The werewolf's eyes fluttered open, squinting slightly as rays of light shone through the windows. He groaned lowly, head turning, burying into the cover as he waited for his hues to adjust. His arm had been wrapped around Stiles with the other male's head resting against his chest—something Scott had always found comforting.
With the sun out of his eyes, he was able to glance around the room without the impending danger of bright light. Scott's hues moved to look at his best friend, his lips curving sleepily at the sight before they focused on the other's moles, moving from one to the next. Perhaps if he had been in a better place for it, he would have favored tracing the moles with a warm finger, slowly drawing patterns on the other's pale skin, although he wasn't in the right place, nor was he sure how much Stiles would like that, if at all, so he refrained.
Shifting a little from where he lay on the ground, hazel orbs were finally able to catch sight of the clock and, oh—it was later than he expected it to be. They had hit the afternoon and the sheriff had yet to wake either of them up, but it made sense considering the long night his friend had.
Instead of remaining where he was, he carefully moved to slip from under Stiles in hopes that he wouldn't wake the other male. He wanted the other to get all the sleep that he was capable of having—he deserved it.
As soon as Scott was able to slip from under Stiles and the covers, he reached for the containers of Chinese food before rising to his feet and beginning to slip out of Stiles' room to head downstairs. From what he could hear, the sheriff was home as well, although his heartbeat was rather quiet in Scott's ears. That hadn't meant that anything was wrong, that wasn't the first conclusion he had wanted to jump to, although it seemed more so as if the sheriff had a quiet morning and, possibly, a lot on his mind.
He made his way down the stairs, turning to walk under the door frame of the kitchen before throwing away the containers. After that, he had decided to follow the scent and heartbeat of the other Stilinski to the living room, his eyes catching sight of the multitude of boxes that surrounded the elder male's feet and rested atop of the coffee table which would make it more than difficult for the sheriff when he decided that he wanted to get up to leave the room.
Scott's eyebrows rose curiously as he took a slow step inside of the living room, hues examining the boxes, attempting to see what was inside if he could. From the looks of it, it seemed to be boxes filled with memorable moments, trinkets and photos of a woman—beautiful—not too much younger than the sheriff was currently—and that was the moment that it clicked for the young werewolf.
Maybe it was difficult to remember what his best friend's mother looked like since he hadn't seen her, not even a picture, after what had happened. It also might have been easier to remember what she was actually like had Stiles spoken of her, although he couldn't blame the other male for not doing so. He had lost her—watched her eyes close for the last time. Stiles had every right not to speak of her if that was what he chose.
"What're you up to?" the boy mumbled sleepily as he began to move towards the couch opposite to Stiles' father. Considering Scott had been quiet up to that moment, the sheriff was only slightly caught off guard, although when he looked up, he offered Scott a small smile. The boy was sure that it wasn't meant to make his features appear exhausted, but it was clear that he wasn't the only one who hadn't gotten the best night of sleep possible.
"I just.. thought I would bring out a few albums," the elder spoke, eyes moving to look at Scott as his hands slowly ceased their movement through the box that resided in the sheriff lap. "Is he awake too? It's kind of early—for him, I mean.. "
Scott's lips curved at the fact that Stiles' dad was calling the evening too early for his son to be up and functioning, although he gave a shake of his head as he sat on the couch opposite to the other, leaning forward so that he could rest his elbows on his thighs. "Maybe just a little too early, but no, it's just me." The teen didn't know whether what he saw was relief in the sheriff's eyes or not, but it would make sense had it been relief. Both of them knew very well that Stiles didn't want to talk about his mother let alone see the old family photos—he never really did after she passed and they knew that the teen would prefer to keep it that way if he could.
Spotting a picture that caught his eye, he pulled it out of one of the boxes, examining it first. It was of Stiles and his mom hugging, the little boy resting against her hip and holding a mug that, from what he could see, had 'love' finger painted on it. All of them were smiling—not the kind of forced smile that people often did when taking a picture, but it was more genuine, as if the world had yet to begin the process of wearing it away. With his curiosity rising, Scott flipped the picture to show it to the sheriff. "Hey, where was this one taken?" He asked, tone tentative as he wasn't sure if he would make the other male uncomfortable by asking. He could only hope not.
As the sheriff's eyes focused on the picture Scott held, his lips began to twitch, curving into a morose smile. "It was mother's day and Stiles said he wanted to do something special for her.."
Perhaps Scott wouldn't have posed the question had he known that his best friend was just around the corner, leaning against the wall quietly as he listened to his father begin to explain what had occurred that day and, if his dad was to speak of the little 'complication' his mother had towards the end of the night, Stiles didn't necessarily want to be there to hear it.
Grabbing his jacket, Stiles slipped out of the back door and into the frigid air silently, though he knew Scott would have possibly heard it click as it closed unless he had managed to get himself too invested in listening to his dad's story.
Slipping his hands in the pockets of his jeans, the teen moved with purpose, walking down the sidewalk. He had no real idea where he was going or, at least, he wasn't thinking about where his legs would take him. But he had faith in them and, more often than not, he would find himself returning to the park—a place of undeniable comfort for him. Whenever he desired to get away from a problem he didn't know how to deal with in hopes it would go away or wanted to leave thoughts that he preferred not to be forced to deal with, he somehow always ended up there.
Though, this time, he knew the issue at hand would not go away—it wouldn't be the same. Not with this.
He absolutely despised how winded he had become just from the walk to the park or how his heart happened to be beating so quickly to its own discomforting tune, but what was he to do other than endure it?
The dark-haired male moved forward towards the trees, ducking under the branches whilst using his other hand to push away the leaves. The entrance to the park itself was hidden by shrubs and wildlife that grew over the years which was why there were hardly ever any other kids there. With the entrance being difficult to find or notice, not many would enter, although there were a few others who were able to find it and cherished the playground, feeling as if it was more so special due to the hidden entrance. It was old, but it still held great worth. To Stiles, it was still as enthralling as the day he had met Scott there.
A huff escaped his lips as he stepped into the square of the playground which was surrounded by a multitude of timber. Sepia hues glanced around for a moment, pausing to allow himself to catch his breath before slowly walking towards the sandbox and bending down. His hands reached in, brushing away the sand to check for the initials he and Scott had carved into the edge when they were little—as it could have disappeared. He just had to check.
After that his fingers ran over the engravings, Stiles sauntered towards the tower, hands wrapping around the chilled metal to hoist himself up slowly, with more difficulty than earlier times. Reaching the platform, he sat on the edge, legs dangling off the side as his hands moved to run through his hair, trying to calm himself, eyes fluttering closed as air rushed by him. Behind his closed eyes was an entire world of his own, a place he was glad to be able to escape to no matter how long or short his stay would be.
He hadn't know how long he had remained there, but he had come out of it after hearing the soles of shoes squeak against the slide as if someone was climbing on it. By the time his eyes had fluttered open once more, a warm arm had wrapped around his shoulders along with someone sitting just next to him. The hold was familiar enough for him to know who it was—besides, what were the chances of a stranger finding their way into the park and wrapping an arm around his shoulder?
Stiles shifted slightly, leaning against Scott, head resting on his shoulder wordlessly. The silence was broken only moments later when there werewolf's hand had moved to hold Stiles' for a moment to see how cold it really was. "You're freezing."
"I'm warm enough," he shrugged, eyes focused on the trees in front of him.
Scott gave a shake of his head, hand moving this time to wrap around his friend's in hopes of helping. "If by 'warm enough' you mean 'not at all' then yeah, you're warm enough." From Stiles, there was silence which was odd considering either he would deny just how cold he was or strike up a friendly banter with him, but Scott understood why there was a lack thereof. "What're you thinking about?" Despite the chance of knowing the answer, the crooked jawed male posed the question anyhow.
There was another moment of silence as Stiles' head moved a little so that he was able to look up at him. "I don't wanna talk about that anymore, Scott," he mumbled quietly.
"We don't have to—we can talk about anything else. Anything. Just name it."
Stiles' lips curve ever so slightly, though it was hardly noticeable—perhaps it almost seemed as if he was pressing his lips together. "Remember that time it was raining and you decided you could still monkey bar your way across even when the handles were really wet?"
"Hey, wait, anything but that one—" Scott began to say, stopping in the middle of his sentence when Stiles continued.
"And everything was really muddy and you kind of just.. fell in?" He asked as he begun to laugh a small laugh with an opened mouth. He felt Scott nudge his ribs which only furthered his small laughter.
"Fine, fine how about the time we played lava tag and you slid down the pole and you had nowhere else to go, so you held onto it for as long as you could, trying not to touch the ground and—"
"You just watched me to see how long I could hold out until I let go? Yeah, I remember." It was Scott's turn to laugh, although, compared to Stiles', it was warmer, more relaxed. "You know I could've kicked your ass if I hadn't slid down that friggin' pole."
"Yeah, you really think so, man?" Amusement was clear in the werewolf's voice, lips forming a lop-sided smile as he spoke.
"I would've been like.. the king of hot lava, okay, and you know it."
"Fine, prove it."
"You know what?" As he spoke, Stiles began to sit up, slipping from Scott's hold to stand up on the platform. "I will. And I'm gonna give you ten seconds before it's game time," he stated, looking down at the other boy and giving him the universal 'I'm watching you' sign.
"You've got to be kidding me," Scott mused, hazel hues on his friend.
"Is this the face of a kidder? 'Cause I think this is the face non.. kidder. This is my serious face, so take it seriously."
A full smile spread across Scott's lips as his hues took in the sight that was Stiles Stilinski. While he knew his friend was not fully up to par with his normal self, seeing a brighter and more so playful side come out in place of the mood he so hated to see his friend be in was more than a treat. He could never say no to a small game of lava tag if it meant keeping his friend's current mood.
With a playful shake of his head, Scott pushed himself up to stand before jumping down on the next platform. "Hi, Stiles, nice to meet you, I'm a werewolf in case you didn't know." And clearly he would have an unfair advantage since he was stronger and faster.
"And I'm Stiles, very human, and you're gonna have to pretend you're human for like.. ten minutes, comprende, muchacho?"
"Sí. Lo entiendo, listillo, pero no prometo nada.." Scott spoke in a teasing tone, grin on his lips which grew even more so after seeing the face Stiles had made after becoming confused with everything but the first word of his sentence to which the human grumbled under his breath. "You really should've taken Spanish with me," he joked lightly.
After Scott had used the time allotted to move away from Stiles, the game had begun, just like old times where he would jump from different parts of the playground, this time with much more ease considering the circumstances with Stiles following after him, trying to reach him. At one point Stiles did manage to catch up to him, partly because Scott had let him, but the tables turned easily as Scott was able to tag him again only moments after.
It had come to the point where Stiles was leaning against the railing of the tower, holding it whilst trying to catch his breath. Of course he hadn't wanted Scott to notice he was doing so, but how was he supposed to keep it subtle when he was winded, heart beating at a rapid pace and his bones were aching—paining him?
Concern plagued the werewolf's features as he moved towards his friend, placing a gentle hand on his shoulder. He knew that asking if Stiles wanted to stop would cause the other male to say no in hopes of convincing Scott that he was okay, so he went for an alternative route. "Hey, do you wanna go get something to eat? We could go to that diner down the street, I hear they have some good burgers and fries," he offered, hoping that his friend would decide to leave the game as is. When he saw Stiles nod slowly, a small feeling of relief washed over him before he gave Stiles' shoulder a gentle pat and cocked his head towards the park's exit. "C'mon."
Scott offered Stiles a hand on his way down from the tower. The two of them began to walk slowly together, making their way out of the park and just down the street—of course it hadn't taken too long. Minutes after sitting down, they had ordered their food before relaxing in the seats, shoes touching each other's because of the small space the booths provided.
"Your feet are in the way, McCall," Stiles joked, expression almost serious.
"Pretty sure it's the other way around, dude."
It went back and forth like that for a few moments where Stiles would nudge Scott's foot with his and Scott would return the favor. Not too long after that did their food finally come around.
Both had, as usual, gone for the burgers and fries. Despite Stiles knowing that, due to the regimen recommended by his doctor yesterday, he should have ordered something a little different, but it was only recommended, one burger couldn't hurt too much, could it? Well, he wouldn't deprive himself of the simple pleasure of an American made food—not today at least. It wasn't as if he would find himself eating too much anyhow. His wish to eat was low and his appetite was slowly becoming bird sized. Even his dad had noticed the difference, so he would be glad to know that Stiles had at least eaten something while they were out.
After the werewolf had taken just two of his own fries, Scott pushed his plate to the other side of the table in Stiles' reach. "You want some extra fries?" he asked, eyebrows rising slightly. He refused to tell his friend that, a few months ago, he had started to order fries and only eat a couple before offering them up to Stiles purposely, especially knowing how much the other male enjoyed them so much. Yet he wouldn't have been surprised if his friend had managed to figure it out already.
He noticed the small, almost tired smile on his friend's expression, though it was a smile nonetheless. He didn't know whether it was because the other had just gained a ton of fries or if he was feeling somewhat better mood wise compared to earlier, but he would take it nonetheless.
"Why would I ever say no to that?" Stiles asked, pulling the plate more so towards him to transfer the fries from Scott's plate to his before passing the thing back and popping one of the fries into his mouth. By the time he looked up again, he noticed Scott's hazel hues watching him with some sort of expression he wasn't able to pinpoint on his features.
"Why're you lookin' at me like that?"
Scott's lips curved, as a fond twinkle appeared in his eyes while he watched the other male begin to eat a little of the food on his plate. "You've been smiling more today."
"What about it?" he asked curiously, head tilting slightly.
"I just don't see it as much as I used to." He did see it a little more at the playground, but it was hardly there and it hadn't even looked like a smile, but the one on Stiles' lips moments ago, despite how tired or smile, was prominent. "—and I missed it."
At that, Stiles' lips curved further, gaze moving down to his plate momentarily before moving back towards Scott. "You're the one that brought it out." Having those words fill his ears caused a familiar warmth to course through Scott.
"I hope it'll stick around for a while."
