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“Come on, Boyd, work with me here.” Stiles whined, hands flailing everywhere as he stared at the silent figure in front of him. “I offered you fifty bucks, that’s all I have. What more could you possibly want?”
Boyd finished munching on his dorito chip and gave Stiles a sweet smile. “A date.”
“FINALLY. We’re getting somewhere.” Stiles pumped the air in victory, but his excitement quickly turned to concern. “A date? With who? If it’s Scott, I’m really sorry but the dude is as straight as those rulers Harris always uses to smack my desk.” He frowned to himself, and then at Boyd. “Are you even into guys? I don’t really know a lot of girls, and somehow I doubt Lydia would be interested, and..”
“With you.” Boyd said calmly, as if he didn’t just drop an entire bomb on Stiles’ head.
“What?”
“Dinner.” Boyd offered, amusement bleeding in his voice, and Stiles couldn’t help but stare at him open mouthed. “Pizza. Also a movie. What are you doing on Saturday?”
Stiles blinked a couple times, ignoring the way his face was heating up steadily. “Oh, wow, shit, man, I’m not actually…” Gay, he wanted to say, but it didn’t feel right, because really, as far as Stiles was concerned, he couldn’t care less about sex or gender, as long as there wasn’t anything spooky smiling at him if he would get into someone’s pants.
“A date, of you could pay me five hundred bucks to dry my tears with at night.” Boyd turned his eyes away from Stiles and reached into his packet of crisps again. “Cash.”
Stiles thought he might have imagined the flicker of uncertainty in Boyd’s expression, but he didn’t say anything and quickly nodded, relieved there was a way he could get out of getting broke. “Date sounds great.”
“You can pick me up at seven outside the gym.”
“Okay.”
Boyd didn’t say anything else as he handed Stiles the keys to the ice rink, so Stiles got up and grabbed the keys, walking over to the table where Scott was seated. Scott was over the moon, starting to rattle away about how much Allison was going to love ice skating and how romantic it was, but Stiles wasn’t really listening. His mind was still with Boyd, and he had to resist the urge to glance over his shoulder.
“And her hair, Stiles, it’s like it’s laced with diamonds and pear… Stiles?”
“Yeah, yeah, she’s perfect.” Stiles mumbled, giving in and quickly looking at the table where Boyd had been sitting. It was empty now, and Stiles felt strangely disappointed. Huh. As he turned back to Scott, he realized he was kind of looking forward to Saturday.
As it turned out, Boyd shared Stiles’ love for sour candy, so they spend twenty minutes discussing the pros and cons of XL twizzlers. They ended up buying a stash of both the regular ones and the XL ones, and if Stiles stared a bit longer at Boyd’s mouth as he sucked on the end of one of the twizzlers, that’d be Stiles’ secret.
Hanging out with Boyd was a lot like hanging out with his dad, in that Stiles likes to see him smile that wide grin all the time. He’s also a lot NOT like his dad, because Stiles is a hundred percent sure he never ever wanted to make out with his dad, and, and by the time they were half way through the movie, Stiles very much want to kiss Boyd into oblivion.
He manages to not imagine said scenario until the movie is over, and he was glad, really, because having a boner in the middle of a theatre and having to maneuver his way past a dozen people to make his way to the bathroom was very much on his list of “never want to experience”. But when the credits rolled and they made their way outside, Stiles can’t stop thinking about pushing Boyd against the wall and mashing their lips together. Oh boy.
He took his chance when they walked out of the doors, cool air brushing their faces as they laughed at the special effects of the shitty zombie movie they just watched. He waited for a moment of silence as Boyd was still turned towards him, and then just did what felt natural, stood on his tiptoes and gently presses his lips against Boyd’s. He figured that if it was a bad decision, Boyd would let him know, and hey, Carpe Diem and all that jazz. A little loving never hurt anyone. To his surprise, and great relief, Boyd kissed him back eagerly, strong hand snaking around Stiles waist and another on his neck, holding him steady as Stiles’ legs started to feel like Jell-O. When Stiles finally needed to pull away to breathe, still slightly unwillingly, because kissing Boyd was actually really nice, he had to look away to hide the blush on his face.
Boyd laughed, and gently bumped their shoulder together. “You’re even cuter when you’re not talking.”
“Who’d have thought.” Stiles murmured, glancing up at Boyd, and noticing for the first time how soft he actually looked, underneath the tall and muscular presence. There was something surprisingly gentle in his eyes, and Stiles couldn’t help but compare him to one of those fairytale giants, of whom everyone thought they were vicious monsters, but then it turned out they really liked knitting patterns or something. Basically, Stiles decided, Boyd is Hagrid. Only less beard-y and definitely more attractive. Stiles opened his mouth to tell Boyd so, but what came out was; “You’re a really good kisser.”
“I’ve had a lot of practice with my pillow.” Boyd said, without as much as a beat of hesitance, and Stiles let out an amused snort, which changed in a happy exhale when Boyd grabbed his hand, wrapped his fingers around Stiles’ and squeezed. Stiles marveled in the way their hands seemed to fit together, Stiles’ own long fingers curling around Boyd’s larger hand.
The moment was interrupted when Boyd looked at the clock hanging over the door, his expression changing to a frown. “I have to catch my bus.”
Stiles wanted to offer to drive him home, but somehow felt Boyd wouldn’t appreciate it, so instead he said, “I’ll walk you to your stop.”
Boyd’s smile was enough to make Stiles’ heart flutter once more.
“We should do this again.” Stiles offered, when they’re waiting for the bus that will take Boyd home. “Maybe burgers, next time.”
“I’d like that.” Boyd said, smile widening in the light of the streetlamp next to them. He reached out and ran a hand through Stiles’ hair, and it should have felt patronizing, but it really didn’t, and Stiles found himself leaning into the touch. “Soon.”
Stiles was still staring at the empty street minutes after Boyd’s bus had left his sight, excitement in his stomach and warm feeling in his chest. Hah. Really not straight after all, then.
Awesome.