"Hey, Stiles." Scott leaned in close, pressing his hand -- or, rather, the folded piece of paper inside it -- against Stiles' under the lunch table, out of sight of the people around them. "Could you pass that to Allison next period?"
Stiles glanced around, still not entirely con.txted that Mrs. Argent didn't have crazy werewolf senses of her own (despite the fact that she was, y'know, not a werewolf). "Uh, yeah, sure," he replied. "What is it?"
"Just a note. Don't want her mother to find out."
Stiles slipped the paper into his pocket and nodded at Scott. "Yeah, sure. I'll make sure she gets it."
Scott's grin was infectious, and Stiles found himself ducking his head and laughing. "Thanks, Stiles," Scott told him. "You're the best."
Stiles passed the note to Allison as he walked by her desk; at the end of the period, she came over to ask him a question about the homework, slipping her reply to Scott in between the pages of Stiles' notes.
Scott laughed out loud at the reply, when Stiles gave it to him at his locker between fifth and sixth period. He jotted down a quick reply in his usual chicken scratch, folded the paper over again, and handed it back to Stiles. "You've got history with her, right? Last period?"
And that, Stiles will tell his eventual children, is how he became the Messenger of Love.
Two or three times a day, Scott or Allison or both passed Stiles a note (or two, or three, and one memorable time seven, Scott, seriously, just why?). Stiles stole a glance at one of the longer ones as he walked between classes; it was surprisingly sweet, Scott's half of a conversation they'd be having out loud if they could, over coffee at Starbucks or lying out on Allison's bed, heads huddled over textbooks as Allison tried to help Scott get his grades up. In fact, when Allison handed Stiles a slim notebook along with her latest note to Scott, Stiles realised that Allison still was helping Scott. "The Great Gatsby?" he asked, after taking a quick glance inside the notebook, and she nodded. "I did that last year -- want me to give him my old notes, too? He didn't even tell me they were working on it."
"That'd be great," Allison said, relaxing, although she got nervous again right after. "I, uh, think that my mom's getting suspicious. I had to get rid of the notes I saved, and I'm not sure Scott should send any more."
"I'll just get him to tell me what he wants to say," Stiles assured her. "Hey, if I can remember obscure details about werewolves, I can probably remember a few words from Scott, too, right?"
"Hey, Scott, buddy, so if I tell you something, you gotta promise not to freak out on me, all right?"
Scott wrinkled his nose at Stiles. "That's... not really helping me not freak out. Why do you smell like Allison?"
Stiles opened his mouth to explain, stopped. He tried again to no avail, unable to find the words to start the explanation. Finally, he came out with: "... She, uh, gave me something for you."
Stiles kissed Scott.
Scott was shocked insensible for a few seconds before he pulled away, sputtering. "Dude, what was that?"
"That would be why I smell like Allison. Which, also, still kinda freaks me out that you can smell people like that." Stiles tilted his head, considering that. "Yeah, that probably always will. Anyway, so she kissed me to kiss you. So. That's really just like she kissed you?"
"So this isn't about your whole 'hey, am I attractive to gay guys?' thing with how you're secretly bisexual but are afraid to tell anyone?"
Stiles groaned. "Scott, have I ever mentioned that I hate when you get randomly really observant? It totally ruins the status quo of me being the smart one and you being the pretty one. I'm Batman, remember."
Scott reached over and pulled Stiles into a (gentle, no-werewolf-strength) noogie. "Aww, it's okay, I think you're pretty."
"... Really not helping right now, Scott."
Stiles' phone vibrated in his pocket as he walked through his front door, Allison following behind. "So I think if we split up the chapter," Allison was saying, kicking off her shoes, "like, you take the first half and I take the second, and then we could- Stiles, are you listening to me?"
Stiles was, in fact, pulling his phone out of his pocket and checking the latest text from Scott: y is allison here? :( :( stiles whats goin on
"I'd better take the second half," Stiles replied, by way of answer, leading the way up to his room. "I've got a better grasp of aerodynamics than I do hydraulics." Off of Allison's odd look, he shrugged. "Too many late nights on Wikipedia? I've got to keep myself occupied somehow." He pushed open the door to his room, where Scott was sitting on the bed. "So-" he started, but Scott and Allison's raised voices cut him off, Scott shouting, a wordless yelp of surprise -- seriously, Scott, you knew they were here, you texted Stiles -- and Allison turning on Stiles and yelling:
"What are you doing if my mother finds out Scott is dead-"
Stiles raised his hands, trying to calm them down. "Whoa, whoa, no one is going to find anything out. If -- if -- your father finds out that you and Scott were here at the same time, we tell the truth: you came over here to work on this project with me, like you asked permission to do, and which we are going to do once we take care of a little something else we need to talk about. Scott, being my best friend, occasionally shows up out of the blue looking to hang out. Also true. Not what happened today, but we don't need to tell your mother that, right?"
Scott calmed down right away. Allison took a few moments more as she thought about Stiles' plan and examined it for flaws. "... Okay, yeah. That makes sense. But, uh," she continued, blushing a bit. "What do we need to talk about?"
"What is this?"
Scott raised his hand. "Uh. What is... what?"
Stiles started ticking points off on his fingers. "One. I start passing notes for you. Two. I start passing verbal messages because, Allison, your crazy parents may find the physical notes. Three. I start passing kisses, and don't get me wrong, you are both very attractive people and kissing you is not exactly a hardship, and Scott, you do not fool me, you totally slipped me tongue last time, but seriously, this can't go on like this. So. What is this? Am I just your messenger boy? A convenient little substitute? A tool?"
Out of the corner of his eye, Stiles saw Allison whisper something, too soft for him to make out what it was. It was still more than loud enough for Scott to hear, and he nods in reply. "You're our friend." Allison grabbed Stiles' shoulder, just hard enough that she could turn him to face her. "And... maybe a little more?"
"You're a really good kisser," Scott added, standing up and moving in behind Stiles. "We should... maybe kiss some. Some more, I mean. Like, for just you and me? And you and Allison. And all three of us."
"You should totally kiss Scott right now, actually."
Stiles knew Allison was a secret slash fan.
"I can do that," Stiles said, turning his head over his shoulder, searching for Scott's mouth with his own. Allison's hand was slipping in between him and Scott, teasing just under the waist of Stiles' jeans. She bit lightly at his earlobe, and he groaned into Scott's mouth, Scott taking the opportunity to slide his tongue between Stiles' lips.
Stiles and Allison never did get to their homework that night.