"What do you mean only one bed?" Stiles asked. "There's three of us."
"Well, they didn't have any more rooms available. It's not a big deal," Allison said. "It's not like Scott and I haven't slept together—"
"When we were dating," Scott interrupted, "which we are not anymore."
Stiles looked around at the snow falling outside. The car was warm now, but soon enough the temperature would start dropping.
They were on a road trip to find Derek, they needed him back in Beacon Hills, and the wolf was not picking up his phone. Stiles wanted to come on his own, but Allison insisted on Stiles not going alone with witches out to get them. Scott tagged along because he thought he had the best chance of convincing Derek to go back. Stiles doubted it, but he didn't stop Scott from coming. Road trips with Scott were always fun.
"It's not like you two have never shared a bed before," said Allison.
"When we were 9," Stiles countered.
"You're making a big deal out of this, Stiles."
"That's because you're not the one who's going to sleep in between the exes who are definitely going to be pining for each other the entire night," he pushed.
Besides, Allison didn't know that Stiles still harbored many not friendly thoughts towards her. Thoughts and feelings he did his best to hide when Scott was in the room. Sure, Stiles thought Allison was hot, but so did half of their senior class back in high school. Stiles was just unfortunate enough to have crushes on all of his friends. What was a bisexual young adult to do?
Neither Scott nor Allison said anything about Stiles' accusation which meant they were definitely pining for each other now.
"I'll just… sleep in the Jeep or something," Stiles said.
"You'll freeze to death," said Scott. "I'll sleep in the car. You and Allison go inside."
"Boys!" Allison raised her voice. "Stop being idiots and let's go inside please. My nipples are freezing."
Scott looked at Allison's chest, then looked away, blushing. Stiles, for his part, looked at the roof of his Jeep and counted to ten. With a sigh, he got out of the car, Allison and Scott followed suit.
Once inside the motel room, Allison took off her jacket and kicked off her boots. She went to the bathroom and locked herself in while Stiles and Scott just stood inside looking at their surroundings without saying anything.
Besides the queen bed in the middle of the room, a small table with two chairs, and an old fashioned TV, the room lacked any distinctive decoration. There was a night table with a lamp and a remote next to it. On top of the bed, there was a thick blanket folded neatly by the foot of the bed.
"I can sleep on the floor if you want," suggested Scott.
Stiles rolled his eyes. "Sleep next to Allison. Just don't start making out next to me, I beg you."
"I wouldn't—"
"You would and you did more than once during high school," Stiles said.
"We weren't that bad."
"You were. You so were." Stiles took off his own boots and padded barefoot to the bed. If he made himself really small, he could survive this night without a boner. He took off his jacket and, without thinking twice, he took off his jeans. He heard Scott fumble with something and smiled to himself. Scott would make out with Stiles to rile up some homophobes, but sharing a bed was suddenly too much.
Allison came out of the bathroom wearing only a thin cotton shirt and pink lacy panties that Stiles avoided looking at. He quickly went into the bathroom to brush his teeth and went back to the room to find Allison already inside of the bed, covered up to her chin. Scott, however, was still standing where Scott left him five minutes ago.
Stiles went to the right side of the bed and got inside, careful not to touch Allison, and turned on the lamp on the nightstand.
"I hope you don't mind the light on," he said.
"You can't sleep in the dark?" Allison asked, curious.
"Not since the Nogitsune," Stiles said, trying to sound neutral about the topic.
Allison stayed quiet after that. Stiles knew she should hate him for his part in her death, but Stiles knew that Allison was, above all, just grateful to have returned and didn't blame Stiles for being the weak link and becoming possessed.
After a moment, Stiles heard Scott go into the bathroom, closing the door softly behind him as Allison turned around in her spot.
"Stiles."
He didn't move, he didn't breath, he didn't even blink.
"Look at me, Stiles," Allison urged.
Stiles turned around and found Allison looking at him with her beautiful big brown eyes.
"It wasn't your fault," she said.
"I know."
"Do you?"
Stiles nodded, unable to get words out when Allison was so close to him. It didn't matter if he didn't believe it, he just needed to be able to turn around and stop thinking about how little Allison was wearing.
Allison put a hand on his cheek and Stiles swallowed. "Do you like me, Stiles?"
"You're my friend," he said as if that was enough to explain the feelings currently pooling at the base of his stomach.
"I like you," Allison added. "A lot."
Stiles heard Scott fumble with something in the bathroom and knew his friend was eavesdropping on their conversation. Stiles met Allison's eyes and felt something like electricity flow between them where she was touching him: her soft hand on his cheek, her knee against his thigh.
"Scott is in the bathroom," he said, dumbly.
"Scott can join us later," she answered, kissing him softly.
When Stiles didn't pull away, she pressed her body closer to Stiles and his hands found her waist, pulling her even closer. They kissed as if the room was running out of oxygen and the only way to survive was to share it. Stiles opened his mouth under Allison's and felt her tongue tease the roof of his mouth and his hands went down her waist all the way to her thigh and pulled her around his waist. Allison's skin was soft and warm and it was causing him to veer dangerously close to a boner.
Scott cleared his throat by the foot of the bed. Stiles pulled apart from Allison as if he had been shocked. This was a serious violation of the bro code and Stiles deserved the worst adjectives known to men for his insult.
Before he could say anything, Scott turned off the overhead light, took off his t-shirt and said, "that only took like 7 years."
"What—"
Allison put her index over his lips to shush him. "Can we go back to kissing?"
"But Scott—"
"Scott is happy to be included," his friend said, "or not be included. It's your call. I'm content just watching."
Stiles closed his eyes and counted to ten. It wouldn't bode well for him to finish things before they started.
"Are you okay?" Allison asked.
"Is this some kind of joke I'm not privy to?" Stiles asked in response.
"No joke, just mild pining for years," said Scott.
"Besides, we couldn't let Derek get to you first," Allison added. "God knows he's going to trap you in a monogamous relationship forever if we don't do something about it now."
Stiles' heart beat faster. "What do you mean? Derek and I aren't—"
"Not yet, but you might be by the end of this road trip," Allison said.
"Derek?" Stiles asked, mildly confused. The wolf had never shown any indication that he was into Stiles. Then again, neither had Scott or Allison.
"Can we talk about Derek some other time?" Allison said. "I really want to go back to kissing." She ran one of her hands down Stiles' chest, stopping at the waistband of his boxer. "Perhaps more than just kissing."
Stiles looked between Scott and Allison, then back to Scott. "And you're okay with this?"
Scott unbuttoned his jeans and pulled his pants down, the bulge in his underwear clearly visible in the faint light of the room. "Are you okay with this?"
Stiles glanced back at Allison's flushed face just inches from his face. "Oh, I'm definitely gonna end up fantasizing about this, whatever this is, for the next 10 to 15 business days nonstop."
"Business days?" Allison asked.
"Weekends are for fantasies about half-shifted werewolves throwing me around and fucking me through the mattress," Stiles clarified.
"Well, I could probably help with that," Scott said, getting into bed.
When Allison kissed him again, sliding her hands into his underwear, he felt Scott's claws running down his arms softly. Stiles lost all coherent thought afterwards.