2015.08.16 - Hey, Scott! Meet My Boyfriend, The Demon Who's Kinda Possessing Me

**Emitter:** N/A

*Stiles introduces Lance to Scott. Scott has some issues with the situation.*

August 16, 2015

Stilinski House, Beacon Hills

Sunday night. Summer vacation is nearly over, and Stiles is freaking out a little. He'd promised Scott that he'd get to meet Lance. He'd promised Lance he'd get to meet Scott. And now they were both coming over. And Stiles was *freaking out*. Maybe more than a little. How would Scott take it? How would they get along? When did Stiles' life get so *stupid complicated*?

Oh, yeah. When he got partially possessed by a demon. That time.

So, alone in the house, Stiles is hanging out in the living room and waiting anxiously for his two guests to arrive.

Soon enough, there's the familiar roar of a motorcycle outside and up the driveway, and it shuts off as its rider parks it and removes his helmet. Heavy booted footsteps approach the door, and then the bell rings. It's Lance! He wears a smile on his face, holding his helmet in his hand as he shifts his weight from one side to the other idly, as he waits for Stiles to answer.

Stiles opens the door and, seeing Lance, lets out a breath. "Oh, it's you--thank god." He grabs Lance's arm to pull him inside, looks wildly around outside, and then shuts the door. Then Stiles starts to pace, rubbing his hands together anxiously. "Scott's not here yet. Ugh. Lance, I'm... I'm gonna lose it, here! What if he doesn't understand? What if he thinks I'm a horrible person? What if he thinks *you're* horrible? Then I'd have to, like, fight for your honor or something. And Scott would have to kill me, and then you'd have to nuke the whole town, and next thing you know it'd be Armageddon, all 'cause Stiles sucks at introducing people!"

Lance stumbles a little as he's pulled inside, looking very confused for a moment. He gets his bearings a bit better before reaching out and taking Stiles by the arms. "Shh. It's okay. None of that is gonna happen." He leans closer to give the other boy a soft little kiss that he hopes is reassuring and not further terrifying. "It's gonna be *fine*. Everything you've told me about Scott has been great! He sounds like an amazing guy."

Listening well will clue people in to the Dirt Bike that's pulling up outside. Scott climbs off the bike and hangs the helmet on the handle before turning to look at the motorcycle. Everybody has a motorcycle except him. He's got a dirt bike. Which is good enough, he guesses.

Scott strides up towards the door and almost reaches to open it. He stops short when his Wolf Hearing picks up on what's going on inside. He fights a smile and just proceeds to give a familiar knock on the door. He might as well give Stiles a moment to get himself together. Thus he doesn't just wander in like he usually does.

Stiles starts to nod at this, calmed somewhat by Lance's words, and even raises his eyebrows and gives a *Well, that does seem logical* sort of nod. And then there's a knock at the door.

Stiles nearly falls over himself trying to get there and answer it, but he manages to turn the stumble into forward momentum and just ends up bumping slightly into the door. Which he then flings open, putting on a big grin. "Scott! Hey! Come in!" And then, because that's so awkward it hurts, he steps back and moves out of the way so Scott can enter.

"This is Lance--my, ah, boyfriend. Lance, this is Scott... my *best* friend." And then he looks between the two of them, biting his lip to keep himself from continuing to babble.

Lance thinks for a moment that he's made good progress. Maybe if he can keep Stiles from panicking, nothing will go horribly wrong. Not that he thinks it will anyway, but they do have a profound bond beyond what either can really completely comprehend. When the door is open, he hurries to set his helmet down and raises a hand to wave to Scott. He'd offer his hand to shake, but there's a Stiles between them and he's not sure if it would be right.

"Scott! It's great to finally get the chance to meet you in person! I've heard so much about you, it feels like I kinda know you already." Lance gives his brightest smile and, because he feels like he needs to have something to do with his hands, starts to unfasten his jacket and remove it. He's already landed, so he hopefully won't need the protection of leather against road rash.

Scott is all smiles when the door opens. He's not about to even feel like there's something wrong. He's also not using his wolf senses either. This is an honest to goodness meeting of friendship and relationship shenanigans so there's no reason for him to be worried about anything. Besides, if anything is out of place his nose will let him know whether he wants it to or not.

Scott enters with ease and makes sure to close the door behind him. "Stiles, relax." is offered to his best friend with a quick and low tone before Scott moves to get past Stiles and extend a hand for handshaking purposes to Lance. "Hey Lance. I've only heard one thing about you. But it was a good thing so no worries there." Scott's smile never leaves his face. He's actually enjoying this a little bit too much. It is hilarious to see Stiles in a constant state of frazzled. Hilarious!

Stiles watches the two of them like a hawk. A hawk on too much Adderall. He tucks his hands under his arms to try to keep from doing any random flailing, but that just ends up feeling weird, so he drops his arms to his sides and lets his fingers drum absently against his thighs. Nodding as he watches the pair greet one another, Stiles says, "Great, hey, do you guys want a soda or anything? I'll go get sodas." And then he all but dives into the kitchen, unable to take the pressure.

For those with enhanced senses, Stiles smells like he's been taking a bath in stress chemosignals. It's not getting better.

Lance looks after Stiles, and he's really concerned. He can certainly tell. But he puts on a brave face for the benefit of everyone present and offers his hand to Scott at last, once they're able to interact without catching anyone in the midst of it all. "Really nice to meet you," he offers, with a strong grip, but not compensating for anything.

But once they're alone and close enough, Lance steeples his brows and raises one a little bit more, an inquisitive expression on his face mixed with one of concern...and then he flicks his eyes in the direction of the kitchen, where Stiles has gone. His whole expression seems to ask "is he okay?" because, to be honest, Lance isn't sure. He doesn't usually see Stiles quite like this.

And Lance himself has a kind of unsettling aura -- maybe powerful? Maybe just something else entirely. His scent isn't...normal, exactly, but there are so many scents on him -- leather, some sort of cologne, incense maybe? -- that it's hard to really pick out what the oddness is. He certainly doesn't \*seem\* threatening or hostile or bad. Just...odd.

Scott is picking up on all kinds of emotions and what not. He can't help it. It's what happens when he's smack dab in the middle of an emotional pot luck. He doesn't get the opportunity to try and stop Stiles from exiting because Stiles is so fast with the vamoose for sodas. Still, though, Scott takes a moment to pull off his jacket and tosses it where he's going to be sitting. Which is across from where he's sure they will be sitting.

"He'll be okay. This whole, well all of this, is kind of new to him." Scott explains to the expression on Lance's face.

Stiles returns with three sodas, managing to only almost fall flat on his face once. But he catches himself--against Lance's back, as it happens, but he does catch himself! He just keeps trying to put his feet about three steps ahead of where they actually are! He uses the moment to pass a soda to Lance, reaching under Lance's arm to hand the second to Scott. The other, he just clutches against his chest and says, in a voice so casual it's strangled, "Wanna, uh... sit?"

Lance offers a kind of grateful smile to Scott before he removes his own jacket and sets it with his helmet. It's about that time he gets himself used as a leaning post, but he's strong enough not to collapse under the weight of Stiles and his insecurities. Which is pretty strong. "Thanks." He takes the drink with a gentle tone in his voice. "Yeah, let's sit down. And um. Maybe breathe a little. Slowly." His free arm goes around Stiles, to guide him to where they'll sit, which is exactly where Scott thought they might.

Scott takes a seat and makes sure that he's got his soda held in his hands as well. He seems to be the most comfortable on here and that's probably saying a lot. Considering that he usually the one that's the most out of place. "So." He's not even sure where to send the conversation. Stiles normally does all of the talking. Scott decides to make an attempt at humor. "When's the wedding?" Scott offers a lopsided grin with that blatant display of comedic wishful thinking.

Stiles sits down on the couch--because the *love seat* sends entirely the wrong message--and is doing his best to relax. He even smiles and cracks open the soda to take a drink.

And Scott makes his joke.

Stiles is going to have plenty of fun later cleaning up the fountain of soda that just shot out of his nose. He really is. But for now, he's just gasping for air and trying to keep his head from exploding as he wheezes out, "Dude--*not*--funny!"

Lance settles beside Stiles and then Scott makes his joke, which makes Lance laugh -- and he laughs, though softer, when Stiles becomes a human soda fountain. It's like in the old country! He reaches over to pat Stiles on the back, turning to Scott. "At first we thought about a summer wedding, but eventually we were like, 'why not Halloween?' Wait'll you see the cake!" Finally, they've reached a place where Lance feels comfortable adding to a joke. Yessss.

"Awesome." Scott doesn't even take a drink. He often doesn't. He hasn't been eating or drinking that much since his life has turned into a constant state of stress. This one night of relaxation with his best friend and his best friend's new boyfriend is a welcome change from all the drama in his life. WELCOME CHANGE. "That gives me some time to get some money together for my tux. I wonder if we should have the Bachelor Parties here or at Sinema..." Scott is going to keep this going as long as everyone stays comfortable.

Stiles manages to pull himself together with a minimum of eye-watering and coughing. Well, nearly a minimum anyway. He looks at Lance in surprise, and then he declares, "I *hate* you both." But he's grinning, and by the time he finishes the sentence, he's laughing softly and even giving Lance a hug. "Aw, god. You two are getting along. That's... good." But Stiles still seems really uptight about something. He sets the soda down on the coffee table, then reaches up to rub a hand across his face.

Then, he seemingly changes the subject at random.

"Scott, you remember that whole thing we did with the sacrifice--at the Nemeton?"

Lance's hand finds its way north, to brush his fingertips lightly through Stiles's hair. He's stopped laughing, but his expression stays pleasant as he uses the other hand to open his soda and sip gingerly from it. Just a little bit, just a taste. At that rate, he'll make it last for hours. "Hey, why not both? We can do a pot luck!" He chuckles a bit, mostly to himself. A little joke, in his mind, that if he organizes a pot luck, when they open the pot, they're gonna need all the luck they can get.

But the topic of discussion shifts and, while he keeps stroking the hair with one hand, hoping it's helping to soothe, his expression shifts too, to a bit more of a serious one. The Nemeton continues to be a persistent force of concern.

Scott's turn to almost spit out his drink. He was just about to take a sip too! But then Stiles has to go ahead and just bring up stuff that, as far as Scott was aware, was a secret! In front of people that... well, Scott's just going to assume Lance is 'in the know' now. Oy. Secrets are so hard to keep in Beacon Hills.

"Um." Scott looks from Lance to Stiles and even gives a slight wide eye at his brother. WHAT ARE YOU DOING. Still, though, he kind of has to answer so: "Yeah?" Good cover, McCall.

Stiles cringes a bit at Scott's reaction--actually, funnily enough, it's the exact same facial expression he gets every time his dad asks about report cards... funny--and reaches up to rub his chin slightly, but he quickly drops his hand, reaching to put it on Lance's knee in an effort to restrain the nervous gestures.

"Weeeell," he says, drawing the word, "I guess... afterward... it kind of left my mind, like... unsettled? Like... an 'open door,' I guess Lance said?" He looks to Lance for support of this notion. "And, so... Lance did some... mojo... to close it off. Kinda like a... psychic band-aid." He gives a purely cosmetic cough, looking up at the ceiling, and says, "So, uh. Lance's... not exactly... human, either. You two kinda have that in common."

He closes his eyes tight, awaiting an explosion. Inwardly, he's thinking, *Yes, Scott, I told your secrets--but I swear I had a good reason.*

Lance would seem to be the only one yet to choke on his drink, but he's a champ. He gives the impression of being fairly together, even if it may just be incidental to the fact that has just been revealed. He pats Stiles on the head and then takes the hand to hold up, gesturing in a way he hopes is calming, showing he doesn't want the situation to worsen. "You don't have to worry about me, I promise you. And my word...well, I know this sounds super-dramatic, right? But you can pretty much bank on it."

He looks between Stiles and Scott, biting his lower lip in thought. So much stress around him. He can't help but feel a little responsible. "Uh, but right. About the um, psychic band-aid thing. It's...concerning that it was like that."

Stress isn't even half of it. Scott ends up setting his drink down not that he's been all that into it in the first place. He's actually more concerned about what's going on with Stiles now. Not to mention that he's slightly miffed that he's only finding out about this kind of thing at this point in time. Things could've ended up so much worse! His best friend is going to have to get better about talking to him about important stuff!!

"I trust you." Scott doesn't really have much to say besides that to Lance. He's going to go off Stiles' judgement here. If Stiles thinks this not quite human fellow is good enough to date then he's pretty sure he's good enough for Scott to trust. "What else do we know about this psychic door thing? Is it like going to open back up? If the band-aid falls off?" Scott's tone has a worried flavor to it.

"I'm... not really sure it *can* fall off," Stiles says hesitantly, looking from Scott to Lance and then back again. "That's... the other part of it." He draws a deep, slow breath. "See, okay. You know how when we found out you were a werewolf we thought... you were, like, a monster? Because werewolves are always treated like monsters in movies and stuff? Lance... kind of has a similar thing going on. He's also something that people assume is really, really bad." Stiles nervously licks his lips and draws another deep breath.

"So, Lance is a demon."

He lets that sink in for a moment, then explains in a rush, "And the thing is he maybe kind of had to possess me--just a little bit--to make sure I was safe." And he winces, knowing *just* how it sounds, and awaits the possibly incoming wrath of his True Alpha best friend.

Come to think of it, now it does seem like a huge secret to keep this long. What was he doing, trying to pointlessly draw out suspense and build up angst, as though to torture some invisible people who were observing the events of his life?

...Nah.

Lance briefly smiles again, a soft and thin one, but really grateful for the voice of confidence. The conversation develops without his direct guidance, though, and his smile widens slightly, brows steepling again. It's like a cross between pleading and apologetic. "Well, uh, I know this is a lot to take in at once?" He clears his throat. Dry, suddenly. So he gulps down a big mouthful of soda and, bucking trends, manages not to choke this time either.

"Okay. Uh, I'm gonna just lay it out." He takes a deep breath and nods his head just once, as if getting some things square mentally before he speaks his thoughts. "Basically what I did was give Stiles a...kinda like a portion of myself. It basically patches him up and you don't have to worry unless someone kills me, which is \*really hard to do\*. So uh, basically I'm trying to say, uh, that you don't have to worry about his soul for now, but um. Right." Another, smaller clearing of his throat. "We should probably try to figure out how to fix the whole situation on the long term, because as long as he's...got me...in him," he kind of winces at the awkward phrasing as he hears himself speak it, "he's also kind of gonna have to look out for weird things like holy water and devil's traps."

"..."

Scott's expression isn't as hard to read as it may seem. He honestly is almost gawking at the both of them right now. Not out of awe or wonderment but out of complete distate for the way this was handled. He doesn't want to yell or scream or anything like that but the expression is definitely one that is not happy. But he's dealing with it. It's a lot to process, all at once, but he's going to have to do it. There's no time to worry about what wasn't handled correctly in the first place.

"... So how do we do that?" Scott's jovial demeanor has been replcaed by his Hero of Everyone attitude. He's even sitting up and on the edge of his seat in preparation of figuring out what exactly is the next step in all of this. He's ready to move on to the next item. He'll have a talk with Stiles, alone, about this VERY BAD IDEA later. Frown.

Stiles pulls it together some when Scott doesn't just, like, Alpha Up right there and start laying the smackdown on him. It could happen! Stiles has been the recipient of many smackdowns, sometimes from angry alpha werewolves! But Scott takes it... relatively well. And Stiles immediately goes from one mode of high-strung to the next.

"I'm sorry I didn't tell you sooner," he tries to explain. "I'm still trying to understand it, figure out what the hell it all means. I wanted to have something *better* to tell you than all this."

He holds up both hands. "But the point is, I'm *fine*. Lance is protecting me until I find the answer. I guess it's something that probably happened to all of us after the Nemeton thing... I just didn't get better for some reason."

He gives Lance's knee an appreciative squeeze and gives Scott a look of utter contrition. He feels horrible about the secrets, but he didn't see any better way, especially with Jason showing up in town and all of *that* drama.

"Maybe we should all just kinda...take a deep breath and relax? Just...like..." Lance sets his soda down, holding his hands up in front of him again and motioning in a way he hopes will urge them to both settle a tad. "Stiles isn't in a precarious position. I know this sounds like it's like, huge impending crisis, but it's totally not. He'll be \*fine\*." Every word is imbued with total conviction; he has no doubt about what he's saying, and it seems like he believes it, at least, so that's something. "I'm trying to get more information on the power s--Nemeton. That thing. I think it probably has to do with it and its nature. And maybe...something to do with Stiles and what he can do? I mean like...he's a pretty big part of your pack, right? Just from what I've put together."

But it's not that simple. In the end, no immediate agreement can be reached. Scott needs time to understand. Stiles can't begrudge him that. Lance... remains Lance, seemingly patient with the process and supportive of Stiles.

As for resolution? Perhaps in the future...