"Well . . ."

Stiles turned to lie on her side, one arm propped up to support her head.

"Well what?" Scottie responded, eyes remaining closed and savoring the peace that came with being on the cusp of awake and asleep.

"Well can we talk about the sexual tension between you and Jackie?"

"What." Scottie sprang up, eyes wide and panicked, clutching the sheet to her chest.

Stiles nearly tumbled off the bed, feet tangling in the sheets, arms gesticulating in a frantic manner.

Her mouth fell open. "What!" She echoed.

"I said it first." Scottie replied eyes wide and panicked.

"Dude I was joking!" Stiles screamed. She paused, and then continued on in a quieter tone. "I mean I knew something happened, obviously. Jackie Whitmore usually doesn't acknowledge our existence. So imagine my curiosity when she started glaring holes in to the back of your skull. It really was hard to miss, but," she pauses, licking her lips. "Dude."

Silence filled the space between them for several beats before stiles, shifting forward, smacks Scottie, hard.

Scottie flinches back, rubbing at her arm and shooting Stiles an indignant look.

"Domestic abuse Stiles."

"Best friends Scottie, I need details, deets, facts, a play by play, alphabetical listing of all the different tongue and manual techniques used." Stiles leans in close, raising her hand and wiggling her fingers.

Scottie watches the digits move and frowns. "We didn't have sex Stiles."

"Well there had to be some nipple flicking involved." She demonstrates, because really Scottie isn't as perverted as a normal teen should be and Stiles is worried that she may not even know what sex actually is.

Scottie rolls her eyes but lays back down.

"What kind of porn do you even watch?" She asks, only a hint of judgment creeping in to her voice.

Stiles bristles, huffs, and glares down at her best friend.

"You have to subscribe to all the good stuff," she frowns. "With a credit card."

There is silence that lasts only a moment before Stiles shifts forward and Scottie, in response, flinches.

"We made out!" She blurts out before Stiles can lay down anymore physical abuse.

Stiles blinks, "like angry sex without the sex?"

Scottie rolls her eyes. "Lay off the sex Stiles."

"Okay but none of this?" She wiggles her fingers again and Scottie swats them down with a glare.

"No."

"Oh."

"Yea."

"Was it consensual?"

"Jesus Stiles." Scottie shouts her eyes widening in disbelief.

Stiles leans back against the headboard and begins bouncing her leg, her gaze serious and unwavering.

"Of course it was." Scottie hisses, though a part of her warms at the fact that Stiles would ask.

Stiles shrugs, "Just making sure but . . ."

"No," Scottie interrupts, pulling the sheets over her head. "No more questions, I promised I wouldn't even tell anybody and now you know."

Stiles rolls her eyes heavenward.

"Idiot, I'm not anybody, I'm your best friend. That automatically means I know everything you know. It's like telling a married person a secret and not expecting them to tell their significant other. It's a two for the price of one deal."

She pauses before continuing.

"So you're telling me nothing freaky happened?"

"Why are you so sure that something," Scottie lifts her head to makes air quotes. "'Freaky' did happen?"

Stiles gives her a look full of exasperation.

"Have you seen Jackie Whitmore?"

"Uh, yes?" Scottie replies confused.

"The girl owns leather boots Scottie, knee high leather boots. Like the really shiny kind."

"Um . . ."

"The really shiny leathery kind that usually comes with a whole outfit." Stiles reiterates.

When Scottie continues to stare at her confused Stiles throws her arms up in defeat. Several minutes pass between them in silence before, "you really need to find better porn Stiles."

Stiles turns her back on the brunette, contemplating the cons and benefits of going on the hunt for a new best friend.

She's pretty sure they did more than make out. Scottie is a horrible liar.