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“Hey, hey, Danny,”
Danny ignores the faint buzzing of a voice behind him.
“Danny, hey c'mon, just give me a minute.”
Danny glares down at his paper, resolute in his ignoring.
“Danny—?”
“What?!” But of course, there's only so much of Stiles that one man's ears can take. Not that Mr. Harris would consider that a legitimate excuse, and he doesn't, because he slaps them both with an hour of detention after school. Danny shoots Stiles a death glare, but Stiles is unfazed, far more upset by the detention.
)
Danny strolls into Mr. Harris' room barely thirty seconds after the final bell has rung, and Stiles comes skidding in behind him. Danny glares at him again, but the grin Stiles returns with is too much to stay mad at. They've been sitting for a few minutes when Mr. Harris checks his watch and stands. “Make sure you lock the door when you leave.” He pauses at the threshold of the door. “And remember, I'll know.” With that—and the chills running miles up and down the boy's spines—he's gone.
Stiles cheers and stretches out, curling his hands and extending his fingers. He shoots another smile at Danny before looking out the window. Danny catches himself staring—in Stiles' direction, definitely not at the way the sunlight catches on the angles of Stiles' face, not at all—and busies himself with the last bits of homework he has to finish.
By the time he's finished, forty minutes have passed, and Stiles looks to be dozing off in his seat. Danny grins, and reaches for the chem textbook laid out of the table, sliding it slowly off the edge until it hits the tile floor with an even and sharp snap. Stiles shouts, arms flailing until he topples off the stool and falls to the floor, too.
Danny finds himself laughing before he can help it. Stiles sticks his tongue out, and instead takes the seat beside Danny. His laughter subsides, and Stiles fills the silence. “So, Lydia and Jackson...” He nods, but Danny can see the lines of disappointment etched into his skin.
“Broke up.” Danny says.
Stiles sits up straighter. “What.”
Danny shrugs. “Jackson wouldn't really fill me in, but he said that he just doesn't feel right dating her.” He kicks Stiles' shin, nodding at the chemistry book. Stiles makes a face but leans down to grab it anyways. “I don't mind,” Danny continues, “Lydia's a nice girl but.. she's just not the one for Jackson, you know?”
Stiles hands the book over. “I dunno, dude, don't ask me. My relationship experience goes about as far as getting shoved up against walls by older men with deep seated issues.”
Danny blinks in reply. “I wish my relationship experience was like that.”
Stiles laughs but it reeks of bitter. “No, you really don't. Not nearly as fun as it sounds.”
Danny cocks his head but Stiles seems intent to avoid his gaze; so instead Danny hums, “I'll take your word for it.”
The rest of detention passes in silence—all ten minutes of it—but when they go for their separate cars Danny waves at Stiles, and Stiles smiles back.
)
Stiles looks pissed when, that following Friday, Danny lands them both in detention again. But Danny doesn't really care.
)
Stiles walks in five minutes late, and Mr. Harris barely looks up from his book to tell him “an extra ten minutes, Stilinski.” Which, okay, makes Danny feel a little bad, but not enough to actually care. Stiles sits beside him, though, which is a plus. And twenty minutes later, when Mr. Harris leaves, Danny nudges Stiles with his elbow.
“Dude, what the hell?”
“Did you have plans?” Danny asks.
“Well, I mean I have an xBox 360 sitting at home for me and money burning a whole in my pocket dedicated specifically to a few liters of Mountain Dew and enough potato chips to send a small elephant into cardiac arrest, but—!”
“Okay, so, it's no big deal.” Danny interrupts.
Stiles huffs and crosses his arms. “I guess not.”
)
Danny is perfectly willing to admit he has a problem when he maybe-not-so-accidentally jostles Stiles and makes him spill dry ice everywhere. Which, realistically speaking, shouldn't be a huge deal. But Mr. Harris is the antichrist, apparently, so he gives them both detention. Again. And, again, it's all Danny's fault. So, he isn't surprised when Stiles corners him in the hall after class.
“What the hell?”
Danny opens his mouth, but Stiles makes a dismissive noise.
“No, whatever, I didn't have plans just,” Stiles does this weird thing with his hands, throwing them in Danny's face and waving them around. But when the weird game of charades is over, Stiles is smiling, and leaves Danny with a similar expression.
)
Mr. Harris isn't even there when Danny walks in. Stiles is, dutifully falling asleep on his arms resting on the desk. Ever the good friend, Danny kicks the legs of his stool before sitting down. Stiles makes an unhappy groan, glaring sideways at Danny as he sits up. “Jerk.” He snaps, elbowing Danny in retaliation.
“Where's Mr. Harris?”
“Left.”
“Yes thank you, stellar answer, would you like a gold star?” Danny tries to harden his glare, but Stiles smirks because he knows he's getting under Danny's skin.
“I'unno, he was heading out the door as I walked in, something about not wanting to deal with us again.”
“That's a lie.”
“Yes, yes it is.”
Danny rolls his eyes and hides his grin in one of their required books for English. He doesn't read, though, because he can feel Stiles gently kicking the leg of the table; he can feel Stiles swaying in his seat, humming along with whatever music is stuck in his head. Danny looks over, and looks away sharply when Stiles tries to meet his gaze.
“Hey, dude, lemme see your phone.”
Danny's eyebrows draw together but he hands it over anyways. Stiles stares expectantly until Danny types in the password, and hands it back. Stiles smiles privately as he tap-tap-taps on the screen. Eventually, he set it on the table and Danny catches 'contact saved' fading from his screen.
“If you wanted to hang out, you just had to ask like a normal person.” Stiles tells him good naturedly, squeezing his shoulder. “I'm free tomorrow, if you want...?”
Danny does want, but he can't. “I promised I'd help Jackson with lacrosse. He still thinks he could do better with his passes.” Danny feels his heart skip a beat when Stiles pouts. “Maybe tomorrow night, though?”
“Eh, my dad has been really strict on me not going out. Especially after all the—” Stiles falters, “all the sneaking out I did, these past few months.”
Danny nods slowly.
“This Friday?” Stiles shifts. “I can come over or you know, you can. Whatever. I can bring soda.”
“Take out okay?”
Stiles bursts into a smile. “Totally.” He holds up his fist, and Danny bumps back. “It's a date.”
Danny tries not to read too much into that. (And fails spectacularly.)
)
Danny is hurrying around the house when the doorbell rings fifteen minutes earlier than expected. He almost slams into the door—and as he gains his bearings, he takes a moment to try and remember when he fell so hard for Stiles of all people—before he can pull it open. “Stiles, you're—you're not Stiles.”
“No. Why would I be?” Jackson asks, sour. He doesn't wait for an invitation, simply brushes past Danny.
“No, no no Jackson you need to leave.” Danny groans at his best friend's hurt expression. “I'm sorry, but you do.”
“Why? Can't Stiles come over some other night?” He looks ready to throw a tantrum.
Danny pinches the bridge of his nose because for as much as he loves Jackson, there is no high schooler he knows that acts like more of a toddler. “Jackson, don't do this.”
“Do what?” Jackson bites back, growling when Danny slaps his hands away from the take out sitting on the counter. “Seriously, Danny what the hell?” Jackson's nails grow and his face turns a little hairier—but Danny isn't scared anymore.
“Uh, am I interrupting something?” Stiles stands at the door of the kitchen. He motions behind him where “door was open.” He looks nervously from Jackson, who's still wolfing out, to Danny. “Dude!” He hisses at Jackson, “dude! Put, uh put the costume away!” Stiles glares at Jackson who simply scoffs.
“He knows, dumbass.”
“What?” Stiles squints. “He knows?” His gaze turns to Danny. “Danny knows?”
“I know.” Danny interjects, nodding.
“Oh, well then.” Stiles takes a step back. “Yeah, okay, I'll leave you to it.”
“No!” Danny glares at Jackson as he moves to grab Stiles' arm. “Jackson was just leaving.” He also ignores Stiles softly saying 'didn't seem like it' and instead jerks his head towards the door. Jackson opens his mouth to protest, to complain, but eventually resigns himself with an undignified noise and storms out.
Neither of them speak until they hear his car drive away.
“Sorry about that. He's, well, you know how he is.”
Stiles nods but still looks ready to bolt. “He seemed pretty pissed.”
“He isn't used to not getting what he wants.”
Stiles laughs at that. “Yeah, he practically starts crying when Derek makes him be the bait for hide and seek.” Stiles leans into Danny, bumping their shoulders. “So, movie night?”
Danny grins. “Movie night.”
)
Danny isn't too surprised to wake up to Derek looming in his kitchen. Stiles is still asleep under their half-collapsed blanket fort, snoring softly and his face scrunched up in an undeniably adorable way. Danny nods curtly to Derek, who returns the gesture.
“Stiles is pack.” He says, after a long prolonged silence. Danny just nods. “If you two pursue this, you have to understand that even though he's a human.. Certain tendencies still apply.”
“Like?”
“Like the possessiveness of the pack. Scott will want to demonstrate his superiority, Isaac might too. Lydia and Erica will try to tear you down. Boyd, in his own way might even try and remind you that Stiles is pack, and pack comes before those who aren't. The only person who might not react the same way would be Jackson.”
Danny wants to argue with that, because if the night prior was anything to go by then Jackson is definitely going to react, very strongly. But he doesn't say a word.
“You just have to understand that things are going to change.”
“Do I have to come to the meetings? The full moons?”
Derek looks uncomfortable. “The meetings, I would prefer it if you did. Stiles may not be a wolf but he acts as one, we treat him as one in as many ways as possible. If any of the other pack members were to take a mate, I would expect them at the meetings as well.”
“Okay.”
“The moons.. the moons are something you can decide for yourself. Stiles only comes to them when he can. They aren't easy, but he'll testify that they're fun.” Derek gives him a small grin.
Danny nods, and raises his coffee to his lips. “Okay.”
Derek looks down the hall, blinking at the barely visible corner of their blanket fort. “He wants this, too. He may not realize it immediately, he may need you to smack him in the face with it.” Derek grins again, and Danny relishes the fondness. “But he does want this, a lot.”
Danny simply nods for the millionth time. He's met Derek twice—once under the guise of Miguel, and once after Jackson came clean about all the werewolf business. Derek looks at the kitchen door and steps towards it. Danny isn't finished, though. “Can I ask you for a favor?”
“You can ask.”
“Stop slamming him into walls? I'd prefer that job be left to me.”
Danny can't see Derek's face, but his ears twitch and Danny assumes he's grinning. “Alright.” And he's gone in the blink of an eye. Danny stares at the door for a moment, until Stiles come fumbling in, yawning and rubbing at his eyes and tripping over his feet. Danny smiles, because even with almost no hair Stiles still manages to be the embodiment of bedhead.
“Morning.”
“Hey,” Danny motions to the other mug of coffee he poured and Stiles makes a positively obscene noise. “Creamer?”
“Please.”
Danny moves to the fridge and when he turned back Stiles ha found the little blue jar of Splenda. Stiles fiddles with his coffee, doctoring it up until it's a gentle taupe color. Stiles inhales the steam wafting off the top, and shudders with delight. “Sleep well?” Danny asks, almost drowning the words in his coffee.
“Woke up a little after you left.”
“Bullshit,” Danny says through his laugh, “you were out.”
Stiles makes a face. “I mean, like, I knew you were gone. My dreams were lighter.” He sighs. “That doesn't even make sense.”
Danny reaches out a hand and runs his fingers over Stiles' scalp. “Maybe not, but I don't really care.”
Stiles smiles like it's the nicest thing anyone has ever said to him. He looks relieved, that Danny is just going to take his word without judgment, without any sort of conviction. “Yeah?”
“Yeah.” Danny sets his now empty cup down and moves a little closer to Stiles. His hand is still on Stiles' face, sliding down to cup his jaw. Danny leans in slowly, but quick enough that he can't leave room to change his own mind. He leaves only enough time for Stiles to back up. Instead, Stiles' tongue darts across his lips and catches the stray beads of coffee still lingering there, and instead Stiles leans in too to return the pressure Danny gives.
When they each pull back, Danny feels a rush of panic at Stiles' disgruntled expression. “Dude, I totally have morning breath. Do you have no fear?”
Danny laughs, leaning on the counter for support. He laughs against Stiles' face, and greedily inhales the way Stiles laughs back into his mouth.