Posted originally on the Archive_of_Our_Own at https://archiveofourown.org/
works/1699934.
  Rating:
      Explicit
  Archive Warning:
      Choose_Not_To_Use_Archive_Warnings, Major_Character_Death, Underage
  Category:
      F/M, M/M
  Fandom:
      Teen_Wolf_(TV)
  Relationship:
      Scott_McCall/Stiles_Stilinski, Allison_Argent/Scott_McCall, Various
      Relationships
  Character:
      Scott_McCall_(Teen_Wolf), Stiles_Stilinski, mentions_of_Allison_Argent,
      Derek_Hale, OMC
  Additional Tags:
      these_are_drabbles, So_don't_expect_more_from_each_of_these_chapters,
      SPOILERS_ABOUND, Major_Spoilers_for_Season_3B, Sexual_Situations, Will
      add_tags_when_I_add_chapters, Some_funny, Mostly_dark_and_angsty, sofar,
      dark!stiles, Wolf!Derek
  Series:
      Part 1 of Teen_Wolf_Drabbles
  Stats:
      Published: 2014-05-27 Completed: 2015-06-19 Chapters: 3/3 Words: 1885
****** Teen Wolf Drabbles ******
by Stormlyht
Summary
     This is where I'm going to put all my bits and pieces that I write
     based on Tumblr prompts or simply because my mind goes there. Each
     chapter is a stand alone section, please keep that in mind. I'll try
     to put in the notes for each chapter the major issues with each part.
Notes
     This first Chapter is Scott/Stiles with mentions of Scott/Allison and
     hints at a possible future of Stiles/Derek. Kind of hurt/comfort,
     kind of pwp but not with a whole lot of porn. Mostly just an idea.
***** When The Lights are Out *****
Scott does it because Stiles asks, and Stiles never asks for stuff like this.
He never asks for comfort, just gets it when Scott realizes he needs it.
There’s a fine line between brothers and more than friends that sometimes gets
crossed, and this time is no different.
So what if Scott never saw Stiles in a romantic sense, when the lights are
dark, he can pretend it’s Allison who’s got her lips wrapped around his dick,
not Stiles. That’s fine, and Stiles says it’s okay, after, when Scott is
worried about feelings and stuff. Scott isn’t certain that Stiles actually *is*
okay, but he accepts the words because it’s Stiles, and he did this for Stiles,
and for no other reason.
There’s never anything more than handjobs and blowjobs between them, always
when the lights are out, always when no one can see. Stiles says he likes it
that way, as if it isn’t them, as if it’s just two people with no attachments.
He says it’s easier, and Scott believes him, because Scott has to believe him.
If Scott never quite gets into giving blowjobs, that’s fine, Stiles seems to
like giving them more than getting them, and Scott wonders if he just sucks
that badly, no pun intended, or if Stiles really does just like giving.
Because it’s always when Stiles has been near death, or has been seriously
screwed over in some way, or was frightened out of his mind that he needs these
things from Scott. He’s desperate, and Scott is starting to see when Stiles
needs it before Stiles asks, takes Stiles somewhere dark, pushes Stiles down on
his knees so Stiles can get at what he wants. Scott doesn’t judge. This is
*Stiles*, and he’d do anything for him. When Derek said Scott already had a
pack, he wasn’t kidding, and Stiles was in it, always, forever, and Scott will
do anything for him.
Sometimes, when Stiles is just starting to get twitchy, Scott is starting to
notice Derek watching them. Scott thinks that Derek is trying to figure them
out. It doesn’t bother Scott, Stiles is *his*, and he doesn’t think he needs to
worry about fighting over Stiles. Except sometimes Stiles looks at Derek like
he wants him, and Scott can smell it on him. He won’t prevent it from
happening, but he won’t see Stiles hurt. So he will take Stiles’ arm and guide
him off, dark bedroom, hand in hair, pushing Stiles deep on his cock just for
that whimper that sounds so good.
If he’s seeing Allison in his mind less and less it’s fine. What he has with
Stiles is simple, needful, nothing big and swept under the rug as soon as the
lights go on. He’s here for Stiles. Because he always has been, and he always
will be.
***** Yearly Ritual *****
Chapter Summary
     Scott and Stiles get together every year so they don't forget the
     important stuff.
Chapter Notes
     Major Spoilers for Season 3B here. Major Character Death (as in what
     happens in the show, not my doing). I originally intended this to be
     cheeky and fun and it turned really depressing and sad instead.
     Whoops.
“Scoot over,” Scott said, pushing Stiles to the side as he dropped the large
scrapbook on Stiles’ legs. He settled down next to Stiles and set the large
iced tea onto the coffee table.
“Dude, did you have to put it down on me?” Stiles asked, moving so the book was
more comfortable and he laughed as he flipped it open, seeing two hand prints
on the inside cover. “Were we ever actually that small?” Stiles put his hand
over his print and tried to remember what it had been like to be so tiny.
“Yeah,” Scott laughed, putting his hand over his own print, fingers brushing
Stiles. “We were.”
It was a yearly tradition, to look through their scrap book and add pages to
the end. Their mother’s had done it when they were little, but when Stiles’ mom
had passed, Scott had decided they would do it themselves. Stiles had been
saving pictures and articles all year just for this event.
“It doesn’t feel like we could have been.” He smiled over at his best friend
and nudged him with his fist. “Time’s starting to go a little fast.”
“Yeah.” Scott took his hand off of the page and flipped it. “There we are.
Sharing toys.”
“I think I’m trying to beat you up with that barbie dude,” Stiles laughed. Same
old argument, same old friendship. They’d never change, right? Stiles couldn’t
imagine a life without Scott, without helping him, being helped by him, just
being. A life with no Scott wasn’t something he wanted. Ever.
“How did we even get a barbie in the mix again?” Scott asked as he laughed.
“I think your mother was hoping for a girl,” Stiles winked, knowing full well
it had been his own mother who had added the barbie to the mix. Scott squinted
at him and he laughed full out, belly aching with it. It felt really good.
“I think that was your mother you’re talking about,” Scott replied.
The banter kept going, the memories washing over them both like warm water,
soaking deep and relaxing them in a way they hadn’t been relaxed since this
same time last year. When they got to the making pages part Scott was amazed by
all the photo’s Stiles had, and Stiles was amazed by all the random pieces of
paper that Scott had.
It was like every year. After everything that had happened, they needed this.
Needed to know that they would still be them.
“Are you sure about this?” Stiles asked Scott, hesitating as his fingers swept
the edges of the last picture of the year.
“Yeah,” Scott said as his voice choked. “I think… if it’s okay with you?” Then
he looked up at Stiles with a bit of worry. “I don’t want this to be
depressing.”
“Naw,” Stiles smiled at Scott, the first heartfelt smile since he had stopped
being possessed. “I think it’s awesome. I think…. I think it’s perfect.”
He put in the holes and carefully tied the last page into their book. Allison’s
face smiled at him, dimples deep, flowers around her head, a few in her hair.
She looked like she had not a care in the world, and at the time, maybe she
hadn’t. Above her picture Scott had printed very neatly, “Gone Forever, Never
Forgotten”. Under it was: “Allison Argent, my first love” followed with her
birth date and death date.
Stiles felt the tug in his chest, felt the need to do something more, but he
knew he couldn’t. He had loved her too, not the same way Scott had, but just as
fiercely. She had laughed, had brightened their lives, and when she was wrong,
she apologized. No one could have asked for more.
“I’ll miss her,” Stiles whispered.
“We all will,” Scott said, slipping an arm around Stiles and pulling him close.
“We won’t ever forget.”
“Never.”
***** Fully Protected *****
Chapter Summary
     A random wolf comes to Beacon Hills and Stiles deals with him.
Chapter Notes
     Inspired by this beautiful picture! Absolutely gorgeous, and this bit
     just flew out. Warning for darker Stiles, blood, death.
The werewolf scrambled back as he stared at the glowing red eyes coming towards
him from the shadows of the woods. He held up his arms and babbled nonsense for
several minutes until the face surrounding the eyes became clear. It was a
wolf, huge jaws open in a soft growl, saliva dripping from teeth as long as the
werewolf’s hands. Fur so dark it looked like the absolute absence of light
surrounded the eyes and teeth and the werewolf groveled before the wolf.
“I’m sorry, I didn’t think the woods were occupied. I was seeking sanctuary,
please, I’m being chased by Hunters!” he cried out, face bending to the ground,
forehead touching dry leaves.
“You probably were,” an amused voice said and the werewolf looked up again. Now
he could see a boy, no older than seventeen, riding the huge wolf like the wolf
was his own personal mount. “The Hunters around here are relentless, chasing
their prey all through the woods, sometimes for days, sometimes weeks, until
they find who they’re looking for and take them down.”
“Please help me,” the werewolf gasped out. “I’ve done nothing wrong, and I
heard there was a…” his eyes traveled to the wolf again, not sure what exactly
was going on between the boy and the wolf. “A reasonable Alpha around,” he
finished softly.
The wolf growled, snapping it’s teeth at the werewolf and the eyes glowed more
fiercely. The boy laughed, reaching up to touch the necklace of feathers, beads
and bones, each piece glowing faintly as he touched them. Now the werewolf
could see that he was wearing a red hoodie with a black tshirt underneath, but
the light from the necklace made it all glow a sickly red color.
“There is a reasonable Alpha around, but I’m afraid you’re not being honest
with us, so I’m going to be less reasonable,” the boy said. The hand not
stroking the necklace lightly pet the wolf’s head.
“You’re not an Alpha,” the werewolf snorted. “He’s the Alpha.” Now he nodded at
the wolf.
“You know so little, don’t you,” the boy said. “I’m Stiles, by the way. You
have three options. You can either leave and never come back again, or you can
run around and probably die, or you can tell us the truth.”
The werewolf stared at them, eyes flickering between the two several times
before a slow smile spread out on his lips. “You’re right of course,” he said.
“I wasn’t telling the truth.” Quickly, he tossed a bag right into the face of
the wolf and pulled out a gun, shooting it in the direction of the boy. The
shot rang out loud and he smiled as he smelled blood in the air.
“If you were hired to come to *my* woods, to kill *me*, I would think the
people hiring you would have been more cautious,” the boy said gently.
The werewolf wanted to laugh, but he couldn’t speak as pain blossomed around
his throat and the dust from the bag poofed into existence in front of his
face. Wolfsbane soaked into the wound and his hands scrambled at his throat,
tearing into the flesh, trying to stop from inhaling even more of the deadly
plant. He could hear the wolf growling, could feel his breath on his face even
though the wolf wasn’t near.
“I’m sorry, I really am,” Stiles said, and the werewolf actually believed him.
“But you don’t belong here, and we only take certain people into our pack.”
His heart was beating fast, so fast, and the wolfsbane was rushing through his
body. There was no saving him, he didn’t even understand how it was moving so
quickly through him. Falling back on the ground, he felt the pain leech to his
arms, his chest, then to his heart. Blood choked him, he coughed and it
splashed out of his mouth. He’d been warned to be careful, and he had thought
he had been, but he hadn’t been warned that they were so well prepared.
“I wish you would tell me who sent you though. I’d really like to send them a
thank you card. Could you tell me?” Stiles asked, and he felt a paw land on his
leg, pressing down painfully.
“I…” he choked out. The he decided the bitch had it coming. “Argent.” It was
the last word he ever said.
Stiles sighed and patted Derek’s head. “Let Chris take care of that.” With a
soft huff, Derek turned and padded softly back into the woods, back to their
home and pack.
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