Victorian Culture and Society is a surprisingly interesting class. Stiles only signed up for it because he needed another upper level anthropology class to help towards his major and the times fit perfectly with his other classes this semester. Dr. Morrell is not nearly as scary as many of his fellow anthropology majors make her sound, and he finds himself looking forward to the class every week. Tuesday’s lecture had been especially fun because they discussed courting techniques, the old-fashioned word still making Stiles smile just thinking it. Today’s lecture is finishing that lesson up with a more in depth description of the language of flowers and an overview of the relationship process.
The class is still on his mind when he gets home, giving him a new appreciation to the flowers he passes during his walk. He and Scott moved into the apartment after freshman year, neither one of them interested in the lack of privacy that dorm life involved, and they’ve made it their own space in the time since. This is their second year here, and it’s been nice being settled when some of their friends are still packing up and moving to a new dorm each year. Since he’s double majoring in Anthropology and History, and Scott’s doing a pre-med program, they plan to have their little home for another two to three years depending on whether they both get into grad school here or go elsewhere. The medical school here is pretty good, but Stiles knows it’s not one of the best, even if their Anthropology program is, so there’s a chance they might go wherever Scott can get into school.
The question of Scott going somewhere without Stiles isn’t even a possibility because neither of them really ever discuss a possible future where they aren’t sharing a place and living together. Fortunately, Stiles loves his two majors just about equally, and he can always apply to a history program for grad school if that’s the better option. Scott came to this university for him, after all, so it’s only fair that he reciprocate.
Obviously, he’s going to try for his PhD at some point, too, because damn if Scotty’s going to be the only Doctor in the house. His goal is to eventually teach high school most likely because the academic world of higher education is a little too cut throat and pays even less than the educational system in the US these days, what with all the adjunct professor positions and ways universities are getting out of paying their teachers a livable wage. That’s a soap box for another day, though, because he’s in a good mood and doesn’t want to ruin it.
When he enters their apartment, Scott is sitting on the sofa playing video games. A quick glance at the screen tells him it’s COD, and he shakes his head as he tosses his backpack on the sofa next to Scott. “Already playing? Science majors are just wrong.”
“Yeah.” Scott pauses the game to grin up at him. “I finished my paper, and my lab is already turned in, so I’m all caught up for the weekend. Considering the amount of time I’ve spent in the lab this week, I don’t want to hear your whining, Humanities boy.”
“Brag brag.” Stiles stretches his arms up above his head and wiggles a little, relaxing more now that he’s home. “I’ve got about five chapters of reading and note taking to get done plus research for thesis ideas for a class. Oh and this week’s discussion board for the asshole who insists on ruining our weekends by making the questions active only from Friday through Sunday.”
“Ouch.” Scott grimaces on his behalf. “We’ll order pizza tonight, if you want? I got my monthly guilt money from Dad, so we can afford it. Or I could make some tacos?”
“Pizza!” Stiles shrugs out of his outer shirt and kicks off his shoes before he crawls onto the couch, his backpack digging into his belly as he stretches across Scott’s lap. “It’s been weeks since we’ve had something we haven’t had to cook ourselves.”
Scott laughs and brushes his fingers through Stiles’ hair, fingertips kneading his scalp occasionally in a way that makes him squirm. “We’ll do pizza then. No beer, though, because you’ve got too much reading to get done.”
“Sure thing, Daddy,” Stiles mutters, opening an eye to look up at Scott when he suddenly pulls his hair a little too hard. “You okay?”
“Yeah. Just got lost in my thoughts.” Scott’s grin is crooked as he looks down at Stiles. “Now get off me, you lazy ass. You’ve got work to do.”
“Remind me again why I took two such reading intensive majors?” Stiles shifts to his knees, debating whether he needs something to drink now or if he should wait for later. Making his decision, he gets up and heads to the kitchen. Studying the contents of the fridge, he waffles between water and soda. After going a little too crazy with the freedom of college life and spending more time drinking than studying freshman year, he and Scott both knew they had to get their shit together since they had goals that extended beyond flunking out after two terms. So now they usually only drink alcohol at parties or bar crawls, in moderation most of the time, and they don’t even tempt fate by bringing any into the house.
“Get me a soda, would you?” Scott still has the game paused, so he’s being lazy, but Stiles can’t blame him. The lab work he’s got to do keeps him pretty busy.
“What’s the magic word?” Stiles grabs two sodas and a bag of Cheetohs before going back to the living room.
“Pleeeeease,” Scott says, giving him puppy dog eyes when he sees the second can of soda.
“I should make you beg,” he threatens, smiling mischievously as he holds the can up to taunt Scott.
Scott looks at him for a moment before shaking his head slightly. “Or I can make you beg for pizza later.”
“No fair holding my hunger against me. Bad bro.” Stiles hands him the can of soda before he sits down, smiling when he sees that Scott’s moved his backpack for him and got the pillows that Stiles likes most situated for him. “Nah, you’re the best bro in the world.” He gives Scott a sloppy kiss on the head before grabbing his book out of his pack.
“Let me know when you want pizza. I’ll take care of it so you can study.” Scott gets his game controller and starts the game again. Stiles watches him play for a few minutes, but he opens his book when he can feel himself staring at Scott’s hands more than the game.
The only secret he’s ever kept from Scott is the fact that he’s had a crush on him since he was thirteen and realized he liked guys more than girls. He never told Scott that he came to this realization because he found himself wanting to kiss Scott and take him to the dance instead of worrying about finding some girl to ask. Not when Scott’s reaction to his confession had been a big hug and comments about accepting him regardless of who he wanted to kiss and then adoring declarations of puppy love for a new girl in class.
Stiles manages the crush well, always has, and he tries not to think about it much except when he’s alone and naked and not thinking about Scott is impossible. And, sure, some people might say crush is not at all the right word for how feels about his best friend, but Stiles thinks unrequited love belongs in novels not real life, so he chooses to not think about the L word too often. Scott has no idea, of course, and that’s how it’s got to stay.
With that in mind, Stiles focuses on his reading. He talks as he reads, telling Scott about his lecture earlier, discussing how people used flowers to say things they couldn’t actually speak about because of society’s views at the time, and about the whole courting thing with chaperones and shit, rambling on about the topics that he finds pretty fascinating while Scott plays COD and most likely ignores him. That’s why they work so well. Scott lets him talk even if he isn’t listening, and he doesn’t judge Stiles for jumping from subject to subject until he’s away from flowers and on the topic of zombies in the Victorian age. Oddly enough, talking as he reads helps him retain information even when the subjects are completely opposite, and Scott understands that so they’ve got a good system between them.
Scott orders pizza a couple of hours later, and they chat about some of his classes while they eat. He blushes when he admits that some girl in class asked him out for coffee, and Stiles ignores the feeling of dread that sweeps over him as he fears another Scott Dating Drama that leaves him feeling left out and anxious that this girl might be the one. It’s a fear he’s had through Allison, Kira, Stacey, and Amber. Scott’s a serial monogamist who falls head over heels when he falls, and it’s always up to Stiles to support him and to try to protect him from potential heartbreak. Which is difficult when he resents every single girl Scott dates and is always privately gleeful when the relationships never work out.
The whole conversation ruins his mood, and he ends up heading to his bedroom when they finish eating. He uses the excuse of thesis research, but he doesn’t think Scott believes it because he looks skeptical and curious when Stiles walks away. It’s too quiet in his room, so he turns on a playlist and murmurs along to the music as he finishes his reading. Once he’s accomplished something, he decides he deserves a reward, so he has bit of personal one-on-one time imagining what he’d have liked to do to Scott when he got home. It’s good, leaves him relaxed and sleepy, so he doesn’t even bother taking a shower. He just uses a dirty t-shirt to wipe off his cock and his hand before rolling over and going to bed.
Stiles doesn’t have any classes on Wednesday mornings, so he gets to sleep in the next day. He’s heating up leftover pizza when Scott comes home from class. “Honey, I’m home,” Scott calls out with a laugh before he walks to the kitchen area. He’s carrying flowers and his hair is falling across his forehead in a way that makes Stiles’ fingers itch to touch. “Look what I got.”
“Where did you get flowers?” Stiles leans in to sniff the bouquet as Scott walks past him. “These won’t fuck with your asthma, will they?”
“Nah. I’m not bad with flower pollen usually. I just have trouble breathing when I’m around huge fields of them.” Scott gets a cup out of the cabinet and fills it with water. “I got them from the store. That flower shop over on Mulberry? I saw them as I was walking past and thought why not?”
“Yeah, why not?” Stiles agrees, taking his pizza out of the microwave. “Boys like flowers, too, right?”
“Yep.” Scott puts them in the cup and then moves the cup to the center of the table. “What do you think?”
“They’re very cheery and bright. I like them.” Stiles nods. “I know those are daisies and that’s ivy, isn’t it? What’s that one?”
“Um. “Scott tries to remember before grinning brightly. “Gardenias. That’s what the flower lady said.”
“Huh. Haven’t heard of those before. Nice mixture, though. Good job, Scotty.” Stiles sits at their table and munches on pizza. “How was class this morning?”
Scott stares at him in silence for several moments before he sighs and shrugs a shoulder. “Brian and I finished our lab first, so we got out early. I went for a long walk, it’s really pretty out today, and I thought about a lot of stuff. Made my head hurt.”
“Yeah, we know how you like to avoid thinking,” Stiles teases. “You’ll be the only guy in med school who isn’t stressing out because you just go with the flow and don’t overthink shit.”
“Just for that, I’m taking my pizza back.” Scott steals the other slice off Stiles’ plate and takes a big bite, chewing obnoxiously as he gets a bottle of water out of the fridge.
“Ha! I licked those before I heated them up because I knew you’d be home soon.” Stiles feels triumphant and can’t resist doing a victory ass wiggle on his way to the trash can. “You’ve got Stiles cooties now.”
“As if I haven’t built up a tolerance over the last fifteen years.” Scott scoffs and keeps on eating. “I’m immune to Stiles’ cooties by now.”
“Whatever. I still won.” Stiles gloats a little bit more before noticing the time. “Damn it. I’ve got class in ten minutes. I’ll see you tonight.”
Scott just laughs at him when he gets all his stuff together and shoves it in his backpack. He shoots his middle finger up at him as he runs out, which just makes Scott laugh more. He arrives at class with one minute to spare, and he’s soon swept up in a lecture about Genghis Khan’s battle strategies.
The funny thing is that Scott starts bringing flowers home every few days, before the others are even dead yet. There’s red carnations one day, and daffodils another. Some kinds he doesn’t even recognize, having to get Scott to tell him the names. Things like forsythia, that’s actually branches from a shrub that Scott says is a special order the flower lady told him got cancelled, and another called jonquil, which sort of like daffodils. Then there are irises and white lilies and orchids. The whole apartment is constantly smelling like a flower shop, and Stiles doesn’t understand why Scott is so fascinated by flowers until a bad thought occurs to him.
The flower lady that Scott is constantly talking about. That must be why he’s developed such a fondness for the damn things. When Stiles realizes that, he starts to resent them taking up so much space in their apartment and filling it with the smell of an old lady’s bedroom. He tries bringing it up, asking Scott about the flower lady, but Scott just looks frustrated and confused, so it doesn’t go too far. After several weeks of it, Stiles finally gets up early one day just to go to the shop himself to check out the competition, but there’s only one employee working at that time, and she’s older than Scott’s mom. She tries to help him, but he just buys a bouquet of mixed flowers that’s already made up and leaves.
He stops at his favorite diner and gives the bouquet to Ellen, the waitress who always takes care of him and Scott, on his way back to school. It’s been ages since this whole thing started, and he seems to remember Scott talking about some girl asking him out for coffee a while back. He hasn’t heard anything else about her, which is odd, now that he thinks about it. She probably works at the flower shop, he decides. It’s difficult to pay attention in class when he’s imagining Scott keeping secrets and having some clandestine relationship that he isn’t telling Stiles about. He’s worked himself into quite a state by the time he gets home Wednesday night.
When he enters the apartment, Scott isn’t on the sofa playing COD, which is his usual Wednesday evening activity. He sniffs when he notices a pleasant aroma, and his stomach grumbles at the scent of marinara in the air. “Honey, I’m home,” he calls out their usual greeting, dropping his backpack on the floor on his way into the kitchen. “You making spaghetti?”
Scott looks at him from where he’s standing by the stove and shakes his head. “Nah, it’s, uh, lasagna.”
“Seriously? Frozen or?” Stiles looks around at the various pieces of equipment in the sink and on the counter. “Holy shit. You actually made it yourself?”
“Yeah, so I don’t know how good it’s going to be.” Scott shrugs and ducks his head, acting really weird in a way that has Stiles starting to panic.
“Are you moving out?” Stiles blurts it out because it’s one of the worst things he can think of Scott telling him, and that would explain the food and stuff. Lasagna is one of his favorites, but neither of them have ever tried making it before, so it has to be something serious happening for Scott to spend the time doing it. There’s really only two things he can think of that would be so bad that Scott would be trying to butter him up. “Oh God. You’re not engaged, are you? To the flower lady slash coffee girl?”
“What?” Scott looks up, eyes wide and a confused expression on his face. “No, I’m not engaged. Good grief, Stiles. I’m not even dating anyone!”
“Oh.” Stiles feels a little better hearing that, but he’s still suspicious.
“And I’m certainly not dating Betty, the flower lady. She’s old enough to be my grandmother, idiot.” Scott shakes his head. “I’m not moving, either, unless you want me to.”
“Why would I want you to move?” Stiles rolls his eyes. “You’re my brother from another mother, dumbass. My best friend.”
“Right. Best friend. And you might want me to after tonight.” Scott smiles wryly before he turns back to the stove. “I got you those.” He motions towards a vase on the table that has a pretty red rose that’s opened up and a red tulip. Just two flowers this time, not a bouquet for once.
“Wait. You got me those?” Stiles looks from the flowers back to Scott’s back, which is rigid and tense as he faces away from Stiles. “Dude, look at me. Why’d you get me flowers?”
“Why do you think, Stiles?” Scott turns around and gives him the hurt puppy dog look that he hasn’t seen since fifth grade when Stiles’ mom died and he tries fighting with Scott because he was so upset and angry.
“I don’t know,” Stiles whispers, feeling like he’s looking at a puzzle only half the pieces are missing.
Scott actually growls at him. “Your stupid lecture and your stupid enthusiasm and your stupid language of love bullshit ring any bells?”
Stiles blinks at him, some of the pieces starting to fill in. “You actually listened to me about that stuff?”
“I always listen to you, Stiles.” Scott sighs and leans against the cabinet. “It’s been a month, you know? I thought you’d figure it out by now. You’re the smart one, after all.” Scott runs his fingers through his hair. “And I thought maybe you knew but wanted to ignore it, so I was going to just stop, but I can’t stop, Stiles. I’ve tried stopping a lot over the years, and it just gets worse, and I realized I have to know so I can finally let it go.”
“Guess I’m not that smart, buddy.” Stiles looks at the flowers and bites his bottom lip, not entirely sure if the puzzle he’s putting together in his head is actually the right one. He gets out his phone and quickly opens Google. After typing in a few letters, he’s skimming quickly. “Holy shit.”
“Guess it’s a good thing you weren’t living in Victorian times, huh?” Scott smiles wryly, looking as nervous as Stiles has ever seen him. “No one could have courted you if you didn’t have a smartphone available.”
Stiles reaches out to stroke the petals of the tulip. “A declaration of love?” he asks quietly before he touches the open rose. “I love you.”
“Pretty stupid, huh? I got the idea because you were so into that stuff, and I thought you’d get it without me having to put it all out there.” Scott licks his lips, tugging on his shaggy hair again as he stares at Stiles.
“You were wooing me.” Stiles smiles slightly as he steps closer to Scott. “And I was too caught up in jealousy over the flower lady to even realize.”
“Why would you be jealous over Betty? She’s old and married.”
“Because I thought she was the reason why you kept bringing home so many flowers. I missed the connection, dude.” Stiles shakes his head. “Those flowers must have cost a small fortune.”
Scott nods. “It’s expensive to get flowers three times a week. I had to call my dad and get money from him because I couldn’t afford more than that first bouquet myself.”
“Oh ugh. I’m sorry, Scotty. Why didn’t you just ask your mom?” Stiles knows that Scott isn’t that fond of dealing with his dad, even if he isn’t above using the newly sober Rafael’s guilt for some spending money every month.
“Dude. She’d have asked me why I needed money, and I’d have had to tell her, and you know she’d have wanted to know who I was buying flowers for. Then she’d have found out about you because I can’t lie to Mom. Dad, sure, but not her. She’d have known somehow and I’d have gotten in big trouble,” Scott tells him. Melissa is pretty scary psychic about stuff, so Stiles understands. "If this hadn't worked tonight, I was going to either give up or do fifty roses as a grand gesture."
“You know, I didn’t think you even liked men, so I wouldn’t have thought anything about the flowers even if I had suspected they had meanings,” he admits as he stops walking, taking a moment to just study Scott. “Why didn’t you tell me you were bi or are you also pan?”
“Because I couldn’t really explain that I wanted to smash Jacob’s head in when he kissed you junior year because I realized that I should be the one kissing you,” Scott points out. “I figure I’m probably pan, like you, because I’m attractive to whomever I’m attracted to, just like you explained it to me. Anyway, it’s not like I’m going out with guys or anything. I tried, once, but I just kept comparing him to you, and, yeah.” He trails off with a sheepish smile. “I sort of thought if I didn’t tell anyone then I could ignore it easier.”
“Ignoring it isn’t easy. I’ve tried that since puberty hit, so I’m kind of an expert.” Stiles takes a few more steps to bring him right in front of Scott. “Do you really mean it, Scotty? Red tulip and red rose?”
Scott looks him in the eyes and nods slowly. “Yeah, I mean it. I red rose you so much,” he whispers. “I don’t want you to kiss anyone else or date anyone else or touch anyone else ever.”
“Sounds pretty greedy to me. Depriving the world of my charm and kisses,” Stiles teases, talking almost as quietly as Scott because he almost feels like speaking normally might break this spell and change things. “Guess you’re pretty lucky that I kinda love you, too.”
“You do?” Scott opens his mouth but closes it again, looking uncertain and nervous. Maybe even a little scared. Stiles gets even closer, and Scott shuts his eyes and swallows, his body tense as he curls his fingers into his hands. Trying to keep from touching, Stiles realizes.
Instead of answering, Stiles leans forward to press his lips against Scott’s jaw. Scott makes a strangled, almost desperate, noise that hits Stiles right in the gut. His eyes open, watching Stiles carefully, his body even more tense somehow. Stiles kisses the curve of his jaw, a half dozen chaste brushes of lip against warm skin. They’re standing so close that he can feel Scott’s body heat, the scent of cologne teasing his nose as he brushes his lips against Scott’s throat. He takes a moment to collect himself before he raises his head back up and slowly kisses his way across Scott’s cheekbone. Scott is breathing hard, his eyes half-closed, long lashes fluttering as Stiles continues brushing soft kisses across his face.
When he’s kissed everything except his mouth, Stiles licks his lips, resting his forehead against Scott’s as he lazily rubs their noses together, exhaling puffs of air against Scott’s mouth. “I’ve wanted to kiss you since I was thirteen, Scotty,” he murmurs, reaching out to touch Scott’s chest, placing his palm over his heart. “Never thought I’d have the chance.”
Scott finally moves, his hand going behind Stiles and resting on his lower back as he tilts his head. Every cliché that Stiles has ever heard runs through his mind the moment their lips meet, only none of them adequately describe what he’s feeling right now. Scott’s lips are chapped, and his teeth scrape Stiles’ bottom lip as he tries to get a better position and Stiles can taste garlic, probably from the sauce, and it’s abso-fucking-lutely perfect. It’s almost innocent, at first, lips pressed together, hands just holding each other.
Gradually, though, it changes. Stiles isn’t sure which of them licks first, tongues swiping across lips that soon part. The first taste of each other making Scott whine as Stiles groans, licking into mouths, sucking on tongues, pressing even closer together as the kisses become longer and deeper. Stiles pushes Scott against the counter, hands shoving his shirt up so he can drag his fingers over warm skin, listening to the way Scott’s breath catches in their kiss when Stiles touches him. It doesn’t take long for Scott to follow his example, less hesitant than Stiles expects. Stroking Stiles’ back and ribcage, thumbs rubbing circles across his belly, brushing across the trail of hair that leads down to his cock.
It’s ridiculous that he’s already hard just from kissing and a few touches, but it’s Scott. Stiles figures that’s explanation enough. He pushes forward slightly, pleased to feel Scott’s hardness against his thigh. At least he’s not the only one affected. Scott twists them around until Stiles is the one pressed against the cabinet, the counter against him. They pull off their shirts, barely breaking the kisses long enough to get the material out of the way, then they’re touching, skin against skin. Scott is so warm, and Stiles is always a little cold so he presses closer, wanting to feel more.
He tangles his fingers in Scott’s hair, deepening their kiss as Scott begins to rub his erection against Stiles’ thigh. He’s not idle, rolling his hips forward to get better friction, moaning into the kiss as he shifts into the perfect position to help relieve the tension. They break apart as they keep grinding together, gasping and moaning, hands touching everywhere, exploring and teasing and learning, and then he’s coming. Or maybe Scott does first. It’s hard to know when he’s shuddering and clinging to Scott for balance, spilling into his underwear like he hasn’t done for several years. Scott is hold him tight as he comes, too, groaning where Stiles grunts, trembling as they both start to calm down.
The kiss that follows is soft and tender, unlike any Stiles has ever had before, and he hugs Scott close, arms wrapping around him and squeezing tight. When they can’t put it off any longer, they reluctantly let go and just stare at each other. Stiles is the one to break the silence, of course. “Still red roses?”
“Red roses and orange blossoms. Betty couldn’t find me any of those, but this website I found said they mean eternal love.” Scott smiles shyly. “I did a lot of research, and some things meant different things in other countries, so I went with the best choice on Google.”
“It’ll be a story to tell our grandchildren, I guess. How their Pop Pop wooed their Gramps with flowers,” Stiles muses, watching Scott grin widely at his words.
“We’ll just leave out the whole making out in the kitchen bit,” Scott suggests. “Speaking of, I can’t believe I came in my underwear like some virginal teenager.”
“Part of that sentence is right. You might have been with women before, but you’ve never been with a man. I get to be your first, Scotty. That’s pretty awesome.”
“First and last, hopefully.” Scott is still grinning, looking even goofier than he used to when he was mooning over Allison. Stiles doesn’t mind it so much now, not when it’s because of him. In fact, he rather likes it.
“You’re such a sappy dork,” he says, not about to admit that he feels flattered at the whole romantic wooing thing, even if it didn’t go as Scott originally planned. “Trust me to fall for a romantic sap.”
“Yeah, well, I fell for a sarcastic cynic, so stop your complaining.” Scott leans in for another kiss, keeping it sweet but brief. “I hate to ruin the moment, but if I don’t get out of these sticky gross underwear, I might scream.”
“I know! It’s pretty rank, isn’t it? How did we manage to survive our teen years when it feels this disgusting to have drying come on our shorts?” Stiles laughs and takes a look at the oven timer. “Looks like we’ve got about twenty minutes. Enough time for a quick shower and change of clothes.”
“Sounds good.” Scott leans over to pick up their discarded shirts. “Separate showers or together?”
“Oh, I don’t know. Twenty minutes isn’t that long, really, so showering together might result in burnt lasagna, but it would be good for the environment to conserve water, wouldn’t it?”
“The environment is really important. We should do everything we can to save it.” Scott looks so earnest that Stiles has a tough time not laughing.
“But twenty minutes, dude. I take longer than that to jerk off usually, and I don’t really want to rush it when I finally get my hands on your dick.”
“Rushing would be bad,” Scott agrees. “How about just change clothes and wipe off then shower after dinner?”
“Good idea, Scotty boy.” Stiles grins. “I like that. Look at you being all smart and shit.”
“I have my moments,” Scott says dryly. “We’re down to eighteen minutes, so we’d better hurry.”
Stiles grabs his shirt out of Scott’s hand and heads to his bedroom. After getting his pants off, he wipes off and uses some wet wipes to clean up before pulling on a pair of sweatpants. He doesn’t bother with underwear or a shirt, not when he knows Scott is actually going to be looking. He beats Scott back to the kitchen and sits on the table to wait, picking up the rose and stroking the petals with a smile on his face. Looks like he’s going to have to figure out some romantic wooing gesture himself.
After all, he’s definitely not going to let Scotty have the best story to tell their grandkids without any sort of competition.