Work Text:
Student Survival Guide:
-
If you puke on the toilet seat and an upperclassman finds out, you will be balled from Fraternities, Sororities, the Honor Society, the Student Government, and every other organization you can imagine.
Stiles was looking forward to sophomore year. He and Scott would be living in the attic of the house. The new Dean of Greek Life had already sent around an email talking about her sorority days and finding a balance between rule following and having fun. And most importantly of all, there would be new minds to corrupt. As Assistant Pledge Trainer, he’d been emailing Finstock all summer about ideas for the new babies (the only response he ever gotten was ‘shut the fuck up,’ but the last email had just said ‘please,’ so Stiles was sure he was making progress).
He parked his Jeep in the gravel lot by the Alpha Beta Omega house, slung his bag over his shoulder, and bounded up the stairs. Scott was already in the room, bending down to get something out of a box, so Stiles tackled him.
“Dude!”
“Dude!”
That went on for a few minutes until Stiles got tired and flopped on top of Scott as dead weight.
“Urgh,” Scott grunted, trying to shove him off. “You got heavier over the summer. Get off!”
Stiles giggled, but didn’t move.
“If you don’t get off, you don’t get your present,” Scott teased.
Stiles peeked one eye open. “What is it?”
Scott wriggled around until he got a hand free. Stiles could have been nice and moved, but he was comfortable at the moment, thank you. Scott fumbled a bit, and then yanked a bag towards them. Out fell a bottle of Stiles’s favorite whiskey, and a box of condoms.
Scott blushed. “The whiskey’s for you. Not uh, not the other thing.”
Stiles winked down at him. “You’re on the right track, getting me drunk, but you should really buy me dinner first.”
He sat up, still pinning Scott’s legs, and scooped up the booze. “Seriously though, dude, you’re the best. Tonight’s gonna be awesome!”
The first party of the year kicked off the moment Derek Hale walked through the doors. Drinking had started before then, of course, but you had to have the president for it to be official. Or so said Erica. She had suggested dumping a cooler of beer onto him, but no one had really wanted to waste the beer, so they made due with ice. Derek looked livid. The year was off to a great start.
Freshman started trickling in an hour later. Technically, that was against the rules, but no one blinked an eye, and anyway, that was how Scott and Stiles had gotten their start in the frat. Derek’s younger sister Cora was a freshman this year, and she’d brought along her roommate Malia and a few of the guys from their freshman group.
“See any PNMs?” Stiles asked, passing Scott another beer.
“PNMs?”
“‘Potential New Members,’” Stiles said knowingly. “I’ve been reading my handbook.”
“There’s this kid Liam. He seems alright.”
“The one stumbling into the bathroom?” Stiles asked, pointing.
“Dammit,” Scott groaned.
They followed after him - because having a freshman die at their party would be worse than everything that had happened last year - and found him puking his guts out.
“Dude, really?” Stiles asked, pointing at the vomit on the toilet seat. “That’s blackballing behavior right there.”
Scott looked up at him, and Stiles sighed. Becoming immune to Scott McCall’s puppy dog eyes was definitely on his to do list for the year.
“Whatever. I’ll go get the kid some water. Welcome to ABO, dude.”
-
Coming to class five minutes late is cool.
Scott slipped into the back of the classroom, trying to be sneaky and look inconspicuous. It mostly worked. The professor gave him a look, sighed, and continued lecturing. Stiles, on the other hand, gave him a look, narrowed his eyes, and glared, indicating that a lecture was coming swiftly.
“You were late,” Stiles hissed, cornering him after class. “And that is a hickey. I don’t think you’re taking this education seriously, Scotty.”
“Seriously? You skip that class every other day. Allison and I just got a little carried away.”
He did reach up nervously and try to wipe the hickey away though. He was already regretting the whole situation, even though it had been a lovely makeout session. He smiled remembering it and decided he didn’t actually regret anything, even if it ticked off Stiles.
Stiles rolled his eyes. “You’re going to see her tonight.”
“Yeah, but this is our only free slot during the day. She’s mostly on the other side of campus. I have to make time to see her.”
“Well can you make some time for lunch with your frat? You know, your brothers?” Stiles asked, pushing open the dining hall doors.
Scott swiped his card and followed Stiles to Frat Row, hoping the conversation would drop. For the first time in years, the ABO and the Alpha Gamma tables were beside each other in the long row of tables. Stiles dropped into his seat, and immediately turned to talk to Lydia, who was sitting next to Jackson.
“He was late again. Was Allison late to Myths?”
Lydia shrugged. “I’m not her keeper, and you’re not his. Nice hickey, Scott.”
Scott blushed and sat down by Stiles, tugging on his plaid shirt until he faced forward again.
“Late. Bah! Come on. You’d better not be late for the sushi line.”
Scott trailed after Stiles, not sure why his best friend was so upset.
-
Girls dig STD collections.
Living in the house was a bit like living in a petri dish. Stiles had already been to Health Services three times this year for mysterious flu-like symptoms. He blamed the freshmen, though he blamed the freshmen for most things. This time, the nurses hadn’t even known what exactly he had, but they’d put him on the school quarantine list anyway.
“Scoooottt. Pay attention to me.”
It was the fifth such voicemail he’d left. He was on his sixth straight hour of House Hunters and it was getting boring. He wanted someone to come change the channel, but everyone in the house had already refused.
“Scotty!” Stiles called, as his roommate walked past the door. “Have pity on me!”
Scott paused in the doorframe. “Hey buddy. Still quarantined?”
Stiles nodded, trying to look as pitiful as possible.
“Well, at least it’s not herpes. Or scurvy.”
“Oh my god!” Greenberg shouted from the corner. “That was one time!”
Stiles patted the couch. “C’mere, bro. What’s up with you?” he asked, spotting Scott’s lack of sunshine smile.
Scott sighed and sat down, idly resting a hand on Stiles’s legs. “It’s Allison, man. Tonight was so awkward. I just don’t know what she’s thinking anymore, and we keep getting into these little fights. I thought she was the one, but-”
“Hey, hey.” Stiles caught Scott’s hand and squeezed it. “It’ll be alright, bud. And if it’s not, we’ll just go on a bender until it is, okay? We’re good at benders.”
“Not if you’re still sickly,” Scott teased.
“Whatever, man. I rock the consumptive look. I am a hot piece of ass. Now come on, do me a solid and change the channel.”
Scott found the remote on the other side of the room and curled back up with Stiles. Stiles snuggled further into his warmth, and was finally able to fall asleep.
-
Only drink on days that end in "y."
Scott had standards, okay?
Ha, that was funny because he was on the Standards Board. Scott giggled to himself for a moment before getting back on track.
Right, he had standards and rules for a ‘successful and fulfilling college experience.’ One of those rules was no going out on school nights. That rule had quickly been amended to no going out on weekdays with the exception of Thursday, which barely counted. It was now being amended again to include an exception clause for emergencies.
Breaking up with his girlfriend of over a year and a half definitely counted.
Scott passed the bottle back over to Stiles who took a long swig. Scott pretended not to watch the long line of his throat as he swallowed.
The little fire Stiles had built crackled in front of them, a cheery counterpoint to the dark clouds in Scott’s head. He was getting poetic. He was definitely drunk.
“There are other sorority girls in the lake,” Stiles hiccuped.
Scott took another drink in answer.
Around midnight, they put out the fire, dropped the bottle onto the slowly growing pile, and staggered upstairs. Tuesday was the quietest night of the week in the ABO house. Liam, Mason, and Boyd were studying in the TV room, but otherwise the house was silent except for their giggles and shushing as they tried to sneak up to their room. Scott leaned heavily on Stiles, extremely conscious of the alcohol flooding his system.
His bed was nice. He started to tip backwards, but Stiles grabbed him. “Clothes off first. Do you think you’re gonna puke, buddy?”
He shook his head and the world didn’t spin that much.
Stiles was kneeling to tug off his shoes, then he straightened up to pull Scott’s t-shirt off. Scott’s hands found Stiles waist. It was a nice waist. Stiles was a nice person.
“You’re a nice person.”
“No I’m not. You’re drunk.”
“But I like you.”
“Yeah, I like you too.”
“Best bros forever,” Scott said, flopping sideways into sleep.
And he must have been really drunk, because he had to have imagined Stiles’s sad expression and the little kiss he pressed to his cheek.
-
It is perfectly polite and acceptable to hook up in fraternity/sorority houses and academic buildings. But not the chapel.
“This has gotta be the dumbest idea ever,” Scott grumbled, though his smile told a different story.
Stiles smirked back at him. “Come on!”
He dropped to the ground and shimmied under the security gate on the tower steps. The metal bars caught at his shirt, but he just fit through and hopped upright. “You’re already an accomplice, might as well go all the way,” he teased.
Scott army crawled underneath, and grinned at him when they were pressed together in the confined space. “Now what?”
“Up,” said Stiles simply.
There was a gallery level that ran around the whole chapel, and they paused there, looking out over the quad.
“Halfway through, huh.”
“Yeah,” Stiles said. He’d been trying not to think about it. “But we’re not half way up yet. C’mon.”
The door to the bell tower was latched from the inside, but it was ridiculously simple to pop the lock and then they were inside. The second level of the tower was a huge echoing space lit by stained glass windows on three sides. It was almost pitch dark at the moment because the street lights didn’t reach this high, so Stiles pulled a flashlight out of his pocket and pointed it towards the stairs in the far corner.
They climbed and climbed and climbed. Up almost a hundred feet, past all the bells and the carillonneur’s room, and out onto the upper gallery. Stiles had been up here before, but it was Scott’s first time, so he gave him a moment to run around and look out from all four sides.
“This is so cool!” Scott gushed.
His face was lit up like Stiles hadn’t seen in a while, and - as always - his joy was infectious.
“Now for the best part,” Stiles gloated. He pulled a small baggie and some rolling papers out of his pocket, and Scott pulled him into a hug.
“I love you, man.”
“I know, dude,” Stiles said with a soft smile, pulling him down to sit with their backs against the parapet, looking up at the last bit of tower and the largest bells outlined against the stars.
“Quit quoting Star Wars at me.”
“You don’t get to know that reference if you haven’t seen the movies,” Stiles grumbled, kicking at Scott’s foot.
“It’s a cultural icon, dude. Even if I haven’t seen it, I know most of the plot and famous lines. Like, I know Darth Vader is Luke’s f-”
“Lalalala!” Stiles shouted, shoving his fingers in his ears. “You don’t know that!”
Scott laughed. “Fine. I don’t know the most obvious spoiler in film history. Pass me that joint.”
They passed the first joint back and forth, until Stiles’s limbs were starting to feel hazy. Scott was idly rolling the second one, when Stiles blurted, “Have you ever shotgunned?”
“Allison and I tried it once. It was okay. Have you?”
“With Isaac sort of. It didn’t really work.”
“Well, we got it to work. Do you want to try again?”
Stiles looked over at Scott, lit by nothing but moon and starlight, and wanted nothing more than to try it.
“Okay,” he almost whispered.
“Cool.”
Scott took a long drag on the joint, and then leaned in close to Stiles. Stiles could feel his heart pounding, probably a side effect from all the weed. He was really high. Scott’s lips sealed over his, and then Scott was exhaling, and Stiles sucked in a deep breath, taking in the weed and the smell of Scott, and feeling strangely buoyant.
“Okay, now you try,” Scott said after he’d exhaled.
It was different, leaning in to basically kiss your best friend than it was to have him basically kiss you. Stiles almost fucked it up, almost chickened out. He could do it easily too, just blow the smoke into Scott’s face and laugh, turn it into a joke. But it was too late, he was there, pressing his lips against Scott’s, forming a tight seal. He exhaled, and it was probably mostly the weed thinking, but it felt like he was breathing life into something. It felt good.
Scott pulled away to exhale, and then turned back to Stiles, smiling. “Cool, huh?”
“Yeah,” Stiles said. “Yeah.”
-
Dorm matrons are required to tuck you in if you ask them to.
Scott stomped up the stairs under a load of books and movies. His phone buzzed in his pocket, startling him. He kicked open his dorm door - a single, one of the perks of being an RA - and dropped the boxes on his bed before checking his phone. It was yet another text from Stiles. This one read: I’m outside. Let me in you loser.
As he was about to head downstairs, a voice filtered through the open window.
“Scott you asshole. I’ve been standing out in this heat for ages. Let me in.”
“The dorm’s not air-conditioned,” he teased, leaning out the window to wave at Stiles in the parking lot below.
“Whatever. I need to check out your sweet pad.”
He gave Stiles a quick tour on the way back upstairs. They laughed at the ridiculous window coverings in the common room, and peeked onto Braeden’s hall so Scott could show Stiles the closet marked ‘Narnia.’ After Stiles had ogled at the tiny showers on the third floor, they collapsed onto Scott’s twin, a fan pointed directly at them.
“No AC totally sucks, bro. You can come chill with Isaac and I, literally. Our dorm’s got central air.”
He tried to do an excited hip wiggle without moving. Scott laughed.
“Plus Boyd’s the RA there. It’s like we’re taking over. You should totally swap with his co-RA. Then it would be like the ABO dorm! It’s closer to the house.”
Scott patted Stiles on the head. It was their first time not living together, and Scott could already tell that it would probably be weird. “I have to stay here. You’ll survive without me.”
“Will I, Scott? Will I?”
“You will. But in order to ease the transition, you can stay with me until dorms open. If you want.”
Stiles rolled over and propped himself up on his elbow so he could look down at Scott. Scott found himself inexplicably caught by Stiles’s gaze and unable to blink.
“You are the best, man. Absolutely the best.” He reached over to ruffle Scott’s hair, and then pushed him off the bed. “I call the bed!”
“No you don’t, you asshole!” Scott laughed, scrambling up and then pouncing on Stiles. And Scott thought they would always make things work, no matter where they were living.
-
You are not a revolutionary, anarchistic, iconoclastic, radical, tortured, misunderstood, isolated, burdened, ideologically privileged, intellectually superior, unique individual just because you read a bit of Nietzsche and feel awkward around strangers.
Stiles knew on some level that this argument was getting out of hand. When they’d started, there had been a smattering of other brothers hanging around the house common room, but now it was just them, and their voices were loud enough that he couldn’t hear the game in the next room. Or maybe someone had turned it off.
“You’re not acting like yourself!”
“How would you know?” Stiles snapped. “You’re never around anymore.”
“I’m busy, Stiles. Sorry if I haven’t been in regular attendance at the weekly orgy or whatever-”
“It’s more than missing the mixer,” Stiles insisted, prodding Scott in the chest. “It’s like you don’t want to hang out with us anymore. You think I don’t have a ton of shit on my plate? I’ve got a fuck ton going on, but I still make time for the frat, because that’s where I want to be.”
“Everybody’s stressed, Stiles,” Scott sighed. “You don’t have a monopoly on it.”
“And you don’t have a monopoly on self-sacrifice. You need to have some fun, dude!”
“Fine,” Scott snarled. He snatched up the game controllers and threw one at Stiles. “Let’s go.”
“Fine,” Stiles snapped back, scowling.
They flopped onto the couch, Stiles jabbing his elbow into Scott’s ribs and Scott stepping on his foot in retaliation. They were harsh, throwing elbows around and smacking each other and taking every sniping opportunity they could, but Stiles could feel some of the tension leaking out of him.
He and Scott had fought two other times in the years that they had known each other. Once it had been about dishes, and once it had been about the last beer in the fridge. Stiles had hated it both times. Even though he maintained that he’d been right both times too. Luckily, they never stayed mad at each other for too long.
When Liam and Mason peeked back into the room half an hour later, they were tangled up on the couch, barely paying attention to the game and laughing hysterically.
“We thought you guys were breaking up,” Liam said.
Stiles jumped to his feet and caught Scott’s Little Brother in a headlock. “What? Did we teach you pledglings nothing? Brotherhood is eternal! The strength of the wolf is the frat! Or whatever.”
Scott giggled at him, and Stiles preened.
“Let him go, Stiles. We’ve terrorized the house enough for one night.”
“Yeah, don’t you have a single?” Mason asked pointedly, taking up his hastily abandoned position on the bean bag chair.
“I think the pledges are telling us to get a room, Scotty. Come on, you can walk me home.”
Stiles offered his hand and Scott took it, smile lighting up the room.
-
Sinks are just taller urinals.
“You’d think a shindig this fancy and with this much alcohol would have more than one toilet,” Stiles complained, rattling the handle of yet another locked academic building. “I just want to pee!” He shouted.
Scott got nervous when Stiles’s eyes widened and he grinned. He dashed off, muttering something about the lobby always being unlocked.
“Victory!”
“It’s a kitchen, not a bathroom,” Scott pointed out.
“Sink,” said Stiles simply, and Scott groaned.
“You’re a horrible person.”
“Yep!”
Scott leaned against the door, fiddling with his cuff links while Stiles finished up his business.
“What are you boys doing in here?”
Stiles froze in the process of zipping up his fly. Scott fumbled for something non-incriminating to say.
“Making out?” Stiles suggested.
The security guard took a step towards them and they bolted from the kitchen.
The Gala for the new Res Life director was still going on, but Scott had made his appearance, so he dragged Stiles away from the party and back to his dorm. They only made it halfway before Stiles collapsed, laughing his ass off.
“Oh my god, dude, that was the best. Thanks for inviting me to that. Sorry I got caught peeing in a sink.” He dissolved into laughter again, and Scott joined in.
“C’mon,” he said, hooking an arm around Stiles’s waist. “I think it’s your bedtime.”
“Then why are you taking me to your room?” Stiles asked as they staggered onward.
Scott cursed and started to turn them around.
Stiles smacked him lightly on the shoulder. “It’s whatever, dude. We’ve shared a twin before. I don’t think I could make it all the way back to my room anyway.” He illustrated that point by continuing to slump in Scott’s arms.
“Alright. Let’s go, ya lightweight.”
“I know you are, but what am I?” Stiles mumbled.
“Drunk.”
“Yeah,” Stiles grinned hazily.
Scott hoisted him up a little bit more, and they walked back to Scott’s dorm, leaning on each other the whole way.
-
No one really studies in the computer lab so feel free to be as loud and distracting as you please.
Stiles hated the Academic Technology Center. It was too quiet, he always had the urge to fill the silence. He had a tendency to mutter to himself while studying which people had called ‘distracting’ or ‘disturbing.’ Scott loved it though. Whenever Stiles couldn’t find him he went to the ATC. And victory! Scott was sitting at the far end of the basement room with Kira, the transfer student from his chemistry class.
Stiles padded across the lab, trying not to hum the Mission Impossible theme, and sat down at their table.
“Hey,” he whispered. “Theta Zeta’s having an impromptu beer pong tournament at AG. If you beat Allison and Lydia, you get a twelve pack of beer. You in?”
“In two and a half years you’ve never beaten them. What makes you think today’s the day?” Scott asked, smiling.
“I’ve got a feeling,” Stiles smirked.
The table next to them was glaring, but they were a freshman so Stiles ignored them.
“We’re pretty much done,” said Kira. “I’d be up for it.”
“Who’s your partner?” Stiles blurted.
“Oh, uh-”
“You can partner with me,” said Scott easily. “Stiles, you and Isaac make a pretty good team.”
“Yeah, I guess so.”
Kira smiled and started packing up her books. “I need to check something out. I’ll meet you outside in a minute?”
Scott nodded, and Stiles stared in disbelief. “You like her,” he said, voice almost too loud.
“Yeah, she’s pretty cool.”
“No. You like her. We’ve been dedicated beer pong buddies since second semester freshman year. You wouldn’t dump me for just anyone.”
Scott flushed, and Stiles knew he was right.
“Well, whatever. Come on. I’m totally gonna beat you guys and Allison and Lydia. That beer is mine.”
The next table finally cracked. “Would you shut up!?”
“Shhh,” Stiles hissed obnoxiously. “It’s the ATC, don’t you know to be quiet?”
-
Everything on this campus is within walking distance.
“Scott?”
Stiles’s voice was tiny. Scott sat up in bed and fumbled for his lamp.
“Stiles? Are you okay?”
“Can you come over?”
“Of course,” said Scott, already pulling on a sweatshirt and sneakers. He pocketed his phone and ID, and jogged downstairs as quietly as he could.
At three a.m. on a weekday, everything was quiet, even the frat next door. He walked down University Avenue past the Admissions building and the Quad lit by the stained glass windows of the chapel. Stiles’s dorm was almost entirely dark, except for one lighted window on the third floor.
Stiles was waiting by the side door to let him in, and they climbed the stairs in silence. Isaac was out, probably at Allison’s, Scott thought ruefully. Stiles crawled back into the nest of papers and blankets by his bed.
Scott sat down warily on the periphery. “What’s going on, Stiles?”
Wordlessly, Stiles pushed a brochure towards Scott.
“A Classics program? In Italy? Dude! This’ll be awesome!”
“I know!” Stiles moaned, “But there’s no way Dad and I can afford it. I’m already up to my neck in student loans.”
“You have that scholarship-?”
Stiles shook his head. “It only covers eight semesters. I’ve been trying to find another one, but…” He trailed off, gesturing around at all the paperwork.
Scott looked closer at it and realized it was all financial aid packets and applications.
“Alright. Come on.” Scott dragged Stiles to his feet and pushed him towards the bed. “It’s three in the morning. This will keep. We’re going to sleep. And yes, I realize that rhymed.”
He practically manhandled Stiles into bed and lay down on the outside. Stiles grumbled a bit, but he finally settled down and curled up with his back to Scott’s chest. Scott hooked an arm over his hip so he couldn’t escape to do more research, and they finally fell asleep.
-
Dubstep isn't that cool.
The party was Stiles’s genius idea, but they were holding it at Alpha Gamma; their lower dance floor would be better for it. ‘It’ was a foam party slash rave. Stiles was so stoked.
“I thought these were banned,” Erica shouted over the thumping bass.
“Only for us,” Stiles shouted back gleefully. “AG doesn’t have any restrictions on their record.”
“Sweet,” Erica shrugged and launched herself into the wall of foam.
Stiles hung back for a minute, admiring his masterpiece. The room had been wallpapered with plastic sheets to keep in the soapy foam that was being pumped into the room. The floor was covered in sand to keep people from falling, and that was flying up in the air as well. The DJ had set up behind another sheet of plastic and was blasting music. Danny and Lydia danced by, bodies streaked with neon body paint, and Lydia smiled at him. Tonight was going great. He waded into the press of people, grinning as his specially painted paisley party shirt caught the blacklights.
He was dancing with Cora and Malia when Scott came down the stairs closely followed by Kira. Scott’s while tanktop glowed under the lights and the dark bars of his tattoo stood out starkly against his golden skin. As Stiles watched, Kira leaned in to tell him something, and he threw his head back and laughed. The long line of his throat was one of the most aesthetically pleasing things Stiles had ever seen.
“Scotty!” he called, slipping and sliding through the foam and sand to his best friend’s side.
“Hey Stiles!” said Kira chipperly.
“Hey,” he said before turning to Scott with a flourish. “Welcome to my masterpiece!”
“You did good, bro,” Scott said, dropping an arm over his shoulder and smiling.
Stiles smiled back fondly, but Scott was already looking back at Kira. “Wanna go dance?”
“Absolutely!”
Scott gave him a fist bump before Kira led him away into the crowd.
“Cool,” Stiles said glumly, and went to see if Malia wanted to do the body paint with him.
-
Pizza and fries is an acceptably healthy meal.
Scott had his usual summer job at the vet clinic, but he was wondering about seeing if he could get something over at the hospital. It would be useful for med school, and he knew they were always short staffed. He was thinking about that to avoid focusing on cleaning out the dog kennels when his phone rang. It was ‘I Believe in a Thing Called Love,’ his ringtone for Stiles. Well, it was the ringtone Stiles had set for himself after stealing Scott’s phone one evening. Scott just hadn’t gotten around to changing it. For three years.
“Bawngiourno!” said Stiles in a truly horrendous Italian accent. “Greetings from Roma!”
“Hey Stiles! How’s it going?” Scott asked, grinning like an idiot at the sound of his best friend’s voice.
“So good, Scotty. So good. Guess what I’m eating right now?”
Scott didn’t even consider trying to guess. Stiles never gave him time to actually do it anyway.
“A pizza with curly fries on it! Curly fry pizza! I am in heaven, Scott.”
Scott laughed. He could picture Stiles’s grin, and the twinkle in his eye, and his flailing gesticulations. He hadn’t realized how accustomed he’d gotten to Stiles’s presence until it was missing from his life. “How’s your program going?”
“Good. Great even. We did the Vatican today which was trippy but awesome. My roommates are cool. Not as cool as you though.”
Scott sat down on one of the kennels and idly pat the dog in the next one. “I miss you too, Stiles,” he said.
Stiles coughed. “Right. Um. Hey so, this call is costing me a fortune, but can we Skype later?”
“Yeah, sure. Take care, Stiles. Be safe.”
“You know me,” Stiles said with a laugh before hanging up.
The dog whined.
Scott sighed down at him. “Yeah, me too buddy.”
-
The upperclassmen all secretly love you and want to know everything about you. Don't be shy.
“God, freshman are so annoying,” Liam bitched, watching as two of the pledges fell into two other pledges and they all collapsed in a drunken, giggling heap.
“Remember, son,” Stiles said, looping an arm around his shoulder and waggling a finger. “You were young and obnoxious like them once.”
“Fuck that. I’ve always been cool.”
“Nah,” said Scott, stealing his Little Brother from Stiles and putting him in a headlock. “You were kind of a little shit. But so were we, and you got better.”
Liam spluttered and half-heartedly tried to shove Scott off, but he was smiling.
“Mister President,” Stiles said, saluting.
“Ugh, don’t remind me. I’m terrified I’m going to do something wrong and get you all killed.”
“Or worse, expelled,” Stiles said, straight-faced.
“You’ll be great,” said Liam, a little muffled because he was still in a headlock.
“Thanks, bro.” Scott ruffled his hair before he let him go.
“Senior Year. Our fourth Shake Day,” Stiles grinned at Scott. “Who’da thought we’d survive to see it, huh?”
He lobbed his empty beer can into a trashcan, and almost immediately a pledge appeared with two new cans. He took them both and handed one to Scott. “To Senior Year! To making out with hot people, and drinking more than we should, and hosting awesome parties, and hopefully surviving to graduation!”
They clunked their cans together.
“How about, to staying best friends?”
Stiles knocked their cans together again, but his stomach clenched a little. “Yeah,” he echoed. “Best friends.”
“Brothers,” Scott said, eyes locked on Stiles’s.
“Speaking of,” said Isaac, and Stiles wanted to punch him for interrupting, whatever that had been or was about to be. “Isn’t it time for the speech?”
They gathered the pledges and brothers into some semblance of order, and Scott stepped forward. Stiles watched him, feeling unaccountably proud of his, yes, of his best friend. He remembered Peter giving this speech his freshman year, how he’d held up his hands for silence, invited them into the wolf pack, and taught them to hate AG. So much had changed.
Scott smiled out at everyone. “Welcome, and welcome back. Pledges, you’re now part of one of the best damn frats on campus - Alpha Beta Omega!”
Everyone howled.
“The wolf on your shirt is our mascot. Wolves come together and work in packs, and that’s what we’re doing here. Your brothers will help you, they’ll cheer you up, they’ll get you drunk, they’ll be-” he glanced quickly at Stiles, “-they’ll be everything to you. Welcome to the Pack! Boyd, let’s get these wolves howling!”
First the brothers, and then the pledges, all threw their heads back and howled at the sliver of moon up above. Scott nudged Stiles with his shoulder and whispered, “Not too bad?”
“Amazing, dude. Just amazing.”
-
Your professors are not giving you a bad grade because you deserve it, that's just how they flirt.
“Never Have I Ever hooked up with a professor,” said Kira.
“There’s still time,” Lydia smirked as she took a drink. That didn’t surprise Scott, though it apparently surprised Aiden.
Allison drank, which was interesting. “Well, he was just a teacher, and I was graduated,” she defended.
Scott also took a drink.
“Who’ve you slept with?” Isaac asked incredulously.
“Uh,” Scott pulled at the strings of his hoodie nervously. His gaze kept darting to and from Stiles, who was staring at him. “You know that hot forestry professor? Dr. Parrish? Uh, yeah.”
Lydia looked proud and Isaac looked stunned.
“Well done,” Erica said.
“Stiles, it’s your turn,” said Kira, nudging him.
Stiles’s mouth was gaping like a fish. “Oh, uh. Never Have I Ever failed a class,” he said.
Aiden gave Stiles a look indicating that that was probably the most boring Never Have I Ever in the history of the game.
“Apparently Scott hasn’t either,” Isaac teased, elbowing him in the ribs.
Scott felt his face flushing. He wasn’t embarrassed about sleeping with Jordan. They were both adults; it hadn’t affected his grade and it wasn’t like he was going to take anymore forestry classes. But he hadn’t really planned to tell people, especially not Stiles. Again, he wasn’t embarrassed, he just wasn’t quite ready to have that conversation with his best friend. Not yet, not when there were feelings on the line. Not that he had feelings for Stiles or anything but they were always in each other’s space, and it might complicate things if he admitted that he wasn’t solely into girls. So not embarrassed, just cautious.
He needed another drink.
He staggered to his feet, leaning on Boyd to maintain his balance.
“You okay, Scotty?” Stiles asked.
Scott gave him a thumbs up and lurched down to the kitchen.
“So,” said Allison, who had snuck up on him. “Guys.”
“Guys,” said Scott, wondering if it bothered her, before he remembered that she and Lydia had that arrangement.
“Did Stiles know before this?” she asked, getting straight to the point as always.
“No,” Scott admitted.
“Oh.” She looked concerned for a second, but then brightened. “Well, that should making things easier.”
She patted him on the back, took the beer out of his hand, and went back upstairs.
Easier? What?
-
If you bring it back, it's borrowing not stealing.
There were aspects of being Social Chair that Stiles really didn’t like. Such as applying for permits, and arranging security, and organizing ID checkers. He usually pawned those parts off on Mason. Stiles liked the brainstorming and the planning. Ever since he had learned that ABC parties were a thing, he had wanted to go to one, and now here he was, hosting his own. He pretended to wipe a tear from his eye; he was so proud.
“I see that plaid shirt!” he snapped at a sophomore.
“I’m not wearing it as a shirt!” protested the boy, Stiles thought his pledge name was Hummus.
Stiles frowned. “I’ll allow it. Carry on.”
An arm snuck around his waist, and he leaned into it before his conscious brain caught up enough to say, “Hey Scott.”
“Tormenting the younguns again?”
“It’s our job as seniors, and I for one am going to enjoy it.” He turned to look at Scott who was wearing a kind of kilt of beer boxes and a bandolier of beer cans. Some of them were full; Stiles took one. “Where’s Kira?”
“She’s driving Safe Ride tonight. It’s just me.”
“So you’re footloose and fancy free tonight?” Stiles snickered. “Stealing hearts right and left.”
Scott grimaced. “I’ll steal your heart, you idiot,” he teased, dimpling.
And that just wasn’t fair. How could Scott say things like that with a straight face?
“Stop it,” said Scott sharply, and Stiles jumped.
How had Scott known what he was thinking? But then he realized that he was yelling at two Alpha Kappas who were trying to steal one of their composites. Scott scolded them for ‘not even having an original prank,’ and they slunk away. Stiles watched him carefully, afraid that if he moved his face might reveal the fact that he had suddenly realized he was in love with his best friend.
How had that happened? When had that happened? But there it was, unavoidable as paperwork for Nationals.
Stiles adjusted his caution tape toga and his expression. “Come on,” he said, as normally as he could manage at the moment. “Let’s go party.”
-
Wild animal attacks are common.
Malia came back from the bathroom, beer in hand.
“Where did you get that?” Scott asked as she sat down.
“Someone left it in the bathroom. How stupid was that?”
He opened his mouth to say something, but decided against it.
“Where’s Stiles?” she asked.
“He’s your boyfriend. Don’t you know?”
She shrugged. “You’re the two who are joined at the hip. Anyway, I don’t think we’re going to last.” She chugged half the beer and burped.
“Really? Why not?”
“Just not on the same level, you know? Plus, I think he’s in love with someone else.” She gave him a strange look before pointing at his beer. “You gonna finish that?”
“Have at it,” Scott waved. “I think I’m gonna head home.”
He walked back to the house slowly. Who could Stiles be in love with? He didn’t seem to be hanging out with anyone new, or showing any particular interest in anyone. Could Malia be wrong? The two of them seemed to have such a good thing.
Scott had only noticed the marks because Stiles had been wandering around the house with just a towel wrapped around his waist.
“What the hell happened to you, man?”
“Oh.” Stiles twisted around to look at his back. “Malia,” he admitted with a faint smile.
“Shit. Well, congrats, I guess.”
Stiles had thanked him awkwardly and hurried away into his room.
Scott was thinking about that when he got to the common room. Erica, Boyd, and Danny were in there watching a movie, and both Erica and Boyd saluted when he entered. Everyone did it now; Scott was pretty sure Stiles had put them up to it.
“At ease,” Scott laughed, settling into one of the couches.
Stiles crept in a few minutes later, wearing pajamas and a hoodie, and shifting awkwardly. Scott couldn’t stop himself from picturing what was under his layers.
He’d known for a while that he was in love with Stiles; it had been kind of hard to miss. Luckily Stiles was oblivious, and he’d been able to cover up affections that might be incriminating with brotherly feelings and a warmhearted nature. That didn’t stop the rush of affection and love he felt when Stiles came and curled up on the couch next to him, their ankles tangling together. Whoever Stiles was in love with, they were going to be very lucky.
-
The waters of the lake have mystical healing properties.
“Come on, hurry up, we’ve only got a few months left. We need to make some headway on this bucket list.” Stiles went over the list as he led Scott through the woods.
The Res was the unofficial third lake on campus, and it was tricky to get to since it was on state land, on the other side of a chain link fence. Stiles found the spot where a diligent former student had cut open the fence and then tied it back together with wire. Stiles held the gap open as Scott ducked through, and then followed him the rest of the way to the waterfront.
They left their bags at the treeline and started tugging off shoes and clothes. Stiles hesitated when he got to his boxers, but Scott had already dropped his onto the pile, so Stiles’s joined them.
Scott was hesitating on the jumping rock. “It’s still pretty cold, Stiles.”
“No, no, no. You cannot chicken out on me now, bro,” Stiles said, coming to stand next to him.
“I’m not going to chicken out. I just wanted you to come over so I could do this.”
Stiles was suddenly airborne, and then plunging into the still, freezing water. “You motherfucker!” he spluttered when he surfaced.
Scott laughed uproariously, before cannonballing in next to him. As soon as he resurfaced, Stiles dunked him, still a little pissed, but laughing now too at Scott’s scandalized expression.
“That’s dangerous, Stiles,” he said with total seriousness. “No roughhousing.”
“Alright Mr. Res Life,” Stiles laughed, leaning back and kicking his legs so he drifted idly out towards the middle of the lake.
His hand brushed Scott’s as they floated along, and Scott giggled. “Like otters,” he said, tangling their fingers together.
Stiles considered pulling free for a minute, but Scott’s hand was warm, and the water was a little cold.
“Scott,” he started.
“Yeah?”
Stiles looked into Scott’s earnest, open, beautiful face and he couldn’t bring himself to spoil this moment. “You’re the best, man. I’m glad we’re best bros.”
He squeezed Scott’s hand, and looked quickly away at the circle of sky above them.
Even if he’d been looking, he probably wouldn’t have seen the hurt expression flash across Scott’s face, quickly replaced by a friendly smile. “Me too. Best bros.”
-
The campus is littered with buried treasure.
Looking back, Scott was kind of expecting their revelation to happen at a major party or during Spring Party Weekend or something, but it was a Thursday night like many others.
Scott knocked on Stiles’s open door and leaned into the room. “Hey, you coming down?”
“In a bit. I’ve gotta do some more on this paper,” Stiles said, tilting his head upside down to smile at Scott. “Unless you want to write it for me?”
“Ancient Philosophy, right? Yeah, that would end badly.”
Stiles laughed and turned back to his computer. “One more page, then I’ll be down.”
“I’ll hold you to that,” Scott said.
It wasn’t officially a party, but there were always a fair number of people around on Thursdays. Someone had organized a Mario Kart tournament and there was a game of beer pong going on in the front hall. Scott watched, feeling absurdly fond of everyone. It was that feeling that he would blame or thank later.
When he saw Stiles again, his friend was out in the backyard, talking to Boyd. Stiles smelled like stale cigarettes, and cheap beer, and expensive weed, and Scott had never wanted to kiss him more.
“Got any more?” he asked, gesturing at the joint in Boyd’s hand.
Boyd took a drag and passed it over to Scott. “You can finish that one. I’m gonna head home.”
Scott handed the rest to Stiles, who finished it, and then tossed the end out into the yard. Erica’s Little Brother was out there with a few other brothers, digging holes. Scott pointed and raised an eyebrow.
“It was Erica and Liam’s idea. Next year, they’re going to tell the pledges that there’s buried treasure in the yard as a pledge mission.”
“Is there actually treasure?”
Stiles laughed and shook his head. “Mostly empty beer cans. Though, Mason suggested putting a few actual beers in there too. To fuck with them. He’s got a bright future.”
“You’re a terrible influence,” Scott said affectionately.
“Yeah,” said Stiles, sounding proud. “Luckily, you’re around to balance me out.”
“Yeah,” Scott said thoughtfully. “Yeah.”
And that was all it took. In the space of a breathe, Scott was in Stiles’s space and they were kissing.
“What?” Stiles asked, pulling away slightly.
“I’ve been in love with you since at least sophomore year,” Scott said. “And I’m an idiot, and we could have been doing this for years, and now we’re about to graduate-”
Stiles stopped him with a finger on his lips. “If we still had three more years of school, would you be doing this right now?”
“Huh?”
“If we weren’t about to graduate, would you still be kissing me?”
Scott thought about it for a long moment. Stiles was shifting nervously in front of him, but Scott wanted to give him the exact, right answer. “Yes,” he said firmly.
“Okay. Good.”
Stiles launched himself back at Scott’s face, almost knocking them off balance, until Scott’s arms came up around his waist and they found a rhythm.
“Fucking finally,” said Lydia’s voice, and something flashed.
Scott turned to see Allison and Lydia in the doorway with matching grins on their faces. Allison had her phone up, and she showed the picture to Lydia.
“That’s Facebook worthy,” she smirked, tapping at the screen.
Scott felt his phone buzz in his pocket as, presumably, he received a photo notification.
“Go away,” Stiles hissed.
“I don’t think so,” Lydia laughed. “It’s kind of fun to watch you two make out. Yeah it is. I’ll admit it.”
Stiles was flushed pink, and Scott was embarrassed too, but not so much that he was going to let Stiles get distracted, so he tugged Stiles’s face back to his own.
“Ignore those losers,” he murmured, pressing their lips back together. Nothing else mattered right now.
(Adapted from "The Common Source" of the University of the South)