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“Whatever happened,” Stiles mutters into his pillow, “it wasn’t me.”
The window slides shut with a thud. “How do you know something happened then?” Brett crosses the room, footsteps barely audible.
“Because you crawled in through my window instead of using the front door like a normal person.” Stiles huffs out a breath and pulls the blanket over his face. Being social really isn’t high on his agenda right now, but Brett isn’t about to leave until he’s done with whatever he’s come here for. Judging by his entrance, he’s pissed about something Stiles may or may not have done. Well, he probably didn’t do whatever Brett’s pissed about because he hasn’t left the house much less his bedroom in the past two days, and he honestly doesn’t feel like leaving it any time soon. As far as he’s concerned, he’s going to lie here and not move for the rest of eternity.
Brett huffs. “I just picked up my sister, your idiot brother, and his idiot best friend because they thought it would be a great idea to go looking for mermaids.” The mattress dips slightly. Not enough for someone to sit down. It’s almost as if Brett is propping his foot on the bed. “And because it’s Beacon Hills, they found some.”
“I don’t see why that’s my problem.” Stiles lets out a long breath and scrambles into a seating position. “I can’t be held responsible,” he mutters, making a point of keeping his face turned away from Brett because he knows he looks like shit, he really doesn’t need to see the realization on Brett’s face. “I wasn’t even there.” Not that his absence usually stops people. Stiles is very aware that he’s doing a lot of shit all the time, and he’s aware that Mason is very easily roped into all of that bullshit. Even Liam is more often than not following Stiles around, especially now that he is a werewolf. Their dad isn’t exactly excited about this, but they can’t stop him — and with Stiles still being very human, he’s glad Stiles isn’t poking wild supernatural creatures on his own.
Sighing, Brett kicks off his shoes. “Well,” he says, slipping under the covers next to him without any hesitation at all, “Liam mentioned that his dear brother told him about mermaids in the preserve.” His voice softens a lot, and even though Brett is a dick ninety percent of the time he’s awake, he’s the most attentive person Stiles has ever dated. Pressing a kiss to his temple, Brett wraps an arm around Stiles’ shoulders and pulls him close.
“That’s not what I said,” Stiles mutters, curling into his boyfriend’s side. “He was getting on my nerves, telling me how bored he is.” Having Brett around always makes days like this at least a little easier. His warmth wraps around him like a safety blanket and knowing that Brett is ready to lie down next to him for as long as Stiles needs him to help more than he thought it would when they started dating. It’s not magically making him want to face the world, but the dark cloud in his head gets a little brighter. Sometimes it is still impossible to believe that Brett is his boyfriend, that he even considered dating him since Stiles ghosted him three times and showed up an hour late to their very first date — a date he would’ve missed if Lydia hadn’t dragged his ass all the way across town and dropped him off in front of the restaurant Brett had chosen. Stiles cannot even begin to tell her how grateful he is for that.
Humming, Brett brushes his lips over his temple. “Instead your response was?”
Stiles breathes his boyfriend in and sighs. “I told him that I don’t care, and I wouldn’t even care if he found mermaids in the preserve.”
Brett chuckles. “I figured you’d say that.” Again, he kisses his temple, fingers running gently up and down Stiles’ arm. “How about next time, you say something like, ‘I wouldn’t even care if you watched my favorite movie at the cinema tonight.’?”
Despite himself, Stiles cracks a smile. “Probably would’ve been smarter.” He places his hand on Brett’s chest, feeling his heartbeat underneath his fingertips. It’s a calming sensation, and something he never gets tired of. “He’s okay, right?”
“He’s peachy,” Brett tells him, lips moving against his temple. “In fact, he’s making up a fabulous story about how Mason was jumped by mermaids as they were relaxing by the lake as we speak.”
Yeah, that sounds like something Liam would do. Stiles can be an asshole to Liam for a week straight, but his little brother will still make sure he’s not going to get in trouble with their dad — and Stiles will do the same every single time. They’re brothers, after all, it’s what they do.
Stiles traces the numbers on Brett’s jersey. “Sorry.”
“Well, Liam dragged Lori along.”
“I still should’ve known better.”
Brett huffs and kisses his temple again. “You want me to come over after the game today?”
If he’s perfectly honest, Stiles doesn’t want him to leave to begin with. But he doesn’t want to be clingy. Plus, it’s a Saturday. He’s usually hanging out with his teammates after winning once again. “I’m gonna be terrible company.” It’s frustrating enough that Stiles doesn’t find the energy to be at the game tonight. He’s his boyfriend. He should be there, wearing his jersey. Lacrosse is important to Brett.
“I don’t care— and please stop worrying about the game.” Brett runs his hand down Stiles’ arm and intertwines their fingers, kissing his temple and cheek and jaw. “Being with you is enough for me.” He squeezes his hand, leaning his forehead against the side of Stiles’ head. “If you have me, that is.” The smile in his voice is audible, and when Brett nudges his ear with his nose, Stiles is pretty sure his heart melts a little.
“How long until you have to leave.”
“Thirty minutes.” Brett pulls him closer. “Forty if I ignore the speed limit.”
Stiles nods. “I love you,” he whispers and closes his eyes.
“I love you too.”