Stiles Stilinski (![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png)
teenyoda) wrote in ![[community profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/community.png)
asgardmeridiem2013-06-29 12:16 am
teenyoda) wrote in asgardmeridiem2013-06-29 12:16 am
Entry tags:
Is that a five o'clock shadow in your pants?
Who: Stiles and Isaac
What: General crankiness and possible ways to uncranky someone
When: Day 286 (Evening)
Where: The nebulous (somewhere) in the city.
Rating: PG-13
His bad mood from the fight with Derek hadn't gone away when he'd gone home. He'd even played with his ability for the night, lighting and extinguishing flames on candles, but the shine had worn off when he remembered the look on Derek's face. God, he felt like an ass. He'd legitimately gone over to apologize, feeling bad about the fact that he might have actually hurt him, but as usual, Derek had poked and rubbed at him the wrong way and Stiles had reacted by opening his mouth and letting whatever floated into his brain to spew out.
He'd gone to bed hoping to wake up in a better mood, but that hadn't been the case. Scott had asked him how it had gone and proceeded to give him the worst of his puppy butt-face looks when Stiles had grudgingly told him what had happened. Then Stiles had blown up at him and told him it wouldn't have happened if he hadn't made him feel guilty enough to go over and apologize in the first place and had cut the call short, standing in his room feeling like the world's biggest asshole.
The only thing for it was to get out of the house. Go for a walk. Cool off and maybe see something that would take his mind off of the fact that he was still dealing with bullshit teenage drama even after being sucked over to a new world where he was living in the house of a god.
So he went out. He walked. He tried to get interested in the things he saw in the stalls and booths lining the streets. He fake smiled at the people that seemed to be celebrating the return of someone, who'd died. One of the gods. He guessed that answered the question of whether they could die or not.
Mopey and feeling enormously sorry for himself, he kicked a stray rock down an alley, stopping in his steps when he he didn't hear the rock actually hit anything. Looking down the narrow passage, he saw a darker shape in the shadows, one that seemed to blend in a little too well with them. Something resembling a wolf head swung his way and the large body that was attached to it came towards him on paws that matched the rest of it; large. Giant, even. In fact, it looked a lot like... oh, shit. One of those wolves from the call Erica had made earlier. Oh, crap. Oh, double crap. Did these things get hurt? Did they care? They must if the way it was slowly advancing on him said anything about it. Shit. Oh, shit. "Nice puppy. Good puppy. Hey, you don't want to eat Uncle Stiles. I'm full of, uh, preservatives and I probably taste like crap. Plus there's like no meat on me. Really. Isn't there a cat around for you to chase or something?"
What: General crankiness and possible ways to uncranky someone
When: Day 286 (Evening)
Where: The nebulous (somewhere) in the city.
Rating: PG-13
His bad mood from the fight with Derek hadn't gone away when he'd gone home. He'd even played with his ability for the night, lighting and extinguishing flames on candles, but the shine had worn off when he remembered the look on Derek's face. God, he felt like an ass. He'd legitimately gone over to apologize, feeling bad about the fact that he might have actually hurt him, but as usual, Derek had poked and rubbed at him the wrong way and Stiles had reacted by opening his mouth and letting whatever floated into his brain to spew out.
He'd gone to bed hoping to wake up in a better mood, but that hadn't been the case. Scott had asked him how it had gone and proceeded to give him the worst of his puppy butt-face looks when Stiles had grudgingly told him what had happened. Then Stiles had blown up at him and told him it wouldn't have happened if he hadn't made him feel guilty enough to go over and apologize in the first place and had cut the call short, standing in his room feeling like the world's biggest asshole.
The only thing for it was to get out of the house. Go for a walk. Cool off and maybe see something that would take his mind off of the fact that he was still dealing with bullshit teenage drama even after being sucked over to a new world where he was living in the house of a god.
So he went out. He walked. He tried to get interested in the things he saw in the stalls and booths lining the streets. He fake smiled at the people that seemed to be celebrating the return of someone, who'd died. One of the gods. He guessed that answered the question of whether they could die or not.
Mopey and feeling enormously sorry for himself, he kicked a stray rock down an alley, stopping in his steps when he he didn't hear the rock actually hit anything. Looking down the narrow passage, he saw a darker shape in the shadows, one that seemed to blend in a little too well with them. Something resembling a wolf head swung his way and the large body that was attached to it came towards him on paws that matched the rest of it; large. Giant, even. In fact, it looked a lot like... oh, shit. One of those wolves from the call Erica had made earlier. Oh, crap. Oh, double crap. Did these things get hurt? Did they care? They must if the way it was slowly advancing on him said anything about it. Shit. Oh, shit. "Nice puppy. Good puppy. Hey, you don't want to eat Uncle Stiles. I'm full of, uh, preservatives and I probably taste like crap. Plus there's like no meat on me. Really. Isn't there a cat around for you to chase or something?"
no subject
Go home.
He wanted to. Sure, he had Scott here, but hell, he'd had him at home. He had no idea what this place was, but when he'd been at home, things had been... better. Or getting there, he'd thought. And he'd had his dad there.
Here? He had a pack of ex werewolves who hated him and who were all still stronger than him, meaning there he was, again, getting pushed around like a ragdoll by people with short fuses and big tempers. Again.
He was just so sick of it. When Isaac pushed him away, he stumbled, not even paying the stalking wolf any attention. He just gave the other boy a miserable look, trying not to act like he was about three seconds away from maybe letting a tear slip. "You don't know how much I wish I could."
He wanted his dad and his best friend and that tiny sliver of normality that he'd been getting used to. This place threw him entirely out of whack and he hated it.
Setting his jaw, trying to not give into the pricking in his eyes, he turned around, back to Isaac as he headed for his district and the small room that was where he was supposed to keep himself.
no subject
Regardless, Isaac let him go. He didn't want to fight, especially with Stiles in a fit like that, and he had nowhere near the social grace to try and make him feel better (besides, he didn't really want to do something like that either).
The wolf stayed at his side, at least, curling around his shin, and Isaac let down a hand to absently pet it, before turning and continuing his walk home.