This... Is my dirty secret. I've been working on this story and neglecting my HP ones... So I figured I should post it and at least show I'm still alive.

Diss the claim: I do not own Teen Wolf or associated media. I am not profiting from this little adventure.

Warning: Later slash!

Edit: 12/30/2012

Edit: 08/22/2014 Peter-Paul


"Dude, Stiles; how did you do that?" Scott nudged me in the side with his elbow as I plopped to the couch beside him, setting down a bowl of popcorn.

"What can I say? I'm a Skate XXtreme pro," I preened, conveniently sidestepping the question. I had been pushing buttons, and something happened. This is the extent of my knowledge.

"Yeah, you are. You should enter one of those gaming contests they have. I've heard you can win money prizes," My best friend blew some dark hair out of his chiseled face thoughtfully, "Well, so long as it doesn't interfere with lacrosse."

"Oh, of course not; I'd never want to lose valuable bench warming time," I rolled my eyes, "Now shush, movie time." Scott and I were having a boy's night in. Or rather, my dad and his mum were taking the town by storm and felt we'd be "safer" together. As a high-school-age male, I felt we needed no such "protection in numbers" and preferred to think of it as our boy's night in after the traumatizing events of the past day.

"I may have to get up and change my bandages in the middle of the movie," Scott warned me, pretending to resist my sudden bounce to a different idea even as he inserted the DVD into the player. "And you may need to take your Adderall."

"Change them now so we don't have to later," I whined. Scott had gotten a nasty bite in the woods the previous night when we had been out looking for the other half of a recently found dead body. Really, when I had gone out to look and practically dragged Scott out with me... "I'll help," I added hastily to avoid sounding too much like the two year old I reverted to while off my meds. I couldn't quite remember if I'd taken them this morning, but really overdosing was not an event I would ever knowingly bring about, so I wasn't exactly going to pop a pill now. Besides, I probably wouldn't be able to focus long enough to count how many were left if I really wanted to be sure. Skipping one day couldn't hurt.

Scott eyed me dubiously, "And you won't poke my scabs or rip off the bandage and the skin altogether?" I really wasn't that bad, and I nodded fervently. "I still remember last time you tried to help me with an injury without your drugs…" Externally, I gave him my best shit-eating grin. Mentally, however, I conceded he had a point.

"Be prepared to get some major TLC from Doctor Stiles!" I swept a flourishing bow, "Medician extraordinaire- at your service!"

"Medician is not a word," My critic critiqued critically, folding in slightly as if to hide his wound from my amazing healing abilities.

"I'll be sure to tell the American Board of Medicians your opinion on the matter," I replied snootily, grabbing his hands away and holding them by the wrists above his head so I could pull away the bandage, "I will need to inspect the subject of our previous discussion now, sir."

"Stiles!" He protested, squirming away slightly until his movements forced the bandage off a little sooner than either of us had expected. He yelped, an almost dog like sound, and glared at me with uncompromising ire.

Whoops. "Sorry- sorry!" Like hell I'd let his arms down now, though. At least, not while his eyes were still broadcasting murder fantasies into my brain. "Wow, though, it looks like you're coming along really well." What had once been a semi-circle of deep puncture wounds marring the otherwise smooth skin was a thin line of scabs in a vaguely rounded pattern. "Almost too well…"

"What do you mean?" Scott slipped his wrists out from my suddenly lax grip and trotted off to the bathroom to take a look. Following him, I felt my stomach complain and grabbed the bowl of popcorn on the way out. The DVD had made it to the starting menu by that point; it wasn't a self-starter, though, so I saw no harm in letting it wait. …Except maybe burning the image into the screen, but I'm pretty sure my dad had been lying about that anyway. (He wasn't). My stomach growled once more and I gave a pathetic attempt at growling back at it before I started after Scott again.

Waveringly, Scott's voice fell down the stairs, "Don't growl at yourself. It sounds stupid."

"How did you even hear that?" I opened the door to the bathroom as Scott was poking gingerly at his scabs and put the popcorn bowl down on the counter.

His eyes met mine, and there was a split second of hesitation before he replied falteringly, "I've been hearing and smelling things all day I shouldn't be able to."

"And this," I knelt down and placed my fingers at the dip in his hip just below where he had been bitten, "Is- holy shit; it's healing fast."

"I know," Scott lamented, "I don't know why either."

The skin was knitting together before my eyes and I pulled my hand away in shock- only for the accelerated healing to stop. "What in the world?"

"I don't know," Scott growled, sounding disturbingly animalistic and a hell of a lot more badass than my own weak growl to my stomach had been.

"No, this," I insisted. Scott finally looked down at the lingering scabs and smaller puncture holes.

"Did it just heal even more than it already had?" Scott wondered in a weak voice. It sounded like- oh please don't let him- "Great, I'm a freak. I have magical healing skin that goes into fits at random times and I'm hearing people outside of buildings and smelling people when they aren't there and-"

I stood and grabbed his arms in one quick motion, forcing him to look at me, "Dude! Scott! Snap out of it!" He stared at me in shock for a moment.

With a shake of his head like a dog expelling water Scott took in a deep breath, "Sorry. I'm good. Thanks, man."

We both looked down at the source of his breakdown only to be greeted with clear, unbroken skin. "Where did it go?" I murmured, going back down on one knee and running my fingers over the spot.

Scott did not take the discovery as well as I did. "Where did it go?" He repeated in a groan, clutching his hair, "More like, what is it doing!"

"I think… Do you remember how I was kind of joking about you being bit by a werewolf?" He had heard howling, and I brushed it off because, seriously, this was California, but with his new senses and healing… Well, it didn't seem so farfetched.

"What, that lycanthropy thing?" Scott scowled, "Now is not the time to be joking, Stiles."

"I'm not joking; I'll have to do a little research, but honestly, it fits all the movies I've seen about them." I responded in an even tone, trying to make him take it more seriously. I knew I sounded a little crazy- his healing though, and hearing, that was crazy too. Once you have eliminated every possible explanation only the impossible will do, after all.

"So you think I'm, I don't know, some kind of werewolf?" His eyes rolled heavenward, "Now I know you haven't taken your pills."

"Your faith in me is chilling."

"I try."

"But, come on, Scott, you have to admit it makes sense," I wheedled, looking up at him without removing my stilled fingers from the suspicious lack-of-wound he'd developed. "Enhanced smell, better hearing, accelerated healing…" Scott growled at me for a second time, "Not to mention the sudden growling habit." He didn't seem convinced as he shot daggers down at me with his eyes and I added pleadingly, "You did say you'd heard howling after you were bitten."

"Then why aren't I wolf-ing out now? Where's the fur and claws and teeth?" Scott demanded with an indistinct tremor of fear in his voice.

"The full moon's on Friday," I reminded him.

"Friday?" He repeated quizzically, as if it had triggered something in him and his brow creased. I amused myself by pondering the different ways Scott would be able to heal. Could he reattach a lost finger? "No." A hint of steel had entered his voice; "I have a date with Allison on Friday."

"On the full moon? You have to reschedule, Scott!" He could hurt her, and then what would he do? Come crying to me, that's what. But would he listen to me now?

"No way!" Exactly. Scott continued, grabbing my unmoving hand from his skin, "I've finally got a date with a girl who actually likes me and you want to ruin it?"

"I said reschedule, not stand up and let down, Scott. Melodrama much?" Tugging on my arm as I spoke proved futile as Scott had a firm grip on my wrist. Seems he'd been holding back before, but I didn't think much of it. Well… It stung my pride a little, if you must know.

I let out an ungainly "eep" as Scott pulled me to my feet with one hand, tilting his head down a little to look me right in the eye, "I'm going on this date."

"Then, I'll go with you!" I shot back, pleased at my own quick thinking, "That way if anything happens I can make up an excuse that'll fly with Allison to get you off the hook and away from the party without hurting anyone."

"I'm not going to hurt anyone!" Scott exploded, tightening his grip on my wrist and breathing heavily as his eyes flashed a strange color in the bathroom lights.

Trying to hide my wince, I soothed, or rather, babbled, "Not on purpose, but we don't know what would happen if you became some kind of wolf man thing in the middle of the party. For all you know, they'd attack and you'd have to hurt them in self defense." Seeing he looked unmoved, I threw in an extra helping of guilt trip, "You're also, uh, kind of hurting me right now."

For a moment Scott was confused, and then he dropped my arm as if the sleeve covering it scalded him. He stared in vulnerable bewilderment at my newly exposed, coloring wrist and met my eyes with horror. "I'm… Stiles, I'm so-"

"Yeah. Get me an ice pack, will you?" I griped, cradling the appendage to my chest, "It'll show how sorry you are." It was a testament to his level of freaking out that he was silent still when we had seated ourselves at the kitchen table and he'd dug out an icepack from somewhere deep within my freezer.

After a while, he calmed down a bit and the soreness in my wrist ebbed. Scott spoke up with an uneasy determination, "This hasn't changed my mind. I'm still going."

"That's terrible," I deadpanned, "I've forgotten what we were talking about."

"My date with Allison."

Taking a moment to remember what we had really been arguing about, I replied in a matter of fact tone, "Then I'll be right there with you."

"No, you won't."

"Yes, I will. I'll bring my cousin."

"What would that help?" Scott asked as I moved the ice over slightly to get the cooler part on my skin.

"We could act like it was a double date," I explained patiently. Honestly, my cousin is a deprived little woman, and she would jump at the chance to go to a party. Even with me.

"With your cousin?"

"Hence, act."

"Hence, no."

Eventually I wore him down. Well, not to my cousin, since she lived a couple towns over, but to agree to the plan with the substitution of his cousin for mine. Rose was a sweet chick, not really my type, but still sweet. My type walked around like she owned the school with flaming red hair and luscious lips and a charm bracelet with delicate little letters spelling L-y-d-i-a…. And a boyfriend…

But enough about that. We'd decided on what to do!

Which of course meant I would force him through another scary movie with me. Why were we hanging out if not to scare each other half to death by creeping up on one another in the middle of the night and whispering one of the killers' catch phrases? Sure, Scott may or may not have been infected with lycanthropy, but that didn't mean I was going to let this "bro time" go down the toilet. I had a day or two until the full moon to worry about that. Or at least I was pretty sure I did.

The next day at school went by pretty normally. I pined after Lydia; Scott flirted clumsily with Allison; the teachers droned, providing pleasant background noises that Scott suddenly couldn't stop listening to (It was fun to whisper his name in a crowded hallway and watch his head snap up)… In fact, lacrosse practice after school was going relatively well, up until Jackson, the captain, knocked down Scott while he was playing goalie. With a burst of speed, the crosse almost seemed to blur as Scott caught shot after shot. It was only when Coach called for the end of practice that I realized his eyes had changed. They were a shiny new yellow color I had every intention of freaking out about later.

"Hey, uh, Scott," I grabbed his arm and moved him towards the mirrors, "I need to show you something." Glancing around at the thus far empty locker room, I gestured at the mirror and whispered, "Your eyes changed color."

"That's just the light, Stiles." Strange, he sounded very calm. At least, much calmer than he had been on the field.

"They're bright yellow!"

His voice was wry, "They're brown."

I turned and tugged his face towards mine with both hands. "…They are. What happened?"

Scott crinkled his nose, "Personal space, Stiles? Are you hyped up on Adderall?" I realized I could feel his breath on my lips and jerked back about half a foot.

"First not enough and now too much?" I grumbled. It wasn't my fault ADHD was treated with the equivalent of speed. "But listen to me, I saw your eyes change!"

"You probably just saw the sun flashing off them," Scott returned with a grin, "Though why you pay so much attention to my lovely eyes is up for debate." He fluttered his stubbly dark lashes at me and I hit him in the shoulder with a closed fist. Ignoring his laughter, I changed in relative silence. Why wasn't he listening to me? Couldn't he tell something was wrong? He'd said so himself in the woods the other day! Lycanthropy was the only thing that fit all his symptoms. My eyes flitted surreptitiously over my oblivious best friend. It didn't escape my attention that he'd stopped using his inhaler, either. Something
was going on. I just had to convince the epicenter of this storm of "something" of that fact. Scott, the lowdown dog that he is, took advantage of my momentary distraction, "Bye-Stiles-gotta-run-Allison's-waiting," to escape and hunt down his hapless victim.

Still, just because the wolf seemed to have been closer to the surface during a sport didn't mean he'd, for lack of a better term, wolf out before the full moon, right? "Yeah, bye Scott," I muttered to the room filling with the sounds of the rest of the team finally filtering in as I slammed my locker door shut.

"Whoa, serious anger issues there, little dude," Paul, the biggest member of the team, patted me on the head before I could dodge his descending meaty paws.

"Thanks, Paul, just- thanks." I replied, exasperated at his attempts to calm me, "I needed another reminder that you are, in fact, taller than anyone else here."

Paul patted my shoulder this time, "It's alright if you don't want to talk about it."

Paul is infuriating.

I hurried out of the locker room- I had something important to research.