We'll help you figure it out. [ Smoothing his thumb over where the IV had been in his vein, Derek lets his veins fill with black for a brief moment. At least it'll help ease some more of his pain, on top of the sting from the needle, but as Stiles covers his hands he flicks his eyes up to him. Pale and clear, he searches his face for a second, and he sees something in him that draws him back, brings the heavy weight of guilt (and the air after the storm being filled ever so slightly with smog).
But he turns his hands over, curls his fingers with Stiles' as his eyes drop down again to look at them. There's color in Stiles' skin again, something that soothes the alpha an exceptional amount. Enough that maybe the smog fades as he bows his head forward, pressing their foreheads again and closing his eyes. ]
I regret everything. [ No, he actually doesn't, and it's obvious in the crooked quirk at the corner of his mouth. ]
[ He doesn't complain much when Derek shifts into his space; rather, Stiles just looks at him from under his dark eyelashes, mouth shifting into a small grin to match Derek's. He's happy, he's alive, he can make stupid comments without the twist of dark humor on the side, and, well, he wasn't exactly planning on becoming a werewolf, but he'd take it over being dead anyday. Still graduate college. Still have a life.
Just turn into a rage monster every once in a while.
But Stiles is starting to think that he won't have a lot of trouble finding his anchor, anyway. He finds where their fingers are twined together and responds, crooning. ] Noooo you don't, because you literally cannot imagine your life without me. I'm a gift like that. [ He is teasing. Really. ]
You're like a fungus. [ Except he doesn't argue the rest of it, doesn't say that he could actually imagine his life without Stiles. Because Derek has lost everyone that he's ever cared about-- lost the girl he first loved, lost family and pack because of the woman that swooped into his life after his eyes bled blue, lost his sister and his uncle in one strike, lost more and more pack-- and yet somehow, somehow, Stiles had managed to weasel in under his skin. Into his bloodstream.
And he never wants to imagine losing him, too.
He opens his eyes again, looking back at those damn, bright amber eyes, and everything in him softens. Because there's life in them again, that intelligent spark is back, that fire that makes Stiles who he is. ]
I'm an edible fungus, thanks. [ That was an awful joke, Stiles. But also kind of true. In this metaphor, he's the good fungus, not the disease causing kind, thank you. Which could really put him on this whole other tangent of why do we eat fungus, anyway, and you know what, he's just going to stop that train of thought before it derails completely.
The little grin widens into something bigger, more honest, and he sniffles a little, unable to hide the happiness on his face. And for just a second, those amber brown eyes flash, like he's trying to figure out how to make it work--but instead of going gold, they're bright red. ] Just now I'm a deliciously edible fungus with sharp claws and big nasty fangs.
[ That was a terrible joke, yeah. But Derek still laughs, abrupt and in that way that clearly says why did you say that. He doesn't need to know what Stiles' thinking to know that his brain has gone off on a completely different tangent, but at least he comes back to him intact from it.
Raising his eyebrows against Stiles', the alpha lets his own lopsided smile widen, straighten a little with the corners of his mouth quirking downward in honesty. Relieved, content, happy, it all suddenly fades in the face of surprise when Stiles flashes his eyes. He's expecting something gold, goldenrod or ochre or almost bronze.
What he gets is red, and whatever he has to say in response is derailed for a moment. When it comes back, he's looking at Stiles oddly, and the joke isn't quite there as it should be. ] You tasted like teenager.
[ Stiles blinks. ] What? Is something wrong with my face?
[ Absently, he does pull away from Derek a little and reach up to touch his own face, feel his nose--he comes away with another line of fresh black goop and mutters ] Oh, ew, disgusting. [ Before wiping his hand off on his hospital sheets. That must have been it. ] How long is this going to go on?
And for the record, taking a bite out of the meat of my shoulder is totally not taste d' Stiles, okay. [ He reaches up and rubs the bitemark, which is still there, waiting to heal while his body's still trying to push out all of the cancer. ] Your palate's just off.
[ Sure, that was it Stiles. Derek watches him, before bringing his hands up to cup his chin in one of them. The other reaches to brush away the rest of the black goop, unfazed by having it on his fingers. But he follows Stiles' lead, brushing it off on his hospital sheets but not quite pulling away from where he's touching the new wolf. ]
A while. Week, at least. [ He scans his face, before his eyes drop down to the bitemark on the meat of his shoulder. It causes his skin to bristle a little, almost like a chill rushes up the back of his neck, and he has to push down a sudden impulse that hits him. (Nevermind that it's hit him before, but he's ignoring that, too.) ]
What would you suggest for taste d' Stiles. [ His tone is dry, but he looks up from under his brow at him, brow raising slowly. ]
Ew, awesome. I'm like a freakin' Exxon oil penguin. [ He sniffles again and lets Derek wipe away at his face, not really complaining at his tactility--something he's more or less used to at this point--even if it does give a chance for his mind to water. All things considered, he's not feeling particularly...obedient, or any different than usual. Even as Derek flickers to look at the bite, he just follows him down instead. The wound's kind of disgusting and he manages a - ] Jesus, ew.
[ Before pulling his face away to let Derek. Yeah. Stick to the wound examining. He does wiggle his eyebrows when Derek looks at him again, though, and grins. ] Probably something that doesn't involve flesh wounds.
Better than Gerard. At least we know that you'll actually stop leaking oil. [ Or so Derek is hoping. He's certain that if his eyes are flashing red, though, that he'll heal just fine and he'll stop oozing black bile once the cancer's out of his system. The wound'll heal when he gets the majority of his sickness out, but for now... well, they should probably clean that and bandage it up. ] We'll get Melissa to come patch you up.
[ Going from his lingering confusion to amusement again, he lets red flare into his eyes. It's not meant to be aggressive or commanding, but... something else entirely. A response to his wiggling eyebrows. ] Noted.
Please don't ever compare me to Gerard ever again. Like ever. [ Shudder. That's a gross though. Scott's mom, however, isn't, and he looks at the intercom beside his bed for a minute, hand creeping over to find the remote for it.
He hesitates on pressing the button when Derek flashes his eyes at him though, and Stiles can't help the affectionate look on his face in return. ] Ooh, terrifying. Totally waiting on you to get a taste of this delicious buffet of teenagedom here. [ He gestures up and down his body, and wipes his nose for emphasis. That was sarcastic. ]
[ Which is also kind of totally a front for how many thoughts that kicked up, and yeah, when Stiles isn't leaking black goop and healing from what's basically his deathbed, he's going to act on that. Probably. Maybe. If he can get his courage up. He's still hesitating over the button, though, like waiting for something to happen. ]
[ Amusement in every line of his face, he tries not to laugh at him in response to his reaction. Not that he can blame him, given how disgusting Gerard is in general, nevermind when he's oozing black everywhere. At least Melissa is an adequate distraction, even as he watches him with red eyes.
The amusement shifts into a return of affection, an interesting contrast to those alpha reds of his. But their eyes aren't always in challenge or aggression, aren't just exclusive to the negatives. He feels such a fierce warmth towards Stiles, which surprises him more and more every day. ]
I'll take a raincheck for when you're better. [ Rising from his seated position, he bows his head in towards Stiles and presses his lips against the top of his head, brief but softer than the first he left before issuing the bite. The red fades from his eyes finally, and he moves to turn towards the door. ]
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But he turns his hands over, curls his fingers with Stiles' as his eyes drop down again to look at them. There's color in Stiles' skin again, something that soothes the alpha an exceptional amount. Enough that maybe the smog fades as he bows his head forward, pressing their foreheads again and closing his eyes. ]
I regret everything. [ No, he actually doesn't, and it's obvious in the crooked quirk at the corner of his mouth. ]
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Just turn into a rage monster every once in a while.
But Stiles is starting to think that he won't have a lot of trouble finding his anchor, anyway. He finds where their fingers are twined together and responds, crooning. ] Noooo you don't, because you literally cannot imagine your life without me. I'm a gift like that. [ He is teasing. Really. ]
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And he never wants to imagine losing him, too.
He opens his eyes again, looking back at those damn, bright amber eyes, and everything in him softens. Because there's life in them again, that intelligent spark is back, that fire that makes Stiles who he is. ]
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The little grin widens into something bigger, more honest, and he sniffles a little, unable to hide the happiness on his face. And for just a second, those amber brown eyes flash, like he's trying to figure out how to make it work--but instead of going gold, they're bright red. ] Just now I'm a deliciously edible fungus with sharp claws and big nasty fangs.
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Raising his eyebrows against Stiles', the alpha lets his own lopsided smile widen, straighten a little with the corners of his mouth quirking downward in honesty. Relieved, content, happy, it all suddenly fades in the face of surprise when Stiles flashes his eyes. He's expecting something gold, goldenrod or ochre or almost bronze.
What he gets is red, and whatever he has to say in response is derailed for a moment. When it comes back, he's looking at Stiles oddly, and the joke isn't quite there as it should be. ] You tasted like teenager.
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[ Absently, he does pull away from Derek a little and reach up to touch his own face, feel his nose--he comes away with another line of fresh black goop and mutters ] Oh, ew, disgusting. [ Before wiping his hand off on his hospital sheets. That must have been it. ] How long is this going to go on?
And for the record, taking a bite out of the meat of my shoulder is totally not taste d' Stiles, okay. [ He reaches up and rubs the bitemark, which is still there, waiting to heal while his body's still trying to push out all of the cancer. ] Your palate's just off.
no subject
A while. Week, at least. [ He scans his face, before his eyes drop down to the bitemark on the meat of his shoulder. It causes his skin to bristle a little, almost like a chill rushes up the back of his neck, and he has to push down a sudden impulse that hits him. (Nevermind that it's hit him before, but he's ignoring that, too.) ]
What would you suggest for taste d' Stiles. [ His tone is dry, but he looks up from under his brow at him, brow raising slowly. ]
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[ Before pulling his face away to let Derek. Yeah. Stick to the wound examining. He does wiggle his eyebrows when Derek looks at him again, though, and grins. ] Probably something that doesn't involve flesh wounds.
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[ Going from his lingering confusion to amusement again, he lets red flare into his eyes. It's not meant to be aggressive or commanding, but... something else entirely. A response to his wiggling eyebrows. ] Noted.
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He hesitates on pressing the button when Derek flashes his eyes at him though, and Stiles can't help the affectionate look on his face in return. ] Ooh, terrifying. Totally waiting on you to get a taste of this delicious buffet of teenagedom here. [ He gestures up and down his body, and wipes his nose for emphasis. That was sarcastic. ]
[ Which is also kind of totally a front for how many thoughts that kicked up, and yeah, when Stiles isn't leaking black goop and healing from what's basically his deathbed, he's going to act on that. Probably. Maybe. If he can get his courage up. He's still hesitating over the button, though, like waiting for something to happen. ]
no subject
The amusement shifts into a return of affection, an interesting contrast to those alpha reds of his. But their eyes aren't always in challenge or aggression, aren't just exclusive to the negatives. He feels such a fierce warmth towards Stiles, which surprises him more and more every day. ]
I'll take a raincheck for when you're better. [ Rising from his seated position, he bows his head in towards Stiles and presses his lips against the top of his head, brief but softer than the first he left before issuing the bite. The red fades from his eyes finally, and he moves to turn towards the door. ]