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Stiles Stilinski’s roommate is a werewolf. A very cute, adorable werewolf who’s actually a True Alpha and is most definitely number one on Stiles’ “To Do as of Immediately” list. He’s pretty, okay? All bright smiles and pretty eyes and Christ who gave him the right to be so gorgeous? Not to mention they share all the same tastes in music, video games, and the idea that pizza is the most important item on the food pyramid. (It’s a very important part of a healthy werewolf diet, which Scott has stated numerous times.)
Scott McCall’s roommate is a Wiccan. A very eccentric, beautiful Wiccan. Which he didn’t really expect, because most of the witches he ran into were either A) trying to kill him or B) female. It’s definitely a bit of a change of pace from the things he’s used to. But hey, as long as the wolfsbane he’s growing in the garden stays locked away in its special container, he doesn’t care if Stiles dances around nude in the moonlight or whatever else Wiccans do. (All he’d want to do is watch anyway.)
(Stiles has also shot down that myth numerous times, much to Scott’s disappointment.)
It was Lydia’s idea for them to move in together, originally. “I have a friend of a friend who’s a Lycanthrope and extremely lonely, do you want a roommate?” were her exact words to Stiles. “He’s also got a townhouse that he inherited from his dead grandpa, so rent would be pretty cheap.” Which, unfortunately, is where he was sold. Magick supplies are not cheap, okay? Neither is college, and his job can really only cover so many things.
Scott’s not that bad, anyway. Even if he’s not apart of Stiles’ pack (Technically Derek’s, but they all know who the brain behind the operations is) he’s funny and smart in his own kind of way, and is a totally awesome roommate. He’s always down for a video game marathon, or just letting Stiles have his space if he needs it. Which isn’t very often, to be honest; he spends as much time with Scott as humanly possible.
They’re practically inseparable, college and jobs aside. If Stiles is working in the garden (“every self-respecting Wiccan grows their own spell ingredients, okay?”) Scott’s usually never too far away, sitting on the porch and working on whatever assignment he has that day. Or if Scott decides to finally go to one of Allison’s parties, Stiles is right by his side the whole night. It’s not annoying to either of them, really. It’s comfortable; easy, even. The moment they met they adored each other, and that certainly hadn’t changed.
But Stiles was absolutely terrified of liking him so much. Scott was his best friend, without a doubt. But he couldn’t screw that up just because his dumb feelings decided he was head over heels in love with him. He’d nearly screwed up his friendship with Lydia that way—he wasn’t going to do that to Scott too.
His brilliant, ingenious plan to keep his feelings hidden lasted all of six months. It was fairly easy, during that time period, to keep everything locked up and secret. Scott probably didn’t suspect a thing, thank the Gods, but that quickly ended after Stiles got himself cursed by another witch.
“A truth spell, are you shitting me?” he cried in anger, “It’s bad enough the bitch had to be so territorial—but dude, was the spell really necessary?”
“More than likely, with the way you run your mouth,” Derek replied lazily. He’d shown up not too long into the fight between the two, doing his best to break it up before Stiles could get himself hit with more curses.
“I’m deeply offended by that, I hope you realize—and talking is a coping mechanism for me, okay? So don’t judge me for it,” he groaned, realizing that’s not what he meant to say at all. Damn spell.
“I’m sure you and Scott will have a hell of a time together before it wears off though,” Lydia says from her spot next to Derek on the couch. She’s casual and nonchalant, but Stiles know exactly what that means.
“I’m not going anywhere near that beautiful creature of the night while I’m stuck like this, okay? Especially if I end up spilling my guts and telling him I’m completely and utterly in love with him.”
“You’re such a drama queen,” Derek huffs, which earns him a couch cushion to the face.
"And you’re a dick.”
The spell lasts three days, and Stiles does his best to avoid Scott throughout all of it. He hides out in Derek’s condo for at least a day and a half before the alpha gets too annoyed with him and kicks him out before he can protest. He ends up sneaking into Boyd’s house and ends up getting punched in the face by a werewolf (talk about ow) but also gets a place to sleep, so he deals. On the third day, he owns up to it and heads home.
Scott is the spitting image of a puppy welcoming its owner home the moment he walks through the door.
“Stiles! Dude! Where have you been?” he says, “I mean you were gone for like a really long time—I had to water your plants for you and everything! Except the wolfsbane, never ever going near that dumb plant—where were you? Did you have fun? You weren’t kidnapped were you? What happened to your face?” He suddenly frowns, the happy smile disappearing off his face in an instant.
“I’ve been hiding from you because a witch cursed me with a truth spell and I didn’t want to tell you I love you,” is out of his mouth before he can stop it, and he immediately regrets coming home so soon. Scott blinks at him owlishly for a second before grinning as widely as possible.
“I love you too, dude,” he says, and Stiles really wishes he had Boyd around to punch him again.
“No—Scott, I mean like I actually love you, like as more than a friend,” he sighs, knowing his days are probably numbered at this point. Not to mention he’ll probably lose his best friend in the process as well.
“Yeah, I got that Stiles,” Scott laughs, “Me too. Pretty much have since the day we met.” And oh. Oh. Okay. This is definitely news to Stiles.
“….I really want to kiss you right now,” Stiles admits, hesitating to make any sort of move.
“Okay,” he replies before stepping forward, his brown eyes hopeful, “Are you sure?”
“Shut up and kiss me already, McCall,” he cracks a grin before tugging him close, his lips finally pressing against Scott’s. The werewolf lets out a soft groan as he kisses him, pulling Stiles’ waist against his own in order to deepen the kiss.
“We should definitely do that again, like a lot,” Scott says breathlessly as they finally pull away, a playful smile on his kiss swollen lips. Stiles can only laugh in reply before saying, “Yeah, okay. I’m definitely alright with that,” before going in for more.
Thank god for territorial witches, is the last thing he thinks before completely losing control of his thought process.