tushanshu | 9 → Video

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9 → Video

[Stiles is much, much happier than the last time he made a network post. He's also in a considerably different location. He's not in his suite in the Earth sector. In fact, for those who pay attention to these sorts of things, they'll note that he's calling it in from Derek's network ID. Welp.]

Ladies and gentlemen of Keelai, I have a very important announcement to make. Today, April the eighth, marks a momentous occasion in history. A day to be spoken of in legend and myth and song, when the stars and planets align, and rainbows and puppies spontaneously appear.

I am eighteen.

You are looking at an official man, everybody. It is my birthday, hosanna hosanna, hallelujah and so on.

Since Amazon gift registries aren't a thing here, I'll be happy to provide a written list of acceptable tributes and gifts, form an orderly line if you please, no shoving.

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[She considers this.] But I have lost everything. I have few friends. I would not fit into a bottle, but I can have them fill me.

[A pause]

And I have no son.

My point is. That you can mask the pain, or you can deal with it. In the short term, masking things is gonna feel fine.

In the long term, though, it's gonna lead to worse pain. And don't feed me a line about 'no such thing as long term for me' because I will not hear it.

You have friends. You have me, at the very least, and I know there are others. Okay?

[She has to swallow her 'no such thing as long term for me'. Damn it, Stiles.

Ironically, it's masking the pain that has lead her to this. So perhaps, he does have a point. Her shoulders slump forward as she takes another sip of broth.]

Okay. [She'd picked up on a few more modern phrases and okay was one of them.]

I do not have the energy to fight you, Stiles.

Damn right you don't. Later, when you're better, you can bicker with me to your heart's content. I even hope you do it in French, because that would honestly be kinda awesome. I've never been chewed out in French before, I need to add it to my life experiences.

Keep sipping that soup.

I shall do it in French, then. Another birthday present.

[She has a wicked tongue when necessary. Which, in her life, was pretty much all the time.]

I am sipping, I am sipping.

[Could she add vodka to this?]

[Vodka in wonton soup? Eponine you're either insane or a genius.]

See if you can get down one of the wontons. They're delicious.

[Probably both.

With a fork, she picks one up and frowns at it. and then, like a stubborn child, she'll take a tiny nibble. Not bad. But, at the same time, her stomach lurches. Not good.]

[He sees her go pale, and takes the soup out of her hands.]

Go. Bathroom. Get it all up, girl.

[Eponine gives a small noise in response, before hurrying to the bathroom and dropping to her knees.

Gripping the bowl, she spends what feels like forever getting everything out of her stomach, and then some. Finally, with burning throat and stinging eyes, she pushes back, flushes, and looks over at Stiles.]

I am a mess.

A hot mess. Yup.

But in a few days you won't be.

[He goes to the kitchen and pulls her a large glass of water, not ice cold. He returns and hands it to her gently.]

Start sipping.

But I feel cold.

[Some things are beyond her.

With shaking hands, she accepts the glass, and obeys wordlessly. Small sips, pausing only to wipe her eyes on the back of her hand.]

You are still here. I am glad for it.

[In answer to that, he finds a blanket somewhere under the mess, and drapes it across her shoulders, tucking it in so she feels warmer.]

If there's one thing I'm good at, it's taking care of my friends. And being incredibly stubborn when they get their heads lodged in their asses. You're too nice of a girl for cranial proctology.

[She pulls the blanket tighter.]

I am not a nice girl, Stiles.

You are lucky- I cannot fight you back. For I am as stubborn as they come.

I'm not a nice boy. So it all kinda works out.

And trust me, you're not. I've met people waaaaay more stubborn. I'm living with the personification of stubborn. And I get through to him just fine.

Ah. You are sweet.

[She keeps working on the water, standing up on shaky legs to return to the couch.]

You shall see.

So shall you. As long as we're shall-ing each other.

[As she sits and sips, he starts tidying things up a bit. Picking up clothes (which all need washing) and throwing away the garbage. Damn, those are a lot of empty bottles.]

And now you make fun of my vernacular.

[Still, the water is good, and she appreciates his help. And, yes, this is what happens when you go on a month-long bender]

Eponine, I make fun of everything. I am the quirky comic relief, it's my raison d'etre. See? I know some French.

[Bottles are picked up one by one, clinking against each other lightly as he picks through the suite. A few slosh around still; those are put aside to be dumped down the sink.]

Quirky comic relief? That would make you the fool- I have seen the operas.

[She adores you Stiles. Really. Just put the alcohol back. Do not pour it down the sink. Do not. But at least she's moving back to the soup.]

[That's a big ol' negative, nope. It's going. Your liver will thank him later.]

Damn right. Put a multi-colored hat on me with bells, I'll fit right in.

Perhaps I shall find one. A belated birthday present.

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9 → Video

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