It's easy for him to pick out the bitterness in Derek's voice. Easy for him
to pick out a lot in Derek's voice, now, if he's honest. He's had a lot of
practice the last few months. Now, he can discern vague irritation, awkward
gruffness, and mildly pleased grumpiness. Derek's voice has lots of
gravelly flavors, most of them sounding somewhere between sleep-deprived
bear and totally hot metal vocalist. A part of him wonders
when Derek got to be so communicative. The rest realizes it's just him, and
shies away from thinking about it. But it's hard not to think about it,
especially when Derek and Scott are both right there, and Derek gets it,
and Scott just...doesn't. He doesn't even realize, just tries to glare back
over his shoulder for good measure, and Stiles is just too friggin' tired
for this. Too tired for all of this, and of all of this, and the night is
only getting longer. Derek's command gets a wave over Stiles' shoulder as
he pushes Scott up the stairs, an okay that he actually intends to follow
through on, for once. It's concern goading Derek on, he knows that. Scott,
on the other hand, doesn't.
"This is BS, how can he just stand there like that and order us
around like--" There's arrogance and anger and beneath it all, fear and
bewilderment in Scott's voice, a fundamental disconnect from reality Stiles
can practically feel happening as he propels Scott towards the back door.
It's something he isn't gonna let happen again. Derek isn't gonna be
Scott's scapegoat for reality forever. "Hold it right there, dude. You need
to hear a few things, and I've gotta say a few things, so just shut up for
a minute, okay?"
Scott seems surprised enough to actually comply, and Stiles' searching eyes
catch one of the Argents' men standing towards the edge of the yard, in
conversation with the man of the hour. Alison, he assumes by Scott's
presence, is somewhere else, and safe. Probably with Erica and Boyd and
Isaac, and that probably means with Deaton. But it isn't any of them he's
looking for right now, and he isn't gonna get a better opportunity to talk
to Scott. Walking up to Chris Argent, Stiles can feel the half-clinical,
half-horrified looks the men are giving him, and whatever shred of vanity
he has left vanishes, replaced by irritation and a stubborn
bloodymindedness. "Need you inside. Downstairs," he says shortly and with a
surprising amount of authority. Not sure when that happened, but at least
his voice didn't crack. Chris is smart enough to see what's coming, nods,
and goes inside, and Stiles steels himself for a moment before turning back
to Scott. Poor, confused Scott, who doesn't understand this at all, who
just wants the world to be black and white and easy and not what it is.
Scott who used to talk about his mom and Stiles' dad getting married and
them being brothers for real. In that one moment, Stiles sees both who they
were and who they are, and God it makes him tired.
"Scott, this was my plan." He can see Scott opening his mouth to argue,
surely Stiles never meant for this, and he cuts him off before he can get
the words together. "Not Derek's. None of this was his idea. If he could
have, he'd have done this all himself and died trying, because it's easier
than facing another day of accusations and mistrust and all the guilt that
moron carries on his stupidly gorilla-like shoulders. But this was my plan.
So don't you go blaming him. Yeah, he can be an asshole. But as much as you
think you're trying to do the right thing, so is he, and he's trying to do
it for all of us, not just some girl or maybe a friend. This isn't easy for
anyone, and maybe we've got a lot more going on than normal high-school
kids. I didn't ask for this, and I know you didn't either. You're always
saying you wish it hadn't happened. But for once, Scott, stop trying to
make everything so black and white, us or them. It isn't that easy. People
aren't just good guys or bad guys, dude, and in case you forgot, you're one
of the monsters, too. You're a furry freak, and you're still my best
friend, even if you haven't remembered I existed for weeks at a time, I
still think that. Derek saved my ass again tonight. Even if you can't get
past whatever you've made him out to be in your head, you owe him that
much, at least. You owe me. Stop acting like he's the worst person on the
planet and start looking around. There's worse out there. A lot worse. And
some of it, we used to think was pretty cool. He's my friend, too, even if
he's a dick sometimes. Just start thinking Scott, okay? Stop making
excuses. I need you to have my back again. I want my best friend back."
It's stupid and it's childish and he's sure none of the right words are
coming out again, because Scott just looks more confused than ever, but all
Stiles can do is shake his head, and then wince and sway as the adrenaline
starts to wear off and his everything starts to throb. "I'm gonna tell my
dad you cracked me in the face with a lacrosse stick, you know," he adds,
shaking his head and looking at Scott with a peculiar mix of sorrow and
nostalgia and regret and hope burning in his chest. "Unless you have
something better?"
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timeasmymeasure
no subject
Date: 2014-09-07 05:39 am (UTC)It's easy for him to pick out the bitterness in Derek's voice. Easy for him to pick out a lot in Derek's voice, now, if he's honest. He's had a lot of practice the last few months. Now, he can discern vague irritation, awkward gruffness, and mildly pleased grumpiness. Derek's voice has lots of gravelly flavors, most of them sounding somewhere between sleep-deprived bear and
totally hotmetal vocalist. A part of him wonders when Derek got to be so communicative. The rest realizes it's just him, and shies away from thinking about it. But it's hard not to think about it, especially when Derek and Scott are both right there, and Derek gets it, and Scott just...doesn't. He doesn't even realize, just tries to glare back over his shoulder for good measure, and Stiles is just too friggin' tired for this. Too tired for all of this, and of all of this, and the night is only getting longer. Derek's command gets a wave over Stiles' shoulder as he pushes Scott up the stairs, an okay that he actually intends to follow through on, for once. It's concern goading Derek on, he knows that. Scott, on the other hand, doesn't. "This is BS, how can he just stand there like that and order us around like--" There's arrogance and anger and beneath it all, fear and bewilderment in Scott's voice, a fundamental disconnect from reality Stiles can practically feel happening as he propels Scott towards the back door. It's something he isn't gonna let happen again. Derek isn't gonna be Scott's scapegoat for reality forever. "Hold it right there, dude. You need to hear a few things, and I've gotta say a few things, so just shut up for a minute, okay?"Scott seems surprised enough to actually comply, and Stiles' searching eyes catch one of the Argents' men standing towards the edge of the yard, in conversation with the man of the hour. Alison, he assumes by Scott's presence, is somewhere else, and safe. Probably with Erica and Boyd and Isaac, and that probably means with Deaton. But it isn't any of them he's looking for right now, and he isn't gonna get a better opportunity to talk to Scott. Walking up to Chris Argent, Stiles can feel the half-clinical, half-horrified looks the men are giving him, and whatever shred of vanity he has left vanishes, replaced by irritation and a stubborn bloodymindedness. "Need you inside. Downstairs," he says shortly and with a surprising amount of authority. Not sure when that happened, but at least his voice didn't crack. Chris is smart enough to see what's coming, nods, and goes inside, and Stiles steels himself for a moment before turning back to Scott. Poor, confused Scott, who doesn't understand this at all, who just wants the world to be black and white and easy and not what it is. Scott who used to talk about his mom and Stiles' dad getting married and them being brothers for real. In that one moment, Stiles sees both who they were and who they are, and God it makes him tired.
"Scott, this was my plan." He can see Scott opening his mouth to argue, surely Stiles never meant for this, and he cuts him off before he can get the words together. "Not Derek's. None of this was his idea. If he could have, he'd have done this all himself and died trying, because it's easier than facing another day of accusations and mistrust and all the guilt that moron carries on his stupidly gorilla-like shoulders. But this was my plan. So don't you go blaming him. Yeah, he can be an asshole. But as much as you think you're trying to do the right thing, so is he, and he's trying to do it for all of us, not just some girl or maybe a friend. This isn't easy for anyone, and maybe we've got a lot more going on than normal high-school kids. I didn't ask for this, and I know you didn't either. You're always saying you wish it hadn't happened. But for once, Scott, stop trying to make everything so black and white, us or them. It isn't that easy. People aren't just good guys or bad guys, dude, and in case you forgot, you're one of the monsters, too. You're a furry freak, and you're still my best friend, even if you haven't remembered I existed for weeks at a time, I still think that. Derek saved my ass again tonight. Even if you can't get past whatever you've made him out to be in your head, you owe him that much, at least. You owe me. Stop acting like he's the worst person on the planet and start looking around. There's worse out there. A lot worse. And some of it, we used to think was pretty cool. He's my friend, too, even if he's a dick sometimes. Just start thinking Scott, okay? Stop making excuses. I need you to have my back again. I want my best friend back."
It's stupid and it's childish and he's sure none of the right words are coming out again, because Scott just looks more confused than ever, but all Stiles can do is shake his head, and then wince and sway as the adrenaline starts to wear off and his everything starts to throb. "I'm gonna tell my dad you cracked me in the face with a lacrosse stick, you know," he adds, shaking his head and looking at Scott with a peculiar mix of sorrow and nostalgia and regret and hope burning in his chest. "Unless you have something better?"