Dick is trying to leave. He’s trying to be responsible, but when he slides himself out of bed, he’s met with a wolf whistle.
He breathes in deeply, amused despite himself. He can’t help turning back to find Jason, sprawled shamelessly.
“Still the best ass in Gotham. The fact that people don’t know you’re Nightwing is just willful ignorance.”
“No,” Dick starts slowly. “Maybe I’m just really good,” he says, and he smiles in the way that would shine if they were in some ridiculous cartoon or something.
Jason folds an arm under his head, props himself up to raise an eyebrow lasciviously. “Someone thinks highly of himself.”
It’s enough to have Dick stepping back. “Oh, yeah? I think I remember someone saying just how good I was oh, about,” and he checks the time, “fifteen minutes ago.”
Jason shrugs. “Fifteen minutes is a long time. Things change.”
Dick is falling for it. He knows he’s falling for it, but his pride is already telling him to prove Jason wrong and he’s so close to just--
“I could call someone,” Jason suggests. “Try it out. Compare notes.”
And somehow Dick is back in bed, is kissing Jason to shut him up and to prove his point and because he really wants to even though he was trying to go.
Jason pulls back, knows Dick isn’t going to leave now. “Good boy.” And he wraps his leg around Dick’s waist.
I see you mentioned taking requests for System on your last fic! Let me just say you're on of my favorite authors, love your DC stuff, so really happy you're writing the boys. Handful of requests if any catch your fancy... Anything genderswap because I love f/f Sterek but if that's not your cup of tea, superhero AU or anything where Stiles utilizes magic? AU or pack emmisary, anything is cool. Really would love to see anything new from you :)
I just want to say…this message is so sweet and I love it. I’m just going to write something here and hope it turns out for the best. (Aiming for F/F+magic, but feel free to ask for any of those things again.)
Okay! ~500 words.
Stiles had never felt particularly powerful, but when her asthmatic best friend Scott becomes a werewolf and loses all of his health problems, she starts feeling particularly powerless.
Then, they see Derek and Derek is also strong and cool and beautiful and, of course, a werewolf.
Okay. Stiles digs that.
And then there are more werewolves. And hunters. And banshees. And…
Well, Stiles really starts to wonder when her break is going to come. She thinks for a minute that she has something–Scott’s mysterious boss Deaton tells her to be the spark and, you know what? She is! She does it!
It’s awesome.
But then there’s a whole lot of nothing for Stiles. Until she becomes way too powerful in a way that makes her totally powerless at the same time.
It’s horrible.
So Stiles relegates herself to being the boring, powerless human because it’s much safer than wishing for power.
And maybe that’s why she finally gets it.
Derek is back and Derek is worried about her and maybe that’s why Derek says, “You were my anchor when I needed something to keep me sane. I dreamt about you.”
Stiles blinks back the tears that she had been shedding to stare at the woman before her. Because Stiles still considers herself a girl and Derek is certainly not that. “What?”
“I trust you, Stiles,” she says.
And then she touches Stiles’s hand and Stiles feels that spark again. Not like the foxfire that ignited the nogitsune, but the spark like she’d had with the mountain ash.
The spark like magic in her blood that gives her life, not the fire that threatened to consume her.
Her heart rate must spike because Derek pulls her hand back and Stiles can still feel that something that pulses beneath the surface and she chases it.
She leans forward and kisses Derek because it’s fading and maybe if she just–
Stiles ignites.
With a press of her lips to Derek’s, her whole being thrums with that energy and she thinks Derek can feel it, too. Because Derek, hot badass werewolf Derek, is kissing her back.
Derek takes Stiles’s hand and presses it to her chest, over her heart, and Stiles thinks she gets what Derek is trying to do but she’s also thinking about the fact that Derek Hale’s perfect breasts are right there and–she’s seventeen, okay? She can’t help but multitask.
But she can feel the other thing: Derek’s heart beating fast under her palm. And it’s like she can sense Derek’s whole being, surrounded in this aura that she can’t explain.
She pulls back, asks despite her certainty, “Did you feel that?”
Derek laughs. “Yeah, Stiles.” She’s looking at Stiles like Stiles is being an idiot, so Stiles looks down.
She’s… She’s glowing.
“You may be skinny,” Derek says, teasing, “but I don’t think you’re defenseless now. Not anymore.”
“Pfft.” Stiles grins. “Not like I didn’t save your ass every other day anyway.”
Derek raises her eyebrow and Stiles kisses her again before she can change her mind.
comeonmorty replied to your post: You're not understanding what I'm trying to say....
What the actual fuck Is wrong with this Anon. They’re like a terrible, manipulative ex trying to contact you into feeling bad so you write what the fuck they want.
I feel like this is something they must do to a lot of creators, since they seemed to take great pleasure out of flooding my inbox with horrible messages, and being a complete dick. Thankfully, ever since I turned anon off, they haven’t left another ask, too afraid to show who they really are, I guess.
To be quite honest, Stiles had expected the beginning of his Christmas holidays to go differently. He had been looking forward to it for weeks, getting really into the spirit in festive New York. He had felt a little under the weather the morning of his last day, but he and Scott had made the trip together and it had been fun. Yes, maybe his headache had been getting a bit worse, but hey, he tends to forget to keep hydrated.
But instead of enjoying the first night back in his bed surrounded by familiar smells and comfort he woke up several times because his throat was so sore. Swallowing quickly became his least favorite thing ever (who would have guessed?).
So now, instead of playing video games with Isaac and Erica and baking last minute cookies for the station he is breathing in the unpleasant sterile scent of hospital while he waiting for the physician. The exam room is bare and impersonal, all white everything. He tries not to wriggle around too much. Sitting around doing nothing is making him feel restless, but too much movement makes him dizzy and to be honest, the walk from the elevators to here had already been exhausting.
The door opens and a middle aged woman in a white coat enters. “Mister Stilinski, is that right?” she says and looks at him over the top of her clipboard.
“Yep, that’s me.” He answers, his voice sounding a little croaky. She nods, puts the board to the side and puts on rubber gloves. “So, what brings you here? Nurse McCall told me you’ve been experiencing a sore throat, fatigue and a headache?” She turns to him. “Yes, that’s right.”
“When did the symptoms start?” she asks while simultaneously motioning for him to open his mouth. He does his best to slur “About two days ago” while she shines a light down his throat. She hums. She touches his neck, her fingers cool against his skin through the rubber of the gloves, and starts to examine his skin below his jaw. It hurts a little when she presses down and he tries not to wince.
A few minutes pass with more questions and examinations.
A small crease appears between her eyebrows when she looks at clinical thermometer. “Well, your temperature is a little high for my liking, Mr. Stilinski.” She puts the instrument to the side and looks at him. “Have you been intimate with someone in the last few weeks?”
Stiles splutters, clearly taken by surprise by this turn of the conversation. “Uhm, no? A lot longer than a few weeks actually? But that’s totally not what you asked and how is that relevant exactly?”
She smiles at him politely. “Well, what you have, Mr. Stilinski, is glandular fever, or mono. It’s an infection that is transmitted through bodily fluids, mostly saliva but also semen or blood which is why it is more commonly known as the kissing disease.”
Stiles can actually feel the exact moment his face starts to turn red. Well. That’s kinda sad.
“The infection is caused by a virus of the herpes family so there are no direct medications I can give you. Your body will fight it of on its own. I will give you a prescription for some ibuprofen for the pain, but other than that, make sure that you keep hydrated and get enough rest.” She moves over to the counter to get her prescription pad and starts writing. “Should the symptoms not get better within a week or should the fever get higher than 104, please come back here.”
With that and the prescription in hand, Stiles is allowed to leave. He spends the whole (admittedly very slow) walk back to his jeep trying not to laugh that laugh that eventually turns into crying. Because, when you think about it in a very abstract sense with this not being about him and how pathetic his life is, it’s actually kind of hilarious.
He has kissing disease. Even though he hasn’t kissed, never mind had sex with anyone, in months. Months that could also be measured in years.
When he finally sits down in the driver’s seat, he feels shaky and his head hurts even more. The patheticness is threatening to get the upper hand. Is patheticness even a word? Probably not. He looks at himself in the rearview mirror. His face is still a little red and his eyes look a little glazed over. He should probably not drive around for long anymore.
Maybe he can ask Scott to bring him some soup later. Soup would be nice. But he knows Scott’s with Allison right now, so he decides not to call him. Let the people who have someone to kiss get some kissing and let the pathetic lonely people drive themselves to the pharmacy on their own.
He rolls his eyes at himself and puts the key into the ignition.
*
The drive goes fairly smooth. The walk to the pharmacy from the parking lot is pretty exhausting, but he manages not to faint while standing in line, so he counts that as a win. The walk back seems to be a lot longer though, so he rationally decides to take a little break on a park bench halfway to the car. He will just sit there for a moment, leaning back and closing his eyes –
“Stiles? What are you doing here? Are you okay?”
He sits up again abruptly, his eyes snapping open. The sudden movement makes his head spin again. When the hell did Derek get here? He is leaning above him, his eyebrows scrunched together in worry, the collar of his leather jacket turned up against the cold wind.
“Dereeeeeeek, buddy. Hey. I was just taking a little break and admiring the sights Beacon Hills has to offer. What are you doing here?”
Derek gestures to the big shopping back in his left hand. “I just did my weekly grocery shopping. Are you okay? You smell feverish.”
Stiles shakes his head. He definitely does not want to tell tall-dark-and-handsome Derek the kissing disease without the actual kissing story. He reaches out to pat his arm, but can’t reach it from his sitting position, so he opts for the leg instead. “I’m totally fine. Nothing to worry about here at all. Not that you would worry, you’re just being the nice person you secretly are. You go back to being all domestic with your puppies and I’ll be on my way very soon.”
Derek just looks at Stiles had patting his thigh to his face and back again. Then he sighs heavily, puts his grocery bag to the ground and leans forward to put his head on Stiles forehead. His fingers are warm. They feel nice. Before Stiles has time to continue that train of thought and then put a stern halt to it like he always does, Derek shakes his head. “You clearly have a fever, Stiles. You make even less sense then you normally do and I saw you stagger on your way over here. You are not going anywhere. Common, get up.”
“Excuse you, I can do whatever the hell I feel like doing!” Stiles says, but his voice sounds whiny to his own ears. Derek making an effort to take care of him should not feel that nice, dammit. He can take care of himself.
Derek pinches the bridge of his nose. “Stiles. You’re sick. Your father will kill me if I let you drive like this. Can you please get up and come with me before I have to throw you over my shoulder and carry you, because believe me, I will.”
“Wow, you’re really going for the hot caveman vibes today, aren’t you? Where’s your loincloth?”
“Oh for god’s sake” Derek murmurs and moves in. “Okay, okay!” Stiles exclaims, knowing a lost battle when he sees one and puts his hands up in surrender. “Okay, I’m coming, jeez.” Derek takes a small step back. Stiles stands up. He may sway a bit, but no one has to know that. Except Derek is quick to steady him, hands on his shoulders in a second.
“How the hell do you think you’re fit to drive again?” he asks, somewhere between amused and annoyed. “You can’t even walk.” Stiles swats at his arm half-heartedly. “Yeah, yeah, I get it, the weak human is sick. Haha.”
“You know you’re the only one who sees you like that, right? No one of us ever has.” Derek says as he picks up the pharmacy back from the bench and begins walking towards the parking lot.
“What?”
“Like the weak human. You’re the only one who has ever said that. Or thought, for that matter.”
Stiles is a little lost at what to say to that. He did not expect the conversation to go like that. Thankfully, they reach the Camaro and Derek walks around to the driver side. “Don’t even think about arguing, Stiles. We can go back for your jeep tomorrow.”
“I didn’t even say anything!”
“Yeah, but you were going to.”
“You can’t know that! You were just assuming, and when you assume things, Derek, you make as ass out of you and m – “
“Just get in the car please?”
Stiles gets in the car.
*
The drive passes in silence for the first few minutes until Stiles turns on the radio and the honest to god Christmas station stars playing. He bursts out laughing as Derek’s ears turn red.
“Cora likes festive music, okay?”
“Yeah, whatever sourwolf. You probably listen to Last Christmas on full volume when you drive home and pretend to be Mariah Carrey.” Stiles pictures it in his head and can’t stop giggling. It makes his head hurt worse, but hey. Even sick people are allowed some fun.
“Will it make you stop if I just say yes?” Derek says with a sigh.
“Hell no, but it will make me very happy.”
“Well, seeing as it’s my uttermost desire to make you happy.” Derek deadpans.
“You really do say the sweetest things today. I should get sick more often.”
Derek coughs a little and looks at the road intently. “Don’t let it get to your head.”
Stiles doesn’t even realize they’re at the loft until Derek turns to ignition of in the parking lot. “Uhm, Derek? That’s not my house.”
Derek snorts. “It is not. Very observant.”
Stiles turns in his seat to face him and makes a whole body ‘Well???’ gesture. It involves a lot of arm wiggling.
“You’re sick. Your dad works the double shift today so he can get Christmas day off. Scott is with Allison and Melissa is at work. Pack takes care of each other. So you’re gonna call your father who will agree with me by the way, and tell him you’re going to stay with me until he gets home from work.”
“How do you even -? You’re very bossy today, Mr. Alpha.”
Derek turns to face him in a quick motion. “And you’re very difficult when you’re sick. Actually, you’re always difficult. But I can smell your fever getting higher and I’m pretty sure the doctor told you to rest. Now, can you just go along with what I think is right for once and go upstairs with me to lie on my couch and force me to watch dumb shit on TV like I know you will? Pack takes care of each other.” He starts out all annoyed, but his voice is quiet on the last sentence.
He looks at Stiles almost shy (except Derek doesn’t do shy) and Stiles gives in.
“But I get to watch Adventure Time and you are not allowed to say anything bad about it.”
“If this is what it takes to get you up there, then my lips are sealed.” Stiles grins and gets out of the car.
*
And after that, it’s actually pretty easy. Stiles curls up on the huge couch and watches children’s shows while telling Derek all about the hidden satire in Spongebob. Derek forces him to take his medication and makes him drink tons of tea. Besides still feeling pretty shitty, Stiles actually has quite a nice day. Derek knows a lot more about cartoons then he lets on, and he makes pasta for lunch that tastes amazing. Stiles could get used to that.
He must have fallen asleep sometime during Mystery Falls, because when he wakes up again, it’s dark around him, there’s a blanket covering his lower body and the TV is turned off. He sits up and looks around, trying to get his sense of time back. He can hear Derek talk to someone, probably on the phone in his bedroom.
His head feels a little clearer but his throat still hurts quite a lot. He reaches out for the pills he’s supposed to take for that and pops one into his mouth when Derek comes back. “I just talked to your dad” he says quietly when he realizes Stiles is awake. “He will pick you up tomorrow. I thought you were still asleep so we agreed not to wake you.” As if to prove their point, Stiles yawns.
“I didn’t even realize I fell asleep. How long was I out for?”
“Not that long, maybe about two hours.” Derek walks towards him and sits down next to him on the couch. “Have you been taking your medication?”
“I just took one, but it’s just ibuprofen. The doctor told me she can’t really give me anything else, my body needs to fight this on its own.”
“What did she say you have?” He asks and Stiles feels his face grow hot again. Derek probably notices because he hastily says. “You obviously don’t have to tell me. Your health is a private subject.”
“No, no, it’s fine. I think it’s called Mono? She said it’s mostly transmitted through kissing which, you know is pretty ironic because I haven’t even come close to kissing anyone in probably two years, so. But that’s just my luck, right, getting kissing sickness from sharing a bottle with someone or something.” He laughs a little, trying not to sound too pathetic. He can’t bring himself to look at Derek.
“You know there’s nothing wrong with not being with someone, right?” Derek says with a careful tone in his voice. “I know it seems like everyone is getting out and about in college, but that’s mostly show. And even if it isn’t, that doesn’t mean you need to do it, too.”
Stiles smiles down at his hands sadly. “I know that. But I feel even more pathetic now.”
Derek is now looking at him, actually looking, with the intent look in his eyes that always makes him a little uncomfortable. “Why do you feel pathetic?”
“Okay, is got a lot deeper than I intended. I’m not having some sort of psychological crisis or something. It’s just that – have you noticed that everyone around us is in a relationship? I mean, seriously, Scott is with Allison, Erica is with Boyd, Isaac and Cora is just a matter of time, they’re basically together already. I’m fine on my own, I really am, it’s just that some days I sit between all this couples and I feel the overwhelming knowledge that I will probably die alone and I feel so lonely I want to scream. And then I get angry because I don’t want to be depended on a relationship with someone else to be happy and somehow I still feel like this and then I feel very pathetic.”
He looks at Derek and his face grows hot again when he realizes he’s been rambling. “I mean, you are also not seeing anyone. Please tell me you know what I’m talking about, at least a little bit, so I don’t feel as weird?”
Derek looks down and seems to be uncomfortable for some reason. “I do. I think it’s pretty normal to feel like that from time to time. It doesn’t make you weird or pathetic.” He takes a deep breath. “But when you meet a person you like, someone you fall in love with, all of it doesn’t matter. So don’t worry about it too much, okay?”
“I don’t think my brain is wired that way. Not worrying, I mean. But I’ll try.” He says and tries to go for lighthearted, but the whole situation is to intimate for it. He squirms a little. He has liked Derek for a long time, he knew it would never happen for a long time, he thought he had moved past this. But this whole situation, this whole thing makes it all confusing again and that’s the last thing he needs right now. He’s trying to move past pathetic, not jump right back into it by crushing on unavailable people again.
But Derek smiles at him openly and Stiles get the nagging feeling that he might be fighting a losing game here.
“Well, we all know already that your brain is working in mysterious ways.”
Stiles throws a pillow at him.
They end up eating the leftover pasta for dinner. There is a lot of banter about what to watch on TV but Stiles wins by citing his sick suffering person status. Therefor they are now watching Love, actually. (Derek said he can’t stand Hugh Grant, Stiles argues that everyone likes Hugh Grant – it goes on for quite some time.)
He can feel his eyes start to droop about around 40 minutes in. He is warm in the blanket, his throat is almost okay right now. The last thing he remembers before he falls asleep is Derek’s deep and regular breathing.
*
He thinks he wakes up a couple of times during the night, but he’s never really awake. One time he is really thirsty and greedily reaches for a bottle of water than stands on the coffee table. One time he is freezing and shaking, but Derek’s body works like a heating blanket. One time his throat is really bad, but it fades quickly, which might have something to do with Derek’s hand at the back of his neck.
He wakes up in the morning when the sun comes in through the big windows. It’s a slow process at first, everything is soft and warm, but then it’s like missing the last step on the stairs when he realizes he and Derek are basically twisted around each other. His head is in the crook of Derek’s neck, their legs are intertwined, his hand on his chest and Derek’s arm around his back.
They’re really close.
It’s really nice.
He’s about to start panicking about how he is gonna get out of this without waking Derek but the decision is taken out of his hands when Derek stirs, his eyes opening slowly and focusing on him. He blinks a couple of times and then smiles and it should be awkward but it isn’t.
“How are you feeling?” he whispers, voice still rough from sleep. “Pretty okay” Stiles whispers back. “I think your werewolf mojo helped kickstart the healing or something.” Derek smiles sheepishly.
“You were taking in your sleep about how you can’t ride your dog into battle with your throat hurting. I couldn’t let that happen on my watch.”
Stiles feels his cheeks heat up and ducks his head. “Yeah… I sometimes talk about weird stuff in my sleep. I probably should have warned you.”
“I didn’t mind.” Derek says and his thumb is rubbing small circles in the small of his back.
Stiles feels his heartbeat getting louder in his chest and his brain is doing a flashback through all his memories of Derek, the time they have spent together and the many times they saved each other, how naturally Derek cared for him in the last 24 hours and his mind quietly supplies that maybe Cora and Isaac aren’t the only people who are just waiting to happen.
He slowly moves his fingers to touch the warm skin on his neck and can feel him shiver slightly. He can sense Derek’s eyes on him and he looks up at him slowly, his eyes wide and open. They move together in unison but without hesitation.
Their foreheads touch before their lips do. It’s all soft and slow, and even though his heart is going crazy in his ribcage, it feels like the most natural thing in the world.
Derek is pulling him closer. Stiles is tangling his other hand in his hair. They stay like that for a long time, kissing each other or just smiling into each other’s skin.
Eventually, Derek gets up to make coffee for himself and tea for Stiles (because he needs to stay hydrated, Derek insists). They bicker over the right amount of sugar in coffee.
When his dad picks him up later in the day, he still can’t stop smiling and John just looks at him for a few moments before he tells Derek to come by for dinner on Boxing Day.
