Tag Archives: skinnydefenselessheroism

skinnydefenselessheroism:

iamthefirechild:

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Summer quirks an eyebrow at the particular emphasis. “I take it people comment on that often,” she says over her shoulder, shifting Helios to perch on one hip while she opens the door. He doesn’t seem to mind his feet hanging, just stays relaxed until the door opens. Then he slithers free and bounds inside, headed for the kitchen.

She leaves the door open for Stiles. “Where does your first name come from? It doesn’t sound Eastern European.” The backpack and her keys go on a table by the door.

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“Yeah, mostly in the context of ‘how is it that the sheriff’s kid is always the one neck deep in trouble?’ but, you know, your mileage may vary.” Stiles wobbles one hand in the air in front of him, tilting it back and forth on the axis made of his extended thumb and pinky finger.

He follows in through the door more or less as a matter of course, shoving his hands into his pockets in lieu of really having anything better to do with them. “It doesn’t wha—oh. No, Stiles is a nickname, it’s not my …actual. First name. Believe it or not, my actual name is worse, so Stiles it is. You know, from Stilinski.”

“When I was younger I think I would have traded you, unpronounceable first name or not. It must be fun explaining that to teachers every semester.” Going to the fridge, she fishes out a narrow, flexible ice pack, wraps it up in a towel, and brings it to Stiles. “The bathroom is that one door over there.” It’s a studio apartment, practically all one room, so it’s not as though there are a lot of doors to choose from.

Helios paces back and forth in front of his food bowl, and she hurries over to top it off, muttering about spoilt cats and their demands and how they’re going to get fat and then see what happens to them.

skinnydefenselessheroism:

iamthefirechild:

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It’s almost disturbing, how hard it is to tell the difference between /her/ embarrassment and /his/ embarrassment. Summer steps back easily from the car door, though; she’s not clumsy or … well, graceless the way he seems to be. Years of dance does that for a person. Helios protests faintly and she rubs at his ears and murmurs, “Hush, fuzzy man.”

It helps that she’s long perfected the ability to find the right key and unlock the door one handed, because now that he’s coming inside she’s oddly unwilling to seem any more awkward than she already has. She’s just going to keep going forward and ignore the awkwardness now. Or try to, anyway. “So, uh, you know my name. What’s yours?”

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Graceful is definitely not a word that need apply for the task of trying to describe Stiles Stilinski. He almost literally tumbles out of the Jeep, catching himself at the last second and hauling himself into a more-or-less straight position by the handle of the door. He closes it with a little more coordination, brushing at his shirt and the top of his jeans with his free hand.

Ignoring the awkwardness seems to be as good a way as any to go. He locks the door to his car, bundling the keys up in one hand to shove them into the pocket of his pants. “I—oh! Stiles. I’m Stiles. Stilinski, yes, like the Sheriff.”

Summer quirks an eyebrow at the particular emphasis. “I take it people comment on that often,” she says over her shoulder, shifting Helios to perch on one hip while she opens the door. He doesn’t seem to mind his feet hanging, just stays relaxed until the door opens. Then he slithers free and bounds inside, headed for the kitchen.

She leaves the door open for Stiles. “Where does your first name come from? It doesn’t sound Eastern European.” The backpack and her keys go on a table by the door.

skinnydefenselessheroism:

iamthefirechild:

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It’s a full five seconds — that feels like five minutes while her brain sputters in overdrive — after Stiles’ stammered words before Summer realises how she sounded. She’s sure she must be unflatteringly beet red. “I meant — not for me to help … just, sharp toes … you might be bleeding. … ” Nothing she says makes it sound any better.

Giving up on not sounding prurient, she just repeats, “You should come inside and make sure he didn’t claw you by accident. Besides, I owe you some kind of reward for going to all this effort.”

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Stiles feels a little bit like the pair of them are caught in some terrible downward spiral of awkwardness and flailing, and he’s never been able to keep himself from that kind of thing, much less help anyone else out of it. He stares up at Summer’s face for a few moments, rubbing both of his kneecaps and thinking maybe she looks like how he feels, which is completely discoordinated, which is almost a relief because he’s used to being alone with that feeling.

He looks back at his knees, down at the tiny little holes in his jeans, and finally finds himself reaching to take the keys out of the ignition of the Jeep before he even really knows what he’s doing. His free hand goes to open the door, provided it won’t bowl poor Summer over when he does. “I don’t need a reward but—yeah, uh. Maybe. Uh. I don’t…I mean my knees, maybe, some ice, I kind of…”

God, how does he makes this sound like he isn’t trying to accept an offer to ‘go inside for some coffee’?

It’s almost disturbing, how hard it is to tell the difference between /her/ embarrassment and /his/ embarrassment. Summer steps back easily from the car door, though; she’s not clumsy or … well, graceless the way he seems to be. Years of dance does that for a person. Helios protests faintly and she rubs at his ears and murmurs, “Hush, fuzzy man.”

It helps that she’s long perfected the ability to find the right key and unlock the door one handed, because now that he’s coming inside she’s oddly unwilling to seem any more awkward than she already has. She’s just going to keep going forward and ignore the awkwardness now. Or try to, anyway. “So, uh, you know my name. What’s yours?”

skinnydefenselessheroism:

iamthefirechild:

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From his perspective it almost certainly takes entirely too long for Summer to get over her new fit of the giggles enough to catch Helios under the pawpits and lift him out of the Jeep. “Helios, you are a very bad, naughty, wicked kitty,” she scolds. The miscreant looks completely unimpressed and licks his nose complacently.

She looks at Stiles with an exaggeratedly apologetic look on her face. “Are you okay?” The question does have some seriousness to it; kitties have sharp toes and Helios is not a /small/ cat. “You better come in the house and, uh, inspect the damage.”

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Stiles legitimately sighs with relief when Summer finally lifts the cat out of his lap; he slouches a little in the driver’s seat and tries to pull at his offended parts without making it obvious that’s what he’s doing, or allowing her to see.

Of course, a second later, she’s making an offer that sounds somehow far less innocent than he thinks it should, and Stiles’ whole body jerks upwards again, this time slamming his knees into the steering wheel of the Jeep. He makes a wordless sound of pain and dismay, sort of leaning forward to rub at his knees while he squints at Summer confusedly, eyebrows scrunching together. “I…what? You…uh….what?”

It’s a full five seconds — that feels like five minutes while her brain sputters in overdrive — after Stiles’ stammered words before Summer realises how she sounded. She’s sure she must be unflatteringly beet red. “I meant — not for me to help … just, sharp toes … you might be bleeding. … ” Nothing she says makes it sound any better.

Giving up on not sounding prurient, she just repeats, “You should come inside and make sure he didn’t claw you by accident. Besides, I owe you some kind of reward for going to all this effort.”

skinnydefenselessheroism:

iamthefirechild:

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She blurts out a laugh, hiding it behind one hand. “That’s me,” Summer says, around the absurdly huge smile on her face. “I didn’t mean to startle you so badly.”

Helios hears his momma’s voice and bolts across Stiles’ lap to stand with front feet planted on the edge of the window and back feet heavily on Stiles’ crotch. He thrusts his head out toward Summer, whiskers forward in an equally huge kitty smile.

“I think he likes you,” she says.

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He was going to say something charming and witty, really, honestly, but then cat happens, and Stiles is reaching down with a theatrical wince on his face, trying to pick the poor creature’s back feet up with one hand. “Ohh, ohh paws, ow, paws, sharp paws, sharp little paws, heavy cat, tender area, mayday, mayday, man down—”

He lurches to the side just a little, voice still strained. “He’s…a very nice—heavy, ow, so heavy, ow, ow—cat, really, I knew..ow, he had to…buddy could you just…move the feet…like four inches…please…”

From his perspective it almost certainly takes entirely too long for Summer to get over her new fit of the giggles enough to catch Helios under the pawpits and lift him out of the Jeep. “Helios, you are a very bad, naughty, wicked kitty,” she scolds. The miscreant looks completely unimpressed and licks his nose complacently.

She looks at Stiles with an exaggeratedly apologetic look on her face. “Are you okay?” The question does have some seriousness to it; kitties have sharp toes and Helios is not a /small/ cat. “You better come in the house and, uh, inspect the damage.”

skinnydefenselessheroism:

iamthefirechild:

Helios just headbutts him and makes sure to rub his face along stiles’ fingers and arm.

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It’s not that she’s hurrying, exactly, but usually she might pedal a little slower, enjoy the day — not push the few stoplights. Okay, so she’s hurrying. She spots the blue Jeep as she’s rounding the last corner, and makes herself take the time to actually put the bike in the rack before she taps on the window. “Hi?”

Stiles is completely lost in the act of rubbing the cat’s ears by the time the girl appears. Completely lost, a funny little uncomplicated smile over his face that doesn’t show up too often these days.

Which means when she taps on the window, he’s shrieking, trying to scramble away from the window while still seatbelted in place. It’s not flattering.

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A few seconds later, he’s cranking the window down, looking sheepish. “Uh…Summer?”

She blurts out a laugh, hiding it behind one hand. “That’s me,” Summer says, around the absurdly huge smile on her face. “I didn’t mean to startle you so badly.”

Helios hears his momma’s voice and bolts across Stiles’ lap to stand with front feet planted on the edge of the window and back feet heavily on Stiles’ crotch. He thrusts his head out toward Summer, whiskers forward in an equally huge kitty smile.

“I think he likes you,” she says.

skinnydefenselessheroism:

iamthefirechild:

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“He’s a furry little liar.” It’s a lot harder to unlock her bicycle with one hand full of phone; she ends up dropping her backpack on her toes. “Ow. I won’t be long. Blue Jeep. Thank you so much.”

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    “Not a problem. I know I’d be upset if I lost my cat. I just, uh. Hope you don’t mind if I pet him a little while we wait.” Okay, that was awkward. Stiles winces at his own reflection in the rearview mirror before he pulls his car into a parked position. Once he has his hand safely free of the wheel, he reaches out to rub behind one of Helios’ ears. “My—uh. Puppy is gonna be so pissed if he smells you on me, mister.”

Helios just headbutts him and makes sure to rub his face along stiles’ fingers and arm.

It’s not that she’s hurrying, exactly, but usually she might pedal a little slower, enjoy the day — not push the few stoplights. Okay, so she’s hurrying. She spots the blue Jeep as she’s rounding the last corner, and makes herself take the time to actually put the bike in the rack before she taps on the window. “Hi?”

skinnydefenselessheroism

iamthefirechild:

“Found — oh, hell, is he doing the ‘woe is me’ act again? I’m so sorry. I’m — I actually just got out of class?” Summer shakes her head. “How far — oh, you’re not going to know that. Just, I guess if I’m not there when you get there, wait?”

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      “Well, I would have called it more ‘pet me, pet me human minion’ but sure, yeah, woe might have—class? Oh. Okay, yeah, I’m…I’ve got a blue Jeep, I’ll just park it outside and wait, I guess?”

“He’s a furry little liar.” It’s a lot harder to unlock her bicycle with one hand full of phone; she ends up dropping her backpack on her toes. “Ow. I won’t be long. Blue Jeep. Thank you so much.”