“If anyone told me i was too fat for a role, i’d have them, i am a perfectly normal woman - If what we do is storytelling and represent people that we see all day and every day, well, we don’t see supermodels all day and every day.”- Olivia Colman
It was supposed to
be a driving tutorial. Stiles had resigned himself to the notion, of
being some kind of NPC in the introductory levels of a video game
that featured an earnest-featured young werewolf who was so, so
bad at driving a stick. Stiles
couldn’t understand why Scott was so bad at Roscoe’s stick. He hated
that bike Scott had but he knew enough about it to know it had a
clutch, too, and required shifting gears just as much as the Jeep
here they were
in the school parking lot, way too freaking early on a Saturday
morning while it’s mostly empty, and Stiles was
sitting on the wrong side
of his precious blue baby listening to Scott grind his way into
second gear by brute force. He gripped
at the inside of the window and his voice ground
into existence at the same time. “Scott! Scott. Left foot! Clutch!
You have to push it! You can’t let go until you’re in the gear you
want or you’re going to turn my gearbox into a pile of
at the steering wheel, and then down at his left foot, readjusting
the way he was
resting it on the clutch. “This is so complicated. Why does your
car have to be so complicated, why couldn’t it be an automatic like
any reasonable car?”
Roscoe was born in 1982 and nothing
was automatic in the stone age.” Stiles
frowned, reaching out to wrap his fingers over Scott’s on the gear
shift. “Okay, let’s try again.
We’re gonna take it back to neutral and you can work on timing the
shifts, right? It’s just like with your bike, when the RPMs get high
it’s time to shift up. This should be easy for you.”
they went, round and round in circles in the BHHS parking lot. This
time, Scott was virtually flawless on the clutch, shifting
confidently and accurately into every new gear. Encouraged there
might actually be an end put to this eventually, Stiles gradually
pulled his hand free.
dropped the clutch.
something started to dawn
on Stiles, a pattern that he’d only just now noticed. A correlation
between the electric spark of their hands touching and Scott’s
competence behind the
wheel. Something too consistent to be coincidence.
had been intentionally
dropping the clutch just to get Stiles to put his hand on Scott’s
jumped up into his throat that Stiles thought might be his heart.
Just as slowly as the realization had dawned, he reached out,
wrapping his fingers around the knob of the gear shift and Scott’s
hand too, letting the warmth of Scott’s skin radiate up into the
smallbones of his hand. It felt good.
smile fluttered over Scott’s face, hopeful, like he’d just been
waiting for Stiles to figure it out.
“…Should I just drive us home?”