[Mickey had thought that shit like imaginary forts were something he'd grown out of by the time he was about six; but although he's only vaguely aware of the term flood-affected, he knows that something has him in its grips right now. Like for once it might be fun, really fun, to put down the beer and guns and strip the pillows and blankets from his bed.
So here he is, 19 years old, and crawling past a blanket fort commando-style with a throw pillow in each hand and a genuine military backpack on his back. When he reaches the pillow outpost Stiles is working on, he ducks inside and stands, lifting his hands in the universal sign of surrender as Stiles turns.]
[spam]
So here he is, 19 years old, and crawling past a blanket fort commando-style with a throw pillow in each hand and a genuine military backpack on his back. When he reaches the pillow outpost Stiles is working on, he ducks inside and stands, lifting his hands in the universal sign of surrender as Stiles turns.]
Same team, man.