(no subject)
Title: So Come Over, Just Be Patient, and Don't Worry
Author: poor_choices
Fandom: Teen Wolf
Pairing: Danny/Stiles
Rating: Hard R.
Warnings: None I can think of. If I missed any, please let me know!
Word Count: 1900.
Summary: Follow-up to Catch Me No Catch. Danny has an awkward morning after.
Disclaimer: Not mine, please don't sue.
Stiles Stilinski was the first person Danny ever came out to.
It wasn't really on purpose; it wasn't even planned. He'd only figured it out himself a few weeks earlier, and he'd been thinking about how to tell people without really wanting to do it yet. He was just sitting on the sidelines in gym with a hurt ankle and Stiles came over and said, "Hey, are there any girls you like?"
And maybe he'd been looking for someone to understand, getting his hopes up, but he'd thought that maybe--maybe--Stiles was asking because he knew, and he was gay too. Danny's pretty sure he was just desperate for someone to actually get it. So he said, "I think I'm gay."
If he'd really though it through, he probably wouldn't have told Stiles first. He would have worried about Stiles telling everyone, because Stiles--well, Danny had trouble believing Stiles had any thoughts that he didn't immediately share with anyone and everyone who would listen. He still doesn't know how he kept quiet about the werewolf thing.
Stiles had looked surprised for a second, but then he'd just smiled easily and said, "Cool. So are there any guys you like?"
It took about a month for him to realize Stiles had brought it up because he thought Danny liked Lydia and wanted to scope out his competition. Not that he ever tried to make a move. But in that month, Danny had kind of, well, wanted. He thought Stiles would probably be a pretty good boyfriend, once you got used to the non-stop talking.
But there was Lydia, so Danny had given up on Stiles being gay, and stopped thinking that maybe they'd date. He had other boyfriends, and Stiles kept on being Stiles.
And now it's nine a.m. on Saturday morning, and he's naked in Stiles' bed.
Stiles is asleep. He's also naked, and drooling a little, and his half-hard dick is pressing up against Danny's leg. Which is definitely getting Danny's dick interested, and that's probably not a good idea. At all. Yes, Stiles was into this last night, but Stiles might have been drunk. And, honestly, Danny still has trouble believing any plan masterminded by Scott McCall will really go this smoothly.
He extricates himself from Stiles carefully, pulls on his boxers and jeans, and staggers down the hall toward the bathroom. He's been here enough for lab partner meetings that he knows his way around, and he even remembers the light switch is outside the bathroom, which always used to confuse him.
He takes a long piss and then examines himself in the mirror. He looks--okay, he looks like he had sex with Stiles. Even if he talked Stiles out of actual full on sex, because he's still not entirely clear how drunk Stiles was, or how gay he is, or how upset he'd be if he woke up and discovered he let Danny fuck him. But he's got a couple hickeys, and he feels sore and satisfied, if more than a little freaked out.
He washes his face and puts some toothpaste on his finger to get his mouth tasting less like something died in it. He might also be avoiding the next step of his morning, which is figuring out what to do with himself. He could go home, maybe, but--even if Stiles wakes up and has a gay crisis, he's probably going to want to talk about it. Danny's not sure there's any crisis Stiles wouldn't want to talk about.
He dries his face and heads back down the hallway, but before he can go back into Stiles' room, someone says, "Is that you, Danny?"
The last time Danny spoke to Sheriff Stilinski, he was thirteen and had just been arrested for hacking into the police database. It had been a stupid dare from Jackson, of course, and he'd been overconfident about no one being tech-savvy enough to catch him. He'd never gotten in serious trouble before, barely even had to go to the principal's office. He had been scared shitless.
But this is worse. He's not even fully dressed. And he has hickeys. From Stiles.
So much worse.
"Uh," he says. "Hi, Sheriff."
"Stiles didn't tell me you were sleeping over," says the sheriff.
"I, uh--" says Danny. "I kind of overdid it," he says. "He said I could sleep it off here." He's not sure, but he thinks underage drinking is better than he really wanted to blow me and I didn't think we should do that in public.
The sheriff claps him on the shoulder. "It's okay. I was expecting this."
Danny chokes. "You--were?"
"Look, you're a good kid, Danny. And I know Stiles likes you. Just tell let me know in advance next time you stay the night, okay?"
"Yes," says Danny. "Sir. Yes, sir."
"We'll get breakfast when Stiles gets up, okay? Unless you need to get home."
Danny coughs. "I'll ask. My parents, I mean. And Stiles."
"Good," says the sheriff. "Good to see you again, son."
"You too, sir."
He ducks into Stiles' room, relieved to be out of the hallway, but then he realizes he's in Stiles' room, which isn't that much of an improvement. Stiles has shifted a little, but he's still asleep, his face mashed into the pillow, mouth open and drooling a little.
Danny thinks it's cute; that's going to be a problem.
He finds his shirt and pulls it on. He definitely can't leave now, even if he wanted to--not with the sheriff wanting to get breakfast.
Instead, he flops down in Stiles' computer chair. Stiles' copy of The Great Gatsby is on his desk; they're supposed to be finished for Tuesday.
Danny finds his place and starts reading.
*
"Are you doing homework?" Stiles asks, incredulous.
Danny looks up and then immediately back down; Stiles is sitting up in bed, the sheets slipping off him, far enough that Danny's options are pretty much not looking or staring.
"I haven't finished it yet," he says.
"It's--ten a.m.," says Stiles. "It's ten a.m., it's Saturday, and I'm naked. Why aren't you still naked and in bed? Dude. Come on."
"I had to go to the bathroom," says Danny, like that's an actual reason.
Stiles groans and Danny hears him flopping back. "Oh my god, we could be having sex right now. Why are you having a gay crisis?"
"Your dad is here!"
"He is?" Stiles asks. There's a pause. "How do you know that?"
"I ran into him when I went to the bathroom," Danny admits. "So we can't be having sex."
"What, you think he's standing outside the door monitoring for my breathy moans?"
Danny has to give him a look, which is a total mistake. Stiles is lying on top of the sheets, totally naked, and Danny wants to lick him. "Did you just say breathy moans?" he says, hoarsely.
"Yes I did," says Stiles. "Seriously, why are you all the way over there?"
Danny clears his throat. Now that it's clear that Stiles is not, in any way, freaking out, he's actually less sure what to do. Part of him was still expecting him to say it was all a big mistake.
"Come on," Stiles wheedles. "I have condoms. I have lube. I'm naked."
"Why do you have lube?" They don't have that in the bathroom at the club; Danny has heard people complaining.
"Hey, it's good for girls too," Stiles says. "I mean, obviously, I could get a girl sufficiently, uh, ready without help. But lubrication never hurts! Safety first. Also, you know, it's good for jerking off when I want to get adventurous."
"Oh my god, stop talking," says Danny, putting aside the book so he can bury his face in his hands. He really doesn't need to be thinking about Stiles, jerking off, with his fingers working himself open-- "You're the worst."
"What?" says Stiles. "Wait, you're turned on right now! I am turning you on! Yes!"
"Stiles--"
"I knew it! You're into me!"
"Of course I'm into you, we had sex last night," says Danny, rubbing his face.
"No, you wouldn't have sex with me."
"That's not--" Danny starts, but he gives up. He closes the book, gets up, slides in next to Stiles and kisses him.
Stiles makes this noise that goes directly to Danny's dick. Which, honestly, didn't need any more encouragement, considering Stiles is naked and wants to have sex with him. He rolls closer, pressing his thigh between Stiles' legs, moans himself when Stiles starts rubbing up against him, already hard.
"Stiles, your dad is home," Danny protests weakly, when Stiles pulls back long enough to pull off his shirt.
"So?" he asks, pressing closer.
"He's the sheriff," says Danny. "He has a gun."
"What, do you think he's going to shoot you?" asks Stiles, getting his hand into Danny's boxers and wrapping his fingers around Danny's dick.
"Oh god, you're not--" Danny whimpers and pushes his face against Stiles' shoulder. "God, Stiles."
"I'm expecting you to get better at sex," Stiles says, sounding smug. "You're the expert here. You're supposed to be teaching me how to do this."
"Yeah, uh, you're good," says Danny. "Doing fine."
"Yeah?" says Stiles. "I jerk off a lot."
"You have got to stop talking about that," Danny says weakly, pushing against Stiles' hand.
"Yeah, uh, no. I'm going to talk about that all the time, you think it's hot."
Danny manages to shove his jeans and boxers down before he comes, so he just jizzes on Stiles' hand and not on his only clean clothing.
He flops on his back, panting a little. "Wow," he says.
"So I'm your boyfriend, right?" says Stiles, smug.
"Yeah," says Danny, still feeling dazed.
"So, you gonna help me out with this? Or do you just want me to do it myself?"
Danny whimpers, rolling over to see Stiles already starting to jack his cock. He didn't really get a great look at him last night, but--wow.
"I'm gonna die," he breathes.
"From hot, right? Definitely because I'm so hot."
He's only been going for a minute before Danny needs to touch, has to have his hands on Stiles again, and Stiles definitely doesn't object.
*
They finally make it downstairs a little before noon. Sheriff Stilinksi is reading the paper; he smiles when he sees them, so if he knows they spent the last two hours having lots of sex, he clearly doesn't care.
"Hey, dad," says Stiles. "You met Danny, right?"
"I did," says the Sheriff. "I guess we're going to have lunch instead. Unless you have to get home, Danny."
Danny feels vaguely like he's stepped into an alternate universe; werewolves he can handle, but dating Stiles Stilinski might actually break his brain.
"No, sir, I have time," says Danny.
"Good," says the sheriff. "Stiles, next time you tell me before your boyfriend spends the night, understood?"
"Understood," says Stiles.
They go to a diner and talk about lacrosse, and it's nice. Stiles gives him a kiss goodbye, which is nicer, and even Jackson's are you high text isn't enough to bring him down.
He's having a surprisingly great day.
Author: poor_choices
Fandom: Teen Wolf
Pairing: Danny/Stiles
Rating: Hard R.
Warnings: None I can think of. If I missed any, please let me know!
Word Count: 1900.
Summary: Follow-up to Catch Me No Catch. Danny has an awkward morning after.
Disclaimer: Not mine, please don't sue.
Stiles Stilinski was the first person Danny ever came out to.
It wasn't really on purpose; it wasn't even planned. He'd only figured it out himself a few weeks earlier, and he'd been thinking about how to tell people without really wanting to do it yet. He was just sitting on the sidelines in gym with a hurt ankle and Stiles came over and said, "Hey, are there any girls you like?"
And maybe he'd been looking for someone to understand, getting his hopes up, but he'd thought that maybe--maybe--Stiles was asking because he knew, and he was gay too. Danny's pretty sure he was just desperate for someone to actually get it. So he said, "I think I'm gay."
If he'd really though it through, he probably wouldn't have told Stiles first. He would have worried about Stiles telling everyone, because Stiles--well, Danny had trouble believing Stiles had any thoughts that he didn't immediately share with anyone and everyone who would listen. He still doesn't know how he kept quiet about the werewolf thing.
Stiles had looked surprised for a second, but then he'd just smiled easily and said, "Cool. So are there any guys you like?"
It took about a month for him to realize Stiles had brought it up because he thought Danny liked Lydia and wanted to scope out his competition. Not that he ever tried to make a move. But in that month, Danny had kind of, well, wanted. He thought Stiles would probably be a pretty good boyfriend, once you got used to the non-stop talking.
But there was Lydia, so Danny had given up on Stiles being gay, and stopped thinking that maybe they'd date. He had other boyfriends, and Stiles kept on being Stiles.
And now it's nine a.m. on Saturday morning, and he's naked in Stiles' bed.
Stiles is asleep. He's also naked, and drooling a little, and his half-hard dick is pressing up against Danny's leg. Which is definitely getting Danny's dick interested, and that's probably not a good idea. At all. Yes, Stiles was into this last night, but Stiles might have been drunk. And, honestly, Danny still has trouble believing any plan masterminded by Scott McCall will really go this smoothly.
He extricates himself from Stiles carefully, pulls on his boxers and jeans, and staggers down the hall toward the bathroom. He's been here enough for lab partner meetings that he knows his way around, and he even remembers the light switch is outside the bathroom, which always used to confuse him.
He takes a long piss and then examines himself in the mirror. He looks--okay, he looks like he had sex with Stiles. Even if he talked Stiles out of actual full on sex, because he's still not entirely clear how drunk Stiles was, or how gay he is, or how upset he'd be if he woke up and discovered he let Danny fuck him. But he's got a couple hickeys, and he feels sore and satisfied, if more than a little freaked out.
He washes his face and puts some toothpaste on his finger to get his mouth tasting less like something died in it. He might also be avoiding the next step of his morning, which is figuring out what to do with himself. He could go home, maybe, but--even if Stiles wakes up and has a gay crisis, he's probably going to want to talk about it. Danny's not sure there's any crisis Stiles wouldn't want to talk about.
He dries his face and heads back down the hallway, but before he can go back into Stiles' room, someone says, "Is that you, Danny?"
The last time Danny spoke to Sheriff Stilinski, he was thirteen and had just been arrested for hacking into the police database. It had been a stupid dare from Jackson, of course, and he'd been overconfident about no one being tech-savvy enough to catch him. He'd never gotten in serious trouble before, barely even had to go to the principal's office. He had been scared shitless.
But this is worse. He's not even fully dressed. And he has hickeys. From Stiles.
So much worse.
"Uh," he says. "Hi, Sheriff."
"Stiles didn't tell me you were sleeping over," says the sheriff.
"I, uh--" says Danny. "I kind of overdid it," he says. "He said I could sleep it off here." He's not sure, but he thinks underage drinking is better than he really wanted to blow me and I didn't think we should do that in public.
The sheriff claps him on the shoulder. "It's okay. I was expecting this."
Danny chokes. "You--were?"
"Look, you're a good kid, Danny. And I know Stiles likes you. Just tell let me know in advance next time you stay the night, okay?"
"Yes," says Danny. "Sir. Yes, sir."
"We'll get breakfast when Stiles gets up, okay? Unless you need to get home."
Danny coughs. "I'll ask. My parents, I mean. And Stiles."
"Good," says the sheriff. "Good to see you again, son."
"You too, sir."
He ducks into Stiles' room, relieved to be out of the hallway, but then he realizes he's in Stiles' room, which isn't that much of an improvement. Stiles has shifted a little, but he's still asleep, his face mashed into the pillow, mouth open and drooling a little.
Danny thinks it's cute; that's going to be a problem.
He finds his shirt and pulls it on. He definitely can't leave now, even if he wanted to--not with the sheriff wanting to get breakfast.
Instead, he flops down in Stiles' computer chair. Stiles' copy of The Great Gatsby is on his desk; they're supposed to be finished for Tuesday.
Danny finds his place and starts reading.
*
"Are you doing homework?" Stiles asks, incredulous.
Danny looks up and then immediately back down; Stiles is sitting up in bed, the sheets slipping off him, far enough that Danny's options are pretty much not looking or staring.
"I haven't finished it yet," he says.
"It's--ten a.m.," says Stiles. "It's ten a.m., it's Saturday, and I'm naked. Why aren't you still naked and in bed? Dude. Come on."
"I had to go to the bathroom," says Danny, like that's an actual reason.
Stiles groans and Danny hears him flopping back. "Oh my god, we could be having sex right now. Why are you having a gay crisis?"
"Your dad is here!"
"He is?" Stiles asks. There's a pause. "How do you know that?"
"I ran into him when I went to the bathroom," Danny admits. "So we can't be having sex."
"What, you think he's standing outside the door monitoring for my breathy moans?"
Danny has to give him a look, which is a total mistake. Stiles is lying on top of the sheets, totally naked, and Danny wants to lick him. "Did you just say breathy moans?" he says, hoarsely.
"Yes I did," says Stiles. "Seriously, why are you all the way over there?"
Danny clears his throat. Now that it's clear that Stiles is not, in any way, freaking out, he's actually less sure what to do. Part of him was still expecting him to say it was all a big mistake.
"Come on," Stiles wheedles. "I have condoms. I have lube. I'm naked."
"Why do you have lube?" They don't have that in the bathroom at the club; Danny has heard people complaining.
"Hey, it's good for girls too," Stiles says. "I mean, obviously, I could get a girl sufficiently, uh, ready without help. But lubrication never hurts! Safety first. Also, you know, it's good for jerking off when I want to get adventurous."
"Oh my god, stop talking," says Danny, putting aside the book so he can bury his face in his hands. He really doesn't need to be thinking about Stiles, jerking off, with his fingers working himself open-- "You're the worst."
"What?" says Stiles. "Wait, you're turned on right now! I am turning you on! Yes!"
"Stiles--"
"I knew it! You're into me!"
"Of course I'm into you, we had sex last night," says Danny, rubbing his face.
"No, you wouldn't have sex with me."
"That's not--" Danny starts, but he gives up. He closes the book, gets up, slides in next to Stiles and kisses him.
Stiles makes this noise that goes directly to Danny's dick. Which, honestly, didn't need any more encouragement, considering Stiles is naked and wants to have sex with him. He rolls closer, pressing his thigh between Stiles' legs, moans himself when Stiles starts rubbing up against him, already hard.
"Stiles, your dad is home," Danny protests weakly, when Stiles pulls back long enough to pull off his shirt.
"So?" he asks, pressing closer.
"He's the sheriff," says Danny. "He has a gun."
"What, do you think he's going to shoot you?" asks Stiles, getting his hand into Danny's boxers and wrapping his fingers around Danny's dick.
"Oh god, you're not--" Danny whimpers and pushes his face against Stiles' shoulder. "God, Stiles."
"I'm expecting you to get better at sex," Stiles says, sounding smug. "You're the expert here. You're supposed to be teaching me how to do this."
"Yeah, uh, you're good," says Danny. "Doing fine."
"Yeah?" says Stiles. "I jerk off a lot."
"You have got to stop talking about that," Danny says weakly, pushing against Stiles' hand.
"Yeah, uh, no. I'm going to talk about that all the time, you think it's hot."
Danny manages to shove his jeans and boxers down before he comes, so he just jizzes on Stiles' hand and not on his only clean clothing.
He flops on his back, panting a little. "Wow," he says.
"So I'm your boyfriend, right?" says Stiles, smug.
"Yeah," says Danny, still feeling dazed.
"So, you gonna help me out with this? Or do you just want me to do it myself?"
Danny whimpers, rolling over to see Stiles already starting to jack his cock. He didn't really get a great look at him last night, but--wow.
"I'm gonna die," he breathes.
"From hot, right? Definitely because I'm so hot."
He's only been going for a minute before Danny needs to touch, has to have his hands on Stiles again, and Stiles definitely doesn't object.
*
They finally make it downstairs a little before noon. Sheriff Stilinksi is reading the paper; he smiles when he sees them, so if he knows they spent the last two hours having lots of sex, he clearly doesn't care.
"Hey, dad," says Stiles. "You met Danny, right?"
"I did," says the Sheriff. "I guess we're going to have lunch instead. Unless you have to get home, Danny."
Danny feels vaguely like he's stepped into an alternate universe; werewolves he can handle, but dating Stiles Stilinski might actually break his brain.
"No, sir, I have time," says Danny.
"Good," says the sheriff. "Stiles, next time you tell me before your boyfriend spends the night, understood?"
"Understood," says Stiles.
They go to a diner and talk about lacrosse, and it's nice. Stiles gives him a kiss goodbye, which is nicer, and even Jackson's are you high text isn't enough to bring him down.
He's having a surprisingly great day.