sanlorenzo | (no subject)

(no subject)

[ okay, so. he's not sure that he and scott are exactly on what either one of them would call "good terms" right now, but he also doesn't know who else to reach out to right now. so: here he is. ]

hey. it's stiles.

[ ... alright no duh, but he's kind of casting about awkwardly here. ]

you up?

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[ No one can know this isn't the first time Stiles has done this.

Scott tries to keep a straight, refusing to laugh because laughing would mean admitting what Stiles just did was funny. He'd like to think he's too old to react with amusement at having a raspberry blown against him...

Then again, they are watching cartoons right now, so it comes as no surprise when Scott lets out an involuntary giggle, then grabs a cushion, holding it over Stiles' face as though to smother him. His hold is gentle, though. ]

[ stiles is going to operate on sheer reflex when he retaliates: he twists slightly, trying to escape from beneath the pillow, and pulling his hands up to dig into scott's sides in a desperate attempt to tickle the shit out of him.

it really feels like they're kids again, for a moment. he likes it. ]

[ Wow, no, who said tickling was allowed? ]

Dude-- [ He bats Stiles' hands away. ] Quit it or you're gonna end up on the floor. [ Not by accidentally falling - but shoved by Scott. ]

You were the one smothering me! Tickling is totally an admissible defense. Don't even pretend it's not, Scott McCall.

[ he's a little out of breath for some reason, but at least he's not trying to escape Scott's lap. ]

You started it by blowing a raspberry at me. Who even does that?

[ Strange boys named Stiles Stilinski, that's who. ]

I have the weirdest taste in best friends... [ He's teasing you, Stiles. ]

[ stiles glances up at him, then, before rolling so that the back of his head is pillowed in scott's lap. he's growing a little more serious as he contemplates him in silence, and then- ]

So I'm still your best friend?

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