Surface
Author: xsnarkasaurus
Title: Surface
Rating: G
Pairing/s: None
Character/s: Danny Mahealani, Stiles Stilinski
Summary: Danny sees the Stiles that everyone else sees, but sometimes, he wondered if that was the real Stiles.
Warnings: suggestions of sociopathy
Word Count: 544
Prompt: #10 - Reflection
Author's Notes: I have no idea. First time picking up a fullmoon_ficlet prompt, and I enjoyed it. No idea what this is, though.
Danny wondered if anyone else noticed it. For all Stiles could be the most glaringly obvious person in the room, what he presented was not the truth. Danny had learned that long ago, and he wondered if anyone else had.
For instance, Stiles’ worship of Lydia wasn’t...real. Oh, it was real in the sense that Stiles had an amazing depth of emotion and was completely nuts for her. It wasn’t real, though, in the sense that it was what he actually wanted. He only fixated on Lydia because he thought he had to. Everyone around him had fixated on someone, crushed hard, started dating, kissing, loving. So, Stiles did, too.
Danny had watched because he was intrigued. Stiles was attractive in an abstract way--not Danny’s type, but he could appreciate the pale skin, the moles, the sharp eyes and even sharper tongue--and Danny kind of wanted to know what he was about. He noticed when Scott started acting weird, how Stiles started acting weird, too. Behavior reflection.
It wasn’t a perfect example, though, because Stiles wasn’t acting weird in the same way Scott was. Or in the same way that Isaac and Erica and Boyd started to, one after the other. Though Danny did distract himself for three days, imagining Stiles reflecting Erica’s suddenly vampiness. Stiles’ mouth plus red lipstick had set him off faster than he’d come in years.
Still, there was more there than Danny had first guessed. That lacrosse game, Stiles’ sudden ability to make goals seemed to be more of a symptom than anything else. Of course Stiles was doing well. The people he orbited did well, so why shouldn’t he?
There was something different in the way Stiles acted these days compared to what he’d been like when they were younger. In grade school, it had been more like Stiles didn’t know how to be normal, so he watched everyone else for a clue. The Scarecrow without a brain trying to mimic what other people did so that the world made more sense. Or worse, the Tinman without a heart.
Occasionally, Danny was scared by Stiles. In moments of stillness, when he didn’t think anyone was looking, and the shield came down for a moment. Underneath, a glimpse of what was actually there, and what was there was colder, harder, darker than the surface revealed. Eyes would go flat, lips would compress, and the expression would go so cold that Danny would get chills just from catching a glimpse of it. And then someone would look at Stiles, and everything would be back, the mirror showing what Stiles wanted them to see.
It didn’t make any sense, though. Stiles got sharper, a little more surly sometimes. At others, he was more open and friendly. There didn’t seem to be any rhyme or reason to who or what he projected to the world, except maybe who he was around. He was always, always paying attention, though, observing everyone around him.
So Danny watched, too. One day, Stiles would make sense. He’d stop reflecting everything and everyone around him, and start being himself. Danny wanted to see it, wanted to know the real Stiles. He had a feeling that he was a lot more interesting--and a lot scarier--than anyone guessed.
Title: Surface
Rating: G
Pairing/s: None
Character/s: Danny Mahealani, Stiles Stilinski
Summary: Danny sees the Stiles that everyone else sees, but sometimes, he wondered if that was the real Stiles.
Warnings: suggestions of sociopathy
Word Count: 544
Prompt: #10 - Reflection
Author's Notes: I have no idea. First time picking up a fullmoon_ficlet prompt, and I enjoyed it. No idea what this is, though.
Danny wondered if anyone else noticed it. For all Stiles could be the most glaringly obvious person in the room, what he presented was not the truth. Danny had learned that long ago, and he wondered if anyone else had.
For instance, Stiles’ worship of Lydia wasn’t...real. Oh, it was real in the sense that Stiles had an amazing depth of emotion and was completely nuts for her. It wasn’t real, though, in the sense that it was what he actually wanted. He only fixated on Lydia because he thought he had to. Everyone around him had fixated on someone, crushed hard, started dating, kissing, loving. So, Stiles did, too.
Danny had watched because he was intrigued. Stiles was attractive in an abstract way--not Danny’s type, but he could appreciate the pale skin, the moles, the sharp eyes and even sharper tongue--and Danny kind of wanted to know what he was about. He noticed when Scott started acting weird, how Stiles started acting weird, too. Behavior reflection.
It wasn’t a perfect example, though, because Stiles wasn’t acting weird in the same way Scott was. Or in the same way that Isaac and Erica and Boyd started to, one after the other. Though Danny did distract himself for three days, imagining Stiles reflecting Erica’s suddenly vampiness. Stiles’ mouth plus red lipstick had set him off faster than he’d come in years.
Still, there was more there than Danny had first guessed. That lacrosse game, Stiles’ sudden ability to make goals seemed to be more of a symptom than anything else. Of course Stiles was doing well. The people he orbited did well, so why shouldn’t he?
There was something different in the way Stiles acted these days compared to what he’d been like when they were younger. In grade school, it had been more like Stiles didn’t know how to be normal, so he watched everyone else for a clue. The Scarecrow without a brain trying to mimic what other people did so that the world made more sense. Or worse, the Tinman without a heart.
Occasionally, Danny was scared by Stiles. In moments of stillness, when he didn’t think anyone was looking, and the shield came down for a moment. Underneath, a glimpse of what was actually there, and what was there was colder, harder, darker than the surface revealed. Eyes would go flat, lips would compress, and the expression would go so cold that Danny would get chills just from catching a glimpse of it. And then someone would look at Stiles, and everything would be back, the mirror showing what Stiles wanted them to see.
It didn’t make any sense, though. Stiles got sharper, a little more surly sometimes. At others, he was more open and friendly. There didn’t seem to be any rhyme or reason to who or what he projected to the world, except maybe who he was around. He was always, always paying attention, though, observing everyone around him.
So Danny watched, too. One day, Stiles would make sense. He’d stop reflecting everything and everyone around him, and start being himself. Danny wanted to see it, wanted to know the real Stiles. He had a feeling that he was a lot more interesting--and a lot scarier--than anyone guessed.