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“Do you…think I am attractive?”
“What?” Stiles asked, looking behind himself like there could be another person crammed in this supply closet with them that Mason could be talking to.
Forty-five minutes ago, they closed themselves into the closet to escape from whatever snarling beast is chasing them around Beacon Hills High tonight. Forty minutes ago, Stiles stopped pacing.
“I just— I’ve heard you ask Danny Mahelani that before so I— Not that I’m assuming anything?”
“You creepy little spy,” Stiles hisses. “Why are you listening to private conversations?”
“I’m not,” Mason says in a rush. “I’ve been getting early high school credits since I was in seventh grade. I’ve been in your math classes for two years.”
“What?”
“You were pretty focused on Scott. For most of that. And, um, also Danny? Hence, the question—,”
“‘Hence’?” Stiles parrots. “Wait. Two years?”
“Yeah,” Mason says. “When I walked in the first time, Jackson said ‘Who let Stuart Little into our school?’. Which is sort of a strange reference since he’s a white mouse and also not necessarily a symbol of youth? In the movie, he sounds kind of like a grown man, if I’m being honest.”
“Two years?”
“He has a car! Anyways,” Mason presses on. “Do you think I’m attractive?”
“Like, personally?” Stiles asks. He pauses. “Yeah. You’re attractive. I mean you’re like 14–“
“16,” Mason interjects.
“Whatever. Yeah.”
“Do you want to make out?”
“Serious question: Are you possessed?”
“Serious answer: No. Just 16 and very gay. And in Beacon Hills. I feel like all our gay guys end up being some kind of monster with questionable morals. If I believed in a poetic god, I’d wonder about the metaphor?”
“Danny isn’t a monster. Probably?”
“Sure, he’s the exception to the rule. Probably. But I also think Ethan would chew my head off my shoulders if I made a move. Corey, lovable monster. Lucas, scary monster. Ethan, scary monster. Bret—“
“Oh, he sucked. Wait, aren’t you with Corey? Which one is Corey?”
“He’s the guy who can turn invisible. We’re on a break while he comes to terms with his whole genetic experiment thing.”
“We have an invisible guy?”
“Yeah. Anyways. You’re…Well. Are you bi?”
“Kind of a personal question,” Stiles answers. He’s quiet for a moment in the dark of the supply closet. “Yes. Probably. I’m not sure.”
“Well, my question stands.”
“Sure. Why not? Who knows how long we’re going to be locked in here. Lay one on me, slugger—Mmph!”
Maybe Mason is too excited. Whatever. Stiles is hot, and kind of a bad boy in a morally-grey sort of way. He doesn’t seem like he knows where to put his hands at first (to be fair, all of Mason’s knowledge comes from his middle school kissing practice with Liam when he always had to be “the girl”) but eventually they settle on Mason’s hips. Stiles’ mouth kind of tastes like coffee and beef jerky but he relaxes once Mason licks his lower lip and presses him against the wall. Stiles’ breath shudders out with a little noise and he squeezes his hands a little tighter and Mason takes it as permission to tilt his head and slick his tongue against Stiles’ open mouth.
Stiles seems to catch up at that point and he finally starts moving against Mason. His hands (big! hot! square!) slide up Mason’s shirt and touch the bare skin over his ribs and the feel of hands on his seldom-touched skin makes him moan. Stiles seems to be spurred on and he pulls Mason closer, deepening the kiss at the same time.
French kissing! Mason pulls out every trick he’s ever used to pull noises out of Liam and is deeply vindicated when Stiles whimpers and pulls him closer. Mason feels a little crazy at how warm and soft and wet Stiles’ mouth is and then Stiles puts his foot up on a shelf and they start rubbing against one another and Mason’s big brain turns off finally and he just moves with Stiles until they’re both making little noises into each other’s mouths.
That’s, of course, when the door opens and Liam lets out a shriek.