[ stiles just kind of wants to throw his phone. he's sitting up on the little alcove of the roof he'd discovered a little while ago--he doesn't want to be in his room right now. ]
[ Derek doesn't respond, doesn't even think to bring his phone with him. He's out the door and straight to the room that Stiles has been sharing with Scott and Isaac for months now. This is a familiar route, and it's one that he takes easily, hoisting himself seamlessly out the window and to the roof.
Scott's scent is still fresh, but he has a feeling it'll start to fade just like Isaac's has, like Cora's.
But he doesn't say anything, just moves towards Stiles. ]
[ Stiles looks up when he hears the creak of the sill and looks at Derek as he comes closer, but then returns his gaze back down to his knees. He's sitting drawn up in a ball, more or less, not crying but clearly upset, torment written all up and down his features, and Stiles just scoots over, making a little more room on the small alcove. ]
[ Balance steady, Derek moves to fill the space that Stiles opens up for him, gracefully folding down to sit. His shoulder bumps into Stiles', and he settles so that there's not really much space between them, bringing his hand up to curl broad fingers around the back of his neck.
He had just talked to Allison about this. Of course this is what happens. ]
He's gone home, then. [ Not really a question, so much as confirmation. A disappeared person could be anything-- his things gone is something more final. ] Stiles...
[ Cora, Scott, Isaac. All of them had gone missing for some amount of time in the past week or so, but Scott was the only one that had a sense of finality. It was when he walked in the room and he saw that the "double" bunk beds--the ones Stiles had jokingly called the third wheel bed--had shrunk back to regular size that he knew .
If anyone--anyone had to go missing, why did it have to be Scott. Stiles is kind of feeling like a boat untethered right now, with his dad and Scott both gone, and he's got the rest of the pack to cling to, but it's just...it's just not the same. It's not Scott.
The hand on his neck is a start, though, and Stiles basically melts underneath it, pitching sideways just enough to press against him, entire body pressed up to his side. There really aren't any other words--he feels like shit over it, period. ]
He doesn't. They both know that he could very well come back, despite the finality, the permanence of his things being gone from their room. Lydia had before, and even Derek had gone and come again. But neither of them remembered the times they were here before. Who's to say that Scott would come back and remember that he loved Isaac and Allison? That Stiles had lost his mind? That Derek had to snap his neck?
No one can say it. So he doesn't try to offer that as reassurance. Instead, he slips his arm around Stiles' shoulders as he slumps into him, curling it securely and holding him close. Gently, he noses at the top of his head, before he tips his own up and presses a long and lingering kiss to his dark hair. It's a silent apology, and quiet empathy. It doesn't hurt for him as much as it does Stiles, and he knows it, but having a part of his family taken from again-- even like this, so innocent in comparison-- still stings. ]
[ That's all he's really got for now--no words, nothing. Scott was always the one to notice when something was wrong with Stiles, more than anyone else. They'd literally been together every day for their entire lives, and he'd only maybe spent a month, tops, here in the mansion without him. Even that had been hard. It's like missing a piece of your soul, because Scott's his brother.
Stiles doesn't know what's happening at home. He could be dead. (Just like his dad could be, a traitorous voice whispers in the back of his mind, and he has to force himself to ignore it.)
But he turns a little and those walls go down, just an inch, his cheek turning into Derek's shoulder when he feels the kiss dropped into his hair. He wants to cry like a little kid, and it's just making him feel even stupider, so Stiles just speaks into his shirt, muffled, and screws his eyes shut as tight as possible. ] Everything's gone.
[ It sounds stupid, to his own ears, and he just wants to close up and ignore everything for a little while, bury his face here and pretend that the outside world--even far outside the mansion, back home in Beacon Hills--doesn't exist. ]
[ For as frequently as Derek is negative about things, some part of him is determined to be an optimist opposite Allison, opposite Stiles. Scott, if he's gone home and hasn't been swept into Wonderland elsewhere, is safe. Scott is smart, smarter than people give him credit for. And he's strong. Though they'll miss him like hell, and worry for him, he's going to believe that he's all right.
That doesn't change the fact that a piece of them all is now missing. Stiles has known him the longest, so he knows it's hitting him the hardest. But it's almost the same sensation of truly losing pack-- just without the soul rending tear that comes with their absence, but only barely. So he sits there and lets Stiles turn into him, hide his face against his shirt as he buries his nose in his hair.
Sliding his hand up from his shoulder, his knuckles brush against the line of his neck, fingers uncurling to apply a gentle, reassuring pressure. ]
I know. [ There's more to it than Stiles just saying that everything's gone, and he doesn't need supernatural senses to pick up on it. He knows that it hurts, knows that it sucks. Knows how awful it is that they want him there with them, in a place like Wonderland. But at least he was there with them, and away from the dangers that plague Beacon Hills. ]
[ There's something safe about this spot, something he can't quite put his words on. When he started seeing Derek like this, Stiles couldn't tell you, but right now all he needs is the feeling of the warm body next to his, something to tether him safely in the present, because he's--angry. Angry and frustrated and upset, and Stiles just wants to kick and scream and cry like that could just bring Scott back.
He has to tell Allison, has to tell Isaac, has to get his head out of his ass and get over himself but Scott is gone and it's like leaving a gaping hole deep in his chest.
Maybe it's the hand on his neck, but whatever it is, Stiles shudders, his shoulders melting a little, and he can feel tears burning behind his eyelids--he manages a soft "Damn it. Damn it." and holds onto Derek to just let go. ]
[ If there's one thing that Derek knows, it's anger. It had been his anchor for years, after all, the tether to his humanity to keep instincts in check, the rest of his emotions smothered when the moon was at its peak. Now, though, it's something else that keeps him grounded-- and he'll offer that same connection to Stiles, hold him steady instead of push him away as his pain surfaces above everything else.
All he does is shift the slightest bit as he hears the words, so that he can carefully pull Stiles against him. It's easy, far easier than he'd ever anticipated it being. But now that he has this, whatever it is that they have between them, that tangible pull that's been drawing them together for months now, he's not about to let it go.
Nosing softly at the crown of his head, a rumble builds in the back of his throat, all subvocal vibration in his chest. Something soothing to ease Stiles through the loss, one that they're both all too familiar with in different situations. ]
[ The dam breaks at the rumble--his hands tighten to fist in his shirt like a lifeline and Stiles resolutely hopes that Derek won't point out the fact that his shoulder's getting wet, because maybe he can hold onto a shred of his pride, but at the same time, maybe with Derek, he's willing to let it go.
His shoulders shake a little, and he does just that, because he's angry and frustrated and upset and all he wants is to act like a child and just make Scott reappear. He misses his dad, and now he gets to add that to the pile, too. ]
This place fucking sucks. [ And dropping the f-bomb is always a big deal, but it's worth it. His voice is wobbly but he takes in a deep breath to try and compose himself, and willingly worms a little further into his arms, like he could just melt inside of his jacket and forget the rest of the world for a little while. ]
It does. [ And he could never argue that. Derek had agreed with Allison, for as much as he'd claimed it one hell for another. But this place is still, no matter what, a horrible place. It's bullshit, that it has the power to take those they care for away from them-- Beacon Hills, their world, had been bad enough about it. At least here there was the chance they could come back.
Slowly, he adjusts his hold on Stiles, wrapping him up completely without comment. The dampness doesn't go unnoticed, but he doesn't comment. Instead, he just nuzzles into his hair, keeps rumbling softly.
If he can hide Stiles away from the rest of the world, let him decompress and release, then he will do his best. ]
![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
Christ.
Where are you.
sticks a flag in it
[ stiles just kind of wants to throw his phone. he's sitting up on the little alcove of the roof he'd discovered a little while ago--he doesn't want to be in his room right now. ]
rooftop, out of my window.
I s2g you two.
Scott's scent is still fresh, but he has a feeling it'll start to fade just like Isaac's has, like Cora's.
But he doesn't say anything, just moves towards Stiles. ]
8)
His stuff's all gone. I looked everywhere.
sighs
He had just talked to Allison about this. Of course this is what happens. ]
He's gone home, then. [ Not really a question, so much as confirmation. A disappeared person could be anything-- his things gone is something more final. ] Stiles...
no subject
[ Cora, Scott, Isaac. All of them had gone missing for some amount of time in the past week or so, but Scott was the only one that had a sense of finality. It was when he walked in the room and he saw that the "double" bunk beds--the ones Stiles had jokingly called the third wheel bed--had shrunk back to regular size that he knew .
If anyone--anyone had to go missing, why did it have to be Scott. Stiles is kind of feeling like a boat untethered right now, with his dad and Scott both gone, and he's got the rest of the pack to cling to, but it's just...it's just not the same. It's not Scott.
The hand on his neck is a start, though, and Stiles basically melts underneath it, pitching sideways just enough to press against him, entire body pressed up to his side. There really aren't any other words--he feels like shit over it, period. ]
no subject
He doesn't. They both know that he could very well come back, despite the finality, the permanence of his things being gone from their room. Lydia had before, and even Derek had gone and come again. But neither of them remembered the times they were here before. Who's to say that Scott would come back and remember that he loved Isaac and Allison? That Stiles had lost his mind? That Derek had to snap his neck?
No one can say it. So he doesn't try to offer that as reassurance. Instead, he slips his arm around Stiles' shoulders as he slumps into him, curling it securely and holding him close. Gently, he noses at the top of his head, before he tips his own up and presses a long and lingering kiss to his dark hair. It's a silent apology, and quiet empathy. It doesn't hurt for him as much as it does Stiles, and he knows it, but having a part of his family taken from again-- even like this, so innocent in comparison-- still stings. ]
no subject
Stiles doesn't know what's happening at home. He could be dead. (Just like his dad could be, a traitorous voice whispers in the back of his mind, and he has to force himself to ignore it.)
But he turns a little and those walls go down, just an inch, his cheek turning into Derek's shoulder when he feels the kiss dropped into his hair. He wants to cry like a little kid, and it's just making him feel even stupider, so Stiles just speaks into his shirt, muffled, and screws his eyes shut as tight as possible. ] Everything's gone.
[ It sounds stupid, to his own ears, and he just wants to close up and ignore everything for a little while, bury his face here and pretend that the outside world--even far outside the mansion, back home in Beacon Hills--doesn't exist. ]
no subject
That doesn't change the fact that a piece of them all is now missing. Stiles has known him the longest, so he knows it's hitting him the hardest. But it's almost the same sensation of truly losing pack-- just without the soul rending tear that comes with their absence, but only barely. So he sits there and lets Stiles turn into him, hide his face against his shirt as he buries his nose in his hair.
Sliding his hand up from his shoulder, his knuckles brush against the line of his neck, fingers uncurling to apply a gentle, reassuring pressure. ]
I know. [ There's more to it than Stiles just saying that everything's gone, and he doesn't need supernatural senses to pick up on it. He knows that it hurts, knows that it sucks. Knows how awful it is that they want him there with them, in a place like Wonderland. But at least he was there with them, and away from the dangers that plague Beacon Hills. ]
no subject
He has to tell Allison, has to tell Isaac, has to get his head out of his ass and get over himself but Scott is gone and it's like leaving a gaping hole deep in his chest.
Maybe it's the hand on his neck, but whatever it is, Stiles shudders, his shoulders melting a little, and he can feel tears burning behind his eyelids--he manages a soft "Damn it. Damn it." and holds onto Derek to just let go. ]
no subject
All he does is shift the slightest bit as he hears the words, so that he can carefully pull Stiles against him. It's easy, far easier than he'd ever anticipated it being. But now that he has this, whatever it is that they have between them, that tangible pull that's been drawing them together for months now, he's not about to let it go.
Nosing softly at the crown of his head, a rumble builds in the back of his throat, all subvocal vibration in his chest. Something soothing to ease Stiles through the loss, one that they're both all too familiar with in different situations. ]
no subject
His shoulders shake a little, and he does just that, because he's angry and frustrated and upset and all he wants is to act like a child and just make Scott reappear. He misses his dad, and now he gets to add that to the pile, too. ]
This place fucking sucks. [ And dropping the f-bomb is always a big deal, but it's worth it. His voice is wobbly but he takes in a deep breath to try and compose himself, and willingly worms a little further into his arms, like he could just melt inside of his jacket and forget the rest of the world for a little while. ]
no subject
Slowly, he adjusts his hold on Stiles, wrapping him up completely without comment. The dampness doesn't go unnoticed, but he doesn't comment. Instead, he just nuzzles into his hair, keeps rumbling softly.
If he can hide Stiles away from the rest of the world, let him decompress and release, then he will do his best. ]