The first time, it's fast and rough, something torn out of them by instinct. They're drunk, and it's a surprise, and it isn't. The room is spinning and then it's not, and he has Grantaire spilled over a table. None of the upended bottles spill because they are empty.

Welcome to Damon Salvatore's life without Alaric Saltzman. This is it.

Enjolras is Grantaire's cause. That night, he feels himself a ragged banner.

"Don't want to hurt you," Derek says. "Can't handle the idea of you hurting just because I need to-"

Alaric's on the couch, across from Damon in his armchair, arms crossed, watching him. It's surreal not because Ric's dead but because he'd rarely ever sat like that without a drink in his hand. It seems unnatural.

"Tell me what the hell you were going to tell me, then," Scott says. He's not looking at Stiles anymore, so Derek's the one who answers. "That we're paired," says Derek, calmly and decisively, from over Stiles's shoulder.

Derek drags him over the low divide into the backseat of the jeep. Stiles kicks out scrabbling but goes.

Steve's hands are big and steady and powerful now and he can use the advantages he's been given in love as much as war. Erskine would have liked that.

Bruce's talk with Clint goes pretty well. Clint has seen it coming for a while, has been reading the writing on the wall, so he smiles with forced ease that says he's seen it coming, and he says it's all cool. Up and across Stark Tower Tony's conversation with Steve is going differently.

These days it seems like practically everyone has had a go at Bruce. Practically everyone.

The first time it's a lab accident.