[ there's something incredibly fragile in the way children look at you after crying. mary margaret found it out herself as a teacher, but she's noticed it more and more the more adults she finds. it's that needing, that wanting to be needed, to have someone to tell them it will be okay, that there's hope. the power in hope never ceases to amaze her, from storybooks to a simple text asking stiles to come over. to come see her. mary margaret is still a bit shaky herself, finds that there are moments where she'll just zone out, relieve those awful moments, come back to find tears on her cheeks and her hands shaking.
but there's something in her gut, in her chest, that can pick her back up. that can stand here and look at stiles, sees his eyes watcher and his shoulders slouch and she just wipes his cheeks. waits for him to respond. and when he does, she gives him that little smile of hers before she leans forward and presses a kiss to his forehead. it's incredibly intimate, judging from how she has only known stiles while they've both been here, a place that apparently doesn't exist, but she doesn't care. it's that same gut feeling that's making her do this, that has her lips pressed to his forehead for perhaps a moment or two longer than necessary, before she pulls back to find his eyes again. ]
Okay. [ and she pauses, tries to figure out if she wants to move them into her room or to just wrap her arms around him again, but after that pause the first idea wins out and with one last swipe over his cheeks she drops her hands from them, slides her hands into his (albeit larger ones) and tugs him back through her door. and just like she guided him before, she guides him now, sitting him down on her bed while she goes to gather the mugs she'd already put together of hot chocolate, grabs her blanket from the chair in the corner, and sets it all down on the bedside table next to where he's sitting. wraps the blanket around his shoulders, tight, before setting her hands on his shoulders again.
the process is done almost automatically, like there's that part of her that needs to do it so she does without much thought. it's just one step then another and then there are two mugs of hot chocolate on the bedside table and stiles has a blanket over his shoulders and he's sitting down, she's standing up, which is the only real reason when she wraps her arms around him again, she can actually cradle his head against her chest. kissing the top of his head. ] It's okay. Everything okay.
action!!
but there's something in her gut, in her chest, that can pick her back up. that can stand here and look at stiles, sees his eyes watcher and his shoulders slouch and she just wipes his cheeks. waits for him to respond. and when he does, she gives him that little smile of hers before she leans forward and presses a kiss to his forehead. it's incredibly intimate, judging from how she has only known stiles while they've both been here, a place that apparently doesn't exist, but she doesn't care. it's that same gut feeling that's making her do this, that has her lips pressed to his forehead for perhaps a moment or two longer than necessary, before she pulls back to find his eyes again. ]
Okay. [ and she pauses, tries to figure out if she wants to move them into her room or to just wrap her arms around him again, but after that pause the first idea wins out and with one last swipe over his cheeks she drops her hands from them, slides her hands into his (albeit larger ones) and tugs him back through her door. and just like she guided him before, she guides him now, sitting him down on her bed while she goes to gather the mugs she'd already put together of hot chocolate, grabs her blanket from the chair in the corner, and sets it all down on the bedside table next to where he's sitting. wraps the blanket around his shoulders, tight, before setting her hands on his shoulders again.
the process is done almost automatically, like there's that part of her that needs to do it so she does without much thought. it's just one step then another and then there are two mugs of hot chocolate on the bedside table and stiles has a blanket over his shoulders and he's sitting down, she's standing up, which is the only real reason when she wraps her arms around him again, she can actually cradle his head against her chest. kissing the top of his head. ] It's okay. Everything okay.