“Do you need me to write down my consent?” Just like that she goes back to snark and sarcasm, unimpressed with his worry. What’s the worst he could do, anyway? If anyone knows Stiles is a good guy, it’s her. She’s not concerned about what he might make her do.
“I’m just making sure, okay!” Stiles says, not meaning to yell, but he just knows she doesn’t understand this fully. He sighs, relaxing himself back into his normal state before he controls his mind, focusing it on her solely until he has control on hers, waiting until the precise moment when he has what’s necessary.
It feels … strange. She senses him relaxing, and then somehow that relaxation extends to her. As if she doesn’t have to care about what she’s doing; that sort of not-quite-mindless feeling that comes from doing something so familiar five minutes later you can’t even remember if you did it or just remember doing it from the day before.
It’s nice.
