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I don't know.

[ It's where it all started, he guesses. ] I dreamt about my dad's patrol car too. And lacrosse.

[He goes back to his bed]

That makes more sense than my house.

Look, occasionally I dream about bouncy castles made of whipped cream okay? I don't have to make sense.

What.

What.

[ Pulling a face. ]

Nevermind, Stiles.

[ Sitting on the edge of his bed. ]

So, from a werewolf prospective how obvious is - [ Waving a hand between them. ] Do I have a giant sign over my head?

Not really. The entire building smells like me.

So if I kiss you again, will he notice?

Probably not.

[It's not like they're having sex everywhere. Or anywhere.]

[ BUT WHYYYYYY.

So he shifts closer, a grin on his face. ] Gonna kiss you then.

[He kisses Stiles first, aggressively. Sorry, but not sorry.]

[ He practically whimpers, leaning in to the space between them. ]

Fuck.

[He pulls him back, kisses him again, growls just a little]

Like that?

[ Practically a whine. ]

Fuck.

That isn't a fuck.

[ Flushing. ]

I know.

I promise you, anymore than this and Scott will know.

[ BUT HE'S LIKE TWO SECONDS AWAY FROM A SURPRISE BONER. ]

We'll tell him there were killer bees.

What?

You had to cover me. To save me from the bees. I'm totally allergic.

[ He is not. Also he's trying not to laugh. ]

No you're not.

[ Sigh. ]

I am trying to find us an excuse, dude.

Keep looking.

[He almost looks amused.]

I fell and landed on your -

[ STOP HIM DEREK. ]

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