dude-its-stars-hollow:

“No, seriously, my house is haunted,” Stiles tells Derek.

Derek looks around the old house doubtfully. “Just because it’s old, doesn’t mean it’s haunted.”

“It’s haunted,” Stiles says, kicking Derek softly from across the couch.

Derek catches his foot before Stiles can kick him again and then puts it in his lap with a roll of his eyes. “Whatever helps you sleep at night.”

“My house being haunted doesn’t help me sleep at night!” Stiles exclaims, waving his hands around. He should’ve known Derek wouldn’t believe him. Derek is like Stiles: he needs proof. Stiles looks around the house like he could see the ghost, but of course… he can’t. 

The ghost only acts up when Derek isn’t here. They’re strangely silent when Derek is here. Stiles says as much.

“Maybe your ghost likes me,” Derek offers.

“More than I do right now, that’s for sure,” Stiles mumbles.

Derek squeezes Stiles’ foot hard enough to get his attention but not hurt him. “You’re rude,” Derek says plainly.

“Yeah, and yet you’re still here,” Stiles says, gesturing with his arms. “I’ve been trying to get rid of you for years.”

“Is that why you invited me over for dinner and to watch movies?” Derek asks, looking mockingly confused.

“You’re an ass,” Stiles tells him matter-of-factly.

Derek nods solemnly. “But your ghost likes me.”

Stiles rolls his eyes because Derek is ridiculous. He doesn’t know why he even likes Derek… as a friend just to be clear. No romantic feelings here whatsoever. Not even a little.

Derek’s hand is circled around Stiles’ ankle, his thumb idly rubbing the bare skin right below Stiles’ sweatpants.

Okay, maybe a little.

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