tampered | → maybe i'm a different breed, maybe i'm not listening,

Entry tags:

teen wolf - stiles

→ maybe i'm a different breed, maybe i'm not listening,

When: August 5th ( evening )
Rating: R? Maybe? He's sixteen so who knows what's going to come out of his mouth.
Characters: Stilinski Jr. & you !
Summary: Sometimes you just have to get really, really wasted to deal with your teenage angst.

[ There are a lot of things you can get in the Underground if you just ask. Stiles has sheer dumb courage on his side ( and a winning personality ) and it's not that hard to walk out with a brand spanking new fake id. Objectively he knows he should have told Scott but he half figures his bestie will be busy making sure his mom settles in and anyway, the memory up on the network still stings.

So he tries the places they don't recognize him, carts his bottle in a backpack to the quietest part of Xanadu and gets steadily drunker. It's not hard to do. He's not really a big drinker beyond the occasional pilfered bottle of his dad's not insignificant collection. And it's not long before he's using his bag as a pillow and humming some idle pop song as he's sprawled across the grass.

He feels better, that's a plus, right? ]

Flat | Top-Level Comments Only

[ Aw no, he trusted you :C ]

Sometimes you just have to be alone. [ He waves his hand in front of him, gesticulating even loose and tired as he is. ] I mean it's great, people are awesome, but then you get so wrapped up in them that you miss the big picture and it's right there. M'not making sense. [ Letting his hand drop. ] Why'd you take my whiskey?

Because you're too young to drink the rest of that bottle and not vomit all over my good intentions.

[ His hand gives him a nudge on a shoulder, trying to coax him to roll around. ]

C'mon, lie on your side. It'll make it either go down or come up easier, whichever it wants.

I'm not going to throw up, dude.

[ But he rolls to his side anyway, pulls his bag closer to rest his head at this new angle. ] I mean it's cool that you're worried that makes me feel kinda warm and fuzzy inside. But I'm fine. [ Sing-song. ] Do they still have age-limits in the future? Man, that blows.

And your opinion on the subject is completely reliable.

[ You're drunk, Stiles, all those shots to call are no longer yours. Also, nice stalling but no cigar. ]

Is this because of what happened on the network?

No.

[ A pause and then he's rubbing a hand over his eyes and huffing out a sigh. ] Maybe? But not because I ... [ He leans on his elbow and looks at Kirk in a way that is hazy around the edges but still very, very keen. ] It just makes it real? You can forget, right? You can push it out because it makes it easier. And then this place - this place just freaking plucks it out of here. [ Tapping his temple. ] They could take anything.

[ He's said more than he wants to and the realisation makes him snap his mouth shut. He trusts Jim, is the thing. Maybe it started off as hero worship but he's a good guy. And Stiles likes him. ] Scott's guilty now. I didn't want him to know. I didn't want this.

[ The hand that ruffles Stiles' hair is languid and heavy, resting on a shoulder in a brotherly way as Jim tackles the inherent mess of that blabber. ]

He's your best friend, he'll understand.

But he thinks it's his fault.

[ If anyone in Beacon Hills is the least responsible for everything it's Scott. He shouldn't have even been out in the woods all that while ago. It was Stiles who wanted to go. Sometimes he traces the path of their destruction and he remembers how firmly he set the ball rolling. ] It sucks. You know what doesn't suck? Alcohol.

Then tell him to get bent if he doesn't take your word for it. That'll make him take notice.

[ Shh, shh, no more alcohol. Alcohol bad, talking good. ]

[ He snorts out a laugh. ]

Yeah. So how are you, Captain Kirk?

I'm looking at you, kid. It's like an oil painting in real life.

I don't even - [ Hiccup. ] Know what that means.

It means c'mon, you're coming home with me to sleep this off.

[ Hopping up, he takes Stiles by the hand. ]

[ Woah. ]

You're nicer than I thought you'd be. [ Blinking as he finds his feet. ] I mean I knew you'd be cool but this is ... you're just nice.

[ Chuckling, he slides an arm around Stiles to keep him upright, offering the support of his sturdy frame as he starts a slow walk out of Xanadu. ]

You knew I'd be cool?

Instinct. [ Whoops. ] Total instinct.

Your instincts should be telling you that you'll be sleeping this off in my bed until you're sober enough to head home. Anyone you want me to call?

[ Because responsibilities here, etc. Let's not have a repeat of a drunken Jim in this kid, he thinks. ]

No, I can't, oh my god. [ HE'S JUST REMEMBERED HIS SERIAL KILLER NOT BOYFRIEND WHO WILL SMELL JIM ON HIM, AAAAAAAAAAAH. ]

I mean, uh, we could. Tell Scott. His mom is here too. It's weird. He's been here for like two days and his mom's here.

Yes, you can. You reek, Stiles, and this way Bones can make sure you don't have a hangover ... maybe. If he's in a good mood.

[ Psh, ignoring those protests. ]

I'll call Scott and talk to his mom too, I guess.

Why is this happening?

[ PANIC. PANIC EVERYWHERE. ]

Because you got drunk in a field and lived up to the teenage stereotype.

[ YOU WANTED THE TRUTH. ]

You have betrayed me.

[ Squinting and pointing at him. ] So betrayed.

I've betrayed you by taking you home to a warm bed and possibly snacks?

[ Clasping that wayward finger, don't poke him in the eye. ]

Derek is going to kill me.

[ Whine. But he follows him anyway because he's like a lost lamb. ]

I'm not traipsing all over town with a drunk teenager, trying to find him. You'll sleep it off at mine and I'll talk to him if he's angry.

[ Man, fuck anyone who gets pissy about Jim's plan. He is so an adult right now. ]

[ He can sneak out later. All werewolves can suck his dick. ]

I can totally traipse. I am magic.

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