#ofsilverarrxws

Fuck, his shoulder hurt. Bad. Probably should get it checked out. But not until he was forced to. Not that anyone knew about it. So no one could force him. It’s that kind of circular thinking that most expected from Stiles Stilinski. He needed the reminder from the pain. Of what had happened. His secret. He wished he could tell someone. Get it out of him. But he had fucked up and it was his burden to bear. “Huh? Sorry, zoned out. You know, mess of ADD, anxiety and PTSD over here. How the fuck am I a barely functioning human? Say it again.”

          “One better, actually,” Derek murmured softly, bundling an old shirt of his own and pressing it hard against her side. “Hold that there. I’ve got a suture kit in the first aid supplies. Figured a heavy duty med kit might come in handy with humans hanging around.”

She could smell her arousal from a mile away. It wasn't hard to smell it. It was hard for her to not want her in that second. Her own heat was under control or at least she thought. It was hard for her to focus when Allison smelt so good. She could even hear her upstairs alone. It was all she could do not to rush up the stairs and opened the door to see her with her legs spread. "You know, you that you aren't making things easy for me...I'm having control issues and you being this turned on is not helping me at all..." She growled.

“Maybe I should start testing your reflexes too” Hayley stated, moving to close the far distance between the two of them. It was good to be tested once in a while, after all, that kept her sharp and being sharp might actually safe her life someday. “Were you bored and did you just decide ‘oh let’s track down Hayley and shoot her ass’, or did you need anything?” 

The tips of her fingers were gentle and soft. But the skin beneath them felt burned and tarnished. Lydia was used to scars; her body was decorated with countless markings. But this one on Allison was different. It was... beautiful.  “It’s a part of who you are, Ally. You shouldn’t be ashamed of it. It’s your battle scar”

Stopping in the doorway of her and Allison’s shared kitchen which was scarcely big enough to fit a cat left alone two people, Lydia paused for a moment just watching as the other girl dug into her breakfast. Taking the few steps forward until she reached the back of the chair which she always sat in, “I hope that’s not my frosty flakes you’re eating.”

          It really shouldn’t have been a shock to anyone that he was a little less than perfectly civil. Sure, they had all come a long way, but the girl was still what she was and he was still what he was. He didn’t think there was really any getting around that. “Yeah... I get it. Getting shot... it’s a bitch,” Derek deadpanned, an almost smile creeping across his face. Still, he reached out, setting his hand over Allison’s, black creeping into his veins as he took some of her pain away. “It probably feels worse than it is, but you’ll be fine.”