#chatzy 006

Stiles: It was late -- he had no idea what time it was. With the sun down, Stiles always lost track of time. Even with the moon in the sky, Stiles wasn't really good with keeping track of it. He had a small fire crackling in the fire pit -- giving a small yawn as he poked at it with a stick.

He was exhausted, but he was scared to go back to sleep. Every time he closed his eyes, he saw his nightmares from earlier that night. He sighed heavily, shaking his head at himself as he watched the fire spark with each poke of the stick.

Scott: Scott rolled over in his bed, blinking blearily and rubbing at his eyes. When he looked over at the bed that usually belonged to Stiles, he found it empty, and he jumped up immediately. Where was he? Sheriff Stilinski was still asleep in his bed snoring, and Scott got up carefully, making his way out of the tent.

Heart pounding, Scott walked outside, hoping to catch his best friend's scent. He didn't have any idea why the other boy would be out of bed at this hour. ​Please don't be dead,​ Scott thought desperately, finally picking up on Stiles' scent and following it.

Stiles: Stiles gave another small yawn, looking up in the direction of the moon before back down to the small dancing fire that he had created. Maybe if he just got tired enough he could sleep without dreaming.

Scott: Scott saw a small, crackling fire in the pit and the shape of a boy illuminated by the moon, and the terror he'd felt a moment before disappated. "Stiles, what are you doing out here?" he asked, his voice betraying him slightly. "I didn't know where you were."

Stiles: His eyes wandered upwards when he heard a voice, a small frown creeping into his lips. He knew that tone - he had scared Scott. "I couldn't sleep," he whispered, averting his eyes from the boy. It was half true. "Couldn't just lay there staring at nothing."

Scott: "You could have woken me up," Scott said softly, sitting down beside his friend. "I..." he tried, but he trailed off. He didn't want to make Stiles feel bad for worrying him. "I'm just glad you were out here," he finished. With the world in disarray, nothing was certain anymore, and when anyone was missing, Scott panicked. ​Especially​ when it was Stiles.

Stiles: He let out a soft sigh at that, closing his eyes and reaching out to give Scott's knee a gentle squeeze. "I didn't want to worry you. Especially when you're just now sleeping as much as you should be and you haven't in weeks."

Scott: "It's okay. I'd rather be here," Scott said honestly with a shrug. His eyes hadn't left Stiles since he'd found him again, and he looked at him for another moment before speaking again. "Why couldn't you sleep?"

Stiles: Stiles licked down on his bottom lip for a long moment before letting out a shaky breath, eyes pointedly on the fire. He couldn't lie to Scott, though. "Couldn't get my brain to shut up. Had a nightmare and then couldn't stop thinking about it and everything else that could go wrong."

Scott: Scott frowned, his own eyes finally drifting away from Stiles and toward the fire. "You should have woken me up," he said again, rubbing a tired hand over his face. "I would've gotten up with you."

Stiles: "I know you would've - that's why I didn't. You need your sleep," he breathed, chewing harshly on the inside of his cheek for a moment before letting out a long and shaky sigh.

Scott: "I've been running on no sleep for weeks. I'll be fine," Scott said quietly, mirroring his best friend and squeezing Stiles' knee gently. "...What was your nightmare about?"

Stiles: His eyes finally moved over to Scott when he offered the physical comfort, letting out a heavy breath. "-- when I left the school and high tailed it for the mall, I ran into a girl from my chemistry class. Hailee. Except she wasn't herself anymore and I had to-" his voice broke off and he shook his head.

Scott: "My first kill was a little boy...he couldn't have been much older than we were when we met," Scott murmured. "It sucks. I have nightmares about it sometimes too." His thumb rubbed gently, absentmindedly against Stiles' knee. "I remember Hailee. I'm sorry Stiles," he whispered. "I wish I could say it was going to get better." The only thing that they had going for them was that they were further from Beacon Hills now and would hopefully stop running into so many people they used to know.

Stiles: Stiles felt his expression falter as Scott spoke - and suddenly he felt guilty. Because Scotty. Scotty was different. Was pure. And the knowledge that Scott had to put down a child because of the cruelty of this world -- it hurt. So, Stiles didn't answer verbally. He instead wrapped an arm around Scott and pulled him into him in a strange half hug, half embrace.

Scott: "Stop with the feeling guilty thing," Scott mumbled, sinking into the hug and leaning his head against Stiles'. He sat in silence for a moment before murmuring, "Next time you have a nightmare, wake me up."

Stiles: The teenager let out a shaky sigh at that, "I can't help it--" he whispered, fluttering his eyes shut and letting himself just enjoy the warmth and the comfort of the other boy to help hold the pieces of him together. He merely let out another breath at Scott's murmur.

Scott: "I know you can't. I just feel bad," Scott whispered back, huffing out a small laugh as his eyes drifted toward the dwindling fire in the pit. "Are you gonna try to get any more sleep tonight, or no?" he asked after a couple of minutes, completely willing to stay up with Stiles if that was what he wanted to do.

Stiles: His eyes were half lidded and his arm still lazily around his best friend as he gave a small yawn. "I dunno-..." Was his eventual, tired response as he let his head drop to Scott's shoulder.

Scott: Scott looked back at Stiles for a moment as he spoke, and another smile came to his face when his exhausted best friend dropped his head to Scott's shoulder. Maybe if Stiles could just get more comfortable, he could fall back asleep, hopefully without having any more nightmares. "Here, come here," he mumbled, wrapping his own arms around Stiles and pulling him a little closer.

Stiles: He let out a soft noise as Scott forced him to shift a little, closing his eyes for a long moment as he gave another small yawn and a tired whine at the jostling. "Y'know," he whispered, "-- besides my father, you are the only person that I don't think I could move on from if I lost you."

Scott: Scott swallowed harshly at Stiles' words, knowing exactly how he felt. He preferred to pretend that losing Stiles wasn't a possibility. If it actually were to happen, he didn't know what he would do, but a world without Stiles in it wasn't one he wanted to be in, especially one as bleak as this. "I know," he whispered, looking back to the fire. "You'd have to though. You'd have to step up, help the pack."

Stiles: Stiles' throat began to burn at that, shaking his head against Scott's shoulder as his hand gripped to Scott's shirt so tightly his knuckles began to ache. As if holding that tightly to him would make it so nothing could ever rip Scott away from him. "-- I couldn't. I just -- I would like to think that I would be strong enough. But I wouldn't. I couldn't be. You've always been the better part of me, Scott. Without you, I don't know what would become of me."

Scott: "Hey," Scott murmured soothingly, placing his hand over the one that was now gripped tightly in his shirt. "I'm not going anywhere, not as long as I can help it." He wished that he could promise, wished that he could ease Stiles' fears, but he knew that he couldn't. He'd very nearly been killed just a few weeks before, and if Stiles hadn't discovered his powers, he may have been killed by the prisoner even before that. "You're stronger than you think you are Stiles," Scott whispered. "And I can't lose you either. Just...even thinking about it—" He cut off, shaking his head as he swallowed again against the lump in his throat.

Stiles: Stiles thinned his lips and his heart stuttered in his chest -- eyebrows furrowing in painfully as his fingers relaxed only slightly under Scott's hand. "-- please don't go anywhere that I can't follow you."

Scott: Scott's eyes were fixed on the ground, and he very slowly raised them as he heart the stutter in Stiles' heartbeat and then his voice. "I won't," he whispered, the words a promise, as his thumb rubbed against Stiles' hand, trying to get him to relax further.

Stiles: He squeezed his burning eyes shut - and blamed his spiking emotions on the sheer amount of exhaustion in his bones and very soul. But the thought, the prospect, of losing Scott. It hurt too much to even think about in passing. So, instead, he detached his hand from Scott's shirt to instead wrap long fingers around Scott's hand - almost as if an anchor.

Scott: Scott's eyes stayed locked on Stiles as the other boy closed his eyes and finally relaxed his fingers from gripping Scott's shirt, only to wrap around his wrist. "I'm right here," he whispered, feeling slightly guilty that they had started talking about this in the first place.

Stiles: He could feel the wolf's heartbeat through his skin -- and it comforted Stiles to a point where he could at least breathe normally again. Not giving thought to the fact of the reasoning behind why the mere idea of losing Scott McCall caused him such panic.

Scott: Stiles' breathing finally began to even out, and Scott felt himself relax again. He pulled back from the other boy just slightly, raising the hand that was still gripped in Stiles' hand to rest on the other boy's cheek, thumb swiping gently back and forth. "Are you okay?" he asked softly.

Stiles: Stiles swallowed slightly as he felt the warmth of Scott's hand against his chest -- and God, Scotty was so good. So pure. He fluttered his eyes open after a heartbeat to slowly look up at the alpha, lips parting briefly - mutely - as he couldn't find honest words to answer him that wouldn't worry him. Not even concerned about the one stray tear that escaped down speckled flesh.

Scott: Scott's eyebrows furrowed in confusion and alarm as he saw the tear fall down Stiles' face. "Hey, it's okay," he whispered, his face falling as he looked at his best friend. Stiles' lips parted, as though he was going to say something, but couldn't find the words. "We're both right here. We're gonna get through this thing together. Just like we always do. It's always been me and you."

Stiles: The corner of his lips twitched as he tore his eyes away with a small, sniffle like noise as he shook his head. "We have never been this over our heads, Scotty. And I'm scared. I'm scared if we are doing what's right for the pack. If we can actually manage to lead them all and survive them. They look to us - and we barely know what we're doing half the time and -" his voice broke off with a dry sob. "First it was ... Deaton. What are we going to do if someone actually turns in front of us? I froze when I saw Kyle. And I just--"

Scott: Scott shook his head as Stiles spoke, knowing that he was right. Knowing that he constantly held the exact same fears as Stiles, but always tried to cover them up. "Stiles..." he said quietly, but Stiles was still going, working himself up more, and Scott's eyes flitted across the boy's face as he let out a breath. He heard his own heartbeat hammering in his chest before he was leaning forward, shutting Stiles up the only way that seemed reasonable. His lips pressed against Stiles' firmly, and finally, silence fell again.

Stiles:

Stiles' breathing faltered and he would swear that his heart skipped a handful of beats when Scott did something he never expected him to do - he kissed him. A startled noise rose in his throat. And it was too brief. Too quick. For Stiles to properly comprehend what just happened before it was over.

Amber eyes were wide and his breathing kicked up a notch - shock written on his features as he looked up at the werewolf in what seemed like disbelief and ... buried somewhere in there, a fickle bit of hope? "Did you just--"

Scott: Almost as soon as the kiss began, it was over, and Scott was left staring at wide, confused amber eyes, and he felt his cheeks color as his eyes settled decidedly on the ground, his heart rate still significantly higher than usual. ​You wouldn't shut up so I did something about it​ seemed like a bad lead-in, so Scott cleared his throat first before speaking. "Kiss you?" he finished, eyes hesitantly raising back up to his best friend.

Stiles: Stiles raked his teeth almost painfully across his bottom lip as he waited for Scott to speak. His heart was hammering so hard against his rib cage he felt like it could very well fly right out between them. "I -- yeah," he managed to breath in a shaky tone, the porcelain flesh of his neck beginning to color with a pink tint.

Scott: "Sorry, I didn't mean—" Scott started, inhaling shakily and completely aware that things had suddenly become incredibly awkward. Unaware of Stiles' feelings, he was worried that he might have just thrown away everything. Years of friendship gone, just because Scott had acted on a whim, but still...suddenly, everything started to make a little more sense. Why he had a near dependency on Stiles, especially since the outbreak. Why always worried about the emissary more than anybody else. Why he had always loved Stiles, flaws and all.

Stiles: Stiles wanted to tell Scott to not dare apologize for what he did, but he wasn't sure how Scott meant what he did. So with a hammering heart and a shaky breath he finally spoke again, "-- was that only just to shut me up?"

Scott: "No," Scott said quickly, eyes locking with Stiles' yet again. "I mean...partly. But that wasn't the only reason I did it," he finished, his voice falling to a whisper as he fidgeted nervously.

Stiles: Stiles tried to search Scott's eyes - but his own confusion was fogging his judgement. "-- then why else?" He asked softly. Anxiously.

Scott: Scott clasped his hands together anxiously as he attempted to keep his gaze fixed on Stiles, unable to get a good read on what his feelings were about the kiss. Instead of answering, he murmured, "Did I just fuck everything up?"

Stiles: It was Scott's avoidance of the answer that made Stiles finally do something about it - finally made his own wheels begin to turn and things snap into place before long fingers twisted themselves into Scott's shirt, creating wrinkles in their wake, as he tugged the alpha forward and pressed his lips against Scott's with a deeper purpose.

Scott: Scott was so worried that the answer to his question was going to be yes, but then Stiles was tugging him forward, and suddenly warm lips were on his again, and he knew that he hadn't made a mistake. He inhaled deeply, his arms wrapping around Stiles' waist as he pulled him even closer, and his eyes fell closed as he tilted his head into the kiss.

Stiles: This time, Stiles actually had the chance to enjoy it for what it was. And God. Everything made so much sense. It was like everything shattered and got pieced back together all at the same time - his heart exploding in his chest, and he didn't care. Nothing mattered in that moment. Not the zombies. Not the pack. Nothing. But Scott. His free hand rose to splay his hand against the back of Scott's neck as his own eyes fluttered closed and he sucked in a deep breath through his nose so he wouldn't need to pull away.

Scott: His fingers ran gently up and down Stiles' back as they kissed, and Scott felt himself smile softly. It didn't matter that they were in the middle of a zombie apocalypse: right now, it was just the two of them. He was nervous, and he was glad that Stiles wasn't able to hear how fast his heart was beating. The kiss was slow, Scott hesitantly tip-toeing into the new territory of he and Stiles possibly being more than friends.

Stiles: He shivered as he felt Scott's fingers up and down his back - his hand that was on Scott's neck moving upwards to tangle in the werewolf's dark hair for a moment. Just needing to feel Scott close to him. But - eventually - his human lungs' endurance began to reach their end and he pulled away so he could suck in a shaky breath -- hands still on Scott. One in his hair, the other curled around his tattooed bicep.

Scott: Scott reluctantly pulled away from Stiles, his eyes opening back up slowly, and he gazed at the other boy. He was hyperaware of the fact that Stiles' hands were still on him, and his heartbeat hadn't slowed at all as he huffed out a soft laugh. "That was..." ​Amazing.​

Stiles: Stiles blinked Scott into focus - a small, meek smile forming against his lips. And meek wasn't something Stiles did easily or often. His fingers in Scott's hair loosened for the arm to instead fall lazily to his shoulder. "Was that.... okay?"

Scott: Laughing genuinely now, Scott nodded. "It was more than okay," he assured him, catching the hand that had fallen to his shoulder and lacing his fingers through Stiles'.

Stiles: He nodded at the reassurance from the other - giving Scott's hand a squeeze as the alpha laced their fingers together. "So-" he started, voice shaking a little. "What does this mean?"

Scott: Scott chewed at his bottom lip, lowering his eyes for a moment. He hadn't really thought that far ahead, and he wasn't sure what Stiles wanted him to say. "Um..." he said, his shoulders shrugging before he met Stiles' eyes again. "What do you want it to mean?" he asked hesitantly.

Stiles: He moistened his bottom lip for a moment, unsure of how to answer Scott. He shook his head for a moment with a breath. He wasn't even sure labels even mattered anymore, in the shit hole they lived in. “More.”

Scott: Nodding, Scott leaned forward once again to brush their lips together for just a moment before murmuring, "I want it to mean whatever you want it to mean. I just know...I've never cared about anybody as much as I care about you." Not Allison. Not Kira. It was always Stiles.

Stiles: He shivered a little as Scott feathered their lips together once more - shaking fingers moving to brush across Scott's crooked jawline. "I want. You. Us. I want more. I don't care what we call it. What we tell the others. I don't care." His heart was hammering fast in his chest, so much so that it almost hurt. "I've always known, I think. I just never wanted to accept it because I never felt like it was my place."

Scott: "I want us too," Scott whispered, eyes flitting across Stiles' face. He didn't care what they told the others either: it didn't really matter. Labels that had once seemed so important meant nothing anymore, not when tomorrow wasn't a guarantee. He exhaled at Stiles' next words, wondering if the other boy would have ever said anything if Scott hadn't kissed him.