Stiles stared up at Scott's window, mountains of papers and books in his hands as he listened to the ringing in his ear and waited for Scott to pick up. The light was still on in his room, so Stiles knew he was there.

And either he was choosing not to answer, which would piss Stiles off, or he was asleep and hadn't left his ringer on... which would piss Stiles off.

Either way, Stiles was standing outside getting progressively irritated because this was a fucking emergency and Scott was too busy pretending it was anything else.

He huffed for good measure and then put his phone back in his pocket, trying to maneuver everything from one arm to the other and almost dropping it all in the process. Melissa, his mom, wasn't home either, so the front door was probably locked. Which meant one thing: Stiles was going to have to climb.

Stiles bit the inside of his cheek as he tried to come up with any other possible option, but knew it was pointless. They'd done this before. Scott fell asleep and Stiles was forced to climb in through his window like some messed up version of Romeo and Juliet that never ended in a kiss.

He sighed and started up the lattice, somehow managing to keep the research he'd printed from slipping through his grasp and falling all over the ground. When he made it to the roof outside Scott's room, he pulled himself up, throwing everything onto the sandpaper-like shingles ahead of him.

But when he made it to the window, it was locked too. He could see Scott on the other side of the clear glass, his gentle breath rustling the Econ book he was laying on. And as much as Stiles was glad Scott was actually getting some sleep, now was not the time. Nope, right now, they had a serious problem. One that no amount of sleep could fix. He started to tap on the window repeatedly until he could see Scott's eyes move rapidly under his lids.

"Scott," he hissed. "Scott, get the hell up, dude!"

Panicked, Scott sat straight up and looked around, almost falling out of his chair when he noticed Stiles crouched on the roof outside his room. He reached across his desk and flipped the locks to allow him in, lifting it open quickly.

"What are you doing?" he yawned.

"Dude, you have to start answering your phone. Especially when we have an emergency situation," Stiles complained.

He shoved everything onto Scott's desk as he scrambled through the small opening.

Scott yawned wide again. "Emergency situation?"

Scott's eyes were barely open as he stared at Stiles in confusion, but he didn't have enough time to wake his best friend up any gentler. They had a serious mess here, if he was right. And when it came to the bad shit, Stiles was rarely wrong, unfortunately.

He stood in the middle of Scott's room straightening out his shirt and then shuffling around different papers to find the one he was looking for.

"You!" Stiles shouted without meaning to. "You, dude! You are the entire emergency situation right now. I spent my whole afternoon and evening, skipping dinner, I might add, trying to figure out what's going on with you. And... And I think I know what it is."

Scott sat down hard on his bed and looked up at Stiles. He ran a hand through his hair like he couldn't decide if he was irritated with Stiles for waking him up or not.

"And it couldn't have waited until tomorrow, Stiles?" he asked patiently.

Stiles put his hands on his hips. "Nope," he said clearly.

"Okay, man," Scott conceded. "What is it?"

"You're gonna think I'm crazy," Stiles muttered and sighed.

"I already do," Scott joked.

Stiles looked back up, a smirk on his face, and laughed hoarsely. His own lack of sleep was catching up with him and showing in his voice.

"This theory is extra crazy. Like overboard," he reasoned. "Completely next level shit from my normal Stilinski crazy."

Scott shrugged. "It was bound to happen. Just tell me."

He went back to the desk and started to shuffle some of the papers shoved into the pages of the books and notebooks he had brought with him. "Well, remember last night when you said you heard a wolf?"

Scott nodded. "Yeah, but you said it couldn't have been because there hasn't been any since, like, 1920 or something."

Stiles rolled his eyes, but didn't turn back to Scott. "And you wonder why your grades suck," he muttered. "I said it probably wasn't a wolf. Not a regular one, anyway. But you said you got bit on the shoulder while standing up, right?"

"Yeah," Scott said in a bored voice. "So?"

"And now you're super strong, super fast, and you can smell and hear really well..." His voice filtered off as he finally found the picture. "Any of this ringing a bell?"

"I mean, yes, I remember saying it, but am I supposed to know what it amounts to?"

Stiles looked back to him and laughed again. "I can't believe you're gonna make me say it out loud, dude." He paused, waiting to see if Scott was really this dense. "Superpowers. Wolves. Smell. Hearing. No more asthma." He stopped one more time before sighing loudly. "You really don't see where I'm going with this?"

Scott laughed and shook his head. "I really don't, Stiles. Just spit it out."

He took a deep breath and shoved the picture under Scott's nose. "I think you're a werewolf."

Then Stiles waited.

He knew Scott was going to laugh at him. Like really laugh at him. He was going to call him crazy and tell him he'd officially lost it and maybe even have him committed. But it was the truth. Every bit of his research kept pointing back in this direction. Even when he didn't want it to and even when he searched for something that would tell him anything different.

This was it. No matter how insane it sounded. Stiles just knew it.

"A what?" Scott whispered, looking up at him with wide eyes.