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Every Sciles Touch 3x6 ☾ Motel California
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what makes you think love will end when you know my whole life depends on you?
Lights cigarette and takes a puff. So Sciles huh, we could have had it all.
We sure could have, nonnie. Alas, it wasn't meant to be.
There's always fanfic, fanart, and cool gifsets, though. And the memories. Always the memories...
School’s out for Summer over here, so even though it’s totally seasonally inappropriate for the US, I am writing a mini-Summer-Sciles ficlet.
*
It’s tank top and shorts weather, and even still, Scott feels like he’s wearing too much. He wishes it were socially appropriate to walk around Beacon Hills naked, but he doesn’t want to get arrested. Again. Is there anything more humiliating than getting arrested by your best friend’s dad when your dick’s out? Probably. And he’s probably been through whichever situation it is, but he doesn’t want to invite the imagined memory all the same. He lazes on his couch, an electric fan whirring next to him and a mist spray bottle in hand’s reach.
There’s a perfunctory knock at the door and then a blast of hot air. It could be any pack member, they all have keys and permission to cross through his wards, but it’s Stiles. He can tell by footfall, heartbeat, breathing patterns, and the heady mixture of chemo-signals that follow him wherever he goes.
“Scotty?” Stiles calls.
“Polo,” Scott answers back, lackadaisically flinging one hand into the air so it’s over top of the couch.
“I brought you ice cream,” Stiles. “Honeycomb and french vanilla.” Stiles stops in front of Scott. Stares. He has the same look of concentration on his face he gets when he’s trying to solve a riddle, and he smacks his lips together with a pop.
Scott pulls himself up, sits on one side of the couch so Stiles can sit next to him. Stiles hands him the cup of ice cream. Their fingers brush and Stiles smears condensation against Scott’s knuckles.
“Did I ever tell you you’re my best friend and I’d do anything for you?” Scott says quietly, casually, but with feeling.
Stiles grins, his whole face lighting up like the burning hot sun outside. “Not for small acts of kindness,” he says. “Life and death situations. That one time I captured that spider for you. But not confectionery.”
“Well I want you to know it’s always true,” Scott says, emphatic.
One of Stiles’ eyes blinks and the hollows of his cheeks take on a new, brighter shade of red.
Stiles has peanut butter ice cream with reeses mini-cup mix-ins. It smells delectable.
“Hey, can I have a taste?” Scott asks, nodding at his cup, too hot and bothered to ignore his wants.
“Sure.”
Scott leans in, but instead of digging his spoon into Stiles’ cup, kisses his lips and presses entry. Stiles melts into him, one hand coming to clutch at the strap of his tank top. The kiss is sweet literally and figuratively. Stiles kisses with purpose, and Scott kisses to explore.
When they pull apart, Scott smiles. “Delicious,” he murmurs. “Just like I imagined.”
“Oh my God,” Stiles says. “If I’d’ve known this is all it would take to seduce you, I would have tried years ago.”
“You should’ve,” Scott intones, kissing Stiles again with heat.
Scott doesn’t wear any other clothes for the rest of the day. But he doesn’t cool down either.
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headcanon time: sciles have known each other for so long once they start dating that they are kinda always fighting - well not fighting but commenting which is usually them sassing each other. anyway, when one of them does get their feelings hurt, he wouldn't say anything tho. like stiles made a "everybody knows that how stupid are you" comment and scott goes silent or when scott pokes fun at stiles for not being athletic at all and stiles sulks and avoids him the rest of the day
They sometimes forget that even though they’re joking and don’t really mean anything by it, it still hurts. They typically realize they crossed a line fairly quickly. They apologize and the apology is even accepted but it still hurts. They still love each other though.
I need you too. // for @scottstiles
Coda
This is part of the Sawdust & Snow universe.
“Vesta, c’mon, c’mere, here girl, hey, c’mon now -” Stiles tries, struggling to walk through the snow.
“Vesta, here,” Scott says quietly, and she’s bounding to his side, used to the deep drifts despite the three years they’ve lived in California without a flake of snow.
“Wha - uh - that’s - Vesta, really?” Stiles asks, offended, but Scott just laughs as he digs an old, worn key out of his pocket. He walks up the path that Ezra had shoveled for him and sticks the key in the lock. The door opens. He hesitates on the doorstep despite the cold, and Stiles, more thoughtful now than he ever was as a kid, hugs him from behind.
