contact

[phonetically]

"You've got Stiles -- or you would if I were here right now, which, I'm not. I think phone etiquette is the same here, so you should know the drill. If you want something, yada yada, but here's an extra option. Call Scott if it's an emergency. And if it's really an emergency, call until he picks up. Otherwise, I'll get back to you when I can. Peace, Atia."

Comments

text

[askedtobe]

gimmie uh. idk time. ill show up.

text

[phonetically]

maybe text if you don't make it or if you get lost. or if you change your mind

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[askedtobe]

im coming. n i wont get lost

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[phonetically]

that's almost what she said

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[askedtobe]

ur a thats what she said

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[phonetically]

nice try there

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[askedtobe]

[ Look buddy, his sense of humor is somewhat skewed right now. ]

im walkin

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[phonetically]

and talkin

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[askedtobe]

to you

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[phonetically]

and hopefully not random strangers.

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[askedtobe]

no. no them. dont wantto talk to them.

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[phonetically]

you wanted to talk to me?

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[askedtobe]

i txted you didnt i??

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[phonetically]

yeah you did. still here

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[askedtobe]

illl be tehre in a sec

[phonetically]

[ he's just sitting on the couch, having a conversation with some girl who doesn't care about anything thanks to atia. it's a typical friday night here, probably ]

[askedtobe]

[ .... which is exactly when Peter finds Stiles' place and tries his hardest not to bang on the door whilst not understanding the logistics of sounds and physics. Still holding tightly onto a rather large bottle of scotch, Peter rocks on his heels, staring sideways off towards nothing, practically forgetting that he's waiting at all. ]

[phonetically]

[ He's finished up with Elena, getting up from the couch and opening the door. He clocks the bottle of scotch and the vacant expression. ] You made it.

[askedtobe]

[ Peter squints back at Stiles and offers a nod. ] Here. [ He pushes the bottle at Stiles, as if he's grown tired of holding it, flexing his fingers after keeping a tight grip. ] Have a present. It's what I drank the first time Nathan got me wasted.

My dad's favorite.

[ Someone has needed to talk. ]

[phonetically]

[ Stiles just takes it, stepping aside. ] Come on, come inside.

[askedtobe]

[ Peter could probably give less of a fuck as to where he actually is, willingly stepping inside and glancing around but taking nothing in. ]

[phonetically]

[ Stiles closes the door, luckily getting enough room between Peter and the door so he can. He regards the bottle for a second before taking it into the kitchen and sticking it above the fridge - where other alcohol is. Whiskey and the like, before emerging again. ]

[askedtobe]

[ Peter is... still staring off at absolutely nothing in particular, his mind a lump of nothing but all the things he wants to say about his brother. He wants to say it, wants someone to hear it, wants to throw his fists into walls until destruction's all that's left. ]

He raised me. Did all the things dad should've done. But he was always such an asshole. And I was supposed to keep him safe. Couldn't save the world, couldn't save him, couldn't do any of it.

[phonetically]

[ Stiles comes to Peter, a hand on his back to get him to walk. toward. the couch. ] Your brother. [ Just for confirmation. ] Everyone can't be saved. [ He should know. So should Scott. Except, Allison's death is partly on him - at least his body. ] And you're - here, so you don't ave to worry about the world.

[askedtobe]

[ He doesn't particularly feel like sitting down, but he lets himself be pushed in the direction. Though he snorts rather loudly. ] It's the one fucking thing i'm actually supposed to worry about. And I almost killed everyone. Ninety-three percent. I wouldve killed ninety-three percent of the population. Anything for Adam. But! Nathan saved my ass. Again. Just like always.

And now he's dead.