@musamulta cont from our thread on incolubrum, as per dms :)
Not unusually so, at least at first notice. Quickly, as he’d grown accustomed, so he wouldn’t get accosted by various individuals of varying intentions while sleeping in the driver’s seat of his jeep, or - occasionally - lain across the backseats. And then there’s the disorientation he’s grown used to, from never waking up in the same place twice (except on certain occasions, when he got stuck in one town or another - but it never lasted long enough to allow him to adjust - and if it did, then he most definitely scarpered the hell out of dodge), and the mild headache threatening to brew from an inconsistent sleep schedule and poorly maintained consumption of water.
Stiles raised a hand, blearily, to his eyes, and massaged at those two spots, up in the corner under your brow, where you can relieve pain. This allowed him some moments to adjust, before the memories of yesterday came crashing down upon him.
“Fuck,” Stiles sighed out, dropping his head back on the armrest of the couch. “Shit.”
Fuck, shit, indeed. Stiles was situated on the venerated couch of one Theodore Raeken. Brilliant. He was back in Beacon Hills. Brilliant-er. This might as well be happeneing, he supposed, vaguely. Since, somehow, for whatever dumb fuck reason he’d concocted in his head, he’s here, and all - nothing to be done about it now. Just have to deal with it.
Stiles had let go of the naïve notion that you could just… ignore your problems until they eventually went away on their own when one of said problems tried to throw him off a bridge. That was a fun day. (Not. Clearly.)
Stiles groaned in annoyance, as he forced himself to sit up, swinging his legs off the cushions and planting his feet on the floor. He looked around, checking if Theo was awake or not. Well, either way, he’d be able to hear Stiles, so…
“Do you have coffee?” He asked, making his way over to the kitchen to search for it. “Because I’m having some coffee.” When access to his actual medication was low, coffee was… not a good substitute, but it helped a little. Stiles didn’t know the science of it, or anything, but it worked… vaguely, so he wasn’t going to waste time not using something that does at least a little to manage his issues. If there wasn’t any here, he had some in the jeep he could go get, at least.
He’s got too many not to try and mitigate a few, at least. The mitigatable ones, anyway. Not that any of them are mitigatable. Whatever.
Theo had left Stiles to sleep on the couch. He’d been given blankets and a pillow, though. Honestly, he’d somewhat insisted Stiles not sleep in his jeep… he could remember all too clearly sleeping in his own truck. If he didn’t have to do that, why should he? Sleeping on the couch, he’d have access to things and more comfort.
He was up by the time Stiles woke. He was always up early these days. He’d gone on a run and taken a shower already. That was just what he did. A morning routine not easily broken, even by having a guest. He’d held off on some things, though. His once-friend had needed the rest, so Theo had gone out of his way not to wake him, choosing to stay in his own room until he heard Stiles’ voice.
Coffee? A fair request, sure. The chimera sighed a bit, emerging from his bedroom to wander into the kitchen without a word. Coffee was set beside the pot, then a fair sized mug. “Knock yourself out. Didn’t brew any this morning because of the noise.” That could have woken Stiles. Or the smell of it could have.
“Sleep all right?” It was an idle question as Theo continued to move about the kitchen, taking out various ingredients for breakfast. Eggs, bacon, sausage, potatoes. It was a hearty sort of breakfast.