March 2nd, early morning | The Station | PG-13 Creepy Void!Stiles' gonna creep
warningsDiscussion of death, possession, just general unsettling behaviour
Toying with the excitable blond puppy’s emotions had been fun, and he wanted to do it again. The roommate was now safely tucked away with Stiles, and he was confident they would have enough trouble trying to get out of the basement. And he knew they’d both try. One thing he’d always admired about Stiles - he’d never quit, even when the cards were stacked against him. It was what had made him such a fun adversary.
This one he didn’t think he’d have to worry about finding out who he was like he had with Kitty. No werewolf nose here.
It was honestly laughable how easy they all made it. And come two am, he was making a very tentative Stiles-esque approach to the room where Alex was playing the drums. He hovered near the door, twisting his fingers together in front of him, donning his best contrite expression.
Unlike a couple of weeks ago, Alex just kept playing when the lights dimmed. At this hour, there was really only one person it could be. One person he was expecting. His sticks hit with a little more force than necessary, and he couldn't stop a brow from raising—even in light of the look at Stiles' face.
About a thousand cutting remarks rose and fell, getting as far as the tip of his tongue.
What happened to you?
A text would have been nice.
Where were you?
But things had been so beyond-beyond lately that Alex figured he would be a jerk for calling Stiles out like that. Either he got caught up with coffee (May) or dinner (Kitty), or maybe just got sad again. It had happened to Alex, too. His half-hearted glare melted away with a small, tired, "Hi."
The force with which he was playing the drums had the Nogitsune biting back a smirk. He could already feel all those delicious resentful emotions. Crossing the threshold into the room, he moved forward a few steps before deliberately hesitating again when Alex spoke.
“Hi.” He spoke quietly, not quite making eye contact. “Is this -” He gestured back over his shoulder. “I can go. If you want to be alone.” It was always more fun if they asked for it.
"No"—Alex surprised himself by the emphatic immediacy of his response; turned out, he'd much rather sit with the confusion of whatever this was than be without it—"no, you can stay. Couch is still very much where it's always been. Unless you want to play?"
He looked down, expression hidden in shadow for a moment at the immediacy of that reply. That was entertaining. “No. Uh. No, I think. I’m good.” He could have played. Better than Stiles, certainly. It was interesting, the knowledge you picked up over a thousand years. But that would be too much to explain. And in the circumstances…
He considered jumping straight to an explanation, but that was too quick. He wasn’t in the habit of resolving tension. “Sorry I didn’t make it, before. Something important came up.” He’d let the boy draw his own uncomfortable conclusions from that.
More important than me, a little voice in the back of Alex's head whispered. He swept a hand through his hair, then shook it out. "Don't sweat it. Between the rain and the general feeling of ick, I can't say I blame you for not wanting to go back in it. Then again"—Alex laughed, a short, sharp sound—"I don't really know where you were when we were messaging. Did you make it to May's for coffee?"
Walking further into the room, he lowered himself to sit on the couch, one hand resting on the arm. He was loving this. “Oh, the rain’s fine. We get so much of it back home I barely notice it.” He tilted his head, considering Alex’s body language. “Soup. I went to May’s for soup. Chicken noodle. It was pretty good.” He deliberately ignored the question about where he’d been, which was to drop Stiles off at his current accommodations.
"Soup. Right. The coffee was supposed to be with me." The cymbals crashed after he'd hit them way too hard. The simmering anger that surged through him just left Alex cold and embarrassed on the other side of it. It was his turn to look away. He had zero rights to this feeling. "May's always good at looking after people. Pepper, too. Lots of people in this place. One big happy, etc., etc."
He had to feign a cough to hide his smile that time, covering his mouth with his hand before he spoke again. “Next time. At least, if you’re good with there being a next time?” He was all wide eyed earnest and apologetic as he said it. “She is good at that. She’s sort of looked out for me since I got here. I didn’t have anyone else, back then.”
Alex had to actually bite the inside of his cheek to keep the automatic yes from tumbling out of his mouth. The desperation almost had a chokehold on him. Was he really that pathetic? Actually, was this whole thing wrong? He was at least a month outside of losing Dylan, and now… what? On to the next guy? Just like that? His chest still ached, thinking about his boyfriend's sweet smile, but he couldn't deny he'd been thinking about the twist of— No. No.
Rather than give a verbal response, he hedged with a slight shrug and a noncommittal hum. Stiles could do whatever. What did matter that Alex's stomach was roiling. "I had Luke, at least. Then Reggie, of course. And Julie. I'm— I'm sorry it was just you. It's a tough place to be. And I know you're still missing Lydia, but Scott's still here. And Kitty always seems nice."
The mention of Kitty made him smile, though probably for different reasons than Alex might assume. He tapped his fingers sedately against the arm of the chair as he thought over his answer. “Kitty’s great. We have fun.” Or he’d had fun, at least. She might not feel the same way. “I don’t mind, though. Yeah it sucks that she’s gone, but I know she’s going to be okay back there, you know? That helps. And you’re right. I’m not alone. I’ve got Kitty, and Scott. You,” he tacked on, lifting his gaze slowly to meet Alex’s.
His breath hitched, the rhythm he'd been softly keeping up stuttering a bit as his fingers suddenly fumbled with one of the sticks. Feeling suddenly caught, Alex swallowed, and it sounded like the loudest thing in the room. The heart he'd been staunchly ignoring since getting stood up was now pounding against his ribcage like it wanted to get out. "Yeah," he said—croaked, really. "You do."
Oh, this was perfect. He couldn’t have orchestrated something better if he’d tried. Actually, no. That wasn’t true. Of course he could have. But that didn’t mean this wasn’t a whole lot of fun. He didn’t stop the smile quickly enough, but he covered it by glancing away momentarily, a bashful sort of response to welcome words, perhaps. “I don’t think I’ve ever seen you do that,” he pointed out. Teased, really, at the little stumble in the rhythm.
"Uh." Very eloquent. Alex actually looked down at his hands like he hadn't remembered they were there and attached to his body. A flush went from the roots of his hair and disappeared past the neck of his t-shirt. "Well, um, weird times all around, I guess. Late hour, wonky vibes—guess it was bound to happen eventually. All these new people popping up with beef with the residents—fingers crossed for no Caleb, am I right?"
“May seemed to think it had something to do with the weather. Seemed like too much of a coincidence to me.” He wasn’t looking to put him off side by completely shutting down his thought, though. “But I know I’ve got a few people I wouldn’t want showing up.” Actually, he was quietly confident he was right at the top of that list for Stiles. He was quite proud of that. Almost as proud as he was for the reactions he was getting out of Alex right now. Poor boys. Neither of them knew what was being done to them.
"There's entirely too much of that around here. Coincidence. Like, I'm not big on the concept of 'fate' as a driving force, 'cause it's something we control, but maybe there's something to be had when it comes to the whims of some higher power's determinism." Alex chuckled, then chewed his lip. "Late night philosophy is not a good look on me. I'll just start rambling, and then who knows where we'll be. Do you, uh, want to talk about it? The people? Like, building armor ahead of a thing?"
“My dad has this thing about coincidences. Once is an incident, twice is a coincidence, three times is a pattern.” He quoted the expression he’d learned by way of time spent in Stiles’ head. “So far, there’s only been...what, two new people? Not a pattern yet.” He put as much reassurance behind the words as he thought he could muster. He thought Stiles might do that with someone he cared about.
“Oh. Well.” He feigned stalling, chewing on his lower lip in thought. “There’s Peter Hale. But honestly it’s anyone’s guess on if he’d be a problem if he shows up. That guy has no loyalty to a side.” Actually, the Nogitsune might have liked to have some time with the beta himself. Just for a little fun. “But if we’re talking about really terrible ideas for the government to bring here? It’s got to be the Nogitsune. He’s…” He intentionally trailed off with that same hesitancy. “Anyway, that isn’t what this is. So we’re good.”
It was impossible to miss the bitten off thought, the flicker of unease. Setting his sticks down on his leg, Alex leaned forward on his seat. "You can talk about it to me. You know that right? You can tell me anything. Safe space, huh? Soundproofed and everything."
“Oh, no.” He made a dismissive gesture with his hand. “Not that - I know you’d listen. But I think you’ve had enough of the maudlin from me lately.” He wasn’t privy to their conversations, but again, he knew Stiles. For all his posturing about being ‘fine’, there was no shutting him up sometimes. “Let’s just say if he ever shows up, we’d be screwed. We might not even know he was here.” That hesitance again, a feigned reluctance to go on. But that earnest caring from Alex was too much fun to play with. “It possesses people. Possessed me,” he emphasised, looking away again.
"Possess? Like a—like a ghost?" Even though Alex had no idea if it would have been possible in his own world, maybe a part of him had wondered from time to time. Mentioning it now sent a stab of guilt-like feelings through him. How was he so good at bringing up the painful things all the time. Catastrophizing. "Never mind. It must have been really scary, either way. He didn't… hurt you, did he?"
This was better. Guilt, tinged with some sadness. He could drink this in all day. “Sort of like a ghost? He’s - it’s - a demon. A trickster.” He nodded, bringing his hands into his lap, twisting his fingers together in a very Stiles-like way. “Not me. Not…really.” He had stabbed Stiles, of course, but that had been a necessary evil. And it hadn’t been that bad. “But we lost a friend. Allison. That was my fault.” The last words were a lot quieter, full of all the delicious guilt he knew Stiles still carried around because of it.
Alex was moving before he'd quite caught up with the decision he'd made. It ended with him in a crouch in front of Stiles, almost but not quite touching his knees as he said, "Hey, no. Possessed, right? Because, like, doesn't that mean you couldn't control what happened? It sucks. I can't even imagine, and I died from food poisoning. Not at all related, except that I know bad stuff happens to everyone." He shook his head with a small frown, because how had he gotten here? "Look, there's a reason why Julie and Luke are the lyricists. They're so much better at finding the right words. I'm just fumbling my way to the beat of my own proverbial and literal drum. I think what I'm trying to say is you shouldn't feel guilty for someone else's actions."
He forced out a humorless little laugh. “It’s not that simple. But…thanks. For saying that.” He’d have to go and tell Stiles all about this, later. Maybe once he’d decided what to do with Kitty. He hadn’t quite decided yet. Or this one. He could take him along. He gave him a sad little smile, making an aborted movement with his hand, as though he was thinking about touching him but was resisting the urge. “For the record, I think dying of food poisoning sounds like it sucks plenty.”
"It wasn't great." Alex's own laugh was a perfect match for Stiles'. Shifting a bit, he sat back on his heels and let out a sigh. "Mostly I remember a sharp pain, then 'waking up' in a dark room. What… What was it like? Being possessed? Like, do you remember it at all?"
“A dark room? You mean…like you were in heaven, or something?” That should be interesting. He frowned, looking away towards the door. He wanted Alex to feel bad for asking that question. That one should undoubtedly have felt like he was crossing some kind of boundary. “I remember everything he wanted me to remember. Like making a bomb. Stabbing Scott. Rigging a trap that nearly killed Coach…” He hoped the build up would be suitably horrifying for Alex. Feel bad for poor Stiles, blondie.
A feeble shrug. "Or something." Truth was, he had no idea where he'd been. All he'd known was the finality and the tears he couldn't stop. Alex almost choked on the memory, but it was nothing to the laundry list of atrocities he's all but demanded Stiles recount. Each of them conjured up their own images, full of people with nebulous faces, but his friend's front and center. He winced. "That's… horrifying. I'm so sorry, Stiles. I shouldn't have— We can talk about something else."
“It’s fine. I’m fine.” He rubbed a hand over his eyes for added impact. “That was all a long time ago. It’s done now.” He could just about imagine Stiles saying those very words. Fine was one of his favorites, after all. With a sigh, he leaned back into the couch, looking down at Alex where he was crouched. “So what now?”
"It's… okay. If you're not." Ugh, for real, he really had to learn to just stop. Guilt trip, party of Alex Mercer. He moved around so he was sitting on the floor. It was a weird position to be in, but getting up to sit on the couch would have been even more so. He combed his hair back, then made a face at the state of it. "A person with a regular sleep schedule would probably say it was well past both our bedtimes. But what do they know? Want me to put on some music? I'm still working my way through the past couple of decades."
“I might have heard that once or twice.” It sounded like something people would say, anyway. Sometimes human emotions were confusing. What was there to not be okay about? “But who needs sleep, right?” He quipped. Not him, at least. But Alex wouldn’t take it that way. He tilted his head, watching as he pushed his hair back. “Doesn’t that bother you, when you play?” He reached out with a just barely there flick at some of the long strands, hand gone again just as quickly. He liked it when he was on edge. “Music is good. Where are you up to?” The Nogitsune knew very little about modern music.
Alex's heart did that little flip again, and he caught himself holding his breath and staying very obviously still. Stop it, stop it, stop it. He forced his shoulders to relax, then made his spine follow. It flowed toward the floor, where he twisted and reached for his bag. Sure, he could have gotten up to get his phone, but he was down there anyway. Why not lighten the mood by being ridiculous? "About 2011? I've been trying to do the 'top ten' by month for a given genre. Anything I really like goes on my playlist, then I decide whether its worth it to actually keep it. What are your favorites? I can't believe this has never come up before. It's okay if you don't say SO18, even if it'll hurt my feelings if you don't."
There, that was better. He could practically taste his overthinking, and he revelled in the feelings of discontent. It was very telling that Alex didn’t even respond to the question. He could have some more fun with that later.
A lot of what Alex asked, he wouldn’t be able to answer. Luckily, the Nogitsune had done some reading over their network, and they were all adorably trusting of each other. He could, at the least, recognize the name of the little band he was a part of. “I heard the one that got played on the radio. That was great. And I loved what you played at my birthday.” Stiles and Lydia had texted about that, too. Texts Stiles refused to delete from his phone. Maybe he’d help him with that…
He searched his memory for music Stiles had listened to, but by the time he’d known he was there it hadn’t been much of a conversation point. “I don’t know,” he hedged. “I like a lot of music. 2011 is only a few years behind where I’m from. You’ve almost caught me.”
Alex went from happy and pleased to a throb of guilt so intense it literally made him dizzy, all within a space of a sentence. Stiles' birthday. That Lydia had planned. Lydia, who Stiles was obviously still mourning the loss of, but who was also down here, smiling at him and touching his hair. He swung his phone over his face and nearly dropped it in his misplaced enthusiasm in pulling up the Alternative station he'd found online. "Yeah, well. Time keeps on keeping on, I guess. Gotta love the chase."
What. The. Heck.
Oh, the poor boy. If he didn’t thrive so much on the negativity he would almost feel pity for him. If pity was an emotion he was capable of, that was. He gave him the bemused look he was sure those words warranted. Seeing Alex’s own phone hit him with inspiration, though. Reaching into the pocket of Stiles’ pants, he pulled out his phone. It recognized his face, of course, and it didn’t take him long to pull up the music app, before offering the phone to Alex. “Here, maybe you can steal some ideas from some of my playlists.” He didn’t know the majority of what he could see, so he couldn’t convincingly talk about it. Not when he wasn’t sharing Stiles’ thoughts.
After sitting up some, Alex took the phone. And because this was his life, their fingers bumped.
But.
No spark.
No rush of ill-timed goosebumps.
No, all he felt was a snap of sudden cold that made his eyes fly to Stiles' face. Fear doused his insides. Alex remembered exactly what it felt like when the living passed through him. And touching Stiles? It was like that again. But why—? He started scooting back, fully intending on standing once he'd established some distance, and feigned a gigantic yawn. "Oh, man, y'know what? I just got hit with a massive case of the sleepies. You know how it is. I should really, y'know."
He knew the second Alex’s fear got the better of him. Rather than try and backtrack or cover for himself, because how was that fun? He just smiled, keeping eye contact. There was an edge to the smile that hadn’t been there before, though. “Of course. You should get some sleep while you can. While you’re tired, I mean. I’ll see you later?”
Now Alex's heart was rabbiting for all the wrong reasons, and he still didn't know what to make of it. He somehow managed to scramble to his feet without falling over or braining himself. Small miracles. He glanced over at his bag as quickly as he could. His epipen was there, but it suddenly seemed like a very, very dangerous idea, putting his back to Stiles. Sweat prickled the back of his neck. He swallowed thickly. "Yeah. Yeah, later. Cool. Awesome. Um. See ya?"
Not quite prepared to let it go, he got to his feet, reaching down and snagging the strap of the bag. He held it out to him innocently. “Don’t forget your bag, dude. You’ll probably want it later.” He didn’t look away from him for a second, a silent challenge behind the words.
Brave. He could be brave. Heck, he was probably making this a whole thing when it was definitely just his brain giving him mixed up signals. Guilt was a swampy cocktail, after all. Alex took in a quick breath through his nose, then a necessary couple of steps forward, just enough to get his hand on the strap. "Uh, yeah. For sure. Can't leave home without it."
The doubt was the most fun part. He could play with that doubt for hours. But he had to pay his special guests a visit. That wouldn’t keep for long. When Alex finally stepped closer and took hold of the strap, he kept a grip on it for a beat, then a second. Just long enough to fuel the fear that was coming off the boy in waves. “Sleep well, Alex.”
"Yeah"—did he really know no other words at this point? Alex really wanted to shake himself, but more than that, he just wanted to be out of this room—"you too, Stiles."
He didn't run out the door, but, oh, how his body screamed at him to do just that.