Fic: Stiles and the Flawless Plan (2/10)
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: 1690 (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
Soundtrack: Bring You Down - The Dear Hunter
“Look,” Stiles tried, as he cornered Scott at his locker before first period. “It would be mutually beneficial. We both get people off our backs. It’s not like that much would change, anyway,” he added. “Just, you know, more making out.”
Scott groaned and shuffled towards class. “That’s your selling point? Really?”
“What? Making out with me can be good. I’ve done it before. I’m a good kisser.”
“Yeah?” Scott raised a dubious eyebrow.
“Hey, don’t give me that look! I have it on good authority that-” Stiles stopped in his tracks. Scott kept going. Stiles jogged to catch up. “Okay, so I never actually got a confirmation that my kissing skills were good. But, uh, she didn’t run away screaming?”
Scott sighed. Loudly. “Can we talk about this later?” He tilted his head pointedly at the door to his algebra class.
Stiles frowned. “Fine. But not, like, later as in next month. Later as in lunch. This is going down.” Stiles’ inner twelve year old giggled. “Wait, bad word choice.”
“Yes, mom,” Scott said, and pushed the door open with one arm.
“Gross, I am not your mother, don’t even say that!” Stiles shouted after him. He looked up at the hallway clock. Shit. He was going to be late for Spanish. Again.
***
“Fine,” Stiles said as they both set down their lunch trays between Lydia and Ethan. Stiles attempted his best Scott-puppy-eyes impression. “I’m sorry I keep bringing it up. I promise I’ll stop bugging you about it.”
Scott growled. Literally growled. All the puppies looked over in surprise. Danny even lifted his eyebrows. Lydia, of course, simply continued piercing peas with her fork one-by-one, not even bothering to look up from her plate.
“What do you want?” Stiles asked, scooting his chair closer and scooping up a bite of mashed potatoes. “I’m apologizing! I can’t drop the subject before I apologize, that would just be rude.”
Scott rubbed his forehead with one hand. “Stiles.”
“What? Dude, what’s with the one word responses, you’re acting more like Derek already, is this an alpha thing?”
“Shut up!” Scott said, but it sounded less like a Derek-style shut up, which would have been angry and growly, and more like a kindergarten-era Scott shut up, replete with the bright red flush to his cheeks and the embarrassed grimace. “You asked for this, okay? I’m just letting you know. This is entirely your fault.”
“What’s entirely my-mmph,” Stiles started to say, before he was very rudely interrupted by Scott’s tongue. In his mouth.
Scott’s tongue. In his mouth.
Gross.
“Jesus!” Stiles managed, as soon as Scott pulled away. He vaguely registered that the spoon holding his potatoes had landed on the floor.
“I warned you,” Scott mumbled.
Scott had just kissed him. Which meant… he was totally down with the fake boyfriends plan! Stiles’ face broke into a huge grin. “I love you.”
Scott grimaced. “Oh my God, can we please not in public?”
“Tell that to my tonsils,” Stiles retorted, before he noticed that everyone was staring.
Everyone.
Not just the wolves, though they looked more shocked than most - no, in fact the entire cafeteria was angled in Stiles’ direction. Well, Scott and Stiles’ direction. There was definite judging going on.
Stiles felt his face go hot. “Shit.”
Scott rolled his eyes. “Well, you wanted people to know. I guess they know now.”
Stiles slouched lower in his seat. “Anyone have a spare spoon?”
Lydia pushed hers over wordlessly.
***
“Oh my God,” Stiles murmured, as he had been doing for the past fifteen minutes.
“For the last time, Bilinski, shut your pie hole! We’re here to learn economics, not religion!”
Stiles sunk lower in his seat.
Isaac leaned over from his seat next to Stiles. “For what it’s worth, that kiss looked really hot.”
Stiles tried to sink until his head was no longer visible over his desk.
***
2 unread text messages
From Greenbutt: hey i didnt no u wer dating scott sorry about all the txts
From Greenbutt: do u2 want 2 go out 4 pizza l8r???
***
“I take it all back,” Stiles moaned. “I’m sorry I ever came up with this stupid plan.”
Scott smacked Stiles over the back of the head. When Stiles turned to level a death glare at him, he was grinning dopily. “Well, I’m not.”
“What? You’re not?” Stiles slumped into Scott’s shoulder and tried to swat away his game controller. He could totally knock him off the race track if he could just move the joystick a little to the left…
“Allison sent me a text.” The guy practically had hearts in his eyes. Stiles would throw up, but it was Scott.
Scott shoved his cellphone into Stiles’ hand and resumed navigating the rainbow bridge, cheerfully shooting lightning bolts and electrocuting all the other racers. Stiles was too busy gawking at Scott’s phone to notice that he was plummeting off a cliff.
From Allison: I’m happy for you two! Want to go bowling with me & Isaac tomorrow? :)
“What?”
Scott shrugged. “I guess he moves fast.”
“Why are you happy? Like, I know you said you wanted this, but-”
Scott beamed. “She wants us to come with on her date!”
Stiles blinked at Scott before glancing back down at his phone again. It wasn’t until he saw Scott’s just-sent reply that Stiles started hyperventilating.
To Allison: Sounds fun, see you after school!! <3
“Dude, did you just send your ex-girlfriend a heart?”
“What’s wrong with that?” Scott asked. He frowned, but his attention was still on the television. Stiles, on the other hand, had given up any delusions of getting less than last place, and was absentmindedly holding down the gas pedal and occasionally tilting the joystick when he got stuck on something. Like a cliff wall.
“Uh, you generally don’t send hearts to people you’re not dating. It’s, like, rule number one of the ex handbook.”
Scott rolled his eyes, leaning back as he crossed the finish line, and reached for Stiles’ controller. “And how many exes have you had?”
“What, that’s totally irrelevant.”
Scott got Stiles to sixth place out of nine. Stiles celebrated by jumping on Scott and messing up his hair, which he patiently tolerated.
“Hey, man,” Stiles said, after Scott had gotten tired of Stiles’ shenanigans, flipped him over, and started sitting on him, “I gave you a noogie, that’s almost like nookie, now you can tell everyone you got laid.”
“Yeah, Stiles, more like you got laid. On the couch. With me on top.”
Stiles flexed his butt muscles, checking to see if he could get Scott to slide off, but he was pretty solid. “You weigh a ton, dude.”
“More than you do,” Scott agreed.
***
“Hey!” Allison said, pulling Stiles into a hug. Stiles tried not to think about how squishy her boobs were. “Thanks for coming tonight.”
“No problem,” Scott said, a dopey smile on his face.
Isaac, of course, looked perfectly relaxed in his polo and jeans and bowling shoes. “You look good,” he commented, his gaze flicking to the collar of Scott’s button down - which, by the way, was totally inappropriate for bowling. Stiles, on the other hand, was rocking his Wesley Crushers bowling team tee - thematically appropriate and flattering - but apparently deserved no lingering once overs.
“Why did we agree to go bowling, again?” Stiles hissed in Scott’s direction.
“Allison likes it,” he said, still looking Goofier than the cartoon dog.
Stiles rolled his eyes. “Okay, new rule, no more bowling for the next three - no, six - months.”
Isaac grinned and reached over to squeeze Stiles’ shoulder. “Deal.”
Stiles looked back at Scott, who was still grinning like a moron, while everyone else put on their bowling shoes. Isaac had started perusing the rack of bowling balls. “Come on, loser,” Stiles said, grabbing Scott’s wrist and tugging him towards the shoe rack. “Try the size ten, you always complain about how the size nine and a half pinch your toes.”
***
Honestly, this whole fake dating thing was going better than Stiles had expected. That is, until his dad came home and sat down in front of Stiles with his serious business face.
“Is there something you want to tell me, son?”
Stiles had mastered the art of being calm and collected in front of his father. Naturally, he immediately yelped, jumped five feet, and proceeded to shout, “No! Nothing! I’m not doing anything!”
Stiles’ dad just sighed the sigh of the long-suffering. “I hope you never commit a felony, kid, because you can’t lie for crap.”
“Can too!” Stiles said, and, well. Okay. He was a pretty piss-poor liar. But only for stupid things. The whole, hey-dad-so-werewolves-are-real thing? Yeah, he’d managed to lie about that just fine, but when he finally told his dad, did he believe him? No, of course not. One of these days-
“Stiles,” his dad said, snapping his fingers in front of his face. “Earth to Stiles.”
“What, huh? Oh.” Stiles managed a grin. “Yeah, what’s cookin’, Dad?”
“Your use of teenage vernacular will not scare me away, Stiles.”
“Uh. Did you want something?”
Stiles’ dad rolled his eyes. He leaned down to the floor and picked up a box that Stiles hadn’t noticed the first time.
“Condoms? Oh my God, Dad, what are you even-”
He raised an eyebrow. “Mr. Greenberg says congratulations, by the way. As does Alan Deaton.”
Stiles… had not pictured his coming out speech this way.
In his imagination, there had been more smiling. Less suspicion. Also, more balloons.
“Where are the balloons?” he blurted.
Stiles’ dad just sighed. “Kid, I love you, but I have no idea what Scott sees in you.”
“Gee, thanks!” Stiles yelled, turning to stomp out of the kitchen. Then, he turned around and snatched up the box of condoms. They would probably expire before he got a chance to use them, but, hey, waste not want not. “And we will never speak of this again.”
“Noted,” Stiles’ dad said as Stiles marched up the stairs to his bedroom, but he could tell that his dad was smirking. Traitor.
Chapter 3: Trouble in Paradise
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: 1690 (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
Soundtrack: Bring You Down - The Dear Hunter
“Look,” Stiles tried, as he cornered Scott at his locker before first period. “It would be mutually beneficial. We both get people off our backs. It’s not like that much would change, anyway,” he added. “Just, you know, more making out.”
Scott groaned and shuffled towards class. “That’s your selling point? Really?”
“What? Making out with me can be good. I’ve done it before. I’m a good kisser.”
“Yeah?” Scott raised a dubious eyebrow.
“Hey, don’t give me that look! I have it on good authority that-” Stiles stopped in his tracks. Scott kept going. Stiles jogged to catch up. “Okay, so I never actually got a confirmation that my kissing skills were good. But, uh, she didn’t run away screaming?”
Scott sighed. Loudly. “Can we talk about this later?” He tilted his head pointedly at the door to his algebra class.
Stiles frowned. “Fine. But not, like, later as in next month. Later as in lunch. This is going down.” Stiles’ inner twelve year old giggled. “Wait, bad word choice.”
“Yes, mom,” Scott said, and pushed the door open with one arm.
“Gross, I am not your mother, don’t even say that!” Stiles shouted after him. He looked up at the hallway clock. Shit. He was going to be late for Spanish. Again.
***
“Fine,” Stiles said as they both set down their lunch trays between Lydia and Ethan. Stiles attempted his best Scott-puppy-eyes impression. “I’m sorry I keep bringing it up. I promise I’ll stop bugging you about it.”
Scott growled. Literally growled. All the puppies looked over in surprise. Danny even lifted his eyebrows. Lydia, of course, simply continued piercing peas with her fork one-by-one, not even bothering to look up from her plate.
“What do you want?” Stiles asked, scooting his chair closer and scooping up a bite of mashed potatoes. “I’m apologizing! I can’t drop the subject before I apologize, that would just be rude.”
Scott rubbed his forehead with one hand. “Stiles.”
“What? Dude, what’s with the one word responses, you’re acting more like Derek already, is this an alpha thing?”
“Shut up!” Scott said, but it sounded less like a Derek-style shut up, which would have been angry and growly, and more like a kindergarten-era Scott shut up, replete with the bright red flush to his cheeks and the embarrassed grimace. “You asked for this, okay? I’m just letting you know. This is entirely your fault.”
“What’s entirely my-mmph,” Stiles started to say, before he was very rudely interrupted by Scott’s tongue. In his mouth.
Scott’s tongue. In his mouth.
Gross.
“Jesus!” Stiles managed, as soon as Scott pulled away. He vaguely registered that the spoon holding his potatoes had landed on the floor.
“I warned you,” Scott mumbled.
Scott had just kissed him. Which meant… he was totally down with the fake boyfriends plan! Stiles’ face broke into a huge grin. “I love you.”
Scott grimaced. “Oh my God, can we please not in public?”
“Tell that to my tonsils,” Stiles retorted, before he noticed that everyone was staring.
Everyone.
Not just the wolves, though they looked more shocked than most - no, in fact the entire cafeteria was angled in Stiles’ direction. Well, Scott and Stiles’ direction. There was definite judging going on.
Stiles felt his face go hot. “Shit.”
Scott rolled his eyes. “Well, you wanted people to know. I guess they know now.”
Stiles slouched lower in his seat. “Anyone have a spare spoon?”
Lydia pushed hers over wordlessly.
***
“Oh my God,” Stiles murmured, as he had been doing for the past fifteen minutes.
“For the last time, Bilinski, shut your pie hole! We’re here to learn economics, not religion!”
Stiles sunk lower in his seat.
Isaac leaned over from his seat next to Stiles. “For what it’s worth, that kiss looked really hot.”
Stiles tried to sink until his head was no longer visible over his desk.
***
2 unread text messages
From Greenbutt: hey i didnt no u wer dating scott sorry about all the txts
From Greenbutt: do u2 want 2 go out 4 pizza l8r???
***
“I take it all back,” Stiles moaned. “I’m sorry I ever came up with this stupid plan.”
Scott smacked Stiles over the back of the head. When Stiles turned to level a death glare at him, he was grinning dopily. “Well, I’m not.”
“What? You’re not?” Stiles slumped into Scott’s shoulder and tried to swat away his game controller. He could totally knock him off the race track if he could just move the joystick a little to the left…
“Allison sent me a text.” The guy practically had hearts in his eyes. Stiles would throw up, but it was Scott.
Scott shoved his cellphone into Stiles’ hand and resumed navigating the rainbow bridge, cheerfully shooting lightning bolts and electrocuting all the other racers. Stiles was too busy gawking at Scott’s phone to notice that he was plummeting off a cliff.
From Allison: I’m happy for you two! Want to go bowling with me & Isaac tomorrow? :)
“What?”
Scott shrugged. “I guess he moves fast.”
“Why are you happy? Like, I know you said you wanted this, but-”
Scott beamed. “She wants us to come with on her date!”
Stiles blinked at Scott before glancing back down at his phone again. It wasn’t until he saw Scott’s just-sent reply that Stiles started hyperventilating.
To Allison: Sounds fun, see you after school!! <3
“Dude, did you just send your ex-girlfriend a heart?”
“What’s wrong with that?” Scott asked. He frowned, but his attention was still on the television. Stiles, on the other hand, had given up any delusions of getting less than last place, and was absentmindedly holding down the gas pedal and occasionally tilting the joystick when he got stuck on something. Like a cliff wall.
“Uh, you generally don’t send hearts to people you’re not dating. It’s, like, rule number one of the ex handbook.”
Scott rolled his eyes, leaning back as he crossed the finish line, and reached for Stiles’ controller. “And how many exes have you had?”
“What, that’s totally irrelevant.”
Scott got Stiles to sixth place out of nine. Stiles celebrated by jumping on Scott and messing up his hair, which he patiently tolerated.
“Hey, man,” Stiles said, after Scott had gotten tired of Stiles’ shenanigans, flipped him over, and started sitting on him, “I gave you a noogie, that’s almost like nookie, now you can tell everyone you got laid.”
“Yeah, Stiles, more like you got laid. On the couch. With me on top.”
Stiles flexed his butt muscles, checking to see if he could get Scott to slide off, but he was pretty solid. “You weigh a ton, dude.”
“More than you do,” Scott agreed.
***
“Hey!” Allison said, pulling Stiles into a hug. Stiles tried not to think about how squishy her boobs were. “Thanks for coming tonight.”
“No problem,” Scott said, a dopey smile on his face.
Isaac, of course, looked perfectly relaxed in his polo and jeans and bowling shoes. “You look good,” he commented, his gaze flicking to the collar of Scott’s button down - which, by the way, was totally inappropriate for bowling. Stiles, on the other hand, was rocking his Wesley Crushers bowling team tee - thematically appropriate and flattering - but apparently deserved no lingering once overs.
“Why did we agree to go bowling, again?” Stiles hissed in Scott’s direction.
“Allison likes it,” he said, still looking Goofier than the cartoon dog.
Stiles rolled his eyes. “Okay, new rule, no more bowling for the next three - no, six - months.”
Isaac grinned and reached over to squeeze Stiles’ shoulder. “Deal.”
Stiles looked back at Scott, who was still grinning like a moron, while everyone else put on their bowling shoes. Isaac had started perusing the rack of bowling balls. “Come on, loser,” Stiles said, grabbing Scott’s wrist and tugging him towards the shoe rack. “Try the size ten, you always complain about how the size nine and a half pinch your toes.”
***
Honestly, this whole fake dating thing was going better than Stiles had expected. That is, until his dad came home and sat down in front of Stiles with his serious business face.
“Is there something you want to tell me, son?”
Stiles had mastered the art of being calm and collected in front of his father. Naturally, he immediately yelped, jumped five feet, and proceeded to shout, “No! Nothing! I’m not doing anything!”
Stiles’ dad just sighed the sigh of the long-suffering. “I hope you never commit a felony, kid, because you can’t lie for crap.”
“Can too!” Stiles said, and, well. Okay. He was a pretty piss-poor liar. But only for stupid things. The whole, hey-dad-so-werewolves-are-real thing? Yeah, he’d managed to lie about that just fine, but when he finally told his dad, did he believe him? No, of course not. One of these days-
“Stiles,” his dad said, snapping his fingers in front of his face. “Earth to Stiles.”
“What, huh? Oh.” Stiles managed a grin. “Yeah, what’s cookin’, Dad?”
“Your use of teenage vernacular will not scare me away, Stiles.”
“Uh. Did you want something?”
Stiles’ dad rolled his eyes. He leaned down to the floor and picked up a box that Stiles hadn’t noticed the first time.
“Condoms? Oh my God, Dad, what are you even-”
He raised an eyebrow. “Mr. Greenberg says congratulations, by the way. As does Alan Deaton.”
Stiles… had not pictured his coming out speech this way.
In his imagination, there had been more smiling. Less suspicion. Also, more balloons.
“Where are the balloons?” he blurted.
Stiles’ dad just sighed. “Kid, I love you, but I have no idea what Scott sees in you.”
“Gee, thanks!” Stiles yelled, turning to stomp out of the kitchen. Then, he turned around and snatched up the box of condoms. They would probably expire before he got a chance to use them, but, hey, waste not want not. “And we will never speak of this again.”
“Noted,” Stiles’ dad said as Stiles marched up the stairs to his bedroom, but he could tell that his dad was smirking. Traitor.
Chapter 3: Trouble in Paradise