It was Friday night and Stiles Stilinski was staring at his ceiling like some lovestruck teenager who couldn't stop thinking about the person they had a crush on. Like some kind of idiot. Except it wasn't his crush at all. It was his best friend. The same best friend that refused to accept reality.

Butthead.

At least, he reasoned, his insults to Scott in his head had become a lot less imaginative. Of course, now he sounded like a five-year-old, but he'd take it. This way he could see himself getting over it whenever Scott finally came around instead of hanging onto the bitterness forever.

His hands were propped behind his head as he watched the fan, letting it lull him to sleep. There was no point in wondering what Scott was up to since it wouldn't do anything but make him more frustrated. And a frustrated Stiles wouldn't be able to sleep.

As much as he hated it, he just needed to go to sleep and deal with whatever happened next with a clear head. Or as clear as it ever got with Stiles anyway.

His phone dinged from somewhere close by and he rolled his eyes as he went to check it. Even though he'd listened to his dad already give a play-by-play of each time he got the ball, he didn't doubt he had remembered something else and was texting to fill him in. Stiles couldn't help but smile at his dad's excitement either way, though.

It was certainly better than the alternative.

But when he pulled up his phone, the screen was emblazoned with Scott's name, not a text from his dad. Something was wrong. Scott had no reason to call him. Unless the full moon was finally cresting and Scott couldn't deny what was right in front of him anymore.

He sat up on the edge of his bed and pulled the phone to his ear with shaky hands. The message played quietly, but the frantic edge to Scott's voice was unmistakable. It had happened. It had finally fucking happened. And Stiles hadn't been there for him.

He shook his head and jumped up, embarrassed that his bruised ego and Scott not believing him had gotten in his way. He had gotten in his way. Again.

God, idiot didn't begin to describe it.

As he paced beside his bed, wondering how best to handle the situation. He could stay in his room and wait for Scott to find him, probably, or he could go searching for him and hope he found him before Scott did something monumentally stupid. Either way, he didn't see a case in which they weren't already in some sort of trouble.

Surely he hadn't been capable of keeping it a secret in the bowling alley. Or on the way out of it. Or through town.

He shook his head again just as a loud bang at his window caused him to yelp. He clutched his chest right over his heart as he took in the thing on the other side of the glass.

He recognized parts of Scott, but they were carefully hidden behind the golden irises and fangs that Stiles was seeing now. Even though he knew this was real and true, it completely went against everything he knew of the world.

Stiles watched and stared at Scott in horror as he carefully pulled up his windowpane, his long yellow fingernails gripping the wood. Then an impossibly sinister growl echoed through his room as he entered slowly, rumbling somewhere deep in Scott's chest.

He wanted to scream. Stiles knew he should. That he needed to, but he couldn't find the strength. It was like he was trapped in one of those dreams where you're frozen and there's no way out. No one to hear you. No way to make a noise. But in this, Stiles knew there was no waking up. Because he hadn't fallen asleep. This would just be it.

Scott continued to stalk closer and closer to him until he was inches from his face. Then he roared and Stiles stood planted in the same spot Scott had found him when he'd jumped on his roof outside his room.

When he finished, Stiles swallowed hard and lifted his hand to wipe off his face. "Say it, don't spray it, dude," he teased.

Scott, in turn, cocked his head to the side and raised one eyebrow before he started to laugh. The sound was an odd mix of growl and bark, but gradually became normal again as his fingernails and fangs retracted, his eyes even shifting to brown once more.

And then Stiles was laughing too. The ridiculousness of the situation catching up to both of them left no other reaction.

When they managed to get it back under control, they were laying on the carpet next to each other, their hands behind their heads. They were staring up at the ceiling just like Stiles had been not ten minutes before when he was alone.

Before the world had been flipped on its side. Before the point of no return.

"I'm not sure what you did, man, but, uh, thanks," Scott offered. "So... I'm thinking you were right. Because that was..."

"Intense? Wild? Hairy?" Stiles finished for him.

Scott chuckled. "I was waiting for that, actually. Never happened. Just my eyes, fingernails, and teeth. I think."

He sat up and put his head in his hands, rocking back and forth a bit as the anxiety that was so commonplace with Scott started to take over. Stiles sat up quickly too, rubbing his back.

"What am I gonna do, Stiles?" he asked. "I literally ran out on my date with Allison. Just disappeared. She's gonna think I'm an asshole and never wanna date me again."

Stiles blinked rapidly for a second before regaining his composure. Even if he thought that was the absolute last thing Scott should be worried about, it didn't matter. This wasn't Stiles' thing. If it kept him from ripping Stiles' face off, it was probably a good thing.

And it was a part of the problem that Stiles might actually have an answer for.

"I know it's not what I should be worried about," Scott admitted. "I just really like her, Stiles. And, for once, the girl I liked, liked me back. How many times can I get that lucky, ya know?"

Stiles nodded solemnly and then held out his hand. "Give me your phone."

"Huh?"

"Give me your phone. We can fix this," Stiles said. "We're gonna text her that you came down with the flu or a stomach bug or something. Something gross. So she doesn't come over to check on you."

Scott put his phone in Stiles' hand without a word and then put his chin on his shoulder as he watched him type. Even though he didn't want to, he made sure to list all the reasons Scott was sorry and would make it up to her at the earliest possible convenience. Stiles wasn't all that romantic, but he could fake it when he needed to. And Scott needed this.

He pressed send before Scott could overthink it and then handed it back, not needing to know Allison's answer.

"Now, we're gonna talk about you wolfing out. Okay?"

Scott swallowed hard and nodded, looking down at his screen and smiling when it vibrated in his hand. Thankfully, he pocketed it again without tethering himself to Allison any further and turned back to Stiles.

"She said she totally understands and hopes I get better soon," Scott commented. "When did you get so smooth, Stiles?"

He snorted and shrugged. "I have my moments." Then he bit the inside of his cheek and looked around his room as they fell quiet again. "Okay. We need a plan. And a plan starts with information."

"Oh no, you're talking about one of your..."

"We're going to make a conspiracy board," Stiles announced excitedly, rubbing his hands together.

He headed straight for his desk as Scott groaned loudly behind him. "Dude, I thought you promised you'd stop making those."

"I never promised any such thing," Stiles lied. "Come on. They're fun."

"And what happens if your dad comes in and sees your werewolf conspiracy board, Stiles?"

He shrugged as he continued to pull things out of his drawer and stacked them on top of the desk. "I'll tell him it's for fun. Or a school project," he reported. "I'm weird, Scott, in case you haven't noticed. This isn't even gonna break the top ten for him."

Scott laughed quietly and nodded as Stiles turned back around. "Okay, fine. Can't argue with that. Let's make a conspiracy board, I guess."

"Adorable that you think I was asking permission," Stiles joked, winking at him.

"Do you need me to go get all the stuff you brought me last night?" Scott asked.

"You really thought I didn't make two copies of everything?" Stiles scoffed. "You don't know me at all, do you?"

Scott laughed again as Stiles pulled out his yarn and mountains of papers he had printed off since he last spoke to him. He worked like he always did, in a frantic, chaotic flurry. But when he stood back half an hour later, he was pleased with himself.

"So, uh...," Scott started, breaking the silence first, "what does it all mean?"

"I have no idea. Yet," Stiles answered truthfully. "We have to figure out how it all connects."

He took out a sticky note and wrote KNOWN on it before slapping it on the board too. "This is all the stuff we know is true right now," he announced. "You got bitten. The kind of things that are happening. Stuff like that."

He picked up another sticky note and wrote UNKNOWN on it before he placed it beside another stack of papers. "This is everything we don't know. Myths about vulnerabilities. Urban legends. Ya know?"

Scott glanced between the known and unknown side of the board and pointed out the obvious. "Um, there's a lot more stuff on the unknown side."

Stiles sighed heavily. "What'd you expect? We didn't even know werewolves were real until this week."

Scott nodded and Stiles shrugged. "Did I miss anything?"

"Oh, uh, the bite is back," Scott said. "It's more like a scar now, but..."

"Show me."

Scott pulled down his shirt on the one side and showed Stiles his shoulder, leaving him to scrutinize it from every possible angle, nodding occasionally. He scribbled a few more notes down and slapped it on the KNOWN side.

"What's the third group?" Scott asked.

"Oh, uh, stuff that doesn't fit anywhere else. Questions we have. Like miscellaneous, I guess."

"There's a lot there too," he murmured.

They both lapsed into silence again before Stiles spoke up. "I'll be honest, dude. I have no idea where to start."

"It'd be nice to know what made me change. Was it just the full moon? Or something else?"

Stiles shook his head. "I don't think so. I don't think laughing and relaxing would've been enough to get you to stop eating me if you were forced to change by the full moon."

"Yeah, I guess you're right."

"How were you feeling when you started to, uh, change?" Stiles implored.

"I was upset because I wasn't good at bowling," Scott answered, like he was talking more to himself than to Stiles. "And then Allison took me off to talk and we started to, uh... make out, I guess. That's when it got real bad."

"Oh, so you were excited excited," Stiles replied, crossing his arms over his chest.

"Yeah," Scott answered, blushing.

"So maybe if you're calm, or whatever, you're fine. But anything else and you risk changing?"

"Then... what's the full moon thing for?" Scott asked.

"Well, it's not technically a full full moon until tomorrow."

Scott smiled and laughed. "The full full moon?"

"Oh my God, Scott," Stiles scolded playfully. "Do you know how the moon works?" Scott shrugged. "It waxes and wanes, right? So right now, while basically full, it's not technically full. And if it being full is so important to whatever is happening to you, that technicality might be working for us right now."

Scott nodded, and Stiles could tell the nervousness was setting in. "So you think that tomorrow I'm going to..."

"Completely freak out whether you're angry or turned on or not?" Stiles shrugged. "Yeah, probably."

"What am I gonna do, Stiles?" Scott whined slightly.

Stiles ran a hand through his hair. "We're gonna have to use the process of trial and error here. We'll restrain you and I'll watch you, starting tonight. Maybe we can figure out how it's going to happen better and maybe even figure out a way to stop it."

"Okay," Scott answered slowly, "But where are we going to do it? Your dad is used to weird shit in your room, but this might push him a little too far."

"Yeah, you're right," Stiles sighed. "Oh!" he said, snapping his fingers. "How about the clinic? You said your boss is gone for the weekend, right?"

"Yeah, so it's closed, but I have the keys."

"Perfect," Stiles said. "There should be cages and stuff, correct? And if you accidentally howl or anything, it's an animal clinic. So no one will think it's weird."

Scott nodded, but didn't tear his eyes from the board in front of him. And Stiles understood. Well, as much as he could. He certainly couldn't put himself in Scott's shoes anymore. That was off the table forever.

"Look, Scott," Stiles said, standing next to him. "I know you're freaked out. I'm sorry I abandoned you all week too. But we're gonna figure this out. I won't let anything happen to you, okay?"

"You're... not afraid of me?" Scott asked, putting his head on Stiles' shoulder.

Stiles shook his head and wrapped an arm around his now much broader shoulders. "Not on your life, buddy. You weren't scary before, and you're sure as shit not scary now. Even with those teeth." He let his words sink in before he continued. "You're not going to hurt me, Scott."

Stiles could feel him relaxing further. "Let's get some clothes together for both of us and then head over there. I don't wanna find out the hard way that I was wrong. Again."

"Yeah, okay."

"Besides, being a werewolf can't be worse than being a teenager," Stiles contended. "Remember that one time I took the Jeep out with only my permit?"

Scott laughed. "Yeah, we didn't even make it down the block. We were grounded for a month."

"Exactly. It'll be fine."

"Thanks, Stiles," he said. "For everything."

"Yeah, yeah. Let's go pack your shit. We gotta get outta here."

Scott and Stiles gave the board one last look before he let go of his best friend and started to stuff clothes into an empty duffel bag nearby.

Damn him for asking the gods for a more interesting Friday night. Stiles knew better than to put that shit out into the universe.