Who. Kitty Norville & Stiles Stilinski When. March 19; 4-ish AM Where. Their Apartment Warnings. trauma, prev SA & rape, etc. Kitty has been Through It in her canon, ok.
You don't need to avoid me, you know.
With his sleep well and truly back to screwed up, Stiles had done a pretty good job of avoiding Kitty completely, and it had only been slightly on purpose. Between late night snacks and afternoon naps he’d barely seen her in days. But, he justified to himself, it wasn’t like he was going out of his way not to see her. He’d spent time with the band, he’d had classes to go to and papers to finish. He’d been busy. And he might have felt bad about not cooking for the two of them recently, but he was at least seventy percent confident she would want nothing to do with being anywhere near him and the kitchen at the same time right now. Maybe eighty percent. He’d figure out how to look her in the eye without being overrun by guilt eventually. Just not yet. That was future Stiles’ problem.
It was approaching four when he realized he’d read the same sentence about the Velepromet camp three times. Research for a paper on criminal law had somehow led to reading about detention facilities created during the Croatian war for independence, but apparently he was reaching his limit.
He left the Battle of Vukovar behind, heading out to the kitchen to grab something for…was it breakfast? He opened the fridge to see what they had, weighing up whether four am still counted as breakfast if you didn’t have dinner first. Grabbing a coke off the shelf he decided that no self respecting person would call it anything else at this hour. He also made a mental note to get out of the apartment and do some shopping tomorrow. Later today. Everything left in the fridge right now involved some kind of effort. They needed better snack foods.
Kitty had switched up her schedule a little on purpose. She hated driving in the wee hours of morning because that somehow seemed worse than just taking the public transportation options and having an escort when she got near home. Okay, maybe it was also trying to not always need that escort home. So she had gotten back to the Station in record time, had parked her cute little crossover SUV, and had been planning to quietly let herself into the apartment and get to work with planning her next show or the next stream or something. Because the moment she went off stride with her schedule and planning, the doubts were going to creep back up.
She hadn't missed that Stiles was avoiding her, whether on purpose or not, but Kitty was pulling from her own experiences with trauma: people forcing themselves on her had never gone well. A shudder rolled through her at a memory as her key unlocked the apartment door and she slipped inside. Her nose was on alert and it was only Stiles, Roey, and Void. There were lingering scents that she was associating with the teenage band but nothing different or wrong. Kitty still jumped just before she set her keys quietly on the table near the door; Stiles was in the kitchen.
Kitty hesitated. “Good morning,” she called out, pushing herself away from the door with a little too much speed. She hated that one square foot space and she would never admit to it. Kitty dropped her backpack onto ‘her spot’ on the couch, often a clear signal as to whether or not she was home, and she dragged her fingers through unbound hair with a slow exhale.
“I didn't think to pick up breakfast on the way home, sorry. Just wanted to get home,” she said as she turned toward the kitchen with a smile that didn't quite sit right. Wary and probably contrary to whatever reasons Stiles could concoct. “Paper due?” The can of Coke meant he probably wasn't going to attempt going to bed for a bit. Kitty anxiously fisted her hands into the pockets of her pink hoodie. Don't push him.
In the early morning quiet, the sound of a key in the door actually made him flinch, and he had to roll his eyes at himself, turning away from the fridge and setting the now open coke on the counter as Kitty walked into the room. It was just Kitty. And okay, maybe he’d been strategic in when he’d left his room because she wasn’t usually back by four, but it was still just Kitty. No one else was here.
“It’s fine, it’s not - I’m not really hungry anyway. Uh, yeah. In a few days.” He fumbled his way through the start of a few different sentences in response to both the statement and her question, never looking right at her when he did. He felt so stupid reacting this way. If anyone should be on edge in this apartment it was her.
Kitty gave a small nod, instincts warring against each other. Friend, sister, daughter, submissive, alpha, reporter… At every angle, she kept shoving victim down because that approach didn't have a place in thar apartment. Not between them. “You don't-” she began and hesitated before pushing to finish the thought rather than abandon it. “You don't need to avoid me, you know.”
Blue eyes settled on Stiles and she fought to hold onto alpha and sister because those were stronger. The latter, of course, was more annoyingly persistent. It only worked for so long because she turned away, fingers combing through her hair again in an anxious motion. “You might be seeing more of me so you'd better get over it and figure out if you can live with me or not.” Kitty moved around the couch and dropped down heavily next to her backpack before kicking her shoes off to tuck under the coffee table. Her heels came up to rest on the edge of the couch cushions and her shoulders hunched. It probably wasn't fair to leave that comment hanging but the weight of the doubt was growing heavier every time she walked both into and out of the radio station. Every time someone made some snarky comment about how it must be nice to have vacation time.
With Kitty now sitting on the couch and looking away from him, Stiles frowned. That wasn’t playing fair, she wasn’t supposed to just call him out that way. And maybe he had nothing to base that on but still. Totally beside the point. Picking up his coke he considered his next move for all of a second before putting it straight back down again and leaving the kitchen, walking around to sit on the chair adjacent to the couch. Sitting next to her right now felt too weird. “I can see how you’d be confused, with all those times I’ve said I can’t stand living with you.” And maybe the sarcasm was unnecessary but that had never stopped him before.
She made a face at him; sarcasm was Stiles' love language, Kitty had long since thought. Well, it was his hate language, too, but it was easy to spot the difference. "It wasn't your fault," she said. "So stop avoiding me like you think I'm just going to, I don't know, go turn into a quivering ball on the floor again. Which, okay, low blow because that was a one time thing and totally unrelated."
Kitty made a vague gesture with a hand between them and kept going. "If we can look at each other and be friendly after the whole reverse werewolf thing, we can get over this. You didn't personally have a hand in anything that happened. You're smart, Stiles. You might be the second smartest person I know. Okay, maybe third because I need to count Pepper, so I need you to use your brain on this one. Because right now? I need my friend back. And I like to think you need me, too."
He’d stopped looking at her somewhere around the time she started speaking, looking down at his hand, currently resting on his bent knee and tapping out a rhythm which doubled as a constant count of each finger, one-two-three-four-five, repeat. He’d been awake long enough that it wasn’t even his brain trying to be sure this wasn’t a dream this time. It was just habit.
“I know,” he spoke up once the silence had stretched out to just this side of uncomfortable, voice tight with emotion. “I get that. Logically.” But none of this was about logic. Not after the last time. Which…well. Separating them was proving to be challenging. His mouth quirked in what might have been the start of an amused smile when she said he was smart, and it was on the tip of his tongue to tell her he was no Lydia. When you exhausted teachers (and parents) with enough of your incessant questions and inability to sit still, they eventually stopped praising your intelligence in favor of bemoaning your lack of an off-switch.
Lifting his head he finally, actually made eye contact. Because she was right. He did need her. Even if he didn’t have the first clue how to tell her that. “I look at you and Dee right now and I just see Allison,” he admitted. Which he got would mean nothing to her, but he had to start somewhere. “And it wasn’t me then either but it was because of me. She’s dead because I let him get inside my head. And before you tell me that wasn’t my fault - don’t. Because right now I can’t make myself hear that, okay?” He knew it was fucked up. The shine of tears in his eyes brought on solely by his frustration at himself were enough of a clue to that. He knew he should have gotten past it by now. But that didn’t mean he could stop it any more than he could stop it when he fixated on some pointless late night research topic. The Nogitsune might not have been possessing him any more, but he’d left his mark.
Kitty swallowed. “If you look at me and just see a victim, we aren't ever going to be okay,” she said quietly and managed to keep eye contact. “And I know thar you don't want to hear it. I won't say it again. But I need you to trust that I don't blame you. I've been through too much shit that if I…” She trailed off. “Right now I'm doubting myself. And I need to know that someone has my back and that I'm not some poor little victim who can't stand on her own.”
Her hands came up to scrub over her face and back into her hair, fingers tightening to let the pain remind her of the fact that she was human. Kitty blew out a breath. “I've been assaulted, changed against my will, repeatedly raped, kidnapped, forced to turn on national television, I've gotten a friend killed, and the only thing I ever had that was mine was this show and all of this shit with this place just drives this idea home and that I may not be able to keep it. This version of it,” she said and it had all poured out without filter. “I can't help you if you keep avoiding me because you can't look at me without seeing Allison. And I need to help you because I need you back in my corner.” The heel of a hand angrily wiped away a tear that escaped. “And maybe that's so fucking selfish but when Sam disappeared, I couldn't get up. And I don't want to be on the ground yet again.”
Stiles frowned again, expression a mix of the general exhaustion he was carrying around with him right now and confusion, the longer she spoke. He opened his mouth to say something and closed it, not knowing where to start with any of that.
“I don’t know when you got the idea - I never said you were a victim. I’ve never even thought it. God, Kitty. That is…so far from how I see you.” All that shit she’d been through and she was still standing. Hell she was still talking to people, doing her show, any of it. She hadn’t fallen apart like he had. And what had happened to him, anyway? It was like she said. He hadn’t even been directly involved in what the Nogitsune did this time.
And if she thought that’s what he thought because of Allison - “Allison wasn’t a victim. Allison died saving her friends. Not that I saw it because I was too busy passing out at the time.” Because that’s what the token sarcastic human did. Fucked up. Again and again and again. But he couldn’t do what Kitty had done. He couldn’t lay it all out like that.
With a frustrated sound he got back to his feet, not able to be still. Rubbing a hand roughly over his hair, he moved a few steps away, then stopped. “What is it with everyone in this place?” He powered through the question because he wasn’t expecting an answer. He might not have even known what he was really asking. He was just so frustrated. Ever since Donovan, he’d been trying to do better with it. But Deaton had said it, completing that sacrifice had left a darkness around their hearts. And despite his best efforts that anger seemed to always be bubbling just beneath the surface, lately. It had started with Lydia leaving and just snowballed from there. All he had were little moments in between that pushed it down. Laughing at Roey chasing her tail, watching Cutthroat Kitchen with Kitty. Alex taking his hand and making up songs on the spot just to make him feel better. But in moments like this those things felt out of his reach.
"I didn't die saving my friends. Neither did you," Kitty said quietly as she watched Stiles. She had flinched when he'd asked a question that didn't need an answer, though she'd tried to fight against that instinct. "You opened the room for escape, I got out, help showed up en force."
Her arms wrapped around her knees and Kitty looked at him, trying to not look miserable and failing. "What do you want to do, Stiles?" she asked, trying her damnedest to put even a hint of steel back into her spine. "We can't do anything about the shit that's happened, we can't do anything about the shit that will happen in the future. So where does that leave us? Leave everyone? Skulking around apartments and hoping we don't run into a roommate because we feel guilty?" She looked away. "It'll be okay, Stiles. Because there isn't an alternative that we can live with."
He was still facing away from her, but he nodded. “Yeah.” He agreed. “I know.” It had been okay last time, too. He knew it would be this time too. It would just take time. He would take time. And maybe that was too much time for her, he didn’t know. But he couldn’t do anything about it. There was only so much he could lecture his own brain to get over something.
Turning back to face her, he tried to keep his expression neutral, seeing the way she was sitting. He crossed his arms so his hands were tucked under his arms, mostly in an attempt not to fidget. “I’m sorry. I’ll stop avoiding you.”
Kitty looked back at him, uncertain. "Don't apologize," she mumbled and lifted a hand to press the heel against her eye again. "Just stop doing it." Like it was that easy. She watched him a moment more before her gaze slid away again and her hand fell to pat the cushion next to her even as she moved. Her bag was moved to the floor and she resumed what was her spot but she put her back against the arm of the couch, leaning her shoulder hard against the back like she could disappear into the piece of furniture if she tried hard enough.
"Do you need help with your paper?" Kitty asked, voice a little rough. Strained. "I'm no detective but I'm pretty good at research."
There was no hiding the way he hesitated, but he told himself to get over it, crossing the space and dropping onto his side of the couch. He didn’t know when he’d started thinking of the other end of the couch as hers, but it had happened. He didn’t bother responding to her suggestion to just do it. She had to get it wasn’t that simple. But he would try.
“I think I’m mostly done. I was trying to wrap it up tonight - this morning, but my focus is for shit so it was kind of a pointless exercise.” Instead, he’d been forced to deal with this. Whatever this was, this awkwardness between them. They’d got over it last time, they could this time too. Or he could, at least. Because it was his issue, not hers.
He had missed it when she'd (sort of) said it earlier and Kitty didn't know if she wanted to try again or not. Tentative peace could be so easily broken. Stiles didn't need help with his assignment and Kitty didn't have much as far as distractions went. Well. There were always video games.
"I'm thinking about quitting," Kitty blurted out anyway and immediately began to anxiously twist a cord of her hoodie around her finger tightly enough to cut off circulation. "The show." Like she needed to be more specific.
“Wait, what?” Stiles immediately sat up straighter from where he’d been slumped back into the couch. “Why are you quitting? Since when?”
"Since just-" Kitty said and had to stop, even as she helplessly waved a hand vaguely in the air. It was the one with the finger currently being strangled and she scowled as she unwrapped the offending digit. "Since before this," she was quick to add.
Her fingers went right back into her hair, bleeding anxiety because now that she'd opened that bottle in full there was no putting the stopper back in. "When it was just the nights that fell on a full moon, it was easy to have the occasional backup. Here? I think they only haven't fired me because my show is in an undesirable timeslot and it doesn't hurt their bottom line. I can't be consistent, the weirdest and most stupid shit happens, people think I'm a flake-" She was fully prepared to keep going when her throat closed with the raw emotion of giving up the only thing that had been hers back home. Kitty had remade it in this place in a passable imitation but it wasn't good enough. She wasn't good enough.
“Hang on. Have they actually said they have an issue?” Because that all sounded like crap to him. And he happened to really like her show. And he maintained that he’d have liked it even if they weren’t friends. “It’s not like you’re not around that much. That can’t seriously be enough of a reason for you to think about giving it up.” Which basically meant there was more to it than that. “So what gives?”
The hesitation probably said all that needed to be said without words. When Kitty looked back up at Stiles, she felt small. She probably looked vulnerable without meaning to. "No," Kitty admitted, drawing out the vowel sound slowly. "Not- I mean, some of the employees make comments where they think I can't hear but, you know, werewolf hearing," she went on, a bitter laugh escaping her. Her gaze was every else suddenly as she mimicked some of the things she'd overheard. "Must be nice to have all that sick time. Sure gets a lot of vacation approved. I'd have gotten canned if that happened during the day. Who hired her, anyway? What'd she do?" None of the words were hers but they bounced around in her head all the same.
Ditzy blonde. That was always the assumption people made when they first saw her. It had been the stereotype she had fought for most of her life. When she'd been so beaten down by the pack as a whole, Kitty would have preferred to be invisible. Her feet had only gotten under herself because of the Midnight Hour. "And maybe they're right. Just... taking up space."
“That’s crap. And you’re an idiot if you believe it.” There was that lack of tact again, but he knew she understood what he was saying. At least, he hoped she did. “I’d love to tell them what I think of their shows.” If it was the shitty daytime radio he’d heard from the same station. “Kitty. You’re awesome. You know that, right?” Obviously she didn’t, or she wouldn’t be saying all that. But she’d just given him a pretty big something to fixate on that wasn’t his own current issues and now he was running with it. “Sorry, you can’t quit. Not allowed.”
Kitty didn't flinch when he said she was an idiot if she believed it. She did believe it. Or at least enough of it to let all the self-doubt creep in and invade all the empty spaces and burrow under the scars. But she also knew Stiles and the words didn't come from a mean place. Her smile twitched into view when he clearly got offended on her behalf and was clearly ready to tell people where to shove it, if he knew who the offenders were.
But... You're awesome. You know that, right? Her gaze landed near Stiles' shoulder. Kitty wasn't going to argue against his opinion--and then her eyes flew up to meet his and there was the spark of defiance she'd been missing. He was telling her what she couldn't do. What wasn't allowed. Her old Alpha used to tell her what she couldn't do and what wasn't allowed. Kitty smirked; she couldn't help it. Stiles had found the one place to dig that was going to make her plant her feet. "You're the boss of me now?" she asked though the words were light. It wasn't a done deal, not by a long shot, but at least the spiral didn't seem quite so sharp.
“Uh, yes?” He said as if that was pretty freaking obvious. And sure, he was kidding, because he had zero intention of actually telling her what to do with her life, nor did he think he had the right. He’d had his own autonomy taken away from him, he wasn’t into doing that to anyone else on any level. “I make you mac and cheese. Gives me all kinds of privileges. Guess you should have read the fine print.” His expression was very much ‘what can you do’. Later on, he’d probably catch on to the fact that she had, whether intentionally or not, gotten him out of his own head. For now, his only interest was in hearing her saying she wasn’t quitting.
Kitty snorted. She still felt raw and probably would until she'd managed a shower and some sleep (in whichever order) but it was nice to feel... normal wasn't the right word. Not yet. "Mac and cheese. Damn. Fell for it hook, line, and elbow noodle," Kitty sighed theatrically. But Kitty looked away again and blew out a breath before chewing roughly on her lower lip.
"Help me?" Kitty finally asked and looked back at Stiles. "Ideas for another buffer. I need to rebuild it. Help me plan some things out? And... maybe I can kind of restart my schedule and pretend for a moment that I can stick to it for a month. If I go much further than that, I might crawl out of my skin every time something goes weird." It was the best concession she could make. Quitting wasn't off the table but maybe it could be delayed. Maybe it could be delayed just long enough for her to feel stable again.
He smirked at that, one of the first truly genuine expressions that wasn’t a negative since they’d started talking. “If you’re lucky, I’ll throw in some of the fancy cheese next time.” He sank back into the cushion behind him at her question, wondering if he’d ever figure out how people managed that so easily. He couldn’t think of the last time he’d just come out and asked anyone for help that wasn’t for something trivial.
“If you need ideas, I’ll get you ideas.” In fact he was already thinking about all the ways he could find those ideas. If he had any say in it she’d never run out of topics to talk about. “And hey, I’ll start coming and meeting you again.” He hadn’t done that recently, obviously, and he felt bad about it. But maybe a return to normalcy was what they both needed.
Kitty smiled and though it was a bit more dim than it would have been even a month ago, it was still there. "I'd like that," she said quietly. "I feel bad asking you and Jason but driving home at this hour just always feels creepier." Kitty couldn't really explain properly how she didn't like driving to and from work but it was that getting-home that was the more dangerous part and she was smart enough to know when to ask for a companion.
She reached a foot out to nudge Stiles' leg. "Want to watch an episode with me and see what Alton is dishing out? I could use the wind-down," Kitty offered, immediately bolstering it with something she needed. If Stiles was so awake that he'd been going for the basic caffeine, he probably had it in him for an episode of Cutthroat Kitchen.
Stiles made a pfft sound. “Don’t feel bad. I wouldn’t do it if I minded.” He might have done, she was his friend, but again, not really relevant. When she asked about Cutthroat Kitchen he reached over to get the remote off the coffee table. “Sure. Paper will still be there to avoid later.” He shifted a bit lower against the couch, kicking his feet up onto the table in the space where the remote had just been. He felt like maybe he should have been saying something else, but he didn’t want to ruin whatever kind of truce they seemed to have settled into. So he flicked on the TV and left it at that.