Ficlet: Enervation, Peter/Stiles, PG13, see warnings
Author: ladyoneill
Title: Enervation
Rating: PG14
Pairing/s: Peter/Stiles
Character/s: Stiles, Deaton
Summary: The impossible is happening. Stiles just thought he was tired because of his new status as Emissary. He's very wrong.
Warnings: Season 3 generally, underage, MPREG, unwanted/forced pregnancy and mating implied
Word Count: 1053
Prompt: Worn-out
Author's Notes: Peter, Stiles, Deaton, everyone else, Teen Wolf, none belong to me. No profit being made. All from Stiles' POV. Currently the fourth story in my Dark Side Of The Moon series, some of which have been posted here out of order. Overall it's forced MPREG, forced mating/bonding, Peter as Alpha.
Staring at Deaton, Stiles feels like he's drowning again. The sound of water rushing in his ears, the choking that tightens his throat, it's all back.
"Breathe, Mr. Stilinski," the Vet coaxes, hand on the small of Stiles' back trying to soothe him.
But, he's drowning.
Because this isn't happening. It's not happening. He's just tired, over tired, stressed and strung out and...
Nausea hits like a tidal wave and he's vomiting into the basin Deaton holds before he can process anything else.
*****
Fifteen minutes later he's curled in a ball on the couch in the Vet's back room, listening to dogs bark from the kennel next door, and trying not to cry. He came to Deaton because he was drained of all energy and thought it was something to do with the Nemeton or his new status as Emissary. He never expected this.
Who in their right mind would expect this ?
...
He knows who.
Panic hits hard and he can't breathe again, but he forces himself under control because he isn't dying until he confronts the bastard who did this to him.
Stiles pushes himself up and it feels like a hundred pounds are sitting on his shoulders, pressing him back down. The exhaustion is almost impossible to deal with which is why he was sure it was caused by some supernatural agency. Usually caffeine or a nap are enough to energize him. For the last week, nothing has worked, and he's gotten more sleep than in the whole previous month.
Now he knows the reason and he's sure it's just going to get worse.
As he buries his face in his hands the door opens and he looks up into Deaton's compassionate face. For a split second he wants to strangle him until he loses his composure and he silently curses the mood swings he'd blamed on the tiredness.
Deaton hands him a slip of paper. "You can order these online. You need to start taking them as soon as possible."
Stiles reads the note. Vitamins. Pre... No. "No. You're getting this thing out of me," he demands, panic in his voice now as his stomach churns again. He's not carrying this. He's not doing this!
Deaton sighs and leans his hips against the desk behind him. "Stiles. It's created by magic. It's most likely can't be removed until it's time."
"Most likely isn't definite," he snarls back.
"And Peter will never allow it," Deaton continues placidly.
"Peter doesn't have any say!"
The look he receives makes him both want to cringe and attack, and Stiles slumps against the back of the couch, fingers crushing the slip of paper. After a moment of quiet, he whispers, "I didn't want any of this." Looking down he turns his wrist to bare the still red scars from the bite. "I thought...after this...I thought, okay, I can deal with that. He didn't make me tell my dad or move in with him or do really anything more than we were already doing." He can feel the flush on his cold cheeks and stares at his lap.
How long before he can't see his lap.
Stiles chokes back a sob and rubs at his face before looking up at Deaton. "But, he knew, didn't he."
"I've heard only rumors of the possibility. There's a book, thought to be long lost, that supposedly spoke of it. You must understand, Stiles, that the relationship you have with Peter is almost unheard of between an Emissary and his or her Alpha. It's hard to keep balance in a Pack when you are emotionally connected."
"I'm not emotionally connected to him!"
Deaton arches one eyebrow and looks pointedly at his still upturned wrist. Snarling, Stiles shoves his hand in the pocket of his hoodie and himself to his feet. He feels unsteady, like the ground is cracking beneath his feet, but he has to go see Peter.
"Stiles, you need to take care of yourself."
The Vet cum Druid sounds worried. "Can I miscarry?"
"Possibly."
Thinking about where that might come out, Stiles makes a face and feels his stomach twist again, but there's nothing left in it to come up.
In fact, he's hungry.
"How...When it's time..."
"Caesarian. With your permission, I'd like to speak to Mrs. McCall about assisting then as well as with check-ups. While she's not a maternity nurse, she has had a child. I really am only a Vet."
Stiles feels himself pale, but slowly nods. He'll need help. "Just...not yet, okay? I need to tell...my dad." His stomach sinks and his head starts to pound and this is all just so awful.
"You do need to get plenty of rest, Stiles," Deaton says compassionately, taking his arm and slowly walking him out. "Are you okay to drive?"
"Yeah. It's better when I'm sitting."
"If you feel at all lightheaded, pull over and take deep breaths." When they reach the reception area, the older man opens a small refrigerator and hands him a chilled bottle of water. "Drink this on the way home." They both know he's not going home, but Stiles nods and cracks the bottle to take a sip. "Everything should progress as it would for a woman. There are books..."
"Yeah. Okay."
Deaton squeezes his shoulder then releases him, concern on his face. "Come back in a week. If you're ready, have Mrs. McCall here as well. I just wish the Hales' old midwife was still alive, though even she never dealt with this." His attempt at an encouraging smiles falls flat and Stiles feels a flutter of worry. "We'll get you through this, Stiles. I'll research everything I can and I don't doubt that Peter already is."
Stiles can't help but scowl at the name of his Alpha. He's just so pissed at him, at life in general.
At the thing in him, enervating him like...a cancer.
"Will I be so tired the whole time?"
"I honestly don't know. I have a feeling it's different for every wo..." With a chagrined look, he cuts off his comment.
"Not a woman." Stiles scowls even more and stomps out of the office.
He has an Alpha to confront before he curls up in bed and cries himself to sleep for a week.
End
There will be a direct sequel to this one written today or tomorrow and posted to AO3 so, if you're reading this one here, you might go looking at the above link tonight or tomorrow. I'd planned for the confrontation with Peter to go into this ficlet but it was already too long. It's all in my head; here's hoping boss is in trial all afternoon...
Title: Enervation
Rating: PG14
Pairing/s: Peter/Stiles
Character/s: Stiles, Deaton
Summary: The impossible is happening. Stiles just thought he was tired because of his new status as Emissary. He's very wrong.
Warnings: Season 3 generally, underage, MPREG, unwanted/forced pregnancy and mating implied
Word Count: 1053
Prompt: Worn-out
Author's Notes: Peter, Stiles, Deaton, everyone else, Teen Wolf, none belong to me. No profit being made. All from Stiles' POV. Currently the fourth story in my Dark Side Of The Moon series, some of which have been posted here out of order. Overall it's forced MPREG, forced mating/bonding, Peter as Alpha.
Staring at Deaton, Stiles feels like he's drowning again. The sound of water rushing in his ears, the choking that tightens his throat, it's all back.
"Breathe, Mr. Stilinski," the Vet coaxes, hand on the small of Stiles' back trying to soothe him.
But, he's drowning.
Because this isn't happening. It's not happening. He's just tired, over tired, stressed and strung out and...
Nausea hits like a tidal wave and he's vomiting into the basin Deaton holds before he can process anything else.
*****
Fifteen minutes later he's curled in a ball on the couch in the Vet's back room, listening to dogs bark from the kennel next door, and trying not to cry. He came to Deaton because he was drained of all energy and thought it was something to do with the Nemeton or his new status as Emissary. He never expected this.
Who in their right mind would expect this ?
...
He knows who.
Panic hits hard and he can't breathe again, but he forces himself under control because he isn't dying until he confronts the bastard who did this to him.
Stiles pushes himself up and it feels like a hundred pounds are sitting on his shoulders, pressing him back down. The exhaustion is almost impossible to deal with which is why he was sure it was caused by some supernatural agency. Usually caffeine or a nap are enough to energize him. For the last week, nothing has worked, and he's gotten more sleep than in the whole previous month.
Now he knows the reason and he's sure it's just going to get worse.
As he buries his face in his hands the door opens and he looks up into Deaton's compassionate face. For a split second he wants to strangle him until he loses his composure and he silently curses the mood swings he'd blamed on the tiredness.
Deaton hands him a slip of paper. "You can order these online. You need to start taking them as soon as possible."
Stiles reads the note. Vitamins. Pre... No. "No. You're getting this thing out of me," he demands, panic in his voice now as his stomach churns again. He's not carrying this. He's not doing this!
Deaton sighs and leans his hips against the desk behind him. "Stiles. It's created by magic. It's most likely can't be removed until it's time."
"Most likely isn't definite," he snarls back.
"And Peter will never allow it," Deaton continues placidly.
"Peter doesn't have any say!"
The look he receives makes him both want to cringe and attack, and Stiles slumps against the back of the couch, fingers crushing the slip of paper. After a moment of quiet, he whispers, "I didn't want any of this." Looking down he turns his wrist to bare the still red scars from the bite. "I thought...after this...I thought, okay, I can deal with that. He didn't make me tell my dad or move in with him or do really anything more than we were already doing." He can feel the flush on his cold cheeks and stares at his lap.
How long before he can't see his lap.
Stiles chokes back a sob and rubs at his face before looking up at Deaton. "But, he knew, didn't he."
"I've heard only rumors of the possibility. There's a book, thought to be long lost, that supposedly spoke of it. You must understand, Stiles, that the relationship you have with Peter is almost unheard of between an Emissary and his or her Alpha. It's hard to keep balance in a Pack when you are emotionally connected."
"I'm not emotionally connected to him!"
Deaton arches one eyebrow and looks pointedly at his still upturned wrist. Snarling, Stiles shoves his hand in the pocket of his hoodie and himself to his feet. He feels unsteady, like the ground is cracking beneath his feet, but he has to go see Peter.
"Stiles, you need to take care of yourself."
The Vet cum Druid sounds worried. "Can I miscarry?"
"Possibly."
Thinking about where that might come out, Stiles makes a face and feels his stomach twist again, but there's nothing left in it to come up.
In fact, he's hungry.
"How...When it's time..."
"Caesarian. With your permission, I'd like to speak to Mrs. McCall about assisting then as well as with check-ups. While she's not a maternity nurse, she has had a child. I really am only a Vet."
Stiles feels himself pale, but slowly nods. He'll need help. "Just...not yet, okay? I need to tell...my dad." His stomach sinks and his head starts to pound and this is all just so awful.
"You do need to get plenty of rest, Stiles," Deaton says compassionately, taking his arm and slowly walking him out. "Are you okay to drive?"
"Yeah. It's better when I'm sitting."
"If you feel at all lightheaded, pull over and take deep breaths." When they reach the reception area, the older man opens a small refrigerator and hands him a chilled bottle of water. "Drink this on the way home." They both know he's not going home, but Stiles nods and cracks the bottle to take a sip. "Everything should progress as it would for a woman. There are books..."
"Yeah. Okay."
Deaton squeezes his shoulder then releases him, concern on his face. "Come back in a week. If you're ready, have Mrs. McCall here as well. I just wish the Hales' old midwife was still alive, though even she never dealt with this." His attempt at an encouraging smiles falls flat and Stiles feels a flutter of worry. "We'll get you through this, Stiles. I'll research everything I can and I don't doubt that Peter already is."
Stiles can't help but scowl at the name of his Alpha. He's just so pissed at him, at life in general.
At the thing in him, enervating him like...a cancer.
"Will I be so tired the whole time?"
"I honestly don't know. I have a feeling it's different for every wo..." With a chagrined look, he cuts off his comment.
"Not a woman." Stiles scowls even more and stomps out of the office.
He has an Alpha to confront before he curls up in bed and cries himself to sleep for a week.
End
There will be a direct sequel to this one written today or tomorrow and posted to AO3 so, if you're reading this one here, you might go looking at the above link tonight or tomorrow. I'd planned for the confrontation with Peter to go into this ficlet but it was already too long. It's all in my head; here's hoping boss is in trial all afternoon...