The Time Werewolves Were No Help At All With Stiles's Feathery Little Problem - #4 - Erica
Author: fluffyllama
Title: The Time Werewolves Were No Help At All With Stiles's Feathery Little Problem - #4 - Erica
Rating: PG-13 (for swearing)
Pairing/s: hint of Stiles/Erica/Isaac
Character/s: Stiles, Erica, Isaac, Scott, Lydia
Summary: Stiles wakes up with wings. Yeah, that's the whole plot. Oh, and werewolves are no help at all.
Warnings: Wings and utter crack. I'd run away now.
Word Count: 415
Prompt: Temptation
Author's Notes: Um. Have some (more) Valentine's Day silliness?
On a day when he didn't wake up with wings, houseproud werewolves would probably have taken the prize for strange.
"That was a $200 vase," Erica grumbles, watching Scott sweep up the debris. "And watch the--"
Isaac stills the picture frame that tilts alarmingly under the tip of Stiles's wing, and waits for him to get out of the way.
"I can't help it," Stiles says, perching carefully on the end of the couch. "It's not like I know how to control them."
And really, if they want to have expensive stuff in a den of wolves, they should get insurance. Not that he's going to say that to Erica, because he's quite fond of his internal organs, but he's never really wanted to say hello to them, thank you very much.
"Were you sleeping naked?" Erica asks, because she thinks she's entitled to that kind of information these days. "Or did they grow through your clothes?" She pokes at his back, and he squirms. "Oh, they're so soft!"
She's just about cooing, and that's just disturbing. He's heard a lot of sounds from Erica, but cooing has never been among them until now.
"Don't molest my wings," he complains, but she has a firm grip on something back there and isn't letting go.
"You broke my vase." Her grip tightens. "I think I'm entitled to get my money's worth."
Stiles gulps. "Just out of curiosity," he says, and if his voice is squeaky it's just perfectly reasonable terror, and not because he'd ever be tempted again. Not at all. Though it had been... educational. "Is that getting your money's worth in the same way as 'You drank my tequila', or--"
"Yes," says Isaac, brightening visibly, but Erica says "No," and just runs her hands down Stiles's wings.
"Sorry, man," Isaac shrugs. "Maybe another time."
"Oh, Stiles," Lydia says, detaching herself from he book long enough to give him a pitying look. "Do have some common sense. Where would Erica find $200 for a vase? Under a couch cushion?"
"You didn't have to tell him so quickly." Erica flops back into the couch, face sulky. "I was enjoying that."
"That does it!" Stiles waves his hand at Erica, until she snaps her teeth at him. "I'm giving your Valentine's card away to some poor needy virgin. Consider it your good deed for the year."
It's only when he looks up and everyone's staring at him that he realizes what he's said.
Oh, fuck.
Can I have a tag for Stiles/Erica/Isaac, please?
Title: The Time Werewolves Were No Help At All With Stiles's Feathery Little Problem - #4 - Erica
Rating: PG-13 (for swearing)
Pairing/s: hint of Stiles/Erica/Isaac
Character/s: Stiles, Erica, Isaac, Scott, Lydia
Summary: Stiles wakes up with wings. Yeah, that's the whole plot. Oh, and werewolves are no help at all.
Warnings: Wings and utter crack. I'd run away now.
Word Count: 415
Prompt: Temptation
Author's Notes: Um. Have some (more) Valentine's Day silliness?
On a day when he didn't wake up with wings, houseproud werewolves would probably have taken the prize for strange.
"That was a $200 vase," Erica grumbles, watching Scott sweep up the debris. "And watch the--"
Isaac stills the picture frame that tilts alarmingly under the tip of Stiles's wing, and waits for him to get out of the way.
"I can't help it," Stiles says, perching carefully on the end of the couch. "It's not like I know how to control them."
And really, if they want to have expensive stuff in a den of wolves, they should get insurance. Not that he's going to say that to Erica, because he's quite fond of his internal organs, but he's never really wanted to say hello to them, thank you very much.
"Were you sleeping naked?" Erica asks, because she thinks she's entitled to that kind of information these days. "Or did they grow through your clothes?" She pokes at his back, and he squirms. "Oh, they're so soft!"
She's just about cooing, and that's just disturbing. He's heard a lot of sounds from Erica, but cooing has never been among them until now.
"Don't molest my wings," he complains, but she has a firm grip on something back there and isn't letting go.
"You broke my vase." Her grip tightens. "I think I'm entitled to get my money's worth."
Stiles gulps. "Just out of curiosity," he says, and if his voice is squeaky it's just perfectly reasonable terror, and not because he'd ever be tempted again. Not at all. Though it had been... educational. "Is that getting your money's worth in the same way as 'You drank my tequila', or--"
"Yes," says Isaac, brightening visibly, but Erica says "No," and just runs her hands down Stiles's wings.
"Sorry, man," Isaac shrugs. "Maybe another time."
"Oh, Stiles," Lydia says, detaching herself from he book long enough to give him a pitying look. "Do have some common sense. Where would Erica find $200 for a vase? Under a couch cushion?"
"You didn't have to tell him so quickly." Erica flops back into the couch, face sulky. "I was enjoying that."
"That does it!" Stiles waves his hand at Erica, until she snaps her teeth at him. "I'm giving your Valentine's card away to some poor needy virgin. Consider it your good deed for the year."
It's only when he looks up and everyone's staring at him that he realizes what he's said.
Oh, fuck.
Can I have a tag for Stiles/Erica/Isaac, please?