robinonadderall | Only Creepy Now In Spirit Mansion

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Only Creepy Now In Spirit Mansion | Thursday Afternoon

Okay, Stiles wanted to at least be a little bit impressive with his final project in Dr. Lecter's class, which would be why he wasn't going to write a paper or make peanut butter and jelly. Instead he had asked his dad to send one of his mother's old cookbooks and was attempting to make knedle serowo-truskawkowe. It was something she used to make for him and Scott when they were kids.

"Attempting" being the key word here. The first batch for his trial run was a burnt mess so now he was starting over, getting a fresh sheen of flour all over everything in the kitchen. It covered up the chunks of unused dough and smushed up strawberries from the first batch nicely.

At least he hadn't tried to make golabki. Then the kitchen would stink like cabbage in addition to being a mess.

[Post is open for the people that live there and anybody who wants to stop by ofc]

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Goddammit, it was really sad that Derek could take the time to shut off the burner and still catch up to Stiles. It was like he went to that one track meet for nothing!

"Save me, Puppy Joe!" Because that dog could take Derek, sure.

Puppy Joe refused to take sides with his feelings parents, so he expressed his discomfort by prancing in a circle around them, barking excitedly. Yeah. You heard him.

"You need to go running more often a week," Derek informed him, ruthlessly stamping down on the urge to wrap his arm around Stiles' chest to keep him in place more solidly that a fist full of floury shirt.

Probably a good idea considering this already looked pretty bad from and outside point of view. And maybe an inside one, if Stiles had more of an eye for this sort of thing. Luckily he didn't.

"More running? No, no, no, I don't need to do that," he insisted. "I can run just fine for a human."

Oh man that was such a lie.

"You'd be dead if I was trying." Derek's motivational skills left something to be desired.

"Is there any amount of running I could do that wouldn't end with me dead if you were trying?" he asked. "Because, seriously, you're a werewolf."

"Be smarter," Derek suggested, letting go if the shirt.

"Great advice there, Derek," Stiles said, straightening his shirt out. "I'm still alive, you know. So I can't be too stupid."

"Keep it that way. Barton will kill me if anything happens to you."

Also, he would blame himself and sink further into his 'everyone I care about dies because of me' guilt spiral.

Stiles rolled his eyes. "Both of you need to learn that you're not responsible for what I do."

"Yes I am." Because of reasons! "When it comes to werewolves."

"No, you're really not," Stiles said. "I was dealing with werewolves before I met you."

Well. Before he met this Derek, not the other Derek. So confusing.

Derek's mouth went into a tight line as he tried stared Stiles down on that. "That doesn't matter. You're here now, it's my responsibility."

Well, that's a sure fire way to get Stiles killed there.

It was also a sure fire way to piss Stiles off. "Nothing I do is your responsibility, Derek. Pretty sure I'm old enough to make my own decisions and deal with the consequences."

Oh this was so going to be applicable in about a week and a half.

"You're seventeen," Derek replied, lip curled up into a silent little snarl. Because its not like he could be emotionally healthy enough to say why he was being a complete freak about this.

"Why does it always come back to that for you?" he asked. "Yeah, I'm seventeen, so what? In eight months I get to the magical eighteen, where you apparently think I gain all the knowledge in the world because I'm a legal adult."

Why couldn't they go back to flour wrestling? Why?

Well, flour wrestling had involved feelings and urges. Like molesting Stiles' ear in a creepy manner. So. Derek was picking a fight instead.

"No," Derek snapped. "I think you'll end up dead."

Let's be real, Stiles would prefer the fight over the ear molestation. Seriously, Derek, that shit was weird.

"I'll probably end up dead either way!" Especially with your track record, Derek, come on now. "I'm human, okay? I don't answer to any alpha or pack. At the end of the day it's my stupid decisions that I'm going to go with, and if it gets me killed then it's my own damn fault."

Rude! His ear molesting was the best in Beacon Hills!

"That's not--" Derek stepped away, hands balled into fists and Puppy Joe prancing along behind him. "Would Scott want that to happen?"

Yeah, alway bring up someone else as a proxy for your ~emotions~, Derek.

And anyway, Scott would have a plan for that. He's the plan guy.

"Scott trusts me to do what I think is right," Stiles said, crossing his arms over his chest. "Personally I think it's out of respect and friendship, but it also could be because he's sixteen and, as we all know, teenagers are wrong about everything."

Damn it!

"I--" He respected you, Stiles. Look at him starting a fight because he respected you so much. "Doing that will get people you care about killed."

He was totally the expert on that.

"You don't know that," Stiles said. "What about the night at the motel? I helped save four people that night. I had to talk Scott down by myself."

Derek stared at him because, you know, one bad choice led to his entire family dying in a horrible fashion. Also, Paige. There was always Paige.

"I don't even know why I keep arguing with you about this," Stiles said, shaking his head. "You don't trust me to make my own decisions, fine, that's your problem. It's not like you're going to stop me from doing what I want anyway."

Stop aggravating his issues, Stiles!

Derek stared at him, trying and failing to come up with a response that wasn't completely pathetic. "You don't trust me, I don't trust you," he said, not really aware that wasn't the first time Stiles heard it.

Though the meaning here was different enough.

The meaning here might have been different, but it was enough to piss Stiles off even more. The meaning might have been worse than the first time he had heard it, since Stiles was under the assumption that they had trusted each other on some things.

Stiles was actually so mad that he couldn't really find the words to say just how mad he was. So he went with a classic. "Fuck you, Derek!"

Then he tried to walk away with as much dignity a person covered in flour could muster.

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Only Creepy Now In Spirit Mansion | Thursday Afternoon

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