[He nods slightly in acknowledgment. He hadn't really wanted to read the file, still didn't entirely feel right about it, but Dean had basically ordered him to. So he had. His nod is only confirmation of that, of nothing else.
Stiles watches as Dean shifts forward, leans his arms on the table after setting the bottle of side. He's been tested enough times to know that's sort of what this is. So he listens. He searches Dean's expression the same way Dean had been searching his minutes before, trying to pick up on visual cues.
The file itself is extensive. A pretty complete picture of events and choices and consequences and fallout that had been pretty draining to read about. And if it was draining to read about? He can only imagine having to live through all of it. He believes what he read, can see the trauma that's hardened Dean into the man seated in front of him. And maybe he doesn't get it entirely, and he's not sure he ever will because it's impossible to truly completely understand someone else's trauma unless you've lived through it yourself. But he doesn't think it's necessary either. As much as he's hated it in the past, he does have empathy. Maybe not as much as Scott, but it's there. And he's not walking away.
So he listens. His expression doesn't change as Dean speaks. It just remains passive but attentive. He purses his lips when Dean is finished talking and he leans forward now, too.]
You're right. [His words are quiet.] I'll probably never meet any of the people I read about. But it's not fiction to me, either.
[He draws in a breath and lets it out slowly.] And yeah. It's words on a page. I can't ever know about all of it even if I can read about it. Because nothing is ever that cut and dry. [He pauses, dropping his gaze for a moment.] I also don't believe it's as black and white as you're trying to make it sound. I think you've been trapped between a rock and a hard place a lot. [He looks up at Dean again.] So I'm not going to sit here and tell you that you made shitty choices or that you're a shitty person because that's not why I'm here, and I don't think it's a fair, accurate assessment anyway.
[ Spam ]
Stiles watches as Dean shifts forward, leans his arms on the table after setting the bottle of side. He's been tested enough times to know that's sort of what this is. So he listens. He searches Dean's expression the same way Dean had been searching his minutes before, trying to pick up on visual cues.
The file itself is extensive. A pretty complete picture of events and choices and consequences and fallout that had been pretty draining to read about. And if it was draining to read about? He can only imagine having to live through all of it. He believes what he read, can see the trauma that's hardened Dean into the man seated in front of him. And maybe he doesn't get it entirely, and he's not sure he ever will because it's impossible to truly completely understand someone else's trauma unless you've lived through it yourself. But he doesn't think it's necessary either. As much as he's hated it in the past, he does have empathy. Maybe not as much as Scott, but it's there. And he's not walking away.
So he listens. His expression doesn't change as Dean speaks. It just remains passive but attentive. He purses his lips when Dean is finished talking and he leans forward now, too.]
You're right. [His words are quiet.] I'll probably never meet any of the people I read about. But it's not fiction to me, either.
[He draws in a breath and lets it out slowly.] And yeah. It's words on a page. I can't ever know about all of it even if I can read about it. Because nothing is ever that cut and dry. [He pauses, dropping his gaze for a moment.] I also don't believe it's as black and white as you're trying to make it sound. I think you've been trapped between a rock and a hard place a lot. [He looks up at Dean again.] So I'm not going to sit here and tell you that you made shitty choices or that you're a shitty person because that's not why I'm here, and I don't think it's a fair, accurate assessment anyway.