drawn by your mongrel heart again (scott/stiles);
Drawn by Your Mongrel Heart Again
kind of Scott/Stiles ish
This is just me explaining Stiles' behavior in an angsty fashion, honestly.
Here’s what hasn’t been said: Stiles feels it too. When Scott shifts and his eyes melt into gold, Stiles feels his own burning; Scott’s fingers stretch into weapons and Stiles clenches his hands, vibrating fists, and blinks hard. It’s like they’re eight again and Scott is losing color, fighting to inhale, and Stiles feels his lungs burning - it’s like that, only that was human and grounding, and he could hold Scott’s hand and neither one of them would bleed. Now Scott’s wrists are in chains and Stiles’ heart is beating like a machine gun.
He says: gotta chain you up, dude, or you might kill someone. Me, for instance. He says that again and again, and he says, I won’t let you hurt Allison. He doesn’t say what he’s thinking, which is: I can feel the goddamn moon, Scott, and I can’t tell if I’m tasting blood or you are.
He chews on the insides of his cheeks and imagines biting through.
Here’s what Stiles hasn’t done: he hasn’t moved since Scott started screaming. There’s his shadow, elongated, the shape of his shoulders hunched and his hands gripping his hair, the short, jerking movements of his limbs. What Stiles hasn’t done is dig his fingers into Scott’s shoulders, almost painful, to bring him back. Made jokes to keep him laughing, brushed over his tears anyway.
Stiles moves a foot along the floor, dragging his legs as icy moonlight spills into the hallway.
And here’s what he feels: fire spreading over his skin, under it, and he feels like if that white light touches him it’ll be too much. His veins will burst. His bones will turn to coal. What he does feel is the urge to run, pulsing in his mind, but right there beside it are the sounds of Scott’s howls and damned if he doesn’t try, but Stiles can’t run.
There’s no going back, no turning away, because Stiles has chained himself to the wall, to the boy in the next room.
So here’s what Stiles does: he pulls so hard Scott’s wrists turn red. Scott’s skin splits open. Scott’s claws dig into his palms and Stiles keeps his own hands carefully back, stops just short of wrapping a chain around his best friend’s throat - not out of kindness, but out of fear. It’s selfish, stupid fear, but if Stiles can feel like this, like a ray of light could push him off the edge, then what happens when he lets himself touch Scott? Really touch him, hands on his shoulders and face, fingers around his neck. If he did, right now, Stiles doesn’t know if he would kiss Scott or choke him, so he presses himself to the wall, bruising his shoulder blades, the back of his skull, and letting Scott moan.
What Stiles does when it’s over is bandage Scott’s wrists and help him into bed. Takes care not to touch the scratches on the wall, the stains on the carpet.
He says: it’s over, you’re okay. You’re okay. He doesn’t say: it’s okay because you’re human, still, you’re human and that means I can be too.
kind of Scott/Stiles ish
This is just me explaining Stiles' behavior in an angsty fashion, honestly.
Here’s what hasn’t been said: Stiles feels it too. When Scott shifts and his eyes melt into gold, Stiles feels his own burning; Scott’s fingers stretch into weapons and Stiles clenches his hands, vibrating fists, and blinks hard. It’s like they’re eight again and Scott is losing color, fighting to inhale, and Stiles feels his lungs burning - it’s like that, only that was human and grounding, and he could hold Scott’s hand and neither one of them would bleed. Now Scott’s wrists are in chains and Stiles’ heart is beating like a machine gun.
He says: gotta chain you up, dude, or you might kill someone. Me, for instance. He says that again and again, and he says, I won’t let you hurt Allison. He doesn’t say what he’s thinking, which is: I can feel the goddamn moon, Scott, and I can’t tell if I’m tasting blood or you are.
He chews on the insides of his cheeks and imagines biting through.
Here’s what Stiles hasn’t done: he hasn’t moved since Scott started screaming. There’s his shadow, elongated, the shape of his shoulders hunched and his hands gripping his hair, the short, jerking movements of his limbs. What Stiles hasn’t done is dig his fingers into Scott’s shoulders, almost painful, to bring him back. Made jokes to keep him laughing, brushed over his tears anyway.
Stiles moves a foot along the floor, dragging his legs as icy moonlight spills into the hallway.
And here’s what he feels: fire spreading over his skin, under it, and he feels like if that white light touches him it’ll be too much. His veins will burst. His bones will turn to coal. What he does feel is the urge to run, pulsing in his mind, but right there beside it are the sounds of Scott’s howls and damned if he doesn’t try, but Stiles can’t run.
There’s no going back, no turning away, because Stiles has chained himself to the wall, to the boy in the next room.
So here’s what Stiles does: he pulls so hard Scott’s wrists turn red. Scott’s skin splits open. Scott’s claws dig into his palms and Stiles keeps his own hands carefully back, stops just short of wrapping a chain around his best friend’s throat - not out of kindness, but out of fear. It’s selfish, stupid fear, but if Stiles can feel like this, like a ray of light could push him off the edge, then what happens when he lets himself touch Scott? Really touch him, hands on his shoulders and face, fingers around his neck. If he did, right now, Stiles doesn’t know if he would kiss Scott or choke him, so he presses himself to the wall, bruising his shoulder blades, the back of his skull, and letting Scott moan.
What Stiles does when it’s over is bandage Scott’s wrists and help him into bed. Takes care not to touch the scratches on the wall, the stains on the carpet.
He says: it’s over, you’re okay. You’re okay. He doesn’t say: it’s okay because you’re human, still, you’re human and that means I can be too.