel guilty regardless, it’s just how he is, “I missed you,” he tells his mom and smiles slightly, “It’s really good to see you.”

“I missed you too, honey,” Melissa says, leaning up to kiss Scott’s cheek, “Both of you,” she adds as she looks at Stiles, “I’m glad you two came back.”

Stiles reaches out to take her hand, squeezing it and glancing at Scott, “Me too.”

MageStiles

Chapter Text

Stiles unlocks the front door, kicking off his shoes the moment he’s inside and he looks around the front room, narrowing his brows, “We didn’t get much done today…”

Scott closes the door behind himself and locks it, gently toeing his shoes off and frowning slightly, “Well, we didn’t have to go and see my mom,” he responds, “We’ve still got all day tomorrow.”

“Are you kidding?” Stiles looks at Scott, “I’m glad we went and saw Melissa, we needed to,” he moves into the kitchen, turning on the light and setting the leftover meatloaf on the counter.

“You just sounded disappointed is all,” Scott says, following his husband into the kitchen with the rest of the leftovers, moving to put the macaroni and cheese in the empty fridge.

“Kinda,” Stiles shrugs, “But it’s the kinda disappointed that comes from having to choose between two things you really wanna do. It’s not like I’d rather be here cleaning than seeing your mom.”

“Okay,” Scott says dismissively, he can understand where Stiles is coming from, “We’ll get more done tomorrow,” he insists.

Stiles turns to Scott, reaching out for him and wrapping his arms around the other man, “It’s not like we’re in any real rush,” he says, brushing his lips over the other man’s neck, “I’m gonna go get the duffles from the back of the car, that way you don’t have your midnight visit to the bathroom and no toilet paper.”

“Oh come on,” Scott scoffs weakly, “It’s not an every night thing, and it’s not always at midnight,” he says, even though he’s pretty sure it is.

“Midnight to two, but normally midnight, yeah,” Stiles says knowingly and moves back out of the house, walking to the back of the car and opening the trunk. He grabs the two duffels and closes it again, walking back inside and lifting his brows at Scott before scaling the stairs.

Taking the meatloaf from the counter, Scott moves and puts it in the fridge before going upstairs as well, moving a little slow, “Hey,” he says, unsure if Stiles is in the bedroom or bathroom, “We should see what the other thing is mom left in your old room.”

Stiles looks up from the duffel as he sets out their things in the bathroom, honestly a little surprised that he’d forgotten, “Oh, yeah… one sec.”

Scott unbuttons the top two buttons of his shirt and moves to the door of Stiles’s old room, stopping outside of it and turning to press his back against the wall, waiting on his husband.

Stiles finishes putting everything away and picks up the duffel bag, moving back to their bedroom and setting it just inside, beside the other. He checks the room over again and shakes his head, it does feel a little lopsided with everything on the right side. He walks back down the hall, winking at Scott and playfully snagging at his shirt before moving inside his old bedroom.

“What do you think she left in here?” Scott asks and reaches out for Stiles, grabbing his hips from behind as he follows him in.

“Haven’t got a clue,” Stiles says and hums in approval, glancing back at Scott before moving to the collection of books, stopping when he sees a thick manila folder and he lifts it up, flipping through it briefly before he goes numb.

Scott can feel Stiles tense under his hands and he looks over his husband’s shoulder, hooking his chin there and frowning a little in curiosity, “What is it?” he asks.

“Uh…” Stiles moves to look at Scott and smiles tentatively, “It’s uh… it’s the hard copy of my first rejected novel.”

“I thought you had that,” Scott says and glances at the thick stack of papers in Stiles’s hand, noticing scribbles and things on it, “I’m confused, what’s written all over it?”

Stiles narrows his brows, “When I got it back, I chucked it in the trash,” He says as he turns to read the comment written, smiling slowly, “I guess dad took it out and kept it… read it.”

“How do you know?” Scott asks and moves back close to Stiles, turning and looking down at the papers properly, “This is all his writing,” he says in realization.

“Yeah,” Stiles nods, “I’d recognize that chicken scratch anywhere,” he flips through the pages carefully, brows raising as he sees all of the parts where there are post-it notes, when there was too much his dad wanted to say about something. He barely even remembers the book, but he catches a few words before his vision blurs and he pulls away from Scott, closing the folder and putting his hand to his mouth as he starts shaking.

“Stiles,” Scott says softly and his brows narrow in concern, standing there for a moment before moving close to his husband again, touching his shoulder, “Babe, what’s wrong?”

Stiles isn’t sure exactly how to explain it, so he just shakes his head, turning and holding the folder to his chest as he moves into Scott’s arms, pressing his face against the other man’s shoulder as he starts sobbing.

Scott wraps an arm around Stiles and lifts his other hand up, cupping the back of his head as he kisses his hair. He doesn’t really know what’s wrong with Stiles, but the least he can do is hold his husband until he’s able to say something more.

It takes a moment for Stiles to collect himself, he isn’t sure how long, but finally he pulls back, smiling sadly and sitting down on the floor where he was standing, opening the folder again and brushing his fingers over the first page, “I never let him read any of my books.”

“Looks like he read at least one of them,” Scott observes and sits down with Stiles, reaching out and touching his knee for support.

Stiles nods as his eyes tear up again but he quickly wipes them away, “I wrote this one for him, kinda,” he admits, looking at Scott, eyes darting back to the page, “I didn’t tell him I did, but I did. And when it was rejected, I never told him, because I didn’t think it was good enough for him to read.”

“I bet he thought it was good enough,” Scott says, John was always proud of Stiles. He gestures to the papers, “What all does it say?”

“I dunno,” Stiles shrugs, “It’s been like… fourteen years since I’ve even thought about this book,” he flips over to the second page, “I can barely even remember what it’s about. I knew he liked those typical murder mystery novels, he obsessed about them. So I wrote this one and it’s… it’s like… it has a twist that you don’t expect,” he presses his lips together, “He practically wrote something on every page and there’s a hundred and fifty-eight pages…” he stops, lifting the back and noticing there’s a thick, folded stack of papers and he pulls it out, opening it tentatively.

“I can go make some coffee if you want? We can stay up for a while, go through it all together,” Scott offers, still watching the other man curiously. He likes to think that this is a good thing, something positive to think of when the other man thinks of his father, but he’s not sure what kind of effect this is going to ultimately have on him.

Stiles looks at Scott and chuckles, “Have you ever read a book, dude? Be honest. A hundred and fifty pages is gonna take a while… but… yeah, I’d like to read the first few chapters… with you, tonight.”

Scott ignores the question for the most part, because he has read books, it’s just been a long time. He knows how long a hundred and fifty pages is, but he still wants to go through it with Stiles, “Okay,” he says, shifting to stand up.

Stiles stands up as well, moving to Scott to hug him as he smiles slowly, “I love you.”

“I love you, too,” Scott responds at once and winds his arms around his husband, squeezing him tightly and kissing the side of his neck.

“I’ll go down with you,” Stiles says as he pulls back a little, feeling overwhelmingly clingy as he holds the manila folder in his right hand and moves back out of the old bedroom.

“You don’t have to,” Scott says, “I could make a pot and bring you up a cup if you wanted to get comfortable in bed,” he takes the steps slowly, glancing at Stiles.

Stiles shakes his head following Scott down, “I don’t really wanna be alone right now.”

“Then you don’t have to be,” Scott responds, he’s just as okay with Stiles coming with him. He moves into the kitchen and looks through the cabinets for the coffee maker, because mostly everything’s been tucked away.

“This one,” Stiles motions to the one on the far left, leaving the house once more to quickly grab the bags from the back of the car and coming back in, “I’m glad I thought of this shit beforehand,” he says, setting them down on the counter and pulling out both of their typical mugs, the sugar, creamer, and the bag of ground coffee, “Otherwise we’d just be screwed.”

“You more than me,” Scott smiles and plugs the coffee maker into the outlet, “I’m more of a morning person, you actually require coffee to function properly.”

Stiles chuckles, “Otherwise I’m walking into walls and talking to plants, it’s best for all of us if I have coffee,” he moves to wrap an arm around Scott, taking the decanter with the other and pouring two glasses worth of water in it before filling up the coffee maker, “Guess you’re gonna be the coffee maker from now on, otherwise I might try to come downstairs and end up breaking my neck.”

“I think I can do that,” Scott says, smiling some at Stiles as he sifts coffee into the coffee filter. Stiles may be cute when he’s half asleep, but he is clumsy, and the last thing he wants is the other man going head first down the stairs.

Stiles moves to sit up on the counter, picking back up the manila folder as he folds his legs and opens it, reading silently through the dedication section in the front as he shakes his head, “I can’t believe he kept this…”

“I can,” Scott says and leans against the counter after he turns the coffee maker on, glancing at the folder before looking up at Stiles, “He was always so monumentally proud of you, even when you fucked up.”

“I dunno about that,” Stiles chuckles, “I’m pretty sure I gave him more gray hairs than I was worth,” he holds the page out to Scott, “You were listed in my dedications. ‘For being the bestest buddy a guy could ask for’, aww.”

“Seriously?” Scott asks, tilting the page a little more to look at it and he smiles as he reads it, “That’s sweet,” he says, eyes flicking back to Stiles’s face as he leans up on his toes to kiss him, “Thank you.”

Stiles grins and kisses Scott back, “Well, you may not have known at the time, but you kinda created a character in the book…”

“I did?” Scott asks in confusion, breathing in the aroma of the brewing coffee, “How? What character?”

“I kinda talked to you about it a little,” Stiles explains, “I wanted a bad, creeper dude, and asked you to list things that came to mind. So he’s got like-” he tries to remember the details, “Really sour breath, specifically like spoiled milk. And he’s got half an arm missing; a disfigured, scarred face; and he wears a big, black, old, moldy trench coat.”

“Sounds gross,” Scott chuckles, vaguely able to remember discussing it with Stiles, “That’s kinda cool, though, that you used my suggestions.”

Stiles lifts his brows, “I think you’d be surprised how often something you say or do, or something we have a conversation about, ends up getting into one of my books.”

“Like ghost sex?” Scott asks and smiles, chuckling slightly as he hops up on the counter beside Stiles and wraps an arm around his husband’s back, leaning to kiss his shoulder.

“I dunno if I’m gonna put that in my books,” Stiles laughs and leans into Scott, “I’ll write like a short for you, but my books don’t normally get sexy. But your smile,” he looks at his husband, eyes dropping down to Scott’s lips, “I have a line I write sometimes, and it’s literally how I describe your smile, in my head.”

“You can’t just say that and not tell me what it is,” Scott responds softly, licking his lips when Stiles looks at them, “Tell me.”

Stiles lowers his voice, almost whispering as he says it, “Blinding. So beautiful that it’s almost painful to look at. But even more painful to look away from.”

Scott can’t help but smile at that, eyes affectionately raking over Stiles’s face as he reaches up to touch his cheek, leaning closer and kissing him chastely on the lips, “That’s nice, seriously romantic.”

“Yeah, it kinda is,” Stiles shrugs, “I can be pretty sappy when I write,” he admits as he kisses Scott back, “But I use it at least once in a book, and I always think about your smile when I write it.”

“And you call me a sap,” Scott snorts and shakes his head, still smiling at the other man as he pulls back.

Stiles looks back down at the pages, carefully turning over the dedication page and glancing through the table of contents, “Just don’t go telling people, and we’ll be okay.”

“Mhm, wouldn’t want people to know you’re actually a romantic,” Scott says, grinning to himself as he watches Stiles flip the page.

“I might have to take you out, if you do,” Stiles says teasingly, flipping through the next couple of pages and clearing his throat, “So how are we gonna do this? I read a page, then you read it? Or do we wanna read it aloud or what?”

“We could take turns reading it aloud, yeah,” Scott says, leaning against Stiles as he looks at the paper, “You read a chapter, then I’ll read a chapter.”

Stiles nods in agreement, looking over at the coffee maker as it finishes, “Let’s get coffee and go upstairs first - I’ll start us off,” he says, leaning in and kissing Scott quickly before climbing down from the counter.

Unfortunately, they end up reading nearly ten chapters into the book and going to sleep just as the sun starts to rise. Despite having written it, it’s Stiles that ends up practically in stitches with each joke, tears in his eyes as he tries to read through them. It’s a first for both of them, to actually share something he’s written, but Stiles decides at once that - if any of his books will ever get published, this one has to be it.

He wakes up first the next morning, curled in against Scott’s side and he grins as he smooths his palm over the other man’s chest, listening to his breathing and determining that Scott’s close enough to waking that moving in any sort of way would likely stir him.

He presses a short, soft kiss against his husband’s right pec, closing his eyes as he tentatively grabs Scott’s waist on the opposite side before shifting his hips. He starts slow at first, a little nervous, but eventually he’s shamelessly rutting against the other man’s side, panting into his ear as he does it.

Scott hums in his sleep, unsure if the rocking pressure against his side is something he’s dreaming up or if it’s real, so he forces himself awake, slowly blinking the sleep from his eyes as he yawns.

He turns his head towards Stiles and looks down, watching blankly for a minute as the other man ruts against him. It takes him a moment to realize what’s happening, but when he does, his eyes widen some and his own cock hardens, because - yeah, okay, maybe the humping thing is a little hot.

“Good morning to me,” Scott says groggily, watching Stiles’s hips with rapt attention as he reaches up to play with his husband’s hair.

Stiles smirks and opens his eyes, looking at Scott and leaning into his touch as he continues, thrusting his hips against the other man as he lifts his leg, sliding it between Scott’s as he buries his face against his husband’s neck, “See what I mean?”

“It makes a little more sense when you put it like this,” Scott admits scratchily, touching Stiles’s hip as his breath comes out in short, shuddery puffs.

“Mhm,” Stiles breathes out, his body shaking a little as he sucks flushes along Scott’s neck, whining and moaning as he does it, and then he tilts his head up, brushing his lips over Scott’s ear, “Sometimes, you would just moan ‘baby, baby’, over and over again and say my name while you were doing it.”

“S’good to know I want you, even in my sleep,” Scott slurs tiredly, fighting the urge to move back against Stiles. He just wants to enjoy this, feeling the hard press of his husband’s cock rubbing against him.

Stiles gasps on a particular thrust, the head of his length dragging up Scott’s hip and he curls against him, his own hips moving quickly as he moans, his hand on Scott’s waist lifting up to grasp his shoulder instead.

Scott’s fingers curl tighter against Stiles’s waist and his mouth falls open in awe as he watches the other man, cock straining against the fabric of his boxers. This might actually be the second hottest thing he’s ever witnessed, but he keeps that to himself for now.

“Mm-Scotty,” Stiles breathes shallowly, his cheeks heating, eyes squeezed shut as he moves and sweat forming just above his brow as his orgasm starts to steadily build.

Scott grins at the nickname and moves his hand from Stiles’s hip, guiding it around and down before squeezing his husband’s ass cheek, pulling him down harder against him, otherwise silent.

“Fuck,” Stiles shudders out, thrusts becoming shorter, faster, nails digging into Scott’s shoulder as his brows furrow. He all but sobs into the other man’s ear when he finally comes, his whole body tensing up, heart racing as he finally slows his movements.

“So I don’t think I’m so embarrassed about doing it to you anymore,” Scott says after a moment, pushing back Stiles’s bangs from his sweaty forehead before kissing it.

Stiles chuckles and leans into the other man’s lips, tremors still running through his body as he settles again, “That’s exactly my point,” he says as he grins, opening his eyes again, “I told you, it’s seriously hot when you do it.”

“It is pretty hot,” Scott agrees and kisses Stiles, “Definitely not a bad way to wake up.”

Stiles kisses Scott back, reaching up to touch his cheek, “I know,” he says as he winks, “You’ve been doing it to me for years. It’s one of the reasons when, when we were… you know, not okay, it’s one of the reasons I stopped sleeping in the bed.”

“It was… my fault,” Scott realizes and frowns, “I’m sorry,” he says, “God, all those times I wanted you to sleep in the bed with me and you wouldn’t… it was because of me.”

“No no no no no no, no, no,” Stiles shakes his head, “No, baby, it wasn’t just that,” he leans in and kisses Scott, “It wasn’t just that, okay, don’t think like that. It was like fifty million things and that was one of them all. Don’t even start to blame yourself,” he stares Scott in the eyes, running his fingers through the other man’s hair, “I was an asshole, okay, it starts and ends with me being a paranoid asshole, don’t blame yourself.”

Scott stares back at Stiles for a long moment, taking in the other man’s words and nodding subtly, “Okay,” he utters, though now he knows he’ll blame himself regardless.

“Don’t you just fucking say ‘okay’,” Stiles imitates Scott’s voice and prods him in the side, “Don’t you dare blame yourself. I love the humpy Scott,” he leans in, lowering his voice, “Even ‘thirteen year old me getting prodded between the legs’ humpy Scott.”

“Please don’t call me 'humpy Scott',” Scott says and cracks a smile, because it sounds ridiculous, “I’ll try not to blame myself,” he adds, it’s the best he can do.

“Good,” Stiles says firmly, moving to roll onto Scott and brushing his hand down between the other man’s legs, “Still hard, buddy?”

“Not as hard as I was,” Scott says and touches Stiles’s shoulder, “Don’t worry about it, it’s fine.” He touches Stiles’s neck with his fingers then, “We should get started early, go to Home Depot and get some paint.”

Stiles lays his forearm by Scott’s head, staring down at him as he lifts his brows, “What if I wanna get you off?” he asks, arching his hips down and feeling the wet press of his seed against his length as he shifts between Scott’s legs.

“Then I wouldn’t tell you ‘no’,” Scott says honestly and his semi-hard length twitches, “I’m just saying you don’t have to, I won’t die if I don’t get off.”

“That’s why I did what I did this morning,” Stiles responds, flicking his tongue over Scott’s lips, “Besides for showing you how it is, I wanted to get you off… instead it ended up feeling fucking amazing,” his cheeks heat as he shoves his hand into Scott’s tight black boxer-briefs, “I dunno how you do that in your sleep and not come every time.”

“Dunno,” Scott shrugs halfheartedly and looks down when Stiles presses his hand into his boxer-briefs, breathing out harshly through his nose as he licks his lips.

Stiles leans in close, lowering his voice as his long, thin fingers wrap around Scott’s dick, “Would you be upset if I told you that I… might’ve taken advantage of you, before we were together, in that weakened state?”

Scott narrows his eyes some as his breath catches in his throat, heart racing as he stares at Stiles, “What-what do you mean?” he asks, cock throbbing in the other man’s hand.

“I felt pretty bad doing it a couple times,” Stiles says as he pumps Scott’s length in his fist, staring back at him, “The few times you actually did it when I was at your house, or you were at mine,” he wets his lips, “I would just… I’d turn my back to you, press up against you.”

“Stiles,” Scott says in surprise, though the name comes out sounding more like a pleasurable gasp, hips rocking up against the friction of his husband’s hand, “Oh my God, you let me rut against your ass? Before we started messing around?”

Stiles nods, blushing furiously, “I couldn’t help it,” he says and moves his hand from beside Scott’s head, down his torso so that he can rub and pinch Scott’s right nipple, “You were hard, and I… I just wanted to feel it, what it was like. And you would pant in my ear and whine.”

“A-and you did it more than once?” Scott asks, clenching his eyes shut for a moment and moaning softly, arching his chest up against Stiles’s fingers, “You liked it? Liked feeling me rut against you from behind?”

“Yeah,” Stiles admits shamelessly, dropping down to nip at Scott’s left nipple for a moment before moving back up, “I did that a few times… the last time, I… I got nervous because you almost woke up. I’d pushed my pajamas down some…”

“Oh, fuck,” Scott says and the imagery is almost too much, sending a spike of arousal throughout his body, “I probably would’ve just kept doing it, if I woke up,” he says, “Like I said, I was crazy about you. God, I wish I would’ve known.” He groans and reaches down, grabbing Stiles’s wrist and pulling his hand away from his cock. Rolling them quickly, Scott flips Stiles over onto his stomach and rolls his hips down in one swift movement, rubbing himself against the other man’s ass.

Stiles gasps, eyes widening and he arches back against Scott, his throat drying as his length throbs, toes curling, “Scott,” he breathes out in surprise, reaching back to grip the other man’s leg, “Fuck.”

Scott pulls Stiles’s pajama bottoms down, baring his ass. He bends down quickly and pushes his face between the soft cheeks, licking a thick stripe against the other man’s hole as his right hand moves down, tucking his own boxer-briefs down below his balls.

“Oh-God,” Stiles groans, hand moving, fingers grabbing at Scott’s hair as he shifts his hips and spreads his legs a little. He was tentative to admit to such a thing, considering it’s been weighing on him for some time, but at this point he couldn’t care less.

Scott fists himself for a moment as he continues to flick his tongue out against Stiles, gliding his saliva around and pushing his tongue in briefly as he hums. He draws back and moves up the other man’s body again, pressing down and sliding his cock between the cheeks, length gliding easily within the crease and causing him to groan against Stiles’s shoulder as he starts rutting slowly.

Stiles grabs the back of his husband’s neck, turning to press his lips to Scott’s temple as he rolls his hips back into each movement of the other man’s. He’s already embarrassingly hard again, dick being pushed down against the sheets as they move together, “Fuck, buddy,” he breathes and smiles as his other hand grips the edge of the bed.

“You started it,” Scott grunts out and mouths against Stiles’s skin, nipping between his shoulder blades as he rocks down quicker, moaning every time he feels the head of his cock catch against his husband’s rim.

“I’ve wanted to tell you about it for a while,” Stiles says numbly, his legs shaking every once in a while, “I-I felt pretty bad for doing it, but feeling your dick against my ass was so worth it.”

“Feel good?” Scott asks huskily and reaches down, grabbing Stiles’s hips and pulling him into his thrusts as he feels his orgasm building.

Stiles nods, “Mhm,” he hums as he scratches behind Scott’s ear, “Feels amazing,” he mutters, mouth pressed against the corner of his pillow, “So fucking good, Scotty.”

Scott whines when Stiles says his name and he’s pretty sure the other man knows what the nickname does to him, otherwise he wouldn’t do it at the most opportune times. He leans back some, knees bracketing the other man as his hands grab at Stiles’s ass cheeks, squeezing them and pressing them together against his cock, “I’m close already, damn.”

“Yeah?” Stiles glances back, arching and waggling his hips as he stares at Scott, “Gonna come on me?”

“Oh fuck, Stiles,” Scott groans, first the nickname and now the dirty talking, he’s surprised he isn’t combusting by now or something, “Jesus Christ, yeah,” he nods frantically, mouth popping open as he rolls his hips faster, chasing after his orgasm.

Stiles grins as he shifts in time with Scott, reaching between himself and the bed, brushing his fingers teasingly over his own length. He knows the dirty talk is one of Scott’s favorite things, though he’s never done it often (because he’s not really good at it and has a tendency to say stupid things), but it seems to be working now, so he takes another stab at it, “Where? You gonna come on my hole and lick it up, buddy?”

“Holy shit,” Scott grunts and his eyes pop open, widening when he feels how close he is, “Do you want me to?” he asks, grabbing his length and fisting it slowly to stave it off long enough for Stiles to answer.

Stiles nods, “Yeah, that’s what I want, Scotty,” he says as he stares at Scott, all but waving his ass at the other man as he winks.

Scott whimpers and nods as well, raising his brows at the other man, “Spread yourself for me, now,” he says, voice rushed.

“Okay,” Stiles breathes as he reaches back quickly, grabbing his cheeks and holding them open as he relaxes the muscle as much as he can, keeping his eyes locked on Scott’s as he does so.

Scott’s eyes drop down Stiles’s back and his cock pulses, fingers tightening around his length as he groans and comes, seed spurting and coating the other man’s whorled rim. As long as they’ve been together, he doesn’t recall ever doing this with Stiles, which is stupid, because it’s amazing, “Oh my God,” he mumbles breathlessly.

Stiles stays still for a moment, watching Scott before he reaches back further, fingers sliding through the other man’s seed before pushing his fingers inside himself.

“Stiles,” Scott says in awe, his spent length giving an interested twitch just from watching the other man. He leans down slowly and rests on his stomach, eyes flicking up to meet Stiles’s pleadingly.

“Hm?” Stiles smirks and pulls his fingers back out, pressing them against the other man’s lips as he shifts his hips down against the mattress again.

Scott parts his lips at once and sucks the fingers into his mouth, groaning at their collective taste as he smooths his hands up his husband’s thighs.

“I don’t think we’ve ever done this before,” Stiles says finally, chuckling as he moves his other hand back between him and the mattress, gripping his length lightly as he moves his fingers in and out of Scott’s mouth.

Scott hums in confirmation, still sucking on Stiles’s fingers as his own knead at the other man’s flesh, tongue sliding between the digits as he pants weakly.

Stiles moans at the feeling of the other man’s tongue before pulling his hand from Scott’s mouth and grabbing the back of his neck, drawing him forward, “Come on now,” he says, shifting his hips expectantly.

Scott’s mouth practically waters at the sight, grinning as he leans in without having to be told twice and pressing his mouth to his husband’s slick hole. He curls his tongue out against it, humming at the bitter taste before smearing the fluids around the puckered entrance, hands holding Stiles’s cheeks apart.

“Oo, fuck,” Stiles’s mouth drops open and he twists his fingers in Scott’s hair as he grinds back against his face, “Scott,” he groans, legs spreading a little wider.

“You taste so good,” Scott breathes the words out against Stiles’s skin, tongue laving out repeatedly and cleaning his come off before pressing it back into the other man, darting it in and out in quick successions as he moans.

“Mm, yeah,” Stiles agrees mindlessly, tensing as he comes again, a little faster than he was expecting, but he lets out a huff of breath and his hand drops from Scott’s neck, “Home Depot, you said?”

Scott chuckles and licks lazily at the lax hole, brushing his nose against Stiles’s left cheek, “Yeah, that’s what I said,” he confirms, nipping at the skin.

Stiles nods, “Okay,” he says, but he doesn’t move, easily content to stay there with his ass practically up in the air, “Good morning…” he finally says and grins impishly.

“Morning,” Scott replies and presses a kiss to the wet, whorled skin, grunting as he finally moves back up the other man’s body, “We’re sure we actually wanna leave the bed today, right? ‘Cause I’m pretty sure I could eat you out for a few more hours.”

“I’m pretty sure I could let you eat me out for a few more hours,” Stiles says and turns slightly, leaning up and kissing Scott, “At least a few, before yours starts calling to me. But we really should get some stuff done while the sun’s up.”

Scott licks languidly into Stiles’s mouth then, deepening the kiss and making the other man taste their mingled flavors as he works on catching his breath. He pulls back slowly and nods, staring down at Stiles, “Yeah, we should.”

MageStiles

Chapter Text

Stiles reaches back, pushing off his pajamas completely and turning to climb out of bed, “Where do we wanna start first? Probably paint, yeah? Just in case we want a color mixed or whatever, that could take some time.”

“Won’t take as long as you think, but yeah, paint sounds like a safe place to start,” Scott agrees, getting out of bed and stretching for a moment.

Stiles watches Scott, eyes running over the other man’s body and it’s only a little startling just how tempted he is to stay home and fuck around all day instead of actually getting things done. He moves, poking Scott in his belly button as he reaches out for one of their duffels to get a change of clothes.

“I think I’ve seriously overestimated my physical fitness,” Scott says and drops the paintbrush down from the wall for a moment, flexing his arms a little and trying to get rid of the insistent burn from having his arms up for so long.

He glances over at Stiles, because if his arms are burning, he knows the other man has to be getting a little tired too. Smiling, he gestures up to Stiles’s forehead with his eyes, “You got some on your face.”

“Yeah, I kinda figured I did,” Stiles says, not bothering with it as he details around the window frame, “This shit isn’t easy,” he lets out a huff of breath, looking at Scott and lifting his brows, “But we’ve been going at it for a few hours now, yeah?”

“More than a few,” Scott responds and looks at the clock in the other room, “We started around noon, it’s almost six,” he says, lifting the brush back up to the wall after dipping it in the paint.

“Damn,” Stiles looks over the rest of the room, “Let’s just finish this side and take the rest of the night off. Did we wanna eat out or..?”

“I dunno, I’m kinda beat,” Scott admits and shrugs, “I wouldn’t mind eating in. Besides, we both have paint all over us.”

Stiles nods in agreement, sitting down to get to the bottom of the frame, “Could always just order Chinese and watch a movie,” he muses, watching Scott out of the corner of his eye.

“I’m not watching Fear and Loathing in Las Vegas again,” Scott says, “Something else, though, that’d be fine. Hey, what about that Veronica Mars movie?” he asks, remembering that he asked Stiles about it a little while back.

“It is a murder mystery,” Stiles responds and turns to Scott, “Fits in with the theme of us reading to each other every night. Do you even remember the TV show?”

“Vaguely,” Scott admits, “I remember enough to watch it,” he says, finishing up around the window frame, “Do you have it?”

Stiles shakes his head, “But the movie’s been out for years, there’s a good chance it’s on Netflix,” he turns back to detailing under the window frame, “There’s a pretty healthy back story part in the opening of the movie, so even if you don’t remember much, that helps. And there’s no Duncan,” he says, waiting for Scott’s reaction.

“Oh thank fuck,” Scott says, narrowing his brows and pulling a face as he looks at Stiles, “I hated him,” he tells the other man, “Hated his face, I just wanted to smash it.”

Stiles laughs, “Yeah, I don’t think you’ve hated a character from any other show quite like ‘Dunkin’,” he says, imitating the way Scott used to say it, “We need to watch more shows…”

“I dunno if we’re gonna have the time to watch more shows,” Scott says, “I’m gonna be working two jobs, kind of, and you’re gonna be writing. Not to mention finishing the house,” he sighs weakly and uses his free hand to wipe the sweat from his face, “It’s a nice idea though.”

“We’ll see,” Stiles finishes the underneath and stands back up, moving to Scott and wrapping his arms around his husband’s waist, “An episode of something here or there won’t hurt. I miss powering through things. We did like all of Buffy in like a week.”

“Buffy,” Scott repeats and pouts a little, touching Stiles’s left forearm, “That was a good show. I don’t think I’ve ever really liked any other show as much as I enjoyed that, still bitter that Anya died, though.”

Stiles nods, “That makes like… the entire fandom, I think.” He sways slightly, leaning in and kissing along Scott’s neck, “We still haven’t seen the last two seasons of Dexter…”

“Mm,” Scott hums and smiles, shivering slightly from the press of the other man’s lips and he turns, reaching up and draping his arms around Stiles’s neck, paintbrush held loosely in one hand, “Is that what you wanna do, or do you wanna watch the Veronica Mars movie?”

“Veronica Mars, all the way,” Stiles says at once, settling his hands on Scott’s waist, “I wanna see how you react to the movie, it’s fucking amazing.”

“Figures you’ve already seen it,” Scott says, looking over Stiles’s face and kissing him almost teasingly, the brush of their lips feather light.

Stiles shrugs, “I’ve kinda watched a lot without you,” he admits, “You were always so busy it… didn’t leave much room to watch things, and I got impatient after the first like… year.”

“I’m not blaming you,” Scott says flippantly and pulls back, flicking the tip of the paintbrush against Stiles’s nose as he grins, “I was just saying.”

“Oh my God, you dick-ass,” Stiles says, feeling the wet paint on his nose and he pushes the brush, making a long streak of blue across Scott’s cheek.

Scott’s eyes widen and he chuckles, openly gaping at Stiles for a moment before reaching out, smearing the brush right down the middle of Stiles’s face, “Oh shit, you’re gonna look like a smurf.”

“Shut up,” Stiles responds, grabbing the brush and running it up over Scott’s Adam’s apple and up his chin, “I can’t believe you,” he splutters, reaching up to wipe his mouth.

Scott’s chuckle turns into a full blown laugh and he takes the brush, painting his hand with it before reaching out and smacking Stiles on the ass, leaving a blue handprint, “Love you, too.”

Stiles gapes and glances back, trying to see the print before he reaches down with his own paint brush, moving quickly and drawing a (horribly drawn) mustache just under Scott’s nose, “Love you, too.”

Scott purses his lips and inadvertently smears the paint on his nose, looking down at it somewhat cross-eyed before looking at Stiles, “I look like Hitler,” he says, then moves to tackle Stiles to the floor, lifting his shirt and drawing a rushed looking dick on his chest.

“Oh my God,” Stiles laughs, grabbing Scott’s jaw to hold him in place as he reaches up and writes ‘COCK’ across his forehead, the bottom end of the ‘K’ running down the side of his temple and cheek.

“What’d you write?” Scott asks and abandons the paintbrush on the plastic sheeting covering the floor to rub his face and forehead against his husband’s neck, smearing the paint and laughing against his skin.

“Dammit,” Stiles shoves at Scott, prodding him in the nipple with the paintbrush as he arches up, shifting his hips against the other man as he tries to catch his breath.

“Not the nipples,” Scott yelps slightly and grabs Stiles’s wrists, pushing them up above his head and pinning them to the floor as he stares down at the other man, pressing his lips together to stifle a laugh, “You look ridiculous,” he says in amusement.

Stiles kisses the other man, moaning into Scott’s mouth, “You look ridiculous-er,” he says, still breathless and shaking from the effort of trying to get Scott off of him.

“You just invented a word,” Scott snorts and kisses back, able to taste the paint but he doesn’t really care. He lets go of Stiles’s wrists so he doesn’t hurt him by accidentally pressing too hard, holding himself up above the other man as he sits on his husband’s thighs.

Stiles grins and reaches up, grabbing the back of Scott’s neck as he licks into the other man’s mouth, his free hand moving down to touch Scott’s side as he drops his brush.

Scott slumps against Stiles some more, pressing their chests together as he kisses back, sighing his contentment into his husband’s mouth, “We’re gonna end up with lead poisoning,” he mutters against Stiles’s mouth, but despite saying it, he continues kissing the other man.

“Mmm-aybe,” Stiles responds, voice muffled as he rolls his hips up, shifting to get some friction but stopping when he hears the doorbell ring, “What..?”

Scott looks up in confusion, brows narrowing as he glances down at Stiles and moves off of his husband, “Who the Hell could that be? You think it’s mom?”

“Or Lydia?” Stiles shrugs and stands up, pushing his shirt back down and moving to the door. He opens it and stops when he sees the woman standing there, grinning widely at them and offering a baking dish to him.

“Hi, I’m your neighbor from across the road,” she says, by way of introduction, “You’re the McCall’s?”

“That’d be us,” Scott says and moves over to Stiles, standing just behind him and putting his hand on his husband’s back as he smiles at the woman.

She looks between them for a moment and smiles even wider, “And you’re a gay couple.”

Stiles takes the dish finally and nods, “Uh, yup, nailed it.”

“That’s so nice,” the woman says, still looking from Stiles to Scott, and then back to Stiles again, “I’m kind of new myself, only been here a year now, I wasn’t sure if this was tradition or not, still - and I know it’s a little late today, but I wanted to get it to you before it got dark.”

“Well thanks,” Scott says and watches the woman curiously, somewhat amused by how forward she is, “It was really nice of you, smells amazing.”

“I hope you boys enjoy it, it’s my specialty,” the woman continues, waving at them, “My husband’s going to be so excited that we have gay men living across from us,” she says as she leaves, giggling as she moves down the sidewalk.

Stiles lifts his brows as he watches her for a moment and then turns to Scott, “Baby, I think we’re gay men.”

Scott keeps his expression serious for a moment, and then his eyes widen in mock horror, “Oh God, what do we do?”

“Probably suck each other’s dicks and watch Queer as Folk,” Stiles responds and shakes his head before closing the door, “Cute little lady, though.”

“Yeah, I guess,” Scott says, still somewhat bewildered, “I’m just kinda confused as to why her hubby is gonna be so excited about having gay neighbors.”

Stiles nods slowly and glances out the window, watching the woman and his eyes zero in on the sticker on the back of their car, “Uh… probably because they’re like… Gay rights activists or something,” he says, pointing at the rainbow ribbon.

“Oh,” Scott says and then nods slowly, “Okay, that makes a little more sense.” He gestures to the food, “What even is that?” he asks.

“Looks like some kinda… like pork chop thing,” Stiles lifts the tin foil, sniffing at it and his mouth waters, “It’s smells orgasmic.”

“Might not have to order Chinese after all,” Scott muses and hums when he smells it, “Take it to the kitchen so we can grab some plates.”

Stiles nods, doing so and setting the dish on the counter, “Should we put away the paint and get showered first?”

“I think that if we don’t, we’re gonna have a Hell of a time getting all of it off us,” Scott says, looking Stiles over, “We’re a few shades short of being in the blue man group.”

“I’m blue, da-boo-dee-da-boo-die,” Stiles responds lowly, walking back into the living room and jamming the lid onto the first bucket of paint, pouring what’s left over from the tray into the second and closing it up, “Not too bad for a first day, yeah?”

“Not too bad,” Scott confirms and sits the mixing stick on top of the paint can, “Might not even need a second coat,” he says, “I seriously hope it doesn’t need a second coat.”

Stiles sighs and nods, “You and me both, one is bad enough. And the walls were white before, so chances are it’ll be fine.”

“Yeah, should be,” Scott nods and picks at some of the drying paint on his skin, it’s already starting to itch.

Stiles takes the brushes into the kitchen, running the tap and cleaning them before setting them in a glass of water and moving back to Scott, “Come on, chances are we’re gonna have to do each other if we wanna get it all off,” he says as he takes Scott’s hand, leading him up the stairs.

“Do each other,” Scott repeats and snickers, squeezing Stiles’s fingers in his hand as he follows close behind his husband, “You gonna do me first?” he asks suggestively, tone slightly teasing.

“Pretty sure I did you first, first,” Stiles responds, looking back with narrowed eyes, “Perv.”

“Please, as if you don’t like it,” Scott says and pinches Stiles’s ass, “And you didn’t do me first, I totally did you first.”

Stiles shakes his head, “No you didn’t,” he says, swatting at Scott’s hand as he moves to the bathroom, “I was top first.”

“Nuh uh,” Scott disagrees and unbuttons his pants as he follows Stiles into the bathroom, “My dick went in your ass before yours went in mine, you’re crazy.”

“Nope,” Stiles continues to shake his head, lifting his brows as he turns on the light in the bathroom and starts to get undressed, “That so didn’t count.”

“It so did,” Scott argues weakly and shoves his pants down, pushing his boxer briefs down as well and kicking the clothes away, “Counted to me.”

Stiles chuckles and steps out of his pants, moving to turn on the water, “You came pretty prematurely, it so didn’t count,” he says teasingly, lifting his brows.

“Ouch,” Scott says and touches his chest, shaking his head at Stiles as he steps into the shower, “You know if we’re going by that logic, the first time you fucked me doesn’t count either. I’m not the only one with a hair trigger.”

“I got like two thrusts in before I came, that /so/ counts,” Stiles laughs, cheeks flushing as he joins Scott, taking the washcloth instead of their luffa and reaching out to scrub carefully at the paint on Scott’s neck, “You didn’t even move, you were just like ‘oh, oh, oh, fuck’.”

“It still counts, I was in you,” Scott says and watches Stiles, grabbing his husband by the hips as he lets him clean him off, “If I had an ego, you’d be killing it right now.”

Stiles ‘pfts’ and leans in to kiss just under Scott’s jaw, “I’m not trying to knock you, you know that - we’ve both had a fair share of premature ejaculations,” He says as he lifts Scott’s chin to get underneath with the washcloth, “It’s definitely okay.”

“If it’s okay, then our actual first time totally counts,” Scott points out, smiling fondly at the other man, “Which means I boned you first.”

“Regardless,” Stiles waves his hand dismissively, rubbing at Scott’s forehead, “It was fucking amazing, one way or another.”

“Yeah it was,” Scott agrees, he can still remember how tight Stiles was, “You know, thinking about it now, I can totally attribute my coming too soon to you clenching around me.”

“I wasn’t clenching though-I mean, if I was, I definitely wasn’t doing it on purpose.”

“It probably wasn’t intentional, but you definitely were.”

Stiles finishes getting the rest of the paint and hands the washcloth over to Scott, “I dunno about that,” he says skeptically.

“Well I do,” Scott says, taking the rag and reaching up to gently scrub at Stiles’s face, “And you were.”

“You’re probably wrong,” Stiles responds in a slightly singsong voice, wrapping his arms around Scott’s waist and grabbing his ass with both hands.

“No,” Scott says surely, stepping closer to Stiles as he cleans his husband’s face, swaying his hips some and brushing their dicks together, “I remember, you were really tight, but once I pushed in all the way, you clenched. I dunno why you’re fighting me on this.”

Stiles chuckles, “I’m not fighting you on anything, you’re the one insisting I clenched around you. I don’t remember it that way,” he glances down, shifting his own hips in response.

“Doesn’t matter anyway,” Scott decides, scrubbing against Stiles’s chest, “It was like what? Fourteen, fifteen years ago?”

“Yeah, chances are we’re both remembering it wrong,” Stiles shrugs, leaning in to kiss Scott, “I just remember how loud I was when you fucked me, practically screaming.”

“Some things never change,” Scott says and kisses back, hand moving slower against Stiles’s pecs, “You’ve always been loud.”

Stiles blushes and arches his chest into Scott’s hand, “I can’t help it, like I ever do anything quietly.”

“You make a point,” Scott nods and puts the rag on the shower handle, hands moving back to Stiles’s hips, “But I’m not complaining,” he says and grabs the shampoo, squirting some into his palm before lathering it through Stiles’s hair, “I like how noisy you get when it feels good.”

Stiles smirks and moans suddenly, leaning into Scott’s touch, he closes his eyes, one hand moving to run up Scott’s chest and over his right nipple, “You ever… consider…”

Scott’s mouth pops open and his nipple practically hardens at once, causing him to shudder bodily and his fingers still in Stiles’s hair for a moment, “Consider what?” he asks curiously.

“You know,” Stiles mumbles and looks at Scott, “Growing out your beard.”

“Where did that come from?” Scott asks and smiles, scrubbing lightly against Stiles’s scalp, “I grew it out once, years ago… I thought you didn’t like it.”

Stiles shrugs, “I dunno,” he moans again, unable to stop himself as his toes curl against the floor of the tub, “I mean, it just looked weird on you when you were younger. But now, I dunno, with how much different your body is, I think it would fit better.”

“Okay,” Scott nods and urges Stiles back under the spray of water, “I’ll stop shaving then, can’t hurt to try and see.”

Stiles takes up Scott’s shampoo, lathering it between his fingers and reaching up to scratch them through the other man’s hair, “Not gonna lie, I kinda keep thinking about it.”

“Why?” Scott asks and narrows his brows a little at Stiles, curling his arms around the other man’s waist.

“Fuck if I know, it’s weird,” Stiles says and chuckles, whipping his hair back, “Although, I guess it makes sense, I do like beards…”

“You say that now, just wait,” Scott chuckles as well, “I’ll grow mine out and you’ll probably be like ‘nope, shave it’.”

Stiles shrugs, “That’s entirely possible,” he says as he looks at Scott, running his thumb over the other man’s jaw, “But I don’t think I will.” He turns them, tilting Scott’s chin up to rinse out his hair.

“Mm,” Scott hums and closes his eyes when he feels the water hit his head, “How do you feel?” he asks then, generally curious, “You gonna be okay tomorrow while I’m running errands?”

“I think so,” Stiles says, grabbing the conditioner once Scott’s hair is clean, “I’ll probably just sleep a lot and work on my book. I haven’t been feeling much of the other symptoms, just general pain and fatigue.”

“I’ll have my cell phone on me, I shouldn’t be gone too long,” Scott responds, looking at Stiles, “Call me if you need me. I still can’t believe how well you’re doing with the sober thing, it’s kinda awesome.”

Stiles finishes with the conditioner and grabs the body wash, “I dunno why. I mean, I think I have a pretty addictive personality. I guess it’s just… sheer dumb luck or something. I’m trying not to get my hopes up, you know? It just seems too easy.”

“You’re still doing amazing,” Scott says and presses a wet hand to Stiles’s cheek, kissing him chastely, “Even if you don’t show it, how you’re really feeling. I’m proud of you.”

Stiles grins and kisses Scott back, “I think you’ve definitely had a part to play in it being so easy. It’s difficult to snap at you,” he scrubs the luffa down Scott’s chest and over his stomach, “Not many people would willingly kick a puppy.”

“I dunno why you call me that,” Scott snorts and smiles, shaking his head at Stiles, “I’m not a puppy, I’m not even really sure what the puppy face is you say I do.”

“It’s all in the eyes,” Stiles says, motioning to Scott’s face before continuing to scrub him down, “You get this-crinkly little brows and your eyes are all big and sincere, like the face you make whenever I wrap my lips around your dick, it’s pretty much that face.”

“Right,” Scott chuckles and watches Stiles, “And that makes me look like a puppy?” he asks, “When my eyes get all ‘big and sincere’?”

Stiles nods, “Yup, you know like little puppies, it looks kinda sad and happy and shit at the same time, you make the same face.”

“If you say so,” Scott says, stealing the luffa from Stiles and reaching out to scrub him with it, “The food’s gonna be cold, you left it on the counter.”

“What was I supposed to do? Put it in the refrigerator so it could get colder faster?” Stiles jokes and shrugs, “We can just pop it in the oven for a little while - pretty sure there’s shit all over the bed and the tv isn’t completely set up in the room.”

Scott rinses the luffa off and hangs it back up, reaching out and pulling Stiles closer by his waist as the water rinses them off, “You put it in the oven and I’ll straighten up the room?”

Stiles nods and swallows tightly, staring at Scott and leaning in to kiss him, “Sounds good.”

MageStiles

Chapter Text

“I’m so fucking nervous,” Stiles says as he glances down at himself, drying his palms on his slacks, “Why am I so fucking nervous? I’ve done this before, it’s not that big of a deal.”

Scott chuckles and moves up behind him, grabbing his waist and pulling him back, leaning in to press a couple of kisses to his neck, “Relax,” he mutters as Stiles sighs and slumps back against him, “Everything’s fine, we can do this.”

“They’re all out there, waiting,” Stiles grumbles miserably, “And it doesn’t help that I’m standing here, about to be preoccupied for two weeks, while my book is taking the world by storm.”

Scott grins widely, fixing Stiles’s tie in the mirror, “You deserve it,” he says sincerely, meeting his husband’s gaze, “Your dad would be proud.”

Stiles nods, “He would be,” he says confidently, “His notes helped, if it wasn’t for him-” he shook his head, “If it wasn’t for him taking that stupid thing out of the trash, I wouldn’t have people calling me all morning today to try and make my book into a movie already.”

“We’re gonna get back from our honeymoon to all kinds of things like that,” Scott responds, feeling his chest swell with pride.

“I have eighteen interviews lined up already,” Stiles says, getting even more nervous, “And seven of them are gonna be on live TV.”

“And I’ll be with you every step of the way. It’s about time,” Scott says and nuzzles him, “You deserve this, Stiles. You’ve worked so hard for the last like… fifteen years on trying to get something published, and now you’re getting recognition.”

Stiles nods, feeling a little trickle of sweat drop down to his brow, “And it’s a one-shot mystery novel.”

“Which is good,” Scott responds, “It’s an amazing story, your dad knew his stuff.”

“He read it all, even when it was a complete mess of a storyline,” Stiles says, smiling sadly, “He should be here.”

Scott runs his hand down Stiles’s back, “He is, dude,” he says and turns Stiles’s chin to look at him better, “I mean, in spirit or whatever. You know he’d be here, you know he’d be down there with everyone else, proud and supportive as always.”

“God,” Stiles groans and turns back, “There’s like so many people… I told Lydia I wanted it to be small.”

“It is small,” Scott says, “It’s only like twenty people.”

Stiles sighs, “That’s still so many.”

“Too nervous to speak your vows?”

“So nervous.”

Stiles stops when he feels Scott’s hands moving to the front of his slacks, unbuttoning and unzipping them.

“Want me to get you off? Maybe that’ll take off the edge.”

Stiles looks down and then nods, “I… I definitely wouldn’t complain.”

Scott grins and moves around, dropping to his knees and pushing up Stiles’s dress shirt. He tugs Stiles out of his pants and breathes hotly over the soft length before taking it in his mouth. Scott’s always liked catching it before it’s gone completely hard, feeling the squishiness of it on his tongue as he sucks and lolls it around.

“Oh, fuck,” Stiles mutters and drops his head back, “Scotty,” his hand moves to Scott’s hair, gripping it and arching forward, grinding against him as he starts to harden.

He doesn’t last long, of course, not only is he nervous, but he has a hair trigger like no other, especially when looking down at Scott in his hot little cream-colored tux.

“Like a champ,” Stiles manages out, watching Scott swallow and stand back up, leaning in to kiss him.

“Are you two-”

They turn to see Lydia stop in the doorway, her eyes dropping to Stiles’s pants.

“Yes, Lydia?” Scott asks, licking his lips as he reaches down to tuck Stiles away before she can see anything.

“Really?” Lydia narrows her eyes, sounding frustrated, “You’re up here messing around? Come on now.”

Stiles huffs and leans in to kiss Scott again, “It’s our re-wedding day, we’ll take all the time we want.”

Lydia sighs, looking like she’s ready to argue, but then she smiles at them, “Alright, you’re… not wrong,” she waves at them, “I’ll go tell the others.”

“How’s my hair?” Scott asks when she leaves, looking at Stiles.

“I didn’t mess it up too much, it looks good,” Stiles says and smirks, “Could fix this, though,” he reaches out to straighten Scott’s collar as his husband tucks in his shirt and buttons him up.

Scott hums lowly and leans in, kissing him a few times, “Hmm, thank you. Feel any better?”

“No really,” Stiles admits, shaking, “I’m pretty sure I’m still verging panic attack territory.”

Scott purses his lips in concern, “Well, if we’re taking ‘all the time we want’, maybe there’s something else that might help.”

“... I’m listening.”

The smile Scott makes then isn’t unlike the ones that Stiles makes when he has a really good bad idea. He looks around then and tugs Stiles into the bathroom on the side.

“What are we doing?” Stiles asks as Scott pushes him against the door, kissing him roughly and reaching down to unbutton his pants once more.

“What are they doing?” Derek asks Lydia sharply, trying to keep his voice low, “How much longer?”

Lydia smiles tightly and turns to the people sitting in the stands, she lifts her hands and glances at Jackson before speaking the them all as a whole.

“Stiles and Scott are a little preoccupied right now,” she says and cups her hands together at her waist, “Everything is fine, but Stiles is a little nervous, you all know how he gets.”

“Oh, fuck,” Stiles moans as he pulls Scott’s hips back, his cock sliding in with a soft tug, feeling the walls clench around him, “Oh god, don’t do that, I might seriously come again.”

“Already?” Scott chuckles, shifting to arch his back and he reaches out to the counter to steady himself, “I just got you off.”

“You know me, you know how these things work.”

Scott laughs and then stops when Stiles pulls back and slams into him, “Oh…” he breathes out shakily, “Oh… I’ve missed this.”

“I can’t believe our first time… again, is like moments before our fucking re-wedding, in the bathroom of a church,” Stiles mutters and shakes his head.

“First time for everything.”

“But for now, since they’re taking their time getting out here, just talk amongst yourselves, enjoy the food bar if you want,” Lydia motions to the tables in the back, “Go to the bathroom, chances are you won’t miss anything. I’ll let you know when the situation changes.”

Derek leans in then, speaking lowly, “I’ll go check on them.”

“You might want to,” Lydia responds, smiling sheepishly, “I’m pretty sure the last time I checked in they were exchanging blowjobs or something.”

“Harder,” Scott mutters, groaning when Stiles thrusts into him again, slamming his hips against the counter and he looks up into the mirror, “Oh, dude.”

“Hmm?” Stiles looks up from Scott’s ass and grins, “Nice,” he says, leaning over Scott’s shoulder and kissing his cheek. He turns to nibble on Scott’s earlobe, one hand dropping down to fist his husband’s cock as he fucks him against the counter, feeling their pants dropping lower to bunch down at their ankles.

Scott gasps and drops his head back, one hand gripping Stiles’s hip as he shudders, “Stiles,” he turns to kiss him, the action a little messy as they move together.

“I miss this,” Stiles says, brushing his nose against Scott’s cheek when he breaks the kiss, “I miss fucking you all the time.”

“Good thing you have me forever.”

“Good thing,” Stiles responds, tone distant as his orgasm starts to build.

“Come in me,” Scott says, able to tell just by the tone of Stiles’s voice when his husband starts getting close.

Stiles blinks, “Are… are you sure?”

“Yeah,” Scott nods, “I want you to.”

“It’ll be messy-”

“Scott? Stiles?”

“Oh fuck,” Stiles groans, but doesn’t stop moving.

“Busted,” Scott says, chuckling.

Stiles reaches out to lock the door, “Derek?”

“Stiles?”

Stiles leans closer to the door, “Can you do a buddy a favor?”

“I’m Scott’s best man,” Derek responds in a clipped tone, “That’s my job.”

“Good,” Stiles crows and slams into Scott particularly roughly, making him mewl in surprise, “Go out to our car and-” hump, “-in the back,” thrust, “There’s a smaller tan carry on,” buck, “Can you get that for me?”

Derek is silent on the other side before speaking, “Your keys?”

“Lyd has them.”

“I’ll be back with the bag.”

“Thank you, dude,” Stiles says and then turns back, “That threw me off a little, but I think I can still come pretty soon.”

Scott moans, cheeks flushed as he feels his hip dig into the counter, causing him to whimper in pleasure and pain, “Derek just… I think he heard us, I think he knew.”

Stiles nods and smirks, “Yeah, he knew I was laying into dat ass.”

“Stiles,” Scott sobs.

“Mm, that’s my name, bitch,” Stiles responds and laughs when Scott lets out a loud moan and comes, “Really, dude? That’s what got you off?”

“I can’t help it.”

Stiles hums and quickly follows after, the shuddering walls around his cock drawing out his orgasm, “That’s nice,” he says numbly, leaning against Scott, “All full of me.”

Scott makes another weak sound and shifts his hips back, “Stiles.”

“I forgot how needy you get,” Stiles says and kisses the back of Scott’s neck, “All whiny like a little bitch.”

Scott’s eyes widen and he gasps, “Don’t-don’t dirty talk me, I’m so sensitive right now it’s stupid,” he looks back at Stiles, “I don’t think I can come again without it hurting.”

Stiles grins and kisses Scott, “Right-o, buddy, just hold that come in.”

“Hmm?” Scott tilts his head, brows furrowed, “Why? ... Why’d you get Derek to go get the sexy-oh…”

“Little short on the uptake there, huh, dude?”

Scott moans when Stiles shifts against him, “I didn’t think,” he says, mouth dropping open, “I can’t believe we’re seriously gonna say our vows and I’m gonna be plugged up, ass full of ‘Stiles come’.”

“I can’t believe it wasn’t like this last time,” Stiles admits and chuckles, “Maybe if you’re not too sensitive, we could have a matching set.”

Scott drops against the counter and groans, “Oh god, Stiles.”

“I’ll leave this by the door.”

Stiles perks up when he hears Derek on the other side of the door, “Thanks, Derek,” he says and chuckles, “I owe you one.”

“You do.”

Stiles pulls back carefully from Scott, reaching down to pat his ass cheek, “Clench those muscles, I’ll get the plug.”

“Well?” Lydia asks impatiently.

“They’ll be a little longer.”

“What are they doing?” Allison asks as she moves to them, “Don’t tell me, they’re-”

“That’s exactly what they’re doing,” Derek responds and Allison smiles.

“Nice to see them back to themselves.”

“No one else in the world could do that,” Lydia says and shakes her head, “They’re just as bad as they were before, if not worse.”

Allison nods in a agreement, “Or better, depending on how you look at it.”

“Nervous?” Scott teases as Stiles takes in a deep huff of breath, “It’s okay, just… focus on me if you have to.”

“Yeah, yeah,” Stiles mutters and a few of the people in the front chuckle.

Scott lifts his hands to take Stiles’s, “It’s just me, dude.”

“Scott,” Stiles starts, almost visibly shaking, but he looks at Scott and searches his eyes, focusing on him as much as he can, “Scotty. You have been my best friend since we were four. You're like a brother to me, and you've always been there for me.” He brushes his thumbs over the backs of Scott’s hands, moving a little closer, “You've seen me at my worst, and you've never given up on me, even when I had given up on myself.

“The last ten years were the most stressful years of our relationship, but you stood by my side and you helped me through it, and there's nothing I can say or do to ever express how-” Stiles lets out a trembling breath and wets his lips, “How honored, and grateful I am to have you as my husband. I love you... more than I ever thought possible. I don’t get it. You know me better than anyone else in the world, and for some stupid reason you still love me.”

A few of the people around them chuckle, Derek and Allison included, and they meet each other’s eyes from behind their respective grooms.

“Stiles,” Scott says and stops when he sees his husband’s eyes fill with tears.

“Oh boy,” Stiles responds and shakes his head, “I’m good.”

Scott smiles slowly and reaches up to cup Stiles’s cheek, “Stiles,” he says, tone a little softer now.

“There’s still a part of me that can’t believe I got to marry you,” he laces their other fingers together, “That I would actually be so lucky as to marry my best friend. We’ve had it rough the last seven years, and I know vows are always about ‘in sickness and in health’, and about coming through it all unscathed, and together. But we really had it hard.”

Stiles nods, covering Scott’s hand with his own, “No kidding.”

“I could’ve been more supportive,” Scott responds, “I should’ve. As your husband, I made that promise to you. But I don’t think I understood fully what that meant at the time.” He moves closer, brows narrowing in determination, “I do now. I know what it means to be there by your side at the darkest times, and I almost lost you entirely. But even then, I was still there, doing everything I could to hold you up.”

Stiles feels his bottom lip quiver and he tries to fight the tears back, it’s ridiculous. His last wedding, he joked so much about people crying at these things, and here he is.

“I’ll always cut the rope,” Scott says, his heart racing, “I’ll always be there to hold you afterwards, and I promise I’ll never let you go, no matter what.”

“Scott,” Stiles breathes out, tears dripping down his cheeks and Scott moves in quickly, wrapping his arms around him and kissing him, pressing his forehead to Stiles’s when they’re breathless, “I love you.”

Scott chuckles, even though he’s teared up as well, “I love you, too.”

MageStiles