EXCUSE YOU FOR MAKING ME THINK ABOUT ALL MY FEELINGS.
Stiles did not shake when he was afraid — a fact which Peter found intriguing most times. He was brash, loud, and stood with his shoulders squared and his spine straight, trying to seem taller and bigger than he was. More powerful, even — as if size somehow determined one’s strength.
But when Deucalion stepped into the room — all cold, passive power in the tap of his shoes against the floor; his lips peeling back to reveal eager, sharp teeth — Stiles took a step back. In the conversation that followed, Stiles spat out waspish remarks that were far more barbed than any of the things that had been thrown Peter’s way in the last few months.
Read More →