Chapter Text
It had been a week since they had buried his brother's mortal remains.
Five days since they had moved into the new house.
Five days since the last time he had last heard his niece talk.
When they had left her old home, she had had the long-overdue mental breakdown he had been anticipating for the better part of the last eight years, ever since Claudia had passed away. His niece had always had the aggravating habit of repressing her emotional issues for the benefit of others. Well, she regarded it as more useful than aggravating, however, the people surrounding her certainly didn't. He remembered her behavior right after Claudia's death: Maksym had had his own demons to fight and had neglected the child not out of carelessness but sheer powerlessness. None of them had expected Claudia to die. That woman had been light and strength, of course, she would conquer this terrible disease. Nobody had doubted her victory. So when she had lost the war, the news had been devastating. Seemingly not for Zdzisława, though. The girl had been quiet, which was fairly unusual for her, nonetheless, she hadn't shed a tear, at least not in front of another person. The little girl's eyes had been red, her cheeks puffy and he had detected scratch marks on her hands. She had kept it together in public, but her physical appearance had spoken volumes of what she had done when alone. His brother had despaired of his wife's death, seeking solace in Mr. Jack Daniels.
Mikhail had hated to see his brother fall apart like this. The process had been particularly painful since he had known that Claudia hadn't died but that she had awakened again in Somewhere. So, although he had been aware of the fact that his sister-in-law had only transferred from this world to another, he had had to witness what her loss had caused to her husband and daughter, whom he hadn't been allowed to tell the truth. Such was the lot of the messengers.
His niece had thrown herself into helping and providing for others as much as she could to distract herself from her pain rather than dealing with it. Her social circle had shriveled as she had withdrawn herself from her wide array of social activities. Claudia had always encouraged her to partake in anything she had even considered mildly interesting to broaden her horizon. Zdzi had withered from a bright social butterfly to an outsider with a manageable amount of friends: namely one Scott McCall. Her behavior had changed for the worse as her usual energetic self had developed unusual means of hyperactivity paired with anxiety and intrusive thoughts that had scared the poor child into fits of nightmares. Eventually, she had been diagnosed with ADHD. The thought that his nine-year-old niece would have to take medication on a daily basis, maybe for the rest of her life, had nauseated him.
Of course, now that she had awoken, there was a good chance that the Powers would take care of that disorder. After all, there were some perks to being a messenger: once awoken, they were pretty much immune to all the big players like cancer, HIV, Alzheimer's and all kinds of allergies. So far, Zdzi hadn't had any Adderall for over a week and she hadn't shown signs of withdrawal...yet. After having seen the cleared out house, the floodgates had no longer been able to hold back the emotions she had been repressing for years. Most likely because she had had nothing to use as a diversion from her present situation. When she had ultimately cried herself to sleep in his arms, he had carried her into his rental car and they had driven to their current location: a beautiful, well maintained colonial style house he had mysteriously inherited a couple of months ago after the former owner, Mrs. Beverly Anne Miller, had died. It was a bit Suburgatory-ish, all the same, it was preferable to life on Wisteria Lane.
Apparently, Mr. and Mrs. Miller hadn't been blessed with children during this lifetime, however, he could clearly recall the couple. Naturally, the Powers weren't oblivious to the ways of the world. They were aware of the fact that people didn't pass their belongings on to a complete stranger. So, they had arranged for Mik and Mr. Miller to meet about ten years ago, when Mr. Miller – Jonathan, Mik thought, his name had been Jonathan – had been looking for a handmade fishing knife for a close friend. Mik had just become self-employed with his blacksmith's shop and somehow, Fortuna had brought them together. Jonathan had been pleased with his work and throughout the next couple of years, he had ordered further goods for both himself and friends. Mik had kept in touch with the elderly couple via greeting cards for holidays and their birthdays. Then, about a year ago, Jonathan had died of old age and as the course of time had continued, Beverly had followed him. They had talked more than once about his brother and niece living in Beacon Hills and as Mrs. Miller had written so kindly in her will, family should always be together. So the house was now his. Of course, Mik had had his lawyer, an old friend, check for any legal matters he might have to face. As it had turned out however, the Powers had already taken care of everything. At the time of Mrs. Miller's death, Mik had already been aware of the severe situation in Beacon Hills due to the brutal murders and he had had an unsettling feeling in the pit of his stomach for the most part. They wouldn't have given him that house for no reason. With a dark foreshadowing of things to come, he had enlisted Claudia's help in furnishing and decorating the spacious rooms. She had also felt a tingling as she had called it.
His shop back in Florida was closed for now, the website clearly stating that business was shut down until further notice due to a tragic occurrence within the family. He hadn't started looking for a new location in Beacon Hills, yet, since the death of his brother had most certainly summoned a bureaucratic nightmare. Death certificate, insurances, gas, electricity, water, subscriptions, cable TV, phone contracts, administration of estates...the list went on. Mik was lucky enough that Maksym had put together a binder with every document he might possibly need, still, it didn't spare him the seemingly endless hours going to and from the post office, making calls and having his patience constantly tested by ignorant desk drones.
He would never leave the house longer than absolutely necessary, though, not while Zdzi was, well, in her current state.
Since they had arrived at the house, his niece had not left her new room. He highly doubted that she had even left her bed. Several times per day, he would bring her a bottle of water and something to eat. His culinary skills might not gain him any Michelin stars, but as a proud bachelor, he was able to make some pretty decent sandwiches. Unfortunately, his niece was in no mood to appreciate his efforts. She barely ate anything. Still, he would prepare meals for her, knowing that she would come around at one point.
Adonis hardly left her side, content to comfort the girl with his presence. Also, he was allowed to lie on her bed and, ever the opportunist, he wouldn't pass up a chance at a treat like that. Evidently, he would leave the bed so they could go for a quick walk, to get some water or some food, but as soon as he was done, the Doberman would immediately return to Zdzisława's room. They had always enjoyed being around each other, whenever his niece came to visit. Adonis was a sucker for attention and with the teenage girl, he could literally bathe in cuddles and praises. She just couldn't say “no” to his big rust-brown puppy eyes. Although, given the fact that they would now be living together permanently, they should probably have a talk about proper discipline towards the dog. Perhaps his niece had already learned about pack dynamics and alpha behavior since most people she was close with were werewolves.
Yes, Mik scratched his chin, we'll definitely have a talk. Once she's less apathetic that is.
Since she lacked any way of distracting herself, Zdzisława had nothing else to focus on than herself and so far, she had used the time to actually mourn for the first time since her mother had left them. Mourning her childhood, mourning her lost friends, mourning her parents who were no longer permitted to see her. She hadn't even gotten a chance to say a proper goodbye. Mik was fine with all of that. He knew that she needed this now in order for her to heal. The healing process had already started by her no longer repressing her own feelings. That was definitely a plus, however, they were merely at the beginning. If, right now, anything or anyone was to disturb her with their own problems, something to do, anything that might hold the slightest chance of diversion, she would most likely launch herself right into it and any progress she had made as of now would be forgotten at once.
Again, Mikhail sent a silent “thank you” to his sister-in-law, since her expertise in distracting others still proved to be strong even though she and Maksym had left about a week ago. He preferred being left alone, nonetheless, he was well aware that Claudia's magic would not last much longer. Soon, people would start asking questions again. Zdzi's friends would eventually make the time to inquire about her well-being. The local TV stations would probably demand an interview. The thought of Agent McCall made his blood boil. Hopefully, they could at least avoid that pest a little while longer. Although, despite all the privacy they were given, there had been one particular duty that had to be taken care of: high school. As Zdzisława's legal guardian – and that would take some time to get used to – Mik was now in charge of her upbringing and that included the topic of education. By now, he had called the school to inform them about her temporary absence and had asked them to please send him her schedule and all of her assignments via e-mail. She might not be able to return to school, yet, he had reasoned that once she had recovered enough to actually get bored by staying at home, she would certainly appreciate the work so that she wouldn't fall behind. He had also informed himself about available AP classes for his niece according to her grades, but apparently he would have to appear in person to rearrange her schedule, so that would not happen for now.
The kid was highly intelligent, the only reason she had refused to be placed in advanced classes was because she hadn't wanted to be separated from her best friend. Her only AP class was currently English Language and Composition and he remembered Maksym having mentioned that she had fought tooth and nail not to be placed in it. This girl had some serious codependency issues. Even before he had left his old home to come to Beacon Hills, he had briefed a fellow messenger who was working as a therapist on his niece. Whenever a minor awoke, having a therapist near was a true blessing. In Mikhail's case, a therapist was an absolute necessity to get Zdzi anywhere near a normal human being. She needed to heal and while Mik had performed his fair share of tasks for the Powers in the past, he was no miracle worker, not like that at least.
Searching the Internet for any decent pet stores in the area around Beacon Hills, he noticed that his sister had just gone online. Mik checked his Skype and spontaneously decided to call her.
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At first, there had been nothing but agonizing pain. It had constantly clawed at her during every waking moment. It had caused her to curl up in her bed, to hide under the covers and to bury her head under her pillow in order to just shut it out. There had been no escaping, though. It had kept attacking her, stabbing her core, tearing at her soul, ripping her apart. She had been paralyzed by the sheer impact of conflicting emotions, her only way of relief had been the ability to cry. Stiles hadn't cried in a long time. Not like that at least. Never like that actually, when she gave it proper thought. She had learnt to stifle her tears after her mother had left them. The pain back then had overwhelmed her, yet, since she had blamed herself for her mother's demise, she hadn't allowed herself to give in to the urge to weep. She might have caught herself shedding a few tears in the middle of the night after a bad dream, nonetheless, she had suppressed them almost immediately. Stiles had never felt like she deserved to mourn those lost because of her having failed. She had failed in saving her mother. She had failed in protecting Heather and Erica. Boyd was dead, too, as were so many others. Just because she hadn't been able to solve the mystery faster, because she hadn't been smarter, stronger.
Stiles closed her eyes and swallowed. It hurt. It hurt so much. Knowing that she hadn't been good enough, knowing that she had let them down. Knowing that she was no Batman, but only Stiles Stilinski, a stupid hyperactive kid who didn't know when to shut up. Who didn't know shit about the world, apparently, as everything around her had crumbled into nothingness. Over the past eight years, Stiles had violently drilled her brain to extinguish any uncomfortable ways of thinking. For once, her brain had ruled in her favor and she had never had any trouble distracting herself whenever dismal thoughts had started to whisper dark truths into her ears. This time, though, this time it had been too much for her brain to take in and it had betrayed her. It had betrayed her often in the past by having sent ideas and stray thoughts straight to her mouth. She had never had a brain-to-mouth filter, something she had gotten used to over time. Something she had loathed more than once.
She had slipped in and out of sleep, suffering anew every time she woke, her mind empty, her heart heavy to the point of breaking. Eventually, against her expectations, the excruciating pain had stopped and turned into a steady dull throbbing, at least for a short amount of time. She had been able to be awake without feeling the urge to cry and cower beneath her sheets. She had also started noticing little things about her current environment. The bed was bigger than her old one. Thinking about her old bed had caused her to tear up again. The walls were void of any decoration. Thinking about decorated walls had made her remember the cleared out living room and she had quickly pulled the covers over her head to shut this memory out. Her thoughts had always found a way to circle back to something from before and she hadn't wanted to think of before anymore. She had felt exhausted, both physically and emotionally. She had just wanted to be left alone.
Slowly, the agonizing pain/dull throbbing ratio had tipped in favor of the latter. Although every now and then, it had still spiked into a stabbing sensation, bringing tears to her eyes again, when a stray thought had caught her off-guard.
Since arriving at this place, she had hardly left the bed, the only reason for leaving the warmth and safety of the covers had been the seldom occurrence of her having to use the bathroom. The en suite bathroom with a bathtub Stiles had refused to look at. She had cried after having seen it for the first time. She wouldn't take a bath anytime soon, not if she had a choice in the matter. Luckily, she had scarcely needed to get up to relieve herself, given the fact that she had reduced her intake of food and fluids to a minimum. Her uncle would come into her room several times a day to leave her sandwiches and fruit along with something to drink on her new desk. He had never spoken to her, not once, as though he hadn't wanted to interrupt her mourning.
Mourning, Stiles had pondered this idea, is this mourning? Questioning everything? Being incapable of doing anything because your mind won't quit spinning around in circles? Feeling stupid and useless? Not being able to control your freaking emotions and allowing them to turn you into some worthless parasite that only cares about their own shit?!
So far, her uncle had been a saint for putting up with her like it was nothing. Adonis hadn't gotten annoyed with her state of uselessness, either. The Doberman had taken to lying next to her, never abandoning his position longer than necessary. If Stiles ever became a functioning person again, Adonis would possibly be drowned in cuddles and kisses since he was the greatest dog ever. Whenever the guys had come back from a walk, he had returned instantly to her side. He might have left throughout the day to drink a little and of course, he had needed to eat, yet, he had seemed content to just be in her presence. He had kept his distance, though. He had lied close to her, however, he had been careful not to be too close. He had never initiated any kind of touching or petting. He had just been there, probably waiting for her to acknowledge him. Adonis loved that kind of positive attention as he was very oriented towards the people he considered family.
The time intervals between the outbursts had elongated and eventually, from one moment to another, the throbbing had ceased entirely and had been replaced by...nothing. Nothing at all. No feeling, no pain, no more tears.
Nada, zero, zilch.
She hadn't trusted this.
Not one bit.
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She heard her uncle calling Adonis. The bed dipped slightly when the dog stepped off the mattress. His claws were making click click click noises on the floor as soon as he had left the room. A few moments later, she could hear a door falling shut. She was now alone in this strange new place.
The lights were off. They had been off as far as she remembered. The window was closed, as were the linen blinds that would still allow some natural light to permeate into the room. Time didn't matter to her at this point. Stiles turned around. While tugging her hands under her pillow, her nose caught a whiff of something. She inhaled carefully to determine what it was and where it came from...only to discover that she was the source of the odor. Stiles raised an arm above her head and she didn't even have to bend her head to smell the stench that originated from her armpit.
Urgh! She wrinkled her nose in disgust.
When was the last time she had actually done something akin to washing herself? The days had kind of blurred into one as her emotions had left her almost entirely incapable of fulfilling ordinary human needs such as hygiene. She ran a hand through her short hair, careful not to lift her arm more than absolutely necessary. Stiles frowned at the strange feeling beneath her fingertips and groaned in annoyance. Her hair was greasy. Really greasy. As in I can hardly run my hand through it-greasy. She was pretty sure that her body had somehow managed to create its very own pomade.
Gross!
She reeked and her hair was gross and given the facts that she 1) had hardly left the bed so far, 2) hadn't changed her clothes for however long she had been lying in bed, 3) hadn't bothered to air out the room once and 4) hadn't bothered to air out the bedclothes, either...well, she was most likely surrounded in a highly repellent mass of her own filth and stink.
Freaking perfect! Adonis is so getting an award for putting up with this. Preferably something edible.
Stiles sat up, the simple movement costing her more energy than it should. Her back muscles felt tender bordering on sore. The girl slowly pushed back her covers and the comforter, leaving her legs bare. She shivered when the heat of the sheets was removed, yet, when a gust of newly released air hit her nose, she nearly gagged. She would have to shower, no arguing there.
Her legs wobbled slightly as she rose from the bed. Stiles made a face the moment she stepped on one of the many used tissues littering her floor. She had forgotten all about them. When her crying had abated, she had no longer needed as many tissues. In the beginning of this process, she had used up at least one Redwood tree worth of them. Regarding the mess of white on the floor, it was obvious that while her uncle would provide for her with silent support, he was not going to be her maid. The carpet was soft against the soles of her feet, a harsh contrast against the cold tiles in the bathroom. Of course, she hadn't bothered to heat the small rectangular room before.
Oh well, she shrugged off her shirt, threw it aside and kicked her panties into the same general direction. The shower screen opened smoothly without a sound.
Time to get clean. God, it's cold!
When the first droplets of water touched her skin, Stiles shuddered involuntarily at the sensation. She knew that showering was meant as an act of cleaning the body, caring for it, nurturing it with water, still, she felt as though the water went deeper than usual. The pressure seemed stronger, harder, more aggressive, almost to the point of being painful. Stiles merely allowed the cascades of water to wash over her, standing motionlessly in the stall while condensation started to form a fine mist around her. Soon, the screens were steamed up and once again, Stiles had created a hideout from the world. She leaned her head back slightly, inhaling the warm air around her. Deep and steady breaths.
After a while, she noticed how her backside got chilly since she had her front turned towards the jet. Turning around slowly, she shuddered once more when the warm stream hit her lower back. Stiles folded her arms in front of her chest due to the built up heat seemingly leaving her immediately. She shifted again, adjusting her position in such a way that the water would spread over her body evenly. She didn't want to be engulfed in cold water ever again. No Sir. No Ma'am. No-oh. Not happening.
Never again, she bit her lower lip, looking around for shampoo and showering gel. She had decided to do something against her awful stench after all.
Oxana had packed her bathroom stuff, having sniffed her nose at the scentless, pH-adjusted products. Stiles had sensitive skin, so the pH-adjustment was reasonable enough, nonetheless, according to her cousin, a person was supposed to envelope themselves in scents they found pleasant. Stiles' sheer lack of scented products – even her deodorant wasn't perfumed – had simply confused her cousin, particularly since Stiles had always had a tendency towards almost sickeningly sweet fragrances like cotton candy, bubblegum, vanilla and anything remotely resembling chocolate. That had changed over the course of the last year. More specifically, it had changed shortly after Scott had been bitten. He had claimed that the chemicals would have irritated his nose. Not like he had ever complained to Allison about her care-products. No, Allison's scent had always been so fresh and clean, but also delicate, rich, sometimes spicy. By God, Scott had had it bad!
Stiles bent her head forwards to wet her hair. The simple act of stretching her neck muscles like that caused a strain down her entire back. Lying in bed doing nothing but stinking the place up hadn't served her constitution in any way. Angrily, she grabbed a bottle of shampoo, flicked the lid open and applied it straight onto her head. Her fingers worked their way harshly through the inch-long hair, the nails scratching her scalp. She hadn't shortened them for some time, seeing as they were brittle and had a tendency to break easily. Well, either that or Stiles would tear them off as a nervous habit. Long nails were only a hindrance anyway. She didn't need her nails to be long and pretty and french or covered with nice polish.
When she removed her hands from her head, she was breathing heavily, heaving gushes of air into her lungs. Her eyes began to sting again from tears. Stiles put the bottle back on the rounded corner shelf and reached for the showering gel. Her skin felt strange beneath her touch, rougher on the one hand, more sensitive on the other. She sped up the movements of her hands to spread the gel faster. She just wanted to get clean. Her nails left angry red marks all over her body.
Finally, she allowed the steaming jet of water to wash over her again, washing away the shampoo and the foamy gel, cleansing her body. For the longest time, Stiles just stood there, unmoving. She had attached the shower head to the wall panel and just stared at the drain swallowing foam and water.
What happened to me? The thought had crossed her mind a lot lately. She had so far not found an adequate answer. She didn't even know where to begin or when to begin. Somehow, her life had taken a turn but she was indecisive whether it had been wrong or right. She was only a kid after all, what did she knew about life?
Well, she knew that she would have to get out of the shower before her fingers would get even wrinklier. The lack of hydration had obviously dried her skin out, so that it now soaked itself full with as much liquid as possible. Stiles turned the water off and opened the screen. The entire room was a bit foggy, however, the mist cleared out quickly after she had opened the milk glass window a crack. Fortunately, alongside several large fluffy teal colored towels were also a couple of microfiber ones which Stiles like to use for her hair since they tended to absorb a lot of leftover water. Her hair was longer now but that was merely a consequence of her forgetting to trim it back, since these past couple of months, there had been more pressing issues than getting a haircut. Hell, she didn't remember having enough hair to actually get something even remotely considered a haircut. So, naturally, she didn't own a blow-drier, something cousin Oxana had not been too pleased about. Aunt Jelena had also mentioned that she should consider investing in one, since it would offer her more possibilities for styling her hair.
Hairstyling? Stiles snorted as she rubbed the towel over her head. I didn't even have hair until a few months ago. How would I know anything about styling something that's not been there for as long as I can remember? Hell, my make-up kit consists of an expired concealer and some powder that, according to my beloved aunt and cousin, don't even match my skin-tone. Seriously, what do they expect from me? Just like everybody else! But you're a girl, you should know these things! Don't you want to look pretty? You are a girl, right? Well, as a girl, you should be more polished. You could look so pretty, if only you........In what kind of sexist world are we living?! I'm not girly, I'm not some stupid make-up Barbie doll, there are more important things in live than smearing stuff all over your face, wearing push-up bras and heels!
She hurled the towel in her hands to the floor and grabbed the rim of the sink.
In and out, she told herself, in and out. Just breathe. In and out. That's it.
Her arms were shaking with tension when she took one of the larger towels of its hook to wrap it tightly around herself. She had showered, she was clean, no need to freak out.As she stepped through the connecting door, another wave of cold stale air hit her. The fluffy towel hardly offered any protection. Stiles made quick work of ripping open one of the boxes labeled clothes to get into something remotely warmer. Still frustrated for no apparent reason, she just decided to empty the box's contents all over the floor instead of rummaging through it. She was freezing and she couldn't care less.
A pile consisting of t-shirts, socks and underwear joined the already existing mess of used tissues. Stiles kicked at the items, yet, since she didn't spot anything she might want to wear at the moment, she went for the other two boxes also declared clothes. How much crap did she own anyway? And none of it was useful! Groaning in frustration, Stiles grabbed some mismatched pieces of underwear, a pair of old sweatpants, an oversized shirt and a couple of fuzzy cozy socks. She flung the towel into the nearest corner, not even bothering to see where it landed as she was busy covering herself up. The clothes smelled definitely better than whatever she had discarded back in the bathroom. Not reeking was a good thing, it made her feel...not really much better, but at least not worse, so that was something in her book.
There was still a slightly moldy hint in the air, so Stiles would have to open the window.
Just a little bit, she told herself, wouldn't want any furreal friends to climb in, now do we?
She fought back a snort while working out how to open up the blinds. There was a cord attached to the roller, so with a few swift tugs, the blinds lifted to reveal a large double window with muntins separating the casement into rectangular lites. It was dark outside. The girl grabbed the window handle to her left, turned it towards her and pulled...and pulled...and pulled...and started to feel pretty stupid because the pane just wouldn't budge.
Why won't you open?! She fumed inwardly. Opening windows was supposed to be easy, so why in...
Oh! Stiles smacked her hand loudly against her forehead. I'm such an idiot! This is not even funny!
Naturally, in her quest to air out the room, she had missed the tiny latches on the inside of the casement. Snapping them into an unlocked position, she was finally able to open the pane by sliding it sideways. Immediately, a strong icy draft swept through her room, pushing the doors left ajar shut. Stiles slid the window a bit back and forth until the opening was about a hand wide before she used the latches to lock it in place. Even though the fresh air was chilly, it felt good. It felt clean.
She moved over to her bed and while doing so, she took the time to look around the room. Her room. Her new room. Because they had moved. Moved into a new house...little pieces of information where steadily connecting in her head.
The room was a nice size. More squarish than longish, rather spacious in comparison to her old...let's not go there now. There was one door to her right, leading into the hallway, one door across from her, leading into the bathroom. Wall-to-wall carpet in a light charcoal color. A large bed – way bigger than what she was used to. A desk. A chair. White walls, White ceiling. A ceiling lamp at its center. There was something inside of her, when she noticed that she was now basically living in an IKEA catalog, a feeling that she couldn't quite discern, however, it was gone the moment she acknowledged it.
There was also a mirrored sliding door to her left in the far corner of the room. Did she have a closet now? There was no wardrobe in here, so this had to be it, right? She would check sometime later, now, Stiles needed to change her bedsheets.
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Mik opened the front door, stepped inside and shrugged off his jacket. He hadn't really meant for them to stay out so long, but for some reason, they had met the elderly couple from next door and their dogs at the nearby park and small talk had turned into long talk and the two little Pomeranian ladies had kept Adonis busy playing tag. He locked the door and kicked off his shoes. Adonis was sitting patiently by the coat rack, waiting for him to remove his collar. Mik had already taken off his leash when they had reached the house.
“Come here”, he smiled at the dog, leaned down as the Doberman approached him and made quick work of the leather collar. Adonis would always wear a fine silver chain with his tags attached to it, nonetheless, Mik preferred a more durable collar for walks. He knew that his dog was well-behaved, he had raised him after all, yet, the element of surprise would remain and he would never forgive himself, if anything were to happen to his dog just because he was too overconfident in his upbringing. The chain was a bit more on the decorative sidethan practical. It wouldn't last if all of Adonis' eighty pounds suddenly decided to dash away. His dog was bigger than the average Doberman and his weight, well, they went for a run each morning, they went on walks, Adonis had to work for his food which Mik was very stern about. He had adjusted the dog's diet as agreed with their veterinarian. He was by no means overweight, however, he was big and strong and there was nothing wrong with that. He was the perfect dog.
As soon as the collar was put aside, Adonis went to get a drink. The sound of his tongue hitting the water in his bowl reminded Mik of some nice chilled beer in the fridge. It was Thursday, so he would probably settle down for The Big Bang and then go to bed. He would have to make a few calls in the morning about some reconstruction work on his brother's old house before they would be able to put it up for sale. He had just fished a bag of chips out of a cupboard – BBQ flavored, his favorite – and was about to enter the living area, when he heard Adonis whining from the upstairs landing. He put his refreshments on the coffee table and ascended the stairs carefully. Why would the dog whine like that?
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The sound of claws clicking on hardwood floor caught her attention. Stiles had just finished changing her sheets and she had done so without throwing up. Quite the accomplishment since they had reeked. Bad. Although a larger bed seemed like a blessing, it was more of a curse in regard of the amount of bedsheets it required. She also had a comforter now. Adonis loved to snuggle beneath it and to get all tangled up in search for the right lounging position. She hadn't bothered to figure out where the hamper was. Instead, Stiles had introduced her smelly bedsheets to her unsanitary old tissues and the piles of clothes still left over from dumping packing cases earlier. There was somebody sniffing in front of her closed door and eventually, she heard a low whine.
Stiles sighed. She had half the mind to let Adonis stay where he was: outside. At the same time, she felt bad for not letting him in. He hadn't done anything to her, he just wanted to make sure that she was okay. All of the sudden, pinpricks were in her eyes as she started to tear up again.
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Mik had reached the top of the stairs and looking down the hallway, he saw why Adonis was so irritated. His niece had obviously closed the door to her room while they had been gone. That was...unexpected, but it also meant that she had probably left her bed for more than just a bathroom run. That was a good thing, a very good thing. Hopefully. Adonis didn't seem to share his opinion, though, as he kept making tiny whimpers in the back of his throat. The man smiled sympathetically and was about to call the dog, when...
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So she opted for opening the damn door. Adonis didn't deserve being excluded like that and if Stiles was honest with herself for once, she liked the comfort of his presence. It didn't make her feel so alone. Once the door was open, the dog just about jumped into the room, looking around, checking if everything was still in order.
“Hey”, Stiles greeted him calmly with a croaked voice. Her throat hurt. “How was your walk? Did you have a good time?” Talking to Adonis had always been easy. He merely smiled at her (his muzzle open with his tongue lolling out to one side) with undivided attention.
She sat down on the floor, her back resting against the bed. When she opened her arms in a welcoming way, the Doberman trotted towards her and lied down right next to her, his head on her lap. Stiles began to caress the back of Adonis' head.
“So, how have you been lately? Moving here must've been a pretty big deal, right? Have you made any friends, yet?.....” She continued to mumble sweet nonsense under her breath, unaware of her uncle walking silently back into the living area with a wide smile on his face.
This is progress, he thought, this is good.