Just Nightmares - Angst: Geständnis (fürs Team)
Titel: Just Nightmares - Teil 6
Team: Erato
Challenge: Angst - Geständnis (naja, Angst, wenn man ein Auge zudrückt *hust*)
Fandom: Teen Wolf
Charaktere/Pairings: Stiles, Deaton, Scott, Allison, Derek
Wörter: 1017
A/N: Der sechste Teil und ein neues Kapitel, yay. Liedtext ist Trust, wieder von Christina Perri. Und ja, im nächsten Teil gibts Stiles + Allison. |D
Teil 1 | Teil 2 | Teil 3 | Teil 4 | Teil 5
I cannot stand on what's broken under me
And I don't know how to forgive myself for everything
But I must
Learn to trust
"Tell me about the nightmares." Deaton was looking at him expectantly, and Stiles really didn't want to be here right now. Deaton hadn't made him sit on the cold table, but the metal chair he was crouching in wasn't exactly that much better; it was still uncomfortable and his butt was cold.
He glanced over at Scott, who was trying to hide his worry but failing miserably, because it was right there, fucking screaming at everyone who didn't want to see. Then he glanced over at Derek-and he really wanted to know why he was here, but the moment for that question had passed and now he couldn't-and back to Scott, because he still couldn't quite look into Allison's eyes, who was standing right beside her boyfriend, turned towards Stiles and Deaton, probably listening closely. Stiles had no idea why they were all here. He wished only Scott was, because he kind of didn't want to repeat the confession to everyone. But apparently, that's exactly what Scott made him do right now.
"I, uh, the dreams are... disorganized? Yeah, I think you could call it that. They're disorganized, but also kind of... uh, creepier? It... it's gotten worse than before... and they're much more frequent again." He avoided everyone's looks after that, because he really didn't need to see the pity. Or the concern, or whatever else kinds of sympathy, really. Dr. Deaton, thankfully, only smiled at him mildly, just staying professionally friendly. Exactly what Stiles could take right now.
"Are they different from before?"
Again, Stiles paused to think. It was really hard not to look at his friends. It was also hard to get the truth out again. Scott was one thing-he was his best friend and he trusted him with his life. But Dr. Deaton? Yeah, he might be some kind of father figure for Scott, but he wasn't that for Stiles.
"Yeah, I guess they are. I mean... before, they were just, well, memories of... of, you know, and now it's completely out of context, like, one second I'm in one place, and in the next, I'm somewhere else. Or there's just darkness all around and I can't even see my own hand in front of my eyes... and... stuff..." Stiles explained, leaving out the bits about his dead and bloodied friends. And that it was his doing. And that it still hurt deep in his chest to think about it.
He caught Derek's eyes despite himself, and what he saw there was a mix of sadness and anger, pretty much exactly what Scott had shown the night before. Sadness at Stiles suffering and anger at the thing that had caused it. It was still a little bizarre how even Stiles and Derek had become friends like that. They hadn't exactly had the best start.
"Hmm..." Deaton seemed pensive, looking at Stiles but not really seeming to see him, but then he re-focused. "What is it like when you wake up from the nightmares?"
It was the question Stiles hadn't wanted to answer the most. Because it was kind of personal and embarrassing. And he really didn't want to make his friends worry anymore.
"Sometimes I wake screaming," his voice was saying, but it was as if it wasn't really him, like it was someone else explaining, clinically and completely calm, "Sometimes I can't breathe, and sometimes... I'm kinda close to a panic attack."
Nobody said anything, although Stiles heard Scott whine in the back of his throat. Or was it Derek? Or both of them? He wasn't sure, because he wasn't looking. The silence stretched on with Deaton twirling his non-existent beard.
"I can't say for sure what it is yet, but you should keep taking note of everything about the dreams and the moments after you wake up. I can give you a dreamcatcher, it should help with common nightmares."
"Dreamcatchers? They work?" Stiles asked, frowning. He had thought it was just some sort of exotic decoration many people liked. He'd never have thought they were actually "catching" dreams.
Deaton smiled. "Mine do."
"Okay," Stiles said, because what else should he say? Apparently, it was that easy to get rid of nightmares. Just get yourself a special enhanced dreamcatcher a la Deaton.
"Keep in mind that the dreamcatcher is only a temporary solution," Deaton added mysteriously, because the guy knew how to do that.
Stiles stood, and suddenly, Scott was by his side, Allison right behind. It was kind of endearing. What was a bit strange was that Derek appeared on his other side, searching for something in his eyes. Hell knew what it was he was looking for, but it did kind of make it hard to control his sweat and heartbeat, being stared at so intensely. By Derek.
"Isaac and I think we found a trail," Derek said. It was probably meant for Scott, although he was still looking at Stiles. "We should go and have a look at it, Scott."
"Yeah..." Stiles heard Scott say. It sounded contemplative. "Allison, could you go with Stiles?"
Stiles slowly turned around to look at them, and this time, he really didn't manage to get his heart rate under control. It practically leapt out of his chest at the prospect of being alone with Allison.
"Can't I go with you? It could help if I saw-"
"No," Scott immediately cut him off, but then coughed sheepishly, "I mean, we don't know if it's anything, right?"
"Stiles?" Allison said, and finally, Stiles looked at her, really looked at her. She looked good, healthy, not at all white like a ghost anymore. Like she'd disappear any moment.
"It's okay," she said gently, like she knew. And Stiles realized she probably did. Scott would know-he was Stiles's best friend, of course he'd know-and he had probably told her.
He averted his eyes. It still hurt. It still hurt so fucking much. How could she not be angry at him? How could everyone not be angry at him?
"Let's go," she said, and with that, the decision was final.
Team: Erato
Challenge: Angst - Geständnis (naja, Angst, wenn man ein Auge zudrückt *hust*)
Fandom: Teen Wolf
Charaktere/Pairings: Stiles, Deaton, Scott, Allison, Derek
Wörter: 1017
A/N: Der sechste Teil und ein neues Kapitel, yay. Liedtext ist Trust, wieder von Christina Perri. Und ja, im nächsten Teil gibts Stiles + Allison. |D
Teil 1 | Teil 2 | Teil 3 | Teil 4 | Teil 5
I cannot stand on what's broken under me
And I don't know how to forgive myself for everything
But I must
Learn to trust
"Tell me about the nightmares." Deaton was looking at him expectantly, and Stiles really didn't want to be here right now. Deaton hadn't made him sit on the cold table, but the metal chair he was crouching in wasn't exactly that much better; it was still uncomfortable and his butt was cold.
He glanced over at Scott, who was trying to hide his worry but failing miserably, because it was right there, fucking screaming at everyone who didn't want to see. Then he glanced over at Derek-and he really wanted to know why he was here, but the moment for that question had passed and now he couldn't-and back to Scott, because he still couldn't quite look into Allison's eyes, who was standing right beside her boyfriend, turned towards Stiles and Deaton, probably listening closely. Stiles had no idea why they were all here. He wished only Scott was, because he kind of didn't want to repeat the confession to everyone. But apparently, that's exactly what Scott made him do right now.
"I, uh, the dreams are... disorganized? Yeah, I think you could call it that. They're disorganized, but also kind of... uh, creepier? It... it's gotten worse than before... and they're much more frequent again." He avoided everyone's looks after that, because he really didn't need to see the pity. Or the concern, or whatever else kinds of sympathy, really. Dr. Deaton, thankfully, only smiled at him mildly, just staying professionally friendly. Exactly what Stiles could take right now.
"Are they different from before?"
Again, Stiles paused to think. It was really hard not to look at his friends. It was also hard to get the truth out again. Scott was one thing-he was his best friend and he trusted him with his life. But Dr. Deaton? Yeah, he might be some kind of father figure for Scott, but he wasn't that for Stiles.
"Yeah, I guess they are. I mean... before, they were just, well, memories of... of, you know, and now it's completely out of context, like, one second I'm in one place, and in the next, I'm somewhere else. Or there's just darkness all around and I can't even see my own hand in front of my eyes... and... stuff..." Stiles explained, leaving out the bits about his dead and bloodied friends. And that it was his doing. And that it still hurt deep in his chest to think about it.
He caught Derek's eyes despite himself, and what he saw there was a mix of sadness and anger, pretty much exactly what Scott had shown the night before. Sadness at Stiles suffering and anger at the thing that had caused it. It was still a little bizarre how even Stiles and Derek had become friends like that. They hadn't exactly had the best start.
"Hmm..." Deaton seemed pensive, looking at Stiles but not really seeming to see him, but then he re-focused. "What is it like when you wake up from the nightmares?"
It was the question Stiles hadn't wanted to answer the most. Because it was kind of personal and embarrassing. And he really didn't want to make his friends worry anymore.
"Sometimes I wake screaming," his voice was saying, but it was as if it wasn't really him, like it was someone else explaining, clinically and completely calm, "Sometimes I can't breathe, and sometimes... I'm kinda close to a panic attack."
Nobody said anything, although Stiles heard Scott whine in the back of his throat. Or was it Derek? Or both of them? He wasn't sure, because he wasn't looking. The silence stretched on with Deaton twirling his non-existent beard.
"I can't say for sure what it is yet, but you should keep taking note of everything about the dreams and the moments after you wake up. I can give you a dreamcatcher, it should help with common nightmares."
"Dreamcatchers? They work?" Stiles asked, frowning. He had thought it was just some sort of exotic decoration many people liked. He'd never have thought they were actually "catching" dreams.
Deaton smiled. "Mine do."
"Okay," Stiles said, because what else should he say? Apparently, it was that easy to get rid of nightmares. Just get yourself a special enhanced dreamcatcher a la Deaton.
"Keep in mind that the dreamcatcher is only a temporary solution," Deaton added mysteriously, because the guy knew how to do that.
Stiles stood, and suddenly, Scott was by his side, Allison right behind. It was kind of endearing. What was a bit strange was that Derek appeared on his other side, searching for something in his eyes. Hell knew what it was he was looking for, but it did kind of make it hard to control his sweat and heartbeat, being stared at so intensely. By Derek.
"Isaac and I think we found a trail," Derek said. It was probably meant for Scott, although he was still looking at Stiles. "We should go and have a look at it, Scott."
"Yeah..." Stiles heard Scott say. It sounded contemplative. "Allison, could you go with Stiles?"
Stiles slowly turned around to look at them, and this time, he really didn't manage to get his heart rate under control. It practically leapt out of his chest at the prospect of being alone with Allison.
"Can't I go with you? It could help if I saw-"
"No," Scott immediately cut him off, but then coughed sheepishly, "I mean, we don't know if it's anything, right?"
"Stiles?" Allison said, and finally, Stiles looked at her, really looked at her. She looked good, healthy, not at all white like a ghost anymore. Like she'd disappear any moment.
"It's okay," she said gently, like she knew. And Stiles realized she probably did. Scott would know-he was Stiles's best friend, of course he'd know-and he had probably told her.
He averted his eyes. It still hurt. It still hurt so fucking much. How could she not be angry at him? How could everyone not be angry at him?
"Let's go," she said, and with that, the decision was final.