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“Scott.”
His head tilts, eyes lingering on the curve of—
“Scott.”
“Hm?” He looks up sharply, and Isaac is staring at him like he’s grown a second head. “What? What is it?”
“We still all on for Saturday?” Isaac asks. “The movie thing?”
“Oh, yeah, totally. My place?” Scott nods, gaze drifting again to where Stiles is bent over, shoveling things into his bag.
“Scott,” Isaac snaps his fingers, glancing between the two of them, voice going low. “What’s up with you, man?”
Shrugging, Scott shifts his focus again. “Nothing. My house, Saturday. Movie thing. I got it.”
Isaac looks a bit incredulous. “Right.”
“Right.”
Stiles groans softly against the pillow. Scott licks his lips, eyes dark, and his breath catches in his throat for a moment as he shifts. Twisting, Stiles looks over his shoulder at him, cheeks flush and jaw set.
“This fucking sucks.” Stiles mutters.
“What?” Scott blinks, tearing his eyes away from the curve of Stiles’ ass, swiveling in the desk chair as Stiles stretches out over his own bed. “Oh. Yeah. Economics homework.”
“It’s awful,” Stiles grumbles, resting a cheek against his palm. “Just awful. What happened to the world ending every night?”
Scott’s expression softens and he lets out a little laugh. “Dude, you know you’d hate that too. Too much to do, too little time.”
“I know,” Stiles flops around onto his back, and Scott misses the swell of his rear instantly, but the strip of skin that appears between shirt and waistband works too. “It’s just… I’m so bored. Aren’t you bored?”
“Not at all.” Scott says, gaze raking down over Stiles’ chest.
Stiles’ brows furrow, and he looks like he’s about to ask something Scott would never lie to him about, but the Sheriff calling from downstairs cuts him off. Scott is grateful.
“This is a problem. This is such a big, big problem.” Scott mutters, shaking his head as he stares up at the ceiling.
Derek frowns. “Is it?”
“Yes!” Scott flails slightly, and Derek wonders how it’s possible that this boy is the True Alpha. “Yes, it is. Because he’s my bro. And I can’t have… dirty feelings about him.”
“First of all,” Derek says, leaning forward from where he’s perched on the couch, elbows resting on his knees. “Never say that you’re having dirty feelings about Stiles to me ever, ever again. Second, it’s not a big deal. You want who you want. You two would be good together. You always have been.”
“But Stiles is—But Stiles isn’t—“
“You don’t know that.” Derek shakes his head. “And you won’t. Until you ask.”
Scott falters. He lays back, staring back up at the rafters as he grumbles under his breath.
Stiles turns in front of Lydia and Scott slowly, eyes rolling in Scott’s direction as Lydia orders him around the other way. “I look stupid.”
Scott begs to differ. “You look good.” Stiles looks great.
Specifically, his ass in those jeans. Scott wants to peel them off and take a bite. He shifts on the couch where he and Lydia are perched.
“They look great on you,” Lydia says primly. “Maybe if you’d been wearing pants like these Freshman year I would’ve noticed you.”
Stiles shoots her a dirty look. “Tease.”
She smiles. “You love me.”
“Whatever.” Stiles mumbles. “Scott?”
“I like them,” Scott says, surprised his voice isn’t completely strained. “You should get them.”
“There are others,” Stiles gestures back down the hall to the fitting room. “Want to see those too?”
Lydia nods. “Absolutely.”
Scott bites back a whine.
“So when exactly are you gonna stop staring and start touching?”
Scott startles, clearing his throat and nearly choking on his own tongue. “What? Dude, what’re you talking about?”
Stiles purses his lips. “I’m not dumb, Scott.”
“I know. I know you’re not. Did someone call you dumb?”
Laughing, Stiles shakes his head, leaning against the row of lockers next to Scott, hands shoved into his pockets. “No one called me dumb.”
“Good.”
“So are you going to?” Stiles asks again. “Touch, I mean? Or am I reading you wrong?”
“Reading what wrong?” Scott swallows.
“The way you’ve been staring at my ass like you want to bend me over in the janitor’s closet over there.” Stiles gestures to the door with a jerk of his head.
Scott’s mouth goes dry. “Um. It’s not—I get if you don’t—I’m sorry, dude—“
“Scott, seriously.” Stiles cuts him off, smile crooked. “I just need to know if you actually want to do more than just look. Because I sort of really want to kiss you right now.”
Eyes widening, Scott licks his lips. “Kiss me?”
“Yeah.”
“You—I thought—“
“Yeah, well, that’s because out of the two of us, you’re the dumb one.” Stiles says, shuffling a bit closer.
Scott smiles, lopsided and dopey. “You want me to kiss you?”
Stiles’ cheeks go a ruddy color. Scott loves it. “Yeah, dude.”
“Okay.”
Arm slipping around Stiles’ waist, Scott reels him in. Their lips meet, and it’s easy. It’s perfect. It’s like they should have been doing this for years.
Stiles doesn’t even complain when Scott’s hand slips down over to squeeze at his ass.