[Teen Wolf] [Derek, Stiles] Friendship Is Magic
Title: Friendship is Magic
Subject: Teen Wolf | Derek, Stiles.
Rating: PG
Summary: Being a werewolf meant never needing words.
Notes: Not actually a crack fic, I just couldn't think of a title ok. Prompt was "That's what people do who love you. They put their arms around you and love you when you're not so lovable." but yeah I just kind of went nowhere near that?
WC: 334
Being a werewolf meant never needing words. All through his childhood, Derek had never had to say I'm sad or I'm angry or I don't know what I feel, I don't know if this is anger or self loathing or sadness because there'd always been someone close by who just knew, who could feel it already, the roil and the wrench and the bottom dropping out of his stomach.
Being around humans, even just Lydia and Stiles, meant he couldn't just rely on those feelings, his instincts, it meant words, it meant that Stiles, with his surplus of words, felt strange to him, foreign. He's never quite sure what to do with Stiles, the constant noise unnecessary, annoying, distracting, the chatter that shrouds are you okay and it's cool if you're not and I'm not either pointless.
"Oprah says you should talk about your feelings," Stiles says. "So if you wanted to talk about the fact you just literally ripped someone's head off - which was pretty freaking awesome by the way - you could."
There's a beat, a second of silence.
"Because that's what friends do," Stiles says. "Buddies, comrades, people who occasionally save the world from a certain doom together. Whatever."
"Stiles," he says, tries to keep his voice level, average, calm.
"Are you going to tell me to shut up?" Stiles' knee is bouncing where he sits, jittering, not enough adderall or maybe just the adrenaline Derek can still smell pouring off of him. "Are you going to glower and say it like you're thinking about ripping out my vocal chords?"
"Stiles," he says, plows on through the chattering. "I'm okay."
Stiles mouth shuts with a click of teeth against teeth and he nods, knee still bouncing, smiling just a little to himself.
Subject: Teen Wolf | Derek, Stiles.
Rating: PG
Summary: Being a werewolf meant never needing words.
Notes: Not actually a crack fic, I just couldn't think of a title ok. Prompt was "That's what people do who love you. They put their arms around you and love you when you're not so lovable." but yeah I just kind of went nowhere near that?
WC: 334
Being a werewolf meant never needing words. All through his childhood, Derek had never had to say I'm sad or I'm angry or I don't know what I feel, I don't know if this is anger or self loathing or sadness because there'd always been someone close by who just knew, who could feel it already, the roil and the wrench and the bottom dropping out of his stomach.
Being around humans, even just Lydia and Stiles, meant he couldn't just rely on those feelings, his instincts, it meant words, it meant that Stiles, with his surplus of words, felt strange to him, foreign. He's never quite sure what to do with Stiles, the constant noise unnecessary, annoying, distracting, the chatter that shrouds are you okay and it's cool if you're not and I'm not either pointless.
"Oprah says you should talk about your feelings," Stiles says. "So if you wanted to talk about the fact you just literally ripped someone's head off - which was pretty freaking awesome by the way - you could."
There's a beat, a second of silence.
"Because that's what friends do," Stiles says. "Buddies, comrades, people who occasionally save the world from a certain doom together. Whatever."
"Stiles," he says, tries to keep his voice level, average, calm.
"Are you going to tell me to shut up?" Stiles' knee is bouncing where he sits, jittering, not enough adderall or maybe just the adrenaline Derek can still smell pouring off of him. "Are you going to glower and say it like you're thinking about ripping out my vocal chords?"
"Stiles," he says, plows on through the chattering. "I'm okay."
Stiles mouth shuts with a click of teeth against teeth and he nods, knee still bouncing, smiling just a little to himself.