<3 It's going to be awesome. XDwolfy_samSeptember 9 2012, 19:51:53 UTC
[Sam was completely used to eating around people who were less than completely neat. Dean eats like someone's going to take his food away from him any second. Cheesburgers and fries everywhere. And he really liked Stiles, so he wouldn't care anyway.
[He smiles, sitting close enough so their arms brush while they eat.] There's a trick to them. Dean used to make popcorn like that on the motel iron when we had the money for it. You take a metal clothes hangar and bend it to make a stand, then pop the iron in it, face up. Instant little cooktop.
Pretty sure that's a fire hazard. [Stiles chuckled, trying to imagine Sam and Dean as kids. Dean, he could see; the man was a kid, as far as Stiles could see, one who'd gotten access to liquor and an impressive array of curse words. But Sam was...so mature. He couldn't reconcile the image.
Stiles quickly worked his way through one piece of pizza, halfway through his second by the time Barrymore's body was found. He kept sneaking in glances over at Sam, though he couldn't tell if the man wasn't noticing or just pretending not to.]
[Sam snorts out a laugh.] Dean plus fireworks in an empty field is an even greater fire hazard. And it was the cheapest way to get a hot meal when money was tight when we were kids.
[He'd always looked out for Sam first and foremost. So Dean had learned to rig up just about anything so they could eat right when they were on the road.
[Sam couldn't miss the looks. He just didn't know what to do about them. It had been a long time since he'd been on a proper date. And even then, Jessica had been the one to take the initiative most of the time. When his pizza was done, Sam reached out to hold his hand. He'd made Stiles a promise to wait. One he intended to keep. Even if it was going to be harder than he initially thought.]
Do I even want to know? [Stiles teased playfully as Sam mentioned fireworks, grinning as their arms brushed together.
Stiles opened his water bottle, taking a swig, and when the lowered the bottle, he felt Sam's hand slip into his. Stiles blushed softly, waiting a few seconds before smiling shyly at Sam, shifting a little closer. He didn't know what this thing between them was going to turn into, but he felt like it could be amazing if they did it right...
And miraculously, what they'd been through hadn't ruined that chance.]
Fourth of July. One of the best summers we ever had. He went around town and bought every firework he could get his hands on to try and cheer me up. [His smile goes distant and fond at that memory.] But he kind of wound up burning down an entire field in the process.
[He doesn't mind. Okay. Good. Sam hopes his smile isn't too stupid as he shifts a little closer. Slow. He can go slow, because he's pretty sure that this is going to be worth it with Stiles. He's funny, brilliant, kind, and they have similar taste in movies and books.] He meant well. Dean kinda doesn't do subtle.
Burning down a field for you; the epitome of subtle. [Stiles chuckled, watching Sam's wide smile. He leaned over, resting his head on the man's shoulder - or rather what would have been his shoulder, if Stiles was a little taller. It was actually more his bicep, but whatever, Stiles had already moved so he was just going to stay like this and feel like an idiot until he fell over. Which was the most likely outcome and yeah, okay he sucked at everything. Smooth as ever, which was zero.
Stiles tried to ignore the running monologue in his head, watching Sydney walk into a bathroom.]
About as subtle as a brick to the face. [Sam smiles as he leans in, laying his head against his arm. The closeness is nice. Being near simply for the sake of it. He angles himself back a little, shifting his arm around his shoulders.] Hang on. Here. You're gonna get a neck cramp like that.
Better? [Movie? What movie? Sam's barely paying attention now. Probably a good thing he's seen it a dozen times or more.]
Yeah. [Stiles could feel his entire face burning as Sam wrapped his arm around him, saving him from the embarrassment he'd been building up in his head. Overthinking everything, as usual. At least now he was tucked into Sam's side; Stiles pulled their linked hands into his lap, playing idly with Sam's fingers.] ...you're comfortable.
[It doesn't even really bother him when his finger traces along the scar taking up most of his palm. Because it's just that now, a scar. Nothing more. Sam smiles into his hair, breathing in his calming scent. His eyes flick back to the screen as yet another victim bites the dust.] So are you. [He fits so perfectly in his arms, Sam is pretty sure he'll never get tired of just tucking him in close.]
[Stiles traced Sam's fingers, running his forefinger up the side of Sam's hand as though he were using a pencil to trace his handprint.
Normally silence felt awkward to Stiles - which was part of why he talked a mile a minute - but with Sam...with Sam, it didn't bother him.
Stiles turned his face into Sam's side, inhaling and hugging Sam's hand to his chest. Sam smells like coffee; coffee and a subtle tang Stiles has come to associate with guns. He has an inherently Sam smell; sweet and pleasant, but in a deep, heavy sort of way. Stiles likes it, and waits a few minutes before peeking up at the wolf, out from under Sam's arm, hazel eyes bright.]
[The faint touch along the lines of his hand sends small, pleasant shivers up Sam's arm. He'd long since tuned out the movie, paying more attention to the young man nestled up close to him.
[He also hopes that the entire pack can't hear his heart slamming around in his ribcage when Stiles turns into him. Because it sounds like one of those cartoon-esque bongo drums to him. Sam threads their fingers together as Stiles tucks his hand in close.
[Sam reaches over with his free hand to trace the side of his face with his fingertips. His smile is soft and dear god he's in trouble. Sam kept his promises. But a promise to wait was suddenly going to be harder to keep.]
[Sam just radiates warmth and Stiles would be lying if he said he wasn't basking in him. It. The warmth. Riiight...Dammit, Freud.
Stiles boldly moved his free hand to reach up and map out Sam's chest, leaning into his touch. Soft, reassuring; why hadn't Sam been in his life earier...
It had been a long day; Sam was comfortable and the apartment was warm - Stiles closed his eyes, listening to another one of the killer's creepy phone calls, though he's really listening to Sam's heartbeat. It's soothing, and eventually all the tension in Stiles' body released.]
Oh...did you want any candy? [Stiles uncurled a leg, nudging the bag on the table with his feet, eyes flickering back open to look at Sam.]
[He wasn’t much of a junk food eater. That was really Dean’s department. But that didn’t mean Sam didn’t occasionally indulge. Early battles with weight just meant he was much more careful with things like that, sticking to salads and protien bars for the most part.] Got any Swedish fish in there?
[The arm draped around his shoulders shifts only long enough for Stiles to grab the bag. He’s been running his fingers up and down the length of his arm, sometimes slipping up to brush along his neck. Sam hasn’t been this quietly comfortable with anyone in a very long time
( ... )
What movie would be complete without them? [Stiles snatched the bag from the coffee table, leaning back and opening it, offering a package to Sam. He dug around for the box of thin mints, setting the bag to the side. Yeah, definitely not going to finish all of that - Stiles didn't have diabetes, but that was a surefire way to develop it.
Stiles jumped at the next bloodcurling scream from the movie, focused on Sam and the thin mints he was opening.]
...Sorry. [Stiles took a deep breath, pulling out a thin mint and tucking into Sam's side. His gaze flickered between Sam and the tv, not wanting to be caught by surprise and frightened like an idiot again.
Stiles couldn't stop looking at Sam. Didn't particularly want to, either. He was so kind, open, and safe; his gentle smile of contentment was infectious, fingers soothing, relieving stress and putting the teen instantly at ease
( ... )
[His arm tightens involuntarily around the young man’s shoulders when he jumps. An instinct to protect. Sam smiles, leaning to kiss his temple, fingers returning their steady track down his arm, up the curve of his shoulder and back down again. They’re safe. Warm and at peace and he’s happy. Happier than he’s been in a good long while. Because of Stiles. His generous heart, his kindness, his boundless enthusiasm.] Happens to me too.
[His scent is warm and earthy, tinged with the high scent of adderall and underneath it, the sharp, tantalizing fragrance of his skin. It reminds Sam of home. He can drag in a deep breath and be instantly calmed by his scent
( ... )
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[He smiles, sitting close enough so their arms brush while they eat.] There's a trick to them. Dean used to make popcorn like that on the motel iron when we had the money for it. You take a metal clothes hangar and bend it to make a stand, then pop the iron in it, face up. Instant little cooktop.
Reply
Stiles quickly worked his way through one piece of pizza, halfway through his second by the time Barrymore's body was found. He kept sneaking in glances over at Sam, though he couldn't tell if the man wasn't noticing or just pretending not to.]
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[He'd always looked out for Sam first and foremost. So Dean had learned to rig up just about anything so they could eat right when they were on the road.
[Sam couldn't miss the looks. He just didn't know what to do about them. It had been a long time since he'd been on a proper date. And even then, Jessica had been the one to take the initiative most of the time. When his pizza was done, Sam reached out to hold his hand. He'd made Stiles a promise to wait. One he intended to keep. Even if it was going to be harder than he initially thought.]
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Stiles opened his water bottle, taking a swig, and when the lowered the bottle, he felt Sam's hand slip into his. Stiles blushed softly, waiting a few seconds before smiling shyly at Sam, shifting a little closer. He didn't know what this thing between them was going to turn into, but he felt like it could be amazing if they did it right...
And miraculously, what they'd been through hadn't ruined that chance.]
Reply
[He doesn't mind. Okay. Good. Sam hopes his smile isn't too stupid as he shifts a little closer. Slow. He can go slow, because he's pretty sure that this is going to be worth it with Stiles. He's funny, brilliant, kind, and they have similar taste in movies and books.] He meant well. Dean kinda doesn't do subtle.
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Stiles tried to ignore the running monologue in his head, watching Sydney walk into a bathroom.]
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Better? [Movie? What movie? Sam's barely paying attention now. Probably a good thing he's seen it a dozen times or more.]
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Normally silence felt awkward to Stiles - which was part of why he talked a mile a minute - but with Sam...with Sam, it didn't bother him.
Stiles turned his face into Sam's side, inhaling and hugging Sam's hand to his chest. Sam smells like coffee; coffee and a subtle tang Stiles has come to associate with guns. He has an inherently Sam smell; sweet and pleasant, but in a deep, heavy sort of way. Stiles likes it, and waits a few minutes before peeking up at the wolf, out from under Sam's arm, hazel eyes bright.]
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[He also hopes that the entire pack can't hear his heart slamming around in his ribcage when Stiles turns into him. Because it sounds like one of those cartoon-esque bongo drums to him. Sam threads their fingers together as Stiles tucks his hand in close.
[Sam reaches over with his free hand to trace the side of his face with his fingertips. His smile is soft and dear god he's in trouble. Sam kept his promises. But a promise to wait was suddenly going to be harder to keep.]
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Stiles boldly moved his free hand to reach up and map out Sam's chest, leaning into his touch. Soft, reassuring; why hadn't Sam been in his life earier...
It had been a long day; Sam was comfortable and the apartment was warm - Stiles closed his eyes, listening to another one of the killer's creepy phone calls, though he's really listening to Sam's heartbeat. It's soothing, and eventually all the tension in Stiles' body released.]
Oh...did you want any candy? [Stiles uncurled a leg, nudging the bag on the table with his feet, eyes flickering back open to look at Sam.]
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[The arm draped around his shoulders shifts only long enough for Stiles to grab the bag. He’s been running his fingers up and down the length of his arm, sometimes slipping up to brush along his neck. Sam hasn’t been this quietly comfortable with anyone in a very long time ( ... )
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Stiles jumped at the next bloodcurling scream from the movie, focused on Sam and the thin mints he was opening.]
...Sorry. [Stiles took a deep breath, pulling out a thin mint and tucking into Sam's side. His gaze flickered between Sam and the tv, not wanting to be caught by surprise and frightened like an idiot again.
Stiles couldn't stop looking at Sam. Didn't particularly want to, either. He was so kind, open, and safe; his gentle smile of contentment was infectious, fingers soothing, relieving stress and putting the teen instantly at ease ( ... )
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[His scent is warm and earthy, tinged with the high scent of adderall and underneath it, the sharp, tantalizing fragrance of his skin. It reminds Sam of home. He can drag in a deep breath and be instantly calmed by his scent ( ... )
Reply
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