Work Text:
Over the fourteen years since they had first met, they had gotten to know almost every aspect of one another, in body, in mind, in every way best friends could know each other. They'd gone through the most important phases of life side by side. At seven years old, both of them had had an unhealthy obsession with old Kung Fu movies, constantly running around in the back yard pretending to be masters, dressing in ratty old Gis they'd made from pillow cases and trying to fight everything and anything. That had ended in a mess when Stiles challenged an old oak tree and had broken his hand, but the weeks afterward, neither of them regretted it, because everyone at school thought Stiles' cast was wicked cool, and both of them enjoyed the attention. Then, when they were ten, they'd both become interested in video games, and even though their tastes varied heavily (Scott tended to lean more toward fantasy quest games, while Stiles favoured first person shooters), when the sheriff bought Stiles his first game system, they spent almost every afternoon after school hanging out and playing together. Melissa had to practically drag Scott away whenever it was time to go home.
When they were thirteen, they went through puberty side by side. They both had very different experiences, which was to be expected. One Tuesday afternoon they'd just been hanging out at Scott's, trying to get through a game that had been particularly difficult since Scott couldn't seem to stop snapping at Stiles, when the former had stood up and they'd discovered a spot of blood where Scott had been sitting. She had screamed, and they'd both pulled her pants down to check for mortal wounds, and when Stiles had gotten a look at the smear of blood between her thighs he'd fainted. When he woke up, it was darker and Melissa had already taken Scott home. Then, the sheriff had had to explain, in a very awkward conversation, what exactly had happened. Apparently Stiles' best friend was becoming a woman.
Though, with puberty, there obviously came other things; Stiles found himself looking at people who weren't Scott, more and more, particularly pretty girls, the kind he'd never had an interest in. Why look at other girls when he had Scott, who was the raddest girl he knew? But he couldn't help but look, spending far too much time at his lone lunch table, barely listening to a word his best friend said, watching the way the girls in his grade flipped their hair, and smiled when they laughed, and wore those cute little shorts during gym that made Stiles feel strange and fluttery where he never had before. He was too busy to notice Scott looking at the same girls, her own brown curls falling prettily over her shoulders, her own smile widening when she laughed, the sound happy and musical.
Then, there was the day that Scott had come to school redfaced and nervous looking, an unfamiliar strap barely visible in the collar of her shirt. Stiles didn't ask what it was, because it was obviously private, but he was beyond curious because he'd noticed those little straps appearing more and more on other girls their grade. Another milestone that day was Stiles getting his very first boner. It happened to be while they were hanging out at Scott's, taking advantage of the x-box she'd gotten for her birthday. Stiles had caught sight of the horrible boob-bounce graphics in their latest game and before he could blink, there was a strange tent in his pants and he was freaking the hell out.
The next afternoon was awkward, and slightly tense, because the night before both of them had asked their parents about several things. Stiles had found out what that little straps were, that Scott was maturing in several ways, in several places on her body (and he couldn't help but picture his best friend with a body like one of those high school girls that sat all the way at the back of the bus). They'd both asked about the tent, and gotten pretty much the same answer, but text book explanations had never done anything for either of them. They were both visual learners, so both thought that maybe a field test was in order.
They experimented a few times in their youth, with their own bodies and each other's, but neither had ever really gotten any kind of gratification out of it, more a quenching of curiosity about different bodies and reactions, but every time they moved on and it never changed their friendship. They still changed in front of each other during sleep overs (and had to defend their right to do so after their parents started saying they were too old for said sleep overs, and that maybe it was less than appropriate, but Scott and Stiles had made their case rather quickly), they still sat around wasting their lives playing video games, Stiles kept tampons in his bathroom, and they both got through adolescence with very few scars. They'd survived the period of girls making fun of Scott's name and boys pushing Stiles down in the hallways and all of the gross, natural changes their bodies had gone through. Victory was sweet.
When they were fifteen, they spent a summer apart. It was the longest, loneliest summer either had every gone through, two and a half months of pure torture, with phone calls every day, sometimes three times a day, and constant longing and whining and counting down the days until Scott and her mom got back from Texas, which honestly was the worst place to spend a family vacation. The Alamo was boring and so were Scott's relatives, even though she never said anything about that to their faces.
When they'd gotten back, it was to Stiles and his father waiting at their front door with a big, welcome back cake, one that Stiles had almost dropped when Scott had gotten out of the car, her face stretched into one of the biggest smiles he'd ever seen. She was taller, her hair longer and smoother, her curls falling down to her shoulder blades and blowing slightly in the breeze like those female leads in action movies, the effect making her look... some way that Stiles didn't want to contemplate. Her body was curvier, filled in, hips wide and chest bigger than Stiles had ever seen it, and her skin was darkened with tan and clear of acne. There was some black stuff on her top eyelids, making her brown eyes bigger and more intense, and as she walked up to them Stiles felt a flutter in his lower stomach, and really, truly realized that he was best friends with a girl. With a very pretty girl.
Scott also noticed that Stiles was taller, lanky and thin in the way that boys who'd just gone through a growth spurt were, like he wasn't used to his body, limbs too long and body too much to handle. He wasn't that much taller than Scott herself, but it was still noticeable, when they hugged, and his warm arms wrapped entirely around her. He'd also buzzed all of his hair off (when she asked why, he hadn't given her much of an explanation- apparently there was an incident with gum). His face was clearer, his clothes all new now that he was too big for his old ones, and Scott was struck with how good her dorky little best friend looked when he was all grown up. They were both.. very overly aware of each other, and this went on for weeks.
Well, years, actually. Scott and Stiles were very in tune with each other. They knew each other's bodies as well as their own, had a constant sense of each other, grew up knowing every nook and tick and speckle the other had.
When Scott was bitten, her body changed. Her arms were more filled out, thighs thicker, calves stronger, abdominal muscles lean and defined and sometimes clear through tight tank tops in a way even Stiles caught himself staring at. Her movements were stronger, more fluid, and graceful in a way she'd never been, in a way Stiles would never be. She walked with her back straighter, and her strides full of confidence. There was a power behind her every move and every inch of her constantly exuded it, anyone who looked at her knew she was a force of nature. At least, Stiles did. It took a while after that to relearn her, to map out her body again, but he did, and they moved on.
Being next to each other so often made it almost impossible to notice gradual changes.
Almost.
Usually the realizations of such changes came abruptly. They'd be hanging out, playing video games, translating Aramaic codes, researching the newest creature of the night, and one of them would have a certain kind of epiphany. It wasn't always huge, like when Stiles had the sudden realization that Scott had had her face between another girl's legs, or when Scott really noticed how strong Stiles' hands looked. That Scott's hair was more a dark, dark brown than it was black. That Stiles smiled upside down. Things they'd always known, but had never payed attention to. Things they just suddenly became aware that they had already noticed.
One of these came to Scott, right after a particularly bad practice, when they were standing in Scott's kitchen smearing peanut butter onto bread.
"Strawberry jelly?" Stiles asked, even though he didn't need to. Scott smiled and nodded, and watched him dip in his peanut butter covered knife like a neanderthall and scoop up a big pile of jam. He put on a lot, knowing exactly how Scott liked it, slapped on the other piece of bread and tossed it across the counter. For some reason, the loose, playful actions made Scott laugh, which inevitably made Stiles' face stretch into a fond smile.
"Thanks," She said quietly, picking up the sandwhich tentatively and pushing the corner of it into her mouth, watching as Stiles was already making her another one.
"Anything for my girl," Stiles sighed, giving her a put-upon look that was more affectionate than it was actually annoyed, "In exchange, though, you gotta tell me what's wrong."
"Nothing's wrong," Scott mumbled.
"Yeah, exactly like nothing's been wrong since we left practice. Come on, Scott, I know you better."
The alpha sighed, and leaned further onto the counter, bouncing her knees as she tried to decide whether or not she should lie. Stiles was looking at her like he knew exactly what she was doing and did not appreciate it, so she rolled her eyes and acqueisced.
"It was just some dumb thing with Elliot, I swear. It's not even a big deal."
Stiles was immediately suspicious, and Scott regretted ever saying anything at all. She should have just lied her ass off until Stiles dropped it. "Elliot? That pretentious wad of a goalie? What'd he do?"
"It's not his fault, man, he's just new to the team. He's never seen me play," Scott muttered, averting her gaze and taking another large bite of her sandwich.
"Are you kidding? Another one?" Stiles growled.
"It's to be expected," Scott said quietly.
"No, it's not! I'm so sick of guys trying to tear you down! You're literally the best player out there, you're the captain! You could kick any of their butts with one hand and both legs tied behind your back!"
"Stiles," Scott chided, though she was smiling, a blush on her cheeks, and Stiles kept on.
"No, don't 'Stiles' me! Scott, you don't deserve that, nobody does. And he doesn't deserve to be on the team if he can't respect his captain."
"He's one of the best players we have, Stiles. I can deal with a little sexism, it's not the first time. When he sees me play, that'll shut him up." Stiles made to say something else, his eyes fierce and protective like they only ever were for Scott, but she held up her hand, "Dude, let it go. This is why I never tell you when stuff like this happens."
"Because I get angry? Scott, you should be angry. You should defend yourself."
"I don't need to defend myself," She countered, "I know I'm better, that's all that's necessary. Make your sandwich and calm down."
Stiles glared at her, but did as he was told, throwing his sandwich together in a sloppy, angry mess. Scott sighed at the ruined mood. She watched Stiles move around next to her, screwing lids back on and putting things away, and when he bumped her shoulder, muttering out a small 'sorry, something seemed off. Frowning, she twisted around to watch him move, standing over the sink and rinsing peanut butter off of the knife. His shoulders were hunched, arm muscles clenched as he moved, jaw set in anger still, and Scott, curious, moved closer.
She put a hand on his arm, making him flinch in surprise and look back at her. She payed no attention to the reaction, busy inspecting him, trying to figure out what was different. Her hand only fit around a portion of his bicep, and realization had her eyes roaming over to his chest, then up to his face, and then, she really noticed, she was looking a good ways up.
They were standing a foot apart, her hand on his arm, and she had to crane her neck to meet his eyes. He was tall, taller than she remembered, his shoulders broad and strong, a curve to his waist that'd never been there, not that she'd seen. She didn't get long to look, because Stiles seemed to misinterperet the contact and sighed, wrapping his arms around her and pulling her in for a hug. Her heartbeat sped up when she realized his arms completely encompassed her, that his chin could settle perfectly on the top of her head, her body enveloped in his hold. It was warm, and soft, and comfortable like it'd always been, but when she returned the hug, her reach didn't extend around the entire mass of his back.
"I'm sorry for getting mad," He mumbled, and his voice was low, no crack in the sound, a strong, soothing tone that made her knees inexplicably weak. Oh, Lord.
After that, it was too easy to notice the difference in their size, how much bigger Stiles was than before. When he put his hand on her shoulder, it completely covered the joint, and rested there like a wonderful, heavy weight, reassuring and warm. When he leapt in front of her during a fight, instead of the flimsy, weak barrier he used to be, he was like a shield, strong, covering her whole body, leaving her with a split second of breathless surprise before they both remembered he was still human, and she was the one protecting him. When they were watching a movie and she gave him a playful shove, her hand touched his chest, and she was struck with the fact that her palm didn't even cover half of his pec. Scott wasn't small, not in the least, but she was dwarfed by her human, completely.
Suddenly she was having trouble associating him with the noodle-armed, nerdy best friend she'd grown up with. The one who'd fainted when he'd seen the blood in her shorts. The one who'd broken his hand trying to fight the oak tree in her back yard. The one she had noticed, growing up alongside her; she'd touched him, slept next to him, had seen him naked countless times, but had never noticed the changes, she had never really looked.
Now that she had, though, she couldn't stop.
It was a month or so after the realization that anything came out of it. It was during a fight with rogue werewolf that'd been pestering her pack for a while. He'd shown up at the clinic looking to defeat Scott and show the rest of the supernatural community that he was a big badass, the usual with betas like him. Stiles had come to pick her up after her shift, and when they walked outside, he was waiting for them, claws out and snarling in an obvious posturing. Immediately, Stiles was in front of her, glaring him down.
"Aw, look at that. You need your little human to protect you," The beta taunted, curling his fingers eagerly, practically itching to attack, "How cute is this?"
"Get out of here," She warned, touching Stiles shoulder - and God, it was large, her fingers splayed above the muscle and feeling the natural, mortal power underneath - and stepping around him, "I know what you want, and it's not going to happen. Give up and run before you regret this."
"I've heard about you," The beta continued, taking a slow, threatening step toward them, "People talk about how you defeated the Alpha pack, destroyed the Argents, took on a herd of Berserkers and won, but those are just stories. They tend to lie."
"It's not a lie," Stiles snarled, bucking forward, held back by Scott's wary hand across his chest. Her glare never left the beta.
"It's lie enough. You never did any of that, not without your pack."
"Your point?" She spat. The beta gave her a slow, curling grin that looked more like a grimace on his twisted, wolfed out face, his blue eyes shining and drawing out her own red stare.
"Your pack isn't here now, are they?"
The beta leapt forward, and Scott barely had enough time to shove Stiles back before she was wolfed out and meeting his claws with her own. He caught her in the stomach, tearing through the tender flesh of her belly and making her scream, but she ignored it and grabbed him by the throat to throw him away from them, away from Stiles. He landed in a crouch and was back on her before she could blink.
"Scott!" Stiles was yelling, trying to get her attention, or encourage her, or something.
Scott's claws hooked into the beta's chest and she ripped downward mercilessly, leaving four long, deep gouges in the flesh. The beta howled but she didn't stop, grabbing his throat again and running him back to slam him into the wall. He clawed at her back trying to get her off but Scott snarled and shoved her free hand through his shoulder, tugging back and dislocating the joint in the process. The resulting scream was what had her letting go.
He dropped to the ground, and Scott stood over him, panting and more than ready to keep going if he got back up.
"Get out of here," She growled, like the words were poison she was spitting from her mouth. Without another word, he did, running away with his tail between his legs.
She waited until he was out of sight, and then the steady strength in her posture drooped and she was sagging to the ground. She readied herself for the pain of hitting concrete but it never came. Instead, there were arms around her, hooked behind her back, a hand on her face pushing her curls out of her eyes, a soft voice telling her "I've got you, dude. You're good."
"Sorry," She muttered, and then he was lifting her up. There was a soft grunt, but he never wavered, and the sensation of him carrying her so easily had her insides twisting up. She rolled her head back so she could look at him, and he looked so strong, concerned, protective. It was a wonder to her, how she'd never noticed. He was so big. His arms were steady where they held her, his pace never shifting or stuttering with her weight. She felt so safe in his hold.
When they got to the jeep, she helped him open the passenger door, and he sat her down gently and, to her embarrassment, helped her buckle. Already, her wounds were healing, but she was sore and bloody, and she appreciated the thought.
"You okay?" He asked softly, when he got into the driver's seat and started the ignition.
"Yeah, that guy was nothing," She mumbled. Her hands were shaking, and she clenched her fists, feeling her heart skip strangely in her chest. Scott didn't know what was happening. She could feel the heat coming off of Stiles, and when she glanced over, she noticed the pull of tight fabric over the bulk of his arms, where the material was too small over his biceps, and something queasy and excited passed through her.
God, it was getting out of control.
Stiles gave her a weird look, but didn't say anything else. The ride back to her house was silent.
When they pulled up into her driveway, Stiles turned off the jeep and was at Scott's door before the other could say anything. She unbuckled and blushed violently when he took her hand and helped her out of the vehicle, even if she didn't need the assistance. He shut the door behind her and followed her into the house and up to her room, and she kept hearing hitches in his breathing, like he had something he wanted to say.
"When are you going to tell me what's wrong?" He finally asked, when they had settled on her bed, sitting on the edge, a little further apart than usual.
The question caught her off guard, but only momentarily. He was bound to notice something off about her, with the way she'd been acting, but not exactly what. Stiles was observant, but not very, and while he could usually sense when something was off, most of the time he couldn't tell exactly what.
"Nothing's wrong," She said lightly, not looking at him. His hand came into view, wrapping around hers where they were twisting in her lap and God, his hand covered both of hers completely. She shivered without her notice, and he scoffed.
"Yeah, okay," His face went from annoyed to concerned, and he moved closer. Scott was overly aware of their closeness, how even when they sat she had to tilt her head back to look at him, and a flush started creeping up her neck. "Scotty, you gotta tell me what's up. Is it me? Are you mad, dude?"
"Mad?" She frowned, "Why would I be mad at you?"
"I don't know, you tell me." His voice was quiet, worried. The hand not around both of hers moved up to run through her hair, and she couldn't help the sharp breath of air she took in response. He rose his eyebrow, as if to say 'I told you so'.
What could she tell him? That she had just recently noticed how gigantic he was and for some reason, it was the hottest thing on Earth? How he made her feel protected and cared for? How every time he got close she was reminded of just how small she was compared to him and for some strange reason, it made her want him hovering over her body, wrapped around her, sweaty and rubbing together like-
She moved back, breathing heavily, trying to cool the heat in her stomach, a hairs breath away from actually fanning her face.
"Scott?" He frowned, and she couldn't take it anymore.
Scott pulled her hands out of his grip and grabbed his shirt, her eyes burning with impatience and nerves, but that was dwarfed by the desire that had been building ever since a month before, when she'd really, truly noticed him, how he'd grown into one of the most beautiful men she'd ever seen. His eyes went wide but she ignored it and climbed right into his lap, watching as his arms flailed around before he steadied them on her waist.
"Whoa, dude, wha-?"
She shook her head, wrapping an arm around his neck and tugging him closer so she could finally, finally kiss him.
He gave a surprised moan that was muffled by their closed mouths, his eyes going wide, but she was too nervous to stop and let him react. Her heart was hammering in her chest, and his lips were so soft, chapped from his constant biting but still pleasant against hers. Their noses were bumping together, and she could barely breathe, but Jesus, fuck, it was so relieving. She was about to pull away, to apologize and beg for Stiles to stay with her, when his arms slowly wrapped around her waist and pulled their stomachs together. His lips began to move, careful but eager. Scott felt her heart skip a beat because his arms had room to completely encompass her and then some, but his grip was so gentle it almost hurt.
Then he pulled away, and left her chasing after his lips like she was aching for it.
"Dude," He breathed, and Scott finally opened her eyes. Stiles' face was confused, and wary, but she could smell arousal clear in the air, though if that was hers or not was yet to be determined, "What the hell was that?"
She swallowed, "It.. A kiss."
"Yeah? Where exactly did that come from?" He asked. More and more, Scott was feeling like a giant idiot, like she'd just made a huge mistake, but when she tried to pull out of his hold he only held on tighter.
"I've.. I've really wanted to. For, like, a while. A long while."
"...Oh."
"Yeah."
He looked so nervous, as nervous as Scott felt, and she tried to take that as a good sign, like her kiss had affected him, like he'd wanted it too, but she was terrified he was working up a way to let her down gently, to salvage their friendship.
"This is why you've been acting so weird? Because you wanted to kiss me?"
"I'm sorry," Was the only thing she could think of. Then he laughed.
He had the decency to look apologetic when she gave him a disbelieving, irritated look, but it didn't make him stop. He just sat there giggling to himself, snorting every once in a while and trying to stop, but every time he seemed to calm down, it only started up again. Scott was honest to God getting pretty annoyed.
"What are you laughing at?" She demanded.
"You!" He said immediately, giving her a happy, laughing smile, one she'd seen a million times before, "You're so adorable, Scotty."
"Excuse me?"
"You heard me," He laughed, the sound getting even louder when she pulled away from him, "Oh come on! You can't blame me, after hearing that you, of all people, have been pining after me."
"How is that adorable? Or funny?" She snapped, and her tone seemed to calm him down at least a little. Good.
"Because you're one of the most beautiful, perfect women to ever walk this Earth and it's gotta be, like, some comic misalignment, that the universe would make you want to kiss me."
He was still smiling, but his tone had sobered into something softer. It took her a moment to process his response, but once she did, she felt herself wanting to kiss him all the more. Without giving her time to respond, Stiles was slowly moving to lay Scott back and position himself so he was leaning over her, laying betwen her legs and hovering just over her body. Her heart rate picked up again when she looked down, because her legs were so small around his waist. His broad shoulders blocked her out completely to the outside world, and in this situation, she could feel near constant spikes of pleasure shooting through her abdomen.
"Stiles..?" She breathed. He swallowed heavily, and a shaking hand brushed her hair back out of her face. He left it there, settled on her temple, their eyes connected in a strange, tense moment where she seemed to just notice how many shades of honey he had in his eyes.
He seemed to be trying to build up the courage for something, so Scott figured she'd help him along. She gave him a soft, reassuring smile and grabbed the hem of her shirt to wriggle out of the fabric, leaving her laying underneath Stiles in her laundry day bra, flushed from head to feet.
"Oh.." He squeaked.
When he didn't move, she cleared her throat and grabbed one of his hands to push it down to rest on one of her boobs. She watched his face as she did it, seeing his eyes go wide and his mouth dry up. She also heard his heartbeat begin to go crazy in his chest.
"Now you?"
He nodded, staring at where his hand was resting over her breast, unable to help but knead into it a little, making Scott squirm underneath him. She started tugging impatiently at the bottom of his shirt, and he finally pulled away to peel off the offending material.
God, his chest, perfect and broad, speckled with moles and hair that led all the way down to the waistband of his pants, neatly trimmed and begging Scott to run her fingers through it. She couldn't count how many times she's seen him shirtless, or even entirely naked, but with the beginnings of an erection hovering over her pubic bone and a spark of want in his eyes, it was all different. Less brotherly.
"Oh..." She breathed, mirroring his own reaction. An affectionate smile replaced the nervousness on Stiles' face, which drew out a grin of Scott's own, and they both realized it was okay. Stiles' hand lifted to trail up Scott's stomach, her muscles contracting in reaction, flinching under his delicate touch, and it only stopped when it had curved around her back to rest on the clasp of her bra. He opened his mouth to ask, and she was nodding before he could even get the words out.
Then she was shirtless, her breasts exposed to him for what must have been the millionth time, but only then was he looking at them with such obvious want, and wonder. Only then was he brave enough to touch, and when he did, Scott felt her entire body shiver.
Then he leaned down and kissed her again.
She woke up the next morning to knocking on her door, and before she could even contemplate putting a shirt on, her mother was opening the door with a very cheerful 'Good morning!'.
It was a hectic minute of frantic yelling and apologies, of Scott fumbling for a shirt and Stiles trying to disappear beneath the covers, of Melissa practically running out of the room after a request that Scott join her downstairs when she was decent.
The moment she was gone, Scott's mortified gaze met Stiles', but it only took a second for the night before to come back to them, and for twin grins to break out on their faces. There was an extra six minutes of kissing and revelling in the happy glow that surrounded them both before Scott resigned herself to having to explain the situation to her mom. A quick few kisses and a promise to return, and she was leaving Stiles to dress himself and going downstairs to find her mother, who ended up being in the living room, watching the morning news.
She didn't say anything when Scott first sat down, and neither did Scott. They watched the overly tanned anchormen discretely flirt back and forth for maybe ten minutes before Scott heard her mom sigh.
"So... Stiles, huh?" Melissa sounded resigned, but not disappointed.
"Yeah," Scott answered. They finally looked at each other, and Scott found herself reddening under her mother's gaze, "It just happened last night."
"Did you two-?"
"No!" Scott's face flushed even more, and at her mother's disbelieving look, she elaborated, "We just kissed a little, took our- our shirts off, but we didn't have sex. I don't have any condoms..."
Scott's face was burning, but her mom looked perfectly composed, and she desperately wished she would show some sort of mortification about her daughter being intimate with someone, maybe just so they'd be in the same boat, but she wasn't.
"Right, well... I'm not gonna give you the talk again. Once was enough, and I'm assuming since you know how sex works with a girl, you probably have the basics down when it comes to a boy, and I expect you to come right to me if you need anything." Scott covered her face with her hands and groaned, and Melissa laughed.
"I just need to ask... Stiles?"
"Yeah," Scott answered through her hands. She let them drop a moment later, a careful, happy smile on her face, "He's just... He's Stiles."
"I get it," Melissa said.
Scott finally looked at her again, and they shared a brief, mother/daughter moment of support, before the moment was shattered.
"I hope you know this means no more impromptu sleep overs, though."
"Mom!"
"Don't argue," Melissa said dryly, staring down her daughter's pout, "Just tell me when he's going to be here, and don't stay over at John's without texting or calling first. I won't tell you he can't come over at all - if you two are going to have sex I'd rather it happen where I know you're safe."
Scott was actually going to combust from embarrassment, but she managed a nod anyway.
"Good. My shift is in an hour, so I have to go get ready. Stiles needs to be gone when I am."
Scott didn't argue, knowing how understanding her mom was being, knowing the same rules applied with her past girlfriends. She wasn't going to argue just because it was Stiles, because Stiles was no longer just Stiles. They had moved into newer territory. They weren't Scott and Stiles now, they were Scott and Stiles.
The second her mom had disappeared upstairs, Stiles was there, demanding to know what had happened, how much blood was spilled, how long he had to hide to avoid castration. Scott didn't answer any of these ridiculous questions. She pushed her fingers into Stiles' hair, effectively cutting him off mid-sentence, and leaned in to kiss him, just because she could.
His strong arms wrapped around her immediately, covering her completely, making her feel so safe. They kissed, slow and happy, reveling in each other's touch, Scott slowly slipping into Stiles' lap and Stiles leaning back to accommodate her.
Her hands slipped down his chest as she lost herself in it, feeling out his ribs, his hardened stomach, his sharp hips that bucked up lightly into her fingers. She rolled against his thighs and dropped her hands even more, and when her palm brushed up against his crotch she broke their kiss. Stiles was panting slightly, watching Scott stare down at him with a spark of impressed interest in her eyes.
Yet another thing, it seemed, she hadn't realized before.