yoshishisha (![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png)
yoshishisha) wrote in ![[community profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/community.png)
fandomweekly2024-09-23 05:06 pm
yoshishisha) wrote in fandomweekly2024-09-23 05:06 pm
Entry tags:
[#234] Woes (Teen Wolf)
Theme Prompt: Comfort
Title: Woes
Fandom: Teen Wolf
Rating/Warnings: PG13 (one fuck)
Bonus: Yes
Word Count: 755
Summary: Stiles has a woeful werewolf on his bed. And since it is his bed, it is also his problem.
“I’m not sure I’m the person you should be coming to for romantic woes”
“My woes are not romantic.” Peter paused. “Assuming I ever had any of them in the first place.”
Stiles snorted, wheeling his chair closer to the bed so he could use his foot to nudge Peter further off the side of it. It was kinda hard, considering his chair had wheels and this thus meant that the force used to push Peter was also pushing Stiles further back away from the bed. He managed somehow though, without even looking too graceless.
“Don’t pretend you don’t have woes. You’re full of woes, nearly overfilling even. Most humans might be made out of 70% water, but I bet you’re 70% woes.”
“I’m not even human.” The answer was quick to come and said almost tritely, without the slightest hint of heat. It was so lacking in motivation that Stiles pretended he hadn’t heard, and kept pushing Peter aside in the silence. The man eventually deigned to scoot over (roll over? Stiles couldn’t find the right word to describe the absent petulance Peter used to complete the motion), with a silent shade of disdain. Such a lazy retort coupled with the fact that he hadn’t even pushed back at Stiles meant that he really wasn’t feeling well. And as he was on Stiles’s bed, it unfortunately fell on Stiles to comfort him. What a chore.
“What’s the other 30% then.” Peter’s voice piped up.
“What?” asked Stiles, who was still attempting to avoid any comfort duties by looking for the way to describe Peter’s mix of petulance and despondency.
Peter sighed, a sound that carried all the weariness of the world. “If I am 70% woes as you say. What is the rest of me made out of.”
Now that was a question Stiles had the answer to.
“Oh, you’re probably about 50% revenge.”
Peter’s stare was palpable in its intensity, and Stiles resisted the urge to turn around to see if the stare was in fact a glare. He wouldn’t give Peter the satisfaction though, even with his current woes. Giving Peter an inch was the equivalent of giving up an arm and a leg, and Stiles sorely needed both.
“Your math isn’t, as you say, mathing.”
And Stiles wasn’t about to let someone slander his mathematical abilities.
“The math is in fact mathing,” he protested, lifting his hands in the air to illustrate his point. “There’s just about a 20% overlap between woes and revenge but I don’t know the name of that emotion and we’ll be stuck here all night if we wait for me to find it. Now will you scoot over? I need to sleep.”
“The floor is right there.”
“Rude reminder that this is actually my bedroom?”
Stiles punctuated his sentence with another kick, one that Peter didn’t even bother to dodge this time.
“I need a drink,” the man grunted, putting a hand over his with so much effort that it seemed like his limbs were laden with lead. Except no, because as a werewolf, lead wouldn’t actually hinder him too much.
“There is no alcohol allowed in this house. All you’re getting is hot chocolate, if even that,” Stiles snorted.
“I don’t think hot chocolate has the kick I need for this situation.”
“Then you’re thinking wrong. A Stilinski Special Hot Chocolate fixes everything.”
Peter didn’t quite snort, but Stiles thought that was only because he was pretending he didn’t have any emotions at the moment. “How special is it even?”
Stiles stopped spinning on his chair and lifted his fingers to count. “It’s got marshmallows to fix your gooey heart, a Secret Stilinski spice mix to make sure you can’t forget where it came from and I can even draw a full moon in it, free of charge, just for you.”
This time, Peter did sigh. “I don’t think you know how marshmallows in hot chocolate work, if you believe a latte art full moon will show through it.”
“Fuck you, I’m gonna make you one just to prove you wrong.”
And he did. Stiles stood up and was out the door in a moment to do exactly just that.
“Can’t wait to see it!” Peter shouted out after him as he left.
Stiles didn’t bother to answer.
(And Stiles did prove Peter wrong. With an overload of marshmallows, and managing to fit a full moon in there as well. And it did fix Peter’s achy gooey heart even though he would never admit it.)
Title: Woes
Fandom: Teen Wolf
Rating/Warnings: PG13 (one fuck)
Bonus: Yes
Word Count: 755
Summary: Stiles has a woeful werewolf on his bed. And since it is his bed, it is also his problem.
“I’m not sure I’m the person you should be coming to for romantic woes”
“My woes are not romantic.” Peter paused. “Assuming I ever had any of them in the first place.”
Stiles snorted, wheeling his chair closer to the bed so he could use his foot to nudge Peter further off the side of it. It was kinda hard, considering his chair had wheels and this thus meant that the force used to push Peter was also pushing Stiles further back away from the bed. He managed somehow though, without even looking too graceless.
“Don’t pretend you don’t have woes. You’re full of woes, nearly overfilling even. Most humans might be made out of 70% water, but I bet you’re 70% woes.”
“I’m not even human.” The answer was quick to come and said almost tritely, without the slightest hint of heat. It was so lacking in motivation that Stiles pretended he hadn’t heard, and kept pushing Peter aside in the silence. The man eventually deigned to scoot over (roll over? Stiles couldn’t find the right word to describe the absent petulance Peter used to complete the motion), with a silent shade of disdain. Such a lazy retort coupled with the fact that he hadn’t even pushed back at Stiles meant that he really wasn’t feeling well. And as he was on Stiles’s bed, it unfortunately fell on Stiles to comfort him. What a chore.
“What’s the other 30% then.” Peter’s voice piped up.
“What?” asked Stiles, who was still attempting to avoid any comfort duties by looking for the way to describe Peter’s mix of petulance and despondency.
Peter sighed, a sound that carried all the weariness of the world. “If I am 70% woes as you say. What is the rest of me made out of.”
Now that was a question Stiles had the answer to.
“Oh, you’re probably about 50% revenge.”
Peter’s stare was palpable in its intensity, and Stiles resisted the urge to turn around to see if the stare was in fact a glare. He wouldn’t give Peter the satisfaction though, even with his current woes. Giving Peter an inch was the equivalent of giving up an arm and a leg, and Stiles sorely needed both.
“Your math isn’t, as you say, mathing.”
And Stiles wasn’t about to let someone slander his mathematical abilities.
“The math is in fact mathing,” he protested, lifting his hands in the air to illustrate his point. “There’s just about a 20% overlap between woes and revenge but I don’t know the name of that emotion and we’ll be stuck here all night if we wait for me to find it. Now will you scoot over? I need to sleep.”
“The floor is right there.”
“Rude reminder that this is actually my bedroom?”
Stiles punctuated his sentence with another kick, one that Peter didn’t even bother to dodge this time.
“I need a drink,” the man grunted, putting a hand over his with so much effort that it seemed like his limbs were laden with lead. Except no, because as a werewolf, lead wouldn’t actually hinder him too much.
“There is no alcohol allowed in this house. All you’re getting is hot chocolate, if even that,” Stiles snorted.
“I don’t think hot chocolate has the kick I need for this situation.”
“Then you’re thinking wrong. A Stilinski Special Hot Chocolate fixes everything.”
Peter didn’t quite snort, but Stiles thought that was only because he was pretending he didn’t have any emotions at the moment. “How special is it even?”
Stiles stopped spinning on his chair and lifted his fingers to count. “It’s got marshmallows to fix your gooey heart, a Secret Stilinski spice mix to make sure you can’t forget where it came from and I can even draw a full moon in it, free of charge, just for you.”
This time, Peter did sigh. “I don’t think you know how marshmallows in hot chocolate work, if you believe a latte art full moon will show through it.”
“Fuck you, I’m gonna make you one just to prove you wrong.”
And he did. Stiles stood up and was out the door in a moment to do exactly just that.
“Can’t wait to see it!” Peter shouted out after him as he left.
Stiles didn’t bother to answer.
(And Stiles did prove Peter wrong. With an overload of marshmallows, and managing to fit a full moon in there as well. And it did fix Peter’s achy gooey heart even though he would never admit it.)
no subject
no subject