S H E L V E D

‘ want me to stay? ’

‘ we’re almost home. ’

‘ you should be in bed. ’

‘ we can share it.’

‘ stay there. i’m coming to get you. ’

‘ shh, shh. you were dreaming. ’ 

‘ grab my hand. ’

‘ i’m just going to pick you up. ’

‘ everything okay? ’

‘ i won’t leave you behind. ’

‘ don’t worry. better out than in. ’

‘ who did that to you? ’ 

‘ sit down and rest. ’

‘ sweetie, i would never think that. ’

‘ come lay down in my lap. ’

‘ i know you think you’re all alone out there, but you’re not. ’

‘ call me when you get home. ’

‘ we should change those bandages. ’

‘ you’re safe here. ’

‘ honey… ’

‘ of course we love you. ’

‘ wait here. i’ll go run a bath for you. ’

‘ take my bed for tonight. ’

‘ i promise. ’ 

‘ you’re always welcome here. ’

‘ don’t talk like that. ’

‘ bad dream? ’

‘ talk to me. ’  

‘ it’s okay to cry. ’

‘ you need to be more careful.’

‘ we should hug this out. ’

‘ i worry about you. ’

‘ can i hold your hand? ’ 

‘ because i care about you. ’

‘ it made me think of you. ’ 

‘ take care of yourself. ’

‘ put your seatbelt on. ’ 

‘ where did you go? ’ 

‘ i didn’t mean to worry you. ’

‘ i made breakfast. ’

‘ sing something for me? ’

‘ open it and find out. ’

‘ how long have you been like this? ’

‘ you look nice. ’

‘ here, take my jacket. ’

‘ close your eyes and try to get some rest. ’

‘ focus on my voice. ’ 

‘ i meant every word. ’

‘ i was here all night. ’

‘ look both ways before you cross. ’

‘ you don’t have to talk. ’ 

‘ this is your favorite, right? ’

‘ you’ll feel better in the morning. ’

‘ you have a nice laugh. ’

‘ here, take my jacket. ’

‘ you could stay here. with me. ’

       HE ALLOWS HER TO TAKE THE TOWELS FROM HIM easily, his arms falling to his sides slowly, as though he isn’t sure what to do with them  –  he isn’t. and then she’s facing him again, and she’s advancing, and stiles has to gulp  —- he’s glad that her gaze is cast downward; he hopes it isn’t audible. he nods rigorously and lifts his arms slowly to allow her to tug his shirt over his head. he grits his teeth against the deep tissue pain the action causes, and rolls his shoulders as he lowers his arms again.

      he hops slightly as he toes off his bloody sneakers and meets her gaze again, swallowing once more, “i can… probably manage if you wanna… i dunno.” he gestures vaguely between her and the door, before shaking his head inwardly and dropping his flailing hands to his belt.

     his hands work slowly, carefully, and by the time they reach the zipper on his jeans, he turns his back to her, nervous both in regard to his body, and also in case he’s overstepping any boundaries.   —-  he has to admit, though. part of him is glad she’s here.

          ALLISON COVERTLY GRINDS HER TEETH as she helps stiles lift his shirt. she’d braced herself for the pain in her side and the accompanying ache in the rest of her body, but she wasn’t prepared for the pricking sensation in her back. that’s new. and as sweet and understanding and discreet as she is, allison is NOT looking forward to seeing melissa tomorrow. she is, though, proud of herself for hiding a grimace as her eyes fall back to stiles’s. she retrieves his hoodie off the floor and hangs it beside his shirt on a hook on the back of the door. there’s still the ghost of a smile on her face when he starts to flounder. 

          that smile fades entirely when stiles turns around. she gasps so quietly it’s almost silent. she blinks and a hand comes up to touch her bottom lip. his back is beautiful and smooth and chiseled, but discolored. nothing is broken, it’s just jarring to see porcelain skin with so many popped blood vessels. she doubts he’ll even bruise beyond this—these marks are indicative of scratches that couldn’t quite pierce fabric. “hold on,” she murmurs. gingerly, the huntress runs her fingers along the curve of stiles’s shoulder blade, pressing lightly. ( melissa is going to have a field day. ) allison reels herself in and kills that thought. she can worry about the hospital tomorrow. her priority right now has to be getting stiles into a bed and having him REST. the likelihood of popped blood vessels killing him in the next 24 hours is slim, and she knows that.

          sleepily, her hand traces over the bottom-most curve of stiles’s shoulder blade. in a moment of exhaustion-induced impulse, she allows her free hand to reach for stiles’s waist. she rests her forehead against the middle of his back. she sighs deeply. stiles is so warm, but allison doesn’t want to make him uncomfortable, and she’s worried she’s toeing a boundary now that has gone previously untested. and  y  e  t  ... she can only have so much self-restraint when she’s   T H I S   tired. 

          “i don’t wanna be alone,” she admits quietly, her arms wrapped loosely around stiles’s torso. she closes her eyes and rests her cheek against the curve of his spine. she listens to him breathe. “i’ll wait outside, if you want me to.” 

            STILES LEANS OVER THE BATHTUB to turn on the water, and quickly dodges out of the way of the stream, tugging the shower curtain across as he does so. he turns back to face allison with a small sigh of defeat. he perches on the edge of the bathtub, barely even noticing that the water is splashing lightly onto the back of his shirt. his shoulders shift uncomfortably, and his gaze finds the floor. he isn’t sure whether or not she plans on staying in the room while he showers, but from the way she’s talking, he isn’t wholly confident.  —-  and there it is !  you shouldn’t be alone in here. he swallows tightly, rearranging his shoulders once again.

       “uh…” he begins uncertainly, “i don’t really…” his hands begin to gesture vaguely. ( he isn’t really sure what words are supposed to come out of his mouth right now. )   “uh…”

       towels, he thinks, i need towels. he smacks his palms on his knees and gets to his feet, to source some towels, hands fidgeting slightly. part of his brain is telling him that it’s stupid to be nervous and reserved about this kind of thing when an hour ago, they were literally saving each other’s lives, but the other part of his brain reminds him that he’s still a virgin and he’s only ever been partially clothed around scott, and this is his EX-GIRLFRIEND, and stiles has to ground himself on the feeling of the soft cotton of the towels so he doesn’t start thinking about that right now.

       “uh, so… d’you…” he gulps, scratching at the skin of his neck, and he realises he’s too exhausted to care very much, “how d’you wanna do this?”

          ALLISON CAN’T HELP BUT SMILE INWARDLY at how nervous stiles is. she gently takes the towels from his arms and places them on the toilet seat as the room begins to fog up. the air is thick and sweet and warm, and she hums a bit to herself. albeit, she hums sleepily more than happily, but still. 

          it’s important to note that it’s not an act of ego on her part, her pleasure in watching stiles fidget. ( really, it isn’t. ) she thinks it’s sweet. it’s endearing that even after everything that day, he’s still so apprehensive. he should be entirely void of the ability to care, and yet, he still has it in him to worry about what she’ll think of him, about what he should or shouldn’t be doing. he still has it in him to care about things like getting undressed. he still has it in him to care about anything at all. it’s admirable, really. 

          though slowly, of course, allison takes a step in stiles’s direction. she sighs softly and keeps her eyes cast downward at the bathroom tiles before slipping her fingers beneath the hem of stiles’s shirt. “put your arms up,” she says, smirking lopsidedly. then, for good measure, she adds: “go slow.”