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When they see each other again it's at the grocery store and it's...awkward. Stiles doesn't know what to do. He doesn't know how to react. Any other time he would just go up to him and start talking. Any other time he would be with him: simultaneously exasperated and fond watching as Scott feels up every piece of fruit before he makes anything close to a decision.
It's different now. They don't do that anymore. The memory of last time they actually had a conversation resurfaces (truthfully it's on a constant loop in 4D hi-def in his mind).
He actually knocks for the first time in years and has to stand in the darkness of the porch for someone to come and open the door.
"My key doesn't work anymore." is the first thing he says when Scott opens the door to him. He looks to the right and sees Melissa's silhouette through the window...hovering. No, protective...she's protecting Scott. Protecting Scott from him.
"Had the locks changed." Scott tells him after a beat. Scott doesn't step aside to let him in. Scott makes himself small and presses his back against the door, "is your dad ok?"
"Yeah he's--he's better. Can walk 45 whole steps before he has to sit down. I think this is the most rest he's had in years. It's driving him crazy." Stiles huffs out a laugh. Scott looks at him, his expression unreadable.
"Good. Well not the crazy part."
"Are--you gonna let me in sometime or are we gonna freeze our asses off out here?" Stiles goes for playful. He's not good at apologizing. He's especially not good at apologizing to Scott. His best friend always seems to know when he's sorry and forgives him.
"I told you I needed space." Scott says instead.
"I remember."
He remembers that it hadn't been the conclusion he expected. After they had come back together so haphazardly because Theo was raising hell to go along with the hell the Dread Doctors were raising to add on to the hell the Desert Wolf would bring. But they had made it. Theo had been taken care of. The Dread Doctors had been taken care of--the Beast they wanted to raise back in Hell where it belonged. Dr. Deaton had been found and the Desert Wolf had been taken care of (she was safely locked away at Eichen House).
He knew things wouldn't just go back to normal. He didn't think it would end like this.
"You don't seem to be able to comprehend the definition of space, though." Scott remarks.
"You know me and boundaries, Scotty." he tries again. Not even an inkling of a smile.
"Maybe it's time you respected them. Mine, especially. I told you I needed space Stiles and I meant it. Stop coming over." Scott is authoritative. Scott is firm and resolute.
"Scotty, come on--" Stiles steps forward.
"Don't." Scott backs against the door again.
"Damn it Scott, I'm sorry, ok?" he yells and he knows he shouldn't but it comes out anyway because Stiles and impulse has always been a problem, "I know I should have told you about Donovan! I shouldn't have lied! But I got scared and I panicked and I'm fucking sorry, ok?! Say it's ok." He gets closer to his best friend.
"Back up, Stiles." Scott says quiet.
"Say it's ok." Stiles repeats himself. He keeps walking.
"Stiles, back up."
"Scotty--"
"Back.Off." Scott finally raises his voice and pushes Stiles back. He stumbles back and uses the porch railing to steady himself, "It's not ok, Stiles. And it's not just about you lying!"
"Scott."
"You didn't trust me. I'm supposed to be your best friend and you didn't trust me! And then instead of standing up in your shit, Stiles, you threw everything back in my face. All of a sudden I wasn't human. All of a sudden, I wasn't allowed to make mistakes anymore."
"I didn't mean it."
Scott full out stops mid-rant and closes his eyes. His shoulders slump and he shakes his head.
"And when you slammed me into the wall? Then the floor? You didn't mean that either?"
"My dad was in the hospital and I was scared and I--"
"Blamed me?" Scott finishes for him.
"I'm sorry, Scott. I'm sorry." Stiles pleads. His eyes have welled up and his vision's getting blurry. And Scott won't tell him it's ok.
"That's not enough anymore, Stiles." Scott says in a whisper.
It's been 37 days and every single time he sees Scott but can't go up to him feels like a punch to the gut. He has to stay on the outskirts now. He doesn't sit behind the other boy anymore. Now instead of a familiar mop of black hair, three moles in the shape of a triangle on the nape of a neck it's the back of Greenberg's head he sees. He sits at a different table at lunch. Sometimes with Malia. Sometimes with Lydia. He's prone to watching. Watching as Scott tries to get himself back together. Watching as his former best friend shrinks away from people who aren't Mason or Kira or Malia sometimes touch him.
He doesn't have the luxury of hiding and watching now. They meet in the middle of the cereal aisle and there's no avoiding this.
"Hey." Stiles is the first to speak.
"Hi." Scott says back, "how are you?"
"I'm--I'm good, ok. You?" he stammers out.
Scott shrugs one shoulder, "I'm alright."
"Good."
"Cool." Stiles says. He sees it the moment Scott is going to turn and walk away and he--he's not ready to let go just yet, "You ready for the Econ exam?"
Scott exhales, "Not even a little bit."
"Me neither. I can't believe I'm gonna say this but I actually miss Coach teaching us."
"I know, me too. I could use his dumb ass games and all those tangents he used to go on." Scott agrees.
"And the cursing." Stiles reminds him.
"And the cursing." Scott agrees again and he...smiles.
And for that small moment they're back to how they used to be: laughing and complaining about teachers and homework and pain-in-the-ass exams.
"Maybe if we start a petition they'll bring Coach back."
"Because you have the patience for that?" Scott quirks an eyebrow.
"Hey I resent that!" Stiles mock scoffs and fucks everything up. He steps forward to smack Scott on the shoulder. Scott recoils so suddenly he almost falls backwards before he catches himself.
Just like that everything shatters and Stiles hates himself.
"Is there ever going to be a time when that doesn't happen?" Stiles asks, quiet.
"I hope so." Scott answers, just as quiet.
"I miss you, Scotty." Stiles blurts out. He's aware that the statement can be read as a guilt trip and he's not entirely sure that it isn't. He just knows that it's the truth. He's trying this whole honesty thing.
"Stiles--"
"I know. I'm sorry. I'm not trying to--I--this is fucking hard, ok?" he babbles.
"I know." Scott says and he's standing stock still. Stiles sees his eyes start to water at the same time his own vision blurs.
"I'm sorry." his voice cracks.
"I--I can't do this right now." Scott tells him.
"I wasn't trying to guilt trip you. I'm trying, here. I promise." Stiles insists.
"I appreciate that. I should go."
"Ok."
"Ok." he pivots and he doesn't quite run. But it's too soon before he's on the other side of the store.
~~~
Scott's not sure whether or not he should be proud of himself. He knows what Dr. Velazquez, the supernatural therapist that Dr. Deaton had helped him find, would probably say. That he should be proud of himself for not relenting no matter how much he wanted to. Because, God, he had wanted.
He wanted to comfort Stiles when he stammered. Hold his hand and reassure him when he stumbled and fumbled his words. He especially wanted to gather him in his arms when the scent of salt hit him. But he didn't because he couldn't. Not anymore.
He's being self-destructive, he knows this. But it doesn't stop him from opening up his photo album and surfing through it and...doing exactly the worst thing for himself.
If he were to count exactly how many pictures he has of he and his best friend he'd be here for weeks. Not including the ones in Snapchat or the ones on his iPod or his phone or in the photo albums collecting dust in the attic. Because Stiles has been there through everything. He was there for Scott's first asthma attack, for every fight between Rafael and his mother. Hell he was the one that successfully hid Scott in their special spot when his father got full custody. He was the first one Scott went to when he was finally back with Melissa. He was there after Roxie. He was there when lycanthropy took over his body and his mind. He was there to remind Scott that he was still human. Not a monster. Until he wasn't.
Somewhere along the way Stiles became like everyone else. Somewhere along the way he forgot that Scott wasn't actually a superhero come to life. Somewhere along the way he forgot that Scott was human too. That he was fallible. That he could hurt like everybody else.
He can't blame him too much because Scott himself forgot that. He's trying to remember...trying to let himself feel whatever it is he needs to feel even if it's inconvenient for other people.
But moments like this make it so fucking hard. When he sees his best friend so sad and desperate and all Scott wants to do is go to him and comfort and reassure. Moments when he sees Liam and that connection between alpha and beta urges him to take the younger boy in his arms and cover him in his scent until he smells happy again.
But he can't.
Because Scott died. No he was murdered. Almost by Liam's hand and definitely by Theo's and that matters. He matters. Even if most days he has a hard time believing it.
"Hey mijo."
Scott looks in the doorway where his mom is leaning against a corner. She was napping when he came in so he let her sleep.
"Hey mom." He greets. There's not enough time for him to close out the slideshow. She raises her eyebrows in question, "I saw him today."
"On purpose?" She asks and walks into the room to sit on the bed.
He shakes his head,"We ran into each other at the store."
"You know it's ok that you miss him. He was your best friend."
"Is." Scott corrects, "I just---I don't know. He tried to touch me and I...God, Mom, I almost fell backwards trying to get away."
"You can't rush these things baby." She tells him and reaches over to squeeze his knee.
"No, I know. I just...I miss how things used to be. With me and him. I just want to be ok again."
Scott leans forward and rests his elbows on his knees. It's a welcome thing when his mom runs her hands through his hair.
"Let's go make dinner, huh? Ven." She says and holds out her hand. He takes it with a small smile and follows her down the stairs to the kitchen.
It'll be a nice distraction. They'll make dinner and watch a movie and he'll probably fall asleep with his head in her lap.
---
Stiles looks up at the sound of the bell for the thirteenth time since he got to the diner. Just like every other time he wilts in disappointment when it's not Scott that walks through those glass doors.
4:30. He had said 4:30. When Scott had sent him a text last night about wanting to meet this is the time they had agreed upon.
Stiles had spent the entire night and following day angsting about this. And now it was seventeen minutes past their agreed upon meeting and Scott still wasn't there. Maybe he had changed his mind. Had decided that he actually wasn't ready to see him after all.
Except Scott would have called. He would have texted. Unless he thought Stiles wasn't worth it. His spiral is interrupted by the ding of the door opening. When Stiles looks up this time he sees a familiar face. Scott comes walking up to their booth in the very back and offers up a small smile.
"Hey."
"Hey." Stiles says back, "I almost thought you weren't coming for a while there."
"I almost didn't." Scott says and Stiles feels like someone just squeezed all the air out of his lungs.
They stare at each other for a while only interrupted by the waitress coming to take their order (a strawberry milkshake for Stiles, a mint chocolate chip one for Scott and one large order of fries) and deliver it and then it's back to staring.
Stiles sees the moment Scott starts psyching himself up for a big speech. Because it's been literal months since they've said more than a few words to each other but Scott is still his best friend and Stiles knows him better than anyone.
And he's scared. Fucking terrified to be quite honest because this is most likely it. The moment Scott tells him that he's done with him. Done with them. Stiles can't have that. He can't. These past few months without Scott have been hell and there's no way he can go a lifetime this way. So he gets there before Scott can.
"Please don't tell me this is the end for us."
---
It's the last thing Scott expects Stiles to say.
He expected a joke that points out how incredibly awkward this is. He's never been this awkward around his best friend before. Not when they woke up tangled together that one morning with Stiles' morning wood poking him in the back. Or when Stiles had walked in on him sitting in Jorge Barnes' lap with his tongue down his throat. He had explained that erections were normal for growing boys especially during puberty. And once Jorge had left (red faced and embarrassed) Stiles had listened attentively as Scott described what it was like down to every detail from Jorge's calloused fingers to the mint chapstick he smoothed on right before.
They were so far from those days it was laughable.
"What? Stiles, no." Scott tells him.
It's true that the reason he was so late was due to him not thinking he was ready. He spent a good twenty minutes with Dr. Deaton talking through exactly what he wanted to say.
"Really? Oh thank God. I..I was so sure that---I don't know, man. I don't want to lose you Scott." he pleads.
"You haven't lost me."
"Could have fooled me."
"I told you I needed space."
"Yeah space away from me."
Scott puts his head in his hands and sighs. Did Stiles even listen to a word he said to him?
"Did you learn anything from this at all?"
"That I don't want to be without you Scott."
Scott sighs. Maybe before that might have been enough but...somehow it's not.
"Stiles. Do you at least understand why I needed time?"
"I lied to you." Stiles says and doesn't elaborate. He's not gathering his thoughts to talk more. That's it.
"That's it?"
"And the hospital. At the hospital I hurt you and...and I shouldn't have done that Scotty. That...that was...that was not cool. I'm sorry, Scott."
"That's it." Scott repeats and this time it's more confirmation than anything.
"Scotty I..." He starts and trails off without finishing his sentence, "why don't you tell me what you think I did wrong?"
This was a bad idea. They're obviously not ready to move on if Stiles can't even...he doesn't understand at all.
"Why? So you can just say you're sorry and things can just go back to how they were before?"
"What's so wrong with that?"
Scott scoffs, "This was a bad idea."
He makes to get up but Stiles gets up too to stand in front of him and plead, "Please don't walk out on me Scotty."
"Stiles."
"Please talk to me. I asked you before how to fix us and...Scotty please. How do we fix us?"
There's a part of Scott that still wants to walk out. There's another that wants to stay.
He sits back down and waits for Stiles to do the same. He takes a few minutes to get himself together.
"There was...you used to tell me that I was human too. That it wasn't my responsibility to save the world. And--and I'm not exactly sure when you stopped believing that, but you did. All of a sudden I wasn't allowed to make mistakes anymore. You stopped looking at me as your best friend Stiles. I stopped being a person to you."
---
Stiles is glad when Scott decides to stay instead of walking out because, like usual, he screwed everything up.
When Scott stops talking he realizes just how much he screwed up.
"I--Scotty you--I fucked up." Is all he can think to say, "You--you're...you're the best person I know Scott. You are. You're just so good and strong all the time and sometimes I forget that you can't be that all of the time."
"I forget sometimes too." Scott adds quietly.
"And I should be the one to remind you!" Stiles insists. He used to be that person, "But I forgot that. I got so caught in my own shit that I just...I'm sorry Scott. I really fucking am."
"I forgive you." Scott tells him.
Stiles lets out a breath of air--relieved, "How? Scotty I hurt you."
"You did hurt me and that's not ok. At all. But I love you Stiles and you're my best friend. And I think if I give you--give us--another chance we can be better." Scott tells him.
"Really? You think we can be like before?"
"No." Scott answers honestly, "there is no like before anymore. I think too much has happened. Besides 'like before' wasn't exactly perfect and this time I'm striving for better. I think we can be better."
"I'm gonna be better, Scotty, I promise." Stiles tells him. Scott has never seen him this earnest before.
"I believe you."
"So...what do we do now?" Stiles asks and huffs out a laugh. He was so focused on not losing Scott he didn't really think beyond it.
"I'm not really sure, to be honest." Scott laughs and rubs at the back of his neck. How do you start to move on? "Um...I guess tomorrow at lunch...don't eat by yourself? And maybe...you can say hi to me in the morning. You don't have to stall in Mr. Torres' room."
"You noticed that huh?" Stiles asks. He tried really hard to be subtle about that.
"I noticed." Scott gives him a small smile and then checks his watch, "I--uh, I actually have to go. Therapy." Scott tells him.
"Ok. Ok, so I'll...talk to you tomorrow?" Stiles asks. There's still hesitation in his voice.
"We'll talk tomorrow." Scott confirms and gets up to leave.
"Scotty, wait."
"Yeah?"
"This is probably too much and I know I'm most likely pushing it--"
"But?" Scott prompts.
"Can I--is it ok if--are you--is it ok if I hug you?" he finally blurts out.
Scott pauses at the request. They haven't actually physically touched in so long and Scott doesn't really do hugs, at least not lately. But the moment Stiles brings it up, the alpha feels an ache...a longing he hasn't felt in a while. He takes a deep breath and steps in to Stiles' space.
They sigh in tandem as they embrace. Stiles is shaking a little. He missed this. He missed this so much. He's not at all surprised that a lump forms in his throat and his eyes get blurry all of a sudden. He is surprised at the sniffles coming out of Scott though.
Scott's not prepared for how good it feels to be in Stiles' arms again. Sure, he tensed for half a second but now it almost feels like home. He buries his face the other boy's neck and breathes in.
When they pull away it's reluctant.
"We're gonna be ok?" Stiles asks breaking the silence.
"Yeah...we're gonna be ok."
---
Scott hops out of Stiles' Jeep and closes the door behind him, leans back against it and waits for Stiles to clamber out and join him on the other side.
It's been a good day. It's been a good month actually. He and Stiles aren't exactly back but they've made strides. They talk a lot more now. Gone are the times when they could have whole conversations with just eye movements and hand gestures, but Scott thinks they'll make it back there someday.
Stiles surprised him today. Whisked him off after their last class of the day (they're seniors now and graduation is a few months away. Classes usually end for them at 12) and drove them to the beach. The car ride was filled with bad singing to 00s pop songs and bad jokes.
Scott made a sand castle (that Stiles didn't pee on). Stiles found two seashells that he couldn't help pressing up against his bare chest for Instagram. They ate hot dogs and gorged on ice cream.
It was a nice day. Stiles has been trying. He's been trying really hard (and so has Scott) and it's been...nice.
As they make their way to Scott's front door, they fall into step together, occasionally brushing arms, until they reach the door.
"Today was really nice." Scott says, "Thank you."
Stiles gives him that half-smile he does when he's kind of proud of himself, "I'll...see you tomorrow?"
"Yeah. Tomorrow."
"You okay for a hug today?" he asks. It's become a normal thing for them. Permission. Boundaries. Scott likes to think that eventually it won't be necessary. But he likes that Stiles always asks now.
"I'd really like a hug." Scott says and Stiles is in his arms in no time.
They almost cling to each other. Stiles' arms are warm against his back. He likes the way it feels to have his face in the crook of his neck. When the two pull away, they don't separate completely. Stiles' hands drop to Scott's waist. Scott's hands stay on Stiles' shoulders. Their foreheads connect. Everything narrows down to just them, sharing breaths.
"Can I kiss you?" Stiles whispers.
"Please."
It's a gentle touch of lips. It's not the desperate, needy thing of Scott's daydreams nor is it the dirty one of Stiles'.
It's hesitant. A little dry. Chaste. Still perfect. There's not much talking afterwards. Just a goodnight and the promise of tomorrow that means so much more now.