Disclaimer: I don't own the fandoms I write about… yet.

Waking up, Stiles found himself surrounded by a soft warmth, and he snuggled deeper into it. Feeling a soft chuckle, it rumbled along his body from the warmth. Wait…

Beds don't chuckle.

He pressed back with a loud squeak, only to be caged in tighter, stronger, by two arms.

"Good morning sunshine! Didn't peg you as a cuddler." The so called "cuddler"'s face became bright red, and he struggled with a renewed effort, finally his confinement relenting in freedom. Scrambling off the bed his butt hit the floor with a loud thump. Loud mocking laughter echoed through the room.

Standing up he glared at his captor, rubbing his likely damaged bottom. "Asshole." he grumbled.

Soon memories of the day previous came flooding back to both, and the mood became serious, tension almost palpable in the air.

"So," Graham finally spoke, slicing the silence in the air.

"Are you going to explain to me what the fuck happened yesterday?"

"So… uhm… fuck. Well you see… I mean, becaus…"

"Out with it!" he snapped, and Stiles exploded.

"IT WAS A WEREWOLF! Okay? and it was feral, so it was a bit more… unrestrained, so I killed it. AndIcouldbecauseImaybesortagrewupinatownwithwerewolves."

"What?"

Stiles took a deep breath, rubbing his lightly calloused palm on the back of his neck and wincing.

"I grew up around werewolves? I mean, yeah, I did. And I was, uh, in a pack, so I knew how to handle them. I kind of learned a little magic. And, I used some to kill him, because he was feral and crazy and kind of gave rape-y vibes? Uhm, so yeah, that's about it. Oh, and there are spirits, and pixies, those guys are little shits, and a few weird were's, like cheetahs and coyotes." He turned, prepared to leave. He let out a bitter smile when his face was out of sight, thinking of a past he had tried so long to escape.

"So I'll just go, y'know, forever, since I'm assuming you think I'm a nutcase."

And he was right about to leave when he was twisted around by the arm, and abruptly slammed into a wall. This whole slamming into walls thing is apparentally something that refused to stay at Beacon Hills.

"Now listen to me you right arsehole." The british boy snarled, leaning right in, face-to-face. "I threatened a fucking werewolf, just got told such things exist, and now you just think you can leave? Because I'd think you're crazy?! No chance in bloody hell you're escaping me after all this, you're mine." And with that he smashed his lips into the taller boys, gripping the brown strands of hair with one hand so tightly it felt they'd fall out. As his other hand slid up, it made it's way to the knee, then to his garter, where Stiles broke away, scarlet faced again as he realized he was still in the day old stripper ensemble.

Graham simply smirked.

"Does that answer my questioning of your sanity?" Not trusting his words, he nodded breathlessly.

"Now Stuart, let's get ready for our next meeting."

He let a smile, small but present and visible, creep to his face.

"Call me Stiles."

Author's Note: My brother had broken my ipod, so I had to rewrite all my updates. But I'm back! :)

Have a rockin' day!

-Sinner

QOTD: Again, any new activities for my little nooglers?