Archive of Our Own ^beta

Stiles got him into trouble. It was a fact of Scott’s life at this point. Like when Stiles convinced him to try out for the lacrosse team because Lydia had started dating Jackson.

Or, in seventh grade, when Stiles convinced him that trying to dye his hair with Kool-aid was a great idea and Scott ended up grounded for a week for staining the bathtub blue.

Or, the best example, when Stiles convinced him to go look for the other half of the body and Scott ended up a werewolf.

So, really, he shouldn’t have been surprised when they got arrested.

---

Their first free weekend at college, one where they could both get away from their campuses for a few hours, and they ended up in the back of a cop car, handcuffed.

“It wasn’t even that bad of an explosion! How was I supposed to know those particular cans were heat-sensitive?” Stiles grumbled, leaning forward. Scott rolled his eyes and shifted so the cuffs weren’t digging into his back, wincing as he felt his stomach start healing. “Or that they’d react that badly to being dropped?”

“First, they’re cans of spray paint. Did you really expect them to not react badly? And also? That’s what you get for holding it near the fire,” Scott replied, giving Stiles his best you’re lucky I love you, dumbass look. “Who do we call, Stiles? Your dad?”

“My dad? Are you nuts?” Stiles asked, voice high and climbing steadily higher, his eyes wide. “He would kill us. Why can’t we call your mom?”

“Do you not remember sophomore year? When she grounded me? From you?” Scott said, thunking his head against the plastic backseat once, twice, three times, and sighing.

“Oh, right. Shit.”

“We could always call Allison? She offered to bail us out if we needed it?”

“Do you really want to tell your ex-girlfriend that we were arrested for an explosion? After the time you and Lydia nearly blew up the chemistry lab in senior year?” Stiles asked, raising an eyebrow, and Scott frowned. “Dude, Deaton! Remember, he said to call if you need anything at all.”

“Uh, I don’t think that included needing to be bailed out of jail.”

“We don’t exactly have a lot of options, Scott,” Stiles said, shrugging as much as he could. “And besides, he helped you deal with Gerard. How do you know he wouldn’t bail you out?”

Scott sighed and shrugged.

If only Danny had been his best friend instead, maybe this wouldn’t have happened.

Oh, wait, there was that thing when he was thirteen--

Okay, so if he’d been best friends with Danny, he might’ve gotten arrested sooner.

Well. At least Danny wasn’t so annoying.

Scott used his phone call for calling Deaton, who did, in fact, not necessarily mean bailing them out of jail, but did so with no complaints and a simple request that they avoid being arrested in the future, or else he wasn’t going to bail them out, and would instead call their parents for them.

Of course, Stiles borrowed a cop’s phone and ended up calling their parents anyway, because they were more scared of an impending court date over an accident than their parents’ wrath, so his threat didn’t end up scaring them as much as it probably should have.

The Sheriff and Scott’s mom showed up an hour later, and Stiles’ dad went in to talk to whoever it was he needed to, while Melissa gave them disappointed looks. Scott slid lower in his chair and avoided meeting his mother’s eyes.

“An explosion.” Scott winced. He wasn’t sure if the disappointment was worse than the anger he'd been expecting. She gave him a look and he sank lower. Yeah, definitely worse.

Next to him, Stiles was trying to blend in with the chair, presumably so she wouldn't look at him with the same disappointment in her eyes. Scott winced again, this time in sympathy, when she looked at him anyway. Stiles shrank down even further.

“We’re sorry?” Scott offered.

“Why did you have cans of spray paint anyway?” Melissa asked and Stiles shrugged.

“There were fairies and they were trying to curse this kid,” Scott explained, since Stiles wasn’t going to. “Deaton had told us about this thing that could stop it, so we were doing it. And then it got a little too close to the fire. So.”

“It would have been fine, too, if the fairies hadn’t gotten pissed at us and made sure it exploded,” Stiles added, rolling his eyes and elbowing Scott in the ribs. Scott grunted and resisted the urge to shove back. “And Scott decided to be a dumbass and practically wrapped himself around the damn can. Nearly killed himself doing it, too.”

“You what.” His mother’s voice was flat and Scott winced.

“I’m sorry? But it was either me or Stiles, and I can heal like he can’t, and I wasn’t about to let him die while doing something stupid,” Scott said, shrugging a little and sighing. “I can’t be sorry for that.”

“Okay, first? I don’t care if you can heal, don’t do something like that again,” Stiles replied. Scott grunted as Stiles’ elbow connected with his side again and mumbled a quiet ‘ow’. “Shut up. Second, I thought we discussed your habit of nearly dying for everyone and how that needed to stop.”

“But you’re not everyone! You’re—”

“I don’t care!” Stiles said loudly, cutting him off. “I don’t care! This? Needs to stop. Period, okay? No conditions to that.”

“But, Stiles—”

“No! No dying!” Scott opened his mouth again to argue and Stiles just glared at him. Scott’s mouth snapped shut and he let it drop. There were times for arguing about it with Stiles, and this wasn’t one of them, especially with his mom watching.

“Okay, then. I’m glad you two were trying to help someone, but please do not get arrested again,” she said, sighing and giving them another disappointed look. “Please, please, please do not get arrested again. Or I will find a way to ground you. I don’t care if you’re off at college.”

“Would now be a good time to remind you that—”

“Hey, Stiles, your dad listens to me when we want to punish you two,” Melissa replied, cutting him off. Stiles wisely shut up and Scott felt him sink lower in his seat. Stiles’ dad walked back over to them and sighed.

“Alright, nobody’s pressing charges or anything, and I made it clear it was a one-time thing, so they’re letting it drop,” he said and Scott heaved a sigh of relief. Thank god. “We’re still talking about this though.”

“Come on, I’m sure there’s a diner around here open at this hour,” Melissa said and Scott got up, yanking on Stiles’ arm until he stood, because if he didn’t, Stiles would sit there and try to out-stubborn their parents and all that was going to end in was frustration and possibly his mother killing Stiles.

Scott caught Stiles’ muttering and your stupid head and revised that thought. It would definitely end in his mother killing Stiles.

---

After, between the conversations with their parents and his desire to not have an arrest record, Scott at least tried to keep Stiles out of trouble, because god knew Stiles wasn’t going to do it himself.

(Scott loved his best friend, he really, really did, but Stiles had the worst survival instinct on the planet. We’re gonna go look for the other half of the body in the woods! At night! While the killer hasn’t been caught! Scott sometimes wondered how Stiles had lived to see college, because it obviously was not through any innate ability to stay out of trouble.)

Clearly, though, he’d overestimated Stiles’ ability to keep himself out of trouble while they were on separate campuses by even assuming he could, for the five days they were separated between weekends, not do anything bad.

And here he’d thought he’d learned about tempting fate after being bitten by a werewolf.

---

Scott was busy reading, nose-deep in studying for his algebra final and trying to remember the formulas, when his phone rang, the stupid One Direction song Stiles had set for his ringtone startling him.

Everyone else in the--

“What is it, Stiles?”

“So, uh, as far as my dad knows, we are now dating. And by dating, I mean possibly engaged.”

Scott felt the people at the student bookstore would totally understand the random smear of highlighter all over page 167 when he explained the situation.

---

“Okay, explain? Now?” Scott asked, steering Stiles into the café they always made a point of visiting every weekend and pushing him into one of the chairs. “Not that I mind, exactly, but I’d at least like to know why your dad’s under the impression that we’re engaged.”

“Because I kind of told him as much?” Stiles said, wincing and burying his head in his hands. Scott frowned and went over to the counter to order Stiles his favorite, with what was approximately a pound of whipped cream dumped on top of the drink, because Stiles looked like he needed it. “I mean. You know I finally told him over spring break, yeah? And ever since then, it’s like he’s gone out of his way to find boys for me to date. Like, he’s being supportive, and I know for a fact that he put all of them through background checks to make sure I’m safe, but... I just...”

“Got a little frustrated with it?” Scott replied, handing over Stiles’ sugary-sweet concoction and sipping his own coffee. “It could be worse. So. What are the important dates, when’s the wedding, and are we bothering with engagement rings?”

“Are you actually agreeing to this?”

“No, I’m asking these questions and setting up a backstory just to tell you you’re on your own,” Scott muttered, rolling his eyes. “Yes, I’m agreeing to this. So, again: important dates, when’s the wedding, and engagement rings?”

“Okay, then. Uh, I just said ‘after Allison’, so, that could be, like, whenever,” Stiles said, shrugging and sipping at his drink. Scott leaned over and wiped away the whipped cream that was stuck to Stiles’ nose with a napkin before he could get it on anything else, like his shirt, which was in distinct danger of getting whipped cream on the sleeve, with Stiles’ flailing about. “So, maybe that fall? A couple of days after school started? Would that work?”

Scott nodded and smiled when Stiles ended up with whipped cream on his nose again. “Fine with me, and you have whipped cream on your nose again, and no, do not use your shirt sleeve,” he said, sighing and wiping Stiles’ nose with a napkin again. “God, and you yell at me for being messy.”

“Hey, you are a very messy person,” Stiles replied, scrunching his nose up and making a face at Scott. “Anyway... The wedding is as long as we are not at home. Because then we can cancel it, saying we decided we were better off as friends, and there, nobody’s feelings are hurt.”

“You do realize your dad isn’t gonna let that happen, right? We’re going to end up married while we’re there,” Scott pointed out. “He’d say ‘well, why don’t you have the wedding while you’re here’ and if we tried to argue, mom would agree with him and then we’d either have to face down two sets of parent puppy eyes and tell them no, or we’d end up agreeing anyway.”

Stiles conceded with a nod. “We can always get divorced afterwards anyway, right?”

“Exactly.” Scott grinned. This would totally work out. “We’ll claim we have irreconcilable differences or something and that we just can’t make it work. And then we’re back to normal.”

“Awesome. Are you sure you’re okay with this?” Stiles asked, and Scott nodded.

“Yes, I’m sure. Stop asking,” he said. “So, engagement rings?”

“If we can find something that isn’t going to empty our bank accounts, I guess. Do you want them?” Stiles asked, scooping a bunch of the whipped cream still left in the cup onto a finger and attempting to eat it. Scott managed to get a napkin under his hand just in time for it to fall off and land on the napkin rather than Stiles’ lap.

“Such a mess,” Scott muttered, mouth quirking into a smile at Stiles’ frustrated sigh. “How have you managed to not stain everything you own? Anyway, I certainly wouldn’t propose without getting rings of some kind, even if they’re relatively cheap.”

Stiles nodded like he’d anticipated that answer and smiled. “Alright, then. We can look around pawn shops or something. How are you so okay with this, anyway?”

“We’ve known each other forever, and dude, it’s not like we’ve never kissed before, and do you not remember the time with Lydia in the fifth grade, when you wanted her to think you didn’t like her anymore so she might pay attention to you?” Scott raised his eyebrows at Stiles, who groaned and turned red.

“You had to bring that up?” he asked, burying his face in his hands.

“I’m just saying that this isn’t the first time we’ve done something like this,” Scott said, shrugging and sipping his coffee while Stiles groaned again. “It wasn’t that embarrassing. I mean, is kissing me in the school cafeteria worse than telling your dad you’re actually engaged to your best friend so he’ll stop trying to set you up with people?”

“No,” Stiles mumbled, burying his head in his hands. Scott sighed and got up, coming around the table to pull Stiles up and hug him.

“It’ll be fine. We play happy couple over the summer, we make your dad, and, by extension, probably the entirety of Beacon Hills, happy that you’ve got someone that he can trust, and it’s fine. We can always divorce once we’re back, anyway,” Scott said, letting Stiles bury his face in Scott’s shoulder and just hugging him tighter. “Come on, let’s hit up the pawn shops. There’s got to be something relatively cheap.”

Two hours and fifty bucks later, they both had silver bands on their left hands and their backstory detailed out. Scott had sat through enough movies to know that if they were going to lie like this, they need to make sure that they have the story straight, or there were going to be contradictions all over the place and they would get caught.

Scott made sure they took the time to fully figure it all out, like their anniversaries and first date, then saved it to his laptop in a password-protected file for future reference.

(And he actually had a better password than ‘Allison’ this time, so Stiles seriously could shut up. Scott really needed a new best friend.)

---

Scott wasn’t surprised when he got the phone call from his mother.

“So, when were you going to tell me that you and Stiles are engaged?”

“When we got home for the summer. I swear, mom, I just wanted to tell you in person,” Scott said, silently celebrating the fact that they worked out the details already. “Stiles just let it slip to his dad because he was so excited.” He grinned and added, “you know Stiles, mom,” with the affection he actually did feel at the idea tingeing the statement.

“Yeah, I do, and now he’s going to be my son-in-law,” Melissa replied, the slight exhale he could pick up letting him know she was smiling. “So, how long has this been going on?”

“Since, uh, junior year,” he said, pulling up the file to double-check and silently thankful he was right.

“Was that why you guys were sneaking around so much?” she asked and Scott made an affirmative noise as he leaned down to pick up his algebra textbook. He still had finals between now and the trip home and he needed to study. “I figured it was to run with Derek Hale or something. I thought he and Stiles were--”

Scott’s hand slackened in shock, the book in his hand slipping and falling on his foot. He bit off the curse that wanted to come out and instead focused on what the hell had just come out of his mother’s mouth.

“Oh, god, mom, no. They’d kill each other inside of an hour. On a good day,” he explained, trying not to laugh too much when he pulled up Skype to tell Stiles. “I mean, Derek’s better than he used to be, but they’d still kill each other. It’s why we try not to leave them alone together for very long.”

“Oh, okay. Well, that’s a relief. With Derek’s uncle, that wedding would have been...” Melissa paused before finishing with, “awkward. Very, very awkward.”

“That’s assuming Derek didn’t kill him again before it happened.”

“...Derek killed him before?” Melissa asked, and before Scott could reply, added, “you know what? I don’t want to know. When’s the wedding?”

“We figured the week before we went back to school. We thought you guys would want to be there.” Scott clicked on Stiles’ username and tapped out mom thought you and derek were dating, hitting send and grinning at Stiles’ immediate reaction of WTF????. “Stiles should be telling his dad right about now.”

“Alright, tell Stiles to have his dad call me, yeah? He owes me money.”

“Yeah, sure—wait, what? Have you been betting on us?” he asked and heard his mom laugh.

“Yeah. Him, me, half of Beacon Hills,” she said, and Scott could hear the amusement in her tone. “Hate to break it to you, honey, but, for a lot of us, your engagement wasn’t much of a surprise.”

“Why?”

“Preschool, honey. You promised to marry Stiles in preschool. And then, you know, high school happened. You went as each other’s prom dates,” Melissa continued and Scott rolled his eyes.

“Because we didn’t have dates! Lydia had that one dude and Allison went with Isaac! That’s the only reason we went together!”

“If you say so.”

Scott resisted the urge to hang up on her.

---

When his last final was over and done with, Scott came back to his dorm to find Stiles sprawled across his bed, asleep with his face on the keyboard of his laptop. Scott had a moment of worry over whether or not the Y key was actually fusing itself to Stiles’ forehead like it appeared.

He could wake Stiles up, and he probably should, given that he needed to start packing and Stiles was sleeping right where his duffel was going to sit. On the other hand, Stiles was obviously exhausted, with the shadows under his eyes and hair that had obviously had Stiles’ hands run through it a few thousand times. Scott let him sleep and just left his duffel on the floor to start packing.

Scott caught sight of the ring on Stiles’ finger and felt himself smile, something that had become automatic somewhere in the three weeks since they’d become engaged, just like the wave of affection that was washing over him.

He let himself look for a minute, just watching Stiles sleep (in the least creepiest way possible), before shaking himself out of it and getting his clothes out to pack. With finals done, they’d be going home soon, and he needed to get his stuff packed for the move back home for the summer.

Accidentally slamming one of the drawers shut as he was pulling his clothes out to put in his duffel was loud enough to wake Stiles, who jerked up, wild-eyed with obvious bedhead, and looked around frantically for a minute before he realized it was Scott and he leaned back against the wall, shoulders slumping as he relaxed.

“Way to give me a heart attack,” he muttered and Scott smiled.

“Hey, you fell asleep on my bed. I could have woken you up when I got in, but I didn’t, because I’m a nice person and let my fiancé sleep,” he replied, folding up the lacrosse jersey he’d managed to hold onto and putting it in his bag. He caught Stiles’ funny little half-smile out of the corner of his eye and looked up. “What?”

“Nothing, just… You called me your fiancé. First time you’ve done that, is all,” Stiles said, shaking his head and looking down at his lap. Scott smiled, because yeah, that’s what Stiles was. Not like he wasn’t going to call him that.

“Well, we kinda have to get used to it, so might as well start now. Like with the rings.” Scott held up his left hand, where he was wearing his own ring. “Besides, we are getting married. I should call you what you are.”

“Your pathetic best friend who needs you to marry him because he’s too much of a wuss to face his dad?” Stiles’ tone was bitter and self-deprecating and Scott dropped the t-shirt in his hand in favor of leaning over the bed and pulling Stiles into a hug.

“Hey, don’t say that. That’s my fiancé and best friend you’re talking about,” he murmured, holding onto Stiles as tight as he could without hurting him. “Your impulse control was never the best, but you know I’ll always help you. Even if it means marrying your scrawny ass.”

“Hey, hey, my ass is not scrawny, thank you. It is perfectly proportionate to my body.”

“And your body is scrawny,” Scott teased, grinning and finally letting go of Stiles. “I do mean it, you know. I’ll help you, doesn’t matter what it’s with.” He paused and scrunched his nose up. “Maybe try not to repeat the whole ‘looking for dead bodies in the woods’ situation, though. Once was enough, I think.”

“Yeah, I don’t think we need yet another werewolf running around. Although, the powers would be cool,” Stiles replied, making what Scott assumed were supposed to be claw gestures with his hands. “I could be an awesome werewolf, couldn’t I?”

“...You’d be something.”

The indignant noise that came out of Stiles’ mouth was somewhere between a squeak and a groan, with the frown making it seem even more ridiculous. Scott suppressed a snicker and just smiled sweetly.

“Yes, dear?”

Stiles glared at him. “Shut up and pack already. Sooner you finish, the sooner we get to go home, since I already packed up and have my stuff in the Jeep.”

“Yes, dear,” Scott replied, grinning and picking the fallen t-shirt back up to fold and put away. “Can you pack up my desk while I do this? Unless you’d rather help fold my underwear.”

“Dude, I saw you in pull-ups and helped you through the traumatic time that was potty-training. I haven’t been phased by your underwear since preschool. You do your desk, I’ll handle your clothes. Knowing you, you packed wrong and ran out of space.”

“Hey, I can pack just fine!”

---

“Snacks for the road,” Stiles said, climbing into the Jeep and handing a plastic bag to Scott. “Because you have the metabolism of a freaking werewolf, I got approximately six thousand bags of beef jerky. Also, Skittles.”

“I love you,” Scott said, digging through the bag and finding the Skittles. “So very much. You’re my favorite.”

“Your obsession with Skittles continues to be one which I do not understand. And pass me my Twizzlers.” Stiles held out a hand and Scott dutifully dropped the package into it. “And I love you too. Now eat. We have another hour and a half before we get home. Where are we staying?”

“With mom and Isaac, unless you want to stay with your dad,” Scott replied, popping a Skittle into his mouth and looking over at Stiles. “Do you?”

“Maybe for a while, at some point, but you can always stay with me for a bit, if that happens. Dude, seriously, why the Skittles love?” Stiles asked, raising an eyebrow as Scott tore into another package.

“Dude, seriously, why the Twizzlers love?” Scott retorted, pointing to the mostly-empty bag of candy on Stiles’ lap.

“Shush, you, and eat your awful candy,” Stiles said, flipping on the radio. Scott stuck his tongue out and stole one of Stiles’ Twizzlers, just for the hell of it.

“Hey, hey, hey. Give me that back!”

---

“Mom, we’re home!” Scott called, stepping into the house, his and Stiles’ duffel bags slung over his shoulder, while Stiles held the box of Scott’s non-clothing stuff. There was a thundering noise from the stairs and Scott turned just in time to see Isaac coming down with a grin on his face. “Where’s mom?”

“Work. Someone called in sick, so she took the shift,” he explained. “Should be back soon, though. How was the ride?”

“Boring, mostly,” Stiles replied, setting the box down. “How’s everything here?”

“Fine. Deaton said he’s glad you could get through the rest of the year without getting arrested again, by the way. Oh, and he also said congratulations on finally getting engaged,” Isaac said, pausing and raising his eyebrows at them before asking, “is it true that you actually used to drop Scott off at work with a kiss on the cheek and a ‘see you later, honey’?”

“Oh, my god, it was a joke,” Stiles muttered, whining and shaking his head. “Okay, so it was a running joke, but still! A joke!”

“It could be worse,” Scott said, dropping the duffel bags and kissing Stiles on the cheek. “Come on, we can drop our stuff in my room.” Scott paused and turned to Isaac. “It is still my room, right?”

“Yup. I have what was the guest room. It’s now my room,” Isaac informed him. “Your mom kind of made that one abundantly clear. I offered to move out and she told me, in no uncertain terms, that if I was moving out for any reason other than I actually really wanted to, and unless I had a place to move into, I wasn’t leaving. Your mom’s kind of scary.”

“Welcome to my world. She ground you yet?”

“Yeah. I kind of forgot curfew one night and snuck in at three AM,” he admitted. “She was worried, and actually fell asleep on my bed, waiting for me to get home. Grounded for a week.” Isaac shrugged and smiled, like he didn’t really mind. “Anyway, you should probably get unpacked. Or let Stiles unpack.”

“Why does nobody assume I can handle my own packing and unpacking?” Scott groaned and let his head drop, sighing in frustration. “Stiles insisted on packing my clothes for me. I survived just fine before I met you.”

“You were four when you met me. You survived because you had your mom there,” Stiles replied, patting Scott’s shoulder. “Nice try, though.”

“You suck,” Scott muttered, glaring at Stiles, who just grinned at him. Isaac snorted.

“So I’ve heard.”

---

Scott had known Sheriff Stilinski since he was four and the Sheriff had shown up to preschool to pick Stiles up and had the unfortunate luck of dealing with Stiles’ temper tantrum over the fact that it meant he and Scott had to stop holding hands. (Complete with Stiles wailing that he was going to marry Scott, darn it, with all the dramatics a four-year-old Stiles could muster. Which almost rivaled all the dramatics an eighteen-year-old Stiles could muster. It was sort of impressive.)

Scott really should have known, though, that knowing Stiles’ father when he was just Stiles’ best friend was completely different than knowing Stiles’ father when he was actually engaged to Stiles.

In hindsight, the Sheriff pulling a Charlie Swan and cleaning his sidearm when Scott and Stiles came over to say that they were home and crashing at Scott’s made perfect sense. Didn’t make Scott feel any better about the (then perfectly justified and extremely undignified) yelp that escaped him at the sight.

“Dad, seriously? You’ve known Scott since we were four,” Stiles said, rolling his eyes. “Put it away, or I’ll go through the fridge and replace everything with salad fixings.”

“You ruin all my fun.” Stiles’ dad made a face and Stiles rolled his eyes. “Can you give us a minute, Stiles?”

“Fine, but I’m going through the fridge,” Stiles informed him, wandering into the kitchen. Stiles’ dad turned to Scott and sighed.

“I don’t really think I need to explain what, exactly, will happen if you break Stiles’ heart, but I’m saying it anyway: You hurt him, and I have a laundry list of crimes I can tie you to without having to forge a bit of evidence. Understood?” he asked. Scott nodded and smiled, ducking his head so it wasn’t quite so obvious.

“If it’s any consolation, I really don’t want to hurt him. He’s been my best friend since preschool, and I can’t imagine not wanting to be with him, you know?” His smile stretched into a grin, almost involuntarily, and he looked up at the Sheriff. “I mean, it’s Stiles.” The Sheriff’s face softened into a smile and Scott ducked his head, trying to keep his head down until he was sure his grin was at least 50% less ridiculous.

“Yeah, I know. Just remember what I said. And tell your mother she owes me twenty bucks.”

Scott’s head snapped up and he sighed in frustration, his muttered why is everyone betting on us coming in stereo, Stiles shouting it from the kitchen.

---

“So, who’s sleeping where?” Stiles asked, looking at the bed, then to Scott, who just huffed out a laugh and shook his head.

“Dude, we’ve shared a bed before. No need to get weird about it. Besides, I’d rather not hear couch remarks over one of us crashing elsewhere for the night,” he said, yawning and crawling into bed. “Come on. Sleep. Seriously. Besides, I know your weird sleeping habits by now, blanket thief.”

“So says the guy who literally kicked me out of bed once,” Stiles retorted, sticking his tongue out, but followed Scott into bed nonetheless. “Thank you. Again.”

“Dude, seriously, you can stop thanking me. It’s fine,” Scott replied, reaching out and pulling Stiles closer until he was tight up against Scott’s front. He dropped a kiss onto the top of Stiles’ head and closed his eyes. “Night, Stiles.”

“Mmph.” And of course Stiles was already half-asleep. Scott didn’t know why he was surprised. Stiles slept anywhere that sat still long enough, and even a few places that didn’t.

Scott risked another kiss and smiled, falling asleep not long after.

Waking up to Isaac knocking on the door and mumbling a plea for the morning person to make the coffee was made significantly better by also waking up to Stiles sprawled across him, like he was making up for his blanket thievery by being Scott’s own personal human blanket in his sleep.

(Scott didn’t dwell on that particular thought. Introspection was Stiles’ thing. Scott was quite content with ignoring things and denial.)

---

Scott wasn’t even surprised when Lydia showed up on their doorstep less than a week later, brandishing wedding magazines and a planner. Scott dropped onto the couch and let her talk, automatically reaching to pull Stiles closer.

“We were just gonna, like, rent tuxes and a church and call it good. Pizza for the reception, and then there, done,” Scott said. Lydia rolled her eyes and sighed.

“That is not a wedding. That’s not even a decent prom date. No. You can at least throw a decent reception. Mainly because I want an excuse to dress up and look pretty.” She smiled at them and raised an eyebrow. “So, do I get my excuse or am I going to have to convince you?”

“I’m sold,” Stiles replied, grinning at her. Scott elbowed him. “What?”

“Hello, fiancé, sitting right here,” Scott said, pouting at Stiles. Stiles just rolled his eyes and kissed him, just leaning in and pressing his lips to Scott’s in the lightest, fastest version of a kiss Scott had ever felt.

“You know I love you, so shut up,” Stiles murmured and Scott smiled but didn’t say anything, trying to resist the urge to grin like a dork. Stiles took advantage of the silence that had fallen over Scott like a ton of bricks to turn back to Lydia and start talking again. “So, then, what do you think we should do?”

“Well, who are you inviting?” Lydia asked. Scott didn’t know who they planned to invite, beyond their parents and friends, and hoped Stiles had any idea.

“Does it matter? Whether or not they’re invited, half of Beacon Hills is going to show up anyway,” Stiles said, shrugging and leaning against Scott’s shoulder.

A knock at the front door interrupted Lydia’s reply and Scott got up to answer it, leaving Stiles and Lydia to continue talking it out. Not that he minded, because wedding planning was not something he was good at. Like, at all. Planning in general just wasn’t his thing, a fact that Stiles despaired about every time class sign-ups rolled around.

Narrowly avoiding tripping over Stiles’ sneakers, which were right in the middle of the floor, Scott opened it and froze at the sight of the person on the other side. He took in the cheap suit, the crease in the shirt from where his badge was usually hanging, the nervous foot tapping, and the hair ruffled from what Scott suspected was the nervous tic of running his hand through it, and proceeded to slam the door in his father’s face.

“Who was it?” Stiles asked, kicking his sneakers out of the way and coming up behind Scott. There was another knock at the door and Stiles opened it this time, dodging Scott’s hands, which had been reaching to stop him. The smile that had been on Stiles’ face all morning dropped away and was replaced by a scowl fast enough that Scott almost couldn’t keep up with the change in expression.

Scott suspected that if Stiles had been the werewolf, he’d have been growling.

“Fuck off,” he said, and slammed the door even harder than Scott had.

“So, I’m going to assume he’s not invited to the wedding,” Lydia said from the doorway to the living room. “Which is good, because that suit was terrible. I could see the cheap from here.” Scott looked over at her pleadingly and she just tilted her head in acknowledgement, stepping back into the living room and out of sight without another word.

Scott felt Stiles pull him closer and leaned his head down to rest on Stiles’ shoulder, hooking his fingers through the belt loops on Stiles’ jeans and feeling the tug on his own jeans as Stiles’ hands moved to mirror him. He sighed and closed his eyes. Why now? After all these years, why now? He was done with this shit, he’d moved past it, had closed the door on it, and moved on. Why did it have to show up at his front door?

“I’d ask if you’re okay, but I think that’s kind of a massively stupid question right now,” Stiles muttered, breath tickling the hair at the nape of Scott’s neck. “Instead, I’ll ask this. Do you want me to call my dad? Because I can and I will, if you want me to.”

“Not right now. Maybe if he shows up again,” Scott replied, turning his head and tucking his face into the curve of Stiles’ neck. “Things are settled and okay, and I finally managed to completely move on. Why’d he have to show up now?” He felt Stiles’ hands move from between them to pull him even closer, into a proper, if mostly one-sided, hug, and leaned as close as he could without letting go of Stiles’ jeans, letting the seams digging into his fingers anchor him just a little more, terrified Stiles might not be enough to keep him in check this time.

“Because he’s a rat bastard,” Stiles said, and Scott felt him turn and press a kiss to the side of Scott’s head. “We can ask Lydia to come back later and we can spend the day vegging out on the couch and watching movies, if you want. You still haven’t seen Star Wars, which, you know, you should fix. Like, now.”

“Nah, I’ll be okay,” Scott murmured, voice barely audible with his mouth pressed against Stiles’ skin. “Should start planning anyway, yeah? When should we have it, by the way? Like, the day.”

“There’s always the easy one. The 19th was the day you first showed up at preschool, forever and ever ago.” Scott’s grin was involuntary, and wide enough that it almost hurt. Of all the things Stiles managed to remember.

“How do you remember that?”

“I have a photo, it was up on my dorm wall, next to my bed, of you and me, the day after we met, and it’s got the date in the corner. And because it’s one of those things I’ve managed to remember over the past fifteen years I’ve known you,” he said and shrugged, accidentally dislodging Scott’s head. “Like the fact that you used to be violently allergic to mushrooms. Or that your locker combination in freshman year was my birthday.”

“You’re scary,” Scott informed him and Stiles shrugged again, finally letting Scott go, though Scott still held onto Stiles’ belt loops. “Thanks for making me feel better.”

“Hey, you’re my fiancé and best friend. It’s in the job description,” Stiles replied, leaning in and kissing Scott’s cheek. “Come on, let’s go, before Lydia ends up planning it for us.”

“I wouldn’t complain if she did.”

---

“You are amazing, Lydia,” Scott said, walking her to the door and smiling. “Seriously.”

“Yeah, yeah. You do realize this means I’m not buying you a wedding present, of course,” she informed him. Stiles pretended to sulk and Lydia just gave him a look that said she wasn’t buying it. “By the way? Bachelor parties, yes or no?”

“Can we just have a movie night instead?” Stiles asked, looking over at Scott and raising an eyebrow. “That okay with you?”

Scott nodded and stepped up behind Stiles, wrapping his arms around Stiles’ waist and hooking his chin over Stiles’ shoulder. “Works for me. It’ll be way more fun than a party, anyway. And we can invite the pack.”

“You two completely missed the bachelor part of that question, didn’t you?” Lydia asked, rolling her eyes and shaking her head as she made a note on her planner. “I don’t know why I do this for you. And Peter’s not invited, right?”

“He’s banned. Deaton’s lining the church with mountain ash once everyone else is inside, and breaking it after it’s over, and Derek’s threatened to kill him if he tries to show up anyway,” Scott answered, shrugging and leaning his head against Stiles’. “I hope he doesn’t, because if Derek or Peter gets blood on anything, Stiles is going to kill them.”

“I really will. They aren’t screwing up my wedding day, damn it,” Stiles muttered and Scott kissed his cheek without thinking about it.

It should probably worry him how easily he and Stiles had fallen into the habit of being affectionate with each other, but Scott tried not to dwell on it, because he really didn’t want the guilt that would inevitably come with thinking about the fact that they were lying to pretty much everyone.

...Even if it didn’t actually feel like a lie. (Not that Scott was admitting that, oh, ever.)

Lydia’s goodbye brought Scott back to the present and he echoed Stiles’ “good night” before she left, closing the door behind herself.

“Well, today was fun. Mostly,” Stiles said, turning around to hug Scott. “You okay, dude?”

“‘m fine. Don’t worry,” Scott mumbled into Stiles’ shoulder. “Mom’ll be home soon. Should let her know about him being in town.”

Stiles snorted. “The day I don’t worry about you is the day I marry Derek Hale. You’d have better luck getting Isaac to admit to his Gossip Girl addiction.”

“Isaac has a Gossip Girl addiction?” Melissa asked. Scott heard the front door shut behind her and raised his head to smile at her briefly before dropping his head back down to Stiles’ shoulder. “Is that why Netflix is recommending teen dramas? Because I had enough of that when you were in high school.”

“Yeah, he does. Scott’s father’s in town. He showed up here this afternoon,” Stiles said, and Scott heard his mother’s muttered damn. “I told him to fuck off, and Scott slammed the door in his face. But he’ll probably be back soon, unfortunately. Bastard.”

“Oh, great. And I thought today was a good day,” she replied, and Scott reached out blindly to take her hand.

“Stiles and I set a date, by the way,” Scott said, raising his head again. “Some good news to balance out him showing up. August 19th.”

“Wonderful,” Melissa said, grinning momentarily, before it dropped and she smirked at them. “I’m still not paying for the wedding. Your dad’s the sheriff, Stiles, he can pay for it.”

“I’ll talk to him about it,” Stiles promised, smiling at her. “Now, today has been long and exhausting, for various reasons, so I’m kidnapping my fiancé and forcing him to actually sleep. Goodnight, future mother-in-law.”

“Goodnight, future--oh god, I’m going to be related to you.”

---

Scott woke up one particular morning a week later, to find Stiles already out of bed, and stumbled downstairs to investigate. He found his mother, his fiancé, and his packmate all crowded around one end of the table, staring at the coffeemaker like they were trying to make it work with their minds.

“Coffee?” he asked, and they all turned, as one, to look at him pleadingly. It was kind of scary, like something out of a zombie movie. “Right, then. Breakfast while I’m at it?”

“I love you,” Stiles replied, smiling at him, still half-asleep. “Marry me?”

“Already am,” Scott said, smiling and kissing Stiles’ forehead. Isaac made a gagging noise.

“Guys, not before coffee, please. I’m not awake enough for this.”

“You’re not awake enough? I got in at one AM last night,” Melissa muttered, rolling her eyes. “Please, Scott?”

“On it,” he said, turning and starting the coffee, before moving onto breakfast. He looked over when he was through, and saw Stiles and Isaac leaning their heads on his mom’s shoulders, while Melissa’s head was tipped back, all of them with their eyes closed. Stiles was snoring quietly.

Scott grinned. His family was ridiculous.

“Come on, guys, breakfast and coffee,” he said softly, waving a mug under Stiles’ nose and not surprised in the slightest when it was snatched out of his hand mid-motion. He set Isaac and his mother’s down in front of them, following it with the plates of food and sitting down at his own place next to Stiles. “More awake now?”

“I love you,” Stiles said again, leaning in and kissing Scott briefly before retreating back to his cup of coffee. “So much. You’re my favorite forever.”

“I should hope so, given that you are marrying me,” Scott replied. He smiled and started eating, watching as his mother and Isaac did the same, though Stiles continued to become one with his mug. “Stiles, breathe. Air is more important than coffee.”

“Lies.”

Someone knocked on the front door, loudly enough that it echoed through the house, and Scott sighed. Because he knew that knock. Stiles was almost instantly more awake and aware and was scowling.

“Now can I call my dad?” he asked, already reaching for Melissa’s cell phone, which was lying in the middle of the table. Scott sighed and shook his head.

“No. I’m gonna go talk to him,” he said, getting up and heading towards the door. He saw Stiles get up and follow him out of the corner of his eye, felt Stiles take his hand and tangle their fingers together, and squeezed Stiles’ hand, grateful for the support. He opened the door to find his father standing there, as Scott had expected. “What?”

“Can we talk?” his father asked. Scott shook his head and caught Stiles’ glare when he did.

“I don’t want to talk to you.”

“Yeah, just in case the door slamming in your face twice wasn’t enough of an indication, you aren’t welcome,” Stiles said and Scott raised Stiles’ hand to press a kiss to the back of it, hoping to calm him down a little, before he did something he’d get in trouble for, like attack Scott’s father.

“I want to apologize.” Stiles snorted and Scott raised his eyebrows in surprise.

“For what?” Stiles asked and Scott’s father appeared to be at a loss. “Do you actually know why he doesn’t want to talk to you?”

“Because I left?”

“No. I don’t want to talk to you because you screwed me up. And I finally got past it and over it and moved on,” Scott said, rolling his eyes. “So, bye.” Stiles helpfully closed the door in his father’s face and Scott sighed, leaning his head on Stiles’ shoulder. “At least he’s not invited to the wedding?”

“If he shows up, I’m gonna borrow your baseball bat and take it to his head,” Stiles muttered, tilting his head to rest it against Scott’s. “Seriously. I don’t care if I go to jail for it. Justifiable, anyway. Hell, if he shows up here again, I’m going to take the baseball bat to his head.”

“Metal or wood?” Scott asked jokingly, closing his eyes and sighing. Seeing his father, even for a few minutes, was just... draining. Less than five minutes, and he was exhausted. “I might beat you to a second cup of coffee for once.”

“You can have mine, if you really need it.” Scott felt the press of Stiles’ lips to the side of his head and smiled, leaning into Stiles more.

He heard his mother’s muttered wow, it must be love and Isaac’s snort, and shook his head, standing upright and letting Stiles pull him into a hug.

“We should finish breakfast. I need to go ask Deaton if I can get my job back for the summer later. Can’t let your dad pay for everything,” Scott said, tugging on Stiles’ hand to lead him back into the kitchen to eat.

“Dude, sure you can. It’s not like he has to feed a teenager anymore.”

---

It was his anchor for a while, the thing to focus on when he caught sight of his father in town, or when his father cornered him to try and talk (which happened far more often than he cared to think about). He’d just close his eyes and take deep calming breaths and think of stuff they had to do for the wedding. It was still technically a lie, but thanks to Lydia’s planning, it was going to be an awesome and very pretty lie.

Stiles actually helped her with most of the planning, which Scott was thankful for, because he didn’t actually know the first thing about planning an actual wedding, and Stiles’ ability to hyperfocus turned out to be useful for more things than researching werewolves and cramming for finals.

Stiles dropped him off at work every day, like he had when they were still teenagers and Scott was still sharing a car with his mom, and this time, the kiss and the ‘see you later’ weren’t a joke. Not to Scott, anyway.

He couldn’t keep it up. Any lie in the wedding and their pretending to be engaged wasn’t on his end, not anymore.

It hadn’t been for a while.

He wasn’t pretending whenever he said “I love you”, or kissed Stiles, or wanted to hold his hand. He wasn’t that good of an actor, and he couldn’t fake something like that.

In hindsight, making sure to pick a college in the same town as Stiles’, since they couldn’t go together, hanging out every possible weekend they could, video-chatting when they couldn’t, surprising Stiles with flowers on Valentine’s Day to cheer him up over not having a date, it all made a rather large amount of sense for him to be in love with Stiles. It was also rather pathetic that he hadn’t noticed it up until now.

At least faking being in love with Stiles was easier now. Even if it was only because it wasn’t an act.

Scott chose to ignore the part of his brain pointing out that they were just going to get divorced a few months down the line. He had this, and he was going to hold onto it for as long as he could, and he could continue to be pathetically in love with his (by then ex-)husband afterwards. He’d find a way to live with it. He’d found a way to live with being a werewolf. He was sure he’d figure out a way to be in love with his best friend without it either being glaringly obvious or absolutely pathetic.

---

After what Scott privately referred to as being hit with the clue-by-four, he spent a good two weeks freaking out over his interactions with Stiles, afraid that he’d be too obvious and give away the fact that he actually was in love with his fiancé.

Once he realized that Stiles didn’t notice, he threw himself into it, because he had a solid excuse to curl around Stiles when they were sitting on the couch, to lean in and kiss him whenever he wanted, to just be able to reach over and tangle their fingers together whenever they were walking somewhere, or when Stiles was driving him to work and he slipped his hand over Stiles’ where it was resting on the stick shift, Stiles flipping his hand over to hold onto Scott’s.

He knew, he knew he shouldn’t get used to it, that he and Stiles would get divorced after a few months.

But waking up to find Stiles drooling on his shoulder, clinging to Scott like a koala to a tree, legs firmly wrapped around Scott’s, was something he couldn’t help but get used to, just like leaning in and kissing Stiles awake, completely uncaring of his morning breath or the fact that Stiles cursed at him every time for parting him from his one true love, just like peeling himself away to go make their coffee and bring it back up to wave in front of Stiles’ face to wake him up (again), and curling back up in bed with their coffee while he and Stiles talked about the stuff they had to do that day.

It was like, once he admitted to himself that he was in love with Stiles, he couldn’t shut it off. He’d find himself hiding a smile when Stiles ended up with ice cream on his nose or find gummi bears hiding in his sleeves at the end of the day, and wanting to hug him whenever he found Stiles curled up in front of the television and watching one of the romantic comedy movies that Stiles swore up and down he didn’t like at all. Last time, he’d come down to find Stiles asleep and the DVD menu for Maid In Manhattan playing, so he’d tugged a blanket over Stiles and took the popcorn before it fell and made a mess, kissing Stiles’ forehead and heading into the kitchen to make himself something to eat.

All of it made him kind of ridiculously glad that he and Stiles had agreed on just the traditional wedding vows, because there was no way he would’ve been able to write his own without giving everything away. As it was, the promises to honor and cherish and love Stiles were going to be hard enough to get through. Especially since Stiles wouldn’t mean it.

---

“So, what are you doing about your last names?” Lydia asked. She had her planner out on the table in front of her, everything for the wedding was spread out around it. Scott was kind of in awe of how much she managed to do.

“Hyphenating,” he and Stiles said in unison. Stiles didn’t even glance up from where he was looking at a magazine to answer the question. Lydia raised an eyebrow.

“Scott and Stiles McCall-Stilinski?”

“Technically, it’s Scott and--” Stiles’ hand slapped over his mouth before Scott could even finish his sentence.

“You swore you’d never tell,” he hissed and Scott smiled, kissing the palm of Stiles’ hand before tugging it away from his mouth.

“If Lydia’s doing what I think she is and even sparing us most of the paperwork, she kind of needs to know,” he replied and Stiles scowled, grumbling quietly.

“Ugh, fine. Go ahead. If you must.”

“Scott and Genim Stilinski-McCall.” Lydia didn’t even blink at the name, just wrote it down and continued flipping through the paperwork. “That isn’t even that bad, you know. Boyd’s name is Vernon Milton Boyd. The fourth. So, really, Genim? Not that bad.”

“You shut up. You have a normal name,” Stiles said, making a face at him. Scott leaned over and kissed Stiles’ cheek, grinning when Stiles swatted at him.

“Come on, you know I’m right,” Scott murmured in his ear. “Admit it.”

“Alright, alright, it’s not that bad of a name. Happy?” Stiles asked, shoving him away. Scott’s grin softened to a smile and he nodded, letting Stiles go back to his magazine.

“Alright. Aside from finalizing reservations and your tuxedo fittings, nearly everything’s good to go, then,” Lydia informed him, packing away all her papers.

“How much do I owe you for all of this, because seriously, you’re a life-saver.”

“Consider it a wedding present. And because I want you to owe me a favor,” Lydia said, smiling at him. Scott felt himself shrink a little in fear, because Lydia was kind of scary. Awesome, but scary. “By the way, Allison’s finally home, if you want to see her. She called me last night and we talked. She also wants to talk to Stiles about something, but I’m not saying what.” Her smile widened and Scott winced. He had a feeling he knew what it was about. “By the way, best men? Or maid of honor or whatever? Did you pick them?”

“Uh, I’ve got Isaac, and I think Stiles had asked Danny. Apparently, they’re actually sort of friends now,” Scott answered, shrugging. “I don’t know how it happened. Especially after Danny tried to kill Stiles during the lacrosse scrimmage in senior year.”

“Whatever works, I guess. I’ll get their fitting appointments taken care of as well. Guest list was finalized by Stiles yesterday while you were at work, and invitations are being printed and shipped here. We’ll get those mailed out on your next day off. Mainly because you’re helping.” Lydia smirked and Scott inched backwards a bit. “Better get licking, wolf boy.”

---

Lydia wasn’t serious. They were all envelopes where he just had to peel off the wax paper and close them, which Scott was immensely thankful for. As was Stiles, apparently, because Stiles had kissed him and they’d kind of gotten a little carried away, at least until Lydia cleared her throat loudly enough to get their attention.

Just as they finished up with the last one, there was a knock at the front door and Lydia opened it to reveal Allison, and behind her, Scott’s father. Isaac and Melissa seemed to appear from thin air when Allison stepped into the house, the three of them and Lydia all “borrowing” Stiles, saying they needed to talk to him, leaving Scott alone with his father.

“Can I come in?” Scott shrugged and gestured to the couch, indicating his father was welcome to sit. “I wanted to talk. What, exactly, did I do? Just so I know.”

Scott sighed and scratched at the back of his head, wondering where the hell he should start.

“When I still lived with you, a lot of the stuff you said to me, presumably to try and ‘help’ me, in the loosest possible definition of the word, screwed with my head, and left me having to deal with hating myself,” he said honestly, shoving his hands in his pockets to keep himself from letting his nervous tics show.

“I’m sorry,” his father said, and Scott snorted. “I can’t fix it. I can’t make it better, and I can’t change it, but I am sorry.”

He meant it, as far as Scott could tell. Well, as much as he could mean it without actually understanding what it did to Scott. It didn’t make it better, and Scott wasn’t going to forgive him, but at least he got why the hell Scott wanted him to leave.

“I can’t forgive you. I just can’t. I’ll accept the apology, but that’s all I can do,” Scott replied, shrugging slightly. “I would also like it if you left me the hell alone now.”

His father nodded and got up, making an aborted gesture like he was going to pull Scott in for a hug and thought better of it, before awkwardly waving and leaving, the door slamming shut behind him.

Scott heard footsteps behind him and turned just in time for Stiles to pull him in for a hug, Scott automatically ducking his head to bury his face in Stiles’ shoulder.

“What happened?”

“He apologized, and agreed to leave me alone, that was about it,” Scott mumbled, tilting his head so Stiles could catch it.

“Good.” Scott felt Stiles’ arms tighten around him and smiled slightly. “And hey, you’re getting a better dad out of our marriage, so at least that’s something, right?”

“Yeah, there is that.”

“Your mom’s terrifying, by the way.”

“Shovel talk?” Scott asked, smile widening automatically.

“Not the most accurate term,” Stiles replied, leaning his head against Scott’s. “Mainly because that implies a shovel would be required. Your mother, Isaac, Allison, and Lydia all made it clear, in absolutely no uncertain terms, that if I break your heart, there won’t be a body left for the police to find. You have some seriously protective family.”

“Your dad threatened to give me up for all the shit we got into in high school, so we’re about even on the protective front,” Scott said, leaning his head up to kiss Stiles’ cheek, choosing to completely ignore the fact that he could hear his mother and Isaac and everyone still in the kitchen and leaving them alone, so he didn’t have to be affectionate.

He was so screwed.

---

With his father no longer hanging around, the days dragged a little less and blurred together a little more. It felt like it went from the beginning of July to the end in the space of a few days. The wedding, which previous had been just a ‘sometime soon-ish’ thing in Scott’s head, was suddenly three weeks away, and Lydia was dragging them out of the house by their ears to their final tuxedo fittings.

They were in the tiny little rental shop, with Stiles in the dressing room getting ready and Scott and Lydia sitting on the bench outside, and Stiles was talking.

“So, Lydia, got a date for the wedding yet?”

“I do. Allison agreed to be my date,” Lydia said, smirking at the thud that came from inside the dressing room. Scott smiled, because he just knew that Stiles had jerked up in surprise and tripped over his own pants. Mainly because he’d lost count of the number of times Stiles had done it before when getting ready in the mornings.

“Allison, really?” Scott asked, raising an eyebrow at Lydia, who nodded. Scott blinked a few times in surprise, eventually shrugging. He couldn’t really judge. At least they weren’t getting married because one of them was in love with the other to the point of pathetic and willing to bend over backwards to help them. And they weren’t going to get divorced as soon as everyone looked the other way.

(The reminder that they were going to get a divorce popped up at the worst times, like when he woke up before Stiles in the morning and spent a minute smiling at the sight of Stiles curled up to him, left arm flung across Scott’s body and ring catching the light coming through Scott’s window, or when he came home to Stiles asleep on the couch after a day working at the animal clinic, and he kept wanting to see it every day, whether it was that, or Stiles working his way through a second cup of coffee, or Stiles cooking dinner while Scott set the table and worked on dessert across the room.)

“Okay, how does it look?” Stiles asked, coming out of the dressing room and snapping Scott out of his thoughts. Scott absolutely refused to look away from Stiles’ face, because he seriously was not going to survive seeing his fiancé in a tux, he knew that already.

“You look great,” he said, still not actually looking. Stiles gave him an annoyed look.

“Come on, Scott, you didn’t actually look.” Scott sighed and resigned himself to his fate, tearing his eyes away from Stiles’ face and looking at how it fit. And yeah, Scott was dead. Of course it fit Stiles perfectly. The bowtie managed to look perfect, and if a clumsy teenager with ADHD was ever James Bond, it was then.

He was so, so screwed.

“Come on, McCall, your turn,” Lydia said, shoving at his shoulder and startling him. He got into the dressing room and changed into the suit that was hanging in the bag with his name on it. After a minute of fumbling with the tie, he gave up on it and stepped out, twisting the end of the tie between his fingers.

“I can’t do it. Stiles, can you?” he asked, chancing a look over at Stiles, who was staring at him, although Scott couldn’t tell if it was a good kind of staring or not. He assumed not, because it wasn’t like his luck ever actually worked out like that. “Stiles?”

Stiles snapped out of it and got up, tying Scott’s tie quickly and making sure it was straight. Scott took advantage of the fact that they had an audience and pressed his lips to Stiles’, completely ignoring Lydia’s comments of guys, hello, I do not need to lose my lunch and continuing to kiss him.

“You look great,” Stiles murmured when he eventually pulled away and Scott beamed, resting his forehead against Stiles’ and hooking his fingers through the belt loops of Stiles’ slacks.

“We’re actually getting married. It’s actually happening. Like, I knew, but this just kinda made it real,” he said softly. Lydia made a gagging noise from behind them, but Scott ignored it, just like he was cheerfully ignoring the voice in his head reminding him that this wasn’t going to last.

---

The day of the wedding itself came sooner than Scott expected. Between taking extra hours at the clinic so he wouldn’t see Stiles so much and thus save his sanity, and the rest of his time being taken up by last-minute preparations, the last three weeks before went by fast, and then he was waking up to find Stiles already awake and staring at his ring.

“A few more hours and my mistake will be official, and we’ll need a ridiculous and expensive amount of paperwork to undo it,” he said when he noticed Scott was awake. “I’m sorry. I can tell them to cancel it and we can forget about this.”

“Lydia will kill us both if we do that, you realize?” Scott asked, kissing the top of Stiles’ head and resisting the urge to tell Stiles that he was going through with it because he wanted to marry Stiles, not just because he was helping him out. “I told you, it’s fine, okay? No turning back now. Besides, I want to see everyone’s faces when I actually use your first name.”

Stiles smiled slightly and buried his face in Scott’s shoulder. “I’m sorry. Again.”

“Dude, don’t be. Besides, consider it me making good on my promise from preschool,” he replied, poking Stiles’ side and making him laugh.

“And here, I thought I was the only one who remembered the day we met,” Stiles said, raising his head to give Scott an amused look.

“Hey, I remember promises, even if they were to silly four-year-old boys who were crying over his dad saying we couldn’t get married at four years old.”

“Hey! I was not silly,” Stiles muttered, frowning at Scott, who just grinned and raised an eyebrow at him. He didn’t say a word. Stiles already knew his opinion on the subject.“Okay, a little silly.”

Scott snorted. “A little?” Yeah, and Scott was just a little in love with him. Right.

“Shut up. You’re supposed to be marrying me today, not making fun of me,” Stiles said, scrunching his face up and pouting. “Mean.”

“Both of you, shut up and get your coffee!” Lydia yelled from outside the door. “You have to get ready and get to the church by noon. If you aren’t, I will hunt you down and I will kill you, in ways that you can’t come back from.” Scott winced and looked at Stiles, hugging him tightly for a minute before letting go.

“Come on, let’s go. Before we die horribly.”

---

Scott didn’t remember all of the ceremony. He remembered seeing Isaac and Danny mouth Genim? at each other, and he remembered smiling at Stiles so hard that his face started hurting, and he remembered Stiles’ dad trying to hide the fact that he was crying.

And he definitely remembered Derek yelling finally! when they were pronounced married. Which, uh, ouch, because Scott hadn’t thought he was so oblivious that Derek picked up on it before he did. (Apparently not.)

When they were told they could kiss, Scott had a split-second of panic before Stiles leaned in and kissed him, and Scott kissed back without thinking about it, and it took Danny and Isaac pointedly coughing at them before Scott tuned back into reality and reluctantly pulled away. He was blushing, he knew it, but Stiles’ face was equally red, so he felt a little better about it. Especially when Stiles grabbed his hand and tangled their fingers together.

At Lydia’s insistence, they didn’t have the reception on the lacrosse field like they originally wanted, mainly because her reaction to their suggestion was a glare and a muttered grass stains. And Scott kind of didn’t want to die, so they asked about the ice rink instead, and she agreed to that, with nothing more than a comment about how at least ice wouldn’t stain.

Someone, who Scott strongly suspected was Danny and Isaac, decorated Stiles’ Jeep with a “just married” sign and toilet paper, and he had to hide his face in Stiles’ shoulder so he wouldn’t burst out laughing at Stiles’ offended noises over the toilet paper.

Scott drove them to the reception, holding onto Stiles’ hand and running his thumb over Stiles’ wedding band, trying to keep himself in the moment and ignoring the voice in his head that kept reminding him it was all for show, that they were still getting a divorce when they went back to school. He mostly succeeded, but he clung to Stiles a little more, because if this was all he got, he was going to take it.

The reception was amazing, not that Scott expected any less with Lydia’s planning. And she’d managed to find a pizza place willing to cater a wedding, thank god.

Of course, that meant Scott spent half the meal wiping the sauce off of Stiles’ face before he got it all over his tux.

“Such a freaking mess,” he muttered, earning an eyeroll from Stiles. “You are. Don’t deny it. Seriously, don’t get sauce anywhere else. Or Lydia will kill you. With her clutch. Or possibly her headband. It could go either way.”

“Yeah, yeah, shut up, McCall,” Stiles replied, sticking his tongue out.

“Stilinski-McCall, thank you very much,” Scott corrected, grinning at his husband. Yeah, that was never going to get old. Stiles ducked his head and grinned at the correction and Scott couldn’t help but lean in and kiss him, ignoring the noise of everyone else in favor of listening to Stiles’ heartbeat skip and stutter until he pulled away.

Stiles’ smile afterwards, a tiny quirk at the corner of his mouth, made Scott’s heart hurt, because he should be getting to do this with someone he actually loved, not Scott, and certainly not when it was just pretending for everyone else.

The tiny, selfish part of Scott was glad it was with him, though, because he wanted to be the one Stiles was in love with and Stiles was married to, and he got to be, at least for a little while.

The clink of metal on glass distracted Scott and he looked up to find Isaac and Danny standing and smirking at them.

Oh, god.

“Best man speeches,” Isaac said, a touch too gleefully for Scott’s comfort.

Oh, god.

“Now, I didn’t know Scott and Stiles way back when they were tiny four-year-olds and promising to marry each other when they grew up, but I knew them through most of high school,” Isaac began and Scott had to resist the urge to sink lower in his seat at the grin on Isaac’s face. “They were like an old married couple, even back then. Stiles would yell at Scott when he didn’t think about his own safety, and Scott would give it right back, especially because Stiles has the worst survival instinct on the planet. I swear, I had to resist the urge to lock them in a closet a few thousand times. But bickering or not, oblivious or not, they were obviously perfect for each other back then, and that still holds true now. So, to Scott and Stiles. May you cause many people significantly less frustration now, and may you not get arrested ever again.”

Scott did sink lower in his seat and felt Stiles lean into him, automatically reaching for each other’s hands and watching Danny get up.

“Now, unlike Isaac, I did know them in preschool. I remember watching one of the older kids tear after Stiles because he’d been a sarcastic little ass, even back then. Stiles had dived behind Scott and his mom, and while Mrs. McCall chased the kid off, Stiles and Scott met each other, started talking, and the next thing I knew, they were hugging. So, really, it was no surprise when they pleaded with Lydia to marry them before the end of the day,” Danny said, grinning at them evilly. Scott tried not to blush too obviously, because oh god, he’d forgotten how quickly they’d become friends, and he really should’ve expected that someone would poke fun. “Sheriff Stilinski had shown up later, and had to break it to them that, sadly, four years old is a little too young to get married. Stiles had pitched a fit and refused to let go of Scott’s hand until Scott promised to marry him when they were older. Man, if I’d known back then that you were going to make good on it, I probably wouldn’t have laughed quite so hard.”

“Liar!” Stiles yelled and Danny shrugged.

“Okay, yeah, that is a lie. I would’ve laughed harder, probably. Point is, they’re dorks, and they’re dorks that have been in love and engaged since preschool. Which is probably why the news that they got officially engaged their freshman year of college wasn’t surprising in the least,” he said, smirking. “I mean, how many of you thought they were dating in high school?” Scott groaned when he saw everyone’s hands in the air, because oh god, was he really that oblivious? “I know, right? In all seriousness, though, I have never seen two people so obviously made for each other. Congratulations to you two, and may you be happy for a long time.” Danny paused and tilted his head. “Mainly because I think that if you ever break up, half the town’s going to end up crying and the other half will assume the apocalypse is imminent.”

“You mean that their divorce wouldn’t actually be the first sign of the apocalypse?” Isaac asked and Scott just turned and buried his face in Stiles’ shoulder, tuning out everyone else, because seriously?

When he figured it was safe and sat back up, he found it was Stiles’ dad’s turn for a speech. At least he wasn’t going to be quite as bad as Danny and Isaac. Or, at least, Scott hoped.

“When Stiles was sixteen, he told me he was in love with someone. Really, truly in love with someone. He didn’t mention their name, though. At the time, I’d assumed it was Lydia Martin,” he said and Scott’s eyebrows shot up in surprise. He turned to Stiles to find him giving him a duh look.

“It was Lydia,” Stiles muttered and Scott shook his head, kissing Stiles’ temple.

“I know that and you know that, but he doesn’t. Remember, we’ve been dating since junior year, yeah?” Stiles nodded and leaned his head on Scott’s shoulder, Scott wrapping an arm around Stiles’ shoulder and looking back at Stiles’ dad.

“I realize now that he was talking about Scott, which, okay, I really should have clued in on before, especially after finding them at Jungle, of all places. In hindsight, a lot of things make sense now that I know about them.” He paused and grinned before continuing. “Especially when I’d go to wake them up and find Stiles sprawled across Scott like a human blanket. Being serious for a minute, though, I am glad that they’re together and happy, because if anybody deserves to be happy together, it’s you two. Congratulations, guys.”

Scott dug for the handkerchief Lydia had made him take and held it out to Stiles, who wiped at his eyes as surreptitiously as he could. Scott knew he was going to cry, because he knew Stiles was a sucker for weddings.

His mom, thankfully, had asked to not have to do a speech, mainly on the grounds that she was going to ruin her makeup enough without trying to talk about the two of them and how happy she was for them. With no further speeches to be made, Scott and Stiles were promptly dragged onto the dance floor that had been set up.

They’d tried to beg out of it, pointing out that neither of them could actually dance, and for everyone else’s safety it was far better that they didn’t try, but Lydia had none of it and insisted on at least a first dance, and neither of them were a match for her when she was set on something, so they caved with only a little complaint.

Scott pulled Stiles close and leaned his forehead against Stiles as the song started up, the two of them slowly rotating on the spot in the closest approximation of a dance they could manage without tripping over each other or hurting themselves.

Stiles ducked his head and rested it against Scott’s shoulder and Scott mirrored him, closing his eyes and letting himself pretend, just for a minute, that it wasn’t pretend and that he was actually marrying Stiles. That they weren’t getting a divorce after this.

That Stiles was actually in love with him too.

---

After the dance and an extremely amusing attempt at ice-skating that ended with Scott falling on his ass and dragging Stiles down with him, all because Stiles tried to pull Scott along, since Stiles somehow ended up as the better skater, they were pulled aside by their parents for a few minutes.

“We wanted to give you this. It’s our wedding present to you guys,” Melissa said, holding out a key to them. Stiles took it and looked at it while his dad started talking.

“The first couple months’ rent are paid up, and it’s right between your schools. It comes almost entirely furnished. All you’ll need is a bed for your bedroom and that’s it.”

“Thank you,” Scott said, pulling his mom in for a hug for a minute before turning and doing the same with Stiles’ dad. “Seriously, thank you.”

“You’re welcome. We figured you guys might want your own space,” Melissa replied, smiling at the pair of them. She was suspiciously shiny-eyed, and Scott had a feeling he looked the same as she hugged him again. “You’re our boys, and we wanted to do something for you.”

“Thanks, Mrs. McCall,” Stiles said, adding when he saw her look, “I mean, um, Melissa?”

“That’s better,” she replied, nodding at them. “We’ll let you go, now. I’m sure you’d rather get home and spend a few hours sleeping after today.”

“Yeah. I know I’m tired.” Stiles frowned at him and Scott smiled at the worried expression. “Don’t even tell me I should have told you. Like you’re not exhausted and neglected to mention it.”

Stiles’ look told him he was exactly right but Stiles didn’t want to admit it.

“And I think that’s our cue,” Stiles’ dad said, smiling and hugging them both. “Good night, boys.”

“Night, Mom, Mr. Stilinksi--Dad,” Scott corrected himself, remembering the talk he and the Sheriff had had a few nights before. “Sorry, habit.” Their parents said goodnight again and walked away, leaving Scott and Stiles alone. “Come on, let’s go home, yeah? Get some sleep.”

“Works for me,” Stiles murmured, taking Scott’s hand when he offered it and dragging him out to the Jeep.

---

They didn’t have a honeymoon, mainly because it would have been wasted on them, because as much as Scott wanted to, and wanted Stiles to want him back, he didn’t, and instead they spent a few days packing their stuff back up to move into the apartment their parents had gotten them. Stiles insisted on packing Scott’s clothes again, saying he wouldn’t be able to do it himself, and, okay, Scott gave up arguing that one when he tried to pack his duffel and ended up running out of space after only a few pairs of jeans.

He still didn’t understand how that happened, because there was plenty of room in his duffel, and his jeans didn’t take up that much space. Whenever he asked Stiles how he managed it, though, all Stiles would say was “tetris”. Scott had no idea how a video game worked into it, but whatever.

Saying goodbye was hard, but Scott reminded his mom that they’d all see each other in a few months for Thanksgiving, and it got a little easier, even if she got shiny-eyed and hugged them a little too tight.

“Visit soon, alright?” she said, giving them serious looks. “You too, Stiles.”

“Yes, ma’am,” Stiles replied, not a trace of his usual sarcasm to be found.

The car trip back was awkward. Scott kept wanting to reach over and hold Stiles’ hand, and sometimes, he’d start to but always stopped himself, putting his hands back in his own lap.

“I figure we give it a couple of months, and then file. We can cite irreconcilable differences and it’ll be fine,” Stiles said, not looking at Scott. “I’m sorry you had to do this in the first place.”

“Hey, I’ve been saying it all summer: I don’t mind,” Scott replied, reaching out to touch Stiles’ shoulder and freezing mid-motion when Stiles flinched. He dropped his hands into his lap again and tried to keep himself from freaking out. “I didn’t mind it at all.”

“Still. I should’ve just come clean to my dad, instead of making you do it.”

“You didn’t make me do anything. And I said I didn’t mind. Stiles, it’s okay,” Scott said, frustration creeping into his voice. He clenched his hands in the fabric of his shorts and tried to focus, but it was hard when his anchor was the reason he was snapping. “It’s not like being married to you is the worst thing in the world.”

Stiles didn’t answer him.

---

Scott took the couch before Stiles could argue with him about it. Stiles could take the bed. The couch felt too big on his own as it was. He didn’t even want to think about trying to sleep in the actual bed.

The part that actually managed to suck less than not being able to sleep with Stiles was that it meant Scott didn’t sleep at all.

It wasn’t that the couch was uncomfortable, because it was even more comfortable than the one at his mom’s house, and considering how many times he’d fallen asleep on that…

It was that sleeping alone, without the human blanket that was his husband his best friend, was too weird. He kept waiting to hear Stiles’ snoring in his ear, feel Stiles’ weight practically pinning him down, but it never came.

He didn’t want to admit it to Stiles, because he didn’t want Stiles to say sorry, Scott, but I don’t feel that way if he told Stiles he loved him. He didn’t want it to get any more awkward than it already was by complicating things and confessing how he felt.

As it was, he wasn’t sure they could get back to their old relationship.

He’d catch himself leaning in to kiss Stiles or reaching for his hand, and he had to make himself stop, because they didn’t have an audience. They didn’t have to keep up the act.

He caught Stiles’ aborted motions sometimes, and had to close his eyes and hide his face in his hands because it hurt. Even if it was all faked, just for show, he’d rather have that than this, because at least then, he could pretend, for a few minutes, that it was real and Stiles loved him back and everything was great and happy and that maybe they weren’t going to crash and burn horribly.

Now, though, he had to pull his pillow over his head and imagine he was back at their wedding, Stiles tugging him along on the ice, trying to teach him to ice skate, but all it did was make it hurt worse.

It was a growing distance between them, one that wasn’t helped by the pictures Scott saw on facebook from the wedding, or from their fittings, or of them curled up asleep on the couch. The pictures made it worse, especially the stricken expression on Stiles’ face over the ones of them in the church, reciting their vows.

(In the photo, Scott’ was beaming at Stiles, so obviously in love that Scott had no idea how Stiles hadn’t figured it out. Stiles’ smile in the photo wasn’t as wide, but just as genuine-looking. It was Scott’s favorite photo from their wedding, and he had it hidden under his pillow, because sometimes, even faking it and having Stiles that close without actually having him was still better than what they had now.)

That reaction had probably hurt the worst, even more than the pictures themselves or the aborted motions, because it hammered home that Scott was in love with Stiles, and Stiles wouldn’t love him back, not the way Scott wanted.

It was a feeling in his chest, like he’d been hollowed out and all that was left was an ache that settled into his bones, hurting every time he caught Stiles’ expression at pictures online of the two of them, or when Stiles would come home from class and just walk past him, straight into the bedroom and slamming the door, ignoring Scott asking if he wanted to go hang out.

---

Over the summer, whenever he’d come home to find Stiles on the couch watching one of his movies, Stiles would invite him to watch and Scott would curl up next to him with a book and read while Stiles watched his movie and got popcorn in Scott’s hair.

Now, though, if Scott came home to Stiles watching a romantic comedy, he’d assume it was a sign of the impending apocalypse, because he hadn’t seen Stiles so much as touch his DVDs in months.

Scott was still fairly certain he hadn’t even unpacked them yet.

Not that Scott could judge. His books had been sitting in their boxes in the corner of the living room since they’d been taken out of the Jeep. Reading wasn’t the same without having his head on Stiles’ lap and Stiles munching on popcorn and watching “How To Lose A Guy In Ten Days” while he read about Meggie and Mo and Fenoglio.

Scott didn’t bother unpacking them. They could continue to gather dust with Stiles’ DVDs.

---

Given the reason they were going to claim for their divorce, the fact that they started arguing more and more was rather well-timed.

It started over tiny things, like the fact that Stiles forgot to put the cap back on the toothpaste, or the fact that Scott forgot to turn off the coffeemaker before he left for class one day, and eventually moved onto picking on each other, like Stiles’ tendency to mother Scott, and Scott’s tendency to be overprotective of Stiles.

Even Scott’s once-teasing jab of calling Stiles messy whenever he ate turned into another argument.

Scott wasn’t entirely sure why they started arguing the way they did, or how they ended up blowing up at each other, just that he was hurting and every time Stiles said something that stung (which, being Stiles, was often), he wanted to make Stiles feel at least a little awful about what was happening.

The most recent one had started because Stiles had taken off his wedding ring.

Scott had seen the blank space on his finger where the ring should be and he knew his heartbreak was showing on his face. And Stiles had kind of--lost it.

“It wasn’t real anyway, right? So why bother wearing it?” Stiles asked and Scott winced, playing with his own ring, a habit he’d developed since they’d started wearing the engagement rings back in May, something he’d started using to anchor himself whenever Stiles was the reason he was in danger of wolfing out. He didn’t want to hurt someone just because Stiles was hurting him. Even if the person he hurt was Stiles. Especially if the person he hurt was Stiles.

“We’re still faking it for another month, remember?” Scott reminded him, trying not to let the hurt show on his face.

“We’re claiming we can’t make it work, so obviously, I don’t have to fake it too hard for much longer. Which is good, because honestly? This is getting too damn difficult,” Stiles replied, and followed the statement with the slam of the front door as he walked out.

(Stiles didn’t come back for a couple hours, and by that time, Scott had fallen asleep on the couch, one hand holding onto the one picture he’d had printed from their wedding, of them at the altar. He woke up the next morning with a blanket pulled over him and no idea how it had gotten there.)

---

The papers were sitting on the table, and Stiles had already signed them. Not having any custody or property disputes made the entire thing far easier than Scott felt it should be, considering it was ruining their friendship and dissolving their marriage.

They’d been there when Scott had gotten home from his morning classes, Stiles’ scribble of a signature standing out starkly against the paper. Scott had ignored them for a while, dropping his bag on the couch and going for a shower, so he could let himself imagine, for a few minutes, that they were happy together, and they did make it work, and that Stiles didn’t seem to hate him the way he did now.

When he got out, Stiles was sitting at the table, staring at the papers.

“You haven’t signed them yet,” he said. Scott shrugged and sat down, rolling his eyes.

“God forbid I take a shower before I assist in the demise of our relationship,” he replied, picking up the pen and looking at the papers.

After a minute of staring at the loopy scrawl that was Stiles’ name, Scott finally put the pen to paper and willed his hand to stop shaking as he signed his own name.

“There, done,” he muttered, dropping the pen and closing his eyes. One of them was going to have to move out, because they couldn’t stay living together right now. Probably Scott, because he wouldn’t be able to live here after this. Not with the ghosts of past arguments and fights living with him.

He probably wouldn’t see Stiles again. He could at least come clean.

“Since we probably won’t see each other again after this, because let’s be honest, the fighting’s screwed our friendship up,” Scott started, playing with his ring absent-mindedly while Stiles looked over the papers, presumably to make sure everything was in order, “I suppose I should be honest.”

“Oh, now you want to be honest?” Stiles asked sardonically.

“Will you just shut up for a minute?” Scott asked, rolling his eyes and sighing. “I’m trying to tell you I’m actually in love with you, for god’s sake.”

Following his admission, there was a quiet whispery noise as the papers fell from Stiles’ hand to the floor.

“I was scared to admit it, because I thought we’d be able to go back to the way we were before, you know, but we can’t, so I figure I’ll come clean. I finally realized I was in love with you over the summer, but I didn’t want to admit it, because we were pretending. It wasn’t real, right? I didn’t want to fuck it up,” Scott said, closing his eyes so he wouldn’t have to see Stiles’ face. “And since we’re divorced, I don’t have to worry about it so much, because I was going to move out anyway.”

There was a ripping noise and Scott opened his eyes again to find Stiles practically shredding the divorce papers. Scott managed to get out a “wait, what—” before Stiles launched himself at him and kissed him.

“Oh my god, you asshole, I’ve been in love with you since forever. My dad wasn’t wrong, I was talking about you when I was sixteen,” Stiles mumbled, kissing Scott every few words. “I blurted out I was engaged to you because I actually wanted to be, instead of dating anybody else. God, I’ve been in love with you since before Allison.” With that, he pressed his mouth to Scott’s again for another kiss, this one longer and harder than before.

“Seriously?” Scott asked, pulling away for a minute to stare incredulously at Stiles. “Why didn’t you say anything?”

“Hello, fucking up a fifteen year friendship? Hell no,” Stiles muttered, shaking his head. “I’d rather have you as a friend than not at all.”

“Does this mean we’re not getting divorced?”

“Duh,” Stiles replied, grinning and leaning in to kiss Scott again. Scott smiled into it, one hand sliding into Stiles’ hair for a better hold and the other tangling his fingers with Stiles’ free hand.

“I’m sorry,” Scott mumbled, pulling away and looking away from Stiles. “I really am. I should’ve said something earlier.”

“You should have said something earlier?” Stiles scoffed. “I’ve been in love with you since I was fifteen. I think I kind of win when it comes to being pathetic and stupid.”

“Hey, what have I said about talking like that?” Scott scolded, frowning at Stiles.

“Ah, but I’m not your fiancé anymore,” Stiles replied, scrunching his nose up and grinning, proving he knew exactly what Scott meant and was poking fun.

“No, now you’re my husband, and I still don’t like you talking about yourself like that,” Scott said, leaning up and kissing Stiles again. “Please don’t. There’s nothing to be sorry for.”

“Alright, alright. I won’t,” Stiles agreed with an eyeroll.

“Promise?” Stiles didn’t answer, just kissed him again, but Scott took it as a yes anyway.

---

Later, curled up in their bed together, Stiles sprawled out on top of him the way that Scott missed, Scott picked up Stiles’ ring from where it was resting on the bedside table.

“Can I—?” he got out before Stiles cut him off with a kiss.

“Yes, yes, yes,” Stiles said in response, pulling away and watching with a smile as Scott slipped the ring on Stiles’ finger and pressed a kiss to it. “I should’ve said something sooner, I’m sorry.”

“Please don’t tell me you’re going to start apologizing for that, too,” Scott replied teasingly, resting his forehead against Stiles’. “We were both being dumbasses, but we can’t change it. And at least we got the ‘I told you so’ reaction over with already.”

“Yeah, at least there’s that,” Stiles agreed, tangling his fingers with Scott’s. “I love you.”

“Love you too. Now go to sleep. I’ve barely slept since we moved in. Can’t sleep without you now, damn it.”

“Sorry.”

“Stop apologizing.”

---

“You know, we never had a first date,” Scott murmured, looking up from his book to smile up at Stiles, who looked down with an eyebrow raised.

“Are you saying you want one?” he asked, and Scott automatically reached up to pick the fallen popcorn out of his hair.

“No, I’m saying that to state a fact for the record,” Scott replied, sticking his tongue out. “I’m just saying, we got married, nearly divorced, and we still haven’t even had a first date. I think we’re going about this a little backwards.”

“Well, do you want to go on a date?”

“Yes, duh,” Scott said, shaking his head. “There’s that new Batman movie out. How’s that sound?”

Stiles smiled and nodded, reaching his hand over to take Scott’s.

“Works for me. Friday after classes?”

“It’s a date.”

---

Scott had bought the tickets, they’d sat down in the theater, and he could definitely say that they saw the previews, but Scott didn’t remember a thing about the movie other than the fact that Stiles tasted like the Twizzlers he’d been eating during the previews, and that listening to Henry Cavill talk kept distracting him from Stiles.

At least, he thought Henry Cavill was talking. For all Scott knew, he could have started making out with Ben Affleck and it would have gone unnoticed in favor of seeing if both of them could fit on one of the theater seats.

The answer to that one was, unfortunately, a no, and Scott had just settled back into his seat when one of the employees appeared out of the weird wall carpeting to tell them they were making too much of a ruckus and had to leave. Scott took Stiles’ hand and nearly dragged him out of the theater, before Stiles could do something stupid, like quote the Breakfast Club at her.

“Café time, then?” he asked, smiling at Stiles and raising his eyebrows. They hadn’t been since the day Stiles had sprung the ‘bee-tee-double-you, we’re engaged’ news on him. Before they’d gone home, they’d been too busy with finals, and after they got back, they’d barely been on speaking terms, let alone in the mood to hang out together.

He caught Stiles’ look, the one that said that he would really rather be doing something else, like going back home and picking up where they left off in the theater.

“We’re not going back to the apartment, Stiles. There’s other things to do than sex,” Scott said with an eye-roll, walking towards the café anyway.

“We’re newlyweds, isn’t that the only thing we’re supposed to be doing?”

“We were newlyweds a month and a half ago. Not so much anymore.” Scott opened the door and pulled Stiles in, before his husband could drag them back to the car. (Which he would. It was Stiles, after all.) “You want your weird frozen coffee thing? And the usual amount of whipped cream?”

“Yup,” Stiles replied, beaming like he hadn’t expected Scott to remember that. Which, hello, Stiles wasn’t the only one with the long memory. “And anyway, we may have been married for almost two months, but we only started enjoying it two weeks ago, so before doesn’t count.”

“You do realize that implies you didn’t enjoy the reception Lydia put together, right?” Scott asked, handing the cashier the money and dropping the change in the tip jar. “And you better start praying she doesn’t find out you said that.”

“Yes, mom,” Stiles said, sticking his tongue out at Scott and reaching for the coffee the barista set down. Scott automatically reached for a napkin and froze mid-motion. “What?”

“Sorry, I just, uh.” Scott ducked his head to avoid meeting Stiles’ eyes. “I just remembered you don’t like it when I clean up after you.”

“Oh, shit, Scott, you really took that to heart,” Stiles mumbled after a minute, and Scott looked up in time to get wrapped up in a hug. “You can call me messy and clean up after me all you want.” Scott swore he could actually feel the words kick in for Stiles when he paused. “Not that you have to. Because I probably should learn to be less messy. And put the cap back on the toothpaste. But, like, I’m not gonna yell at you again. I was just upset about everything and taking it out on you.”

“You sure?” Scott asked, leaning back and looking at Stiles. “Because, like, I really can stop.”

“Seriously, it’s fine. Now get your mocha java latte or whatever it is, yeah? And napkins. I see they put the usual amount of whipped cream on my drink.”

Scott dutifully picked up his drink and a stack of napkins and followed Stiles over to a table, sticking his feet out to catch Stiles’ ankle between his. Not two minutes later, Stiles had a blob of whipped cream on his nose and Scott leaned over, smiling, to wipe it off.

“Such a mess,” Scott muttered and Stiles grinned.

“You married me.”

---

Epilogue:

They were home for Thanksgiving, and Melissa watched as Scott wrapped his arms around Stiles’ waist and pulled him in for a kiss, smiling the entire way through it and pulling away just to smile stupidly at each other. She heard the Sheriff come up behind her and smiled.

“Should we tell them we knew they were pretending the entire time?” he asked and she shook her head.

“Nah. It seems to have given them the kick in the ass they needed,” she replied, watching as Scott raised Stiles’ left hand and pressed a kiss to his wedding ring, Stiles rolling his eyes and shoving at Scott’s shoulder.

“Oh, thank god. They finally admitted it,” Lydia said from beside her. Melissa made a noise of agreement before she frowned and turned to Lydia.

“Wait, when did you find out?”

“Oh, when they first started lying. Claiming they’ve been dating since high school? Did they forget I went to high school with them? I mean, god,” Lydia said, rolling her eyes. “I mean, they were in love with each other, but neither of them certainly admitted to it. Stiles’ staring and heartbroken looks whenever Scott went on about Allison made that one abundantly clear.”

“I was going to hit them with a frying pan if they took any longer to say something,” Isaac added, watching them with an amused expression.

“I know, I remember finding you standing over them while they were asleep on the sofa with the cast iron frying pan in hand and ready to beat them over the head until they got it together,” Melissa replied, rolling her eyes. “I’m assuming I can take my pans out of hiding now?”

“Yeah, they’re fine. So, we’re never telling them, right?”

“Are you kidding? They’d kill us if they knew, and they really don’t need to get arrested again.”