(Author's note: welcome to the action scene. I will admit I have competed in martial arts in the past, but that is the closest I've ever gotten to being in a fight. Warnings for m/m intercourse, light Dom/sub dynamics, and schmoop-o-rama. This would be a nice ending, but I've promised to include both a heat (whatever that is; I'll figure it out) and a future epilogue thingie. So, two more chapters, I'd guess. Thanks for reading, everybody! This was so much fun to write. Anybody who wants to write about Danny's family or this soulbonding 'verse is welcome to do so. -amy)

Everybody had questions for Stiles about what was happening with Danny. He did his best to answer them all, but dividing his attention like that, when the really crucial aspects of the situation were happening outside of his reach, was more than a little anxiety-provoking.

Stiles, Danny said finally, you're going to drive yourself into a panic attack.

He backed off long enough to dig in his pocket for the tiny pill container that held four Ativan, considering the handful before swallowing two of them. I don't know what they'll do to our connection.

Be a good research project, wouldn't it?

Stiles closed his eyes and breathed, smiling. Leave it to you to think about science when you're about to get your ass handed to you on a platter.

"Okay," his dad said to Allison. He'd pulled over to the side of the road at the distance they'd established was just outside the wolves' hearing, with the patrol car behind them. "Here's where you get to tell me again why Scott shouldn't wear a wire."

Allison reached into the back and grabbed her bag. "Because he can hear better without it, and it'd just make him self-conscious."

"Fair enough. And you?"

She was looking at Stiles. "Because I'm thinking about what I can hit, not gathering intel. Stiles, are you —"

"You really need to stop talking to me," he said, trying to still the jiggling of his leg, "and go get him."

They can't interfere, Stiles, Danny warned.

They're sure as hell going to be within yelling distance if you're knocked out.

Out of the view of the second patrol car, Allison was readying some kind of compound shooting implement that looked sleek and deadly. She gave Stiles a sympathetic look. "He's still telling you not to come, isn't he?"

Stiles glanced in the direction of Scott's departure, minutes before, then at the ground. "He's trying to tell me pack law trumps his personal safety."

"Well, that might be true for werewolves, but it's not true for me, and I know it's not true for you, either." She shrugged. "I think we have to start figuring out our own rules."

It wasn't exactly an epiphany, but what Allison said jostled something loose in Stiles' brain. It settled there, percolating, while Stiles watched Danny move into position at the edge of the empty warehouse. He could see Aidan across the room from them, and beside him, Ethan. Deucalion was nowhere to be seen, and from what Danny was sensing, he didn't seem to be within scent distance.

I'm not sure if he's directly involved or not, Danny added to his internal monologue. But if something happens to the twins, I don't think he's going to ignore it.

Scott's in place. My dad has two guys ready to move in, but they'll wait on your word unless something happens.

You mean unless I'm unconscious.

Stiles decided not to answer that. Ethan's there.

Of course he's here. Aidan's the challenger, but he's doing it for his brother.

He moved in as close as he virtually could, and imagined himself placing a hand on Danny's back. It was as if Danny leaned into him; he could almost feel Danny's weight against his hand.

He's just going to distract you, he told Danny.

Stiles, he's not a spectator. He's here to fight me.

What? Stiles tightened his grip, tugging him around. Danny actually moved, turning to face where Stiles would have been, if he'd been there. His arm was almost completely healed now. What do you mean? You said Aidan was the challenger.

I'm not sure they can separate the creature they become from either of their consciousnesses. Aidan makes the challenge; one creature fights it.

Stiles was livid. But — tell me how that's fair?

It was Danny's turn not to answer. Stiles' focus was pulled by his dad's face in front of his. He looked uneasy. "What's going on, buddy?"

"Aidan and Ethan, they… they're going to fight him together." He didn't think it would help to try to explain the twins at this point. "They're going to band together, on a technicality, and Danny can't — he's not ready for the two of them. Especially not when one of them's his boyfriend."

His dad's brow furrowed. "Ex-boyfriend?"

"Yeah. But that was just — less than a week ago." Stiles could feel the thread of the memory of their breakup in Danny's subconscious. It would have been tantalizingly easy to draw forth, but he resisted. It wasn't his business.

Nothing to hide here, ku'u lei.

I'm not going to poke around in your memories right before you go into battle.

"Battle?"

Don't give me any fucking grief, okay? Right now I can barely handle the fact that your feet are soaked. If I had my way, I'd be preparing chicken soup right now and making you eat it.

You can't make chicken soup.

I'd learn, Stiles assured him. He swallowed on the lump in his throat, the one that went with the words I'll make it for you tomorrow. He didn't have any assurance he'd have a soulmate to make it for tomorrow, and Danny wasn't bothering to refute his fear.

He realized his dad was still there, frowning at him.

"We're not going to let anything happen to him. Not anything permanent." His eyes gleamed with something Stiles barely recognized. "Whatever laws those guys follow, they're not my laws."

"That's what Allison said," Stiles murmured. The words niggled at him again, and he fell silent, waiting, an eye in both places.

Allison couldn't watch Scott the way Stiles could watch Danny, but he knew she would find a place where nobody could see her from which to observe. Nothing was going to keep her out of shooting range if Scott was in anything like danger.

You're not a sharpshooter, Danny told him.

Stiles conveyed a sense of exactly how it felt to be swathed in body armor, his shirt sweaty and bunched under the material covering his shoulder blades, but Danny had only limited sympathy for him.

I don't care if you're uncomfortable, as long as you can't do any more damage to those ribs. Scott might have taken away the pain, but they're still not healed.

He glanced nervously up to where his father was waiting, watching on alert. You're not going to tell my dad that.

No, ku'u lei. Danny was amused. I'm not interested in getting you in trouble with your dad. Family's important. You depend on each other.

Stiles didn't know how to say how much his dad meant to him, not in the face of all of the people who seemed to be willing to step up and take care of things, because it was going to make him cry again, and that just wasn't what you did before witnessing an epic battle.

Danny redirected his attention toward the floor, where Aidan was taking off his shirt, flexing his muscles.

Less to grab, Stiles suggested. Danny sighed, pulling his green shirt off and tossing it in the corner, and Stiles added quickly, I'm not trying to ogle you.

I don't care if you are. Danny extended his senses around the building, listening. I'm thinking no shirts implies the twins will be in action sooner than later - and the rest of their pack will probably be nearby to feed him strength, before they resort to that.

Stiles chewed his lip. What would you need from Scott and Allison, for them to be pack? You said something about a formality.

Do we have to talk about this now?

Think of me as stress relief, distracting you. Come on, what? A blood oath? Poetry? A serenade?

Danny didn't actually seem all that distracted, approaching Aidan and moving into an automatic defensive stance. Stiles hadn't known Danny studied Brazilian jiu-jitsu, but he sure as hell knew now. He could see the strategies ordering themselves in Danny's mind. Not for the first time, he marveled at how much calmer Danny's thoughts were than his own.

It's all internal, Danny told him. The formal declaration doesn't matter, but it's expected. They could commit to being pack without ever saying anything. For me to draw on their skills and talents, well… I don't know how to do that, exactly.

Exactly?

I know it in theory. It was explained to me. Derek's not much of a talker.

Stiles would have rolled his eyes, but he bit off his reply as Aidan let out a yell and closed with Danny. Aidan's greater bulk notwithstanding, Stiles could tell they were well-matched. Danny's height and greater reach gave him an advantage, and he was a lot quicker and more flexible than Aidan.

"They're starting," he told his dad quietly.

Allison said, anything you need, they're ready to help. Stiles tried not to be anxious, watching Danny take a rolling fall, but he was up again almost immediately, barely breathing hard. Maybe that's enough?

Enough? Again, Danny waited for Aidan to make a move, and redirected him onto the dusty concrete floor. I don't want to do this, he said to Aidan.

Stiles couldn't hear Aidan's answer, but he got an up-close view of his determined face as they grappled.

Just let me go and I won't bother you, was Danny's reply. I'm not interested in interfering with your pack dominance. He ducked several blows and absorbed one on his shoulder. Stiles could tell it hurt, and even though he couldn't exactly feel it himself, he winced anyway. Well, maybe it should work that way.

Stiles straightened, feeling Danny's words spur him into action. "Dad," he said urgently.

"Time to move in?" he responded immediately. Stiles shook his head.

"Soon, maybe, but… I need to talk to Scott." He moved close enough to the edge of the building that his dad pushed him back out of the way. "Right now. Remember how I said I thought there was stuff I could do to help?"

His dad looked suspicious. "Yeah?"

"I think there might be stuff that we can all do. Or maybe we've already done it, I'm not sure. Can you get me to Scott?"

"No. Not in the middle of this engagement."

He could tell from his absent tone that it wasn't a negotiation, and his dad wasn't going to budge. Stiles sighed. "Okay. I'll have to figure something else out."

He winced again as Aidan's claws pierced Danny's shoulder. He's going to heal, he reminded himself again. But he could also feel Danny tiring, his strength sapped by the day spent in solitary confinement without food or water. The next time Aidan knocked him down, Danny took a little longer to get up. Stiles saw the flash of victory in Aidan's eyes, and he gritted his teeth.

You need to do something, he insisted.

I'm doing it, Stiles. Just trust me. Danny spat blood on the floor, ducked Aidan's fist and swept his leg, coming down hard on top of Aidan when he fell. He growled at Ethan when he tried to approach. Back off, asshole. You don't have any claim here.

Stiles tried another angle. It's legal, for him to draw on the energy of his pack?

Yes. And even if it weren't, I couldn't exactly stop him.

So if you could do that, that'd be okay?

Pack of one, here, Stiles. He absorbed the impact of Aidan's knee on his thigh, but executed a brutal joint lock on Aidan's arm and managed to force him to back off. While Danny caught his breath, Aidan wheeled away to confer with his brother, who didn't look at all happy.

Danny, if you'd never let me find you, would I still be your soulmate?

Danny shook his head. What?

Would we still be paired, even if I never knew? I mean — maybe I would have known, on some level.

This is pointless, Stiles.

No, I'm serious. I don't think there's anything you could have done. If we were predestined or uniquely chemically coupled or whatever language you want to use… this, us — it was already done. It was a done deal, Danny. You were mine and I was yours, no matter what either of us thought we knew.

Okay, maybe. Danny sounded so tired. Maybe it wouldn't have mattered.

So that makes me think this is more than an ordinary bond. We connected — but it was more than that. In less than an hour, it was more than that. I could hear all of your words, see every detail of what you were doing. Everything. I knew it all. I could taste the fucking pizza you were eating. Who gets that?

Danny didn't respond immediately, watching the twins, but Stiles could tell he was listening. I don't know.

No, the answer is nobody. Nobody gets that. My dad said he'd never heard of anything like that from another pairbonded couple.

Stiles, that's not true. My grandparents —

I know, Cara said, they were like a superhero team when they were together. But you also said you needed to be touching to break through a block. I was like half a mile away when I did that. So we're not together. And I was thinking the difference might be that — if we were pack. He paused. Am I right?

We're not, Danny told him. You know we're not.

Yeah, well, I think we are. I think maybe not in the Alpha-wolf-claims-his-Beta kind of way, but… I think if you're looking for the pack advantage? Stiles moved in close in his mind, just as he'd done when he was trying to get through Danny's block, and pushed, feeling the energy move from him into Danny. I think you've already got it.

He felt Danny gasp. It wasn't out of shock, but rather a natural inhalation, like he was surrounded by Stiles and was breathing him in. Oh —

I'm not saying you couldn't win without it. He couldn't help feeding him a little more, sensing Danny's pain ebbing, his strength building, because that felt good, it felt so goddamn right to do that. I'm just saying… I'm here. I'm pretty sure we're here, if you need us.

He felt Danny stand a little straighter. That's — fuck, Stiles.

Yeah, Stiles agreed, dizzy with triumph. It was a better high than any drug he'd ever experienced.

Okay. He took another deep breath of Stiles-Scott-Allison. Looks like you were right. And I think you were right about something else: I'm going to need it.

Stiles had never had such an up close and personal view of the twins merging. It was possibly the most disgusting thing he'd ever seen. He must have made a noise, because his dad asked, "What happened?"

"Odds changed again," he muttered. He tried to focus, to smile, to look at anything other than the enormous, horrific creature hulking before Danny. You had sex with that?

Never. Danny backed away a step as the twins approached him, each stride as long as one and a half of his own. Not a threesome I ever would have considered.

Stiles was a little surprised at how fearless he suddenly felt. The process of feeding himself to Danny required almost no effort. The appropriate metaphor was less like a hot dog-eating contest and more like filling a water wheel with a large pitcher. Danny drank it quickly, but Stiles was able to keep up with his need, dipping his pitcher into the pool of himself and Allison and Scott and continuing to pour. Danny was improved in every dimension — stronger, faster, more agile — and even though the merged twins were impressive, it didn't feel like an unfair fight anymore. Stiles almost laughed when Danny ducked under their massive fist and it impacted with the cinderblock wall.

Eventually, though, it became clear they were running out of options. Danny wasn't going to tire them out any more than they were going to tire him out. The twins glared at him in perplexity and called something that Stiles couldn't hear.

I told you, Danny said. I'm not going to.

That made them even more angry, but when they went for Danny this time, he faked a jab to their face. When the twins flinched back, Danny dropped into a squat and lunged for their legs, grasping one in each arm. Then, suddenly, he shoved off the ground, sweeping the twins' legs aside and thrusting a shoulder into their chest. Stiles could feel the twins twisting and heaving under Danny's weight, but they seemed to be effectively pinned.

You did it! Stiles crowed, rising to his feet.

Such faith. Danny slapped away the twins' flailing hands. He was brimming with triumph.

"Dad," he said, "he's got him pinned. If you're thinking you want to charge Aidan, this would probably be a good time to move in, but… um. It's both of them. The twins."

"Two against one, huh?" Stiles' dad's face was sour, but he nodded, rounding the corner with Stiles behind him. He spoke quickly into the radio receiver.

"You could say that," he agreed.

But by the time he and his dad arrived, the twins had separated. Scott was there on the floor, about two arm hairs away from transformation, hovering close by as Danny backed away from the skirmish. The twins glowered at him. Stiles still couldn't see Allison, but he was done looking at anything but Danny.

"Wait," Stiles begged his dad, tripping over his own feet in his haste. "Just a little bit longer — right here, you can hear if I scream —"

He didn't wait for an answer. Danny turned to face him, and Stiles shot right into his arms.

Ku'u lei, Stiles said without thinking.

Danny's grip tightened, cupping Stiles' head against his neck, and Stiles heard him made a soft noise, like a sob. Mau loa.

"All right, guys," Scott said to the twins, circling around to stand between Danny and Stiles and the twins. "You know the police are waiting outside. Can we just drop this?"

"This isn't over," Aidan snapped. "Challenge ends when one Alpha kills another."

Danny turned to face him. "I could have killed you."

"Then why didn't you? You're weak."

He shook his head. "If you don't know why I'd rather defy tradition than kill your brother, I'm glad we're fighting on different sides."

Aidan was simmering, his fury barely contained. "Pack law —"

"Not my pack law," Danny said clearly, loud enough for his voice to carry across the room. "We're a pack of humans and werewolves. Maybe the first one ever. We're already changing the rules."

Ethan reached out for his brother, tugging on his arm, his face drawn. Aidan spat onto the blood-spattered concrete floor before taking a step back. "You're disgusting."

Stiles choked on a laugh. "Seriously?"

Danny turned away from them with a little smile, grabbing his shirt and nodding at Stiles to head for the door. Scott was right there, watching out for them, and Stiles was sure Allison was covering them from some unseen corner, but it still felt deliciously rude to imply they didn't need to bother to guard their flank. He grinned at Danny.

"You were such a badass," he gushed, and Danny turned a dusky pink.

"I haven't practiced BJJ for almost two years. I'm a little surprised I remembered the holds at all."

Stiles peeked over Danny's shoulder. Other than Scott, the room was now empty.

When he emerged through the door, his dad looked startled, but not too startled to press a bottle of water into Danny's hands.

"Where —" he asked, but Danny shook his head, draining the bottle.

"They left. And I'm not going to press charges. It's better this way." He took a long breath. His eyes were clear. "I don't think they're going to push it. Not right now, anyway. Not until they figure us out."

Scott came up to stand next to Stiles, casting a sideways look at Danny. The expression on his face was fascinating. "You doing okay?"

"Yeah," Danny said. "You?"

"I'm fine," he confirmed. "So, uh. Nice job in there."

Danny raised an eyebrow. "If you're waiting for me to ask you to kneel or something, you can give it up."

Scott laughed. "Nah. Not — well, maybe something? I don't know. Buy you a pizza?"

When Stiles looked back at Danny, Allison was beside him. He didn't bother to pretend not to be surprised, and she grinned at him, hiking her lumpy bag a little higher on her shoulder.

"Can we have a name?" she said.

Danny's other eyebrow went up. "A name."

"Yeah. You know, a name. For our pack."

"That's…" Danny paused. Then he shrugged. "Sure. Why not. I think I'd draw the line at t-shirts, though."

Scott and Allison rode back to the station in the squad car with the two confused officers, who were almost certainly wondering what had happened, which left Stiles and Danny to climb into the back of his dad's car and cluster together, their thighs and arms touching and their hands firmly linked. Stiles could almost see his dad grappling with his urge to tell them to knock it off, already, but the only thing they heard from the front seat was a tired sigh.

"I'll take you to your house, Danny," his dad said, "but I'm afraid we're going to have make another stop at the station after that before you're done. Even if you're not going to press charges, there's paperwork to finish. But you can get cleaned up and eat something first."

"Thank you, sir," Danny said. Stiles fed him a little energy, and he rested his hand on Stiles' knee, squeezing it. "I'm actually doing pretty well."

I keep thinking there's going to be a crash at some point, here, Stiles said, trying not to be too obvious about turning his face toward Danny and inhaling his sweaty scent. Like, there's a gauge somewhere that I'm missing, and it's probably close to flashing "empty," but… I don't feel anything close to that yet.

I don't either. But let me know, okay, if you start to?

"Sounded like quite a fight in there," his dad was saying. "I'm kind of sorry I missed it. You studied Brazilian jiu-jitsu?"

"Until freshman year," Danny agreed. "I didn't have time for it after joining lacrosse."

"I did judo, myself. Maybe you could teach Stiles."

Stiles let the shit-eating grin take over his face. "Sure, dad. I'd be happy to let Danny wrestle me into submis — hey!"

Danny was digging into the muscles on either side of his knee with his fingers. I can see we're going to have to work on respecting your elders.

His mental tone was so deadpan that Stiles couldn't be sure if he was being serious or not. He licked his lips. You're not that much older than me.

I'm talking about your dad, ku'u lei. But now he was smiling, and Stiles snuggled against him, feeling smug and safe and whole.

My dad's not going to make you go home, you know. He glanced up at Danny, watching his breath speed up momentarily. You think you should?

I think I should, he agreed, for at least a while. But you could come with me.

Oh, no question. I'm sticking with you. Scott promised you free pizza.

Danny gave his dad directions to his house. His dad parked in Danny's driveway — on the wrong side, but after Danny's crack about respect, Stiles decided he'd better not inform him of that — and followed them up to the porch, where Danny's mother met them at the door. She'd clearly been crying, but her face was dry when she hugged Danny, and followed that with an equally fierce hug for Stiles.

"Thank you," she said, shaking his dad's hand firmly. "I must admit I thought the worst, but he looks —" She turned to Danny with a quizzical look.

"I'm fine," he said, nodding. "Really. Hungry."

She laughed. "I think I can take care of that. Sheriff, will you join us?"

Stiles noticed she didn't even ask if he was going to be staying. His dad made one feeble protest before joining them inside.

Tutu was waiting in the kitchen for them, not looking at all surprised to see them, and there was another round of hugs. Cara didn't attempt to hug Danny ("He smells like a boy," she said, wrinkling her nose), but she didn't leave his side while their mother prepared dinner. When Stiles happened to mention to his dad the way she'd beat him at cards, she produced a deck from her pocket, waving it like she was holding a bribe, and Stiles laughed and offered to deal. Admittedly, Danny lost some game time while he showered, but by the time dinner was ready, Cara was already beating all of them by at least sixty points.

Stiles was pretty sure he was the only one who could tell how Danny tensed up when the garage door opened. He didn't look up from the game.

"Dad," Stiles said as casually as he could, "you're blocking Danny's dad's spot in the garage. Okay if I move the car?"

Now Danny looked uneasy, but he refrained from speaking while Stiles' dad dug in his pocket and handed Stiles the keys. His dad gestured at the cards. "I'm going to take this trick while you're gone, just letting you know."

Stiles, Danny said. He sounded more tired than he had during the fight with the twins. You can't win this one.

Such faith, Stiles retorted, but he didn't stick his tongue out, and he managed not to slam the door on the way outside.

Stiles' dad had already pulled into the space beside the police car and was standing in the driveway looking at it, somewhat perplexed, but when he saw Stiles, his face smoothed into a polite mask.

"Stiles," he said. "My wife called me at work to say Danny had been safely recovered."

"No," Stiles said. His dad paused, watching him with a familiar little frown. Stiles almost grinned when he recognized the expression as one of Cara's.

"No?"

"He's safe," Stiles amended, "and he's here. But the police didn't have to do anything. Danny did all the work. He totally kicked ass."

His father's mouth looked like it was trying to form words, but eventually it stopped, closed on whatever the words had been, and gave him a clipped nod.

"He has… some skill at defending himself," he said reluctantly.

"It was awesome. Anyway, I'm gonna move my dad's car so you can get into the garage." He jingled the keys, putting on his most cheerful smile. "Hey, you know, I know a little about cars. That Buick in there, I bet we could get it running again."

Stiles could tell he'd recklessly stepped all over some kind of line, from Danny's reaction, but he didn't let Danny's father's resolutely blank face stop him. He left him there and climbed into the Sheriff's car, pulling it smoothly out into the street and parking it along the curb. When Stiles got out, Danny's dad was in his sedan again. Danny was almost apoplectic.

You got him to move the car, he said, as though it were comparable to you beat the Alpha pack with a handful of humans and one lousy werewolf.

You bet I did, Stiles said, not bothering not to sound cocky.

You don't know the first thing about cars.

Nope.

And you're planning to fix my grandfather's Buick.

Yep. He jingled the keys again, giving Stiles' dad a little wave as he headed back toward the house. And your dad's going to help me.

My dad doesn't know anything about cars either, Stiles.

Well, then, he'll get the chance to feel smarter than me.

He paused on his path back toward the kitchen, reversed his trajectory, heading up the stairs to Danny's room, and sat waiting on his bed. He didn't have to wait long. Danny arrived in the doorway, staring at him with disbelief.

"You're insane, you know that?"

"No," he said. "I'm making friends with my boyfriend's father."

Danny glanced once down the hallway, then closed the door very, very quietly behind him before climbing on top of Stiles and pressing him firmly onto the bed. Stiles' laugh caught in his throat as he looked up at Danny, at his dilated pupils, his hungry expression.

"I love you," Danny said.

"Yeah," said Stiles, reaching for him, "yeah, I love you too."

There were a whole lot of kisses and desperate hands and maybe a little bit of crying before more words came out. It appeared they didn't really need them anyway, but Stiles figured old habits probably would die hard.

"Is this really okay, that we're up here?"

"No," Danny said.

Those were all the words Stiles managed for the next several minutes, until he saw Danny reach into the drawer beside his bed and produce a tube of what absolutely was not toothpaste. He swallowed.

"We're going to do this with my dad downstairs?"

"Yeah." Danny already had both hands working on removing Stiles' shorts. The way he was handling him, it obviously wasn't taking any effort, and that was a completely unexpected turn-on. By the time Danny flipped him over onto his knees, he was leaking all over the bed, spreading his legs as wide as he could and thrusting back with a needy whine.

Danny's hand immediately slid over his mouth, holding him still. You're going to be very quiet.

Yes, Stiles said immediately.

Danny's fingers were moving with purpose, doing something with the tube of not-toothpaste. And this is going to be very quick.

Yes, he pleaded.

When he felt Danny's fingers press the cold, slippery substance against him, he barely managed to contain his moan, but Danny cautioned, shhh, and he fell forward onto his folded arms, resting one cheek against Danny's pillow. He didn't need his eyes to see the way Danny was leaning over him, tender and focused and absolutely in control.

"Oh my god," he whispered, letting his eyes close, and gave himself over to the wet slide of Danny inside him. It was definitely not his fingers — he bit his tongue on the pain, but that was almost better, because it went a long way toward keeping him from coming immediately — filling him, more than filling him, and retreating and doing it again, and again, and — he let out a startled squeak.

Danny stopped. Good or bad?

I — don't know? Try it again.

This time, when Danny pulled back and thrust inside, Stiles let himself push a little, not with his body, but with his energy. Now it was Danny's turn to make a surprised noise, and he stopped again, his body still and quivering.

That's… going to make this a lot quicker.

I think that's okay, Stiles told him. It's not like we're never going to do it again.

Danny smothered his laughter, half-collapsed over Stiles, there on his bed.

Okay, he acknowledged finally, no, I'm sure you're right.

I might come without you touching me, if you do that hard and fast enough.

That sounds like a challenge.

Stiles wanted to tell him no, it wasn't, it was just a fact, but the idea thrilled Danny so much that he didn't bother to say anything. Yes, he said, as Danny grasped Stiles' hips and delivered on the challenge, and it was an answer to everything, to everything Danny was doing, had ever done, would ever do to him, with him, for him. The answer was yes, and Stiles could tell it always would be.

He came one stroke ahead of Danny, holding himself up on shaking legs, until Danny gave him an arm to support him. They were both as silent as they could be, which wasn't exactly silent, but it was certainly enough to keep anyone else in the house from hearing what they were doing.

Which everybody already knows we're doing, Stiles pointed out. He didn't really want to move, but they'd agreed it would be quick. Feeling Danny slide out of him made him twitch again.

Danny sighed, climbing off the bed and crouching beside the bed. Probably.

You know I feel amazing, right?

Yeah, Danny agreed. You know I do, too?

I think that kind of goes without saying. Stiles sat up gingerly, feeling the new, odd sensations, inside and out. I think I could have come again, if you'd stayed hard longer.

Taunt me, why don't you. He knelt in close between Stiles' legs, touching his cheek, his neck, his lips. I've never had a problem with coming too soon.

Oh, no, Stiles assured him, letting himself be kissed. Danny's kisses were doing a more than adequate job of getting him hard again. I'm cool. I'm so cool, I'm just — fuck, I'm not at all cool.

Yeah, Danny said, and held him tight while he shook. I know.

Stiles rested in the cushion of Danny's thoughts, the ones that weren't quite articulated, but nonetheless made him feel like he was in the presence of the most incredible person on the face of the earth. He wondered how much of that was the soulbond and how much of it was just true.

I really love you, Stiles said, feeling kind of surprised to hear himself saying it again.

That's — the best news I've heard all day, ku'u lei.

He let Danny hold him a few moments longer, then he shook himself and gave him a resolute smile. "Okay. I think I can look your mother in the eye now without completely freaking out."

Danny gave him an oblique smile as he dug in his drawer for clean underwear. "How about your dad?"

"Oh, no, I'm totally going to freak out about that. I'll try to wait until I get home to do it, at least."

On the way back down the stairs, he put a hand on Danny's shoulder, stopping him momentarily. Danny looked back at him with concern.

"Danny?"

"Yeah?"

"That crack about threesomes… so, uh, does that mean there's a threesome you would —?"

Danny pressed his lips together and considered Stiles for a long moment. Do you really want to know the answer?

"Yes," Stiles said. "Wait, no. Maybe?"

He resumed walking toward the kitchen. I can live with that.