voluntaryapnea | 21. Oh brother I can't, I can't get through

[Video -- Private to Dean]

[Stiles looks tired, like he hasn't slept in awhile. He hasn't. If Dean's ever seen the inside of Scott's cabin, he might recognize it as being where his warden is currently. He's sitting on the bed right beside his unconscious best friend, in fact, even if the feed focuses mostly on his face and the wall behind him.]

Scott's in a coma. [He figures Dean may have heard the announcement from Abigail the night before, but he isn't sure, either.]

So if you need me for something I'm in his cabin. [Not that Dean will need him for anything. Dean pretty much never asks for anything from him. But still. He wants to make sure Dean knows in case something comes up.]

[Video -- Clementine]

[As soon as he's done talking to Dean, he starts the feed once more, this time with Scott's inmate. He draws in a breath, arching his eyebrows and lifts his hand in a wave.]

Hey. I'm sure you probably heard about Scott by now. Hopefully he's not gonna play Sleeping Beauty for long, but uh -- until he wakes up, if you need something. Or want to talk or anything. I'm staying with him. You can just come find me or...you know, call on this thing. I mean obviously there are other options if you don't want to talk to me or whatever, but just -- putting that out there.

[Spam -- Open]

Over the next few days, Stiles can mostly be found only in Scott's cabin. Even with the rest of the pack coming in and visiting, offering to stay for as long as necessary, even with Isaac occasionally living in the other room, Stiles has a difficult time leaving his best friend's side. He feels more anxious than usual, like the end of a fraying wire. For as long as he can actually remember, Scott McCall has been his solid ground. And sure, he's physically fine. He even looks peaceful. These things don't keep him from feeling Scott's forehead regularly to make sure he's not running a fever or anything. He isn't. But he's in a coma and no part of Stiles is okay with that. He knows it happens all the time. He hadn't liked it when it was Dean, either, but this is still worse. This is his brother. And his unresponsiveness makes Stiles feel like he's constantly on the edge of having a panic attack. The only way he could have felt anymore anxious about the scenario is if someone had insisted Scott be in the infirmary while he's out. Hospital settings make nothing better.

So like he had when his inmate was comatized, he spends a great deal of the time reading Harry Potter to Scott. Occasionally he works on his laptop, which he's brought to Scott's for the duration of the time. Making himself right at home here isn't an issue. The McCall house has been his second home since he was four.

But he leaves the door open just a bit in case someone wants to visit, because Scott is a friendly kind of guy who doesn't turn down company and so Stiles isn't going to turn down people who want to visit unless he thinks they're going to be a danger.

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Yeah? And how was that?

[His voice doesn't give much away, at least not about this line of questioning. He's as conversational as he ever gets, moves on from the bookshelf to the TV, tilting his head to survey the array of gaming consoles, movie cases, and paraphernalia there.]

[As far as questioning goes, this feels like pretty safe territory. It also happens to be some of Stiles's best memories. He sips his milkshake and leans back in the chair, a faint, distant smile on his face.]

We were on the playground. The sandbox. Another kid was giving me a hard time. [And by that, Stiles means Jackson was trying to steal his shoes right off his feet. Jerk.] Scott made him leave me alone. [And then they'd built a sandcastle together and it had been the best sandcastle ever. Or at least it was for a couple of four year olds. Whatever, it's his story and he'll stick to it.]

[It doesn't occur to Dean to question the story; he can hear the ring of truth in Stiles' voice, the way he doesn't even have to think about the memory to put it into words. It's a storybook kind of meeting. It's the way every good friendship should start: there should be a hero and there should be loyalty and something should be built out of it. Something, no matter what it is, that is the best ever, so much better than either of them could have built alone.

Dean is toying with a controller, handling it with the air of someone that has seen it before, knows what it's for, but has never used it. His thumb works the joystick back and forth experimentally.]

Inseparable ever since, huh? Even into space and beyond.

[He watches Dean toy with the controller for a moment, and considers asking him if he wants to play. He and Scott both have plenty of video games to choose from. And sure it might be kind of childish to be on a prison barge playing video games, but on the other hand, they have a lot of time on their hands. Might not be a bad distraction once in awhile, even for Dean.]

Yeah, pretty much. But -- when I first got here, I didn't even know he was here. It was sort of a weird coincidence. [And sort of not. He and Scott's lives have often revolved around being in each other's orbit, and he's not entirely surprised they both wound up on the Barge without actually planning it. Apparently that now extends to the rest of Scott's pack, as well.]

Weird coincidence.

[Dean, in the tradition of every good manchild everywhere, used to love video games. His experience was always more with the quarter machines in diners and arcades, of course, his specialty the shooting games with the plastic guns more than private consoles with controllers, but he'd like them just fine. "Blotto time," Sam had once exasperatedly called it and Dean hadn't known what it meant and succinctly forgot, but he'd been right. He usually was.

Now video games feel like part of someone else's life, just like the carpet under his feet, the comic books on their shelves, the figurines and the soft sheets on the comfortable bed. He sets the controller down and tilts his head at his reflection in the dark television screen.]

If he never wakes up, what's that mean for you? [There's no edge to it this time, except the one such a question must inherently have; Dean doesn't add anything, is the thing. It's an honest question, one he's not sure he wants to know the answer to, so he does the both of them the favor of not turning around when he asks it.]

[Arriving on the Barge only to find a younger version of his best friend already aboard had definitely been weird. But not one of the weirdest things ever, either. It was more like one of those weird things that a person finds reassuring, proving again to Stiles what he's always known: Scott is his solid ground.

He doesn't spend much time playing video games these days. Lately he's been reading a lot more than he used to even though he's always liked reading.

He drops his gaze at the question, anxiety stirring in his stomach instantly.]

He will. Everyone does. Needy woke up. Jackson. Isaac. You. Everyone wakes up.

No.

[It's immediate, solid, cutting off Stiles in his headlong rush towards hope, towards that end where everything works out for no reason other than it must, because that's what's supposed to happen.

That's not life. Not everyone does anything. Now he does glance over, eyebrows pulled slightly together, expression darker than the conversation has been up to this point.]

What will you do if he doesn't?

[He lifts his eyes to meet Dean's gaze. He feels his natural defenses rise and he struggles to fight them back down. Lashing out at Dean won't help anyone. So he takes a deep breath, lets his gaze shift momentarily to Scott.]

I'll keep going. Here.

[He would have felt better if Stiles had lashed out; now he doesn't know what he feels. There's no victory, no satisfaction at the answer, just a hard, long look as he studies his warden, knows that it's true and sees what Stiles doesn't say. Sees that it's a dick move, but feels no remorse for all of that.

Just because people don't look at the unpleasant possibilities in life doesn't mean they aren't there and won't gate-crash even a perfect life. Dean let himself look away from them too long. It still doesn't feel like victory to have pulled the answer out where they both can see it, but there's something like relief and discomfort in it, too. Stiles would keep going but he wouldn't be the same.

The hunter nods, and turns for the door.]

I'll get outta your face.

[He's aware of the unpleasant possibilities in life. He's all too aware of them, really. He's just not going to give up on Scott so easily. He'll wake up. It might be awhile before it happens, but he will wake up. He believes it the same way he believes that the Barge will work. Because it has to. There aren't other options.

But if Dean is right, Stiles will keep going because there aren't other options there, either. He'll keep going, but he'll be different. Much like he changed after Allison died -- he'll change again. And it won't be for the better. It couldn't be.]

Thanks. For the food and the shake. [His gaze is still on Scott, more weary than before, more troubled.]

[He's not proud to have put that there, that weariness, that trouble. But maybe it was necessary, maybe it was as important as the favor Stiles does thank him for, this thing that he won't.

Dean waves one hand vaguely, and disappears into the hallway. He didn't do it for the thanks - but he can't say for sure why he did do it, either.]

21. Oh brother I can't, I can't get through

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