Stiles woke with a start, pillow sticking to his face as he jerked up off the bed. The clock on the table read 10:15 in bright angry red numbers. Informing him that he was going to be late for his 10:30 Classics class. Maybe if he hurried it would only be by five minutes instead of ten, or, worse, twenty.
He scrambled out of bed, the sheet tangling around his legs and sending him crashing to the floor with an aborted shriek. Sending a silent thank you to the higher powers that Liam was already at school, Stiles righted himself and stumbled to the bathroom. Grabbing a toothbrush and only taking the time to wet it and squirt toothpaste on it, Stiles attempted to brush his teeth and get dressed at the same time.
Hopping around his room to get his pants on and struggling into his shirt proved more difficult than he'd first thought and he found himself acquainted with the floor for a second time that morning. He groaned and pushed to his feet, toothbrush hanging out of the corner of his mouth. He'd gotten foam on the carpet, but decided he didn't care. He'd deal with it later if it stained. Right now he really needed to get to class.
He used the kitchen sink rather than the bathroom one, leaving his tooth brush on the counter next to the bowl Liam had eaten out of that morning. Stiles grumbled at the leftover dishes through a mouth full of water, annoyed that Liam hadn't bothered to wake him and that the werewolf hadn't even had the decency to put his one dish in the fucking sink.
It was so passive aggressive and so Liam that Stiles' heart clinched a little at the sight. The previous night's argument was still fresh in his mind. They always argued over little things, what movie to watch, which restaurant to order from, who had to do the dishes or take out the trash, but last night had been different.
While it hadn't been a knock down-drag-out kind of fight, it had been a close thing. Stiles didn't think he'd seen Liam so riled up and down right...angry, in a long time. Not since Scott had been kidnapped their Junior year. Well, Liam's freshman year. And that was where their issue lay.
Stiles had a good understanding of the law as well as a good understanding of said law's many loop holes. The thing was, there weren't many loopholes when it came to dating someone under age. It didn't matter that they were only two years apart in age, what mattered was that Liam was distinctly underage and Stiles was not and that that could get them in some serious trouble.
Liam couldn't seem to grasp this concept.
Even if both their parents knew and consented, Stiles wouldn't put it past some of the people of Beacon Hills to report them just because they didn't like his father. Which lead to Stiles' rule of no sleepovers at his apartment, no matter how badly they wanted to. He'd caught some of his neighbors giving him the stink eye already when they saw Liam with him. A high schooler sneaking out of a nineteen year old college student's door was just asking for it. Jail was something he had no desire to experience.
So when Liam had insisted sleeping at his place the night before, Stiles had argued vehemently against the idea. Not only had it been a school night, but Stiles knew Liam had more plans than just getting Stiles to help him with his home work.
The 'I have a lot of homework and it will take all night' argument quickly deteriorated into 'my parents are both on the night shift and I don't want to be alone.' Which, Stiles knew to be true, but he also knew Liam had never had any problems staying by himself before.
When Stiles shot that reason down, everything had spiralled out of control. It started with yelling- Liam invading Stiles personal space, seething and spitting like a cobra. He'd always been a spitfire, easily riled up. Stiles was the same way. It escalated into full blown shouting with a side of name calling until Stiles neighbours ended it by banging on the walls. By then it was well past eleven at night and there really was no point in carting Liam home. So he'd stayed.
Their relationship was volatile and probably really unhealthy, but Stiles cared for Liam. A lot. As much as he cared for Scott, at least, and that was saying something.
Stiles thought it over as he drove to school, keeping a close eye out for patrols as he broke just about every damn driving law he knew to make it to school kind of on time. Kind of meaning he was only ten minutes late instead of twenty.
He'd never taken the time to classify the relationship he had with Liam. It just was. But now that he'd brought it to his own attention, he realized what he felt for the werewolf had developed into a lot more than 'hey, you have a nice mouth. Can I stick my tongue down your throat?' He couldn't imagine what he'd do without him in his life and really didn't want to think about what could lead to such a scenario.
Stiles had learned early in his life that that meant you probably loved the person.
Still working through this new realization, Stiles didn't pay attention to the snickers circulating around the room as he made his way to his seat by Scott. Scott grinned up at him and then the grin became a slightly pained look.
"Did you look in a mirror this morning?" Scott whispered as the teacher went back to the lecture at hand. Stiles shook his head, pen in his mouth as he pulled out his books.
"Is there something on my face?" He brushed at his cheek and mouth, wondering if the pop-tarts he'd all but crammed into his mouth as he ran for the Jeep had left behind evidence of their very tasty demise.
The look on Scott face became more pinched and he shook his head. Stiles frowned, his concern growing as Scott fished out a mirror out of his bag. He handed it to Stiles without a word.
"You're fucking kidding me!" Stiles exclaimed when his own face came into view. Craning his head for a better view, he traced across the line now connecting the moles scattered across his neck and chin. Somehow, Liam, because who the fuck else would do that shit, had managed to form a picture of a wolf out of the small imperfections of his skin. In bright purple and blue marker no less.
"That little asshole!" Stiles hissed, rubbing at the lines without success.
"Mr. Stilinski, if you insist on interrupting my class needlessly, I kindly ask you leave," their professor intoned, voice even and firm. Stiles shook his head and sat the mirror down. They had a test the next class meeting. There was no way he was going to miss the review, but that didn't stop him from muttering under his breath and jabbing his pen against his notebook as he took notes.
Scott watched him, expression apologetic, but didn't comment further. He knew he'd hear plenty after class. Stiles was already plotting his revenge.
Across town in the high school during third period Latin, Liam sneezed and shivered. Mason commented that he hoped there wasn't a virus going around if a werewolf was getting sick.
