Fic: Stiles and the Flawless Plan (9/10)
Title: Stiles and the Flawless Plan
Series: Bizarre Love Polyhedron
Rating: PG-13
Genres: Humor, Angst
Setting: Post Season 3A
Pairings: Scott&Stiles, background Stiles/Derek, Scott/Isaac/Allison, Lydia/Aiden, Danny/Ethan
Wordcount: 2130 (this chapter); 13k total
Betas: percygranger, gretchen4321
No matter what anyone else says, Stiles comes up with great plans, okay? Maybe this wasn't one of his best ideas, but it's mutually beneficial. Him and Scott are already bros. Calling each other boyfriends isn't that different, right?
Chapter 1: Stiles and the Terrible Idea
Chapter 2: Entirely Stiles' Fault
Chapter 3: Trouble in Paradise
Chapter 4: Derek
Chapter 5: Welcoming Committee
Chapter 6: Party Foul
Chapter 7: Fallout
Chapter 8: Weekend Woes
Chapter 9: Pack Invasion, or: the Day Stiles Couldn't Sit Still
Soundtrack: Be Gentle with Me - The Boy Least Likely To
Stiles was furtively sneaking bites of his peanut butter sandwich under the disapproving eye of the librarian behind the circulation desk, when someone came up behind him and flicked his ear.
“Agh!” he said, through a mouthful of peanut butter and multi-grain bread.
“Don’t be such a baby,” Lydia said, pulling out the chair next to Stiles and sliding into it with a careful tuck of her skirt.
“’M n’t,” he started, then swallowed. “I’m not a baby. You’re just legitimately terrifying.”
Lydia smiled. Stiles scooted his chair three inches to the left and crossed his legs preemptively.
“Why are you even here?” Stiles asked. “Shouldn’t you be terrorizing the lunchtime crowds with your flawless hair and general aura of perfection?”
Lydia reached out and patted Stiles’ arm, the look on her face expressing how very sorry she was that Stiles couldn’t match her vast intellect. “I’m here because you’re here.”
Stiles looked down at Lydia’s French manicure, now curled around his bicep. “What?”
Lydia removed her hand and rolled her eyes. “I swear, you’re as dumb as Scott sometimes.”
Ugh, Scott. Stiles had been trying not to think about Scott. Whatever expression showed on his face, it must have been both pathetic and horrifying, because Lydia pursed her lips in distaste.
“Sorry,” Stiles replied on automatic.
“Fine,” Lydia said, “no talking about Scott.” She inspected her nails. “I heard you didn’t ruin Derek’s party.” She tilted her head. “Well, not with the planning portion, at least.”
“Uh, thanks?”
Lydia’s smile returned, but Stiles did not feel comforted. “I was hoping for some pointers on werewolf-proofing for my next birthday bash.”
Stiles blinked. Lydia was asking him for help on something? “Yeah!” he blurted. “Yeah, yes, I can totally help with that. Let me get my notebook out, it has all my notes from planning Derek’s party.” Lydia leaned back in her chair, her arms crossed against her chest, as Stiles rambled on about werewolves’ dietary requirements and the importance of Peter-proofing.
He jumped in his chair when the bell signaled the end of lunch period. Lydia caught his eye and smirked. “My, how the time flies,” she said. “See you in math, Stiles,” she added, and sauntered out the front doors of the library. Stiles spent a few seconds staring after her, wondering what the hell had just happened, before cramming the last third of his sandwich in his mouth, slinging on his backpack, and hurrying off to History.
***
“Hey,” Aiden-or-possibly-Ethan said, falling into step next to Stiles as he left his English class. It was difficult for Stiles to distinguish between the twins when they weren’t sucking face with their respective significant others.
“Sup?” Ethan-or-Aiden said from Stiles’ other side.
“Uh. Hi?” Stiles said, looking rapidly between the two of them. “Are you planning to murder me as soon as we exit the school grounds? Because I have to say, that was not how I pictured spending the afternoon.”
Aiden-Ethan smirked. “You’re way too paranoid, Stilinski.” He glanced over at his brother. “Maybe we just wanted to play catch.”
“Oh, yes, toss-the-Stiles, that’s a popular sport among huskies, I hear. Don’t you guys have better things to do? Like making out with your boy slash girlfriends?”
Ethan-Aiden clapped his hand on Stiles’ shoulder. Stiles did not jump at the contact. Not even a little. “We heard you own that magic doorway game, or whatever.”
“Doorway?” Stiles asked, scrunching his face in confusion.
“Portal,” Aiden-Ethan corrected. “We heard you have Portal 2.”
“Uh… I guess? I mean, I bought it, like, a year and a half ago, but…”
“Good,” Ethan-Aiden said, squeezing Stiles’ shoulder. Stiles winced.
“We’ve heard good things about the co-op mode,” Aiden-Ethan added.
“Right,” Stiles said, eyeballing the front doors and calculating how long it would take him to run to his car and whether he could lose both twins in the crowd. “Yeah. So. I’ll just be… going home now.”
Ethan-Aiden gave him a push out the front doors. “We’ll see you later, then.”
***
Stiles managed to calm down on the drive home, and by six thirty, he was chilling in his room looking up angora rabbits on Wikipedia. (Damn, those things were fluffy. Derek would look hilarious picking that amount of fur out of his teeth.) He had just clicked on the hyperlink for the American Rabbit Breeders Association when the doorbell rang.
His dad wasn’t home, and he wasn’t expecting any packages, so he remained on high alert as he tiptoed down the stairs and peeked through the peephole.
When he looked out onto the front step, though, it was just Ethan and Aiden, one twin carrying a six pack of root beer, the other with a paper bag of takeout tucked under his arm, and both of them sporting douchey sunglasses.
Stiles opened the door tentatively. “Hey,” drink-holder said, pushing his way inside and turning towards the kitchen, while food-carrier just nodded and followed silently.
“What are you doing in my house?”
The twins exchanged matching smirks. “We’re here to play Portal,” said food-carrier, alias Aiden-Ethan.
Stiles blinked. “Wait, what?”
“We brought Chinese,” Ethan-Aiden added. “We heard you like crab cheese wontons.”
Stiles eyes lit up. “What? Yes! Where? Gimme!”
Aiden-Ethan turned to his twin and commented, “We’ve finally figured out how to reduce him to one-word sentences. Just need to feed him.”
“Shut up,” Stiles said, already pawing through the bag of takeout and opening all the containers. There were two orders of crab cheese wontons, an order of egg rolls, steamed rice, fried rice, orange chicken, beef with broccoli, what appeared to be egg drop soup… “Okay, you can stay. Bowls are in the far left cabinet, silverware in the top drawer.”
Aiden-Ethan turned to poke through the takeout bag. “I think there are chopsticks in here.”
“You do not want to see me use chopsticks, man, it is terrifying. I got sesame chicken in my dad’s hair once, he wasn’t even sitting next to me at the time.”
Ethan-Aiden grinned as Stiles inhaled one of the wontons. “Mind if we invite over part of the pack? We bought a lot of food.”
Stiles’ mouth was too full of delicious deep fried cream cheese to protest, so he just shrugged. “I’m not sharing the wontons,” he said after swallowing.
“Noted,” Aiden-Ethan said, as Ethan-Aiden started typing on his cell phone. “So how do we set up the PlayStation?”
***
Allison was the first to arrive, looking at Stiles with big, sad, puppy dog eyes that were unfortunately reminiscent of Scott. Lydia sauntered in a few minutes later, and she settled in next to the twin that Stiles had been internally denoting Ethan-Aiden. Well, whatever, it was a fifty fifty chance. He mentally renamed the twins, and was pleased to note that Danny’s boyfriend knew enough about Portal to correct his brother’s mangling of the name. He lost points for not being able to get past the first level, though.
They ended up ordering pizza after the third (failed) attempt at the intro level.
Shortly after that, Danny came and sat in Ethan’s lap, effectively freeing up the controller. Lydia had already stolen Aiden’s controller, so Allison grabbed the other one, and they finally started making progress in the game. Thank God.
Stiles had finished the last wonton and was absently picking at a slice of pepperoni when Derek padded into the living room, eyeing the twins suspiciously as he headed towards the far corner. “Dude,” Stiles said, scowling at the assorted werewolves and humans invading his house. “Peter better not be coming next. I’m not letting him inside my house.”
Aiden glanced over from where he was seated between Lydia’s thighs. Lucky bastard. “Of course not, we didn’t text Peter.”
“Yet somehow, he always finds out anyway,” Stiles pointed out, but by then Aiden had gone back to staring at the screen and running his hand up and down Lydia’s leg.
By the time Isaac came in, holding a box of Twinkies out in offering (and dammit, no one besides Scott was supposed to know of Stiles’ Twinkie obsession), Stiles’ Adderall had worn off, making it impossible to think straight, and he was starting to get a headache from the chatter in the living room. He grabbed the Twinkies from Isaac and stuffed them in the pantry before flopping onto the carpet and staring up at the ceiling.
He had no idea how werewolves dealt with extra sensory input. Would being a werewolf change his ADHD symptoms? Maybe if he got bit he wouldn’t be able to take his Adderall anymore, but he suspected he’d still have the same problems with focus. Research was a hell of a lot more effective when you could tune everything else out, up to and including things like hygiene and basic bodily functions. So it stood to reason that it wouldn’t be “corrected” like Scott’s asthma. It wasn’t like Scott had gotten smarter. Had he?
And why did everything always have to cycle back to Scott, anyway?
Stiles looked over at the occupants of the couch. Sure enough, no one was paying attention to him, with the possible exception of Derek, who kept sending him creeptastic glances from the corner of the room.
Stiles sighed and pushed himself back to his feet. “All right, guys, it’s been fun, but I’m going to go to bed.”
Derek frowned. Lydia rolled her eyes. Isaac looked down at the slice of pizza in his hand, as if wondering if he’d need to scarf it down before he got kicked out. Danny and Ethan were making out on the sofa, and Aiden didn’t look away from the television screen. “It’s only eight,” Allison pointed out.
“Yep. Gotta get up for school, bright and early,” Stiles said, annoyance creeping into his tone. “So maybe you could leave? My house? Where you are currently sitting on my couch, playing my video game, on my TV?”
“Stiles,” Lydia said, her voice conveying exasperation.
“Awesome,” Stiles said, before Lydia could chastise him for wanting privacy in his own damn house, “feel free to stay as long as you like. Stay the whole week! I’m sure my father will be delighted to have the company!”
He’d like to think a stunned silence fell over the room, but really, half the room was ignoring him, Allison and Isaac looked confused, and Lydia just seemed irritated. Derek was glaring, but for once it didn’t seem to be directed at Stiles, and instead aimed in the general direction of the sofa.
Stiles gave it up as a lost cause, sighing dramatically as he turned and stomped up the staircase. Halfway to his room, he turned around, walked back to the kitchen to grab a bottle of root beer, and then continued up to his bedroom.
***
Less than five minutes after his escape upstairs, a soft knock sounded on his door. Allison’s voice was subdued when she spoke. “It’s just me. Can we talk?”
Stiles groaned. “No.”
“Scott doesn’t want to break up with you.”
Stiles blinked, strode over to the door, and pulled it open. “What?”
Allison’s brow smoothed out when Stiles opened the door for her. “He’s been miserable since your fight.”
Stiles scowled. “That’s not the same as not wanting to break up with me.”
Allison shook her head. “You don’t see it, do you? How much he loves you.”
Stiles bit his lip, but said nothing.
“Will you call him?” Allison stared at him some more with her big, sad eyes.
“Maybe,” Stiles said, after a long pause. “I’ll think about it.”
Allison smiled tentatively. “Thank you.”
“What are you thanking me for?” Stiles grumbled. “I didn’t do anything.”
“Yes, you did.”
Allison turned and walked back downstairs, and Stiles… well, Stiles was really confused.
On the plus side, when he attempted to sneak downstairs fifteen minutes later to grab a Twinkie, the living room was empty.
***
The next day, at school, Stiles poked his head into the lunchroom. Scott was sitting slumped at one of the long tables in between Isaac and Allison, and he did, in fact, look miserable. He straightened and started glancing around the room as Stiles watched him. When he finally looked straight at Stiles, his eyes widened and his mouth quirked up at the corners. Stiles could practically hear the hopeful intake of breath. The moment was ruined when Allison, who had been saying something when Stiles had walked in, poked Scott in the side, and Scott turned to glare at her.
Stiles fled while Scott’s back was turned. He ended up eating his sandwich in the library again.
Chapter 10: Apology Accepted
Series: Bizarre Love Polyhedron
Rating: PG-13
Genres: Humor, Angst
Setting: Post Season 3A
Pairings: Scott&Stiles, background Stiles/Derek, Scott/Isaac/Allison, Lydia/Aiden, Danny/Ethan
Wordcount: 2130 (this chapter); 13k total
Betas: percygranger, gretchen4321
No matter what anyone else says, Stiles comes up with great plans, okay? Maybe this wasn't one of his best ideas, but it's mutually beneficial. Him and Scott are already bros. Calling each other boyfriends isn't that different, right?
Chapter 1: Stiles and the Terrible Idea
Chapter 2: Entirely Stiles' Fault
Chapter 3: Trouble in Paradise
Chapter 4: Derek
Chapter 5: Welcoming Committee
Chapter 6: Party Foul
Chapter 7: Fallout
Chapter 8: Weekend Woes
Chapter 9: Pack Invasion, or: the Day Stiles Couldn't Sit Still
Soundtrack: Be Gentle with Me - The Boy Least Likely To
Stiles was furtively sneaking bites of his peanut butter sandwich under the disapproving eye of the librarian behind the circulation desk, when someone came up behind him and flicked his ear.
“Agh!” he said, through a mouthful of peanut butter and multi-grain bread.
“Don’t be such a baby,” Lydia said, pulling out the chair next to Stiles and sliding into it with a careful tuck of her skirt.
“’M n’t,” he started, then swallowed. “I’m not a baby. You’re just legitimately terrifying.”
Lydia smiled. Stiles scooted his chair three inches to the left and crossed his legs preemptively.
“Why are you even here?” Stiles asked. “Shouldn’t you be terrorizing the lunchtime crowds with your flawless hair and general aura of perfection?”
Lydia reached out and patted Stiles’ arm, the look on her face expressing how very sorry she was that Stiles couldn’t match her vast intellect. “I’m here because you’re here.”
Stiles looked down at Lydia’s French manicure, now curled around his bicep. “What?”
Lydia removed her hand and rolled her eyes. “I swear, you’re as dumb as Scott sometimes.”
Ugh, Scott. Stiles had been trying not to think about Scott. Whatever expression showed on his face, it must have been both pathetic and horrifying, because Lydia pursed her lips in distaste.
“Sorry,” Stiles replied on automatic.
“Fine,” Lydia said, “no talking about Scott.” She inspected her nails. “I heard you didn’t ruin Derek’s party.” She tilted her head. “Well, not with the planning portion, at least.”
“Uh, thanks?”
Lydia’s smile returned, but Stiles did not feel comforted. “I was hoping for some pointers on werewolf-proofing for my next birthday bash.”
Stiles blinked. Lydia was asking him for help on something? “Yeah!” he blurted. “Yeah, yes, I can totally help with that. Let me get my notebook out, it has all my notes from planning Derek’s party.” Lydia leaned back in her chair, her arms crossed against her chest, as Stiles rambled on about werewolves’ dietary requirements and the importance of Peter-proofing.
He jumped in his chair when the bell signaled the end of lunch period. Lydia caught his eye and smirked. “My, how the time flies,” she said. “See you in math, Stiles,” she added, and sauntered out the front doors of the library. Stiles spent a few seconds staring after her, wondering what the hell had just happened, before cramming the last third of his sandwich in his mouth, slinging on his backpack, and hurrying off to History.
***
“Hey,” Aiden-or-possibly-Ethan said, falling into step next to Stiles as he left his English class. It was difficult for Stiles to distinguish between the twins when they weren’t sucking face with their respective significant others.
“Sup?” Ethan-or-Aiden said from Stiles’ other side.
“Uh. Hi?” Stiles said, looking rapidly between the two of them. “Are you planning to murder me as soon as we exit the school grounds? Because I have to say, that was not how I pictured spending the afternoon.”
Aiden-Ethan smirked. “You’re way too paranoid, Stilinski.” He glanced over at his brother. “Maybe we just wanted to play catch.”
“Oh, yes, toss-the-Stiles, that’s a popular sport among huskies, I hear. Don’t you guys have better things to do? Like making out with your boy slash girlfriends?”
Ethan-Aiden clapped his hand on Stiles’ shoulder. Stiles did not jump at the contact. Not even a little. “We heard you own that magic doorway game, or whatever.”
“Doorway?” Stiles asked, scrunching his face in confusion.
“Portal,” Aiden-Ethan corrected. “We heard you have Portal 2.”
“Uh… I guess? I mean, I bought it, like, a year and a half ago, but…”
“Good,” Ethan-Aiden said, squeezing Stiles’ shoulder. Stiles winced.
“We’ve heard good things about the co-op mode,” Aiden-Ethan added.
“Right,” Stiles said, eyeballing the front doors and calculating how long it would take him to run to his car and whether he could lose both twins in the crowd. “Yeah. So. I’ll just be… going home now.”
Ethan-Aiden gave him a push out the front doors. “We’ll see you later, then.”
***
Stiles managed to calm down on the drive home, and by six thirty, he was chilling in his room looking up angora rabbits on Wikipedia. (Damn, those things were fluffy. Derek would look hilarious picking that amount of fur out of his teeth.) He had just clicked on the hyperlink for the American Rabbit Breeders Association when the doorbell rang.
His dad wasn’t home, and he wasn’t expecting any packages, so he remained on high alert as he tiptoed down the stairs and peeked through the peephole.
When he looked out onto the front step, though, it was just Ethan and Aiden, one twin carrying a six pack of root beer, the other with a paper bag of takeout tucked under his arm, and both of them sporting douchey sunglasses.
Stiles opened the door tentatively. “Hey,” drink-holder said, pushing his way inside and turning towards the kitchen, while food-carrier just nodded and followed silently.
“What are you doing in my house?”
The twins exchanged matching smirks. “We’re here to play Portal,” said food-carrier, alias Aiden-Ethan.
Stiles blinked. “Wait, what?”
“We brought Chinese,” Ethan-Aiden added. “We heard you like crab cheese wontons.”
Stiles eyes lit up. “What? Yes! Where? Gimme!”
Aiden-Ethan turned to his twin and commented, “We’ve finally figured out how to reduce him to one-word sentences. Just need to feed him.”
“Shut up,” Stiles said, already pawing through the bag of takeout and opening all the containers. There were two orders of crab cheese wontons, an order of egg rolls, steamed rice, fried rice, orange chicken, beef with broccoli, what appeared to be egg drop soup… “Okay, you can stay. Bowls are in the far left cabinet, silverware in the top drawer.”
Aiden-Ethan turned to poke through the takeout bag. “I think there are chopsticks in here.”
“You do not want to see me use chopsticks, man, it is terrifying. I got sesame chicken in my dad’s hair once, he wasn’t even sitting next to me at the time.”
Ethan-Aiden grinned as Stiles inhaled one of the wontons. “Mind if we invite over part of the pack? We bought a lot of food.”
Stiles’ mouth was too full of delicious deep fried cream cheese to protest, so he just shrugged. “I’m not sharing the wontons,” he said after swallowing.
“Noted,” Aiden-Ethan said, as Ethan-Aiden started typing on his cell phone. “So how do we set up the PlayStation?”
***
Allison was the first to arrive, looking at Stiles with big, sad, puppy dog eyes that were unfortunately reminiscent of Scott. Lydia sauntered in a few minutes later, and she settled in next to the twin that Stiles had been internally denoting Ethan-Aiden. Well, whatever, it was a fifty fifty chance. He mentally renamed the twins, and was pleased to note that Danny’s boyfriend knew enough about Portal to correct his brother’s mangling of the name. He lost points for not being able to get past the first level, though.
They ended up ordering pizza after the third (failed) attempt at the intro level.
Shortly after that, Danny came and sat in Ethan’s lap, effectively freeing up the controller. Lydia had already stolen Aiden’s controller, so Allison grabbed the other one, and they finally started making progress in the game. Thank God.
Stiles had finished the last wonton and was absently picking at a slice of pepperoni when Derek padded into the living room, eyeing the twins suspiciously as he headed towards the far corner. “Dude,” Stiles said, scowling at the assorted werewolves and humans invading his house. “Peter better not be coming next. I’m not letting him inside my house.”
Aiden glanced over from where he was seated between Lydia’s thighs. Lucky bastard. “Of course not, we didn’t text Peter.”
“Yet somehow, he always finds out anyway,” Stiles pointed out, but by then Aiden had gone back to staring at the screen and running his hand up and down Lydia’s leg.
By the time Isaac came in, holding a box of Twinkies out in offering (and dammit, no one besides Scott was supposed to know of Stiles’ Twinkie obsession), Stiles’ Adderall had worn off, making it impossible to think straight, and he was starting to get a headache from the chatter in the living room. He grabbed the Twinkies from Isaac and stuffed them in the pantry before flopping onto the carpet and staring up at the ceiling.
He had no idea how werewolves dealt with extra sensory input. Would being a werewolf change his ADHD symptoms? Maybe if he got bit he wouldn’t be able to take his Adderall anymore, but he suspected he’d still have the same problems with focus. Research was a hell of a lot more effective when you could tune everything else out, up to and including things like hygiene and basic bodily functions. So it stood to reason that it wouldn’t be “corrected” like Scott’s asthma. It wasn’t like Scott had gotten smarter. Had he?
And why did everything always have to cycle back to Scott, anyway?
Stiles looked over at the occupants of the couch. Sure enough, no one was paying attention to him, with the possible exception of Derek, who kept sending him creeptastic glances from the corner of the room.
Stiles sighed and pushed himself back to his feet. “All right, guys, it’s been fun, but I’m going to go to bed.”
Derek frowned. Lydia rolled her eyes. Isaac looked down at the slice of pizza in his hand, as if wondering if he’d need to scarf it down before he got kicked out. Danny and Ethan were making out on the sofa, and Aiden didn’t look away from the television screen. “It’s only eight,” Allison pointed out.
“Yep. Gotta get up for school, bright and early,” Stiles said, annoyance creeping into his tone. “So maybe you could leave? My house? Where you are currently sitting on my couch, playing my video game, on my TV?”
“Stiles,” Lydia said, her voice conveying exasperation.
“Awesome,” Stiles said, before Lydia could chastise him for wanting privacy in his own damn house, “feel free to stay as long as you like. Stay the whole week! I’m sure my father will be delighted to have the company!”
He’d like to think a stunned silence fell over the room, but really, half the room was ignoring him, Allison and Isaac looked confused, and Lydia just seemed irritated. Derek was glaring, but for once it didn’t seem to be directed at Stiles, and instead aimed in the general direction of the sofa.
Stiles gave it up as a lost cause, sighing dramatically as he turned and stomped up the staircase. Halfway to his room, he turned around, walked back to the kitchen to grab a bottle of root beer, and then continued up to his bedroom.
***
Less than five minutes after his escape upstairs, a soft knock sounded on his door. Allison’s voice was subdued when she spoke. “It’s just me. Can we talk?”
Stiles groaned. “No.”
“Scott doesn’t want to break up with you.”
Stiles blinked, strode over to the door, and pulled it open. “What?”
Allison’s brow smoothed out when Stiles opened the door for her. “He’s been miserable since your fight.”
Stiles scowled. “That’s not the same as not wanting to break up with me.”
Allison shook her head. “You don’t see it, do you? How much he loves you.”
Stiles bit his lip, but said nothing.
“Will you call him?” Allison stared at him some more with her big, sad eyes.
“Maybe,” Stiles said, after a long pause. “I’ll think about it.”
Allison smiled tentatively. “Thank you.”
“What are you thanking me for?” Stiles grumbled. “I didn’t do anything.”
“Yes, you did.”
Allison turned and walked back downstairs, and Stiles… well, Stiles was really confused.
On the plus side, when he attempted to sneak downstairs fifteen minutes later to grab a Twinkie, the living room was empty.
***
The next day, at school, Stiles poked his head into the lunchroom. Scott was sitting slumped at one of the long tables in between Isaac and Allison, and he did, in fact, look miserable. He straightened and started glancing around the room as Stiles watched him. When he finally looked straight at Stiles, his eyes widened and his mouth quirked up at the corners. Stiles could practically hear the hopeful intake of breath. The moment was ruined when Allison, who had been saying something when Stiles had walked in, poked Scott in the side, and Scott turned to glare at her.
Stiles fled while Scott’s back was turned. He ended up eating his sandwich in the library again.
Chapter 10: Apology Accepted