H-ha. Tell me about it. [ He manages a shaky laugh, at least, and lets the hand in his hair drop to scrub over his face, wiping tear tracks and snot and trying to pretend that he didn't just go through one of the most emotionally jarring moments of his life for the second time, just minutes after seeing flashes of what was probably Derek's most emotionally jarring memory.
At least they had crappy lives in common.
He's quiet for a couple seconds as he listens to the sound of Derek's breathing. It's steady, and his hand is still clasped hard against his, and it's not until he's seemingly reached at least a normal level of oxygen that he slowly unclenches his hand, barely leaving their fingers connected as he starts to sit up a little. ] This is the point where I'm imagining someone's going to carry me back to K-Science by the scruff of my neck. What a freakin' joke I am.
[ Seeing his last moments with Paige was like ripping open an old wound, and it's true that the memory is his most jarring, but it's sad to say that Derek's got his fair share of them at this point. Carrying Stiles' with him? Not exactly that much of a burden, as far as he's concerned, and he shoulders it rather easily after having seen it. Claudia Stilinski had had beautiful hair, thick and dark like her son's, and it had started to fall out before she shaved it all off. They had tried chemo therapy to combat the sickness, but Kaiju Blue wasn't cancer.
It was a monster that man couldn't fight with another monster, the way they had built the Jaeger Program.
Rather than pulling away from Stiles-- though he lets him sit up from him-- he brings his free hand up and rubs it against his own face, not trusting himself. Whether it be from empathy or his own baggage, he's going to wager that he didn't get out of that stonefaced, himself. Still, something like a scoff of a laugh leaves him at that, and he rests there with their fingers loosely connected. ] I'd like to see them try. Immediate, 100% sync on first test. You're new, I'm eight years out of practice-- the fact that we had problems isn't surprising.
[ His mouth turns up just a little, seemingly a little soothed by the thought. All in all, Stiles still feels like an abject failure, but the numbers aren't gonna lie--they reached 100% sync, an important milestone for any drift partners, and without a lot of trouble, at least at first. Maybe over time, he can ignore that memory, but his mother's death is still sore, nearly ten years later, and it's a time of his life that he doesn't want to remember.
But maybe with someone similar, he could learn to shoulder it again, instead of keeping it bottled deep inside of him.
Stiles runs his hands over his hair again, then lets it settle in his lap--he's starting to come back to himself. But he doesn't drop that connection, and even watches Derek when he wipes over his face, because it's kind of a weird feeling, to know that your own memories probably punched someone else in the emotions, too. ] A trial run's just a trial run, I guess.
[ Briefly contemplating getting up from the floor, he instead opts to sit there for a bit longer. There's nowhere else they really need to be-- the data will speak for them long enough that Derek feels they won't need to offer any reports yet-- and at this point, he doesn't think they're quite ready to be trusted with finer motor movements. So he settles, looking back at Stiles as they sit together. Everything is fresh in his mind, and he's not going to be able to sleep well tonight, but...
Well. The numbers really don't lie. Taking in a deep breath, he lets the corner of his mouth twitch the slightest bit in response to the very faint smile on Stiles' own face. ] Sounds right.
[ It's a small attempt at reassuring, although they're steady now. He's finding it easier to breathe, easier to remind himself that Stiles' eyes are amber like whiskey where Paige's were a cello's fine, worn wood. They aren't sitting there looking at old ghosts, although they might be remembering them together, sharing them now with someone they least expected. ]
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At least they had crappy lives in common.
He's quiet for a couple seconds as he listens to the sound of Derek's breathing. It's steady, and his hand is still clasped hard against his, and it's not until he's seemingly reached at least a normal level of oxygen that he slowly unclenches his hand, barely leaving their fingers connected as he starts to sit up a little. ] This is the point where I'm imagining someone's going to carry me back to K-Science by the scruff of my neck. What a freakin' joke I am.
no subject
It was a monster that man couldn't fight with another monster, the way they had built the Jaeger Program.
Rather than pulling away from Stiles-- though he lets him sit up from him-- he brings his free hand up and rubs it against his own face, not trusting himself. Whether it be from empathy or his own baggage, he's going to wager that he didn't get out of that stonefaced, himself. Still, something like a scoff of a laugh leaves him at that, and he rests there with their fingers loosely connected. ] I'd like to see them try. Immediate, 100% sync on first test. You're new, I'm eight years out of practice-- the fact that we had problems isn't surprising.
no subject
But maybe with someone similar, he could learn to shoulder it again, instead of keeping it bottled deep inside of him.
Stiles runs his hands over his hair again, then lets it settle in his lap--he's starting to come back to himself. But he doesn't drop that connection, and even watches Derek when he wipes over his face, because it's kind of a weird feeling, to know that your own memories probably punched someone else in the emotions, too. ] A trial run's just a trial run, I guess.
no subject
Well. The numbers really don't lie. Taking in a deep breath, he lets the corner of his mouth twitch the slightest bit in response to the very faint smile on Stiles' own face. ] Sounds right.
[ It's a small attempt at reassuring, although they're steady now. He's finding it easier to breathe, easier to remind himself that Stiles' eyes are amber like whiskey where Paige's were a cello's fine, worn wood. They aren't sitting there looking at old ghosts, although they might be remembering them together, sharing them now with someone they least expected. ]