Chapter Text
Oh shit!” Stiles yelled as Scott’s skateboard flipped over, his friend flying into a nearby fence shrub and landed with a yelp. Stiles slipped off of his own board, but managed to stay up right as he ran towards his friend who’s body sagged a little. "Shit, Scott!“ Stiles said dropping to his knees next to his best friend, hand raised as he waited to see if Scott was going to get up. Scott groaned a little. "Dude, are you ok?” Scott pulled his head out of the bush, hissing. He had a bunch of branches in his hair. Blood poured from his nose and some cuts across his face. His hands and wrists were fucked up too. "You look like shit, bro,“ Stiles said gently. Scott glared at him.
"Get my board, asshole,” he said getting up gingerly. His knees were fucked up too where he’d skidded across the grass and sidewalk.
“Do you need any help?” Stiles asked.
“Just get my board,” Scott said hobbling in the direction of Stiles’s house. Of course Stiles’s dad was gone, so he just threw their boards on the porch as Scott sat on the couch, limbs out.
“I’ll be right back,” Stiles said rushing up to the bathroom. He grabbed the first aid kit, some old towels, a damp washcloth, and rushed back to his friend. He threw the box down and swiped at Scott’s knee. Scott bit back a scream.
“What the fuck, dude?” He yelled, blood flying. "Warn someone when you’re going to do that!“ Stiles made a face.
"Sorry,” he said. "Just the couch…" Scott looked down and saw the blood rolling dangerously close to the material. He scooted his hips lower so that the blood would hopefully trail down his calves. He took a dry towel from Stiles’s stack and held it to his nose, willing it to stop bleeding. Stiles worked quickly, and gentler than before. He cleaned up Scott’s knees, and put some medicine on them, hoping it would be enough. Next Stiles worked on Scott’s arms and hands. He had just finished when he noticed the holes in Scott’s shirt. "Take off your shirt,“ Stiles instructed, pushing the bandages to the side. Scott looked up alarmed.
"What?! Why?” Stiles pushed his finger through a hole, careful to not touch Scott. "Oh…" He mumbled. He handed the bloody towel to Stiles and pulled his shirt off. Stiles was relieved to see it wasn’t that bad, but he did have a scrape across his stomach that needed to be cleaned.
“I’m gonna go rinse the rag,” Stiles said getting up. He went to the kitchen and rinsed out the rag. When he came back, Scott was staring tiredly at the ceiling. "You ok?“ Stiles asked as he wiped the rag across Scott’s abdomen. Scott coughed and shifted a little.
"Yeah, just…” Stiles nodded and finished as fast as he could. Scott’s face proved a little bit harder. His chin and nose were scraped raw; his cheek had a cut that had oozed thick, dark blood, and dirt and twigs clung to his forehead. Stiles worked as fast as he could without hurting Scott any more than necessary. When he was done, Scott still looked Terrible with a capital ‘T’, but at least he was clean. Stiles dug through his dad’s medicine cabinet and found some Vicodin that the Sheriff had gotten a few months before when he threw his back out, which he gave to Scott with some Cherry Koolaid to wash it down. Scott took it and flopped back on the couch. "I’ll call your mom and tell her you’re crashing here tonight,“ Stiles said as Scott pulled his legs up so he could lay on his side.
“‘Kay,” he said. When Stiles got back, Scott had passed out. Stiles cleaned up the trash and rags, and then went to make some dessert because it was too early to cook dinner. When the Sheriff came home a couple of hours later, Scott woke up feeling groggy and nauseous. Stiles got him some more Kool-Aid and helped him to the table.
"I see you two were out playing hard,” the Sheriff said. For some reason he had four heads.
“Stiles gave me some of your Vicodin,” Scott confessed, and the four headed Sheriff laughed as Stiles dropped the knife he’d been holding.
“Seriously?!” He said to Scott but the Sheriff shrugged, still laughing with all four spinning heads.
“He looks like hell. I’d have probably given him some too. Do you need another?” The Sheriff asked. Scott shook his head, staring at his his plate that was spinning before him. "Do you need a—" But it was too late, Scott was already puking all over the table. He made a strange noise, and barfed again as Stiles searched for a bowl. "Better?“ The Sheriff asked. Scott nodded a little, wiping his chin with his hand. Stiles and the Sheriff cleaned him up again and put him back on the couch. He fell asleep for a few more hours. Stiles and his dad talked in the kitchen with all the windows open, trying to make the smell dissipate. Eventually the Sheriff gave up and went to his room to eat. Stiles nibbled on some bread as he watched his friend on the couch. Eventually Stiles curled around him, pulling a light blanket close to them.
He woke up a few hours later to Scott groaning and trying to untangle himself from Stiles’s long limbs.
"Gotta pee,” Scott muttered. Stiles let him go and he rushed to the bathroom. Stiles sat up, yawning and rubbing his eyes. Scott came back and sat next to Stiles.
“Did I dream that I barfed all of the kitchen table?” Scott asked. Stiles made a face and laughed.
“Unfortunately, that totally happened.” Scott groaned a little.
“Was your dad mad?” He asked. Stiles shook his head, no.
“He said he would have probably given you the Vicodin too… Sorry I didn’t think to make you eat with it…” Scott shrugged a little, rubbing his eyes, and leaning into Stiles. "Wanna go up to my room? My bed is bigger…" Scott nodded a little and stood up, aware for the first time he was wearing Captain America underwear that was most certainly not his. Stiles blushed a little as he grabbed the blanket.
“You puked all over yourself, and it got on your underwear…” Stiles explained. "My dad was not about to let you lay on the couch soaked in puke…" Scott blushed as he took the blanket and draped it over himself. Everything was covered, but Stiles was a fan of briefs and Scott only ever wore boxer briefs.
“‘S cool,” Scott said as he started towards the stairs. They went upstairs and climbed into Stiles’s bed. Stiles hesitated for only a minute before pulling Scott close.
“This ok?” Stiles asked, trying to shove his face behind Scott’s neck in a way that wasn’t uncomfortable. Scott could smell Doritos on his friend’s breath.
“Yeah…” He whispered, sliding his fingers through Stiles’s. They fell back asleep.
***
Scott woke up unbearably hard. He’d had the most interesting dream where he’d crashed on his skateboard and ended up in Stiles’s bed, wearing Stiles’s underwear. Scott shifted in his sleep, stretching and scratching his stomach, listening to the birds outside. He opened his eyes a little and saw Stiles lying next to him with an arm draped over his eyes, and his other hand playing with a dark happy trail. Scott became slowly aware of how his body achedand the various places covered in Spongebob band aids. Scott tried to crawl out of the bed, but Stiles’s arm shot out and pulled him close.
“Stay,” Stiles breathed tangling himself around Scott, unaware of Scott’s discomfort. He knew he wouldn’t be able to hide it for long, but there wasn’t really any hiding it. Stiles murmured something and then kissed Scott’s naked shoulder. Scott shoved him away roughly. Stiles opened his eyes looking as shocked as Scott. ”Uh…” He said as Scott sat up, hands in his lap.
“Morning,” Scott managed. Stiles nodded, pulling the sheets around him. They both started giggling after a minute and then Stiles sat up, pulling Scott closer, kissing him. Just as it was getting interesting, the Sheriff knocked on the door and came in, both boys nearly leaping out of their skin. The Sheriff didn’t say anything as he handed Scott his phone and walked out of the room.
“Hey, mom,” Scott said. "Yeah, I’m fine…" Stiles watched as Scott talked his mom, wondering if he should get up and put on pants but deciding he’d rather just lay back and stare at the beautiful boy who was his best friend talk to his mother on this early Saturday morning.