badass

Scott flashed a smile at Stiles. “So you’ve watched me jack off already then if you’re always around?” God, Stiles being on the same bed as Scott was driving him wild. He shook his head. “No!” he yelled jumping up. His eyes were wild. He groaned as his erection rubbed against his jeans. “God fucking damn it,” Scott said to himself. But suddenly, his mind and body shifted again. Was he bipolar? Is there such a thing as sexual bipolar? He smirked at Stiles again. “But your voice is such a turn on.”

Stiles smacked his face with the palm of his hand and let out a loud groan. “No, Scott. I did not watch you jerk off, because I’m not a complete weirdo who likes to watch their best friend in moments like --” he waved his hands around “-- this!” Scott was jumping off the bed and totally not down for what was currently happening, despite the words coming out of his mouth. How could Stiles not have realized before? Was Scott even really into all of the other guys he’d done unspeakable things with? “Just sit down, Scott. And don’t touch yourself. My voice is not a turn on, it’s annoying. I need you to focus on being you.. not this horny, sexed up version of you. We gotta figure out what is up besides your boner, dude.”

“You’ve… seen stuff? What exactly have you seen?” Anxiety flooded Scott’s body temporarily. He was aware of what he had been doing but for some reason, he couldn’t stop doing it. In fact, it was eating away at Scott but at the same time, it wasn’t. He was just so sexed up, he wanted to bang anything. All the same, it didn’t help him gazing at Stiles. He might not be able to have sex with him, but he could imagine it all the same. “Tell me about it… in detail.” 

Stiles felt a little bad bringing up the shit Scott had done -- at first. The initial look of anxiety and embarrassment that spread across his best friend’s face let him know for sure that there was definitely something wrong. This wasn’t just Scott letting his freak flag fly and getting all down and dirty with the rest of the wolves.. This wasn’t Scott. 

Jackson panicked for a second when he couldn’t see Stiles anymore. Was he really going crazy? Maybe he made all of that up in his head somehow, and- His overactive thoughts cut off when Stiles faded into focus again. “Asshole,” Jackson growled, “don’t fucking do that!”

The idiot had found a way to stick around and Jackson didn’t know how he was supposed to feel about it. All he knew was he didn’t think he’d ever hear or see the other guy again, let alone get to feel their arms wrapped around each other like they had been so many times. “Yeah,” he choked out, “I’d really flip the goddamn channels for you. Stop sounding like it’s some big deal or whatever.”

“It’s not like I can control it,” Stiles mumbled, pouting a little. He was still figuring out how to do all this ghost stuff. Honestly, he was lucky that he’d managed to stick around this long. Usually, he couldn’t even figure out how to touch things. Right now though, he was holding on tight to Jackson and that was the greatest thing that had happened since before he died. It was like they were back to normal.. the two of them.. 

“Stiles,” Pylyp said, repeating the name. He couldn’t say anything. He was overwhelmed with emotion. He was a blubbering mess. His mind was racing but at the same time was frozen. When Stiles hugged him tighter, it just made him cry more. When Pylyp eventually gained some control over his emotions, he leaned away reluctantly. He never wanted to let go. He held Stiles’ face in his hand. “My boy…” he sniffed. “I’m so proud of you.”

“Dad, calm down. Come on,” Stiles whispered, leaning into his dad’s hand on his cheek. “Breathe, Dad. Breathe.” Shit. Shit shit -- Stiles felt himself fading out, losing his ability to stay a solid being. He couldn’t feel his dad’s hands on his face anymore, or the fabric of his uniform under his fingers. “Dad, Dad I’m here. Dad.” The tone of his voice, the echo behind it, was different. He was gone again. His dad couldn’t hear him, or see him. Shit. 

Scott flopped back onto the bed. “Alright, fine. God. All you had to do was say you didn’t want to,” he said, rolling his eyes. He raised his hands in a surrendering motion. “Bondage? Fine, I’m joking. I’ll refrain myself. You make me sound like a horny rabbit or something.” 

“You basically are a horny rabbit, dude! You’ve tried to whip it out for me like three times now and you’ve literally known I’ve been around for like ten minutes. The things I’ve seen, Scott. They cannot be unseen. You’re lucky that werewolves can’t get diseases.. But I have never been so worried about the potential possibilities of male pregnancies. Shit.” Stiles ran his fingers through his hair as he finished his ramble and paced back and forth at the end of Scott’s bed. “We need to fix this.”

Pylyp looked up from his chair. It was Stiles. His son was standing right in front of him. Almost like he was… “Alive?” Pylyp whispered, tears already streaming down his face. It was just like the dreams. Part of him wanted so bad for his son to be here, but another part didn’t. He didn’t want to go through the pain of seeing his son again. Maybe this was a dream? All the same, Pylyp stood and grabbed his son, embracing him tightly. “Stiles…” 

Stiles found himself with his arms full of sobbing Dad. He pulled his father in tighter and hugged him close. “Hi, Dad,” he mumbled, his fingers tugging at the material of his shirt. Being held like this was so familiar, but so different all the same. “I’m here, Dad. Sort of. Not.. alive.. just -- I’ve been here the whole time. I love you.”

“No…I don’t really want to hit you. I mean kinda, but that’s just my usual reaction to dead friends coming back to life. Shit.” Isaac muttered as he realized what this meant. “Erica’s going to have a field day with this.” He shook his head and squinted at Stiles, trying to get a read off him. For some reason Isaac still had trouble getting the scent off the purgies, so he wasn’t sure it would work, but he wanted to try. Strangely, Stiles didn’t smell like anything. Nor were any of his body functions working.

“Uh, dude? I don’t want to alarm you, but you don’t have a heartbeat.”

Isaac was taking this way better than Stiles thought people might. He expected people not believing what was happening, considering he died as a human and he was a ghost coming back to hang out for a while. He cocked his head to the side at the comment and raised his eyebrows. “I’m dead, dude. Of course I don’t have a heartbeat. Ghosts usually don’t.” Then he paused. “At least I don’t think we do. I haven’t actually met another ghost to test out that theory.”

“I don’t know what it is. It won’t go away. I jerked off eight times yesterday and it still won’t go away.” It was like Scott had a battle raging inside. A battle he was losing to the boner in his pants. Scott laid back on the bed, absent-mindedly touching himself. “I love you.” At least that felt right to say. Even if there was a lot of sexual tension hidden within it. But like clockwork, he sat back up and grinned at Stiles. “I’ll show you mine if you show me yours.” 

“I love you too, man,” Stiles said with a sigh. “But I’m definitely not in love with you. And I definitely don’t want to see your junk. Keep it in your pants. I’ve seen it before, and it’s not impressive enough to whip out for funsies.” They needed to figure out what was going on, pronto. “I will chain your ass up until we fix this if you can’t control yourself, dude. You know me, I will.”

“Shut up, you don’t know if it’s going to be like this the rest of eternity. You really think you’re going to be floating around when the world eventually explodes? Please, you’re not that fucking special.” Yeah, so what, he just figured out Stiles had been hanging around, but banter was easier than crying on a shoulder he’d likely slip right though. “That’s what’s handy about having someone around who’s not a ghost. I can flip the channels for you. Or pages, if you’re that hellbent on reading.”

Jackson scoffed, “who the hell said anything about crossing over? We don’t know what the options could be, you fucking dumbass. I mean, no, we don’t know if there are any options, but that doesn’t mean that would be the only one. So shut the hell up.” His eyebrows raised, was he really concerned about the guy who hit him? Of course he was. “Bastard made it out lucky, so yeah, he’s fine.”

Stiles couldn’t help the grin that spread across his face. There was a warm feeling bubbling up in his stomach that he hadn’t felt in a long time -- a feeling that distracted him enough to fade away for a second. “Shit. Shit, no. Focus, Stiles. Focus.” He forced himself back and patted his torso to check if he was solid. (Not that it would have actually done any good, because he was solid to himself all the time anyway.) “We’re good? Can you see me?”