Tommy ‘s eyes snapped open and the first thing he registered was the lack of mold on his ceiling. It took his groggy brain a moment to realize that he was not at home. For a scary moment, he stopped breathing, forcing himself to remember what had happened. The day with the Runaways, going back home, meetin- It all came rushing back. Stiles, the guy he’d met and maybe even saved from a fate of stolen livers. Where he had crashed. Suddenly, Tommy doubted it had been such a good idea. What if he screwed up this whole friendship thing so soon? He carefully slipped out of the bed and hurriedly started grabbing his clothes –jeans first, because now he absolutely didn’t want Stiles to see those nasty scars- and pulling them on. He struggled with a sock, refusing to bend to put it on. He managed to slip on a piece of paper and nearly crashed into the wall before he managed to change direction and crash into the chair at Stiles’ desk instead. He wasn’t sure if changing direction had been the best thing to do, and he quietly cursed, hoping he hadn’t woken his host up.
Stiles snored and mumbled quietly in his sleep, his leg stretching out and then twitching wildly. He started awake when he heard a crashing sound and sat up, looking towards his window first. Usually trouble came from there, with his whole... werewolf lifestyle. "Hrmmmma wut? Scot'? Derk'?" The window was closed still so his eyes wandered the rest of the room and finally landed on Speed and he remembered yesterday. He smiled, waving sleepily as he yawned. "Hey dude, 'sup? You all right?" He stretched and got out of bed, scratching at his stomach. "Gotta pee?"
Tommy squeezed his eyes shut for a moment. Great job he thought as he pushed himself to his feet, rubbing his side where it had impacted with his side. He ran a hand through his hair, pretending to be casual. "Nah, just going for an early morning run. Burning off excess energy, that kind of thing." He turned around and took a moment to properly put on his sock this time. "Eh, need me to get anything while I'm gonna run?"
Stiles nodded as he pulled on a shirt, getting caught in it momentarily. He untangled himself and chuckled at himself. He saw Speed rubbing at his side and felt a pang of concern. "You all right there? That sounded like a truly epic fall, bro." He bit his lip as he pulled on a pair of jeans, thinking if he needed anything. "Hm, well I was gonna make breakfast, you could get some orange juice if you wanted juice with your eggs and waffles? Also, hello, good morning." He woke up a bit more and his brain started clearing up. Stiles wondered if he had woken up and interrupted Speed's attempts at escaping stealthily while Stiles slept. He smirked and shrugged; too late now. "Unless you wanted to zip zip away, I totally get that a superhero may have places to be other than my kitchen." He laughed and opened his door, nodding for Speed to follow him out.
Tommy rolled his eyes. "I'm a superhero, I've had worse than a desk chair." He had to admit it was a rather sturdy desk chair, but he wasn't going to whine about it. He was a tough speedster. "Orange juice, noted. Anything else." Tommy chuckled. He wasn't used to waking up with people, so it was weird having to say good morning, especially since he usually skipped the whole 'waking up slowly' routine in favor for being on his feet as soon as possible. He tried not to look caught and or guilty. "Nah, it's fine. It's not like I have a schedule or something." He followed Stiles out, shoving his hands in his pockets.
Stiles grinned. He knew what it felt like to fall into that chair. It was a solid chair. He and that chair had been through stuff together. He stomped down the stairs, because he had no other way of traversing stairs, and went straight to the kitchen, turning some music on low as he started pulling out breakfast stuff. "Naw, orange juice should do it. Happy trails dude. May your feet find you safely back to me." He fluttered his eyelashes at Speed and laughed. Speed had totally looked guilty when Stiles had mentioned escaping stealthily, so Stiles would bet money that that was exactly what Speed had tried to do. He could understand the whole feeling awkward thing, and just hoped that Speed wouldn't feel too uncomfortable. It wasn't like they had done anything... sexual.
Tommy nodded. "Just give me...twenty minutes. Max." He checked the clock for the time, before he was out of the door. He made sure he was far enough from Stiles' place to keep the windows from rattling but for his sonic boom still to be audible. Okay, so he showed off a little bit, so what. It was a good way to get rid of the stress and the unease. It didn't take Tommy long to race back home to his place and find some suitable clothes. He ran a hand through his hair in front of the mirror, brushed his teeth before he was gone again. Sometimes, he wondered what his neighbors thought of him. It took him a minute or ten to grab the orange juice -stupid lines- and then he was on his way again, taking care not to damage to bottle of orange juice. He was back just before the twenty minute mark, knocking on the door as he skidded to a halt, nearly losing his balance once more.
Stiles "Twenty minutes, gotcha." He was talking to empty air though and smirked, shaking his head. He heard a 'BOOM' of displaced air not too far from his house and flailed. Showoff speedsters. He stuck the eggs back in the fridge and moved to go flop on the couch, turning on the tv. He wondered if he needed a shower, and sniffed at his armpit, then made a considering face. Yes. Yes he did, but it could wait a bit. He went upstairs to put on deodorant on a commercial break and then settled in to watch Jerry Springer while waiting. He heard a knock at the back door and peeled himself off the couch, moving to open it for Speed.
Tommy managed to regain his footing just as the door opened. "Sorrytookabitlongerthan expectedtherewas a line" he said, managing to slow down enough in order to stop slurring the words. He grinned, because he had made the twenty minute mark. "I got the orange juice, though." He was glad that he didn't sweat or get out of the breath; it would look decidedly less cool. "Breakfast ready? I could really do with some food."
Stiles raised his eyebrows at Speed, then stepped aside to give Speed room to come in. He reached for the juice, hefting it in one hand as he moved to the fridge. "Not yet, because eggs take like a minute to cook and are so gross if not fresh. And the waffles are frozen because I feel lazy. Take a seat, dude. Where did you run to?" He pulled out the eggs and waffles and started cracking the eggs into a bowl while the pan heated.
Tommy followed him in, handing him the juice as he did as he was told and collapsed into a seat. "I wouldn't know. Not much of a cook. I'm more a cereal guy." He watched Stiles prepare their breakfast for a moment before answering him: "New York. Wanted a change of clothes and there's a place nearby my home where they sell orange juice." He made himself comfortable, feeling a bit better now he'd changed and had a moment to just run. He could do without those mornings runs, but he preferred not to.
Stiles gaped as he scrambled the eggs in a bowl. "New York? Hah, yeah, no big. Just ran across the country to pick up some juice." He laughed, pouring the eggs into the now-heated pan. He grabbed out the waffles and shoved a good amount into the toaster oven and set them to cook, turning to stir the eggs. "You like cheese on your eggs? Personally, I think cheese is one of the best foods to ever exist, though whoever thought of it first must have been a weird dude. 'Yeah, yeah let's eat that stuff from when the milk went all funny.'" Stiles poured the juice into two glasses and set them on the table, pulling out the plates.
Tommy casually shrugged. "I thought New York would be faster than France or something." He hid his mischievous smirk by taking a small sip of orange juice. "I'm fine with whatever you put on my eggs. I'm not picky, remember?" He thought about cheese and decided that yeah, that was weird. "They were probably suicidal or something. I don't know. But bread's even weirder. Who thought that 'hey, throwing flour and eggs and butter together might make something'?"
Stiles mouthed 'France' to himself, shaking his head. "Right-o. mmmm eggs." He portioned the eggs onto the plates and turned as the toaster oven dinged. "Mmmm, waffles." He snatched the waffles out quickly, piling them onto one plate and then sat at the table. "Exactly! Who was the first person to like, bake. I mean, yeah, putting dead animals over a fire, okay. I can see that one. But baking is a fine science."
Tommy watched Stiles get their breakfast ready, tapping a rhythm on the kitchen table. "Agreed. I can't bake for shit." He'd tried, once, but it took more patience than Tommy had to bake a proper cake. He sniffed. "Smells good." It had been a while since he had a nice breakfast like this. The last one was probably with the Kaplans, and he'd left them over a year ago. "Though the guy who came up with eating dead animals must've been kinda crazy too."
Stiles ate quickly, completely lacking manners, but pffffft, what good were manners for anyways. "Thanks. Eat up, yum yum." He slowed down once his eggs were gone, savoring his waffles. "I can bake actually; it's fun. I don't all the time because I get lazy and it's time consuming, but yeah. Baking." He gestured with his fork, smiling.
Tommy grabbed a fork and stabbed into his food, not bothering to slow down and pass for a perfectly normal sapiens. It wasn't like Stiles didn't know about his mutation anyway. "I like the end results, but baking itself is boring. I either get the cake out too quickly or get distracted and let it burn." He finished his plate and stretched his arms above his head for a moment, before dropping them again. "That was a pretty good breakfast."
Stiles wondered how Speed ate at super speed without choking for a moment, but then realized that Speed's entire body must be at super go-go speed, including his throat muscles, and isn't that just freaking awesome? "Glad you liked it, dude." It had been a while since Stiles cooked for anyone other than his dad and himself. He finished up his own meal and leaned back with a content sigh.
Tommy leaned back in his own chair and wondered what to do know. Should he go? Was he imposing? Did Stiles have anything else to do? Tommy realized he didn't know much about Stiles in general, except that he liked the guy, and that he had the feeling that they could become great friends. "Does this mean I'll have to provide breakfast next time? If we're gonna repeat this, I mean" he said in the end, trying to figure out if there was going to be one.
Stiles grinned, then forced it down into a smirk. He had to play this cool, man. Like a cucumber. "Heck yes, next time you get to cook, or if you can't cook, we'll head to a diner and get some food. It's not like I can exactly pop over to your place, you said it was in New York? Yeah, I'm not a speedster, sadly." He smiled, winking at Speed. "You'll just have to come bother me here, I guess."
Tommy snorted. "Diner it is. Unless you like slightly burned eggs." He realized that he didn't mind it that Stiles lived so far away; it meant that his other friends -which was kind of a joke, but what if he got more friends in the future? That was a good idea- would be less likely to meet him, so there was less chance that they'd like each other better and left him in their dust. He forced a casual smirk on his face before casually shrugging. "I guess. Sounds good to me. I guess you're one of those fools who go to school right?"
Stiles hummed and stood up to rinse the dishes. "Yeah, still in high school. Beacon Hills High." He gestured vaguely towards the school. "You're not taking classes? Ugh, lucky. I love learning and all that, but school is so damn tedious." Stiles felt like he could float away. He had a friend who was just his. Speed had nothing to do with werewolves, and he didn't need anything from Stiles, so if he came around, it was just because he wanted to. Because he liked Stiles. The thought made him feel warm and more content than he had in ages. "And diner it is, burnt eggs are the worst."
Tommy snorted. "Poor poor you. Haven't been in school since I was thirteen. Never suited for classes." Part of him was glad nobody had forced him to go back to school, but another part of him worried. Being a hero meant dying young, and no matter how casual he tried to be about it, he didn't feel like dying yet. But he had no other skills, nothing to get him enough money for something better than his stupid moldy apartment and his cheap meals. If only there was a school for speedster. "Yeah, I know. I've stopped trying a while ago. My stove's mostly for decoration."
Stiles laughed. "I know right? I am a poor tortured soul, and more people should acknowledge it." He was actually, a bit, in a lot of ways, but he figured if he laid on the sarcasm thick enough, no one would notice. He didn't actually want anyone to know how broken he felt a lot of the time. And if they knew, he really didn't want them to acknowledge it. Not ever. Stiles was no one's victim. "Ever thought about internet courses? Might be more to your.... speed." He grinned, proud of his bad joke. "I can show you how to cook sometime, if you'd want." He tried to keep his voice casual, but Stiles couldn't help his ingrained habit of trying to make himself valuable in the hopes that it meant people wouldn't abandon him. He winced internally at himself. 'Weren't you just thinking how great it was that he just wanted to hang with you, and not because you could provide a service? Good job, Stiles.' He really did like cooking though, and wouldn't mind showing Speed how to not burn eggs.
Tommy grinned. "Want me to come save you sometimes soon? I can get you out in under half a minute. Without blowing stuff up, I mean." He figured it would be fun. He figured that it couldn't hurt; Tommy had spend so much time lately doing his best to be taken seriously by everyone, some innocent mischief that nobody would ever get to know of sounded like a good distraction. He shrugged. "Thanks, I guess? I'm fine with diners and frozen food really, I don't have much time to actually spend my evening preparing food." He didn't want to offend Stiles by declining, so he hoped that shrugging it off would somehow make him seem less ungrateful, and he didn't want to be seen as a burden, as a bumbling idiot that needed to be taught something. Like some pity case, because he had been that enough already.
Stiles bit his lip and thought about it, then nodded eagerly. "Heck yes, but not too often or else the school will call my dad and he will pitch a fit." He wondered if the pack would be able to tell, or see Speed somehow, but he kind of doubted it. They might scent him after the speedster was gone, but no way they would know what had happened. "No prob man, I just had to offer, frozen meals are terrible." He shrugged but his grin grew a bit brighter so he smothered it behind one hand.
Tommy sighed as heavily as he could. "Boring" he teased. But he mentally decided to abide by the whole 'not too often' thing, mostly because he didn't want Stiles to get in trouble and ruin their friendship so soon. Not that that would be anything new he thought almost bitterly. He shrugged. "They're not too bad."Compared to juvie food. He tilted his head and narrowed his eyes at Stiles. "What are you grinning at, dude?"
Stiles snorted, "I know, I know, so boring. But hey, no one grounds as firmly or sternly as a sheriff father, I swear to god." He stacked the dishes and dried his hands off, leaning against the counter. He was just managing to get his grin down and shrugged, shaking his head helplessly. "Oh, you know, just really love mornings." He couldn't tell Speed that he was grinning because Speed didn't want Stiles to teach him how to cook, because that was fucking weird and it would be even worse to explain why, that Stiles was just so happy that Speed didn't expect some kind of... exchange with Stiles in order to be friends. He used to have that with Scott, but not for a while now, not really.
Tommy raised an eyebrow. "What, he locks you up or something? Throws you in jail?" He had experience with that. Or rather, with his parents deciding not to care and leaving him there, but to Tommy it was a 'same difference' kind of thing. He shook his head. "To each his own, I guess." He wasn't really a morning person. It always took him a minute or ten to properly wake up -when he didn't wake up screaming, that was- which was kind of long for a speedster. He glanced at a nearby clock. "I should probably get going soon."
Stiles groaned. "Worse. He gives me this look. It's awful, Speed. The worst." He looked over at the clock as well and nodded. "Gotta go run around the world a few times?" He smiled, his expression wry. "Well, you have my number, and I have yours. Expect me to text you stupid shit."
Tommy wondered what exactly that look was. He never had received looks like that. Tommy decided not to comment further on it, shrugging. "Gotta see if New York's still there. You never know what kind of weird shit might be happening there." He nodded, patting the pocket in his jeans where he had put his phone. "I'll try to keep an eye on it." He hoped that Stiles' messages wouldn't get swamped under the massive amount of texts Billy sent him, trying to get back in contact. "So, I guess nice meeting you and thanks for the breakfast and the company and catch you later, huh?"
Stiles nodded. "You go save New York, I'll keep an eye out for you on the news." He smiled and the thought suddenly occurred to him that with a new friend, came a new person to worry about, and this one was a hero that went searching for trouble. Ah well, Speed would be worth the extra worry. "Stay safe, yeah? Nice meeting you, and no problem, thanks for the whole, running me around yesterday thing." He flailed his hands out lazily, remembering the wind in his hair fondly.
Tommy snorted. "You won't see me on the news" he promised. He had to lay low to make sure nobody found out Speed was back in the game -or rather, that he had never quit. He half-smiled at Stiles. "I will. I'll see you around, man." He did a half-assed salute before he was gone, racing his way back to New York. It had been a long time since he'd enjoyed meeting someone so much.
