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Scott had ended up spending the night over at the Stilinski's house again. It was such a common thing that he had a set of pajamas stored in one of Stiles' drawers. Hell, he had outfits stored inside the dude's closet and one of his own pair of shoes. Just in case he slept over on a school night and had little to no time to go back home.
(Which happened quite a lot.)
He was just over that much.
But no one was complaining. Why would they? Scott was a little angel that anyone would love to have over. It was a bonus that he kept Stiles company and out of trouble.
(Most of the time.)
Scott had just got out of the shower, toweling his soaking wet hair. He had slipped on his pajama pants and was now tugging on a slightly worn Captain America shirt. Stiles had yet to get in the bed, sitting at his computer with wide eyes. Scott knew Stiles still had trouble sleeping now and then. This was just a way to prolong sleep as long as possible.
"Stiles."
Silence.
"Stiles, come on, you need to get some sleep."
Still no response.
The teen let out a sigh before swiftly making his way to Stiles. He at least saved whatever Stiles was working on before shutting off his computer. He ignored Stiles stuttering and protesting as he dragged him away, making him sit on the bed. "Now, change your clothes and go to bed," Scott said.
"Dude, no one would take you seriously with that Captain America shirt on." Stiles gestured to his choice of clothing.
"Stiles. I swear I will undress and dress you myself."
The statement seemed to get Stiles moving. Scott didn't miss the light dusting of pink covering his friend's pale cheeks. He knew about Stiles' sexuality, even though the brunet was still trying to unravel it. That being said, he also knew about Stiles' feelings for him, no matter how much Stiles was in denial.
(And he reciprocated them wholeheartedly.)
It wasn't that hard to notice, to be honest. He wasn't saying that Stiles was being obvious. He just knew and his werewolf powers helped quite a bit, too. He began to climb in the bed as Stiles fixed his clothes, turning off the light. Silently, he waited for the familiar dip of the bed, only letting his eyes close when it came.
There was some tossing and grumbling before a quiet whimper was sounded. If it was anyone else, they would have probably missed it, but this was Scott and Scott knew Stiles as much as Stiles knew himself.
Maybe even more.
So he wasn't in the slightest surprised that, when he cracked open his eyes, he was staring into amber ones that seemed to glow in the moonlit room.
"What's the matter?"
"...I...usually sleep in the middle."
Scott scooted over, giving Stiles enough space to wiggle his way in the middle. Even though Scott was practically on the edge, he didn't mind. As long as he could get some sleep, he was fine.
He had let his eyes close and was halfway to slipping into a deep sleep when he felt his nose being poked. The werewolf took in a deep breath before letting it out slowly. This was Stiles, his best friend, the guy he has known for forever, the one he loves.
No matter how annoying he could be.
"What is it now?"
"I feel weird with you facing me. Like, we're about to kiss or something." Scott could feel Stiles' heartbeat quicken as he said the last part. The idea sounded promising. It would be a nice way to shut Stiles up. But he was sure that'd only confuse Stiles more.
(Because, according to the brunet, Scott was as straight as a wooden ruler. Not those plastic ones, you could bend those.)
Grunting, he twisted his body until his back was facing Stiles. He didn't want to get his hopes up, knowing Stiles would find another problem with their sleeping arrangement.
"Well, this feels like you're ignoring me."
Of course.
"Stiles," Scott growled.
"I know, Scotty, I know. I just--I'm sorry, bro."
Scott had twisted back around and was staring at Stiles, who stared back with apologetic eyes. Scott let out a sigh before telling Stiles to turn around. The teen followed his orders, wondering what Scott had in mind.
The alpha wrapped his arms around Stiles' waist, pulling him flush against him, smiling softly at Stiles' small, surprised squeak. He rested his chin on Stiles' shoulder, nuzzling the space where his neck and shoulder met, burying his face in it. He felt Stiles' heart rate pick up alarmingly and could only imagine his face at the moment.
(It was probably fire truck red, just glowing in the dark.)
"Dude, I can feel your dick pressing against me."
"Shut up," Scott mumbled against his skin. "You like to spoon."
It was silent as Stiles wriggled around, pressing back into Scott's warmth. "....This is good," he said in a low voice. He had stopped moving and let his eyes flutter close. "Yeah, I like this. S'good." Scott smiled softly at the statement.
Yeah, he definitely knew Stiles more than the teen knew himself.