semifreakingnormal | ( 012 ) Ω ( Video )

Entry tags:

( 012 ) Ω ( Video )

[He's been back about an hour, just sitting in his room. It's not that he doesn't want to be here. He does. He needs to be here, to make things right again, and still all he wants is to rewind the clock, to go back to weeks ago, before their darkness spilled out into the world. Everything had looked bright. Okay. And now...

Now he understands why Stiles didn't want him to go back. Nothing will be like it was. Not until he saves Allison.

And he can't do that by letting people think he isn't here. He gets up, splashes water on his face, stares at himself in the mirror until he thinks his expression is normal. It's close enough. Drying off, he goes back to sit on the bed and picks up the communicator. When it clicks on, he smiles, and it's still Scott underneath, even if it's not quite as bright. He's older, though, only a year but it feels longer. His hair is shorter, he looks stronger. He's trying to hide the rest, and doing a decent job of it. But only decent.]

Hey, guys. I'm back.

[He waves his free hand. Semi-awkward Scott McCall is still under the new haircut! And is that a tattoo peeking out from under his left sleeve?]

So, did I miss anything good? I think...I was a troll, the last flood. How long ago was that?

Flat | Top-Level Comments Only

I dunno. [He shrugs, shakes his head, and his laugh is quiet and shaky.]

I don't know, Stiles. I feel guilty. Like I should have found a way to stop all of it. Save everyone. Like if I was a better alpha, I'd have been able to.

[Hearing those words from Scott makes his stomach tighten into a knot.]

Scott, listen to me. This isn't on you. You didn't do this. [He holds his breath for the briefest of moments.] And this all started before you even became an alpha, so you can't -- this isn't on your head, man. At all. And it has nothing to do with that.

Yeah. Intellectually...[He smiles wanly, falls silent. It fades, and he looks down for a moment.]

Aiden died, too.

[He doesn't like keeping things from Stiles. And this one is hard to convince himself of his innocence.]

He died fighting for me.

Yeah. [He looks down, too, chewing on his lower lip. He feels guilt sweep through him at that news. He didn't really like the guy. He certainly hadn't trusted him. But he'd died because of this mess, and that...he's not entirely sure what to do with that either.]

I'm sorry. [And he is. He's sorry for the whole mess. He wants to reassure Scott that Aiden's death isn't his fault either, but he doesn't know the circumstances of what happened there. Doesn't have all the right words. Are words even really enough? He doesn't think so. He swallows hard.]

Can I -- is it okay if I come up there?

[His nod, at least, is immediate. As much as everything else still feels numb or raw by turns, he's certain of this.]

Yeah, man, you don't have to ask. Come over.

[Scott is better with people around. He's better with people, and friends, and maybe a pack, too. He doesn't really want to be alone, now. And he doesn't want Stiles to be alone, either.]

[He's relieved by the immediate affirmative reaction. He hadn't really expected anything else -- not from Scott. But he wouldn't have blamed him if he'd hesitated.]

Be right there.

[He shuts off the device but takes it with him, making his way up all the stairs that separate them. Stiles doesn't really want to be alone either. But somehow it sorta feels like he should be. Truthfully he needs to see Scott in person. Especially now. He knocks on the door moments later and steps inside without waiting for his friend's response. Boundaries? What boundaries?]

[They don't know the meaning of the word. Scott is sitting square on his bed, a PS4 controller in front of him. The system, a gift from Dean last Christmas, is on, but the game is paused. Scott's not really up for fun distractions, not right now.

He looks up when Stiles enters, nods a hello and picks up the controller.]

Wanna play?

[Stiles glances from him to the game for a moment, and he can already tell that Scott's heart is not in video games. His isn't either. He shakes his head a little, swallowing hard.]

Not really, no.

Yeah. Me neither.

[He drops the controller back to his bed and moves over so that Stiles has room to sit.]

[He moves over and drops down right beside Scott, a pained expression on his face. He wraps his arms around his best friend, hugging him tightly.]

I'm so sorry, Scott. [His voice is hushed. He's not apologizing in a this is all my fault way, but in an I'm so sorry you lost Allison kind of way. The I'm so sorry you're hurting way. Because there's definitely a difference.]

[Scott leans into it, dropping his chin to Stiles' shoulder and closing his eyes. They sting anyway. He doesn't want to cry, he wants - it doesn't matter what he wants, because that won't change anything. He thinks he should be strong, like maybe he's not a good alpha because he leans so heavily on Stiles, on all of them.

But he doesn't want to be an alpha like Derek, and he damn well doesn't want to be one like Peter. His arms come up and wrap tightly around Stiles.]

I know. [His throat is tight.] Me too.

[He always thought they would get back together. He always thought they'd make it.]

[Scott has seen Stiles cry on multiple occasions. Stiles? Not great at hiding his feelings most of the time. And Scott's never teased him or made him feel weird about it. Returning the favor? Not a big deal. At all. Long, long before Scott was an alpha or even a werewolf, they'd been best friends. Brothers. Had leaned on each other.

He hugs Scott more tightly, tears forming in his own eyes. There are very few people whose emotions can sway his own, but Scott's at the top of that very short list. As if his best friend could ever be like Derek. Let alone like Peter.]

I won't tell you it's okay, because it isn't. [His voice is quiet.] But I'm gonna fix it here. I promise.

[You're going to get that second chance with Allison, Scott. He's going to make sure of it.]

[He barely notices the tears as they trickle out, more focused on the way air keeps getting caught in his throat. He's not panicking, but it would be so easy to, to sit down and say it's hopeless, they can't do this, there's no way.

He thinks of Deaton telling him about regression to the mean again, and it helps a little. Enough that he can fill his lungs and exhale again messily.

It's not going to be okay. But it's not going to be this bad forever.

Scott nods against Stiles' shoulder.]

I know. [His voice is thick and slow, caught in a respiratory system that's aching to give in to tears.] I believe you.

[He always believes Stiles.]

[Stiles shuts his eyes tightly and just falls silent, holding onto Scott and leaning his head against his best friend's as he strokes a hand up and down his back lightly. He hopes it's soothing.

The uneven, ragged sound of his breath reminds Stiles of all the asthma attacks he's witnessed Scott have over the years. He remembers how frightening they had always been. Remembers how similar the sound was as his mom took her last breaths when he was eight. How much more vigilant he'd become over Scott's breathing troubles after, diving for the nearest available inhaler at the first sign of trouble.

But Scott's words hurt in their simple honesty and he bites down hard on his lip. He's not sure his best friend's faith in him is really deserved at this point, but he's not going to argue it either. He needs to be there for Scott. So he nods instead in acknowledgment of the words.]

Let it out, Scott. [His words are barely audible -- probably wouldn't have been audible to anyone without super-hearing.]

[He does.

The tears fall faster, and his hands dig into Stiles' shirt. He's careful not to lose control, not to slice up his shirt accidentally. Scott chokes on a sob, and then he breathes around it, around the discomfort and the wet ache in his eyes.

It doesn't last long. Scott doesn't like crying, doesn't like crying for long enough to hit that exhausted, do-nothing point. He gets out the worst of it, getting Stiles' shoulder wet in the process, and eventually he swallows it back, straightens up and wipes his eyes with his sleeve.]

Sorry, [he mumbles, even though he knows he doesn't have to. He sniffs, shakes his head like he can clear it.]

[He lets Scott pull away without comment, not caring about his wet shirt. It's just a shirt. He keeps his hand on his friend's back though, feeling like he probably still needs the light contact. Or maybe Stiles does.

He shakes his head, because no, an apology is definitely not necessary. Ever. Not with the two of them. Not for this, especially.]

Do you...wanna talk about it?

Not really? [He manages a smile, even if it vanishes pretty quickly. He shrugs a moment later, shaking his head. It's loss. He's at a loss.] I don't know what say anymore. It sucks. It shouldn't have happened. But we already know that.

[He draws in a deep breath. Regression to the mean.]

And we're already doing everything we can to change it.

[He scrubs at his face with both hands.] It won't hurt this bad forever. [They'll learn to cope with it. They might get used to the idea of her not being around, but they'll stay here because they won't forget her. They'll fix it.]

I just - it sucks, trying to remember that.

[He isn't surprised by Scott's response. He looks down at his hands, nodding slightly at his words. He doesn't know what to say either. And it definitely shouldn't have happened.]

Yeah. Yeah, we are. And we'll change it. [Allison, Aiden. The officers that were killed in the bomb explosion at the sheriff's station. All of it.

He's silent for a moment. Because it does hurt -- sharp and constant, even for him. And he and Allison weren't even close.]

I know, man. [And he does. He's heard that it won't hurt this bad forever so many times from so many people over the years. And it takes time. Neither is really all that comforting. Nothing really is, at the end of the day.]

I know it's not a lot, but...I'm here. Whenever and for whatever.

I know.

[Another small smile, and Scott nods. He reaches up, resting his hand on Stiles' arm, squeezing lightly.]

I'm glad you're here, Stiles. [It's not that he would have no one, if he'd still caught up without Stiles here. He'd be sitting with Cassel, or Peter, and it would be good, but it wouldn't be the same. Stiles is his brother in almost every way. He doesn't have to explain things to Stiles. He doesn't have to tell Stiles who Allison is. Who Aiden is.

Were. He can't accept that tense, not yet.]

Seriously.

[The fact that Scott can still say that after everything -- and not only say it but mean it -- pretty much confirms his belief that his best friend not only has the biggest, most forgiving heart of anyone ever, but that he's basically the best guy Stiles will likely ever know. He got very, very lucky in the best friend department.]

Me too. [And he means it. The last few weeks have massively sucked for all of them, and in a lot of ways it feels like it's been ages since they've actually been around each other. They'd been around each other quite a bit -- he just hadn't been himself. He doesn't think it counts.

But now there's work to be done. They have lives to save and he's determined it's going to work. Because there's not another option. It has to work. He owes it to everyone to make sure that it does.]

[It doesn't really count. They're on the same wave length now, Stiles isn't possessed, Scott isn't afraid of losing control. When he's not crying, anyway.

Straightening a little, he claps his hand against Stile's shoulder, resting there a moment.]

It's probably going to take a while. I mean, we might be here a while.

[And he means a lot of things with that: that he won't blame Stiles if he ever wants to go home, that he's not leaving until Allison is drawing breath again, that they can do this together and they can make it because they always do. It means whatever they need it to mean.]

I know. [And he does. He isn't expecting this to be anymore of a walk in the park than things back in Beacon Hills, really. Maybe even less so. Considering it's a prison ship with a lot of dangerous people in a confined space, he's leaning toward less so. He also senses the other meanings behind Scott words and he nods very slightly to indicate his understanding.]

I don't care how long it takes. [His words are quiet and he looks down for a moment, folding his hands on his lap and then glancing at Scott, knowing he feels the same way. There's not a doubt in Stiles' mind about that.] I missed you, man. I mean, not just...when you were back home from here.

[Scott lets out a relieved breath he didn't realize he was holding. As long as it takes.]

Yeah. Me neither.

[Squeezing Stiles' shoulder, he drops his hand and nods.]

I know. I missed you too. [Same wave length. It's always so easy to understand Stiles, even when it felt like Stiles was a thousand percent smarter than him. There are other things they get, other things they connect on.]

Maybe in a couple days - there's a pool table, on level six. Maybe we can go play. Or you can help me get a lacrosse game going. I feel like I've been trying to since I first showed up.

[He offers him a small, reassuring smile.]

I know.

[Always the same wave length, since they were kids. They've always just gotten one another in a way that no one else really does. And if Stiles is the brains, Scott is definitely the heart of their little friendship duo. They balance each other.

Stiles glances at Scott sideways, faint smile on his mouth. He can't even remember the last time he played pool.]

Yeah, definitely. I talked to one guy while you were gone -- uh, Archer, I think was his name? He said he plays? I know Dean doesn't. But my gear's in my room, so that's a nice happy accident. What about gear for everybody else though?

Last Christmas, we kinda wrote like, Santa letters to the Admiral. I asked for gear for a whole bunch of people. There might even be some in the gym - Cassel works there, we can get him to check.

[It's a little easier to breathe, and a little easier to smile. To let the distraction take hold. You can't spend every waking moment miserable. Sometimes the best thing you can do, is put the brakes on and find a way to enjoy yourself, just for a little while.]

Archer told me he played when he was in school, so he'd totally be up for it. And maybe we can like, guilt Dean into it. Some other people might play, too. We can totally get this moving.

Peter can even be on your team. [Because obviously they are team captains. u_u]

Private

Private

Private

Private

Private

Private

Private

Private

Private

Private

Private

Private

Private

Private

Private

Private

Private

Private

Private

Private

Private

Private

Private

Private

Private