robinonadderall | Mansion of Post-Anesthesia High

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Mansion of Post-Anesthesia High | Early Thursday Afternoon

So Stiles was now wisdom-tooth free. It was great to no longer be in pain, even though he was in for a hell of a time when it came to recovery. Luckily his oral surgeon had provided him with enough happy time drugs to keep him from being too miserable while he healed.

Not that he cared about that right now. He was still riding the anesthesia train and had been on cloud nine since Derek had driven him home.

"Derek, this door's broken," Stiles said, slurring his words as he pawed at the door handle. "I want to go inside, the dog's in there, I can hear him! Puppy Joeeeeeeeeee, your daddies are home! Open the door!"

[For Derek omg and anybody else that lives there/wants to visit]

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"Don't yell at me!" Yeah, there had been no yelling. Just italics. Stiles did, however, stumble into the house. Because there was fluffiness in there. "Oh my god fluff! Look at how adorable you are!"

There was some more stumbling as Stiles tried to get down to Puppy Joe level and snuggle said ball of fluff. Which mainly consisted of putting his face against Puppy Joe and making coo'ing noises.

Puppy Joe dealt with this assault by squirming for five seconds before just going limp.

"How are you this strange?" Derek muttered mostly to himself as he tried very hard to nudge Stiles along without picking him up. Because that would make things weird.

"Your face is strange," Stiles said, flopping to the floor instead of being nudged along. "No, that's a lie. Your face is pretty. The prettiest. Well, maybe it's a tie with Lydia."

Derek froze at that before rolling his eyes. "I don't know who that is."

Other than someone from Beacon Hills.

"She's a strawberry blonde amazing goddess. Who has terrible taste in men," Stiles mumbled, trying to push himself up off the floor. It wasn't working very well. "Stay still for a second."

Yes, stay still and let him stick his hands in your jeans pockets so he can use you like a ladder.

Okay, they were barreling ahead to Nopeville now. Derek grabbed him by the back of his shirt to haul Stiles upright rather than let this continue. "Couch. Now."

Stiles' eyes widened a little because he was fairly sure he had a few explicit dreams that started this way. "What."

"Couch," Derek repeated like Stiles just needed the word louder and slower. That'll help.

He was also attempting to crowd into his space to get Stiles moving. All while trying to touch as little as possible.

"Why are you being so bossy?" Stiles asked, reaching up to cup Derek's face in his hands. He obviously had no problem with touching right now. "Don't be bossy, Derek."

He quickly became distracted from bossiness because of more important matters. "Oh your beard is nice. Can I scratch it? I'm going to scratch it."

"What--" Why are you doing this? Derek was never letting you have drugs or alcohol after this. Never.

Derek grabbed his wrists, forcing hands away from his admittedly pretty epic beard before giving in and just picking him up in a fireman carry to deposit the overly touchy idiot on the couch.

"Hey, there's your butt!" Stiles hadn't been expecting this turn of events but could he complain? No, not really.

Derek officially hated everything.

And was dumping Stiles on the couch so that he could flee to the kitchen. Stiles clearly needed water. Yes. Yesss.

"No, where are you going?" Stiles asked, craning his neck to look in the direction of the kitchen. He only barely managed to stay on the couch. "Come baaaaaaaack!"

Derek spent a good amount of time ignoring the whining and glaring at the fridge like it offended him before grabbing a bottle of water and sorting through all the pills given to Stiles. Then, with a greatly put upon sigh, fished around for a bag of frozen vegetable to wrap in a towel.

"Why isn't Scott doing this for you?" he grumbled, putting his little pile of things down on the coffee table.

"You came back!" Stiles said cheerfully. Like a dog who thought their owner had gone away forever instead of going to work. "Why would Scott help?"

It was two minutes! And he could heard everything!

"Why wouldn't he?" Stop making him emotionally constipated, Stiles.

"Because because because...he's Scott. I help him." That's what sidekicks are for! "And you're here."

Derek made a face at that, shoving the bag of frozen peas wrapped in a towel at Stiles' face. "Stop talking."

"I'm not hungry," Stiles said, trying to shove the bag away. He didn't need frozen peas, he felt amazing right now.

"It's for your face, moron." Yes, being logic to the person on the good meds.

"But I feel great!" he insisted. "This is the best I've felt in weeks."

Damn it, Stiles.

Derek lowered the bag of peas, mouth going into a right line before he caught himself. "Really?"

Oh god, stop taking advantage of his willingness to share, Derek.

"Oh yeah," Stiles said, nodding absently. "There's nightmares and nightmares and more nightmares. You're in them a lot."

Stiles slumped against a pillow and rubbed his face against it. If the dog or Derek wasn't going to cuddle with him then the pillow would do. "And...there's like this feeling all the time when I'm awake. Like my heart's all scarred and beat up."

"Don't feel like that right now though." Hooray for drugs!

Nooooo! This was the opposite of what Derek had wanted to know!

"Because of what you did with the nemeton."

Stiles nodded. "Yeeeep. Big ol' tree stump of suck."

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