By the time that the duo flopped through the doorway, thoroughly soaked through so that every piece of clothing dragged down toward the floor, as if repelled by their skin, the storm cloud had swollen to thick, black behemoths. Rivers of rainwater ran down the streets and across the sidewalks, making the boys' shoes squeak and squelch on the hardwood floors of the foyer. Stiles tracked mud through the house as he brought the dripping boy upstairs and into his room. Scott was shivering, making his wounds scream out in pain. Stiles gently set him on the bed.
"S-S-S-S-So you can... make... m-m-magic?" Scott stammered, still freezing cold. Stiles had more or less explained the situation to Scott on the way back, retelling the entire tangled story between booming cracks of thunder.
Rather than responding to Scott's question, he set a flaming ball of fire in the air next to Scott, floating above the boy to warm him. Moving as slowly and gently as possible, Stiles set to work on removing the soggy clothes from Scott's well-defined frame. "How are your wounds feeling?" Stiles asked.
"It looks like they've all healed, but it still hurts," Scott said, wincing. Stiles smiled at the boy's cute, pained expression.
Rolling his eyes at how corny he was being, Stiles continued to gently work the t-shirt over Scott's aching shoulders. "They've healed on the outside, but you're still bleeding inside," he explained, still able to see the angry marks in his energy flows. "I took took the Alpha control out of you, so you'll heal regularly. But Derek still..."
Stiles stopped short, pausing in his nurse duties as well as his dialog. Scott looked at his face and saw his jaw clenching and unclenching. He could hear the blood coursing father through his veins. The boy's breath was hitched in his throat.
"I'll get over it," Scott said. "Especially with you as my nurse."
Stiles lightened up. "Do you think I should get a little outfit? With heels and a poufy skirt?"
Scott grimaced. "Aw, dude, now I'm picturing my mom in that!"
Stiles also cringed at the thought. "Ohh, why did you have to share that? Couldn't you keep your Oedipus complex in your own head?" Stiles said, his face contorting in disgust. Scott smiled at the boy. He couldn't help thinking his overdramatic reactions were cute. He liked the way Stiles mouth stretched and snapped while making faces, like a rubber band. Stiles noticed he was being ogled, and awkwardly set back to his work. "I better be getting overtime for this."
A moment of comfortable quiet pervaded, accented by the hard patter of the storm outside and the occasional burst of thunder.. Stiles finally managed to wrangle Scott's t-shirt over his head with minimal movement of the boy, and moved on to his soaking wet shoes and socks. Scott lay still, trying to compartmentalize the pain echoing through his body. He thought of Stiles, and how the boy had come to his rescue, like a knight on horseback. He hadn't realized that after all these years, his best friend shared his secret love.
As if picking up on Scott's thoughts, Stiles broke the silence. "Sorry... about what I told you," he said nervously. "You know, earlier. That was kinda a lot to dump on you all at once. And then I went into how I'm a witch. And you were still recovering. So, just forget I said it."
"Said what?" Scott asked, peering around the flaming ball hovering above him to look at Stiles. His face betrayed concern.
"You know," Stiles responded, carefully avoiding Scott's eyes. "...That I love you."
"But I don't wanna forget," Scott responded, sounding almost hurt.
"Er, well, just don't feel like you have to-"
"I love you, too," Scott said, interrupting the boy. Stiles paused for a moment before meeting Scott's eyes.
"Don't say it unless-"
"I do," Scott said assuredly, his stare sobering and intense. "I do mean it. I love you."
A quiet moment followed this, neither boy sure how to continue. They could both feel each other's elation, however, and it made them both smile in spite of themselves. Stiles set to work taking off Scott's torn jeans, again moving slowly and deliberately to minimize the boy's pain. "So, ah," Stiles started, unsure of how to pose the question that had popped into his mind. "When you say love..."
"Romantic love," Scott clarified. "I'm in love with you."
Stiles nodded, a satisfied grin on his face. His fireball suddenly took on a pink hue, and the flame started curling back toward the epicenter. Scott smiled at the burning heart staring back at him, keeping him warm. "So when did you-" Stiles stopped short as he looked up, noticing the unintentional portrayal of his emotions through his fire. With a shake of his head, the flames disappeared entirely. "So. When did you first realize... that...uh, you, were... with me..."
"When did I first realize that I was in love with you?" Scott asked, forming the words that were still too new for Stiles to work his mouth around.
"Er, I was just wondering if it's some kind of wolfy thing or... what..." Stiles said, concentrating again on taking of Scott's pants.
Scott smiled, and a crack of lightening lit up the room so that Stiles could see his face. "No, it was long before that. I've known for... some time," Scott said, pausing to decide how much he wanted to reveal. "Since about eighth grade."
"Wait," Stiles said plaintively, leaving Scott's pants at his knees so he could look the boy in the face. "Three years?"
Scott looked sheepish. "Well, yeah. I mean, just about," he responded, now avoiding Stiles' eyes. "I didn't figure you'd ever... you know, go for me. So I just kept it to myself. It was tough. Especially when I was first turning, and hardly in control of my emotions. But... yeah. Three years."
"Wow, that's... a long time," Stiles said, still thoughtful.
"Why, how long has it been for you?" Scott asked.
Stiles stopped, his face frozen like a deer in headlights. He moved back to the slow work of stripping Scott. "Oh, you know, a while," Stiles said dismissively.
"C'mon, tell me," Scott chided, smiling crookedly. "Was it longer than me?"
"No, not... exactly," Stiles said, keeping his eyes on the pants.
"A year?" Scott asked. "Six months? Less than that?"
Stiles looked as if he were about to be hit, cringing away from Scott. "Like.. a week?"
Scott was quiet for a moment. "What?"
"A... week?" Stiles said. "Or so, something like that, somewhere around then is when I realized..."
"You mean that night? When I slept over here? After your mom's anniversary?" Scott asked, as if he were connecting dots in his head.
"Er-yeah, why?" Stiles asked, now interested.
"It's... probably nothing, just this weird dream that I had," Scott said, his eyes far off as he remembered the strange, vivid night.
"Dreams can be very important," Stiles said, remembering his own life-altering dream of his mother that night.
"Well, it was weird," Scott said, looking as if he was trying to remember the course of events in his dream. "I was being chased by a wolf through the woods, which is a pretty normal dream for me. But then it caught me. And it, I dunno, talked to me. I kinda felt like it was my wolf, y'know? Like, the one inside of me. Anyway, it told me that I would find my mate when I smelled Annie's. Weird prophecy stuff, right? I don't usually dream like that. I wonder if it means something. Do you know anyone named Annie?"
"What? Annie?" Stiles asked, confused and a little irritated that Scott couldn't see the unbelievable circumstances unfolding before them, like fate's threads unspooling to guide their way.
"Yeah, when I smell Annie's what? Clothes? Food?" Scott said, adopting the dense look that Stiles had come to love over the years. "I don't even know someone named Annie."
"Anise, genius. A-N-I-S-E. It's a spice. It's used in pfeffernusse, which your mom bakes every Christmas," Stiles said, leaving a trail of breadcrumbs for Scott to follow.
"Oh," Scott said, his thick brows furrowing as he thought. "Oh."
"Yeah, there you go, buddy," Stiles said, giving his knee a gentle pat as he started working the pants off once again.
"Cuz your magic smelled... like Christmas cookies... so then you... are my mate," Scott said, working slowly through the logic.
"Did Derek hit you too hard on the head?" Stiles asked, knocking on his own skull. "Yes. You love me, I love you, we've established this."
"No, Stiles, love is one thing, but mates... that's for life," Scott said, a sobering air of seriousness in his voice. "It's like a destined thing. Wolves rarely find their perfect mate, the person whose genetic code complements theirs perfectly. This is serious."
"Yeah, Scott, I know," Stiles said, falling backwards as he finally tugged the torn jeans over Scott's ankles. The boy moaned slightly at the upset. Stiles walked back over to the head of his bed so the two were face-to-face. "Listen, I was already totally prepared to die for you once, running head first into a den of wolves with no plan."
"You didn't have a plan?!" Scott interjected. Stiles ignored his comment.
"Clearly, I'm totally, utterly, completely yours. For life," Stiles' face took on the somber, earnest quality that Scott had found the boy saved for very few occasions.
"But... I hate that you did risk your life," Scott said, casting his eyes back at the spot where the burning heart had been. It was strange to think that both of them could have died that night, and never shared this moment of tenderness.
"I'd die a thousand times for you," Stiles said, bringing his hand to Scott's face and gently pulling his attention back onto his face. Scott leaned in, his face serious. Stiles thought he was about to respond, but instead, he lifted his lips to meet Stiles' drawing him in to their first kiss. Scott was satisfied to find out that Stiles tasted just as delicious as he smelled. Stiles could feel the magic in Scott's kiss, and knew that the would never be able to love another person in this way. When they parted, a ray of moonlight shone in the space between them. Both cast their eyes to the clouds, which were thick and bloated, save one tiny pinprick, piercing through the thick condensation to allow a beam of moonlight into the room and onto the pair. After a moment, the cloud continued moving, and the hole drifted past the moon, casting the room into darkness once more.
Stiles laughed giddily, unable to contain his joy. Scott looked at him, amused. "So a thousand deaths, huh?" he said. "We're gonna have one hell of a time with hospital bills."
"We'll just start a traveling show," Stiles quipped back. "The Wolfman and The Amazing Dying Boy."
Scott sat up, and happily found that his body was quickly healing, so that he could move a bit more freely now. Stiles smiled as he finally kicked off his own shoes and muddy socks, realizing how cold he'd gotten. The carpet felt soft and comfortable under his bare feet after the soggy clothes had caused his toes to wrinkle. His fingers, too, were pruned, and he noticed a slight blue tinge to them as they shook. Scott, too, started to notice the signs of Stiles' chill. He felt bad for making the boy run out in the rain and for making him stay in his wet clothes until he was done playing nurse.
"I... could warm you up," Scott said tentatively, now feeling like their physical closeness had more significance to it. He didn't want to push Stiles to move any faster than he was comfortable with. "I've got wolfy body heat."
Stiles smirked, taking his shirt off and tossing it with the muddy shoes and socks. "Just to... warm up?" Stiles asked suggestively.
Scott nodded with all of the enthusiasm of a puppy. "I'm like a furnace, dude," he said, opening his arms invitingly. Stiles flopped down on the bed next to him, happily burrowing his face into the boy's broad chest. He noticed a small grimace on his face and made an effort to be gentle as he wrapped his arms around the healing boy's torso. They lay still for a moment, Stiles gratefully absorbing the heat from Scott's warm, tan skin, and Scott happily embracing the boy he'd been chasing for years. Burying his nose in Stiles' hair, he deeply inhaled his scent: the usual mix of vanilla and the scent of old book pages, now with a hint of what he knew to be anise. He broke the silence, his stomach knotted and his face blushing as he made a request. "Uh, Stiles? Your pants are really wet and scratchy. Could you..."
Stiles didn't respond, but simply slipped the wet denim from his legs and dropped them on the floor with a plop, being careful not to disturb his sore boyfriend. He could feel the heady kind of happiness rising in Scott's chest at his compliance. Their hairy legs intertwined in each other, both wanting to let go of the other. Scott's growing stubble scratched the top of Stiles' head as he rested his chin in the boy's hair. Stiles' arm draped over Scott's side, feeling his warmth. His other arm, pinned beneath him, fiddled teasingly with a bit of the boy's torn underwear, his fingers occasionally brushed against Scott's skin and made his pulse jump momentarily. Scott's arms were both wrapped around Stiles' shoulders, drawing him into his chest.
"Oh, and just for the record," Scott said, voicing the concern that popped into his head, "the sheets are wet from my clothes. Not...er, yeah, it's just from the rain."
"No problem," Stiles said, lifting his arm. With a gesture of his hand, he sucked the water out of the sheets, as well as both of their underwear, drawing it into a ball in his hand. He chucked the enchanted water through the window.
The pair once again let comfortable silence take over as they both started to drift into sleep. The darkness of the room hung heavily, adding to the silence. The storm had passed overhead for the moment, leaving the only the hum of crickets, frogs, and distant rain as a backdrop to Scott's breathing. As the darkness started to close around Stiles, he was awoken by a rumbling in Scott's chest. "Stiles?" the tanned boy asked.
"Mmm?" Stiles replied without opening his eyes.
"So, if you can draw water out of materials, like my underwear and the sheets, then... couldn't you have just taken the water out of my clothes?" Scott asked. Stiles could tell without any supernatural senses that his boyfriend had the cute, dense look that he so often adopted. "Instead of taking them off?"
Stiles rubbed Scott's back with his free hand, feeling his skin. He smiled against his chest. "Go to sleep," he responded dismissively, pressing their bodies closer together as they both started to relax and slip into sleep.