skinandfragilebones:

iamthefirechild:

She rolls her eyes. “Okay, okay, I get it. Just, I don’t know, steal my fries one day or something.” Staring at her hands, she fits her fingernails together, then licks her lips and laughs shortly. “Be grateful I didn’t decide to make you horny or something, huh? Okay. So, yeah. I know that works.” She drags in another breath and sets about putting her shields back up.

She starts off slow, shielding out far away people, and then a little closer, and closer, until the only person she can hear that way is Stiles. It’s not really comfortable, actually, but she’s so sensitive lately it’s better this way. It’s a little claustrophobic, in a way.

He snorts, “Please, I would steal your fries on any given day. I don’t need my mind control for that.” Stiles has a smile for a moment before it turns into a laugh at her own words. He swallows thickly and then he shakes his head. “God, if you made me horny I would never forgive you, I’m just saying.”

She is shielding at that moment, but Stiles isn’t going to stop her. She’s working out her powers, working out things that she needs to fix and maneuver. Regardless, he doesn’t mind it all that much. It’s her power, he’s grown used to it over time.

“See!” she says triumphantly, although a little tiny part of her, bruised and aching and welted with scars, winces, far down inside. Of course he wouldn’t forgive her. They’re friends, and no friendship can survive that sort of thing, which is why she’s never, ever let him know.

And why she freaked out so very hard when she thought she might be projecting by accident.

“So there’s nothing else I could’ve made you feel that you’d know was outside,” she points out, and flops forward onto her backpack again.

skinandfragilebones:

iamthefirechild:

Summer doesn’t try to shield him out again, right now. She deserves his anger, really; only she doesn’t know what else she might have used. She turns out her hands, and says, “I made you do something you didn’t want, so you should get to do the same, that’s all.”

He tries to ignore how he’s being angry towards her. He was the one who told her it was okay if she practiced on him, but now he was regretting saying she could. He bites on his bottom lip and looks at her for a moment before looking down, swallowing rather thickly. “I can make you walk into a wall or something, I’m not that creative right now.”

She rolls her eyes. “Okay, okay, I get it. Just, I don’t know, steal my fries one day or something.” Staring at her hands, she fits her fingernails together, then licks her lips and laughs shortly. “Be grateful I didn’t decide to make you horny or something, huh? Okay. So, yeah. I know that works.” She drags in another breath and sets about putting her shields back up.

She starts off slow, shielding out far away people, and then a little closer, and closer, until the only person she can hear that way is Stiles. It’s not really comfortable, actually, but she’s so sensitive lately it’s better this way. It’s a little claustrophobic, in a way.

skinandfragilebones:

iamthefirechild:

There. There it is, the reaction she wants. She lets go immediately, breathing a little shaky, pulse pounding. The way he fought — maybe she should have picked something else. Someone else. She presses her lips together, looks down and away, then back up. “I’m sorry,” she says softly. “I shouldn’t have — I’m sorry. I couldn’t think what — you … ” She straggles off, drags in a deep breath, and finishes, “You should use yours on me, now. Turnabout is fair play.”

He feels the pressure come off of him and he stops crying immediately. His regular emotions return back to his body, a hand straying up to wipe his tears before she gets a chance to look at them too clearly. Stiles wipes his tears from his eyes, frustrated that there’s a wetness on his hands. “I mean, I don’t really see why I have to use it on you. There’s nothing I really want you to do.”

He’s just a little miffed from his emotions being toyed with.

Summer doesn’t try to shield him out again, right now. She deserves his anger, really; only she doesn’t know what else she might have used. She turns out her hands, and says, “I made you do something you didn’t want, so you should get to do the same, that’s all.”

skinandfragilebones:

iamthefirechild:

She pushes harder. This is her power, this is what she is, what she’s for — she needs him to cry. She needs to know she’s still in control, at least a little, and the consequences of any other emotion she could have put on him wouldn’t’ve been acceptable. It’s harder than she expected, but maybe that’s because of his power.

“Don’t fight me,” she hisses, hardly aware of it.

She continues pressing, pushing, and Stiles is irritated that she picked this emotion of all things. She had so many to pick from and yet she chose sadness. Regardless, the teen stops fighting her and licks his lips softly, letting the tears overflow from his eyelids and run down his cheeks. He hated crying, he always felt terrible afterward. At this point, he wanted it to be over with, finding it rather obvious that her powers were working.

There. There it is, the reaction she wants. She lets go immediately, breathing a little shaky, pulse pounding. The way he fought — maybe she should have picked something else. Someone else. She presses her lips together, looks down and away, then back up. “I’m sorry,” she says softly. “I shouldn’t have — I’m sorry. I couldn’t think what — you … ” She straggles off, drags in a deep breath, and finishes, “You should use yours on me, now. Turnabout is fair play.”

skinandfragilebones:

iamthefirechild:

“It doesn’t work that way.” The intensity of it all might have changed, but she knows that much. She can’t kill directly; she never could, and it’s not even about her powers, it’s about herself. “I just … ” One hand lifts, slowly, but she doesn’t touch him, it’s more like tracing the edges of his emotions.

She just made the shield, but she takes it down, popping the soap bubble of it, to reach into him more deeply. Because this might go /so/ wrong, she concentrates on it fiercely, fingertips curling, and pushes sorrow at him, into him. ‘Cry,’ she thinks, and ‘Sadness’ — only it’s not words exactly, it’s the sense of it, and she pours it into him.

“Right,” Stiles says, giving in immediately because he doesn’t understand her powers enough to comment all that much, apparently. The teen watches her as she starts to speak, lifting her hand just slightly. It seems like she’s attempting to understand what’s going on, but can’t quite grasp it. Her hand rests near to him, but it doesn’t come in contact with him.

It takes a moment, but Stiles feels her reaching into him. It’s a complex matter that he doesn’t exactly understand, find that it feels more weird than anything. He watches her with large amber eyes, but then finds that she’s pressing much more extensive emotions at him. Ones that will make him emotional, sad, the works. Regardless, tears begin to form in his eyes for unknown reasons, and he wants to move away.

She pushes harder. This is her power, this is what she is, what she’s for — she needs him to cry. She needs to know she’s still in control, at least a little, and the consequences of any other emotion she could have put on him wouldn’t’ve been acceptable. It’s harder than she expected, but maybe that’s because of his power.

“Don’t fight me,” she hisses, hardly aware of it.

skinandfragilebones:

iamthefirechild:

She shakes her head, slightly, looking at him for the first time. “Maybe the shields. But the rest of it — no. No. It’s been happening — you’re so close, it’s hard — you’re upset that you can’t help, you want to help so much. You want to understand.” Her eyes flick over his face, and she starts to say something else, but cuts herself off.

“Do you think — maybe I — could practise on you? Find the new boundaries?”

She shakes her head at him, completely dismissing any possibility of that being the solution. This being said, he continues to lick at his lips and he finds that he’s anxiously moving around. Do his ADHD side affects really have to kick in at that moment? No, but they were going to do it anyway. “It’s…fine,” Stiles murmurs, more focused on her in that moment anyway.

Then she brings that up and he looks at her in curiosity. “Ah..yeah, totally, just don’t kill me or anything.”

“It doesn’t work that way.” The intensity of it all might have changed, but she knows that much. She can’t kill directly; she never could, and it’s not even about her powers, it’s about herself. “I just … ” One hand lifts, slowly, but she doesn’t touch him, it’s more like tracing the edges of his emotions.

She just made the shield, but she takes it down, popping the soap bubble of it, to reach into him more deeply. Because this might go /so/ wrong, she concentrates on it fiercely, fingertips curling, and pushes sorrow at him, into him. ‘Cry,’ she thinks, and ‘Sadness’ — only it’s not words exactly, it’s the sense of it, and she pours it into him.

skinandfragilebones:

iamthefirechild:

She blows out a sigh and puts her head down on the top of her backpack. “That’s no different from me, then.” She pulls out the heavy metal clips holding the mass of her hair on top of her head, and adds, “Something changed this summer, then, and I don’t know what it is.” A soft grunt of relief escapes her as the red locks tumble down her back.

“It’s like I got stronger, somehow. I can pick up more, farther away, more sources, and sometimes if I touch people I see things. Today — it was like my shields weren’t there at all. Everyone was just so — it was too much.”

A sigh escapes from her and her response is rather disappointing, especially due to the fact that Stiles can’t do anything to help her. He is her friend, but he can’t do a single thing to help her. That’s something that easily stomps on his pride. He bites his bottom lip and swallows slightly, eyes looking around before looking back up at her to speak.

“Do you think it’s just a malfunction in your powers today? Because that’s actually a thing that happens, it’s happened to me before,” Stiles questions, looking at her with a hopefulness in his eyes. He’s curious, really trying to wonder if she thinks that was a plausible idea.

She shakes her head, slightly, looking at him for the first time. “Maybe the shields. But the rest of it — no. No. It’s been happening — you’re so close, it’s hard — you’re upset that you can’t help, you want to help so much. You want to understand.” Her eyes flick over his face, and she starts to say something else, but cuts herself off.

“Do you think — maybe I — could practise on you? Find the new boundaries?”

skinandfragilebones:

iamthefirechild:

She manages a wry half-smile. “Yeah. Yeah, that’s what friends do.” Hearing him say that helps a lot, with some of it anyway. She doesn’t feel so hideously embarrassed anymore. It can be so awkward, knowing what someone is feeling in contrast to what they do, what their logical mind does — and hidden sympathy doesn’t do her much good. She learned the hard way not to assume that what someone feels and what they do are going to be related.

So as much as she thought of Stiles as a friend, it helps to know that he thought it too, not just felt it. She closes her hands, opens them again, staring down in the the palms. “How do you … control yours? Maybe I need to try something different.”

The smile she gives is partially bitter, Stiles notices, before he smooths his fingers through his hair and nods at her awkwardness. Honestly, there’s a couple of reasons that Stiles finds he doesn’t mind her attitude. For one, she was probably just as awkward as he was. He was used to that nature, used to how hard it was when you were someone who was awkward. Second, she was going through something frustrating and that was definitely…something that would affect her mood.

She opens and reopens her palms, going from a fist movement to a regular hand movement. He looks at her and licks his lips, swallowing and thinking about how he can answer her question. He taps his temple, “Concentration all day every day. It used to give me headaches.”

She blows out a sigh and puts her head down on the top of her backpack. “That’s no different from me, then.” She pulls out the heavy metal clips holding the mass of her hair on top of her head, and adds, “Something changed this summer, then, and I don’t know what it is.” A soft grunt of relief escapes her as the red locks tumble down her back.

“It’s like I got stronger, somehow. I can pick up more, farther away, more sources, and sometimes if I touch people I see things. Today — it was like my shields weren’t there at all. Everyone was just so — it was too much.”

skinandfragilebones:

iamthefirechild:

“No, nononono, please don’t talk to anyone — it’s bad enough that Ms Morrell saw I don’t need anyone else — please.” She tries hard to swallow back the tears, but it’s hard: this is one of her biggest fears coming true, and she doesn’t know what to do about it. “I told my parents I had it under control. If they find out I lied … “

He’s /right there/, and she shrinks in on herself just a little, so as not touch him. “You didn’t answer,” she points out, trying to deflect the topic. “Why do you want to?”

He hears her completely whisk away that idea in a single moment and Stiles purses his lips, attempting to think of more ideas. Normally he was good at making up the plans for everything, but he hardly understands what to do about this. He can’t do anything if he doesn’t understand everything, but he wants to try and help. That was the main point of him being there, right?

He sees her crumple in on herself, not wanting to be near him. The topic changes and Stiles closes and reopens his eyes, looking back at her. “I mean, aren’t we friends? Isn’t that what friends do?”

She manages a wry half-smile. “Yeah. Yeah, that’s what friends do.” Hearing him say that helps a lot, with some of it anyway. She doesn’t feel so hideously embarrassed anymore. It can be so awkward, knowing what someone is feeling in contrast to what they do, what their logical mind does — and hidden sympathy doesn’t do her much good. She learned the hard way not to assume that what someone feels and what they do are going to be related.

So as much as she thought of Stiles as a friend, it helps to know that he thought it too, not just felt it. She closes her hands, opens them again, staring down in the the palms. “How do you … control yours? Maybe I need to try something different.”