Guess Who's Legal?

Scott is an ass

The sunlight filtered through the half-drawn curtains in Stiles' room, casting a soft glow across the cluttered space. Scott stood over his best friend's bed, arms crossed, as he called out, "Stiles. Hey, Stiles." No response. He tried again, a little louder. "Stiles!" Still nothing. Just a groan and the sound of Stiles turning over, burying his face deeper into the pillow.

Scott huffed, leaning in closer, and heard it—a quiet mumble from beneath the covers. "...Derek..."

A smirk crept across Scott's face. Oh, this was too good to pass up. Without hesitation, he jumped onto Stiles' bed, bouncing with a playful grin. "Stiles! Wake up!"

Stiles groaned, "too early," burying his face in the pillow as if he could block out the world. The bed jostled beneath him, Scott counting to bounce like an overly enthusiastic child.

"Dude!" Scott finally stopped, his grin wide, hovering above his best friend's exhausted form. "It's noon."

"Go away," Stiles mumbled, his voice muffled by the pillow. He sluggishly waved a hand, signaling for Scott to leave.

"Come on, man, it's your birthday." Scott's grin only grew. "Remember?"

Stiles shifted slightly, his snoring the only response.

Scott leaned in, voice conspiratorial. "You get to bone Derek today."

That got Stiles' attention.

His eyes shot open, and with a sudden burst of energy, he kicked his legs out from beneath the covers. Scott let out a yelp as he was sent sprawling backward, bouncing a couple of times before landing flat on his back on the mattress. Stiles sat up, wide-eyed, only to freeze mid-motion when he spotted his dad standing in the doorway, a single chocolate cupcake in his hand, a candle flickering in the center.

"oh my god," Stiles blurted, his face going pale as he locked eyes with his dad.

Noah Stilinski stood there, looking equal parts of horrified and enraged. "I don't want to know anything," he said, his voice steady but carrying the weight of a man who had seen too much. "Not a word."

Scott still sprawled on the bed, winced, raising a hand apologetically. "My bad, bro."

Stiles' brain scrambled for a recovery, but there was none. He could only stare as his dad continued, his tone serious. "Now come on. Make a wish."

In one swift motion, Stiles kicked himself out of bed. Of course, his feet got tangled in the sheets, and he went down with a thud. Groaning, he untangled himself, pushing his body off the floor. He shot a glare at Scott, who was still struggling not to laugh, and practically sprinted toward the cupcake.

He blew out the candle, eyes shut tight as if the intensity of his wish might make it more real.

Noah, ever the collected sheriff, nodded once. "Pancakes. Five minutes. Downstairs." He turned on his heel and left the room, leaving behind an awkward silence that stretched out in the wake of his exit.

Stiles leaned against the door frame, exhaling heavily. He looked down at Scott, who had now sat up, trying—and failing—to wipe the grin off his face.

"You," Stiles pointed, his expression a mix of horror and amusement, "almost got me disowned."

Scott chuckled. "hey, it's not my fault your mind jumped straight to...bonding."

Stiles narrowed his eyes. "You know damn well what you said."

Scott hopped off the bed, stretching. "You're welcome, by the way. Happy birthday."

"Yeah, Yeah." Stiles ruffled his hair, his energy catching up to him. "I guess pancakes isn't a bad way to start the day."

Scott shot him a knowing look. "Especially when your alpha is coming over later."

Stiles felt his stomach flip. He had been thinking about Derek all morning, or at least since Scott had practically shouted his name at the top of his lungs. Today wasn't just any day; today was special.

"Ugh," Stiles groaned, throwing his arms in the air dramatically. "Don't remind me. This whole thing is... a lot."

Scott raised an eyebrow. "You're the one who brought it up yesterday, remember?"

"Yeah, but now it's real!" Stiles said, pacing around the room like he was trying to shake off the nerves. "I'm actually going to have to do the whole... thing."

Scott gave him a look that was equal parts amused and supportive. "You're ready for it. Plus, Derek's practically a human puppy when it comes to you."

Stiles let out a snort, pausing mid-step. "Yeah, a puppy with claws and fangs."

"And a soft spot for you," Scott pointed out, smirking.

Even though Scott had his reservations, he saw how Derek was always easy on Stiles.

The idea made Stiles' heart race in the best and worst way. He wanted it, had been dreaming about it for ages. But now that it was happening, it felt bigger, heavier. "Okay, fine. But still, this is Derek we're talking about."

Scott shook his head, chuckling. "You'll be fine, Stiles. And who knows? You might even enjoy it."

Stiles shot him a look. "Okay, gross."

Scott smirked, hands in his pockets. "What? I'm just saying..."

Stiles cut him off by heading for the door. "I'm gonna ignore you now, and we're going to eat pancakes like civilized people."

As they made their way downstairs, Stiles couldn't help but let his mind drift back to Derek. He didn't have much time to overthink, though, as the smell of freshly made pancakes hit him the second he reached the bottom step.

True to his word, his dad had a stack of pancakes waiting, along with bacon, eggs, and a couple of other birthday breakfast staples. Noah looked up from his spot at the table, giving Stiles a small, approving nod.

"You survived," Noah said dryly, gesturing to the seat across from him.

"Barely," Stiles muttered under his breath, sliding into the chair. He grabbed a fork and piled his plate high, Scott doing the same right beside him.

Noah didn't miss a beat, glancing between the two of them. "Anything I need to worry about?"

"Absolutely nothing," Scott and Stiles said in unison, both far too enthusiastically.

Noah just gave them a look, shaking his head. "Right. I'll pretend I believe that."

Stiles stuffed a mouthful of pancakes into his mouth, grinning sheepishly around his fork. Today was going to be interesting.

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