Games are serious business.
Stiles looked up. Even upside down, Derek had no trouble reading his boyfriend’s angry bitchface.
"I can’t prove it," he gestured emphatically with his soda, "But I know you’re cheating, Hale."
"How can you cheat at Halo?" Derek shrugged, unfazed by Stiles’ narrowed, skeptical eyes.
"S’a question I should be asking you, Sourwolf."
"What? Just because you literally ran into my last plasma grenade, suddenly that makes me a cheater?” Derek raised an eyebrow. Stiles scoffed.
"I did not run into it,” he defended, taking a sip from the soda in his hand. Derek watched the bob of his throat with a slight hunger. “It just appeared.”
"Yeah, because I threw it at your feet, and you were too stupid to move out of the blast radius," Derek muttered, turning his attention to the screen as he thumbed the controller to start a new skirmish.
Stiles nuzzled up awkwardly against the underside of his chin. “I love it when you talk nerdy to me,” he whispered, in what Derek guessed was a vague attempt at seduction. “Say ‘blast radius’ again.”
Derek looked down, and definitely did not find the ridiculous eyebrow waggle Stiles was currently leveling at him adorable. Or sexy. At all. He scoffed as the game beeped its final five-second countdown before they started the next match.
"Just shut up and play," Derek intoned, turning his attention back toward the screen.
"You’re no fun," Stiles complained, as if Derek were the most boring thing on the planet. He tilted his head forward to the split-screen battle Derek was already gathering weapons for.
For a few minutes, the only sounds were on-screen gunfire and grenade blasts, as they played an elaborate game of cat-and-heavily-armed-mouse, with Stiles being the annoying-as-shit mouse. This continued until Derek was very nearly snarling at the tv screen from not being able to catch Stiles as he sprinted around the map. He was almost out of ammo again, and his shield was recovering from being drained to within an inch of its life. And he was no closer to catching Stiles’ character.
"You’re screen-looking," Derek growled at the back of Stiles’ head. It was the only explanation for the way he kept knowing exactly when to turn around and start firing at Derek’s pursuing character.
"I have literally no idea what you’re talking about," Stiles shrugged, feigning innocence, despite the traitorous uptick of his heartbeat as he dropped Derek’s shields once more.
"You’re lying," Derek retorted instantly, ducking his character out of the way, "You little shit."
"Welp," Stiles intoned, as he ignored the snarly quality of his boyfriend’s voice, "This little shit’s about to-" Derek followed his motion tracker to where it said Stiles had just run off to. He rounded a corner when he heard the shot, taking his shields down to nothing. "-Snipe your ass," he finished with a second. Derek’s character fell over dead. He growled. His screen panned up to where Stiles was perched, in some invulnerable hideout where he’d have to watch Derek’s screen to see him coming. He’d been lying in wait, definitely cheating.
"Fine," Derek answered, his tone ripe with vengeance, "Two can play at that game.” As soon as he respawned, he made for the rocket launcher he’d lost when Stiles killed him. He had a vague idea of where the human had camped out, and if he could cheat, then so could Derek. Biting his tongue as he concentrated, Derek sprinted his character to pick up the weapon and aimed at a narrow, perch high up on the wall that he could see the edge of in Stiles’ screen.
"Eat this,” he growled, and let a rocket fly. He grinned as Stiles’ character was taken out by the blast. Turns out his little hideout wasn’t that invulnerable.
"I hate you," Stiles muttered darkly, tossing his controller aside and reaching for his soda again. He took a swig, tilting his head back to meet the smug look written across Derek’s face. "What?" He asked, narrowing his eyes suspiciously at the werewolf.
"You’re cute when you’re pissed," Derek chuckled, leaning down to kiss Stiles’ forehead as he glared up at him.
"Am not," he argued, turning red in the stupid, adorable way he always did when Derek said something weirdly affectionate.
"Yup, you totally are," he replied. "Especially after you get caught in the blast radius of my rocket launcher.”
"You’re the worst," Stiles huffed, rolling his eyes dramatically at the remark, before turning over to capture Derek’s lips in his own. "And ‘rocket launcher’? That’s like the suckiest innuendo I’ve ever heard."
"You love it," Derek smiled into Stiles’ mouth.
"Enh," Stiles shrugged as he wound a hand around the nape of Derek’s neck and teased at his upper lip with his tongue. "That’s debatable."
“Blast radius,” Derek whispered again, drawing out the “s’s” into the kiss. Stiles’ whole body shuddered as he hummed out a moan.
"Cheater," he growled, sinking his teeth into Derek’s bottom lip.