Stiles (![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png)
skybluejeep) wrote2013-12-23 02:51 pm
skybluejeep) wrote2013-12-23 02:51 pm
Entry tags:
TuShanshu Christmas fic
Ugh. Angsty Christmas. Stupid freakin' angsty Christmas.
Stiles has lived his whole life by one simple principle: Never be sad where people can see. That he breaks this rule frequently is no big deal. The majority of the time, he's all jokes and sarcasm and stupid t-shirts. It started when his mom died, and he had to keep his father going. His father who crumbled. The pillar of strength, the community leader, the man everybody looked to in a crisis, fell apart. And Stiles instinctively knew that he had to be the strong one now, he had to show that he was fine, so his father could stand up straight again. It was the beginning of his obsession with his father's health, and he had a feeling it would never go away.
He hadn't even gotten a Christmas tree.
No point. Nothing to decorate it with, nobody to share it with. That was the point of the holidays, after all, being with family.
Stiles had no family here. Scott was gone. He hadn't seen his father in six months. Isaac hadn't said a word to him since Scott went home. Erica was gone. Lydia was off somewhere, god only knows. Allison was still a big question mark in his head, after everything. Batman was sure to be a barrel of freakin' monkeys this time of year.
Rapunzel.
Derek.
Fuck.
He's making himself a pot of mac and cheese. It's his favorite comfort food, whenever he's feeling his lowest. And he felt pretty damn low recently. It was his own damn fault, honestly, and he had nobody to blame but himself. That brief, half-a-second kiss he'd forced on Derek had been, hands down, the worst decision of his short life.
Not even mac and cheese could help this. And the turtle's head was now thoroughly out of the question: since Eshai's death, and the subsequent emotional jolt, Stiles had been afraid to go up there, for fear it would send him into a tailspin of emotion. Was it the sign of a bad day when he had to worry about a giant turtle's grief in regards to his own mental health? He wasn't sure anymore.
Last night, he'd walked slowly to Rapunzel's suite in Wood Sector, right next door to the dark windows that used to belong to Scott. And he'd raised his hand to knock on her door. But then he'd stopped. No. Not over Christmas. Not now.
He ends up leaving her present on her doorstep, with a note tucked in the ribbon, partially hidden but where she was sure to spot it. He just had to hope that nobody else would first. It was a real gold and opal necklace after all. Which was ridiculous, because she had that freakin' tiara for her jewelry needs, worth a billion times more than this little paltry stone. Then, he made his way toward Derek's suite. Every step made his feet feel heavier and heavier, like lead was being slowly injected into him.
Derek's present is left on the doorstep as well. He'd bought it in Markutte before the fight, before he was a total waste of space and the scum of the world. Inside the box is a small talisman ring. It's a wolf carved out of silver, with an onyx inlay, blocky and masculine. Derek wasn't much of a jewelry guy, Stiles knew that. But this ring, it had a charm put on it by the mages of that snowy land. The charm was one of peace. Of calm. Of relaxation. Not a sleep spell, exactly, but one to put the wearer's heart at ease. If Derek wore it to bed at night, he would find himself without nightmares. And the note attached explained just that.
Stiles suffered nightmares too often to ever wish them on anybody else. And Derek probably had enough nightmare fuel to please any number of sadistic script writers. He didn't even bother trying to knock on Derek's door, he just left the box and walked away. The werewolf would probably smell him anyway, smell his visit, smell him all over the present. Either he'd accept it...or he wouldn't. And then he walked away.
Stirring his mac and cheese, Stiles forces himself to forget it. There was no forgiveness for his bad choices. Just as there was no forgiveness for killing his mother, for getting Scott bitten, for getting his father fired, for Lydia's inattention, for all the multiple mistakes in his life. That kiss was just the latest, and wouldn't be the last. Just another straw on the back of his personal emotional camel. He wasn't broken yet.
But aside from work and his suite?
He was not going anywhere. This was his punishment, his penance. He was alone on Christmas, just like he deserved.
Stiles has lived his whole life by one simple principle: Never be sad where people can see. That he breaks this rule frequently is no big deal. The majority of the time, he's all jokes and sarcasm and stupid t-shirts. It started when his mom died, and he had to keep his father going. His father who crumbled. The pillar of strength, the community leader, the man everybody looked to in a crisis, fell apart. And Stiles instinctively knew that he had to be the strong one now, he had to show that he was fine, so his father could stand up straight again. It was the beginning of his obsession with his father's health, and he had a feeling it would never go away.
He hadn't even gotten a Christmas tree.
No point. Nothing to decorate it with, nobody to share it with. That was the point of the holidays, after all, being with family.
Stiles had no family here. Scott was gone. He hadn't seen his father in six months. Isaac hadn't said a word to him since Scott went home. Erica was gone. Lydia was off somewhere, god only knows. Allison was still a big question mark in his head, after everything. Batman was sure to be a barrel of freakin' monkeys this time of year.
Rapunzel.
Derek.
Fuck.
He's making himself a pot of mac and cheese. It's his favorite comfort food, whenever he's feeling his lowest. And he felt pretty damn low recently. It was his own damn fault, honestly, and he had nobody to blame but himself. That brief, half-a-second kiss he'd forced on Derek had been, hands down, the worst decision of his short life.
Not even mac and cheese could help this. And the turtle's head was now thoroughly out of the question: since Eshai's death, and the subsequent emotional jolt, Stiles had been afraid to go up there, for fear it would send him into a tailspin of emotion. Was it the sign of a bad day when he had to worry about a giant turtle's grief in regards to his own mental health? He wasn't sure anymore.
Last night, he'd walked slowly to Rapunzel's suite in Wood Sector, right next door to the dark windows that used to belong to Scott. And he'd raised his hand to knock on her door. But then he'd stopped. No. Not over Christmas. Not now.
He ends up leaving her present on her doorstep, with a note tucked in the ribbon, partially hidden but where she was sure to spot it. He just had to hope that nobody else would first. It was a real gold and opal necklace after all. Which was ridiculous, because she had that freakin' tiara for her jewelry needs, worth a billion times more than this little paltry stone. Then, he made his way toward Derek's suite. Every step made his feet feel heavier and heavier, like lead was being slowly injected into him.
Derek's present is left on the doorstep as well. He'd bought it in Markutte before the fight, before he was a total waste of space and the scum of the world. Inside the box is a small talisman ring. It's a wolf carved out of silver, with an onyx inlay, blocky and masculine. Derek wasn't much of a jewelry guy, Stiles knew that. But this ring, it had a charm put on it by the mages of that snowy land. The charm was one of peace. Of calm. Of relaxation. Not a sleep spell, exactly, but one to put the wearer's heart at ease. If Derek wore it to bed at night, he would find himself without nightmares. And the note attached explained just that.
Stiles suffered nightmares too often to ever wish them on anybody else. And Derek probably had enough nightmare fuel to please any number of sadistic script writers. He didn't even bother trying to knock on Derek's door, he just left the box and walked away. The werewolf would probably smell him anyway, smell his visit, smell him all over the present. Either he'd accept it...or he wouldn't. And then he walked away.
Stirring his mac and cheese, Stiles forces himself to forget it. There was no forgiveness for his bad choices. Just as there was no forgiveness for killing his mother, for getting Scott bitten, for getting his father fired, for Lydia's inattention, for all the multiple mistakes in his life. That kiss was just the latest, and wouldn't be the last. Just another straw on the back of his personal emotional camel. He wasn't broken yet.
But aside from work and his suite?
He was not going anywhere. This was his punishment, his penance. He was alone on Christmas, just like he deserved.