Sheriff Stilinski aka "Dad" (![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png)
reallyproudofyou) wrote2014-05-01 12:03 am
reallyproudofyou) wrote2014-05-01 12:03 am
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muserevival || Word of the Day 077.
Torpid
adj. 1. inactive or sluggish. 2. slow; dull; apathetic; lethargic.
When John woke that morning, it was early. Very early, but that wasn't unusual for him. He had always been an early riser, which was the complete opposite of his son. That morning was very, very different to any mornings in his recent history. When he woke, the sun must have just been coming up because it was watery and peeking in through the crack in the curtains left when he mustn't have closed them over completely the night before.
He was also naked. He couldn't remember the last time he woke up naked. He roused easily but it took a few moments and pushing of the covers back where he received the onslaught of a cool breeze at his nether regions to remember he was naked. Naked, and also not alone. That's when he hitched himself up onto an elbow and stilled. There was a blink or two and then his gaze shifted slowly to the space in the bed beside him and it was met with a mess of dark curly hair and a smooth bare back. Neither of them had been drunk. They both very much knew what they had been doing the night before. But there was also the fact they had let themselves just give into a moment of comfort the night before and they ended up in his bed together.
Melissa was sleeping peacefully and John let out a small, slow breath, trying to gather his thoughts now it was the morning after the night before. Something he would probably have more success doing after answering a call of nature. Carefully, hesitantly, he slipped out of bed and grabbed his bathrobe from the nearby chair. He kept it in easy reach lately with Stiles waking up more nights than not screaming the house down in terror after his bad nightmares, flashbacks, visions... whatever it had been haunting him for the preceding months. There was also the fact he was still very much a male, albeit a rusty and out-of-practice one. But he had just slept with a very beautiful woman and despite the fact it was going to lead them to have a lot to talk about, he was still feeling rather pleased with himself right at that moment.
In fact, when he tiptoed out into the hall to head to the bathroom, he had a small smirk playing on his lips, and it was how he managed to miss the fact Stiles had come stumbling out of his room to feel blindly along the wall in the general direction of the bathroom. Unlike John, Stiles was very much not a morning person. In fact, it took awhile after he woke up before he was a functioning human being. It didn't even have anything to do with coffee, because Stiles wasn't a huge coffee drinker because of his ADHD. It was just that it took time for his brain to catch up with the rest of him. It had been like that since he had been an infant. Stiles' hair was sticking up in all directions and his eyes were puffy and red, creases from his pillow all up one side of his face. He was only in a pair of cotton Elmo boxers, and his hand was mapping his path way more successfully than his brain would be.
Stiles had a way of getting to the bathroom when he was still mostly asleep, and then back again to just crash right out on his bed where he left off. It was a talent. John wished he had his son's staying power for sleep. When Stiles did actually manage to sleep, that was. And this time, John nearly bumped into his son right as he was coming out of his bedroom without having even gotten the bathrobe on completely. He stopped short and his hands fumbled to get the robe closed and then blindly felt for the sash with one hand whilst his other grabbed at the door knob to pull his bedroom door closed. Knowing his luck, this would be the one morning Stiles was awake enough to realise his father was either naked under the robe or had another naked body in his bed that was very much without a robe.
"Oh, hey, kiddo..." he greeted him softly, not wanting to wake Melissa or alert Stiles too much to anything beyond the norm being amiss. His words were just slightly more cheery than he was aiming for and it caused Stiles to stop in his path and look blearily at his dad with a long, slow blink and a teenage-style grunt of acknowledgement. "I'm just heading to the bathroom. How did you sleep? Feeling okay?" Twenty questions, John - really? That wouldn't work with his son looking like Sleepy from the Seven Dwarves.
Stiles rubbed at his eyes with the back of his hand and John earned a groggy, confused and flat stare for a moment or two, but he was pretty sure there was an air of 'Uncool dad alert: Can't you see I'm trying to half-sleep my way to the bathroom and back to bed right now?' There was just another grunt, this time with a mumbled of, "M'first." Stiles shuffled past John and into the bathroom first. Half-asleep Stiles wasn't really up on the chivalry or manners. His brain functioning was probably somewhere in the range of a caveman, so it made sense. John stood nervously in the hall waiting for his turn and praying to himself that Melissa didn't wake up, or Stiles didn't take sick and have Melissa's nurse/mom mode kick in to come running to help. If he wasn't worried about waking up both Melissa and Isaac, and also alerting Stiles to something being weird, John probably would have whistled softly to himself whilst he waited in an attempt to seem more inconspicuous.
The toilet flushed and Stiles came back out, hands still wet from where he even washed them in partial-zombie mode. He eyed his dad faintly suspiciously for a moment and then shuffled past him. "Dad, y'got a hickey," he pointed out and then went back into his room and the door closed over behind him. Meanwhile, John's heart had leapt up somewhere into his throat, hand going to his neck while he stood there dumbfounded. Stiles ultimately wouldn't remember much of it and would think he just had a weird dream, but in the meantime, John was left with the high-anxiety rush of wondering if his son was onto him, and what the hell he was supposed to do next with his son's best friend's naked mom in his bed...
adj. 1. inactive or sluggish. 2. slow; dull; apathetic; lethargic.
When John woke that morning, it was early. Very early, but that wasn't unusual for him. He had always been an early riser, which was the complete opposite of his son. That morning was very, very different to any mornings in his recent history. When he woke, the sun must have just been coming up because it was watery and peeking in through the crack in the curtains left when he mustn't have closed them over completely the night before.
He was also naked. He couldn't remember the last time he woke up naked. He roused easily but it took a few moments and pushing of the covers back where he received the onslaught of a cool breeze at his nether regions to remember he was naked. Naked, and also not alone. That's when he hitched himself up onto an elbow and stilled. There was a blink or two and then his gaze shifted slowly to the space in the bed beside him and it was met with a mess of dark curly hair and a smooth bare back. Neither of them had been drunk. They both very much knew what they had been doing the night before. But there was also the fact they had let themselves just give into a moment of comfort the night before and they ended up in his bed together.
Melissa was sleeping peacefully and John let out a small, slow breath, trying to gather his thoughts now it was the morning after the night before. Something he would probably have more success doing after answering a call of nature. Carefully, hesitantly, he slipped out of bed and grabbed his bathrobe from the nearby chair. He kept it in easy reach lately with Stiles waking up more nights than not screaming the house down in terror after his bad nightmares, flashbacks, visions... whatever it had been haunting him for the preceding months. There was also the fact he was still very much a male, albeit a rusty and out-of-practice one. But he had just slept with a very beautiful woman and despite the fact it was going to lead them to have a lot to talk about, he was still feeling rather pleased with himself right at that moment.
In fact, when he tiptoed out into the hall to head to the bathroom, he had a small smirk playing on his lips, and it was how he managed to miss the fact Stiles had come stumbling out of his room to feel blindly along the wall in the general direction of the bathroom. Unlike John, Stiles was very much not a morning person. In fact, it took awhile after he woke up before he was a functioning human being. It didn't even have anything to do with coffee, because Stiles wasn't a huge coffee drinker because of his ADHD. It was just that it took time for his brain to catch up with the rest of him. It had been like that since he had been an infant. Stiles' hair was sticking up in all directions and his eyes were puffy and red, creases from his pillow all up one side of his face. He was only in a pair of cotton Elmo boxers, and his hand was mapping his path way more successfully than his brain would be.
Stiles had a way of getting to the bathroom when he was still mostly asleep, and then back again to just crash right out on his bed where he left off. It was a talent. John wished he had his son's staying power for sleep. When Stiles did actually manage to sleep, that was. And this time, John nearly bumped into his son right as he was coming out of his bedroom without having even gotten the bathrobe on completely. He stopped short and his hands fumbled to get the robe closed and then blindly felt for the sash with one hand whilst his other grabbed at the door knob to pull his bedroom door closed. Knowing his luck, this would be the one morning Stiles was awake enough to realise his father was either naked under the robe or had another naked body in his bed that was very much without a robe.
"Oh, hey, kiddo..." he greeted him softly, not wanting to wake Melissa or alert Stiles too much to anything beyond the norm being amiss. His words were just slightly more cheery than he was aiming for and it caused Stiles to stop in his path and look blearily at his dad with a long, slow blink and a teenage-style grunt of acknowledgement. "I'm just heading to the bathroom. How did you sleep? Feeling okay?" Twenty questions, John - really? That wouldn't work with his son looking like Sleepy from the Seven Dwarves.
Stiles rubbed at his eyes with the back of his hand and John earned a groggy, confused and flat stare for a moment or two, but he was pretty sure there was an air of 'Uncool dad alert: Can't you see I'm trying to half-sleep my way to the bathroom and back to bed right now?' There was just another grunt, this time with a mumbled of, "M'first." Stiles shuffled past John and into the bathroom first. Half-asleep Stiles wasn't really up on the chivalry or manners. His brain functioning was probably somewhere in the range of a caveman, so it made sense. John stood nervously in the hall waiting for his turn and praying to himself that Melissa didn't wake up, or Stiles didn't take sick and have Melissa's nurse/mom mode kick in to come running to help. If he wasn't worried about waking up both Melissa and Isaac, and also alerting Stiles to something being weird, John probably would have whistled softly to himself whilst he waited in an attempt to seem more inconspicuous.
The toilet flushed and Stiles came back out, hands still wet from where he even washed them in partial-zombie mode. He eyed his dad faintly suspiciously for a moment and then shuffled past him. "Dad, y'got a hickey," he pointed out and then went back into his room and the door closed over behind him. Meanwhile, John's heart had leapt up somewhere into his throat, hand going to his neck while he stood there dumbfounded. Stiles ultimately wouldn't remember much of it and would think he just had a weird dream, but in the meantime, John was left with the high-anxiety rush of wondering if his son was onto him, and what the hell he was supposed to do next with his son's best friend's naked mom in his bed...