Stiles bounced excitedly as the van pulled into the gravel driveway of the two story beachfront house. It was pale brown wood on the outside, a porch wrapped around the whole lower level and a terrace seemed to mirror it up on the second floor.
"This is going to be so awesome!" he declared. Stiles sounded like he was about to explode with the nervous energy he had accumulated during his time in the van. "There's a huge hammock and a two person hanging swing bench!"
His eyed the hammock with interest, the white rope contraption seemed to have been angled perfectly to catch the light of the sun for most of the day. The bench on the other side looked comfortable as well. "Dibs on the first nap in the hammock!"
"If we would only be so lucky…" Jackson muttered from behind him.
"What's that supposed to mean?" Stiles asked. He was sure he did not sound offended.
"It means that the likelihood of you being capable of sleeping instead of bouncing around like an amphetamine laced rabbit is pretty slim," Derek offered from the driver's seat.
"Oh so now you're Mr. Funny Wolf?" Stiles asked as he eyed the Alpha skeptically.
"Dibs on the bathroom" Scott said. Stiles swore the teen werewolf must have had the bladder of an old man.
"I hope my bathroom gets enough natural light…" Lydia spoke quietly. She sounded supremely confident that she would indeed have her own bathroom.
"I think it looks absolutely wonderful!" Allison piped up from the very back of the van, "So romantic!"
Stiles glanced back to the dark haired girl as he unfastened his seat belt and opened the door. That was all they needed for the week, more opportunities for romance. He almost said something to her but the serene look of pure happiness on her face kicked his sarcasm in the gut and left it gasping for air.
She'd gone through a lot, they all had. Allison deserved the happiness she could find. He smiled at her. She tilted her head curiously and smiled back. He was about to say something but Scott caught her attention with another gentle kiss against her cheek. He brushed her hair over her shoulder. Stiles thought maybe his sarcasm might be about to throw up.
"Everyone out, get your bags, take your things inside," Derek commanded as he exited the vehicle.
"Sir, yes sir!" Stiles called out and offered a salute the Alpha never saw before moving around toward the back of the van.
Jackson was climbing out of the vehicle as Stiles walked past the door. The young werewolf pushed him playfully. Stiles shot him a look of mock hurt. Jackson grabbed him around the neck in a headlock.
Awesome, more wolf hugs. He wondered if this was one of those scenting things. When Jackson let him go he shivered a little bit, goose bumps breaking out on his flesh. He was being marked; maybe all the humans in the pack were being marked by the werewolves they accompanied. If anyone tried to pee on him he was so gone, didn't matter how much the taxi cab or bus ride home would cost.
He wondered if Scott and Derek could smell Jackson on him. He made what he imagined was a pretty funny face at the thought of it. He cast an appraising glance toward Scott and noticed he subconsciously seemed to brush against Lydia as he got out of the vehicle. His suspicion was confirmed when Jackson laid an innocuous hand against Allison's arm and offered to pull her luggage out of the back so she could take it inside.
Gravel crunched behind him. Derek grabbed Stiles by the scruff of the neck. Stiles squawked with what he imagined to be extreme dignity as the Alpha steered him to the rear of the van.
"I said, get your stuff and get in the house." Derek used his 'No Nonsense' voice. It sounded suspiciously like his 'Shut Up Stiles I'm Talking' voice. The guy could use some lessons on emoting. Stiles opened his mouth but Derek clenched his neck a little harder and glared. He gestured to the suitcases he parked Stiles in front of. "I didn't say talk; I said get your stuff."
"Well, it's hard for me to do anything with you being all handsy. Not like I can pull you along like you're Santa's fricken sleigh and I'm your adorable prancing reindeer team. How about you pull my suitcase out like a gentlemen and graciously offer to take it inside for me? I will of course refuse because I'm a modern independent individual capable of doing my share of the work. I'm not looking for a hand out; I'm looking for a hand to get my suitcase. I mean, you are the one who finished packing it so you should take responsibility." Stiles took a deep breath. That had been impressive even by his standards.
Derek scowled at Stiles for a few moments and then released him. He grabbed the suitcase with more jerking than was strictly necessary by common law suitcase protection ordinances and thrust it into Stiles arms with enough force that he skidded back a step in the gravel driveway. It was because of his flip flops of course, it's not like Derek could just push him around if he was ready for it. Derek didn't say anything though; he just broke eye contact, grabbed his own suitcase and headed for the house.
Stiles vertigo inducing babbling: two, Derek's scowl powers: zero. Double booya! He was absolutely kicking the crap out of Derek in this game the Alpha didn't know he was involved in.
"You ok?" Scott asked as he came up behind Stiles. He put steadying hands on Stiles's shoulders. Stiles tried not to yelp and jump away. He failed. He failed miserably.
"Yeah buddy I'm great. So great, actually, I'm going to head inside and you know, get a room picked before all the good ones get taken." Stiles was nervous. If the look Scott was giving him was any indication, he probably sounded nervous to people down the street behind locked doors.
"Actually, I think there's only one room left. Allison wanted the one with the ocean view. Lydia picked the one closest to the door, something about not wanting to carry the bags Jackson should be carrying up the stairs," Scott said. "That just leaves whichever room is upstairs down the hall from the loft in the back of the building."
"Awesome we're going to have so much fun rooming together. We have to have at least one regulation pillow fight, maybe two, depends on how much you cheat with your wolf strength. I swear to god though if you snore-howl I'm stuffing wolfsbane in your underwear drawer."
Scott stopped as they entered the house; he had a grave look on his face. Stiles almost didn't notice it as his eyes swept across the amazing living room. Soft white carpets with a huge sectional couch near a widescreen TV and a fireplace. Wickedly equipped kitchen barely visible over what looked like a breakfast island with a pale blue marble countertop.
"What?" Stiles asked. He was distracted and thinking about the double glass doors leading out to the back portion of the wraparound porch. Was that a hot tub out there? Was that a three tiered ramp zigzagging down to the beach through a garden pathway? He must be dead, and despite what everyone said would happen, he made it into heaven. He fist pumped in the air in his excitement.
"Awesome" he said after taking a deep breath and turning his attention back to Scott. His friend looked like he had swallowed something horrible, or maybe that he found out Jackson had peed on him at some point. Stiles shivered at the thought.
"Dude, I'm staying with Allison," Scott said meaningfully. His smile became slightly glazed as he stared off in the direction that Stiles assumed led toward the bedroom with the ocean view.
"Stop that!" Stiles snapped his fingers in front of Scott's face to pull him back from Allison-land. "What do you mean? Who is staying with Lydia then?" Stiles asked the question but he was sure he knew the answer. He couldn't help but hope that he was wrong.
"W-what?" Scott asked eyes becoming focused in the reality everyone else lived in. "What?" he repeated.
"L-Y-D-I-A? Who is she staying with if Allison is bunking it up with you in sin?" Stiles asked.
Jackson brushed past Stiles on his way back out to the van with enough force to cause him to lose balance.
"She's staying with me," the jock called as he walked out the door, "something about working on our issues."
"We're going to work things out because that's what's expected of the two most popular kids in the school. They work things out, they become Prom King and Queen, they live out the fantasies that all the other less fortunate kids dream about at night." Lydia's voice was smooth and precise as she brushed past them patting Stiles on the back consolingly as she headed toward the room Allison was supposedly already unpacking in.
Stiles only barely took note that Lydia was doing it too, the touching. The words bounced around in Stiles's brain, knocking his fun estimation of the week down at least three and a half pegs. Allison came rushing out of the room and engulfed him in an awkward hug. She nearly knocked over his suitcase that was resting against the side of his leg.
"Thank you for being so cool about this, you're a great guy, you're going to make someone really happy!" Allison told him.
When Stiles looked in her eyes, he believed it. Allison giggled as Lydia joined her. They went out the back glass doors but not before Lydia ran what he assumed was supposed to be a reassuring hand down his arm. Had everyone but him forgotten about the concept of personal space?
"But…" he whispered to himself, a fourth peg down, "if Scott is with Allison", five pegs, "and Jackson is with Lydia", six pegs down, "then that means…"
"That means we are rooming together. That means you will touch nothing of mine, you will be quiet, and you will do what I say, when I say it, with no arguments. That is, if you want to keep all your fingers," Derek threatened. He poked Stiles in the back and nodded towards the stairs that led up to the second floor.
Stiles nearly howled in frustration. Just like that, all the pegs that were holding up his fun estimation for the week came tumbling down. The metaphorical broken pieces of his fun estimation scattered about his metaphorical feet, mocking him with their metaphorical brokenness.
"Crap…" he said in disbelief.
Derek scowled at him, and he didn't have the heart to fight it. As though walking to his execution he hung his head and hauled his suitcase with him as he climbed the stairs toward what would most certainly be his abrupt and messy death. He glanced over his shoulder once in the hope that someone, anyone, had decided to save him only to be met with that ever present frown/scowl.
"Crap…" he repeated.
Stiles vertigo inducing babbling: two, Derek's scowl powers: one.
'Well played,' he thought as he cast an irritated glance down the stairs at Scott and Jackson who simultaneously waved to him before fist bumping each other, they were doing it to each other as well. Shivers ran down his spine again.
'Well played indeed.' It wasn't over though, and Scott should have known that no one puts Stiles in a corner without getting a heaping bowl of sweet revenge served up to them. He was about to open his mouth and lay down a dire warning of his retribution but Derek pushed him up the last few stairs with a hand placed on Stiles's lower back and began steering him down the hall.
"Crap…" he said one last time resigned to his fate. He had never even gotten to second base with anyone.