Chapter Text
A couple weeks later, Stiles finds himself waking up in Scott's bed again, this time with Scott right by his side.
The past two weeks have been like something straight out of a horror movie, but somehow, against all odds, against everyone telling Scott that the only way to save Stiles— the only way to get rid of the nogitsune— was to kill him, and after days and days of Scott arguing with everyone, refusing to give up on his friend and to accept that he was a lost cause long after everyone else (aside from the Sheriff) already had, somehow they found a way to get the nogitsune out of Stiles, to save him without him having to die.
(Did they really expect anything less from Scott McCall? From the boy who would do anything even to save a stranger, let alone his best friend?)
So here they are, Scott and Stiles, lying in bed together after an exhausting night of watching movies and stuffing their faces with pizza and playing videogames ("Mario cart is not a joke, Scott. You've got to go all out," Stiles insists after Scott, trying very hard not to laugh, tells him he should probably take it easy because by the third time he comes in last place, Stiles is cursing profusely and yelling at the TV screen) and trying very hard to push the events of the past few weeks (months actually, if they really want to start at the beginning) far out of their minds.
They've been doing this a lot lately.
Because Scott finally has Stiles back, and even though he's different in some ways—maybe his eyes are a little duller and maybe he's a little bit quieter than he used to be, less full of life and energy and eagerness to uncover all of the secrets the world has to offer, because now there's a scar on his heart that will never really go away from the terrible things that he's done, the things that he's been forced to do—he's still Stiles, he's still Scott's best friend, and Scott is never going to let anyone take that away from him again.
Never. Again.
At some point during the night, they're both lying on their backs and staring up at the ceiling, trying not to dwell on how being so close to each other makes them feel, the way it makes their skin itch, begging to be touched, or on the fact that they're sharing Scott's twin-sized bed and the lights are off and Scott's mom isn't home and won't be all night.
When it’s clear that neither of them have fallen asleep yet (Scott can tell by listening to Stiles's breathing that he's still just as awake as he is, and Stiles doesn't really need super-sensitive hearing to tell that his friend is still awake because of how tense Scott's body feels next to his) or are going to fall asleep any time soon, Stiles is left to his thoughts and the past few weeks all kind of come rushing back (at least what he remembers of them) and he can't help himself from doing what he does next.
Stiles sort of rolls over so that he’s basically on top of Scott, and Scott is kind of shocked at first but realizes quickly that he definitely doesn’t mind this new development, as Stiles removes his shirt, slowly and with care, and begins trailing kisses up and down his stomach, over a wound that has long since healed but that to Stiles will never really be gone.
And he can't stop thinking about it—what he did, what the nogitsune made him do— so he whispers “I’m sorry” over and over again, in between every kiss, with every exhale of breath, murmuring the words against the spot on Scott’s stomach where he knows the injury should be— a wound that, by all accounts, would have killed him if his body hadn’t had the supernatural ability to heal itself— until Scott can feel something warm and wet on his skin and realizes that Stiles is crying.
He responds by sitting up and bringing Stiles along with him, leveling his friend's face with his own, and resting his hand against Stiles's cheek as he begins kissing away his friend’s tears, brushing his lips against against the tracks they've left down Stiles's face as he tells him what he’s already told him a thousand times already—that it wasn’t his fault, that none of this was his fault, alternating between "It's okay" and "You're okay" and "We're going to be okay."
When Stiles squeezes his eyes shut and relaxes into his friend's familiar touch, Scott murmurs “It’s okay” one last time, this time right against Stiles mouth, brushing his friend's lips with his own, before finally giving up all inhibitions and kissing Stiles full on the mouth.
And maybe it's a little bit clumsy at first, because Stiles is still sort of crying and Scott is nervous and slightly unsure of himself, because this is his best friend he's kissing, and this is all new for them. And maybe it would taste sort of like salt from all the crying and also sort of like the pepperoni pizza from earlier, but it would still be perfect, because it will have been a long time coming, and Stiles kisses him back with so much enthusiasm he nearly knocks Scott off the bed (it is technically only built for one person, after all).
In the end they just fit so well together, Scott and Stiles, this package deal, this perfect combination; these two kids who have been through so much together, who have known and loved each other practically their entire lives and are just now discovering that that love might be even more multifaceted than they thought.
They already know everything there is to know about each other, not only from a mental and emotional standpoint but from a physical one as well— every mole and every birth mark and every scar — but soon they're exploring each other's bodies in ways that they never have before, and it feels good, it feels great.
This is them. This is Scott and Stiles, the boys who would go to the ends of the Earth to save each other, who would do anything for each other, who have been each other's anchors long before any supernatural creature stepped foot into their lives. And neither of them will ever stop thinking how lucky they are to have that— to have each other.
Stiles decides that he wouldn't mind making a habit out of this: of waking up in Scott's bed with his best friend curled up at his side, with their clothes scattered all around the room and strewn across the floor. No, he definitely wouldn't mind making a habit out of this.
(And as he watches his friend, who looks so peaceful and content in his sleep, he has a pretty good feeling that Scott wouldn't, either)