PLEASE TELL ME
Please tell me that the only way for Stiles to get a break from the dark, suffocating emptiness living in his chest is cheap, meaningless hookups, like, you wouldn’t think it would help, but it does, going over to some guy’s apartment and sucking him off, getting the hell out of there afterwards so he can go home and sleep, sometimes he just falls asleep in the jeep, tucked in a parking lot somewhere, deep and dreamless.
[The other fics written in the reblogs are all Sterek so I’m gonna drop some Sciles instead.]
It’d be hard for Scott not to figure it out — not to know. Even with his own shit piling up, he still spends as much time as he can with Stiles. He clings to their friendship and the knowledge that they’re pack so that the creeping fear lurking in the back of his mind doesn’t turn into a looming, absolute certainty. He’d have to be an idiot not to notice the shift in Stiles’ scent, the sticky sense of strangers layered over it.
Point is, Scott’s response is the one that Stiles needs, but his motivation is wholly selfish. He needs Stiles. He needs him near. He hates — and that alone is enough to make him shake. He hates that Stiles isn’t at home some nights, that Scott will find him on the edge of town — at gas stations, a truck stops, at the dinky diners that smell like old cooking oil. Stiles will reek of strangers, but he’ll be sleeping peacefully the whole time Scott drives him home. He won’t even stir while Scott carries him back to his bed.
"I can’t explain it," Stiles says when Scott confronts him about it finally. "It’s just nice not to think, I guess. I don’t have to worry about it meaning anything. And if I go there while some guy is fucking me, at least I know that he’ll keep me in one spot in the real world?” Stiles seems uncertain about this suggestion, shrugging off Scott’s stern glare. “It works, alright? I’ll take what I can get.”
"You can get sex anywhere, Stiles," Scott says. "Could you at least try to be safer about it?"
Stiles snorts. Not quite a laugh. “I can’t get it just anywhere. If I could get it here, do you think I’d be driving out to that truck stop? Give me some credit.”
Scott leans forward. “You can get it here,” he says. “You can get it with me, if you want.”
Stiles stares at him for a long moment. He leans back on his bed, holding himself up with his hands. His gaze drags down and then back up. He smells interested and Scott hopes for a second… But then Stiles looks away and says, “It wouldn’t work.”
"Why not?" Scott feels slightly offended at being rejected. "I could fuck you, and at least you could be sure that you’d be safe."
Stiles sighs. “That’s not what—” He cuts off, mouth snapping shut. The muscle in his jaw jumps tightly, but after a moment, Stiles confesses, “You wouldn’t be meaningless.”
Scott accepts that with a nod. It wouldn’t be meaningless for him either. He needs Stiles too much. “Does it have to be?” he asks.
"Yes," Stiles says. Then, "No. I don’t—" His shoulders hitch around his neck. "I’ve never tried it that way. In a non-meaningless way."
"That’s okay," Scott says. He smiles a little when Stiles looks at him. "Really."
It’s surprisingly satisfying, the way that Stiles’ breath catches when Scott rises and then climbs into his lap. Scott shoves lightly at his shoulders, but instead of falling back, Stiles catches himself, gripping Scott’s waist tightly.
"Scott—" Stiles sounds shaky.
"It’s okay," Scott tells him and cups the back of Stiles’ head, rubbing at the tense muscle. Pulling away the pain, the sharp edge of darkness until Stiles tips his head back with a grateful sigh.
"I’ve got you," Scott says, whispering the words again and again as he moves against Stiles’ — gets him hard and makes him come with only the grinding shift of his hips. "I’m not gonna lose you. Do you believe me?"
"Yes," Stiles moans, tilting his head when they kiss — finally kiss. "Yes, yes. I believe you."