What the hell is a Stiles? (![[info]](https://www.insanejournal.com/img/userinfo.gif){kind=small} _stiles) wrote, |
Scott stiffened, glaring at Derek, at the accusation that wasn’t spoken and, honestly, wasn’t even implied. Perhaps Scott’s ignorance was, but his own anger twisted with a little guilt at the realisation that at no point had he ever really thought about what Stiles was soundboard with his time. Researching, he guessed. On his own, he’d assumed. Not here.
“He never mentioned spending time with you,” Scott murmured, though he remembered sometimes how he’d noticed the ease in the body language between the two of them, the fragments of sentences that were filled in with glances or gestures. He hadn’t thought about it then.
Regardless, Scott hated how Derek was playing the nice guy. How he was here being the hero like Scott was going to go in and kidnap Stiles.
“Stiles!” He called, eyes still fixed on Derek. “Come here.”
Despite resenting being summoned, Stiles got up and went to the door, tucking himself against Derek’s side.
“You gonna be a grown up and come in and hang out?” He asked, eyebrows raising.
Scott’s eyes had narrowed again. “You let him claim you already? Fuck, Stiles-“
“Why not now? What is there to wait for?” Stiles asked.
“I dunno, graduation? From college?”
“Dad’s fine with it,” Stiles said stiffly. “What’s your problem?”
“Jesus, Stiles”
“He’s my mate. That isn’t going to change, Scott. I don’t need your permission, I don’t need you to accept it. I just want you to.”
Scott ran his hands over his face, taking a breath. “I need time. Don’t- be gross and kiss and stuff-“
“Hypocrite,” Stiles snapped.
“Come on, Stiles. Give me a break. Im gonna try-“
Stiles rolled his eyes and nuzzled against Derek’s shoulder for comfort.
“Are you gonna turn him?” Scott asked Derek, frown returning.