#chrisstiles

welp. how about some stargent?

--

“Shh, it was a dream,” Chris whispered, over and over, as he held Stiles close.

His boy was no longer trashing but he still seemed to be in distress. Chris just kept holding on, hoping that the pressure and his steady voice would calm Stiles down. 

It took a few minutes but it helped and Stiles seemed to be waking up. His was drenched in sweat but that never stopped Chris from getting close and neither did it now, as he pressed soft kisses to the top of Stiles’ head.

“You awake, baby?”

A groan was his only answer, as was the way Stiles buried himself closer to his chest.

“I’m here, Stiles, I’m here,” Chris promised, rubbing his hands over Stiles’ back.

Stiles never liked to talk about his nightmares so Christ didn’t even try to question him about it. Instead, he kept humming softly, rocking them gently as they lay in bed.

After a while, he felt more than heard Stiles mumble.

“What was that, baby?”

Stiles leaned away far enough to repeat, his cheeks red, “Sing to me?'

@stargent-week Day 2: Pirate AU

@stargent-week Day 4: Wings

@stargent-week Day 1: Presumed Dead

Thank you! I needed an outlet after today.

---

"So that's it?" Stiles asks, voice unnaturally steady, "I was fun to fuck over the summer, but now you're done with me because the commute is inconvenient?"

Chris' steely expression doesn't change a fraction, arms tightly crossed in front of his chest as he stares somewhere over Stiles' shoulder. 

It's Peter who answers, tone flippant, like he couldn't care less that Stiles is hurting. 

"Something like that, yes. You were a sweet addition to our bedroom, but we'd like to focus on each other now."

It's the delivery that gives him away, same with Chris' adamant silence and refusal to look Stiles in the eyes. 

They're lying. They're lying to his face, fabricating reasons to push him away and it makes him furious. 

He's supposed to be equal to them, even if he's just a fuckbuddy, a casual fling. He knows he's not, he knows he's more than that based on how they're acting right now.

He knows them now. Knew them before they seduced him and dragged them on dates, knows them even better now. 

These are not the men he came to care about. 

Lies aside, "I deserve more than this," he tells them, looking them both in the eyes. 

Finally, their facades seem to break but he doesn't wait to see it, doesn't turn back even when Chris calls his name. 

If they can't trust him enough to give him a choice, there's no way he can trust them with his heart. 

---

The silence is deafening. Especially now that both of them seem to be holding their breath. 

Chris' last words are ringing in Stiles' ears. 

"I thought…" he starts to say, stops, clears his throat, "you said--" 

"I'm sorry, Stiles," Chris says, the fight shaken out of him, too. He looks like he wants to close the gap between them but isn't sure how. "I didn't mean to say that."

Stiles is glad for the distance.

His whole body seems to be trembling. 

"You didn't mean to say it out loud or you didn't mean to say it at all?" he asks, voice shaky, chest constricting with every breath. 

"I don't blame you for her death," Chris says, like a promise. But he said so before, too. 

Stiles looks at him, has to blink a few times to see him clearly. His throat clicks when he swallows. 

"I think-- I think you aren't actually sure about that," he says quietly, darkness he hasn't felt in a while threatening to overcome him. But he forges on, he has to, for Chris, at least. "And I'd rather you made up your mind before we see each other again." 

He leaves the room, leaves the house. 

Chris doesn't call his name. 

---

went for chrisstiles as it fit my idea better ;*

--

“Then you tell me why,” Stiles demanded, pushing at Chris with every sentence. “Tell me why it was okay to kiss me yesterday but not it’s a bad idea. Tell me why one day I get to hold you, but it’s wrong to do so now even 24 hours later. Tell me why you think that it’s wrong for us to be together but it’s okay to string me along.”

Chris was backed up against the wall now but instead of searing want at the prospect of caging him in, pressing their bodies together, all Stiles could feel was coiling dread.

“Stiles,” Chris defended, hands raised in surrender, “it’s not like that. You know it’s not.”

“No, I fucking don’t! Spell it out to me!”

Chris looked slightly taken aback by Stiles’ vehemence. But a moment later he sighed and leaned heavily against the brick wall, rubbing a hand over his eyes.

“I’m so much older than you, Stiles.”

“And I’m 21,” Stiles shot the argument down, “so long past the age of consent. Way past being able to think for myself and to make my own decisions.”

“I’m damaged goods, Stiles, I’m old and brittle,” Chris said, blue eyes heavy on Stiles.

It made Stiles pause and take a deep breath before he continued more calmly. He also decided to close the gaping inch of space between them, his hands fitting perfectly at Chris’ hips.

“Chris, while I don’t want to make light of all the things you’ve been through I also don’t see your point. You’re giving me excuses, not reasons.”

Chris stayed silent, choosing to lean in and press his forehead against Stiles’ shoulder, seeming completely resigned and defeated in a battle he never hoped to win.

“Tell me you don’t want to be with me because you don’t want me and I’ll leave you be,” Stiles told him quietly, gathering him closer.

“You know I can’t,” Chris admitted wrapping his arms around Stiles and holding close.

---