Pack Mentality // s. stilinski

Eight ✔️

Cadmus tapped his foot impatiently against the floor of the garage, his eyes narrowed in the direction of the mechanic. He would say something about his looks, except the guy was so painfully tan and sculpted that he looked more like a doll than anything else. By the way he held himself Cadmus knew that the mechanic took pride in his looks, and he definitely seemed like the type to flaunt himself.

"So why am I here, exactly?" Cadmus sighed, boredom radiating off of him. His head was resting back on the wall of the garage and Stiles was on his right side, awkwardly trying to copy Cadmus' casual stance, and failing. His arms were crossed, but far to uncomfortably, his head was tilted at an awkward angle instead of gracefully falling against the wall- just everything about the way he was at the moment was wrong. And the fact remained that Stiles Stilinski was an oddball.

"Well since Erica 'hulked out' on my jeep, I was hoping for some moral support," Stiles whined, narrowing his eyes accusingly. "You know, this wouldn't have even happened if you hadn't insisted on going with Scott almighty."

Cadmus raised an eyebrow. "It would have happened either way, Stiles," he deadpanned. "You're accident prone."

Stiles scoffed. "Your comforting skills are abysmal. Seriously, loving the support that is- all up in... this place..." he trailed off at the scathing look that Cadmus was giving him. His eyes went from 'defensive and annoyed' to 'slightly terrified'. Cadmus felt a twinge of guilt in his stomach at the reaction to his stare, but in all honesty he wasn't completely sorry. He was still in a decent amount of pain from the fight at the ice rink, which had only been earlier that afternoon.

In fact, the aftermath of the fight was clearly visibly all over his body and remained there, due to unfortunate lack of supernatural healing. The knuckles on his right hand were scraped and red from when he had punched Derek, his arm was sore from both the time Isaac had twisted it and the time he'd been pushed up against the zamboni. His stomach was sore from the force with which he had been punched there, and there was a sizeable, dark purple and black bruise that spread across his side. His lip was busted, and a bit of blood matted his hairline to his forehead, some of the rusty red visible as it crusted against his forehead. Cadmus wasn't looking forward to his parent's reaction when they saw his state. Maybe he could get away with cleaning up somewhere first, but he wasn't sure. The sizeable bruise on his cheekbone would be hard to cover up.

Stiles sighed impatiently from beside him, and as if he were reading Cadmus's thoughts, finally brought up the subject of the ice rink battle. "So, you sort of look like crap right now."

Cadmus pressed his lips together in acknowledgement. "Stop flirting with me, Stilinski," he teased, and though his voice was deadly serious, both of them understood the joke.

Stiles still flushed red at the comment. "Yeah, well... stop- stop being taller than me." He frowned. "Huh. Usually my comebacks are better than that."

"I make you speechless," Cadmus cooed, bending over so he was more Stiles height, and he turned his head so he could see his face. He reached up a hand to pinch one of Stiles' cheeks, something that he had now done with both members of team werewolf. "How adorable."

Stiles batted his hand away with a scowl, his eyes darting over towards the mechanic, who wasn't even paying attention. "Dude, stop."

Cadmus shrugged and tucked his hands back away in his pockets. "Whatever."

A loud sigh interrupted the silence that had been settling in, and suddenly Stiles was speaking again. "But seriously, I mean... aren't you in pain right now?"

"Mentally or physically?" Cadmus grunted in response, and the flat look on Stiles' face made him decide he should try giving a better answer than that. "Yeah, it hurts. But I've gotten pretty good at ignoring that kind of stuff recently."