a/n: This is set in some nebulous aftermath moment of S1 E5. Mainly to explore why Stiles seems to think his mom's death is his fault, despite what we found out was the actual cause in S3. Also, because Stiles and Allison should have been an epic friendship of epic.

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What Matters

"So, uh, Scott told me you're seventeen. Happy birthday."

The voice came from behind her in the mostly empty school hall. Allison flinched and slowly turned to stare at Stiles, eyes huge with betrayal.

He let loose an awkward little laugh, rubbing at the back of his neck. "Me too."

Leaning back against the locker, she tilted her head. "What?"

Stiles jittered, his limbs aching to move, hands wanting to gesture widely. But his face was quiet. "When I was nine, my mom… she, uh, got sick. And-" He paused, glanced around suspiciously, before staring at Allison, voice serious. "Don't tell Scott this, okay? He'll just do that Scott thing, where he tries to make it better without actually knowing how."

The way he's talking, slow and measured, is such an extreme difference to what Allison has come to expect that she nods, understanding and agreement. "Yeah, I can- yeah."

He drops his head a little, eyes flickering to the floor, around the hall, his hands, never quite resting on Allison. "They took me for a bunch of tests for my ADHD a few months before. And the doctor's visits, and the medication kinda added up. So when Mom started forgetting things, or couldn't sleep, she just told me and Dad that she was tired. It was no big deal.

"She kept putting off seeing a doctor 'cause we didn't have the money for it, really. And by the time it got bad enough that she had to… She got diagnosed almost the same day she finally talked to the doctor."

There was something in Allison that ached, wanting to grab Stiles' arm, take his hand, walk them somewhere quieter, more private. Anything that would keep him from pouring out intimate details in the middle of their public high school. But if she stopped him now, she wasn't sure he'd ever talk to her again, wouldn't assume he'd burdened her with knowledge she didn't want. So she listened.

"And then, when she died-" Stiles almost reached up to cover his face, the tears trying to escape. Jolting his hands back down into fists at his side, he focused on the clench of his fingers, on breathing clearly and deeply. "It was my fault. Me and my stupid ADHD. So I quit taking my meds. And everything just- spiraled outta control. I'd actually been taking advanced classes then. Sixth grade, y'know? But I couldn't focus, I didn't even try. And my dad wasn't in a good place. It took him finding out I was failing to figure out that my pills had been sitting in a prescription bottle in the kitchen, where Mom used to give them to me every morning, and none of them had been taken in months."

This time, she did reach out, just brushing his hands, forcing him to loosen his grip, stop digging his fingernails into the skin of his palms. There was a darting glance up at her face, before he sharply turned his head away.

"I convinced Dad and the school principle to stick me in the same class as Scott the next year. It meant I'd be back a grade from where my age group should have been, but Scott was- Scott was the only thing that really made me feel better." Mentioning his best friend seemed to calm him down, the muscles that he had been holding so tight almost slumped, and there was a tiny grin tilting up the edge of his mouth. "We've known each other since he was, like, four, and I was five. And I didn't tell him about the ADHD until after Mom… Anyway, they started having the school nurse give me my meds before lunch, and he asked why I had to go every day. He was worried I was sick. So I told him that it turned out my brain was wired different than him. And that I had to take the medicine to help."

He laughed, the sound still a bit sad. But it was overpowered by a strange delight. "I called them stupid, and he gave me this absurdly earnest look and huge, puppy dog eyes, and asked if I thought his inhaler was stupid. 'Cause it was medicine that he needed. And I told him I would never think that. And he grinned, like a completely idiot, and told me that meant my medicine wasn't stupid either."

Allison couldn't help an answering smile when his bright eyes met hers. That was Scott. No one was better at cheering her up, no matter how crappy her day, or whatever worries and fears were sliding around in her head.

She could see the moment Stiles actually took in his surroundings, noticing the silent, empty halls and the fact that they were probably both late to class, and he jumped back. "Oh my god, sorry! Class, we have to-!"

How could she do anything besides reach out and hug him? He started to pull away, confused, before sighing and stretching long arms around her, pulling her in tight. "Automatically going for the hug? Yeah, you and Scott are so meant to be that it gives me cavities." Then he huffed, still holding on. "Look, the whole point of this little pity party was to just let you know that birthdays don't matter, okay? Age doesn't matter. The only thing that matters is that you're smart and kind and you make Scott smile all the freaking time. You're awesome, Allison."

"Yeah, well, so are you," she replied.