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You Play the String Within Me

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Scott spots Allison, Kira, and Lydia in the crowd near the front as soon as he enters. He's still wearing his scrub pants, just getting off of a 14 hours shift and coming straight to this venue that the girls invited him to. He'd at least had the decency to take a quick shower in the nurses' locker room, but he'd forgotten to bring his pants in to change into, being too tired from last night's shift to remember it.

Lydia makes a face when she sees him, but leans in and kisses him on the cheek anyway, smiling when she pulls away. He's tired from working two long days in a row, but it's nice to see the girls and he has the next two days off, so he can handle it.

"How long have you guys been here?" Scott asks, pulling Allison into a side hug.

"Only forty minutes or so," Allison says. "You missed the first set, but everyone seems to be waiting for the next act anyway."

He nods and Kira bumps hips with him, grinning.

"Hey you, where's Malia?"

"At home, training the new puppy," Kira rolls her eyes a little, but she's smiling fondly.

“You’ll have to show me pictures later!” He grins.

The four of them chatter on catch up each other’s lives and Scott excuses himself to the bar when Kira takes out her phone to show Lydia her new dog for a second time. He heads over to the bar on the opposite end of the room. The bar is full of people and the only open available space is next to a brunette dude in a white dress shirt and a vest. He’s leaning against the counter and eyes Scott when he slides in next to him. There’s an amber beer in his hand and he winks at Scott, who smiles back.

“Can I get you your drink?” he asks, in a Russian sounding accent. Scott flushes, shrugging a silent ‘why not with a hint of a smile’. The stranger smiles back and signals to the bartender, tapping his glass then thumbs at Scott. The bartender nods, fills a glass and slides it across.

“Thank you,” Scott says, picking up his drink and sipping at the foam.

Someone steps on to stage and starts to set up their equipment and soundcheck.

“Do you know who’s playing next?”

The stranger makes a face and shrugs. “Yes, but he’s not good. He thinks he is so cool.”

Scott laughs into his cup, eyebrows raised. “Sounds like you have bad history with him.”

“Something to that saying,” he says flirtatiously, leaning closer to Scott. His body is one long line, and he drapes his arm behind the bar Scott leaning on.


The MC comes up and the crowd starts pushing forward, filling up the empty spaces in no time. Scott worries for a second that he’ll lose the girls, but there’s no use fighting his way through the lines of people. Instead, Scott hangs back at the bar with the stranger, who’s downing his drink now.

"Welcome everyone! Our next act has come a very long way from Poland! Give it up for-- Stiles... sorry if I fuck up your last name... Sti-linski!"

The stranger next to Scott laughs, snorting foam up his nose. He curses under his breath, wiping his face with the elbow crease of his shirt, then pushes forward.

“That’s me,” he turns to grin at Scott and salutes. Stiles disappears through the crowd, reappearing by scrambling up the stage. Scott chuckles in disbelief, nursing the beer in his hand.

Stiles picks up an acoustic guitar and fiddles with an earpiece for a moment. Someone cat calls and his shoulders jiggle with laughter.

"Hello," Stiles starts out, strumming quietly, fingers ghosting over the chords he's preparing for. "Not many people can say my name correctly," he says in better English than most English-speakers can say. He smiles into the mic. Some girl in the back lets out a high pitched squeal. "This is my first show in America and I hope you like my music."

He starts by pounding a steady beat on his acoustic guitar, and steps on one of the many pedals to loop it, then he starts to sing.

After the show, the girls find Scott, then filter over to the merch table, pulling Scott along with them. There’s already a crowd gathered around at the booth. Allison picks up a CD, and with all the pushing and shoving, Scott gets pushed forward with her. Stiles is signing a CD for a young girl when they get up the front. He turns to Allison, who smiles and slides a ten for the CD.

“You did a great job!” Allison shouts over the loudness of the crowd. Stiles smiles, looking embarrassed.

“Thank you so much,” he replies politely, almost shy.

“That was really great, dude. Is this your first time in America?” Scott asks, Stiles eyes darting over to meet Scott’s. His eyes are warm and friendly and he grins a little wider.

“Yes, it is. It is very exciting! Did you agree with me? That I think I am way too cool?”

Scott laughs, shaking his head. “Dude, no! You were so great. I can’t believe you bought me a beer.”

“It was not a problem.”

“Thank you again! If you’re in town much longer, we should show you around! I can repay the favor.” Scott’s a little buzzed and a little bold. He’s feeling friendly and since Isaac’s moved to Washington, he misses having a guy friend to play video games with and hang out. The girls are great, of course, but it’s not the same.

“Well, he can show you around,” Allison chimes in. “I’m going to be out of town this weekend.” Scott doesn’t miss the sidelong glance Allison throws him, though he’s not sure what it means.

Stiles smiles, nodding. “I’m here for a week, and after that I have a show in Oregon. Here is my mobile number,” he picks up a postcard with his face on it and scribbles something quickly just in time for one of the managers at the back taps him on the shoulder. The man mutters some quick Polish to Stiles, who nods, replying and waving him off.

“I’m sorry, I have to continue signing things. I will talk to you later?” He gives a hopeful smile and Scott’s smile dimples into a grin, picking up the postcard.

“Dude, yes! Sounds good!”

Scott’s exhausted after the show, but he’s too buzzed to drive, so Allison herds him to her car.

“That was interesting,” she comments, checking her rearview mirror.

“What do you mean? The show?” Scott asks, his tired smile tugged into a confused frown.

“No, I’ve just never seen you talk to someone that quickly. You’re usually pretty shy,” she says, nudging him with her free hand.

“Must be the alcohol,” he shrugs. He’s not sure if he should feel weird about it, but the suggestive tone Allison is using makes it awkward.

“Was that weird? Should I have not offered to show him around?”

Allison laughs, shaking her head. “No! I’m not saying that, Scott. I’m just saying that it was a good thing. I know you’ve been a little lonely since Isaac moved. He seems nice and it was a very nice thing to offer.”

“Well, I’m just a nice guy, I guess,” he smiles, lopsidedly.

“The nicest,” Allison agrees, with a sigh.


hey it’s the guy from the show last night. I’m Scott btw :-), he texts in the afternoon.



hey! that’s so cool! i wish i could speak polish :-(

Do you want me to teach you? It is not hard!

maybe in person? i don’t think i can pronounce that!

They agree to meet up at the Marriott Stiles is staying at. It’s a little early, so Scott showers and puts on nice clothes with enough time left to dig out his old guitar from his closet. He debates bringing it, but takes it anyway. A nice jam session would be fun.

Stiles opens the door, smiling in greeting. He’s in a white cotton sleep shirt and pajamas, hair soft and ungelled. Scott feels a little silly for dressing up, but he doesn’t have much time to dwell when Stiles pulls him in for a firm hug.

“Scott! Nice to see you again!” Scott grins and hugs back.

They make their way into Stiles’ standard hotel room and Stiles flops onto the bed. Scott sits on a small lounge chair and shifts the case off of his shoulders.

“Oh, you play as well?” Stiles asks, sitting up.

“I haven’t in a really long time. I forgot a lot of songs,” Scott bashfully admits and pops the case open. Gingerly, he lifts the guitar and strums once. The strings are loose and vibrate pathetically and out of tune. Stiles holds out his hand.

“Let me tune it for you?” Scott hands him the guitar, then eyes Stiles’ acoustic leaning against the nightstand.

“You can pick it up,” he smiles at him. Scott leans over Stiles to grip the fret and lifts it over Stiles head. It’s surprisingly light and Scott settles it on one knee. Up close, he can see the chips and dents from overuse and the stickers stuck on haphazardly. Most are in different languages and some are peeling off, but Scott reads what he can with interest.

“How long have you been playing?”

“Since I was 8 years old. My mother taught me very young,” Stiles says, head still bent down to listen to his tuning. Apparently satisfied with his job, he strums a few simple chords on Scott’s guitar, then smiles. “It sounds much better.”

“Whoah, that was fast! Impressive,” Scott grins, eyes wide..

Stiles gives him a look that’s somewhere in the ballpark of smug and pleased and Scott laughs. “It is!”

“I have been playing guitar for a long time.” He hands Scott’s guitar back and Scott strums at it timidly. His fingers fumble over the chords of a simple Blink-182 song and Stiles tries to hide a laugh while Scott plays.

Scott stops, giving an embarrassed smile. “I’m not very good,” he admits, cheeks flushed.

“No! It was very good. You must practice and your hands will remember,” Stiles says, loud and enthusiastic, brightly smiling all the while.

They play for a few hours, but it ends up being Stiles putting on a second performance.

“I’m a bit hungry. Can we go eat?” Stiles says, standing up and stretching. Scott hops up and follows suit, yawning into his bicep.

“Yeah, dude of course. I’m starving too,” he laughs. “I hadn’t realized how late it was. What do you want to eat?”

Stiles shrugs. “I do not know many American foods except for the hamburger.”

Scott grins. “Then how about Mexican?”

“Okay okay, you promised me you would teach me some Polish,” Scott says later, bumping into Stiles’ shoulders while they walk to the restaurant.

Stiles grins. “What would you like to learn?”

“Let’s start at ‘hello’, first? Go easy on me, okay? I’m a slow learner.”

“Cześć. This is ‘hello’,” Stiles says. Scott slows down to watch Stiles’ lips form the words.

“Che-sch,” he says, slower, eyes crinkling. They’ve both stopped in the middle of the sidewalk now to face each other. Stiles repeats himself again.

Scott repeats him. It feels awkward to say, but Stiles lights up. “Very good, Scott!” He claps him on the shoulder.


“Yes, that was very good. Doh vid-ze-nyah.”

“Doh vid-ze-nyah. Is that goodbye?”

“Yes. You are a liar. You say you are a slow learner, but you are picking it up quickly!”

Scott shrugs, embarrassed and Stiles shoves him, laughing. “It is true!”



Hanging out with Stiles is like finding out hoverboards are real and he’s been missing out his whole life. Stiles is so easy to talk to, and even though English isn’t his first language, he gets Scott, so completely.

It’s incredible how quickly they become in sync with each other and how similar they are. Even the differences just seem like places they fill in each other.

They hang out every day, even if Scott has a double shift, he makes time. Sometimes Stiles has to play a show in a different state, but he texts and calls and skypes if he’s away.

It feels strange if they don’t talk all day, Scott finds.

The girls notice it quickly, especially Lydia, who always raises her perfectly manicured eyebrows at him every time he mentions Stiles.

“What?” He asks, frowning when she doesn’t answer his question.

“I’m sorry, do you realize what you just asked me?”

“Yes,” Scott says slowly, confused. “I asked you if you thought Stiles would like the green one or the blue one better.” He’s holding two guitar straps, one in each hand.

“Scott, I don’t know. I’m not the one boinking him,” she flips her hair. Scott’s cheeks warm. He draws his eyebrows together, frowning.

“I’m not. We’re not like that. He’s just my friend.”

Lydia rolls her eyes.

“You talk about him constantly, it’s actually worse than talking about Kira’s puppy. You literally made me stop in a music store so you could buy him stupid guitar straps.”

Scott shrugs, nonplussed. Scott has lived in Beacon Hills all of his life and Stiles is the most interesting person he’s ever met. He’s doesn’t want to feel weird about it. If Lydia wants to think that they’re doing it, he’ll let her.

He picks the blue one in the end.


Stiles is in LA, recording the first part of his album and it totally blows, how much Scott misses him. But it’s the first time in a while that he’s hung out with Allison one on one. She’s laying her head on his stomach, flipping through one of her magazines while he texts Stiles about work drama.

“Is that Stiles?”

“Mmhmm,” he says, half paying attention to Allison when Stiles texts back in all Polish to mess with him. Scott grins anyway, copying the text to translate it.

Allison puts down the magazine.

“How is he?” she asks sincerely, watching Scott’s face closely. He puts down the phone in exchange and sighs.

“He’s good. He’s almost done recording the first song and then he’ll be back here. I’m sorry, this is probably boring you. I’ll stop talking about Stiles, I swear.”

She laughs, a slow smile spreading over her pretty features. “Scott, you don’t have to do that. I don’t mind hearing about Stiles.”

Scott shakes his head, putting his phone back into his pocket. “I’ll at least stop texting him. I’m here to hang out with you.”

“And I’m hanging out with you. I want to hear about you! I’m really happy for you, Scott. So okay, how do you feel about him?”

Scott quietly groans to himself. If him and Stiles are best friends on the same wave length, Lydia and Allison are the exact same way.

“Please don’t make this weird,” he mutters defensively.

She tilts her head, frowning at him. “I’m not! I’m being completely serious! Just answer honestly, not how you think I want you to respond.”

Scott sighs, giving her a guilty look for snapping. How does he feel? They’ve known each other less than 2 months, but it feels like it’s been a lifetime. Sometimes when he thinks about that past, he pictures how Stiles would’ve reacted if he was there too. Life is just better with Stiles in it.

“He’s my best friend.”

She takes his hand, squeezing gently to her chest. “Sometimes, that’s the best person to fall in love with.”

His stomach does a small twist and Allison reads his worry. “I’m not saying that you will, but I’m just saying that it’s easy.” She pats him once on the head. “I’ll stop talking about it, okay? Besides, I want to hear about your nurse night shift.”

Scott feels relieved for the subject change. This is something he can do. He smiles, launching into the story of Kali almost punching the other male nurse, Ennis, in the face for taking her packed lunch last month. But this month, they were caught in a broom closet doing some very athletic things with each other.

“So scandalous,” Allison mock gasps, dissolving into giggles.

“Yeah, well Mama McCall was super pissed.”

Allison laughs louder, Scott’s laughter joining the chorus until they’re breathlessly leaning on each other.



Stiles beams when he spots Scott among the chauffeur signs and runs towards him, duffel bag bouncing jouncily behind him. He pulls him into a hug, burying his tired, jet lagged smile into Scott’s neck.

Scott remembers Allison’s words and hesitates back, but Stiles is warm and sagging into him and he shakes himself of the anxiety. He wraps his arms around Stiles, who lets out a small sigh. It’s not like they’ve never hugged before.

“Are you tired?” Scott pulls away slightly to look down at Stiles’ head, still tucked into the crook of his neck.

“Yes. I do not sleep much when I am recording,” Stiles looks up, smiling softly. “And I am very hungry.”

Stiles chatters the whole ride in the car about how amazing the studio was. “It is only a demo, but I have never been recorded before!”

Scott grins. “Dude, you’re really really good. I really think you can make it.”

Stiles twists his bottom lip with his teeth, holding in a small smile. “Really? You are just saying this because you are my friend.”

“No, I’m not. You’re going to become all famous and forget all about Beacon Hills and me.”

Stiles claps a hand to Scott’s shoulder, suddenly looking very serious. “Do not say this. You are my friend. My best friend and I would never forget you. It is impossible.”

Stiles fingers are a gentle pressure on Scott’s shoulder blades, until it feels normal. A part of him.


Stiles has a show the next night, which Scott and the girls attend. It’s a different venue from where they met, but it’s way more packed than the first one. Stiles hangs out with them in the green room before his set, and coos when Kira and Malia show up with their puppy.

He’s zipping in and out of conversations with the group, chatting animatedly with nervous energy. Scott pulls him into his lap when Stiles refuses to sit down and have a drink of water. Scott can tell he’s nervous and he seems to calm when Scott won’t let him go. Scott ignores the blatant eyerolls and sighs Lydia is giving them.

“Hey, just relax. You’re going to do great,” Scott says, massaging out an imaginary knot from Stiles shoulders. Stiles sighs, slumping further into Scott and twists his neck so they’re face to face.

“I know, I know.”

Stiles’ manager peeks his head in, throwing out some fast Polish, as usual and Stiles lets out a big, dramatic sigh.

“I don’t want to move. You are so comfortable.” Scott grins into Stiles’ shoulder and bounces his legs up to shake him.

“You have to, come on!”

The girls leave the room first, following a big security guy out to the front of the stage.

Stiles eventually gets up. He looks nice, Scott muses, wearing the vest from the night the met over a dark blue shirt. He extends a hand down to Scott and hoists him up to his feet.

Stiles yanks one more time, pulling Scott to him. He bumps gentle into Stiles' front, and he feels a hand go to his waist to steady him. He’s smiling, lazily and blinks his long lashes at Scott, who doesn’t know what to say. His heart speeds up when it seems like Stiles is going to lean in--

His manager pops in again, going squirrely with impatience and Stiles shoots Scott an apologetic look. Stiles pulls away, finally, fingers trailing out of Scott’s hand reluctantly and picks up his guitar.

“I’ll see you out there,” Scott nods to him, hand still warm, and shoves it into his pocket. Stiles nods back and follows his manager out. Scott can hear the crowd go ballistic as his heart keeps thundering on. Calming himself, he steps out of the green room as the chords of Stiles’ most popular song starts.

Stiles is magnificent, as always.


They go to a gastropub outside of the city a week later. They’ve both been busy with work, so this is the first time hanging out since the concert. Scott feels nervous, excited. His palms sweat white Stiles discusses his favorite American movies, munching blissfully unaware on his fries.

“After this, do you want to go to see a movie?” Scott offers, voice wobbling and octave too high. Stiles narrows his eyes, still chewing on a fry.

“Is this a date? It sounds like a date.”

Scott flushes, biting his lip. That’s not why-- He looks up at Stiles, whose cheeks have gone pink. “Do you want it to be?”

“Yes!” Stiles shouts so loudly that a few people turn to look at them. Stiles doesn’t seem to notice though, grinning from ear to ear. Scott snorts and reaches out to take his hand across the table.

“Then yes. I’d like to take you out on a date,” he says, thumb soothing across Stiles’. It feels like his face is going to split open from smiling so much.

“I’ve been waiting for you to ask me,” Stiles admits, grinning just as toothily.

“I’ve been too scared to until just now.”

Scott pays for lunch and they hold hands down to the theater. There’s nothing that either of them want to watch, but the theater is cool compared to the hot humidity outside, so Scott picks the first thing that’s playing in the hour.

He doesn’t pay attention much to the movie, since Stiles spends most of it nuzzling into Scott’s neck, licking and leaving very impressive hickies. He even finds out that Scott’s earlobes are sensitive and spends extra time sucking and biting them until Scott almost creams himself like a teenager. Stiles, of course, is very smug about the whole thing.


Allison is right. It’s easy falling for your best friend.

Now that they’re more than friends (boyfriends?), they more or less spend every waking moment with each other. It’s not that much different from before, except now Scott gets to lean over and kiss Stiles whenever he wants, which is very very often.

They play guitar for a few hours until Scott’s fingers ache. He’s getting better, less clumsy with a couple of new songs that Stiles taught him over skype.

“Do you miss Poland?” Stiles looks over at Scott from where he’s lying on his stomach on Scott’s bed. He props his chin thoughtfully on his fists.

“Yes, of course I do. I miss my mother and father very much. I also miss the food. Food here is,” he makes a face. “Greasy.”

Scott laughs.

“Well, we’re close to San Francisco. Maybe I can find you a good Polish spot this weekend?”

“I would like that,” Stiles nods, then bites his lip, eyes glinting. “But I would like you to come over here and kiss me even more.” He even adds a crooked finger, gesturing for Scott to come over.

Scott sighs dramatically, placing his hands on his hips.

“Well, I guess I could do that,” he says, voice lilting. He’s close enough for Stiles to grab his wrists and pull him down on the bed. Scott lands on his side, giggling and rolls onto his back. Stiles takes the opportunity to crawl over Scott, straddling him with a devilish grin.

“So sneaky,” Scott chides, hands settling on Stiles’ hips.

Stiles leans down and Scott up, craning to bump their noses before kissing Stiles, who makes all these fantastic, musical sounds when Scott licks into his mouth. Stiles scoots down so he can half lay on Scott, their chests together. He’s heavy, but Scott doesn’t mind since this way, he can get his hands under Stiles’ shirt and the expanse of his back.

They kiss for a while, slow and languid, tongues chasing each other. Scott’s starting to break a sweat, and Stiles’ skin is getting clammy, so Scott does him a favor and tugs the shirt off of him. Stiles smirks down at him, nipping at Scott’s top lip in retaliation. Scott gives him an innocent look that says he was only helping. Stiles rolls his eyes and snuffles, which Scott finds adorable.

Scott puts a hand on Stiles’ chest, pushing him off so Scott can scoot back enough to take off his shirt. Stiles eyes him appreciatively, muttering something darkly in Polish. Scott’s dick jumps at the liquid sounds of Stiles’ mother tongue, and he coughs to hide it.

Stiles doesn’t notice, going in to attack Scott’s neck instead.

“Um,” Scott says, moaning when Stiles sucks another hickey to his neck.

“Hmm?” Stiles hums.

“This is going to sound- you don’t have to. But can you keep talking in Polish?”

Stiles pulls away, blinking. Then he starts laughing and Scott flushes, embarrassed by his request.

“You like it when I speak Polish?” Stiles asks, bewildered.

“Yeah,” Scott shrugs, smiling shyly. “It’s hot,” he admits. Stiles waggles his eyebrows, lips spread into what Scott has started labelling ‘The Grinch’ smile.

“Oh really? What should I say?” Stiles asks in his most flirtatious voice.

“Anything. Just keep talking,” Scott says, pushing back on Stiles’ neck. Stiles gets the idea and lays back so Scott can have his turn on top.

“This is always a hard thing to answer. I don’t know what to say,” Stiles laughing again.

Scott kisses Stiles on the lips, gentle and dry. “You don’t have to,” he whispers, then noses his way down Stiles’ neck and plants another kiss to Stiles’ collarbone.

“I want to, for you. I am just having difficulty thinking of what to say.”

Scott slides down the lean plane of Stiles’ body, peppering his ribs and belly with kisses until he gets to Stiles’ waist. He hesitates, tugging nervously at the drawstring on Stiles’ sweatpants. He’s never given a blowjob before, and they’ve mostly just been kissing and dry humping. Stiles runs a hand through Scott’s thick hair, licking his lips. Scott looks up, watching the pretty flush on his chest and neck and kisses his hips before moving on, no more doubt.

“Bez pracy nie ma kołaczy,” Stiles says, suddenly, sounding apprehensive when Scott tugs the waistband past his thighs, releasing his cock. Scott has no idea what he’s saying, but it sounds like an encouragement to continue.

Scott eyes Stiles’ dick, studying it. It’s just like any other dick, except it’s attached to Stiles, who’s now grunting, eyes squeezed tight. Scott takes the base in his loose hand and Stiles’ hips stutter automatically. There’s precome and Scott licks at it experimentally, the bitter taste flecking along his tongue.

“Biednemu zawsze wiatr w oczy”, Stiles grits out, and opens one eye, glancing down at Scott. He takes the moment to take Stiles into his mouth and Stiles moans. Scott smiles to himself, eyes crinkling winningly.

Scott licks unsurely around the tip, which Stiles seems to like, because his voice goes an octave higher, muttering out a desperate, “Czego Jaś się nie nauczy, tego Jan nie będzie umia!”

Scott is sure he’s not winning any prizes for best blowjob, but he’s doing his best. He can’t make it very far down the length before he chokes, the unfamiliar weight uncomfortable at the back of his throat. But he sucks as hard as he can and jacks Stiles sloppily with his hand to make up for it.

Stiles is going crazy, hand gripping so tightly onto Scott’s shoulder, he’s going to leave a bruise.

“Czym skorupka...shit.. za młodu nasiąk-nie…,” Stiles groans when Scott hums, trying to bob down. “Fuck, Scott,” Stiles can’t even finish what he’s going to say and Scott has a strange rhythm going that makes Stiles mouth slack open, moaning constantly now.

Stiles’ hips rise off the bed, signalling Scott to pull away and tighten his hand. He jacks Stiles harder, his own hips grinding on the bed as Stiles starts to come.

Stiles goes quiet, then like it’s ripped from his vocal chords, in a strangled, “ Kocham Cię!” Scott’s eyes widen. That one, he definitely recognizes, but he’s so close to coming, he doesn’t respond. He can’t, not when his hips are grinding hard, fast against the sheets, Stiles’ hand somehow tangled in his.

Scott comes, quiet, open mouthed, eyes fluttering. It’s the best orgasm he’s had in years.

Drained, he slumps back onto the mattress and Stiles laughs, hand cupping his jaw fondly.

“That was very wonderful. Like, awesome. Awesome,” Stiles says, which makes Scott giggle giddily, because he loves the way ‘awesome’ sounds in Stiles’ accent. “Come back here,” Stiles says, raspily and Scott does, wiggling up the bed awkwardly on all fours.

He leans in, kissing Stiles before he collapses next to him and sighs content. He absently touches at his lips, which feel puffy and used.

“We should get cleaned up,” Scott says, finally. Stiles makes a loud noise of objection and Scott starts laughing again, feeling high off the orgasm and-

He turns to Stiles, who turns his head, smile wisping the corners of his mouth up. “What?” Stiles asks.

“You said a lot of stuff. What were you saying?”

Stiles raises his eyebrows, then huffs out a small, squeak from the back of his throat. “Don’t laugh, because I told you I could not think of what to say. I was just saying a lot of old Polish sayings.”

Scott does laugh, throwing his head back, because that’s exactly the kind of thing Stiles would do. Stiles fake pouts and then snorts a long.

“I can’t believe it. So you were saying like, ‘Slow and steady wins the race’ while I was blowing you?” Stiles pouts for real this time, cheeks flushing rosy again.

“Shut up!”

Scott wants to say something about what Stiles shouted when he came, but the moment’s over, because Stiles rolls off the bed. He trips, clumsily over his half pulled down sweatpants, arms flailing. Scott snorts and Stiles recovers, glaring at him.

Stiles ducks into the bathroom and Scott takes this time to pull off his own pants and tidy himself up with a tissue. Stiles comes plodding back in, eyes landing on Scott’s cock. Scott’s dick gives an interested twitch at the hungry look in Stiles’ eyes, but it’s going to be at least another 15 minutes before they can go again. Stiles slides in next to Scott, kissing his forehead sweetly.

“Hey,” Scott says, quietly turning to face a yawning Stiles.

“Do you want to sleep?” Stiles asks, yawning again.

“That’d be nice, but um,” Scott finds Stiles’ hands under the cover. “I.. ko-hum cheh,” he mispronounces, wincing at himself. But Stiles freezes.

“Did you just say-”

“Yes. Like, I butchered it. But you said it earlier, and I googled it a while back. But I do. I love you,” Scott says quickly. “I totally love you.”

Stiles responds by burying his head in Scott’s chest and mumbling, “You are so cute and I love you,” over and over again. His ears are pink and Scott’s flushed with happiness at how natural it feels. He slings his arms over Stiles, pulling him closer.

Scott falls asleep first, Stiles repeating ‘I love you’ into his skin.


The first time Stiles’ song plays on the radio, the whole group is there. The fast chords blast out of the speakers and Scott hollers over the music with the girls, who are clapping and yelling along. Stiles grins when Scott’s arms slide under his and he lifts, picking him off the ground in victory. Stiles laughs, shoulders bouncing and throws his arms up, fist pumping to the beat.

This is it, Scott thinks when the song ends.

This is only the start.