Pack Mentality // s. stilinski

Seven ✔️

"CADMUS ARGENT!"

Cadmus jerked awake, flailing in surprise and falling out of his seat. He landed on the floor, a flabbergasted look on his face. "What-?" he glanced around and noticed that he was laying on the linoleum flooring of a classroom. "Did I fall asleep?" he asked sheepishly, blinking at the teacher.

Mr. Hobson narrowed his eyes at the young boy. "You most certainly did, Mr. Argent," he sighed. "This is your first infraction so I will let it slide, just this once. Now get back in your seat -and if you pull anything else you'll be joining Mr. Harris in after school detention." Cadmus nodded as he pulled himself back into his seat. He blinked hard, trying to rid himself of sleep but it was a bit difficult.

After class, Cadmus moved sluggishly as he gathered up his things, yawning as he did so. "Are you okay?" Cadmus turned his head to see Stiles standing there, one hand wrapped around the strap of his bag that was hanging off of his shoulder, the other splayed out across the surface of a desk as he leaned down, looking at Cadmus in what seemed like worry, his nose scrunched up and his eyes narrowed.

Cadmus sighed and gave him a nod, standing up with his bag. He was much taller than Stiles yet he felt smaller. "Yeah, I'm just... really tired."

"Tired?" Stiles coughed, raising an eyebrow. "You look dead."

The taller one gave him a glare. "Thanks," he hissed. "It means a lot."

"Where were you yesterday, by the way?" Stiles piped up as they began walking. "You never came to the rink."

"I was busy."

Stiles cocked his head. "Busy with what?"

His head fell back, and he let out an exasperated sigh. "Stiles..." he began tentatively. He didn't catch the way Stiles twitched when he said his name, which the shorter boy was awfully glad for. Cadmus brought his head back up but winced, pausing in his step for a split second to rub at his sore neck.

"What was that?" Stiles asked, and Cadmus moved his eyes down the hall, avoiding contact.

"Nothing," he muttered, trying to keep away from the subject.

Stiles narrowed his eyes. "That wasn't nothing, I know nothing and I know what it looks like and that's what not nothing looks like," he said.

Cadmus blinked at him. "What?" he asked, slowly. Suddenly the shorter boy put his hand on his shoulder, pushing Cadmus into a row of lockers. Standing on his toes, Stiles moved closer, his eyes narrowed as he examined the Argent's neck. The breath from his nose tickled Cadmus' sensitive skin and he prayed that Stiles wouldn't step closer because if he did, a small problem might start to arise.

"Is that... makeup?" Stiles suddenly asked. His hand moved from it's place on Cadmus' shoulder, running along his collarbone until his thumb rested on his lower neck. Wiping his fingers along the skin there, he pulled his hand away to see the makeup caked under his nails from the action. "Why do you have-" he didn't finish his sentence as he rubbed at his neck more, and Cadmus was staring down at him, wide eyed. He wasn't stopping him and he knew he should have been, but he couldn't help himself. He was a bit frozen in place at the moment, thanks to some touching.

"Stiles -you... you should stop," Cadmus breathed. His eyes roamed the hallway which was (thankfully) mostly empty by now. He bit his lip before looking down at the boy. He put a shaky hand on his shoulder, and Stiles looked up from his work at the feeling of his quivering hand through his shirt.

He furrowed his eyebrows. "You are really not okay, dude."

Cadmus shook his head, wincing again. "I swear to god, Stiles, am I perfectly alright-"