Posted originally on the Archive_of_Our_Own at https://archiveofourown.org/
works/1959948.
  Rating:
      Explicit
  Archive Warning:
      Underage
  Category:
      M/M
  Fandom:
      Teen_Wolf_(TV)
  Relationship:
      Scott_McCall/Stiles_Stilinski
  Character:
      Scott_McCall, Stiles_Stilinski, Jackson_Whittemore
  Additional Tags:
      Alternate_Universe, season_1_AU, Friends_to_Lovers, Sciles, Blow_Jobs,
      Road_Head, Sex, Teen_Wolf_AU, Jock_Stiles, Nerd_Scott
  Series:
      Part 2 of Jock_Strap
  Stats:
      Published: 2014-07-15 Words: 6044
****** Class Warfare ******
by TruebornAlpha
Summary
     Scott and Stiles didn't grow up as friends and never met until high
     school. Asthmatic awkward Scott has fallen for popular jock Stiles,
     but Stiles's best friend Jackson isn't having any of it.
Notes
     This work was inspired by Loz's amazing AU here and here. We just
     couldn't resist playing in her world! What would it be like if Stiles
     didn't grow up with the boy who taught him how to be kind and Scott
     didn't have anyone who believed in him so hard he learned to believe
     in himself?
See the end of the work for more notes
Scott was entirely convinced he’d died sometime during the night. Whatever he’d
been expecting from his first time was woefully inadequate compared to reality,
there was just so much to learn and he was such a willing student. He came to
it like he’d been starved for physical affection, almost shocked at how it felt
to be touched. They never taught you things like this in health class and he
had definitely been watching the wrong videos. He’d laughed the whole time,
breathless and excited and just so happy to be in the moment. He practiced his
lessons on Stiles’s body, asking questions about what the boy wanted, what he
liked and how to make him feel good. Scott had no shame in his inexperience,
wanting to try everything and not shying away from any suggestion.
By the end, his muscles trembled in exhaustion with every nerve ending raw and
oversensitive. He could barely drag himself up the stairs, dazed and fucked
out, and was asleep as soon as his head hit the pillow. He’d never shared a bed
with anyone before, why had no one told him what it was like to curl into
someone else’s warmth?
He woke, already late and aching in places he didn’t know could ache. By the
time he finally made it to school, it took all of 7.5 seconds for Erica and
Kira to pounce on him and start asking about the obvious bruises that darkened
his skin. Scott tried to fend them off, but they were persistent and more than
ready to fill in the blanks themselves based on how deeply the boy blushed
under their questions. Even that couldn’t keep him from grinning all day. Maybe
it was the new brush of confidence in the way he held himself or the fact he
was so clearly happy, but it attracted the worst sorts of attention and Scott
yelped as he was shoved hard into the lockers.
“Out of the way, McCall. You’re taking up space again.”
___
"Breath," Stiles had grumbled lazily, with half-lidded eyes and a shameless
yawn as he pulled Scott closer. Long fingers had wrapped around Scott’s dick,
and really, it was no one’s fault that they missed first period entirely.
Stiles had snickered through morning kisses, closed-mouthed and clumsy. He’d
left before Scott got out of the shower with promises of Thursday and ‘more’
and ‘your butt.’
Stiles slept all through trigonometry, and didn’t comb his hair, and spent the
rest of the day looking out for a bright smile with crazy deep dimples while
trying to look serenely nonchalant about the whole thing. Jackson asked him if
he was sick and told him not to puke on his shoes.
He should have looked harder. Jackson found Scott first.
Jackson was a grade A asshole on the best of days. Where anxiety left Stiles
jittering, reaching for pills he kept as well concealed as he could possibly
manage, it made Jackson go still. It made his hands heavier, and his smiles
sharper. Jackson may have been a jerk on a leash, but Stiles wouldn’t go head
to head with him in a fair fight. Stiles liked fights he knew he could win.
Other people’s happiness, apparently, were thorns in Jackson’s sides. When
Jackson shoved, Scott flew.
Stiles hadn’t expected to be so angry. For a moment, it left him speechless.
"I’ve seen Greenberg tackle better," Stiles drawled disinterestedly, drawing
Jackson’s attention with practiced ease. His pace quickened, but only a beat,
and if he could lead Jackson away, maybe that’d be the end of it.
___
Scott should have just let it go, but something inside of him broke. Things
were finally going his way for once, couldn’t he have one freaking day without
being pushed around and humiliated to remind him that he was supposed to be
nothing? He rubbed his shoulder with a hiss of pain and set his jaw.
“What the hell is your problem, Jackson?”
“My problem?” The Captain turned with a cold smirk. “You’re my problem, McCall.
I don’t like your attitude. I don’t like your wheezing ass on my field getting
in the way of the rest of the team. I don’t like the way you make eyes of my
friends like some kind of creepy stalker with a sad little crush. Why don’t you
go back to your loser friends and whine like a bitch?” Jackson laughed,
expecting his entourage to laugh with him.
Scott balled his hands into fists, shaking with how much he wanted to punch
that smug grin from Jackson’s face. His eyes flicked quickly to Stiles before
narrowing back on the bully. With a deep breath, he let his hands uncurl.
“You’re an asshole, but I’m not going to fight you. You’re not even worth it.”
“You’re not going to fight me?” Jackson laughed again, poking his fingers into
Scott’s chest and pushing him back into the lockers. “Of course you’re not
going to fight me, it’s not called a fight when it’s so one sided. That’s just
a massacre, McCall.”
“I’m not afraid of you. You’re a coward, Jackson, and you’re not going to scare
me, so back off. I think I hear Lydia calling you.”
___
Scott was going to die, and Stiles hadn’t even fucked him yet.
A sharp pang of panic surged through him, because Jackson was a piece of work.
He arrogance was all the worse because he had something to back it up. He was
good at hurting people, and the only difference was that on the field, he was
applauded for it. Off the field, no one really thought to stop him. But anger
curled around panic, and the clang of metal lockers rang clear through his
mind.
"That does sound like Lydia," Stiles piped up, grin too sharp, and stance
deceptively loose. For the first time, snickers that weren’t at Scott’s expense
rippled through the group.
Scott hadn’t struck a nerve. He’d punched it in half, and for all that
Jackson’s smile made him look charming, Stiles knew what his best friend looked
like when he was stung. He didn’t think twice about looping an arm across
Jackson’s shoulders, guiding him away with a practiced calm. He just needed to
redirect focus long enough for Jackson to lose interest, and Stiles thought he
did. Jackson walked with him, his expression clouding.
Except he turned on his heel and slammed a fist into Scott’s belly. Jackson
wasn’t playing.
"Later, loser."
___
Scott grunted, all the air knocked from his lungs as he curled around himself,
sliding down the lockers to the floor. He ground his teeth together to keep
himself from being sick. It was a low blow, not like he expected anything less
from a snake like Jackson. The boy sucked air through his teeth, ignoring the
tight wheeze from his lungs as fury drove him back to his feet, leaning against
the cool metal behind him for support.
The boy held his ground, staring down his adversary and snarling. It didn’t
matter if he got hurt or if he lost, it wasn’t about the fight. Someone had to
stand up to Jackson and if he could do it, maybe other people would start
fighting back too. He was done being invisible and spending all day trying to
keep from being noticed so he didn’t get hurt.
Cowards always hid behind their fists and Jackson wasn’t any different. A cheap
hit and a retreat, targeting people he thought couldn’t stand up to him. He was
so wrong. “D-does it make you feel better, you asshole? You think I can’t tell
you’re scared? I can see right through you, Jackson and I feel sorry for you.”
And all of your ‘friends.’
___
Jackson’s smile was sharper than most knives, and he had a hand a round Scott’s
throat before most of his group realized what was going on. Stiles still wished
he’d moved faster. “Scared of you, McCall?” Jackson hissed, slamming Scott
against the lockers like he wanted to shove him through them. “You can’t even
look me in the eye-“ 
"Hey, hey! What the Hell are you doing, dude?" Stiles hissed, grip tight around
Jackson’s wrist. He couldn’t bring himself to look at Scott. He could have
sworn his pulse was loud enough for the corridor to hear, but he didn’t let up.
"Are you trying to get us all in shit? Let it go."
Jackson didn’t like to be told what to do. He liked it even less when orders
made sense, but they were drawing more attention than he could stand to
ignore. 
"You’re not worth my time, loser,” he sneered, dropping Scott as easily as he’d
pushed into his space. When he walked away, he expected everyone else to
follow.
___
Scott let his head drop back against the lockers, breathing hard enough to have
him groping blindly for his backpack just in case. He would not use his inhaler
while Jackson was watching, he wouldn’t give the bully any sign of weakness
even though his lungs tightened uncomfortably. He’d held his ground and felt a
small measure of pride that he hadn’t backed away, but it didn’t mean being
totally outclasses in a fight wasn’t completely humiliating. If Jackson had
really decided to go through with it, Scott would have no doubt ended up on the
losing end. It was only a matter of time before it happened.
“You don’t have to hang out with someone who’s such a jerk all the time, you
know.” The boy said quietly, rubbing his throat and straightening his shirt.
It would never make sense that someone like Stiles would have been friends with
such an awful person as Jackson. Stiles wasn’t nice, Scott had noticed the
quirks in how he treated people, but he wasn’t cruel just for cruelty’s sake.
He didn’t seem to get off on making other people miserable and his razor edged
tongue tended to draw blood when people actually deserved it. “You’re better
than he is.”
___
"Get to the nurse," Stiles said. It was lower than he’d intended. He couldn’t
look away from Scott’s throat. Fighting the urge to tear apart his stupid
backpack for an inhaler, Scott was red in the face and seemed about a second
away from collapsing. They’d already drawn a crowd, people who hovered at the
edges of a scene, desperate for a glimpse of the latest development in Jackson
Whittemore’s life. 
Stiles still stopped, just long enough to push Scott’s backpack into his hand,
before he turned on his heel. He’d never felt more like a coward, and
apparently, all it took was fucking some nobody. Jackson didn’t seem to notice,
but the day had lost the bright edge that had made it so much fun. Jackson
claimed Scott was better off dead. Stiles had to leave lunch early, or he’d end
up braining his best friend with a metal tray.
Final bell took too long to sound, and Stiles was waiting at the bike racks for
Scott before it could finish ringing. 
___
Scott was humiliated, but what else was new? He grasped at his inhaler,
doubling over as Stiles walked away and waiting until the medication eased his
constricted lungs. He coughed hollowly, wishing he could sink down into the
floor. It still wasn’t a mistake and he didn’t regret it. Someone had to keep
standing up to Jackson until everybody did.
He refused to go to the nurse’s office if only to save what was left of his
pride. The girls yelled at him afterwards for being so stupid and hot-headed
when the smart thing to do was just walk away. Boyd didn’t say a word, sitting
with him quietly as he ranted and putting a comforting hand on Scott’s
shoulder.
As soon as the bell rang, Scott slung his backpack over his shoulder and made a
dash for it, but he wasn’t fast enough. With a sigh, he slowed, hands twisting
into the straps of his bag and jaw set. “You shouldn’t be here.” He said more
calmly than he felt. “Someone could see you talking to me.”
___
Stiles deserved that.
"Yeah, we’ll give’em something to look at." He snapped, just a little too
sharp, but his fingers were gentle when he gripped the front of Scott’s shirt,
tugging him close for a kiss neither of them was ready for. It was quick, over
almost as soon as it began, with Stiles nearly bumping Scott’s nose off course
and getting too much of his upper lip. They’d work on it. Stiles didn’t want to
think about why he might be the reason nothing happened.
He still moved away before anyone could get more than a glimpse of them, his
words reduced to nothing but shameful bravado. He didn’t let go of Scott. He
told himself that counted. “Come on. Put your bike in the Jeep.”
His tone had softened, not entirely with his consent, and Stiles couldn’t not
look at Scott’s neck, trying to find more physical traces of the event that had
set their days off course. He wanted to kiss Scott again. He wanted to do a lot
more than that.
"Jackson’s a dick," he commented in earnest, and Scott’s words rang through his
mind. He derailed that train of thought before it could go anywhere. "Come on…
Lunch’s on me."
___
Scott could feel the heat rise beneath his skin and tried to hide the smile
that curved his lips. It was so easy to forgive, especially when Stiles looked
so uncomfortable. He stroked his hand down the other boy’s shirt before
stepping out of his reach to unlock the chain around his bike. “Jackson is a
dick.” He agreed. “And so are you when you’re with him. I don’t get it, dude.”
Stiles could be a jerk, but he wasn’t someone who got off on hurting others who
couldn’t defend themselves. Was there possibly something more to Jackson
Whittemore than the pretty exterior and cruel smirk? Stiles wasn’t an idiot and
he didn’t seem to have any shortage of ego, what was it that kept them friends?
Scott sighed, even when he was angry (and right!), he hated being mean. “Sorry,
I know you like him and it’s not fair to say anything about him. I won’t put
you in the middle like that. Just forget it.”
He studied the other boy quietly, hands twisting around the handles of his bike
and expression unreadable. This really was a bad idea. He’d never ask someone
to give up a friend, but if Jackson ever found out that they were…doing
whatever it was they were doing, Scott knew he’d be the one to pay for
it. Worth it. “Okay, fine. But only because you offered to pay. I think you’ve
found my kryptonite.”
___
Stiles wasn’t going to defend a guy who’d tried to make Scott one with a
locker. He hadn’t been lying about disliking Jackson on their best days, except
he was still his best friend. Stiles hadn’t known anyone for longer, and
Jackson was loyal to those he kept in his inner circle. Lydia Martin was an odd
sort of constant, always flitting in and out of it with a toss of her hair.
Stiles, though, Jackson looked out for him, in peculiar, Jackson-y ways. He
suggested lacrosse scholarships after he’d secured his own. He made sure Stiles
was never lacking in attention from anyone who wasn’t Lydia. His wit was
acerbic, and when they got into fights there was nothing quite like it. They
had history neither of them was comfortable with talking about.
It just took a lot of effort to be with him sometimes.
He elbowed Scott in the side, like he could jostle that expression off his
face. “Mine’s curly fries. And it’s got nothing to do with being a cheap ass.”
He unfastened Scott’s bike and started rolling it towards his Jeep. Maybe there
was a chance none of this was damning before, but if someone looked over now,
Stiles didn’t think he could step back from this. He was kind of okay with
that, if he didn’t think about it too much.
But it was two blocks away from school, as they idled at a stop light, that he
grabbed Scott by the front of his shirt and kissed him like he wanted to devour
him.
___
“Curly fries? Good to know, I’ll have to remember that.” Any advantage was a
good one when Stiles turned that mischievous smile on him and Scott found
himself suddenly willing to agree to any bad idea the boy suggested. It was so
easy to forgive, it had always been that way and it didn’t help that Stiles was
so freaking cute and offering free food. He followed, doing his best to hide
his smile and glancing around to see if anyone had noticed. He kept telling
himself this was a bad idea, why was he still going along with it?
It’s not like they were dating, Scott didn’t have any illusions about what this
was. If Jackson ever found out about it, Scott would never get any peace and
who knew what Stiles would do? It was dangerous playing games like this,
someone would see and it would end horribly. If he was a target now, this was
practically begging for Jackson to ruin his life. Why couldn’t he stop? He was
smarter than this, always the cautious one who never took risks, this wasn’t
him. It still didn’t even make him hesitate as he climbed into Stiles’s jeep.
Scott tried to yelp as he was yanked into the kiss, finding his mouth otherwise
occupied. He opened for Stiles, eager and impatient, curling his fingers around
the back of the other boy’s neck. Oh yeah…this was why. Such a terrible
idea…climbing out of his seat and trying to straddle Stiles in the middle of
the road was probably a worse one. “Green light, dude. What’s wrong,
distracted?”
___
Scott made a sound, and Stiles knew he wouldn’t be letting Jackson anywhere
near the boy ever again. He lurched back, startled because driving (what drive
where? Who Jackson?), hand automatically going to Scott’s thigh, keeping him in
place in the passenger’s seat. “Hey.”
Stiles was protesting, and he couldn’t remember what. His jeep lurched to life,
sputtering under a jolt of gas. Stiles only kept one hand on the wheel. “I’ll
show you distracted.”
He could work on his comebacks. He could work on them when his hand wasn’t
working the front of Scott’s jeans. He glanced over at the other boy, meeting
his eyes as he undid the button of his pants. If Scott wanted to stop him, he
better hurry up. Stiles licked his lips like he wanted to eat the car they
drove behind.
This was crazy. He was sure of it. This was the very definition of a bad idea.
All he needed was his Dad to pull them over with Scott looking wanton and
wrecked in the front seat. Stiles inhaled sharply and thought about how quickly
he could get Scott that way. All he’d planned for was taking Scott for a few
burgers and showing him where Stiles practiced lacrosse in the woods, right off
his jogging trail where he didn’t bother anyone. There were already too many
broken windows on his record. The sound of Scott’s zipper moving just seemed
so loud.
___
He had a great snarky line on the tip of his tongue, something witty and
brilliant that would absolutely impress. So very impressive. Scott’s eyes went
huge and his jaw dropped as he hesitated before leaning back against the seat.
He sucked in a ragged shuttering breath through his mouth, tipping his head
back against the seat rest and staring at the ceiling. Bad idea, bad idea, bad
idea!
Scott hands curled and twitched, digging into his thighs like he wasn’t sure if
he should be helping or stopping this. Oh my god, they were going to crash and
die and they’d find his horribly mangled body with his pants down. He wrapped
his hands around Stiles’s before wriggling his hips and helped to pull himself
free from his jeans.
It was just so easy to fall into trouble with Stiles, it wasn’t fair. Scott
didn’t realize how close to the edge he’d always hovered or how much he wanted
to be so reckless. Always afraid, always quiet and ignored, but Stiles actually
saw him and Scott was willing to do just about anything to finally be noticed.
That wasn’t so bad, was it? To enjoy someone wanting him even if it was secret
and dirty and no one could ever know? They weren’t dating, Scott didn’t let
himself think about things like that…even though it would be such a nice
thought. “J-just don’t kill us, okay. Eyes on the road, Stiles.”
___
Stiles bit back a whine because Scott was going to tell him stop and it was
sad. Clothes slipped off, and cock came out, and Stiles had never given his
emotions such whiplash before. Stiles traced the length of Scott’s shaft,
finding a grip that would be easiest to move. His fingers ghosted over the tip
of his cock, memorizing its shape. The broad curve of his thumb pressed across
the slit, smearing precum all over sensitive skin. He stroked down the length,
recalling the weight of Scott against his palm. Not for the first time, Stiles
thought about how he’d feel in his mouth. He teased his swollen balls, thought
how good they’d taste, too.
Not kill them. Not kill them. Right. Stiles could do that. Stiles tipped his
head back and moaned.
He pulled back, just long enough to lick a wet stripe across his palm and
fingers, giving negative fucks for what the car beside them would see. He
cupped Scott, squeezing once, and God, he loved this. He loved this so much. He
stroked Scott hard and fast and demanded he’d scream.
The jeep only swerved a little.
___
“Oh god, fuck, Stiles!” It was just not fair how fast his body responded to
this. Granted, just someone giving him a look was sometimes enough to get hard,
hormones kicking in at the most embarrassing moments like his body was
purposely betraying him, but Stiles had him aching. Scott choked on his moan as
he was squeezed, jerking forward and hands scrabbling to hold on to something.
He couldn’t keep still, making quick desperate thrusts into Stiles’s hand and
fighting with the seatbelt that suddenly felt so constricting. The teenage
enthusiasm was only countered by teenage lack of experience and Scott threw his
head back with a wounded wail as he came. Stamina, yeah. Work on stamina.
He kept his eyes locked on the roof of the car, laughing breathlessly and
feeling way too good to be ashamed. Scott lifted the other boy’s hand, licking
the cum from his fingers and sucking along the skin. It really wasn’t bad when
you got used to it, warm and slightly bitter, though it might be better if it
was Stiles’s. That was an idea.
“I’m not…giving you road head…unless you pull over.” He panted, smile almost
shy. Safety first.
___
Don’t scream don’t scream don’t scream you’ll kill us all don’t, but Stiles
would be jacking off to that sound for a long, long time. The broken hitch of
breath, the first breathless ‘oh,’ the way Scott’s tongue rolled over his name.
Stiles looked over just in time to see that same tongue dart between his
fingers, and it felt like his jeans were killing him. He was going to die.
Scott spoke and Stiles drove them into a ditch. Not really, more like, mostly
unto someone’s lawn, and he seriously hoped no one noticed, but then he grabbed
Scott by the jaw, yanked him close, and forget everything except how good his
cum tasted on Scott’s tongue.
Slender fingers tangled in Scott’s hair, carding through dark locks as Stiles
tried to pull him in. He never wanted to let him go.  Distantly, he remembered
clicking off his seat belt, and bemoaning how his Jeep was so old, its
passenger seat didn’t recline. It didn’t matter when he could kiss Scott like
he needed him to breathe. 
"-fffuck Scott impossible you’re gonna kill me neverdidthatbefore," he rasped,
but they were kissing again and again and again. Stiles had better hurry up and
get Scott’s mouth on him, or this would end embarrassingly.
___
Scott fought the seat belt, trying to get it off, come on, anything to get
closer. He didn’t bother to zip his pants to care that there were cars passing
by or that they could be caught. He needed to be closer, awkwardly clambering
over the center console to kiss Stiles until he had to pull back with a gasp
for air and laughing. Always laughing somehow, this was ridiculous and cramped
and he loved every minute of it. He was pretty sure he elbowed Stiles somewhere
along the way, mumbling apologies as he wiped his hands on his own jeans and
groped for the boy’s zipper.
He didn’t have any grace and very little actual skill, but Scott had an
infectious enthusiasm and an eagerness to learn. There was something nice about
being able to please people. It was an empowering thing to make someone else
feel good and the way Stiles looked at him didn’t hurt at all either. It was a
fight that required more coordination than his hands had at the moment, but
Scott finally managed to work Stiles free from his pants.
The jeep didn’t allow much room and Scott ended up sprawled across the front
seats, ass high in the air as he traced his tongue along the veins of Stiles’s
cock. He couldn’t take it all, gagging a bit as he tried (another thing to add
to the list of things he needed to practice), and settled for pumping his hand
around the base as Scott swallowed around him.
___
Scott smacked him in the chest, but as soon as he bent over, Stiles knew that
he would forgive him of any transgression ever. Someone knocked against the
jeep’s horn. The door handle was digging painfully into his thigh, but Stiles
just spread his legs wider, and he still tried to fit his long limbs anywhere
they would go when they were trapped in his jeans.
Scott choked on his cock, and Stiles wanted to scream. He groaned hungrily,
bucking wildly before his hand settled on Scott’s head, pushing down as he
thrust up. He tried to fuck down Scott’s throat, jerking and writhing in a
seat. Cars sped by, cars who could see everything, and that was a problem. That
was a serious problem. Stiles wanted to be the only one who saw what Scott
looked like when he came.
"Fuck-" he rasped, panting for air, and Stiles had gotten better blow jobs,
probably. He was sure of it. He had to. Scott had probably never done this
before, never been touched before last night, never been kissed. That shouldn’t
have been as hot as it was, but Stiles couldn’t tell that to his leaking dick
when Scott’s mouth was so wet around it.
He came down Scott’s throat, forcing him in place and trying to make him
swallow every last drop.
___
He tried so hard to keep his teeth clear as he was forced down, struggling to
find a way to breath as he choked. Scott drooled down his cock, hands digging
into Stiles’s jeans and not finding air enough to even moan. It was good and
it hurt but he wanted so much more and he tried to relax as Stiles hit the back
of his throat, gagging again.
Scott didn’t have a choice but to swallow over and over before he was finally
released, coughing hard and dizzy. He gasped desperately, still bent low as he
licked strings of cum from his lips and rested his head in Stiles’s lap. “Oh…”
Everything he tried to say wrapped up in that small sound, completely
overwhelmed.  His throat felt raw and his lungs burned as he nuzzled into the
boy’s thigh.
What was that he said about this being a bad idea? This was the best idea. This
should be like, the greatest of all ideas. Scott groaned, wiping his mouth with
the back of his hands and awkwardly climbing back in his seat. He let his head
hit the back of the seat, eyes closed and spent. This could be such a dangerous
addiction. There was nothing that could stop the smile, satisfied and slightly
embarrassed and a little bit proud as Scott squirmed to readjust himself in his
pants. “Wow.”
___
Scott’s mouth was on his cock, and his hands were in Scott’s hair, and it was
bright and perfect and so fucking awesome. Then Scott moved, and changed
everything. Stiles wanted to chain him to his bed so he couldn’t move again. He
moaned, soft and sated, and it didn’t matter how tired he was because his grin
was impish.
Scott McCall. Scott fucking McCall, and Stiles had taken so long to notice his
mouth, and he was such an idiot, really.
"Woah," he repeated, but he’d already moved forward, slumping against the space
between their seats, just close enough that he could drop a kiss to Scott’s
cheek. He kissed him again, against the side of his mouth, sweetly, and tasted
his own cum. Stiles wanted him wrapped in blankets and nothing else. 
He tried to hug Scott. It was a clumsy, uncoordinated affair, and if he could
just pull himself a little closer, maybe he could drape himself over Scott like
he really, really wanted to. “I wanna take you home,” he mumbled against the
shell of Scott’s ear, nipping at it gently. “… Also wanna buy you dinner. Take
you to that - lacrosse place, in the woods. Also want you naked. Hm… Naked.”
___
Scott leaned into the other boy, ignoring the way the center console banged
into his kidney and laughed. “Okay.” Okay to everything, he wanted everything.
Was that selfish? Did he even care? No one had ever looked at him like he was
worth anything before and he’d promise anything as long as he never let that
look fade. It was an odd feeling to be wanted when all he knew was being passed
over and invisible. He usually wasn’t even worth ridicule, too far below the
radar to register at all. Somehow, one of the most popular guys in school
actually saw him when no one else had and it was honestly terrifying. He loved
it.
“Let’s not do all of it at once though, okay?” Scott groped for the seatbelt,
clicking it back into place. “I’m not sure playing lacrosse in the woods naked
is going to be such a safe idea. I’d like to keep my junk where it is, dude.”
He ran a hand through his spiked messy hair, trying to smooth the whole thing
down and not look quite like he’d just blew some guy in a jeep. That was a
thing, right? If it wasn’t, it should be, though keeping others from noticing
might be a good idea. Geez, before yesterday no one had given him the time of
day, and now he was having sex in broad daylight out in public. Stiles was a
terrible influence.
___
"Hm. Yes. Protect the junk at all costs," Stiles agreed, reaching over to
ruffle Scott’s already hopeless hair, with the sole purpose of making it look
like they’d been doing exactly what they’d been doing. He patted Scott through
his jeans. Stiles didn’t think he’d been so fond of junk that wasn’t his junk
in so long.
He kissed Scott slowly, something else to remember him by as they traveled the
long distance to a drive through burger joint. Stiles wouldn’t stop licking his
lips the entire time. If he felt any more relaxed, he was pretty sure he’d melt
through his seat. Maybe Scott could lick him up. That wasn’t supposed to feel
so sexy.
He jolted when the intercom buzzed to life, shooting off their order quickly,
while his head felt like it spun on his shoulders. ”Two double-cheese burgers,
two large curly fries, a vanilla shake and a strawberry one, and ah - those
apple cinnamon tart things. Three of ‘em, for me and my date.”
___
Scott swatted half-heartedly at the hands, so distracted by the things Stiles
could do with his mouth. He really needed to learn how to do that. He should be
taking notes. They never really taught you the things you needed to know, just
to ‘wrap it up’ and looking at disturbingly cartoonish diagrams of some guy’s
package. They never explained what it was like when someone was three fingers
deep in your ass and doing something that send electricity racing down each and
every nerve. Or how to breathe when someone held you down on their dick. Or
what kind of lube wouldn’t ruin the sheets when your mom still did the laundry.
The most important things!
If this was all it was, then he was okay with it; an eager student and Stiles
had so much to teach with that imagination and wicked smile. It didn’t hurt
that he was painfully hot either or knew Scott’s utter weakness to the meaty-
cheesey-fried foods to keep his energy up.  It was the word that made him
suddenly freeze, mouth open and only his force of will that snapped it
shut. Date? Like…an actual out in public real person not hiding anything date?
Like…Stiles actually liked him and there might be something about boyfriends in
there somewhere actual date, date? He could feel the hot flush reach the curve
of his ears and stared down at the hands in his lap, nose wrinkling as he
failed to keep the smile from shining through. “If it’s a date, you’re paying.”
___
"Oh."
People claimed Stiles didn’t have a filter. They’d rather think that then
believe that every insulting, painful comment he let out was meant to hurt, to
mock at someone else’s expense. With Jackson around, he looked like a saint.
They’d rather think him well-meaning and inappropriate than a straight up
asshole. Stiles could be both.
That though, that was completely unintentional. Stiles found he didn’t mind as
much as he maybe should have. Scott was amazing. This was going to be a
problem.
He leaned over, coaxing Scott to raise his head with a quick kiss on the cheek,
moving so he could curl a round his date - date - and kiss him hard on the
mouth, making it linger, making it last.
"Please proceed to the first window," the intercom proclaimed behind them.
Stiles wrapped an arm around Scott’s shoulders and tried to make him moan. The
next two time the intercom buzzed, the speaker added, "Please proceed to the
first window now.”
Stiles wasn’t done kissing. They could finish up in his bedroom. “Whatever,
dude. You’re paying for the next one.”
___
Stiles had this magic ability to steal away every coherent thought with his
mouth, even when those thoughts were about milkshakes and cheeseburgers. That
was the clearest indication Scott had that he was already so far gone. Nothing
was more important than snack time, nothing, except one Stiles Stilinski and
the way Scott was falling out of his seat to hiss him back. He’d have starved
to death without even noticing if it meant kissing him without interruption.
Thankfully one of them was still thinking.
Scott would still be careful about whatever this was, but his wariness had
faded. It still wouldn’t probably be smart to be so public about it, especially
at school, and it didn’t feel right to risk being serious or letting Stiles see
too much behind the smile, but maybe someday. They were dating now, it was
official even if no one else ever knew.
“Fine, it’s a deal.” He said with a smirk, squeezing his hand into Stiles’s
thigh. “Next one’s on me.”
End Notes
     This is an ongoing collaborative work/RP!
     You can find Tmautog's awesome fics on tumblr and keep up with this
     story here
     You can read Rune/TruebornAlpha Here and find her on tumblr at
     Runicscribbles
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