An Archive of Our Own, a project of the Organization for Transformative Works
@brwlvs Sorry it’s so laaaaaaaaaaaate~
Stiles winced, rubbing the back of his neck, and looked over at Derek again. “So... you know how you told me not to touch anything?”
Derek stared at him for a second, not seeming to understand, and then Stiles knew the moment it clicked because his entire face set so concretely it might as well have been carved out of stone.
“What?” Scott asked, looking between them, confused. “What’s going on? I don’t understand. What happened?”
“Yeah,” Stiles said slowly. “So the thing is, I uh, touched something. In the Witch’s house. And Derek came in and grabbed it from me. So he also touched it. And now it uh, it seems like whenever the two of us are a certain distance apart, we start getting sick. Or like, double over in pain. Or, you know, start dying.”
