hobrien @ set of season 3a
"Uh, ow,” Stiles complained, wincing at the sharp little piece of ice that Derek just whipped at his back, because 1) he was bored and 2) Stiles was talking to Deaton and not paying attention to him.
It was a problem. He probably should’ve felt guilty, but he didn’t.
"Who threw that?" He whirled around, flicking an accusatory finger between Derek and Scott. He leveled a knowing glare at Derek especially, who was aggressively staring at the floor, as if that guaranteed his lack of culpability.
"What’re you talking about?" He asked with an innocent shrug. Stiles narrowed his eyes.
"You know damn well what,” he accused, raising the finger gun of justice toward Derek’s face. “You just threw a chunk of ice at me.”
Derek shrugged, trying his best to look confused while ignoring the all-consuming desire to grin like a moron. “No, I didn’t.” Behind him, Scott broke down and let out a small giggle.