headlong 79/?
Jan. 15th, 2012 01:40 am![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
januarylightWhen he gets back, Scott is dressed, jacket and everything, sitting on Jeremy’s bed and tapping his foot impatiently. His bedding is still outside; Stiles hauls it back to the bed and drops his used towel on top of Scott’s pillow, because of course.
“Gross,” Scott says, jumping up and moving the towel to Jeremy’s bed instead. “Why are you so gross?”
Stiles moves the towel to the floor, because he’s a good person.
“Let’s go,” he says. “I’ve never actually been to Jackson’s.”
“Change of plans,” Scott says. “Jackson and Danny are already at your place having lunch.”
Stiles gives an outraged squeak. “Why is everyone stealing my food? It isn’t even lunchtime!”
“You tell Derek he’s having brunch,” Scott says.
*
Stiles gets a text in the car.
are you w scott?
Scott’s staring moodily out the window, so Stiles texts yes back one-handed.
She sends back oh, just that, so he returns how r u?
“Who are you texting?” Scott asks.
“No one,” Stiles says easily. He keeps glancing hopefully at his phone, but Allison doesn’t reply until they’re climbing out of the car.
how is he?
fine
really? comes quickly.
what do u think, he types, making Scott slow to pace him, ignoring the annoyance radiating his way. no. And then again, we’re having brunch w everyone
His screen goes dark and he’s impatient with her, so he shoves his phone into his pocket and sprints up the stairs, making it two flights before he has to lean against the wall to catch his breath. Scott, half a flight ahead, halts his upward glide to stare down at Stiles wryly. Stiles gestures to fill the silence, panting, but it only takes a second before he can speak. “You go ahead,” he gets out. “I’ll be right behind you.” Scott rolls his eyes and vanishes. Stiles swears he went to the next floor in one leap. It’s so unfair: Stiles is only unfit when compared to his friends, but who else is he ever going to be compared to? He isn’t resentful or jealous or anything, it’s just—it isn’t fair. That’s all.
He covers the rest of the distance at a reasonable pace, but when he gets into the apartment Scott is already huddled protectively over a plate full of food. Danny is scraping the tines of his fork through the sauce on his plate and licking it off, looking at Scott’s food acquisitively. Derek is doing much the same, but he doesn’t have a fork and he’s looking at Stiles.
“—don’t know what to do,” Jackson is saying. “Like, all the time, like yesterday, when—“ He cuts himself off, glancing nervously at Stiles.
Derek turns back to the conversation, and Stiles can move towards the food. Breakfast and brunch are separate and complementary meals. He’s going to have lunch, too.
“Yes?” Derek asks, because he has no idea what Jackson has been saying, just noticed the cessation of sound.
“Nothing,” Jackson sighs. “I definitely would not do what you would have done in that situation anyway.”
“What situation?” This is even earlier than Stiles had expected Jackson to cave. He looks at Derek, worried and trying not to be, trying to trust him.
“No situation!” Jackson says, eyes going wide with alarm. “There was no situation! There was just a—thing. Nothing to be concerned about!” He gulps, and Derek’s eyes narrow.
“I can’t believe you fuckers ate all the bacon!” Stiles says, drawing Derek’s attention. “There’s nothing left for me!”
Danny looks self-satisfied, and Scott curls closer around his plate. Jackson looks relieved. Derek gets up and comes over to Stiles. “What do you want?” he asks, pulling open the fridge.
“Nothing, I’m fine.”
“You just said you wanted something.” Derek’s warm against Stiles, not close enough. He can’t talk to Derek with everyone around, can’t ask him about earlier, can’t touch him. Derek’s looking at Stiles’ mouth, too close. Stiles steps back. It’s distracting.
“Not enough to cook. I ate on the way to Scott’s.”
Derek’s moving in again, pressing his nose against Stiles’ skin, but, “You didn’t bring me anything!” Scott says, outraged, pulling his torso to its full height from his position on the floor. Danny sneaks a strip of meat from Scott’s plate while he’s concentrating on his petulance. He has it in his mouth before Scott can snatch it back, but Scott’s already mid-lunge, and the coffee-table burns across the carpet, knocking into Danny’s chest, rocking him backwards onto one elbow.
“Hey,” Jackson says, getting up on his knees and shoving Scott hard.
“I’m fine,” Danny says calmly, righting himself.
“Hey!” Stiles says, going over to see what’s going on. “You tore the carpet!” Scott slaps back at Jackson and Jackson lunges to his feet beside Stiles. “Don’t even—“
“Stop,” Derek says, something foreign in his voice, and Stiles freezes, mouth open, before he remembers that he can snap it shut, that he should, and opens it again to yell at Derek this time.
Derek is looking at Scott and Jackson, though, and they’re still, looking back at him, bubbling under.
Derek doesn’t say anything else, but Stiles is still angry, so he rounds on Scott and Jackson. “Do not even think about messing up my place!” he says, finger swinging accusatorily between them. “I live here, and I have to get my security deposit back. Okay, I didn’t actually pay a deposit, but this is still my place!” Scott rolls his eyes dismissively.
“Scott,” Derek says. “Apologise.” Stiles’ skin breaks out in goosebumps.
“Sorry,” Scott sulks, but he says it and doesn’t even complain.
“Sorry,” Jackson tells Stiles with more grace, without even having to be prompted.
“Whatever, it’s fine,” Stiles says, and tries to drag the table back to its original position. Danny helps, but Scott and Jackson lift it from their hands, glaring at each other as they move it back. Stiles and Danny trade freaked out glances. Danny tilts his head at Derek questioningly, but Stiles just shrugs.
Jackson adjusts the table minutely, trying to hide the rip in the carpet, but it’s a lost cause, so he sits back down on the floor beside Danny. Danny scoots closer. “Okay,” he says, “that was weird.”
“What was?” Jackson asks.
“You going Stepford there?”
“No I didn’t,” Jackson says, offended.
“Just a little bit,” Danny says equably. He glances at Derek again, but Derek turns his back on the group and returns to the fridge, opening the door and staring in at nothing. Danny looks at Stiles quizzically, but Stiles has no idea what just happened and really isn’t interested in discussing it with Danny.
He paces restlessly around to the back of the couch. “You’re finished brunch?”
“We’re finished what?” Derek asks the contents of the fridge.
“What are we doing?” he asks Scott.
Scott drops onto the couch and buries his head under a cushion. “Wake me for more food,” he mutters. “Unless you really do want me to starve.”
Great. Stiles sighs. At least Derek won’t let him have any blankets.
Stiles’ phone vibrates in his pocket.
can u come over we’re at dutch’s
Great. He feels less sarcastic about that one, but. Still sarcastic. He’d rather be there than here, though. Danny is still looking at him, and Jackson is looking at Danny, without reason, excuse or pretence.
“I have to go,” he tells the room.
“You have somewhere else to be?” Danny asks, a little snide.
Derek looks at Danny over his shoulder, mouth opening to speak, but he hesitates, closes it when he sees Stiles watching him.
“I’ll see you later,” Stiles tells him, and Derek tenses, but he doesn’t say anything as Stiles leaves.
“Gross,” Scott says, jumping up and moving the towel to Jeremy’s bed instead. “Why are you so gross?”
Stiles moves the towel to the floor, because he’s a good person.
“Let’s go,” he says. “I’ve never actually been to Jackson’s.”
“Change of plans,” Scott says. “Jackson and Danny are already at your place having lunch.”
Stiles gives an outraged squeak. “Why is everyone stealing my food? It isn’t even lunchtime!”
“You tell Derek he’s having brunch,” Scott says.
*
Stiles gets a text in the car.
are you w scott?
Scott’s staring moodily out the window, so Stiles texts yes back one-handed.
She sends back oh, just that, so he returns how r u?
“Who are you texting?” Scott asks.
“No one,” Stiles says easily. He keeps glancing hopefully at his phone, but Allison doesn’t reply until they’re climbing out of the car.
how is he?
fine
really? comes quickly.
what do u think, he types, making Scott slow to pace him, ignoring the annoyance radiating his way. no. And then again, we’re having brunch w everyone
His screen goes dark and he’s impatient with her, so he shoves his phone into his pocket and sprints up the stairs, making it two flights before he has to lean against the wall to catch his breath. Scott, half a flight ahead, halts his upward glide to stare down at Stiles wryly. Stiles gestures to fill the silence, panting, but it only takes a second before he can speak. “You go ahead,” he gets out. “I’ll be right behind you.” Scott rolls his eyes and vanishes. Stiles swears he went to the next floor in one leap. It’s so unfair: Stiles is only unfit when compared to his friends, but who else is he ever going to be compared to? He isn’t resentful or jealous or anything, it’s just—it isn’t fair. That’s all.
He covers the rest of the distance at a reasonable pace, but when he gets into the apartment Scott is already huddled protectively over a plate full of food. Danny is scraping the tines of his fork through the sauce on his plate and licking it off, looking at Scott’s food acquisitively. Derek is doing much the same, but he doesn’t have a fork and he’s looking at Stiles.
“—don’t know what to do,” Jackson is saying. “Like, all the time, like yesterday, when—“ He cuts himself off, glancing nervously at Stiles.
Derek turns back to the conversation, and Stiles can move towards the food. Breakfast and brunch are separate and complementary meals. He’s going to have lunch, too.
“Yes?” Derek asks, because he has no idea what Jackson has been saying, just noticed the cessation of sound.
“Nothing,” Jackson sighs. “I definitely would not do what you would have done in that situation anyway.”
“What situation?” This is even earlier than Stiles had expected Jackson to cave. He looks at Derek, worried and trying not to be, trying to trust him.
“No situation!” Jackson says, eyes going wide with alarm. “There was no situation! There was just a—thing. Nothing to be concerned about!” He gulps, and Derek’s eyes narrow.
“I can’t believe you fuckers ate all the bacon!” Stiles says, drawing Derek’s attention. “There’s nothing left for me!”
Danny looks self-satisfied, and Scott curls closer around his plate. Jackson looks relieved. Derek gets up and comes over to Stiles. “What do you want?” he asks, pulling open the fridge.
“Nothing, I’m fine.”
“You just said you wanted something.” Derek’s warm against Stiles, not close enough. He can’t talk to Derek with everyone around, can’t ask him about earlier, can’t touch him. Derek’s looking at Stiles’ mouth, too close. Stiles steps back. It’s distracting.
“Not enough to cook. I ate on the way to Scott’s.”
Derek’s moving in again, pressing his nose against Stiles’ skin, but, “You didn’t bring me anything!” Scott says, outraged, pulling his torso to its full height from his position on the floor. Danny sneaks a strip of meat from Scott’s plate while he’s concentrating on his petulance. He has it in his mouth before Scott can snatch it back, but Scott’s already mid-lunge, and the coffee-table burns across the carpet, knocking into Danny’s chest, rocking him backwards onto one elbow.
“Hey,” Jackson says, getting up on his knees and shoving Scott hard.
“I’m fine,” Danny says calmly, righting himself.
“Hey!” Stiles says, going over to see what’s going on. “You tore the carpet!” Scott slaps back at Jackson and Jackson lunges to his feet beside Stiles. “Don’t even—“
“Stop,” Derek says, something foreign in his voice, and Stiles freezes, mouth open, before he remembers that he can snap it shut, that he should, and opens it again to yell at Derek this time.
Derek is looking at Scott and Jackson, though, and they’re still, looking back at him, bubbling under.
Derek doesn’t say anything else, but Stiles is still angry, so he rounds on Scott and Jackson. “Do not even think about messing up my place!” he says, finger swinging accusatorily between them. “I live here, and I have to get my security deposit back. Okay, I didn’t actually pay a deposit, but this is still my place!” Scott rolls his eyes dismissively.
“Scott,” Derek says. “Apologise.” Stiles’ skin breaks out in goosebumps.
“Sorry,” Scott sulks, but he says it and doesn’t even complain.
“Sorry,” Jackson tells Stiles with more grace, without even having to be prompted.
“Whatever, it’s fine,” Stiles says, and tries to drag the table back to its original position. Danny helps, but Scott and Jackson lift it from their hands, glaring at each other as they move it back. Stiles and Danny trade freaked out glances. Danny tilts his head at Derek questioningly, but Stiles just shrugs.
Jackson adjusts the table minutely, trying to hide the rip in the carpet, but it’s a lost cause, so he sits back down on the floor beside Danny. Danny scoots closer. “Okay,” he says, “that was weird.”
“What was?” Jackson asks.
“You going Stepford there?”
“No I didn’t,” Jackson says, offended.
“Just a little bit,” Danny says equably. He glances at Derek again, but Derek turns his back on the group and returns to the fridge, opening the door and staring in at nothing. Danny looks at Stiles quizzically, but Stiles has no idea what just happened and really isn’t interested in discussing it with Danny.
He paces restlessly around to the back of the couch. “You’re finished brunch?”
“We’re finished what?” Derek asks the contents of the fridge.
“What are we doing?” he asks Scott.
Scott drops onto the couch and buries his head under a cushion. “Wake me for more food,” he mutters. “Unless you really do want me to starve.”
Great. Stiles sighs. At least Derek won’t let him have any blankets.
Stiles’ phone vibrates in his pocket.
can u come over we’re at dutch’s
Great. He feels less sarcastic about that one, but. Still sarcastic. He’d rather be there than here, though. Danny is still looking at him, and Jackson is looking at Danny, without reason, excuse or pretence.
“I have to go,” he tells the room.
“You have somewhere else to be?” Danny asks, a little snide.
Derek looks at Danny over his shoulder, mouth opening to speak, but he hesitates, closes it when he sees Stiles watching him.
“I’ll see you later,” Stiles tells him, and Derek tenses, but he doesn’t say anything as Stiles leaves.
no subject
Date: 2012-01-15 02:24 am (UTC)I am sort of interested with what Allison and Lydia have to say.
no subject
Date: 2012-01-17 01:54 am (UTC)Jackson and Danny are curious too!