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Scott doesn't have favorites. He really doesn't. He knows that sounds like some strange hippie platitude that he helplessly tries to placate his mom with when explaining his unusual collection of romantic relationships (the other platitude he uses is "it's a werewolf thing."). But he loves them all so deeply and so differently.
He takes Kira to Junior prom. When senior prom rolls around she takes Malia and he takes Stiles. He's more hesitant with Liam, vicious memories of Peter holding him back. It's intimate, but never sexual, quick pecks on the cheek, a slap on the back, the kind of gestures of affection Scott misses from his own father.
After graduation the rest of them scatter, never far, never out of touch. But Kira spends a year in Japan with her mother's family, Stiles goes on errands for Deaton, to learn more about what it means to be an emissary, and Lydia's off at Stanford.
So, more and more, Derek is the one who Scott leans on. It becomes the two of them, more often than not.
Scott doesn't formally move in with Derek, but after work or classes he spends most nights at Derek's house. They don't put a name to what they have, beyond Derek's casual insistence that Scott is his alpha and Scott's sometimes casual insistence that he loves him.
But it becomes almost absurdly domestic. They cook together, badly. Scott washes his scrubs separately from their other clothes, in strong detergent to wash out the smells of blood and animal fear. He helps Derek pick out furniture, and dishes. They eat ice cream on the couch watching old movies together.
It's a Friday evening when Scott comes over from a long shift at the clinic, face clenched and eyes tired, still in his scrubs. He'll never be as good as Derek is at detecting emotions through scent, so he's not surprised that Derek recognizes that it's more than physical exhaustion hitting him.
Derek wraps his arms around Scott, easy, calm and he nuzzles softly at this chin, which always makes Scott laugh, being so obviously dog-like. "Something happen at work?" he whispers against Scott's neck.
"Yeah" Scott says with a sigh, "A woman broke up with her boyfriend and he responded by throwing her cat out a 10 story window. The cat's going to be fine eventually, two broken legs we've got casts on."
Then he takes in a deep breath, "Sometimes I wish I was better at turning off my sense of smell, or that you didn't teach me....because I could smell all this guilt on her...from what she didn't do...just...guilt that she couldn't protect this animal who relied on her. It's just not fair."
Derek runs long soothing strokes down Scott's back, and breathes Scott's tired scent in deeply before saying, "Let me take care of you?"
He's rewarded with one of Scott's genuine and sunny smiles.
Derek's house is rough and small in many ways, but he spent money on the bathtub. It's a huge, clawfooted porcelain creation that Scott not-so-secretly loves, which is why he allows Derek to gently steer him into the bathroom. He lets himself be undressed and is soon laying back in the tub as Derek shampoos his hair with rough fingers. He leans his head back against the walls of the tub and lets out an unconsciousness moan as Derek continues to groom him.
("Are we grooming?" He had asked Derek a year or so ago, when they first discovered that Derek had a thing for washing Scott's hair. Derek has just shrugged. So Scott is pretty sure that yes, Derek has a kink for grooming his alpha and he's really, really okay with that.)
Scott starts to drift off, with the warm water and the pads of Derek's fingers along his scalp, and he mutters, “mmmm...love you."
He blinks his eyes slightly open to see Derek looking down at him with a bright, genuine smile, and saying, "love you too."
"What's next?" Scott murmurs.
"Well," Derek says in a low whisper, as his continues to rub his hands through Scott's hair, "I was hoping we could play..." and Scott's eyes crinkle as he grins in response.
A part of Scott will always be hesitant about this thing that he and Derek do, and he thinks that's a good thing. It's like the part of him that will always be afraid of the wolf that he feels living under his skin. To accept it too much seems wrong; seems like the path to being like Peter. So he lets the twinge of fear flow through him when walks into the bedroom, towel lose around his waist and sees Derek gracefully kneel. To not feel nervous and in awe of Derek's trust feels like cheapening it.
"You," he says, biting his lip and trying to sound less breathless than he feels, "should not be wearing clothes."
Derek raises one eyebrow before he pulls his shirt off over his head, and Scott feels free to lick his lips appreciatively at the sight of Derek's bare chest, covered with soft dark hair. He thinks he wants to run his splayed fingers through the soft hair on Derek's chest, kiss and lick along that broad, muscular chest, feel all that power, all tame for him.
But he's going to be patient. He takes to these games eventually with the same kind of single minded focus he brought to lacrosse. This game is more collaborative. The goal being for him to feel that rush of domination, of knowing that it's his beta on his knees, and it for Derek to feel the peace of serving his alpha, and the other, more important goal, is for them both to feel good, loved.
In this game, his role is the Alpha, who is calm and trustworthy, so he is patient, lets the towel drop casually and resists the urge to laugh at the absurdity of standing naked in front of a kneeling man. And maybe that's why he feels okay about this, the silliness of it all that's always underneath.
That and the obvious hunger in Derek's eyes when he looks up.
He sits on the bed and whispers to Derek, "c'mere".
Derek crawls across the floor towards Scott, slowly, the muscles of his shoulders tensing, relaxing as he moves, then looking up at Scott with a calm smile. He stops in front Scott, kneeling, and leans down to kiss his knee.
"Tell me what you want." Scott says, voice low and husky. That's part of the game too, make Derek say what he wants, be sure.
Derek rests his head on Scott knee and says, "I want to suck you off."
Scott nods, doesn't close his eyes, but watches Derek as he leans forward purposefully; let's himself give in to the sensation of Derek's mouth wet and hot around him. He puts his hand on Derek's head and grips his hair, not gently, as Derek bobs his head up and down around his cock. Derek's loud, obscene, making wet slurping noises and letting saliva drip from the corner of his mouth. And it's with regret that Scott tugs on his hair to pull him off.
"No. Not yet." He says, “Tell me what you want."
Derek grins, "I want you to mount me."
"On the bed, on your back."
Derek lays back, all that powerful muscle sprawled out for Scott and he stops to watch him for a few moments, long enough to make Derek whine low in his throat and arch his back to bare his neck.
"Shhhhhh....got you," Scott whispers, looming over Derek and placing his mouth against Derek's jugular, biting down just slightly, just enough to make Derek keen and arch into his touch.
He works his way methodically down Derek's body, teasing, biting and making Derek whimper against him. He gnaws gently on Derek's collarbones, licks and sucks at his nipples until they are stiff and swollen and leaves wet, open-mouthed kisses down his stomach. He whispers, "mine" against the curve of Derek's hip, and nuzzles the insides of his thighs, lifting Derek's leg over his shoulder and spreading him open.
He wants to take his time fingering Derek open, slow and thorough, but Derek's whimpers get more desperate and he's arching and twisting under Scott's touch, so Scott says, "Are you ready?"
He smiles when Derek gasps, "please please"
Scott thinks he'll never get enough of the feeling of sliding into Derek, the strange animal pleasure of mounting his beta, the ability to sense Derek's pleasure and contentment, the positive feedback that builds and makes his vision dim and go entirely red when Derek gasps out his climax. He comes seconds later.
After, Scott cleans them both up and then wraps himself around Derek's pliant form, letting their breath sync. Before they both drift off, Scott says, “Stiles in coming home this weekend. It's Liam's last game."
Derek raises both eyebrows, "And you want to make sure I invite the both of you over?"
"That what I was thinking." Scott says with small blush.
When Stiles joins them it's more playful and more imaginative. Even though Stiles is human, Scott doesn't feel like he has to be are careful about taking too much. Stiles like to be spanked and manhandled, likes props and ridiculous roleplaying scenarios. The last time he had stayed the night Derek had responded to his stream of filthy talk in exasperation by telling him to shut up.
Scott flushes at just the memory of how he told Derek they should make him shut up, since he’ll never do it on his own, and then he held Stiles' arms tight behind his back and guided Derek to fuck his mouth. He kept up a steam of praise for both of them, how beautiful Stile's mouth is, and how lovely his lips looked stretch around Derek's cock. How beautiful Derek listens to him, how much he trusts him to be gentle with Stiles. It remains the hottest thing Scott has ever been a part of.
"Thinking about the last time?” Derek asks with a smug look and Scott just noses against his neck.
That weekend they meet up with Stiles at the lacrosse game. Scott sits between the two of them, holding both their hands.
From across the field he can hear Mason say to Liam, "Your dads are here."
Liam rolls his eyes, but he turns and beams up at the three of them.
Stiles leans his head against Scott's shoulder, Derek squeezes his hand and Scott feels the wolf that always lives inside him lay down with contentment.