bakerstreet | the picture prompt meme.

"What stuff?" she asked, not even really thinking about it, mostly just repeating his words and trying to decide between toppings. "Are you allergic to anything?"

"Allergic? No. Get whatever you want." Okay, now his attention was back on her. Fully. He was looking at her over the top of his menu, watching her eyes slide back and forth as she read hers.

"Um... personal stuff."

"Personal stuff," she repeated. "What kind of personal stuff?" Erica flipped the menu over, but that was mostly a wine list and while she wouldn't mind that - it wouldn't do anything for her.

"Personal personal stuff." Like the kind that involved hands in pants and smeared kisses. The kind that had been the main star of his dreams for the last while. The kind that made things necessary to see to when waking up. Those kinds of personal things.

Erica glanced up at him, a slightly blank expression on her face. What would he need to talk to her about that would be ... oh.

Her eyes dropped back down to the menu, "Why do you want to talk about personal personal stuff?"

This would be honesty time. "Because I can't stop thinking about it." Which meant, if she cared to look at the logic there, he couldn't stop thinking about her.

He flicked his finger over the edge of the menu, fidgeting.

Oh, she saw the logic there or at least the straight line that his words drew from 'it to her' but she still kept her focus on her menu. Mostly because she didn't feel like admitting that she had it flooding her thoughts most of the time too.

"I'm sorry I'm such a problem for you," Erica replied coolly.

"Jesus, Erica. I didn't say that." He put his menu down and gave up the pretense of using it as a shield. "I didn't mean it like that. At all."

Here was Stiles, patiently sitting and looking at her and waiting for her to look back at him.

She still had zero clue what she wanted to eat and exhaled, nearly in surrender. Her arms covered her menu as she looked up at him, "I don't care what you order I'll be fine with whatever."

Oh. He's still... on the whole, talking about things -- thing.

Their waitress came over and he was only half paying attention as he ordered a large pepperoni with extra pepperoni and cheese, as well as a couple cokes. "There. Food's taken care of. Now... stuff."

Brown eyes met brown eyes and he gave her an insistent yet expectant stare.

Her mouth sucked at the bottom corner of her lip as she glanced to him wondering when he was going to talk. He was the one that had stuff to discuss.

"So?"

Right. Okay. Start, Stiles. "So... what do you think about it?"

Forget the fact he hasn't actually said what 'it' was, they both knew what 'it' was. Or what it could be.

"Wait what part are you making the 'it'?" Because there was a vague noun in there. Which Erica was quick to pick up on.

"The handjob, the mutual masturbation, or me?" She was really glad no one was really in the pizza place.

Stiles was glad too, because that meant no one else could see him blushing. His eyes dropped for a moment, but he brought them back up to hers. "All of it. Mostly... you."

Erica watched him, trying to figure out if that was a joke or if he was trying to just get her to fool around with him again, but the rise of color to his cheeks was a bit more telling than anything he said.

"Oh." Which wasn't a bad oh, it was just an Oh.

"Right, so, I thought maybe, you know, we should, um, probably talk about it?" This was his pride splayed out on the table. Try not to step all over it, Erica.

"What do you want to talk about? I mean, there wasn't anything wrong, was there?" Her own walls start to build back up around her.

"Wrong? What? No, no, there was nothing wrong." It had been perfect and erotic and had moved up to his top thing to think about when he touched himself. Even now, just thinking about it was making his pulse pick up and he wondered if she could hear that. Or if he was starting to smell like she said he did when he got all worked up.

Shifting in his seat, he played with the glass of coke the waitress set in front of him, looking up at her as he did. "There was nothing wrong." His tone was more firm in that, wanting her to believe him.

Erica took a sip of the coke and then set the glass down, "So, you want to know what I think about me? Or about what we did?"

"About... what we did. And, stuff." Oh my god, Stiles. Stop with the stuff. "What do you think about it?" And what does she think about doing it again? But not just that, because no, Stiles is not Jackson.

She shrugged up a shoulder, glancing at him, "I've been trying not to think about it." Which sounded bad.

"Not... not like 'ugh I want to forget it', but because I can't have distractions." Though distractions was a good word for it, but liability was closer to that. She didn't want to have someone worry about her and she didn't want to have to be concerned that her interactions with them would make them a target.

She'd been picked off by Allison once before and that wasn't exactly a shining moment in being true to her pack.

Too late, Erica. He was already worried. Didn't she pick up on that from the instant Derek-hate when he came in? "I don't want to be a distraction." He really hoped she didn't pick up on the blatant lie that was, because he wanted to be a distraction. He wanted to distract her and be distracted by her and figure out all the incredibly distracting things they could do.

Her fingers drummed on the surface of the table, watching him, "But we're having some weird talk about what things mean." She was pretty sure that she never pictured her life having one of these talks. These talks were what girls requested and she never assumed she'd be in that sort of situation.

"Would it be easier if I just ask you what you want?"

What did he want? One word popped into his head and in typical fashion, it tripped out of his mouth before he could pull it back. "More."

Damn. He couldn't leave it like that. "I want... more. Of this." His hands moved between them at the table. "More talking. More you and me." Gee, he was great with the words tonight, wasn't he?

She didn't want to frown, but those reactions were often hard for her to hide. She wasn't used to people caring when she made a face or seemed upset about something.

"Why would you even want that? I'm a werewolf. I bludgeoned you with part of your own car. I'm not even really nice to you unless we're messing around."

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