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Cool air brushes against his feet, and Stiles scrunches up his face as he steps from the warm carpet onto the parquet. When Lydia gave him the guest room, Stiles was ecstatic because that meant he did not have to fight for a spot somewhere else. Now, he’s less thrilled because the way to the kitchen is going to wake him up even further. With that many people in the Lake House, Stiles struggles to fall asleep. He’d finally gotten tired when he had to go take a leak. Ten minutes later, his body informed him it needs the water back.
So, Stiles sneaks down the staircase, skipping the seventh and second steps, and ventures into the silence of the house. In the living room, he finds Lori and Sydney huddled together on the sofa bed. Scott is sleeping on the armchair. Kira and Lydia share the master bedroom. Liam and Mason share an air mattress because Brett won the second couch in a game of beer pong. Brett is curled up on the couch, and Stiles stops to look at him for a moment. He could be lying next to him, upstairs and hidden in the privacy of the guest room. But Stiles promised Scott he’d be considerate of Mason’s feelings. It’s a bit unfair to demand that of him. After all, Stiles and Brett have been seeing each other longer than Stiles knows Liam and Mason.
Sighing, Stiles continues to the kitchen. The longer he waits to tell Mason that Brett is very much not available to anyone but Stiles, the worse it’s gonna be for the guy. He’s tried to flirt with Brett whenever he got the chance tonight. Stiles just felt bad for him even though Brett did his best to let him down gently every single time; which in turn only pissed off Liam. It wasn’t an easy night, but it worked out.
For the most part.
Stiles opens the fridge as quietly as possible and grabs a bottle of water. He knows Mason for two weeks, but he’s been with Brett for almost three months now. It’s not the longest relationship in the history of relationships, but he still feels more loyal to Brett than he does to Mason. Uncapping his bottle, he briefly glances into the living room again. Part of him wants to wake Brett and tell him to come with him — but he doesn’t because he promised.
Stupid fucking promise. He’s never going to do that again.
Shaking his head, Stiles hurries back upstairs. He skips the second and seventh step, glad he’s spent half the summer here to remember this, and sighs with relief when his feet finally touch the warm carpet again. If only the bed weren’t empty. Stiles scowls. It’s probably time to make this official. Maybe tomorrow morning. They all want to eat breakfast together, and Stiles really doesn’t want to pretend any longer. So, he won’t. He won’t. This is his relationship, his happiness they are talking about. First, he was supposed to consider Malia’s feelings, now Scott asked him to keep his feelings secret so he’s not hurting Mason and piss off Liam. What’s going to be next?
Stiles tosses his bottle of water on the bed with a huff and turns to close the door.
“Wait!” Brett stops the door from shutting and slips through the gap. There’s a grin on his face, illuminated only by the moonlight creeping in through the curtains. “I missed you,” he whispers quietly, shutting the door with his foot, and cupping Stiles’ jaw. “I’ve missed you.” Raising a brow, Brett leans down. First, he brushes their noses together, and Stiles is sure he’s going to die because of some kind of cuteness-induced sugar high. But then Brett kisses him, hands trailing from his jaw down to his lower back.
Stiles damn near melts into the taller boy and grumbles when Brett pulls away.
“You never sleep, do you?”
“You’re awake too.” Stiles quirks a brow.
Chuckling, Brett kisses the tip of his nose. “How was I supposed to sleep, hearing you toss and turn right above me?”
Stiles hates he’s still flushing because Brett keeps telling him things like that. They’ve been dating for long enough, he should be aware that his feelings are very much mutual. And yet. “You’re such a drama queen.”
“It’s the truth.” Brett shrugs lightly, kissing the corner of his mouth. “I’d much rather sleep next to you after having stayed away from the whole party.” Although Brett agreed to Scott’s request, he made abundantly clear he hated it with a burning passion. The slight curl to his lips speaks more than a thousand words. He sighs. “The couch isn’t comfortable, but if you’d rather have me there…” Brett trails off, slipping his warm fingers under Stiles’ shirt. The grin returns.
Wrapping his arms around Brett’s shoulders, Stiles leans up to press their lips together softly. “I shouldn’t even have agreed to this in the first place,” he whispers, not even bothering to pull back enough to speak properly.
Brett slides his hands lower and grabs the back of Stiles’ thighs. “You were trying to be a good friend,” he informs him, lips shifting into a smirk. He’s not pulling back either. Instead, Brett lifts him up and chuckles when Stiles wraps his legs around his waist immediately.
Being a good friend is debatable because being a good friend would mean he’d stop dating Brett. But he’s not going to do that. Not anytime soon anyway. “I was being a shitty boyfriend.”
Without warning, Brett pulls away and regards him with a raised brow. “Boyfriend?”
Shit. Oh, fuck, they did not have that conversation yet. They did not have this conversation yet at all, and he just dropped the boyfriend term on a guy who’s not even all that into relationships, to begin with. Sure, they’ve been exclusive for the past few months, but… but boyfriends? That’s probably a bit early. “I… uh—“
Brett’s eyes flash. “I like that,” he whispers, all but tossing Stiles onto the bed without further ado. Stiles has hardly time to catch his breath before Brett is on top of him, pinning him to the mattress with a grin. “We should make it official then.”
Stiles licks his lips. “Official?” Oh, okay. That’s a voice crack. Wonderful. “How?” Not that he’s particularly worried.
Chuckling, Brett leans down and presses his mouth against the crook of Stiles’ neck. “Oh, I have a few ideas.” He kisses his neck ever so innocently. “But you have to promise me—“ Awfully slowly, Brett kisses his way up to Stiles’ jaw then presses his mouth to the shell of his ear “—to be very quiet.”
Stiles shudders underneath the warm body and nods.
“Finally,” Brett whispers, kissing his way back to his throat, “finally, I can show the world that you’re mine, Gorgeous.”
And Stiles can’t wait for the world to see; consequences be damned.