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It's Greenberg, Stiles Stilinski!

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There exists a finite number of actions that are deemed socially acceptable. A finite number does not expand, inflate or grow to include things that are very much not socially acceptable, no matter how hard one might wish for it, and convincing yourself fools exactly no-one, unless you happen to be delusional.

Sometimes these delusions can be shared, and in the language of romance this phenomenon is called folie à deux, or more accurately folie à plusieurs if the delusion extends to a buttload of people. Like, say, a whole school full of people. Very handy if a person is supremely embarrassed by something they did and for once, nobody really gives a shit. Nobody. It's like winning the lottery!

And so, it's very unfortunate that Stiles isn't all that delusional himself, since most of his behavior falls under the category of unacceptable slash embarrassing, and he's painfully aware that even he can't stretch the truth to suit his needs all of the time. Most of the time. Some of the time? Almost never.

...He doesn't get away with a lot these days.

So it's understandable he would feel just a little upset because this time he's been given a Get Out of Jail Free card but he's holding himself accountable.

The irony.


Stiles wakes up aching and on the brink of coming, like he has been these past few weeks. His dreams have been hazy but every single one of them have featured a pair of glowing, red eyes and it doesn't take a genius to figure out who his frequent dirty dream co-star is.

Stiles shouldn't be this sexually frustrated. The opposite, in fact, since he's getting nailed on the daily, many times and in several positions. His libido has always been high, but this is getting to be a real nuisance.

It's with this thought that Stiles groans and drags himself out of bed so he can take care of his problem in the shower, just so he doesn't have to change his sheets again.


Noah Stilinski is a responsible, loving parent and Stiles loves him dearly, even if his dad does make Derek wait on the porch instead of inviting him in for breakfast. To his dad's credit, Derek isn't all that blameless.

Casa Stilinski is a Derek-free zone, except for dinners on weekends.

"I don't understand why you can't use your Jeep."

"I already told you, I'm saving up on gas since Boyd wouldn't give me a discount on the repairs."

His dad has been silently freaking about the Camaro ever since Stiles referred to it as the sex car one time in passing - he honestly meant it as a joke - but Stiles doesn't have the heart to tell him that the Jeep is more likely of the two cars to be used for illicit activities due to its bigger interior.

"As supportive as I am of your sudden enthusiasm for school, why do you need to get to the school so early?"

"Dad, we've talked about this." Stiles pats his dad on the shoulder. "You don't want to ask me questions you don't want answers to."

His dad makes a pained grimace. "No, I do not."

Stiles grins and drinks the last of his coffee before making his way out of the house.


The Camaro has barely come to a stop when Derek shuts off the ignition and pushes his seat back so he can yank Stiles into his lap. After a few tentative licks to the bared neck, he nips it while his fingers dig firmly into Stiles' hips. It's almost painful but Stiles welcomes the attention with a happy sigh.

This daily morning ritual is also the reason why Stiles makes it a point to take care of his situation in the mornings before he sees Derek, just to avoid getting ploughed in the school parking lot. The windows are tinted but it's the thought that counts. Probably. His dick disagrees, because it's already getting hard again. Stiles hisses as he presses his hand against it to stifle the bloodflow. "Derek, you're not helping."

Derek growls and Stiles' eyes roll back at the sound vibrating against his skin.

"You think I can't hear you in the shower?" Derek asks accusingly. Stiles feels his ears go red, and drops his head forward, leaning it against Derek's chest.

"There's something weird going on with my body. It's like the more sex I have, the more I have to have it." He pouts and lifts his gaze to look at the were in the eyes, which are already dangerously red.

"And in any case, it's your fault for getting to my house so early! I think you do it on purpose, just so you can listen in. So, really, you're just tormenting yourself." Derek doesn't deny it, the corners of his lips turning up in response. He goes to continue his work on Stiles' neck, but Stiles stops him by cupping his face. "Oh no you don't. I am not walking into school with dried come inside my jeans. You're just gonna have to adjust."

"Or you could take off your underwear."

"I have lacrosse practice later. I do not want to be known as the weirdo who has a habit of going commando. This guy Greenberg did it last year, and Coach still yells at us about it."

Derek huffs but allows Stiles to set the pace, their kisses languid and lazy.

The parking lot is filling up, but even hidden amongst the many cars, the sleek Camaro gains more than a few curious glances. Especially when the resident spaz wiggles himself out and nearly face-plants on the sidewalk; a fate avoided thanks to Derek's quick reflexes.


In home ec, Coach pauses during one of his rants when he sees Stiles scribbling little hearts and arrows everywhere on his notebook, the hearts engraved with the words Mr. and Mr. Stilinski-Hale, done beautifully in cursive. Coach knows not to ask - he's come to appreciate Stiles' silence far too much to risk mental scarring - just goes to his desk to get something, then presents Stiles with a tiny gold star sticker because at least Stiles refrained from drawing dicks. There may have been a detailed illustration about circumcision, once, but that was a long time ago.

Still. Good behavior should be rewarded.

There's an almost inaudible, indignant gasp that Stiles pretends not to hear, and Greenberg spends the rest of the lesson shooting icy glares at Stiles which go ignored.


"Dude. Did you do something to Greenberg?" Scott asks at lunch. Stiles gives a minute shrug before tearing into his mystery lunch meat.

"Well, whatever you did, he looks really mad," Scott's face scrunches up adorably, and Stiles resists pinching his cheek. "He's never mad."

"Dude's got issues."

"You've got issues. Greenberg's just... Greenberg. Seriously, what did you do?"

Stiles ignores Scott and focuses on stuffing the rest of his food inside his mouth in one go. The new transfer student who was heading their way changes course mid-step. Just as well; Stiles isn't sure she'd want to spend more time at their table once she learned about Scott's dating status, which was still very much in effect despite appearances.

He's brought out of his thoughts by Cora slamming her tray next to his and he ends up almost choking before Scott makes him drink some water. After Stiles is done with his little coughing episode, Cora fixes him with one of her glares. "I need a favor."

"Why yes Cora, how lovely to see you Cora, I'd love to help you, Cora. Honestly, if I wasn't already familiar with your brother's tendency to glare at me for simply existing, I'd think you were out to get me."

"Derek only glares at you when he's out to get you." Scott quips.

"Shut up, Scott." Then Stiles turns to address Cora. "So. What can I do for you?"

"The teacher thinks I need tutoring in chemistry. I'd ask you but trying to borrow you from Derek is impossible, so I asked Lydia for help but she said no and now she's ignoring me."

"Did you do something to piss her off?"

Cora's glare deepens before her body seems to deflate on itself. "I didn't exactly... Ask. And then I got a little angry and threathened her, but she still wouldn't do it."

Stiles sucks in a breath.

"You're in the doghouse now. You're gonna have to seriously grovel before her if you want her help."

"Apparently you're the Lydia whisperer."

"Guilty as charged."

"So what do I do?"

Stiles looks around the cafeteria before he finally spots Lydia with Allison, Jackson and Danny. Jackson looks bored while the other three are talking animatedly about something only cool kids talk about. Stiles smiles because a bored Jackson means an annoyed Jackson, which means an annoyed Lydia is imminent. Then he takes in her shoes and outfit which have to be at least a month old by now.

He practically gloats when he turns back to look at her. "I know there's a pre-Valentine's sale at the mall, and I know Jackson's not gonna be taking her. You're going to invite Lydia and spend at least 500 dollars on her."

"You're kidding me."

"Nope. If you want to sweeten the deal, tell her it's Derek's money. They're, um, not on the best of terms since Peter was resurrected - long story - but it should gain you brownie points. But you still need to apologize and make it clear, in no uncertain terms, how much superior she is to everyone, but especially you. You don't need to mean it, but Lydia likes to hear it, so at least try to sound sincere."

Cora grits her teeth and Stiles leans away slightly, since Cora is only a little less terrifying than Derek and more prone to violent outbursts of anger. Stiles hasn't fully figured out what makes her tick, but he's getting there. "Fine," she nearly spits, "anything else?"

"From now on, whatever you do, you don't say 'no' to her."

Cora takes her fork and stabs her lunch. Her dedication to destroying cafeteria food is so convincing, Stiles can almost imagine Lydia writhing and screaming as the fork makes another spearing motion.


By the time Stiles is finished with Lacrosse practice, he's greeted to the sight of Derek leaning against the Camaro.

"Before you whisk me into your secret batcave - or wolf den, I guess - answer me this; do you do that on purpose?"

"Do what?"

"Pose with your car all sexy and mysterious so the school secretary has something to look at while she finishes filing all the papers?"

Derek rolls his eyes and doesn't bother with an answer.

"What? It's a legitimate question!"

"Get in the car, Stiles."


The second Stiles steps into the loft, Apollo and Artemis rush to greet him, yipping and howling excitedly, tails swishing. They've been steadily growing in size but they still look like normal puppies, so taking them out on walks hasn't been an issue aside from Peter, who finds the idea of putting them on a leash appalling. Stiles isn't sure why. It could be because Peter's in the same situation; only his leash is more figurative and unlike him, one day the cubs aren't going to need theirs. Or it could be because Stiles still hasn't fessed up to neither giving birth to the cubs, nor the cubs' real genetic makeup, i.e. not being actual werewolves. Hmm.

"My babies! Come and snuggle!" The cubs are happy to comply.

"I wish you wouldn't treat them like pets."

"You're one to talk." He switches to a baby voice. "Papa is a hypocrite, yes he is."

While Stiles' days are spent in school, Derek's started jogging around town and has been taking the cubs with him. Predictably, it has brought all the single ladies to the yard and normally Stiles wouldn't mind - so okay, maybe that's a lie but he's not healthy enough to admit that - but Derek's been getting a lot of freebies from cafes and the like which has to mean Derek's not scaring them off. Oh no, not at all.

Derek's flirting with them. And he's using their cubs to do it.

Stiles is brought out of his gloomy thoughts of doom with an oof! when the cubs decide to tackle him to the ground and shower him in tender loving kisses.


Ever since the cubs' arrival, Stiles has been able to freely indulge in one of his favorite fantasies brought to life.

He got to bathe Derek in his wolf form once. Right after, Derek fell asleep and upon waking up caught Stiles tying bows and barrettes - courtesy of Lydia - into his fur, because of course Stiles couldn't leave well enough alone. ("It's for science, Derek!")

It only occurred to him just how monumentally bad some of his ideas are when he found himself sitting in a tree, unable to get down because there was a highly pissed off werewolf circling below.

He'd texted Scott for help, but predictably his bestie didn't see it in time and Stiles was left to answer for his crimes.

No such danger with the cubs. Although they wiggle their fluffy little butts a lot, Stiles is free to bathe them whenever he wishes. Derek lets him do it, wary of the maniacal gleam in Stiles' eyes.


After drying the cubs off and putting them to sleep, Stiles decides to confront his flirty, no-good, piece of --

"Stiles? You look... Off."

"How come you never flirt with me?"

Derek is silent for a moment, trying to work out where this is coming from. Then he orders Stiles to get on his knees, and Stiles does as told. Derek folds his arms and gives Stiles a stern look.

"That's why."

Stiles splutters in indignation. What. A. Dick.

He's a little offended. A lot offended, actually.

"Are you implying I'm easy?!"

Derek raises his eyebrows in answer and looks pointedly at Stiles' fingers which are trying to work Derek's jeans open. There's a pop and a zip before Stiles' brain catches up with what his hands are doing. He flushes but before he can say anything further, Derek raises his hands placatingly.

"If it makes you feel better- "

"I don't need to feel better! Why would I need to feel better? Who said anything about needing to feel - "

"I don't flirt with you because I respect you enough not to flirt with you."

Defensiveness turns into puzzlement. "I don't follow."

Derek reaches down and pulls Stiles up by his shoulders. He stares at Stiles intently for a moment and then gives him a blinding smile that renders Stiles speechless. It's such an underhanded move, and Stiles entirely defenseless, there's nothing he can do but stare at Derek dumbly.

When Derek's thumbs brush and rub against his neck in soothing motions, his whole body shivers.

"Stiles?" Derek whispers in a tone so amatory, it makes Stiles' nether regions throb and he's in danger of becoming bow-legged.


"What is two plus two?"


"Stiles...?" Derek asks, still smiling and Stiles bites his lip. Then the hands are pulling away and hey, no, come back!

"Stiles. Focus."

Derek sees the exact moment Stiles' brain comes back online.

"Oh my god." Stiles looks horrified and jumps back as if burned. "I'm worse than Scott!"


He really is.


Still reeling from his Earth-shattering realization, it takes Stiles a while before he notices something amiss at school the following day.


Both Scott and Stiles look at each other, surprise written on their faces, because Boyd and Erica are arguing, which does not compute.

Stiles manages to recover faster.

"Are you guys feeling okay...? You never argue."

Erica turns her back on Boyd and hisses. "I hate him."

Boyd looks intense. "I hate you more."

Scott and Stiles make themselves scarce.


But it's not just Erica and Boyd, though.

Everywhere they look, people are arguing. Stiles' alarm bells go off and while Scott goes in search of Allison, he makes a beeline for Lydia's locker.

"Got any theories?"

She shakes her head but doesn't look worried. "Whatever it is, I don't think we need to panic. People are arguing, but nobody seems to be getting physical."

Huh. Lydia's right and Stiles instantly relaxes.

"Meet up after school for research?"

"Can't. I'm tutoring Cora."

Stiles gasps. "Lydia Martin. Are you blowing off your boyfriend on Valentine's to tutor a fellow student?"

Lydia looks smug. "You would too if you got a pair of gorgeous shoes out of the deal."

Stiles looks down, and sure enough, Lydia is wearing a pair of dangerously high red heels that must be breaking some kinda school protocols somewhere. Just not in Beacon Hills, since heels are probably ranked very low on the list of dangerous things teachers ought to look out for.

Evidently Lydia isn't above using it to her advantage, and it's probably also why Erica gets away with dressing as provocately as she does. Which, more power to them, but he'd rather not bear the brunt of their machinations when they finally unite their dark forces and coerce him into wearing a miniskirt and a "cute pair of heels". There have been enough threats and Stiles isn't foolish enough to discount them just because they were disguised as jokes. (It's why he has about a dozen escape plans, back-up plans and a back-up of back-up plans.)

"Very nice." Stiles has no idea if the shoes are nice, but Lydia's wearing them, so they must be.

"Tell Derek I said thanks for funding my fashion needs."

Stiles salutes her, grateful she's not bringing up his plans for this year's Valentine's. Since both Stiles and Derek have traumatic memories attached to the day for wildly different reasons - Derek because of Paige and then Kate, and Stiles because of a case of mistaken identity in the second grade that he and Jackson have sworn to never talk about - both agreed to just chill out at the flat and do the horizontal tango. So business as usual, really.


As far as curses go, this one could almost be considered mild, if it weren't affecting so many people all at once. There seems to be no discernible pattern or motive. That is, until Stiles spots Greenberg of all people, looking shifty and trying to hide something bulky under his jacket. When Stiles calls out to him, he runs.

Yup. Definitely suspicious.

He sends a message to everyone in the group chat to keep an eye on Greenberg until lunch time, with plans to corner the guy and get some answers.


Despite the numerous eyes on Greenberg, come lunch time, he's nowhere to be found. They decide to split into pairs to begin their search; Stiles is left with Isaac after everyone else scampers off.

"Can't you just, I dunno, sniff him out?"

"It smells like magic everywhere, kinda hard to pick out individual scents. It definitely wasn't like this in the morning."

"So it's getting worse. What does magic smell like, anyway?"

"Kinda pepper-y? Makes my nose itch."

"Dude! Why didn't you say so? So basically it's sneeze and locate?"

Isaac doesn't look too happy about it, but in the end they get a trail that leads to the boys' locker room. Predictably, it's empty and Stiles groans out his frustration.

"Shit. Okay, let's just... Inform the others, then come back later after classes end."

"Can't. I've got a date."

Stiles curses inwardly, because the others are probably gonna be just as occupied. Jackson's the only one without plans, but he's gonna be sulking because of Lydia, rendering him practically useless.

He's gonna have to ambush Greenberg on his own. He's pretty sure Greenberg's gonna wait until school ends so he can present Coach with yet another Valentine's gift; the dude's relentless, and Stiles has a sneaking suspicion the guy keeps repeating his senior year on purpose.


Stiles never makes it to his last period, because of course it ends up being Greenberg who ambushes Stiles, and not the other way around.


Stiles wakes up in the locker room, tied up and gagged. A look to the left lets him know Coach is in the same predicament, the man's panicked face mirroring his own.

Greenberg is standing in front of them, rummaging in his backpack.

"I can't believe I forgot the book somewhere," Greenberg mumbles. "Guess I'll have to do the spell from memory."

He opens a small, velvet pouch and grabs a fistful of something powdery from inside. He turns to look at his two captives. "This is all your fault, Stiles. You were supposed to be reviled by Coach. You're like me," Greenberg sniffles and looks like he's about to cry. "But he gave you a gold star anyway. Why do you get to have a gold star?"

Stiles could almost make himself feel an ounce of sympathy for him. Y'know, if he wasn't tied up and gagged and really pissed off.

He almost rolls his eyes when Greenberg continues his villainous monologue.

"I tried out the spell on different people. Seemed like the perfect day for it. Once you get some of this dumped on you," he indicates the powder in his hand, "you become filled with hate towards the first person you see."

Wait. That's it? This time Stiles does roll his eyes, accompanied by a loud thunk as his head makes contact with the locker behind him.

"Now, I need you two to look at each other while I do this. Then I can release you and we can all go home."

For once, Stiles is actually gonna do as told, when suddenly, Greenberg stumbles and the powder gets dumped on Coach.

There's a moment of complete silence before it gets broken by Greenberg's horrified scream.

Coach is giving Greenberg the dirtiest stink eye Stiles has ever seen.


Stiles finally manages to feel some sympathy towards Greenberg when the guy removes their restraints and Coach verbally abuses him into a sniveling puddle.

He supposes it's up to him to fix the situation. "So how do we reverse the spell?"

Greenberg rubs at his runny nose and shrugs. "It's in this spell book I got, but I forgot the book somewhere." Because of course he did.

Stiles stomps away as Coach continues to berate the village idiot, but not before confiscating said idiot's little pouch of dusty-ass magic.


He makes it to the front doors just as the first throng of students are leaving the school.

He comes across a very pissed off looking Cora, glaring at Lydia who looks more bored than usual.

"I hate you."

Lydia rolls her eyes. "Yes, we've established that."

Cora's glare turns even more intense, like she wants to eat Lydia or something.

"Look, do you want me to tutor you or not?"

Cora grinds her teeth, fists clenching. "Yes."

Stiles isn't sure that's such a good idea. "I'm not sure that's such a good idea."

Stiles flinches and puts his hands up when Cora actually growls at him. "Okay. Never mind. Ignore me. Uh, bye." Then he dips out to the parking lot.

Derek's already waiting there, leaning against his car like usual and surrounded by a gaggle of girls who are trying - and failing - to get his attention. Stiles tries to ignore them when he reaches Derek.

"Change of plans, grumpy. There's a spell book we need to find." He takes out the velvet pouch and opens it. "Here, sniff this."


One of the girls knocks him out of balance.


Stiles freezes in place, his fight or flight responses completely overrun by pure, unadulterated fear. Stiles' life flashes before his eyes, while Derek's eyes flash red. The were grabs Stiles by the front of his shirt and nearly throws him on top of the Camaro's hood.


"Shut. Up." Derek growls. Stiles hears one of the girls start chanting for a fight, before Derek leans in and kisses him, hard.

"Aww, what? I thought there was going to be a fight..." The pouty voice retreats while another one giggles before Stiles loses his train of thought as Derek starts a game of tonsil hockey.

The were pulls back after a while, still looking as angry as ever. "I hate you."

One of Derek's hands moves up to tangle itself in Stiles' hair, as he starts nosing at the pulse point. He sinks his teeth into the hollow of Stiles' throat, sucking at the reddening and increasingly sensitive skin.

Stiles tries to suppress his voice, but Derek continues to patiently suck at his neck and jaw until Stiles can't hold it in anymore and an embarrassingly loud moan leaves him. Satisfied, Derek makes a rumbly, guttural sound and it's this what finally jolts Stiles back to his senses.

He pushes at Derek's chest and looks around the parking lot, realization taking place when he spots a dozen couples in various stages of arguing, yelling and making out.


He tries to get up when Derek attacks his throat again, caught somewhere between panic and a huge wave of arousal that he's very gallantly trying to resist. As his gaze sweeps over the parking lot, he spots Jackson and Danny. "Jackson! Ja- don't ignore me, you asshole! Get over here RIGHT NOW!"

Jackson must hear the panic in his voice, because he comes over quickly.

"You... Want me to remove him...?"

For a moment Stiles looks puzzled. "What? No!"

He tries to sit up straighter even as Derek starts grinding against him. "You need to, ahh, get to the library, like... Holy sh- ahh. L-like right now! Cora's been whammied with magic pixie dust or whatever and I'm pretty sure she's gonna do to Lydia what Derek's doing to me!"

Jackson runs.


In the end it's Lydia who saves the day, the missing book having been left open in an empty classroom she and Cora just so happened to stumble into. It took a while to come up with the counterspell because Greenberg accidentally mixed two spells. How he managed to do that, as the spells are in different sections of the book, is a mystery.

Lydia looks flushed, lips swollen and her hair in disarray as a very pissed off Jackson escorts her to his Porsche.

Cora refuses to meet their eyes as she clears her throat. "So... In the school parking lot?"


The following week at school is interesting.


"I-I just... In front of the entire school... I... That... Why? What is wrong with me? Why would I do that?"

Scott grimaces and gives his shoulders a comforting squeeze. "We'll just tell people you were under the same spell as everyone else."

"I don't care about other people! I care about me, Scott, and apparently I have nothing against public indecency when it concerns Derek. Why aren't you freaking out?"

"Because I know you. Are you really that surprised?"

"Yes! No! I don't know!"

Scott hums in contemplation and keeps Stiles from diving into the nearest trash can.


On the plus side, news of Derek being claimed - or more accurately, Stiles being claimed - reach the ears of all the single ladies in town, leaving behind a trail of broken hearts, which suits Stiles just fine.

It almost makes up for the fact that Stiles has to personally pry the gun from his dad's fingers, bullets generously donated by Chris Argent.

"That's it, Hale. From now on, you'll be working at the station where I can keep my eye on you. That means no more morning rendezvous, no picking Stiles up from school."

"Dad, are you sure that's a good idea since -"

The Sheriff silences him with a look.

"All funding for repairs and gas money will be provided by your boyfriend. From now on, the only car you'll be using is the damn Jeep."

Stiles hopes, rather than thinks, that Derek and his dad will learn to get along. They'll have to.